Tycoon Takedown (4 page)

Chapter Four

“
Do you want me to wait?” the cab driver asked when he pulled up to the front of the Jones’s home early the next evening.

Amazing how easy it is to find excuses to delay what you don’t want to do.

Melanie told herself she couldn’t go to Todd’s parents’ home first thing in the morning. She needed time to plan what she was going to say. She also told herself it didn’t make sense to go in the afternoon since most people worked during the day. They probably wouldn’t be there until around dinnertime, so why waste a taxi ride? An hour ago, with her stomach churning nervously, sh
e’d
confronted her lack of action.
No more excuses.

“No,” Melanie said, handing him his fare and a tip. If she had an escape route, she just might use it. Besides, the neighborhood looked safe. As safe as any street in a big city could.

New York wasn’t actually any more chaotic than parts of Melanie’s life in Texas had been. Sh
e’d
done her share of rodeo roping while in high school. Sh
e’d
handled crowds, thundering hooves of excited animals when she took a fall, and even rodeo clowns occasionally groping her while pretending to help her up, even after she was back on her feet. Melanie raised her chin with determination.
I’ve never let spooked horses or drunk cowboys intimidate me.
I can do this
.

She looked up at the town house and searched for clues about the people who lived inside. It looked like an expensive home. Did that mean Todd’s family had money? Would that be a good or bad thing? Sh
e’d
dressed in simple jeans and a white cotton blouse. Part of her had been tempted to buy a new wardrobe for the trip, but she felt strong in her cowboy boots and denims.

This is who I am.

It was important to Melanie for Todd’s parents to see her for who she was. She was born country and would stay country. If they couldn’t accept her, they wouldn’t accept Jace for who he was, either.

And I’ll have my answer. I’ll know I was right to keep Jace away from them.

With strong, purposeful strides, Melanie walked to the door, rang the doorbell, and held her breath. She checked the time on her phone. Six
o’c
lock. Could they still be at work? She rang the doorbell again.

No answer. She leaned back and searched for movement in any of the windows. Nothing.

Melanie reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small piece of paper with a phone number on it. She dialed it and closed her eyes as it rang once and then again.

Please answer.

“
You’ve reached Deborah and Ryan Jones. Sorry we missed you. If you’re listening to this recording, Ryan and I are still in Mykonos. You can reach us a
t . . .
” The woman quickly said an international phone number.

Melanie sank to her knees on the welcome mat outside their door.
They’re not here and they’re not going to be.

What the hell was I thinking? Oh my God, I wasted so much money coming here. So much time. I spent last night looking at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say.

And they’re not even fucking here.

A man stopped and asked her if she was okay. She automatically answered that she was, then took a deep gulp of air.

None of this is fucking okay. Not me. Not this.

What do I do now?

She pushed herself off the ground, dug a pen and paper out of her purse, and called the number again. Once she had their international number written down, she buried her phone back in her purse and gave herself a mental shake.

She could still find Todd. There were eighty-seven age-appropriate
Todd Jones
listings in New York City’s online phone book, and if she had to call each one of them, she would.

Worst case, that was at most eighty-six times a guy wouldn’t know what she was talking about when she reminded him that she had slept with him in college.

No, I guess all eighty-seven not remembering me would be worse. Seriously, one of you slept with me. I just don’t know which one.

She sighed, wishing phone books had photos.

Melanie almost hailed a cab, but she was too wound up. A walk would do her good. Luckily, New York streets were numbered. That would make finding the way back to her hotel easy. She was only fifteen blocks away.

Despite her mood, she felt a faint rush of pride that she could already navigate the city. Sh
e’d
spent so much time hiding from the world that sh
e’d
begun to fear it. Those insecurities were falling away as she pushed herself outside her comfort zone.

As she walked, she took a paper from her pocket listing all of the Todd Joneses in Manhattan and studied it like there were answers in that long string of numbers.
I haven’t failed. This is a delay, that’s all
. Calling Todd’s parents in Greece would mean that the conversation wouldn’t happen the way sh
e’d
hoped, but maybe she was being foolish to think sh
e’d
see something in their eyes. Gain further insight from their body language.

Greece was about six or seven hours ahead, which would make it past midnight there. If they even answered, it wasn’t the best time to call. Sh
e’d
waited this long to talk to them. She could wait until tomorrow morning.

She put the paper into her back pocket again. For some reason, she heard her father’s voice in her head: “Nothing worth doing is ever easy.” It was one of his favorite sayings and one that sh
e’d
rolled her eyes at every time h
e’d
said it. Today she clung to it.

Just because this isn’t easy doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.

Hopefully, it means the exact opposite.

She hadn’t told her parents she was going to New York, and this was the first moment sh
e’d
regretted not telling them where she was. Even though she was on speaking terms with them again, they weren’t what she would call close. They talked around everything that mattered.

It took distance to allow Melanie to see the role she had played in that as well. When sh
e’d
discovered that she was pregnant, sh
e’d
been ashamed to admit it was from a man she barely knew. So when her parents had pushed her for the information about the baby’s father, sh
e’d
pushed back and said things sh
e’d
regretted the moment sh
e’d
voiced them.

Sh
e’d
taken out her anger with herself and Todd on her parents. She saw that now. In a movie, her parents would have understood that and loved her through it.
Well, life isn’t a fucking movie. In reality, anger doesn’t birth deeper understanding—it spawns more anger.
And that’s exactly what had happened. Her father had gone nose to nose with her, met her anger with his own, and followed her threats with some of his own.

She missed her parents in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to since sh
e’d
walked out of their home. She decided then and there to do something about it when she returned to Texas.
I’ve come this far to meet Todd’s parents. I need to find a way back to my own.

Her phone rang in her purse. Melanie paused in the middle of the street to dig it out. She looked at the caller ID before stepping to the sidewalk and answering.

Charles.

She laughed and shook her head. Of course it would be him. What a perfectly fucked-up way to round off the day
.
She answered it. “Hello?”

“Where are you? Your hotel said you’re still checked in but you’re not there.”

“You called my hotel?”

Charles was silent for a moment. “Tell me where you are. I’ll come pick you up.”

She looked around and read the sign. “I’m on East 23rd and Madison. I don’t need a ride. I’m only six blocks from my hotel.”

“I’m on my way.”

A nervous shiver went up her back and she paused from walking again. There was something in his voice. “Did something happen?”

Before he had time to answer, Melanie felt herself being pulled nearly off her feet as a young man grabbed her purse off her shoulder and started to run away with it. All the emotions that had been building within her that day rose and fused in a fury sh
e’d
never before experienced. “I’ll kill him,” she growled.

“Who? What are you talking about?” Charles demanded.

“Some little bastard just robbed me. He is not getting away with it.” Melanie hung up on him, stuffed her cell phone into her front pocket, and took off running after the man who had taken her purse. He was fast, but she was faster. She grabbed one of his thin arms and swung him around, causing him to fall as his momentum continued to pull him forward.

He scrambled to his feet. He was tall, but upon closer inspection looked like he was no older than his late teens.

Melanie advanced on him. “Give me back my damn purse.”

He whipped out a small knife. “Don’t be stupid, lady. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Melanie took another step toward him. “My son cuts his food with bigger knives than that. One of us is going to get hurt, but I can guarantee you it’s not going to be me. Now, one last time before I kick your ass. Give me back my purse.”

Charles barked Melanie’s location to his driver and cursed his decision to request a limo for the day. He normally found them cumbersome in the heavy New York traffic, but they did allow for a certain amount a privacy that a town car didn’t.

A privacy h
e’d
decided the day would require at two
o
’
clock that morning, when h
e’d
changed his mind about pursuing Melanie. He had written off the possibility of anything happening between them while she was there based on two assumptions that weren’t necessarily true. First, although Sarah wouldn’t share why Melanie was in the city, that didn’t mean it was a bad thing. Maybe she was there for a potential job or to have an old tattoo removed or any number of reasons she didn’t want everyone back on the ranch to know about. So staying away from her because she was in a fragile state was unnecessary unless he found out differently. Second, he assumed that she would want a relationship with him that wouldn’t be possible because of her child. Not every woman did. She might be looking for exactly what he was—a quick fling to demystify their attraction.

The driver stopped at a red light and Charles slammed an open hand against the stationary part of the divider. “Run it. We need to get to her.”

“Who, sir?”

“Melanie. Someone mugged her. It sounds like she’s going after him. Run every fucking light. Just get there.”

“Yes, sir. Maybe you should call the police.”

The police.

Of course. He wasn’t a man who panicked, but the image of Melanie confronting her assailant alone ripped away his usual calm. He was supposed to watch over her while she was in the city. H
e’d
already failed to keep her safe.

He should have told her how to hold her purse. He should have warned her to be careful. She didn’t know what to do or not to do in a city like New York. Fuck, he should have hired a car for her for the week. He could have cleared his schedule for the day and made sure she made it to wherever she was going.

He hadn’t wanted to get involved. But he was fucking involved now.

Something in her voice when sh
e’d
decided to go after the man wh
o’d
robbed her had sliced through years of emotional scarring and ripped open an old wound.
She doesn’t know how quickly a life can be lost.
How one moment of stupidity can provide a lifetime of regret.

He rang the local emergency number.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“There is a woman being mugged on East 23rd and Madison.”

“Can you see her? Are you near her?”

He wanted to scream,
I wouldn’t need you if I were fucking there.
But he didn’t. He wasn’t there and although he was racing to her, h
e’d
take any advantage he could get. Anything that would save Melanie.

“No, I was on the phone with her when it happened.”

“What was the last thing she said to you?”

Cutting through what he considered nonsense, Charles snapped, “Do you have an officer on the street near her? Is there a car in the vicinity? If so, get them to her.”

“Sir, I’ll need more information to be able to help her. What is she wearing?”

“I don’t know,” he answered angrily. “Probably jeans and cowboy boots. She has long brown hair.”

“I have an officer on that street. He hasn’t seen anything unusual. I’m calling one of the cars we have in the area. If you have her number, call it. She may be fine. People are mugged every day, sir. It’s an awful thing, but it happens. If you have access to another phone, I’ll stay on while you try to reach her.”

“Give me your phone,” Charles ordered his driver. He scrolled through the phone for Melanie’s number and called it. It rang, but she didn’t answer. His heart beat painfully in his chest and he spoke to the emergency operator in a tight voice. “She’s not answering her phone.”

“I have a car on that street, sir. Keep trying her.”

After what seemed like an unsurvivable amount of time, Charles spotted Melanie on the side of the road. She was standing in the middle of a circle of people. “That’s her. Pull over,” he ground out, and began to open the back door before the limo stopped.

“Sir,” the operator said, “is she all right?”

Charles didn’t answer. He burst out of the back of the limo and sprinted across the street. In all of his life he couldn’t remember being as ready to kill someone as he was in that moment. If the man who had mugged her were still there, he wouldn’t be standing for long.

The crowd parted and Charles came to a sliding stop as he neared what looked like a scene from an action movie. Melanie had her boot firmly planted on the back of a man who had his hands tied behind his back with a belt.