CHAPTER EIGHT
A knot wedged its way into the center of Kelsey’s chest the second the elevator doors closed. She wasn’t sure what was going on; she only knew Hunt wasn’t being truthful. The person downstairs wasn’t a stranger. She’d used his first name.
Unease swirled inside Kelsey as she moved across the living room and stopped at the security panel he’d turned dark before leaving. She didn’t know a thing about his fancy system, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t killed the entire mechanism. Running her fingers along the side of the console, she found a button and pushed it. An image lit up the screen, and she blinked against the bright light until she finally focused on a woman with long dark hair and a clearly perturbed expression, who stood with her arms crossed, facing the closed elevator doors.
Seconds that felt like an eternity ticked by as she watched, wondering who the woman was. Then the elevator doors opened, Hunt stepped out of the car still as shirtless and sexy as he’d been in his bedroom only moments before, and the brunette threw herself into his arms.
Kelsey’s pulse turned to a whir in her ears. On the screen, Hunt eased out of the woman’s arms, but he didn’t jerk back from her touch, and he didn’t push her away, which told Kelsey loud and clear that this was way more than a “someone.” This was a coworker or friend or—she swallowed hard, hoping she was wrong—even a lover.
The woman dropped her arms with what looked to be a huff, held one hand out toward the elevator. Since there was no sound, Kelsey couldn’t hear them, but the tension in her shoulders and the way Hunt lifted his hands in front of him told her they were having some kind of argument. Desperate to know what was going on, why he’d lied to her, and who this woman was, Kelsey frantically pushed buttons on the screen, searching for the volume.
“I told you not to come down.” Hunt’s voice crackled through the speaker. “This is not a good time. We talked about it on the phone earlier.”
“Because we talked about it is exactly the reason I’m here,” the woman answered. “Excuse me for being concerned when my boyfriend is nearly killed in a bombing.”
Kelsey sucked in a sharp breath and dropped her hand from the panel as if it had burned her.
Hunt rested his hands on his hips. “Gen, we talked about that too.”
“No, you talked.” The brunette moved close and lifted her hands to Hunt’s bare chest—a bare chest that only minutes ago Kelsey had been touching. “I only listened.”
He frowned down at her. “Clearly not very well.”
She smiled up at him, the look in her eyes speaking volumes about what was going on between them. “I think we definitely need to talk some more. Or not talk. Either works for me.”
Bile shot up Kelsey’s throat. As the woman slid her arms around Hunt and pressed her body flush against his, she hit the button to kill the sound, not wanting to hear any more. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the buttons on the side of the screen until she finally turned that off too, and the panel went dark.
Resting her forehead against the wall, she drew a deep breath and called herself ten kinds of stupid. Dear God, she’d all but thrown herself at Hunt—when he had a girlfriend—and he hadn’t done a thing to stop her. But what did she expect? He was a man, and men were assholes. She was a complete fool for thinking he was different. He might not push women around, like her ex, but he clearly had no problem fucking around on them.
Disgusted with herself, with what she’d almost let happen, she whipped away from the door and rushed for the guest room. She quickly stripped out of his T-shirt and changed back into her ripped pants and filthy blouse. Her flats were scuffed and nearly trashed, but they’d do. Right now she didn’t care how she looked; she wanted out of this nightmare as fast as possible.
She didn’t bother with a note. Knew Hunt would figure out why she’d left when he came back. In the living room, she faltered because the elevator opened right into his apartment. She hadn’t seen a set of stairs when Hunt had brought her up here, but she knew there had to be one in case of a fire. Heart pounding, she checked every room, then finally located it behind a door off the kitchen.
The stairwell was only dimly lit, but she didn’t let that stop her. Skipping, she hit the ground level, then hesitated with her hands on the steel bar of the door, listening for any voices beyond.
If this door opened into the lobby, she did not want to accidentally walk in on Hunt and his girlfriend reuniting. Nausea swirled in her stomach as she pressed her ear to the solid steel and strained to listen. No sound came through. Nothing but an eerie silence that sent perspiration dotting her spine.
Deciding it was probably safe, she pushed the door open, then breathed easier when she realized she was in a parking garage beneath the building. In front of her were three vehicles: a deep-blue Ram pickup truck, a sleek white BMW SUV, and a black Audi sedan. She bypassed the trucks, reached for the driver door of the sedan, and silently rejoiced when it pulled open. Rejoiced even more when she realized the keys were sitting in the tray of the console.
It was four in the morning. She’d never find a cab at this hour, and she was clear across the city from her place. But more than that, she was pretty sure this garage was locked up tight, and if she tried to leave on foot, she likely wouldn’t find a way out before Hunt realized she was gone. He might be a jerk who got off stringing women along, but he was still technically supposed to be watching out for her, and she didn’t doubt he’d try to make her stay regardless of what was going on between him and his girlfriend. She also had a strong hunch that somewhere in this car was a remote to open the garage doors.
She slid into the seat and slammed the door before she could change her mind. The engine hummed with a touch of a button. She cringed at the sound, even though common sense told her he couldn’t hear the car a floor up in the lobby where he was still probably making out with his girlfriend, then shoved the car into “Drive” and maneuvered around the concrete columns until she spotted the ramp leading up to street level.
As she expected, the garage doors were closed. Since she hadn’t seen a remote, she took a chance he’d programmed the car. She lifted her hand to the three buttons above the rearview mirror and pushed the closest one. The first opened the sunroof. The second tilted the mirror down. But the third caused the heavy metal garage door to slide to the left, bringing the dark and empty street into view.
Kelsey stepped on the gas, not even bothering to look back. She didn’t care that technically she was stealing his car. Didn’t care that he was going to be pissed when he found out she was gone. Didn’t even care that she looked weak and pathetic by running away. He’d get his car back—she had no desire to keep it. He’d even get his money because she was fairly certain now he hadn’t agreed to babysit her for free. But she would never regain her dignity after the way she’d let down her guard with him, and that, more than anything, burned like lava right through her.
Men were all the same, and she was done being a fool. The sooner she accepted the fact she was the only person she could count on, the better off she’d be.
Hunt glanced down at his wrist as Genevieve rattled on—trying to convince him to take her upstairs—only to remember he’d taken his broken watch off in the ER and left it in the pocket of his ripped jeans he’d tossed in the garbage.
He didn’t care about the watch. Didn’t care what Genevieve was saying either. The only thing he cared about was getting back upstairs to Kelsey before she got the wrong idea.
Or the right idea, asshat.
“Gen, stop.”
Genevieve’s mouth fell open when he interrupted her, and he knew what he was about to say wasn’t going to go over well, but he didn’t give a rip about that either.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, hoping his touch might soften the blow, but really, if she hadn’t gotten it from his phone call, there was no way to let her down softly. “I appreciate that you came down to check on me. I’m fine, as you can see. But I’m tired, it’s been a long day, and I need you to leave now.”
Shock drained the color from her face. “But I drove three hours to get here. In the middle of the night.”
He fought the frown because he was well aware she’d driven down to Portland in the middle of the night to see him—something she’d never done before, and had never even once shown any interest in doing. The only time he saw her in Portland was when she was on a layover and it was convenient for her.
He let go of her. “I didn’t invite you, Gen. I have oth—”
A low alarm bell sounded through the lobby, causing his adrenaline to spike. His gaze shot past Gen to the glass doors. Seeing nothing but darkness, he glanced quickly to the security panel on the far wall where several lights were blinking, indicating a breach.
“Hunter. Let’s talk about this upstairs. It’s late, and I’m cold.”
Hunt barely heard her. He was across the floor in three strides, punching numbers into the panel and pulling up the cameras. The camera in his apartment showed no movement. He checked the elevator. Back stairwell. Fire escape. Garage. Didn’t see anything out of the ord—
“Motherfucker.” He flipped back to the garage camera and stared wide-eyed at the empty parking place where his Audi usually sat.
He hit the button on the elevator. It opened immediately. Rushing inside, he typed in his code. The doors closed. Vaguely, he was aware Genevieve had slipped into the elevator with him, but all he could think about was Kelsey. Where she was. Who she was with. And what the hell had been happening upstairs when he’d been down here dealing with Gen.
As soon as the doors opened, he rushed into his apartment and scanned the darkness. Nothing moved. Flipping on the light, he swept through the living area, checked his bedroom and the guest room, found nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing but his T-shirt on the floor in the guest bath and Kelsey’s filthy clothing long gone.
“Son of a bitch.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair as he bent and picked up the shirt, knowing exactly what had happened. She was a smart girl. She’d clearly heard Genevieve’s voice on the intercom. She hadn’t bought his shit that Gen was just a lost stranger.
His mind spun with thoughts of where she could have gone. Even though Benedict was in custody, he didn’t like the thought of her in the city alone. Especially when they still weren’t a hundred percent certain Benedict was the one who’d sent that text. And when she was clearly upset at what she’d overheard.
“Why are you in here?” Gen said from the doorway at his back. “And why is the bed in here messed up. Do you have company?”
He didn’t have time to deal with Gen now. He needed to find Kelsey and make sure she was safe, then explain things to her before she got the wrong idea.
He swept past Gen and headed for his room to grab a shirt and a pair of shoes. But the whole time that little voice in the back of his head whispered, How are you going to fix this? You know Kelsey didn’t get the wrong idea. She got the right idea, jackass.
Dropping the T-shirt Kelsey had worn on his bed, he moved into his closet where he tore a Henley from the hanger and shoved his feet into a pair of boots, then headed for the living room.
“Hunter,” Gen exclaimed in a nervous voice, rushing after him toward the elevator doors. “Will you stop for two seconds and tell me what the heck is going on?”
He whirled on her, at the end of his patience. “What’s going on is I’m done. This is over, Gen. Get out of my apartment and don’t come back.”
Disbelief shot her eyes wide, but he didn’t back down. He hit the button for the elevator. The doors immediately sprang open. Holding his arm in front of one side, he waited while Gen snapped her mouth closed, lifted her chin, and silently moved into the car.
“You’ll regret this,” she said, not looking at him.
No, he wouldn’t. The only thing he regretted was the fact that his stupidity had now put Kelsey at risk.
Dawn was just peeking over Mount Hood as Kelsey pulled Hunt’s Audi to a stop in front of her building and killed the ignition.
The road was quiet, the sidewalk empty. The Central Eastside neighborhood where her business was located was trendy and hip with new restaurants and storefronts opening all the time. But it didn’t feel like home. To her, this side of the river would always be the Warehouse district, and she couldn’t wait until life slowed down a little and she could find a place of her own. For now, though, it was enough, and she’d been thankful she had the option of living in the loft above her design company after she’d left Julian.
She grabbed the keys, climbed out, and slammed the door. She was pretty sure Hunt’s fancy car wouldn’t get broken into here, but nothing was guaranteed in life—as she’d painfully learned over the last few hours. Feeling like an idiot for kissing Hunt yesterday, for staying at his place, for—she cringed and rubbed at the pounding between her eyes—climbing into bed with him, she hit the lock on the fob and headed for the side door of the old building.
She pulled her keys from the pocket of her ruined slacks, thankful she hadn’t tucked them into her purse at the station. Even more thankful they hadn’t fallen out of her pocket when she’d been buried in all that rubble. She could call a cab or Uber but didn’t want to wait, and without her wallet or car, and with every member of her immediate family in Florida, she didn’t have a lot of options. Which was something else she could be thankful for, she realized. That her brothers weren’t around to see what a gigantic mess she’d made of her life—yet again.
Shoving her key in the rusted lock, she called herself ten kinds of stupid and twisted. A scraping sound echoed, then the lock gave. With one hand on the tarnished door handle, she shimmied the key in the lock and slammed her hip against the steel door just as she always had to do to get into the old building.
The door gave with a pop. She yanked her key free and stepped into what was her storefront, consisting of several different mannequins dressed in her latest designs. A few racks held various sizes and styles. Since she didn’t sell to the general public, the storefront was primarily used to meet buyers, but she’d spent a pretty penny to make the space look professional and cutting-edge with expensive lighting, crisp paint, high ceilings, and upper-end furnishings. She’d even added a small runway off to the right surrounded by white leather couches where buyers could view models parading out in her trendy fashions.
The hinges creaked as the door swung closed behind her. Not wanting to think about the work, she didn’t bother with the lights, just turned to flip the deadbolt on the old door. She needed sleep. Needed to crash for the next twenty-four or maybe forty-eight hours. Needed to somehow find a way to forget the last day had even happened.
Her fingers grazed the lock, but before she could flip it, the heavy door shot back toward her face. She gasped and stumbled. A shadow filled the doorway.
“You fucking bitch.”
The voice was male, irate, the body moving toward her big. But those were the only things she registered. Hands grasped her at the upper arms and shoved hard, sending her sailing backward.
She hit the tile floor with a grunt, jarring every bone in her body. Head spinning, she groaned and tried to push herself up, tried to roll to her side, tried to figure out what was going on. She still couldn’t see whoever was standing over her, but the flight response kicked in hard, sending her adrenaline surging and her fear sky high.
Strong fingers gripped her at the shirtfront and yanked before she could crawl even a foot away, jerking her to her feet. Gasping, she clawed at the hands, found her footing, and shoved as hard as she could against the man’s hold, but he had a death grip on her clothing.
“Do you have any idea where I’ve been, you dumb cunt?”
Julian. Kelsey’s eyes flew wide, and fear stole what little breath she had left. That was Julian’s voice. She still couldn’t see him clearly—her vision was watery—but she didn’t need to see his face to know he was in the grip of a bitter rage. One her instincts told her she wasn’t going to survive this time if she didn’t break free fast.
“Do you have any fucking clue what I’ve been through tonight because of you?” He pulled her in close enough for the whiskey on his breath to make her eyes water, then shoved hard, sending her flying through the air once more.
She crashed into a mannequin with her shoulder and hip, bounced off, and hit another. As the hard plastic bodies crashed to the ground, she crumpled with them, groaning at the pain suddenly erupting across her elbow, ribs, shoulder, hip, and knee.
The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Stars fired off behind her closed eyelids. She struggled to find her balance, knew she needed to get up, to run before he killed her. A scraping sound echoed close, drowning out her groans. She kicked a mannequin’s arm out of the way, rolled her to stomach. Pushed up on her shaky hands to—
Julian wrapped his fingers through the back of her hair and yanked hard. Kelsey screamed as pain shot through her scalp like a thousand knives stabbing into her brain.
“No, I doubt you do.” Julian jerked her to her feet. “Judging from the fancy car you drove up in, I know exactly what you were doing while I was getting my ass kicked in jail.”
He wrenched her back against his body. Kelsey gasped and swung out, trying to knock his hold loose, but his grip was too strong, and since he was behind her, she couldn’t see him. With one hand still wrapped in her hair, he used the other to clasp her chin and squeezed so hard she saw spots.
“Tell me,” he hissed in her ear. “Was he as good as you always thought?” He squeezed tighter, and she slowed her thrashing and cried out, afraid he was going to shatter her jawbone. “If I’d have known you were such a slut, I’d have taken advantage of that a long fucking time ago. Guess there’s still time for that now, isn’t there, wife?”
He jerked her back against his body, and in a heartbeat of horror, she realized he wasn’t just enraged, he was aroused.
Terror clawed up Kelsey’s chest. This was different from every other time he’d gotten mad at her and shoved her across the room or slammed her into a piece of furniture or pinned her to the ground until she stopped arguing. Those times—when he’d lost his temper and become aggressive—he’d been so disgusted by the sight of her he hadn’t even wanted sex for days, sometimes weeks afterward. This time, he was turned on by hurting her. Which meant this time, she didn’t have a clue what he was capable of. Or what he had planned.
“You want to be a whore? Do you?” he snarled. “I can fucking make that happen.”
Bile shot up her throat, churning with the panic and revulsion spinning inside her. There would be no reasoning with him this time. Her only hope was to break free and run.
She dug her fingernails into his hand at her jaw. Skin ripped. He screamed in pain. He loosened his hold on her chin, and she jammed her elbow back into his gut and stomped on the inside of his foot. And the second he let go of her and doubled forward, she ran.
She ran and knew with absolute clarity that the feeling of impending doom she’d experienced yesterday had nothing to do with Hunt or that collapsed building. It had to do with Julian and her stupidity for believing she’d ever be free of him.
Hunt wove around a semitruck and swerved into the right-hand lane to take the exit ramp toward the Central Eastside district.
The GPS on his Audi told him Kelsey hadn’t driven out to her folks’ house in Lake Oswego. She’d run to her warehouse where she was currently living.
That was both good and bad news as far as Hunt was concerned. Since Kelsey had only flown in from New York the night before her interview with Good Morning Portland, and because her family had all still been back East, Hunt had picked her up at the airport and brought her home. He’d never been to her warehouse before that, and one look had made it glaringly obvious it was sorely lacking in security, which he’d pointed out to her. That hadn’t gone over well—she’d already been irritated her brothers had insisted he look out for her until they got back—and she’d claimed to be too tired to listen. He’d ended up sitting outside in his vehicle, keeping an eye on her place overnight just to be safe, but on the drive to the TV studio the next morning he’d gotten her to agree to let him overhaul her entire system. He’d even convinced her to stay at her parents’ place until it was done. Which she’d clearly ignored when she’d run back here.
Yeah, the fact she was here and not down in Lake Oswego meant he could get to her faster if something went wrong. But it also meant Benedict or whoever was harassing her could also get to her quicker. And that thought didn’t just cause his pulse to beat faster, it left him with a knot the size of a boulder right in the middle of his throat.
He tore off the freeway and laid his foot on the gas, not caring about his speed. Luckily, at this hour, there was barely anyone on the streets. Even though his head told him that Kelsey was fine, that nothing bad could have happened to her in the thirty or so minutes she’d been out of his sight, his gut screamed he hadn’t thought that damn TV station would come crumbling down around them either.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered, slamming on his brakes and laying on his horn because a cab was blocking his path, waiting for a homeless man to cross the street.
His new cell phone rang, the one he’d programmed with his previous number when Kelsey had been taking a shower last night. He hit “Answer” and held it to his ear without looking at the name. “Kels?”
“No, it’s Callahan. Aren’t you with Kelsey, O’Donnell?”
Shit. He didn’t want to get into his fuck-up with Callahan. Hunt hit the gas as soon as the cab moved out of the way. “It’s a long story.”
“Jeez, you could screw up a wet dream, you know that?”
Sadly, he did.
“Listen.” Callahan’s voice grew serious. “We found Kelsey’s cell phone in the rubble.”
“And?”
“And the text she mentioned was there. Definitely sent up all kinds of red flags, considering what happened just after it was sent. But it doesn’t look like the text came from Benedict.”
Hunt whipped his SUV around a corner and spotted his Audi parked on the right ahead. A little of his anxiety eased as he scanned the street. There were no people milling about, no signs of trouble, just a few parked cars here and there. Nothing out of the ordinary. “How do you know?”
“Because we traced it back to an address in southern California. And Benedict doesn’t have any ties to southern California that we can find.”
Southern California . . .
Hunt parked behind his Audi and killed the ignition. “Maybe he had it registered to a different address to throw the Feds off. He had to know the number would be traced.”
“It’s possible. We’ll keep digging. In the meantime, you might want to find your girl.”
Hunt’s stomach flipped as he shut off the ignition. Kelsey wasn’t his girl. He didn’t even want a girl. “Why?”
“Because we let Benedict go about two hours ago. His attorney did exactly what I thought he’d do. The DA caved.”
“Fuck me.” Hunt grabbed the Sig from his glove box, jerked out of the vehicle, and let the door slam behind him. “You could have called me before you let the asshole go, you know.”
“I was going to. At a decent hour. Figured you’d both be asleep this early after yesterday. Never occurred to me you wouldn’t be with her since that’s your freakin’ job at the moment.”
Hunt should still be with her. He would still be with her if he hadn’t fucked things up royally. He mentally kicked himself the hundredth time and checked the magazine on his 9mm.
“I already found her.” He reached back to tuck the pistol into the back waistband of his jeans as he crossed the sidewalk. “She’s at her warehouse on—”
A crash sounded from inside Kelsey’s warehouse, followed by a shrill scream.
Kelsey’s scream.
Hunt’s heart lurched into his throat. He drew his firearm and stepped back from the door. “Did you hear that?” He gave Callahan Kelsey’s warehouse address, and added, “Get your ass over here now.”
“Shit.” Shuffling sounded in his ear. “We’re on our way.”
Hunt stuffed his phone in his back pocket and gripped the gun in both hands. Another crash echoed from inside, followed by a grunt that sent his adrenaline soaring.
Gripping the gun in one hand, he twisted the door handle and found it unlocked. Kelsey’s scream filled his ears. Chest tight, he shoved his shoulder into the old steel door. The hinges groaned, and the door cracked against the wall as he swept into the room and scanned the scene.
The showroom was in shambles—tables overturned, clothing strewn across the floor, mannequins in pieces. But it was Benedict looming over Kelsey on the ground, one hand on the back of her head as he held her pinned face-first to the floor, that made Hunt see nothing but red.
He’d known the asshole could be dangerous. He’d seen Benedict’s temper firsthand at the bomb site when Benedict had shown up and yanked Kelsey away from him. He’d even heard Kelsey’s brothers’ theories that Benedict was abusing her. But he hadn’t envisioned this. And the image of her on the ground, struggling and screaming, unleashed a fury of rage inside him he didn’t expect. One that brought everything else to a standstill and made him focus on only one thing—inflicting as much pain as possible.
He crossed the floor in three strides, grasped Benedict by the back of the shirt, and wrenched him off her. Benedict stumbled and turned wide, shocked eyes Hunt’s way. The man opened his mouth, but before he could even utter a sound, Hunt slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Benedict’s face.
Blood spurted from Benedict’s mouth. He grunted and staggered back. Stuffing the gun into his back waistband, Hunt grasped Benedict by the shirtfront with both hands and plowed his fist into the asshole’s bandaged nose.
“Hunter!” Kelsey screamed.
A crack echoed through the room. Benedict collapsed onto the ground and clutched his nose, screaming in pain. Shuffling sounded at Hunt’s back, but he didn’t turn to look at Kelsey. Couldn’t because all he could see was the image of her on the floor, pinned beneath the fucker in front of him. That, and a blinding red rage that fueled his need for vengeance.
He straddled Benedict and pulled his arm back. “You like beating up on women? Let’s see how you like being on the receiving end, dickhead.”