Uncontrollable

by Susan Kearney

  She had Hathaway’s measure now. He was trying to cause her to lose focus. But she held on to the memory of Bolt, his quiet confidence, his gentle touch, his sensual caresses and his spicy kisses.

  And took a step back.

  Then two.

  Hathaway clenched his hands into fists. But his surge of energy wasn’t forcing her to go to him. She even scooped up her shirt and shrugged it on.

  “The bottle won’t help you,” she taunted him. “Not this time.”

  “Did your sister give you an antidote?”

  Bolt had. Her love for him was protecting her. He might not be there beside her, but he was with her in spirit.

  Hathaway pointed at her, his steely tone, demanding and commanding. “I’m tired of talking. Tired of playing games. You will come to me. Right now.”

  He deluged her with sensation.

  She fought back. “The only reason I’m here is to ensure you go to jail. I’m certainly not climbing into your bed.”

  Her refusal caused his face to turn purple. For a moment she thought he might have a stroke or a heart attack, but she wasn’t that lucky.

  Hathaway had finally realized he wouldn’t win their mental battle. So like the lowlife he was, he tried to cheat by lunging for her.

  For a heavy man, he moved with surprising quickness and agility. But Amanda was no longer paralyzed. Hathaway came at her, arms stretched, fingers clasping for her throat.

  Reaching for her gun, she slapped her palm on the handle and drew the weapon from the holster. She raised the gun. Aimed. Fired.

  Hathaway collapsed at her feet, a bloody hole in his shoulder, his hand clasping the wound. “You bitch. I’ll have you arrested for attempted murder.”

  She kept the gun pointed at him. But she began to shake. She’d never shot anyone before and horror rose up her throat. She’d just shot a man in cold blood. Without proof that Hathaway had killed Donna, her claim of self-defense might not stand up in court.

  Her numb fingers let the gun drop to the floor. As Hathaway’s party guests pounded on the locked bedroom door, she realized they’d heard her fire the shot. She dressed quickly, then called 911.

  14

  BOLT HEARD THE GUNSHOT and sprinted into Hathaway’s suite. A cluster of panicked staff and models stood milling outside the double bedroom doors. A Shey Group agent had just picked the bedroom door’s lock and Bolt grabbed the knob.

  “Keep everyone out,” he ordered the other agent.

  The agent nodded and placed himself in front of the doors. Bolt slipped inside. And Amanda flung herself at him. He caught her in a giant bear hug, his heart lightening with relief. “Are you all right?”

  “I shot him. I shot Hathaway.” Then she burst into tears.

  He held tight to her shaking body. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “He admitted he killed Donna. He told me he’d do the same to me.” She wiped away her tears with her fingers. “We have to prove it was self-defense or I’m going to jail for attempted murder.”

  Hathaway inched across the floor, leaving a trail of blood. Bolt glared at Hathaway, who stopped moving. “If he’s dead, he can’t lie anymore.”

  Amanda drew several deep breaths to steady herself and then pulled away, a new strength in her eyes. “Instead of killing him, perhaps you could get him to tell us where his diary is.”

  Hathaway shook his head. “What diary?”

  Bolt released her and strode toward Hathaway. At his advance, Hathaway passed out, whether from fear or lack of blood Bolt didn’t know. However, he didn’t trust him and used a drapery cord to tie his hands behind his back. Then he wound a belt around his arm to stop the bleeding.

  The paramedics would arrive soon. Cops would follow. They needed answers or Amanda would be in trouble. And a man as powerful as Hathaway could pull strings. To protect Amanda, he really needed proof of Hathaway’s guilt. As much as he would have liked to shoot Hathaway again, he couldn’t kill a defenseless man. But what that decision might do to Amanda was tearing Bolt apart.

  She paced like a caged tigress. “I still want to find that diary. I want the evidence to prove his evil to the entire world, or I can’t clear Donna’s name. I haven’t forgotten how her patent was discovered on a terrorist’s computer. He must have killed her and then sold it for profit as an added bonus.” How typical that she was thinking about her sister more than herself. Amanda frowned. “I didn’t tell you—according to Hathaway, Donna refused to work on a chemical formula for the perfume.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hathaway also asked me how I resisted him. He asked if I had an antidote.”

  “Donna must have figured out an antidote—that’s why Hathaway killed her,” Bolt said, finishing her thought.

  Bolt noticed that while Amanda seemed to have regrouped, she faced away from Hathaway’s unconscious body. But she wasn’t asking Bolt to take her away from there—she still wanted to find the diary.

  And he would not let her down. The police sirens in front of the building suddenly complicated matters. He took out his cell phone and made a quick call to Kincaid. “I need police cooperation.”

  “You’ll have it,” Kincaid promised.

  Bolt turned to Amanda. “I want you to tell the police everything. And we’re going to see if they’ll help us find that diary. But before they get here, there’s one thing I want to know.”

  “What?”

  “How did you resist Hathaway?”

  “I found out by accident that a certain strong emotion could counter the bottle’s effect.”

  “What emotion?”

  “Every time I thought about you, Hathaway’s power weakened. My love for you kept me safe.” Her eyes sparkled and his heart pounded with happiness.

  She loved him. He wanted to sweep her out of the room, take her across the street to a place without an unconscious body, without homicide detectives, where he could have her all to himself. But that would take hours.

  She loved him.

  He took her into his arms for a kiss. That was how the cops would have found them, liplocked, except for a disturbance at the bedroom door.

  The Shey Agent was refusing to let the cops pass. Damn. “It’s okay. Let them in,” Bolt called out, annoyed he’d forgotten such a detail. But his thoughts couldn’t quite wrap around the fact that Amanda loved him. For a while there, she seemed so determined to keep her feelings reined in tight that he wondered if she’d ever love him. And now that she did, he was so happy he wanted to laugh and shout it to the world. Not exactly appropriate behavior considering the circumstances.

  He needed to find the damn diary for her or the woman he loved might spend the rest of her life in jail.

  At his bidding, the cops helped. They turned the suite upside down. But they found nothing.

  As his hopes began to dim, Amanda’s back straightened, her lips pressed together with determination. She wasn’t giving up.

  Remembering the secret panel in the walk-in closet, Bolt returned to retrieve the stolen perfume bottle, which the Shey Group would now return to its rightful owner. Before he’d found the secret compartment in the wall, Bolt had noted other irregularities, but he hadn’t explored further after he’d found the bottle.

  But now, he worked slowly. His fingers inched along the wooden paneling and he closed his eyes to concentrate on discrepancies. Frustrated when he failed to find anything, he headed back into the bedroom to find Amanda staring hard at the ceiling light, the paramedics taking care of Hathaway, who still hadn’t come to.

  “What is it?”

  “Hathaway had this room lit like a stage. That light—” she pointed over the bed “—was turned on to its brightest setting.” She moved to a place about three feet in front of the bed. “He had another bright light on me and the rest of the room was dark.”

  “And?”

  “He’d set the lighting as if he intended to film his bedroom activities. Maybe we shouldn’t be searching for a diary. Maybe he used a camcorder to record his a
ctivities.”

  “There’s an entire cabinet of DVDs. Let’s look more closely.” Bolt opened the nightstand cabinet and searched the titles. He recognized most of the movies. “Nothing unusual here.”

  Amanda opened a case, popped a disk into the DVD player and turned on the television. An orgy filled the screen. A private orgy recorded in full surround sound and high digital color, within the confines of Hathaway’s home. Bolt recognized a few of the models, Hathaway in the center of things. It wasn’t the proof they needed, but perhaps somewhere in the stack of DVDs might be a clue.

  A detective assured them that his men would carefully go through every DVD. And Bolt was glad Amanda wouldn’t have to watch them. She’d been through enough.

  He took her back across the street and they showered, then lounged together in the giant tub and tried to ignore the cop who’d followed them to make certain they didn’t try to leave. Cooperation between the Shey Group and the police only went so far. Bolt ordered pizza delivered. And by mutual consent they stuck to small talk. Both needed time to unwind.

  When the phone rang and the homicide detective’s name came up on caller ID, Bolt put the call on speakerphone so Amanda could listen. “We found what you needed, Mr. Tanner. One of the DVDs showed Hathaway shooting Donna Lane. Right on the DVD he tells her his plan to steal her patent and sell it to the highest bidder. He says it’s payback for her creating an antidote and trying to ruin him.”

  “Thanks.” Bolt hung up, the pressure in his chest lightening. Amanda wasn’t going to jail. Hathaway was. At the joy of knowing he had all the time in the world to spend with her, he felt like dancing.

  “So your theory was correct.” Amanda leaned forward and kissed Bolt on the cheek.

  “I’m always correct,” he teased. “Haven’t you learned that yet?”

  She smacked her hand against her forehead, but laughter escaped her lips. “You were certainly right about me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “We’re good together.”

  “Yes, we are.” She’d seemed to have gone from uncertain if they had a future together straight to love. And he was right there with her. They might not have known one another long, but he looked forward to their spending a lot of time together. “I was thinking about moving.”

  “Moving?” She cocked her brow. “I don’t know even where you live. Come to think of it, there’s quite a lot I don’t know about you.”

  “You know the important stuff. And I was thinking Florida is too far away. So I’m going to move so we can be closer.”

  “To New Jersey.”

  “How about I move in with you?”

  She laughed again. “You’d give up your home to live with me?”

  “There isn’t much I wouldn’t give up for you. Amanda, I love you.”

  Epilogue

  BOLT MOVED into Amanda’s home one week later. Amanda had visited Donna’s grave and seemed to have made peace with the past. With Hathaway in jail without bond, the evidence against him solid and the perfume bottle returned to its rightful owner, the case was completed.

  The police had found proof that Hathaway was responsible for the accident that had ruined Melanie’s career and she could collect enough from his estate to live comfortably for the rest of her life. The danger was behind them all and his life with Amanda was before him.

  In many ways, he and Amanda didn’t know one another that well. He hadn’t realized that she adored eating popcorn and chocolate in bed while she watched late-night movies. Or that she loved to paint landscapes, or that she enjoyed yoga. However, he knew the important things—like the courage with which she faced the world.

  She’d found the courage to lose control of her emotions around him. And he vowed always to make it safe for her to do so.

  And he’d learned that she was eager to become part of his family. She wanted to visit his sisters and mother as soon as possible. Amanda even adored children and the idea of starting a family appealed as much to her as it did to him.

  She’d never again feel alone and unloved. Bolt would make certain of it.

  And as he brought her breakfast in bed and kissed her awake, he didn’t think he’d ever tire of watching her open her eyes with a bright curiosity to face the day—well, at least after a strong cup of coffee. He set the tray beside the bed and kissed her lips. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  “Mmm.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her green eyes, which reminded him of the sea on a windy day. “You smell like cherry jelly and coffee.”

  “Breakfast awaits.”

  She snuggled against him. “You’re spoiling me.”

  “I have a secret motive.”

  “Not so secret.” She trailed a hand down his chest and his stomach to his erection. “I’m so glad you moved in.”

  “Me, too.”

  She glanced into his eyes, joy shining through. “I’ve never been happier.”

  Her simple words warmed him straight to his heart. “Good. I plan to keep it that way.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.” His mouth angled to capture hers. “Because my love for you is uncontrollable.”

  * * * * *

  ISBN: 9781460392232

  UNCONTROLLABLE

  Copyright © 2005 by Susan Hope Kearney.

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