Just Another Pretty Face (HT 459) (23 page)

"Nikki. Damn it, Nikki, where are you? Nikki,
answer me!"

He heard his name called weakly.

"Where? Nikki, where are you? Call again."

"Here," she choked out. "Here. In front of the bathroom."

He found her on her knees, trying to drag the dead weight of the unconscious Lisbeth across the floor.

"Oh, God!" he swore, and it was a prayer as much as a curse. Was Lisbeth somehow part of this nightmare, after all? "Is she alive?"

"Yes," Nikki gasped between labored breaths. "Barely. Her wrists have been slashed. I don't know if-"

"Tell me later," Pierce ordered, not really listening to what she said. He put his hands on her waist and yanked her upright. "Get out of here." He tossed her bodily toward the door. "I'll take care of Lisbeth." He bent and grabbed her forearms. They slipped out of his hands. He could feel, more than see, the blood that coated them. Nikki's words suddenly made horrible sense, but he didn't have time to be horrified now. He bent lower and hooked his hands under Lisbeth's shoulders. "Damn it," he said, when he realized Nikki had taken a hold of the girl's feet. "I told you to get out of here. Now! I'll take care of Lisbeth."

"No. I won't leave you," Nikki said stubbornly, glaring at him through smoke-induced tears. "You can't do it alone. And I won't leave you."

Knowing it was useless to argue with her, knowing, too, that she might be right, he nodded his head and hefted Lisbeth's limp upper body as Nikki lifted her legs. Together, they started toward the door of the cabana, moving like crabs, scuffling toward light and air and safety.

And Kathy was waiting for them when they got there, madness and rage in her eyes. She launched herself at Nikki like a demented virago. "You can't have him," she screeched, flailing wildly. "I won't let you have him!"

Nikki dropped Lisbeth's feet and fell back under the attack, still dizzy from the blow to the back of her head, disoriented by the smoke pouring out of the cabana, unable to do more than cover her face with her arms.

"You can't have him," Kathy ranted, clawing at Nik-ki's hair and clothes. "He's mine. He's mine. He loves
me."

Pierce quickly lowered Lisbeth to the ground and stepped over her, reaching out to grab his secretary by the arms, trying to pull her back, away from Nikki. They scrambled madly for a moment or two, the three of them doing a macabre dance in front of the burning building with the unconscious Lisbeth lying at their feet, until finally, Nikki managed to connect with a well-placed karate chop to Kathy's forearm, breaking her stranglehold. Kathy whirled away, almost too easily. Nikki made an aborted grab for her.

"Look out!" she warned Pierce. "She's got my gun!"

"He's mine," Kathy screamed, both hands wrapped around the butt of the gun as she pointed it at Nikki. Her finger was on the trigger. "He loves me, not you. He loves
me!"

"Kathy," Pierce said softly, trying to divert her attention to him. He stood tensed and ready, looking for the first opportunity to wrest the gun from her.

She glanced toward him but kept the gun pointed at Nikki.

"Kathy," he crooned softly, "look at me."

The gun wavered in her hands as she turned her head toward him.

"It was just a movie, remember?" he said softly. "We did that scene in
Beyond the Pale
together. Remember? It was just a movie."

"No. You love me," she said. "Me. Tell her."

"What do you want me to tell her?" He edged away from Lisbeth and Nikki as he spoke, his gaze holding Kathy's, trying to keep her attention focused exclusively on him now that he had it. Slowly, very slowly, he held out his hand. "Give me the gun and I'll tell her anything you want me to."

"Tell her you love
me,"
she said. "You said you did. Remember? I heard you say it." There was a note of pleading in her voice now, and the gun began to droop in her hand. "Tell her."

Pierce took another half step forward. "Give me the gun first."

His fingers had just touched the muzzle when Lisbeth groaned. Kathy started and jerked the gun upward. Pierce lunged forward in the same instant, his fingers curling around the muzzle. Nikki rushed forward, intent on throwing herself between Pierce and the bullet. The gun went off.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Nobody breathed.

"Pierce?" Nikki whispered fearfully.

"It's all right. The shot went into the ground."

And then Kathy began to sob, a heartbreaking sound of utter hopelessness.

"You said you loved me," she whimpered, crumpling to her knees as she released her hold on the Baretta. "You said it."

Pierce took the gun and handed it to Nikki, then knelt down and took the broken, sobbing woman into his arms, trying vainly to comfort her, knowing there would be no comfort at all for her for a long time to come. "It's going to be all right, Kathy," he said, stroking her hair as she lay, sobbing, against his chest.

Standing there with the gun in her hand and the sound of the approaching sirens screaming in her ears, Nikki watched the man she loved try to comfort the woman who would have killed all three of them if she'd been able, and felt her heart swell with love and pride. She'd fallen for more than just a pretty face this time.

Was that going to make it harder or easier when he walked away?

13

"LISBETH'S GOING to be just fine," Claire said. "The doctor said the cuts weren't nearly as bad as they looked. It was the blow to the head that knocked her out, not the loss of blood. He's going to keep her overnight for observation. Her aunt's with her now."

"Has somebody called her parents?" Pierce asked, looking up at his sister.

Claire nodded. "They'll be here tonight."

"I want their airline tickets paid for," Pierce said. "Hotel, meals, whatever."

Claire nodded.

"And all of Lisbeth's hospital bills."

"Already taken care of," Claire said.

"Mr. Kingston, please," the doctor admonished, looking up from the plaster cast he was applying to Pierce's leg. The leg wasn't any more broken than it had been that morning, but the hope was that a real plaster cast would make him more careful of it. "You have to hold still."

"Want me to sit on him?" Gage offered.

Pierce ignored them both. "How's Kathy?"

"She's been sedated," Claire said. "They've got her in the psychiatric ward, under twenty-four-hour guard."

Pierce frowned. "Is that necessary?"

"It's mostly to keep out the press," Claire said, "but it's also partly for her own protection. The psychiatrist on duty thinks there's a possibly she might try to commit suicide if she isn't watched. In her more lucid moments she seemed to be aware of what she tried to do."

"Which was what, exactly?" Gage asked.

"Well, apparently, she knew all about Lisbeth's background—the failed love affair and the suicide attempt. Although I'm not sure whether it was Lisbeth or Mrs. Gilmore who actually told her. Anyway, when she realized that Nikki suspected Lisbeth of writing the letters, she tried to reenforce that idea by coming up with a false note written on the same paper."

"The note she said she found by the garbage can in the kitchen, that day at lunch," Nikki said.

"Yes. And she was the one who put the blue notepad on the umbrella table with Lisbeth's schoolbooks. She also called Bender Security and rescheduled your appointment with them for later in the day so she could carry out her plan uninterrupted."

"Which was what, exactly?" Pierce asked

"We may never know exactly," Claire said, "but from what I can piece together from what the psychiatrist said, she intended to make it look as if Lisbeth finally went off the deep end and killed Nikki and then, overcome with guilt, slit her own wrists rather than face the consequences."

"What I don't understand," Pierce said, "is why she waited all this time to start writing those letters, why she didn't do it years ago when we did
Beyond the Pale.
That would make more sense, wouldn't it?"

"I asked the psychiatrist that question myself," Claire told him. "He said she's probably had a kind of crush on you since you did the movie together but it only turned obsessive after she started working for you. Appartently seeing you every day, having you smile at her, be nice to her, tease her the way you do everybody..." Claire shook her head sadly. "Given her state of mind, the psychiatrist thinks she would have misinterpreted any halfway friendly gesture on your part to mean you were in love with her."

"What's going to happen to her?" Tara asked.

"There'll be a competency hearing to determine if she's capable of understanding the charges against her."

"I'm not filing charges," Pierce said.

"No, but the state might. Or Lisbeth's parents."

"Then get her a lawyer," Pierce ordered. "She belongs in a mental institution, not a prison."

"Already done," Claire said. "I've also booked her a room in the best private psychiatric hospital in Los Angeles," she added, anticipating her brother's next order. "So she'll be well taken care of." She smiled at him. "Any other questions?"

"Just one." Pierce glared at the doctor from his half-reclining position against the upraised head of the hospital bed. "Are you finished?"

"All finished. As soon as that plaster dries a lit—"

"Everybody out, then," Pierce ordered. "All of you. Out."

Claire raised an elegant eyebrow. "Really, Pierce, don't you think you're being a little—"

"Out!"
he roared. "No, not you," he said to Nikki, grabbing her hand to keep her where she was. "You stay right here." He looked up at the others standing around the hospital bed: the doctor and nurse, Claire, Tara and Gage. "The rest of you get out."

Gage gave him a knowing grin. "Shall I close the door?" he asked politely, ushering the others out ahead of him.

Pierce gave him a regal nod. "Please."

"Well," Nikki said tartly, "that was extremely rude."

"But effective."

"You want to tell me why?"

"In a minute." He tugged on her hand. "Kiss me first."

"Pierce, this is a hos—"

He reached up, clamping his other hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her head down to his. His lips were hard and possessive, allowing absolutely no resistance. Nikki offered none. Her mouth opened on his, eagerly accepting the thrust of his tongue, avidly offering her own in return. She felt his arms close around her back in a crushing embrace and realized her own were as tightly clasped around his neck. Suddenly, she couldn't get close enough, couldn't taste enough, couldn't feel enough. She arched against him, pressing her breasts against his chest, her body pleading for what her mind hadn't even known she wanted until this very minute.

"Pierce," she moaned against his mouth, her body on fire with the need to be possessed, to physically affirm that they were alive and well and safe. "Oh, Pierce."

"I know, baby. I know. I feel the same way." He caught her hand in his and brought it down between his legs, pressing it against him, leaving no doubt as to his desire for her. "I want that inside you."

She curled her fingers around him. "I want it inside me, too," she whispered achingly, "but..."

"Gage locked it."

"What?" she murmured, distracted by the heat and hardness of him.

"The door." The words were whispered into her ear as he fumbled frantically with the buttons of her blouse. He'd never felt so clumsy in his life, never felt the need for haste so strongly before. "Gage locked it on his way out."

"Are you—" she sighed raggedly as his fingers brushed the bare skin of her belly "—sure?"

"Yes." He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and pushed it aside. "Positive," he said, and bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth.

Nikki cried out, pressing her own mouth against the top of his head to muffle the uncontrollable sounds of passion.

"...get you out of these," he murmured, reaching for the snap on her jeans.

"Yes...yes..." She breathed raggedly, lifting her hips in an effort to accommodate him as he slipped one hand down the back of her jeans to push them off. "Wait, my boots... first... I have to get my—" Her cry of passion was louder this time, jagged and sharp, as he touched the moistness between her legs. Her hands clenched on his shoulders. She began, abruptly, to pant.

"Easy," he murmured, stroking her with the tip of his finger. She was hot and slick, as soft as he was hard. "Easy."

She leaned against him for a moment, panting into his neck, her body buzzing and throbbing and tingling, on the very edge of climax. And then he thrust a finger inside her, just a tiny bit, and she exploded into a thousand pieces.

She pushed her face into his shoulder, hard, feeling the warmth of his neck against her lips, the silkiness of his hair against her cheek, and an aching, throbbing emptiness deep inside her. She pulled away from him abruptly, unable to bear it another minute. She yanked off her boots and then her jeans and panties, peeling them down her legs with frantic haste, leaving them in a pile on the floor as she climbed back onto the bed and swung one long leg over his hips.

He'd already yanked his hospital gown up and pushed his black silk briefs down, just enough to free his straining erection. He put his hands on her hips, guiding her as she sank down on him. They both groaned as if mortally wounded, neither of them caring, or even aware, of what sounds might carry beyond the locked door of the room. She lifted herself on her knees, once... twice... a third time, and then his hands spasmed on her hips hard enough to leave bruises and her head fell back and they rocketed through the universe together. The entire world could have come into the room at that moment and neither of them would have noticed, or cared, so great was their concentration on each other and the emotion ricocheting between them.

They held each other tight as they came drifting back to earth—his arms locked around the small of her back, his head nestled against her breasts; her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to his hair. They clung together until their hearts slowed to nearly normal and their breathing became more regular and the fierce panic of near loss receded to manageable levels.