The room spun as Grace’s vision blurred.
She set down the almost empty glass of wine, suddenly flushed and parched. “I better go. It’s getting late.”
Standing, she swayed. Everything around her tilted and whirled. She staggered forward and leaned back, bumping into the table. Pressing her palm to the smooth wood, she steadied herself. But the room still rocked from side to side, making her dizzy.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Um,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. “Too much wine.”
“Want me to get you some water?”
“No.” Nausea rolled through her stomach. Her throat tightened. She was so thirsty. “I need to leave.”
“Your coat is right there.”
She stared across the room at it. Her coat seemed so far away. Everything became fuzzy, out of focus. Then her vision cleared. She took one step. And another.
Her knees turned to water as the floor seemed to shift under her feet and she collapsed onto the carpet.
Kevin rose from his seat and knelt over her. His expression transformed from affable and charming to predatory.
Dread twisted through her. “What did you do?” She reached up, swinging to hit his face, but she was too slow, her arm so heavy.
He easily pulled back out of her reach. “I laced your glass. Dosed the wine I gave you.”
Panic spread through her as potent as whatever drug he’d used. “Why?”
“You’re too good at defending yourself. I couldn’t have you putting up a fight you might win. I needed you a little sedated, so that it’ll be easier for me to do what comes next. I truly am sorry. But I have no other choice.”
Those crazily familiar eyes she had stared into so many times in the past watched her closely. A surreal sense of horror washed through her.
“What?” Her voice was weak and shaky. “What are you talking about?”
“The wine is only part of what my grandmother left you.” He took something out of his pocket. A piece of paper. He unfolded it and read it aloud. “‘Dearest Grace, you were an angel to me. You did more than care for me. You loved me and showed me kindness when I was at my weakest. To repay you, I wish to set you free, from your mother, from this job, which is stealing a piece of your soul because you’re so sensitive. I bequeath you one million dollars. The rest of my money shall go to charity,’” he said through clenched teeth. “‘Live a good a life free from financial worry.’”
A tear leaked from her eye.
“She left me nothing!” He crumpled up the letter. “I contested it and lost. The only way I get anything is if you’re dead and unable to receive it. Or we got married, but you said no. I bribed the executor to give me some time to find you myself.”
“Kevin,” she said, clutching his leg, needing him to see reason. It wasn’t too late for him to stop this. “You can’t. You wouldn’t hurt me.”
For all his faults, and there were many, he had never been violent.
“I didn’t think I could, either,” he said. “It wasn’t my intention. Selene told me that you weren’t happy here and you were being stubborn about coming back to California. I thought if I could nudge you, make things hard, scare you a little—cutting your tires, bumping you on the road, the fire—that you would be so happy and relieved to see me that you would jump at the prospect of marriage and going back home.”
Her heart clenched. “That was you?” Oh, God. He had been sitting at the window, watching her and plotting. “You nearly killed me.”
“I didn’t mean to. The fire got so big, so fast. It just got beyond my control. Then I imagined you dead. That I had killed you. At first, it terrified me, and then I was relieved and surprisingly okay with it.” His eyes took on a wild gleam. “I can live with your death on my hands.”
She grabbed the bedspread and, grunting, tried to pull herself up, but she lacked the strength and flopped back to the floor. “Why?”
“I need the money,” he gritted out. “My gambling debts have grown. I owe some ruthless people, really scary, dangerous people, a lot of money. This is my only option.”
Desperation flooded her veins. “Kevin, please. You can have the money. I don’t want it.”
“If only I believed that you’d simply give it to me.” He gave her a sad smile. “But I don’t.” He sat her up, slipped his arms around her torso from behind and hauled her body across the room.
She struggled and fought, digging in her heels, her feet skidding and failing to gain traction. Her efforts did nothing to slow him down. He dragged her through the bedroom to the bathroom. She reached out, grasping hold of the doorjamb, but he easily yanked her grip loose.
He threw her sluggish body to the floor and turned the water on in the bathtub. “I’ll drown you here and toss your body in the river. I wish I could make it quick. Like a bullet to the head or something, but I need it to look like an accident.”
Rolling onto her stomach, she crawled forward on her belly, using her forearms and elbows to pull herself. She didn’t make it to the threshold before he snatched her by the hair and dragged her to the tub.
“Don’t fight it.” He brought his face close to hers and gave her a glacial stare. “It’ll be faster, less painful for you, Grace, if you don’t.”
She thrust her head forward, opening her mouth, and bit down on his nose as hard as she could.
He screamed out in pain, and she clenched her teeth harder.
A metallic taste filled her mouth, and she knew it was his blood. She couldn’t punch him or shove him, but she did scratch him, digging her nails across his face to get as much of his DNA as she could under her nails.
He might kill her, but he wasn’t going to get away with it.
Howling in agony, he punched her in the stomach, the blow sinking deep into her belly.
On a sharp exhale, she opened her mouth, releasing him. The shock was bad and the pain worse as it flared through her, stealing her breath. She wanted to gasp, to scream, to run, but she could do nothing, paralyzed by the fist he’d thrown.
Then he dunked her head into the water and held her under.
HOLDEN RUSHED INSIDE DELGADO’S, his gaze frantically sweeping the restaurant to find Grace.
But he didn’t see her anywhere. Maybe she was in the kitchen, grabbing an order.
He hurried over to Xavier. “Where’s Grace?”
Xavier shrugged. “She left.”
“Left? Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. Some guy I’ve never seen before showed up looking for her. They spoke at the bar and then she left with him.”
Alarm streaked through him. He’d have to get an APB put out on the truck. That guy could’ve taken her anywhere. “How long ago did they leave?”
“Maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Why? Is everything all right?”
Holden tore out of Delgado’s through the rear door and dashed through the parking lot. He caught sight of the rental car—the silver pickup truck that had been damaged by the motorcycle Kyle was riding.
If the truck was still there, then it meant Kevin was inside and Grace was with him.
GRACE FLAILED, SUCKING IN a lungful of water, splashing more onto the floor. With one hand, she pushed up from the tub, and with the other, she reached back, smacking Kevin’s face, hitting his nose.
He grunted in pain, his grip on her loosening just enough.
She shoved backward with all her might, breaking the surface. Coughing, spewing up water, she pushed up against the wall.
Growling, Kevin lunged for her. She thrust her foot out, tripping him. He couldn’t regain his balance on the slippery floor and went crashing down onto the tile.
Grace wheezed as she gripped the toilet, fumbling to climb up. But her limbs were too weak. She couldn’t move fast enough.
Kevin grabbed her, spinning her around, bringing them face-to-face. “Why won’t you just die?” he screamed.
She hit him in the nose again, wishing she had the strength to do more.
He howled in agony. His features contorted in rage. He seized her throat with both his hands and shoved her backward.
She fell, her spine banging against the hard porcelain, her head smacking into the bottom of the tub.
He squeezed his hands, tightening his grip around her throat, as he held her under the water. She kicked and clawed at his arms, desperate to pry them loose.
Through the water, she saw his face, the fury in his eyes, how he burned with determination, hell-bent on killing her.
Her lungs ached, burning with the need for oxygen. Thrashing, she wrestled against him, what little strength and energy she had draining from her.
She was drowning.
Air.
She needed air.
On a reflex, her mouth opened. She sucked water into her lungs and her body jerked to expel it. But he pressed harder, holding her down, keeping her locked under the water.
The light danced before her eyes. Darkness closed in on the edges of her vision.
She was going to die. It was probably over. But she refused to give up.
A loud crash sounded in the room.
Kevin’s head swiveled toward the doorway.
A gunshot rang out like thunder. Once. Twice. The bullets threw Kevin backward, off her.
She shoved up, out of the water, raking in life-saving air. Spitting out water, she coughed.
“Grace!” Holden rushed to her, grabbing hold of her arms and hauling her out of the tub.
A strange, keening sound filled the room. Then she realized it was coming from her. She was weeping and wailing and shaking.
Putting a protective arm around her, he steered her into the bedroom. But her legs gave way. He caught her, lifted her into his arms and set her down on the bed.
“K-Kevin,” she sobbed, unable to calm down.
Holden closed the bathroom door, blocking the sight of the dead body. “I know,” he said, sitting beside her. “Sawyer figured out that he set the fire and I came to find you.”
“Again.” She couldn’t get the rest of the words out. He’d saved her life twice in two days.
Holden brought her into his arms and held her. “It’s all right.” He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, whispering reassurances until she stopped shaking. “He’s dead. Kevin can’t hurt you anymore. No one is going to hurt you ever again.” For several minutes, he rocked her. Then he pulled back and held her face in his hands. “We’re meant to be together. To have this chance to love each other, to build a life, to have kids, to grow old together. Do you believe me?”
Looking into those clear blue eyes filled with so much love for her, she did. She could see it all. A life with him. Kids running around on the ranch. Long, lazy nights in bed with him. Laughing. Loving. Feeling safe.
“I believe you.” She might not have believed in fate before, or even happily-ever-after, but without a doubt she knew they had earned it.
“Let’s get you out of here and downstairs.” He wrapped an arm around her as he helped her stand. At the door, he grabbed her coat and draped it across her shoulders and then carried her down the stairs. Once they reached the first floor, he pulled up a chair and sat her down. “While I call this in, I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
He knelt in front of her and pulled something from his jacket pocket. “Open your Christmas present.”
A gift? Now? “I don’t want anything.” Everything she needed, she already had. Her life. An understanding with her mother. Holden. A chance at happiness.
“Aren’t you curious?” He handed her an envelope.
“What is it?”
“A handwritten apology. From Rodney Owens.”
She laughed through her tears. Somehow, someway, Holden had done it again, managing to uplift her in the darkest moments. And she knew that he would continue to do so for as long as they were together.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Backcountry Cover-Up by Denise N. Wheatley.