Renegade Wife
Author
B.J. Daniels
Reads
18.6K
Chapters
22
When her fairy-tale life becomes a tragedy. She's looking for vengeance. After her double-crossing, thieving husband disappears, Geneva Carrington Beck and her puppy — the only thing the no-account left behind — recruit Montana outfitter Calhoun St. Pierre to track him down. But their mountain mission takes a dangerous turn when criminals searching for the missing man make his bride a target…and a widow. Now a reluctant hero has to partner with and protect the renegade wife.
Chapter One
Geneva Carrington Beck pried open her eyes to find herself sprawled face down on the couch. For a moment, she had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten there. She’d awakened with one thought. Something was wrong.
As she blinked, trying to wake, her view was suddenly blocked by a lolling wet pink tongue and a cold black nose. The tongue flicked out to lick her face—and not for the first time she realized as she jerked back, her cheek sticky and wet. She stared down at the large brown eyes set between two floppy ears—one white, one black—as the puppy tried to jump up on the couch with her.
Sitting up abruptly, her head swam. The dog began to bark in little yips that would have been cute if her head wasn’t splitting. She glanced from the couch toward the open-concept living-room-dining-room-chef’s-grade-kitchen. Silver and white balloons bobbed as if on a breeze along with a banner hanging askew over the massive kitchen island. She strained through her throbbing headache to read the words: Happy Anniv—
Memories shoved their way through the foggy confusion. The new house full of people laughing and talking loudly over the music. The clink and rattle of ice cubes against crystal. An air of excitement all around her as she and Lucian celebrated their first wedding anniversary with the people closest to them. Her handsome husband quieting down the crowd so he could surprise her with her anniversary gift.
“I would give you the moon and stars if I could,” he’d said before pulling the wriggling ball of black-and-white fur from a giant box with the flair of a magician. “But my wife’s first puppy is close.”
The room had erupted into oohs and aahs as she’d hugged the adorable dog to her. She’d been overwhelmed that Lucian had remembered the one thing that had always been missing from her perfect life.
“You have the most amazing husband,” her best friend Mitzi had whispered as she’d passed on the way to the bar. “You’ve always been so lucky.” Mitzi had no idea.
The memory, though, made her mouth go dry now.
Turning, she reached down and picked up the puppy, holding her close and getting another lick. As she did, she saw that she was still wearing the expensive green dress Lucian had bought her for the party. The negligee he’d also purchased had been laid out on her bed for after the party. That’s when she and Lucian planned to celebrate not just their first anniversary but her thirtieth birthday.
What had happened last night that she’d ended up on the couch alone? She couldn’t imagine that she’d drank so much that she’d passed out—let alone why she was having trouble remembering all but random moments from the party.
“Lucian?” With the puppy in her arms, she stood and had to take a minute for the spins to stop. Her head was a whirling maelstrom, and her mouth was Death Valley. She thought she might be sick. “Lucian?” How long had she slept? She could see sunshine streaming into the living room sliders. Beyond the glass doors the Pacific Ocean glistened blue-green as far as the idea could see.
“I love San Diego and this view,” Lucian had said the day the Realtor showed them the house. “I can see us here, Geneva, can’t you?”
She moved to the window now, trying to make sense of why it was early afternoon. Why hadn’t Lucian awakened her? It had to be late given the angle of the sun.
She shifted the puppy in her arms to glance down at her wrist, expecting to see the diamond watch her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday. Her wrist was bare except for a small red scratch. She stared at the scratch, her stomach roiling as her gaze flicked to her ring finger. Her beautiful diamond engagement ring was gone, along with her diamond-studded wedding ring.
As she started to panic, she told herself that she might have taken both off last night for some reason. She looked around for her phone. The house was so large that she and Lucian often called one another via cell phone from the different levels.
Her phone wasn’t by the couch. Her heart began to pound. That feeling that something was very wrong grew stronger with each step as she checked the lower floor for her phone—and her husband. He wasn’t in their joint office or the media room or their gym or in the sauna or the pool outside. Neither was her phone.
At the bottom of the stairs, she looked up with growing trepidation. He could be anywhere in his huge place. Five bedrooms and five baths. She’d argued that it was too large, but Lucian said he wanted lots of room for their family to grow. As an only child, she’d wanted that more than anything.
But after what had happened with her father, she worried about spending too much. “We deserve this,” Lucian had said. “I just want you to be happy.”
She didn’t need a house to make her happy, she’d told him. “You’re all I need.”
There were too many places in this house to get lost, she thought as she headed for the primary bedroom with its spa bathroom, his and hers walk-in closets and a sitting space large enough to do cartwheels.
Maybe Lucian had drank too much last night and was still in bed. She recalled him making drinks at the bar downstairs, laughing with their friends. It had been their first party since buying the house. Before that, they’d lived in her apartment for a short time after they’d met because it was larger than where Lucian had been living, but she’d known how unhappy he was there.
“We need a place of our own,” he’d said. “I’m a chef. I want to entertain our friends. I need an amazing kitchen so I can cook for you.”
She thought of him last night when he’d handed her a margarita and whispered something about getting everyone to leave soon so that just the two of them could take the party upstairs. What had happened after that? The party downstairs could have gone on until the wee hours of morning—apparently without her.
As she topped the stairs, she hoped to find her husband still snuggled in their California king-size bed. She pictured the puppy and her climbing into bed with him. But she feared that she wasn’t going to find him in the bed. Nor did she expect to find him on the grounds. As huge as the house and property with a view of the Pacific Ocean, she could feel his absence.
Pushing open their bedroom door, her heart fell at the sight of her negligee lying on the bed where she’d left it—the bed covers untouched. But there on her nightstand was her phone. She rushed to it. Lucian would have called. Or sent her a text. He wouldn’t have just left.
She saw the time. It was even later than she’d thought, early afternoon. She scanned her phone. No calls. No text from Lucian. She tried his number. It went straight to voicemail. “Where are you? I’m worried. Please call me.”
Worry and fear fought for control. Where was he? There had to be a simple explanation, one her befuddled brain couldn’t grasp. Maybe he’d told her about his plans last night before she’d passed out on the couch and she forgot the details? That was so unlike her, but what other explanation was there?
She glanced at his bedside table, where he always placed his phone, watch and keys every night. All were gone, sending a fissure of worry through her even as she assured herself that he must have gone out and probably hadn’t wanted to wake her.
He’d been talking about trading in his car. He’d probably been up most of the night and decided to go out first thing this morning. She wished he’d left her a note though, but it would be just like him to come back with some amazing car to surprise her. She just hoped he didn’t spend too much.
She hurried down the stairs, holding tightly to her puppy as she headed for the oversized four-car garage.
“We need more cars,” Lucian had said the moment he’d seen the massive garage. “Fortunately, I have a couple in mind.” Her father had encouraged him to wait, telling him it was a bad time to buy a car. He’d agreed, although she’d seen that her father’s butting in had annoyed him.
She knew he hadn’t quit thinking about trading in his older model Porsche, saying it was too much of a bachelor car. “I’m a married man now. I need something to drive to show off my beautiful wife in.”
Geneva reached the entrance to the garage, stopped to shift the puppy in her arms and opened the door. The Porsche was gone, leaving an oil spot on the concrete floor. But so was her Range Rover. The garage was empty.
Ice ran the length of her spine, and her legs went weak with what she was seeing. She hugged the puppy tighter and closed the door, her baffled mind racing. How could both cars be gone? Maybe he’d had a friend—Mitzi’s husband, Hugh—drive the Porsche and Lucian took the Range Rover. She wanted to believe it, almost did, until she looked down at her wrist where her watch had been. That angry scratch told a different story. It looked as if the watch had been ripped from her wrist.
Fear gripped her. What if they had been robbed? What if Lucian had been abducted? She looked at the puppy. “You must know where he went.” The dog tilted her head as if considering the question, then let out a single bark and began to wriggle in her arms. She stepped out by the pool to the side yard and put the puppy down to do her business.
Her mind threatened to go to places she refused to consider. That bad feeling she’d awakened with sounding even louder warnings that something was more than just wrong. Once the puppy was finished, she picked her up and hurried back through the house, taking the stairs to the second floor much faster this time. She rushed into their bedroom again, only this time going to her walk-in closet and the safe hidden in the wall. Her fingers shook as she punched in the security numbers. A beep sounded and she pulled open the door.
Empty.
Her jewels, her money, everything. She stared, stunned. How? Only she and Lucian knew the code. For a moment she couldn’t move. Lucian would have had to have opened it. At gunpoint? Bile rose in her throat as she closed the safe door.
Putting down the puppy, the two of them went to Lucian’s closet. She didn’t have to open his safe. The door was standing open. And it wasn’t the only thing empty. So was his closet. All his suits, shoes and good clothes were no longer neatly filling the rich cedar-lined space.
The only thing left was one discarded old sweatshirt from college that he’d refused to part with when they’d gotten married a year ago. She picked it up, hugging it to her, breathing in his scent. Her husband was gone. There would be no ransom demand because he hadn’t been kidnapped. Nor had he gone to trade in his car. He’d taken everything of value.
And left like a thief in the night.
She dropped his sweatshirt on the floor where the puppy began to chew on one ragged sleeve’s wristband.
