“Get in the room.” He pushed her inside as he flipped on the lights, and before she could do more than stumble he flung her away.

Kia turned, ready to fight, and found herself staring into the barrel of the gun he held in his hand.

“I’m smart.” He smiled. “So much smarter than your bastard lover. I’m going to kill you and let him watch you die. And then I’m going to kill him. Moriah won’t have to be alone anymore. She’ll have the two you to keep her company. The friend she lost, and the man she loved. The man who killed her.”

25

“I was just going to kill you and let him suffer.” Harold sighed, his hazel eyes wet with tears as Kia backed up, staring at the gun in terror. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how lonely Moriah must be right now. None of her family and she didn’t have many friends. She’s with people she doesn’t know. She never liked that.”

God, he was crazy. Kia stared back at him in horror. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Sweet Mr. Brockheim? He was as crazy as his daughter had been, and no one had suspected it.

“And no one will ever suspect it’s me,” he told her. “I’m very good with security and computers. A genius, actually. I reserved this room in Chase’s name, and the security cameras won’t show anything for hours yet. I’m perfectly safe.”

“Moriah wouldn’t want you to do this,” she whispered.

He stared back at her in saddened disbelief. “You know better than that, Kia. Moriah would have wanted you right by her side. That way, you can watch her steal Chase’s heart. He should have been with her from the beginning, I see that now. But I can’t let him go without hurting him. Without making him hurt first. Moriah will understand that.”

“Killing me won’t hurt Chase,” Kia whispered.

“Yes, it will.” He sat down heavily in one of the chairs, the gun still trained on her. “He thinks he loves you. For the few minutes I allow him to live, long enough to realize you’re gone forever, then he’ll know how much it hurts.”

Kia gripped the skirt of her dress in her fingers, fisting them as she sought to find a way out of this.

“How can you believe Chase would kill Moriah?” she asked. Carefully. “He cared about her, Harold. Chase would never hurt anyone he cared for.”

As though there was too much energy inside him, Harold rose to his feet once more.

“The reports were in the newspaper,” she continued. “The detective had to shoot her when she tried to kill Congressman Roberts.”

His face twisted in pain.

“No, that’s not what happened,” he yelled back at her. “Chase was there. That son of a bitch shot and killed my baby. He killed her, because she knew things, things he didn’t want known.”

“Chase wouldn’t have cared what she knew, Harold,” she argued back. “You have to listen to me. Everyone knows how much Chase cared for Moriah. Everyone. He wouldn’t have hurt her.”

His gaze flickered, and for the briefest moment Kia thought she might have seen a bit of sanity there. Then his eyes glazed over again and fury flamed from them.

“I know the truth,” he spat out. “Even Annalee tried to lie to me. Tried to tell me Moriah wanted to kill them, wanted to kill that whore of Cameron’s because she couldn’t have her way. That wasn’t why.”

“Chase wouldn’t hurt her,” she whispered again, desperate now. The gun never wavered, it followed her, no matter which way she moved.

“Chase had to kill Moriah,” Brockheim cried out. “She knew the truth. I found it, in her journals. That dirty brother of his was nothing more than a gigolo when he was a boy. A filthy man-whore and Moriah knew. She was trying to protect Annalee and Richard. She wanted to protect them and Chase killed her. They all betrayed my daughter.”

His finger remained on the trigger. Kia felt her heart racing, a sob rising in her throat. She had to find a way to get away from him, a way to get past him and that gun. And the next time she saw Chase, they were going to have to have a little talk. Little things like him killing crazy Moriah Brockheim. She needed to know about that.

“Moriah was sick,” she said softly. “You know she was ill, Harold. She needed help. She tried to kill them.”

“You fucking whore. Fucking lying whore.” It wasn’t the gun or a bullet that struck her, but the back of his hand.

Stars exploded in her eyes as she fell to the floor. Pain radiated from the side of her face, along the rest of her body, and into her head.

She lay there, trying to breathe through the pain. She tasted blood in her mouth. Great. Just great.

She opened her eyes and glared up at Harold. So help me. She was getting damned sick of pissed-off men backhanding her. First Drew and now this nutcase.

“Shut up or I’ll kill you.” The gun was leveled at her head as Harold Brockheim stared down at her with malevolent fury. “Do you hear me, you little tramp? I’ll fucking kill you.”

He couldn’t find her. Chase searched the ballroom, dining room, the lobby, and sent Jaci and Courtney into the ladies’ room.

He had the phone to his ear, a three-way call between him, Cameron, and Khalid, with Khalid linking Ian in.

“She’s not here!” He stared around the lobby. He’d questioned everyone there. No one had seen her. “She wouldn’t have left the hotel.”

“I’m going to the reservation desk,” Khalid snapped. “Their security cameras are accessible by the manager’s office. Perhaps I can find something there.”

“Cameron, did you check the other ballroom?” Chase was desperate, frantic.

“We’ve checked every room, Chase,” Cameron said.

Chase hit the redial on the cell phone Courtney had handed him earlier and waited as Kia’s cell phone rang. And rang.

“Is there any way to get a GPS on her phone?” he asked.

“Detective Allen is on his way. He’ll be able to do that,” Ian stated. “Hold on, Chase.”

Hold on, my ass. He stared around the lobby, despair tearing through him, his guts cramping with it. He had promised to take care of her. Swore no one would hurt her, swore he would watch her back.

“There you are!” Drew Stanton was striding across the lobby and he was furious. “What the hell are you doing letting Kia escort Harold Brockheim upstairs for? Son of a bitch, Chase!”

Chase dropped the phone in his pocket and grabbed the lapels of Drew’s jacket. “Where the hell is she?”

“Let me go!”

“Answer me, Stanton.” Chase shook him, enraged. “Where did you see her and Brockheim? The bastard is going to kill her, and if he does, I’ll kill you.”

The color left Drew’s face. “The elevator.” His voice shook. “She got on the middle elevator with him and went up.”

Chase turned toward the elevators.

“Chase!” Khalid was moving quickly across the lobby, his black hair flying back from his face. “Did you reserve a room here?”

“Which room?”

“Twenty-seven forty-two,” Khalid answered. “Your reservation is on the books. The security monitors have been blown, and security hasn’t managed to fix them yet.”

All three men raced into an elevator. Chase punched in the floor, sweat dampening his spine as the elevator began its ascent. The elevators here were fast, but they were still too damned slow.

“What the hell is going on with Brockheim?” Drew said beside him. “Hell, he’s been on his deathbed since Moriah’s death.”

“Evidently he wants fucking company,” Chase snarled.

Brockheim couldn’t know they were on to him at this point, or that they knew the room he was in. It was only by chance that Khalid had checked room reservations. They had an advantage, a slight one, nothing more.

“Tell me what to do, Chase,” Drew said. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Brockheim is insane,” Chase snapped. “He’s taken Kia because he blames me and Cameron for Moriah’s death. He has Kia.” He whispered the words.