The Millionaire’s Ultimate Catch Page 2

  She ran toward the woman again. They needed a plan. Sheer desire to escape wasn’t enough.

  “Don’t leave me.” The young woman reached out to her. Her eyes wild with fright.

  Naomi’s hands balled into fists. Not that she could take down all these men, but she refused to surrender.

  Her fist shot out. The punch landed on the first guy’s cheek with a blunt thud. Needles of pain fired from her balled-fist up to her wrist. Her hand throbbed. Her fingers remained curled unable to open. No doubt she’d sprained her hand. Well, she had another.

  A stinging slap across her face stopped any further musings about her injury. The parking lot shifted around her view as if someone had twisted the scene on its side. A new attacker shifted into view. He didn’t waste energy on calling her names. His scowling face and powerful physique spoke their own language. She tried to reorient, blinking rapidly to chase away the dizziness. He grabbed her neck with one hand. His thumb pressed against her windpipe. The widening smile on his face showed his clenched teeth.

  Naomi grabbed his forearms, scratching, clawing, hitting. Tears crowded her vision. She tried to open her mouth, but her brain lagged with its obedience. Right now, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t hear. Even her vision wavered like a TV screen on the fritz.

  “I’m gonna make you regret meeting me.” He peered down into her face. His nose brushed against her skin. His odor turned her stomach. She strained to turn her head. His tongue licked the side of her face.

  Naomi barely felt the offense. Her hands fell limply to her side. Her body sagged. She could no longer focus on his ugly features. That must be some kind of blessing.

  She closed her eyes. Her grandmother’s kind face appeared before her. The older woman was more of a mother than her real mother ever was. Living with her, she’d often heard the caution to stop trying to be a hero. Now look where it had got her. A soft sigh escaped involuntarily from her lips. Blackness covered her as if someone had flicked a light switch to off.

  At the end of a long day, Zack Keathley stood in the parking lot of the new retail and residential center. He should feel proud that a new project was near completion. Instead, he was irritated that one of the anchor businesses was threatening to back out of their deal. The economic times had taken the power out of his hands and turned the advantage to his clients. Now the mega supermarket wanted more concessions, trying to tie him up in a deal that would not be to his benefit. He looked at his watch. He’d have to skip dinner again. In half an hour, he had an emergency meeting with his partners to discuss moving ahead or walking away from the table at a loss.

  His phone rang. He looked at the screen. Wil Mem Hosp. Why the heck was Wilmington Memorial Hospital calling him?

  He’d talked to his parents. They were heading off for a weekend getaway. His younger sister was going to a basketball game and then heading out with friends. He punched the button to answer.

  “Zack Keathley.”

  “Sir, I’m the administrator from Wilmington Memorial Hospital.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is a call concerning your sister.”

  “Chantelle?” Zack didn’t know if he should have mentioned his sister’s name. What if this was some stupid hoax?

  “Your sister is here. I’m placing the call on her behalf. The police will be in touch later.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Zack already moved toward his car. The problems with the retail center had to be set aside for a later time. “I want to talk to her.” He waited for the administrator to get his sister. The music playing over the line raised his irritability. His thoughts drifted around creating ever-worsening scenarios for his sister. She was young and in college. He’d warned her about drinking heavily with her friends. Battling with her whenever she came home had become routine. In her eyes, he was the overbearing big brother. And she was his twenty-year-old little sister.

  “Zack?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” He had to concentrate on driving through the neighborhood and toward the highway. “I’m here, Chantelle. Talk to me.”

  “A group of men attacked me. It was awful. I thought that I wouldn’t get away. Could you come for me?” Her soft sob punctuated the teary plea.

  “Of course.” Zack noted where she’d be. He didn’t ask any details because he wouldn’t be able to deal with the attack. At least not while he drove fifteen miles above the speed limit.

  Twenty minutes later, he turned into the hospital parking lot. He didn’t care if he’d parked properly. All he could focus on was getting into the building and finding his sister.

  He signed in at the entrance and got directions to the outpatient area.

  “Can I help you, sir?” A nurse leaned over the counter at the central station.

  “I’m looking for Chantelle Keathley.”

  The woman looked at her chart. “Oh, she left a message that she’d be visiting Room 316.” She pointed farther up the hallway.

  “Thank you.” Zack walked quickly, peering at the numbers on each room. Some doors were partially opened, allowing limited view of patients and the occasional visitor at the bedside.

  A uniformed policeman emerged from a room up ahead. His pace quickened and he entered the room with the bluster of an overwrought brother. His attention lighted on Chantelle huddled in a chair. She sprang up and hugged him.

  His arms closed around her. Thank goodness she was okay. His thoughts had turned dark and morbid, despite hearing her voice. He set her down now that his fears had been allayed.

  “What happened?”

  “I look worse than I am.” His sister touched a prominent bruise on her cheek. “It could have been much worse. Luckily, Naomi saved me.”

  Only then did he take in the complete picture. He stood in a patient’s room. A curtain partially drawn shielded his view of the person on the bed. Monitoring equipment beeped their noisy intrusion in the small space.

  Chantelle pulled the curtain back completely. He stepped closer, now a bit reticent to intrude. His sister took his hand inviting him closer to the bed.

  “Naomi,” his sister whispered. “I’d like you to meet my brother.”

  The woman, heavily bandaged, lying against the pillow, opened her eyes. She blinked as if trying to focus. He didn’t know what to say. His eyes drifted to her face and neck, taking in the vivid purple and blue bruises.

  “Who did this to you?” Outrage burned in him.

  The woman opened her mouth.

  “Shh, remember the doctor said that you shouldn’t talk.” Chantelle touched the woman’s arm. “This is Naomi Venable. She saved me.”

  Zack noted his sister’s open admiration. He looked at the injured figure lying in the large hospital bed. Tubes led from her arm up to the IV bags at her side. One hand was encased in a soft cast up to the wrist.

  “I heard them tell her that she strained the muscles in her hand. They also bruised her ribs, and she might have a slight concussion. The doctor wants to keep her for observation.”

  Now, Zack felt his own admiration stir. “Have they caught the guys?” Zack didn’t often use his influence around town, but the police chief was only a phone call away. He wanted someone to pay.

  “One guy was caught. They’re looking for the other three. But also they got evidence from the scene and from us.”

  Zack’s head snapped up. He hated to ask. “Did they—”

  “No, neither one of us was raped.” Chantelle’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  Zack pulled her into his arms. Her head rested lightly below his chest. Then he saw the woman looking at him. “Thank you,” he mouthed. She slowly blinked her response.

  Zack reached down and touched the hand that was free of bandages. He squeezed it slightly, sending his message of thanks again. She returned the gesture. He allowed her hand to rest in his. This woman who’d saved his sister stirred his curiosity but also deep admiration.

  “Where did you two meet?”r />
  “We didn’t meet.” Chantelle smiled at Naomi. “That’s the thing. My friend at the game wanted to go hang out at a club afterward. I didn’t want to go. I was going to cut through the parking lot to get a taxi.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I didn’t want a lecture,” she said plainly.

  Zack opened his mouth to launch into one but realized this wasn’t the time. He waited for Chantelle to continue.

  “First the guys approached like they were all cool and helpful. Then one of them started saying really nasty stuff. I told him that I didn’t like it. But they were like a pack of dogs looking for the latest catch.” Chantelle’s voice hitched. “Me.”

  Zack rubbed his forehead. He struggled to find the appropriate comforting words when he wanted to declare war.

  The woman groaned. He returned his attention to her. Her eyes flickered open. Her mouth moved, but no sound emerged.

  “Her teammates found us. Those guys barely escaped. Those women were ready to kill them.”

  “Who is she?”

  “You are so clueless. If you didn’t work all the time, you’d know. This is Naomi Venable. She plays for the Chicago Ladybirds.”

  “Ah.” He still didn’t have a clue. “That’s nice.”

  “Nice!” Chantelle punched him in the arm. “She played tonight. She risked a lot to help me. Thank goodness the season is over. Could you imagine if this was in the spring?” His sister’s eyes rounded in horror. “Now look at her, she won’t be able to finish the exhibition games. Hopefully, though, by the time they start practicing, she’ll be back to her regular self.”

  Zack agreed. He didn’t need a medical degree to assess Naomi’s condition. Bones may need to mend. Muscles needed to be repaired. There had to be some emotional stress from the brutal assault.

  “How can I repay her?” Her dark eyes were all he noticed. They didn’t slide away from his face but stared back with an intensity that mirrored the woman’s will. She intrigued him, stirring a part of him that had so long lain dormant.

  “Hello?”

  Zack and Chantelle turned toward the doorway. A woman stood there, looking curiously at them. Her brows drew down and suspicion clearly marked her features as she sized them up.

  “I’m Zack Keathley and this is my sister, Chantelle.” Zack opted to make the first friendly step. “Miss Venable apparently saved my sister.”

  “Ah.” The woman offered her hand. “I’m Wendy Brewster, Naomi’s coach. I came to see if she was awake. I wanted to let her know that her grandmother wouldn’t be able to get a flight out until tomorrow.”

  “She’s opened her eyes a couple times, but I’m not sure if she’s completely aware,” Zack offered.

  “Her voice hasn’t come back yet,” Chantelle added.

  They stepped back for the coach to enter and approach the bed. Although this was someone Naomi knew, he still didn’t want to leave her alone.

  “What will happen? I mean, like, will the team have to leave her?” Chantelle asked.

  The coach looked up at them; she held back tears with a tight grimace.

  Zack tapped Chantelle’s shoulder, warning her to drop the matter. The coach would have to think about the team and her obligations. He understood having to make decisions outside of personal preferences.

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  Zack was surprised that Naomi spoke, although her voice sounded scratchy and weak. Her face tightened under the strain of talking.

  “Always thinking of the other person.” Her coach shook her head. “I should be telling you not to worry. Your grandmother is trying to get a flight.”

  Naomi shook her head, which earned a weak groan.

  “What’s the matter? Should I call the doctor?” Zack asked, concern in his voice.

  “Too old…to fly,” Naomi’s voice croaked.

  “Who?” He looked up at the coach for an explanation.

  “Your grandparents?” she answered. “I tried to talk them out of it. But you know your grandmother is stubborn.”

  “Let me take care of getting your grandparents here,” Zack volunteered. “They can stay with my family.” He glanced at Chantelle.

  “Oh, Zack, that would be great.” Chantelle hugged her brother.

  “And when Naomi is discharged, I would love to extend the invitation to her. It’s the least we can do for her bravery.” Zack wanted to thank this woman, and by offering her his family’s home, he hoped to make her understand how much he appreciated what she’d done.

  Naomi shook her head. “Home. I’ll go home.”

  “You will, dear, when the time is right.” Her coach finally had to dab at her eyes.

  A nurse bustled into the room. “Okay, I have to check Miss Venable’s vitals. I’ll need you all to leave. You can come back in a few minutes.”

  They left the room and headed down the hall to the waiting area. Zack pulled up short, surprised to see a room filled with very tall women. Obviously, they were Naomi’s teammates.

  The coach introduced him and Chantelle, which developed into lots of questions about the incident. Chantelle answered as best she could. He learned that the team had to leave shortly to stay on schedule. The decision split the team into two camps, one wanting to stay with Naomi and the other saying that Naomi would want them to continue.

  “I know you don’t know us, but I promise that we will take care of Naomi and her grandparents for as long as they need us,” Chantelle offered. “I’m so grateful to her.”

  The coach quieted her players. “My assistant will stay here until Naomi is released. If Naomi decides to stay with you, then my assistant will leave and join the team.”

  “I’m sure she won’t refuse. No one can resist Chantelle’s nagging.” Zack shook the coach’s hand. “It’s all set. I’ll make arrangements.” He turned and left the room, not waiting for the coach’s response. He had to notify his mother that she’d be having guests for an extended stay at his family home.

  He looked forward to getting to know Naomi Venable, his sister’s hero. His number-one priority was to show his appreciation for what she’d done. Hopefully she would appreciate the hospitality his family offered. When things calmed down, he could come up with a more personal gift.

  Chapter Two

  Zack pulled up and parked his car in front of his parents’ home on Mercer Island off the Washington coast. He’d teased them over the years about trying to copy British nobility with a stately manor that required serfs to work the large house and acreage. His parents weren’t the sort to mimic their neighbors’ penchant for showing off their wealth with jewelry or cars. Instead they, especially his mother, felt that, if she built a huge home, then there was no excuse but to have family gatherings there. She also considered it an invitation to have a large third generation of Keathleys. He turned off the engine, also effectively shutting off any thoughts about children and marriage.

  Gardeners were hard at work, pruning the trees along the sides of the property. The grass had already been bagged. His mother liked to tend her personal flower gardens surrounding the house, but the bigger job of landscaping was contracted out. The combined effort transformed the house into a gem for home and gardens photographers and the like.

  His father had the house built with a contemporary version of the classical Northwest architectural style. The house captured the natural surroundings, making use of the light and space to highlight the best aspects of the changing seasons. With their property set along the Lake Washington shoreline, the home hugged the rugged facing, showcasing its cozy relationship with the natural setting. Zack ran up the brick steps leading up to the imposing double cedar doors.

  “Hi, Zack, good to see you.” The housekeeper pushed the open door much wider in welcome. “I’ll let your mother know that you’re here. By the way, Chantelle is resting upstairs. Poor thing, she escaped the attack with a few bruises, but you can tell it still haunts her.”

  “Thanks, Reba.” He brushed hi
s cheek against hers. The older woman had been a stable figure in his life since he was five years old. “Is Chantelle eating?” He worried that she’d suffer post-traumatic stress. After all, the memory of when he first saw her in the hospital easily spurred his bitter thoughts.

  “She’s not eating much. Had to rely on my bag of tricks from childhood days. Neither one of you could resist my pancakes and maple syrup.”

  “I do miss those.” As he walked farther into the house, the remaining scent of buttermilk pancakes lingered with a teasing trail.

  “Then you should try coming home more often,” his mother scolded. She entered the kitchen with her arms opened ready for her hug.

  “Hi, Mom. Are you heading out?” He noted the clothes, hairdo and makeup after she released him from a bear hug.

  “Just came in. I had to get the guys to pull in a few of the plant pots now that the weather is getting nippy.” She headed for the refrigerator. “Do you want something to eat? I do think you’ve lost weight.”

  “I’m just tall and the fat doesn’t know which direction to move,” he teased. His hours in the gym did pay off with a lean, muscular physique. He’d keep quiet about the fact that he forgot to eat sometimes.

  “Makes no sense why you’re living out there all alone.”

  ‘“Cause I’m a grown man, thirty-two.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Kind of kills the conversation with the young ladies if I’m trying to get it on in my parents’ home.”

  “Don’t want to hear any sordid details about you and your female friends. The last fiasco with the twins and the hot tub at the country club earned a series of new rules in the newsletter. They might as well have called it Zack’s law. Of course, when it’s official, I’m the first to know. Okay?” His mother looked over the top of her glasses at him. She didn’t release him from her stare until he nodded.

  Reba snorted.

  “See, even your fiercest supporter doesn’t hold out any hope of you settling down. My son, the eternal bachelor.”