Chapter 64 (1/2)

”What time did Christian call you?”

Sawyer flushes. ”About nine thirty, ma'am.”

”Why didn't you interrupt my conversation with Kate so I could speak with him?”

”Mr. Grey told me not to.”

I purse my lips. The elevator arrives, and we ride up in silence. I'm suddenly grateful that Christian has a whole night to recover from his snit-fit, and that he's on the other side of the country. It gives me some time. On the other hand . . . I miss him.

The doors to the elevator open, and for a split second I stare at the foyer table. What is wrong with this picture? The vase of flowers lies smashed into fragments all over the floor of the foyer, water and flowers and chunks of china are strewn everywhere, and the table is overturned. Sawyer grabs my arm and pulls me back into the elevator.

”Stay there,” he hisses, drawing a gun. He steps into the foyer and disappears from my field of vision.

Oh no! I cower in the back of the elevator. What's going on?

”Luke!” I hear Ryan call from inside the great room. ”Code blue!”

Code blue?

”You have the perp?” Sawyer calls back. ”Jesus H. Christ!”

I flatten myself against the elevator wall. What the hell is happening? Adrenaline spikes through my body, and my heart leaps into my throat. I hear soft voices, and a moment later Sawyer reappears in the foyer, standing in the puddle of water. He reholsters his gun.

”You can come in, Mrs. Grey,” he says gently.

”What's happened, Luke?” My voice is barely a whisper.

”We've had a visitor.” He takes my elbow, and I'm grateful for the support - my legs have turned to jelly. I walk with him through the open double doors.

Ryan is standing at the entrance of the great room. A cut above his eye is bleeding, and there's another on his mouth. He looks roughed up, his clothes disheveled. But what's more shocking is Mr. Jack Hyde slumped at his feet.

Chapter Ten

My heart is pounding and blood thrums loudly in my eardrums; the alcohol flowing through my system, amplifying the sound.

”Is he - ” I gasp, unable to finish the sentence and gazing wideeyed and terrified at Ryan. I can't even look at the prone figure on the floor.

”No, ma'am. Just knocked out cold.”

Relief floods through me. Oh thank God.

”And you?” I ask, gazing at Ryan. I realize I don't know his first name. He's panting as if he's run a marathon. He wipes the corner of his mouth, removing the trace of blood, and a faint bruise is forming on his cheek.

”He put up one hell of a fight, but I'm okay, Mrs. Grey.” He smiles reassuringly. If I knew him better, I'd say he looked a little smug.

”And Gail? Mrs. Jones?” Oh no . . . is she okay? Has she been harmed?