Tease Me (Private Listing #4)

Noah

Glancing over at Coop and Blake as Seth moves toward them, I kneel next to Patrick and check the knots in the ropes.

“She’ll never be yours.” His voice is hoarse. “You wouldn’t even have her if it weren’t for me. I made sure you interviewed her. I picked her for you.”

His eyes are cold as they meet mine. I tighten some of the ropes, maybe a little more than necessary if his grunt of pain is any indication. Good. All the pain he inflicted on Madison over the past month, he deserves to feel every minute of it for the rest of his life.

I glance over to Blake holding Coop’s wound while Seth holds Blake’s. We’re friends, but we’re family. Madison holds us together. We would have always found her because she’s ours.

“You’re wrong.” I look Patrick dead in the eye. “She’s been mine since the moment I saw her. She was ours before she even knew you were in the equation. You may have known her first, but she never wanted you.”

“She was made to love me.” Patrick truly believes that. I see it in his eyes. “I’ll find my way back to her. You can keep her warm for me, but I won’t go down for this. You watch, I’ll find the loophole. I always do. I’ll find her again.”

“Maybe.” I sit back on my heels. He made a severe miscalculation. “Or maybe you shouldn’t have shot the sole heir of the Graham family. Or pointed a gun in the face of the favored daughter of the Whitley family. Both have money and influence that you can never contend with. You want to know what I think will happen?”

I don’t wait for his answer. “I think the police will take you into custody today, but my guess is you won’t walk out of that jail. You’ll leave it in a body bag.”

His eyes narrow on mine, but I don’t care about this man. He’s never been my friend. He was a guy who worked for us. I just need to make sure he can’t hurt the people I love anymore.

I stand and walk away from him without a backward glance. He’s not going anywhere. Coop is passed out. His face pale against his dark hair that falls in a curtain. Blake doesn’t look much better, to be honest.

“Hang in there.” I touch Blake’s shoulder and nod to Seth before continuing into the bedroom.

My breath leaves me as the tightness in my chest releases. Madison. She remains completely still, like some sleeping fairy-tale princess. She wears an identical dress to the one I ripped off her. When I sit next to her on the bed, I brush my hand over her blond hair.

“You’re ours, kitten. I don’t want anyone else but you. No one else can have you.”

She’s been out of communication for hours. Who knows what’s happened to her? What new nightmares she’ll have to deal with? The temptation to go back and beat Patrick is only stifled by the sirens fast approaching.

“I don’t know what he’s done to you, but we’ll heal. This will all be a terrible memory someday.” I lift her hand to my lips. “I promise to fill your life with so much joy that this day has no room in your mind. Patrick will just be a bad memory that we’ve washed away.”

The sirens stop as they park out front.

“In here,” Seth yells. “We need an EMT.”

I wish she’d open those blue eyes. “You’ll see, kitten. Everything will be okay.”

Madison

Darkness holds me down as I struggle to surface from the endless night. There’s this steady beeping in my ear, pulling at me, leading me, calling me home.

“Come on, kitten. I know you can hear me.”

Noah. A smile pulls at my lips and I turn my head toward his voice like a flower following the sun. His hand touches my cheek and warmth floods my chest. My eyes open and he smiles from his seat beside my bed.

“There you are.” His smiling brown eyes hold mine.

“Where are we?” My eyes clear and realization sets in. A curtain surrounds the hospital bed I’m on. I lift my hand with an IV on the side of my wrist. I don’t know how I got here. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Noah moves to sit beside me on the bed.

I focus on what I remember last. “The stalker. My old apartment. The car. The house. Hope! How’s Hope?”

“Hope is good. She’s a few rooms down getting fluids and being monitored. Do you remember anything else?” Noah strokes his hand over my hair. There are worry lines around Noah’s eyes. Are they for me?

“It’s fuzzy. Why can’t I remember?” It’s like the day is there, but someone smudged oil on the lens, making it hard to see.

“Patrick gave you a drug cocktail, hoping to make you more susceptible to suggestion. And more easily coerced into what he wanted from you. He was trying to speed along Stockholm syndrome from the sounds of it.” Noah looks down as he takes my hand.