Shayla Black - Their Virgin Secretary

Or had the lawyer already killed her?

“Well, when I had my hands wrapped around her throat, she swore she’d brought it here,” Gates growled. “Shut up and keep looking.”

“The bitch granddaughter hasn’t even found it,” the woman argued. “So maybe it’s not here. We need to kill her and her boyfriend, then get the hell out of here. You can set this place on fire in a few days after the cops declare the whole incident to be a murder-suicide. Call it faulty wiring or something. We can make that happen. Then if the list is here, it won’t ever be found.”

There was a long sigh. “My client won’t accept that. The judge wants the list in his hands.”

“Then we make one up, and we’re all off the hook. You don’t think very creatively for a lawyer. All I know is if we get caught in here, we’re all going to prison. We need to cut our losses. She doesn’t know where it is.”

“One more chance,” Gates said. “I’ll give it one more shot—literally. Maybe if I put a gun to your boyfriend’s head, it will spark some memory, Miss Wright? Turn that idiot over, Helena. I want her to see his face when I blow it off. We’ll be down in a bit.”

Kellan’s blood froze. He heard Gates moving upstairs. Belle must be with him and searching for the client list in her grandmother’s old bedroom. At least she was conscious.

Kellan stuck to the darkest part of the gloomy foyer. The cover of shadow would buy him some time.

Helena’s shoes clacked along the hardwoods, and Kellan made himself go very still. Silent. He had to be so quiet, not alert them that they were no longer alone. He had to save Belle and Tate. They were his family.

God, what would have happened if he hadn’t come to New Orleans with them? If he’d listened to his fear and gone back to Chicago? Eric would have been here. Would he have been on the ground with Tate, leaving Belle alone to fend for herself. They would all likely die.

He’d spent all his time wondering how a relationship between the four of them could work, but now he saw plainly that it would work however they worked it. The universe didn’t give everyone the same life. Love wasn’t some cookie cutter that he had to mold himself into. He’d spent his whole time on earth plotting and planning his life, ruthlessly controlling it to reach some grand destination, all the while not understanding that the ending he’d chosen wouldn’t make him happy. Belle was the destination he’d been unconsciously seeking. Her love and the family he’d share with his buddies were the end-all, be-all of his existence.

He couldn’t control them, but hopefully, he could damn well save them.

“God, how did I get into this shit?” The woman turned the corner.

Kellan struck, cracking the umbrella over her head. It made a dull thud. Nothing that would register upstairs. Her eyes widened and her mouth fluttered open, but she didn’t emit a single sound. He caught her before she hit the floor, then he eased her down.

She would live. More than likely, she’d have a massive headache, but the medic in the NOLA jail could deal with that. He pushed her body against the wall. In the shadows where he was hidden, it would be hard to see.

Kellan heard a yip, and he whirled around only to realize Sir was trapped in the kitchen and barking behind the door.

“Damn it!” Gates screamed from the top of the stairs. It was obvious to Kellan that he was losing patience. It would cause him to get sloppy, make mistakes. Unfortunately, it also likely made him more violent. “Shut that fucking dog up, Mike!”

Mike was here? Mike had been the man on the ground, the one doing all the grunt work? It fit. No wonder neither he, Tate, nor Eric had liked the asshole. Sure enough, Mike came rushing down the stairs, jogging toward the kitchen.

Sir growled.

Kellan crouched into a dark corner behind a grandfather clock just as the kitchen door began to open.

He was going to owe that damn dog a treat. Sir kept barking, making himself a target as a big shadow moved through the open door. Kellan got the glimpse of something metallic in the moonlight.

Mike wasn’t packing an umbrella. It looked like the asshole was way better armed than him.

“Shut the fuck up, dog.” The big guy took aim.

Oh, that was so not happening. Belle would murder him if he allowed that fucker to kill her ridiculously ugly, seriously brave little mutt. Like it or not, Sir was the family dog and he wasn’t going down tonight either.

With as much force as he could muster, Kellan brought the umbrella down on Mike’s head. It met with a crack just like the last time.

Unfortunately, Mike was harder a target to fell.

With a growl, he whirled, his eyes narrowing as he raised the gun.

Sir rushed forward and suddenly snarled at the guy’s ankle. He shouted out as Sir’s teeth sank into his flesh. The gun fell from his hand, thudding to the floor.

Kellan attacked, punching the man with a quiet grunt. He tried to get to the gun, but Mike threw him back with a fist to his face. Pure pain flared, making his head spin. He heard Sir yipping, but as he opened his eyes, all he could see was that big fist coming toward his face again.

“Mother fucker,” Mike cursed before making contact again. “I’m going to kill you.”

Then he heard the shocking sound of a gun discharging. It cracked through the small space. The punch that might have knocked him out never came.

Mike’s whole face went blank as he listed to one side and fell.

“Are you okay?” Eric asked quietly, reaching out to help Kell up.

“You idiot!” Gates yelled down. “Someone’s going to call the cops if you don’t keep the goddamn volume down. I told you to shut the dog up, not shoot him.”

Fuck. If “Mike” didn’t answer, Belle would be in trouble. He lowered his voice and tried to sound like an idiot douchebag. “Sorry. Dog’s no trouble now.”

Eric had picked Sir up, who was enthusiastically licking his face, but at least he was quiet.

There was a long sigh. “Get your ass up here. I have one more place I want to look before we finish up. Tell Helena to get everything ready.”

The door shut upstairs.

He looked at Eric. “Give me the gun. You’ve done your part. I’m going to go get our girl. You make sure no one else comes after me.”

Eric nodded, and Kellan started up the stairs.

To save his woman. To make sure his family was safe again.

Tears filled Belle’s eyes. They’d talked about killing her little dog. Her sweet little Sir was just a puppy. She’d heard the gunshot…then she hadn’t heard Sir bark again. She tried not to sob.

Gates had yelled to Mike about finishing up, so he’d shot her dog. He would kill Tate next, regardless of whether or not she found the list. They were determined to take everything from her, even her life. Belle felt helpless, and it was a small consolation to know that Tate wouldn’t suffer. Knowing that nothing but death awaited for her and Tate infuriated her. Damn it, she refused to go down without a fight.

Unfortunately, Gates had never taken the gun off her. Even when he’d been yelling at his cohorts, he’d watched her carefully. “Move the mattress. I want to see what’s under the bed.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway.” Maybe it was time to take a stand.

“No, I’m not. If you give me the list, I’ll walk away,” he said in what Belle bet he considered a soothing tone. She noted that he didn’t point that gun elsewhere, though a tremor shook his arm. He wasn’t a young man. He likely wasn’t used to holding heavy objects for long periods of time.

“I’m not stupid. I know you won’t leave me alive.” She listened for the sounds of movement downstairs. It was faint, but she could almost hear them moving, the wood floors creaking as Gates’s two accomplices searched the downstairs. Well, Helena was searching, but Mike seemed to be preparing for her inevitable murder. How did they plan to finish her off? Another hanging murder designed to look like a suicide?

Belle couldn’t wait to find out. She had to make a move. She wasn’t sure she could live knowing Tate was dead. How much time had passed? Where were Eric and Kellan?

Gates shrugged a little, giving up his previous act. “Fine. Of course, I’m going to kill you. If you give me the list, I’ll make it quick. If you give me trouble, I’ll draw it out. You won’t like that. I can make you feel pain like you’ve never felt before. I’ll give you over to Mike. He seemed to really like you. Although you might enjoy that since you like sleeping with a lot of men.”

She ignored his insults. They didn’t matter. She had to think. Her brain raced. She’d screwed up his plan by having Tate in the house. He’d wanted to catch her alone. He’d intended to only have to deal with one body.

And with the history of this house, it would be easy. The story itself would be so spectacular—history repeating itself and all—that the truth might be easily concealed and forever buried.

“You’re planning to hang me.” She’d wondered why Mike had laid out a white sheet on the floor in front of the banister.

Now that she thought about it, she could see the whole scenario play out in her head. They would make a noose out of the sheet. Pristine white. Like a cloud. They would pervert it and slip it over around her neck before tossing her over the banister and completing the act.

Belle felt an odd chill go through her, though there was nothing truly sinister about the feeling. Strength. She felt a weird bolt of it run through her, giving her energy, straightening her spine.

Belle suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. The house might be haunted, but not all ghosts were evil. Some simply wanted to right the wrongs done to them—like the Peterman girls who’d been hanged by their own father. They could right those terrible wrongs by saving someone else, by not allowing what happened to them to happen again.