The Benefactor

  The Benefactor

  Book 2 - See No Evil Trilogy

  Nana Malone

  Contents

  1. Livy

  2. Olivia

  3. Ben

  4. Ben

  5. Livy

  6. Livy

  7. Livy

  8. Ben

  9. Livy

  10. Ben

  11. Livy

  12. Ben

  13. Livy

  14. Ben

  15. Livy

  16. Ben

  17. Ben

  18. Ben

  19. Livy

  20. Ben

  21. Livy

  22. Ben

  23. Ben

  24. Livy

  25. Livy

  26. Ben

  Also from Nana Malone

  Nana Malone Reading List

  About Nana Malone

  1

  Livy

  Da-dum. Da-dum.

  Most people think that when you’re terrified, time moves at lightning speed. But the truth is, it’s a sloth-slow hyper-awareness of your own impending doom.

  My heart slowed, and I could feel every single breath of what was happening, even the infinite space between breaths. As my eyes widened in horror, recognition hitting me like an anvil, the hand clamped tighter around my mouth, and the more I struggled, the deeper strong, clammy fingers dug into my skin.

  What is he doing? He was supposed to be protecting me.

  What I’d once thought were the warm, kind eyes of my driver, Todd, were now dull and lifeless. “You are a naughty girl,” he said, his voice oddly low, like a groggy cement mixer. My body flooded with adrenaline which only tripped me into panic. I couldn’t think. Why would he do this? He’d been driving me for weeks. Taking me where I needed to go. Why would he try to hurt me now?

  I tried to force steadying breaths into my lungs, but the tears made that difficult. Drop by drop, salty wet tears hit my tongue, as the fear set in that I might not make it out of this.

  Tears? Ovary up. Fear immobilizes. Anger motivates. Think.

  My brain clawed on that kernel of anger. Anger would help me survive. I tried to hold on to that rage of knowing that he’d ruined the blissful, happy lull I was experiencing.

  I’d had the best sex of my life in the last twenty-four hours. No way did I want to give that up. I had to fight. As things to fight for went, sex was just as good as any other.

  I nodded and agreed to whatever he said so he might loosen his grip and let me breathe... move... just a little bit.

  “You’re a whore. Tell me you know what you are. He told me what you were.”

  I nodded emphatically because I couldn’t speak.

  Agree to everything. Anything. Live to fight another day.

  “He told me you were, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you with my own two eyes. First Paris, now here. You’ve been a whore all along. But that’s okay. You’ll be dealt with.”

  He? Am I being watched? By whom? For how long?

  Todd whipped me around, his hand holding my jaw too tight. He dragged me back against his body, and the firm impression of his erection against my back made bile rise in my throat. Instinctively, I wiggled, trying to free myself, accidentally rubbing against his body even more.

  He groaned and eased his hand just a little, but his fingers still dug into my skin, making my jaw muscles scream. I did the only thing I could do; I opened my mouth to relieve some of the pressure. Then taking a deep breath, I bit him. Hard.

  Even as his roar echoed in my ear, I didn’t let go with my teeth, but he went ahead and released my arm as he bellowed.

  Freedom.

  I brought my arm up and drove my elbow back into his gut while I kept clamping down with my teeth.

  Take skin if you can.

  I recognized the coppery taste of blood blooming on my tongue, and I shook my head back and forth, trying to do even more damage.

  A sickening, gagging scream and a sudden release of tension in my back told me I’d taken a part of him with me.

  “You cunt,” he growled out.

  I didn’t turn around or look back. I did not pass go. I did not stop to collect two hundred quid.

  I ran for the door like Satan himself was coming after me. I knew the way out. I just had to get there.

  There’s the kitchen. Faster.

  I remembered all my old track and field coach’s words. “Stop worrying about your legs. Worry about your arms. If your arms can move quickly, your legs will follow.”

  I had nothing to lose from trying that advice as my legs felt like jellied blood, too heavy to make them work. Too shaky to be at all coordinated. But it didn’t matter. I was moving, and I forced my arms to pump back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  The spike of adrenaline had me temporarily forgetting my bearings in the loft. I was just off the bedroom, down the hall, past the library. I’d have to make a right, to the massive living room into the kitchen and out the door. I could do this.

  Just run.

  Easier said than done when your limbs didn’t work. And there was something sticky and slippery on the ground. I didn’t dare look, because if I looked, I was afraid of what I was going to find.

  As I bolted through the loft, I lamented the size of it. What single man needed a four-thousand-square-foot loft at the top of a hotel?

  Still, I pumped my arms and turned the corner, grabbing priceless art pieces off the walls and tossing them behind me, trying to delay my attacker. As I went to make my right turn, he caught hold of the T-shirt I was wearing and yanked back.

  My legs kicked out from under me, and I flew into the air, going weightless for just a moment, giving me enough time to worry about how hard my landing was going to be.

  When I crashed, I spread my limbs out to disperse my weight and kept my head tucked, chin into my chest, so it wouldn’t hit the floor. But that didn’t stop the spasm of pain, as my back slammed into the hardwood floor.

  I immediately rolled to my side, tempted to curl into a ball and wait for death, but I forced my arms to push me up onto my feet.

  Get up. Get up. Get up.

  My feet slipped, and I could feel shattered glass beneath them. Tiny shards. Fortunately for me, as much as I was slipping, so was Todd. His shoes were more of a detriment, but they still offered some protection from the glass.

  On tippy-toes, I tried to avoid the glass from the photograph I’d dragged down. He reached for me again, but this time his shoes slipped in blood and he went down.

  Success.

  Breath tearing out of my lungs, heart pounding against my ribcage, body shaking full of adrenaline and fear and a will to live I’d never fully examined before, I bolted into the living room.

  And then I saw it... the reason for the blood. The blood that Todd had tracked through the loft. His partner, Brian, was bleeding. His throat was slit, and he was propped up against my exit.

  Fuck.

  I knew Todd was behind me, his footsteps growing ever nearer.

  If you stop, you die.

  I did a quick assessment and considered stopping to double-check that Brian really was dead, but I could hear the all-too-close clattering of Todd’s footsteps behind me. I had to get out. If I could get out, I could call for help.

  Ben. Where is Ben?

  As I scurried around the coffee table in the living room, I saw the feet of another body. Holy shit. The chef, Constance. She’d come to leave food. Ben had told me she would so we wouldn’t have to cook anything for ourselves. She moaned. Mumbled something.

  I reached down for her. “Take my hand.”

  She shook her head. “Please, go,” she whispered.

  I tried to pull her. “Oh no, please come with me. Please. Please. Please.�
� But she went limp, her hand dropping from mine.

  Just as I tried to rouse her, Todd rounded the corner and I squeaked.

  His voice was all ice and malice. “Come back here, you cunt. There’s nowhere to run. Will it help if I tell you I don’t want to do this? If I show up without you, it’ll be bad for me.” He climbed over the coffee table I’d shoved near the entryway.

  Fuck. There was no way I was going to be able to move Brian’s body away from that door. Not with Todd so close.

  I took a left, heading down the other corner, back toward my room. Was there somewhere to hide?

  The panic room.

  There was a panic room. It was on the opposite side of the loft. Right next to the room I’d just run from.

  Fuck me.

  But there was something else down my hall. The servants’ quarters. With a private entry.

  Yes. Yes, oh my God. Oh my God.

  I ran past the suite I’d been given, down the hall to the quarters shared by Constance and Ann Marie. Constance didn’t stay on site often, but Ann Marie, the maid, did. She was visiting her niece and nephew in Scotland for the weekend, though. At least I didn’t have to worry if she was lying hurt somewhere too.

  The servants’ exit was connected to a small hallway that contained the service elevator and stairway. I could get there.

  My feet screamed in pain as those embedded shards of glass dug deeper into my flesh.

  I guess I should never have requested that pedicure. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, fatigue creeping on the edges of my consciousness. My brain went back to Constance. Was she okay? I prayed to God that she’d just passed out and she hadn’t died. Why hadn’t I done more to help her?

  You can do more when you’re safe. Now move your ass.

  My inner survivalist was having none of that bullshit. She didn’t know where to buy a fuck, because at the moment, her only concern was getting me the fuck out of here.

  I tried to open the door, but my blood-and-sweat-soaked hands slipped on the knob. When I used the hem of my T-shirt to grab the doorknob, I could hear the fabric ripping, but I didn’t give a shit. I quickly yanked it open, and I slammed it shut behind me as I entered the service hallway. I looked left and right and saw that there were two doors. I didn’t know which went where, but I knew that East’s penthouse was directly above. Would I be able to access the penthouse floor without a keycard? I didn’t know, but I had to try.

  I went left, my blood-soaked feet leaving tracks on the cement as I ran. I skittered up the stairs and heard the door to the service hallway shoved open.

  He’d be able to tell which way I went.

  Don’t stop. Keep going. You’ll die if you stop.

  If I kept going, I at least had a shot.

  Even though I slipped and banged my knee on the step, I pushed myself up, tears streaming down my face, and kept moving. I took the equivalent of two flights up to the penthouse floor. I said several prayers as I climbed, and thankfully, there was no access lock. Once again, I used my T-shirt to yank the door open, and it gave way. Maybe Constance also worked for East? I didn’t have time to think about it. I could hear Todd’s footsteps on the stairs, and I ran down the hall, past the penthouse elevator, and then to East’s door. I banged on it as I pressed the doorbell. “Please, God, East, open the door. I’m begging you, open the fucking door.”

  I kept my eye on the service door and banged again. “It’s Liv. Open up. Please God, open the door.”

  I prayed and prayed that East was home, that Ben was there, that I hadn’t imagined it. I pressed the button again, but there was no sound, no movement from inside East’s apartment. I tried the handle as the claws of the invisible boogeyman nipped at me like the flicks of a whip over the skin of my bare ass. Blood coated my hands, my mouth, and my chin, and still, I used both hands to bang on the door. On the other side, I finally heard footsteps. I could have sworn I also heard the tapping of footsteps slowing in the stairwell.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. I banged and banged and banged, and finally, the door swung open. The handsome, perpetually brooding face of Bridge Edgerton appeared in the threshold, and I fell into his arms.

  “Olivia?”

  As darkness crept over the edge of my vision, I forced the words up past my constricted throat. “S-S-Someone just tried to kill me.”

  Ben

  It was Olivia’s voice that pulled me out of East’s study.

  With a frown, I jogged down the hallway, my senses on alert, unease tripping over my nerve endings. When I rounded the corner, my feet rooted to the ground as I saw my best mate with his arms around my woman, his hands settling just above her bare ass.

  At first, I didn’t think. I couldn’t process. I just lunged for him. “Get your fucking hands off of her.”

  But something stopped me. Pulled me back. The force of it was strong enough to hold me in position. “Look at her, she’s bleeding.” East said.

  What the fuck?

  I brought my head back to Bridge and Olivia. And… Jesus fucking Christ, she was bleeding. And she was barefoot, wearing nothing but a thin T-shirt.

  Bridge’s voice was even. “Christ, she was at the door like this.”

  The initial anger I’d felt toward Bridge rolled off of me in a dramatic sweep, replaced by fury, shock, and horror. I fought East’s hold. I had to get to her. She was hurt. She was in pain, and I hadn’t known.

  East muttered, “Easy, mate, this isn’t like your father and Lila.”

  My hands shook. “You can let me go. I’m not going to hit him. I need to get to her.”

  East released me immediately, and Bridge gently eased Olivia into my arms. She sagged into me, then a sob broke through. “T-T-Todd a-attacked me in the loft…your security guard, B-Brian, I think he’s dead. And Constance… I left them… in the loft.… I ran, and…”

  Her speech was broken, and her body racked with shivers.

  East was already hustling down the hall. A couple of seconds later, he came running back with what looked like clothes and a blanket.

  I barely managed to growl, “Bridge, take her.”

  He asked no questions, just slid his arm around her shoulder, leading her to East’s very expensive white couch.

  I charged toward the door, but Drew stopped me with a firm hand on my shoulder. “I know you want to go after the tosser who did this. I understand, mate. But let me go down. If the fucker is in this building, I will find him. I’ll do that. East will look for him on the security cameras. At least we’ll get an idea of where he’s gone. But, mate, if you find him, you’ll kill him. And she needs you right now.”

  The fury that pumped through my veins slowed its flow. My brain kicked online. Drew was right. I would kill him. If I found him, I would make him pay for frightening Liv. For hurting her. For trying to take away what was mine.

  I dragged in a deep breath. When that didn’t work, I took another. Breath by breath, I calmed down my heart rate then slowed my breathing. And finally, I forced my muscles to relax and my fists to uncurl.

  I had to calm the fuck down. She needed me now. To hold her. To comfort her. She didn’t need my fury. Didn’t need my rage. I shoved my hands in my pockets and worked to keep my voice even. “Give us a minute, lads.”

  Bridge and East got with the program. Drew lingered though. “Ben, maybe you need—”

  I snapped my gaze to him. And I wasn’t sure where that feral growl came from exactly, but I knew that if he came anywhere near her, I was going to kill him. When he finally made himself scarce, I eased back. “Hey, you’re safe. I have you.”

  From the study, Bridge called out, “Already on the line with the police. Ben get her cleaned up. East, make her some tea.”

  I forced myself to speak around the lump in my throat. “No tea yet. She’s evidence.” My gaze flickered to her mouth where blood had dried, and tears pricked my eyes.

  Fucking tears. When was the last time I’d cried?

  When my mother died? Certa
inly, but how often after that?

  But with Liv, everything in me shattered.

  Something had happened to Olivia. On my watch. When I was supposed to be taking care of her, someone had attacked her. Worse, it was someone I had paid to protect her.

  I strode over to the couch, picked her up, and carried her to the bathroom off the foyer to the left. Luckily, it was massive. Nearly the size of a full room. When I sat her on the counter, I stepped back and my gut churned. She was covered in blood. So much of it had caked on the T-shirt she wore. “Liv, I’m going to clean you up, okay?” She stared dead ahead, and I worried she was in shock. “Let me know you hear me, sweetheart.”

  Her little nod was nearly imperceptible, but her dark, haunted gaze met mine. I grabbed one of the fluffy white hand towels and ran it under the warm water. When I brought it back to her face, she flinched. “Ow.”

  “I’m sorry, love.” I forced myself to swallow before asking the next question, praying that the pause would help calm me. “Did he hit you?” My brain rapidly ran through a number of murder scenarios I could employ, each one bloodier than the one before.

  She shook her head. “No, but his grip, it was so tight. And when I bit him, I might have bitten my lip too.”

  I stared down at her. “You bit him?”

  She nodded, slowly telling me what had happened. How she’d gotten out of the bath, had been talking to Telly and then to Dex, before she heard something so she’d gone to see if I’d come back to the loft.

  All she had on was her T-shirt because she’d just been going to check out the noise. She hadn’t anticipated someone wanting to hurt her.

  “Ben, I think Brian’s dead. A-and Constance… I don’t know how badly she’s hurt. Because of me.”