Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 1672

After arranging for bodyguards to protect Winona, Keaton tossed his phone aside again. He picked up his beer and stared at the distant lighthouse.

Even though its light wasn't on during the day, he'd always loved looking at it. Day or night, the lighthouse had a calming effect.

But... being back here, his mind was flooded with images from that night with Winona... Their easy conversation while they were sober. The satisfying clink of their beer bottles as they drank. The memory of Winona pinning him down, straddling him, teasing him... and the raw heat of their bodies pressed together against the floor-to-ceiling window...

Keaton’s throat tightened, his breath hitching as the memory took hold. He finished his beer, threw the empty bottle into the trash, and went to get two bottles of whiskey. He started drinking alone.

His stomach was still a mess. He'd drink, then throw up. He was inexplicably on edge today, a deep, frustrating agitation. As if in defiance, he'd just keep drinking after getting sick. Drink, puke, repeat... He had no idea when he finally passed out.

When he woke again, it was evening. He sat up with a sharp groan, drenched in a cold sweat. He'd had a nightmare.

He dreamed that Zane had kidnapped Winona, holding a knife to her throat... He had screamed 'No!' with everything he had, but Zane had killed her anyway.

He'd rushed over and pulled her into his arms, screaming hysterically for a doctor. Winona had leaned against his chest, looking at him with despair and pain... She'd raised a hand to touch his face but was gone before she could say a word.

He'd cried, calling her name over and over, getting no response. He had felt so helpless, cradling her body while screaming at the universe for its cruelty.

The raw agony of the dream clung to him like a shroud, leaving him trembling even as reality settled in. Keaton's heart clenched painfully. He lifted a hand to the corner of his eye... and looked at his damp fingertips. He frowned, confused.

It was just a dream. Why was he crying? Besides, he didn't love her, so what did it matter if she died? If she died, she died...

*Smack!* Keaton slapped himself hard across the face.

The bodyguard didn't have time to think, rushing forward. "Keaton, calm down. It might not be what you think. Ms. Newsom should be fine, she—"

Keaton’s eyes were bloodshot and wild. "'Should be'? I need to be certain! I need to know she’s safe and sound—without a scratch on her!"

Without waiting for another word, Keaton stormed into the hotel lobby. The hotel manager saw the commotion and moved to intercept him, but Keaton barked out his own name. The manager, hearing the name 'Keaton Huber,' froze and didn't dare stop him.

Keaton burst into the elevator, frantically riding it up to her floor. As he neared the room, he heard the sound of a woman's pitiful sobbing. "Winona!" he yelled.

Just as he shouted her name, the woman let out a sharp cry. "Ah—!"

Keaton's heart leaped into his throat. He kicked the door open with a single, powerful blow. A woman wearing only a man's white dress shirt was lying face down on the bed, her hands and feet tied.