Exposing the Heiress (13 page)

Hunt lifted Alyssa off her feet, swung her around, and pushed her toward the door. She stumbled, slamming her knee then shoulder into the wall before another security guard caught her. “Easy there.”

Pain ripped into her knee and her shoulder ached. “I’m okay.” Her shoes were making her klutzy. Leaning back, she ripped off her thousand-dollar Louboutins.

Cooper flew out of the car, and chased down a photographer on the back of a third motorcycle that had stopped to get still shots. When Coop got close, the bike roared off.

RevealPop had this down to a science.

“Get inside, Lyssie,” Hunt snarled. “Now.”

She really should listen to Hunt. Everyone knew the trick riders made at least two passes. “You come in with me.” His back bulged beneath his T-shirt and shoulder holster, his legs were spread, his hands loose at his sides.

Not a single finger twitched.

“Inside now.”

He didn’t look back, just snapped the order much like when they’d been at the cliffs. She knew the drill, but normally he’d get her inside himself, not wait out here. Something felt off. Her entire body went on alert.

Sniper mode.

“Miss Brooks—”

One of the two other security guards tugged her arm toward the opened door.

Automatically she took a step, but the second her foot hit the ground fire shot up her right knee. She yelped, shifting her weight off the leg.

Hunt spun.

Even in the vaporous light, Alyssa saw the ice-cold rage in his eyes. His stare dropped to her knee then to the man holding her arm and back to her face. Beneath his jacket gooseflesh popped out on her arms, her body twanged at the rage in him.

He took a step, reaching for her, no doubt to drag her into the kitchen.

Alyssa cringed back, gritting her teeth. “Wait.” Her knee, damn it. When she tried to put weight on it, it cramped. Leaning back against the wall, she held up her hand. She needed a minute.

Three riders roared back down the alley.

Cooper jumped back in the idling Jeep, gunned the engine, and swung it into an angle that blocked off Alyssa, forcing the riders to swerve. At the same second, Hunt leaped toward her, throwing his body over hers against the wall. He didn’t hurt her, just pinned her there, keeping her covered.

Once the sound of the motorcycles faded away, she shoved him. “Move.” Her knee hurt, her shoulder twinged, and she was damned sick of this whole night.

Hunt stepped back, reaching to steady her, but Alyssa ignored him. She had dropped her shoes at some point, but didn’t care. She limped to the back of the Jeep idling three steps away, yanked open the door and got in, careful of her stupid knee.

Hunt followed her, easily lifting her and settling her in the other seat. Another guy shut the door and tapped the car in that universal signal of
all clear, go
. Hunt reached past her, grabbed the seat belt and secured her in it.

Coop tore out of the alley. “Where to? Alyssa’s house or does she need a doctor? You threw her into that wall pretty hard.”

The dome light snapped on, flooding the car. Hunt touched her knee. “Fuck. Hospital. Her leg is bleeding and swelling.”

Alyssa leaned forward. “It’s not that bad. It’s only a cut. I’m not going to the hospital.” They were over-reacting. She lifted her gaze to Hunt. “It’s not your fault. My stupid shoes, I tripped and you pulled me out of the path of that motorcycle.” God, she wouldn’t blame him. “You saved me.”

“I threw you into a goddamned wall.” He reached under the seat, digging out a first aid kit.

Oh, he was not doing this, not now. “I
tripped
into the goddamned wall. You didn’t throw me.” She leaned forward until her face was right up in his. “Don’t mistake me for Rachel. I’m not scared of you.”

…

“You cringed.”
Hell. Shut up.
She’d had a bad enough night, he didn’t need to dump his shit on her. If she didn’t want him to touch her, he wouldn’t, except to protect her and get her knee to stop bleeding. He tore open the medicated wipes and carefully swabbed at the cut.

It wasn’t too bad, probably wouldn’t need stitches, but the knee had some swelling, redness and was a little warm to the touch. She’d definitely banged it up. They were absolutely going to the hospital and getting her checked out. Adrenaline was a powerful drug and could mask serious pain for the short term.

Cold hands landed on his cheeks and pulled his face to hers. “I wasn’t scared, I was in pain and pissed, and I’m upset. That picture…” Tears welled in her eyes. “Those were my moments with Eli. Mine. They were all I had of him before he became someone else’s child.” Tears spilled down her face. “And now they’re saying I’m the one stalking him. It’s too much.”

Her tears ripped his chest wide open. Hunt burned with hatred for Madden. What the fuck was his game here? Destroying Lyssie in the media? What would that gain him?

For a few seconds out there in that alley, Hunt had thought it was a hit, but no, just asshole paparazzi. Tossing down the wipes, Hunt slid next to her and wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could undo it.”

“You didn’t do it, Nate did. He obviously found my computer file of Eli’s pictures and stole that. I never showed anyone that picture. It was mine.” She turned into him.

Hunt held her close, rubbing her back through his jacket. She wasn’t crying really. The tears were more of an overflow from what he could feel.

“Almost there,” Coop said. “No tail, no trouble so far.”

Hunt nodded, then glanced down Lyssie’s legs. “What’d you do with your shoes?”

“I took them off when I kept tripping. Stupid shoes.”

She sounded so disgruntled that he smiled despite their shitty night. “They looked sexy.”

“You wear them then. They pissed me off.”

Coop snorted in the front. “I’d pay to see that.”

Hunt ignored him and stroked Lyssie’s hair. As long as she let him hold her, touch her, the cold burn in his veins eased up. They’d get her looked at and then take her home to figure out Madden’s game.

“You’re pissing me off too, Cooper.”

Hunt caught Coop’s surprise in the rearview mirror.

“What’d I do?”

“Told Hunt he threw me into the wall. I tripped. On my stupid ass shoes. From now on, I’m wearing ballet slippers. No one trips in ballet slippers.”

Tilting her head up, Hunt saw her tears had dried. “Who isn’t pissing you off?”

“You’re not, now that you know I’m not Rachel.”

Glancing around, he saw they were turning into the hospital. “Yeah, I think that’s about to change.”

“Why?” She looked around, then glared at him. “No. I’m not going.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Chapter Fourteen

This couldn’t be happening, not again. Alyssa sipped the water the nurse had brought her. Hunt and Coop were down the hall talking to hospital security, trying to keep a lid on Alyssa being there.

Her knee didn’t need stitches, just a couple butterfly bandages and ice to minimize swelling and bruising. The doctor had looked at her shoulder and it was fine, too. She’d just be sore for a couple days. Ice, heat, the usual. Not a big deal. But this? Yeah, this was big. Astounding. Alyssa looked at the doctor, conceding that she certainly looked competent. But still, she had to ask, “Pregnant? You’re sure?”

“You said your period is late, that’s why I ran the test.”

“Well yeah, but…I lost track of time. I hadn’t even thought about it until you asked.”

They’d wanted to do a precautionary x-ray on her knee, which prompted the inquiries about her last period. She’d had to look at her phone calendar to figure out that she was late. “Wait, I had the birth control shot.”

“Nearly four months ago according to what you told me. They are only good for twelve weeks.”

Damn. Alyssa hadn’t been careless since Eli was born, but she’d thought she and Nate were marrying and planned to start a family right away. She’d screwed up. Again. The very first time she had sex with Hunt, they’d forgotten the condom.

Unbelievable. What was wrong with her? She was a woman with an education and money, and she couldn’t figure out how to stop getting knocked up. Even better, she found out the night it was revealed to the world that she’d had Eli and given him up.

Hunt would hate her, never trust her again, and yet, underneath all that, there was a tiny kernel of hope dancing and popping in her stomach, waiting to explode into joy. A baby. A child.

Pregnant.

She’d only been with Hunt a few weeks. Glancing up, she said, “It’s only been two weeks since we started having sex.” Too shocked to be embarrassed, she dug her hand into the bedsheet of the private room they had her stashed in to keep her out of sight.

“Since this is your second child, your HCG hormone levels rise faster, and the pregnancy tests today are more sensitive. Two weeks is enough time to show positive.” The doctor studied her face. “If this isn’t something you want, Miss Brooks, I can direct you to an exclusive—”

“No.” The word erupted from her throat. This baby was hers. But Hunt… Oh God, what would she tell him? How would he react?

The woman touched her shoulder. “You’re barely pregnant. This has clearly been a shock on top of a rough night. You don’t have to rush into any decisions, just take it easy on your knee for a week, and see an obstetrician in the next month.”

The kindness in the other woman’s eyes helped calm her a bit. “Thank you. That makes sense. I’m a little stunned.”

“I gathered that. Women are surprised by pregnancies all the time. That’s the beauty of having eight or nine months to get it sorted out. Just take a deep breath.” Dropping her hand, she said, “Anything else you need? How are your knee and shoulder feeling?”

“Okay. I’m more tired than anything.”

“Hormones and adrenaline crash. We’ll see if we can get you out of here and home.” Moving the ice, she examined her knee again. “I can write you a prescription for a safe painkiller, but a hot bath, more ice and some Tylenol should do it.”

“I’ll be fine with that.”

“Good.” She replaced the ice, then smiled at her. “Congratulations.”

The doctor left, leaving her in the quiet room with just her breathing. A baby. A child.

Hunt’s baby.

Would he be upset? Or happy? She’d find out when she told him, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

The one thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t giving up this child.

…

Alyssa woke up to an empty bed. A glance at her nightstand clock told her it was hovering around four a.m. She tested her right shoulder. Barely sore. Her knee throbbed a bit more but her biggest problem was a full bladder. Slowly she got up, went to the bathroom, returned to take a couple Tylenol, and then settled in bed. Moving around had eased her knee.

Hunt’s side of the bed was ice cold. He had to be down in the studio. A nightmare? A part of her wanted to go check on him.

No. You gave him the room for his studio so he could have his own space. You promised him.

She hated him alone like that, but at the same time, she respected that he needed his space. Like she liked to run alone.

Soft footsteps sounded. In the moonlight she saw him move around her side of the bed. “You okay?”

“You knew I was awake?” A wave of emotion moved through her chest, drowning out years of loneliness. Right after her mom died, while pregnant, she’d been so alone, crying many nights and secretly hoping Parker would hear her and care enough to notice. He hadn’t. But Hunt cared. She understood that he might not be able to love her and stay with her, but he cared enough to come upstairs and check on her.

“Heard the toilet.” The mattress sank as he sat.

The silvery moonlight showed his rumpled hair, wide shoulders and arms wrapped in ink, down to his flat, ripped stomach. He’d pulled on a pair of running shorts when he’d gotten up. Alyssa settled her hand on his warm, heavily muscled thigh. She loved touching him; it was part desire and part sheer need. “I’m fine. How about you? Had a nightmare?”

The sound of the waves outside her French doors and their co-mingled breathing filled the room. Finally he answered, “Yeah.”

“Did sculpting help?”

He dropped a hand on the mattress and leaned in, blocking out the world. “Are you worrying about me?”

“I care about you. No matter what happens, I will always care.” She needed him to know that. “So did sculpting help? Do you want to go back down there? I’m fine.”

“It helped.” He brushed her hair back. “But you’re what I need right now.”

That surprised her, causing her to suck in a breath. He’d been so careful once they’d gotten home from the hospital even though she really wasn’t hurt bad. “You want sex?”

Hunt caught her fingers in his. “I always want you. It was hell to help you out of your dress when we got home and into the tub, and not touch you in the way I wanted to, but that’s not happening right now. I want, shit, no I need to take care of you.” He brushed his thumb over her lips. “You weren’t scared of me. For a second I thought you were cringing back against that wall from me.”

“No.”

He slid the pad of his thumb across the tip of her tongue. “I know that now. You trust me and I need this. Let me care for you.” At her nod, he said, “I’m going to turn on the light, close your eyes.”

Alyssa relaxed into the pillows and slid her eyelids shut.

The light snapped on and Hunt tugged the covers off her. “Swelling’s down.” His fingers moved gently over her knee, around the cut.

“It wasn’t that bad. I’ve done worse twisting my knee while running. There was just that shock of pain when I hit it. Like hitting your funny bone in your elbow.”

He lifted her leg and slid a pillow under it, then covered her and the light went off, freeing her to open her eyes. The bed dipped on the other side, and Hunt pressed up against her side and wrapped his arms around her. “When we get up later this morning, we need to go online and order you some big ugly pajamas if I’m going to keep my hands off you. That little T-shirt and panties are just cruel.”

The thick enticing ridge of his hard-on pressed against her hip. “We could take them off.” She knew he’d be gentle with her when she needed him to.

He kissed her. “Tonight I just want to hold you.” Shifting, he pressed her head against his chest. “Talk to me. Tell me why you’re awake. Thinking about Eli?”

“Some.”

“We’re going to prove Madden did all this, not you.”

She nodded, having to believe it. “I just feel so exposed. I hate it. That picture of me and Eli, it was my only moment with him. The nurse took the picture for me. It was mine. I didn’t want to share it.”

Hunt laid his palm on her cheek. “I get it. There are things, one thing in particular, I never want anyone to know.”

“Like what’s in your locked studio in Sonoma?”

“Worse. I can’t even put it in clay. The thing that proves I really am a killer.”

His tortured words from the cabin bounced in her head:
What really scares me is that one day I could flip that switch and not be able to turn it off.

“The man who protected me in the alley last night, forced me to go to the hospital, then took care of me when we got home is not a cold killer.” She could see the doubt in his eyes. What had happened to make him believe that?

Could he ever get past it enough to be a father to their child?

…

Hunt was shocked he slept late. After showering, he found Lyssie downstairs, sitting at her white antique desk in her little office, staring at the computer screen.

God she was beautiful. No makeup, her hair clipped up and a soft expression on her face as she stared at the computer. Unable to resist the allure of Lyssie, he went to her.

She jumped. “Oh, I didn’t hear you.”

He tilted her chin up and kissed her. She tasted of toothpaste and coffee. “Did you ever go back to sleep?”

“Not really. I came down here to work and get my mind off everything. I finished the tribute video for your parents.”

Turning to look, he expected to see the video. Instead, it was a news site with the photo of Lyssie and Eli as a newborn.

“What’s Nate’s game? What good does releasing all of this do? I mean, yeah, he’s making me look bad…” She sighed, waving to the screen. Tension chased off the softness in her expression. “The comments are ugly and the press is descending like vultures. This isn’t like having a thug hurt a dog to lure me out and almost hit me as a warning, or setting up Maxine and saying he’ll drop the charges if I do what he says. Those were meant to terrify me into compliance. This is…something else.”

Yeah, they were all trying to figure out Madden’s motive. “He’s lashing out the only way he can, or it’s his plan B.” Either way, this guy was a loaded gun. “Whatever his game, it may have backfired on him. That’s the reason I was looking for you.”

“How?”

“I just got off the phone with Adam. Tami Nash called him, she saw all the coverage.” Hunt touched the screen with the picture of Lyssie and Eli. “This picture got to her. She said she can’t do it anymore, can’t keep covering for Madden. The night his mom died, he left her house and was gone for nearly two hours. She’s asked Adam to help her make sure her sister is safe then she’s going to the police today. This is the break we need; it’s all going to start unraveling for Madden.”

Staring at the picture, Lyssie blinked. “This picture did it? Why?”

“She knows what it’s like to be terrorized with threats against someone you love. Your son for you, and for Tami, her sister. In this picture you’re so damned young and vulnerable, your heart breaking in your eyes as you held the child you were going to give up.” He shifted his gaze to the screen, and it punched him hard. She’d done something so loving and strong, yet brutally painful, and it was all there in that image. “This…” He touched the screen again. “Is your story and Tami was moved by it. Lyssie, it made you real to her.”

She swallowed, her gaze sliding into his. “Really? Just from the picture?”

Hunt’s chest clenched at the emotion riding her expression, hope surging up over her pain. “Isn’t that what you’re going to do with your site? Show real people in their valiant moments? That moment when you chose what was best for Eli over what was best for you, that’s your valiant moment and people will see it, Lyssie. Even if most of them don’t, I do and people like Tami do. You’re helping her have her own valiant moment.”

Leaning closer, she kissed him then rested her forehead against his. “Thank you, Hunt. For everything. I was so scared after Nate threatened Eli. I didn’t know where else to go and ran to you. I hated that you’d see me so weak and foolish but—”

He caught her hair, easing her head back. “Is that what you think I see?” Didn’t she understand? Lyssie was the beautiful strong princess. “If your knee is up to it, I want to show you something.” He stood and held out his hand, giving her the choice.

She put her soft hand in his without a second’s hesitation. After tugging her gently to her feet, he led her across the hall and to the door of his studio. Every time he came to this door, a wave of emotion gripped him. Another thing Lyssie gave him—his art and the freedom to deal with his nightmares his own way without judgment. Taking a breath, he pushed open the door to show her what he’d been working on in the night.

“Oh.” She went to the spinning table and circled the sculpture. “Who is this? Why is she so fierce?”

“It’s rough yet, but it’s you.” Hunt wrapped his arms around her.

“Me? Fierce?” She twisted her head to see him. “That’s how you see me?”

“Lyssie, most people are afraid of Coop.”

“Because of a scar? That’s ridiculous. It’s not even that bad.”

“Because he’s a scary SOB with anger issues and he doesn’t care if he lives or dies.”

“You care,” she said softly. “He’s your friend.”

That right there was one of the things that gut-punched him. “You’re sweet and fierce, and you treated him like a capable man, not with pity or derision. You see him as a real person.”

“Because he is. He’s more than his scars, Hunt.”

“Fierce, baby girl. Right now your eyes are glinting with it.” Putting his arms around her from behind, he said, “After we went to sleep, I kept jerking awake, hearing you yelp, or seeing you flinch when I reached for you.”

“I told you—”

“Hush,” he said into her hair. “It’s a dream. Anyway, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep and came down here to sculpt. I thought I’d do something dark, but instead of that need to vent, I saw you leaning into my face, saying, ‘I’m not Rachel.’ I had to capture that image.” He’d been down here for hours, just letting the feel of the clay and the drive to carve out Lyssie’s beauty calm and center him. It wasn’t venting; it was creating.

She gripped his arm and looked up at him. “What does that mean?”