by Talyn Scott
“Don’t!” She started begging as the scalpel came down. “Please, Alan. No!”
“Shh, your sins are small, only a little bit of pain for you and it’s over.”
“Stop!” Tears blurred her vision. “Help! Help me!”
Suddenly, Alan fell sideways, hitting a wall and knocking aside a wheeled cart filled with steel tools. Blood oozed from his temple but his scalpel remained in his hand.
“Evan!” She shouted as Evan charged with a portable dissecting light in hand, readying it like a bat for strike two. “Scalpel! He has a —"
“Fuck!”
Alan pierced Evan’s thigh right before the second swing struck. But Evan managed to crush Alan’s face, mangling his nose and front teeth. The scalpel flew and both men started rolling on the floor.
Drake came barreling through the door. A wash of horror on his face coupled with swift relief when he spotted her. He lunged to her, tore off her sheet, and tried to disengage the sliding tray from the drawer on which Vania was tied. His moves frantic, it took him a second to realize she wasn’t budging.
“Just untie me!”
Quickly, he worked her ankle free and moved to the next. “Hold on, Love.”
“Help Evan!” she pleaded.
He ignored her, unfastening the second ankle with trembling fingers. When he finally released her left wrist, she sat up and pushed away Drake. “I have this one.” She spotted Evan beneath Alan, with Alan reaching for a small but effective hammer. “Help him!”
In a flash, Alan lunged atop Vania with the hammer in hand. Evan jumped up and jerked him back with a forearm to the throat.
“She’s mine to… kill!” Alan roared as the last tie came away from her wrist. The hammer swung out and barely grazed the side of her face. “Must take away the… temptation.”
Vania jumped off the table, landing on her knees against the floor.
Drake tore the autopsy scale from its stand and met Alan’s next crashing blow. “You won’t touch her again!”
Evan fought Alan back, his forearm still across Alan’s throat with his other banded around his stomach. Alan managed to swing the hammer again, but Drake struck Alan’s face with the scale. Cracking bones sounded beneath the clatter of metal. Then Alan convulsed several times before he slumped in Evan’s arms.
“Don’t trust him.” Drake helped Vania up. “Hit him again.”
Evan dropped Alan to the floor and swung back his leg. Vania looked away, mashing her nose against Drake’s chest, while Evan kicked Alan in the head.
“Matt,” she whispered. “He must be dead by now.”
“He’s fine. The bastard’s cut up but it’s all superficial.” Drake sighed, his body trembling with hers.
“How did you find me?”
“You didn’t come back and Matt wasn’t in his room. This place is so large that we had to split up five ways, three bodyguards along with Evan and me.”
“I heard you screaming,” Evan whispered. “I never want to hear that sound from your mouth again.”
Drake nodded. “I was on the elevator when Evan called. He was shouting in the phone. But somehow, I managed to understand what he was saying.” He exhaled a harsh breath. “Thank God.”
Evan told them, “I called the police.”
She turned her face to the side, pressing her ear to Drake’s chest and was immediately soothed by his heartbeat. “Thank you. Thank you both for saving me.”
“Don’t…just don’t.” Drake’s mouth was in her hair, his hands touching her everywhere. Then he started searching her gently with prying fingers, trying to see from where she bled. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“It’s only a cut.” She rested her chin on his chest, staring into his tortured eyes. “It’s not your fault.” She turned to look at Evan. “Or yours.”
Evan’s hands came up, his fists clenching. He wanted to hold her, too. But he was bound to stay over Alan’s unconscious form, until the police arrived.
Matt groaned, “I’m sorry, Vania. I’m so… sorry.”
“There’s no way to apologize for what you’ve done,” Drake snarled at him. “But when the police come and take statements. You will not mention Vania and Club Saturday’s elevators. You got that?”
“Yes.”
“You will include her in nothing, understand?” Evan pointed to the floor where Alan remained nearly lifeless. “Even if this psychopath ends up living and starts running his mouth, you will deny everything.”
Matt coughed. “I… will.”
Vania couldn’t look at Matt’s flayed throat but she turned her head sideways and kept him in her peripheral. “I nearly walked in on you and Gayle, Matt, here one night at the hospital.” Now wasn’t the time to say what she was about to say. Even so, shock replaced logic and she needed to release this to move on. “Alan came to my side and prevented me from confronting you two.”
“I’m… sorry.”
Apologies didn’t cut it. Nothing but moving on would help her now, which was exactly what Vania was doing with Evan and Drake. “Then I found out about the bait and switch inside Club Saturday’s elevators — heartless and disgusting move on your part, by the way.”
“Vania…”
“You’re a careless, selfish dick. I’ve been betrayed and humiliated by you. If that wasn’t enough, you inadvertently set loose a violent stalker on me, one who nearly took my life.”
“I was so… wrong.”
Evan gritted his teeth to keep his mouth shut, and Drake tensed against her but held her steady.
“Wrong doesn’t touch it, Matt.” She pressed a kiss to Drake’s chest, leaving a bloody print on his shirt. “The only thing, the best thing that came from this disaster was discovering I was never in love with you. I loved you, but I wasn’t in love with you.” Footfalls sounded in the corridor, the pounding echo of boots suddenly making her head hurt. “I wonder if someone as selfish and mean as you will discover it one day for yourself, because you sure didn’t love me.”
“I do… love you, Van.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Evan snarled. “Never tell her that again.”
“I wouldn’t care, Evan,” she said, “even if it were true.”
“For reasons of not fueling the press, I won’t place a restraining order against you for Vania,” Drake told Matt. “But if you ever think about coming near her after this, I’ll finish what the insane doctor started on your throat.”
“I…know.”
“Drake?” His face blurred, though Vania could still smell him, could sense his strength grounding her. Her eyelids fluttered. “I’m in …”
“Vania?” Drake lifted her in his arms.
“I’m… okay,” she whispered as Drake tightened his grip on her.
“She’s in shock,” Evan said, and then started barking out orders.
“Drake?”
“I’m here, Love.”
“Don’t put me back on the —"
“I won’t,” he vowed. “You’re staying right here in my arms.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” His lips found her forehead. “God, yes.”
Chapter 29
Three Weeks Later
“You’ve done wonders with the firehouse, Vania.” Payton took a sip of lemonade.
“Thank you.” Vania placed a tureen on a table she’d situated next to the Koi pond. She’d decorated it earlier with white votive candles, a red gingham tablecloth, and several hand-painted jars filled with Gardenias.
“Why not stick around and manage the place for us?”
“Hmm.” She lifted one of the jars. “See this gorgeous piece?” Payton nodded in admiration. “Seventy-five elementary students, all under the age of ten, painted these yesterday. We assigned them two jars each, one to take home and the other to leave here for future fundraisers.” Vania gestured to where a professionally painted mural of a whale graced the children’s art building. “Next time, you should allow them ten jars each.”
Payton
laughed after she spotted hundreds of colorful handprints overlapping the mural. “Well, they definitely added character.”
“Yes.”
“Sure you don’t want to work here?” Payton snatched a tortilla chip. “Don’t let seventy-five kids scare you off.”
“Though Avery accepted my relationship with Evan and Drake without too much of a fuss —"
“How could he argue after the hell you went through?”
“Still, there’s a strong possibility I might need a job soon.” Though she was on personal leave, Vania figured Avery would fire her the second he walked in and spotted his pregnant wife with spackling paste smeared across her face and shirt. “I wish both managers Julian hired would’ve worked out for you.”
“I’ll interview future applicants.” Payton dusted salt off her hands. “I can sniff out anyone who finds a greasy wrench or a dripping plunger a personal insult. I say there’s nothing wrong with rolling up your sleeves.”
“There’s one particular redhead who shouldn’t be rolling up her sleeves at all!”
Vania nearly dropped her lemonade when Dylan and Avery stormed to the table. The urge to duck hit her. “I couldn’t stop her, Mr. Easton, uh, and Mr. Easton.”
Avery took Payton’s lemonade. “I’m sure you couldn’t.”
“Relax, you two.” Payton huffed. “It was just a little drywall work. Took me fifteen minutes tops.”
Avery turned blue around the mouth. “I swear I’ll tie you —"
“Hand over that chip,” Dylan demanded while easing her into a chair. “The doctor said you were eating too much salt.”
“I need something with flavor,” Payton argued.
Avery unscrewed a bottle of water and crammed a wedge of lemon inside it. “Here’s your flavor.”
Payton sniffed it, and then hastily yanked the bottle from her nose. “Vania, would you pour me another glass of your delicious lemonade?”
“Oh, please, your husbands are my bosses.” She caught sight of Evan, Drake, and Julian stepping from an SUV. “Do you really want to put me in this position?”
Payton snorted and pointed to the parking lot, her wedding rings catching the setting sun. “Even from here, I see how Drake and Evan look at you. Best get in good with your future sister-n-law.” She reached for another tortilla chip, but Dylan moved the basket. “I’ve learned invaluable tips on managing Easton men, which would grant you a significant learning curve.”
Dylan and Avery rolled their eyes.
Libby walked around the corner while rubbing her tummy. Surprisingly enough, Trey’s wife was showing. “Are we forming an alliance?”
“Not yet,” Payton said, “but she’ll come around.”
Trey placed his hand on Vania’s shoulder, about to say hello, when his eyes widened at the sight of Payton. “What the…” They bounced from each splatter and smear of spackling paste before settling back on Payton’s face. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Yes.” Payton managed to snag a saltine cracker after Vania dumped a few sleeves in a stoneware bowl. “I want to thank Vania for preparing our homecoming dinner.”
“Here. Here!” Julian walked over and kissed Libby and Payton, and then slid his arm over Vania’s shoulders and gave her a peck on the temple. “Everything smells delicious. Thanks for including me. Miles, however, sends his regards but he can’t make it.”
Vania smiled up at Julian. “Maybe next time?”
“Hopefully.”
“Get your own,” Evan growled. He wrapped his forearm around Vania’s waist and eased her back to his chest.
Drake dipped his head and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. “Yes, this one’s taken.”
“Go caveman another time.” Libby ladled a generous serving of chili in her bowl. “This is real food.”
Payton wrapped her fingers around a bottle of hot sauce. “None of those Easton Hotel prissy, foo-foo platters, we’re living large tonight.”
Drake smiled against Vania’s forehead and kept her cocooned between him and Evan. “How are you?”
“How do I look?” They went through this daily.
“Beautiful,” Evan said, “but that’s not what Drake means. You were dreaming last night and —"
“I’m fine.”
She moved to sit next to Libby, but both men pulled her back again. In the next second, Evan was dangling something glittery in front of her face before the distinctive weight of a diamond landed against her throat.
God only knew how much it cost. “That feels too big.”
“That’s what you said last night, and I told you to relax.”
Vania elbowed Evan in the stomach to hoots of laughter from the men and applause from Payton and Libby.
“Do you like it?” Drake appeared concerned. She hadn’t accepted any extravagant gifts from them prior to this one. But she had to face facts. Unlike Vania, Drake and Evan didn’t shop at Walmart.
She tiptoed and kissed his jaw. “How could I not? Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She reached behind her, fisted Evan’s hair, and brought him down for a kiss. “I will treasure this. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Will the owner of a soaking wet cat please step forward?” A gravel-sexy voice asked.
“A wet cat?” Vania gasped, and then frantically searched the Koi pond. “Shit! One is missing!”
“One?” Drake asked. “As in fish?”
“Yes, the orange and white one with the little black dot between his eyes.”
“Sounds familiar but there wasn’t much left of the fish for identification purposes,” that same voice replied.
As she turned towards the voice, Vania cupped her throat so hard that the doorknob-sized diamond slammed into her larynx. She wheezed, “You’re Noah Wyatt!”
Bemused, Noah held out a dripping Oscar, aiming him towards Vania. “I take it that Libby or Payton didn’t tell you I was coming?”
Libby started laughing. “And miss Vania’s reaction? No way.”
Noah gave Libby a look. “Gee, thanks.”
“I… I made chili.” Vania tried to step forward, but her arms and legs had turned into pipe cleaners. “You probably want something… else. Uh, w-what do rock stars eat?”
“This one eats chili.”
Evan reached for Oscar, whose legs were pin-wheeling to scratch anyone he could dig his claws into. “I’ll take this little bastard upstairs and towel him off… Baby, are you okay?”
“I made chili,” Vania repeated dazedly.
Payton pointed to a chair. “She needs to sit down.”
Drake rolled his eyes and helped Vania find a seat. “Let’s get some food into you.”
Two hours later Julian wedged his cellphone between his shoulder and ear. “Nothing is wrong, Drake.”
He checked his reflection in the elevator wall and scrubbed his hand over his dark blonde stubble. He should probably step into his office and shave before he buried his face between a woman’s legs. Then again, most women didn’t mind roughness from him. And if he took someone waxed bare, Julian’s scruff would get her hotter faster.
This meant he could get off sooner and leave.
When did that thought creep up on him?
“No one tailed me from the firehouse, either. I went completely unnoticed; I assure you.” Or he wouldn't have risked coming straight to Level 69. His private sex club was well hidden beneath The Easton Hotel and catered to the specific needs of the affluent. Currently, he was the one with specific needs.
“I understand.” Julian couldn’t blame Drake for questioning him. Paparazzi were everywhere, chasing each Easton more than usual since Dylan was back in Sarasota with his new bride. Little did the vultures know that Avery was also Payton’s husband.
Nor would they find out.
Because if money could buy anything, there wasn’t anything that an Easton couldn’t have or anyone an Easton couldn't pay off.
“Listen, I’m in the
elevator heading down. Yeah, later.” He slid his phone in his pocket and punched the six and then the nine, before leaning back and closing his eyes. He was so tired that he could probably sleep standing up, but he needed to deal with what he’d coined carnal restlessness.
So here he was again, about to have sex with a stranger or strangers, depending on who joined the Lovely he picked tonight. Either way, he didn’t care. None of them would be what he wanted, not since he’d set eyes on Cora wearing that dress at the fundraiser.
The fact that he was a decade older than Cora should deter him, but forbidden fruit was impossible not to taste when dangling in front of his mouth. So keeping his body sexually drained was the only way to make it through the workweek.
After the car stopped and Julian stepped through the secret door to his club, he breathed in illegal cigars and overpriced bourbon. The place was packed, netting him a small fortune as each minute ticked by, so why did he feel empty?
“Can I get you a drink, Sir?” A server walked up to Julian, trying to stay professional though her nipples were pebbling by the second.
“You’re new here?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Strands of black hair slid over her bare shoulders. He could see that it was bottle dyed, since it wouldn’t catch the light. But the color was still black and Julian had an imagination that never let him down. “When is your shift over?”
“Whenever you need her.” Julian’s club manager stepped out and took the server’s tray. “This is Vicki. Vicki, meet your boss Julian Easton.”
“My pleasure, Sir.”
It hit Julian then. He’d already set his mind on taking the woman without first knowing her name. An atrocity of which he’d accused Drake so many times that he lost count.
Vicki deserved better.
Julian deserved no less than a kick in the ass.
In the mood he was in, he needed to leave. Just get the fuck away from the club, disappear from the hotel grounds, and think about what he was doing.
He excused himself and left.
When the salty, Florida air finally reached him, he paused briefly outside Tower Amore and took a cleansing breath. He rounded the corner, lifted the phone to his ear, and spoke to his driver. Just as he ended the call, Julian caught sight of ebony hair gleaming under a gaslight. His breath hitched in his throat when he realized who she was.