by LENA DIAZ,
“Not much. Just . . . the pictures. That horrible room.”
While Madison talked about the photos again, Pierce listened intently, alert to the inflections in each word. She didn’t sound like she was hiding anything, but she’d been supposedly held against her will for more than thirty hours. And there wasn’t a mark on her. Not a bruise, not a scratch. Nothing to suggest she’d just been through a harrowing experience.
She’d said her hands and feet were bound with cloth, thus no ligature marks.
Convenient.
He didn’t want to doubt her, but from the moment she’d walked through the door, as if nothing had happened, the doubts had slammed into him so hard they’d stolen his breath.
“How sure are you that the man who took you was your former husband?” Hamilton asked, from the chair on the other side of Logan.
Pierce raised his gaze to watch her when she answered. She was staring directly at him as she spoke. “If I had to swear to it, I couldn’t. But I feel very strongly that it was Damon McKinley who drugged me and locked me in that room.”
“Did he take you to a motel outside of town?” Pierce asked, unable to keep silent anymore with his doubts.
She seemed relieved that he was talking to her now, but then her blue eyes clouded with confusion. “Motel? You think the room I was in was in a motel? What kind of motel has bars on the window, and no furniture?”
“Before that,” he said. “When you first left the house. You went to a motel.”
She shook her head, her brow wrinkling. “What are you talking about? I was in my kitchen. Someone grabbed me from behind, held a cloth over my face. When I woke up, I was in the trunk of a car, tied up. He put the cloth on my face again, and the next time I woke up in that room.”
“And then you woke up in your car. Right. During all of that, you never clearly saw the man you were with and he never spoke?”
“I wasn’t with him.” She spoke very slowly and clearly as if she thought he’d suddenly developed a problem with his hearing. “He grabbed me. I didn’t go willingly.”
“No bruises. No scratches.”
Her mouth fell open. “You think I wanted to go with him? That I’m making all of this up?”
“Mrs. McKinley,” Hamilton spoke up. “We have photos of you, or a woman matching your description, and your car, at a motel with some man. We’re just trying to put all the known facts together and figure out what happened.”
She frowned and rubbed the side of her head as if she was developing a headache. “I don’t understand any of this. I was never at a motel.”
“Why did he let you go?” Pierce asked.
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “I. Don’t. Know.” Her eyes widened as if she’d just thought of something. She grabbed Logan’s arm. “Mom, Amanda—he had pictures of them. That has to be some kind of a threat. You need to—”
He patted her hand. “Already done. Special Agent Tessa James made the necessary phone calls as soon as you told us about the photographs. They’re safe.”
She nodded with relief and relaxed against him.
“If Damon was your abductor,” Pierce continued, “wouldn’t he have asked for money?”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t know what game Damon is playing. I can’t speak for what he should, or shouldn’t, have done.”
“If he hadn’t faked his death, he would have had plenty of money,” Pierce said. “Especially after your father died. Why would he fake his death?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you go find Damon and ask him instead of grilling me?”
Logan kissed the top of his sister’s head and stood. He looked directly at Pierce. “Basement. Now.” His voice was deathly quiet. He headed toward the back hall to the basement entrance, not bothering to turn and see if Pierce would follow.
PIERCE CLOSED THE door behind him and headed down the basement stairs. When he reached the concrete floor, he didn’t even have time to duck.
Logan slammed his fist into his jaw. “That’s for not protecting my sister.”
Pierce stumbled back a few steps, his jaw throbbing.
Logan stepped forward and slammed his fist into Pierce’s stomach, doubling him over. “And that’s for being an ass. What the hell were you doing upstairs, treating her like a criminal?”
Pierce gritted his teeth and lunged forward, slamming his fist into the side of Logan’s thick skull. Logan spun around, staggered, but kept his feet underneath him. “That,” Pierce growled, “is for playing matchmaker and interfering with my life.”
He ran forward and punched Logan again, slamming him up against the wall. Logan let out a vicious stream of curses and threw himself at Pierce. He wrapped his arms around Pierce’s chest in a crushing grip, and they both went crashing to the floor.
Sharp, fiery pain shot through Pierce’s chest. He gasped and twisted in Logan’s hold, breaking away from him and throwing an uppercut to his jaw.
Logan’s head snapped back, and Pierce smacked him in the side of his head with his elbow. They both grappled for control, falling to the floor, rolling and twisting as they fought to get in more punches. They knocked over a lamp, its light bulb exploding into a hundred jagged pieces that tinkled across the concrete.
They broke apart and staggered to their feet. Pierce blocked one of Logan’s punches and took one of his own, spinning Logan around. Logan pushed off the wall and slammed his fist into Pierce’s bruised ribs.
The pain was immediate, intense. Hot fire slashing through his chest. He doubled over, turning his injured side away as Logan rushed him.
Pierce grunted as he slammed against the wall.
Suddenly Logan let go, straightening and staggering back several feet. His chest heaved as he gulped deep breaths of air. “You’ve gone soft. That was way too easy.”
Pierce threw a few choice curses at his friend. “I did pretty good considering I got shot a couple of days ago. I’d have had you on the ground again if you hadn’t sucker punched me in my bruised ribs.”
Logan raised a brow. “That’s explains the bleeding.”
“Ah, hell.” Pierce looked down at his shirt in disgust. Blood was soaking through and spreading toward his pants. “That was my best shirt.”
Logan stepped over to the dryer snugged up beneath the stairs and grabbed a small towel folded on top. He tossed it to Pierce.
He caught it, nodding his thanks as he pressed it against his stitches and slid to the floor. He leaned his head against the wall, taking in slow deep breaths as the fire in his ribs began to fade. “Just give me a minute. Then I’ll get back up and whip your ass.”
“Not in this lifetime.” Logan chuckled and slid down to sit beside him. He waggled his jaw back and forth, running his fingers along a bruise that was already starting to form. “What’s going on around here? You were supposed to take care of my sister, and here you are her worst enemy, basically accusing her of making everything up.”
“Hell if I know. Maybe I’ve been talking to Lieutenant Hamilton too long. Nothing adds up.”
“That’s because you’re looking at everything the wrong way. There are always patterns. But you have to have an open mind to see them.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
Pierce blew out a long breath.
“Tell me what happened,” Logan said. “From the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
Pierce related the details of the shooting, the notes, the phone call. He told Logan about the missing yardman, the vandalism in the backyard. He even told him what Madison had said about the divorce coming through after Damon’s death. He ended with Tessa’s rendition about what happened at the motel. He pulled the towel away from his ribs. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, so he tossed the towel on the floor.
“So, she divorced the bastard, huh.”
“Bastard? You knew what a jerk he was, and you didn’t do anything about it?”
“Not much I could do except make sure Madison kne
w she had someone to turn to if she’d ever admit she’d made a mistake.”
“Tessa painted Damon out to be some kind of saint.”
Logan snorted. “On paper, sure. But in person, there was always something slimy about him.” He rolled his head on his shoulders and looked at Pierce. “I thought you cared about her?”
He stiffened. “My feelings for your sister are irrelevant.”
“They’re relevant to me. I want to know your intentions where she’s concerned.”
“My intentions?” he asked, incredulously. “My intentions are to keep her out of jail, to straighten out this mess, to find the truth.”
Logan waved his hand in the air, much as Madison tended to do. “I’m talking about personal stuff here. Do you still care about her or not? Because the way you were acting upstairs, I have to say it doesn’t seem like you care one damn bit.”
“I took a bullet for her. That’s all the answer you need.”
Logan sat silently for several minutes. “I need to know she has an ally on her side when I leave.”
“Leave? You just got here.”
“Yes, but I can help her more by going back to New York, maybe even to Montana where you FBI guys traced Damon’s roots. Unlike you, I’ve never doubted my sister. If she says Damon abducted her, then Damon abducted her. The only way to clear up this mess is to figure out why he faked his death, see what game he’s playing. To figure that out, I need facts, more puzzle pieces.”
“You and your puzzles.”
Logan shrugged. “That’s my talent, figuring things out. You’re more the bull in a china shop kind of guy. If I can trust you to look after her, then I can focus on my own strengths.”
He raised a brow. “I thought you said I was treating her like an ass.”
“You were. That’s why I reminded you of your manners.” He climbed to his feet and offered Pierce a hand.
Pierce took it, grimacing when his ribs squeaked in protest.
“You have to protect her, keep her safe,” Logan said.
“She owns more guns than I do. I doubt she’d like the way you’re portraying her like she needs me.”
“She does, you know . . .”
“Does what?”
“Need you.” Logan headed toward the stairs. He stopped on the third step. “Only God knows why, but she seems to care about you.” He headed up the stairs, then slammed the door behind him.
Pierce laughed, a harsh, hollow sound in the now empty basement. Right. Madison needed him. That’s why she’d dumped him. That’s why she’d lied to him more times than he could count.
He shook his head. Logan was wrong. But, unfortunately, the reverse was true. He needed Madison, or at least, he needed to make sure she was safe. It had nearly destroyed him when she went missing.
He’d survived the twenty-nine hours and thirty-two minutes that she’d been gone by refusing to let himself dwell on the terrible things that could have happened to her, by clinging to the hope that maybe Tessa was right and Madison really had run off with someone. At least that way, she would have been unhurt.
Even now, in spite of all the lies between them, all he could think about was going upstairs to reassure himself that she was really okay. Too bad his ribs hurt like hell; he could barely breathe.
He drew in several shallow, quick breaths, and hauled himself to his feet.
Chapter Nineteen
“I DID NOT GO to a motel with Damon, or anyone else.” Madison crossed her arms and sat back against the couch, glowering at Lieutenant Hamilton sitting across from her. Everyone else had left on various assignments. Hamilton was pulling the typical cop routine of asking the same questions over and over, obviously trying to trip Madison up.
The sound of footsteps had her glancing up to see Pierce coming down the stairs where he’d gone after his “meeting” with Logan in the basement. His face was paler than it had been since the day of the shooting.
In spite of the cruel way he’d acted earlier, she couldn’t resist the urge to go to him. The memory of his face, twisted in pain in the photograph on the ceiling of her prison, the blood seeping through his shirt, had her desperate to see him, to touch him, to reassure herself he was okay.
She jumped up and ran to meet him at the bottom of the stairs.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was low so it wouldn’t carry to the lieutenant.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, please. Logan had a bruise coming up on the side of his face, and he was grinning like a twelve-year-old who’d just caught his first fish when he came up from the basement. I know you two had a tussle.”
The corner of Pierce’s mouth tilted up. “A tussle?”
She waved her hand in the air. “A fight, whatever. Totally childish.” She stepped closer, tapping her finger against his stomach. “You shouldn’t have called him. You ruined his honeymoon.”
He grabbed her hand and held it in his. “He’s your brother. He had a right to know you’d been abducted.”
“So . . . you believe me now?”
His look turned tender, and his eyes filled with regret. “Yes, I’m sorry for being such a jerk. I believe you. I have no idea why, because your story has holes big enough to drive my GTO through it, but I believe you.” He reached out and pulled her to him, resting his cheek against the top of her head.
She clung to him, reveling in the feel of his arms around her, the familiar smell of soap and cologne in the fabric of his shirt. She had no idea what had caused his change in attitude so quickly, or why he was hugging her without caring that Hamilton could see them, but she wasn’t going to question it. She was so relieved he was okay, and she’d needed this hug so desperately.
When he pulled back, he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead, then hauled her against his uninjured side. He pulled her along with him, nodding to Hamilton as he stopped with her beside the empty couch.
“Where’s Logan?” He glanced around the room, then looked down at her expectantly.
“He’s gone. He left you a note, said he had to leave fast to catch a flight to New York. Tessa drove him. Logan wanted her to fill him in on everything she and Casey had researched. He’s trying to figure out what Damon is up to. For some reason he thinks going to New York will help him find out what he needs.”
He nodded. “That’s where I’d start too, if I didn’t have to stay here to babysit you.”
She pushed at him, trying to get him to let her go.
“Knock it off. I was teasing, and you know it.” He hauled her up against him again, as if he was reluctant to let her go.
She quit trying to pull away. It felt too good being held by him to bother fighting. After all, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
She picked up the note Logan had left on the coffee table and handed it to him as they both sat down. “He insisted on sealing it in an envelope for some reason. I have no idea why.”
He tore the envelope open and quickly read its contents, then shoved it into his pocket.
“Well?” she asked. “What did he say?”
He put his arm around her shoulders, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “He said to keep you close, so that’s what I’m doing.”
Her face heated, along with the rest of her.
“Hamilton, I’ve been thinking about the woman in those photos at the motel,” Pierce said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s a prostitute Damon hired to play a role.”
“I hadn’t considered that angle. That’s something I can investigate fairly easily. I’ll put the word out on the street to check with our usual sources, see if any of the regulars fit Mrs. McKinley’s physical description.”
“If there’s nothing else for now, I’m taking Madison home.”
Madison’s heart skipped at the word “home,” as if they were a couple and his house was her house.
Hamilton looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, Pierce. I want her close by, in case I need to ask her more questions. Can you take her to a
motel here in town?”
Pierce looked at Madison.
She sighed. “All right. I’ll go upstairs and pack another suitcase.” She stood and headed to the stairs.
“Mads?”
She nearly melted into a puddle on the first step. She clung to the bannister and turned to face him. “Yes?”
“Don’t booby trap the suitcase this time. You know I’m going to search it.”
She turned away, before he could see her smile. There was more than one way to hide a gun, or two, or even three . . . and a couple of knives.
MADISON RAN HER fingers across the fluffy white comforter on the queen-size bed while Pierce set her suitcase on the floor next to the closet. The bed-and-breakfast he’d chosen was one she’d always wanted to try out, but not under these circumstances.
He made a circuit of the room, checking the locks on the lone window, checking out the closet, the bathroom, then going into the adjoining bedroom and doing the same security check in his room.
When he came back, he said, “You mentioned on the drive over that you wanted me to take you back to the place where you woke up in your car. I know you want to see if you can backtrack and figure out where Damon kept you. I’m okay doing that, but it’s too dark right now. We can head out first thing in the morning.”
She nodded her agreement.
He looked surprised. She couldn’t blame him. She’d argued with every word of advice he’d ever given her. She sighed. Trying to control her temper, think things through, and accept his help was a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. But she was definitely going to try. The man had been through so much for her. She owed him that.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I could eat. The sandwich I grabbed at my house before we left was the first food I’ve had since . . . well . . . since I can remember.”
His jaw tightened, and he crossed the room to her, pulling her into his arms again. He’d hugged her several times since she’d gotten back, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was here, safe.
He pulled back and looked down at her. “It’s too late to catch supper downstairs. But there’s a bar and grill around the corner.”