Hesitating, Tucker glanced at Wren. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes glazed with terror as she stared at JT.
A blast echoed in the room, and heat tore through Tucker’s shoulder. The gun fell from his hand with a clatter as the force and shock of the bullet knocked him back a step.
“Tucker! Oh god, Tucker!” Wren rushed toward him.
“No!” JT shouted. “Stay right where you are. I’m not going to have you bawling all over him, ruining my moment.”
“He’s—he’s… You shot him.”
“Is that what I did?” He aimed at Tucker’s other shoulder. “I’ll put another hole in him if you don’t listen. We’ll watch him bleed to death together.”
Tucker sucked in air through his teeth, and sweat instantly beaded along his forehead as he clutched at the unspeakable burn just below his shoulder. Blood oozed despite the firm pressure he applied. “I’m okay, Cooke. I’m okay,” he gritted out as the cellphone on his belt rang.
“Answer.” JT said to Tucker as he moved his arm to point the gun at Wren. “Answer the damn phone and pretend everything’s hunky-damn-dory, or I’ll shoot her in the fucking head. And Wren, lose the coat and stay awhile.”
Tucker stared into JT’s cool eyes. There was no fear, no regret, not even madness. He would shoot Wren and not even blink. Pulling his blood-soaked hand from his shoulder, Tucker grabbed his phone and answered as Wren took off her leather jacket. “Campbell.”
“Where are you?” Ethan asked.
“At the house.” He fought to school his breathing and keep his voice steady. The pain in his arm was excruciating.
“Get out of there. Owens just called. Simmons isn’t your man. He’s been up in northern California fucking his mistress. It’s Cartwright. They can’t find him. They’ve put out an APB.”
“Guess they should contact Park City PD.”
JT rushed up to Wren and pushed the muzzle to her temple. “Don’t think I won’t. End the call—nice and smooth.”
“Ethan, I’ve gotta go.”
“What the hell do you mean you’ve gotta go? I still have information. Apparently Simmons and JT had a falling out at that prep school in Colorado. Jonathan caught JT peeping in some girl’s closet. The headmaster kicked Cartwright out, but everything stayed hush-hush after pressure and promises of several lucrative donations. JT’s been harassing Simmons off and on ever since.”
“Hmm.” What the hell else was he supposed to say as he looked from Wren’s pleading, terrified eyes into JT’s calculated stare?
“Owens put two and two together and they rushed to JT’s apartment. He didn’t answer, so management let them into his place. He’s been using fake IDs to fly back and forth from Vegas to Salt Lake City.”
“I’m getting twitchy.” JT wiggled his finger against the trigger.
“Ethan, I’ll call you back.” He disconnected. “There. Now stop pointing that at her head.”
“Makes you kind of nervous?” JT asked with mock sympathy. “You can rest easy, Pretty Boy. I’m not going to kill her like this. I’m going to strangle her the way I did Staci.”
“You son of a bitch!” He lunged toward JT.
JT fired into the air, and ceiling particles showered over their heads. “Stay back by the door, and drop your phone while you’re at it. Can’t have you sneaking calls while you watch me rape and murder your girl. I mean, Wren is your girl, right?”
Tucker gritted his teeth as a tear slid down Wren’s cheek.
“I asked you if Wren is your girl?”
“No, she’s not. She called it off last night.” He hoped to God that would take some of the thrill out of JT’s desire to kill her.
JT’s brows rose in surprise. “Wren, is this true? Did you dump Pretty Boy?”
Tucker gave her a barely perceptible nod.
“Yes. It wasn’t working out.”
JT hooted with laughter. “You went and got yourself dumped? Now that’s one for the books. Maybe you aren’t God’s gift to women after all.” He shook his head. “Have to admit, this kinda takes some of the fun out of it all.”
“Why?” Wren asked quietly. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can.” He shrugged casually. “Because I want to. There’s little that brings me quite as much joy as watching Tucker Campbell suffer. No one has a right to all that you have, Golden Boy.”
“You’re doing this because you’re jealous?”
JT’s eyes changed from amused to deadly in a flash. “I’m not jealous—just righting the wrongs of the world. Call it cosmic justice.”
“But this is wrong. You have to know this is wrong, JT.”
“You got me, Wren.” He pointed in her direction. “I do know it’s wrong. I just don’t care.”
“So then—”
“Cooke.” Tucker met her gaze and shook his head. “It’s okay.” She was trying to reason with a madman and make sense of all this, but she never would. He had to find a way to get them the hell out of there.
“You know what, Tuck-Man,” JT pressed his finger to his chin, contemplating. “It’s really not okay. Nothing about you is okay. Heir to the Campbell fortune; beautiful, doting parents; an adoring sister; a face and body that belong on fucking magazines; natural athleticism; a saintly need to do what’s right; and let’s not forget the women—any goddamn one you want. I mean you wanted him, Wren.”
“Not at—not at first.”
JT raised his brow at her. “Don’t try to kid a kidder, Wren. I saw the way you were looking at him the day I came to ask you out. I thought you two were going to jump each other right there in the library. Just proves my point further. You’ve got it all—always have. Everything you touch turns to goddamn gold, man. Gets tiresome, real fucking tiresome. I pretty much feel duty-bound to cause you as much pain as possible any chance I can get, but it has to be worth it. It really has to count.” He slid a piece of Wren’s wavy hair between his fingers. “And you definitely count, Wren. Watching you die will totally fucking count. Wouldn’t you agree, Pretty Boy?”
Tucker stayed silent as he pressed his hand harder against his wound. He wouldn’t be able to get them out of this if he lost too much blood.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He glanced at his watch. “We should probably move this along. The cops’ll figure out the good detective is dead sooner or later. Might as well have a decent body count when they arrive. I say we make this epic.” He pulled Wren close. “How about you?”
Her breath shuddered out, and Tucker struggled to follow JT’s order to stay put.
“Let me guess—you want to say goodbye to the love of your life before we have a little fun. Kinda loose, Wren, guy-hopping this way, but I’m a reasonable guy. Go say goodbye.”
Wren’s eyes filled as she walked to Tucker, folding herself around him.
He winced, attempting to return her embrace. “We’re going to find a way out of this,” he whispered against her hair, close to her ear.
She nodded, touching his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
He held her gaze and skimmed his fingers along her jaw. They would find a way out of this. Like hell he’d leave her to die the way Staci did. “Don’t give up on me, Cooke.” He hugged her close again. “Do what I say when I tell you,” he murmured.
“All right. Enough already. I think I’m going to puke.”
Tucker’s cellphone began to ring.
“We’ll leave that behind. Let me set the alarm, then we’re off to one of my favorite places.”
Tucker watched as JT punched in the new code.
“Wondering about that, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Ms. Hayes leaves all of her client’s keys and codes tucked back in her writing desk. She really does need to be more careful.”
“You hurt Ms. Hayes?” Wren asked,
her voice tight with fear and unshed tears.
“That would be too predictable. Breaking and entering is much more fun. The old bat never even knew I was there on the several occasions I showed up. I wonder how she’ll feel when she realizes her carelessness cost sweet little Chloe her life? Now walk in front of me.” He gestured with his gun. “Wren first, Pretty Boy second. And don’t try anything that’s gonna get you killed before I’m ready.” JT picked up Tucker’s gun and shoved the weapon in the waist of his jeans. “Start down the hall. Second door on the left, but I’m sure you already know that.”
Wren went first, then Tucker. He struggled to bury his dark rage and think of a way out of this as his gaze darted about, looking for anything he could use to disarm the crazy bastard.
JT shoved him forward with a boot to the ass. “Faster.”
Tucker lost his balance, falling to his knees, sucking in a sharp breath when instinct had him catching himself with his tender arm.
Wren whirled. “Tucker.”
“Keep going, gorgeous. He’ll get up in a minute.”
Tucker got to his feet slowly. “I’m good, Cooke. I’m good.” But he wasn’t. Sweat poured down his face as he fought against the unbelievable pain.
“No you’re not.” She touched her fingers to his coat sleeve, pulling her bloodied hand away. “He’s loosing too much blood. He’s going to pass out before too long, or worse.”
“Ah, well, we can’t have you dying before all the fun starts.” He gave Tucker a pleasant smile. “Help him into the bedroom. We’ll staunch him up some.”
Wren guided him into the room, kneeling on the floor next to the bed where he sat, helping him ease off his coat. She pressed her lips firm, frowning as her worried eyes met his.
He touched a trembling finger to her jaw. “We’re good, Cooke,” he murmured.
“No we’re not. You’re not. We need to get this stopped.” She looked over her shoulder as JT continued to hold them both at gunpoint. “I need scissors and a clean towel.”
“Oh, sure. Let me get you a pair. And why don’t I leave you alone for a few minutes while I gather up first aid supplies?” He chuckled. “Use the pillowcase.”
“It’s not sterile.”
“He’s going to die anyway. Just not until after you do. Pillowcase or nothing.”
Wren turned back to Tucker and tugged the pink-striped case from the down feather pillow, then leaned in, studying his arm closely. “I can’t get a look at your wound, but I can see the entry and exit point, so that’s something. I’m going to tie this off as tight as I can.” She wrapped the pillowcase around his lower shoulder, above his bicep. “Ready?”
He braced himself, nodding.
She pulled the cotton tight, squeezing until her hands shook from the exertion.
He clenched his jaw, breathing in deep as her efforts brought about a new kind of torture.
“Almost finished.” She wrapped, once, twice. “Can you feel your fingers?”
He gave them a wiggle. “Yeah.”
“Good.” She tied off her work with a knot.
“Perfect.” JT stood from his lean against the dresser. “Now, Wren, I want you to pick up the lamp.”
“What?”
“Pick up the lamp.”
She stepped over to the bedside table and did as she was told.
“Unplug it.”
She reached down and yanked on the plug.
“Pretty Boy, come sit down right here.”
Tucker resisted until JT aimed the gun at Wren.
“Now.”
Tucker stood and sat on the spot JT pointed to with his foot.
“Wren, bring the lamp over to me.”
“What—what are you going to do?”
“Just bring me the lamp.”
She hesitated.
“You just mopped him up. Am I shooting again?”
Wren brought JT the lamp.
Before Tucker could turn his head, pain shot across his temple, and the world went black as Wren screamed.
Chapter 22
Wren stared, frozen with horror as Tucker crumpled to the carpet. “Why did you do that?” She dropped to her knees, cradling Tucker, gently running trembling fingers over his skin, examining his injuries. A dark purple bruise had already bloomed, and blood oozed from the deep gash along his hairline. “Tucker, wake up.” She grabbed his limp hand, squeezing it in hers, willing him to do as she asked. “Please, wake up.”
JT stepped closer.
“Get away.” She gripped Tucker tight against her, shielding him with her body. She’d be damned if JT was going to hurt him again. “You leave him alone.”
“Oh relax. He’ll wake up soon enough. I’m finished with him for a while anyway. Now I want you.”
Her heart thundered, and she tried to ignore the outright fear surging through her as she continued stroking Tucker. He couldn’t help her any longer. Somehow she needed to save them both.
“Besides, he looks a hell of a lot better than Patrick did after I finished with him.” JT wiggled his brows, smirking.
She swallowed tears of powerlessness and rage as she thought of Patrick’s daily struggles to recover. And Tucker, he was so…still and vulnerable. “You’re disgusting. A horrible, disgusting coward.”
JT crouched next to Tucker and pressed the gun to his head. “I’d stop and think about what you say before you make me angry, Wren.”
She eyed the pistol jammed against Tucker’s scalp. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not.” He shook his head dismissively. “Save your empty words.” He stood. “Go ahead and leave Pretty Boy alone. It’s time for us to begin.”
She caressed Tucker’s forehead once more as she stared at his gorgeous face, regretting, wondering if last night’s conversation in the elevator were the last happy words they would speak.
“Why?”
Her gaze shot to JT’s as his voice changed, growing cool. “Why what?”
“Better yet, let’s go with what? What is it about this man that makes you look at him the way you do?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer. She was terrified to say the wrong thing. “I don’t—I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Unlock the mystery. Make me understand why no one can ever get enough of Tucker Campbell. I mean I know he’s pretty, but…” He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“There’s more to Tucker than looks. He’s a good man—down in the bones good. He’s funny and sweet and loyal, and he’s smart.”
“He’s perfect. Got it. Sorry I asked.”
“No. He’s not perfect. He makes mistakes, just like you and me.”
“He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”
“Nobody wraps me around their finger. I ended our relationship, didn’t I?”
JT grinned. “You’re a hot ticket, Wren Cooke. I really do like you.”
“Then why do you want to hurt me?”
“Because he loves you. I said I like you. You’re gorgeous and smart—nothing wrong with a gorgeous, smart woman, but you became irresistible the day I discovered you and Tucker all snuggled up in my mother’s library. I would’ve been okay with you turning me down because you ‘weren’t looking for a relationship.’” He rolled his eyes as he made air quotes. “But then I realized the truth. You weren’t looking for a relationship with me.”
“I enjoyed our friendship. You were one of my good friends, JT.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand this. I don’t understand you. You’re an attractive, successful man. Why do you worry so much about what Tucker does and doesn’t have?”
“Because he’s always gotten what I wanted—the loving parents, the adoring sister, the girls. Every year the Campbells would swoop in from Monterey,
more bonded and beautiful than ever. I tried to make good ol’ Lenora and Dave as proud of me as Tucker’s family was of him, but Auntie and Uncle barely paid attention.”
“Auntie and Uncle?” She frowned, confused by his ramblings. “What—”
“Yes.” He put a finger to his lips. “Our little secret,” he whispered, giving her a wink. “My mother couldn’t handle my ‘very unique needs.’” More air quotes. “A kid tries to light the house on fire and keep a few dead cats under his bed, and Mommy Dearest freaks and ships ya off to Uncle David and Aunt Lenora.” He shrugged as if what he said was neither here nor there.
She swallowed her disgust, fully grasping just how sick JT was. “That must have been—that must have been tough.”
“Such is life, Wren, such is life. My mother didn’t want me, neither did my aunt or uncle, nor did any of the girls. They never gave me a second glance, because they were always looking at him. Do you know how many miles I ran, how many weights I lifted? It never fucking mattered. Get up.”
She stood immediately with his lightning-fast change of mood, afraid he might try to hurt Tucker again.
“Look at these pictures.” He gestured to the photographs on Staci’s dresser. “His arm around a different girl. Taylor.” He tapped the pretty brunette clinging to Tucker. “Cheryl. Nora. Jasmine. And let’s not forget Staci—sister extraordinaire. She was special.” He stroked his finger along Staci’s cheek in the photo. “She was my friend. I loved her—as much as I’ve ever been able to love anyone.”
She struggled to suppress a shudder as his eyes transfixed on Staci. “Why did you do what you did? Why did you hurt that sweet, beautiful girl?”
“Because Jasmine chose Tucker. Because Staci loved him more.”
She shook her head, realizing she could never possibly understand. “She was his sister. His twin sister. Of course she loved him more.”
Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) Page 34