Anthony Read online

  I found my dream girl.

  And I won’t lose her again.

  9

  Jacey

  Is Tony avoiding me? Granted, our schedules are very different with me now back at work from early morning until the evening and Tony’s nocturnal hours in his club. He goes to bed a couple of hours before I get up in the mornings and is either already in the club or preparing to go when I get home. I spend my evenings working or watching television. He hasn’t mentioned me going to the club, so I can only assume he doesn’t want me there. At best, I’d be a distraction, and I don’t think he needs the added stress.

  Clint and his partner, Bishop, cover me at the office, yet thankfully, I don’t feel smothered. Other than transportation, they stay out of sight. There is some comfort knowing they’re there if I need them. In fact, for the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel so alone. Isolated. When I’m at Tony’s, his security takes over. If a window or the door is opened in the apartment, someone will know about it.

  I’m packing my briefcase in preparation for leaving the office when there is a knock on my door before Clint steps inside. “Ms. Jacey, the boss asked me to take you to the compound this evening instead of the club. Dinner will be there as well.”

  Well, well, maybe he’s not avoiding me after all. Or he feels guilty. Whatever the reason, I’m excited, which is crazy since I’ve seen Tony at some point every day. He’s even continued to kiss me good morning on the days he’s been late getting to bed. So, the fact that I feel as if I’ve been invited out on a date is silly. If he wants me at the compound, then this probably pertains to the family. Marco, Nic, and Mike will probably be there if there is news. I’ve been so out of the loop lately that it’s easy to forget there might be a threat out there waiting to take one or all of us out when we least expect it. God, that sounds so dramatic. I wonder if Lee will be there and if he is, then Jade and little Victor might be as well. I feel the same complex array of emotions when there’s the possibility of seeing my sister. Longing, bitterness, and anxiety are the prevalent ones. For a moment, I consider having Clint tell Tony I’m not feeling well, which isn’t exactly a lie. Being around Jade and Victor cause something akin to sickness every time. Gotta get past this. Be the Duchess. A small smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as I realize how easily I’ve come to think of myself as Jax’s nickname. Of course, Tony calling me that so frequently has caused it to stick in my head. And in a way, it is fitting. I do act like someone else to protect the person inside me.

  It’s my reality, and now I no longer hope for that to change.

  The drive to the compound takes longer in rush hour, and it’s after six when we pull up at the tall gates and wait to be admitted. I know there are cameras along the miles-long driveway, and I look for them as we pass through the wooded landscape but see absolutely nothing. I’m surprised when we approach the house and half a dozen vans and work trucks sit off to the side of the drive. I recall Tony mentioning something about some. The car comes to a stop, and I wait as I always do for Clint to walk around and open my door. I’ve learned from experience that he isn’t happy when I pop out on my own. “Thanks, Clint,” I murmur as he takes my arm to help me.

  “I’ll leave you in the foyer for Tony while he finishes up with the tradesmen. I need to debrief with Lester.” Debrief. Who are these guys? I forget all about the covert lingo as my skin tingles knowing Tony is near. I self-consciously smooth my hands down my pencil skirt and brush an imaginary piece of lint from my silk blouse. This isn’t the prom. Get it together. Then it hits me that someone is probably watching me on a security monitor. My hands drop to my sides instantly, not wanting to look like some club groupie all giddy for Tony’s attention. Clint keys in a code and does the handprint thing to open one of the massive entryway doors. I hear power equipment in the distance and see Tony deep in discussion with two men. “Looks like he’s busy,” I say to Clint as we walk across the foyer. We pause a few feet away, waiting for Tony to acknowledge our presence. Tony comes here for privacy, and it’s something I respect. My eyes drift around the area, noting all the intricate details I missed last time I was here. It really is a beautiful home. When I feel eyes on me, thinking it’s Tony, I look up, only to gasp.

  Can’t be.

  No. God, no.

  I begin to shake; I can’t control it. My vision blurs as I stumble backward. “No, no, no.”

  Sick.

  Feel so sick.

  Clint must notice my sudden movements because I hear him calling my name faintly over the roar in my ears.

  All I see is him, the face of my nightmares. And then he takes a couple of steps toward me. That arrogant, evil grin leering at me.

  I’m falling into space.

  There are hands on me, but I fight them with everything I have.

  But, once again, I’m no match for them.

  Then there is nothing. Only darkness. Blessed oblivion.

  * * *

  TONY

  I turn as the commotion behind me grabs my attention. Jacey is white as a ghost and trembling violently. I start toward her at a run. What the fuck is happening? Clint is trying to calm her, but she’s fighting. She lunges away and teeters in the heels she’s wearing. Time seems to stand still.

  I’m not going to make it.

  I can literally see the strands of her hair sliding through his hands as she tumbles backward. Her head strikes the heavy door sharply before she crumbles to the marble floor. “Fuck,” I hiss as I reach her a few seconds behind Clint. I drop to my knees next to her prone form, scanning her for injuries. “What in the hell happened?” I ask as my hand comes to rest on her pale cheek. Her eyes are closed, and I have no idea if she passed out or was knocked out by the fall.

  Beside me, Clint gently lifts her hand and presses his finger against a point on the lower side. “I have no idea, boss. We were waiting for you to finish. One minute, she was fine, and the next, she was freaking out. Saying no over and over. I…I’ve never seen anything like it. She’s always so calm and controlled.” Looking up, he adds, “Her pulse is steady. But she hit her head hard. We should call 911.”

  Then I remember that Dr. Atwell is upstairs checking Marco one last time to make sure he has a clean bill of health. “Clint, Marco and Doc are upstairs. Go find her.”

  Jeremy Caulder and a few of his men are standing to the side uncertainly. “Get your men and get out,” I snap without looking up. They’re smart enough not to question my command. They scurry toward the back of the house to round up their crew without saying a word. “Duchess,” I murmur as my hands move over her gently. When I saw her go down, I thought she’d been shot. There’s no sign of that from what I can see, and I’m afraid to move her until Dr. Atwell gives me the all clear. “Come on, sweetheart, open those beautiful eyes. You’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

  What happened?

  The look of terror on her face had been unmistakable. What were you afraid of? I rack my brain but can’t come up with anything out of the norm.

  Rapid footsteps sound on the stairway, and a few seconds later both Dr. Atwell and Marco are next to me. “What the fuck, Tony?” Marco asks as he literally stands guard over her against some unseen threat.

  “I don’t have a clue. She got spooked by something. Lost it. Clint tried to calm her, but she pulled away and lost her balance. Fell backward and hit her head hard on the door.”

  “Is she—“ Marco’s question trails off as Jacey shifts slightly before releasing a pained groan.

  I caress her arm soothingly. “Duchess, try not to move. Let the doc check you out first.”

  Not surprisingly, the stubborn woman ignores my command. Her eyes open, and she blinks rapidly as if trying to process what’s happened. Dr. Atwell speaks slowly and clearly, “Jacey, can you tell me where you’re feeling pain?”

  “Head,” Jacey croaks out, still seeming disoriented.

  Dr. Atwell brings a penlight from her pocket and begins inspecting Jacey’s
pupils. “Any nausea or dizziness?” When Jacey says no, she runs through another series of questions and appears satisfied by the answers she receives. Even though she’s still dazed, she is noticeably more alert. Thank fuck. “She doesn’t appear to have a concussion. Let’s move her from the floor so I can see the back of her head.”

  I put my arms under her as gently as I can and scoop her up against my chest. She’s so thin that I have no problem balancing her weight as I get to my feet. “Tony.” She sighs and lays her head against me.

  I attempt to comfort her around the lump in my throat as I say, “Yeah, baby. I’ve got you. Don’t worry; you’re going to be fine.”

  I’ve just placed her on a sofa in the study when she asks, “How? What happened?”

  I take a seat next to her, holding her hand between both of mine as she stares at me in bewilderment. “I’m not sure what happened, sweetheart. You panicked over something and jerked away from Clint. I couldn’t reach you before you fell and hit your head.”

  In a split second, I see the confusion clear before she freezes. She scrambles backward, her eyes darting around the room. The trembling returns, and her face goes even more ashen. Her fingers dig painfully into my arm as she gasps out, “Keep him away from me. Tony, please. Please.” Who the fuck is she talking about? She moves toward me, and to my shock, she climbs in my lap and wraps her arms around me. She’s crying now, and it’s a horrible keening sound. As if each sob is wrenched from her very soul.

  Dr. Atwell rushes from the room and returns with her bag. In moments, she is holding a syringe to Jacey’s arm. “It’s a sedative,” she explains as I shoot her a questioning look. “Just to calm her. Yes?”

  “Do it.” I can’t bear to hear Jacey so distressed.

  Once she’s done, she asks, “Do you have any idea what this is about?” Dr. Atwell isn’t one to ask questions of a Moretti. She’d rather not know. She wouldn’t work for me if not for being a friend of Lester and of course needing money to put her son through college. I answer truthfully. “No fucking clue. Listen, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay here overnight. I was planning to go back to the city, but that’s obviously not happening.”

  “Of course, Tony. While she’s sedated, I want to get a closer look at the back of her head, so if you’ll tilt her forward a bit.” Jacey appears to be sleeping, and I marvel at how quickly the injection worked. Dr. Atwell finally appears satisfied with her examination. She peels off her rubber gloves and drops them in a nearby trash can. “She has a pretty good-sized knot, but there is no blood. Normally, I wouldn’t advocate giving a sedative to someone with a head injury, but in the case where the risks outweigh it, I saw no choice. She would have caused herself more damage if left unchecked.”

  “I appreciate it, Doc. Is it all right to take her upstairs now?” When she nods, I add, “And you know your way around. Why don’t you find Cass and have some dinner? Then make yourself comfortable. I’ll send for you if I need you.” She promises to check in soon, and then with one last curious look at Jacey, she leaves the room.

  Marco remains silent, but I know he’s following along behind me as I carry Jacey to my room at the top of the stairs. She murmurs in her sleep, but nothing I can make out. I sit heavily in a chair beside the bed once she’s settled and run a trembling hand through my hair. Marco clears his voice as he paces the room. “Bro, that scared the ever-loving shit out of me. I didn’t see it the first time, but her reaction in the study was pure terror. What’s she afraid of, because I’m ready to tear someone apart?”

  “You and me both.” I sigh. “I’m fucking lost here. No idea what happened.” Hell, she’s been with me for a couple of weeks, and everything has been fine. Granted, we pretty much just pass each other due to our different schedules, but she’s seemed perfectly relaxed when we’ve seen each other. Things have been quiet at the office according to Clint, and she hasn’t been overly stressed. Fuck, she’s looked great the past few days. She’s been the Duchess less and Jacey more. At least the Jacey I’ve seen glimpses of. “I haven’t seen her that horrified or frightened since she shot her father.” I pause, rubbing my hands over my face before adding, “What you saw in the study was nothing. I…fuck, I thought someone had hurt her…shot or stabbed…”

  “Fuck, man.” Marco looks just as worried about her, which doesn’t surprise me.

  “Clint said she kept saying no over and over. I just don’t—“

  “He’s not supposed to be here.” Marco and I both freeze before our heads swing in unison to the woman on the bed. Her eyes are open but heavily lidded. She’s staring straight ahead as if she’s talking in her sleep. “Why was he here? How could he be?” She shakes her head, then groans. My heart almost shatters when she turns and tells me in a childlike voice, “He hurt me.”

  “What the fuck?” I hear Marco whisper, but my focus is her. Only her. Who hurt you, baby?

  They’ll die.

  “Duchess,” I say softly. “Who scared you tonight? Who hurt you? Tell me and I’ll make it go away.” For-fucking-ever.

  Her small frame shivers, and for a moment, I think she won’t answer, but then she talks. “Jeremy. He hurt me…too much.” She drifts off while I sit there in confusion. Jeremy?

  My blood runs cold and rage flows through my veins like molten lava.

  “Is that an old boyfriend or what?” Marco asks.

  A man dared to raise a hand to her? I will find him, and when I do, he’ll rue the day he was born.

  “Fuck if I know, but I’m damn sure going to find out.” I pull my phone from my pocket to call Lester with the intention of having him start digging when it hits me with the force of an atomic bomb. “Holy fucking hell,” I roar, then lower my voice when Jacey moves restlessly in the bed before settling. I get to my feet and turn to Marco, saying incredulously, “It’s Caulder. It must be. The guy who owns the construction company I’ve been using. I was in the foyer talking to him and a couple of his men when Jacey came in.”

  Marco’s eyes narrow, and I recognize the look of calculation there. “His name is Jeremy, isn’t it?” I don’t bother to reply, but instead, I start for the door. I’m almost to the stairs when a hand on my shoulder stops me. I attempt to shake him off, but he holds firm. “Tony.” His voice comes out as a near shout as he tries to get my attention. “Listen to me for a goddamn minute before you go off halfcocked.”

  “What?” I snarl, ready to bodily shove him aside if necessary.

  “Think for a minute. I know you want to go yank this piece of shit out of his house in front of God, man, and everyone else who happens to be around, but you know better. We need more information from Jacey. It’s too big a coincidence not to be him, but we need to know what we’re dealing with and then put a plan together. How are you going to be any help to any of us—including her—if you’re sitting in prison somewhere? And despite your influence with the local police, they’ll have no choice but to toss your ass behind bars if you do something so blatant they can’t ignore.”

  I almost despise the rational side of my brain that kicks in. I want nothing more than to get my answers from the source—and hope to fuck I have to beat them out of him—but Marco is right. This can’t happen how I so desperately want it to. It would be suicide, and I’m not a stupid man. “I fucking hate you sometimes,” I mutter as I push by him and retrace my steps to my room. I’m in the doorway when I stop and look back at him. “If this is anything like I think it is, then he dies.”

  It’s a testament to our lives and the way we grew up that Marco doesn’t look surprised. “Doesn’t matter much to me.” He shrugs. “Any man who elicits that reaction from a woman as strong and courageous as our Jacey deserves to die. Consider it done.”

  Oh hell, no. I stalk back to him and do something few would dare: I invade his personal space, going almost chest to chest with him. “There will be none of this protecting me shit. When and if I need you to step in, I’ll ask, but I won’t be denied the right for retribution again. We c
lear?”

  If I expect anger, it’s not there. Instead, there’s humor along with respect as he stares at me. “Perfectly. I hear her moving around in there. If you’re finished with your tantrum, maybe we should go in and see what’s what. You’re such a little bitch sometimes.”

  10

  Jacey

  The room is awash in light when I awake. I yawn and automatically turn my head to look at the clock on the nightstand. Only—it’s not there. Then I become aware of two things: the unfamiliar surroundings, and the fact that my head feels like there’s a marching band inside it. What the? I struggle to push away the last vestiges of sleep and make sense of what is going on. Then on my second sweep of the area, my eyes fall on him. Tony—asleep in a chair a few feet away. This just gets weirder. My thoughts are so cloudy I’m beginning to wonder if we got drunk last night. Maybe we passed out at someone’s home. Marco’s? My head is throbbing so badly that I don’t want to move, so I reach out with my foot and tap Tony on the arm. “Tony, wake up,” I whisper. I have no idea why, but I feel the need to keep my voice down until I know where we are.

  His eyes open, and he sits up, looking instantly alert—and impossibly hot. So unfair. Does he ever have a bad hair day? “You’re awake. How do you feel?” His eyes run the length of my body as if inspecting me for damage.

  I wrinkle my nose before saying, “Other than a monster headache and not knowing where we are, I’m just peachy. Did we get high or something?” When he simply stares at me, I quickly add, “Not that I make a habit of that, but since I feel like shit, we’re both sleeping in our clothes, and apparently, we had a sleepover with someone I hope is a friend of yours.”