Simon Says Die (18 page)

Pierce laughed, a harsh, hollow sound in the now empty basement. Right. Madison needed him. That's why she'd dumped him. That's why she'd lied to him more times than he could count.

He shook his head. Logan was wrong. But, unfortunately, the reverse was true. He needed Madison, or at least, he needed to make sure she was safe. It had nearly destroyed him when she went missing.

He'd survived the twenty-nine hours and thirty-two minutes that she'd been gone by refusing to let himself dwell on the terrible things that could have happened to her, by clinging to the hope that maybe Tessa was right and Madison really had run off with someone. At least that way, she would have been unhurt.

Even now, in spite of all the lies between them, all he could think about was going upstairs to reassure himself that she was really okay. Too bad his ribs hurt like hell; he could barely breathe.

He drew in several shallow, quick breaths, and hauled himself to his feet.

 

Chapter Nineteen

“I
DID NOT GO
to a motel with Damon, or anyone else.” Madison crossed her arms and sat back against the couch, glowering at Lieutenant Hamilton sitting across from her. Everyone else had left on various assignments. Hamilton was pulling the typical cop routine of asking the same questions over and over, obviously trying to trip Madison up.

The sound of footsteps had her glancing up to see Pierce coming down the stairs where he'd gone after his “meeting” with Logan in the basement. His face was paler than it had been since the day of the shooting.

In spite of the cruel way he'd acted earlier, she couldn't resist the urge to go to him. The memory of his face, twisted in pain in the photograph on the ceiling of her prison, the blood seeping through his shirt, had her desperate to see him, to touch him, to reassure herself he was okay.

She jumped up and ran to meet him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was low so it wouldn't carry to the lieutenant.

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Oh, please. Logan had a bruise coming up on the side of his face, and he was grinning like a twelve-year-old who'd just caught his first fish when he came up from the basement. I know you two had a tussle.”

The corner of Pierce's mouth tilted up. “A tussle?”

She waved her hand in the air. “A fight, whatever. Totally childish.” She stepped closer, tapping her finger against his stomach. “You shouldn't have called him. You ruined his honeymoon.”

He grabbed her hand and held it in his. “He's your brother. He had a right to know you'd been abducted.”

“So . . . you believe me now?”

His look turned tender, and his eyes filled with regret. “Yes, I'm sorry for being such a jerk. I believe you. I have no idea why, because your story has holes big enough to drive my GTO through it, but I believe you.” He reached out and pulled her to him, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

She clung to him, reveling in the feel of his arms around her, the familiar smell of soap and cologne in the fabric of his shirt. She had no idea what had caused his change in attitude so quickly, or why he was hugging her without caring that Hamilton could see them, but she wasn't going to question it. She was so relieved he was okay, and she'd needed this hug so desperately.

When he pulled back, he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead, then hauled her against his uninjured side. He pulled her along with him, nodding to Hamilton as he stopped with her beside the empty couch.

“Where's Logan?” He glanced around the room, then looked down at her expectantly.

“He's gone. He left you a note, said he had to leave fast to catch a flight to New York. Tessa drove him. Logan wanted her to fill him in on everything she and Casey had researched. He's trying to figure out what Damon is up to. For some reason he thinks going to New York will help him find out what he needs.”

He nodded. “That's where I'd start too, if I didn't have to stay here to babysit you.”

She pushed at him, trying to get him to let her go.

“Knock it off. I was teasing, and you know it.” He hauled her up against him again, as if he was reluctant to let her go.

She quit trying to pull away. It felt too good being held by him to bother fighting. After all, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

She picked up the note Logan had left on the coffee table and handed it to him as they both sat down. “He insisted on sealing it in an envelope for some reason. I have no idea why.”

He tore the envelope open and quickly read its contents, then shoved it into his pocket.

“Well?” she asked. “What did he say?”

He put his arm around her shoulders, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “He said to keep you close, so that's what I'm doing.”

Her face heated, along with the rest of her.

“Hamilton, I've been thinking about the woman in those photos at the motel,” Pierce said. “I wouldn't be surprised if she's a prostitute Damon hired to play a role.”

“I hadn't considered that angle. That's something I can investigate fairly easily. I'll put the word out on the street to check with our usual sources, see if any of the regulars fit Mrs. McKinley's physical description.”

“If there's nothing else for now, I'm taking Madison home.”

Madison's heart skipped at the word “home,” as if they were a couple and his house was her house.

Hamilton looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, Pierce. I want her close by, in case I need to ask her more questions. Can you take her to a motel here in town?”

Pierce looked at Madison.

She sighed. “All right. I'll go upstairs and pack
another
suitcase.” She stood and headed to the stairs.

“Mads?”

She nearly melted into a puddle on the first step. She clung to the bannister and turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Don't booby trap the suitcase this time. You know I'm going to search it.”

She turned away, before he could see her smile. There was more than one way to hide a gun, or two, or even three . . . and a couple of knives.

M
ADISON RAN HER
fingers across the fluffy white comforter on the queen-size bed while Pierce set her suitcase on the floor next to the closet. The bed-and-breakfast he'd chosen was one she'd always wanted to try out, but not under these circumstances.

He made a circuit of the room, checking the locks on the lone window, checking out the closet, the bathroom, then going into the adjoining bedroom and doing the same security check in his room.

When he came back, he said, “You mentioned on the drive over that you wanted me to take you back to the place where you woke up in your car. I know you want to see if you can backtrack and figure out where Damon kept you. I'm okay doing that, but it's too dark right now. We can head out first thing in the morning.”

She nodded her agreement.

He looked surprised. She couldn't blame him. She'd argued with every word of advice he'd ever given her. She sighed. Trying to control her temper, think things through, and accept his help was a lot harder than she'd thought it would be. But she was definitely going to try. The man had been through so much for her. She owed him that.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I could eat. The sandwich I grabbed at my house before we left was the first food I've had since . . . well . . . since I can remember.”

His jaw tightened, and he crossed the room to her, pulling her into his arms again. He'd hugged her several times since she'd gotten back, as if he couldn't quite believe she was here, safe.

He pulled back and looked down at her. “It's too late to catch supper downstairs. But there's a bar and grill around the corner.”

“I don't care where we go, as long as the food is hot. I'll grab my purse.”

He frowned, as if he'd just thought of something. “I'll get it.” He crossed to the side table where she'd tossed her purse when they came into the room. He opened it, sighed heavily, and took out her Glock, along with her two magazines of bullets.

She frowned. “How am I supposed to protect you if Damon finds us?”

He shook his head in exasperation. “I'm the protect
or
. You're the protect
ee
.”

She shrugged and grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “That was too easy. Hand it over.” He held out his palm.

“Hand what over?” She tried her best to look innocent.

“The gun tucked inside your coat.”

She grumbled and unzipped her jacket pocket, then slapped her other Glock onto his palm. “How did you know?”

“I didn't. I just know
you
.” He strode into his adjoining room. He returned without her guns. “Now we can go.”

“M
ADISON, WAKE UP.”

She bolted up in her bed at the sound of a voice next to her ear.

Pierce grabbed the gun she was holding and yanked it out of her hand. “Good Lord, woman. You're going to shoot someone one day.”

“That's kind of the idea.” She rubbed her eyes and stretched while he unloaded the clip from her 9mm.

“Where in the world did you hide this one? It wasn't in your suitcase. I checked.”

She shot him a glare as she reached for the bedside clock to see what time it was. “What did you do? Go through my things after I went to bed?”

“Damn straight. I didn't want to wake up with a three fifty-seven pointed in my face.”

She cursed. Damn, she'd hoped he hadn't found that one. She'd sliced the bottom panel of her suitcase and had tucked the gun inside. She shrugged, pretending she didn't care.

“I also didn't want a Colt forty-five staring me in the face.”

“Damn
it
.” She curled her hands against the sheets.

“For you to be that mad, I must have found all of your guns. Now I can rest in peace.”

She raised a brow. “ ‘Rest in peace.' Interesting choice of words.”

He gave her a warning look.

“Good grief.” She blinked at the clock, finally able to focus her bleary eyes. “It's only seven in the morning.” She plopped back down on the pillows and closed her eyes. “Why did you wake me up so early?”

“Braedon called. There's been some trouble at your house.”

Her eyes flew open. “
Again?
I swear I must be cursed. What else could possibly go wrong? Did it burn to the ground or something?”

“Or something. Get dressed. You've got twenty minutes. We'll go through a drive-thru for breakfast on the way.” He grabbed her arsenal of weapons and headed toward the adjoining door.

“Wait.” She scrambled out of bed after him.

He turned, his gaze immediately dipping down to her legs.

She belatedly remembered she was only wearing a thong and a T-shirt. Well, let him look. He'd seen it all before anyway. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Pay attention.”

“I
am
paying attention.”

“To my face, bucko. What happened at my house?”

He swallowed, hard, then dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “Your house?”

She thumped his stomach. “You said Braedon called.”

He scrubbed his hand across the stubble on his cheeks. His gaze slid back down her T-shirt again, pausing on her breasts, before sliding further south. He cursed beneath his breath and headed through the adjoining door. “Nineteen minutes.” He slammed the door shut between them.

She stomped her foot in frustration. She hated getting up early, hated being ordered around, and hated that he'd taken her guns. Well, most of them anyway. She headed into the bathroom to get ready, and to pull the plastic bag out of the toilet tank where she'd hidden her last remaining gun—a Colt .380—along with two of her favorite knives.

It was amazing what you could duct-tape inside a Wonderbra.

F
OR ONCE,
P
IERCE
didn't argue with Madison when she asked him to let her accompany him to the backyard to see what was going on. He grabbed her hand, hauled her out of his car, and tugged her after him toward the backyard.

There were just as many policemen, if not more, running around her yard and parked on the street as there had been when she'd been abducted. Then she caught sight of another vehicle, parked farther down the block.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

Pierce glanced at her, then followed her gaze. “I know,” he said. “Come on. You're not leaving my side.”

She looked away from the medical examiner's van, feeling much less enthusiastic now about seeing what Braedon's crew had found in her backyard.

As they rounded the corner, Hamilton saw them. He was standing with Tessa and a group of officers beside a hole in the ground. He frowned and hurried over.

“She shouldn't be here.”

“Where I go, she goes.”

“She doesn't come inside the yellow tape,” he said, referring to the crime-scene tape surrounding a portion of her yard, up near the house's foundation.

Pierce motioned toward Braedon, who was standing near the back fence along with his other brothers.

“Braedon, keep Madison with you guys until I finish talking to the lieutenant.”

“No problem.” Braedon smiled and held out his hand. “Morning, darlin'. Would you mind coming with me, please?”

She raised a brow and took his hand. “It's nice to see at least one of the men in your family knows how to ask, instead of giving orders.”

Pierce rolled his eyes and headed toward the crime-scene tape with Hamilton.

“L
OOKS LIKE WE
found our missing yardman.” Hamilton held a wallet between his gloved fingers and showed it to Tessa, before showing Pierce the driver's license inside.

Pierce watched the medical examiner studying the remains that had been placed onto a plastic sheet beside the hole in the ground.

“Now we know why the perp didn't want my brothers digging the foundation,” Pierce said.

“How long has the vic been dead?” Tessa asked the medical examiner.

“Too long to give you an exact time, or even date. He's been in the ground for weeks, maybe longer.”

Hamilton threw out a date. “Was he killed before or after that?”

Pierce stiffened. That was the date when Madison had moved to Savannah. “What are you doing, Lieutenant?”

“My job.”

Tessa glanced back and forth between them. “Something I should know here?”

“He died right around that time,” the medical examiner said. “Could be a week before, a week after. The insect activity should help narrow it down, but that's the best guess right now.”

Hamilton motioned toward a uniformed officer, calling him over.