Page 96 of Healing the Heart

As Jordan wiggled out from behind Fiona, he produced a gun from the rumpled linens and aimed it directly at his chest. Even though the threat to him was real, his relief was immeasurable with the knife no longer at her throat.

“Big tough guy. Thinks his shit doesn’t stink,” Jordan sneered as he came toward him. “Rich and successful wasn’t good enough. You had to be a military hero, a savior to poor kids around the world, and a fucking dom at my club. Do you know how many times subs turned me down on the off chance they might catch Doc’s eye for the night? Then a juicy cunt comes along, and you take that from me, too. Greedy fuck. Must you have everything, even the unwanted scraps?”

Parra moved behind the chair and pressed the gun to his temple. “Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered.

Noah’s gaze met Fiona’s as he did what he demanded. She was naked, bound and gagged like in the picture, and trembling. Then it struck him. It was exactly like in the picture. She’d been in his bed, lying on his sheets, and he hadn’t noticed.

How was it possible? The fire department had swept the building.

“You’ve been here all along,” Noah accused.

“Rossi Security,” he smirked as he wrapped restraints attached to the chair legs around his wrists. “Everyone thinks you’re a big fucking deal, but you couldn’t find the bitch when she was right under your nose.” He rose and surveyed his handiwork. “I found the cuffs in your club bag in the closet.” Suddenly, Jordan bent at the waist, getting in his face. And he patted his cheek, matching the staccato rhythm of his words, “Thanks for your help, buddy.”

Only the pats were more like hard slaps. Noah didn’t react except to glare at him.

Laughing, he slowly circled the chair. “I had rope ready, but I was never any good with knots.”

Noah’s eyes returned to Fiona’s, and he wondered if she realized the gift the crazed fucker had given them. He doubted it. She was breathing fast, her eyes darker than usual with dilated pupils, and her once-vibrant complexion pallid and chalky. She was likely in shock.

Jordan rounded the bed and set the gun on the nightstand. He picked up the knife again, and his gaze swept Fiona’s body as if trying to decide where to begin.

Noah had options now, but he needed more time.

“How did you outsmart us? We never would have guessed you were holding her here. I live here and didn’t.”

“I had a little help from a friend. You might know her. She lives in the building.”

He frowned. He wasn’t home much and didn’t know all of his neighbors, especially the new ones.

“She’s not your type,” Jordan went on as he ran the flat of the blade over Fiona’s breast then circled the nipple with the tip. “She’s skinny and shrill—a real cunt. You like ’em sweet”—theknife traveled down her stomach to the neat little brown triangle above her pussy before he added—“and ripe.”

He flipped the blade end over end and caught it, miraculously without cutting himself. Holding it up, he eyed the gleaming steel, as he mused, “I didn’t see any dildos or vibes in the bag. Pretty boy ain’t much for toys, is he? Poor Sofia.”

Noah’s head jerked at the name. The sick fuck thought Fiona was his dead mother. The mother he had stabbed to death and buried in his backyard. Holy fuck!

Parra went on in a singsong voice, although his words dripped with malice. “What a shame. I guess I’ll have to improvise.”

The gag muffled Fiona’s panicked cries as he wrapped his fingers around her inner thigh and pulled them farther apart. Noah knew as well as she did what he intended next.

He’d bought enough time to free his wrist from the broken cuff. Jordan thought he was so much smarter, but the idiot hadn’t bound his feet. In one motion, he jumped up and swung the chair at Fiona’s kidnapper’s head and chest, careful to knock him away from rather than into her.

The force of the impact sent Jordan sprawling to the floor, and Noah was on top of him immediately after. One fist was all he needed. It connected with his jaw then his temple again and again.

When Parra lay motionless, he got up, preferring not to touch the piece of filth when unnecessary, but to get to the bed meant dragging the chair still attached to him.

He searched the floor for the knife, quickly cut through the cuff, and was at her side. He removed the gag, which released what had to be hours of pent-up emotions.

Instead of sobs, and pleas to be set free, she screamed, “Finish him! Or at least tie him up. Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie?”

Noah knew when someone was unconscious but, to satisfy her, and the nagging doubt she’d instilled in him, he tied Jordan up with his own rope, which he found in a bag in the corner.

It took longer to release Fiona. He’d used thick hemp rope, and the knots weren’t the quick release they used during a scene. He had to saw through them with Parra’s knife, which he discovered wasn’t as sharp as he’d initially thought.

As soon as the last rope fell away, she climbed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“Please, get me away from him,” she sobbed.

Without hesitating, he stepped over the body on the floor and carried her down the hall to his office. He sat with her in the big chair and covered her with the soft blanket.

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