Suspicions (The Battling McGuire Boys Book 3) (8 page)

And Ava...she’d been bad. He’d told her to come to him. She should have come alone, but instead, she’d brought her brothers with her. Those two McGuire men had leapt out of the vehicle with their guns in their hands. They’d been searching so desperately near the crash scene. They’d almost—
almost!—
seen him. They’d found one of his guns. Luckily he’d been wearing gloves so there wouldn’t be any fingerprints on the weapon. They
shouldn’t
be able to trace it back to him, but...

He eased deeper into the shadows. Men were searching all around the area. But there were so many dark spots hidden beneath the trees. He’d prepared well for this night. He’d learned the area far better than anyone else. He knew how to disappear.

And I know how to bide my time.

Because he would have to wait for Mark to lower his guard once more. Then he’d attack. Mark Montgomery wasn’t going to get away from him.

As he watched, Ava reached out. Her fingers curled around Mark’s as if...as if she just had to touch him.

No, Ava, he’s not for you!

Ava had to understand. She would never be with Mark. Mark was a dead man walking. The guy just didn’t know it yet.

But you will, Mark.

Mark had never belonged there. He and that sick bastard Gregory Montgomery had no right to that land. They weren’t worthy.

He’d taken everything away from Gregory. At the end, the old fool had begged. He’d promised the world to him.

But it hadn’t mattered. He’d killed Gregory, and no one had even known. Gregory hadn’t been his first kill and wouldn’t be his last. Any people who got in his way—they would all be eliminated.

I will take what I want.

And the thing he wanted most...was Ava. Sweet, beautiful Ava. He’d already done so much for her. Did she even realize it? Did she even know?

I killed for you, Ava. And I’ll do it again and again.

* * *

T
HE
EMT
S
WERE
dragging Mark into the back of an ambulance. He was trying to stay, despite the fact that he was bleeding all over the place.

“Ava!” Mark tried to push toward her.

“Go with him,” Davis told her as he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll keep searching here.”

She moved forward, her body feeling numb. Mark’s words kept replaying in her head.
He said he’d had plans for you...ever since you were sixteen...

Nausea was rolling inside her as she climbed into the back of that ambulance. Mark finally settled down then, and he let the EMTs start checking out his body.

There was so much blood on him. Dripping from a gash on his forehead, coming from scrapes and cuts on his arm—

“Looks like a bullet grazed you here,” one of the EMTs murmured as he studied Mark’s right shoulder.

“I just need a few stitches,” Mark told him. “I’ll be fine. Check Ava—her car crashed, too! You need to make sure she’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” Ava said. “And it wasn’t my car—it was Brodie’s.” She was fine, physically. But her mind was a wreck right then. This man after her—if he’d been making plans since she was sixteen, had he been one of the men who killed her parents? Had they truly died because of her?

Her fingers were shaking. She looked out the back of the ambulance and saw Davis staring at her. His expression was hard, angry. Did he blame her, too?

Davis slammed those back doors shut. The ambulance’s siren screamed as the vehicle lurched forward.

“Sir, how many fingers am I holding up?” Ava heard the EMT ask Mark.

“Two, and get ’em out of my way.” His response was a snarl. “Ava? Ava, you’re trembling!”

And she was. She’d slid back into a corner of the ambulance, hoping to make room for the EMTs to work, but heavy tremors were running through her body. “He tried to kill you,” she whispered.

One of the EMTs turned toward her. “Ma’am? Ma’am, where do you hurt?”

In her heart...

“He was attacking you because of me.” She knew it.

Mark gave her a grim smile. “Baby, I’m a hard man to kill.”

That didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, his low words, spoken in a hard voice that she’d never heard from him before, just made her feel even worse. Because she realized right then—
I don’t know Mark nearly as well as I thought.

His blue eyes had turned cold and icy, and for a moment, she almost felt as if she were staring into the gaze of a stranger.

Chapter Six

They hadn’t found the man who’d attacked him. Mark had talked to the cops. He’d repeated his story at least four times to them.

But he hadn’t seen the man’s face. He hadn’t recognized that low, rasping voice. He knew the guy had been close to his own height and that he had been well muscled. He suspected the man was familiar with the area because he had known just where to wait for his ambush—and he’d been able to disappear so quickly. But other than that, he hadn’t been able to give the cops much information at all.

He’s a psycho and he’d obsessed with Ava.
Those had been Mark’s words to the cops. Ava had stood there, far too pale and far too tense, during the interview with the police.
He said I wouldn’t have her. That she was his.

Ava had actually flinched when he said those words.

She’d spoken very little. And when they’d left the hospital, she’d seemed to withdraw completely from him. Now he was in the vehicle with her and Davis, heading back to his ranch, and he was—what? Just supposed to leave Ava?

There were at least a few more hours before dawn. With that maniac still on the loose out there, he didn’t want to let Ava out of his sight.

She was in the front seat with Davis. She hadn’t looked back at Mark, not even once.
What is happening?

He leaned forward. “Don’t bother going to my ranch tonight. I already talked to Ty. He’ll have extra security out there.”

Now Ava did slant him a quick glance. Finally.

“Take me to Ava’s place,” he said flatly. And Davis had better not even try arguing with him. After everything that had happened, he wouldn’t be separated from her.

“You think you’re spending the night with my sister?” Davis asked him. Apparently, he
was
going to try arguing.

“I think I’m going to be your sister’s guard until dawn.” Because Ava would be scared and because—fine,
he
was the one who was scared. Scared that the man out there might attack Ava again when Mark wasn’t close. What would he do then?

“Brodie and I can watch Ava.” Davis’s voice was flat. “You need to rest.”

Right. Like he’d be able to rest with the adrenaline rush still coursing through his veins. “I let him get away,” he said. “I should have—”

“Don’t.” Ava’s voice was brittle. “Don’t even say it, do you understand?” And she turned to glare at him. “Don’t say that you should have killed him. That’s not you. That’s not what you do! You don’t kill people! You help—you save people, just like you saved me!”

Not always, Ava.

“You know I can keep her safe,” Mark said. Davis was one of the few people who knew all about his past. “Don’t you want as much protection for her as possible?”

He saw Davis give a grim nod. Good, because if Davis had taken Mark back to the Montgomery ranch, he just would have forced his way back inside the McGuire place.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. The road was pitch black. Mark kept glancing around, hyperaware now that threats could come at any time. Until that guy was caught, he knew he’d be looking over his shoulder.

And trying to keep Ava as close as possible.

Davis took them through the big gates at the McGuire ranch. The vehicle eased up the drive until they got to the guest cottage. Ava hurriedly jumped out of the car, and Davis followed her.

Mark exited, but he stood back a minute, waiting to see what went down between Ava and her brother.

“You should stay up at the main house,” Davis told Ava. “Jennifer got a room ready for you—you know you’ll be safe there.”

“I’m starting to think no one is safe...anywhere.”

Mark had to strain in order to hear her words.

“Come to the main house,” Davis said again.

But Ava shook her head. “I’m staying here with Mark.”

Yes.

Davis turned toward him. “You see anything suspicious, you call me, got it? You sound an alarm, and you get me here.”

If he saw an attack coming, Mark would be striking back with all the power that he had.

Davis paced toward him. He leaned in close. His voice no more than a breath of sound, he warned Mark, “And you keep your hands off my sister, got it?”

No, he didn’t. Mark grabbed Davis’s arm, stopping him before he could leave. Keeping his voice just as low as Davis’s had been, Mark said, “Ava’s an adult. What happens between us...it’s just between
us.
” If Ava wanted him, the last thing he’d do would be to turn away from her.

Davis could get angry. The guy could try to take a swing at Mark, but there was no way Mark was staying away from Ava. Not now.

Davis’s expression was unreadable in the darkness. But when he said, “You hurt her, and I’ll break you,” Mark understood his threat.

Then Davis was heading back to the car.

Ava had opened the door to her cottage. Mark rushed forward, not wanting her to go in alone. He caught her hand. “Let me check it out.”

“The...the alarm’s still on. The place should be safe.”

It should be, but he still wanted to check in there. Mark hurried inside and did a sweep of the guest house. The den was clear. So was the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom and—

He opened another door. The room there was mostly empty except for about a dozen canvases that had been stacked near the walls.

“No one here but us,” Ava said, her voice still sounding brittle. Sharp. Not at all like Ava. “I told you the place was safe.”

He turned to look at her, but Ava’s eyes were on the canvases. “I store them here because I don’t want anyone else to see them.” She seemed to hesitate. Then she said, “Maybe I should just throw them out.”

He’d never seen Ava’s paintings before. He didn’t think anyone had. He took a step toward those canvases.

This time, she was the one to reach out to him.

“We all have...secrets, don’t we?”

Yes.

Her gaze rose to hold his. “Who are you?”

Mark shook his head, not understanding.

“Are you the man who kept me sane all those years ago? The white knight, riding to my rescue?” She swallowed. The faint click of sound was almost painful to hear. “Or are you the guy who talks about killing a man in a way...in a way that makes me think you’d really do it? That you wouldn’t hesitate at all?”

Her fingers were so soft against his skin. Like silk. “If your life was on the line, I wouldn’t hesitate.” He would do anything for her.

Who are you?

“I’m both men.” Good and bad tangled together.

Ava was so close to him. Her gaze searched his. “Should I be afraid of you?”

He shook his head. “I won’t hurt you.” It was a vow he’d made to himself long ago.

“Can I trust you?”

There were things she didn’t know, but when it came to her safety... “Yes.”

Ava glanced back toward the canvases. He couldn’t see what she’d painted on them, and he wanted to stride forward.

But he also wanted her to keep touching him.

“You told the police that the man who attacked you said I was his.”

His back teeth clenched. “Yes.”

“What do you think he’ll do...to me?”

If he had the chance... The image flashed in Mark’s mind, and rage burned inside him.

“That’s what I think, too,” Ava said, seeming to read Mark’s thoughts. “Why? Why does he want to hurt me? I don’t even know him.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Because he’s sick, Ava. You didn’t do anything. It’s this guy. He’s just—”

“If he started making plans when I was sixteen, then do you think... Was he one of the men who killed my parents?”

Mark was afraid that he just might be.

“Why?” Her head titled back as she stared up at him. “Why is he doing this? Why is he focusing on me?”

“I don’t know.” He wished he had words to comfort her.

Her gaze slid over his face, then up to his forehead. The docs had put in a few stitches there, and they’d stitched up his shoulder. The wounds didn’t hurt him. He’d had much worse before, courtesy of Gregory and the life he’d led after leaving the ranch.

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “The people I care about always seem to get hurt because of me.”

Her scent teased him. Strawberries. Ava.

He closed his eyes as he just drank her in for a moment.

“I’ll...get some covers for you. You can sleep on the couch. Or, I mean, if you want, you can take the bed.”

He opened his eyes.

“You’re the one who was hurt,” she whispered. “I can easily bunk on the couch while you take the bed.”

He’d rather be in that bed with her.

“I heard the doctors...” She exhaled softly. “They said you might have a concussion. Is it even safe for you to sleep—”

“I’m not planning to sleep.” Too much adrenaline pumped through him. He wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. “And you...you take the bed, Ava. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

She nodded and slipped from the room. Her soft footsteps padded away.

He stared at the stack of canvases. Ava had made those, and because they were hers...part of Ava...he found himself striding across that room. He wondered what she would paint. When she’d been in her early teens, she’d always taken a sketchbook around the ranch with her. He’d found the sketchbook once. It had been filled with drawings of her horse, her brothers. Even...
Me.

He’d been blown away by her work. It was so beautiful and detailed for someone so young. What would her work be like now?

He picked up the first canvas.

Mark sucked in a sharp breath.

Her work...it was still beautiful. But it was dark. She wasn’t sketching anything anymore. Not painting horses or people. The art was abstract. Angry reds and turbulent grays. He picked up more canvases, going through them, seeing the same emotions jumping out at him again and again.

Rage.

Pain.

They were twisted together in her paintings, so strong he could feel the emotions battering at him as he gazed at her work. So strong that—

The last canvas was a painting of a man. Ava’s father. He was staring back from that canvas, his eyes filled with fear even as his face was twisted with rage.

The floor creaked. Mark’s head snapped up. Ava stood in the doorway. She had a pillow and a blanket in her arms. She gazed at him, her eyes wide. Hurt.

“Ava—”

“Not so beautiful anymore, are they?”

He didn’t speak. The paintings
were
beautiful. In a dark and almost unearthly way.

“You told me once that my sketches were beautiful.”

He put down the last canvas and took a step toward her.

“When I pick up a brush now, it’s all so...rough.” She gave a hard shake of her head. “It was supposed to be therapeutic, doing that. At least, that’s what I read in one of those crazy self-help books. ‘Paint your emotions.’ But I guess I didn’t realize my emotions were so violent.”

Because there was violence in her work.

“I...want them to pay.”

He took another step toward her.

“I want the men who killed my parents to suffer. I want them to hurt, just like I hurt.” Her voice dropped. “My brothers want to shut me out and hunt these men on their own, but...it’s about me. Don’t they get that? I was there. My father’s last moments—he was staring right at me.”

With fear in his eyes and rage on his face.

“I won’t be shut out.” Her laughter held a desperate edge. “Especially since I know they died because of me.” She pushed the pillow and the blanket into his arms. Then she spun on her heel.

“It wasn’t because of you.” He wanted to be clear on that.

She looked back over her shoulder. “But that man tonight—”

“If he was involved, that has nothing to do with you. You didn’t ask him to kill your parents.”

Ava flinched. That
had
been one of the vicious rumors circulated about her. That she’d hired men to kill her parents. That they hadn’t approved of her secret lover and she’d had them killed. How else had she escaped that night? Ava must have been involved. At least, that was what the gossip said.

He’d hated those stories. Every time he’d heard those tales, he’d jumped to Ava’s defense. And when a few fools in a bar had been dumb enough to mouth off about Ava and her parents, Mark had started a bar fight that wound up costing him over five thousand dollars in repair fees. He’d torn that place down because those drunks had been raging about her.

They didn’t even know her. Ava would never do something like that.

Because Ava... She was one of the few good things left in the world. In
his
world, he sometimes thought she might be the only good thing left.

“You didn’t do this,” he said again, because he wanted Ava to believe that.

“I want to give them justice. Sometimes I think if I can just get them justice—” her smile was bittersweet “—maybe I’ll be able to sleep without them haunting me.”

Then Ava slipped away.

* * *

A
VA
LAY
IN
BED
and stared up at the ceiling. Mark was just outside the bedroom. She’d heard him getting settled for the night. Moving quietly, but the creaking floor had given him away.

Now there was only silence from the den.

She’d been so afraid earlier. So terrified that she wouldn’t get to him in time.

Her fingers curled around the sheets. Mark could have died that night. And what would her life have been like then?

You have to keep going.
Davis had told her that after they’d buried their parents.
We can’t crawl into the ground with them. You think they’d want that? No, they’d want you to live and to be happy.

She pushed aside the covers. She’d changed into a pair of loose shorts and a T-shirt before she’d climbed into bed.

If Mark had been killed, everyone would have expected her to soldier on.

They wouldn’t have realized that her heart had been cut out of her chest.

What am I waiting for?

Ava crept toward her bedroom door. The sound of her breathing seemed far too loud to her. Her fingers touched the doorknob. She turned it and the door opened with a little squeak.