Delicious (42 page)

dig his teeth into her and never let go.

Rolling her eyes, she shut and locked the squeaky door, then set

about her business.

Her head was filled numbers and stacks of receipts when she heard a

thumping noise. As she washed her hands, sounds outside the little room

were muffled. She shut off the water, and heard Hunter‟s voice clearly.

“Tyler, what the . . .” Another thump, then a scuffle. “Fuck!”

Then a gunshot. Startling, deafening, heart-jolting.

Complete silence.

Shit!
Someone was in her club with a gun. And he must have shot

Hunter or she was sure the Navy SEAL would be busting here even now

and getting her out.

Most likely, she was on her own.

Tamping down her fear, she looked around for escape. The bathroom

had no windows, and if the shooter didn‟t know where she was already, it

wouldn‟t take him long to figure it out. And she‟d left her cell phone at her

desk.

Stupid!

“Where are you, my temptress of sin?”

That familiar voice scraped down her senses, leaving behind

disquieting fear. Primpton? With a gun?

“You may as well come out. Both of your men here are incapacitated

and won‟t be coming to your rescue. I haven‟t killed your bouncer. Yet. I

might spare him if you face me like the Jezebel you are and pay for your

sins.”

He hadn‟t killed Tyler but would? Did that mean Hunter was dead?

Likely so, or he would have taken Primpton down.
Oh, God
.

Biting her lip, she held in a cry of panic. There was every chance that

the zealot would kill Tyler no matter what, but maybe she could buy Tyler

enough time to get the two of them out of here. Right now, it was her best

hope. She couldn‟t sneak out, even if the squeaky door let her, and leave

Tyler to die.

Slowly, she pushed the door open. Predictably, the creaking alerted

Primpton to her presence. He whipped his gaze around. The gun followed.

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Shayla Black

The councilman stood near the back door. Tyler was lodged just in the

open doorway, flat on his back, his entire body boneless and lax. Was he

passed out? Had Primpton hit him on the head? Drugged him?

Not two feet away, Hunter lay on the floor, blood pooling under a bullet

wound in his shoulder. The red puddle seeped across the floor, spreading

across the blue T-shirt that stretched across his wide chest.

Fear gripped her throat, choked her. Dear God, she‟d always known

Primpton was whacked, but a murderer? He‟d truly come here to kill, and

she was at the top of his hit list.

“There you are, looking as fetching as always. You‟re the devil‟s own,

put on this earth to tempt men to sin. But I must stop you. I‟m ashamed to

admit that I‟ve taken my own flesh in hand with thoughts of fornicating with

you. For that alone I would punish you. But now . . .”

Blech
. The mental image of Primpton masturbating while fantasizing

about her nearly made her ill. Wait! Had
he
been the one to break into her house and ejaculate all over her lingerie?

Likely, but not important now. How many steps to her office? Could

she make it and lock the door before he got down the hall? What would he

do to Tyler if she tried? What would he do to her if she didn‟t?

“Now,” he went on. “You must be stopped before you ruin more good

Christian men and destroy their marriages.”

Alyssa eased a step closer to her office, and popped out a hip.

Predictably, Primpton‟s gaze followed the motion. She tossed her hair over

her shoulder and crossed her arms across her chest, plumping up her

cleavage. “Meaning?”

“My God-fearing assistant, Randall, has spent so much time here and

lusted after you so impurely that his wife has filed for divorce.
You
led him astray.”

Randall. The one who paid top dollar for the nastiest lap dances every

Saturday night, then attended church every Sunday to repent for his sins?

Leaning yet closer to her office, she gave a pouty shake of her head, a

moue of disagreement. “God gave these men free choice.”

“You‟re the temptation no man can resist. I cannot allow you to keep

luring them into sin.” He raised the gun a bit higher.

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Shayla Black

“You‟re just going to shoot me? Here? Now?” She ran a hand up her

thigh, lifting her skirt a fraction to show off her red garters.

Primpton choked. “I won‟t fornicate with you, whore!”

His erection made it clear that his urges had other ideas, and

somehow she had to use that against him.

She dropped one shoulder, and the strap of her tank fell down her

arm, revealing her black lacy bra strap and additional cleavage. An instant

later, his gaze was fused to it. “I would never ask you to go against your

principles. And I‟m a married woman now.”

“A sham! I‟d stake my life you fornicated with that bouncer of yours

and probably this one, too.” He pointed at Hunter.

Primpton was fucking delusional, and she had to get to her damn

phone fast. Hunter was losing blood every second.

Alyssa edged closer to her office door under the guise of shifting her

legs, sticking one out for his visual feast. It creeped her out to have the

psycho leer at her, but she‟d done worse in the name of survival.

“You‟re flaunting yourself!” he accused.

“I‟m standing here while you hold a gun on me and I plead for my life.”

Immediately, he shook his head. “This club needs to end. You must

die. These are the missions God has given me. I
am
his Christian soldier.”

He was going to strike—at any second. Alyssa would have liked the

chance to move a bit closer. As it was now, she had to hope he had no

ability to sprint and couldn‟t hit a moving target.

Behind him, the wind howled and the back door flapped open,

crashing against the wall. Primpton whirled to the sound. Using the

distraction, Alyssa dashed to her office, running much faster than she ever

had on stilettos.

Just before she shut the door and threw the dead bolt home with

shaking hands, she heard Primpton yell. “God will damn you, whore, for

tricking me. He‟ll damn you to hell, and I am the sword by which you will be

consigned to burn for eternity.”

With that pronouncement, he shot the doorknob. The handle jiggled,

wiggled—something
clink
ed on the other side of the door. Had he

dismantled the handle on the other side? Carefully, she approached the

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Shayla Black

door and examined the handle. It hung loose and she could see a crack of

light through the hole it left in the door.

Then he shot the dead bolt. She leapt away from the door, her heart

thumping erratically. A scratching sound reached her ears next. A scrape,

followed by his maniacal laugh. What the hell was the psycho up to?

Before she could begin to figure it out, she heard Primpton‟s rapid

footsteps as he prowled up and down the hall, heard a faint splashing

sound.
Liquid?

What the . . . ?

Frowning, oddly terrified with the door separating them, she panted.

More of the splashing she‟d heard earlier sounded again, this time closer.

Then the smell of gasoline hit—strong—a wave of petrol that burned

her nose, her lungs.

“You‟ll burn, whore. Right now!” Primpton shouted.

In the next moment, she heard an ominous
whoosh
, the sound of

starting fire. The bastard meant to fry her alive.

Heart kicking into overdrive, she tried to open the dead bolt and

escape the room before the licking flames she heard got any higher. It

wouldn‟t budge. It was jammed. Disabled. Something. How the hell was

she going to get out?

Alyssa grabbed the dangling door handle, but the metal was already

turning hot, and she yanked her hands away.

She tried not to panic. 911. She‟d call them. Her cell phone was on her

desk. Hopefully they‟d get here in time.

But when she turned to her desk, her phone was no longer there.

ALYSSA woke by degrees, too afraid to open her eyes to the pounding

headache crashing between her temples. She was someplace that smelled

like rubbing alcohol. Whatever she was wearing twisted around her. The

bed—clearly not hers—had scratchy sheets. Every muscle in her body

screamed.

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Shayla Black

She took a deep breath—and immediately started to cough. Her lungs

burned as if she‟d smoked a whole carton of cigarettes in a day.

Her eyes flashed open in reflex.

“Easy,” Tyler whispered as he reached out to take her hand.

“What . . . ?”

God, was that croak
her
voice?

“You‟re in the emergency room. You‟ve been here a few hours.”

She frowned, trying to sort through scattered memories. It was a

jumble of panic and haze.

“The baby?” She coughed. Damn, her lungs burned.

“Fine. Doc checked you out right away. You‟re fine. Baby is still in

there, growing and well.”

Oh, thank God
. Relief doused her, and she melted into the bed.

“What”—she coughed—“happened?”

“You‟re being treated for smoke inhalation. Do you remember

Primpton being at Sexy Sirens?”

Then it clicked into place. The club. The gun. Hunter lying in a pool of

his blood. The councilman threatening to kill her. The fire.

“Hunter make it?”

“He‟s fine. After Primpton knocked me out, Hunter found me passed

out in the doorway. He knelt down to see if I was okay, and the bastard

shot him from the alley. Superficial shoulder wound. He lost blood, but the

paramedics got to him in time. His sister is down the hall fussing over him

now.”

She relaxed against the bed, releasing the breath she hadn‟t realized

she‟d been holding; then a new fear gripped her. “The club?”

Please God
. . .

“Gone.” He shook his head, regret settling into his expression. “I‟m

sorry. The fire department tried . . .”

Anguish gushed through her blood, like sizzling acid destroying her

veins. Her club, her refuge, the place that represented her broken past and

its bridge to her stronger present, no more. All because of one crazy

zealot‟s delusions.

No, Sexy Sirens wasn‟t gone forever. Not if she had anything to say

about it.

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Shayla Black

“You okay?”

He held up both hands, stopping her concern. “Bump on the head. As I

opened the door to leave, the asshole hit me on the head with the butt of

his gun, knocked me out. After he started the fire, he darted out the back

door. I came to and saw Primpton was gone, and Hunter had his eyes

open, assessing the sitch. I grabbed my cell, dialed nine-one-one, and

handed it to him while I got him on his feet. I went to get you, and the stupid

SEAL followed me instead of getting out.”

“The place must have been an inferno by then!” And they‟d both

stayed to help her?

“Smoldering wood falling from the ceiling everywhere . . . He‟d jammed

rock into your dead bolt‟s casing, but I got it out. I wasn‟t leaving without

you.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she held out a hand to him. “You‟re a

wonderful friend to me.”

Pain ripped across his features as he shot her a tight smile. “That‟s

me, a real pal.”

It had been the wrong thing to say, she realized. He loved her, and she

hated in some ways that she couldn‟t reciprocate. But she‟d given her heart

to Luc long ago, probably because she‟d known from their first meeting that

he was the sort of man who wouldn‟t care about a woman because she

looked hot. He would fall only once he knew her deep inside.

Was there any chance Luc had actually fallen in love with her? All his

concern, his tenderness, constant phone calls, business help, fabulous

home-cooked meals, and everything else had to be based on more than

the fact she was pregnant, right?

“You‟re going to make some girl wildly happy someday,” she

murmured to Tyler.

“I wanted it to be you.” His jaw clenched, and he grimaced with pain.

“I‟m not the one, but you‟ll find her.”

The nurse broke in and checked her vitals, asked her if she needed

more pain meds. Alyssa shook her head. All she wanted was out of here.

“Did someone call Luc?” She didn‟t want him to worry unnecessarily,