His mind screamed to shut this down, but the rest of his body took charge. Heat flooded through him. In those precious moments, the seal, a promise, passed between them.
When her hands skimmed over his shoulders, he knew she was about to break off the kiss, stop the mad mix of danger and longing.
She jabbed her finger into his still-healing wound.
The shock of the violation sent a shout of fury rushing through him as his mouth broke from hers. Before he could push her away, she jammed her finger in harder, driving him to his knees and starting a fresh flow of blood down his arm.
When she finally let go, his body heaved in relief. But he couldn’t stay on his feet. He crumpled to the floor, every nerve ending pulsing as his head spun. Random thoughts and slivers of pain assaulted his brain. He tried to ask her why, but the air refused to fill his lungs.
“I had to do it.”
Doubled over, holding his throbbing arm, he struggled to clear his vision and shift back to his knees. His mind grabbed for any explanation for her behavior.
“Why?”
She placed a quick kiss on the top of his head. “It’s my turn to save you.”
The enormity of her actions pounded into him with the force of a car. She’d subdued him, nearly knocked him out with a blow of debilitating pain, so she could sacrifice herself.
He tried to reach out to her, but his arm wouldn’t move. “Don’t do this.”
Worry and regret filled her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Not this way.”
“There’s no other.”
She blew him a kiss…and was gone.
Chapter Eleven
The walk from the music room to the main hall was the longest of Claire’s life. Her legs dragged against the expensive marble floor as if each foot weighed more than the house. The screams of rage and fear in her head threatened to overwhelm her, but she kept moving. She had left her heart broken on the floor behind her. She needed her brain with her now, especially when she was doing something so unbelievably stupid and dangerous.
A bright light bathed the area in front of her. The tall windows drew in the sunshine, filling the round entry with a yellow glow. All that stood between her and the massive double doors to the freedom outside was a place in the dead center of the tile pattern on the floor. That and the determination to deliver Luke out of this mess in one piece.
“Claire.” Phil’s voice rang through the house once more.
“I’m coming, you crazy son-of-a—” When the uneasy sense of being stared at pricked at her, she stopped. Standing at the edge of the table, she pivoted and looked up at the staircase winding to the second floor behind her.
Stared right into the cold eyes of a dead man. One that was very much alive. Unfortunately. Tanned and fit with the same welcoming smile that fooled everyone, including her, for years. He had the nerve to wear the casual polo shirt she’d bought for his last birthday.
His gaze traveled over her. “I expected you yesterday.”
“I had hoped you were dead.”
He tsk-tsked her. “Is that any way to talk to your husband?”
“Ex.”
“You forced me into that. I was satisfied to keep living separate lives.”
“You mean sleeping around.”
“I was discreet.”
She suspected that last part. Never had the proof, but now she knew. On top of everything else Phil cheated on her. Couldn’t even keep his zipper up for their short marriage. There was just nothing sacred to this man. What he showed on the outside clashed so sharply with the lack of substance beneath.
“You were pathetic. Still are,” she said, meaning every word.
“If you had stayed I would have let you follow your dream of being an artist. Isn’t that what you really wanted to do, instead of working as a property manager? Turn your little drawings into something profitable?”
“Let me?” She was appalled that she ever gave this man control over her life. Disgusted with him and furious with herself.
Phil shrugged. “I was willing to indulge you.”
“Lucky me.”
“Let you be whatever it was you wanted to be before we got married, and you stopped trying to be anything important.”
The harsh words rang true, but she shook them off. Had to. If her mind wandered to the place where she relived every missed opportunity, she would be lost. Worse, she would lose Luke.
Phil wrapped his hands around the railing. “In return, all you had to do was understand that I needed to run my life as I pleased.”
“When you put it that way, I wonder why I left. That’s sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.”
Phil cocked his head to the side and shot her a look of false sympathy. “We both know the reason you insisted on the divorce.”
“Which was?”
“The man who brought you here.” Phil looked around and then opened his arms. “Where is your boyfriend? Your Mr. Hathaway.”
“Luke is gone.”
“You expect me to believe he’d walk away from you after all the trouble he went to over the past few days to keep you alive?” Phil barked out a harsh laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“I forced him.”
“I doubt that. In fact, you seem to have charmed him. That’s really the only explanation for why he would risk everything to sleep with a felon.”
“I haven’t been charged with anything.” Not that she could be since the man was alive. But the idea of killing him now sure appealed to her.
“You are free because I allow you to be so.”
“You own the police now?”
“You never appreciated the extent of my power.”
“And you never realized the limits of your appeal.”
“You cannot win here. You actually made my plan easier when you ran.” Phil leaned against the railing. “I have to say, I didn’t expect that. You always seemed so…practical.”
“I guess that shows that you never really knew me at all.”
“I could say the same of you.”
No kidding. “What do you want from me?”
“You’re going to come up here and we’re going to have a little talk.”
“I’m not moving.”
“Oh, you will. I assure you.”
She’d once found his self-assurance a sign of strength. Now she heard only the blowhard meanderings of a crazy person.
“I figure seeing you dragged up the stairs should bring your boyfriend out of hiding,” Phil said, his voice low and menacing.
“I told you. He’s gone.” Part of her wanted Luke to flee to somewhere safe. Anywhere but this house on this day.
“We’ll see.” Phil glanced over her head and nodded.
Before she could duck or run, strong hands latched on to her upper arms. Instinct kicked in. She threw an elbow into the monster on her right as she tried to shift away from the one on her left. With feet moving, she struggled and thrashed.
The blow came out of nowhere. A sharp knock to the back of her head that caused her legs to collapse under her. Balance deserted her as gravity pressed her down. The men didn’t try to hold her. The force of her knees hitting the floor cut off her breath. An agonizing burn radiated through the lower half of her body. She clamped down on the yelp, cutting it off before it could fully form into the traumatized scream rattling around inside her.
She didn’t want Luke to come running or for Phil to enjoy her weakness. A few deep breaths helped her to wrestle back her control. When she finally worked up the strength to move her neck again, she saw the confident smile on Phil’s face.
He motioned to his men. “Bring her up here.”
THEY WERE GOING to kill her.
That thought ran through Luke’s mind as he grabbed for the doorknob and pushed to his feet. While the blurring at the edge of his vision started to clear, the throbbing in his arm only increased.
To stem the bleeding he ripped the bottom of his shirt and tied the cloth around the
juncture of his arm and shoulder. The tight band didn’t do anything to stop the thumping, but at least he could move again without leaving a blood trail behind him.
He managed two steps before he heard Claire’s strangled cry. The sound knocked the last of the dizziness out of his system. With his gun in his hand, he whipped around the corner, forcing his heartbeat to slow and his mind to concentrate. Running in at the wrong time could get Claire killed. He had to be smarter. Be patient.
He hit the entry just in time to see two goons pull Claire up the steps behind them. Luke flattened against the wall before they could notice him. But he saw her. The limp. The grimace when she put weight on her left leg. They’d hurt her. In the few minutes it took for his mind to clear, they’d hurt her.
It would take him even less to carry out his revenge for her pain. One bullet should do it.
When the bulky male figures disappeared out of sight and the beat of footsteps stopped, Luke took off. He crept across the entry to the front door. Looking up behind him, he saw nothing but an empty balcony. Luke vowed to find her. First he looked out front. No goons. The two with Claire were probably the two that Adam reported being together. That left two more unaccounted for.
With slow, sure steps he slipped to the bottom of the stairs. He eased his weight up one stair at a time, careful to keep his weight balanced and the chance of creaking to a minimum. With his injury acting up all over again, he leaned his sore side against the staircase railing as he went.
When he got to the top he prayed the action would be to his left. He had the floor plans, or a version of them, for all the rooms on the left. The right was new and a mystery. Getting around there without any intel or assistance from Adam could prove impossible.
Even now Luke hoped that whatever Adam had done to knock out the security cameras continued to work. Since no one showed up to shoot him or push him down the stairs, he held on to that hope.
The low grumble of voices grew louder the higher he climbed. With all the stone and hard surfaces, sound bounced around the cavernous place, hiding its true origin. He stopped, trying to get his bearings and pick out Claire’s husky voice. But he couldn’t make out the words, could barely tell who spoke.
The hard floor was carpeted on the second floor. The plush pile muffled the sound of his footsteps as he turned first to the right, then the left. From here he could tell that Phil held her on the right.
Advantage, Phil.
The man had planned for this, possibly from the first minute he met Claire. Maybe he recognized the vulnerability under all that sexy strength. It was one of the things that attracted Luke.
Not that he would admit to having anything in common with Phil. Luke refused to believe that. Where he loved Claire, Phil used her. Phil might have said the right things at the right time, but Luke meant them. He just hoped like hell that he had the opportunity to make her believe them this time.
He passed the first two doors, checking his watch for any indication of what was ahead. The internal GPS put him off the grid.
He was on his own.
Chapter Twelve
Claire sat in a chair with two thugs looming over her from behind and one guy staring at her head-on. She knew from a quick visual inventory that she was in some sort of library. Dark shelves filled with books she’d bet Phil never read. A huge mahogany desk and an even bigger red leather chair filled with Phil and his smug smile.
“So,” he said, and then let the word just sit there.
No way was she engaging. She was too busy making a mental note of the exits and setting the furniture in the floor plan she’d created in her head.
Phil twisted a pen between his fingers. “Don’t you want to know why you’re here?”
When she didn’t answer, Phil nodded to one of the men behind her. She braced for the shot she knew would come. Just as she inhaled, the man landed a repeat smack to the back of her head. The sudden shock of pain brought tears to her eyes. She grabbed the armrests, digging her nails deep into the soft leather, to keep from crying out.
Phil laughed. “Nicely done.”
Her attacker grunted in response.
“Are you ready to talk now?” Phil asked.
Since she didn’t know how many hits she could take before she gave in to a concussion or worse, she relented. “What do you want, Phil?”
“You.”
The thought of letting him touch her again brought a rank taste to her mouth. “Never.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You were good, attractive, but utterly forgettable.”
He probably thought the comment meant something. That it would break her, but it just showed how little he knew. The insult struck her as a feeble attempt by a pathetic and desperate man.
“If I’m so unimportant, then why the big need to track me down? These morons are only the latest you’ve sent after me.” She hitched her thumb at the men behind her. “You’ve got to be running low on henchmen willing to do your bidding.”
“When you ran I had to improvise.” Phil tapped one end of the pen against the desk blotter before returning to the frenzied flipping in his hand. “It gave me time to refine your role in my murder and the company’s yet-to-be-discovered embezzlement.”
“I can’t believe you actually stole from the people who work for you.”
“The money belongs to me.”
“Are you insane?”
He flashed her a smile that hinted at malice more than madeness. “I assure you, no.”
“It’s their retirement security, not yours. You didn’t earn any of it. They put their money in accounts for years. They trusted you to invest it and expected—”
He slammed the pen against the desk. “Spare me the lecture. It sounds hollow coming from a woman who climbed into my bed to get her hands on my checkbook.”
She looked into his eyes and knew he believed it. That’s how he saw her. Only, his opinion didn’t matter.
“That is not true, Phil. It was never about getting my hands on your money.”
“It wasn’t a secret. I knew. My family knew. The people at the club saw through the outer shell of confidence you presented. Sure, you tried to adapt, but underneath you never stopped being the throwaway kid of a bigamist.”
She should have guessed he had checked into her background, even though he’d never asked her or seemed to care. After being stung by Luke, she had welcomed the idea of not getting in too deep, of just living in the moment without a huge investment of emotion. Loving without limits had cost her everything. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
But while she created a distance from Phil, it looked as if he had his own plan. If she guessed right, the entire marriage had been a setup for this moment. That meant finding a victim. She’d unwittingly played the role so well.
“Why did you marry me?” she asked, wanting to know for the first time.
“I thought you might prove useful.”
The words slapped against her already bruised skin. She didn’t care what he thought, because he’d ceased to be important soon after they walked down the aisle. But the idea that she sold her dreams and crushed her hopes of being with Luke because she was afraid, because her father’s actions taught her not to trust or believe in love, made her stomach heave. She ran from her father’s image and a man who was good for her to Phil, a man who wanted to destroy her.
Here she’d thought she’d spent her life fighting for control when, really, she let the men she knew determine the roads she traveled. The reality of her missteps pummeled her.
“That’s funny because I thought the same thing about the Samson name. Might be useful, but I was wrong.”
“If you were really looking for love and forever, why didn’t you marry your salesman?”
“My what?”
“Isn’t that what Luke does? He trades and sells antiques.” Phil’s face crumpled in mock shame. “Really, Claire. Did you think he could give you the money and prestige you so desperately craved?”
&
nbsp; Claire almost laughed at how far from the truth that assessment of Luke proved to be. “You never said why I’m here.”
“I need you to sign some papers.”
The hit to the head must have scrambled something. She couldn’t think of another explanation for what she thought she’d heard. “What?”
“The evidence against you is strong. I should know because I planted most of it, but since I don’t want any do-gooder cop who’s looking to make a name for himself seeing those big sad eyes of yours and deciding to dig deeper, it would help if your fingerprints were actually on the incriminating documents. Fingerprints and signatures. The e-mails have been planted. This is just something extra.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m leaving town with twenty-eight million dollars in my offshore accounts and a pile of debt behind me. I can guarantee you that is the sign of being smart, not crazy.”
“I’m not going to help you.”
“Yes, you are.”
A hand clamped down on the back of her neck and pushed her head forward. The position crushed her windpipe and had her gasping. With each breath the knocking at the back of her skull increased.
When the pressure eased, her head flew up but her brain kept rattling. “Phil—”
“These men are prepared to make the next hour of your life very unpleasant. Your choice is simple. You can do what I tell you, and in return, you’ll die quickly.” Phil smiled. “As will your boyfriend. Or we can make it last.”
Her throat grew thick and closed at the idea of anything happening to Luke. “I told you he’s gone.”
“I’ll bet he’s just a few steps away, waiting to jump in here and play the role of rescuer.”
She hoped Phil was as wrong about that as he was about everything else. “What if he does?”
“He’ll die fast, but you’ll get the slow torture option.”
Her mind raced with questions, ways to stall for time. Jumping out the window in a mangled heap would ruin Phil’s plans but not bring her one step closer to saving Luke.
Under the Gun Page 10