Текст книги "Reclaim Me"

Автор книги: Ann Marie Walker

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-six

Allie had never liked Monday mornings. Not as a little girl being chauffeured to school, and not as a grown woman commuting to work. But Monday mornings were especially brutal when you had to leave Hudson Chase asleep in your bed. Naked.

The image of him sprawled across her mattress had stayed with her all day. With one arm thrown over his head and one leg bent to the side, all six foot three inches of him were a sight to behold. But it was the nine inches laying heavy across his lower abs that had her wanting to crawl back into bed. She would have given anything to draw the curtains, turn off the phones, and spend the entire day showing her new husband just how much she craved him. But instead she merely pressed a soft kiss to his forehead as she was about to head out the door.

He’d blinked up at her, his gorgeous blue eyes cloudy with sleep. “Come back to bed,” he’d drawled.

“I need to head to work so the dynamic duo out front will leave their post.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost seven. I wanted to clear out so you’d have time to stop at the penthouse before your first meeting.”

A slow, sexy smile had formed on his lips. “Which isn’t until nine.” He’d reached for her but Allie held her ground, knowing if she indulged in even a moment, she’d have been there for the day. He’d reluctantly agreed when she reminded him that he needed to add a meeting with Max to his morning agenda, but made her promise they’d find a way to spend at least part of the evening together. The naughty words he’d growled on her way out the door had her counting the hours, and when the clock finally read six, she was more than ready for a secret rendezvous.

The phone on her desk rang as she was packing up her things. After the third ring she called out to Colin, but when he didn’t reply, she picked up the line.

“Alessandra Sinclair,” she said, her own name suddenly sounding all wrong. It had only been a little over a week since she’d married Hudson, and even though no one else knew, she already thought of herself as Alessandra Chase. Allie Chase, if truth be told. Hudson had told her he wouldn’t argue if she wanted to hyphenate, but taking his name suited her just fine. As soon as they went public with the news, she planned on changing it.

“We need to meet.” The sound of Julian’s raspy voice sent a chill down her spine.

“Fine,” she agreed. As much as she hated the idea of seeing Julian, she had been wondering what excuse she was going to give him for meeting. He was too clever to ever implicate himself in her parents’ murder over the phone. The fact that Julian was requesting a meeting meant there was one less piece of the puzzle that needed to fall into place. She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and opened the calendar on her laptop. “When?”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“I spoke English, Alessandra. Surely you understood.”

“I just thought—”

“I don’t need you to think,” he interrupted. “I need you to do as you’re told. There is a car in front of the building. Don’t keep me waiting or I may use the time to renegotiate our terms.”

The line went dead. Allie’s mind raced. She and Hudson had agreed Max would orchestrate the meet with Julian, and she’d promised to follow his instructions to the letter. But she hadn’t expected Julian to contact her again so soon, and his less than subtle threats didn’t really leave her much choice in the matter. She had to meet with him. There was no guarantee they’d have another chance to speak privately.

Allie drew a deep breath through her nose and tried to focus. She needed to be ready in case Julian implicated himself. Her phone had the ability to record audio, but the last time he “requested” her presence, his goons had confiscated it. In all likelihood they’d do the same thing again. She needed another option.

A thought occurred to her as she gathered her belongings and headed for the door. When she reached the reception area, Colin was back at his desk.

“Everything okay, Boss Lady?”

“Yes, I just have a late appointment and I’m in a bit of a rush.”

He frowned at his computer screen. “I don’t have anything on your calendar.”

“Yeah, sorry, forgot to mention it.” Allie shrugged into her coat. “Don’t know where my head is these days. Hey, do you have your digital recorder handy?”

“Sure.” Colin slid his desk drawer open and pulled out the device. It was even smaller and thinner than she remembered. Perfect.

“Oh, and a pair of scissors?”

He grabbed them before closing the drawer. Curiosity was written all over his face as he handed her both items.

“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder while hurrying down the hall. If she’d lingered any longer he would have asked questions she neither had the time nor ability to answer.

In the elevator she fired off a quick text to Hudson, cringing when she pressed send. There was no doubt he was going to be livid. But there wasn’t time for him to set a plan in motion, and she didn’t even know where the car was taking her. She would have preferred calling him, to have heard his voice and reassured him with hers, but she had to stash the burner phone before she reached the lobby.

She used the scissors to make a small slit at the bottom of her purse, concealing the burner phone beneath the lining and piling her wallet and makeup on top. She slid her other phone into her coat pocket, keeping it easily accessible should the driver ask for it.

Her eyes darted frantically at the dial above the elevator doors. Only five more floors. She quickly switched the recorder to voice-activated mode and tucked it inside her bra, leaving the top two buttons of her blouse undone in the hopes the fabric wouldn’t obstruct the sound.

God, I hope this works. Her makeshift plan was far from professional and, truth be told, based largely on movies she’d seen over the years. There was no guarantee she’d be able to steer the conversation in the direction she needed, let alone that the device would pick up a clean recording. But on the outside chance Julian said something incriminating, she had to be ready.

The car Julian sent was waiting at the curb. Allie recognized the driver immediately. It was the same hired thug from the château, the one who had held her captive in the library while Julian saw to “pressing matters.” He climbed out of the black Lexus as Allie spun through the revolving doors, holding out his leather gloved hand as she approached.

“Protocol,” he said with a smirk.

Allie handed over her smartphone and watched as he powered it off. “Where are we going?” she asked when he yanked open the rear door.

“Home.” His patronizing tone sent a wave of unease through her.

Home? What the hell did that mean? Julian kept a suite at The Peninsula whenever he was in town. As she settled into the leather seat she began to wonder if the arrogant bastard had actually purchased a home for the two of them to live in as husband and wife. It wouldn’t have surprised her. Seeing as how he thought of her as nothing more than an accessory, selecting their home without consulting her would be par for the course. But the further they drove, the more clear their destination became. The car was headed to Lake Forest.

Julian was literally having her meet him at the scene of his crime.

Adrenaline coursed through Allie’s veins as the car veered onto the small lane that ran parallel with the lake. One by one they passed historic homes that dotted the north shore, and before long she could see the stone wall that surrounded her family’s waterfront estate.

“Home sweet home,” the driver said as he pulled through the iron gates of Mayflower Place.

Allie glared at him in the rearview mirror. “Give me a minute.” Her stomach rolled at the thought of being in that house again, and for a moment she felt as though she might be sick. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car on shaking legs. In front of her stood the brick and stone mansion that had once been her home. Now it was nothing more than a crime scene. Her worst nightmare brought back to life.

Julian was waiting for her in the living room, just beyond the marble floored foyer. “Good evening, Alessandra. How was your commute? Not too much traffic, I hope.”

Allie frowned. He was making small talk with her as if he were just an ordinary man at the end of an ordinary work day. Not a man who’d summoned the woman he was blackmailing to the home where he’d had her parents slaughtered.

“Care for a drink?”

“Why are we here, Julian?” The quiver in her voice betrayed the appearance of outward calm she was trying so desperately to maintain.

He strolled over to a set of decanters arranged on a silver tray. The fingerprint dust that had covered them the last time she was there had been wiped away, and the facets of the crystal caught the flickering light of the fireplace. “I’m the king of the castle,” he said, filling a glass with a generous pour of vodka. Allie noticed he didn’t even bother adding ice. “Might as well live in it.”

Of all the sadistic plans Julian had for her, this was by far the worst. Living at Mayflower Place had nothing to do with the esteemed address and everything to do with their future residence serving as a constant reminder of exactly what he was capable of doing.

“That horrible room will have to go,” he said, nodding toward the dining room. Without thinking, Allie followed his gaze. The markings from the crime scene investigators were long gone, but it was far from the room she remembered. At one point beveled mirrors covered every inch of the walls, but now one section stood bare. Bullets had shattered the panel that hung there, and in its place remained nothing but streaks of blood.

“Honestly, did your mother really think she could pull off her own Versailles?” He let out a derisive snort. “Of course it would need to be redecorated either way. All that blood and brain matter.” He clicked his tongue. “Shame the rug had to be taken as evidence. It was the one acceptable piece in the room.”

Allie closed her eyes against the onslaught of images that flooded her mind. When she opened them, she noticed for the first time that the table was set for an elegant meal. White linen, fresh flowers, and her mother’s favorite china were arranged in what would have looked like a romantic dinner for two if it weren’t for the bloodstains on the wall. Candles had even been lit. “What’s all this?”

“A celebration.” Lifting the tumbler to his lips, he took a hefty sip. “You’ve done well, Alessandra. With the stock transfer underway, I thought we should toast our impending nuptials.” He smirked. “No time for an engagement party, after all.”

“Are you sure you want to rush this, Julian? I mean, I thought you wanted a lavish affair that was covered by all the media outlets?” she asked, echoing the sentiments he’d previously expressed in an effort to buy herself more time.

“I assure you, our wedding will be everything your mother ever dreamed it would be. Pity she won’t be able to see it.” There wasn’t a hint of remorse in his tone. “The arrangements have all been made, although none of the vendors know the identity of the bride and groom. Once you have secured the shares, we can announce our engagement.” He reached for the decanter and topped off his glass. “We’ll wed on Valentine’s Day, as previously discussed, and when we return from our honeymoon, you will tell the board you’ve had a change of heart and no longer wish to serve in any capacity at Ingram. That’s when you’ll use your considerable stock percentage to vote your new husband into your vacated position.”

“Seems you’ve thought of everything.” Maybe if she could stroke his ego she could get him talking about his plans. While he’d revealed himself to be a callous, male-chauvinist asshole, he’d yet to say anything incriminating.

“I’m very thorough, Alessandra. And I always get what I want. You’ll do well to remember that. But as for the details of our arrangement, no need to worry about keeping up. It’s all spelled out in the prenuptial agreement.”

“You expect me to sign a prenup?”

“The details of the very generous wedding gift you’ll bestow on me.”

Damn him. Especially when taken out of context, none of his words amounted to admission of a crime.

He drained his glass and set it down on the coffee table as he made his way across the room. “In fact, let’s get the paperwork out of the way before dinner, shall we?”

As if he was giving her a choice. With his hand cupping her elbow, Julian guided Allie toward her father’s office. Her throat tightened as she remembered the last time she’d strode down that hallway, so confident in her mission. She’d planned to take control of her life that night. But instead it had shattered into a million pieces.

Julian pushed open the door to the office and all at once she was back there . . . her father was slumped over his desk, blood seeping from beneath his chest, and the phone was cradled in his lifeless hand. The police determined her mother had been shot first, surprised by the gunman as he made his way in through the kitchen. Had her father heard the shots? Had he been trying to dial 911? It broke her heart to imagine him during those last horrific moments, and yet it was a scenario she’d replayed in her head a thousand times.

“Alessandra, it would facilitate matters if you would pay attention when I’m speaking to you.”

Allie turned to find Julian standing in front of a wall safe concealed in one of the bookcases. For a split second she wondered how the hell Julian knew the combination. But then she remembered he’d been her father’s right-hand man for months; his heir apparent. Of course he knew the combination. Her father had trusted Julian implicitly. In return, he’d betrayed him by taking his life.

“You killed him,” she whispered, tearing her eyes from the dark crimson stain on the desk. “He trusted you to take care of not only his company, but his child, and you killed him.”

With a final spin of the dial the lock disengaged. “Well, to be fair, I merely paid a man to shoot your parents in cold blood.” He smirked as he swung open the small iron door. “It’s not as though I actually pulled the trigger.”

The fucking bastard. This was all just some twisted game to him. But she had him. All she had to do now was pray to God the recorder had captured what he’d just said. That, and get the hell away from him.

“I’m not feeling so well all of a sudden,” she said, offering the only excuse she could think of for a hasty exit.

“No need to feign a headache, ma cherie. I’m entertaining a guest later, so Philippe will drive you back to the city after dinner.” A salacious grin curved his lips. “Unless, of course, you’d like to join us. Amber does have a fondness for blondes.”

Julian turned and Allie’s breath caught. In one hand he held the prenuptial agreement, and in the other hand he held a gun. “Why do you have a gun?” Her mouth was so dry she could hardly get the words out.

He walked toward her, oozing arrogance. Allie’s heart rate spiked as he drew closer.

“Never hurts to have incentive,” he said, coming to a halt in front of her and setting the paperwork on the desk. “After all, you’re of no use to me if you don’t sign.” The pleasure he took from her fear was obvious in his tone. He stroked her blond hair, curling a strand around one of his fingertips. “So be a good girl and don’t make me kill the golden goose.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Hmm.” A leering grin curved the corner of his mouth. “That’s what I like to hear.” Releasing the lock of her hair, he ran his index finger down her throat, tracing the wildly throbbing vein in her neck. “Perhaps this arrangement won’t be so intolerable after all.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips as his finger trailed to the deep V of her blouse. Allie tensed beneath his touch. If he went much lower . . .

Julian’s fingertip slipped inside her blouse and his hand stilled. His nostrils flared and his face contorted with rage. “What the fuck is this?”

Chapter Twenty-seven

It was pitch-black as Hudson brought the DB9 to a stop at the perimeter of the Lake Forest estate. He’d killed the headlights about fifty yards back and stayed deep enough in the shadows so as not to be spotted. From what he could see, there was only one car parked in the driveway, a piece of shit we’ll-pick-you-up Lexus rental. He’d half expected to be greeted by a welcoming committee of Julian’s thugs, but so far all he’d been met with was silence. It was quiet, too quiet; just the hissing and ticking of the car’s engine cooling.

He’d been in the bowels of the garage beneath his building when he got Allie’s text. The damn thing had rebounded him into pissed-off territory and left him feeling frustrated and powerless. The only advantage he had in this impromptu recovery mission was the burner phone that had allowed him to track her. But what the fuck was she doing meeting with that asshole alone? Her safety was Hudson’s top priority, and this move was a direct contravention of the proposed and agreed upon plan.

Goddamnit.

He ran a hand through his hair, then checked his watch. Where the hell was Max? Needing to do something besides cool his jets, Hudson pulled out his cell and punched the speed dial. Max picked up on the first ring.

“ETA?” Hudson’s voice was low but still razor sharp.

“Twenty out.”

Too fucking long. Hudson ended the call with a curse. His gut twisted at the thought of Allie in such close proximity to that sociopath, and the oxygen he was sucking down burned his already dry throat. Christ, the depravity Julian was capable of was limitless, and he had no remorse over its execution.

As if on cue, lights flared in a room at the far end of the house. Hudson knew from the crime scene photos that it was the study where Allie’s father had been shot. Anxiety jacked the rate of his heart until he felt like the thing was going to explode out of his chest. He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit there and wait, not while Julian was doing God knows what to his wife.

Hudson yanked on the door handle and made a quick lunge to get out of the car. At a mission-critical pace, his long strides took him in the direction of the brick mansion and toward the pair of French doors flanking the study. He dodged a bird bath that was dry as a bone and hopped over a row of low-lying bushes. Damn, there was a lot of glass. But the outside garden area was an unlit sanctuary of low-hanging branches, affording him the perfect cover.

He lined himself up flat against the house and listened. There was no sound of anyone approaching from the sides or the back. Inside, the sharp inflection of a French accent fired up Hudson’s temper. He shifted, and what he saw was someone writing his own obituary. Julian was standing only inches from Allie, who was backed up to a massive desk. Her face was frozen in a mask concealing what he knew was a replay of the gruesome scene she’d walked in on not long ago.

Impulse told him to storm in there and assume control of the situation. But as much as it killed him to admit it, he had to wait. Still, the urge was damn near overwhelming, and the feeling only intensified as he watched the scene play out in front of him.

Julian pivoted and crossed the room to a safe concealed in the bookcases. Hudson’s eyes refocused, his gaze tightening on the iron box as Julian spun the dial—right, left, then right again. He swung the door open, and when he turned back around, Hudson’s blood went ice cold. It wasn’t the papers in Julian’s left hand that did the deed, but the glock gripped in his right.

Hell no. Hell motherfucking no.

Allie’s chest rose and fell with each breath, and her body trembled. Julian was even closer now, direct-contact close, and the rank joy on his face was a kick to the head. The prick looked like he was in the throes of some orgasmic rush.

Hudson shifted his weight, bracing his feet in the patches of snow that clung to the earth. His spine straightened, his stance widened, and his glare narrowed on the guy who stood precariously close to the edge of his own death.

One fucking move . . .

Then he was touching her. Julian’s fingers twisted in Allie’s hair before trailing down her neck. Abruptly his expression changed and his face contorted with rage. Allie flinched as he ripped down the front of her blouse with a sharp jerk, leaving the delicate garment in tatters and exposing the recording device tucked inside her lace bra.

Fueled by hatred and protective instinct, Hudson surged forward at a dead run. His shoulder slammed into the door, smashing it back against the wall and shattering the glass into a million pieces. Julian’s head shot up at the unexpected interruption, with the business end of the gun following his line of sight. With that hardware in his hand, Hudson knew Julian was a man with a purpose. But so was he. And anyone who got in his way was putting themselves in front of a speeding fucking train.

On a crash course, Hudson launched himself at Julian with brutal force. The two men collided, and using the full weight of his body, Hudson shoved Julian hard against the mantel. Picture frames clattered to the floor and a crystal vase took a dive. One hand wrapped around Julian’s throat while the other caught his wrist. The veins in Julian’s neck bulged and Hudson tightened his grip, hoping like hell the fucker would go hypoxic on him. But the son of a bitch wasn’t going down without a fight. He locked eyes with Hudson and twisted the gun between their bodies.

*   *   *

Allie’s world stopped spinning at the sound of the gunshot. The thundering noise echoed in her ears, and the smell of gunpowder burned her nostrils. For several agonizing seconds she stood frozen, watching the two men locked in a violent embrace with a gun lodged between them. Then a scream was ripped from somewhere deep within her as Hudson fell to the floor, blood soaking through his shirt in an ever expanding circle.

She dropped to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed and his body was so still. “Hudson . . . stay with me.” The words lodged in her throat as she tried to choke them out. “Please. Don’t leave me.” Tears blurred her vision as she placed both hands over the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Beneath her palms she felt no heartbeat, no rise and fall of his chest, only a wet pool of crimson.

Julian grabbed her arm. His fingers dug into her flesh as he tried to pull her away.

“No.” Allie struggled against his hold. “Let go of me.”

“Get up,” he snarled, yanking her to her feet and shoving the barrel of the gun beneath her ribs.

“We can’t just leave him like that.” Tears flowed hot and steady down her cheeks as he dragged her down the hall. “We need to call an ambulance.”

Julian ignored her, but she could see the panic in his eyes. Sweat had formed on his brow and upper lip, and his breath came in short, shallow pants. If she could reason with him, even offer him a way out, maybe it wouldn’t be too late.

“Please,” she cried, sobs racking her entire frame. “Don’t do this. He might still be alive. Let me call for help.” Her words tumbled out in a desperate plea. “You can leave with Philippe. I swear, I won’t tell anyone you were here. I’ll say someone broke in, or that it was an accident, just please . . .”

“Shut up,” Julian shouted. Lashing out, he backhanded Allie across the face. The force of the blow spun her toward the table, and she landed with a crash atop a place setting of china. “And stop crying, for fuck’s sake. I need to think.”

In the reflection of the cracked mirror Allie watched as Julian reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. He jabbed the screen with his thumb and almost immediately began barking orders. “Bring the car around back . . . No, in the garage. There’s a situation I need you to clean up.”

Allie pushed to her feet. Everywhere she looked she saw blood. Her mother’s, streaked across the wall in front of her; her own, dripping from the cut on her face; and Hudson’s, smeared across the white linen where her hands had tried to break her fall. Down the hall her husband lay dying, or maybe he was already dead. She needed to be by his side. Julian had taken her parents from her. There was no way she was letting him take the only man she’d ever loved.

Julian ended the call and strode to where she stood, her arms braced against the table. She drew a shaky breath as he reached for her, and when his fingers curled in her hair, hers curled around the knife resting alongside the cracked plate.

“Let’s go,” he growled. He yanked Allie up by the roots of her hair. She turned, ignoring the look of terror that registered in Julian’s eyes as she plunged the knife into his heart.