The Gilded Cage (17 page)

The assassin narrowed his eyes on her, his gun still aimed at her chest. He could have killed her but he hadn’t, yet. Could she take a risk?

“Who hired you to kill Fenn?”

The man made a
tsk
ing noise and it chilled her to the bone.

“You and I both know that I can’t tell you that.” He eyed his gun thoughtfully.

“You can leave—just go—and I won’t tell anyone you were here. Leave this job behind and let it go.” She tried to bargain, but she didn’t expect this last ditch effort to make a difference.

“Unfortunately, this is personal. I’m afraid I have to send Smith a message, and you are going to help me.” He lunged for her, trapping the hand she was using to hold the gun against the bedding. Then he squeezed her wrist until she gasped and dropped her weapon.

Hayden’s scream was low and guttural, a noise ripped from her deepest nightmares as he tore her shirt open, sending buttons flying. He pinned her back on the bed and smeared a gloved hand on her bloody arm, then rubbed his blood-soaked glove over her ripped shirt.

Hayden balled her free hand into a fist and punched him in the jaw. They struggled for several more seconds, but he didn’t really attempt to do anything besides rough her up. She felt as if her heart was beating hard enough to hit her ribs and bruise them from the inside. She reared back, and then flung her head forward. Their skulls collided in a sickening crunch, momentarily stunning them both. She struggled to get out from under him, but he yanked her by the hair back to the bed, shoving her face down onto the bedding.

He used his knees to pin her down, then bound her wrists with something that bit into her flesh. Dragging her to a standing position he hauled her out of the trailer. Barely able to do more than stumble, she tripped and fell to the ground at the trailer steps. It felt like her bones shattered upon impact and she whimpered. She rolled onto her back as the man in black jumped the last step, and his boots smacked the ground by her head. She could barely move, her body exhausted from the fight.

He went back into the trailer. From her vantage point on the ground, she saw him unscrewing a gasoline can lid. After pouring it over the bottom of the trailer, he dropped the empty can and walked back out to where she still lay on the ground. Then he pulled out a matchbook and flicked it open. He took his time selecting a match, then struck it until a flame sparked.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, her eyes drawn to the flame. He was going to set fire to Fenn’s trailer.

“Leaving your lover a message.” He tossed the lit match over his shoulder into the trailer and then bent down to grab her by the arms. He dragged her through the dirt until they were far enough from the Airstream that she wouldn’t be in danger. Hayden watched as smoke billowed out from the trailer door. Something inside her shattered.

“No! Please, no…” she moaned. Fenn’s life was turning to ash before her eyes. The assassin turned his attention toward the ranch house and she threw her legs out in a desperate attempt to trip him.

“Leave them alone! Goddamn you, leave them alone!”

He glanced down at her, frowning. “Tell Smith his brother is next. If he wants to stop me, I’ll be on Long Island. I’d much rather take out both Lockwoods at once.” His dark laugh made every aching muscle in her body tense with terror.

Before she could even digest his words, he cold-cocked her with the hand holding the gun. Oblivion choked her in an instant, and she was gone.

G
reyson studied the woman he’d just struck unconscious. He didn’t enjoy hitting women; in fact, he’d only done it a handful of times in his life, and he’d never done it to kill, only to temporarily incapacitate. But he needed her out cold so that she wouldn’t know what had happened to her after she was knocked out. He scanned her body, assessing how he wanted to go about the rest of his plan, then quickly unbuttoned her jeans, tugging them down, and smeared more blood on her thighs. It was important to him to give Smith the impression she’d been assaulted.

Greyson would be the first to admit this was not his usual style—it was a bit theatrical, perhaps. However, after watching Smith interact with the woman, he was positive this was necessary. If what she’d said was true, Fenn Smith was arming himself with local protection. He needed a big threat to provoke Smith into acting recklessly. He needed an environment where Smith wouldn’t feel secure and would be completely out of his element.

Greyson skirted around the burning trailer and headed across the open field to the forest where his vehicle was parked. He had plans to finalize because he knew Smith would come after him. And it would be a bloodbath.

The smoke curled thickly and clouded the road coming up the main drive, casting a hellish feel over the usually beautiful, clear ranchland.

“What the hell?” Fenn sat forward in the Jeep Wrangler’s seat, trying to peer through the heavy gloom.

“Shit! It’s a fire!” Wes gunned the Jeep until it ripped down the road toward the ranch house. A fiery sight greeted them as they arrived. The Airstream was on fire and two figures were sprinting down the ranch house steps toward the inferno.

“Callie! Hayden!” Wes called out, his tone edged with panic and desperation as he leapt out of the still-running Jeep. “Where’s Hayden?” he demanded.

“She went to the barn because a light was still on. She took Coda with her.”

“Hayden!” Wes cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted her name again.

The flames illuminated a dark heap near the trailer. Fenn’s blood chilled in his veins, and for a second he couldn’t breathe. Then his panic was drowned by adrenaline, and he sprinted toward the body on the ground. The heat of the fire was so intense that each time he inhaled it seared his lungs, and he coughed violently.

“Help me!” he shouted.

Wes joined him, and they lifted Hayden between them and carried her farther away from the blazing trailer. Her wrists were bound and Fenn cursed as he fished his pocketknife out of his front pocket and cut the plastic ties to free her hands.

“Honey,” Fenn whispered, his voice hoarse with terror and smoke as he stretched her out on her back and placed two fingers on her throat. A faint pulse thrummed, light as a hummingbird’s wings. Sweat and dust caked her face, but didn’t hide the nasty bruise at her temple. Someone had hit his woman. Fenn wanted to howl like a wild beast until he destroyed everything around them.

“Jim! Call nine-one-one, damn it!” Wes snapped.

Jim held up the house phone. “Did it the second Callie and I saw the fire.”

Wes sagged, head hanging and shoulders slumped. “Thank you,” he said gratefully.

Fenn was barely listening. He was locked deep within himself, memories of awful nights pacing the steel cage of his mind, like feral dogs. The only thing that kept him barely under control was Hayden. He forced himself to focus on her, and his gaze swept over her prone body, taking in the blood and the ripped shirt. Her jeans were unbuttoned and pulled down to the middle of her thighs. There was more blood in wild scarlet patterns on her thighs. In the dim, uneven light of the fire, the blood seemed black and formed into streaks of tarlike thickness.

“Why is there so much blood?” Wes growled, but Fenn just shook his head as he ripped a piece of his own shirt off and cinched it around Hayden’s arm to staunch the bleeding from a wound there.

“I don’t know.”

Their gazes locked. “There’s no open wound besides her arm. It looks like maybe he…” Neither of them could say it. Had the bastard raped her?

Callie inched closer. Her innocent eyes seemed to have aged a few centuries with the weight of her worry.

“It was him, wasn’t it? The man sent to kill you,” she guessed aloud.

Fenn didn’t speak, couldn’t get any words out. Was this how Emery had felt when Sophie had been hurt? This helpless, weak feeling that left him light-headed with panic? He’d sworn to protect Hayden, yet this was the third time she’d been in danger and gotten hurt because of him.

“Maybe I should get some cold water,” Callie dashed off toward the house, leaving the men to wait and worry.

She returned quickly, putting a cool cloth to Hayden’s forehead and a glass to her lips. Fenn helped open her mouth so the water could slide down her throat. Hayden jerked and coughed hard before her eyes opened. She lay back on the grass dazed, eyes half open as she slowly studied each of their faces.

“What happened?” she asked, her brows knit together in puzzlement.

“We don’t know. Do you remember?” Fenn helped her to sit up.

Hayden’s eyes grew wide and fearful as she clutched her torn bloody shirt together and dropped her head in embarrassment.

“There was a light on in the barn…” She raised a trembling hand to her forehead and touched the nasty red knot burning there.

“What else?” Wes urged softly.

Hayden closed her eyes, wincing then her lashes flew up. “Coda! She’s trapped in the barn in one of the stalls. She was trying to protect me, but he tricked her. Then I ran…got shot.” Her voice broke, and she held out her bloody arm. “I got shot!” She showed them all, grinning goofily.

“I think she’s in shock,” Jim whispered. “Probably blood loss, head trauma, and adrenaline all knocking her sideways.”

The two other men huffed softly, like restless hounds. She’d been hurt. Someone would pay for this.

The piercing siren of an ambulance sliced through the night air and was soon joined by the blaring roar of a fire truck.

Fenn didn’t bother to watch the unfolding efforts to rescue his home; it didn’t matter. Only Hayden did. He helped the paramedics get her onto a stretcher and loaded into an ambulance. No one tried to stop him when he climbed into the vehicle with the medical crew. Wes started to head over to the ambulance.

“Wait, I’m coming too,” he said.

Hayden noticed him and shook her head. “Stay here, Wes. Callie and Jim need someone to help them.”

Her brother shook his head. “You need me to go. I have to watch out for you.”

“Wes,” Fenn caught his attention. “I’ll go with her. She’ll be safe. I promise.”

Wes hesitated for a moment, his gaze moving from Hayden to Fenn. “Are you sure?” he asked her.

“Yes. Help Callie and Jim. They need you.”

With a nod, Wes stepped back from the ambulance. “Fenn, you call me if she needs anything.”

“Understood.” Fenn slapped Wes on the shoulder and turned back to Hayden and the paramedics.

The two paramedics kept Hayden awake and talking but she didn’t say anything more about what had happened to her. When the ambulance arrived at the small hospital, Sheriff Holt and two of his deputies were already at the entrance. Fenn hopped out and quickly shook hands with the sheriff.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you tonight. Guess not. What happened?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out. When Wes and I got back to the ranch my trailer was on fire and Hayden was unconscious on the ground. We were able to rouse her and she said someone shot at her and locked my dog in the barn. How the trailer was set on fire, I don’t know.” Fenn and Holt moved out of the way of the medics as they unloaded Hayden and brought her through the sliding glass doors.

“Fenn, I’m fine. Take me home.” Hayden crossed her arms as she rolled past him on the gurney. She was pouting. If he hadn’t been so furious and worried, he might have laughed. The sheriff rested his hands on his hips, close to his gun.

“Am I right to guess this is part of the trouble following you?”

“Not sure yet,” Fenn admitted grudgingly. He didn’t like not having a plan. Being unprepared was something he tried to avoid, especially when it came to things that really mattered.

Guilt ate away at Fenn for knowing his presence now put the town in danger, and he nodded. “I think so.”

“You have any idea how you plan to handle this?”

They followed the paramedics as they wheeled Hayden into an exam room.

“I’ll need to get her statement when she’s ready.” Holt patted Fenn’s shoulder and let him go into the exam room, where a physician was waiting to close the door.

A female nurse entered the room and smiled at Hayden. “Hi, Ms. Thorne, I’m Cathy. I’ll help you change into a robe. The doctor will wait outside with Mr. Smith.”

Hayden shook her head. “I don’t need to change, and they can both stay.”

The nurse frowned. “But, the paramedics said…” She glanced at the doctor clearly confused.

The doctor looked at Hayden. “Mr. Smith, you can stay as long as it is okay with Ms. Thorne.”

Hayden reached out and latched her fingers onto his shirt.

“Leave me alone in here and you’re a dead man,” she growled, but her slightly glazed eyes made her look more tired than threatening. If she had tried to make him leave, he would have fought her to stay. She was here because of him and he owed her his protection and support.

Fenn let her tug him to sit beside her on the edge of the exam table. One set of fingers still clutched the torn, bloody shirt together.

“I guess the lady wants me to stay.”

The middle-aged doctor sighed and rolled his eyes, as though annoyed by their playful banter, but concern shadowed his face. He started his examination of Hayden and asked her to remove her shirt so he could get a look at her arm wound.

“Cause of injury is a gunshot wound correct?” The doctor asked.

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

“Hmm.” The doctor pursed his lips as he cleaned the wound and then frowned. “Looks like you’re going to need stitches. Only a couple, though. The Sheriff will need to speak to you as soon as we’re done here.”

“Stitches?” Hayden’s voice pitched an octave higher, and the blood drained from her face.

“Hey…” Fenn cupped her chin and kissed her forehead. “A few stitches aren’t bad.”

Her brow furrowed, and she licked her lips nervously. “I don’t do needles. Let’s just go, okay?” she whispered.

The doctor stared at her. “You needs stitches and from the looks of it, we might need to do a rape kit.” The doctor glanced at the nurse. “Cathy, please fetch me one of those please.”

“What?” Hayden all but screeched.

“Hayden, it looks like you were…assaulted. I think the kit’s a good idea.” He hated the way her eyes widened and brimmed with shimmering tears as she touched her unbuttoned jeans and her torn shirt. He didn’t want to see that look ever again. The fear of the unknown in her gaze churned his gut. She froze for a second, but then slowly raised her face, a true glint of clarity shining in the depths of her eyes.

“He didn’t do anything. We were fighting and he was tearing at my clothes and smearing the blood, but he didn’t
actually
hurt me.”

“But he could have after he knocked you out,” Fenn argued.

“No. I’m sure he didn’t. He kept saying it was all a message for you. To make you mad enough to act. He’s a professional, right? Raping me wouldn’t have done him any good. Plus there’s the whole DNA issue—I don’t think he planned on me being out there and he probably wouldn’t take that risk. I bet he staged this to look like an assault, hoping it would put you over the edge and you’d act rashly. He even told me where he was headed—back to Long Island. He wants you to go after him.”

“Why wouldn’t he try to kill me here?”

Hayden smiled, but it was more a cunning than joyful expression. “That was my doing. I told him you and the sheriff were bringing in backup like the state police. Lots of men, perimeter patrols—you name it. I wanted him to think the ranch will be under heavy lockdown.”

“You told him all that?” Fenn had to admit he was impressed. She’d kept her head clear and made up something that had likely saved her life and made the man run rather than sticking around to do more damage.

“Yeah.”

The doctor coughed politely. “Are you sure you don’t want the kit?”

“I’m sure.”

“Very well.” He went to the cupboards and retrieved the items he needed to stitch her wounded arm.

Hayden turned her face away, burying it in Fenn’s shoulder. She gripped his hand so hard he wondered if she wasn’t slowly breaking every one of his fingers. He needed to distract her.

“I can’t believe a few little stitches frighten you. You just took on an armed man who shot you. You are the most confusing woman I have ever met.” He ran his fingers through her hair, playing with the strands and soothing her.

“Needles and heights. Not my most favorite things in the world,” she muttered.

“So what are your favorite things?”

She sighed as though she was so tired she might collapse. He wouldn’t blame her after what she’d been through the last few days, let alone just an hour ago.

“Chocolate and marshmallow ice cream, hot sand under my feet, fireflies in the summer, you…”

He caught the last word even though it was barely a whisper. He was one of her favorite things? Something tightened in his chest and heated him with a slow-burning warmth.

Fireflies in the summer. Once upon a time he’d liked fireflies, too.

Buzzing…the pulsating glow fading, growing, fading, growing. The black bug crawling along the glass jar that held it.

The thought seemed from so long ago, more dream than memory, and buried beneath a span of years that weighed as heavy as stones upon his soul. But the more he thought about the past the less his head pained him, as though by no longer denying what had once been his mind wasn’t torn between two worlds and two lives. He pulled himself out of his deep thoughts and focused on Hayden.

“Chocolate and marshmallow ice cream? Really? I didn’t even know that existed. Are you sure you didn’t dream that up?” he teased.