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“One, two, three,” counted Garrett.

  And they lifted Ryker between them.

  Jenna was strong, and her size helped. If she was the kind of petite waif she’d always wanted to be, he’d have crushed her. As they lifted him, his head fell forward onto his chest. His body was limp and a dead weight. Jenna knew with certainty that the moment of consciousness he’d experienced had only been fleeting. Ryker was definitely unconscious again. They struggled between them to carry him out of the door and into the hallway, Ryker’s feet dragging behind him. Jenna held Ryker close, one arm around his waist, holding him tight, hoping he could feel her love and compassion in her touch. She turned her face to the side briefly, to place her nose and mouth against the side of his neck. She took comfort in the warmth of his skin, the scent of him, in the pulse still throbbing through his veins.

  By the time they reached the bottom of the staircase, her back was protesting, her arm muscles shaking with exertion, and they still needed to get him up the stairs. Garrett clutched the knife in one hand, making his hold on Ryker unstable. Jenna was terrified he’d lose his grip and Ryker would end up tumbling back down the stairs. Maybe she’d done the wrong thing by getting Garrett to move him, made the wrong choice yet again? If Ryker was killed because of something she’d done, she’d beg Garrett to kill her as well.

  They mounted the first stair and then the next. The thought of Ryker falling suddenly turned in on its self. What if it wasn’t Ryker who fell, she wondered, but Garrett?

  She risked glancing past Ryker, toward Garrett’s hand which still clutched the knife. He grunted and gasped as they hauled Ryker up more of the steps. He would be out of breath and distracted. Could she grab the knife and plunge it into his chest hard enough to push him down the stairs? She imagined the blade becoming wedged deeper and deeper into his body as he tumbled from stair to stair, to land at the bottom in a bloodied heap.

  But she couldn’t risk it. Any attempt to push Garrett would result in Ryker falling as well. She didn’t think he’d survive another blow to the head.

  Jenna restrained her urge to jump for Garrett’s knife, and instead lowered her head and concentrated on getting to the top of the stairs. Ryker was growing heavier with every step and showed no sign of regaining consciousness.

  They reached the top of the stairs and stopped to regain their breath.

  “Keep going,” Garrett growled. “I assume the biggest bedroom is his.”

  It took her a moment to remember that he’d come scouting upstairs, so must have clocked onto which bedroom was Ryker’s. She didn’t have the energy or desire to answer, so she just started down the hallway toward Ryker’s bedroom.

  She felt sick at the thought of what would happen once they’d made it to the room.

  Garrett kicked open the bedroom door and nodded toward the occasional chair positioned in the corner. “Over there.”

  Her muscles trembled from fatigue, her back and shoulders aching. Her headache had returned, thumping through her temples with a steady beat. Despite her pain, she increased her hold on Ryker, squeezing him tight around his waist and trying to give him a little shake to help bring him round. She didn’t know why she thought that would help, considering how he’d been jerked and jolted as they’d hoisted him up the stairs, but she had to try.

  They dropped Ryker backward into the chair, so he sat, slumped and unresponsive.

  Come on, she willed him. Wake up!

  From the corner of her eye, she noted the exact way Garrett held the knife. If he showed any moment of weakness, or distraction, she would go for the weapon and stick him with it.

  “Well this isn’t quite what I had in mind when we were dragging him up here,” said Garrett, staring at Ryker in something close to boredom. “But I guess I’d better tie him up just in case he wakes and decides to play the hero.”

  “He’s injured,” Jenna said hurriedly. “He’s not going to do you any harm. He can’t even open his eyes. If you want to do this, let’s just get on with it.”

  “Oh, you’re desperate for me now, huh, Jenna? You want to remember what it’s like to have a real man.”

  The thought made her want to vomit, but she needed to get Garrett away from Ryker. She lifted her t-shirt to expose the breast he’d bared by ripping her bra. “Look at me, Garrett. Is this the best you can do? You’re making me think you can’t finish what you started. Did all those men in jail make you no good for women anymore?”

  His face took on that customary blaze of rage. His nostrils flared, eyes widened, face burning. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her heart tripped in her chest, her eyes flicking between the shiny blade in Garrett’s hand and the face of the man she loved in the chair right behind him. Please wake up, Ryker, she willed again. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen. She couldn’t rely on someone else to save her. She needed to save herself.

  Jenna took a step away from Garrett as he approached her, blade held out. The backs of her knees bumped into the bed and her heels hit something hard which rolled away and then rolled back again. She glanced down briefly to see the baseball bat Ryker had used to chase Garrett from the house the previous night. He must have not bothered to put it back in the closet—or else instinctively had kept it under the bed, but still within reach, just in case Garrett came back.

  Which he had.

  Quickly, she looked away from the bat, not wanting Garrett to notice the item, and kept her eyes locked on the knife in his hand. Could she wrestle it off him? She didn’t want to risk getting herself stabbed, but she had to do something.

  “Get on the bed, Jenna,” he snarled.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Do as I say, or I’ll put this knife against your throat, and take you like that.”

  She held up her hands. “Okay, okay.” Her voice trembled.

  Could she reach down and grab the bat?

  She got onto the bed, her back against the headboard. Garrett climbed on as well, facing her, his back to Ryker. He still held the knife in one hand, and yanked at his belt buckle with the other. He managed to get the belt undone one-handed, but then fumbled with the button of his jeans. He glanced away from her just long enough to look down at what he was doing.

  Jenna took her opportunity. With a scream of fury, she threw herself at the arm holding the knife. Garrett glanced up and reacted by pulling his arm back, but he wasn’t quick enough. Both of Jenna’s hands closed around his fingers and she put her whole body weight into the movement so she pulled him down onto his side, his hand and the knife pressed against the mattress.

  She cried out, “Let go, you piece of shit!”

  She wished they were on the floor, so she could have lifted his hand again and smashed his knuckles down on something hard in order for him to let go, but the mattress was soft and yielding beneath them. She tried to pull at his fingers, to loosen them around the handle, but his grip was strong.

  Then his hand was in her hair, knotting his fingers through her dark locks and pulling tight. White hot pain bloomed through her scalp, making her eyes water, as he yanked her head backward, exposing her throat to the ceiling. He yanked again, harder this time, and she knew he would have thick strands of hair around his fingers, probably together with a little of her skin, when he eventually let go. She had no choice but to let go of his hand and the knife. Automatically, her hands went to her head, trying to protect her hair and lessen the pain shooting through her scalp.

  He pulled her backward onto the bed, their positions reversed, so he eclipsed the ceiling above her. He pressed the knife to her throat, the metal cold and sharp against her skin, and she gave a small cry of fear.

  “That was really fucking stupid, Jenna,” he spat. “I hope you know that. You’re making me do this to you now. I hadn’t planned for it to be this way. But if I have to fuck you while I’m holding a knife to your throat, and maybe even cutting you a little while I do, it’s your own fucking fault.”

  �
�Please, Garrett. Just leave me alone. All I ever wanted was to be left alone!” She hated the whining, pleading tone her voice had taken on, but she couldn’t help it. That was what he’d reduced her to, her begging for her life.

  “That’s it, Jenna. Beg for it. I want to hear you begging.” He lowered his mouth to her ear and spoke softly. “It makes me hot.”

  Jenna choked back a sob.

  With the knife still against her skin, Garrett set back to ridding himself of his pants. Jenna’s gaze flicked over his shoulder to where they’d left Ryker, and her heart stopped.

  Ryker’s eyes were open.

  They locked gazes. He didn’t seem to have any of the doziness she’d seen before. She flicked her eyes downward, trying to get him to notice the baseball bat beneath the bed. His eyes followed the line of her gaze, noting the bat, and he gave her the briefest of nods. Her heart hitched in hope.

  Quickly, she moved her attention back to Garrett, who had now managed to get his jeans open and was reaching down to pull off her pants. She didn’t want him to notice Ryker awake and now cautiously lifting himself off the chair to go for the baseball bat.

  Suddenly, the sound came of the front door opening and a voice called out, “Hey, Ryker. Who the hell owns the flash car parked out front?”

  Jenna and Ryker’s eyes connected again, panic mirrored in them both.

  Oh shit. Mikey was home.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  Garrett turned toward the bedroom door, his attention drawn by the voice and sound of movement from downstairs.

  Jenna looked at Ryker, who had frozen in his actions, her eyes wide, trying to get an idea of what they were supposed to do now. Neither of them wanted Mikey to come up here and get mixed up in this mess.

  Garrett glanced back at Jenna and caught her staring toward Ryker. He turned to look over his shoulder ...

  Ryker exploded out of the chair, launching himself at Garrett. But Garrett was fast. Jenna opened her mouth to yell a warning to Mikey, but Garrett was already on her, his hand clamping over her mouth, preventing the sound from coming out. The cold, sharp edge of the knife was against her throat, and he dragged her off the bed, using the bed as a barrier between them and Ryker.

  Ryker glared at Garrett, his blue eyes dark with fury. “You let her go!”

  Garrett pressed the blade harder against her throat. “If you make a single move, I’ll cut her open.”

  Ryker leaned back slightly and lifted both hands in defense. “No one is doing anything.”

  Mikey’s voice came from downstairs again. “Hey, bro? You around?”

  “Who the hell is that?” Garrett hissed. “I’d locked all the doors. No one should have been able to get in here.”

  Ryker kept his hands raised. “That’s my little brother, Mikey. He has nothing to do with this.”

  Garrett frowned. “Mikey? I thought you were Michael?”

  It was Ryker’s turn to frown. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you used her credit card. That’s how I found Jenna.” Realization dawned on Garrett’s face and he nodded in understanding. “Oh, it was your little brother who stole her credit card. I get it. She didn’t want me to know someone else was involved.” He gave Jenna a shake and she cried out in fear. “Lying to me, huh? For what? To protect some kid you hardly know.”

  Ryker’s eyes locked with hers, communicating with her via eye-contact alone. Thank you, he said to her. Thank you for trying to keep Mikey out of this.

  Only now Mikey was downstairs.

  She saw Ryker glance at the door again, trying to figure out where Mikey was now. Had the boy settled himself somewhere downstairs, possibly plugged himself into his computer game, oblivious that there was even anyone else in the house? But he’d seen Ryker’s truck, and Garrett’s stolen vehicle as well. He obviously hadn’t bothered to try and peer too hard through the blacked out windows, or he would have spotted the neighbor’s body wedged on the floor.

  Jenna looked over at Ryker again. What now? If he tried anything, Garrett would hurt her.

  Would Ryker put Mikey’s safety before her own? Yes, she decided, that’s exactly what he needed to do. What they both needed to do. Ryker somehow had to get Mikey out of the house.

  Ryker kept his voice calm and level. “Listen to me. All you have to do is let go of Jenna, and then we can all walk back downstairs. Jenna and I will go to Mikey, and you can get the hell out of here. We won’t say anything. Just go.”

  Garrett barked laughter. “You think I’m just going to walk away from this? I’ve been waiting a whole year for this day.”

  Tears of frustration and anger blurred Jenna’s vision. She needed to do something! Garrett was distracted by Ryker and Mikey. He wasn’t paying any attention to her. But the knife was still against her throat, his hand over her mouth. She was barefooted, so couldn’t do much harm by trying to kick him or stamp on his foot. There was only one option left, and she hoped the injury she had already caused him would work in her favor.

  She couldn’t let herself think about it too much or she would lose her nerve.

  Reacting with as much force as she could muster, Jenna flung her head back. The back of her skull connected with Garrett’s already damaged nose and he let out a scream that sounded like an injured animal. The sound frightened her, but she didn’t give herself time to wonder how badly he’d been injured. His hand had already fallen from her mouth to cover his nose, and she used both hands to shove away the arm holding the knife.

  “Ryker!” she yelled. “Get the bat!”

  But then she heard Mikey’s voice. “Ryker? Are you up there? What the hell’s going on?”

  “Run, Mikey!” she screamed. “Get out of the house.”

  Garrett had started to recover himself. She froze with indecision. Should she try to get the knife, or run to warn Mikey? Ryker ran toward the bed, heading for the baseball bat, so she made her choice and ran.

  Jenna burst out of the bedroom door and into the hallway to see Mikey running up the stairs. He caught sight of her and frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “Turn around, Mikey. Get out of here, please!”

  “Why? Where’s my brother?”

  A yell of pain sounded from the room and they both turned toward the noise.

  Oh, God. That had sounded like Ryker!

  Mikey must have thought the same. He shoved past her, shooting her a final confused glare, and ran for the bedroom.

  “No, Mikey, wait!”

  But she couldn’t stop him. She grabbed for his arm, but he was young and strong and he tugged out of her grip. He ran into the bedroom and she followed.

  Her heart stopped.

  Ryker lay on the floor, the baseball bat beside him. He clutched his arm to his body, the whole of his forearm covered red. The blood spread across his shirt where he held his arm to his chest. Her eyes flicked to Garrett standing above him, to the red smeared across the silver of the blade, and her mind pieced together what had happened. Ryker had gone for the bat, reached out for the weapon, and Garrett had dived at him with the knife, slicing his forearm open. From the limp way Ryker’s hand fell, Jenna had a horrible feeling Garrett may have sliced through nerves and tendons.

  “Oh, God, Ryker,” she cried.

  Garrett brandished the knife, blood coating the lower half of his face from where she’d re-broken his nose. “See what I did to your pretty boy, Jenna? And I’ll do even worse to his baby brother.” His voice sounded nasal, as if he had a really bad cold.

  Mikey turned to run from the room, but Garrett reached out and grabbed him. Jenna launched herself at him, no longer caring about the knife. “Just kill me, you son of a bitch! I’m the one you want. Ryker and Mikey have nothing to do with this!”

  But he’d already caught Mikey by the arm, twisting it behind his back and holding the boy firm. He must have used his time in jail to build his physical strength and learn how to incapacitate people. The person Ga
rrett had been before he did time had been cruel and conniving, but the man who’d come out was terrifying.

  “Let go of me, you fucker!” Mikey cried.

  “Shut it, kid, or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

  “Leave him alone!” Jenna screamed. “Kill me! I’m who you want, not some kid you’ve never met. Kill me, you cowardly piece of shit.”

  He wheeled around, brandishing the knife. “Shut your mouth, Jenna, or you’ll feel this blade in your chest.”

  She stepped toward him, and put out her arms either side of her body. “Fine. Do it.” She hit herself between her breasts. “Right here! What are you waiting for?”

  Ryker shifted, cradling his arm. “Jenna, no …”

  She glanced down at him. “It’s okay, Ryker.”

  “No, it isn’t!” snarled Garrett. “None of you will be leaving the house alive. Got it?”

  “So why haven’t you killed any of us yet?” she demanded. “You’ve had plenty of opportunity. You killed the other two men without flinching.” She sensed Ryker’s eyes flick to her with horror. Who had he killed? she knew Ryker was thinking. She didn’t think this was the time to tell him Sam was dead. “So why haven’t you killed us already?”

  He jabbed the knife toward her. “Because I’m having my fun,” he told her. “I’m taking my time.”

  “No. There’s more to it.”

  She pressed her lips together, her jaw tight. Anger escaladed inside her. How dare he do this to her? After everything she’d been through, what gave him the right to come back into her life just when everything was going well and destroy it for her again? Why did she mean so much to him?

  Something dawned on her, and the tension seeped from her body. Slowly, she shook her head. “I don’t think you want to kill me. Do you still have feelings for me, Garrett? Is that what this is all about? Maybe it’s not love, but it’s something—an entitlement or an ownership, perhaps? I don’t think you thought you’d end up in an accident that night. It was a stupid decision, but it was one that almost got me killed and landed you in jail. You can blame me if you want, but I never wanted you to get in that car.”