Chapter Six

Peyton gazed around the gymnasium that had been converted to a banquet hall for the ceremony. The plain beige walls had been transformed with streamers, balloons and sparkling white lights. Centerpieces on the tables alternated between candles or fresh flower bouquets. It looked a little like a high school dance, but still classy enough to appeal to the big spenders. The purpose of the event was to honor the volunteers who donated their time to the center, as well as raise funds for the various programs that were offered to the neighborhood children free of charge. A local restaurant provided the food and a bar was set up in a corner where you could purchase alcoholic drinks for a small fee.

After the shootout at Jamal’s apartment earlier, she hadn’t wanted to attend, but she didn’t want to let the board of directors down either. There were several big donors in attendance and her appearance had been specifically requested. If she could help bring in much-needed funds, she’d put the gang war and Jamal’s disappearance out of her mind for a few hours.

She scanned the crowd for Noah, hoping to see his beautiful face. He’d be easy to spot, towering over most of the people in the room, but he was nowhere to be found. He’d left several minutes ago to retrieve her forgotten speech. He should’ve been back by now.

Two hands gripped her shoulders from behind and hot breath whispered against her ear. “There you are, gorgeous.”

Her pulse, which had picked up speed thinking it was Noah, skidded to a grinding halt and returned to normal. “Hi Mark.” She wondered if he noticed the disappointment in her tone.

Apparently not as he slid into the chair she’d reserved for Noah. His hair was disheveled, and his breathing was labored. Even his tie was askew.

“Did you run here?”

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t want to be late. So, I was thinking…”

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up from the table. Noah. “Hello?” she said, cutting off whatever Mark started to say.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

There was a deep sigh. “Thank God. I was delayed a bit. Stay put. I’ll be there soon.” He disconnected before she could respond. She stared at the screen. That was strange.

“Peyton?”

She shook her head and turned to Mark. He was watching her intently. “Something wrong?”

“No.” She forced a smile. “Everything’s fine.”

He opened his mouth to speak when Martha appeared with an older gentleman in tow. He was average height and build, with hazel eyes and a luxurious head of silver hair.

“Peyton, this is Mr. Hollis Cranston. He’s one of our generous donors.”

She’d seen his name on a plaque above the entrance to the gym, so he must be very generous indeed. She shook his hand and they chatted for a few minutes. He remarked about how he’d watched all her televised races over the years. She tried to keep up with the conversation but worry for Noah occupied her mind. Plus, she could practically feel the tension vibrating off Mark. His leg bobbing under the table was making the silverware jingle.

Martha tapped Mr. Cranston’s arm, indicating someone else she wanted him to meet. He shook her hand again, clasping it between both of his. He held on longer than appropriate. She didn’t want to be rude, but she’d had enough. Before she could jerk free and undoubtedly cause a scene, he released her, telling her—not asking—that he’d take her to dinner soon.

Big donor or not, she wasn’t about to share a meal with the man. Her first impression of him was that he was a controlling misogynist. Money couldn’t buy class.

She’d just retaken her seat when Mark grabbed her hand. What was it with men thinking they could manhandle her?

“I see you’re here alone. As I was saying before I was interrupted, I was thinking…”

The rest of whatever he was babbling about didn’t penetrate as she looked up and saw Noah striding her way in all his blond glory, looking like her every fantasy come to life. Her pulse triple-timed it again.

“…go out for drinks when this is over.”

She yanked her hand free. “I’m sorry Mark, I’m not alone. That seat is taken.”

His eyes traveled from her to Noah and back. “What’s going on here, Peyton? Are you dating him?”

She wished. Thankfully, Noah’s arrival saved her from answering.

“There’s a seat over there,” Mark said belligerently, jutting his chin in the direction of another table.

“You’re looking disheveled.” Noah narrowed his eyes. “Did you run here?”

Exactly the question she’d asked moments ago.

“None of your damn business.” Mark pushed back from the table with a huff. “Bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he stomped away.

Her mouth dropped open. She’d been nothing but nice to him. She hadn’t led him on. She’d been friendly even though she’d turned down his advances several times, telling him that she didn’t have time to date right now. He finally wore her down until she agreed to a dinner that had been awkward and never-ending. She’d been so relieved when they arrived back to the Benton’s house. He’d dropped hints about continuing the date in her apartment the entire ride back, finally coming right out and asking if he could come inside for “a nightcap or whatever.” She’d declined, thanking him for the meal. He’d barely rolled to a stop before she jumped out and scurried away as fast as possible without breaking into an all-out sprint. She didn’t relax until his green truck motored away.

She’d spent her life living by the golden rule of treating others as she wanted to be treated. She volunteered both money and time to several causes, she avoided controversies and worked hard to preserve her reputation. Now in less than forty-eight hours, two men had called her a bitch, and someone was taunting her with fake medals and puzzling notes. But when Noah slid into the seat beside her that Mark vacated, everything felt right in the world. He felt right and… “Noah, your suit’s ripped. And you’re bleeding again!”

He glanced at the tear in the arm of his suit jacket and cursed. “This was my favorite suit.” Then he looked at his pants with disgust and cursed again.

“What happened? Did you fall down?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said cryptically. He glanced around the room and narrowed his eyes. She followed his gaze to see Mark openly staring at them with animosity. “What’s up with that dude?”

“He doesn’t take no very well.”

Noah’s look was intent on her. “Did you notice what time he arrived?”

“A few minutes before you returned.”

“Do you think he’s violent?”

She regarded the basketball coach, happy to see that his attention had wandered. “I don’t know him well, but I never got that sense from him. He’s good with the kids and they all seem to like him. They say that children are the best judges of character.” She picked up a glass and sipped.

“Someone took a shot at me.”

Water spewed from her mouth to cover his battered suit. “What?”

All heads turned their direction. Dabbing at her mouth, she smiled sheepishly and waved. “Owen always told me I had a big mouth,” she muttered. When focus drifted away from them, she grabbed his arm and peeled open the rip in the battered sleeve. The white dress shirt beneath was stained with blood. “Did you get shot?”

“No. A guy out for a run saw the gun. He tackled me. I probably just reopened the wound, mixed with some road rash.”

“Did you catch the shooter?”

“No, he got away.” He looked thoughtful. “It had to be someone who knew we would be coming here tonight.”

“That doesn’t make sense. The notes and medals have been sent to me. Why would someone shoot at you?”

His gaze was direct, and she shivered at the intensity. “To get to you.”

#

Though the banquet was nice enough and the appetizers were delicious, Noah couldn’t wait to get Peyton the hell out of there. Having her out in the open with no security measures in place was reckless, making his nerves ignite like a giant-sized Fourth of July sparkler. He’d tried to coax her into wearing the bulletproof vest inside the gym, but she’d refused, saying it would look ridiculous with her dress. She looked so damn sexy in the gold number, covering her up sounded like a grand idea to him. He didn’t want anyone else ogling her assets. She finally relented to wearing it inside the SUV, which wasn’t a win for him since the windows and door panels were already bullet resistant.

He half-listened to the speeches, texting his office for supplies he’d need now that he was officially on the case. Someone shooting at him changed everything. There was no more wondering if the medals were something to worry about—they now knew they were.

When it was Peyton’s turn to speak, he put down his phone and focused on her. She looked incredible in the gold dress that accentuated her tone, athletic body as she made her way to the dais to a round of thunderous cheers. He had no right to be jealous of the fact that every man in the room couldn’t take their eyes from her—him included. But he was the one she was leaving with. Maybe not as a date, but the other men didn’t know that. That gave him a thrill that was totally inappropriate.

How long had he wanted her? It seemed like forever. But she was his friend’s younger sister. There were rules about that kind of thing. Maggie’s husband Carter was like a brother to him, but he had a feeling he’d have beat the shit out of Owen if he’d wanted to date Maggie. It made no sense because Owen was one of the best men he knew. He trusted him with his life—just not his baby sister. But then, he didn’t trust most men with her. That she found Carter and he was such a good guy, was a huge relief.

Having written her speech on the fly, she did an amazing job once the applause died down. She was comfortable speaking before a crowd, something he personally loathed. She interjected a couple of jokes and the audience was absolutely in love with her. He checked his watch. He wanted her to wrap this up. She was completely defenseless up on the stage. It would take too long for him to get to her if something happened. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and he considered dashing to the wall and yanking the fire alarm. But she saved him the trouble as she ended her speech with a wave. They gave her another standing ovation when she finished and walked off the stage.

“I’m so glad that’s over,” she said, sliding back to her chair.

Damn, so was he. “You’re a natural up there.”

“Really?” She scrunched up her nose. “It used to terrify me, especially when I was fifteen, but I’ve had to give so many interviews and things over the years, it doesn’t even faze me anymore.”

“I don’t suppose we can leave now?”

She gave him a get real look. “They haven’t even served the meal yet. Plus, they’re taking pictures of the big donors to frame for the walls and want me in them.”

Noah bit back a curse. He’d have to endure another hour or so before he could whisk her away. Thankfully, she’d agreed to the safe house. He thought he’d have more of a fight on his hands, but she’d capitulated easily.

He glanced to the seat Mark had occupied, disconcerted to realize the man was no longer there. He’d been keeping an eye on him the entire banquet, but when Peyton had been speaking, she’d been his entire focus. Dammit, that’s how people ended up getting hurt. He had to set aside his growing feelings for her and do the damn job. Mark was his number one suspect as the shooter. He knew Peyton was attending the dinner and that she wouldn’t be alone. He had time to set up to take the shot.

His instincts were humming. He needed to get her out of here now. “Peyton—”

The rest of his words were drowned out by the shrill blare of the fire alarm. He’d wanted to activate it earlier, but this wasn’t him—unless he possessed untapped telekinesis powers that he didn’t know about. He tugged her to her feet and tucked her under his arm. “Come on. Stay close.”

People were screaming and rushing for the exits. If it wasn’t a life or death situation, he’d find humor in how quickly the dignified could turn decidedly undignified, pushing and shoving others out of the way in a rush to reach safety. It was every man for himself.

Smoke had started to fill the gymnasium, causing more panic. As they neared the exit, he realized it could be a trap. Send them outside so the shooter could take potshots again. But they couldn’t stay inside and risk being barbequed. They’d have to take their chances fleeing the building.

Someone cried out behind them. Every instinct he possessed urged him to get Peyton out of there and the hell with the others. But his sense of honor wouldn’t let him leave another person in distress, especially since the smoke had thickened and coalesced into an ominous black cloud. Tugging Peyton with him, he turned to see Martha, the woman Peyton introduced as the assistant director, on the floor in obvious pain while others sidestepped around her, some even jostling her mercilessly in their haste to flee

“Martha,” Peyton gasped as they rushed to her side. “Are you hurt?”

“I think I broke my ankle,” she cried. “I-I can’t walk.”

They didn’t have time to wait for help to arrive. The risk of smoke inhalation was a very real possibility. He scooped Martha in his arms, careful of her damaged foot. She clung to him, her body racking with sobs as she thanked him for not leaving her to die.

“Stick to me like white on rice,” he told Peyton as they made their way outside. It was hard to tell where the exit was through the smoke, but Peyton guided them until they reached blessedly fresh air. First responders were already gathering in front of the building, red and blue lights swirling. He carried Martha to the first ambulance that arrived in the parking lot.

One of the medics hopped out and ran to open the back doors. He placed Martha on the gurney and then jumped down, finding Peyton and gathering her close.

“Let’s go.”

This time she didn’t question not staying to speak with the authorities. He ushered her to the SUV and lifted her inside before he moved to the driver’s side. Just before he opened the door, he glanced back at the chaos surrounding the community center, his gaze zeroing in on Mark as he stood with his arms crossed, watching them leave.