The Millionaire’s Ultimate Catch (2 page)

Her fist shot out. The punch landed on the first guy’s cheek with a blunt thud. Needles of pain fired from her balled-fist up to her wrist. Her hand throbbed. Her fingers remained curled unable to open. No doubt she’d sprained her hand. Well, she had another.

A stinging slap across her face stopped any further musings about her injury. The parking lot shifted around her view as if someone had twisted the scene on its side. A new attacker shifted into view. He didn’t waste energy on calling her names. His scowling face and powerful physique spoke their own language. She tried to reorient, blinking rapidly to chase away the dizziness. He grabbed her neck with one hand. His thumb pressed against her windpipe. The widening smile on his face showed his clenched teeth.

Naomi grabbed his forearms, scratching, clawing, hitting. Tears crowded her vision. She tried to open her mouth, but her brain lagged with its obedience. Right now, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t hear. Even her vision wavered like a TV screen on the fritz.

“I’m gonna make you regret meeting me.” He peered down into her face. His nose brushed against her skin. His odor turned her stomach. She strained to turn her head. His tongue licked the side of her face.

Naomi barely felt the offense. Her hands fell limply to her side. Her body sagged. She could no longer focus on his ugly features. That must be some kind of blessing.

She closed her eyes. Her grandmother’s kind face appeared before her. The older woman was more of a mother than her real mother ever was. Living with her, she’d often heard the caution to stop trying to be a hero. Now look where it had got her. A soft sigh escaped involuntarily from her lips. Blackness covered her as if someone had flicked a light switch to off.

At the end of a long day, Zack Keathley stood in the parking lot of the new retail and residential center. He should feel proud that a new project was near completion. Instead, he was irritated that one of the anchor businesses was threatening to back out of their deal. The economic times had taken the power out of his hands and turned the advantage to his clients. Now the mega supermarket wanted more concessions, trying to tie him up in a deal that would not be to his benefit. He looked at his watch. He’d have to skip dinner again. In half an hour, he had an emergency meeting with his partners to discuss moving ahead or walking away from the table at a loss.

His phone rang. He looked at the screen.
Wil Mem Hosp.
Why the heck was Wilmington Memorial Hospital calling him?

He’d talked to his parents. They were heading off for a weekend getaway. His younger sister was going to a
basketball game and then heading out with friends. He punched the button to answer.

“Zack Keathley.”

“Sir, I’m the administrator from Wilmington Memorial Hospital.”

“Yes.”

“This is a call concerning your sister.”

“Chantelle?” Zack didn’t know if he should have mentioned his sister’s name. What if this was some stupid hoax?

“Your sister is here. I’m placing the call on her behalf. The police will be in touch later.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Zack already moved toward his car. The problems with the retail center had to be set aside for a later time. “I want to talk to her.” He waited for the administrator to get his sister. The music playing over the line raised his irritability. His thoughts drifted around creating ever-worsening scenarios for his sister. She was young and in college. He’d warned her about drinking heavily with her friends. Battling with her whenever she came home had become routine. In her eyes, he was the overbearing big brother. And she was his twenty-year-old little sister.

“Zack?”

“Yes, I’m here.” He had to concentrate on driving through the neighborhood and toward the highway. “I’m here, Chantelle. Talk to me.”

“A group of men attacked me. It was awful. I thought that I wouldn’t get away. Could you come for me?” Her soft sob punctuated the teary plea.

“Of course.” Zack noted where she’d be. He didn’t ask any details because he wouldn’t be able to deal with the attack. At least not while he drove fifteen miles above the speed limit.

Twenty minutes later, he turned into the hospital parking lot. He didn’t care if he’d parked properly. All he could focus on was getting into the building and finding his sister.

He signed in at the entrance and got directions to the outpatient area.

“Can I help you, sir?” A nurse leaned over the counter at the central station.

“I’m looking for Chantelle Keathley.”

The woman looked at her chart. “Oh, she left a message that she’d be visiting Room 316.” She pointed farther up the hallway.

“Thank you.” Zack walked quickly, peering at the numbers on each room. Some doors were partially opened, allowing limited view of patients and the occasional visitor at the bedside.

A uniformed policeman emerged from a room up ahead. His pace quickened and he entered the room with the bluster of an overwrought brother. His attention lighted on Chantelle huddled in a chair. She sprang up and hugged him.

His arms closed around her. Thank goodness she was okay. His thoughts had turned dark and morbid, despite hearing her voice. He set her down now that his fears had been allayed.

“What happened?”

“I look worse than I am.” His sister touched a prominent bruise on her cheek. “It could have been much worse. Luckily, Naomi saved me.”

Only then did he take in the complete picture. He stood in a patient’s room. A curtain partially drawn shielded his view of the person on the bed. Monitoring equipment beeped their noisy intrusion in the small space.

Chantelle pulled the curtain back completely. He stepped closer, now a bit reticent to intrude. His sister took his hand inviting him closer to the bed.

“Naomi,” his sister whispered. “I’d like you to meet my brother.”

The woman, heavily bandaged, lying against the pillow, opened her eyes. She blinked as if trying to focus. He didn’t know what to say. His eyes drifted to her face and neck, taking in the vivid purple and blue bruises.

“Who did this to you?” Outrage burned in him.

The woman opened her mouth.

“Shh, remember the doctor said that you shouldn’t talk.” Chantelle touched the woman’s arm. “This is Naomi Venable. She saved me.”

Zack noted his sister’s open admiration. He looked at the injured figure lying in the large hospital bed. Tubes led from her arm up to the IV bags at her side. One hand was encased in a soft cast up to the wrist.

“I heard them tell her that she strained the muscles in her hand. They also bruised her ribs, and she might have a slight concussion. The doctor wants to keep her for observation.”

Now, Zack felt his own admiration stir. “Have they caught the guys?” Zack didn’t often use his influence around town, but the police chief was only a phone call away. He wanted someone to pay.

“One guy was caught. They’re looking for the other three. But also they got evidence from the scene and from us.”

Zack’s head snapped up. He hated to ask. “Did they—”

“No, neither one of us was raped.” Chantelle’s eyes
filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Zack pulled her into his arms. Her head rested lightly below his chest. Then he saw the woman looking at him. “Thank you,” he mouthed. She slowly blinked her response.

Zack reached down and touched the hand that was free of bandages. He squeezed it slightly, sending his message of thanks again. She returned the gesture. He allowed her hand to rest in his. This woman who’d saved his sister stirred his curiosity but also deep admiration.

“Where did you two meet?”

“We didn’t meet.” Chantelle smiled at Naomi. “That’s the thing. My friend at the game wanted to go hang out at a club afterward. I didn’t want to go. I was going to cut through the parking lot to get a taxi.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want a lecture,” she said plainly.

Zack opened his mouth to launch into one but realized this wasn’t the time. He waited for Chantelle to continue.

“First the guys approached like they were all cool and helpful. Then one of them started saying really nasty stuff. I told him that I didn’t like it. But they were like a pack of dogs looking for the latest catch.” Chantelle’s voice hitched. “Me.”

Zack rubbed his forehead. He struggled to find the appropriate comforting words when he wanted to declare war.

The woman groaned. He returned his attention to her. Her eyes flickered open. Her mouth moved, but no sound emerged.

“Her teammates found us. Those guys barely escaped. Those women were ready to kill them.”

“Who is she?”

“You are so clueless. If you didn’t work all the time, you’d know. This is Naomi Venable. She plays for the Chicago Ladybirds.”

“Ah.” He still didn’t have a clue. “That’s nice.”

“Nice!” Chantelle punched him in the arm. “She played tonight. She risked a lot to help me. Thank goodness the season is over. Could you imagine if this was in the spring?” His sister’s eyes rounded in horror. “Now look at her, she won’t be able to finish the exhibition games. Hopefully, though, by the time they start practicing, she’ll be back to her regular self.”

Zack agreed. He didn’t need a medical degree to assess Naomi’s condition. Bones may need to mend. Muscles needed to be repaired. There had to be some emotional stress from the brutal assault.

“How can I repay her?” Her dark eyes were all he noticed. They didn’t slide away from his face but stared back with an intensity that mirrored the woman’s will. She intrigued him, stirring a part of him that had so long lain dormant.

“Hello?”

Zack and Chantelle turned toward the doorway. A woman stood there, looking curiously at them. Her brows drew down and suspicion clearly marked her features as she sized them up.

“I’m Zack Keathley and this is my sister, Chantelle.” Zack opted to make the first friendly step. “Miss Venable apparently saved my sister.”

“Ah.” The woman offered her hand. “I’m Wendy Brewster, Naomi’s coach. I came to see if she was
awake. I wanted to let her know that her grandmother wouldn’t be able to get a flight out until tomorrow.”

“She’s opened her eyes a couple times, but I’m not sure if she’s completely aware,” Zack offered.

“Her voice hasn’t come back yet,” Chantelle added.

They stepped back for the coach to enter and approach the bed. Although this was someone Naomi knew, he still didn’t want to leave her alone.

“What will happen? I mean, like, will the team have to leave her?” Chantelle asked.

The coach looked up at them; she held back tears with a tight grimace.

Zack tapped Chantelle’s shoulder, warning her to drop the matter. The coach would have to think about the team and her obligations. He understood having to make decisions outside of personal preferences.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Zack was surprised that Naomi spoke, although her voice sounded scratchy and weak. Her face tightened under the strain of talking.

“Always thinking of the other person.” Her coach shook her head. “I should be telling
you
not to worry. Your grandmother is trying to get a flight.”

Naomi shook her head, which earned a weak groan.

“What’s the matter? Should I call the doctor?” Zack asked, concern in his voice.

“Too old…to fly,” Naomi’s voice croaked.

“Who?” He looked up at the coach for an explanation.

“Your grandparents?” she answered. “I tried to talk them out of it. But you know your grandmother is stubborn.”

“Let me take care of getting your grandparents here,”
Zack volunteered. “They can stay with my family.” He glanced at Chantelle.

“Oh, Zack, that would be great.” Chantelle hugged her brother.

“And when Naomi is discharged, I would love to extend the invitation to her. It’s the least we can do for her bravery.” Zack wanted to thank this woman, and by offering her his family’s home, he hoped to make her understand how much he appreciated what she’d done.

Naomi shook her head. “Home. I’ll go home.”

“You will, dear, when the time is right.” Her coach finally had to dab at her eyes.

A nurse bustled into the room. “Okay, I have to check Miss Venable’s vitals. I’ll need you all to leave. You can come back in a few minutes.”

They left the room and headed down the hall to the waiting area. Zack pulled up short, surprised to see a room filled with very tall women. Obviously, they were Naomi’s teammates.

The coach introduced him and Chantelle, which developed into lots of questions about the incident. Chantelle answered as best she could. He learned that the team had to leave shortly to stay on schedule. The decision split the team into two camps, one wanting to stay with Naomi and the other saying that Naomi would want them to continue.

“I know you don’t know us, but I promise that we will take care of Naomi and her grandparents for as long as they need us,” Chantelle offered. “I’m so grateful to her.”

The coach quieted her players. “My assistant will stay here until Naomi is released. If Naomi decides to stay with you, then my assistant will leave and join the team.”

“I’m sure she won’t refuse. No one can resist Chantelle’s nagging.” Zack shook the coach’s hand. “It’s all set. I’ll make arrangements.” He turned and left the room, not waiting for the coach’s response. He had to notify his mother that she’d be having guests for an extended stay at his family home.

He looked forward to getting to know Naomi Venable, his sister’s hero. His number-one priority was to show his appreciation for what she’d done. Hopefully she would appreciate the hospitality his family offered. When things calmed down, he could come up with a more personal gift.

Z
ack pulled up and parked his car in front of his parents’ home on Mercer Island off the Washington coast. He’d teased them over the years about trying to copy British nobility with a stately manor that required serfs to work the large house and acreage. His parents weren’t the sort to mimic their neighbors’ penchant for showing off their wealth with jewelry or cars. Instead they, especially his mother, felt that, if she built a huge home, then there was no excuse but to have family gatherings there. She also considered it an invitation to have a large third generation of Keathleys. He turned off the engine, also effectively shutting off any thoughts about children and marriage.

Gardeners were hard at work, pruning the trees along the sides of the property. The grass had already been bagged. His mother liked to tend her personal flower gardens surrounding the house, but the bigger job of
landscaping was contracted out. The combined effort transformed the house into a gem for home and gardens photographers and the like.

His father had the house built with a contemporary version of the classical Northwest architectural style. The house captured the natural surroundings, making use of the light and space to highlight the best aspects of the changing seasons. With their property set along the Lake Washington shoreline, the home hugged the rugged facing, showcasing its cozy relationship with the natural setting. Zack ran up the brick steps leading up to the imposing double cedar doors.

“Hi, Zack, good to see you.” The housekeeper pushed the open door much wider in welcome. “I’ll let your mother know that you’re here. By the way, Chantelle is resting upstairs. Poor thing, she escaped the attack with a few bruises, but you can tell it still haunts her.”

“Thanks, Reba.” He brushed his cheek against hers. The older woman had been a stable figure in his life since he was five years old. “Is Chantelle eating?” He worried that she’d suffer post-traumatic stress. After all, the memory of when he first saw her in the hospital easily spurred his bitter thoughts.

“She’s not eating much. Had to rely on my bag of tricks from childhood days. Neither one of you could resist my pancakes and maple syrup.”

“I do miss those.” As he walked farther into the house, the remaining scent of buttermilk pancakes lingered with a teasing trail.

“Then you should try coming home more often,” his mother scolded. She entered the kitchen with her arms opened ready for her hug.

“Hi, Mom. Are you heading out?” He noted the
clothes, hairdo and makeup after she released him from a bear hug.

“Just came in. I had to get the guys to pull in a few of the plant pots now that the weather is getting nippy.” She headed for the refrigerator. “Do you want something to eat? I do think you’ve lost weight.”

“I’m just tall and the fat doesn’t know which direction to move,” he teased. His hours in the gym did pay off with a lean, muscular physique. He’d keep quiet about the fact that he forgot to eat sometimes.

“Makes no sense why you’re living out there all alone.”

‘“Cause I’m a grown man, thirty-two.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Kind of kills the conversation with the young ladies if I’m trying to get it on in my parents’ home.”

“Don’t want to hear any sordid details about you and your female friends. The last fiasco with the twins and the hot tub at the country club earned a series of new rules in the newsletter. They might as well have called it Zack’s law. Of course, when it’s official, I’m the first to know. Okay?” His mother looked over the top of her glasses at him. She didn’t release him from her stare until he nodded.

Reba snorted.

“See, even your fiercest supporter doesn’t hold out any hope of you settling down. My son, the eternal bachelor.”

“Looks like I need to wake up Chantelle. I may need all the advocates I can get.” Zack knew he needed to distract his mother from her habitual nagging.

“Don’t you dare, Chantelle’s resting.” His mother poured a glass of lemonade and handed it to him. Then she guided him to the screened-in porch off the backside
of the house. “She hasn’t talked about what happened a couple of nights ago. Can’t say I blame her. What kind of men—” she held up her four fingers “—would do this to a defenseless woman? Our cities are going to…” His mother’s declaration turned into a mumble, a habit of hers when she wanted to use a curse word.

“I know. I’ve talked to the police chief. They are doing everything to find these animals. I suspect that they’ve done this before and there may be other cases. I told them that I’d bring Chantelle to the station to look at the mug shots.”

“You don’t sound hopeful.”

He didn’t respond. The odds were against them, not that he considered the act something unusual among these men. Unfortunately, they would transfer their anger and frustration at not being successful to another victim.

“Chantelle’s worried that we’ll make her pull out of school in Montreal and enroll in the university here.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He could keep an eye on her. As a college student, she teetered on the edge of teenage and adulthood, a position that brought them mutual grief as the grades rolled in. His lectures and advice were rarely appreciated. His impromptu visit to the campus after her recent low grade point average didn’t help matters.

“You can’t smother her. I’ll have to convince your father of that too.” His mother sighed.

Suddenly he noticed the increased gray in her hair, which did nothing to detract from its thick, luxurious waves that settled on her shoulders.

His mother stroked his cheek. “It’s good to see you, although you look very tired.”

“I’m fine.” His mother’s keen sense of awareness
unsettled him. “Good deals are coming in. Thank goodness things are picking up. There are a few pesky issues that try my patience, but it’s all good.”

“Nothing more?” she probed. “How are things with your father?”

He shook his head and pointedly looked out at the expansive backyard. The various shades of green fitted against each other like a jigsaw puzzle with flat grassland to clusters of trees. Their house sat on ten acres. His favorite activity used to be exploring and acting out his childhood adventures with his friends. Now he had set aside those childish things for the dollars and cents of his business.

“Your father wants to talk to you,” she continued.

“Are you going to be the emissary?”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

“Sorry,” Zack said automatically.

“No, you’re not, but I’ll let that go. Will you stay for dinner?”

“I wanted to get back to the hospital.”

“Hospital? Oh, right, to see the woman who helped Chantelle. How is she doing?”

“I didn’t go yesterday, but I got a report that she’s doing much better. Should be released any day now.”

“What about her grandparents? I thought they would be here by now.”

“Apparently her grandfather is in a wheelchair and needs assistance. Her grandmother had to make sure someone could help him. She’ll be flying out tomorrow.”

“Wonderful. I’ll give her the guest room on this floor.” Her mother used the intercom to summon the housekeeper. “What about the young lady…”

“Naomi.” He gave his mother the name.

“Will she need a room on the first floor?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s wait to see if she’s able to walk. Could be painful with the bruised ribs.”

“Ouch.”

Reba knocked at the door. His mother gave her instructions about the room. From the lengthy comments, Zack knew Naomi’s grandmother would enjoy her stay.

“Mom, I have to go,” he said after the housekeeper left.

“Why? I thought we could have lunch. I don’t often get a chance to have you all to myself.”

“I had to reschedule my meeting the other day when I rushed to the hospital. I’ve got to get this mall deal wrapped up.”

“You know your father could help. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn. You’re just like him.” He froze for a second, then forced himself to act normal.

His mother offered her cheek for his farewell peck. “Take care, Azacca. I love you.”

“Yes, Mom.” Using his formal Haitian name, which meant “spirit guide of farming,” carried its own message. She was unhappy with him. He didn’t ask for the cause. The list seemed to be growing on a daily basis. His most recent transgression drew the biggest reaction of impatience from her and angry incomprehension from his father. Digging up his past didn’t sit well with the family after he gained the courage to share that he wanted to locate and meet his birth mother.

He closed the front door behind him, glad to be on the other side. Out here lay his future, but it also provided him a path to his past. He wanted to know his beginnings. Who was his birth mother? Did she think
about him? Did his birth father wonder about him? He hoped his investigation would be successful.

In no way did he not love his adopted parents. Not once did he doubt their love. But he felt that a part of him was missing. Maybe if he’d never known, he could have lived a satisfied life, but the first five years of his life couldn’t simply be erased. He had been left at an orphanage in a rural farming community. His name reflected the worker’s perception that he was a gift. However, he wondered if he was not just a burden.

Naomi pressed the up arrow on the remote to raise the head of her bed. She didn’t want to move, but she had to head for the bathroom. The doctor wanted her to walk around anyway. The torture could take five or ten minutes of sweat and lip-biting pain for the effort. The nurse had admonished her to ask for help. They were so overworked that she didn’t want to bother them or she could wait until her assigned nurse was free. Frankly, she was tired of sitting in bed staring at the walls or the mindless TV shows. Her team had gone on with the exhibition, a fact she understood, even if it made her feel abandoned.

Every move she made caused her to bite down. Right now, she needed to hold on to the bed rail and the curtain to maintain her balance. She inched her way to the bathroom, grimacing. Her entire body ached. The painkillers dulled the edge but couldn’t eradicate everything.

Her slow walk past the mirror didn’t help her mood. She’d asked for two hospital gowns to ensure no embarrassing disclosures. Now that she was in the bathroom, she might as well see if she could wash up. What would have taken a few minutes turned into thirty
minutes. Her limbs shook as exhaustion flooded her. A wave of dizziness hit and she sank into a chair just outside the bathroom. She laid her head back against the wall, fighting back the urge to slide off the chair into a puddle on the floor.

“Knock. Knock.”

Naomi didn’t answer. If it was a doctor, they’d enter anyway. She wasn’t expecting anyone else, especially after she’d chased away her coach’s assistant. The young woman had hovered at her bedside as though she were keeping a vigil. Thankfully, the woman wouldn’t be back until the evening.

“Miss Venable? May I come in?”

Naomi had a good memory for faces and voices. This voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place how she knew this. Her eyes barely opened, but a smile spread at the thought that his voice had the quality of a rich, sweet bourbon sauce over a warm, sinful dessert.

“Are you okay?”

Now she had to open her eyes, especially since the stranger touched her shoulder.

“Are you a reporter?” She squinted up at him, fighting to stay focused. “You can remove your hand, now.”

“Oh, sorry.” The stranger’s hand dropped to his side. He stepped back. “I’m Zack Keathley.”

Naomi let the name register and then searched her memory. She took in the well-fitted suit, the groomed, clean face, dark eyes that sucked her in with a magnetic appeal.

“Chantelle is my sister. She’s the girl you saved.”

“Ah.” Thank goodness he wasn’t a reporter. She desperately wanted to get back under the covers.

“You’re looking much better.”

“I don’t know about that. The mirror just scared
me.” She smoothed her hair, now keenly aware that her appearance next to this sleek-outfitted man made her feel drab.

“Glad to see you’re up and about, too.” He looked at the bed back to the chair.

Naomi slid her bare feet under the chair. Now she obsessed about getting back under the covers. She reached for the hospital gown that was poised to slide off her shoulder. She groaned.

“Looks like you need to get back in bed.”

Did he have to look so delicious saying that? Not that she considered herself a flirt, but another time, another place, that would have earned him her sexy smile. Right now, she wanted to cry out from the waves of pain.

“Here, let me help you.” He slipped his hand under her arm, careful to avoid the IV tube.

The gown slipped and Naomi tried to wiggle it back into place before she could escalate her embarrassment with a peep show.

“Here, allow me.”

“I guess I need to reintroduce myself since you’re helping me remain dressed. I’m Naomi.”

“Zack.” He smiled. “Remember?”

Naomi didn’t mind smiling back, grateful that she had washed up. Although her face was a rainbow of colorful bruises, she’d straightened her hair and cleaned her face, and she smelled like soap.

His hands barely brushed her neck as he tied the top. Then he moved to the middle and tied.

“Um…” He paused. “I don’t want to go any farther.”

“And I don’t want you to.” She lied. “Now to figure out how I’ll get from here to there with some semblance of decency.”

He pulled the other gown from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Now you’re all set.”

She appreciated his foresight. More comfortable, she eased to the edge of the chair and willed her legs to push her up. She needn’t have worried. Zack had his arm firmly around her upper back. They made an odd couple with the IV pole rolling along beside her as he supported her slow efforts to the bed.

She backed her way into the bed. The instant her body touched the linens, she sagged, unable to bring her legs up.

“I promise that I’m not trying to get fresh.” Zack lifted her legs and eased them back under the covers.

Sweat sprinkled her brow. She couldn’t open her eyes even if she tried. Her mouth trembled. She hoped that she wouldn’t bawl, but she’d never felt so helpless.