Chapter 18
Roni was cold and sore. She blinked her eyes open. Or thought she did. Everything was dark and blurry. Not just dark, there was something covering her face. When she breathed the fabric moved with her inhale and exhale, but it was scratchy. Uncomfortable.
When she tried to sit up, she discovered her hands were pinned behind her back.
Zip ties on her wrists. She shivered and metal scraped against metal, scraped against her bare legs.
Her shoes were gone and her dress was hiked up above her knees.
The surface beneath her was lumpy and unyielding.
Chain and tools, she guessed as she surreptitiously explored.
Her movement hadn’t caught any attention so far. She held her breath to listen for other clues. Wherever she’d been taken, she was stationary, and unless her kidnapper didn’t need to breathe, he wasn’t nearby.
She let her head fall back as the attack flooded her mind. She’d been mingling, eagerly waiting for Brayden to come down and dance with her. They’d goofed off occasionally, but tonight would be their first dance as a real couple.
Everyone seemed happy with the event as the dance instructors started their demonstration. The crowd continued to grow and she’d been marveling at all of it. Brayden had been right. The Hargrave sisters made hospitality look easy.
When a text came through from Brayden asking her to meet him on the deck, she’d practically flown to him.
Except it hadn’t been Brayden.
She’d been rushing by the garden shed when she was caught. A heavy, gloved hand clamped tightly over her mouth, cutting off her reflexive scream. A hard, muscular arm banding around her middle, yanking her backward and dragging her straight into the blackened shadows of the trees.
She’d put up a struggle until an ugly voice had hissed at her ear. “Shut up if you want to keep breathing.”
Breathing, yes please. Captive, no. She’d refused to go easily with this brute.
Riding a wave of panic-induced adrenaline, Roni fought back. She stomped her heel down hard on her attacker’s foot, elbowing backward with all her strength, catching him flush in the ribs. He fell back, cursing her, and she lurched out of his grasp.
Only to get caught again and slammed hard against a tree. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs, making her head spin. Before she could regain her balance, the attacker pulled her hands behind her back, the sharp zip of a plastic cable tie tightening painfully around her wrists.
That was the last detail she remembered. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at him. How long had she been out? Where had he dumped her?
None of that mattered. She wasn’t done fighting.
Wiggling her hips, she tried to determine if she had her cell phone, but her pockets felt empty. Odds were low he would leave the device with her. If she could get this hood off her face, maybe she could improvise a weapon to use when he came back.
Unless he meant to leave her here indefinitely.
No, no, no. Not the right kind of thoughts. She nearly gave into the growing panic, but caught herself before she started screaming. She had to be ready when he came back.
It took forever, but she managed to snag the fabric hood on something rough under her head and work her way out of it. Enough light filtered through the small, dirty windows that she could see she was in the back of a covered pickup truck full of tools and thick chains.
She’d been pinned between two loose piles of chain. The truck smelled of rust and stale oil and a long toolbox lay against the opposite side of the bed.
But where was the truck parked? How far would she have to go for help? Because she was getting out of here. She started scraping the zip ties against the mess behind her. Surely something was rough enough to snap the hard plastic.
She was wiggling around, fighting for a better angle, when the tailgate suddenly opened.
Her captor’s eyes went wide and then narrowed to slits when he realized she could see him.
He grabbed for her ankle and she jerked out of his reach, kicking the chain at him while she struggled to free her hands.
“Brayden!” she shouted. “Help!”
Swearing, the brute climbed into the covered bed with her and she used her feet and knees to keep him back, kicking at his face and throat, twisting when his hands locked around one leg, going for his groin with her free foot.
She was landing a few blows, but nothing hard enough or accurate enough to incapacitate him.
Suddenly, she found leverage on the end of the toolbox and pushed hard, flipping herself to roll off the tailgate and out of the truck. Scrambling to her feet, his curses chasing her, she ran. Her feet slipped in mud and she went down again, but the force popped the plastic cuffs.
It took a beat for her to realize she was in the construction site. The light was coming from a halogen security light they’d mounted near the street. He would expect her to run for the light or the party at the Hideaway. But they’d had enough trouble from this stupid group.
She bolted for the concrete and steel skeleton of the condos they were building. Her muddy feet slipped and slid as she forced herself to go faster.
“Stupid girl! You’re leaving an easy trail for me.”
Roni hoped so, she wanted him to follow her. She was more agile, but the fixer was bigger, heavier, with a longer reach. She needed to even the odds. Somehow.
She ran out of stairs at what would eventually become a third-floor condo. She scoured the darkness in search of anything she could use as a weapon. Nearly tumbling into a pile of rebar, she picked up a smaller piece and ducked into the shadows.
“This coulda been easy.” The rough voice bounced off the concrete block. “You’re just leverage. Vanbeck needs a few signatures and you’ll all be wealthy enough to buy the damned island.”
Of course, Vanbeck was behind this. Well, too bad. The corrupt attorney was destined for disappointment. No amount of duress would force her sisters to sign over the Hideaway. There was too much love, too many memories. This was their legacy.
A beam of light sliced through the darkness. “Stop playin’ around!” the fixer bellowed.
She pressed herself into the corner, willing him to turn around so she could attack.
“More than one way,” he grumbled to himself. “Burn it down.” He’d delivered the order with authority. “You heard me.” A pause. “Then don’t get caught.”
He couldn’t mean to burn down the Hideaway? “No!” Roni streaked out of her safe corner, swinging the rebar like a bat, the way Brayden had taught her years ago.
The fixer ducked, taking most of the blow across his shoulders. Then he spun around and charged.
“Not on my watch,” a voice rumbled from the darkness, vibrating with absolute fury.
Brayden.
Brayden emerged from the darkness like a phantom, launching forward with terrifying speed. He didn’t hesitate or negotiate. He tackled the fixer to the floor, the momentum carrying both men close to the edge of the structure.
The crash was deafening. She held her breath as Brayden fought for control. They rolled, exchanging blows and suddenly the fixer pulled a knife. Roni jumped forward, determined to help.
“Stay back!” Brayden ordered, without sparing her a glance.
Veronica scrambled back against the wall, her heart hammering against her ribs. All she could do was watch the brutal confrontation.
The fixer slashed his blade through the air, wild swings that Brayden dodged.
Then he shifted his weight, lunging again and catching the sleeve of Brayden’s shirt, but Brayden didn’t flinch.
He grabbed the man’s wrist and applied a crushing joint lock that sent the knife flying across the concrete.
With cold precision, he delivered a devastating right hook to the fixer’s jaw, followed by a heavy elbow to the chest that leveled the bigger man.
He fell, unconscious, onto the concrete.
Roni discovered she had no sympathy for the concussion that would surely follow.
Brayden stood over the kidnapper, his chest heaving and his dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, primal fury. He patted the man’s pockets, coming up with zip ties that he used to secure the fixer’s wrists and ankles.
Then, he turned to Veronica.
In a fraction of a second, the lethal operative vanished, his expression softening into the familiar lines of the man she loved. She launched herself into his arms and, though his hands trembled, he held her close.
“Roni.” His voice cracked with raw emotion. He ran his hands over her face and shoulders. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, words failing her. He pulled her flush against his broad chest, so tightly she could feel the thunderous beat of his heart. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Roni said, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her fingers clutching his shirt. Her entire body sagged with relief. “I’m okay now.” She jerked back. “The house. You heard him tell someone to burn it down?”
“We did.” He sank down on the floor and brought her into his lap.
“We?”
“Trent was with me. I’m sure he’s notified the fire chief by now. Though I’m pretty sure it was a bluff.”
“Let’s be super-sure.”
“Smart.” He kissed her temple, keeping her close as they heard the sounds of police arriving. “Third floor. Kidnapper contained,” Brayden called out. “No one is armed.”
She snuggled closer. “You found me.”
“Always,” he whispered fiercely, his hand smoothing her hair. “I swear to God, Roni... when he texted me on your phone, I was ready to kill him.”
“Part of me wanted you to,” she confessed for his ears alone as the police thundered up the steps. “I love you.”
He bent his head and claimed her mouth in a deep, passionate, and possessive kiss.
“Guess we missed the fun,” Chief Caldwell said to Lieutenant Frasier as they arrived. Taking in the scene, his face turned a dangerous shade of red. “Are you injured, Veronica?”
“N-no, sir.” The tremor in her voice warned her that shock was setting in. She really wanted to get out of here. Make sure the Hideaway was fine and her sisters were safe.
“He kidnapped her, Chief,” Brayden volunteered, his arms wrapped securely around her. “Trent Blakely and I heard him threaten her when we were in pursuit. This guy,” he pointed to the unconscious man, “said Silas Vanbeck ordered the abduction to force the sisters to sign over the Hideaway.”
Chief Caldwell pulled out his radio, his voice barking with absolute authority as he ordered an all-points bulletin for Silas Vanbeck.
Looking at Frasier, he said. “We’ll start with charges for criminal conspiracy, kidnapping, and felony extortion.
” A sharp smile creased his weathered face.
“I’m looking forward to seeing that particular attorney in handcuffs. ”
Lieutenant Frasier helped a team of paramedics load the fixer into a transport chair to get him back down the stairs. He handed Roni the blanket they’d brought along and Brayden wrapped it around her, rubbing her arms to combat her shivering.
“Ready to give me a statement?” Caldwell asked.
Roni looked up from the safety of Brayden’s arms and wept. Startled and embarrassed, she couldn’t control the reaction. Nothing stopped the tears as she explained how she’d been taken and how she’d escaped the truck to run up here.
“Why not go back to the party?” Caldwell asked.
“He moved quickly for his size, but I figured I had him beat on general fitness and the stairs would make him winded.” She gave a watery smile when Brayden murmured approval. “It worked a little.”
“Until he threatened to burn down the house.” Brayden hugged her.
“Until then.” A tremor rattled through her. “When I heard that, I tried to hit him with a piece of rebar.”
“It was a bluff, so you’re clear. The fire chief cleared the house.”
“Good.” Her teeth chattered. “C-can I go now?”
“Yes. I’ll be in touch with more questions,” Caldwell said.
“You know where to find us,” Brayden shook his hand, then gathered Roni close, sheltering her with his body all the way down the stairs.
Her legs felt rubbery. “The adrenaline crash is catching up with me,” she said. “I don’t think I can walk all the way back.”
“You don’t have to. Cav and Bobby are here. Brian’s at the house.” He picked her up and carried her toward a truck idling just beyond the line of first responders. “Your chariot,” he said, boosting her into the front seat. “The guys insisted on giving you a lift home.”