The Temptation Trap, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (7 page)

H
arper’s footsteps
echoed down the hall, and I heard the front door open. An unfamiliar male voice said, “Sorry to bother you, Sir, but we received a report of a disturbance. A neighbor called and said they heard a woman scream. I apologize for interrupting your evening, but I'm going to have to take a look around."

"I appreciate you coming so quickly," Harper said, his tone polite yet not inviting. "But I'm afraid I can't allow you in without a warrant." At the word
warrant
, my heart leaped. Was that the police?

"Actually, Sir,” the new voice went on, “While in most cases that might be true in this one I have probable cause to search without a warrant considering one of your neighbors specifically said they heard a woman scream. You’re welcome to call your attorney while I search."

“I’ll call my attorney right now," Harper blustered, and even in my own state of terror I heard the fear beneath his words. “You're not coming in my house without my attorney here and without a warrant."

“Sir, as I said, you're welcome to call your attorney. But in the meantime, I'm checking out your residence. If I have to arrest you for interfering with a police investigation, I will. But I don't see why this has to get that difficult. Unless a woman really did scream?"

My brain finally clicked into gear. My mouth was taped shut and the front door was down a long hallway from the office, but I could try to make some kind of sound to draw the officer’s attention. I started rocking the chair back and forth, screaming through my nose as loudly as I could. The noise was deafening inside my head, but I couldn't be sure how much of it was actually getting out through the tape.

I rocked harder in the chair, throwing my weight from side to side, not caring that I’d hurt myself even worse if I managed to knock it over. William Harper's office was decorated as a man's domain, and the furniture was both bulky and heavy. Rocking side to side wasn't throwing the chair off balance enough to tip it over.

I did the second best thing and tried to throw my weight backwards. The chair was as top-heavy as it was wide. Rocking back to raise the front just a few inches was enough to send the chair careening backward to the floor, the impact driving the air from my lungs.

"Did you hear that?" the police officer's voice said. Harper remained silent. "Sir, I'm going to have to insist that you stand aside. If you don’t, I'll arrest you right now, but I
will
investigate that sound."

I stayed very still on the floor, securely tied to the chair, which had tipped backward but hadn't broken. Wriggling in my bonds, I realized the chair wasn't even slightly damaged, and I was still securely tied. I couldn't hear if Harper gave a response to the officers ultimatum, but a scuffle in the hallway indicated that he hadn’t done as he was told. A few moments later, both sets of footsteps came back down towards the office, growing louder as they neared the door.

My heart sang at the sight of William Harper in handcuffs. Let’s see how he liked it. He was escorted back into his office by a police officer, complete with a crisp navy blue uniform and a shiny badge pinned to his chest.

The officer was tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His eyes met mine as he entered the room, and I got the feeling he knew exactly who I was. His sea-green gaze communicated reassurance and comfort.

The tightness in my chest relaxed a fraction. I wouldn't relax completely until I was far away from Harper’s house. But I’d just about given up any hope of rescue, and this police officer was every Christmas present I’d ever wanted rolled into one.

His eyes narrowed as he took in my injuries, then he quirked a grin that softened his austerely handsome face, rounding his bladed cheekbones and making his well-formed lips even more attractive. After the debacle with Adam, I was swearing off men for the rest of my life. But that said, I’d have to be blind not to notice that my rescuer was hot.

His lips still twisted into a half smile, he looked from Harper to me and said, "I can see why you didn't want to let me in." His eyes on mine, he went on, “If you would like to leave, nod your head."

I nodded my head, hard, despite the pain it sent through my face and skull. Knocking over my chair had drawn the officer's attention, but it hadn't done my headache any good. The officer directed his eyes back to Harper. "It looks like this young woman doesn't want to be restrained in your home. Are you responsible for her condition?"

"No! No, she was like that when she got here. It's not what you think, officer! She attacked me. I just tied her up for my own safety."

"You're going to have to try another story, Sir.” His
Sir
dripped with irony, and Harper bristled at the lack of respect.

“Do you have any idea who I am? You can't just bust in here –" The officer gave him a shove, sending him reeling towards the couch on the other side of the room.

"If you know what's good for you, you will sit there and shut up. I do know who you are, and I don't care. You have a woman in your home who has been beaten and is tied up. She's indicated that she does not want to be here. You’ve got a whole lot of problems right now, and I suggest you don't make this any harder on yourself."

"I want to call my attorney," Harper shouted, but he sat on the couch. He was an asshole, but he wasn't entirely stupid. The officer knelt beside me and pulled the heavy chair upright.

As he did, he whispered in my ear, "I'm going to get you out of here. We’re safe, no one is going to hurt you. But when I ask, say you don't want to press charges. Understand?"

I gave a slight nod to indicate that I understood. I didn't know who this guy was, and what he'd said gave me the impression he wasn't a police officer. Wouldn’t a police officer want me to press charges? But he’d said I was safe, and that he was getting me out of here. That was enough for me.

He wasn't Harper's man, and he didn't work for Tsepov, because Tsepov didn't need any subterfuge to take me from Harper. Maybe he was with Agent Tierney. I didn't know. But I wasn't going to second-guess someone who was trying to rescue me. Whatever he wanted me to do to help him get me out of here, I would do it.

The chair settled back into its upright position. The officer made quick work of the rope and released the handcuffs, sliding them in his pocket. I hope he didn't plan to get them out again later. Gently, he peeled the duct tape from my mouth, careful not to bump my nose or my cheek. Helping me to my feet, he said, “Miss, would you like to press charges against this man?"

I shook my head and said, “No, I just want to go home."

"Then I guess you got lucky tonight,” he said to Harper. “If the lady doesn't want to press charges, I can't take you in for this. For all I know she tripped and fell into a doorframe and then asked you to tie her up.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. Harper nodded along with him but was smart enough not to verbally agree.

“Since the lady just wants to go home, I'll take her off your hands."

My rescuer steered me out of the office and into the hallway. At the sight of the front door, my heart pounded in my chest. So close to freedom. From behind me, I heard Harper cry out, “What about me? You can't just leave me here in handcuffs!"

The officer stopped beside me and said, “Can you lean against the wall for just a minute?" I nodded. He disappeared back into the office and I heard rustling, a grunt, and Harper say,

“What are you doing, you can't do this." Then more muffled shuffling and grunting. Less than a minute later, the officer was back, a wide grin stretched across his face. Gently, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, supporting my weight as he led me toward the front door.

"What did you do with him?" I asked quietly. He gave a chuckle and said, "I took my cuffs back and tied him to the chair he had you in with the rope he used on you. And I duct taped his mouth shut. I’m sure someone will find him and let him go. Eventually.”

I didn't know who this guy was. Maybe I was just making things worse for myself by leaving with him. But after finding out he’d tied William Harper to that chair and duct taped his mouth shut? I was willing to follow him anywhere.

I didn't speak again until we were out of the house. A big black SUV, identical to the one Adam had been driving, was parked in the driveway in front of the house. The officer led me to the vehicle, opened the passenger door, and helped me inside, saying, "Buckle up, and I'll get you out of here."

I did, fastening my seatbelt and letting my head fall back in relief. He rounded the car and was in the driver’s seat a moment later, starting the vehicle with quick efficiency. He shot a sideways glance at my face and said, “We’ll get you cleaned up in a few minutes. I heard his phone call, and I want to get you out of here before Tsepov's men show up."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "Are you going to tell me who you are?" I asked, suspecting he'd refuse. He surprised me and answered immediately.

"Griffen Sawyer, ma'am," he said in an affected drawl that made me smile.

"And that's your real name?" I asked. Based on everything I'd learned that night, I’d realized there was a difference between the name a person gave you and what their name actually was, Adam case in point. I knew Adam's real name was Sinclair and not Stewart. I still had no idea if his first name was really Adam. I wondered if I would ever find out. Beside me, Griffen Sawyer laughed.

"You're a quick learner," he said, with a smile. "Yes ma'am, my real name is Griffen Sawyer. At least according to my mama and the United States government."

Relief washed through me at the mention of the government. He must be with the FBI. Still, it seemed smart to ask. I’d trusted him enough to get me out of Harper's house, but that didn't mean I could trust everything he said. And it wasn't smart to make assumptions. I'd made enough of those; It had gotten me into this mess in the first place.

"Are you with the FBI?" I asked, afraid of what his answer would be. Giving credence to my fear, he slanted me another sideways look and gave a short shake of his head.

"No, I'm not," he said dropping the drawl and the amusement. "I didn't get all the details, but I know enough about what happened to you tonight. I understand that you'd be smart not to trust anyone you don't know. And probably half the people you do know."

"Are you going to tell me who you are? And why you helped me back there ?”

“It's not my job to give you explanations," he said. "I'm sorry about that since I know an explanation, the truth, would make you feel a lot better right now. My job is to get you someplace safe."

"And if you’re not willing to tell me who you are, or what's going on, then why should I go with you?" I asked, annoyed that I was being asked to trust someone I didn't know. Yes, he’d helped me. And yes, he seemed trustworthy. But my judgment hadn’t proved spectacular of late. Just because he was funny, and seemed friendly, didn't mean a god-damned thing.

"I'm not cleared to tell you anything,” he repeated. “My job was to get you out in one piece. It was also to get the laptop but I didn't see that anywhere, and I didn't want to blow my cover by asking." He raised an eyebrow at me, inviting an explanation. I didn't think there was any point in not telling him.

"Harper locked it in his safe,” I said. He shrugged.

"It's the FBI that wants the laptop. My orders were only to get it if it was easy and available. My mission was you."

"And why was I your mission?" I tried again. A second head shake and he smiled, giving me another look, this one clearly amused.

“He said you were sharp. But I can see you’ve taken a few shots to the head. I'd like to make this easier for you, but frankly, I've stepped right into the middle of this mess, and I think the less said, the better, until we get where we're going, and we can straighten all this out.

"But here's the thing,” he went on. “You don't know me. I can tell you I'm not working with Harper or the mob. I can tell you I just want to get you somewhere safe, somewhere you can get your bearings, and can figure out where to go from here. I can tell you all of that, and you have no reason to believe me.

“But what are your other options? If you're as smart as he says you are, you'll know jumping out of my car and running away is only going to leave you vulnerable to the bad guys. If you're loose out there without protection, Harper or Tsepov will pick you up. If they get you a second time, they won't make a mistake. Harper’s an entitled ass, but I'm not from Vegas and even I know about Tsepov. You don't want to get mixed up with him. If he takes you, it's going to be a hell of a lot harder for us to get you back.

“I know you're not much of a gambler, but take one more risk and give me some time. I'm going to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you'll get explanations for everything that's been going on. If you don't like those explanations, if you can't live with them, I'll bring you somewhere else and help you.”

He took his eyes off the road, fixed them on me, and said, “I promise.”

My judgment hadn't been great lately, but I believed him.

“So when we get where we’re going, if I say I don't want to be there, you'll take me somewhere else? Somewhere safe?" I asked.

"I will,” he said. “But you have to give it a few hours. You have to give him a chance to explain. This whole case has been a disaster, and you got the worst of it, no question. But I have to tell you, he doesn't make mistakes, and this one is killing him."

I didn't like the way that sounded. Who was
he
? I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly who Griffen was talking about. If I did, I wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing. No that wasn't true, I wanted to fly him to the top of a volcano and drop him in just before it erupted. That wasn't nothing.

I did
not
want to talk to him, or hear his explanations. But I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe he wasn't talking about Adam Stewart a.k.a. Somebody Sinclair.

Maybe there was another player in this whole disaster of an investigation, one I hadn't heard of yet. It was possible since it seemed I had no idea what had been going on this whole time.