Sinful Southern Hero: 2 (20 page)

Lucy placed her hands in Dalton’s larger, rougher ones and
allowed him to pull her up to stand in front of him. He held her gaze and she
saw understanding reflected in the depths of his sinfully blue eyes.

After getting dressed, she agreed to ride with Dalton to his
place and pick up her small bag of belongings from Abigail and Jed’s later in
the evening. Opening the office door and stepping into the hall, Lucy jumped
and let out an indelicate squeak of surprise at finding Dez reclining against
the wall just outside her office. A heated blush stained her cheeks at the
thought of what he may have heard.

“Dez,” Dalton rumbled as he followed her into the hall.

An uncharacteristic grin stretched Dez’s lips. “Dalton.
Whatever could you have been doing in Lucy’s office with the door locked?”

Lucy tucked her face into Dalton’s side in an effort to
quell some of her embarrassment.

Dalton, the ass, didn’t seem nearly as bothered. “None of
your business, asshole. What do you want?”

Lucy peeked at Dez and watched his grin fade.

“Just wanted to let you know my guy is moving on Ross Vance.
As we speak his house is being combed for evidence and there’s a warrant out
for his arrest. He’s in the wind, not using any credit cards, the cell phone
registered in his name has been turned off and he hasn’t shown up for work. My
guess is he’s running scared. Still, we need to keep our guard up until this
fucker is in lockdown.”

A strange mix of nausea, guilt and joy coursed through Lucy.
It was almost over. A thought occurred to her. “You said he hasn’t shown up for
work. Does that mean the state police or whoever your guy is went to the
precinct looking for Ross?” At Dez’s nod, she asked, “And they were helpful? I
find that hard to believe.”

Dez shook his head. “They weren’t given a choice. They’re
used to doing whatever the hell they want in that podunk precinct and to hell
with common decency and the law. Lucy, you’re not the only person those cops
dicked over. Their operation was already under investigation and your case
tipped the scales in the Internal Affairs’ favor. I imagine there will be a
thorough housecleaning and re-staffing project in the precinct pretty damn
soon.”

Relief and vindication propelled Lucy out of Dalton’s arms
and against Dez’s chest for a hug she knew he wasn’t expecting. “Thank you,
Dez. Thank you.”

The startled man in her arms gave her a tentative hug in
return before clearing his throat. “Well, don’t thank me yet. They haven’t
caught the bastard yet. Besides, I didn’t do anything but make a call.”

“Bullshit,” Dalton said while pulling Lucy back into his
arms and away from Dez. “You did more than I could have. But, you’re right,
we’ll wait to celebrate until after Ross is behind bars.”

“I’ll keep you updated as I receive information,” Dez told
Dalton, giving him a hard look. “Keep our girl safe.”

Lucy watched him disappear down the hallway before turning
to Dalton. “I know you said we’d wait to celebrate, but can we do one little
thing when we get to your place?”

Dalton slung a heavy arm over her shoulders and led her
toward the outside door. “What’s that, darlin’?”

“Well…”

“Spit it out already.” Dalton pushed open the glass door and
pulled her into the sweltering heat of the parking lot.

“I can’t say it out loud. I’ll have to whisper it.”

His steps stuttered to a stop and a sexy, mischievous smile
tilted one corner of his lips. “Damn, whatever it is sounds good.” He leaned
down to place his ear closer to Lucy’s lips.

Deciding to go for it, Lucy whispered, “I want to fuck you
on your kitchen table. We need to…sexually baptize…that hunk of wood. I can’t stand
the thought of Rachel being the most recent naked woman to have laid on its
surface. Either we’re fucking on it or we’re gonna have a bonfire with it
tonight. Your choice.”

Previously unaware of the phenomenon, the power rush Lucy
felt when asserting herself sexually and witnessing Dalton’s response caught
her by surprise. It was as if she had the ultimate control over this towering
masculine figure. At her explicit words, the otherwise self-contained and rough
man swayed toward her, his eyes glazing with lust. Meek, chubby Lucy
Ellingsworth even managed to change the direction of his blood flow, if the
bulge in his pants was any indication.

She giggled when Dalton abruptly bent at the waist, put his
shoulder to her stomach and tossed her over his shoulder. Knowing he would only
growl at her and continue on his way if she objected to being carried on the
basis of her weight, she pushed her insecurity aside and grinned like an idiot
while he stomped toward his truck and tossed her inside the cab.

During the short drive to Dalton’s house, she allowed the
dangerous emotions of hope and happiness to infuse her with a sense of
confidence she couldn’t remember ever feeling. After parking his truck, Dalton
shot her a roguish wink before climbing out of the cab and rounding the hood to
open her door. The humid summer heat combined with the scent of fresh-cut grass
to give the walk from the truck to Dalton’s front door a nostalgic, dreamlike
quality.

Lucy was so lost in the moment and her tentative grasp on
her exciting new emotions that, when Dalton’s body stiffened before toppling
down onto the wooden porch in an unnatural sprawl, she stared at the anomaly as
though it were a movie playing on a screen instead of real life happening right
in front of her.

The strong body crumpled at her feet was as out of place in
the silly daydream of hope and happiness as the red feather-tipped dart
sticking out of one of Dalton’s muscled shoulders. The bright crimson feathers
on the end of the tubular dart rippled gently in the warm breeze, an obscene
middle finger to any chance Lucy might have had at a normal life.

She concentrated on the small amount of comfort she felt
watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Dalton’s chest and the knowledge he
would likely awake pissed as hell but alive. She was so focused on the body of
her lover and the tragic red feathers now adorning him, that only when she
noticed the object of her attention getting smaller, farther away, did she
realize she wasn’t a sideshow in this terrible attraction, but the main event.

Lucy was being kidnapped.

Dalton awoke to a sharp pain in his shoulder and a muffled
masculine voice demanding he do something. Whatever the owner of the voice
wanted, he could fucking forget about gaining Dalton’s compliance. Sleep. All Dalton
wanted was sleep.

Why does my head weigh a thousand pounds?

His ears felt stuffed with cotton and he ached all over,
too.

As Dalton’s senses slowly returned, he began to realize
something was wrong.

He cracked an eye open and met sunlight, which seemed to
stab a straight line to his brain, strengthening his growing headache. The last
thing he remembered was walking toward his house with Lucy, then…

A metallic whistling
POP!

Pain…

Darkness…

Lucy!

Dalton struggled to rise from his sprawl but whatever drug
had entered his system made him weak as particle board when he was accustomed
to feeling more like oak. Though it seriously pissed him off to accept help, he
allowed the owner of the masculine voice—whom he now saw was Dez—to brace his
shoulders and pull his worthless body into an undignified slump. Dez gripped
Dalton under his arms and dragged him a few feet backward across rough porch
boards before settling his back to lean against the porch railing, supporting
his unsteady upright position.

“Fuck,” he groaned, massaging the sore spot on his shoulder
where the dart Dez was currently dangling in his face had struck him.

“That about sums it up.” Dez’s voice sounded clearer this
time when he spoke. Dalton took this as a good sign.

“What the hell, man? I thought you were all on top of this
shit. Didn’t you have people watching Ross? Where the fuck is Lucy?” If he
could have stood upright, Dalton would have pounded his fist into his friend
and foreman’s face. From the start it had eaten at him to entrust Lucy’s safety
to Dez and his shady, secretive “contacts”. Equal amounts of rage and guilt
coursed through Dalton as he narrowed his eyes on the man crouched in front of
him.

A muscle jumped in Dez’s hard jaw but he held Dalton’s gaze.
“It fucking pains me to say this but no one is infallible, not even me. I don’t
know how this bastard slipped by my guys but we will find her, brother. I’ve
got backup on the way here as we speak and we
will
bring Lucy home.”

Dalton studied Dez, finding sincere concern and no small
amount of the man’s own guilt etched onto his drawn face and tense muscles. It
wasn’t the time for confrontations of this nature but Dalton’s emotions were
running high and the sedative in his veins loosened his lips. “You know Lucy’s
mine, right? You even think about her in a non-big-brother way and I will smash
your face.”

Dez swiped a hand over his sweat-damp face and chuckled
before offering Dalton a hand. “Think you can stand? We need to get some water
and caffeine in you if you’re going to help us find your girl.”

“Answer the question, asshole.”

“I get you. She’s yours.” Dez shoved his outstretched hand
closer to Dalton.

After grabbing the offered hand and lurching clumsily to his
feet, Dalton allowed Dez to lead him through his front door and into the
kitchen where he dropped his ass onto a kitchen chair with a grateful groan.

While filling a glass of water at the sink, a safe distance
from Dalton, Dez looked over his shoulder and said, “Not that I didn’t think
about it. I mean, Lucy is hot and that crazy red hair totally makes me hard.”

Dalton growled, “Dez…”

Dez walked over and placed the full glass of water on the
table in front of Dalton before continuing. “But, even if I was the kind of guy
to poach, Lucy wouldn’t have me. She loves your dumb ass.”

Suddenly realizing how dry his mouth was, Dalton grabbed the
glass and guzzled down its entire contents in one go. He slammed the empty
glass on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Good. Now,
how are we gonna get her back?”

“I—”

Dez was cut off by the sound of furious pounding on Dalton’s
porch door. He was up and gone before Dalton could push his unsteady body to
stand.

Rachel swept into the kitchen in a fit of curse words and a
halo of messy blonde hair. Dalton had never seen her so undone. Before he could
demand she take herself right back out his door, she blurted, “I know where
Lucy is.”

Dalton’s face grew hot and he contemplated strangling her.
At least if she’d been a man, he could have taken out some of his frustration
on her crazy hide. “Please tell me you had nothing to do with this, Rachel.”

“Yes. No. Not in the way you’re thinking.” She shook her
head and pleaded for understanding with her wide eyes.

“Explain. Now. I have no patience left where you’re
concerned.”

Dez backed up Dalton’s words by stepping close to Rachel and
giving her a stare so grim it had probably made grown men piss their pants.

“He told me Lucy was crazy, said she needed help.”

“Who?” Dez demanded.

With a pained look, Rachel conceded, “Ross. He said he only
wanted time alone with her to convince her to let him get her the help she
needed. I believed him. Or maybe I just wanted to.” Her gaze sought Dalton
before quickly skating to the floor. Her throat worked hard like she was
fighting back tears. “I thought if I could get her away from you, you’d come
back to me.”

“What?” Dalton yelled, slamming his fist onto the table and
making Rachel jump.

“I was wrong. I know that now,” she spoke fast. “He found
out there was a warrant out on him and lost his mind. He said he’d kill me if I
didn’t help him.”

Dalton stood, adrenaline finally trumping any drugs
remaining in his system. He prowled toward Rachel and spoke through clenched
teeth. “What have you done?”

Tears pooled on her long black lashes. “He has a gun, he
threatened to kill me and do something horrible to my brother if I didn’t help
him. I used company records at Elegance Supplied to find a place he could take
Lucy. There are a few properties with houses that were started but never
completed due to lack of funding. We keep the information on all our projects,
even the abandoned ones.”

Dalton wasn’t capable of summoning enough care for Rachel to
go easy on her. “Where. Did. He. Take. Her?” he growled, finding no enjoyment
in the way Rachel trembled at his tone but also unconcerned with her feelings.

She pulled a folded yellow post-it note from her back pocket
and handed it to him. On its crinkled surface was one line, an address. Dalton
knew the place. He shoved the paper in Dez’s hands and headed for the door. He
heard Dez giving Rachel instructions to stay put as he reached the porch.

Four people Dalton didn’t recognize pulled three motorcycles
to a stop in his narrow drive. The combined sound of the bikes caused the
boards of his porch to vibrate, the rumbling strong enough he felt it through
the soles of his boots. Dez loped down the porch steps and greeted each driver
as they shut off their engines. Dalton guessed them to be the backup Dez spoke
of, except… “While I appreciate the help,” he started as he strode to stand on
the top step, “this ain’t a double date. Your girlfriend stays here.” Dalton
addressed his order to the one man who’d pulled up with a woman on the back of
his bike.

Dalton turned at the sound of his front door clicking open,
ready to send Rachel back inside, when a
whiff!
and
thump!
sounded entirely too close to his head. Spinning back around, he first
cataloged the palm-sized blade embedded point first into the four-by-four porch
post a few inches to his right. His gaze went from the knife to the tiny woman
straddling the back of a bike in his driveway while leveling a small handgun on
him.

With the woman wearing skintight jeans and an equally
revealing tank top, Dalton couldn’t imagine where she hid those weapons. She
gave him a nod then lowered the gun.

Dez walked over and retrieved the blade from the porch post
with a grunt of effort. With the knife, Dez pointed at each person in turn. “This
is Jason, Kade, Denver and Annie. Annie’s a mute, so don’t bother asking her
any questions. I gave them the address. I’m with you in your truck. Let’s roll
out.”

Dez’s in-charge attitude grated on Dalton, but he was too
anxious to find Lucy to argue.

“You all right to drive?” Dez asked.

“Yup.” Dalton pulled his keys from his pocket and headed
toward his truck at a jog. As he jumped into the cab, the noise of three bikes
revving their engines drowned out any further talk.

* * * * *

The heat inside the unfinished McMansion had Lucy’s clothes damp
with sweat within minutes of entering the house. Ross had shoved her onto her
knees in the entryway of what would someday be a living room and, after thirty
minutes inside the Godforsaken oven of a house, Lucy’s knees were aching and
her head was swimming, no doubt from the amount of fluid she was sweating out.

She’d been in this position many times before, on her knees
at the mercy of Ross, of which he had none. There was one thing different about
this particular situation, though. This time, Lucy was different. She had no
plans to cower, apologize and meekly take a beating all the while hoping her
actions would lessen the punishment. This time, she was going to fight. She
just needed to wait for the right opportunity.

Lucy tracked Ross’ movements as he paced back and forth in
front of her, ranting and brandishing his gun to emphasize his statements like
normal people wave their hands around when they’re angry.

The smug bastard hadn’t bothered restraining her, no doubt
depending upon the years he’d committed to conditioning Lucy to fear him and
keep her from running.

“Are you listening to me, you stupid bitch?” Spittle flew
from his lips as he jabbed Lucy in the forehead with the muzzle of his handgun.

Lucy didn’t answer, didn’t have time before he was off
ranting once again, his words becoming more nonsensical the longer he went on.
She would have liked to smack the damn gun right out of his hand but the idiot
had his finger resting over the trigger and it was only a matter of luck that
he hadn’t shot her yet.

His face dripping with sweat and twisted by lunacy and rage
made the whole experience easier to bear somehow, as if the hellish heat of the
house was allowing the man’s outside to finally match his twisted inside.

Ross had the face of a cover model and the body to match,
which accounted for his ability to lull everyone he met into a false sense of
security. After all, how could evil be so lovely? No one imagines the monster
in their closet as a handsome being with perfect lips. Lips that are perfect until
threats are spat from between them. No one imagines a monster with beautiful,
long-fingered hands that are a pleasure to hold but a terror to feel wrapped
around your throat leaving matching bruises to mar your skin.

She watched, tense, waiting for her moment. Then it came.

Ross shoved the gun in his back pocket and grabbed the hem
of his shirt. Melting in the feted heat, he was going to remove his shirt and
give Lucy the chance she needed.

The tail of his shirt was lifted to reveal carved abs and
the perfect bellybutton Lucy had once adored. The sight would have given her
pause if she didn’t know a rotten, black core lay hidden beneath his perfect
surface.

When he’d pulled his shirt up to shoulder height and began
to jerk it over his head, she sprang. With legs gone numb from holding the same
position for so long, she lurched to her feet and threw herself at him, glad,
for once, for the extra weight she carried. Before he could free himself from
the confines of his half-removed shirt, Lucy rammed her shoulder into his
exposed side and heard a crunch, hoping she’d broken one or two of his ribs, as
they tumbled to the ground.

Her advantage didn’t last long before Ross freed himself
from the confines of his shirt, ripping it over his head to expose steel-blue
eyes clouded with madness and a snarl on the lips she’d at one time found
sensual.

Ross screamed a terrible howl of hatred as he drew back his
fist.

Lucy, barely managing to twist aside, felt his fist clip the
side of her jaw instead of the center of her face like he’d intended. It still
hurt like hell.

“I loved you,” he snarled, his hands forcing her flat on her
back with a punishing grip. “Did you think I’d let you go? That you could walk
away from me and let someone else have what belongs to me?”

“I don’t belong to you!” Lucy screamed.

Surprise registered on his face quickly followed by a
sinister smile. “I like this new feisty version of you. It’ll make what comes
next so much more fun.”

“Fuck you,” Lucy spat, the words ending with a grunt of pain
as Ross backhanded her. He wasn’t one to pull his punches and the strength
behind the blow snapped her head to the right, sending a bolt of pain through
her neck and down her spine.

He pressed one wide-spanning hand to the base of her throat
and began fumbling, tearing at her shorts with the other. She wasn’t going to
let this happen. Not this time. She’d had enough of being Ross’ punching bag
and fuck doll.

The sweltering heat of the house combined with their
struggling had caused their skin to become slick with sweat. The hand at the
base of her throat slid, the grip unsure. Their bodies were drenched to the
point of being slippery which, as gross as it felt, allowed Lucy the tiny bit
of leverage she needed to twist in his grasp until she was belly down. She
struggled to her knees, bucking his weight off her back. She was almost free.

Ross cursed and grabbed for her, catching her around the
knees as she tried to scramble to her feet. When her chin smacked the
unfinished floor boards, a sound like thunder filled the room and she thought
she felt the floor vibrating. Either she was having a heatstroke or the bastard
had given her one hell of a concussion and she was hallucinating.