I’d rather you put a bullet in my head.
Christ. When Rhy finally got his hands on Everson, he’d tear him limb from limb—right before he kicked his own ass. Fear and shame tightened his chest like an iron band. He swallowed painfully, his gaze narrowing on the slender fingers she rubbed over the column of her neck. “Did he beat you?”
She raised her chin defiantly and met his gaze with a glare. “One time. If I could’ve killed him that night, I would have.”
Whether her voice shook with suppressed anger or remembered fear, he wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. His heart slammed against his rib cage, and the sour tang of bile coated his throat. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus.”
Nicky sat forward as if preparing to stand.
“Wait.” He pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Please, just wait.”
She sank back into the chair, pulling free of his hand. Ignoring the wild rage threatening to rip him apart, he crouched in front of her. Her eyes were full of wary embarrassment, but with her typical stubbornness, she held her chin high.
He wrapped his fingers around one of the hands she held clenched in her lap. “Were you carrying Alex at the time?”
Her face closed up, and she remained silent, her lips stretched in a stubborn line.
“Nicky.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand.
Her chin bumped up another notch. “Alex was conceived that night.”
Rhy flinched at the low, flat tone of her usually animated voice. Instead of meeting his gaze, she stared at some unseen point over his shoulder.
“He made love to you and then beat you?” Afraid he already knew the answer, he needed to hear the words.
“He beat me, and when I tried to leave, he told me I wasn’t going anywhere. Then he…” Heaving a ragged breath, Nicky looked him dead in the eye. “I snuck out the next morning while he was gone from the house.”
Her eyes were a dry, cold, emerald green. They bored into him as if daring him to judge. Christ, he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he pulled her to him, gently sliding her from the chair onto his lap as he sat on the kitchen floor.
He dipped his head and rested his forehead on her slight shoulder. She held her body stiff while he rocked them both for long minutes. Finally, the rigid clamp of her muscles began to soften marginally, and his eyes slid shut with relief.
Her chest expanded on a shuddering sigh. “I got Alex. He’s worth all of it.”
The simple statement sliced at Rhy like a blade and tamped down the rage threatening to erupt over all she’d endured at Everson’s hands. Senator Hawley’s barely veiled reference to assassination suddenly made brutal sense, but a quick death wasn’t good enough for Everson. He deserved to suffer.
Rhy rose, gently pulling her to her feet, and lifted her in his arms. She didn’t resist as he climbed the stairs to her bedroom. The late-afternoon sun cast golden shadows across her bed as he lowered her to the patchwork quilt. He straightened, and she rolled to her side, her eyes sliding shut.
Shoving his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, he watched as her breathing evened out. She’d been through so much already: Everson’s abuse, her father’s death, not to mention five years of self-induced exile from those she loved while living a life she couldn’t have ever imagined for her and Alex just to survive. Unfortunately, circumstances remained stacked against her.
She’d been disillusioned and hurt. By him as well, and while he’d do everything in his power to make it up to her, his gut twisted with the knowledge that the danger she’d faced for so long wasn’t over. He’d do whatever was necessary to keep her safe, but he was powerless to prevent what was coming.
Chapter Twenty-One
The radio clipped to the waist of Rhy’s jeans crackled. “We have company.”
Horror clawed at Nicky’s throat. Her eyes flew to the darkened window beyond the kitchen table. The sun had dropped behind the mountains several hours earlier while she’d dozed upstairs.
“Don’t panic. We’re ready.” Rhy squeezed her hand before rising to his feet. Keying the radio, he pulled her up beside him and skirted the table toward the hallway. “How many?”
“Target and three extras.”
“Roger. Where’s Everson?”
“Working his way around back. He should be walking through the door any second.”
“And the extras?”
The radio crackled. “Two down.” There was silence for several seconds. “Three down. Target’s a single arrow.”
Rhy tugged her to a stop just inside the hall and quietly directed her to keep her back to the wall. He pulled the twenty-two from the back waistband of his jeans and pressed it into her hand. A dark nine-millimeter appeared in his two-fisted grip.
“Stay close,” he commanded softly.
Nicky’s fingers tightened on the weapon, and she fought to regulate her breathing. Fear was like a living thing. It slithered through her and threatened her sanity. In silence, she focused her eyes on Rhy. His ever-moving gaze brushed over the windows and door at the back of the kitchen.
Would Jonathan simply walk inside? Did he know they waited? A bullet through the door was what he deserved, but Rhy insisted they take him alive if possible.
He flicked his hand in an abbreviated slash. Her heartbeat accelerated as she followed the faint shadow passing by the window. Rhy double stepped several feet away, lifted his arms, and trained his weapon on the door. The knob shifted slightly just as the radio crackled to life.
“Six more extras closing in on the perimeter. Watch your back.”
Even as Tim gave the clipped warning, the kitchen door crashed back on its hinges. The dark bulk of a large man surged inside. Nicky bit down on her bottom lip and aimed the twenty-two as the man’s arm swung in their direction. Rhy’s weapon coughed twice. A bloom of crimson spread across the man’s left shoulder, and the heavy weapon in his hand clattered to the floor with a thud. Her breath burst from her lungs as he slid down the wall to lie still.
“You know that moment just before your world goes to shit?” the terrifyingly familiar voice whispered in her ear as cold metal pressed to her temple. “This is that moment. Drop the gun.”
Terror gripped Nicky with barbed talons. Her strangled gasp sounded more like a tortured wheeze as the twenty-two clattered to the floor.
Rhy whipped around, his weapon cocked and ready and aimed at the man behind her.
“Drop it, or she’s dead.” Jonathan slipped his free arm around Nicky from behind. He tightened his forearm over her chest and yanked her back against him. The move effectively locked her arms at her sides as his breath stirred the hair at her temple and brought a shiver of revulsion to her skin.
Rhy’s self-defense lessons scrolled through her mind like a slide show. Her arms were useless at the moment, but she didn’t hesitate. Dropping her chin, she slammed her head backward as hard as she could. Just as Rhy had, Jonathan avoided the blow. The back of her head connected with the muscled ball of his shoulder. She received a painful squeeze for her efforts and Jonathan’s mocking laughter in her ear.
“I see you’ve picked up a few tricks.” He jammed the barrel into her temple hard enough to break the skin. “Drop it, McLean. Now.”
She shook her head, silently pleading with Rhy not to leave himself unarmed. Intent on the weapon in Jonathan’s hand, Rhy leaned to his right, dipped his knees, and placed the nine-millimeter on the floor before standing straight once more.
Instantly, the barrel left her temple and swung toward Rhy. She bucked within the cage of Jonathan’s arms in a desperate attempt to free her arms.
Jonathan held her fast. “Don’t tempt me. Or do you think I won’t blow your head off right here?”
She had no doubt he’d do it. Rage overtook her fear. If she was going to die anyway… “I wouldn’t put any atrocity past a narcissist pig like you.”
The muscles of his arm tensed around her, squeezing hard enough to compress her ribs. Pain rippled
through her.
“You’ve grown difficult since betraying me, darling. Have you forgotten your promise to love, honor, and obey?”
She refused to buckle under the pain until black spots danced in her vision. She groaned. Jonathan loosened his grip marginally, and she gulped in air.
Jonathan’s cruel laughter heated the shell of her ear. “A wise decision, darling, although I’m happy to see you still have some fight in you. While I far prefer that lovely, malleable woman who promised to love me until death do us part, I’m going to enjoy breaking you of your newfound courage.”
Revulsion flooded Nicky, and she took refuge in Rhy’s steady presence.
Rhy’s eyes blazed with determination, though his voice remained calm. “You’ll never leave here alive. My team will round up your men in no time and head straight here for you.”
“Won’t make any difference to you, McLean.” Jonathan’s arm jerked tighter with his snarl. “You’ll be dead.”
Nicky winced in pain and renewed fear. “Rhy?”
Rhy’s gaze never wavered from Jonathan. “It’s going to be okay, Nicky.”
Wicked laughter vibrated in the chest plastered against her back. Jonathan pressed his lips to her ear. “Oh, this is rich. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
Nicky jerked, twisting her head away from his hot breath.
“Nicky. Nicky. You never were very smart.” Jonathan’s chest expanded on a long-suffering sigh. “I almost forgot. Where’s our little bundle of joy?”
She nearly screamed when Rhy shifted, as if preparing to charge, and Jonathan leveled the barrel at his chest.
“I’ll drop you where you are if you move an inch.” Jonathan’s voice dropped to a snarl. “Where is he, Nicky? Where’s my son?”
“You’ll never find him. I’ll kill him myself before I let you have him.”
She had no time to brace for impact. The muscles of Jonathan’s chest and arm bunched, and he slammed the butt of the gun against her temple then swung his arm back so the weapon was leveled at Rhy’s head.
Dizziness and double vision made her suck in gulps of air. She couldn’t pass out, not if they were going to walk away from this. Squinting her eyes, she brought Rhy into focus. He met her gaze, and the desperate intensity in his eyes gave her the strength to hold on. The realization slammed into her like a freight train: Rhy would die for her. He’d die for Alex. The anger and hurt of the past few days fell away until only her love remained. Tears welled in her eyes. How long before Tim and the others came? She couldn’t watch Rhy die. She just couldn’t.
Pure fury tightened Rhy’s features, as if he’d kill Jonathan with his bare hands if given the chance. Jonathan laughed but must have decided he had little time to waste. He inched back, dragging her along with him. She stumbled purposefully in an attempt to break his hold. He stole her breath when he jolted her with a healthy shake, hefting her off her feet until she dangled over his arm like a sack, but her effort wasn’t wasted. His jostling left one of her arms free. If she could just reach…
“Did my good friend Rhy tell you how much help he was in tracking you down, darling?”
Nicky looked at Rhy. His eyes simmered with hatred but remained focused on Jonathan.
“Of course, even the great leader of Global Shield wouldn’t have been able to find you if I hadn’t tempted you out of your hole by sending that son of a bitch who fathered you to hell.”
A cold knot of fury froze the blood in her veins. Jonathan had admitted to her father’s murder, but unless they found a way out of this standoff, making him pay would be impossible.
“I have to admit, McLean’s the best,” Jonathan mocked. “He managed to do what countless others failed at over the years. Thanks, buddy. Without your superb tracking skills, I never would have known I was a daddy.” His taunting tone slid into a sneer. “Consider us even.”
Rage blazed in Rhy’s eyes. Nicky bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood and twisted her free arm. Her searching fingers grasped for Jonathan’s unprotected crotch just as the world exploded around them.
Gunfire erupted outside. Several men crashed through the kitchen doorway in a tangle of arms and legs. Rhy took advantage of the opportunity and dove for his weapon.
Horror bloomed as Jonathan’s outstretched arm followed the movement. Nicky clawed for the hand holding the weapon, tangling her legs with his at the same time. Thrown off-balance, Jonathan stumbled but shook her off as if she were no more annoying than a gnat. Nicky flew through the air. Bouncing off the wall, she hit the floor hard. Her right knee throbbed, and she’d probably broken a wrist, but none of that mattered. Jonathan’s attention splintered long enough that he was slow to bring his weapon back to bead on Rhy.
Nicky crashed into Jonathan’s legs just as he fired. Wood splintered in the doorframe next to Rhy’s head, and her lungs constricted on a piercing scream.
“Go,” Rhy shouted, twisting onto his back, weapon in hand.
She didn’t hesitate. On hands and knees, Nicky threw herself through the doorway to the den. A second gunshot cracked, and her ears rang as her shoulder slammed into the corner of the coffee table. Pain sliced through her, even as the heavy, multiple coughs of Rhy’s nine-millimeter followed and brought a cry of relief to her lips.
Alive. He was alive.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rhy leaned against the wall of the Flagstaff Municipal Hospital emergency room, willing the doors at the end of the hall to swing open. Until they did, he wouldn’t know if his heart would beat again. Nicky had disappeared through those doors three hours earlier, and with each passing moment, his panic and fear increased. Tim stopped at his side and held out a cup of coffee. Rhy jammed his fingers through his hair and refused.
Tim thumbed the plastic lid and followed Rhy’s gaze to the doors. “Anything yet?”
Rhy shook his head and repeated the plea in his head. The same one he’d been chanting since he’d stumbled into Nicky’s den and found her bleeding from the gaping hole in her shoulder. Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die.
Tim clamped a hand on his shoulder. “From what I could learn, the doc is well respected.”
“They should have flown her to Phoenix.” Crazed with fear, Rhy had tried to overrule the EMTs on hand, but they’d insisted she’d lost too much blood. The short trip to Flagstaff was her best hope.
Tim said nothing to that. He’d held Rhy back from climbing into the ambulance with her, before shoving him into the passenger seat of a team SUV. They’d squealed into the emergency room parking lot on two wheels half a minute after Nicky had arrived.
Tim cleared his throat. “The Feds need your statement.”
Rhy jerked his head around, ready to commit murder. “Not until I know she’s okay.”
Tim dipped his chin. “That’s what I told them. I managed to hold them off for another hour, but they’re not happy.”
“Too fucking bad.” Rhy’s gaze skidded to the redhead staring blankly at the TV in the waiting room. “Thanks for collecting Peggy. Nicky will need a friend when she wakes up.”
Tim nodded in silence.
Rhy knew next to nothing about Nicky’s life in Flagstaff, but she’d left Alex with the redhead when she’d gone to DC for her father’s funeral. Rhy had given Tim the address and asked him to let the woman who lived there know what had happened. Peggy had insisted on returning to the hospital with Tim, and Rhy was grateful. With Nicky’s lifestyle the past five years, she couldn’t have made a lot of friends. Those she did should be here for her.
He’d called the Hawleys, and they were on their way. He would call the Maxwells as soon as someone fucking told him Nicky was going to be okay. He didn’t want to talk to Alex until he knew for sure.
At the end of the hall, the doors swished open. Rhy sprang from his slouch as an older man in a pair of blood-spattered scrubs appeared. He headed in Rhy’s direction, which was a good thing. Rhy legs wouldn’t cooperate. His feet were stuck to the floor below legs mad
e of stone. Peggy arrived at his side just as a tired smile lit the doctor’s face.
“It looks good.”
The breath left Rhy in a whoosh, and he leaned over, propping his hands on his thighs.
“She had us worried for a while, but she’s strong. It won’t be easy or quick for her, but she should make a full recovery.”
Rhy lifted his head, the best he could do, and gave the doctor a nod. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Peggy immediately began peppering the man with questions. Rhy didn’t understand a word she said, as relief made him light-headed and his ears buzz.
An hour later, with Nicky in recovery and not expected to wake for several hours, the Feds wouldn’t take no for an answer. Rhy spent an agonizing hour answering their questions when what he should be doing, what he needed to do, was go get Alex and assure him everything was going to be okay.
In all, four men were dead, including Everson, with six in custody. Two of those deaths had been by Rhy’s hand. He didn’t have an ounce of sympathy for either of them. They’d come for Nicky and had signed their death warrants before they’d walked through the door. Nicky would have to be interviewed, and there would be an investigation, but from the reaction of the FBI agent in charge, the case was all but closed. Jonathan Everson would never threaten Nicky or Alex again.
With Tim volunteering to finish the paperwork, Rhy took a few minutes to collect himself before heading to Prescott to get Alex. Standing before the pitted mirror in the emergency room bathroom, the memory of Everson swinging his weapon in Nicky’s direction and popping off a shot kept running through Rhy’s head in terrifying detail. Until she’d dived through the den’s doorway, he hadn’t been able to breathe. Everson hadn’t lived to take another shot, but Rhy’s hands ached with the need to kill the bastard all over again.
How had she managed to survive living with the man for nearly a year? She’d claimed he’d treated her relatively well at the beginning, but Rhy couldn’t see how. The man holding a nine-millimeter to her head was more than the arrogant prick Rhy remembered from Afghanistan. He was a narcissistic sociopath who mastered at manipulation and, when that didn’t work, resorted to violence.
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