Escalation Read online

  Escalation

  Copyright © 2015 Tessa Teevan

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  Cover Designer: Robin Harper of Wicked by Design

  Formatter: Champagne Formats

  title page

  copyright

  other books

  prologue

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  chapter 15

  chapter 16

  chapter 17

  playlist

  about the author

  Other Books by Tessa Teevan

  Clandestine Affairs

  Instigation

  Explosive

  Ignite

  Incinerate

  Inflame

  Intoxicate

  The Wellingtons

  Combust

  Conflagration

  Sweet Southern Sorrow

  RAFE, YOU SHOULD KNOW…

  Those three little dots tell me everything. Yet, as much as I want to hear them, I can’t let her say the words. Not until everything is out in the open between us. No, when she gets the chance to tell me whatever she wants me to know, it’d be to my face. I would hear her say them out loud, watching as her pink lips form each syllable. I can wait until then because there is no way in hell I am letting anything happen to her. Not on my watch.

  I slam my hand against the wheel, pissed beyond belief that I let this happen. By the time I figured out that Morningstar was back in town, I was too damn late. Now, as I glance at the screen tracking them, I push my foot on the accelerator, weaving in and out of traffic, not giving a fucking damn about anything except getting closer to them. The police scanner squawks and my blood runs cold as it details a high-speed chase in progress. All the air leaves my lungs while I wait to hear the description of the offending vehicle, hoping like hell it’s not them.

  It is.

  My blood simultaneously runs both cold and boil.

  Even though I knew I could’ve called in a kidnapping in progress and given law enforcement the location of Adrian’s vehicle, I wanted to do this on my own. It was my own risk. I knew that. It’s just I also knew involving the police was a gamble with Brie’s life I wasn’t willing to take. Not when I had no idea about Adrian’s current state of mind. There was no reason to bring unnecessary attention to his current predicament. Not until I have Brie back, safe and in my arms. As far as the world knows, Adrian Morningstar is an upstanding citizen, and for all intents and purposes, we need him to still appear to be that man. If the media gets wind of this, who knows what could possibly happen?

  My thoughts are interrupted as the police scanner sounds again. I press my foot on the accelerator, hoping I can get to her before it’s too late. The last thing Brie needs is for Adrian to get spooked by the cops. He’s an unstable fuck, and there’s no telling what he’s thinking right now. Not to mention what the hell he might be on.

  He knows and he thinks he’s protecting her.

  The reminder of my boss’s warning is enough to chill me to the bone. What the piss does he know, exactly? And who does he think he’s protecting her from? Me? Or someone else?

  Still, part of me has a feeling he won’t hurt her. At least, not intentionally. I just saw the surveillance footage of Adrian taking Brie. Even as he tied her up and led her to down the tunnel, he wasn’t exactly forceful. Something in the way he moved had given me pause. He appeared tentative, unsure, and I watched as he hesitated for the briefest of moments as he gazed down at Brie before he gave a slight shake of his head and pushed her towards his car. Even so, his movements were cautious, his touch easy, and when he lifted her and placed her in the trunk, he did it with a gentleness not of someone wishing to inflict harm. And then, when he closed it, he placed his hands on the lid and bowed his head. His chest heaved as if he were taking a deep breath or releasing a heavy sigh. Reading his body language, I deduced that he was conflicted about what he was going to do.

  So why is he doing it? And what, exactly, is it?

  It’s yet another question in the long list that has piled up tonight. I need answers, and I need them quickly. I’m running out of time.

  First things first, though. More than anything, I need to get to Brie. Everything else can come after that.

  The closer I get to the sirens, the harder my heart pounds, threatening to beat out of my chest. As the sounds increase, I realize it’s because they’re no longer moving. When I look at the screen, I see that the dot has also stopped, which can only mean one of two things. He willingly stopped, or he was forced to. Either way, Brie is close.

  When I glance back up and find that I’m clearly at the scene of an accident, my whole world stops spinning.

  My entire being stills, my heart ceases to beat, and my lungs fail as I hit my brakes, fearing the worst. After throwing the car door open, I rush to the edge of the caution tape and try to push my way past, but I’m stopped before I can get to the bridge and assess the situation. All I can see is the crunched metal no longer creating a barrier between the road and the water. Long, black tire marks lead from the pavement to the edge of the bridge.

  “Sir!” a young police officer shouts into my face, his hands gripping my shoulders.

  I have at least four inches and twenty pounds on the guy, but the last thing I need is to be in the back of a cop car right now.

  “Please stay behind the tape. We have an active scene right now.”

  A small crowd has gathered, and I take a quick look around, knowing that anyone could be among them, watching with a careful eye, studying my reaction. I struggle to convey my emotions for a moment then let my shoulders collapse in defeat before I fall to my knees.

  “My girlfriend was in that car,” I reveal, my voice cracking. It’s full of pain, sorrow, and distress as I frantically point towards the crash site.

  The crowd gasps as sympathy flashes in the officer’s expression.

  “Please. Please tell me she’s okay. I can’t…”

  To the outside world, I’m a boyfriend who’s filled with grief, expecting the worst but praying for the best, trying to come to terms with the scene before me.

  I wish that’s all I were. So much more rides on this—on both of their survivals.

  The officer lifts the tape and gestures me under. I scramble to my feet and follow, sniffing and wiping a nonexistent tear away, hoping the distress is evident on my face. I’m sure it’s not an Oscar-worthy performance, but it’s effective nonetheless. The cop gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before pointing to a spot at the edge of the caution tape and directing me there. Thanking him profusely, I follow his lead and force myself to watch and wait, taking it all in and trying to catch my bearings. In truth, I’m wo
rried beyond belief, and if anything does happen to Brie, I won’t just be playing the grieving boyfriend— I’ll be him.

  Flashing red, blue, and white lights adorn the scene, nearly blinding my vision as she’s pulled from the water. A sense of helplessness washes over me when I take a step forward. The paramedics begin to perform CPR on her, which fixes me to my spot. Then they load Brie onto a stretcher, wheeling her towards the ambulance, rushing as if time is of the essence. My ears strain to hear what her condition is, where they taking her are, and what her chances are. I try to watch her chest, and my heart falls when I see no movement. I didn’t know just how much it meant to me to see that tiny yet significant sign of life until now. Now that it’s been taken from her. Now that she may be taken from me.

  Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and silently plead for her to do the same—as if the sheer force of my thoughts can travel the distance between us and force the air into her lungs. Hell, if I could do it myself, I would.

  But hope is lost when I force my eyes open and nothing’s changed. As the paramedics continue to asses her, they load her into the ambulance, and then the back door slams shut. The sound echoes in my brain with such finality, and the fear of losing her starts to truly seep in. The only hope I can cling to is that she’s not in a body bag. At least, not yet.

  While I hang my head, shame and remorse fill me. I promised to protect her. And what did I do? I let her down.

  I should’ve known that it would end up like this. I should’ve seen it coming. Yet my mind was clouded as my days and nights—and, soon, my heart—were filled with her, and she was all I could see. I let my guard down, and this is where it got me. Where it got us.

  I never got to tell her the truth.

  I never got to tell her how I feel.

  I will never forgive myself if I never get the chance.

  And I will spend the rest of my days hunting the man who did this to her. When I find him, I will kill him.

  Because for her? I’d do anything.

  Just as I turn from the scene, my cell phone rings.

  “Matthews,” I bark out, wincing at my raw, scratchy voice.

  “Is it done?”

  I hold the phone away from my ear, close my eyes, and take a deep breath, trying to choke down the sob that’s threatening to bubble up. Only a couple of seconds pass before I will myself to settle down. I don’t want him to get suspicious. I can’t let him know that she’s so much more than a simple means to an end, even though it’s killing me inside, not knowing how she is. In such a short time, she’s become everything to me, and I will never forgive myself if I fail in protecting her.

  Even with my Catholic upbringing, I’ve never been an especially religious man. But right now, I’d do just about anything to ensure that Brie makes it, so I send a quick prayer to the man upstairs.

  Please, God. Let her be okay. Don’t take her from me when I’ve only just found her.

  It’s a plea I know I’ll be repeating until she’s back in my arms, safe and sound.

  Bringing the phone back to my ear, I say four fucking words that will haunt me forever.

  “Yeah, Boss. It’s done.”

  Earlier That Day

  I’M COMPLETELY FUCKED.

  So fucking fucked.

  I was warned about this very thing, and in the past, I’ve never had a problem separating business and pleasure. It was pretty damn easy, especially when, in my line of work, a relationship was never in the cards. At least, it wasn’t for me. I was married to the job. Sex was for recreation, pleasure—never emotional attachment. Ever.

  And then I met her.

  Gabriella Latham, my Brie, turned my world upside down. Everything I’ve never wanted, I suddenly craved. Emotions I’ve never let myself feel have scratched the surface, pushed through, and taken over my brain, my heart, and my entire fucking being.

  To be honest, I’m not sure what it was about her that kept me coming back. I just know I couldn’t stay away. And then it was like I lost my damn mind, shacking up in Morningstar’s house every single night.

  It was a double-edged sword. I didn’t want to be in that house with her, but at the same time, it was exactly the in I needed to make some explorations of my own. It gave me unparalleled access to his home late at night after she had fallen asleep. I was playing with fire though, and even though she might have thought they were over, I knew men like him. He wouldn’t take too fucking kindly to her moving on. If he ever found me there, even in a guest bed? There’s no telling what he’d do.

  The thought alone was enough for me to put a stop to it. The longer we continued, the more likely he’d return. Hell, it’s already unnerving how all of his contact with her ended.

  I’d been expecting a fight—or at least a little resistance. But when I went into that office and asked her to move in with me—even though I wanted to tell—Brie agreed. She was done with Morningstar and ready to be completely mine.

  And then she found the fucking files, the exact pieces of the puzzle I’d been seeking but nearly given up on. The last thing I’d wanted was for her to see them, to know there was some connection between her father and the Morningstars, but now that she had, it was time to finally come clean. As I held her close and she sobbed into my chest, I mentally cursed myself. For eight weeks, she’d been in blissful ignorance, and I’d hoped she would stay that way. At least until everything was over.

  Hours. I’d been mere hours from getting her away from the Morningstar estate for good, but I should’ve known something like this would happen. Adrian had been too quiet for too long.

  The only good that came from it was that it finally scared her enough to leave for good. I wanted to shield her from all of this, but as I drive home, I know that it’s too late. I promised to tell her everything, and even though there are details I’d have to omit, I am going to be as open as I can. I hope she understands. Hell, I’ll make her understand.

  Silence greets me as I step into my apartment. I stand in the foyer, listening for signs of her presence. Nothing. I stalk down the hall, and when I get to my bedroom, her belongings are there, but she isn’t. Irritation burns through me as I run a hand over my face. Didn’t I tell her not to leave?

  My phone vibrates, and when I pull it out, I see a missed call from her as well as a voice message. I’m halfway to the elevator by the time her voice comes on.

  “Hey, Rafe. It’s Brie. Listen, I know you said not to leave, but I just remembered that I forgot the files. I have so many questions, and I’m hoping there are answers inside. Plus, the last thing I need is Adrian accusing me of stealing his car. So I’m just going to come back, grab the files, hang up the keys, then head to the trailer until you’re done for the day. Which I guess I could just tell you this when I get there. See you soon!”

  Dread washes over me as I race to my car. I tell myself to calm down, that it’s no big deal. But why didn’t she call again when she got there and saw I was gone? What could possibly be keeping her?

  Scenarios run through my mind the entire drive to the Morningstar Estate. As I pass through the main gate and get closer to the construction entrance, a sleek, black car speeds past me in the opposite direction. A cold sweat breaks out on my brow. Something tells me to follow the damn car, but I ignore my hunch and turn and drive up to the nearly completed guesthouse.

  My eyebrows furrow when I see the garage open, light spilling from the door to the tunnel that leads to the main house. What the motherfucking fuck is going on? Something is definitely wrong. That should not be open—unless Brie decided to go snooping.

  Fuck.

  I sprint to the trailer, hoping she’s there but knowing deep down that it’s wishful thinking. When I twist the knob, it’s locked—just as I left it. Did Brie come here looking for me? Or did she go to the house first? The main house is dark, no signs of her presence.

  Growing worried at her obvious absence, I race back to the garage of the guesthouse and pause at the tunnel’s entrance before
slipping inside. Then I pull my sidearm out of the waistband of my jeans. Holding it in front of me, in the position, ready for anything, I creep through the tunnel towards the main house. My eyes and ears are alert, but there’s not a single sight or sound. My heart races faster the closer I get to the main house, and its beats increase tenfold when I spy the door ajar. Pushing it aside, I notice that the filing cabinet’s been knocked over and papers litter the floor. Upon slowly stepping over them, I press the bookshelf ever so slightly to the side and try to get a look into the office.

  The sight before me catches me off guard, and I freeze. As I quickly come to my senses, I holster my weapon and move the shelf completely out of the way, stepping into view. The man sitting in the chair behind the desk is watching something on the computer, his face piqued with interest. His brows are drawn together tightly, and his jaw is clenched. His eyes, though. His eyes are what unnerve me. They’re dark, nearly black, and I can see the cold calculation in them as they intently peer at the lit screen. After a moment, I then see the utter disdain in them. What the fuck is he doing here? And what the fuck is he looking at?

  I clear my throat to get his attention, and it works. He uses the mouse to click the screen then looks up at me. He sits back in the chair and steeples his hands under his chin as he studies me, his expression masked. Even still, the coldness in his eyes threatens to send a chill down my spine. He’s always been an unreadable man, and it’s never been more irritating than it is right now.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he asks.

  I wince at his gruff tone. I don’t have time for this, but I can’t let him know I’m worried for Brie. Hell, I can’t let him know I feel anything for her or I’m fucked. We both will be, and the thought of what he might do to Brie has my stomach in tightly wound knots.

  Rolling my eyes, I lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. “I was done for the day. In fact, things are wrapping up nicely here. The construction’s just about complete, she knows nothing, and Morningstar hasn’t been around for weeks. What are you doing? Checking up on me, Boss?” I ask, raising my eyebrows and then yawning—even though my head’s reeling with questions I know better than to ask.