CHAPTER EIGHT
Mick
It’s the first time I’ve gone shopping for woman’s clothing—and I kind of love deciding what touches Hailey’s skin. This is an upscale hotel, so I have a lot of options, too. I buy her comfortable underwear, because I can’t imagine having a string up your ass feels good. But I can’t stop myself from buying her a few pairs of tight, little boy shorts made of lace. Pink, white, yellow. Just thinking of her buns in them is giving me a hard-on in the store, so I move on to clothes.
No help there. Tank tops make me think of her tits, skirts make me think of her thighs. Having them wrapped around me while I ride her on the bathroom floor. By the time I get to the checkout counter, my cock is hard, off to one side behind the fly of my jeans. There’s no help for it. Soon as I get back upstairs, I’m going to take her again.
Having the situation with her father out of my control, I’m twice as possessive. Protective. The need to claim and guard her is fierce. Now that she’s out of the house, I have to figure out my next move. One thing is for certain, Hailey isn’t going to be in harm’s way. Not in this lifetime.
I grab a pack of Advil for Hailey at the checkout, feeling like a depraved motherfucker, but the stoic salesman’s expression never changes as he bags the items and takes my money. Money I really like spending on Hailey.
If being with her costs me my job, I’m not worried. With my horse breeding operation gaining momentum and the cattle yielding income, the ranch is lucrative. And hell, I don’t relish the idea of being away from Hailey for months at a time while I work a case. Maybe it’s for the best if we cut our losses and go home, leave Los Angeles in our rearview. I know the Bureau won’t let me drop a case without giving them something, though. As soon as I get back upstairs and reassure myself Hailey is safe and sound, I’ll figure out my next play.
The first thing I notice when I walk into the bedroom is Hailey isn’t there.
Second? The food is untouched.
“Hailey.” Panic grabs me by the throat. “Hailey!”
No answer.
I check everywhere—the bathroom, the balcony, under the fucking bed, for chrissakes—before retreating to the hallway, grabbing one of the agents by his collar, throwing him up against the wall. “She’s gone.”
His shock is genuine. “What?”
I’m so terrified, my words are barely intelligible. “Listen to me very carefully. Did anyone come in here?”
“No.” He shifts a glance over at his partner, who is also white as a sheet and already shouting orders into his earpiece. “Stepanov has no idea she’s gone yet with the evac order still in place. We didn’t think there was a threat until he finds out she’s gone.”
“It’s my job to determine that, you fucking dead man.” I rear back and give him a right cross, letting him slump to the ground. Just like that, a light goes out in the rational part of my brain. Hailey. Where the fuck is my girl? Did someone take her? Did she…leave? No. No, she wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t rip my heart out like this. Wait. I didn’t look for a note. Maybe she went out for some reason and left me an explanation.
Moving at a fast clip, I reenter the room, beelining for the bedroom.
And that’s when I notice the phone is askew in the cradle.
My mind struggles to fight through the panic and acknowledge why that’s bad. My conversation with my superior. Was she listening? What was said?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and start to pace, battling the urge to vomit. My superior wants to use her as a witness. Did she worry I’d allow that to happen? No, she would have trusted me. Trusted every word I said during the conversation she overheard. She would have known I mean to keep her safe, so…
Evidence.
Hailey knows I need something on her father. Or I could lose the case.
She also knows she has two hours before her father gets home.
She’s gone back to the house. And what she doesn’t know is the evacuation is optional—and her father would have realized that by now, too. He could return home at any time.
“No.”
With unimaginable images chilling my blood, I spin on a heel and sprint out of the room. Please God let me get there in time. Life just became worth living because of her. If I lose her now, I’ll lose myself.
Hailey
There is no one home when the cab lets me out at the end of my father’s driveway. His car isn’t there and twilight has crept in, but no lights are on in the house. Okay. I can do this. I only need three minutes to get into the house and retrieve the book from upstairs. Mick is going to be livid when I get back to the hotel, but he’ll be fine. I’ll calm him down. And we’ll have the evidence he needs to get us free of this case. This world.
Maybe, just maybe, I want to save the day, too. Is that so unrealistic? I’ve been a victim for so long and I’m tired of it. I’ve found this man I want to live with, be happy with. I’m not letting anything stop me from making it happen.
I ask the cab driver to wait and speed walk down the driveway, mentally plotting my movements through the house. But I slow to a walk at the front door, realizing my plan has already hit a snag. I don’t have house keys. Unbelievable. I don’t have keys to my own house. No turning back now, though. Whatever it takes, I’m getting that book.
After testing the door to make sure its locked, I throw a glance back over my shoulder at the cab driver who is staring at his phone, then I circle to the side of the house, coming to a stop in front of a window. Taking a deep breath for courage, I take off my shoe and throw it straight through the glass, waiting. Nothing happens. Thank God. My father must have forgotten to set the alarm in the confusion of evacuating.
I take off my other shoe, using it to clear away the jagged shards along the bottom of the pane. Judging I’ve already gone past my three minutes, I heft myself up and climb into the window. Careful to avoid the glass, I hit the ground running, taking the stairs up to my room two at a time. Adrenaline spins like mini windmills in my veins, my heart pounding, my vision bright and sharp.
The hate and resentment that fills me when I unlock and enter my room momentarily freezes me in my path. But thinking of Mick, I fight through it and run into the bathroom at full speed, throwing open the door and entering my painting room. The book is sitting right where I left it on a crate full of paints, such a functional thing that has become vital overnight.
I grab it, spin around and run for the door, not even bothering to give my room a final glance before tearing down the hallway, book clutched to my chest. I’m at the foot of the stairs, intending to stuff my feet back into my shoes and climb back out the window…when my father walks into the house.
His expression goes from calm to deadly in the space of a second.
But it goes nuclear when he registers the book in my hand. Not that he moves a single muscle. “What are you planning to do with that, daughter?”
“I was…coming to find you. I had a question about one of the orders.”
He doesn’t believe me. That much is obvious. “Why is your leg bleeding?”
“Is it?” I ask, my voice high pitched. “I don’t know.”
My father takes one step past me, rolling a single, lethal shoulder when he sees the broken window in the next room. “It appears you did not learn your lesson last night, daughter.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you even liked your lesson a little too much, da?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper.
When he starts to back me toward the stairs, I drop the book, my heart rapping against my ribs. “Stop. Don’t come any closer,” I scream, surprising him. Surprising myself. I’ve never stood up to him. Never talked back or questioned him. I’ve been too afraid. Not anymore, though. I’ve got something to fight for. Someone. And I’ve got a new life to begin. A chance to make up for the years he’s stolen from me.
I won’t give it up.
Using his temporary pause to my advantage, I snatch up the book and start running. I just have to get out of the house and past him. If I can beat him to the glass sliding door at the back of the house, I can find a way down into the canyon. I’m lucky he’s alone right now, without his ever-present gang of dead-eyed gangsters. I only have to elude one man. With my happiness at stake, I can do anything.
I sprint fast enough to make my legs burn, reaching the glass door and flipping the lock, but I only get half of my body through the opening when my father catches up, dragging me back into the house by my hair. No. My balance is lost and I go down, still clinging to the book, my eyes watering at the pain in my scalp.
“Where are you going, huh? Who are you running to?”
I make a grab for his wrist, hoping to ease the pressure of my hair being pulled, but I shrink back at his expression of rage. He’s going to kill me. The book is proof that I was going to betray him, and to him, that’s the ultimate sin. One that comes with the penalty of death.
We’re in the middle of the kitchen when my father flips me over onto my back and lands a smacking blow across my face. It renders me blind for long moments, church bells ringing in my ear. When I regain my sight, he’s kneeling between my thighs, his shaking hands coming toward my neck. They wrap around me tight there, squeezing. Stealing my ability to breathe.
There are no weapons left in my arsenal, so I try to beg with my eyes. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t touch me. Please don’t kill me. But there is no rationality left inside him. There’s only the violent criminal. I don’t even think he knows who I am anymore. I’m merely another adversary who threatens his livelihood. I’m beginning to lose consciousness when I hear a click to my right.
“You’ve got two seconds to let go of her. After that, you’re getting a bullet in the head. Give me any excuse to pull this fucking trigger.” Mick’s voice is a chilling whip crack that echoes through the kitchen, but to me, it’s a shot of hope. Relief. Love. “One. T—”
My father moves so fast, he’s a blur. He whips a gun out from the inside of his jacket and fires at Mick. Once, twice. I scream. My father’s body jerks in mid-air and he lands on his back with a choked moan. Dead. His eyes are lifeless, his body unmoving. Dead. A pulse raps against my temples as I sit up, my body lethargic from lack of oxygen. In the distance, I hear my name being called and turn…and find Mick slumped against the wall, holding his chest.
“No,” I scream, scrambling in my father’s pooling blood, desperate to get to Mick. “No, please.” It seems to take an eternity to reach him, crawling across the floor with denials clogged in my throat. “Mick. Mick.”
“I’m okay, Goldie,” he rasps, wincing.
“No. No, you’re shot. This is all my fault. We have to call—” The sound of sirens cut me off. “Oh thank God. They’re coming. Please don’t die. Please. I love you. Please.”
Mick’s hands cup the sides of my face, bringing it close to his, allowing me to see the crackling life in his eyes. The intensity of his affection. “Hailey. Look at me. You think I’d let myself die now that I’ve found you?”
Hot tears roll down my cheeks. “But—”
“I’m wearing a vest, baby.” He drops one hand from my face, guiding my fingers to the bullet hole in his shirt. On the other side, I feel the hard material, the still-warm bullet lodged in the right side. Right over that part of him that beats just for me. “The only thing getting inside this heart is you.”
I climb up onto his lap, sobbing like a baby into his neck. And when his big arms close around me, I know I’m home. This man is my home.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I reassure him. “No, he only managed to slap me. And then you were here. You came just in time. I’m fine.”
His chest shudders. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way, baby. I’m sorry you had to see this.” He curses under his breath. “But I’d do it all over again. I’d kill for you, no matter the price.”
“I know.”
I find Mick’s mouth and kiss him, whimpering when he tugs my hips closer, smoothing his hands down my backside. “Don’t run off on me like that again, Hailey. You damn near killed me. If I hadn’t reached you in time—”
My lips cut him off, followed by a slow tease of tongues. “You saved me. I was trying to save you, too. And I had the evidence you needed, right there in the book. Names of his clients. Dates and addresses. I wanted to help.”
Mick shakes his head, but his attention falls to the book on the floor. “You saved more than just me today. A lot of questions will be answered with that book. Money returned. The Bureau will probably connect it to his drug business and lives will be saved by shutting it down. You were damn brave, baby.” He stands up, cradling me in his arms and giving me a stern look. “Just never, ever do it again.”
“Never,” I whisper, smiling and holding on to him for dear life. “Take me to Montana, Mick.”
His arms tighten around me. “On it, Goldie.”