Hearts In Peril (Billionaire Romance) Read online

  “Besides lighting up my town with my supposed goodness?” she asked wryly. “I don’t know. What about you?”

  He let the goodness comment go. Someday he’d find a way to convince her he was right. Heaven willing. He cleared his throat. “Right now, I’m working with my brother on opening a new resort, but the Worldwide Care Project was supposed to prove to my dad that I am responsible enough to jump back into running the restaurants again. And we see how well that’s turning out.”

  Riley gripped his hand tightly. “From my perspective, Worldwide Care has been a massive success. I’ve taken care of hundreds of people, Dean. People who couldn’t afford healthcare, who would have died from easily treatable illnesses. They’re now working, supporting their families, contributing to their village.” Her voice cracked. “My life has been touched by these people. They saved me.”

  “Why did you need saving?” Dean asked, his voice a whisper. He held his breath, hoping she trusted him enough to finally answer.

  She pulled her hand away and folded in on herself. The silence grew between them; so long he almost broke it. And then she spoke. “Almost a year ago, I was called in to do surgery on a child in the middle of the night. Eight years old. I was coming off of an insanely busy twenty-four-hour shift, but I thought I was focused enough to take it on, despite the concerns of the other on-call surgeon. He was an older man at the end of his career and had been patronizing toward me many times in the few months I’d worked at the hospital.” She paused. “I’d been out to prove something to him.”

  Dean rolled onto his side so he was facing her. “What happened?”

  “The boy died on the table. Cardiac arrest.” Devastation lay thick in her tone. “I replay that moment over and over again, wishing I hadn’t let my pride make my decisions. If my mind had been clearer, maybe I would have seen the signs before it was too late. Maybe I would have thought to have the medication ready that we’d need. I don’t know. There are a million different ways that surgery could have gone, and it went the worst possible way.”

  “You would’ve done everything in your power to prevent him from dying, Riley,” he said with conviction. The Riley he knew wouldn’t have been careless for a second, especially when it came to a child. He’d seen how she’d cared for him, how she’d spoken of the children in the village.

  “Maybe. But it wasn’t enough,” she whispered. “Everyone has people who die in surgery, but it was my first as the lead surgeon. I had to go and tell his family. It was an awful moment. I still have nightmares about it. It could have been my brother, you know? That’s all I could think.

  “The older surgeon ripped into me, said I should have listened to him. And he was right. I left the hospital in a haze and remained in a fog for months. They did an internal investigation, and it was determined I wasn’t in the wrong. But I didn’t agree. I kept working, but I refused to take high-risk surgeries. Then I started having anxiety attacks.”

  Dean brought her shaking hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

  “One of the hospital admins posted a flyer for Worldwide Care on the bulletin board in the break room. It was like a lifeline for me. I applied that day, and within a month, I was here in the Philippines. I found new life here. Healing.”

  And now it was over. “What are you going to do?”

  “I can’t go back to the stress of the hospital,” she said defensively.

  “There are other ways to be a doctor.”

  “I know.” She tilted her head up toward his. He felt her breath on his chin. “I had this vision of my life, and it’s not going the way I thought.”

  Awareness of how close they were shivered through Dean’s body. “I understand that completely.”

  In the silence, they heard the muted sounds of insects from the other side of the window. Low male voices spoke in the hallway, interspersed occasionally with laughter.

  “What are we going to do, Dean?” Riley asked, her mouth so close to his, all other thoughts in his head fled except how it might feel to press his lips to hers.

  “I’d really like to kiss you.” He held his breath for her answer, thrilled when she didn’t immediately push him back.

  “Is this wise?” she said, the breath of her lips against his.

  “I don’t care.” He brought his lips against her waiting ones, an explosion of feelings rocking through him. He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Everything but Riley disappeared—the hard floor, the ache in his shoulder, the fear of what the day would bring. Riley brought her hand up to his cheek, running it along his whiskers, and then dug her fingers into the back of his head, deepening their kiss. He’d never felt this way before, about anyone, after one kiss. He pulled back to kiss her on the cheek, nose, and neck, and then found her lips again, hungry and eager for more. Their kissing slowed, until Riley pulled away and laid her head against his uninjured side with a contented sigh.

  “I need to let you sleep,” she whispered.

  “I’d rather kiss you,” he said, but the aching in his arm had spread to his head. He closed his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning. Contentment washed through Dean.

  Moon light broke the edges of night sky, turning it gray and highlighting Riley in silver. She rested her head on her hand and looked at him. Her dark hair cascaded down her arm to the floor. He reached up to run his fingers through the silky strands.

  Looking at her nearly made him lose his breath. Connection. That’s what he and Riley had. And he knew if they were separated, he’d never be whole again.

  She bent forward and gave him a deep, lingering kiss that made him long for a future they might never have.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ◆◆◆

  Riley sat beside Dean, watching him sleep. She didn’t have words to describe how he’d made her feel last night, but her entire body buzzed with it. He brought all the pieces of her together with his touch and kiss, something she’d never realized was possible. The timing was beyond awful, and she didn’t know if they’d have a future together, even if they did make it out of this alive. But she was grateful to have him by her side. He had a calming, confident way about him, and she was beginning to crave his presence and touch.

  Her mind went through their conversation from the night before. She’d opened up to him in a way she’d never opened up to anyone. The weight she’d carried for the last year felt lighter this morning.

  Dean said he didn’t think he’d done anything to make a difference in the world, but he’d used his influence to start the Worldwide Care Project. She wished she could take him back to the village to meet the people who had lived or had a higher quality of life because of this program. The thought of not having the program anywhere, with or without her presence, sent waves of dismay through her. The world needed Worldwide Care, and Dean Matthias needed to be around to ensure that happened.

  A scratching sound to her right pulled her from her thoughts. Two rats the size of her hand licked the remains of their rice from last night’s bowls. She shuddered. She’d seen her fair share of rats since coming to the Philippines, but it was something she’d never get used to.

  Dean’s breathing was shallow, and his flushed cheeks hinted at a fever. She refrained from touching him, knowing that sleep would be the best thing for his healing body. But she carefully pulled his shirt back so she could see the bandaging over his wound. Blood had soaked through the dirty gauze. And to her dismay, the skin around the tape was red and swollen.

  Infection. And it was spreading.

  She rocked back on her heels, stood, and headed to the door. She tugged on it, but the lock remained firm.

  What did she think she was going to do? Just cruise out of there with Dean flung over her shoulder?

  Maybe not, but she had to do something. She went to the window and checked it for cracks. It was locked, and someone had painted over the sill, making it impossible to open even if she’d had a key. Maybe she could break the window. She looked aroun
d the room for something heavy to throw at the glass. It was a completely empty room, save for her and Dean. And the bowls.

  She stomped toward them, making the rats scurry away into a small hole in the wall. She stepped over the rat droppings and picked up the two ceramic bowls. Riley had never been much of a sports person, but this may be their only chance to escape.

  She reared her hand back and chucked the bowl at the glass. The bowl shattered on impact.

  No, no, no. She threw the second bowl next, as hard as she could, and aimed for the same spot as the first. The window bowed back with the pressure, but again, the bowl broke into several pieces before falling to the ground and shattering even more. She brought the back of her hand up to her mouth to hold back her sob. She couldn’t give into despair. There had to be another way out of this.

  “What happened?” Dean asked, his voice slurred.

  The door burst open, and the scarred man strode in, his gun raised. He took in the broken bowls and Riley’s stance near the window. Then he put his gun back in its holder while his mouth twisted into a dark grin.

  “Trying to escape?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-used cigarette, a toothpick, and a candy wrapper, which he tossed at her feet. “Maybe this will help.”

  She held still, waiting for some sort of retribution for breaking the bowls or attempting to escape, but he seemed content to mock her for now. She resisted the urge to kick the trash back in his direction. It wouldn’t be wise to poke the bear, not when she had Dean to take care of, and she didn’t know when the ransom money might arrive.

  If it came in. No. She had to think positively.

  “Please let Dean go,” she said. “He’s going to die before you can get the ransom money, and then they’ll come after you. They’ll still pay for me. I’m an employee of theirs.”

  Dean sat up, his face draining of blood as he did. Riley rushed to his side. “I’m not going anywhere,” Dean said. “But there’s no reason to keep Dr. Rogers. She’s done nothing but help your people while she’s been here. My family will send the money for me. Let her go.”

  The scarred man’s smirk had a sinister edge. “Willing to sacrifice yourself to the devil to spare the other.” He stepped backward and called to someone in the hall. A tall, muscular man entered and headed in Dean’s direction.

  Riley stood between him and Dean, but he pushed her into the scarred man’s waiting arms. She fought her way out of his hold, but he was too strong. Dean groaned as the muscular man picked him up and flung him over his shoulder like a bag of cement. “You’re going to hurt him even more!” Riley screamed.

  Dean’s fiery gaze met hers, and she struggled to reach him. Too soon, he was gone from the room. The scarred man released her with a shove.

  “Where are you taking him?” Riley pushed back the threatening tears. She wouldn’t show weakness in front of him.

  “His family has taken too long to respond. We need to give them … motivation.” He slammed the door shut over Riley’s screams of protest. She ran to the door and yanked on the unmoving door handle, then banged her hands against the wood.

  “Come back! Bring him back!” she yelled over and over. She kept at it until her throat was sore and her hands bruised. She collapsed on the floor near the door and hugged her knees to her chest before burying her head in them.

  She listened closely for screaming, her mind going wild with what they might be doing to Dean. They wouldn’t kill him and risk their chance at the ransom money. But they could do something awful to him. She shivered. The sun moved across the sky, bringing a bright light and sweltering heat into the room. Someone led her to a restroom and then back into her room, but she was too numb to be grateful when they dumped her and left. She sat for hours in the same spot, her mind drifting from thought to thought like a leaf floating in the wind.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Her gaze shot to the hole where the rats had disappeared. She shuddered at the thought of them coming back into the room, maybe bringing some of their friends.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  It was louder this time, and sounded like it was coming from outside. She stood slowly, her knees and back stiff from being on the cement floor for so long. She couldn’t see anything but unfamiliar buildings outside the window. She inched toward the sunlight and had leaned close to the pane when a face popped up on the other side of the glass.

  She screamed and stumbled over her feet as she scrambled away. She fell back against the hard floor, her arms bracing her. Her wrist twinged with pain, and her heart raced. The face had disappeared from the window.

  She held her breath, waiting for someone to come into the room to investigate her scream, but the door remained closed. Perhaps they’d gotten burned out on her shouting from the morning and thought she was entering round two. Her throat was too sore and hoarse for that. She shuffled back to the window, bracing herself. When she got there, she tapped on the glass twice and sucked in a breath when the face popped back into the window again.

  Rodel!

  He wore the same clothes he’d had on last time she’d seen him, but they were dirty and matted to his body. His white hair was in disarray, and he had a dark purple bruise on his cheek. She didn’t know what to think. Had he betrayed them like she’d assumed, or had he managed to get away?

  Help you, he mouthed. He motioned for her to unlock the window. She ran her hand around the sill, but the lock was bolted tight and required a key. Even if she could get it open, it was painted completely shut, the paint acting like glue.

  She searched the room, coming across the broken shards of her bowl. Maybe she could scrape the paint from around the window and somehow find a way around the lock. A renewed burst of energy filled her as she scraped at the paint. It came off in small chips, and she couldn’t get to where it had dripped between the seams. Hours past, and her hands turned raw and bloody, but she continued to work on getting the paint off.

  Rodel disappeared as the sun fell. He’d mouthed something to Riley that she didn’t understand before he took off. Riley continued to work on the paint to keep her hands busy. But nothing could keep her mind from wondering where Dean was.

  Just before the sun disappeared into the horizon, Rodel arrived back at the window, an ax in hand. Her heart leapt in joy. They could do this. But not without Dean!

  He motioned for her to move back, but she held out her hands in panic. The terrorists would hear the glass break the minute Rodel did this. They would only have a few seconds to get away.

  She shook her head. Dean, she mouthed. Not here.

  Rodel slung the ax over his shoulder, his expression grim.

  Riley had to find a way to get Dean back into the room. And then Rodel could use his ax to break them free.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ◆◆◆

  Dean sat alone in a darkening room, fingering the toothpick in his pocket that he’d grabbed from the ground before he was taken.

  He knew he was dying. He could feel it. His entire body was on fire. His heart skipped around like a polka dancer while his breathing was labored. He’d been in this room for hours, gagged, his hands tied behind his back.

  For a while he’d heard Riley’s screaming, and then it had stopped. He didn’t know if he should feel relieved that it had stopped or worried. The new bruises on Dean’s face stretched painfully when he moved his jaw around. His family had contacted the terrorists, asking for more time to gather the money. The result had been Dean getting worked over by the enforcer and then having to make another video with his bruised face.

  That should mobilize your family, the scarred man had said before throwing Dean into this empty room and closing the door.

  A sense of urgency washed over Dean. He had to get out of here.

  If only he had the energy to move.

  Someone had come in a few hours before to untie his hands and give him another bowl of rice to eat, this one dirtier than the last. Dean had begged to be taken back to Riley, but the ma
n hadn’t spoken any English, and had left.

  Tap, tap, tap. He squinted up at the window through swollen eyes and saw the shadow of a man looking at him. The moon illuminated his white hair and familiar frown.

  Rodel?

  There was a good chance Dean was hallucinating.

  Rodel held up an ax nearly as big as his head. Dean recognized his backpack hanging off of Rodel’s arm.

  Yep. This was definitely a dream. Rodel was probably off with the terrorists, laughing at the gullible Americans, planning how to spend his cut of the money.

  Dean slumped against the wall. Taptaptaptaptaptaptap. The noise continued until Dean turned and glared at Rodel, who returned a heated stare.

  Dean blinked a few times, but the man didn’t disappear. Rodel used the ax to point down the westward wall of the house. Toward Riley. Who had been quiet for far too long.

  Riley, he mouthed. Whether this was real or not, Dean didn’t know, but Riley needed to get out of there. Rodel held up the backpack and then disappeared.

  Dean closed his eyes, rolling the toothpick back and forth between his fingers. Riley wouldn’t leave without him, and he wouldn’t leave without Riley. If Dean didn’t get out of here soon, he’d die. If he died, then there’d be no reason for them to keep Riley alive.

  The edge of the toothpick pricked his finger. He paused before pulling it from his pocket. Maybe …

  He stood on shaky legs and walked over to the door, quickly finding the little hole that indicated the lock. When he was younger, he and his brother used to pick the locks at their house using unfolded paper clips in the hopes of discovering a family secret. All they’d discovered were a lot of empty rooms, paperwork that read like a foreign language, and eventually a lecture from their dad on minding their own business. It had been at least two decades since he’d picked a lock, much less with swollen hands and bleary eyes. And if he did make it out of the room, he had no idea what awaited him. He was in no condition to fight anyone.