She’d been such a fool.
Ashley knew she’d brought this on herself. First, and most importantly, by getting so mad at Ty. Now that she was calmer, now that she’d had a chance to think about it rationally, she should have understood. He was a man with a personal code, one he lived by as few did these days. And falling for a client violated it. Maybe he hadn’t been exactly tactful about it, but in retrospect she found she preferred his bluntness to Simon’s dodging the issue, letting their relationship simply fade away because he was too much of a coward to face her and tell her he was leaving and it was over. Ty would never do that.
Not that she would ever let him slip away.
Secondly, she should never have left him. It had torn at her so fiercely to leave him lying there, helpless in a hospital bed. She should have known that no matter what he’d said on the proverbial morning after, her feelings for him hadn’t really changed.
Not that her parents had given her much choice about leaving. They’d sent a team of their own security who had practically carried her to the airfield where the private jet sat waiting. Only when they’d threatened to fly her to Europe did she capitulate and agree to join her parents in Colorado.
Her most recent mistake had been today, insisting her parents’ security leave her alone. Nothing had happened for days now, she’d told them, and there was no indication anyone knew she was even here. She’d promised she’d be staying in her room, catching up online and not leaving the premises. And in fact she’d done exactly that.
But after chivying her reluctant parents off to their previously scheduled meeting, she’d spent a few minutes with her afternoon latte out on the balcony, taking in the clean wonderful smell of the mountains. When she’d come back in, she hadn’t locked the doors, intending to take breaks out there periodically. It was a private balcony after all, and in her mind, it was part of her room, so it never even occurred to her.
And then this lunatic with a handgun had landed on it, and found she’d practically welcomed him in with that unlocked door.
She’d wasted a few moments wondering how on earth he’d done it, gotten onto the balcony. A few more wondering how he’d found her in the first place. None of that mattered. He was here, had a gun pointed at her, and she had to figure out what to do.
She’d known why he was here the moment he told her to go to her laptop and make a post. She resisted, but he’d grabbed her and forced her into the chair at her desk. He quoted what she was to write, saying she’d been wrong about everything and was calling off the rally she’d set up.
All her self-defense training was useless in the face of that weapon. Her crazy, quirky mind called up an old saying, that God made man, but Sam Colt made them equal. That mind then leaped from Colt to Colton, and she thought that if the worst happened and she died here, without ever seeing Ty again, it would break her heart. Which was stupid, because she’d be dead.
She reeled in her careening thoughts. Think! she silently ordered.
She tried talking, telling the man that Sanderson was making a huge mistake, that coercion would get him nowhere but in trouble. But this guy didn’t even know what it was all about—she suspected he wouldn’t know a wetland from a bathtub—or care. He didn’t even react to the name, and Ashley wondered if he even knew it. No, the man was just the hired gun, and couldn’t care less what this was all about. All he cared about was getting paid.
It had occurred to her that if the man could be hired for something like this, perhaps he could be unhired with the same incentive: money. She certainly had access to enough of that.
She had been about to open her mouth again to try the bribe when there had come a knock on the door.
The man’s order had come fast. “Don’t open it, and get rid of whoever it is. Fast.”
She’d gone, hoping against hope it was one of the security guys coming to check on her.
When she’d heard Ty’s voice, she’d nearly gasped aloud.
She quickly made up something about the car, hoping he’d get that she wasn’t going anywhere because she couldn’t. But she doubted that was enough for anyone to make the jump to what was really happening. She tried desperately to think. She didn’t think her vaunted mind had ever worked faster in her life. There had to be some way, some words she could say that would warn him. He was smart and quick and he knew her, he knew her so well, even after only ten days...
He knew her.
It had hit her, then. And the words about her nonexistent pet snake had come out easily.
There was barely a moment’s pause before he answered. “Sure. I’ll do that right now. That rat’ll be dinner momentarily.”
His words told her “message received” so clearly she felt joy surge within her. And crazily, it was as much because he’d understood as because she knew she now had help. Very real and very, very proficient help.
“Thank you,” she said through the door.
She heard—as did her captor—his footsteps going back down the hall. She thought she even heard him starting down the stairs. She didn’t know what he was going to do, but she knew he’d do something. All she had to do was stay alive long enough for him to do it.
“Now get back to it. Get this done, so I don’t have to shoot you right here.”
“And then try to escape past our security? Good luck with that.” The man’s eyes narrowed, and she realized belatedly that she was so buoyed by Ty’s presence that she’d let it show.
“Your security won’t be a problem,” the man said, and a chill seized her. Had he killed them? She didn’t know the two men they’d brought here, but that didn’t mean she wanted them to be hurt—or worse—trying to protect her. As Ty had been.
Her optimism wobbled a little as what she should have thought of first hit her. Ty was just out of the hospital, and it was less than a week after he’d been shot and nearly bled to death. She should have been worried about him, not overjoyed that he was here to save her. God, she really was a spoiled child.
Use that brain you’re so proud of and think! What could she do to help when Ty did whatever he was going to do?
The only thing she could think of was to keep the man occupied, try to give Ty the advantage of total surprise. But how?
She went back to her desk, slowly, making him hurry her along. “You’ll have to tell me again what to say, I’ve forgotten.”
The man gave a derisive snort. “Figures. Just say it’s called off, tell them not to show up.”
“And you think they’ll do that?” she asked, trying to keep him focused on her.
“They’d better,” he said, and she wondered if the snarl was supposed to be scarier than the pistol pointed at her head.
“And what about the other platforms?”
He looked startled. “What?”
That’s it. She could tell by his reaction she’d found the key, that he didn’t get the complexities of the various social media outlets. “I’ve organized this on multiple platforms. I have the most followers here—” she gestured at the screen “—but I have well over a hundred thousand or more on two or three others. Oh, and I can’t post to the major one without a photo.” He looked utterly blank. “That’s what it’s for, sharing pictures,” she explained as if to a child. “They all have a different focus, and on this one it’s photographs. That’s why it was established. You can’t really make a post without one.”
“Then find one.”
He was starting to sound even more impatient. This was going to be a fine line to walk. She put on her best dumb socialite demeanor. “But all I have are pictures for the protest, and that would only encourage them to come.” She tried to sound worried, when in fact her pulse had kicked up fiercely as, in the middle of her social media explanation, she’d heard the faintest of sounds from the balcony. Her captor’s back was to it and he hadn’t reacted at all, so she didn’t think he’d heard at all, or else he had and had dismissed it.
She saw movement on the balcony, glimpsed a shape past the man’s left arm, knew, just knew it was Ty. Her mind was racing full speed now, searching for a way to distract the gunman even more. Just posting wouldn’t do it she needed something else, something to keep his attention focused on her, so he wouldn’t look behind him.
She suddenly remembered how furious Ty had been with her about that post from McPherson, betraying exactly where she was. An idea struck. She called up the thumbnail of an old picture of the mountains she’d taken from the overlook not far from here. She kept it in the thumbnail size and gestured to it.
“How about this, to show them I’m not even there, so there’s no point in showing up?”
As she’d hoped, he had to lean in to see the tiny image. She suppressed a shudder as the cold metal of the handgun brushed her forehead.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, do that.”
She tried not to wrinkle her nose at his breath that smelled like an old gym bag. “Now what should I say again?” she asked.
“God, you’re stupid, woman!”
“I’m sorry,” she said, in a meek tone she had never used in her life.
But she was able to do it because while he was utterly focused on her, Ty had made it into the room. He was coming toward her, but so slowly... Why didn’t he just pull his own gun? Why didn’t he—finally, stupidly, it hit her. Ty wouldn’t shoot if there was a chance she’d be hit, and the man was so close to her that if Ty drew his own weapon, it would be a standoff. She could just hear that crude voice saying something like out of a bad gangster movie, telling Ty to drop it or he’ll blow her brains out. So for her sake, Ty—just-out-of-the-hospital Ty—was going to try to take the guy down physically.
This all raced through her mind in an instant, and she quickly went back to keeping the gunman focused on her.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m just so scared.”
“You should be, honey.” The man practically caressed her with the barrel of the pistol, and it made her skin crawl. As she was sure he’d intended.
“Please, don’t,” she said, and now the tremor in her voice was real. But she reached out in a pleading manner toward him, as if begging. He started to smile, and her stomach turned nauseatingly.
On the edge of her vision, she saw Ty launch himself. The instant he moved she did, too. She slapped as hard as she could at the hand that held the handgun, pushing it sideways. In practically the same motion, she dove off her chair in the opposite direction. She heard the man start to swear but it changed to a startled shout as Ty hit him, low and hard.
They both crashed into the desk. Her laptop went spinning onto the floor. She didn’t care. The man was grabbing for something. In the surprise attack, he’d dropped the gun. She scrambled around the grappling men, eyes searching the floor. She saw the barrel, just visible beneath the bottom drawer of her desk. She didn’t want to risk getting down on her knees, so she merely kicked it out of reach.
And then it didn’t matter because Ty was kneeling on the man’s back, holding his arm—the one that had been reaching for the weapon—tight behind his back, wrenching it so hard the man yelped.
It was over.
“Hey, lighten up, I didn’t hurt her.”
“Shut up,” Ty said shortly. “Nobody threatens my woman and gets away with it.”
As male bluster went, Ashley supposed it was fairly mild.
As a declaration of his feelings, it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever heard.
She didn’t even mind the possessiveness of it. Probably because she was so happy to hear it. Much better than declaring what had leaped to life between them a mistake. A sin she supposed she would have to forgive him for.
Well, after he’d atoned in a suitable manner, anyway.