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Colt burst into his mom’s bedroom. She screamed. He flipped on the light. She was sitting in her huge bed, one hand behind her, supporting her, the other coming up to rip a leopard-print eye mask away.
“Good God, Colt! What the hell are you doing?”
The security guard, who was running behind him, slammed into him, then thrust him aside, leveling his gun and sweeping it across the room. His mom shrieked again, and Colt tried to squeeze past the guard, who put an arm out to stop him.
“Mom! Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes,” she said breathily. Leaving the mask on her forehead, which pressed her hair up oddly, she scanned the room herself, panting and bringing a hand over her heart. “What is going on?”
“No one’s here,” the guard said, disgruntled. “I told you no one got by me.” He turned and left.
Colt made his way into the room, casting his gaze around briefly before checking on his mom. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m sure I’m okay,” she snapped. “Besides the heart attack you almost gave me.” Her breathing was still erratic. “What the hell were you thinking?”
A new fear began to grow. “You didn’t call me?”
“No.” She looked around. “It’s the middle of the night. Why would I call you? What time is it?”
Colt’s thudding heart took off again. “Oh, shit. Melody.”
“Where’s my phone?”
He whirled around and took off.
“Melody? What does she have to do with this?”
Colt could hear his mom knocking things around on her bedside table.
“Where’s my damn phone?”
The sound of her voice became fainter. He pulled his phone out of his jean’s pocket as he passed the guard.
“What the hell are you doing now?”
He slowed enough to find her name and jab at the button. The guard was on his heels when he hit the top of the stairs. Colt skittered down them as the phone connected, but no one answered. A beep sounded above the ringtone. He stopped halfway along the curving staircase, pulled the phone away, and glanced at the screen.
Edward?
He hit the button to pick up his line, gasping for air. It was a video call, but it wasn’t Edward.
“Well, hello, gorgeous.”
“Gabriella?”
“The one and only,” she effused. “Hey, guess what?” She reached toward the camera, and the shot direction flipped.
He saw a desk in disarray. Then the camera moved up, and his heart stopped. Even though her hair was in front of her face, her chin on her chest, Colt recognized Melody.
“Oh, my God.”
“Yep,” Gabriella said merrily. “We’re all hanging out together at R&J. R and J, Colt. Remember? Justani?”
Why would she say that? Of course he remembered.
Melody wasn’t moving. A man’s leg was in the shot to her left. He shifted, and a hand grabbed her hair and wrenched her neck back.
“Oh, shit.”
Blood was gushing out of a cut above, and to the left of her left eye. It was in her hair. Her cheek was red and swollen. He blinked away tears.
The security guard was spying over his shoulder. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Gabriella announced blithely. “She got her head bashed in a tiny bit, but she’s still alive.”
The camera’s direction switched back to her. She was admiring her image and adjusting her hair. “For the moment, that is.” She stared straight into the camera. “You’ve got a choice. Save your girlfriend here, or save R&J.”
She started moving. “A bomb was placed in the studio where we killed your father—”
We? Wait, she killed Dad?
“—that will blow up the building. Go straight there, clip the white wire with the tool we left, and R&J remains intact. Good thing, too, because you have no insurance as of a month ago.”
She crouched by Mel’s chair. “Melody, however...” She created a gun with her thumb and pointer finger, resting the finger against Melody’s bloodied temple. “...ends up with a bullet in her brain.” She pouted. “Bummer.”
She straightened and moved around the desk again. “Save Melody, and the instant you set foot outside of the building, we blow the place to bits by remote control.”
Who the hell is the ‘we’ she’s talking about? Who is she working with?
“Either way’s okay with us, because we’ll be winging our way to...” she smirked “...an undisclosed destination, knowing you’re miserable.” She stopped and raised the phone so Colt could see behind her. Beside Melody stood her partner. His brother, Edward.
Son of a bitch.
“Damn. That’s cold,” his companion commented.
Colt continued down the stairs.
“Ty had to pay for what he did to my father. True, he found out about our plans to steal the company out from under him, so we had to speed up our timeline a little. Then you come along and prove to be way more resourceful than we thought you would be. Congratulations on that, by the way.” She brought the phone in for a close-up shot. “Now it’s time for you to pay, too. Because you screwed up our financial plans, and because I’m a mean, vindictive bitch, and I don’t like the fact you broke up with me.” Her lips quirked. “You have until midnight to make your decision, or the whole place blows with Melody in it. If any cops arrive, the same holds true. You’ll be on camera, so smile pretty for me, lover boy.”
She leveled her voice, now eerily like ice. “So you have a choice. Melody, or R&J. Midnight, Colt. The clock is ticking.”
She ended the call. He checked the time. He had nineteen minutes. It usually took ten to get to the office. There was time.
Colt broke into a run. Luckily, he’d left his car practically at the door, thinking his mom was in trouble. He started the engine and squealed out of there. Once he hit the six-lane road east of the estate, he became strangely calm. He churned over all he learned in his mind.
Of course it was Edward. That explained why she had his phone.
Steering around a car, he hoped against hope no cops were out. Should he slow up? He swerved around another car. What the hell were all of these people doing out here anyway? He ground his teeth.
Probably getting milk. Getting milk while I’m trying to keep my friggin’ brother from killing the woman I love.
The thought made his panic return. A choice. There was no choice. He never wanted the company in the first place. He had only gone along with the will to make his dad proud. Then he’d discovered that his dad had been proud of him all along.
Melody told me that.
He blinked to fight off tears. He couldn’t think of her. He had to focus on driving. He had to get there. He sniffed.
Gabriella and Edward. Shit. I wonder how long they’ve been working together. And...are they in a relationship, or was it only a financial thing?
“Shit.” He banged his hand on the steering wheel. Gabriella and Edward. G-A-B-B-E-E-D. Gabbi and Ed. “That’s what you were trying to tell me, Dad.” What an idiot.
He came upon a section of road where the cars in all three lanes were even and going the same speed so he couldn’t pass anyone.
“Come on. Come on.”
He got to an empty turn lane, swerved into it, gunned the engine, and got back over with barely enough room. Horns blared. He closed his eyes for a second then pushed the Jaguar even harder. He spotted the building. She was there. He screamed into the parking lot, screeched to a shuddering stop behind her car, threw it into neutral and yanked up the parking brake. The engine clunked. He jumped out, leaving the door open and car running. He jumped up the stairs and yanked on the door, about ripping his arm out of the socket when he discovered it was locked.
“God.”
He jumped the entire staircase and ripped the keys from the Jag’s ignition.
He cursed as he went through his keys on the doorstep. How many friggin’ keys did he have? His hands were shaking. Which one?
Calm down. Calm down. You’ve got to calm down.
He took a breath, studied the keys, and chose one. It didn’t fit. The next fit, but wouldn’t twist. He cursed internally, then discovered the right one, exhaling as the key spun the lock.
What are they doing to her? Is she still bleeding?
He didn’t even consider the elevator. It was way too slow. As he climbed the eight flights of stairs, he formulated a plan. They had at least one gun. He had nothing. They knew he was coming up the stairs if they had cameras. But how many cameras could they have? It didn’t really matter. Once he opened the doorway and stepped out on the eighth floor, he was a sitting duck.
I need a plan. I can’t help her if I’m dead. I can’t be stupid. Too much is riding on this. But shit...I’m not cut out for this crap. I sing and play the guitar. That’s all I really know how to do well. And that won’t do jack shit for me now.
He stopped at the door to the eighth floor, his hand on the knob. He couldn’t think of any way they would get out of this alive. Gabbi and Edward held all the cards.
Oh, God, Mel. I’m so sorry for this.