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But Grace wasn’t that naive. She knew him too well. Just because Tommy wouldn’t, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stand back as Boone did whatever he needed to do to… what did he say? Persuade her.
Her stomach lurched again, and she felt her throat constrict as if she was about to vomit. She refused to fight it. Served him right if she threw up all over his stupid gown.
There was nothing in her stomach, though. Even as bile rose, burning the back of her throat, she didn’t let anything out as she gave in to her stomach’s urge to revolt.
Tommy crouched down at her side. “Grace, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He ran the flat of his hand up and down her back. “Let it out.”
Did he seriously say that to her? In between a round of body-shaking heaves, she jerked away from him. “Don’t. Touch. Me,” she gritted out.
He gave her one last stroke, proving that he could, before he pulled back and away from her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his shield come down. His handsome face went emotionless as he straightened, wiping his hands against his slacks. His hands lifted to his throat, straightening the knot in his tie. Grace forgot how much it used to bother her, watching him go from passionate lover to ice-cold businessman in the blink of an eye.
Which was the real Tommy? she wondered.
Now she knew. The entitled, obsessive bastard who would do whatever he had to, play whatever role was expected of him in order to get what he wanted… that was Tommy Mathers. It didn’t matter if he was leaving gifts for her, begging her in one voicemail while ordering her about in the next. He thought he loved her, so much that he had an innocent man executed in her name.
The aftershock hit her. She lurched again, another awful dry heave that wracked her body and had her head buried between the ruffle of the godforsaken gown before she recovered from it. She wiped the saliva from her mouth against the expensive fabric. Then, folding in on herself, recoiling as if to avoid another one of Tommy’s touches, Grace had a sinking realization.
Rick was dead. If Tommy forced her to go through marrying him, she would rather be.
I should’ve jumped when I had the chance.
She cringed, waiting for him to grab her. He never could keep his hands to himself for long; since he thought of her as his property, he always took every opportunity to touch her. When he didn’t, she got worried. Slapping at the satiny gown, hating the feel of it beneath her nose, her chin, her fingers, Grace pushed herself until she was sitting again.
Tommy had moved away from th
e Jaguar. Standing tall, his hands perched on his hips, he watched as the dark shadow of a vehicle came inching down the empty street. The driver was being careful not to go faster than a crawl. The headlights were off. It was on purpose. She was sure of it.
It had to be Boone.
He didn’t pull up too close, parking the car and killing the engine when there were more than fifteen feet separating the two vehicles. That struck Grace as strange, but on the heels of that thought was the pang at knowing that that was Rick’s truck Boone was driving.
The door flung open and the big man unfolded his body out of the truck.
She saw the gun first. In the darkness, it was hard to make out what he was holding, but from the way he was standing, legs spread, arms aimed high, she recognized it as a gun an instant before a stray moonbeam glanced of the dark metal.
“Let her go.”
That voice. That voice. She’d know that grumpy, gruff rasp anywhere.
It wasn’t possible—
How could—
“Hart.” There was pure ice in the way Tommy said Rick’s name. So cold, she felt the chill freeze her in place. Tommy shifted his stance, blocking the open door. Blocking Grace. “If you’re here, where’s Boone?”
She moved, needing to see Rick. Needing to know that he was okay. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed inside of her chest as he held the gun steadily, looking past Tommy so that his gaze was firmly on her.
“I took care of him. He thought it would be a fair fight.” He dipped his chin, a nod toward Grace. “He thought wrong.”
Because Rick believed that there was no such thing as a dirty move. You either fight fair or you fight to win. And Rick always fought to win. He must have, too, because he had the gun. He was there, not Boone, and he had the damn gun.
Tommy was unarmed. She knew that. He never carried a weapon on him. Why would he? His shadow always had enough hidden on his big frame for three men. But Boone wasn’t here. Giddy relief rushed through her. Boone wasn’t here because Rick was.
She didn’t have to save him after all. Her Marine had come to rescue her.
“This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to help Grace up and then back away. I’m taking her home with me. My boss is on the way. You can either wait for him or get out of town, I don’t give a shit. But if you come back? If you bother Grace again, I’ll finish this. You’re a businessman, eh, Mathers? You won’t get a better offer than that.”
Tommy was quiet for a moment. She slid across the leather seat, putting her weight on her bare feet, preparing to rise. She didn’t care what he said. Nothing was going to stop her from getting to Rick.
