Grump’s City Girl (Boots and Heels #2)

28. Cassie

Chapter 28

Cassie

I was drained.

Mentally tired, physically exhausted, and emotionally, I felt ripped in two. The EMT had gotten to the hotel quickly, and the five-hour surgery went quicker than I’d imagined. They had gotten the bullet out, and thank God it had not pierced an organ or nicked an artery.

The bullet had landed just under his shoulder, in the flesh part right between under his arm and away from his ribs, like a centimeter away. Beau had gotten lucky beyond belief. Settled in a chair beside him, I took in his pale face, the peek of bandages around his shoulder and middle, and—my eyes burned.

As much as I tried to swallow the tears that clogged my throat, they swelled anyway and coursed down my cheek in thick rivers.

I didn’t need to ask myself when I’d fallen in love with Beau—it didn’t fucking matter. I was in love with him, and looking at his prone body, I was overwhelmed by the realization of how closely I might have lost him. How he’d spun, without hesitation, to make sure I did not get hurt would never leave my mind.

Hunching over, I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and curled in on myself. There were times in my life when I had to dig deep to find the strength to go on, but this capped them all. Pure despair grabbed my heart and began to chip at it, one thread at a time.

The tears fell without stopping until the ache in my chest began to dim, and the dam started to build again. Looking up, I dashed the rest of the tears away, relieved that Beau was still out cold. Tugging a few tissues out of a box, I wiped my face clean, then headed to the cafeteria with a last, longing look to Beau.

I needed something warm.

The moment I got into the elevator, I headed down and powered on my phone. The machinery in Beau’s room was sensitive to my phone signal, so I had turned it off. No calls or texts. I did not know if that was good… or bad.

After getting a cup of coffee from the machine, I headed to a lone table, switched over to the countdown clock Sam had set for me, and tapped on the section for the pin. It was six digits, an infinite number of combinations… but I had to try something.

68 hours to get it solved.

If Sam was so set on destroying us, I punched in the dates of 9/11, the date of the Cold War, World War I, World War II, the day Adolf Hitler was appointed as German chancellor and transformed Germany into a one-party dictatorship, effectively the day of the Holocaust.

I tried the day slavery started, July 4th, 1776. I tried the date our last president got into office. I tried everything—nothing worked.

The phone rang—a private number. It had to be him.

“You,” I snarled into the phone. “What the fuck do you want?”

“How dare you try to con my mother,” Sam’s electronic voice was seething. “You’re lucky your boy-toy deflected that blow… it was meant for his heart. That countdown is going to drop by twenty-four hours, and by then, I will also add how fake your relationship is with this cowboy and broadcast that to the world, too. Now everyone will know you are a fake in every sense of the word.”

“Not if I stop you first,” I snarled. “Believe me, you don’t want to piss me off, but you went and done it. When I get my hands on that gun you aimed at Beau, I will end you, you son of a bitch.”

“Do your best,” he said smugly. “But speaking of sons of bitches, there will be a son but not a father anymore.”

“You—”

He hung up.

I clenched the cell so hard my fingers ached, but through the rage, I realized what Sam was saying. Dad—he was after Dad. All this was to get us out of the way, to send us on a wild goose chase to get to Dad.

I had to get to Helena first. I launched from the seat and hurried out, dialing Dad’s number as I went.

“Dad,” I said the moment he answered the phone. “Sam is coming for you. He is on his way to kill you. You need to get somewhere safe and take Mom with you. You need to get a gun or get your guards to protect you.”

“They’re all here,” Dad replied. “I suspected he would come after me, Cassie, but we’re safe. He can’t dare take on twenty guards with guns and tasers and all kinds of ammunition. Rest easy, Cassie, we’re fine.”

I bit back the words about how Sam had shot Beau. I didn’t want them to worry, but I was. I had no doubt Sam would be coming after Dad. I just didn’t know how—or when.

Slightly mollified, I went back to get another cup of coffee and then went back to Beau’s room and found him stirring. “Beau!” I almost dropped the flimsy cup. “You’re awake.”

“Looks—” he cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse. “Looks like it. Did I—did I get shot or something?”

“You did,” I said quietly. “To protect me and surprise, surprise, Sam is behind it. He got pissed that we contacted his mother.”

“Son of a bitch,” Beau muttered. “Now he is resorting to murder to get his way.”

“He’s going to go after Dad, too,” I replied.

His eyes flew open. “What? When did you learn that?”

“Seven minutes ago,” I replied. “But I called Dad, and he says he is fine, that his battalion of bodyguards is ready and waiting for anything Sam or anyone he suckers into his cause to come at them.”

Beau sat up—or tried to do so, but I stopped him. “You just got shot and came out of five hours of surgery. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Wrong, we’re leaving by dawn tomorrow,” Beau said. “Because that fucker is not going to stop going after you or your dad, and we need to stop him.”

I wanted him to see reason. “You’re injured.”

“So?” he grunted. “I’ve taken a bull’s hoof to the thigh and got up walking two hours after. A gunshot ain’t going to stop me.”

“Are you talking from a cocky cowboy’s standpoint or from the man I love standpoint?” I asked softly. My heart was stuck in my throat.

“The last one,” he said, hand reaching out. “I’d walk through a fucking firestorm for you, Cassie.”

Grasping his hand, I held it tight. “But I am still not letting you walk out of here until the doctors give you the all-clear.”

His smart-ass grin came back, and his hand twisted to pull me further in and smack my lips. “May God help try and stop me.”

“Let’s get the doctor in here to see how you are,” I replied, pushing the call button. “We’ll figure it out later.”

Beau was dead set on leaving the hospital, and so we did. With a bag of medicine, a signed AMA form, and a sling, we were out, got our stuff from the hotel, and were waiting for our flight with cups of iced coffee in hand.

“My dad is a smart man in the boardroom, but he thinks linear sometimes,” I admitted. “I don’t know how Sam is going to attack Dad, but he is going to do it.”

“Maybe an ambush?” Beau asked. “Does your dad go out to clubs, bars, or operas?”

I spluttered. “Operas? My dad is not that fancy.”

He shrugged. “But does he go out?”

“Once per month, he takes the private plane up to the lake house in Columbia Falls on the edge of Spoon Lake,” I said, a new fear running down my spine. “He could easily ambush him there.”

“You need to tell him to stay away from there,” Beau said as boarding was called, and we headed off. “He can’t take any chances anymore. Do you have a gun?”

“A couple of years ago, I got my permit, and I have one of those dainty Sig Sauer P365 Rose’s,” I told him. “Again, it went back to my dad saying not to trust anyone. I left it in my safe in my office.”

“Keep it loaded with you,” he advised. “You might need it.”

“You think he’ll come after me?” I asked.

“It would be the easiest way to get to your dad,” Beau reasoned, rubbing a hand over his scruff. “You are the one he envies the most, and while he is pissed at your dad for denying him, I can bet you dollars to donuts he would have preferred to be in your place.”

He was right.

Was all this a distraction to get to me?

I mean, I was the one he wanted to undermine first.

There were so many directions Sam could go with this. I took out my cell and, ignoring the time, I only cared about the 39 hours, so I went back to the code I needed to crack. Nothing had worked before, but I had to figure it out or stop Sam on his rampage.

“I think it is so… ironic,” I paused. “You felt betrayed by your brother, but it was not so. I did not know I had one, and he was stabbing me in the back while dancing the two-step around us. Is this a game of trust and betrayal or what?”

He grunted. “Which reminds me, I need to call Weston when I get back.”

After another failed code, I dropped the phone and rubbed my throbbing temple. “We’re running out of time Sutton gave us.”

I could feel Beau’s gaze on me. “You’re planning on finishing the competition?”

“Of course,” I said. “I never half-ass shit I start doing. I just need to rip out this goddamn thorn in my side before I do. Besides,” I slanted a look at him, lips flickering. “I never got that vacation I’d gone to Wyoming for.”

I checked the time again… it was about half an hour before landing. “I think I want to go see Dad at the office tonight before we go home.”

“I’m coming with you,” he vowed.

“Sure,” I leaned into his side. “I know it's not time to relax, but I am craving a long, hot bubble bath. Want to join me?”

His laugh was husky and warming. “Now, how the hell am I gonna say no to that, darlin’?”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t.” I smiled.

It was 8:37 pm by the time we got out of the airport and headed to Dad. The company hours were 7-7, but Dad, the workaholic he was, usually stayed behind until midnight sometimes. Rush hour traffic stalled us again, and we got to the office by 9.

The lobby was empty except for the night guards and the rattling of one of the janitor’s carts. I saw Beau look at the man, eyes skeptical, as we took the elevator up to Dad’s floor and noted the armed guards at the door. “Miss Carrington, Mr. Lowell,” one nodded, then tapped his earpiece. “Please.”

We stepped into the room, and as I imagined, I found Dad there, up to his ears in his work. He looked up. “Cassie and Mr…”

“Lowell.”

Dad nodded thankfully. “I didn’t expect to see you. What happened in Illinois?”

“We found out that Sam might be militarized, Dad.” I said, “And he is gunning for you. There are so many avenues he can get at you, so we’re thinking it might not be best for you to go to the lake house this month.”

“It’s just too dangerous,” Beau replied. “There are too many variables, too many blind spots, and open spaces for him to take advantage of, Sir.”

Dad sighed and dropped a pen, then leaned back into his chair, the stress of the situation making him look twenty years older. “Then what do we do? I don’t even know what this boy looks like at all. I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup if there were four men in the line, and you gave me ten chances.”

“That’s the thing,” Beau replied. “He is going to come for you, but if you are prepared, your men could take him down easily.”

And then—everything went dark.

“Shit,” Beau whipped around. “He’s here. Cassie, go get your gun.”

I took the second door that circumvented Dad’s front door, ran through the other set of doors, darting down the hall to my office, and rushed to the safe. Punching in the numbers, I grabbed the hand pistol and a spare clip, then ran back to the room just as Beau was pushing a cabinet to the door with his good shoulder.

“Do you have anything you can use as a weapon?” Beau asked Dad, calm and composed. “A baseball bat, a golf club, anything?”

“There is a poker behind the fireplace,” he said, “And my men have guns.”

While he talked, Beau fished the poker from behind the fireplace and spun it around, testing its weight. “It’s got a heft to it. I think it’s best for you to stay away from the windows, Sir.”

I edged to the door and listened. The guards had not moved, but one of them was talking to the team downstairs. I didn’t hear much, but he was asking about the power outage, and another was asking if there were any intruders.

“They’re here,” I told Beau and Dad. “I think?—”

And then—something heavy went thunk .

A second later—another one.

The guys were out.

Frantic, I yanked the door in, shifting the barricade to the side—with strength I never knew I had—and dragged one inside while Beau shoved the barricade back in place. I saw what happened. “Is that a?—”

“Tranq gun,” Beau replied. “And shot from a distance. My guess is he took the other guys downstairs out, too.”

“He can’t get inside,” I said, “This is shut off?—”

And then I remembered the doors I had used. “Fuck.”

Frantic, I ran to the secondary door and reached for the lock only to have it kicked in. I flew back as a man walked in, dressed in a janitor’s jumpsuit. I eyed the gun. “Don’t do this, Sam.”

He sneered. “Shut up, I am not here for you—” and quick as a whip, he spun the gun around and slammed the butt into my temple.

Pain exploded in my head, and I collapsed like a bag of rocks, out cold.