Page 60 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

As I approach the gates and slow the car, they swing open willingly. He’s really letting me go? What the hell? Then what was all that talk about me beinghis? He’s not even fighting for me. What’s wrong with me? This is a good thing.It is.But I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.

CHAPTER 34

ALEXANDER

Iwatch the taillights of my car disappear down the drive, approaching the iron gates. There goes my fucking heart. What the hell could be going through her head? She fucking ran from me, but I don’t blame her. She handed herself over to me without actually knowing me – the monster that I’ve hidden from her. I don’t know how long I was planning on keeping it from her, but I didn’t think it would come out so soon. And not like this.

“Alex?” Noah asks, frowning at me, probably wondering why I just let her take off with my expensive as fuck car – a car I never let anyone else drive. “Should I call down to the gates, so they don’t let her through?”

“No, let her go.”

“What?”

“And get this piece of shit out of my sight,” I order, walking back into my house. I’ll deal with him later. I take the elevator to the second floor and go straight to my room, where I change out of my pajamas, giving Autumn enough of a head start so she can use the time to think she’s getting away from me. What part of beingminedid she not understand? This is the first and last time she’ll ever get to pull this stunt. I’m going to let her enjoy it.

I pick up my cellphone to check where she is and see she’s parked out front of Liquid Elixir. The car’s engine isn’t turned off, though. What’s she doing? Telling Andrea goodbye? Maybe she just went to Andrea’s to clear her head. For her sake, I hope that’s the case.

That Bentley is recognized as mine by anyone within a 100-mile radius. And that’s not necessarily a good thing. Sure the cops won’t pull her over, but it puts a huge target on her back, one she would never think to expect. A slither of panic and something that feels suspiciously like fear lodges at the back of my throat.

I shake it off as I close my bedroom door. I can’t give in to it, or I won’t be able to function. I’ve given her more than enough time anyway, I decide.

When I leave the house, Noah, James, my head of security, and Larson are nowhere to be seen. Good. They’ve taken him to the basement. I’m not proud of it, but it closely resembles a dungeon for circumstances exactly like this: it’s cold, dark, and soundproof, and not somewhere most people get to walk out of. I walk calmly to the garage. I press my palm to the panel next to the safe box and select the key for my Harley. After securing my black helmet, I straddle the bike and pull out my phone.

I go to the tracking app and notice that she’s left the bar. She is in the car, turning toward the interstate. Shit, baby, you’re really going to make me chase you. My guys wave me through the gate and I nod in return. I open up the throttle and let loose down the winding road. If I wasn’t on a woman hunt, it would be a great day for a ride. As soon as I drive out of town, any possible enjoyment is lost when the sky darkens, and a cool wind starts blowing. She doesn’t know how to drive the Bentley in perfect conditions, let alone snow, sending my worry into a spiral.

When I get onto the interstate, I glance down to where my phone is secured between the handlebars and see that she’staken a turn onto a back road. I fantasize about what I’m going to do to her when I find her, so my thoughts won’t turn dark. She’s heading straight to a gas station that I know to be frequented by lowlifes and scum. I’ve dealt with them myself a time or two. She must be looking for a spot to ride out the storm.

“Don’t do it, baby,” I mutter under my breath, but, of course, she pulls right into the gas station. My heart kicks up, and I gun the engine. Damn it, Autumn.

I’m there within five minutes. My veins fill with ice when I see the Bentley parked haphazardly, Autumn nowhere to be found. I glance around the station at the loiterers, all of them avoiding my gaze. I haven’t even taken the helmet off, but a predator always recognizes one of his own kind.

Once it’s off, the guy closest to me gets to his feet. “Alexander,” he mouths.

“My woman came through here. Gorgeous, curly reddish-blonde hair, glasses.” I nod to my car. “Know where she is?”

He grimaces and points to the convenience store. I nod my thanks and make my way to the decrepit building. A cheerful sound fills the store when I walk through the front door.

“Damn it, Jerome, I told you to be on the lookout, what do you need?” An irritated voice calls out from somewhere behind the shelves.

I don’t say anything as I walk in his direction. My vision goes red when I see Autumn –myAutumn – struggling wildly on the floor under a bulky redneck. Her eyes go wide when she sees me and her thrashing intensifies. The piece of shit turns his neck my way, angrily. The scowl on his face gives way to recognition when he sees me. He slowly gets off her hands held out in front of him, reading the fury on my face, “Alexander Beaufort.”

“Step away from her,” I order quietly.

“What? N-n—” He’s still trying to stammer out a no when I bend swiftly and take out the M9 tucked in the back of my jeans.“Wait—” But he’s too slow. I have already pressed down on the trigger.

The shot hits him directly between the eyes, throwing him back against the shelves; splattered blood coats the window behind him. By the time his body slides to the floor with a thud, the M9 is back in my pants, and I’m gathering Autumn in my arms. She’s shaking and grips my shoulders tightly.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I tell her, but this really isn’t the best place for me to scold her. I just scoop her up and stalk out the door.

I carry her to my Harley, the lurkers having dispersed. Being the lot of cowards that they are, they most likely bolted as soon as they heard the gunshot. It’s starting to snow. I inhale the sharp and dry quality in the air as I glance around wearily, well aware that they might return with backup. The fear of the Beaufort family only runs so deep with lowlifes.

“It’s snowing…the first snow,” Autumn murmurs quietly as I put my helmet on her head.

I sit on the Harley, grip the handle bars, and lift the bike off its stand. I order, “Get on.” She doesn’t put up a fight, quietly gripping my shoulders and lifting her leg over the back fender before settling into my back. With her arms secured around my waist, I speed out of there, spitting gravel as we go.

We’re back home in record time, and I lead her straight to my room.

“You killed him,” she whispers, perching on the edge of my bed and avoiding my gaze. “Back at the gas station, you killed that guy.”

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