Behind the Scandal

  Libby snorted. She was as much of an addict as he was, only she was addicted to him instead of a line of white powder.

  Unable to think of anything but Taylor, Libby pulled her cell out of her back pocket and stared at the screen. He hadn’t called her back. It stung more than she cared to admit, but he would be preparing for the wedding now, not sitting in his hotel room, so she decided not to call.

  “God, Libby, you can cope for three damn days. Get a grip,” she muttered as she pushed herself up from the couch. Self-pity had never been her thing, and she was not about to start now. Especially when Taylor was coming back. He’d promised.

  Deciding to play at being Cinderella, she walked over to the kitchen and pulled the disinfectant spray from the cabinet. The bathroom forever needed cleaning thanks to her son, but a knock to her front door had her changing direction. She unlocked the latch and opened the door.

  A whimper escaped her lips as the spray bottle hit the floor. Her breathing grew shallow, her vision hazy, but all she could do was stare.

  The disinfectant liquid pooled on the floor, the pine scent clogging her nostrils. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Hey there, little rabbit. Long time no see.”

  Chapter 25

  Libby blinked, not quite believing her eyes. Chase couldn’t be here. Kyran had paid him off. This wasn’t right.

  “No hug for me? I’m disappointed.”

  Her throat burned with the rising bile. She grasped the door and shoved it forward with everything she had, but Chase stomped his foot into the doorway. He slapped his palm against the wood and rammed it back against her.

  The force caught her by surprise, and the door hit her hard in the face. She gasped as pain ricocheted around her skull, and her head began to throb as Chase pushed his way into her home. Her safe haven was no longer. The wolf was finally at her door.

  “Don’t you have a nicer greeting than that? I didn’t expect to hurt you so soon, sugar.”

  Libby’s blood ran cold. In that one sentence she knew why he was there, knew what he wanted and how he expected this to end.

  She watched her past, her present, and the future Chase wanted for her flash before her eyes. She blinked him into focus, beating down the image of her son—their son—and swiped the back of her hand under her bloody nose. If she was about to die at the hands of this man, then she would die fighting. He wouldn’t take that from her, too.

  Chase’s top lip curled in a disgusted sneer as he closed the door. The click of the lock was as loud to her as a bullet leaving a gun. Her brain scrambled, trying to think of an exit from the cottage, a way out of the situation. He had his money back, with interest, so he’d come for one thing. Her.

  “Cat got your tongue? You always were a quiet one, but I’ve watched you.”

  She swallowed.

  “I’ve seen just how chatty you are now. I’ve seen so much.” He touched her jaw, and the sensation made her skin crawl. “I’ve seen a child. A boy. I think you’ve been keeping secrets.”

  The nausea rose again, only this time swallowing didn’t help. She turned her face and vomited onto the floor beside his feet. It burned her nostrils, and her eyes stung.

  “Fucking disgusting,” he said. “I should make you clean that up right now, but we have far more interesting things to do. Like talk about my son.”

  Chase grasped her hair and dragged her into the living room. Libby yelped and pried at his fingers. She staggered, almost crawling, and a cool smattering of sweat broke out across her skin as her stomach twisted. She wanted to be sick again though, having thrown up her breakfast, she doubted there was anything left. Her panic was getting the better of her; she had to think, but the tighter he gripped, the more difficult it was to concentrate.

  She was the sole person on the ranch. No one could help her.

  She thought of Levi and was relieved he’d gone camping. She’d been right to let him go. He would be spared all of this.

  Chase let go of her hair and pushed her into the base of the couch. Her palms slapped against the wood floor as she braced herself for more. There was always more.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head, knowing she had two options—face him or buckle under his terror.

  Libby stared at him. He hadn’t changed. Physically, he’d put on quite a few pounds and shaved his head. But everything else about the man mirrored the one she knew so very well.

  “What do you want?” she asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve and trying to ignore the mess that was left behind.

  His dark brown eyes pierced hers. Her son’s were so alike, and yet so different. Levi’s oozed warmth and happiness, whereas Chase’s were icy and malicious. Why hadn’t she noticed that at the start?

  “You know what I want. It used to be about the money. But it took me so fucking long to find you that by the time I did, I wanted something else.” He crouched down and stroked the hair from her face.

  “I didn’t want you to find me,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and move the subject away from her son.

  “You were good at hiding. Really good. But see, the thing is, Libby, the longer you ran the more determined I got. I wasn’t going to let you run forever. I knew I’d find you.”

  “How?”

  “That’s the best part.” He stood up. “I was over here picking up my niece from her deadbeat father. We were shopping, and there you were! I didn’t even have to hunt you out.”

  “Hunt?” she asked, her mouth going dry.

  A slow, sickening smile spread over his face and had her heartbeat kicking into overdrive. “That’s what this is, little rabbit. You run, I hunt. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for years? You escaped me last time. I always thought you were dumb, but the way you slip out of a situation amazes me. It was sheer dumb luck that I caught you this time. Once I knew the area you lived in it was easy to locate you. I asked a few guys on the force who owed me a favor. I can’t believe you didn’t change your name. Silly, silly, silly. I watched, and what do you know? I see a kid. Curly hair . . . it was like looking in a fucking mirror. It’s time you paid for that kind of secrecy, bitch.”

  Libby closed her eyes, recalling the damage he’d done when he’d caught up with her last time. She still held the evidence of that; it decorated her back. There had been so much blood. In truth, she’d assumed he’d won then. But she’d made it through. Focusing on her little boy had given her the strength she’d needed to keep going.

  “But you have your money now. And extra. You don’t need anything else.” The quiver in her voice was evident. She had to be stronger.

  Chase tipped his head back and laughed, and her entire body flinched at the sound. “You think this was about the cash? Woman, you are stupid.”

  He fisted her hair again, hard enough to make her eyes water as he wrenched her to stand. Her scalp burned, her follicles stung. The plea for him to stop was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. He wouldn’t reduce her to begging again, no matter what it cost her.

  “This is about possession. I own you, bitch. You’re mine. You had your fun, and now I’m bringing it to a stop. I was just going to take you back home, but I don’t want you anymore. I want my kid.”

  “No. No way. He’s not yours. You have no claim over him, and you can’t do this.”

  “I can and will. I came here to get what’s mine . . . after I make sure you understand. The money was a nice touch, but the transfer wasn’t as untraceable as I think you suspected. It took me two phone calls to link it back to your rich sugar daddy.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Don’t try to deny it!” he shouted, clenching tighter onto her hair.

  “Ow, Chase . . . don’t!”

  “Are you going to beg? You know I like it much better when you do.” His hand loosened a little, and he looked around her cabin. “You really fell on your feet when you stopped here, didn’t you? Do you have to fuck the old guy? Or will a quick hand job satisfy him?”


  The urge built to spit in his face. She stared him down, telling herself not to incite him further. She knew what he was capable of, knew there was every chance she wouldn’t get away from this situation with her life. But she would try. She would do what she needed to keep breathing. Her son deserved that.

  “He’s my boss, not my boyfriend,” she said as strong as she could.

  Chase let go of her hair and smoothed his hands down the side of her face, neck, and shoulders. Then he palmed her breasts through her top. She repressed a shudder of revulsion.

  “Saving yourself for me, sugar? No one quite matches up to me, huh?”

  “If that were true I wouldn’t have spent years running away from you,” she whispered, her body shaking as he began to lift her top, revealing her torso. “I ran for a reason—because you are a monster. I ran because you don’t own me. I ran to keep my son safe.”

  Chase chuckled and skimmed a fingertip across her skin, and her stomach somersaulted and soured. “You keep telling yourself that. The marks on your back brand you as mine. You’re damaged goods, so don’t go fooling yourself into thinking anyone else will want you.” He grabbed her top in both hands and ripped it open.

  Libby reared back and slapped at his hands. She shoved at his chest, hoping he’d at least lose his balance. Hysteria danced along the fringes of her mind, every cell within her demanding she run, scream, kick her way free.

  Fear made her world move in slow motion, and every slap she delivered took forever to connect with Chase’s body. He laughed. Her terror was amusing to him, just as it always had been. He thrived off her despair—it bolstered his aggressiveness, acted as his adrenaline.

  Libby thought of Levi just as Chase brought his hand crashing across her cheek. She saw stars, and the pain took the breath from her lungs. But the blow didn’t make her fall, and neither did the next. Tears ran down her burning, sore cheeks, or maybe it was blood.

  He shoved her and roared when she fell, face first, onto the couch. Whimpering, she tried to open her mouth, but all that came out was a wheezy rush of air. Her side stung, her breath came short and shallow. The clink of his belt buckle had her spine stiffening as terror ran like ice in her veins.

  “No,” she gasped.

  “What? Don’t you want to get reacquainted?” The leather made a slithering noise through his belt loops, and she almost vomited again. But the sound was nothing compared to the feeling of his sweaty, dominant hands on her back. She began to cry.

  “I wondered what these would look like. How they would feel. Do you feel proud to wear my art, sugar?”

  Libby couldn’t answer, she was trying to think beyond the bone-deep dread, to staunch the tears and battle back the pain. She’d spent years telling herself she was stronger, and now she had to prove it.

  Chase straddled the backs of her thighs, and his weight crushed down on her legs. He grasped the elastic band of her leggings, his knuckles grazing her feverish skin. She gagged, saliva pooling on her tongue. No amount of swallowing rid her mouth of the acrid taste. “Ch-Chase,” she said breathlessly. “Please s-stop. I’m sorry. Chase!”

  He paused. “Hmm? Go ahead and beg. It’ll be a start. Still, we both know it takes more than that to get me to stop. Don’t we?”

  She sighed in relief when he climbed off her legs, but it was short-lived. Seconds later, he had her hair in his fist again and was pulling her into a sitting position. Hissing, Libby gripped his wrist with one hand and tried to cover her exposed chest with the other.

  “Don’t bother,” he said. “I’ve seen what you have to offer, and they’re hardly something to lust after.”

  “Then why do you want me?” she yelled. “Why won’t you leave me alone if I repulse you so much?”

  He leaned forward and brought his lips millimeters from hers. Her stomach roiled at his proximity, but Chase didn’t seem to notice or care. She felt blood trickling from her nose.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want you! I’m here for my kid. But you ran from me, and no one runs from me, little rabbit. You started the game.”

  He darted his tongue out and licked along her bottom lip. She bit, but his chuckle told her she hadn’t come close.

  “Feisty now. I like it. Makes the game more entertaining.”

  “Chase,” she said as he hauled her up. “You need to stop. My boss will be back soon. He’ll notice I’m not working. He’ll come here to find me.”

  He tilted his head as if working out whether she told the truth or not. She had to get away from him. Levi couldn’t be left alone in the world, or worse, with him. She had finally found someone she trusted, someone she wanted to spend forever with. She couldn’t simply give up.

  Mustering the courage, Libby lifted her gaze to his. A cold shiver raced down her spine. When had she found him attractive? When had he given her anything other than misery and regret? She thought back, trying to remember a time when they’d been happy. The problem was their past had been darkened and destroyed by his hatred. Nothing remained but blood and pain.

  The sound of his gun cocking had her knees buckling. Chase lifted it in front of her face and shoved her toward the front door. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it to keep her subdued.

  “Out!” he shouted, turning her and placing the gun at the base of her spine. “You’re taking me to get my son, and then we’ll find somewhere nice and secluded.”

  Libby choked back a sob. The barrel of the gun seemed to brand her back, and the closer she got to the door, the harder Chase shoved it into her. The tears were flowing freely down her bruised cheeks.

  She stumbled.

  Chase stumbled, too. He’d been walking so close that his feet tangled with hers. She twisted her body and pushed his head into the wall mirror with every ounce of strength she had left. Glass shattered. Chase grunted. The gun dropped to the floor, and Chase dived after it.

  Libby ran and didn’t look back.

  Chapter 26

  The cold wind slapped Libby hard in the face. Her swollen cheeks stung as tears streaked down them. Frantic, she rushed to the main house, hoping Josh hadn’t left. He was always forgetting things, and she prayed this time was no different.

  Her heart crashed against her chest as the sides of her torn top flapped in the breeze. Every breath she took was labored, and pain pierced her side with each inhalation. She had a feeling one of her ribs was broken, possibly fractured, and without a doubt Chase had done some damage to her nose and right cheekbone. But she’d been here before, and she was so focused on escaping, the pain no longer registered.

  Libby stumbled up the steps of Josh’s porch and pulled on the door handle. It didn’t budge. She cried out as she tried it again. Forcing herself to see beyond the veil of fear, she turned to scan the ranch. She could run, but she doubted she could move fast enough. Hiding was an option, but she knew Chase would enjoy finding her far too much.

  She gripped her side and swiped the blood from her nose as her eyes rested on a blue truck. It appeared to have been abandoned at the top of the path to the main road. The driver’s door was still open.

  Libby ambled as quickly as she could toward the truck. It was Chase’s, of that she was certain, and he’d left the door open to make a fast exit . . . with or without her.

  She glanced at her cottage and exhaled. There was no movement coming from that direction. She climbed into the truck and found the keys dangling from the ignition. A familiar lion-shaped key chain hung with the others, swinging back and forth.

  “You stupid son of a bitch,” she wheezed. Her entire body ached, weariness beating down on her. She took a breath. “For Levi and Taylor,” she muttered, ignoring the pain of fastening her seat belt. She pulled the door closed, locked it, then reached for the passenger door lock.

  “You fucking bitch!” Chase snarled, his eyes darting around the cab, maniacal and cold. “You’ll pay for every fucking cut on my head. Every goddamned drop of blood!”

  Libby pulled on the door, but Chase tugge
d back. She braced her feet on the base of the truck and used everything she had, but Chase wrenched it open and pointed the gun right at her. “You’re really shit at this game, little rabbit.”

  Libby closed her eyes and sobbed.

  “This works better with you driving anyway. I can make sure you stay in line.” He sat in the passenger seat and wiggled his gun to punctuate his point. “Now, fucking drive! I want to meet my son.”

  Libby’s hand shook as she started the engine, and the tremble reverberated throughout her body. Chase made it worse when he placed his hot, heavy hand on her thigh. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, his nails biting into her skin through her leggings. She hissed, gritting her teeth as she fought not to give him the reaction he clearly wanted.

  She drove as slowly as she could, all the while calculating what her next move should be. There was no way she would take him to Levi. That was out of the question.

  The possibility of getting help when they reached the nearest town was remote, because she doubted Chase would allow them to enter somewhere public. He wouldn’t risk being seen or her screaming out for help. Her only option was to deal with Chase as soon as possible.

  “What’s with your Driving Miss Daisy routine? Speed the fuck up!”

  “I don’t want to speed and alert people,” she said and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere, dumbass! Put your foot down.”

  Libby flinched at the malice in his tone and increased her speed a little. Her skin crawled under his assessment, leaving her feeling that no amount of bleach could clean away the sensation. It grew worse when he ran the tip of the gun down her cheek, humming to himself. The cold metal scraped along her bruises, the pressure smarting along her jaw.

  The barrel skimmed along her throat and collarbone, causing her breathing to hitch. The gun stalled between her bra cups.

  “We were good, sugar. Why did you mess it all up?”

  She blew out a breath. “You hurt me. Chase, you hit me. Over and over.”

  Chase shrugged. “You were outta line. Just like you are now. The difference is back then I was willing to bend over backward to make you see sense.” He lowered his voice, shifting the gun to her left breast. “Not anymore. You’ve pushed me to my limit—you kept my boy from me, and now you have to pay.”