DARE: A Bad Boy Romance (16 page)

“And didn’t have a wife,” she pointed out, having clocked his wedding band.

He laughed. “Busted.”

“Nah. She’s a lucky lady,” Holly said. “So, let’s go look for Dare together. There are only so many places he could—”

Someone grabbed her by the arm. Hard. Before she could react, she was off her feet, being dragged across the floor.

“What the hell—get off me, Trey!”

Ossie flew at him, but Trey was ready. He let go of Holly. Ossie lunged, but Trey used the ageing man’s momentum to throw him at the screen door. He went right through, shattering the glass. Screams erupted. Holly couldn’t believe what had just happened. She was about to cry for help when Trey pulled her up and, despite her kicking and thrashing, slung her over his shoulder.

“Try to stop me and you’re next,” he threatened a heavy-set man who barred their way. It was then that she saw that Trey was holding a switchblade.

Oh Jesus!

She screamed for help but none came. The terrified partygoers made a path. Not that she could blame them, but
someone
had to do
something.
Where the hell was Dare? She called his name.

“Shut the fuck up!” Trey yelled at her.

She did.

He carried her outside at a jog. The last thing she saw of the party was two members of Dare’s ring team nursing Ossie on the lawn outside.

“God help you if he dies,” she said.

Trey didn’t answer. He even managed to up his pace when he reached the driveway. His car, a white Pontiac Firebird, was blocking the way out. The uniformed parking attendant lay unconscious on the grass.

“What have you done?”

“Your fault. This is all
your
fault. I told you what would happen.”

She struggled again when he tried to bundle her into the car, but he was just too strong. There was nothing she could do or say while he was like this. Best to just play along and pick her battles if and when the opportunities arose. What she needed was a weapon of some kind. Would there be one where he was taking her? Would she be able to get it without him knowing?

He floored the gas, kicking up gravel.

Where are you, Dare?

Holly glanced in the rearview mirror. The driveway was already filling with people by the time the car passed through the front gates. Was Dare one of them? Would he try to pursue?

“Your hair’s wet,” Trey pointed out whilst speeding round a hairpin bend. “And you were wearing pants at the fight, not a skirt. So where did you screw him? In the shower?”

“I won’t dignify that with an answer.”

“You’ll tell me sooner or later. I guarantee that.”

“Why’s it so important, Trey? Seriously. You said we were through.”

“Not so you could give it up for
him.
” He slammed his fist on the horn. It made her jump. “You just don’t get it, do you?” he said. “Dare Bowden was off-limits. Anyone decent would have known that. You could have done the decent thing and
not
fucked my enemy, but no, you had to get your revenge. Well, guess what? Revenge has a habit of coming back around.”

“What are you gonna do?”

He said nothing.

“Trey, we can settle this whole thing. I didn’t know it meant that much to you who I dated. We can talk it over. I swear I’ll never see Dare Bowden again if it means that much to you. This doesn’t have to go any further. There’s still time to make things right. I can still make things right between us.”

“Enough talking,” he replied. “You always did talk too much.”

All the worst scenarios her mind had concocted while she’d been alone in the bathroom that morning—her cases outside the door, agonizingly out of reach—came flooding back. Only this time he’d thought it through, whatever he had in store for her. He’d watched her, or had her watched, at the fight tonight. And now he was about to carry out his revenge.

Jesus. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? He’d threatened her not to go to the cops, but would that have been any worse than this, than what he was about to do? Twice in her life she should have reported him. Twice in her life fear had gotten the best of her. She would probably not get a third chance.

Oh Dare, I’m so sorry. I should have never let this happen. I blew it.

As Trey sped through red light after red light, his grim, determined expression telling her he was set on this unalterable course, Holly realized two things. One: so much of life was out of a person’s control. Two: there had been times when life had clearly signposted her choices, and she had relinquished that control voluntarily. She had not acted to change her life. Those inactions had consequences. She was reaping them now.

She thought back to a crucial turning point, maybe the most important she’d ever faced. It had been early in the summer, two, no, three years back, when her girlish dreams of romance and family had come to a crashing end. She remembered the whole scene like it was yesterday: that sharp influx of jock body spray into the room as he rushed downstairs, ready to leave for his afternoon run; the daytime soap on the TV,
Diagnosis Murder
; the t-shirt with the Batman logo he was wearing.

“We never get to talk anymore,” she pointed out, handing him his mp4 player. “You’re always in a hurry.”

“It’s called fitness training. You should try it sometime.”

“Not funny.”

“No shit,” he scoffed, looking her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes. “Can we do this later?”

“That’s what you always say. We started a conversation yesterday and…I never got to finish.”

He sighed impatiently. “Never got to finish what, Holly?”

“What I wanted to say.”

Checking his watch, he shook his head. “Okay, what is it? Spit it out.”

“Oh, not like this. You’re not going to make me say it like
this.
What’s the matter with you?”

“Stop speaking in code,” he said. “You know I can’t stand it when you do that.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to…” His coldness upset her. She had to fight to keep the tears from welling.

“So, we had a conversation yesterday,” he said. “About Oleg and Helena, right? Was there something I missed?”

“And I told you about Jessica.”

“Uh-huh. What about her?”

“About what she and the Titovs have in common, not to mention half the fighters on the circuit.” Holly summoned every ounce of her courage; it had been on her mind for months, if not years, and she hadn’t imagined this moment being quite so…combative. “Trey, we’ve been together since high school. We’ve lived together longer than the Titovs had
known
each other, and they’re already ahead of us.”

“Ahead of…” He crooked a corner of his mouth into something between a smile and a sneer. It wasn’t an expression she was familiar with. Not from him. “That’s what this is all about? And your sister. They’ve all gotten married and we haven’t. Is that
it?”

“Um, kind of, yeah.” Holly realized she couldn’t read him at all, and it scared her a little. He’d been moody lately, but she’d always thought she knew where he was coming from, what was eating at him. Now? Not so much. “I mean, why haven’t we?” she asked. “When two people love each other and know for sure they can live happily together under the same roof…it’s the next step, right? I mean, we should probably at least talk about it.”

“You don’t think I’ve thought about it?”

“I’m not saying that. It’s just that you’ve never mentioned it…to me. I just want us to be open with each other, Trey.”

At that moment, something in his eyes, a flash of danger, as though a dark cloud was passing over him, made her step back instinctively. “Where’s this even coming from?” he said.

“I-I didn’t mean to put you in a corner or anything. Maybe we should talk about it later.”

“No, we can talk about it now. You’ve fucked up my training, so we can fucking talk about it now.”

“Trey, don’t get mad. It was just an idea.”

“And you’re saying that I’m scared of that idea. That I’m some kind of a pussy because I’ve let Oleg Titov beat me to the altar or some shit.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Not at all.”

“Then why bring it up like that? Why preface it with that shit—Helena Titov and Jessica—like you’re so hard-done-to. Like I haven’t given you
everything.
You ungrateful bitch!”

He slapped her across the face. Holly staggered back in shock. It took a few moments of hard, searching looks before she realized what had just happened. What the man she’d loved all this time had just done. “Trey?”

As he approached, the storm cloud erupted with fury. He changed before her eyes into a dark, twisted thing that bore no resemblance to the boy from high school. Before he struck a second time, she burst into bitter sobs. The smarting impact only made it worse.

“Get that idea out of your fucking head!” This time he backhanded her, drawing blood. “Don’t ever compare me to those idiots. Not ever.
Those
guys are the pussies. They let their whining bitches get their own way, and before they know it, they’re being dictated to by women who don’t do a fucking thing but sit around and spend their money all goddamn day. Like you. I’m
so
sick of it. You’re always in the way, nagging about this, pouting about that. Like your life’s such a disappointment. I give all this and you’re not
satisfied
? You want my balls as well?” He spat at her, then slapped her again for good measure. “Fuck you!”

On the sofa now, holding her sore face in her hands, Holly could only sob. Evil was all around her. There was no protection from it. She was as helpless as she’d ever been, but what made it impossible to bear was that, moments ago, she’d done a courageous thing. Broached the subject of marriage. And he’d beat the shit out of her for it.

“You know, it’s funny: you play nice, you abide by the rules, and this is what you get. A sly cow who tries to guilt you into a corner. Well, you know what? Maybe those rules aren’t so hot after all. One of these days, one of us might have to take a dive,” he said. After thinking that over, he started chuckling insanely. “Yeah, that might not be a bad idea. I give you a little shove when you’re least expecting it. You break your neck on the way downstairs. I win by default. What do you say to that? Still want to guilt me into getting married? No? Thought not,
sweetheart
.” He gave her shin a little kick. “Get up to your room and don’t ever mention this again.”

Slowly, painfully, Holly rose to her feet and wandered through a kind of slipstream fog to her bedroom. She didn’t come out for two whole days. Trey stayed away. When he did finally return, he never mentioned the incident again. Neither did she. To anyone. Though she considered filing assault charges—she had even memorized the exact wording she would use—Holly Watkins couldn’t bring herself to cross him.

Was it that he’d threatened to shove her down the stairs and break her neck? Or that since leaving home, she’d never know any other life than with him? Or that she believed, deep down, that he would never do anything like that again and that things
could
go back to the way they were, so long as she never brought up the subject of marriage again. Money, security, a lavish lifestyle…were those the bribes she’d taken to stay silent while a drug-addled psychopath had raged away in the corner of her life?

Well, that bribe had come back to bite her now. And his threat to break her neck might not be an idle threat any longer!

***

It was a bizarre scene. One of the guest bedrooms, the most visible in the entire house, just before the upstairs restrooms, was painted red—not with paint, but with red wine. Several bottles of it were poured over the bed and carpet and tossed up the walls. On the wall over the bed, someone had written, in wine: URGENT! BOWDEN STAY BY PHONE TILL I CALL.

No other name had been given, and there was no clue as to who might call. However, the author had known that someone, the next person to visit the restroom, would discover this and get Dare’s attention. A trail of wine even extended to the landing, just to make sure. But it also meant that whoever had gone to all this trouble was either still at the party or had recently left.

So to wait or not to wait…for a phone call that may or may not come.

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” he asked Duke Lever, his balding, over-tanned agent.

“Never. Hell, I don’t even know what it is. Or what we’re supposed to make of it. If it’s some kind of blackmail or ransom scheme, why go to all this trouble with the wine? Why not just ring up? Or if it’s a prank…okay, I got nothing.”

“It doesn’t add up,” Dare concluded, eyeing the bedside phone suspiciously. He looked under the bedside table, checking for a wire that didn’t belong.

“You think that thing might be bugged?” asked Duke.

Dare didn’t want to alarm him by going a step further. He was probably just being paranoid. And Duke’s observation still applied. If someone was going to rig an explosive device to the phone receiver, why advertise it in advance? Why call attention to it?

It didn’t add up.

“You going to wait for the call?” asked Duke.

“Might as well. But not for long.”

“Now I wish I’d installed that CCTV
inside
the house as well. These assholes just don’t respect anyone else’s property.”

That gave Dare an idea. “Go find Julio,” he told Duke. “He knows IT. Take him to the CCTV terminal—you remember where it is, in that closet room I showed you in the study—and get him to play back the party arrivals. You sent out all these invitations. You know who
should
be here. I want you to pick out anyone who doesn’t belong, anyone who’s gatecrashing. Okay?”

“Um, okay. What should I do if I come across—?”

“Come straight back here to me. Don’t try to confront anyone. And don’t—”

Screams from downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking glass, ripped Dare from his investigation. All he could think about was Holly. Ossie might be watching her, but it had been a long time since Ossie had tackled anyone.

People were running upstairs like rich rats fleeing a sinking party. They were tripping over each other to get away. It made it tough for Dare to get past. He couldn’t see exactly what was happening down there, but it seemed to be moving through the foyer. Toward the front door.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked a couple clinging to the bannister.

“A man with a knife,” the woman replied. “He’s gone berserk. I think he’s killed someone in the kitchen. Don’t!” She tugged Dare’s shirttail. “Don’t go down there. He’s crazy.”

Those two words unlocked the entire sequence of events in his mind. He
knew
who was behind all this, and why he’d done it.

Oh my God! Holly!

For a fleeting moment, he had a feeling of utter helplessness. If Oregon had gotten to her first, there was nothing he could do about it. Then he felt ashamed for having left her. And stupid. And derelict in his duty. How could he have let this happen
in his own freaking
house? Finally, when he heard the words: “He’s taken her! Should we call the cops?” Dare leapt over the banister and climbed down onto the oak sideboard, ripping his shirt. He pushed people out of his way, but he couldn’t get there quick enough.

A group of men stopped him at the front door. “Don’t go, Bowden. He’s got a knife.”

“Out of my way!”

“He’s already attacked your man.”

“Ossie? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. Your other man is seeing to him—the Mexican lad.”

On his way out the door, Dare called back, “Then he’s in good hands. Julio knows what he’s doing. Has anyone called nine-one-one?”