Colton's Rescue Mission, page 13
For whatever reason, his words allowed her to let go and cry. She sobbed, while he kept her close, her entire body shaking with the force of her sorrow. She cried for a jumbled mix of reasons—the fallacy of her good intentions of coming here, her lost friendship with Seth and his clear deterioration. She wept because her feelings for Remy were so new and she didn’t want to give him up, not just yet.
And when he put a gentle finger under her chin and raised her tearstained face to his, she knew she wanted him to kiss her before he lowered his mouth to hers.
* * *
Watching Vanessa sleep, Remy forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply. Making passionate love had released some of the pent-up fury he’d buried deep inside himself, but he still had to figure out what to do. Seth had tried to hurt Vanessa. She could have been seriously injured or even killed.
Finally, his brother had crossed a line from which there could be no returning. Remy didn’t understand why Seth directed his anger at her rather than at him. He’d been so determined to believe that deep down Seth was a good guy that he’d failed to protect Vanessa.
This had to stop. First thing in the morning, he’d be visiting Seth and setting him straight. If he had to have Vanessa take out a restraining order against his brother, so be it. Somehow, Remy must have managed to fall asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, it was 4:00 a.m.
And someone stood at the end of his bed, watching them.
Vanessa stirred, perhaps sensing something. Remy held himself perfectly still, willing her to go back to sleep. Instead, she opened her eyes. Catching sight of Seth, she gasped.
Seth stood for one second longer, then turned without speaking a word and left.
“I’m going after him.” Remy pushed back the sheets and swung his legs out of the bed.
“Wait!” Vanessa caught at his arm. “Don’t follow him. We need to call the police. That wasn’t heartbreak I saw in Seth’s eyes. It was malice. He wants revenge.”
This time, he couldn’t even argue. Because as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
With Vanessa wavering between leaving or staying, he instructed her to keep all the doors locked. Since he hadn’t had time to get his key back from Seth, he asked her to put chairs under both the front and back doorknobs.
“Why?” she’d asked, her eyes going wide.
“Just in case. I don’t think Seth will actually try anything—but we can’t take the risk.”
She sighed, but finally agreed to do as he asked. He kissed her cheek, aching for more, and headed into the office early. As soon as he was there, he began calling all his cousins for help. Family stuck together and no matter how embarrassing the situation felt, he knew they wouldn’t judge.
If Seth turned out to be the one who’d murdered Sabrina, he wanted everyone on full alert. There was no telling who his brother might decide to hurt next.
The first person he called was his cousin Trey, the Bradford County sheriff. Since it went straight to voicemail, he had to settle for leaving a message. He didn’t worry, since he knew Trey would return his call. The sheriff took his job seriously and he was the most by-the-book man Remy had ever met.
Next he called Wyatt, asking him to put them on a conference call with Decker, Fox and Blaine. Wyatt ran the Crooked C Ranch, Fox bred quarter horses, while the other two worked at The Lodge. Blaine managed The Lodge’s extreme-sports division, something he excelled at since he was ex–Special Forces, and Decker was The Lodge’s director of operations. Both were sensible men, and although he felt slightly disloyal talking about his brother, Remy knew he needed all the reinforcements he could get.
Once all four were on the line, Remy outlined the events of the past few days. He held nothing back, including what Vanessa had found on Seth’s laptop. Once he’d finished, Fox swore. “I wasn’t going to mention this to you, but Sloane’s husband, Liam, swears it was Seth’s car that followed them back from Denver the night Sloane was almost killed.”
“Did you tell Trey?” Remy asked, his stomach twisting in knots. It was one thing to have all these suspicions about his brother and quite another to have other people come up with more.
“I did,” Fox said. “Trey’s been looking into it. He’s also learned that the person who threw a brick through Bree’s gallery was not the same man who took a shot at her. It’s possible it could have been Seth, but without proof, Trey’s hands are tied.”
Wyatt spoke next. “Phoebe found out that Seth was at the same premiere where someone threw water on her. She thinks it was him, but again since she has no concrete evidence, she didn’t want to make it an issue.”
“I have more bad news,” Decker interjected. “I’ve recently learned that some of The Lodge payroll accounts have come up short. The books were doctored. I’ve been keeping this quiet until I get a full report from my CPA, but Seth had access to them as the hotel manager.”
Remy swore.
“Now, I have no proof it’s him,” Decker cautioned. “And until I do, I won’t be pursuing criminal charges. But since you’ve brought all this other stuff up, I thought you should know.”
“I don’t usually pay attention to gossip,” Blaine chimed in. “But there’s been a lot of talk among some of the other employees about Seth and money. Again, like Decker said, there’s no proof. But I agree you should know.”
“I’ve got a call in to Trey,” Remy said. “Is he aware of this?”
“I’ve alerted him to my suspicions,” Decker replied cautiously. “That’s all they are at this point—suspicions. However, if I obtain evidence, I will be pressing charges.”
“I don’t blame you.” It was almost too much for Remy to process. His phone chimed, indicating another call.
“Trey’s calling me,” he told the others. “I’m going to have to let you go.”
Instantly, they all agreed and he clicked over. It took him a few minutes to fill in the sheriff, and some of what he mentioned Trey already knew, but he had to get it all out.
Some of his panic must have shown in his voice. Trey listened and when Remy finally wound down, he told him to take a deep breath. “How about we just go over and have a talk with Seth?” his cousin offered. “I can swing by your office and pick you up in about fifteen minutes.”
Remy agreed and ended the call. He deliberated whether or not to phone Vanessa, but in the end, decided he’d rather tell her in person. No sense in getting her all freaked out while home alone.
He went down to the lobby to watch for Trey. When the sheriff’s cruiser pulled up five minutes early, Remy hurried outside. As usual, Trey appeared competent and unruffled—Remy felt grateful since he felt like such a mess inside.
“It’s not your fault,” Trey said, once Remy had buckled himself in. “You did the best you could with that kid. No matter how this turns out, you need to know that.”
Tight-lipped, Remy didn’t even try for a fake smile, knowing the other man would see right through it.
When they got to Seth’s condo, he wasn’t home. Though Remy didn’t see his pickup truck in the parking lot, he and Trey went inside the hall and knocked, anyway.
No one answered. Just in case, Remy tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it turned easily. “It’s unlocked.”
Trey raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.
“I’m going inside,” Remy said. “Are you with me?”
“Do you honestly feel as if your brother’s life might be in danger?”
Hesitating, Remy nodded. “I do. He’s not himself. Who knows what we might find if we open the door.”
Jaw tight, Trey considered. “I don’t have a warrant,” he told him. “I’d need probable cause.”
Remy pushed open the door. What he saw just inside made him stop short, his heart in his throat. On the table just inside the door were several firearms—pistols and shotguns and AR-15s. What the actual hell?
Turning to look at Trey, Remy opened the door wide enough so his cousin could see, too. “I don’t know about the laws, but is finding a cache of weapons enough of a probable cause?”
“I’d say yes. Exigent circumstances,” Trey explained. “That means I have a reasonable belief that evidence may be destroyed in the time it would take to get a warrant.”
Once inside the condo, the sheriff called in for backup. While they waited, he meticulously photographed each weapon. “These will be bagged for evidence. Even though there hasn’t been a crime yet that we know of, we’ll need to see proof that your brother legally purchased these guns.”
Still in shock, Remy grimaced. “I’m going out on a limb and saying I’m guessing he probably did not.”
Two deputies arrived and Trey stepped aside to let them take over. “Bring them back to headquarters and we’ll store them in evidence,” he said. “Seth will have to come in and claim them if he wants them back.”
Remy could imagine how little Seth would like that. He dreaded telling Vanessa. Like him, she’d jump to the inevitable conclusion that Seth had been planning something deadly.
“We’ve got to find him quickly,” Trey said, no doubt sharing Remy’s silent speculation. “We don’t know what other firepower he might have on him or what he’s planning. It’s imperative we stop him before someone gets hurt.”
Worried, Remy dialed Vanessa. After three rings, the call went to voicemail. He left a detailed message, hoping she was all right.
Chapter 10
At the sound of the front door opening and then closing, Vanessa froze, the flow of her graceful movement interrupted. On the YouTube video she was streaming, the yoga instructor continued giving instructions in her soothing, serene voice, though Vanessa’s calmness had instantly gone right into panic mode.
She’d forgotten to wedge the chair under the doorknob as Remy had instructed. Heart pounding, she wondered if her carelessness would result in yet another unwanted, angry confrontation with Seth.
Maybe not. Hopefully not. Remy could have simply decided to surprise her at lunchtime.
“Remy?” she called out, willing him to respond. Instead, nothing but silence answered her. Tense, her stomach twisting, she looked around for something she could use as a weapon in case she needed to defend herself.
Coming up short, she wondered if she should hurry into the kitchen and grab a knife, just in case. But she’d read that more people are hurt by the weapon being used against them by their attacker, so she stayed where she was. Frozen, heart hammering in her ears, she waited for whoever, whatever, to make their move.
When nothing happened—no noise, no movement, no furious Seth jumping out to confront her—she wondered if she’d imagined the sound of the door. She’d been in a half-meditative trance, but still...
Finally realizing she needed to pause the video stream, she did that. Definitely not Remy, since he hadn’t responded to her when she’d called out his name.
Moving slowly, she went to check the door. Still locked. Which meant either she’d imagined everything, or the intruder had locked the door after gaining entrance.
What to do, what to do? Part of her shouted “run,” ordering her to head for the door as fast as she could, and get out, right now. The other, more skeptical part chastised her for letting her imagination get away with her and for overreacting.
Had she? Eying the paused yoga stream longingly, she wished she could simply return to her session, where she’d been stretching and posing and pushing herself to the max. Truth be told, all along she’d been hoping Remy would come home and surprise her. She’d actually allowed herself to daydream, in love with the idea of him walking in and watching her move her body in ways that felt both sensual and empowering.
She wavered too long, stuck between gut instinct and feeling foolish.
There. Another sound, this one barely discernible, as if someone was trying to move quietly but a misplaced foot and a random squeak of the floor betrayed them.
Damn it. The back of her neck tingled. She hadn’t been wrong—someone was in the house, and she needed to get out immediately.
She spun, nearly tripping over her own feet as she raced for the door. But before she could, Seth stepped into the foyer, between her and the door, his expression impassive.
“Seth,” she gasped, putting her hand to her throat in fright. “You startled me. What—”
His arm came up. He held a pistol pointed right at her. “Hello, Vanessa.”
Think fast. Maybe she could talk her way out of this.
“Seth.” Despite her best efforts, her voice quavered. She slid her phone into her yoga pants pocket and tried to compose her expression into something she hoped appeared neutral.
“In the flesh,” he mocked, his expression as cold as his gaze.
She swallowed hard. “Why are you here, Seth? And what are you doing with that gun?”
“What I should have done a long time ago,” he drawled, his eyes narrow as he glared at her. “Driving the karma bus straight for you.”
Part of her wanted to ask if he had taken something—some drug judging by the way his pupils looked—but she knew a less antagonistic approach would be best. For the first time she understood that the Seth she’d known and loved like a brother had vanished completely. This Seth, with the flat stare and mean twist to his mouth, was not only lost to her, but also deadly. She and Remy had known he was spiraling out of control, but they hadn’t grasped how far gone he already was.
He wanted to kill her. She shivered, trying to hide the stark terror that realization brought.
“Seth, let’s sit down and talk,” she offered, schooling her expression into one of concerned politeness. “Please. Put the gun down. There’s no reason for you to act like this.”
Sneering, he let loose a string of profanities, calling her every name in the book and some she hadn’t ever heard of. She felt each word rain on her like a blow and it took an effort not to hunch over from the pain of hearing a man she’d once considered her best friend talk to her this way.
Fear turned her blood to ice as she waited, silently, for him to finish. He hated her—the contempt and disgust in his voice was testament to that.
“I’m going to kill you,” he declared once he’d run out of expletives. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Somehow, she found her voice. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
He laughed at her and came closer, his gun still aimed directly at her.
“Would you please put that down,” she asked, her legs going weak from fear. She couldn’t help but wonder how quickly she’d die. Would it hurt? If he shot her in the head, she hoped she’d be killed instantly.
“You want me to put the gun down?” he asked, smiling a shark’s smile. “I guess you want to die in a more personal way. Maybe I should strangle you with my bare hands.”
Though she wanted to tell him she didn’t want to die at all, she couldn’t seem to push the words out of her frozen mouth.
He came closer, still smiling. Because the sight of that patently evil smile chilled her to the bone, she closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” Seth demanded. “I want you to look at me while I kill you.”
A shudder snaked up her spine. Slowly, she opened her eyes and did as he asked. He stared at her, that same malicious smile turning smug. “You deserve this,” he declared. “You know that, don’t you?”
She gave up the idea of even trying to formulate a response. There was no reasoning with him, anyway. Eying the gun and Seth’s dead, cold eyes, she decided she’d take a chance, anyway, and make a run for it. At the worst, he’d shoot her. Maybe she’d make it out. She had to try.
Taking a deep breath, she braced herself. And then Seth launched himself at her, slamming her up against the wall so hard she saw stars. With his hands around her throat—what had he done with the pistol?—he choked her, his grip tight. Painful. Deadly.
Wheezing, she fought back, primal instinct taking over. But she refused to die, craving air, needing to breathe. She brought up her knee and got a lucky shot right between his legs, and he gasped and released her, cursing, and doubled over. She squirmed away, ready to go for his eyes if need be, too panicked to try to find the gun. Sprinting for the front door, she nearly made it, but Seth caught hold of her shirt and spun her toward him. Luckily, the fabric tore.
Free again, she ran outside onto the front porch, screaming at the top of her lungs. She jumped over the stairs, intent on getting away, praying Seth wouldn’t shoot her in the back.
An elderly man came out three houses down and called to her so she ran there, letting him usher her inside and ordering him to bolt the door.
Once he’d done so, she asked him to call 911 before she broke down into a blubbering mess. Where was Seth? Would he shoot out the windows, bash down the door, come after her and kill her, anyway? She couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t talk to the police dispatcher, and finally had to hand the phone to her rescuer so he could tell them to come help her.
Still no sign of Seth. Did he know where she’d gone? At any moment, she expected him to crash through the window or the door and finish what he’d started.
She wanted Remy... She wanted her parents. She wished she’d never come to Roaring Springs. All she could do was cry while the elderly Good Samaritan awkwardly patted her shoulder and waited for the police to arrive.
Finally, she asked for a tissue and blotted her face and blew her nose. She took a deep breath, dug her phone from her pocket and dialed Remy, but the call went straight to voicemail. That’s when she saw she’d missed a call from him. When? She hadn’t even heard the phone ring.
He’d left a message. She played it back, trying to draw comfort from the steady sound of his voice, but he sounded worried. Though he didn’t say why, he’d asked her to call as soon as she could.
