Sawyer flushes. “About nine thirty, ma’am.”
“Why didn’t you interrupt my conversation with Kate so I could speak with him?”
“Mr. Grey told me not to.”
I purse my lips. The elevator arrives, and we ride up in silence. I’m suddenly grateful that Christian has a whole night to recover from his snit-fit, and that he’s on the other side of the country. It gives me some time. On the other hand… I miss him.
The doors to the elevator open, and for a split second I stare at the foyer table.
The vase of flowers lies smashed into fragments all over the floor of the foyer, water and flowers and chunks of china are strewn everywhere, and the table is overturned. My scalp prickles and Sawyer grabs my arm and pulls me back into the elevator.
“Stay there,” he hisses, drawing a gun. He steps into the foyer and disappears from my field of vision.
I cower in the back of the elevator.
“Luke!” I hear Ryan call from inside the great room. “Code blue!”
“You have the perp?” Sawyer calls back. “Jesus H. Christ!”
I flatten myself against the elevator wall.
“You can come in, Mrs. Grey,” he says gently.
“What’s happened, Luke?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“We’ve had a visitor.” He takes my elbow, and I’m grateful for the support-my legs have turned to jelly. I walk with him through the open double doors.
Ryan is standing at the entrance of the great room. A cut above his eye is bleeding, and there’s another on his mouth. He looks roughed up, his clothes disheveled. But what’s more shocking is Jack Hyde slumped at his feet.
10
My heart is pounding and blood thrums loudly in my eardrums; the alcohol flowing through my system, amplifying the sound.
“Is he-” I gasp, unable to finish the sentence and gazing wide-eyed and terrified at Ryan. I can’t even look at the prone figure on the floor.
“No, ma’am. Just knocked out cold.”
Relief floods through me.
“And you?” I ask, gazing at Ryan. I realize I don’t know his first name. He’s panting as if he’s run a marathon. He wipes the corner of his mouth, removing the trace of blood, and a faint bruise is forming on his cheek.
“He put up one hell of a fight, but I’m okay, Mrs. Grey.” He smiles reassuringly. If I knew him better, I’d say he looked a little smug.
“And Gail? Mrs. Jones?”
“I’m here, Ana.” Glancing behind me, she’s in a nightdress and robe, her hair loose, her face ashen and her eyes wide-like mine, I imagine.
“Ryan woke me. Insisted I come in here.” She points behind her into Taylor’s office. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
I nod briskly and realize she’s probably just come out of the panic room built adjoining Taylor’s office. Who knew we’d need it so soon? Christian had insisted on its installation shortly after our engagement-and I had rolled my eyes. Now, seeing Gail standing in the doorway, I’m grateful for his foresight.
A creak from the door to the foyer distracts me. It’s hanging off its hinges. What the hell happened to that?
“Was he alone?” I ask Ryan.
“Yes, ma’am. You wouldn’t be standing here if he wasn’t, I can assure you.” Ryan sounds vaguely affronted.
“How did he get in?” I ask, ignoring his tone.
“Through the service elevator. He’s got quite a pair, ma’am.”
I stare down at Jack’s slumped figure. He’s wearing a uniform of sorts-coveralls, I think.
“When?”
“About ten minutes ago. I caught him on the security monitor. He was wearing gloves… kinda strange in August. I recognized him and decided to give him access. That way I knew we’d have him. You weren’t here and Gail was safe, so I figured it was now or never.” Ryan looks very pleased with himself once more, and Sawyer scowls at him in disapproval.
“What now?” I try to dismiss the ramifications from my mind.
“We need to secure him,” Ryan replies.
“Secure him?”
“In case he wakes.” Ryan glances at Sawyer.
“What do you need?” asks Mrs. Jones, stepping forward. She’s recovered her composure.
“Something to restrain him-cord or rope,” Ryan replies.
“I have something. Cable ties. Will they do?”
All eyes turn to me.
“Yes, ma’am. Perfect,” Sawyer says, serious and straight-faced. I want the floor to swallow me up, but I turn and head for our bedroom. Sometimes you just have to brazen things out. Perhaps it’s the combination of fear and alcohol making me audacious.
When I return, Mrs. Jones is surveying the mess in the foyer and Miss Prescott has joined the security team. I hand the ties to Sawyer, who slowly, and with unnecessary care, ties Hyde’s hands behind his back. Mrs. Jones disappears into the kitchen and returns with a first aid kit. She takes Ryan’s arm, leads him into the doorway of the great room, and starts tending to the cut above his eye. He flinches as she dabs it with an antiseptic wipe. Then I notice the Glock on the floor with a silencer attached.
“Don’t touch, Mrs. Grey,” says Prescott when I bend to pick it up. Sawyer emerges from Taylor’s office wearing latex gloves.
“I’ll take care of that, Mrs. Grey,” he says.
“It’s his?” I ask.
“Yes ma’am,” says Ryan, wincing once more from Mrs. Jones’s ministrations. Holy crap. Ryan fought an armed man in my home. I shudder at the thought. Sawyer bends and gingerly picks up the Glock.
“Should you be doing that?” I ask.
“Mr. Grey would expect it ma’am.” Sawyer slides the gun into a zip-lock bag then squats to pat down Jack. He pauses and partially pulls a roll of duct tape from the man’s pocket. Sawyer blanches and pushes the tape back into Hyde’s pocket.
“Should we call the police?” I mutter, trying to hide my fear. I want Hyde out of my home, sooner rather than later.
