by Alicia Dean
the process. Her hand reached out to catch it, but it tumbled
to the floorboard.
"Shit."
Barely able to see in the dim lighting of the car, she
dabbed at her eyes and felt around until her fingers touched
the phone.
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She was about to shove it back into the glove
compartment when its familiarity caught her attention. This
wasn't the phone she'd seen Donovan use, but she'd
definitely seen one like it before. It was identical to the one
Rudy had. Of course, it couldn't be Rudy's. Maybe this was
one of Donovan's old phones she'd never seen before.
The words made sense, but something told her they
weren't true. A sickening dread filtered through her heart,
compelling her to find out. She flipped the phone open, but
the power was off. Pressing down on the 'End' button, she
waited as the lights and noise announced the phone was
powering up.
When the cell phone was fully on, she stared down at it,
her body beginning to tremble with the awful realization. The
phone laying in her palm most definitely wasn't Donovan's. It
belonged to Rudy. The one missing since the accident.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Twenty-One
Nicolette stared at the phone. Rudy's wallpaper—a movie
poster for the tear-jerker movie The Notebook—stared back
at her. She'd always teased him about having such a girlie
photo on his phone. She grinned at the memory as tears rose
to the back of her throat.
Then, fear, confusion and betrayal overtook nostalgia.
There was only one reason Donovan would have Rudy's
phone. Donovan had been with Rudy the night of his accident.
If Donovan had been with Rudy that night...if he'd lied all this
time...if he'd kept Rudy's cell phone...
Dear God.
Donovan had killed him.
Her hands trembled as her mind tried to work out her best
course of action. Had Donovan known about the affair all
along? Was that why Rudy had died, because he couldn't
keep his dick in his pants?
She should call Heath. Or should she? The last
conversation they'd had, she'd screamed at him that she
never wanted to see him again. Now she was going to call
him begging for his help? No. She should call 911.
Before she could decide, she saw Donovan come out of the
restaurant, heading for the car.
She looked at the phone. Rudy had Heath in his speed dial
on number two. Her finger pressed the 'two' and sure
enough, Heath's name popped onto the screen.
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"I hope you like grilled onions on your cheeseburger,"
Donovan was saying as he climbed into the driver's seat. "I
also got you fries."
If she called 911, she'd have to speak to them and
Donovan would hear her and get to her before help arrived.
She put her thumb on the Send button and whipped the hand
holding the phone behind her back.
"Thanks." She attempted a nonchalant smile but wasn't
sure she pulled it off. "That sounds great."
Over and over, her thumb pushed the Send button. She
wouldn't be able to speak to Heath, but if he saw multiple
consecutive calls from Rudy's phone...hell, when he saw one
call from Rudy's phone, he'd realize something was wrong
and, hopefully, he'd come to her rescue.
A twinge of guilt shot through her. Heath was probably
smack dab in the middle of a wedding right now.
The ride home was silent and when they arrived at
Nicolette's, Donovan carried the food inside. Nicolette
continued to hold the phone behind her back, managing to
shrug out of her coat while keeping the phone tucked out of
sight.
Donovan placed the bags on the coffee table, then frowned
as he peered closely at Nicolette. "Nicolette? Is something the
matter?"
Her terror must have shown in her expression, because
realization dawned on his face. In place of his puzzlement,
she saw a cruelty she'd never known him capable of.
"Ah," he said with a slow nod. "You know."
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The guilt went away, and her thumb began to frantically
press the Send button. Please, Heath, please figure it out,
and please don't be so mad at me you won't bother to
respond.
Amelia had managed to decorate the family room in a
Christmasy, weddingish way that seemed to work well, like
Santa and Mrs. Claus had used Martha Stewart for their
wedding planner.
The triplets looked cute in their frilly dresses. Zoe was
gorgeous. She wore his mother's wedding gown and stared
adoringly up at Alex as Judge Parker performed the
ceremony, his balding head reflecting the shine from the
lights above. On the other side of Zoe, Jesse was radiant in a
blue beaded gown, though Heath couldn't help notice that her
blue eyes didn't shine with the same joy they normally did.
Had Clint hurt her, in spite of Heath's warnings? If so, his
eldest brother would have him to answer to.
Heath returned his focus to the ceremony and tried to
keep his mouth spread in a smile, but the glow on the faces
of the bride and groom only magnified the hollow ache in the
pit of his stomach.
The judge read passages from the Bible, then Zoe and Alex
spoke their vows. Heath nearly grinned at the incongruous
sound of his suave little brother speaking the flowery words.
On his cue, Heath handed Alex the ring.
Heath's cell phone vibrated with a low buzzing sound, but
he reached in his pocket to silence it, watching as Jesse
handed Alex's ring to Zoe.
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After Zoe slipped the ring on his finger, Alex turned to
where the girls stood, each of them in different states of
restlessness, shifting and tugging at the edges of their
dresses.
"Michaela, come here, please," Alex said.
When she moved toward him, Alex went down to one
knee.
Placing a hand on her father's shoulder, Michaela said,
"Can we be done yet?" The too-loud whisper carried in the
still room and laughter erupted.
Alex chuckled and placed a chain holding a locket around
her neck. "Just about, sweetie."
As his baby brother performed the same ritual with his
other two daughters, Heath tried hard to blink back tears. He
gritted his teeth and blew a breath out between his lips. Since
his arrival in Kansas City, he'd become a blubbering fool.
Time to haul his ass back to Oklahoma. In less than twenty-
four hours, he'd do just that.
His phone continued to buzz and he frowned. What the
hell? He was in the middle of his brother's wedding,
for God's
sake.
Finally, he discreetly pulled the cell from his pocket and
looked at the display.
A chill coursed through him, and he found it hard to draw
breath. Rudy's phone number appeared, over and over.
Fuck. Nicolette?
Mumbling a quiet apology, Heath slipped away from the
wedding and rushed out the door, not looking back to see the
reaction of the wedding guests, or the bride and groom.
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He punched in Nicolette's number, his heart pounding as
he waited for her to answer.
When the call went to voice mail, his worry increased. Was
she ignoring him because she was angry with him or was she
in trouble? He tried to call Donovan, but didn't get an answer.
Shit.
Donovan shook his head as he moved slowly toward
Nicolette.
"I can't believe you killed him," she said tearfully. "You
were his friend."
"Right. He was my friend, and he screwed my wife."
"So you murdered him?"
"I was with him that night. I knocked him unconscious,
choked him until I thought he was dead, then rolled his car
down the hill. Little did I know that he wasn't quite dead. I
never figured on him slipping into a coma. Lucky for me he
never recovered." He shook his head, still moving toward her
as she backed away. "I didn't want you to end up getting
hurt. You and I are innocent. It's Rudy and Marla who should
pay."
"Why did you kill Rudy and not Marla?"
He smiled as if she'd asked the most obvious question in
the universe. "I love her." He shook his head again, his voice
filled with regret. "I can't let you go free. It will ruin my life."
"I won't say anything, I promise."
He laughed. "Yeah, like I believe that. You do see why I
couldn't let Rudy live, right? I mean, he was a liar, a phony.
Running a charity for drug addicts while he was one himself.
Preposterous. And then, what he did to me. With my wife..."
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Nicolette didn't remind him his wife had done it to him,
too. He knew that. Besides, if she did, he might say, "Oh
yeah, that's right. Let's go back and get her, and I'll off you
both at the same time." Even though Marla had broken her
trust and screwed her husband, Nicolette didn't want to watch
her die. Not much anyway.
Nicolette searched her mind for something to say that
would stall him, but her brain was frozen in disbelief and
terror.
Donovan sighed as he continued, "Marla knew I had
something to do with Rudy's death. I lied to her about where
I was that night. She knew I knew she was fucking Rudy. She
put two and two together and accused me of causing the
accident. She threatened to leave me right after he died, but
I told her I had proof of what had happened between them. I
told her I had the phone with all her text messages back and
forth, the sick, twisted things they said to one another. That I
would ruin her chances for a political career. Destroy her
family."
Nicolette finally found her voice. "Wow. The ingredients of
a happy marriage. Fear, threats and intimidation."
He shrugged. "Whatever works to get what you want,
right? Very soon, all this will be over for you, but first I need
you to write a note letting everyone know how despondent
you are over your husband's death and the subsequent
humiliation of his drug use. You cheated with his best friend,
and now you've lost him too. You have nothing more to live
for."
"No one would believe that."
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"Come on. It's all true. I mean, you don't have any family.
You and Heath are done, even though the two of you
probably rutted like pigs in heat for a while. The charity will
most certainly fold." He moved closer, the look in his eyes
sending a terrifying chill through her soul. "Really, Nicolette.
What the fuck do you have to live for?"
He'd backed her against the cocktail table. She had
nowhere else to go. Her cell phone rang, and hope rose in her
chest.
Heath? It had to be Heath.
"I need to get that," she said. "If I don't answer, whoever
is calling will become suspicious."
He laughed. "Right. Because no one ever misses a fucking
phone call." He reached out and clamped a hand around her
neck. "Now, be a good girl and come with me. We have to do
this all exactly right to make it look convincing. And, we have
to make sure there are no disturbances, so I need you to
come peacefully."
"No." She shook her head. "I won't come quietly. I'll fight
you like a crazy woman, and you can explain why I wrecked
my house before I killed myself."
A hard look came into his eyes. "I'll make you a deal.
You're going to die no matter what. If you cooperate, I'll
make it quick, painless and no one else will be hurt. If you
make me fight you, after I leave here, I'll go over to Louisa's.
Her Christmas gift this year will be a great deal of pain. Is
that what you want?"
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She looked into his face and knew he was serious. He
would do it. Her shoulders slumped, and she reached back to
grip the edge of the table behind her.
Heath, please call. Please come. You're my only hope.
Hope rose when she heard a loud knock on the door, then
Heath's voice shouting, "Nicolette? Are you in there? Let me
in."
Shit. She must have locked the door after letting Donovan
in, an unconscious habit she'd developed since living alone.
"Heath!" she screamed as loud as she could. "I'm in here.
Donovan is—"
"Shut up!" Donovan hissed. Confusion, then anger crossed
his face. He looked toward the front door.
Nicolette's fingers touched the Santa's workshop figurine.
She brought it around just as Donovan turned his attention
back to her. She slammed it into the side of his head. He
dropped to his knees, a dazed look in his eyes. Blood trickled
from beneath his hair, and Nicolette let the figurine fall from
her shaking fingers to the floor.
She paused, momentarily paralyzed before her brain
kicked into gear. Run, get the hell out of there. Turning, she
started toward the door.
Before she'd gone two steps, Donovan's hand shot out and
grabbed her ankle. He still seemed dazed, but his grip was
like steel.
"Heath!" she called out. "I'm here. Donovan's trying to kill
me."
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She tried to kick out at Donovan's hand, but he held tight.
No more sounds came from the front door. Had Heath not
heard her and left? Maybe he was calling the police. Maybe—
<
br /> A loud crash of breaking glass sounded at the patio door.
Heath.
Glass shards clung to his hair and his clothing. His golden
eyes searched frantically until they fell on Nicolette. He
grinned with relief and started toward her.
Donovan released her ankle and moaned, then pushed his
hands against the floor, trying to rise. Heath was on him so
fast, Nicolette was barely aware he'd changed directions.
Jerking Donovan up by the shirtfront, Heath slammed his
fist into his face, over and over. Nicolette clamped her hands
over her mouth, frozen to the spot. She shivered as she
watched in disbelief. She'd never seen Heath violent. Never
seen him harm a soul.
"Heath!" She rushed over and grabbed at his arm. "Stop.
You're going to kill him."
Heath paused at her touch, his fist drawn back. Donovan,
his face bloody and battered, was no longer conscious. Heath
released him, and his limp body dropped to the floor with a
dull thud.
Heath came to his feet, his chest rising and falling with
deep breaths. He looked down at Nicolette, and she reached
up to pick broken glass from his hair. He captured her wrist in
his hand and brought her fingers to his lips.
"Heath," she breathed his name on a sigh, then fell into his
arms, sobbing and covering his face with kisses.
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"Be careful." Heath laughed, his voice hoarse from
exertion. "I'm covered in broken glass."
"I don't care," she murmured, still clinging to him.
"Are you okay?" he asked roughly.
"I'm fine. I was so scared. I was afraid you wouldn't come.
You saved me again."
She felt his smile against her hair.
"It's what I do," he said. "I'll always save you."
She pulled away and looked into his face. "Here I thought
you were a King. Turns out you're a knight."
He brushed the hair back from her eyes. "Are you sure
you're all right? He didn't hurt you?"
"No. I'm fine."
Heath shook his head, and a dark expression took over his
face. "Good God. It's my fault you almost died."
"What are you talking about? Like I said, you saved me."
"You were only in danger in the first place because of me."
He drew in a deep breath. "I sent that son of a bitch over