Taming Megan(17)

“Just get it over with,” she told herself out loud, marched toward his room and knocked on the door.

The door opened. “Meggie,” Sean Connelly said, the grin on his face twisting her stomach, making her want to retch.







Jake pulled into the garage and wrapped up his call, surprised to find her car gone. She had said she didn’t have anything to do today and would just be resting most of the day. He was going to surprise Megan and take her out for a nice lunch, maybe a special long weekend. He had good news to share.

He climbed out of the car carrying a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne with him. He walked into the house and set his briefcase down.

“Meg?” he called out, knowing she wouldn’t be here.

No answer.

He dialed her cell phone only to hear it ring from just a few feet from him. He walked to it, ending the call. Her phone sat on the couch. She was forgetful but she never left her phone behind.

“Meg?” he called out again, picking up her phone and looking at the display. He punched in her passcode and for a moment, wondered if he should read the message that came onto the screen:



I’ve reserved room 1642 for us at the Ritz Carlton downtown. Only the best for my Meggie. Be there by noon or I’ll have a chat with dear old hubby.

SC



He knew to whom those initials belonged.

Jake’s entire body went numb and cold. His heartbeat somehow remained level, but his mind was awash with memories of the past week, of how she had been acting, how she’d come to his office that day and never told him what it was about. The image of Sean Connelly with his hand on her arm that night of the party, her own awkward behavior when she had seen him.

Adrenaline pumped through him, making him fist his hands. His eyes narrowed to slits and he turned and walked out the door and into his car.







Megan stood just inside the door, refusing to budge, some part of her wanting to run.

“Right on time,” he said, checking his watch. “Come inside.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“No. I’m not staying,” she said, reaching into her purse and taking out the envelope which contained $150—the exact amount he had paid her eight years ago. “I’m returning your money since I never fulfilled my end of the deal,” she said, holding it out to him.

His eyes barely left hers to glance at it before returning to her face. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that,” he said.

“Take it,” she said, shaking the envelope at him. “I don’t want it, I should never have taken your money then. It was a mistake.”

“And there are consequences to mistakes.”

“Believe me, I’ve paid for mine.”

“I hardly think so. I mean, look at you,” he said, rising to his feet, his eyes sweeping her body before he turned to pick up his drink from the bar. “No one would look at you and know the trash you are. You’ve covered up your past pretty well, even found yourself a nice, rich husband.”

“Leave Jake out of this. This was my mistake, he shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“You were going to tell him the other day, weren’t you?” he asked, his tone casual as he sipped his drink. “Why didn’t you? What happened?”

Megan realized in that moment that she wouldn’t be telling him about the baby. The thought of him knowing disgusted her. “None of your business.” She put the envelope down on the table and turned to him to appeal to his human side, but she wondered if he even had one. “Sean, please, you can’t get anything out of telling him. You can’t. You have a wife, a family of your own and I want my own. Please, just let me be.”

“I’ll be happy to let you be. Once you’ve done what I hired you to do eight years ago. Get undressed.”

“No, I’m not doing this,” she said, turning to the door. Her hand closed over the doorknob just as his closed over her shoulder and he yanked her backwards. “Let me go!” she yelled.

“Shut up!” he said, his voice even lower, even more evil as he tossed her onto the bed.

Megan screamed and tried to scramble away but he caught her ankle and dragged her down toward him.

“I said shut the fuck up, whore,” he said, turning her so she was on her back as he reached for his discarded tie and brought it to her mouth to gag her.

He was going to rape her. He was really going to do it. Megan fought like she was fighting the devil himself, scratching at him when he blocked her arms, kneeing him in the thigh, the belly but never quite hitting him where she might do some damage. He tossed her onto her stomach and straddled her, trapping her arms as he shoved the tie into her mouth and pulled hard. She got one last scream out before he flipped her back over and slapped her hard across the face.







When Jake pulled into the parking lot of the Ritz Carlton, he had no idea how he’d gotten there, he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, but when he saw his wife’s car parked there, a rage unlike anything he had ever felt washed through him.

He was going to kill Sean Connelly.

He stormed out into the rain and when the valet came with his umbrella, he ignored him, heading to the elevators. But they were all occupied so instead of waiting, he went to the stairwell and began the ascent up to the sixteenth floor, taking the stairs two at a time and breaking into a run, knowing he needed to get there sooner rather than later.

By the time he reached the 16th floor, he was out of breath. He took a moment to get his bearings and stalked toward room 1642. That was when he heard Megan’s scream and without even a thought to knock, he slammed his full weight into the door bursting into the room to find Sean Connelly standing over his bound, terrified wife.

He took Sean completely by surprise when he charged him, his hand wrapping around his throat, shoving him into a wall so hard, the painting on that same wall crashed down, throwing a lamp over with it, shattering the glass. Sean raised his arms to hold him back but Jake smashed his fist into his face so that he went down sideways, catching himself on the dresser. He was obviously disoriented as he stood and Jake grabbed him again, straightening him to receive the next blow to his other cheek. When he went down, Jake would have kicked him but security burst through the door at that moment, two men grabbing hold of him, pulling him back.

“You fucking bastard!” He cursed, trying to free himself, managing one kick to Sean’s gut before the men pulled him off.

“Sir,” one of the men said. “Calm down.”

“Let me go!” he yelled, yanking himself free, finding Megan on her knees on the bed, bound, gagged, sobbing as she struggled to free her arms. He went to her, feeling heat at his eyes, noticing the state of her clothes, her torn blouse.

He pulled the gag from her mouth.

“Oh, God, Jake. Jake,” she kept repeating. He untied her wrists.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, noticing the palm print on the side of her face. He hugged her to him. “Did he fucking hurt you?”

She shook her head and cringed back but he pulled her close. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.”

“I want to go home,” she said. “Take me home.”

“Manager’s on his way,” one of the security guards said while the other watched over Sean who now sat up on the floor rubbing his jaw.

“I’ll fucking sue you for all you’ve got, Roark.”

“You fucking sick son of a bitch,” Jake began, stalking toward him again, stopping only when he felt Megan’s hand trying to take hold of his, trying to keep him with her.

“I’m not the one who’s sick, Roark. You should ask your wife what this is about. Money’s on the table there,” he said, gesturing toward the envelope.

“Is that why she was screaming for help, bound and gagged, her clothes torn?”

“Jake stop, please!”

The door opened and the hotel manager walked in, glancing at all present and quietly closing the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his question directed toward one of the security guards. “Everyone all right?” His glance fell on Megan.

“I just want to go home,” she said, tugging on Jake’s arm.

“Which one of you is Sean Connelly?” he asked.

“I am,” Sean said, rubbing a tender spot on his jaw.

“What’s going on?” the manager asked. “Do we need to get the police involved?”

“He tried to rape her, I think that’s pretty obvious. I’m taking my wife home,” Jake said.

“Hold on,” Sean said, taking a step toward Jake. Security blocked his way. “There was no rape.”

Megan looked at Jake. “I just want to go home.” He noticed how she wouldn’t let go of him, clinging close to his side.

Jake rubbed his eyes, torn. He wanted to take her home, get her out of here but he also wanted to kill Sean Connelly for what he tried to do.

“Please, Jake,” she begged. He looked at her. She looked tired, worn out and just sad. He tried to smile to reassure her but it was too hard to manage.

“I’m taking my wife home,” he said.

“Who’s paying for damages?” the hotel manager asked.

Sean pointed to Jake. “Jake Roark.”

Jake just shook his head. “You’re a sick bastard,” he said. “If you ever try to come near my wife again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Jake turned and took Megan out of there.