Beauty and the Chief (18 page)

“Get it open!” Mark ordered, his attention going back to the window. There was no sign of Jillian now, but her scream echoed down, cutting through him.

It seemed an eternity, though only about three seconds for the cutters to bite through the chain. Mark joined the officer in freeing the knob and pulled the door open. He took the stairs three at a time with the officers right behind him. The sounds of struggling led him to the room. With his gun out in ready position, he burst around the corner.

Jillian was on the floor at the killer’s feet. Nigel Clark held her up by her hair, the knife raised over her.

“Clark!” Mark yelled.

The man froze, his attention shifting up. “She’s mine!” Clark snarled, plunging the knife down toward her. The blast from Mark’s gun hit him in the shoulder driving him back. Jillian ripped away and rolled to the side just as a howl burst from The Beast.

Clark charged at Mark, slashing out with the knife. Mark fired again. The reporter’s body jerked with the impact of the bullet but kept coming.

Mark stumbled back into the hall for more space and fired again. His shot was echoed by two more blasts from the other officers.

The Beast made it another step before he staggered and dropped to his knees. “Beauty.” The word gurgled from his lips as he fell forward, lifeless.

Jillian appeared in the doorway. Mark opened his arms and caught her as she rushed to him. Pulling her into his chest, he locked his arms over her. It was almost hard to believe that she was there, safe, but her heart thundered in beat with his. She gasped against him, shivers shaking her body.

He pressed his lips into her hair, his own body trembled at how close he came to losing her. He eased her back to rain kisses down on her face. When he would’ve pulled her into a hug, she shook her head, taking in a deep, shaky breath.

“Detective Crocker,” she burst out. “He’s hurt bad, in the panel, in the library.”

“It’s okay.” Mark looked over her shoulder at the officer who had been checking the body. “Call for an ambulance.” His gaze shifted back to Jillian. “Where?”

She turned. Her breath caught at the sight of the man on the floor.

“Don’t look.” Mark pulled her into him, blocking her view as he moved her to the stairs.

By the time they made it to the bottom of the stairs, the sound of other sirens approaching could be heard. Jillian clung to him, almost stoically calm, though her hand trembled as she opened the panel. Mark hated to release her but dropped to his knees beside the detective. Seeing the amount of blood, he feared Crocker would be dead, but there was a steady pulse.

Voices and footsteps sounded in the hall. “In here,” he yelled, and was joined a second later by the paramedics. “Let’s get him out of here.” He stepped around to the back of the recess to help lift Crocker out onto the stretcher so the man and woman could go to work. Since there was nothing else he could do for the detective, he returned to Jillian.

“Is he going to be all right?” Her voice trembled. “It was all I could think of to try to stop the bleeding.”

Mark watched one paramedic remove her jacket. The other was ready to cut away the shirt and apply a pressure bandage. “You did perfect.” He tightened his hold, thinking of her taking the time to try to save the man while fleeing from a killer.

A second later, Andrew walked up to them. “Chief.” He drew their attention. “It looks like you got The Beast this time.”

“Yeah, is Edward here?”

“Upstairs.”

“Get him so you can take our statements. I want to get Jillian out of here as soon as possible.”

They were waiting for the detectives on the front steps when the paramedics brought Detective Crocker out. Mark was surprised and relieved to see he was conscious under the oxygen mask. As he passed, he saw his hand came up a little, and he mumbled something. Mark held the paramedics up, bending down to Cocker. Jillian followed suit.

“Saved you.”

The raspy words were barely discernible through the mask, but the meaning was clear. He couldn’t save the woman he loved but tried to save her.

Tears rushed to her eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

The man relaxed visibly. His eyes closed, and they continued to the ambulance.

Jillian stood, leaning back against Mark, wrapped in his arms while watching the vehicle pull away, lights flashing. “He’s finally started to forgive himself for not being there to save her.”

“It’s still going to take him time.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t gotten here in time.” Agony dripped from his words and he turned her in his arms. “When I saw you go out that window and then when he stood over you with that knife. I’ve never been so scared.”

“I’m fine. You saved me.” She raised a hand to stroke his cheek.

“Yes, this time The Beast didn’t win.”

“Does that mean you get the happily ever after?”

“Yes.” He ignored the people milling around to capture her lips in a kiss, staking a claim that she was his forever.

No fairytale could have been so wonderful. No castle so beautiful. Jillian looked around the ballroom with satisfaction. Perfect. She’d heard that word numerous times that night to describe the mansion, along with amazing, spectacular, breath-taking, and other favorable comments. All true. Everything came together better than she’d even imagined.

It was almost hard to believe that it could have been the same room she’d run through in terror, trying to avoid The Beast. It had taken some time before she could enter it without a touch of fear, even though she knew there was no Beast lurking in the shadow. Her unease lingered until the old faded curtains had been taken down and the floor refinished to its past beauty.

Tonight, all shadows were gone, chased away by the glittering light from the three massive chandeliers hanging from the gleaming inlaid ceiling. Music filled the room along with waves of conversation. Fragrant air drifted in through the row of French doors which opened onto the terrace, keeping the packed room from becoming oppressively hot. The gala was as great a success as the mansion.

So much had changed in five months. The old mansion was now a celebrated jewel of the community. The Beast was a thing of the past. Sandra had fully recovered, as had Detective Crocker and they were now dating. Jillian shook her head at the notion, happy for them.

A shiver ran through her, but it held no tendrils of fear. She turned and heat flared in her at the sight of the handsome man cutting through the crowd toward her. Mark looked as great in a tux as the day they got married.

Even after three months it was hard to believe he was her husband. Life couldn’t get any better. They’d blended into the family she thought they were always meant to be. Her heart swelled, remembering how, after they were pronounced husband and wife, he had kissed her, sealing the union. Then she’d turned to Jordan, who’d wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight.

“Can I call you Mom, now?” He tilted his face up to her.

“Yes.” The word brought her as much pleasure as saying it to become the wife of the amazing man who came to a stop three feet away. Longing closed the distance between them.

As if everyone around them could feel it, people parted. Jillian heard several women titter, then lost connection to her surroundings as he spoke.

“May I have this dance?” Mark stretched out his hand.

Jillian placed her fingers lightly in his palm and gasped at the current of awareness. He pulled her into his arms with a smooth move that took her breath.

He nuzzled her cheek. “I’m sorry I got hung up with the mayor. The man can go on forever.”

“That’s why I snuck away. I was just mingling and admiring my handwork.”

“You should be pleased. It’s almost as beautiful as you.”

“Thank you. I was just thinking it was my own private fairytale.”

He whirled her around. “Does that make me your prince?”

“It does.” There was no doubt in her mind.

“So fairytales can come true.”

Jillian would’ve agreed aloud but his mouth settled over hers to seal the truth of it in their hearts.

I grew up in a small town in Wyoming loving the outdoors, sports, art, and reading Hardy Boys books. After reading them all at least a half dozen times, I started writing my own stories.

Thirty years ago I married a wonderful, honorable man. I’m mother of five children and grandmother of six boys. I love traveling. Through my husband’s work and vacations, I have visited much of the United States, all over Eastern Europe, Canada, Mexico, China, Thailand, Cambodia and Australia, giving me many intriguing locations and experiences for my stories.

I am a storyteller. I write the classic hero story because I think there’s a need for more heroes, love, and adventure in our lives. I’m not out to change the world with my writing; I’m just hoping to make your day a little better.

Alysia S. Knight

If you enjoyed Beauty and the Chief feel free to drop by my website
www.alysiasknight.com
. I would love to hear from you.

Letting Love Win

Past to Die For

Temperature Rising

Kare For Me

Blind Witness

Coming soon:

Trail to Her Heart

Jessica Wellington flees her home to avoid being married to a man she despises, by her step-father out to steal her inheritance. She disguises herself as a boy to join a wagon train. But, when she’s discovered, she finds herself being forced into a marriage again, except this time, to a man she loves.

As a boy, Jess Wells disturbed Nathan Hawke, as a woman, his frustration knows no bounds, especially when they end up in a marriage of convenience. It’s soon apparent that he not only has to figure out how to make Jessica fall in love with him but how to keep her safe on a trail filled with danger from wild animals, men after revenge, and someone bent on Jessica returning to her home, no matter the price.

1859 West Virginia

Jessica Wellington looked uneasily around the mansion’s hall. The evening didn’t feel right, though nothing had felt right since her mother’s marriage to Bradley Calloway. Bradley never let anyone in the house. He kept her meek mother tucked away while he flaunted her wealth. Now tonight, a house party. Jessica didn’t like it. Glasses clattered, conversations hummed as neighbors moved around in all their finery, but she felt alone.

Unable to take it any longer, she escaped out onto the veranda. The cool air and sweet smell of spring flowers calmed her. For a moment she felt peace, but it was shattered as a male figure moved out of the shadows in front of her.

Cruelness seeped from Clifford Raker as his cold, dark eyes traveled over her. His large body was dressed in the top of fashion, but he would never be mistaken for a gentleman.

“Jessica, how lovely you look tonight.” He tried to make the words sound smooth but they grated over her nerves as did his use of her first name.

Jessica pulled back.

He stepped closer.

The sickening shiver she experienced every time she saw him ran through her. When her father was alive, Clifford Raker was not allowed on Wellington land. Jessica shuddered again remembering the reason.

“What are you doing here?” She managed to force out.

“Now, that isn’t any way to greet a guest.” His voice dropped to a patronizing rumble.

“You’re not welcome here.” Jessica stiffened, trying to hold her ground.

“What would your poor, fragile mother say, hearing you talk like that? You know how she hates disturbing scenes. And besides,” he moved forward until he towered over her. “Bradley invited me.”

His dominating air frightened her. Jessica shook her head, though she believed her stepfather had indeed invited him. “He had no right.” She took a steadying breath. “He might have allowed you here tonight, but don’t except it to happen again.”

“Tsk, tsk.”

“I mean it. In one month The Meadows will be mine. Bradley will have no say, and you will not set foot here.”

“You’ve grown up into a lovely woman,” he spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “Filling out nicely, like I always knew you would. You have such marvelous spirit. I like spirit. I like to bend it to my will.”

Unable to believe he was speaking to her in such a manner Jessica remained frozen until his hand came up to touch her cheek, breaking her trance. “How dare you.” She jerked away. “I want you to leave now or I will get some of the men and have you shown out.” She moved to pass him.

He grabbed her arm with bruising strength.

“Release me.”

Instead, he tightened his hold, pulling her closer so that his breath slithered over her face as he spoke. “I couldn’t be like Bradley, wanting a lifeless, compliant wife.”

Jessica wanted to balk but knew it was an apt description of her mother. Something had died in her when her father died, but Jessica refused to acknowledge it. “Release me!”

“I want strength, fire, fight.” His leer left no doubt he wanted her.

She tugged back, but he didn’t release her, then to her relief a couple moved out of the ballroom onto the veranda. This time when she tugged, her arm came free. She hurried through the open double doors, knowing the man’s gaze was still on her.

Jessica had no time to collect herself as the bell for supper tinkled the moment she stepped into the room. She joined the flow of people and moved to her seat next to her mother, but Bradley cut her off directing her to the other side of him as he pulled out her chair. Unable to ignore him, Jessica settled onto the edge of the seat. When a shiver of unease ran over her, she looked back. Clifford Raker stood behind her. A smug expression twisted his face.

“Clifford, there you are,” her stepfather greeted the man. “Will you take your place?”

Jessica jerked around to her stepfather as Raker took the seat next to her. Jessica didn’t like Bradley’s smile any better than Raker’s.

After a formal greeting, Bradley took his chair and they were served. Trapped between the two men she despised, Jessica found it impossible to eat though she gave a monumental amount of attention to the food she pushed around her plate. Jessica had just reached the point when she thought she could take in no more when Bradley tapped his crystal glass with his knife, sending it ringing for attention. He stood and cleared his throat.

“I have an announcement to make. I am sure many of you wondered about our gathering here tonight,” he paused. “We meet here for a joyous occasion. I am pleased to announce the marriage of my stepdaughter, Jessica.” He looked down at her, but she was too shocked to react. “To my good friend and neighbor Clifford Raker.”

It took a second for the words to penetrate, but when they did, Jessica started out of her chair only to be pulled back down. Jessica’s outcry of “no” was cut off by a wave of pain. Clifford gripped her hand under the table, bowing it backward until Jessica thought her wrist would break.

Tears welled in her eyes. Her refusal became a gasp of pain, but it too was muffled as Clifford wrapped his arm around her and pressed her face into his shoulder, shielding her from the crowd in what must have looked like an awkward hug.

Muffled against the unyielding body, Jessica heard her stepfather announce that the wedding would take place the next day at noon. She tried to fight back and scream her refusal. Clifford bent her wrist back further. Pain swamped her body. Lights burst in front of her eyes. She felt light-headed and nauseated.

“She fainted.” Jessica heard Clifford Raker exclaim over the roar in her ears and then felt herself being hauled out of the chair and locked against his chest. Her face was pressed just above his pungent underarm, increasing the tears swimming in her eyes. The hold on her wrist fell away, sparing her more pain just as she slipped into oblivion.



The first thing that registered on Jessica’s mind as she awoke was the throb of her wrist. The next was the music drifting up from below, bringing with it the events that had taken place before she had lost consciousness.

She sat up abruptly making her head spin. Jessica raised a hand to her temple trying to massage away the headache while her mind cleared. After a minute, she slid from her bed where she’d been laid out. Crossing to the door, she gripped the handle. It refused to turn. She was locked in.

A wave of panic ran through her. She had to get out. She had to let people know that she would not marry Clifford Raker. They couldn’t make her. Jessica froze. That was exactly what they planned. Clifford and her stepfather were going to force her to marry him. Her first instinct was to deny that it could happen, but she knew better.

She should’ve known something like this would happen. In just a month she would come of age and inherit Wellington Meadows. Bradley Calloway wouldn’t let that happen, but would he marry her off to Clifford Raker? The answer was a resounding, yes!

He would take added pleasure in the fact that she despised the man. Raker was a crude abuser, with questionable honor. Raker and her stepfather had made the arrangement to steal her inheritance. Well, they may steal her inheritance, but they were not going to force her to marry Clifford Raker.

Heading across the room, she opened the armoire and stepped onto the shelf so she could reach the vase on top of it. Jessica pulled out the letter that had arrived a month before. Amos Isaacs had been their horse trainer her whole life until Calloway ran him off. The old man had helped raise her and was her best friend. He knew of her problems with her stepfather. He’d written when he had settled in California. She read again where he said he had put the land in her name too, just in case she ever needed to come, to get away from Calloway. Well, now she did.