And what came out made my stomach turn.
Jonathan inherited his father’s business and burned through the money with a coke habit. He’d started running drugs through the operation, and for a while it worked—until greed pushed him into deeper waters he couldn’t swim in. When the walls started closing in, he needed a bailout.
Lord Greville wanted a wife and an heir. Jonathan had a sister. Done deal.
He told Cassidy it was for their mother’s cancer treatment, that when she was well again, she could divorce him and be free.
But that was never his plan. He intended to let the house go, sell the horses, and pocket the cash. The payout from Grevillewould line his own pockets. Once Cassidy was gone, he would have walked away from his mother without a second thought, leaving her to spend whatever time she had left alone in a hospital bed.
Greville would own the Hayes’ enterprise and run whatever the fuck he is into through it.
My phone buzzes with more information about Greville from my senior engineer. He’s got a lot. Drugs. Strip clubs. Entertains the scum of the world so his property is a fortress and has round the clock security.
I’ve heard enough from this piece of shit, and I want my girl.
I look at Ben. “Keep him tied up. I’m going to get her.”
Ben moves toward Jonathan with a slow, deliberate stride, like he’s approaching a dangerous stallion. He hooks his tool beneath Jonathan’s chin, applying just enough pressure to lift his head. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “And if she’s hurt, boy, you won’t die quick.”
I find a rag on the workbench, soak it in the bucket, and scrub the blood from my hands and arms before pulling my phone again.May need a few more guys,I text Lucian, attaching everything we’ve gathered on Greville.
His reply is immediate:
LUCIAN: I’ll tell my guy to hold and we’ll regroup.
JAXON: She can’t get hurt.
LUCIAN: We’ll get her out of there.
I pocket my phone and head for the barn doors, feeling sharp gratitude for having a friend like Lucian Vale in my corner. I’ve just pulled them closed when a piercing shriek cuts through the air.
Shanae bursts out onto the porch, panic written across every line of her face?—
“It’s Lilly,” Shanae gasps, her voice breaking. “She tried to go to the bathroom on her own and fell—hit her head on the sink. She’s hurt bad. She’s not… she’s not responding.”
I’m already running and take the porch steps two at a time before I even process what she said.
I bolt up the staircase, my feet pounding the same path I ran a thousand times as a kid, straight to Cassidy’s mom’s bedroom where I’d never been allowed in but always knew.
She’s there, sprawled on the cold tile of the ensuite bathroom, her skin pale as porcelain, a dark pool of blood blooming around her.
“Call an ambulance,” I snap.
“I already did,” Shanae says, her voice shaking so hard the words almost don’t make it out. “If she dies while Cassidy is gone?—”
“She’s not going to die.”
I kneel beside her just in time to hear the faintest moan. Her head shifts toward me, and I finally breathe for the first time since I heard the scream.
“I’m cold,” she whispers.
Against every rule in my head about head injuries, I slide my arms under her and lift. She’s so light and I can feel her trembling. “We’ll take you outside, wait for the ambulance.”
But the ambulance doesn’t come.
Shanae’s pacing, phone clutched tight to her ear. “There was an accident,” she says, eyes wide with panic. “Multiple fatalities and all services are being rerouted, They’ll send someone when they can.”
I look toward the drive, cursing under my breath. My bike’s useless for this. But Shanae’s SUV is parked by the fence.
