“You fucking bit—”
He was cut off when I kicked him in the stomach, powerful enough that he fell over the leather ottoman behind him. My eyes widened when he bounced back to his feet and lunged. I hadn’t expected him to recover so quickly and barely had time to react.
His hand caught my arm. I twisted, driving my elbow back into his ribs. He grunted, staggered, then came at me again, but this time he was armed with the liquor bottle.
I slammed my palm into his nose and felt cartilage give. He roared and swung the bottle wildly. He caught my shoulder, then struck me in the head. The glass shattered, and I screamed when he drove what was left of the broken bottle into my side.
My adrenaline spiked, and my fist connected with his jaw. But it wasn’t enough to deter him. He grabbed me and had me twisted in the same lock that Grant had me in. I closed my eyes against the pain in my arm and the searing in my side. I inhaled and exhaled as I mapped out my next move.
“You just had to be fucking difficult!” Todd growled. “It didn’t have to be like this!” he yelled in my ear.
I stepped out, pivoted, planted my weight, and used the destabilizing momentum to flip him, slamming him onto the table.
He went down hard, clipping his head on the edge of the table. He collapsed to the floor, body folding wrong, eventually unmoving.
I stood there for half a second, chest heaving, staring at the man who thought he could erase my life and replace it with his sick fantasies.
I hissed, checking my injury. A shard of glass protruded from my flesh. Meticulously, I pulled out the piece of glass and dropped it to the floor. Then I turned and ran. I took the steps two at a time, lungs burning, and heart working double time trying to keep up with the frenzy.
I halted when I reached the landing. Desi stood there, holding Pete to his chest. Pete was crying, red-faced and frantic, blindly reaching out for me. Desi didn’t hesitate and shoved Pete toward me.
“Go now!”
I clutched Pete to me.
“I will hold the others off. Don’t look back. Just go!”
I didn’t argue.
I turned and ran until I was confronted with the touchpad that would grant us freedom. My slick fingers slid across the keypad as I typed the code in.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered when the indicator flashed green and the door unlocked.
The garage was massive and immaculate with polished concrete floors gleaming under recessed lighting. Luxury cars and SUVs lined the bays. I sprinted to the Range Rover Sport SVR and opened the driver’s backseat door, depositing Pete inthe back. I’d barely secured him in a seat belt when I jumped in the driver’s seat, pressed the automatic garage open button, and pushed the start button. The tires screamed as I shot out of the garage. One of Todd’s guards planted himself in front of the SUV. I didn’t brake or swerve. The tires went over him, and I floored the gas pedal, launching the SUV through the gate. I didn’t bother looking back at the carnage. I needed to put as many miles between Todd and me as possible. If he came to, he’d mobilize a team to hunt us down.
The road unfurled ahead of me as I drove like Hell itself was chasing me. I pointed the SUV toward San Antonio and kept my foot down.
I glanced in the rear-view mirror and was relieved when Pete had fallen asleep again. I blinked through tears and tightened my grip around the steering wheel until my knuckles whitened.
“We’re going home,” I said aloud, words steady despite the terror clawing at me.
I pressed my hand to my side and gulped at the blood that painted my palm.
Please, God. Let me get there in time.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Grant
My hands hadn’t stopped vibrating since I’d discovered the text messages. That had been hours ago, and the trembling persisted—more violent than before. It started as despair, then morphed into anger, and finally into uncertainty. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something.
The texts were too precise… surgical. As if someone was laying the framework. Kiyah never texted her feelings. If she had something to say, she’d say it to your face.
I thought back over the last few weeks to see if there had been a hint of reservation about pursuing our relationship. There weren’t any. She was locked in—all in, in a way that made me feel confident in us again. Kiyah was many things, but an Oscar-winning actress wasn’t one of them.
“No, no, this—she didn’t leave me,” I whispered, standing from the couch.
“Grant,” Casey said gently.
