What the hell was he going to do next? Talk to Rachel. Why wait until Tuesday? He had to tell her everything now—and tell her that he loved her. Let the chips fall where they may. Decker raked a hand through his hair and rose, pacing the small room. He didn’t know exactly when he’d lost his heart. Probably when she’d laughed at his really terrible pick-up lines. He only knew that he couldn’t lose her now.
He was about to bolt for the front door when he spotted a framed photo on the wall. Obviously taken a few years ago, Carly stood in a red cap and gown, smiling wide as she held her college degree. Beside her, her parents stood, smiling proudly. But none of that caught his eye. It was the man hovering just behind her.
Carly bopped back into the room. “Owen will be out in a minute.”
The toilet flushed, and the sound faded into the background. Decker’s world narrowed and his heartbeat roared as he stared at the photo. “Who’s this in the picture with you and your parents?”
“My brother Christian. Why?”
Decker’s blood ran cold. “Where is he now?”
She shrugged. “Um, he said something about putting in a few hours at his shop before taking us to the airport.”
Monday. Yeah, the guy would be at work. That fit. Decker breathed a sigh of relief because he knew now that Christian Adams had been the man who hired him to commit murder. And the asshole was occupied on the job and out of Rachel’s path. No reason to think that if he wanted to hire a killer, he’d go do the work himself.
“Does your brother like Owen?”
“He’s been reserved so far, but I think he’ll come around now.” She nodded. “Christian was pretty pissed when I called the wedding off, and I know he thought Owen was still hung up on Rachel. He just wants what’s best for me, especially since our parents passed away. But Owen and I are going to be so much better now. We decided today to plan another wedding, a big one, next summer.”
Good. It would be awkward with big brother in prison, because Decker intended to nail this asshole to the wall and make him pay for ever thinking about hurting Rachel. But no need to clue Carly in on that now.
“Congratulations.” Decker opened his mouth to excuse himself when his phone buzzed. It was Xander.
911. London says Rachel never showed for lunch. Is she with you?
The text made his world stop on its axis.
“I’ve got to go.”
Decker didn’t wait for Carly’s reply, just ran for the door. He tapped out Rachel’s iCloud password to track her phone. She should have been at the restaurant twenty minutes ago, and the location of her phone indicated that she was home. Fear stabbed his heart.
Dear God, let her be safe.
He hopped onto his bike, Carly chasing him, and called 911. After sending the police to Rachel’s house, he shoved his helmet on with shaking hands. Revving the motor and racing down the street, Decker prayed that he wasn’t too late.
EIGHT
AT THE FIRST STOPLIGHT AWAY FROM HER PLACE, RACHEL reached over for her phone to text London that she was on her way. As she dug through her purse, she remembered leaving it on the kitchen counter to charge. With a sigh, she made a U-turn as soon as the light changed to green, then headed back to her house to grab it—just in case Decker called. Yes, he’d said he’d be back after lunch. She hoped he meant it because she wasn’t ready to be without him.
Gosh, she sounded awfully attached . . . and maybe a bit in love.
Wrestling with the realization, Rachel let herself in absently and headed to the kitchen, pulling her phone from the power cord.
Suddenly, Val hissed low and loud, then let loose a cantankerous meow, snagging her attention. When she turned to find out what was troubling her high-strung feline, Rachel discovered a man of average height and build standing in her foyer with grease under his fingernails, a determined look in his eyes . . .
And a gun pointed at her head.
She froze with terror. Her brain told her to scream, but the moment was like a bad dream. She felt pinned, immobile. Useless.
Her assailant trekked closer, keeping both hands on the pistol and the barrel trained right between her eyes.
“No. Please.” She hated whining pitifully, but it was instinct. “Don’t.”
Who was he? What did he want? How could she get out of this mess? A thousand thoughts flew through her brain.
“Shut up,” he snarled, his dark, unkempt hair falling limply into his face. He wore mechanics’ coveralls that proclaimed his name was Chris and an icy expression full of murder.
“M-my wallet is out in my car. You can have—”
“I don’t want your money, bitch. I want you dead.” He spotted the phone in her hand, then nodded at it. “Put that down and step away.”
She shook so hard that as she reached toward the counter, the phone rattled out of her hand and skittered across the slick tile, plopping into the sink with a thunk that jolted her nerves. Though he wanted her to, Rachel couldn’t bring herself to actually come closer to the violent stranger in her house. He stood between her and the front door. He’d get multiple unobstructed shots off if she tried to dart down the hall or toward the patio. He blocked her path to the front. The only place to step was deeper into the kitchen.
Rachel trembled as she veered two deep lunges into the narrow galley, near the sink and cutting boards.
And the knives.
Mercy, could she be brave enough to grab one and defend herself?
If it means the difference between life and death . . .
Good point.
“W-what do you want with me? Why kill me?”
He crept closer, still aiming that gun at her. “You’re in the way of my sister’s future, slut. She and her fiancé can’t be happy because of you.”
“I don’t know who you mean.” She shook her head. “You have me confused with someone else. I’m not involved with anyone—” Except Decker. Was he secretly engaged?
The man rubbed a greasy hand across his cheek. “Maybe you’re not involved with him anymore, but Carly called off the wedding because she was sure that the professor was still hung up on you. My sister has been through a hell of a lot, losing our parents in the last year. If your sniveling ex-husband makes her happy, I’m going to make sure she gets him. That means you’re going to die.”
Understanding dawned with terrible clarity. Rachel’s heart stuttered, and she shook her head frantically. “You’re wrong. Owen isn’t hung up on me. He loves your sister. He came to see me yesterday and told me how much he wants to make Carly happy. I don’t want him back, and he doesn’t want me either, I swear! You don’t have to shoot me.”
“My sister was worried enough a few weeks ago to call off their wedding. If you’re not around . . . problem solved.”
“Owen wants to marry Carly,” she insisted. “And I’m in love with someone else.”
Her attacker sent her a snide grin. “That slick guy with the sunglasses and the leather jacket? The one who’s been in your bed since Saturday night?” He snorted. “You really are a dumb bitch. I hired him to kill you.”
This time, Rachel’s heart stopped altogether. “What?”
No way could she have heard that right.
Chris nodded. “I gave him twenty-five grand on Saturday to have you dead quick. But I’ve been watching. I guess he wanted to fuck you before he killed you. I can’t wait on him anymore. If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”