Forever Hidden (Forever Bluegrass #2) (8 page)

“Your father was the sheriff. I’m sure he taught you self-defense. That’s good. If I have a daughter, I’m going to teach her how to protect herself.” A daughter with blond hair and hazel eyes popped into his mind. Deacon took a deep breath to slow down his runaway mind.

“Well, yes and no. See, my family is a little . . . how do I say this? Different. My whole hometown is a little different. So, yes, my father taught me self-defense. And so did Aunt Annie, who was DEA. And then Aunt Paige taught me how to shoot. And well, you don’t need to know what Ahmed taught me.”

“Ahmed?” Deacon asked.

Sydney nodded. “I had a fashion show in Europe. There was some unrest nearby and my mom wanted to make sure I knew how to handle myself. Ahmed is the retired head of security for the royal family of Rahmi. The rumors I’ve heard from the aunts were that Ahmed was something of a legend. A superb soldier who never failed in a mission, no matter what the circumstances. And judging from what he’s taught me, I would say those rumors are definitely true.”

“I knew I liked your mother.” Deacon grinned before returning to the tapes.

“Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. I’m going to read some more letters. Since it’s raining out, I don’t think I’ll be able to go digging in the backyard anymore tonight. Maybe I can find a clue,” Sydney told him as she grabbed the box of letters from Mrs. Wyatt and took the seat next to him on the couch.

He tried to ignore the sweet smell of her shampoo as he kept his eyes on the screen. People came and went from the mall, and then he finally saw Vic. He watched as the man sauntered onto the sidewalk. He stood smoking a cigarette, and a minute later a car pulled up. He opened the passenger side and got in. As the car drove off, he froze the image on the license plate.

“He’s not working alone,” Sydney whispered in shock from beside him.

“No, he’s not.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sydney jumped up from the couch as the buzzer on the oven went off. She couldn’t shake the image of two men taking Bailey from her house and delivering her to Durante.

She shivered as she pulled the baked pasta from the oven. She had finished a couple of her great-grandmother’s letters when she had looked over at the screen and had seen Vic walk outside as if no one could touch him. Well, Deacon would find him. She had seen the determination in his eyes. By the way he silently clenched his jaw as he watched Vic get into that car, she knew he would do whatever it took.

“Dinner’s ready, Deacon. Or if you’re working, I can keep it warm in the oven.”

Deacon shook out his shoulders and stood up. “No, that’s all right. I’m starving, and this will be a nice break for me. It’s hard to keep your distance from a case. But if you let yourself get sucked into the darkness, it’ll stick in your mind long after the case is over. And the last thing you want to do is allow evil to turn you evil.”

Sydney scooped the pasta onto plates as Deacon filled glasses with wine. They opted for comfort and took their dinner to the couch. Deacon closed the laptop and cleared off the table.

“Did you find anything in Mrs. Wyatt’s letters?” Deacon asked.

“I’m learning a lot about the family. It’s so strange that she never really talked about them before. I know all about the Wyatts, but the women in her family really were quite extraordinary. I read the letter about the women’s suffrage movement. That was really fascinating.” Sydney wished her great-grandmother were still here to tell her these things herself.

“I’m sure she wished she could tell you all the stories herself. Maybe you’ll find the reason she didn’t in the mysterious treasure box,” Deacon joked.

“I’m thinking about going to the store tomorrow and getting a metal detector,” Sydney smiled back. Then all thoughts of darkness receded as they laughed about their mud fight and whether this box even exists.

“Tell me about yourself,” Sydney said as she dried the dishes Deacon had washed.

Deacon shrugged. “I’m not that interesting. I like to help people. I really like football. And I’ve always wanted a dog. But to tell you the truth, I was afraid my landlady wouldn’t like a puppy chewing on an antique chair.”

“I have a puppy at home. My parents are watching her while I’m away. I’m going to start taking her with me on business trips when she’s a little older. And I like football, too, but not nearly as much as my best friend does. Sienna is Will Ashton's daughter. You know, the former QB for Washington? She could have played college ball except that it would’ve have thrown the team for a loop. She has a bullet of an arm.”

“I think I’m in love. You know both Will Ashton and Trey Everett?”

Sydney laughed. So that’s what it took to get his love—football. “Did you ever play?”

Deacon shook his head. “I played rugby, much to my father’s distaste. He thought I should play golf. However, I’ll let you in on a secret.”

“What’s that?” Sydney asked as Deacon leaned close.

“I’m horrible at golf. I can’t hit the ball straight to save my life.”

Sydney dissolved into giggles. “I can’t either! I’m hopeless at it. Now, riding—that I can do.”

As they cleaned the kitchen, Sydney found herself telling Deacon all about her life. To her surprise, Deacon told her all about his. He even told her about the fight with his father and the fact that they hadn’t talked in six years. In return, she cheered him up with stories from Keeneston. The Rose sisters, the three women in their late nineties who practically ran the town's gossip tree, had Deacon laughing the most.

“I can’t believe it’s already midnight,” Sydney said with a sigh. They were sitting next to each other on the couch. Sydney had turned some time ago and swung her legs onto his lap. As they told stories, he had absently rubbed them. The heat from his hand was as much a comfort to her as his voice. And she had been right. Deacon McKnight was a white knight—loyal, loving, and protective.

“I’m going to head upstairs and work on Bailey’s phone. Tomorrow I want to trace this license plate. I have a buddy in the Atlanta PD who will do it for me.”

“Sounds good. Tomorrow I’m buying a metal detector. Tonight I’m going to pass out. All that digging has worn me out.” Sydney struggled to her feet and yawned.

Deacon picked up his laptop and various cables along with Bailey’s phone. He slid his other arm around her waist and together they quietly headed upstairs. Sydney rested her head against his shoulder as they walked up the last few steps. Tonight had been wonderful. And while Deacon didn’t kiss her goodnight, she went to bed knowing she wasn’t the only one who was interested.

*     *     *

Deacon sat in the darkness of his room reading the texts between Bailey and the unknown number he presumed to be Vic. The heavy drapes were closed and blocked out the flashes of lightning as the storm raged on outside. It was nothing, however, to the storm his emotions were experiencing.

The texts read straight from the sexual predator handbook. Vic had manipulated Bailey into believing he had fallen in love with her. He told her over and over that it was her mother who was the enemy, keeping them apart. The messages stopped when Ms. Vander took the phone away. As soon as she gave it back to Bailey, the texts started again. They were counting down the days until she was eighteen and they could be allowed to love each other. He wanted her to move in with him and together they would build her modeling career.

The one time Bailey had questioned him about the fact she had cheerleading, the man had berated her. He had embarrassed her by sending back her pictures in lingerie with them marked up, showing how fat and ugly she was. He told her the cheerleaders probably made fun of her for being so disgusting. Only he saw the beauty inside. And only he could shape her into a famous model so she could then rub it in the cheerleaders’ faces.

She had immediately written back that she would do whatever he told her to do. She trusted him. She loved him. The man had texted back to Bailey that only he saw the beauty within, but that someday others would, too. That was when Bailey agreed to leave with him. But it was the date that made Deacon close the laptop in excitement. He had a lead. The man told Bailey if she did everything he said, then she would have a big gig in a week. Now he knew she wasn’t dead. He just had to figure out where that gig was going to be, and he could rescue Bailey. He knew she was never going to be a model. Sadly, he’d seen it before. She had been sucked into the underground sex trade.

Something was wrong. Sydney had been so tired she’d crawled into bed wearing only her bra and panties and had immediately fallen asleep. But something was pulling her from her sleep. Thunder boomed, lightning crashed, and her skin prickled.

“You’re beautiful. But you know that, don’t you?”

Sydney tried to keep calm as she sat up in bed. The terrace window was open, rain was blowing in, and a man was sitting at the end of her bed. He was cloaked in the shadows until the lightning flashed, and Sydney got a quick glance at the devil himself.

“I hear you’ve been looking for me.” His menacing voice reached out to her in the night.

The lightning struck again, and this time it wasn’t the face of the man she had seen earlier on the surveillance footage that caught her attention, but the glint of light that flashed off the knife resting in his lap.

“Should I call you Vic?” Sydney asked as she slowly moved the sheets away from her body.

Vic looked her over with appreciation. “You can call me whatever you’d like, Sydney. I’ve had a lot of women, but never one as famous as you.”

“And you’re not going to have me,” Sydney said sweetly as she pushed the sheets off her legs. She wasn’t trying to seduce the bastard; she was getting ready to fight for her life.

“Sure I will. Just like I had this sweet young thing the other day. She was a virgin. You should have heard the screams. But after the eighth, or was it the ninth, man that had her? Either way, after that she stopped screaming and hasn’t screamed since. I think you’ll be a little harder to break, though. Somehow I don’t think you’re a virgin, either. Pity that. They’re always easier to break,” he told her evenly as he got up and walked toward her, tossing the knife from hand to hand.

Sydney had to work hard to stop from throwing up. Her stomach clenched and rolled at his words. But she had to focus on the knife. She had to disarm him or else.

“Where is Bailey?” Sydney asked instead of throwing up.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he crowed.

“Duh, that’s why I asked.”

The man’s jaw hardened. He didn’t like to be laughed at. “I’ll teach you, you slut. How you were ever famous I don’t know. You’re old and a good thirty pounds too heavy. But when it comes down to it, you’re just a woman who’s going to be fucked like all the rest of them. You’re nothing special. You asked about me, and now you’re going to get all you asked for and more.”

Sydney stood up quickly. “One, I’m not so easily manipulated. I’m not an innocent teenage girl you weave stories to and manipulate. And two, you’re not so hot yourself. I may be thirty glorious pounds heavier than I was when I retired, but eww, your bone structure is horrible. And while I can lose weight if I ever decide to, you can’t change ugly. Oh, and one more thing . . .”

Sydney sucked in a deep breath and screamed for all she had. The man leapt at her, and she darted around the bed. She heard Deacon running down the hall shouting her name, but right now she had to concentrate. The man feigned one direction, and she fell for it. The knife slid along the outside of her upper arm, but it also brought Vic close enough for her to get her hands on him. She grabbed at Vic’s knife hand. Sydney wrapped her fingers around his wrist in a move Ahmed had taught her and pushed down on the tendons. The knife clattered to the ground, and with a quick kick, the knife went skidding under her bed and out of Vic’s reach.

Sydney made a dive for the door, but Vic leapt and grabbed her as they smashed onto the floor. Pain radiated up her arm, but she didn’t care. Sydney fought with all she had. She heard the door rattle, but it didn’t budge. The thick door was bolted shut. Vic tore at her bra, and Sydney lashed out with an elbow. She connected to his nose and felt the warm blood dripping onto her bare skin.

Vic cursed and went to punch her, but she blocked it with her arms. In a swift move, she bucked her hips and then twisted. He fell to the side, and Sydney pulled back her leg and kicked for all she was worth. He grunted and grabbed for her. She scrambled backward until she was free from his grasp and jumped up. Sydney didn’t think twice as she picked up the small antique stool and smashed it over Vic’s head. Vic sprawled to the floor with a curse.

“Where is Bailey?” Sydney screamed as she moved to his side and delivered a hard kick to his stomach.

“Where you will never get her,” Vic growled as he grabbed the back of her knees and pulled her down hard to the floor. Her knees cracked against the hardwood floor and jarred her body. He used her off-balance momentum to push her down and climb on top of her.

“Now it’s time for you to take your punishment. You will learn to keep your mouth shut, or I will come for you again and again. And next time I won’t be alone.”

Sydney had never felt panic like she felt with Vic pinning her hands above her head as he fumbled with his pants.

“I don’t think so,” she snarled.

She shot her head up and felt her forehead connect with his. He loosened his grip on her hands, and Sydney went for his eyes. She was screaming so loud she hardly registered the sound of glass shattering. Vic rolled off her and jumped up with a curse.

“I’ll be back for you!” he yelled before running through the open window and out onto the terrace.

“Sydney! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Damn, you’re bleeding!” Deacon fell to the floor next to her and ran his hands over her, looking for injuries.

“I’m okay. Get him!” Sydney panted. Deacon looked torn, but after a second raced through the large open window.

Sydney lay on her back with her eyes closed as she tried to remember to breathe. Her heart raced, her body throbbed in pain, and she felt as though she were going to be sick.

“He’s gone. What the hell happened?” Deacon asked a second before Sydney shot to her knees and crawled to the trashcan to throw up.

Sydney emptied her stomach over and over again. She felt a soft blanket being put over her back. A water glass was set down next to her and then there was Deacon. He was on the phone with the police, but his hand never stopped lightly rubbing her back as she continued to vomit. Finally, she was spent. She pulled the warm throw around her shoulders and collapsed against him.

Deacon had been working in bed when he heard Sydney’s scream. The sound of it had sent a shiver through his body, and he had bolted from his bed in the same second. The hallway had never seemed so long as he raced down it. He had slammed his shoulder against the door over and over, but the damn thing hadn’t budged.

The muffled sounds of a fight had come through the thick door. After giving it one last kick, he had run back down the hall until he’d come to the empty guest room closest to Sydney’s room. Deacon had unlocked those French doors and raced down to the terrace outside Sydney’s room. And then he’d heard her scream again. Nothing had mattered. Not him, not the glass doors, nothing. He had flung himself through the first window he came to.