Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
She crept down the staircase. As she neared the bottom, she could hear the tick-tick-tick of the grandfather clock that waited in the foyer.
Melody had rushed by that clock earlier, when she’d first arrived at the estate.
Not even truly sparing it a glance. Now, she peered at it, her gaze drawn to the big, swaying, golden pendulum.
Ever so slowly, it rocked back and forth. Back and forth.
The house was quiet. It should be quiet, considering that it was nearly four a.m. After she’d finally gotten Victor to leave her room, she’d waited for silence to claim the house.
Had he believed her story? Hard to say for sure. Victor was an enemy she’d expected but…
He was my lover, too? Melody wasn’t sure how to handle that revelation, and she certainly didn’t know how the new truth fit into her plans.
At the bottom of the staircase, she paused for a moment, listening to make sure that she didn’t hear anyone else moving around in the house.
Then, still wearing Victor’s shirt, she hurried toward the study.
Not the den where everyone had been gathered before, but the study two doors down from the den.
The room that waited just beyond double, gleaming doors.
She reached for one of the door handles.
Unlocked. Perfect. If the study had been locked, she would have needed to sneak in the kitchen and find something to help her pick the lock.
And she doubted that she’d be a master lock picker like Victor.
She hurried inside and went straight for the mahogany desk.
She’d needed to get into Mage Mansion. The better to search for the truth.
And she couldn’t search if eyes were on her, so she’d had to wait and be sure everyone else was sleeping.
She rushed forward, keeping the lights off.
She grabbed for the first desk drawer of the left-hand side of the big desk.
“Are you intending to rob your father?”
Jeez—Melody bit back a yelp as she jumped.
And he turned on the lights.
Victor stood just inside the doorway. Victor, still without a shirt, clad in just his dress pants. No shoes or socks. And appearing far, far too awake. Seriously, did he ever sleep? And was he trying to give her a heart attack?
She blinked quickly then growled, “Lights off.”
“I’ll keep them on. And you didn’t answer my question.”
The stupid desk drawer was locked. “I’m not robbing anyone.” She was also doing a piss-poor job of searching the premises, too. “I’m looking for clues.”
He quirked a brow. “Are you now, Scooby Doo?”
Oh, someone wanted to be funny? While her heart was still threatening to leap out of her chest?
“You try losing your whole life,” she snapped at him, “and then judge me, okay? I’m looking for clues.
” Dammit, it did sound like she’d become Velma or Daphne and how the hell could she remember all the characters from a kids’ cartoon so perfectly when her own life was etched in shadows?
Talk about unfair, but her doctors had warned her that situation could occur.
She’d woken knowing who the president was.
Knowing that the Atlanta Braves were her favorite baseball team.
But not knowing her own family. Or her name.
“I’m not stealing. I’m searching Sebastian’s desk because it’s been an exceedingly hard year for me.
And I need answers.” She grabbed for the second drawer on the left. Yanked it open and—
Gun.
A black gun waited inside the drawer.
“What is it?” Tension thickened Victor’s voice.
She reached for the gun and lifted it from the drawer.
“Fuck.” He rushed forward. “Put it down, Melody. The gun shouldn’t be there. Hatterson was supposed to remove all weapons.”
Had she held a gun before? She had no clue. The weight felt alien to her. Surely it wasn’t loaded, was it? “It’s not loaded.” Melody thought she sounded pretty confident.
“How the hell do you know? You just picked the damn thing up.”
He was right in front of her.
“Sebastian isn’t as…safe these days. That’s why I ordered Hatterson to secure all weapons. The gun shouldn’t have been in the drawer. Put it down.”
She stared at the weapon. “You think I’d shoot you?” Is that why he seemed so tense?
“You just told me an hour ago that you’re back for vengeance. You don’t know who the hell I really am. For all I know, you think I’m the bastard who hurt you.”
Her gaze rose. Caught his.
“I’m not.” Flat. “For the record, I’m not that person. I would never hurt you. So how about you don’t get twitchy with the trigger, and you just put the gun back in the drawer? Then you can tell me why the hell you’re doing your breaking-and-entering routine.”
She had told him. It wasn’t her fault if he hadn’t listened to her. “I have to get answers.”
He held her stare. “I will help you.”
She wanted to believe him. Was it because she’d been alone for so long? Was she just desperate for someone else to stand beside her? Or was it more?
She began to lower the gun. As she lowered the weapon, Melody stepped back so she could put it in the drawer once more.
Victor reached out for her. “I can take—”
Glass shattered. The crack seemed so loud. Something wet flew toward her. Wet. Red.
It took a second too long for her to process what was happening. She still held the gun. Victor was reaching for her. But…his arm was bleeding. His blood had splattered onto the white shirt she wore.
She hadn’t fired at him. She had not fired the gun.
Her head whipped toward the windows. The shattering glass had come from the window—
“Down!” Victor roared. But he didn’t give her a chance to actually get down.
He hurtled right at her and threw his body onto hers.
He tackled her with a strong, heaving impact that took her to the floor.
She was sure she’d crash hard into the hardwood floor, but he twisted his body, cushioned her head with his hands, and when they landed, she was surrounded by him. Protected by him.
The gun flew out of her fingers and clattered across the floor.
Cold air blew into the room. And then—
Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.
Shots. Fired in quick succession. More shattering glass. She screamed. Had she even heard the crack of gunfire the first time? She didn’t think she had. Or maybe—
“You’re not hurt!” Victor’s snarl.
He was telling her? Or was that a question?
“You’re not hurt!” Victor snarled again. He heaved up. Glared at her. Began to pat her down.
She shoved at his hands. “I’m not hurt. You are.” He was the one bleeding all over the place. Oh, God. Blood meant— “You were shot!”
He growled again. Then commanded, “Stay the fuck here.”
Why? Where was he going? And shouldn’t they both stay hidden from the shooter? “Victor!”
But instead of listening to her tell him that she thought the man may have a seriously flawed plan developing, he grabbed the gun she’d dropped and then he ran out of the study. Melody could hear voices rising and falling from other parts of the house. For a moment, she couldn’t move at all.
Her heart raced. Her breath heaved out. And his blood was on her.
He’d been shot.
He’d thrown his body on her. Protected her. And now he was—what? Going to hunt the shooter?
An alarm was beeping somewhere. Maybe it had been beeping the whole time, perhaps since the first window had shattered, and she’d just become aware of the steady buzz because her thundering heart no longer echoed in her ears?
Melody didn’t rise to her feet. She was too afraid that the shooter might fire again if she presented a big target in front of the broken windows.
But Victor hadn’t been afraid. He’d taken the gun. And he’d gone outside. Alone.
I can’t let him face the threat alone.
Staying low, she crawled for the study’s open door. Footsteps thundered on the stairs.
“What is happening?” Dario demanded. “Why the hell is the front door wide open?”
She’d finally made it out of the study. Melody rose, and she ran for the house’s front door.
Dario jumped off the stairs and into her path. “What is happening?”
Breath still shuddering, she told him, “Someone just shot Victor.”
Fury twisted and heaved inside of him. Victor barely felt the sting in his arm. The bullet had grazed him. The sonofabitch hadn’t been aiming for Victor. His instincts told him that truth. The shot had been meant for Melody. But she’d stepped back. He’d reached out for her.
And the prick had shot him.
The snow swirled around Victor. Not as thick as it had been.
It still fell, but in a lighter stream for the moment.
He could see footsteps in the snow. The SOB had been feet away from the study’s windows.
Victor had been so locked and loaded on Melody that he hadn’t even realized someone was outside.
He’d never even looked toward the windows.
Can’t be so careless. Have to always be on guard. She needs me.
His toes were fucking freezing already. His chest icy. But then again, he only wore pants. No shirt. No shoes. He gripped the gun in his hand, and he tried to follow the damn steps that the shooter had left in the snow. But with every step he took…
The snow decided it wanted to fall harder. Faster. The light stream suddenly changed on him. Wind blew and gusted, and he held the gun tighter as he surged forward. The sonofabitch was out there.
But the storm had picked up again. The footsteps were getting harder and harder to see.
His body shuddered as he fought the cold.
Dammit.
“Victor!” A scream. Her scream.
And he stopped chasing the footsteps that were already fading. In his rage, he’d left her in the house. Unprotected. He couldn’t trust anyone else there with Melody’s safety. Not even her father.
No one else.
He swung around. Lumbered through the snow, and there she was. Her faded, wool coat flapping behind her as she ran toward him. “Victor!”