Whatever happened, she would be there. He wouldn’t face this alone. Not this time.
Otis Sullivan lived on the outskirts of Sweet Hill in a well-appointed community riddled with miniature lakes, bike paths, and golf courses. The houses sat on large lots, positioned well back from the road.
Reid turned down the street and then down a parallel side street, parking behind a landscaping truck.
From his vantage, he scanned the perimeter. A Lexus and two SUVs sat parked in the circular driveway. Two men stood beneath the shaded portico, on either side of the front door. Another two stood near the garage. One smoked a cigarette while the other paced a short line.
An attractive middle-aged woman in a pink tennis skirt emerged out of a door near the garage, a gangly boy in khaki pants and a crisp button-down shirt followed, his head buried in his phone. She said something to one of the men and then moved toward the Lexus. He opened the door for her.
Reid had followed Sullivan’s career as much as he could from prison and knew that he was married and had a son. The picture-perfect family. A hard curse escaped him. While he’d been rotting in prison, this man was out here, killing, stealing, running drugs, and basically enjoying his charmed life.
Sullivan’s wife and son climbed into the Lexus, backed out of the driveway and drove off. Reid dug his burner phone out of his pocket and punched in Sullivan. He answered on the third ring.
“It’s done,” he said.
“Good. Very good. Glad to see you still have it in you.” Sullivan’s voice rang with approval. “Now let’s talk about the body . . .”
“Taking care of that. I’m on the way to you with her now.”
“What?” Sullivan sputtered. “You can’t do that.”
“You have that fat house on Desert Lane, right? I’ll be there soon.”
“Do not come to my house, Allister. You hear me?” An edge of panic entered his voice.
Reid hung up, a grin playing about his lips. Now he only had to wait. And it didn’t take long to wait for the rats to scurry.
A few moments later, as he’d hoped, the side door opened and Sullivan exited with two other men close at his sides. More men poured out of the house, taking positions around the perimeter, presumably readying themselves for Reid’s arrival.
Sullivan and two of his thugs hopped in one of the SUVs, clearly in a hurry to get him away from the house. Sullivan wouldn’t want to be at any location where a dead Grace Reeves could potentially show up. He wanted to hurt the president in the worst way by killing his daughter, but he didn’t want to take the blame for it. The bastard would want to be someplace public and, more important, far away. Even if that meant he had fewer men guarding him.
Reid watched as the vehicle passed, then he started his bike and turned down the street, following the black SUV, keeping a careful distance as he trailed them through town. It was a short drive. Ten minutes later Sullivan pulled up in front of his office, a squat brown building.
Reid parked at the corner and climbed off his bike. Sullivan and his men went in through the front door, which was the point—letting himself be seen by witnesses. He was counting on his men back at the house dealing with Reid and the corpse he was bringing.
Reid checked his gun under his jacket, verifying it was still in position, tucked in the back of his jeans. Then he crossed the street and walked around to the back of the building advertising Sullivan Realty.
The back door was unlocked. He eased inside, making his way through an empty employee staff room. He rounded a corner, his hand behind his back, gripping his gun. He heard voices near the front, easily picking out Sullivan’s ringing tones.
He stuck close to the wall, moving down a hall. His goal was Sullivan, but he knew he might have to take down his thugs, too.
His heart thundered in his chest the closer he inched toward the door where he heard Sullivan speaking. Inconveniently, he also heard another voice. This one in his head. Soft and familiar. You’re not a killer. Damn it. It was bad enough she’d gotten beneath his skin. Now she was in his head, too, distracting him, softening him when he needed to be hard and calculated. When he needed to be the man he was at Devil’s Rock, who kicked ass and took names and never thought twice about it.
He paused, squeezing his eyes in a tight blink. Exhaling, he let his head drop against the wall. Christ. He couldn’t do it.
Eleven years he’d been dreaming about this moment and she’d ruined him.
Twenty-Two
Grace stood outside a nail salon just one block down the street from Sullivan Realty. She’d parked the van haphazardly in front of the salon, one tire rolled up onto the sidewalk. Several faces pressed against the glass, gawking at her. She’d made a spectacle of herself, running inside and using the phone to call her personal aide and give her instructions and her location.
She knew it was going to take a while for the Secret Service to show up, but she also knew they would contact the local police. Surely they would be here any second.
She paced in front of the salon, dragging a hand through her hair, her pulse hammering at her neck every moment Reid was inside that building. Where were they?
Damn it. She couldn’t stand it. She had to do something. Shooting a quick glance left and right, she darted across the street, her mind racing, trying to formulate a plan that wouldn’t endanger Reid or herself.
As her gaze narrowed on the door that read Sullivan Realty, she arrived at something that could work. Hopefully.
She would walk into the lobby and demand to see Otis Sullivan. Reid had gone around the back. Hopefully, the two had not come face-to-face yet. Or at least Reid had not committed murder yet. She would look Sullivan squarely in the face and tell him she knew who he was, what he had done, and that the police were on the way. It was over. There had to be witnesses inside that building that weren’t criminals. He wouldn’t harm her in front of them.
Nodding, convinced that this was a solid plan, she reached for the door.
Her hand never made it to the handle. A fist grabbed her by the hair and yanked her around. She yelped and clawed at the hand buried in her hair, her feet scampering over the ground, fighting for purchase as she was hauled back around the building.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a familiar voice snarled into her ear. “Shouldn’t you be dead, you little bitch?”
She started to scream, but Rowdy’s hand slammed over her mouth. He continued to drag her to the back of the building. There were other footsteps and she tried to twist her head to see who and how many she was up against.
Where were the police?
Once in the back gravel parking lot, Rowdy spun her around to face him. “Where the hell is he?” Zane and another guy she vaguely recognized as one of her abductors stood beside him. Rowdy jerked his chin at them. “Good thing we decided to come by right now and pick up the money Sullivan promised us for grabbing her.” He turned his gaze back on her, full of blistering wrath. “Now answer my question. Where the fuck is he?”
“Who?” she hedged, bending her head awkwardly at his painful grip in her hair.
“Who?” Rowdy echoed, sending a quick smirk to Zane. “The bitch wants to play stupid.” He looked back at Grace, cocking his head to the side, his bloodshot eyes wild. “You know what happens to stupid bitches? They get used for punching bags.”
He cocked his fist and gut-punched her. She bowed over and dropped to the ground, pain radiating from her stomach and up her torso. Bile surged in her throat. She coughed. Afraid she was about to be sick.
“Rowdy—” Zane started to say.
“What, man? Sullivan wanted her dead and she’s here.” Grace looked up from the dark curtain of her hair. Zane met her gaze and shrugged helplessly, scratching at one skinny arm.
“I’m sure there’s a reason—”
“Yeah, the reason is that your brother is a lying motherfucker. I told you we couldn’t trust him. He ain’t one of us anymore.”
Rowdy looked back dow
n at her, pulling a knife smoothly from his pocket. He flipped it open and nodded at the other guy, never taking his eyes off her. “Go get the truck.”
Grace started to drag herself backward on the asphalt, indifferent to her palms scraping over the rough surface. Rowdy followed, moving in slowly. He didn’t have to move fast. She couldn’t even stand yet.
“Rowdy,” Zane said, a shaky quality to his voice as he looked from Grace to the knife. “You gonna kill her here? That’ll be messy.”
Shaking badly, Grace heaved for breath, struggling to find her voice so she could scream. She wasn’t sure if it was the lingering pain of being punched or if it was fear. Probably both.
Then she heard another voice. Gravel-deep and rich. A soothing balm to her terrified heart. “Drop the knife.”
She twisted around to spot Reid, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
“Reid!” Zane cried out.
“Hey, asshole,” Rowdy greeted. “We’re just about to finish the job you were supposed to do.”
“You really think Sullivan wants you to carve her up outside his office building?” Reid moved past her, closer to Rowdy.
“Yeah, Row,” Zane chimed in. “Sullivan won’t like it.”
“Shut the hell up, Zane. Can’t you see that he’s just trying to protect her?” Rowdy nodded at Grace. “You like her, huh? Enough to turn on your old crew. Must be money between those legs.”
Zane fumbled for his phone. “I’m calling Sullivan.”
“You really went soft,” Rowdy continued, looking at Reid again, his voice heavy with disgust. “Thought prison was supposed to make you tough.” He shook his head and sent another quick glance to her. “She worth it? Turning your back on your crew? Maybe I’ll have a go at her before I cut her throat. Should have done that back at the house instead of letting you have your way and go off with her.”
Grace jerked at the sick words.
Reid took a measured step to the side, putting himself between her and Rowdy. “You gotta go through me.”
Rowdy grinned then, revealing his yellowed, rotted teeth. “Nice. Finally. Some honesty from you.”
“Reid,” Zane choked, his expression one of bewilderment. “What are you doing?”
“Want some more honesty?” Reid asked. “I always hated you, Rowdy, just an inbred asshole with nothing up here.” He tapped his skull.
Rowdy’s smile slipped and he charged with an enraged shout.
The two collided, locked in struggle. Reid caught hold of Rowdy’s arm wielding the knife.
Grace scampered back a few more feet and managed to stand as she watched, horrified, praying to God that Reid managed to avoid the swinging blade.
Zane watched, too, still wearing that dumbfounded expression on his face. Reid kicked Rowdy’s leg out from under him and they went down hard with Reid sprawled over him.
The back door banged open.
Three well-dressed men emerged. Grace looked the one in the center up and down, eyeing his narrow face and cold eyes. It had to be Sullivan. He peered at Zane through stylish blue-framed glasses and demanded, “What’s going on?”
As Zane stammered incoherently, gesturing to the fighting men, Sullivan’s eyes locked on Grace. “What the hell is she doing here?” He blinked, looking her over. “And alive? She’s supposed to be dead.” He scanned the parking lot behind the building, clearly panicked. “Get her out of here,” he barked, clearly a man accustomed to being obeyed. “Quick!”
His men made a move toward her, and then Grace heard the wail of sirens.
Her shoulders slumped with relief. Finally. Her gaze flew to Reid, who was still straddling Rowdy.
She looked back at Sullivan and said the words she had rehearsed in her mind. “It’s over.”
“The hell it is.” Sullivan looked at his men. “Reeves isn’t going to get away with what he did to me . . . to my nephew. He owed me and then he fucked me over when it was time to pay me back. He made a commitment to me the moment he took my money.” His gaze swerved back to her. “Kill her. Quick. And get out of here! Dump the body somewhere where it will eventually be found. None of the usual places, understood?”
Startled, she took a step back, bumping into Zane. His hands came up to close around her arms.
“Do it,” Sullivan commanded, stabbing a finger at Zane, then scurrying toward the back door of his building.
Sullivan’s henchmen looked back at Zane. “You heard him. Do it!”
Still gripping her arm, Zane reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He flipped it open, brandishing the blade. The door to the building thudded shut after Sullivan and his men.
“Zane,” she whispered, eyeing the glinting steel. “Please, no. Don’t.”
“Zane!”
Grace looked up. Reid was standing, his boot on Rowdy’s neck, pinning him to the ground. He clutched Rowdy’s knife in his hand, his gaze locked on his brother. “Please, don’t. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re my brother, man.”
“You left me!” Zane exploded, his fingers digging into her arm like talons. “I was just seventeen. I had no one. They were the only ones there for me.”
“I know. I didn’t want to go . . . I shouldn’t have fucked up. I should have never let you get mixed in with Sullivan. I should have been there for you.”
Zane still held her arm, the knife pointed at her neck. The wail of sirens grew, getting closer.
“Please, Zane. Don’t kill her. She’s . . .” His eyes lifted and locked on Grace. “I love her. Don’t take her from me.”
Grace swallowed back a sob, her heart clenching. A thousand things raced through her mind and she wanted to say all of them. Especially if she was about to die. She wanted Reid to know she felt the same way about him.
Zane expelled a shuddering breath. “Shit, man.” He let her go with a slight shove toward Reid.
She staggered away and started to close the last bit of distance between her and Reid, but everything felt like slow motion. Like she was moving underwater. He loved her. She didn’t make it two steps before police and emergency vehicles roared into the back parking lot and exploded all around them.
She caught a glimpse of Reid being slammed to the ground, a gun pointed at his head.
She opened her mouth and screamed his name. Hands grabbed her, people surrounding her on every side, forming a wall and blocking her from seeing anything—from seeing him.
Grace continued to scream and fight, trying to reach him. She thought she heard him shout her name and then her knees gave out. The ground came up to meet her and her head went thick and fuzzy.
Everything went black.
Twenty-Three
Grace woke to a dark shape standing over her, sunlight streaming around him. She held her hand over her eyes, wondering if she had died. Was this it?
“Where am I?” She closed her eyes again and then reopened them. This time things were a little less hazy, the shape in front of her outlined against a wash of whiteness.
She blinked a few more times, processing the blue suit. Her gaze drifted up to a familiar face. “Daddy?”
“Glad to see you’re with us again.”
“Where am I?” she repeated.
“In the hospital.”
She flattened her palms beside her on a bed and attempted to push herself up. She managed to eventually say, “What happened to me?”
“Don’t strain yourself. You’ve been through an ordeal.”
She frowned and lifted fingers to her pounding head. “Was I hurt?”
“You’ve been through a great trauma,” he said, and she released a small snort. So like her father, the consummate politician, never answering a direct question with anything truly enlightening or helpful.
“How long have I been here?”
“Two days. How do you feel?”
Two days? She’d been unconscious that long? Her heart started racing. Ignoring his question, she demanded in a panicky voice, “What happened to Reid? Is he oka
y?”
“If you’re referring to your abductor, then he’s back in prison where he belongs.”
“No!” She shook her head, ignoring the stabbing sensation in her temples. “You don’t understand. He didn’t kidnap me. Sullivan—”
“Sullivan has been arrested as well. We have several members of his crime network in custody. All have agreed to testify against him for reduced sentences.”
“Oh.” She relaxed somewhat. At least they got that part of it right. She just needed to straighten everything else out about Reid. She took a deep breath. “Reid Allister is innocent. Of all crimes. He was sent to prison in the first place for a crime Sullivan—”
“Grace, you’re upsetting yourself. Lay back down. Your mother is at the hotel. I’ll call her. She’s anxious to see you. This hasn’t been good for her nerves.”
“Damn it! For once listen to me!”
Her father’s expression cracked for the barest moment, the handsome facade showing his astonishment that she would talk to him in such a way. “What’s gotten into you, Grace? Clearly you’re still suffering from shock. Let me ring the nurse to give you another sedative.”
“Another? Is that what you’ve been doing? Drugging me? Is that why I’ve been in this bed for two days? Daddy, I’m twenty-six years old. I know you’re the leader of the free world, but you don’t own me.” She let the irony of that statement hang there for a moment. “I’m a person with rights, and I’m done living my life for you.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his blue eyes hardening. It was the type of stare that would normally have had her hastily apologizing before. But this wasn’t before anymore. “Of course I don’t own you, Grace. I never thought I did.” He cleared his throat and looked to the door. “Dennis, if you would leave us for a moment please.”
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