Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) (28 page)

“Belle, get back!” he bellowed.

Expecting the gun to be leveled at them any second, her stomach lurched with terror. She struggled to get past Nick, but his body blocked her, pinning the hand with the knife against the cupboard.

Mwana continued to grope, and after a second, a look of incomprehension crossed his face.

He spun around.

And came face to face with Bertrand, who held Mwana’s gun firmly in his hands. The butler looked bruised, but not bloodied, thank God.

Mwana turned back to Nick, a look of pure hatred burning in his eyes. With a curdled cry, he lunged.

Nick met him halfway, this time with a fist to his jaw. Mwana crashed back against the granite kitchen island. He scrambled to rise, and again Nick punched him in the face. The sickening crunch of shattering bone ricocheted through the kitchen.

Mwana flailed backwards and lost his balance. Nick aimed a kick squarely at his ribs. The rebel leader grunted in pain and went down like a sack of potatoes. Belle heard a horrid crack as his head slammed against the stone corner of the counter, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Nick, barely breathing hard from his exertions, stood looking down at Mwana’s still form, his face expressionless. Then he turned to Belle and tugged her close.

His hands gently cradled her face. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. I th— I thought—” Fear for him still held her in its grip.

He pulled her to him, clamping powerful arms around her. “It’s okay now.” After a moment, he turned to Bertrand. “Are you all right, my friend?” At his nod, Nick stretched out his hand. “Give me the gun.”

After Bertrand handed it over, Nick said, “Take her into the living room, okay? Get her a drink. Then call Jameson. Tell him to contact the police.”

Belle shook her head. “But—”

“Go, Tinkerbelle.” His voice brooked no argument.

Bertrand fussed and settled her into a sofa, brought her a glass of water, and called Nick’s chief of security.

About to take a sip, she had a niggling thought. There was a phone in the kitchen. They could have made the calls from there.

She slammed the glass down, kicked off her remaining shoe, and raced back to the kitchen. Bertrand and the two bodyguards who’d burst in were hot on her heels.

Nick was crouched over Mwana, the gun pointed over the rebel’s heart, deadly intent on his face. Her husband had killed in the line of duty. She knew what he was capable of.

“
No
, Nick! Don’t do it. Please.”

His eyes remained on the man. “He threatened your life, not once, but twice. I can’t let him live.”

“Yes, you can. You’re not a cold-blooded killer,” she pleaded, placing herself in his line of sight. “The police will be here in a minute. And he—” she looked down at the man, writhing on the floor as he regained consciousness “—he’s not going anywhere.”

Nick’s deadly gaze remained on Mwana. “He threatened to take you from me.
He held a goddamned knife to your throat!
”

“But if you go through with this, you’ll be sentencing us both to death, Nick, don’t you see? You’ll go to prison, and I can’t live without you. It would kill me if you were taken away from me. I love you, Nick. Please put the gun down.”

Slowly he looked up at her. Her heart caught at the emotion blazing in his eyes. His chest heaved. Then he shook his head. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Do it for me.”

He remained frozen for endless moments. Then he stepped back and lowered the gun. His bodyguards rushed forward and secured Mwana.

The police arrived minutes later, closely followed by the paramedics. Mwana was taken away. Nick gave a brief statement while the medical technicians examined and treated the small knife wound on Belle’s neck.

Through it all, she was only aware of Nick, a strong and powerful presence beside her, a look in his eyes that made her heart stall, then soar with hope, fluttering around inside her chest like a wild bird seeking freedom.

Could it be that Nick loved her, after all? As if in answer, the hand that held hers tightened.

Finally, they were alone. A mildly concussed Bertrand had been taken to hospital for observation, and the bodyguards were once again stationed outside the door.

She looked around and shuddered. “I can’t stay here.”

Nick’s hand caressed her cheek. “I know,
agapi mou
. Neither can I. We’ll check into a hotel for tonight. Come.”

In their bedroom, Nick helped remove her ruined dress, and she replaced it with a pair of jeans and a sweater.

He held her close in the car as they sped away from the apartment. In their suite at the hotel on a quiet street in Mayfair, she took off her clothes and showered. Dressed in a bathrobe, she returned to the bedroom to find Nick hanging up the phone.

He looked at her, and her heart resumed its pounding.

“Come and sit down, Tinkerbelle. There’s something I need to tell you.”

The hammering increased to a thunderous crescendo. Barely able to speak, she sat on the bed and picked up her hairbrush, needing something to do with her hands as she watched him pace.

He stopped in front of her, took a ragged breath and released it in a harsh exhale. “Back in the kitchen, you said you loved me.”

She blinked, then she murmured, “Yes, I love you.”

“How do you know?” He looked genuinely puzzled.

Her heart thundered. “I just do.”

Rising, he shoved a hand through his hair and paced. “But…you can’t just know. Surely there are signs? Indications?”

She put the brush down. “I guess.”

“Tell me what they are,” he said in a rush.

She licked her lips. “Well, when I feel sad and I think of you, I feel better. When I wake up in the morning, I listen for you, and when you walk into the room, my chest wells up, and I’m glad you’re there. The thought of you being hurt in any way makes my heart ache. When I think of growing old with anyone, yours is the face I see. And when we make love, I feel as if heaven itself is smiling down at me, filling me with bliss. When I imagine doing all of that with anyone else, I…well, I can’t.
Nick!”
She screeched when he lurched toward her and fell on his knees in front of her. When he dropped his head into her lap, she sank her hands into his hair. “Darling, what is it?”

He mumbled into her lap.

“What did you say?”

Slowly he raised his head. “So if I feel all those things you just described, and then seeing you in that bastard’s arms made me feel as if I was dying, what does that mean?”

Her poor heart sprouted wings again, but hesitated, wary of the hope that urged it to fly. “I don’t know, Nick. Try saying what you feel.”

His hands circled her waist, gripped tight as if seeking an anchor.

“I…I love you.” His eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. “I love you.
Thee mou
, I love you.”

The sob burst from her heart before she could stop it. “Oh, Nick. Oh, my darling, darling Nick.”

He took her in his arms and pulled them both to their feet. “I love you, but I never want to experience again what I did tonight. I don’t think I’d survive it.”

“Me, neither,” she whispered, holding him tight. Her heart soared; tears threatened to blind her. “Oh, Nick. When did this happen? When did you start feeling like this?” she asked, eager to know.

“It hit me two days ago, on our last night on Althea. The French door was open, and…before I found you in our bedroom, I thought somehow Mwana had captured you again.”

She pulled back in surprise. “Really?”

“It wasn’t completely irrational. Although I’m guessing irrationality is another symptom?”

She smiled, nodding. “Trust me, there are many symptoms of love.”

He looked so terrified, she rose on tiptoe and kissed him. His arms banded harder around her. After several seconds, she broke the kiss. “You were telling me when you discovered you loved me,” she prompted, aching to hear the words again.

He kissed her fingers. “It wasn’t a discovery, more of a realization of what I’d been feeling all along but was subconsciously refusing to put a label on.” His laugh was pure self-deprecation. “I suppose because when it comes down to it, there’s still a frightened ten-year old somewhere deep inside, scared of being hurt and rejected again.”

“Tell me again,” she demanded gently. “Practice makes perfect, I hear.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you, my Tinkerbelle,” he complied huskily.

Tears filled her eyes. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you.”

“You didn’t hate me in-between when things got rough?” he asked, doubt coating his voice.

“I thought I did, but true love can withstand anything. You’re my hero, my savior, my husband. And I’ll love you until I draw my last breath.”

He sealed his lips to hers, but after a long, thorough kiss, pulled back, a frown on his face. “That’s what my mother said about love withstanding anything.”

Belle tipped her head, gazing up at him thoughtfully. “You should give her the benefit of the doubt, darling. In her own way, she loves you. I could see it when she was here. Maybe she wasn’t very great at expressing it to you—”

“Yeah,
that
runs in the family.” His grimace was pained. “She didn’t regret having me, so that’s a start. And she withstood my father’s obsessive tantrums for as long as she could. She walked away from me, too, but she claims she’s regretted it for a long time.”

That explained a lot of the heartbreak she’d seen in the other woman’s eyes. “So are you going to see her?” Belle asked.

“After I read the emails she sent me over the past few years that I never opened. And only if you’re there, too. You can reassure me that I’m not as fucked up as I think I am.”

“Of course you’re not. And yes, I’ll be there.”

“Keep saying that, and I may start to believe it.”

She gave him a swift kiss. “I intend to say it for a very long time, my darling.” She leaned back. “I have one request, though.”

“What’s that?” he asked with an indulgent smile.

She slipped her arms around his neck. “I don’t ever want to live in that apartment. I can’t bear it.”

“First thing tomorrow we’ll instruct agents to find us a house. We’ll sell the apartment and donate the proceeds to a few orphanages in Nawaka. Ones we’ll
both
visit when I’ve made sure it’s safe. Agreed?”

Her very soul blossomed with the depth of her happiness. “And here I thought I couldn’t possibly love you more than I already did.”

His face grew somber, although the light of emotion still shone in his eyes. “Do you love me enough to consider making a baby with me at some point in the future? After I’ve managed to work through my mommy issues?”

She gasped softly. “You want a baby?”

“How could I not? With you to love our children, they’ll be blessed.”

Happiness burst within her like New Year’s fireworks. “Oh, Nick, you’ll love them too, and yes, I’ll pull you back when you threaten to break some poor boy’s legs for daring to date your daughter.”

“Dating? Our daughter?” He looked horrified at the thought. “Shit. I think I’ve changed my mind.”

She laughed. “You’ve put it out into the universe. You can’t take it back.”

He sobered again. “You really think I can do this?”

“You saved me from a monster in Nawaka, you saved me from gunmen on Althea, and you saved me again tonight. Fatherhood will be a piece of cake.” She kissed away his doubt, then kissed him again for the pure joy of it.

“Baby?” He rubbed his forehead against hers.

“Hmmm?”

“Why the hell are your fingers crossed? I can see them in the mirror.”

She quickly uncrossed them. “I’m part Irish. Crossing fingers is a tradition for luck.”

His gave a husky laugh. “We have a tradition in Greece, too.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Before you contemplate parenthood, you need to practice often. Very, very often.” He toppled her back onto the bed and proceeded to relieve her of her robe.

“
Hmm
, I think I like that tradition.”

When they lay sated hours later, she toyed with the hair on his chest.

“How many babies do you want, when we get around to it?” she asked dreamily.

“Four is a nice figure—two boys, two girls. I’m not fussy in which order.
And
we get to choose their names with absolutely no input from your parents,” he replied with a grin.

Bliss seeped soul-deep. “I’ll make sure my parents are kept out of the name choosing. But…four children, that’s a lot of work. You know that, don’t you?”

“I feel confident we’re more than capable of rising to any challenge.”

She couldn’t stop tears of joy trickling down her face. “God, Nick, I love you so much it hurts.”

“Which is exactly how it should be,
agapi mou,
because it’s the same way I love you.”

She closed her eyes and knew perfect contentment.

Her dreams had all come true.

About the Author

Maya Blake’s dreams of becoming a romance author began when she picked up her first romance novel at age thirteen. Rudely interrupted by teenage angst, school, marriage, and having kids, she eventually realized her dream in 2007 when her first romance suspense was published. She also writes sizzling hot contemporary romance for Harlequin Presents.

Maya lives in Kent (The Garden of England) with her husband, two kids, and an endless supply of romance novels. When she’s not sprinting to meet another deadline (which is almost always), she likes to read, travel—she has a “must visit” list longer than her arm, with Bora Bora in first place—and Tweet, and not necessarily in that order. She loves to hear from her readers, and you can get in touch with her via Twitter (@mayablake), via her site (
www.mayabauthor.blogspot.com
), or via her Facebook author page (
www.facebook.com/mayablake
).

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