“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 stumb
led 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.”
CHAPTER NINE
Kelsey stumbled to her feet, bruised and sore but wide-eyed and unable to look away from what was happening in front of her.
Blood spurted from Julian’s mouth, and his head jerked from one side to the other as Hunt slammed his fist into Julian’s bruised and swollen face again and again.
Her heart shot into her throat. Yes, she hated Julian for what he’d just done to her. Yes, she wanted him to suffer. But not like this. And not at the hands of someone who was supposed to be one of the good guys but who at the moment looked to be more of a threat than her ex-husband.
Hunt drew his fist back once more, and Kelsey stumbled forward, wrapping her hand around his wrist and yanking hard so he couldn’t land another blow. “Hunter, stop!”
The sound of her voice gave him pause. Or maybe it was her fierce hold on his arm. Whatever the cause, he swiveled toward her, and for a split second there was no recognition in his familiar brown irises. A new sort of panic ripped through her chest. But before instinct sent her staggering back from him, his eyes widened, and he lurched to his feet.
He grasped her face with his bloody hand. “Are you all right?”
She flinched out of his reach, not wanting to be touched by him right now. She’d known he was in the military. She’d assumed he was more than capable of providing protection to his clients. But in all the times she’s been around him, she’d never thought him violent. What she’d just witnessed made her think otherwise. Made her wonder if he was more like Julian than she’d realized. And the fact he could shift gears so quickly brought her right back to the fact she knew very little about the man she’d foolishly thrown herself at last night.
“I’m fine.” She stepped to the side and rubbed at her aching arms as she fought the nausea swirling in her stomach. “But you’re not. Look at him. Y-you could have killed him.”
He glanced once at Julian, who was moaning on the ground and making no move to get up. But in his expression Kelsey didn’t see regret for what he’d done. She saw nothing but disgust. And that sent her back from him another step.
Hunt’s gaze lifted to her, but this time when their eyes met, something hardened in his gaze. Something she hadn’t known had been soft until just now. “You’re defending him? After what he just did to you?”
Her stomach swirled faster. She wasn’t defending Julian, but she didn’t completely trust Hunt right now either. And even though common sense told her he wasn’t the threat, her flight response was pushing her to get away from both men before something worse happened.
“I-I’m calling the police.” She wobbled through the doorway that led to the stairs and her loft above.
“Shit,” Hunt muttered at her back. “Kelsey, wait. The cops are already on their way.”
She wasn’t sure how that was possible, but she didn’t wait around to discover the answer. Gripping the banister, she pulled herself up the stairs as quickly as she could, wanting only to put as much space between her and what had happened downstairs as possible, focusing on taking deep breaths to keep the panic at bay.
Every inch of her body hurt, but it was her heart that hurt the most. That and her pride. Because once again, reality had proved her judgment was shit. Julian wasn’t the man she’d thought, and neither was Hunt. And that meant she didn’t have a clue whom she could trust.
Herself included.
As the cops finished taking his statement, Hunt glanced over the handful of rubberneckers on the street and searched for Kelsey.
She was no longer with the paramedics. He’d been relieved to learn she hadn’t needed medical treatment beyond an ice pack and a few bandages. Somehow, in the midst of Benedict’s rage, she’d managed to keep him from doing any serious harm. Hunt was awed by that fact. Awed by everything she’d been through in the last few days and survived. And more than a little worried about the way she’d jerked back from his touch and raced for the stairs.
He hadn’t missed the look of horror on her face. As the paramedic finished wrapping his split knuckle, his mind flashed to the way Kelsey had stumbled back from him at the blast site when he’d dropped Benedict to the ground. He’d bet his left arm this wasn’t the first time Benedict had hurt her. She reacted to violence the way a beaten dog would. And that didn’t just fire him up and make him want to slam his fist into Benedict’s jaw all over again, it sent off a swirling sickness in his gut because he had a sinking feeling she now thought he was the same kind of shit as her ex-husband.
“We’re taking off,” Callahan said, moving up on his right. “Got everything we need from Kelsey. Benedict won’t be bugging her for a nice long while. You good here?”
“Thanks,” Hunt mumbled to the paramedic. Then to Callahan, “Yeah. Fine.”
But the news Benedict would be preoccupied for a while didn’t ease his stress any. His stomach pitched with the need to talk to Kelsey and set things right—on multiple fronts. Problem was, he had no fucking clue where to start.
He turned to look toward Kelsey’s door where the last two officers were filing out. “Any news on that number trace from California?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know when I hear.” Callahan moved around his car and reached for the door handle. “She’s still rattled by what happened but moving quickly toward pissed. Watch your back when you go in there. I got the distinct impression she wasn’t happy with you.”
Hunt’s stomach swirled stronger as he rubbed his thumb over the bandage on his hand. “Thanks for the warning.”
Callahan grinned and slid into his vehicle.
Hunt watched the cars pull away. He should be relieved Kelsey was okay. That he’d gotten here in time. But all he could think about was the sound of her screams when Benedict had been holding her down. And all he could see when he closed his eyes was the terror in her features when she’d stopped him from beating the shit out of Benedict and stared up at him as if he were the real monster.
“Fuck.” Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he stepped up onto the sidewalk and moved toward Kelsey’s door. He had no experience with battered women. Didn’t have a whole lot of experience with women’s reactions, period. He’d purposely steered clear of relationships and emotional entanglements most of his life, never wanting to get close to any one person for too long. Life was safer that way. And he knew life would be a whole lot safer now if he just backed off and stood guard outside her door like the security professional he was. But he couldn’t do that. Because the thought Kelsey had lumped him in with her ex, that she could even fathom he’d do anything to hurt her, made him nauseous and gave him the itch to fix every single thing he’d fucked up.
He moved into the warehouse and flipped the lock on the door at his back. Her studio was still in shambles, and blood spots stained the concrete. Forcing back the bile, he headed for the doorway that led to her loft, reminding himself Benedict couldn’t get to her now. As he hit the stairs, he thought back to what Callahan had shared earlier about the text they’d traced.
It was still possible Benedict had orchestrated the bombing. He could have had someone in Cali
fornia send that text so it couldn’t be traced back to him. God knew, he’d just proved he was violent and unpredictable. But Hunt wasn’t convinced Benedict had the patience to orchestrate and follow through with that kind of plan. And if he wanted her dead so badly, why not use a gun or a knife, or hell, even a car? There was no rational reason Benedict would turn to a bomb.
Which meant someone else wanted that building to come down. Someone who may or may not be linked to Kelsey. Someone neither he nor her family had considered.
The shower was running when he reached her loft. Images of her bare skin, wet and pink from the steam, flashed in his mind, but he quickly shut down the thoughts. He’d already screwed things up enough by crossing from professional to personal. He needed to focus on getting things back on track. He needed to apologize for what happened at his apartment and reassure her he was focused on nothing but her safety, then go back to being what he’d been to her before the last two days had ever happened—nothing more than her brother’s friend.
For some reason, the thought of being an acquaintance again—not even her friend—shot his mood right into the basement. But he knew it was the safest plan. The smartest plan. And at the end of the day, he had a sinking feeling it was probably the only plan she’d go for.
Not wanting her to see him when she came out of the bathroom, he went back downstairs and spent the next twenty minutes putting her storefront back together and cleaning up the mess he’d helped create. He didn’t have a clue how she’d folded some of the sweaters on the big square shelves—there was only one on each wide shelf that he could see, which seemed like a huge waste of space—but he did the best he could. When the place looked pretty good and enough time had passed for her to have gotten dressed, he turned toward the stairs again, intent on going up and talking to her, but something sparkly in the smoke detector above caught his attention.