Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 7)

Why weren’t they helping? Grab him! Do something. Wheezing, I shifted and tried to wiggle from Benson’s hold, which made him laugh, the sound maniacal.

“Oh really? One twist and she’s dead.” His hand squeezed a little tighter and I made a gurgling moan. My nails dug into the top of his hand, in his wrist, but he was strong.

Sully looked beyond angry, but I couldn’t focus on anything or anyone. Not anymore. Only Mr. Benson’s tightening grip.

“Let her go,” Sully said. I’d never heard his voice so angry. “You want me dead so you can marry her. She holds no value to you dead. Besides, you can’t kill me if you’re holding her.”

Mr. Benson’s hand loosened a bit and I could breathe. I gulped in air, relaxed slightly in his hold. It seemed silly not to fight him, but I was too interested in catching my breath.

“That’s a start,” Sully told him.

“You’re holding the gun on me, Shooter. I’m not stupid enough to release your wife. You’ll just shoot me.”

Sully held out his hands from his sides, walked sideways to a small table, laid the gun down. “There now. I’m not going to shoot you.”

Mr. Benson relaxed his hold even more.

“Benson!” Father cried.

The man turned instinctively toward my father and as he did so, took a half step away from me.

A deafening gunshot had me jump, then cover my ears.

My father’s voice was flat. “He’s not going to shoot you, I am.”

My father’s gun was smoking and I was slow to understand that he’d shot Mr. Benson. As that became clear in my befuddled mind, the man fell to the floor, solid, dense. Dead.

“Fuck,” Parker muttered.

Sully ate the distance between us and tugged me right into his arms. I felt the beating of his heart against my cheek, felt his warmth. Knew he was alive. He was kissing the top of my head, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, but this time, I didn’t care.

My ears were ringing from the single gunshot, but I heard Parker speak.

“Are you insane? You could have killed her!”

“I might be old,” my father replied. “I might even be a bastard when it comes to my daughter, but I’m a very good shot. That man threatened Mary and he deserved to die.”

I lifted my head and looked at my father. He’d never once said he loved me. Never hugged me, told me he was proud of me. Nothing. But his killing Mr. Benson proved that somewhere in his heart, he cared about me.

“Father...”

He shook his head, put the gun on the desk. Kane came around to stand beside him, surreptitiously taking the weapon away. I doubted my father even knew he’d done killed a man. He was in shock as much as me, perhaps more. Not only did he discover his daughter hadn’t run off to get in bed with a stranger, but he discovered his business partner was dirty and intended to commit several murders.

He’d been wrong. He’d been wronged. I didn’t expect an apology or anything from the man. But I could give him something.

“Thank you, Father. Thank you for saving me.”

I looked up at Sully. His eyes held so many emotions. Anger, fury, fear, lust and anguish.

“Let’s go home,” I told him.

He nodded once, then turned us toward the door. I doubted he would let me out of his arms anytime soon. I was just fine with that.

“Mary,” my father called. Kane still stood near his desk, perhaps to ensure he didn’t do anything else reckless. “I’m sorry.”

Sully pulled me out of the room and down the hall. I wondered if it was the last time I would be in this house, if my father was rid of me once and for all, but I wouldn’t worry about that now. Now, I would find that peace and quiet with Sully and Parker.

CHAPTER TWELVE