Falling For A Donovan (The Donovans Book 14) Page 20

  Trent dragged his hands down his face. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “I agree. We were talking about it before I left Virginia, but then Aunt Birdie called and I had to head to the airport.”

  “Oh no, that’s the last person we need in on this. Aunt Birdie will go insane if she finds out what’s going on.”

  “ “Go insane”? That would be if she wasn’t already knocking on insanity’s door.”

  Trent chuckled then. His great Aunt Birdie was not the most stable woman in the world. She wasn’t a temperamental murderer either.

  Chapter 14

  Greenwich, Connecticut

  “It’s so good to hear your voice!” Brynne exclaimed through the phone.

  Bailey smiled as she sat back against the pillows she’d propped up against her headboard. It was going on eleven at night and she’d finally decided that her research marathon was over for the evening. After Sam had left this morning she’d worked for another four hours before taking a break for lunch and then going for a run. No matter how stubborn she was, Bailey was smart enough not to totally ignore the warning that Sam had given. She did not leave her complex but ran in an area she knew well in front of hundreds of people’s homes in broad daylight. The run had taken forty-five minutes and then she was back in the house. And not a moment too soon because Jamie had called as soon as she returned. The research continued into the night when she barely remembered to order a pizza for dinner. An hour ago Bailey had finally decided it was enough and she’d enjoyed a long hot bubble bath with Peaches perched on her vanity saying, “Ahhhh” more times than Bailey had. It wasn’t a word that Bailey had taught her, just something she’d picked up over the years, Bailey thought with a smile. It felt good to be home.

  “Good to hear yours too,” she replied to Brynne. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

  Bailey crossed her ankles feeling cheerful at the soft bright pink socks she wore against the white leggings with pink pigs all over and a pink tank top. The last time she’d looked out her window it had begun to snow so while she was moving around the house it was a little chilly. Still, she knew once she finished with her phone conversation she’d turn out her bedroom light and turn on her ceiling fan.

  “I’m doing good though, Bailey. Really, I am,” Brynne insisted.

  Bailey had to admit her cousin did sound like her normal self. Actually, she sounded happier than the Brynne Bailey knew.

  “So the surgery went well?”

  “It’s been a long journey and the doctor and my therapist both agree that I still have a bit more to go before I get where I want to be. But I feel good. For the first time in my life, I really feel good about what I’m doing and where I’m heading,” Brynne replied.

  “That’s great, Brynne. I’m really proud of you for taking this step,” Bailey told her.

  Brynne chuckled. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

  Bailey smiled. Even though Brynne was younger than her and had lived a good distance from her in Seattle with Uncle Bernard and Aunt Jocelyn, there was a connection between them. There always had been. Bailey talked to Brynne on the phone more than she did any of her other cousins. The fact that they’d both felt like outsiders most of their lives was probably the thread that held them so close.

  “I’m just going to remind you that you didn’t have to do this alone. All you had to do was call me. I would have taken some time off and been there with you. Keysa would have too.”

  “Keysa’s busy with her job and her husband and their upcoming baby. It wouldn’t have been fair to bother her. Or you, for that matter. You both have your own lives without having to hold my hand through something that neither of you have ever had a problem with.”

  Bailey lay her head back against the pillows.

  “Just because I’ve never been considered overweight doesn’t mean I haven’t had body image issues, Brynne.”

  “You’ve never been bigger than a size nine. You’re tall and strong. Your mother’s Native American heritage combined with the legendary Donovan genes, have blessed you with a gorgeous model-like face. All that and you take no crap from anyone. I’d say you’re pretty close to being perfect, Bailey.”

  The frown came quickly and Bailey’s free hand gripped one of the pillows that remained on the other side of her bed. If only Brynne knew how truly faulty Bailey’s life was. If only she knew about Bailey’s mistake with Stewart and the baby it had cost her.

  “That’s just on the outside, Brynne. There’s so much more to you than the physical,” Bailey told her. “Besides five feet four inches isn’t exactly classified as being short. You graduated tops in your class in high school and in college. You have a beautiful smile and dimples Aunt Alma always swore she was going to steal. I think you were perfect just the way you were.”

  “Well, my doctors apparently didn’t get that memo, because all they saw was an obese twenty-six year old who was in danger of developing high blood pressure, diabetes and arthritis in the knees. I can promise you that nowhere in their reports was there ever a mention of my grades or my pretty dimples.”

  Bailey hated hearing Brynne talk like that. She disliked hearing that little edge of hopelessness in her cousin’s voice. In their earlier years Brynne’s despair had been living in Keysa’s shadow. She’d always felt that Uncle Bernard favored Keysa, his firstborn, over her. Bailey hadn’t agreed with that assessment, but she could certainly relate to feeling like she was living in the shadows of her older siblings. As Albert’s only girl there were times when Bailey had felt as if her father could relate to Brock and Brandon so much easier than he could to her. It wasn’t until just a few years ago that her father had admitted that looking and talking to her had been a painful reminder to him that her mother was gone.

  “Enough about me,” Brynne quickly changed the subject. “How are you doing? How are you feeling after your ordeal?”

  “I’m fine,” Bailey replied automatically.

  Basically, she was fine. She hadn’t been hurt during her captivity and she wasn’t there long enough for there to be any type of mental damage from the ordeal. So, yes, she was fine.

  Except, really, she wasn’t.

  “How did you get away?” Brynne asked.

  Bailey went through the whole story, she even told Brynne about going to New York with Devlin to continue their search for Roslyn.

  “I can’t believe he’s my dad’s son,” Brynne said. “I mean, what kind of man sleeps with his brother’s ex? And then is stupid enough to get her pregnant?”

  Bailey had to admit that thought had crossed her mind.

  “To be fair, I think Roslyn Ausby can be a pretty slick character when she sets her mind to it.”

  Bailey had previously shared with Brynne the fact that Brandon’s fiancé was related to Roslyn and the family’s concern about Roslyn’s mental health diagnosis. Brynne hadn’t seemed terribly interested in that at the moment. Now, it seemed her cousin preferred to place all the blame on her father.

  “He shouldn’t have been drinking so much. He still does you know. He and my mom used to argue about it all the time. Finding out that drinking had led him to an illegitimate son was quite a shock though.”

  “How’s your mom handling that?”

  “I don’t know,” Brynne told her. “I haven’t talked to her in weeks.”

  “That’s right,” Bailey said. “They’ve all been really worried about you. Especially Keysa. You should give her a call or at least send her a text to let her know you’re alright.”

  “I thought you told her that already.”

  “I did, Brynne. But she’s your sister. She’s pregnant and she’s dealing with the same news about a new brother, as you are. I think she’d like to hear your voice.”

  Brynne hadn’t been convinced, but she had promised Bailey that she would text her mother and Keysa in the next day or two. She would not budge on reaching out to her father. Brynne’s anger towards Uncle Bernard was real and it was potent at the moment.<
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  After the call Bailey checked to be sure she’d plugged her cell phone into the charger on her nightstand. She’d already double checked all the locks on the doors and windows downstairs and in her bedroom. She used the remote to switch on her ceiling fan and turned off the lamp on the table. Rolling onto her side she cradled a pillow beneath her head and closed her eyes. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily because there were just too many things she’d learned about Devlin still rolling through her mind. That coupled with the feeling that even though Brynne sounded fine, Bailey didn’t think her cousin was in a good place after all, kept Bailey tossing and turning for she didn’t know how long.

  “I know how to help you fall asleep,” the deep raspy voice said seconds before a hand clamped over her mouth and a strong male body covered her on the bed.

  “You’re a pretty willing participant with Bonner,” he said as he moved to cover her more completely.

  She had a tight body with curves, something a guy should be attracted to. He ground into her, being sure to rub his dick over the rounded globes of her ass. Nothing.

  He cursed and pressed his hand more firmly over her mouth, this time pulling her head back so he could whisper directly in her ear.

  “Watching you with him was damn entertaining,” he told her. “I didn’t get off the way I thought I should, but still, I think you and him and all the things you did together could easily work for a porn movie.”

  She didn’t squirm beneath him, nor did she try to scream or talk for that matter. She simply lay there. The only sign that she was afraid was the rapid beating of her heart. He could feel that when he’d wrapped his other arm around her chest to hold her to him. She smelled good. He couldn’t help but to keep inhaling the fresh floral scent of the bubble bath she’d used earlier.

  “I’ll bet you thought he left you didn’t you?” he talked and thought what the hell, he rubbed a hand over her unbound breasts.

  It was soft and heavy. He’d felt breasts before, had even sucked a few nipples in his time, but still he wasn’t impressed. The quick intake of breath she’d taken as he’d palmed her was what got his juices pumping.

  “He’s still out there, waiting in the wings just like he used to do when we were on assignment.”

  He went to the next breast and smiled as she tried to adjust herself so that he couldn’t touch her so intimately. Of course it didn’t work. He was stronger. He was smarter.

  “So we’re going to just sit in here and wait for him to join us.”

  He lowered his head so he could sniff her hair. “I took pictures of all your products so I’ll know what to use later. You always smell so damn good. That day I grabbed you in the parking garage I couldn’t help but admire your scent.”

  He nuzzled against her.

  “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

  He cursed as the bird flew around the room yelling and flapping its wings.

  “Stupid fucking bird!” he yelled and swatted at it the next time it came close to his head. He should have just ignored it. He was trained to disregard distractions when he was on a job. But this had quickly become the most important job of his life. There was so much more at stake here, more than any specific government entities or protecting any secrets or billionaires that probably deserved to be killed in the first place. This job had a more emotional hold on him. It was, at this point, life or death.

  So when she used his momentary distraction to ram her elbow into his ribs and bite the hand that was covering her mouth, he knew it was his fault. Still, he cursed and struggled to grab hold of her again. For as much as he was bigger and stronger than her, she was definitely a cagey creature. After her assaults on him she’d slipped beneath the blankets, moving to the other side of the bed where she came out planting her feet on the floor and crouching as if she were ready for whatever he threw her way next.

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was pretty and she was smart.

  “You’re an idiot,” she spat. “Coming into my house, using me as bait for Devlin has to be the stupidest move ever.”

  “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “For you, running from me is the stupidest move ever. Shacking up with a stone cold killer is the stupidest move ever. Believing he’s gonna save you in time is the stupidest move ever!”

  He was across the bed in two seconds, stomping over the comforter and eventually landing on the floor a few inches from where she stood. She’d moved while he did because reaching between the mattresses to pull out a baton that she tapped hard against her leg to make extend. He’d been itching for some action all those hours he’d stayed still stuffed in her coat closet downstairs. His first hiding place had been in the powder room as he’d only just made his way into her house moments before she returned from her run. He’d heard her moving about, including the moment she opened the coat closet and hung up the coat she’d worn outside. When he’d heard the patio door opening he’d been a little alarmed, wondering if she would be able to tell how he’d maneuvered the lock to get inside and then engaged it once more the same way she had before she’d left. He took a chance and left the powder room, boarding himself in the coat closet instead. If she was in for the night she wouldn’t come back to that closet, if she wasn’t, his hand had been poised on his gun the entire time.

  Now, she wanted to play. Well, he was certainly game for that. It would pass the time at least. He lunged all his weight at her and she shocked him again by being faster, swinging that baton and tagging him across the lower half of his torso. She was also agile and moved out of the way easily as he crashed into the nightstand. He’d taken her for granted for the last time.

  Turning quickly he caught her wrist before she was able to strike him again. He twisted that wrist and pushed her back hard against the wall. Her teeth chattered with the force as he lifted that arm with the baton over her head, slamming it against the wall to get her to release the baton.

  “He’ll kill you,” she snapped. “He’s gonna come in here and break your neck.”

  He laughed. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “You should be,” she quipped.

  “911! 911!” the bird chirped and continued its flight around the room. “911! 911!”

  It had been gone for a few minutes after he’d swatted it away, but now the pestering feather brain was back.

  He slammed her arm against the wall again, this time twisting it so high above her head that she yelled out in pain. He chuckled again because he’d come to love that sound. The baton clattered to the floor and he turned her back to him, wrapping his arm around her neck and pulling her back against his chest. She grabbed at his arm and he yanked her neck back until she made a choking sound.

  “That’s enough!” he yelled into her ear. “We’re going to go downstairs now and wait for your lover. Then when he comes I’m going to slit your throat and make him watch. Then I’m going to gut that bastard like the pig that he is. And if your stupid bird doesn’t pipe down, I’m gonna snap his little neck and drop his feathered ass down the toilet!”

  He’d dragged her down the steps then, almost tripping when she’d let her legs go slack. At the bottom he yanked her up again and had just pulled her limp body into the living room when the front door crashed to the floor with a loud clatter.

  Chapter 15

  He hadn’t left her.

  There was no way he could leave her. Not today. Possibly not ever.

  That thought was sobering as Dev finished his second walk around Bailey’s house for the evening. Her house was an end unit so he didn’t have to walk the entire row of houses, only the last three. He’d seen the moment the lights went out in her bedroom and had resisted the urge to knock on the door or at the very least call her to say goodnight. She would be laying under the white sheet and the pale blue comforter that was on her bed. The ceiling fan would be on, just as it had been last night and she would roll over onto her right side, her preferred way to fall asleep.

  With a heavy sigh Dev realized he’d never k
nown a woman’s preferred way of sleeping. He’d never known that the woman had a healthy appetite when she remembered to eat, or that she had a quirky little bird that for some reason complemented her personality perfectly. He was just about to walk back to his car when something in the front of her house caught his eye.

  The blinds in the living room window were moving. Not as if someone were attempting to pull them up or down, or open or close them, but more like someone was running into them. It took ten seconds for Dev to get closer to the window and about five seconds for him to realize it was Bailey’s silly bird. It was probably going around yelling something equally as silly, just as it had last night. He shook his head and then stopped cold, when he could hear the bird yelling through the window, “911! 911!”

  Dev didn’t waste another second, he drew his gun and gave one hearty kick to the lock area of the door. It cracked beneath the force. He kicked again toward the hinges and the door fell to the floor. In seconds he was in the house and face-to-face with Orinthian Weatherby.

  Dev clenched his teeth and all the pieces fell neatly into place in his mind. Well, almost all of them.

  With his arms raised and his finger on the trigger of his gun, Dev walked further into the living room. O, that’s what they’d called him in the Navy, was sitting on the couch with Bailey over his lap. Her head was near his crotch, the barrel of his gun pressing against her temple. Her hands were at her sides, her legs still. She was thinking though, Dev knew this for a fact. Bailey was always thinking and he was certain that escape was foremost on her mind. Unfortunately, he wanted her to keep still. O was not only a skilled ex-SEAL, he was also a very loose cannon.

  “You finished spying on me?” Dev asked him, trying to keep this situation as calm as possible.

  O tossed his head back and laughed. His hair seemed lighter. More white than the dirty blonde he’d been used to seeing years ago. It was also longer and not as well kept as Dev remembered O being. The khaki colored cargo pants he wore tucked into his socks were covered by military issue boots that had been laced up tight. His shirt was a plain white t-shirt, the jacket he wore over it was black. His eerie iridescent eyes were focused on Dev.