Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Walter was right-Tara reached out to Flynn almost immediately.

Flynn's people never failed. Even so, when he got word that Clara was still alive,

he was genuinely taken aback. He called in the man who'd handled the job that

night.

"Clara's alive. Care to explain?"

The guy in charge dropped to his knees, looking completely baffled. "We gave her

the injection and buried her alive. She shouldn't have made it out."

Flynn let out a slow breath, sounding almost relieved. "You're positive she got the

shot?"

"Absolutely. No doubt."

Turning back to the phone, Flynn tried to reassure Tara. "Even if they found her,

she'll be a vegetable. That kind of person's easy enough to deal with, right?"

Tara's heart was thudding in her chest. She needed to be sure, so she kept

asking.

"Uncle, what if she didn't... you know, lose her mind?"

The kneeling man jumped in, "Impossible. The women at the rehab center—"

He caught himself, realizing he'd said too much, and quickly added, "No one has

ever survived the drug. Sir, you know it's banned for a reason."

Flynn tapped his thumb on the table, voice calm. "If you're that worried, Tara, go

check on her yourself. Then you'll know."

Tara finally felt a little better, a smile tugging at her lips. If Clara really was brain-

dead, she'd be a breeze to deal with.

"Thanks, Uncle. Please keep an eye out. If there's another opportunity, we need

to finish this."

"This was my mistake, Tara. Next time, there won't be any loose ends."

Buried alive and still breathing. Some people just wouldn't die.noveldrama

Not long after hanging up, Tara grabbed a gift box and headed over to Palm Bay.

But she barely made it to the gate before the guard stopped her.

"Ms. Warren, Mr. Morgan's resting. He isn't seeing visitors right now."

Tara's face fell for a split second, but she quickly pulled herself together.

"Dylan was in a coma. I never got to visit. I brought him some pastries from a top

chef—thought they might cheer him up. They're still warm. Could you give them to

him? Is he feeling better? I've tried calling, but he never answers."

The guard looked at her, feeling a little sorry, but he remembered his orders. His

tone stayed firm. "I'm sorry, Ms. Warren. Mr. Morgan isn't seeing anyone, and he's

not accepting gifts either. Maybe try another day?"

Tara didn't even flinch. "Alright, I'll come back next time. No point letting these go

to waste, though. Why don't you all have them?"

The guard looked surprised. "We really couldn't—"

"Don't worry about it. You've all been working hard."

She left the box at the gate and got back in her car, not bothering to look back.

But once the windows were up, her

whole expression changed, turning

cold and sharp. Was Dylan really not

seeing anyone, or was Clara the

reason for all this?

Dylan, seriously? How far are you willing to go for that woman?

She'd always thought of him as her future husband. The man she wanted needed

to be strong, untouchable—not soft because of a woman.

Clara couldn't stay. No matter what it took, Tara was determined to get rid of her

for good.

*

Inside Palm Bay, Clara lounged on the couch, flipping through a comic book,

mouth open and waiting.

Dylan peeled a grape, popped it into her mouth, and watched her puff her cheeks

out as she ate, still totally absorbed in her comic.

He couldn't help but smile.

Moments like this were rare—quiet, easy, almost peaceful.

He'd gathered the comics in a hurry when Clara said she wanted to read. She

was just a kid at heart sometimes.

Dylan's smile softened as he peeled

another grape. The juice stained his

fingertips. He'd never cared about

these little things before, but now, he

did it all with care.

He offered her another grape. Clara glanced up at him, grinned, and said,

"Thanks, hubby."

He didn't eat any himself, just kept his eyes fixed on her bright, happy face.

Just then, a housekeeper walked in

with a steaming bowl of soup. "This

is for you ma am it'll help you get

your strength back," she said

politely.

Dylan took it, blew gently on the surface, and tasted a spoonful. His brow

furrowed. "Is this... sweet?"

The housekeeper giggled, "I put in salt, sir. Maybe it just tastes sweet because

your heart's happy."

Dylan didn't answer, but his lips curved into a quiet smile.