Reluctantly Rescued (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 9)

by Ruth Cardello

  She met her eyes in the mirror above the sink and told herself to be patient. There were men with less issues, but they didn’t make her feel the way he did. For the first time in her life she understood how it was possible to spend a lifetime with one person.

  She remembered what he said about Snowy when he first met him: “Whatever it takes.” Bradford was direct like that and she was learning that trait from him. She used to worry more about what people thought of her and kept her opinion more to herself.

  Poor Bradford, I was a lot fucking sweeter before I met him.

  Joanna smiled briefly at her own joke. She pushed off the door, hunted her toothbrush out of her bag, and assessed the damage the long flight had inflicted on her makeup. Not as bad as I thought. A few touch-ups and I’ll be ready to go.

  Bradford sat on the corner of the bed and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket for his phone. It wasn’t there. He checked his other pockets—it wasn’t in any of them either. He groaned as he remembered placing it on a seat on the plane when he’d considered using the pilot’s radio to make a call. And I fucking left it there.

  Careless in a way he never was.

  He turned to the phone beside the bed. Fine, I’ll use that. He picked up the receiver and hit the call button. It lit up, but there was no dial tone. He followed the wire to the wall. Everything looked fine.

  Figures.

  Joanna was still in the bathroom. He could probably locate Egill and use his phone before she even noticed he was gone. If the soup was ready he could return with a tray for her. He headed out of the room, going down the hallway the opposite way to the stairway Egill had said led to the kitchen.

  The kitchen was empty—no sign that he’d started warming soup. Strange. The hair on the back of Bradford’s neck rose. He told himself it was likely nothing, but too many things were happening that shouldn’t.

  He took his gun out and made his way through the kitchen. The side door was open. There were two indentations in the grass. If he were anywhere else he would say someone had just been dragged that way, but he was trying to tone down his paranoia. There was no place for it in the life he was building with Joanna.

  More likely, there is a less dramatic explanation for the drag marks. Maybe Egill took out a garbage bag that had two rotten cantelopes in the bottom that dragged along the ground.

  Fuck me.

  Gun drawn, Bradford headed out the door and followed the trail. As soon as he turned the corner he felt the sting of a dart hitting his neck and instant drowsiness. That’s not good, was his last thought before he face-planted in the grass.

  Joanna waited for Bradford to return; when he didn’t she decided to call Egill to see if he knew where he was. No dial tone.

  Clay was a romantic, but he also got involved with things to alleviate his boredom. If he was scaring Bradford and her a little in an attempt to get them to bond more, he would hear several choice words from her when she saw him again. That was exactly the kind of antic that would set Bradford off.

  You went too far this time, Clay. This is not romantic and not funny.

  She left the bedroom and asked herself where Bradford likely would have gone. Egill had said he would warm some soup for them. It made sense that Bradford might have started there. There was no sign of either him or Egill, but the door was open.

  Joanna blamed her adrenaline rush on the stories Bradford had told her and the warnings he’d given her. There was a trail in the grass that led to the corner of the building. Heart pounding wildly in her chest, she followed it. She stopped just before the corner, took a calming breath, then bent and peered around it.

  Egill was flat on his back with a gunshot to his chest. Her mouth dropped open. Her first reaction was that it had to be a sick joke. He couldn’t actually be dead.

  She retreated behind the corner of the house. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Think.

  Maybe he attacked Bradford and Bradford shot him.

  No. That doesn’t make sense. Bradford would have come to me to make sure I was safe.

  Unless he didn’t mean to kill him and he’s afraid of going to jail so he ran.

  That doesn’t sound like Bradford either.

  Joanna went down onto her knees and peered around the corner again. Egill was still there, still lying in a pool of his own blood, still looking dead.

  Beyond Egill there were more drag marks. Bradford. Someone has Bradford.

  Shaking from head to toe, Joanna crawled closer to Egill. His eyes were open and there was no sign of life in them. She mustered courage and turned him slightly over. Please let him have a phone. Please.

  He did. She didn’t allow herself to think that she was stealing from a dead man. All that mattered was Bradford and saving him. Because he’s still alive. He has to be.

  Please let him be.

  Joanna retreated around the corner of the building on her knees then sprinted to a place behind a flowering bush. She whispered a thank you to Egill for not having his phone password protected. He had a signal. She turned off his ringer and chose to text rather than call so she wouldn’t be discovered. She could only text people she knew the number for so she sent one to Angelina.

  This is Joanna. I’m with Bradford on Clay’s friend’s island. We’re in trouble. Caretaker has been murdered. Someone has Bradford. I’m hiding but I’ll keep the phone with me. I don’t know how many people are here with us. Contact Ian. Get help. This is not a joke. Please help us. Hurry.

  The response was almost immediate. Ian is down the hall. Hang on. I’ll show him your text.

  This is Ian. I came with the group. Don’t leave your hiding place. I’m on my way.

  Okay.

  Stay hidden. Bradford and I are trained for things like this. I’m putting men in the air as we speak. You are not alone.

  Joanna swallowed her tears and fought a wave of panic. I’m scared.

  Don’t move and you’ll be fine. I have a helicopter starting up now. It’s going to be okay, Joanna. Stop texting and don’t make a sound.

  Joanna pocketed the phone and hugged her arms around herself. She’d always enjoyed haunted houses and roller coasters. She liked to consider herself a bit of a daredevil. Real fear was an entirely different animal.

  Breathe. Don’t move. Stay hidden and let Ian handle this.

  She remembered the drag marks. Was Bradford already shot?

  What if Ian gets here too late?

  Bradford wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. I can’t sit here while someone might be hurting him.

  If it gets me killed—well, at least I died doing something important.

  She made her way back to where the caretaker’s body was and followed the drag marks in the grass to a barn. Slowly. Carefully. Praying for calm with each step, she made her way to one of the barn’s windows and crouched behind a bush there.

  A loud crack echoed. A smack? Joanna held her breath, fought the temptation to look into the window, and just listened.

  “Wake up. This shit is supposed to wear off fast. Wake the fuck up.” It was a woman’s voice and it sounded familiar, but Joanna couldn’t place it. “Good. Open your fucking eyes. Look at me.”

  “Who are you?” Bradford asked in a slurred voice.

  He’s still alive. Thank God.

  “You don’t know my face? I thought you were the man who knew everything. You know nothing.”

  When Bradford didn’t respond it sounded like she hit him again. “Don’t you dare pass out again. Look at me. In the eye. Do you recognize these eyes?”

  “No.”

  “They’re the same as my brother—the man you killed.”

  “I’ve killed a lot of people. You’ll have to be more specific.” He groaned as if in response to a hit from more than her hand.

  No, Bradford, don’t taunt her.

  Where do I know that voice from?

  Joanna snuck a peek over the edge of the window. Daphne? Claire’s meek client? She ducked back down. She must have been stal
king Bradford at the event. This is an eye for an eye.

  She’s going to kill him.

  In a disgusted tone, Daphne said, “Five years ago. In Quarrytown you hunted my brother down and shot him like an animal. You left him to die on the side of the road. He was twenty. Do you remember him now?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. Because I want him to be what you think about when I kill your girlfriend in front of you. You took someone I loved. I’ve waited years for you to care about someone so I could take them from you. Today that’s what I’ll do. You’ll watch your girlfriend die . . . nice and slow . . . and then I’ll kill you.”

  “Your brother was a murderer. He took money from innocent people he promised to help cross the border. People trusted him and he left them to suffocate in vans just before the border. Then he disposed their bodies and went back for more. He was driving a van full of people the day I killed him. People like him don’t deserve to be avenged.”

  “Shut up,” the woman screamed. “I would kill you now but you wouldn’t suffer enough.”

  As Daphne continued to rant, Joanna made a decision. She couldn’t risk Bradford getting shot in front of her. He wouldn’t hide while she was beaten, and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he was hurt more while she hid.

  She spotted what looked like a dog door and crawled toward it. Whatever Bradford was saying to Daphne had her screaming even more at him, threatening to kill him at a decibel so loud she probably would have heard it back at the house.

  He’s inciting her to make sure I hear them and know how dangerous she is. He does love me.

  Joanna didn’t look at Bradford or give him any warning for what she was about to do because the only thing she had on her side was the element of surprise. Daphne was waving her gun around wildly. Joanna decided there wouldn’t be a better time.

  Hunt or be hunted.

  Joanna picked up a shovel, crept up behind Daphne, and hit her arm holding the gun as hard as she could. The gun went flying but the hit didn’t send Daphne to the ground. She spun like a snarling fisher-cat. Her punch came fast and hard to Joanna’s face.

  Joanna stumbled back, angry this time. Bitch, you think you can hit harder than a horse can kick? You have no idea. Joanne delivered the first punch of her life with all the anger she usually bottled inside. Daphne went flying back, landing on her ass in front of Bradford.

  Bradford must have broken free of whatever she had him tied with while he was arguing with her because he grabbed both of her arms and dragged them behind her while lifting her to her feet. He looked like he was still under the influence of what she’d drugged him with, but her struggles didn’t free her from his hold.

  Joanna scrambled to get the gun and returned with it. Her hands were shaking so much she wasn’t sure what she’d hit if she tried, but there was no way she was losing the advantage they’d gained.

  Bradford’s face was bloody and his expression tortured. “Joanna. I’ve got her. You can lower the gun.”

  “Ian’s on his way,” Joanna said in a high pitch. “All we have to do is hold Daphne until then.”

  “Then definitely don’t shoot both of us,” Bradford said in a dry voice.

  “You should shoot him,” Daphne said. “He’s a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “Like you?” Joanna asked, still shaking so much she was having trouble holding onto the gun. “You killed Egill.”

  “Do you know how many lives Bradford has taken? My brother was still a boy. He should have been given a chance to change. I could have saved him.”

  “He was too far gone,” Bradford said.

  “You don’t know that,” Daphne snarled. “I’ve watched you, Bradford. I know how easily you kill. How dare you stand in judgment of my brother. You’re not God. Satan would claim you as his own. You’re pure evil. How do you sleep beside that each night, Joanna? How can you bear his touch?”

  “Don’t let her in your head, Joanna,” Bradford warned.

  “Oh, aren’t you able to kill in front of your girlfriend, Bradford?” The laugh Daphne let out was maniacal. “What do you plan to do with me then?”

  “The law will deal with you,” Bradford growled.

  Daphne laughed again. “It’s almost sad to see you this weak. Thank you, Joanna. I may just have a chance to do this again—if I’m lucky you’ll have children and we can make a whole party of it.”

  Joanna stepped closer, hands shaking wildly. The stories Bradford had told her about how some people were better off dead suddenly made sense. Daphne was not only threatening them, but their future children. How much would the world really miss someone like that? “Take a step back, Bradford.”

  “Don’t do it, Joanna,” Bradford said in a low tone.

  “She’ll never leave us alone.”

  “We’ll make sure she’s locked up and can’t hurt us.”

  Daphne spat in Joanna’s direction. “I’m not worried. She doesn’t have the guts to shoot anyone.”

  “You’re wrong,” Joanna said as a calm settled over her. Her finger hovered over the trigger. “Step back, Bradford.”

  “No.” He brought Daphne squarely in front of himself. “Shooting her will change you, Joanna. I have her. She’s not going anywhere. It would be murder and that’s not who you are. It’s not who I want to be. She’s not worth your soul, Joanna. Don’t give it to her.”

  As if by magic, Ian and several men appeared around them. Braford handed Daphne off to one of them and approached Joanna, who was shaking again and still holding the gun out in front of her. “Give me the gun, Joanna.”

  She looked down at the weapon she’d almost forgotten she still had in her hands. “Is it over?”

  “It’s over. We’re safe.” He took the gun from her, clicked the safety, and stuffed it in the back of his jeans.

  Her whole body began to shake violently. “Your face is bleeding.”

  “So is yours.” He stepped closer and cupped the side of her face Daphne had punched.

  Ian signaled for his men to remove Daphne. “Joanna, I told you to hide.”

  Bradford wrapped his arms around Joanna and held her close. “She’s hardheaded. Even her father says so.”

  Nothing felt real, but Bradford’s teasing was a beacon luring her back from the edge of dropping to the floor and giving in to a good cry. “I saved your ass,” Joanna mumbled against his chest.

  He kissed the top of her head. “You did and you didn’t even shoot me in the process. Remind me to get you on a range. A little gun safety never hurt anyone.”

  “Ungrateful jerk,” Joanna joked and relaxed against Bradford, soaking in his strength. He was alive. That was all that mattered.

  “How did you know?” Bradford asked Ian.

  “Joanna texted Angelina. Daphne was already on my radar. There was something not right about her story for why she wanted to work with Claire. I looked into her and discovered her real name is Tina Olsen. I’m surprised you missed that.”

  Bradford shuddered against Joanna. “I’ve been a little distracted.” He hugged Joanna tighter. “If anything had happened to you—”

  Joanna raised her head. “I feel the same way. When I found Egill dead I thought—I was afraid that you were also—”

  Bradford kissed her and it was a different kiss than they’d ever shared. This one was full of regret, love, and frustration. When he broke off the kiss, he growled. “This is my fault. I got sloppy. I usually know the background on everyone, but the night of the event all I cared about was you.”

  Joanna framed his face with her hands. “It was the same for me.”

  His smile was sad. “You are the most caring, understanding person I’ve ever met. I don’t know what the hell you see in me, but I know I almost got you killed. That can’t happen again.”

  A shot was fired outside, then another. Ian pressed a hand to his earpiece then nodded. “Doesn’t look like you’ll have to worry about Daphne/Tina anymore. She grabbed one of the men’s guns, shot it,
and missed them. Our sniper took her out.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Joanna said, then froze. “Is it wrong to be glad she’s dead?”

  Bradford nuzzled her hair. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

  A short while later, back on the mainland, Bradford stepped out of a room filled with Joanna’s friends: Dylan, Connor, Lexi and Clay. Despite how subdued Clay’s greeting had been, Bradford’s nerves were on edge and he couldn’t summon any patience for him.

  Ian followed Bradford into the hallway and out the back door of the house. “Everything has been handled with the local authorities. Egill didn’t have any living family, but we arranged for him to be buried near his parents.”

  “Good.” His head was still throbbing, partially from being drugged, possibly from the beating his head had taken, but also because he was disappointed in himself. “Joanna could have been killed today.”

  “But she wasn’t.”

  Bradford spun on his friend. “Don’t try to whitewash this. If she had died today it would have been for one reason and one reason alone—because she was with me.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can. I’ll tell her it’s over. I can’t protect her from the shit we’ve done.”

  Ian ran a hand through his hair. “Is Claire in danger because she’s with me?”

  “Yes, but I’ve got your back.”

  “As I have yours.” When Bradford began to say something, Ian cut him off and added, “And don’t even say that’s not enough because I was in that barn in less than ten minutes after I got the text. And I had a team fly over to be on standby. I was on point.”

  Bradford sighed. “You were, but I wasn’t. There were signs that I either missed or dismissed each step of the way. None of this would have happened had I remained focused.”

  “She was a sick woman with a twisted plan to hurt you. How does anyone prepare for that?”

  Fisting his hands, Bradford growled, “I did leave her brother to die. I showed no mercy. What kind of man does that?”