Savage Love

by Lisa Renee Jones

  I gape at the familiar name. “Grayson Bennett? As in the hotel mogul who just bought part of an NFL team?”

  “Jesus, Savage,” Adam growls. “You can’t pull Grayson into this. He’s an honest, good man who doesn’t need this kind of trouble.”

  “Eric’s taking the meeting on his behalf,” Rick says, eyeing me. “Eric is Grayson’s right-hand man and part-owner of an NFL team.”

  “That’s still pulling Grayson into this,” Adam insists.

  “Eat a damn donut and get your panties out of a wad,” Rick snaps. “When Gabriel lands, Eric is going to cancel. He’ll be in the Hamptons, too close for comfort when Candace will be in New York, but he won’t know that. And at least he’ll be close enough for me to kill him if our options run out.” He looks around the room, “Where are we with taking him down before I decide to make the Hamptons his final breathing spot?”

  “I still don’t like this,” Adam mumbles.

  Asher runs a hand over his face. “We’re not taking down Gabriel in a day. Not without a breakthrough I haven’t had.”

  “Well then,” Rick says. “It’s a good thing I called Kane Mendez.”

  “What’s Kane going to do Savage?” Adam asks.

  “Keep Candace alive. And that’s all that matters.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “The only way you can with a man like Pocher. You give him more reasons to keep you and your father alive than to kill you. And we do that by using Kane Mendez.”

  “And what does he want in return, Savage?” Adam asks.

  Rick’s response is immediate. “He owes me a favor.”

  “I don’t even want to know what you did for him,” Adam says. “But do you think that’s enough for a man like Kane Mendez? He’ll want another favor from you.”

  “I’ll take that risk.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Candace

  “For the record,” Smith says. “I know you’re going to ignore me, but I object to Kane Mendez’s involvement.”

  “For the record,” Rick says, “I object to funny shaped Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. They don’t taste the same.”

  “Fuck you, Savage,” Smith snaps shortly. “I’m trying to keep us all alive.”

  Rick surprises me by turning serious. “I trust him, man. I don’t say that lightly. If you trust me, trust him.”

  “I do trust you,” Smith replies. “And I’d like to think that you trust me. I’ve heard things from people I know well.”

  “I went to hit a target, a bastard who was running a slave trade. He did, too.”

  “Kane Mendez?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he confirms. “I saved Kane’s life. Kane saved my life. And then we saved the women together.”

  Smith’s jaw ticks. “That doesn’t mean—”

  “It does,” Rick insists, leaning forward and meeting Smith’s stare. “Man, you have to see how much I love her. I know him beyond that incident. I know him. I trust him. That I trust him with Candace’s life should tell you how sure I am of him.”

  “You do,” Adam agrees. “You love the fuck out of her. You just won me over. Or rather, Kane Mendez won me over.”

  Smith gives a short nod. “I’m on board.”

  Rick’s shoulders ease, and he settles back into his chair. “Did someone say pizza?”

  “I’ll order,” I say, grabbing my phone. Everyone calls out their preferences and by the time I hang up, the topic has shifted to the doctor visiting me.

  “Do we know what time he’s coming, Candace?” Adam asks.

  I grab my phone from the table where I’d just set it. “No, but I can text Gabriel and find out.”

  He catches my hand. “Aren’t we monitoring his calls?” Rick asks.

  “I am,” Asher replies. “But he has so many assholes working for him, I can’t follow them all real-time. He called a doctor. We know who he is. We don’t have a record of him calling him back after he talked to Candace.”

  Rick releases me. “Text the asshole.”

  I send the text: I’ll be home at three. When is the doctor arriving? “Done,” I say, setting my phone down.

  Asher slides his MacBook aside. “The best way for Candace to stay away from this doctor is to tell him you took a pregnancy test and it’s positive. I can make the test look positive.”

  “Are you doing drugs?” Savage snaps. “If Pocher believes that Candace dying is going to get Gabriel a sympathy vote, what will his pregnant fiancée do for the campaign? No.”

  I can feel the blood run from my face with a flashback to a night about three months ago. Gabriel and I were at dinner, a fine Italian place, and tortured by the idea that he might hurt my father, I’d been playing the fiancé game. We’d been sipping wine, waiting for our salads, when he’s stunned me by saying, “I think we should get pregnant.”

  “We just got engaged.”

  “We could push up the wedding six months, and if you get pregnant now, you won’t look pregnant.”

  I swallow hard. “No. I’m not going to get pregnant before I get married.”

  “Then let’s elope.”

  Anger comes hard and fast, and I forget to play nice. “No. And why do I feel like this is something to do with your campaign, not me and us?”

  “We have a greater purpose than us now.”

  I snap back to the room as Asher says, “The idea here is to get her through the next couple of days.”

  “No,” I say. “That test might not only make me a target but give him a reason to find me when I leave.” My cellphone buzzes with a text where it sits next to me on the table. “It’s Gabriel,” I say, reading the message. “The doctor’s showing up around four.” I reply with: Not necessary but I’ll let you know how it goes. “It’s two,” I say. “I need to get moving.” I stand up. “I don’t want to wait for the pizza. I need to just get this over with.”

  “Your car is downstairs, keys under the seat,” Smith replies.

  I don’t ask how they made that happen. I don’t care. I just want out of here right now. I head to the bedroom to grab my purse and briefcase. I want to sketch. I want to work. I need the outlet and if I get the chance today, I will.

  I’ve just finished getting everything together when Rick appears in the doorway. He consumes the room that easily. He’s big and broad and beautiful. His goatee and scar down his face, every bit the mercenary. And I want to be done with all of this and just be with him. I close the space between us and wrap my arms around all that hard muscle.

  He hugs me tight and just holds me for a moment before he tilts my head back and stares down at me. “He wanted you to get pregnant.” It’s not a question.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does, baby. It really fucking does, and we’re going to talk about all the reasons why when we get home to New York.”

  “Home,” I say. “I like the sound of that.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Candace

  I don’t know how my car got to the hotel and I don’t ask. I just want to go to my house, be done with the stylist and the doctor’s appointment and well, just be done. Rick opens my door and grabs the keys from under the seat, handing them off to me. “Go to the grocery store. Buy a few things to look like that’s where you were. And I’ll get Chick-fil-A if you’ll grab ice cream.”

  I smile. “Ice cream?”

  “Häagen-Dazs, baby. My Butter Pecan and your Rum Raisin. We’ll eat it after all the assholes leave.”

  “Are we staying there tonight?”

  “Yes. Now that Wes is gone, we’ll stay there one last night. That gives you time to pack anything you really want to take with you. We’ll get the rest shipped.”

  “Because I’m moving to New York with you.”

  He catches my waist and pulls me to him. “Second thoughts?”

  My fingers curl on his chest and God it feels good to just have this man here with me again. “None. I just wish we were in New York already. I need away from here. I need a fresh
start. And I want my father to retire and walk away.”

  “A little more than twenty-four hours from now we’ll be on a plane,” he says, leaving the topic of my father alone and I wonder how much he really deep down blames my father for all of this. “It’s two-fifteen,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Head out now. I’ll be inside when you get there.”

  “Isn’t my house being watched? How are you going to get in and not be seen?”

  “I have the Midas touch baby.” He wiggles a brow. “This is what I do.”

  I can’t argue with that answer. “Won’t they know my car left early?”

  “I called Adrian after you left the dining room. He made it look like you arrived in an Uber and then left again. He also made sure your car wasn’t followed to the hotel. He will also have men following you to the store and your house.”

  “Who?”

  He motions to a white pickup truck. “That’s one of the men working under Adrian.”

  Again, I don’t ask many questions. “How very Texan of him to drive a pickup.”

  “Gotta blend in, baby.”

  “Still doubt Adrian?”

  “Hell yes. You don’t win me over with Skittles. It takes Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. So far he’s given me Skittles.”

  “I’ll get some peanut butter cups at the store. Obviously, they’re on your mind.”

  He grins and kisses me. “You know me so well.” He turns me to the car and leans in close. “I love you, Candace. You’re not alone. And you won’t be. Ever again. You and me, and ice cream in front of the TV, for the rest of our lives.”

  My heart squeezes with a reference to our past, and I climb into the car. Rick shuts me inside and I start the engine. Memories of his nights off at the hospital spent watching a movie while eating pints of ice cream are surreal. We’re so close to those little shared moments again, to sharing a life together again. And yet, the years that separate us feel like nothing compared to the next twenty-four hours.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Candace

  The best way to get through the next twenty-four hours is planning because planning means control. And I can’t dive back into planning until I get this afternoon of Gabriel’s design behind me. That starts at the grocery store, and while logically I know no one is following me—Rick’s team made sure of that—I’m not so sure. Once I’m in the grocery store, this sense of being watched has me glancing around nervously, and grabbing way too many cans of chicken noodle soup, crackers, and soda. And ice cream. I can’t forget the ice cream and why would I? Everyone knows sick people need ice cream. I buy Rick and me each two pints. I can’t eat two pints but considering this day, I might try. Maybe that’s the way to play sick. Eat ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream.

  When I’m finally outside again, my skin tingles and the hair on my nape stands on end. I hurry into my car, lock the door, and store my bags in the seat next to me. I don’t think anyone could know that I’m here. This is me being paranoid but if they do, then they know I was at the hotel. More than a little eager to get home to Rick, I start the engine but I can’t remember if Rick is getting takeout or if I am. I also don’t want to call him and distract him when he’s sneaking around however he’s sneaking around.

  Chick-fil-A is close, so I just hit the drive-thru and a few minutes later I’m armed with a bag of four spicy chicken sandwiches for Rick and one for me, as well as fries. And as soon as I realize it’s almost three, and the stylist will arrive soon, I stuff my face with those fries only to have her text me to tell me she’ll be late. Small miracles do exist.

  I pull into my garage and the minute the garage door is down and I’m outside my car, Rick is walking toward me. That big hunk of a man is a sight for sore eyes and just seeing him again has me breathing a little easier. What is wrong with me? I’ve dealt with Gabriel for months under the duress of knowing he might hurt my father. I can do it a little longer.

  “I grabbed the food, baby,” Rick says when he’s taken all the bags from me. “I wanted you to have time to eat.”

  “I couldn’t remember who was grabbing the food. And the stylist will be late.”

  He leans in and kisses me, and even without his hands free, it’s a crazy intense, wonderful kiss. “Come.” He smiles, intimacy crackling between us. “Let’s eat.”

  “Yes. Let’s eat.”

  A few minutes later, Rick and I have stashed the ice cream in the freezer, set my cans of soup on the counter, and are now standing in the kitchen at the counter, stuffing our faces with way too much food, way too fast. When I’ve had enough, and he’s three sandwiches in, I toss my trash in the bag. “I need to tell you something but I don’t want you to change your mind about the party.”

  Rick tosses his trash in the bag as well, giving me his full attention. That’s the thing about Rick, he always had a way of making me feel important, like every word I spoke mattered and that’s proving true all over again.

  “Tell me,” he urges.

  “A few months ago, Gabriel tried to convince me to get pregnant, despite us being unmarried and the campaign kicking off. Rick, I think he, or they, Gabriel and his backer, have always been planning to kill me and make me the sympathy vote. Or maybe that plan hatched when my father became a problem.”

  He studies me, his expression unreadable, but the muscle in his jaw ticks. “What did you say?”

  “This was after I knew he wanted to get rid of my father. I tried to buy time. I told him that we weren’t married. Then he said we could elope. I said no. I told him I felt like a political token. He denied that, of course.”

  “And what would you have said before you knew his ill intent, Candace? Did you want to have his baby?”

  “No. I didn’t want to make babies with him, Rick. The only person I’d do that with is you.”

  His eyes narrow. “I thought you didn’t want kids.” It’s not really a question.

  “That’s the point of this story. I mean yes, I thought you needed to know how deep the ill intent, as you called it, runs, but it was about more than that.”

  His eyes sharpen, darken. “Tell me.”

  I swallow hard, nerves in my belly that want to explode with how vulnerable I’m about to be but I promised him trust. I think he needs to know now more than ever, that I’m giving him that trust. “I thought I was pregnant after you left. And I was surprisingly happy. I was disappointed when I wasn’t. It was like I lost a little piece of you, that I never really had anyway but I made it real in my mind. I know we didn’t want kids but—”

  He catches my arms and pulls me to him. “Baby, I want the world with you.” His voice is low, rough, almost guttural. “The fucking world, I tell you.” The doorbell rings and he grimaces. “More later. Lots fucking more later.” He takes my hand presses what I know is my engagement ring from Gabriel into my palm. “Put it on. And get your stylist and the doctor to the spare bedroom.”

  “Why the spare bedroom?”

  “If you go to the master, the closet is in the back of the bathroom. I need to be closer. I need to hear what’s going on at all times.”

  “Maybe you can peek through the door and tell me which dress to pick?”

  “Any dress that’s not for him, baby.”

  “Nothing is for him,” I promise.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Rick—”

  “I left. I got what I deserved.”

  The doorbell rings again and I pant out a breath. “I need to get that.” My stupid voice trembles and Rick doesn’t miss it.

  “Relax, baby.” His hands come down on my shoulders, his touch warm and strong—the connection comforting. “I’m going to be right here and you played this game alone with Gabriel before I was back on the scene. Just remember that you’re sick. Keep that game up with the stylist, too.” He kisses me. “I’ll let you pick the movie we watch while eating ice cream as long as it’s Sonic the Hedgehog.”

  I laugh as he heads out of the kitchen but even to my own ears it�
��s strained. I don’t know why I’m making the stylist and some retired doctor such a big deal. Other than the fact that both are likely spying on me, this is not a big deal. I have nothing to worry about. At least not now.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Candace

  I open my front door to find a pretty blonde with big boobs standing there. I know she has big boobs because she’s showing a whole lot of cleavage. She’s also wearing a pink dress but it’s hard to notice, for the cleavage. More power to her though. I mean I wouldn’t have that cleavage with socks stuck in my bra.

  “You are stunning. This is going to be fun. I’m Dawn, your personal fashion consultant.” She offers me her hand which I shake before she motions over her shoulder. “I have about a dozen dresses for you to try. If those don’t work, I can bring you more.” She tilts her head. “You’re wholesome.” She turns and heads for her car.

  Wholesome.

  The girl next door.

  I wonder if that’s why Gabriel chose me? Well, that and I’m my father’s daughter. Obviously, he thought alignment with my father controlled my father. He clearly never knew my father all that well.

  It’s not long before Dawn and I are in the spare bedroom and I have a selection of red and blue dresses on a rolling display she’s set up.

  “Do you have a mirror?”

  Crap. The mirror is in the closet on the door.

  “A crappy one,” I say. “I guess I’ll just have to walk across the hall but my master is messy.” I give a shaky laugh. “I prefer to keep that to myself.”

  “I have a mirror in the car.”

  Relief washes over me as she adds, “And I heard you’ve been sick so if you need to take a break anytime, we can.” She exits the room and I quickly try on a dress, just trying to hurry this along. By the time she returns I’m on dress number two.

  “You didn’t like the blue silk?”

  “Too snug.”

  Two more dresses in and I struggle to tame her chatter. Four more dresses in, I finally find a dress that will work. I stand in front of her fancy portable mirror and inspect my choice. The waist is cinched and the skirt long and full. The material a red silk with a beautiful floral etched design. “I’ll go with this one.”