Hunted

by Clark, Jaycee

  “No one escapes me. Tonight you had to learn that and I think you have. Now perhaps the rest of your punishment will have a bit more purpose.”

  Punishment. The brothel? Or something more. More trips? Would he put her back down in the hole? She’d do just about anything not to go back down in the hole. She shuddered.

  “You’ll never run, will you?”

  The ground shifted and she fell, falling to her knees.

  A gun at the base of her skull made her whimper. His voice sounded loud to her, dripping with malice.

  “I’ll not only hunt you, but anyone that helps you.”

  She looked down but the ground wasn’t there; instead a river ran red, a headless body missing its hands floated by, followed by another, a woman, she didn’t know. Then another.

  No, please, no more. She whimpered again.

  She jerked away from him and ran. And ran . . . and ran . . .

  His laughter floated behind her. “You can run, but I’ll find you. No matter how long it takes. I’ll find you. You will always be mine.”

  She ran . . .

  Please, please, please . . .

  Still the laughter followed her, creeping up the ground to tangle around her legs, to trip her. She hit the ground with another whimper and didn’t dare turn around. She knew, knew he’d be right there. There waiting for her to turn.

  She scrambled up and ran on. Up a hill, and there sat a house. Her house. If only she could get home, she’d be safe. They’d keep her safe. They would. Her brothers. Home. Home.

  His laughter followed, whispering around her, through her, with her.

  She was heedless of the ground beneath her, heedless of the fact she wore no clothing. She had to get inside. Inside.

  She beat on the door. “Let me in. Please. Please.”

  The door swung open. She could hear voices in the kitchen, laughing. They were laughing.

  She ran. Was Daddy home? No, no. Daddy was dead. But the gun cabinet was in the study. Her hands shook as she unlocked it, grabbing the first gun she found, a shotgun. The shells. Which went in it? She grabbed a box and took them both to her room. Maybe if she was quiet, very quiet, no one would find her and she could just stay in her room. Hiding. Waiting.

  She shut the door and slowly backed away to sit on the window seat. She needed to look out the window to see when he was coming. She had to know when he was coming.

  Time crept by and her eyes grew tired. She set the gun and shells to the side, noting now it was a toy gun and the box of shells no more than Nerf balls.

  Her mind pulled her into sleep. Something tapped her on the face and she opened her eyes.

  Mikhail stood there staring down at her. The black barrel of his gun only inches from her face.

  “I warned you, Dusk.” He pulled the trigger.

  She screamed.

  * * *

  J.D., thinking about Molly and the fact he’d see her tomorrow, walked past his sister’s room on the way to his.

  A blood-chilling scream ripped through the air. He jerked, looked back at her door as she screamed again.

  He hurried to it. “Morgan!”

  His hand was reaching for the knob when he was shoved aside and the door was thrown open. J.D. flipped the switch, wondering who—

  She sat in the window seat, her eyes open, her hands in front of her face, and still she screamed.

  The sound iced his blood.

  “Morgan!” he said loudly, striding to her.

  Blade, already beside her, pierced him with one dark look and held up his hand even as he grabbed Morgan.

  “Morgan. Morgan. Come on, luv. Come out of it. It’s a dream. Come on, Morgan.”

  Her yells ricocheted around the room.

  “What the hell?” Gideon asked beside him.

  Jackson never felt so helpless in his life.

  Blade grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Morgan!” he yelled right in her face. “You’re dreaming. Wake up. Bloody hell, wake up!”

  The endless scream stopped. J.D. watched as she slowly blinked, her face utterly without color, her mouth open, her eyes wide and staring at Blade.

  “It’s me. You’re safe. You’re safe, Morgan.”

  She trembled and shook her head. “He—he was here. Right here, Linc. Here in the house. In my room. I w-woke up. Woke up and he-he was th-there. Right there. Standing with the gun. P-pointed at my face.” She shuddered, her head shaking back and forth. “He found me. Found me. K-killed me.”

  What the fuck? J.D. stepped forward, but a quick shake of Blade’s head warned him. The man’s dark eyes focused back on Morgan. “You were dreaming, luv. Just dreaming. Like in Berlin, remember? And in London?”

  She shook her head. “This was different. He was here. Right here. Pulled the trigger. S-said, ‘I t-told you.’ And p-pulled the trigger.”

  A muscle ticked in Blade’s jaw as he held Morgan to him and rocked her. “Oh, my girl.” The rage in his eyes was clear for J.D. to see. Gideon turned and walked to her bathroom, coming back with a cool cloth and a cup of water. He handed both to Blade as the man pulled back.

  “He was here, Linc. He found me. He swore he would and he did. Followed me and—”

  “Morgan,” Blade interrupted. “It was a dream. A nightmare. He’s nowhere near here. Would you like me to call Shadow and make certain?”

  His sister looked around the room and blinked at them, but her eyes were vacant. Always pale, they were now the most vibrant thing in her colorless face.

  No, they were haunted—with phantoms J.D. wasn’t certain he wanted to know of.

  God, he’d thought his heart had stopped.

  Then her words fell and clicked in his brain, what Blade had said earlier. Someone had threatened to kill her. She was lucky to be alive.

  His skin prickled, chilled.

  Her gaze slowly moved back to Blade. “A nightmare?”

  “Just a dream,” Blade answered.

  “You’ll call Shadow? Can you do that? Would you do that?”

  Blade handed her the cup of water, but her hands shook so much that the man held his over Morgan’s and helped her sip. She pushed the cup away. He set it aside and wiped her face with the cloth.

  J.D. felt like some damn voyeur. Blade looked at him and said, “Can one of you get my mobile off my nightstand?”

  It was only then J.D. noticed the man’s firearm was sitting beside them on the window seat.

  Gideon left and came back in a few moments. J.D. wished there was something, anything he could do.

  Blade took the phone, dialed one-handed as he held Morgan to him and then spoke into the phone. “It’s me. Where’s he at?” Blade’s dark eyes rose and looked from J.D. to Gid.

  J.D. got the impression the man rather wished they weren’t there. Too damn bad. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

  “Yes. Yes? Tonight? Thanks.” He paused. “No and no. I’ll explain later.” With that, he hung up and nudged Morgan, whose head was on his shoulder. “He’s exactly where he should be. He was seen at various functions. Only a bad dream.”

  She didn’t move. “You promise?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “Not that I know of,” Morgan said slightly.

  “Well, thank you for that at least.”

  Gideon eased toward the door and J.D. straightened. “Morgan, do you need anything?” J.D. ventured.

  She shook her head to him. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Jack.”

  He waved her worry away, walking to her. He leaned down and kissed her hair, rubbing her back, even as she practically sat in another man’s lap. “Try to get some sleep, sweetie.”

  “Could you turn on the lamp?” she asked him. J.D. nodded and flipped on the lamp on her nightstand.

  Almost at the door, he heard her whisper, “Will you stay with me? Please, Linc? Just until I fall asleep?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Blade answered quietly.

  J.D. flipped off the overhead l
ight and grabbed the doorknob. He turned and watched as the man brushed his sister’s hair away. J.D. glanced at Morgan and frowned. Exactly who was Mr. Blade to her, or more important, what was Morgan to Blade?

  Chapter 17

  Lincoln stood in the living room the next morning. The two brothers were sitting near the fireplace. The living room was decked out for Christmas, a nine-foot-tall tree haphazardly decorated, fairy lights and garland strung on anything that stood still.

  But Lincoln concentrated on the landscape, the cold Texas air fogged and still blue, the sun not up yet. He waited as he sipped his cup of coffee.

  “I take it you’re not going to tell us anything useful?” Gideon asked.

  Lincoln glanced over his shoulder to the scowling brother. “I would if I could, but I’m in a rather tenable situation. You’ll have to get any answers you can from your sister.”

  J.D. humphed. “Then I’ve a feeling we’re going to be wondering what has gone on from now until the trumpet sounds.” The older Gaelord brother yawned, clearly having not slept the rest of the night.

  Lincoln knew the feeling and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d sat and dozed very little through the night as he held Morgan. He could have returned to his own room after she slept, but couldn’t. Simply couldn’t. What would she do after he left?

  Not your worry, chap. He’d keep tabs on her. He’d left a list of numbers on her nightstand just in case she ever needed to contact him for anything and a cell phone that he’d purchased before leaving London. The bill would come to him.

  “I will tell you that I’ll be contacting Morgan with a list of psychiatrists she can choose from.” He turned from the window and studied each brother. “And she will see one. She simply must.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to see a shrink?”

  Lincoln sighed. “She swore, she’ll go.”

  “Why?” Gideon asked.

  Lincoln weighed his words. He wanted them to know how important this was, yet not give too much away. He settled on, “Because she simply must. If she doesn’t, you might lose her forever. You both might want to seek counseling yourselves. I won’t lie to you. It’s not going to be easy.” He paused, trying to figure out what to say and what to leave out.

  “Again, why?”

  “Who’s after her?” Jackson asked.

  “She needs counseling because she’s been through a serious—” He chose his next word carefully, “brutal, trauma. All you can do is be here for her if she wants you. If she doesn’t, your anger won’t help. And I’m quite certain you will feel anger either at her for holding back or . . . ” No. He wouldn’t go that far. “In any case, the nightmares will be normal. Stress, lack of appetite seem to be common, as with insomnia. Depression is a major concern.” He sat and leveled a look at the both of them. “A major concern. Those who have been through what she has all too often end up on suicide watch. None want that to happen to her, so watch her carefully, support her, but make certain she gets the help she needs.” He heard movement from upstairs. “And make certain you study up on posttraumatic stress disorder.”

  They both huffed out a breath. “I’m leaving numbers for you to call. Do so if anything out of the ordinary happens.”

  “Such as?”

  He swallowed another drink. “Such as someone following either of you, or your sister. Calls asking for her when no one has for months, strange people hanging about. That sort of thing.”

  He handed them each a card.

  “And just like that, you’ll come running?” Jackson asked.

  “Me and a few others, yes.”

  “Are you some sort of cop, fed or something?” Jackson asked.

  Lincoln smiled and chuckled. “Something like that. Suffice to say, I work with a task force and that’s all I can say.” He stood and glanced to the doorway just as Morgan looked in, dressed in the same gray sweats she’d worn last night. Her short hair was tousled around her head, her eyes sunken and exhausted.

  And good timing, or he’d be caught undoubtedly in more questions. Not that he could blame them.

  “You’re leaving already?” she asked.

  He grinned and walked to her. “If I don’t get home, Mum will skin me alive.”

  A slight frown appeared on her brow and she blinked. “Oh. Well, it is Christmas, isn’t it?”

  He nodded and shrugged. “And I didn’t even get you a gift.”

  He was trying for some humor, but should have known better. Her eyes filled. “You’ve given me more than anyone in my life ever has.”

  Linc took a deep breath and rubbed her arm. The clock chimed seven.

  She glanced at the large grandfather clock in the entry. “I guess you need to be going.”

  Indeed. His personal jet was sitting at the Grand Prairie Municipal Airport ready to sprint him to New York and his Christmas. Not that he could have flown on it with her, too personal, but he had it now that he needed it as the person he really was. Lincoln Blade III, CEO of Blade’s Jewelry. However, no one here knew that.

  “I wish I could stay,” he admitted.

  Her brows rose.

  “But that would jeopardize you, and that I won’t do.” His leaving didn’t have so much to do with getting to a family dinner as it did with keeping her safe. Seeing her home was one thing, staying one night to help ease her homecoming was sensible. Staying longer could endanger her.

  “What do I tell them?” she whispered, walking him to the door.

  “Whatever you feel you should.” Studying those wickedly pale eyes, he added, “Just don’t close yourself off, Morgan. You’ve got a home here and a life. Don’t be afraid to live it.”

  She looked at him for the longest time, and for the first time since he met her the wariness wasn’t there. Was it that she was home? Or the fact she trusted him?

  He sighed as footsteps came from the kitchen. Suzy stepped into the entryway. “You certain you don’t want any breakfast, Mr. Blade?”

  He smiled. “Your coffee is plenty. I have to save room for Mum’s Christmas meal. She’ll already be put out that I’m late.”

  Suzy’s eyes narrowed on him. “Don’t disappoint her then.” The diminutive woman hurried to him, and without a word snapped her fingers and motioned him downward. He leaned down and she kissed his cheek. “Thank you for bringing our girl home. You’re welcome here anytime. Anytime. Don’t you forget that.”

  He smiled and wondered if he was just lucky or if everyone was this hospitable here. Gideon slapped him on the back. “She’s right.” The man held his hand out and Lincoln shook it.

  “There’s no thanks necessary. Really.”

  Gideon smiled and nodded. “Perhaps not to you.”

  Lincoln stepped through the door that she held open, nodding to Jackson, who said, “I’ll be calling you.”

  He just bet the man would. Hell. Not that he’d do anything different himself.

  Linc already had his bag in the car. He strode to it, then turned back to the woman who followed him.

  “Remember your promise,” he reminded her. “I’ve left a short list of doctors, but I’ll send a more complete list no later than two days from now.”

  “I remember,” she said, looking down.

  “They’re only going to help you battle your demons, Morgan.” Like the ones last night. God. Her screams had chilled him, tripped his heart as they always did. He’d all but shoved her brother Jackson away, gathering her up.

  She had shoved against him, but he hadn’t let her go, just mumbled and rocked her as he had in Berlin and in London.

  Lincoln hated her nightmares. He couldn’t help her in them. And her eyes held that horrible fear and hopelessness he’d seen in her the first time he’d met her.

  He glanced back at the house. Jackson was on the porch swing, Gideon glowering against one of the columns.

  The dawning sunlight danced in her hair. Still so pale and wan, he wondered what she’d look like happy and laughing. The picture smoked through his brain, to
o elusive to catch.

  “You always seem to be saving me,” she said softly, leaning against the fender.

  He glanced down. The woman was barefoot.

  “You’re going to get cold.”

  She shook her head. “I’m always cold and I was afraid I’d miss you if I bothered with shoes.”

  “I wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye, Morgan. Would you have done that to me?”

  She blinked, then grinned slowly. “That’s for me to know.” Her shoulders lifted on her inhale and he caught the glint of a gold chain along her collarbone. He’d noticed she’d taken to wearing the ring on a chain. Why? And why did the thought make him smile?

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He leaned over and opened the door.

  “Guess I can’t ask where you’re off to?”

  “Do you really want to know?” He leaned on the door.

  She looked over to the barn and raked a hand through her hair. “No, I guess not.” Her eyes locked back to his and he wondered if anyone got used to that glance or stare. “I know this will sound ungrateful, but could you not call or anything?”

  He’d known it was coming, but the disappointment he felt at the words was a surprise. “Why? Do I bother you that much?” Leaning close he whispered, “I can’t be that bad.”

  A small smile played at one corner of her mouth. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

  He chuckled. “I like you, Morgan Gaelord.” He sighed. “I won’t be back, unless you call and need me.” Not going to lie to her, he said, “I’ll only call when I feel it necessary to check up on you, but I promise not to bother you.”

  “So you’ll leave me alone?”

  “I’ll still keep an eye on you.”

  She made a rueful face, and crossed her arms, cupping her elbows. “So how do I get in touch with you? If I need to?”

  He shook his head. “I left you a gift on your nightstand. A phone and some numbers. I don’t need to tell you not to give the numbers out to anyone else. If you need me for anything, just use the phone to call. All right?”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  Knowing he had to leave, he took a breath and plunged. “If you’re thinking of modeling, don’t.”