Baddest Bad Boys (28 page)

Ellie covered her eyes with her hands. In the morning, she’d sign Max’s agreement, as is. That would be her apology. Mea culpa. Then she’d have her attorney work up a stock transfer in Max’s favor. That would be her wedding present.

Max deserved to own the company one hundred percent. That had never been an issue. All she’d ever wanted from Stefan’s estate was what she’d come into the marriage with: her inheritance from her grandparents and her maiden name. Those would allow her to start over, to revive her once-thriving design business. Unfortunately, she hadn’t realized her and Stefan’s financial affairs had become so entwined and complicated. Hell, she hadn’t realized a lot of things about her marriage.

Unable to sleep, Ellie sat up. The house felt warm. Her arms were damp with perspiration. Thunder rolled again, louder and more ominous. In its wake the house seemed inordinately quiet. A glance at the digital clock confirmed that the power was out.

“Great,” she mumbled. What else could go wrong tonight?

Kicking free of the tangled sheets, she piled out of bed. She snatched her robe off the chair and tugged it on over the short nightgown and headed toward the door. As long as she was up, she might as well—

A sound caught her attention. Glass breaking. Downstairs.

Instinctively, she grabbed the cordless phone from the nightstand. But without power there was no dial tone. And her cell phone was plugged into the charger downstairs.

Her thoughts flew to the creepy e-mails she’d received over the last few weeks. At first she’d dismissed them, convinced they were pranks orchestrated by an overzealous member of the paparazzi. Then she received a string of photographs of herself shopping, dining, leaving her apartment in Manhattan. The police had labeled the man a cyber-stalker. At the time, the term sounded surreal. Distant.

Right now, though, his latest message came to mind: I want to watch you dream.

“Stop it!” she hissed. If she gave in and let him scare her, he’d win. Besides, the cyber-creep had no way of knowing where she was. She’d left New York this afternoon for Boston, and had already fled there.

The house remained quiet, which encouraged her. Instead of jumping to dire conclusions, think. A storm front was moving in, remember? The wind could have blown something into the house. The fact the alarm didn’t go off was the clincher, though. The system had a battery backup.

“See? Everything’s fine.” She’d go downstairs, check things out, and maybe grab her laptop. Looping the robe’s ties, she went back to the door.

Just as her hand closed around the knob, another sound echoed. Closer, out in the hallway. There. This time the sound repeated, distinct and unmistakably identifiable. The creak of the staircase.

Someone was in the house. And headed upstairs.

Panic and terror collided in her mind, producing one thought: Get out! Screw clothes; screw shoes; just go! She crossed the room to the window and raised it.

The old, Sixties-style beach house had a narrow wooden deck that encircled most of the entire second floor. She’d climb down and run to a neighbor’s to call for help. She paused long enough to close the window. If someone came into her bedroom, she didn’t want to leave an obvious sign.

A three-quarter moon floated free of the clouds, bathing everything in an eerie blue-gray light that seemed to make her white robe glow in the dark. She shifted into the shadows beneath the overhang. A gust of wind blasted sand and grit against her bare legs as she scrambled to the far side of the house and the stairs. She plunged down them. More thunder echoed. Simultaneously, the rain started, the drops fat and heavy.

As her foot touched the ground, she saw movement in her peripheral vision. Before she could react, a hand clamped across her mouth. At the same time, a strong arm snaked around her, beneath her breasts, snapping her back against a solid male frame.

Instantly hysterical, she kicked, struggled, but her attacker had the advantage in size and strength. Fear fouled the air in her lungs as she realized there were two of them. Someone inside and another outside. The thought of what they had in mind made her feel nauseous. Rape. Murder. She had to fight, get away—

“Ellie, it’s me.”

The voice—the same husky whisper from her dreams—brought relieved tears to her eyes. Max. Her body sagged against his. What was he doing here?

“I need you to remain silent,” he breathed against her ear. “We’re not alone.” His grip tightened reassuringly now. “Nod if you understand and I’ll let you go.”

She nodded. Once he released her, she faced him. He had tugged her back into a corner. As always, she felt affected by his mere presence. The man dominated space, changed the dynamics of gravity. At six-three, he towered over her. His long, dark hair, normally tied back, was loose. Wet from the rain, it was plastered to the side of his face. In the shadowy moonlight, the gleaming scar above his eye gave him a sinister look, like a dark, avenging angel. Il Diavolo.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Is he still inside?”

She nodded and pointed. “Upstairs.”

A volley of thunder and lightning had Max glancing at the sky. He pressed a set of car keys into her palm. “Outside the gate is a black SUV. Lock yourself in. My security people are en route.”

She grabbed his forearm. “Where are you going?”

At first she didn’t think he’d answer, then he cupped her chin. “I don’t want whoever’s inside to get away.”

“But what if he’s armed? Or there’s more than one person?”

“I’ll handle it.” Dropping his arm, he stepped back. “Now, go. This storm’s going to get a lot worse.”

As if he’d commanded it, the rain intensified. Ellie took a few steps away, then turned back. She had wanted to remind Max to be careful, but he had already disappeared. Clenching the keys in her fist, she started running toward the driveway, her head bowed to keep the rain out of her eyes.

Just as she reached the gate she heard someone shout her name. She slowed, spun around. A tall figure—a man—burst out of the dark and ran straight toward her. Too late, she realized it wasn’t Max.

Terrified, she took off. The man cut across the yard and leaped out in front of her. She skidded to a stop. Even in the gloom she could make out that a black ski mask covered his face. She met his eerie gaze and in that brief moment, his teeth flashed white, his lips curving in a macabre smile.

“Not so fast, Ella-baby.” He lunged forward, his fingers brushing her shoulder.

She staggered backwards, unable to look away. Ella-baby was the nickname her cyber-stalker used.

He made another swipe for her arm. She feinted left, then immediately darted in the opposite direction, focused on getting back to the house. Rain sliced downward, stinging her skin. Barely able to see, she tore diagonally through the flower garden. She shoved a tiered stone birdbath sideways, hoping to slow him. She heard the man swear as he tripped.

She pushed ahead, increasing her lead. Where was Max? Was he still inside? Had he been injured? Her feet slipped in the mud. She flailed her arms and recovered her balance, but the momentary delay allowed her attacker to close in. This time he grabbed the back of her robe.

“Gotcha!” he snarled.

“No!” Frantic, Ellie yanked the tie at her waist. The robe slipped off her shoulders. Free, she sprinted toward the garage. There was no way she could outrun this man. She needed to hide.

Max burst from around the side of the house, nearly colliding with her. “Ellie! I’m here.”

Relief had her knees buckling. She glanced over her shoulder, unable to spot her assailant. “He’s out there!”

“I’ll handle it. Go!” Max gave her a slight shove and disappeared.

Pushing forward, Ellie rounded the side of the garage. A sharp pain shot up her left leg as something sliced into her foot. Biting back a scream, she collapsed against the house, breathing hard. She tried to put weight on her heel, but couldn’t. Whatever she’d stepped on was still there.

Jagged prongs of lightning slashed down from the sky, giving her a momentary snapshot of the scene. Her attacker was running down the long expanse of driveway with Max in pursuit. Then darkness swallowed them.

Her heart slammed in her chest. If something happened to Max—She looked around. Overhead was a small garage window. If she could get inside, maybe she could find something to use as a weapon.

She moved behind the bushes to get closer, but still couldn’t reach the window. Rainwater poured off the roof and onto her back, shockingly cold. Frustrated, she moved away. Then she heard Max shout her name. She turned back toward the drive.

“Over here,” she called, realizing he couldn’t see or hear her.

Waving her arms, she took a step and cried out. Even the lightest pressure on her injured foot sent pain up her leg.

Max was beside her in a moment. His hand closed around her upper arm, supporting her. “You’re hurt!”

“I don’t think it’s serious.” She balanced on one foot. “A cut. Did you catch him?”

“No. The bastard made it to his car and got away.”

Ellie shivered. That meant the man was still out there. Could try again. She hugged her arms in front of her.

“I got a partial plate number,” Max went on. He unbuttoned his wet shirt as he talked, then stripped it off.

She watched, distracted by his bare chest. Her mouth opened, shut. She realized he still talked, that he held out his shirt to her. She tried to cover with a joke. “That will hardly keep me dry.”

“I was more concerned with keeping you covered.” He tipped his head back toward the gate. “I told you, I’ve got security people out there.”

Ellie glanced down and for the second time that night, she felt utterly mortified. Her soaked gown had turned completely transparent. In the dim light her pale skin seemed luminescent. Cold and wet, her nipples jutted out obscenely.

She raised her arms to cover herself. Max moved closer and settled his shirt over her shoulders. Before she could speak, he swept her up into his arms, and cradled her against his chest. In spite of the rain and wind he radiated heat. She shivered, miserable and ashamed.

“Let’s get inside and get you dry,” he said. “My men will contact the police.”

Ellie shook her head. “You’ve done enough.”

“Enough? I haven’t even started.”

She bristled at his irritated tone. “I can handle this, Max.”

“Like you handled Bridgette at the penthouse? I don’t think so.”

3

The storm unleashed its fury with a triple explosion of lightning. Max crushed Ellie against his bare chest, doing everything possible to shield her as the gale-force winds turned even the tiniest bits of debris into projectiles.

His first instinct had been to take her away from here—but right now they needed shelter from the weather. He also wanted to check her foot.

He crossed the deck and used the same door the perpetrator had broken into. Shards of glass smashed beneath his shoes as he shouldered his way through the open French door. Ellie gasped, as if just realizing that this was how the man had entered.

The near-constant lightning illuminated parts of the interior of the house. Moving slowly, Max negotiated around the living room furniture and headed for the kitchen. While he hadn’t been in the house in ages, he doubted he’d ever forget the floor plan.

Ellie squirmed in his arms. “You can put me down now.”

“No.”

“Please, Max—”

He tightened his grip. Doing so cut off her argument and discouraged further conversation. And right now, the less he said, the better.

The thought of what could have happened eroded what was left of Max’s fuse—not that it had been long to begin with. He’d driven here in a foul mood, rehashing the scene with Bridgette, remembering Ellie’s note. As soon as he arrived, he’d noticed the parked car across the street, half hidden beneath trees. Something about it had pinged his radar.

He had decided to look around and spotted Ellie climbing out the window. It was a no-brainer that something had spooked her, most likely a break-in. He’d seen a flashlight beam move in the house, but the man slipped out and went after Ellie.

Damn it! What if Max hadn’t gotten here when he did? What would have happened to her? His thoughts had zeroed in on the reports of a stalker. Was it the same guy? His desire to beat the crap out of the bastard spiked.

In the kitchen, Max set Ellie on the counter beside the sink. The storm’s ferocity continued to swell. Thunder reverberated, a lethal warning of more to come. Rain hammered the glass, sounding more like metal pellets than water.

He shoved the curtains away from the large window in an attempt to let more of the strobe-like lightning fill the dark kitchen. It didn’t help.

“Flashlight?” he snapped.

“Uh…there’s a jar candle in the cabinet to your left.”