Repentance (The Darkness Series - Brightmore, Cassia

Copyright ©2016 Cassia Brightmore Repentance is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission

of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. First eBook edition: February 2016 Edited By: Deliciously Wicked Editing Services Cover design: © L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations Cover Model: Lance Jones Photographer: LJ Photography Information address: [email protected]

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

Epilogue Acknowledgements About the Author

To anyone that has ever fallen from grace. Finding the will to get back up again takes more strength and courage than one realizes. You are all heroes in my eyes.

Redemption. Acceptance of sins. Regret. All said in the name of reclaiming a lost soul, a life shattered beyond one’s imagination. Once you’ve given in to the darkest temptations, committed unspeakable acts, is there any salvation left? Or are you cursed to forever be marked for those crimes, no

matter how good the intentions? Once you’ve chosen a dark path, one that drags your soul down into the depths of depravity, can love be the shining light that brings you back to the living? Is acceptance enough to absolve you of past transgressions? Or is forgiveness the biggest sin of all?

CARRINGTON

STONE SET her paintbrush down in the pallet and took a step back from the easel to survey her work. Nodding in satisfaction, she brushed her hair away from her forehead, groaning when she felt the greasy swipe of paint on her skin. Looking at her hand, she noticed the kaleidoscope of colors that were likely currently decorating her forehead. Stifling a small giggle, she wiped the excess paint off on a rag; her blue eyes

raising to once again take in the sight of her newest work. The mountain scene portrayed on the canvas was exactly how she remembered it from her most recent trip to Colorado. Visiting her family’s cabin set deep in the woods always brought back fond memories of the time they spent there together during summer and winter holidays. The bright blues of the sky, lush greens of the treetops and the hint of white snow in the far off mountains perfectly captured the area. It was definitely one of her favorite pieces to date and would be displayed proudly in her new home once she moved in. Her thoughts shifted to Michael, her boyfriend of three years. Excitement

at finally taking the first big step in building a life together and purchasing their own home filled her. In just a few short weeks they would make the transition from boyfriend and girlfriend to a real co-habitant partnership. Secretly, she hoped he would do something romantic like propose on their first night in the new house; but she knew that was pretty unlikely. Michael was meticulous to a fault, a fact that often clashed with her free-spirited artistic tendencies, so a surprise proposal wasn’t really his style. Still, that didn’t keep the hopeless romantic in her from daydreaming about rose petal bedspreads and a champagne glass disguising a beautiful diamond ring.

Picking up a thin brush, she signed her name in a flourish to the bottom of the painting and took another minute to admire her work. Completing a piece always gave her a huge sense of accomplishment. Once the idea took shape in her mind, it was hard to concentrate on anything else until it was given life on one of her canvases. Finished for the moment, she tossed her brush into the waiting cup of water and then picked it up to carry it with her downstairs to the sink. Her brushes were an extension of her art, not taking care of them properly was a huge faux pas and not anything she ever let happen. Millie, her orange and white fluffy cat, weaved between her legs on

the stairs; determined to beat her to the bottom. “Millie,” she scolded the cat. “It’s not a race. You’re going to be sorry if you trip me one of these days and I land on top of you.” Millie let out an annoyed meow and sashayed away, swishing her tail. Carrington shook her head at her antics as she stepped into the kitchen and flipped on the light. The thing about being an artist, inspiration struck at all hours of the day. In this case, it was two a.m. when she got the urge to bring her creation to life. Blinking against the florescent glare of the bright kitchen light, she headed to the sink and filled her cup with fresh lukewarm water. Leaving the brushes to soak for a few

minutes, she surveyed the small kitchen of the home she was currently renting. It would be such a wonderful feeling to move into her new home with Michael. She couldn’t wait to purchase new curtains for the kitchen; bedding for their new bedroom set and just put those feminine touches on the place that would make it a home. Stifling a yawn, she moved to the coffee maker intent on starting a fresh pot. Grabbing the glass carafe, she let out a gasp when a loud clatter sounded from the front of the house. Spinning around, she raised the carafe above her head, intent on heaving it in the direction the noise came from. Waiting a few beats, she strained her ears, listening for

another sound. When there was nothing but silence, she lowered the pot and crept a few feet forward. “Millie?” she called out. “Did you knock something over?” Nerves danced along her skin as the tiny hairs on the back of her neck sprang to attention. Her curly brown hair started to stick to her forehead as a light sheen of sweat broke out on her brow. At the doorway to the kitchen, she leaned forward and stuck her head out, blinking rapidly to adjust to the darkness of the main hall. Not seeing anything did nothing to reassure her. Her senses were on high alert. Something wasn’t right, she could feel it. I need to get my phone. Turning slightly to the right, her arm brushed

against something and she let out a scream and jumped back, losing her grip on the coffee pot and sending it to the tiled floor in a resounding crash. Looking around wildly, she bit back a sob as her stare was met with emptiness. “What the fuck, what the fuck,” Carrington stammered out loud. She was losing her mind. Rubbing the arm where she swore she’d felt another person, she looked down at the mess of glass on the floor and groaned. Sidestepping the sharp pieces, she took a few deep, calming breaths. “Get a grip, Carrie,” she told herself; using the nickname her mother always called her. Opening the cupboard below the sink, she bent down

to grab the small broom and dustpan. Straightening, she froze. Breath. She could feel someone’s breath on the back of her neck. Oh, God. Oh, God. Slowly, she turned, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the broom tightly in her hands. Terror made her movements jerky as she silently begged to be met with nothing but blank space. Out of nowhere, hands gripped her upper arms and roughly spun her the rest of the way around. Screaming, she swatted out with the broom, desperate to connect with any part of flesh. Fingernails bit into her tender skin as she was dragged away from the sink and towards the front door. Carrington thrashed and kicked,

her fight or flight syndrome kicking in. When the large man holding her came to an abrupt stop, she slammed into his chest, his mammoth frame engulfing her slight one. His hand fisted into her curly hair that ended just below her shoulders and tilted her head back to meet his steel-hard gaze. “Stop. There’s no need to fight me. I’m here to collect you. It’s time; I’ve prepared everything for your arrival, my love.” His voice was warm and flowing, as though he was speaking to a frightened deer. “Collect me?” she squeaked out. “I’m—I’m not a collectible! No, no, I’m not.” she babbled, desperate to get him to see he was making a mistake. She

wasn’t supposed to go with him anywhere. He cast her a sympathetic look that grated on her nerves and lowered his head to hers. She squirmed in his hold but she was no match for his strength. His lips fit smoothly over hers as he stole an intimate piece of her, not once, but twice. He sighed against her mouth and then there was a slight whooshing sound as something slipped over her head and settled around her neck. A hard tug revealed that he’d fitted her with some sort of wire rope. Panic filled her and hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please. Please don’t kill me, I’ll be quiet. I won’t say a word! Just leave, please,” she begged.

“Shhhh, shhh, it’s alright, my love. Of course, I’m not going to hurt you. I love you, remember? Now dry those eyes—it’s time to go.” Ignoring her futile attempts to free herself from his hold he retrieved a cloth from his pocket and in one swift motion, fit it over her face. “Just rest now, love. We’ll be home soon.” Carrington struggled and beat her small fists on his chest but it was no use. Michael. I’m sorry. Her vision blurred and the world fell away as the darkness rose up to claim her.

Her hair felt so soft in his fingertips. The light brown curls bounced once as he pulled, settling back into place just above her shoulders. Their eyes were locked on each other, his filled with all the love and adoration he felt for her. She was more than just a woman to him; she was everything. He couldn’t breathe when he wasn’t near her, his heart constricted in pain when he wasn’t touching her. Butterflies swarmed in his stomach and his pulse raced every time he caught a glimpse of one of her rare smiles. Her beauty was incomparable; she was an angel. His angel. Life without her by his side was not an option. She would always belong to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, bringing his right hand up to catch the lone tear that escaped from her eye. He kissed her forehead and ignored the way she cringed away from him. A quiet whimper from behind her ducttaped mouth brought his eyes back to hers. “I know, my darling. I wish I could kiss those luscious lips of yours too, but I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet after the last time.” He rubbed his split lip gently, recalling the way her teeth had cut into the tender flesh. She had proved to be a lot feistier than expected when he’d finally got her back home. His excitement at having her in his space at last was short-

lived when she’d lashed out at him violently. All he’d wanted was to shower her in affection and love. She was his; why couldn’t she see how much he worshipped her? Pushing down the rising anger at her behavior, he rose from his crouched position beside the bed she was currently secured to and walked to the window to draw back the pale pink curtains. Light spilled in, illuminating the opposite wall which was plastered in glossy photos, all of the same beautiful brunette. Dozens of photos caught her in various stages of life; walking in the park, strolling through the grocery store, sleeping contentedly on her side in a large bed surrounded by

pillows. Their looks were so similar that Carrington knew with a sickening certainty that the psycho who had her was playing out some sort of fantasy. He thought she was the woman in the photos. “There,” he told her with a smile. “A little light will cheer you up.” Turning back from the window, he followed her line of sight. “Oh, yes. Well, I must admit that I have an addiction to capturing your beauty on film. There’s just something about the way your blue eyes sparkle behind the lens.” He walked over to the shrine and plucked a picture from the wall. “This one is my favorite. Your natural beauty just shines through, you’re

an angel.” He angled the photograph so that she could see. It was a shot of the woman naked, wrapped in a fluffy blue towel. She’d clearly just stepped from the shower or bath as her brown hair was plastered to her head. The man traced the photo with his fingertip, his breathing quickening with each swirl of his finger. When his eyes returned to Carrington’s face, the lust she saw there filled her with fear like she’d never known before. He approached her steadily, only pausing to set the photo on a nearby dresser. Her hands were restrained in a thick rope which wound through the bars of the metal framed bed she was lying on. Pulling against them

only served to scratch her skin raw, but she didn’t give up. She yanked, tugged, pulled and kicked her free feet out in frustration as her efforts proved to be more ineffectual than she could have ever imagined. When he reached her side, he climbed on the bed and covered her body with his, leaning back on his elbows to stare into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, sliding a hand over her flat stomach and under her fitted top to cup her breast. His thumb teased her nipple through her bra and he let out a low moan. Carrington bucked and cried beneath him, begging him with her eyes to stop. His touch repulsed her and the

thought of him violating her had bile climbing up the back of her throat. His lips touched her ear, sliding across her lobe in a warm, wet swipe. His knee moved between her legs and forcibly pushed her legs apart to settle himself between them, his pelvis grinding against hers in what she guessed he thought was an erotic dance between lovers. Their eyes clashed once more and she again pleaded with him telepathically to let her go. He ignored her and bent his head to encircle her breast through her top, biting down and tugging with his teeth. Getting lost in the moment, he reached up and ripped the tape from her mouth in one quick

movement. The second the tape was gone, Carrington sucked in a breath and belted out a bone-chilling scream, he tried to silence her by kissing her again but she bucked and continued fighting like crazy to get him off her. “Stop. Stop it! Why are you acting like this? I said STOP IT!” he yelled. His hands grabbed the wire rope around her neck and tugged, pulling it taut across her throat. Her eyes bugged out of her head and she gasped and struggled for breath. “I’m just trying to love you. Why won’t you just let me love you?” Their eyes never broke contact as he pulled the rope tighter, he never noticed when her lips started to turn blue and the light in

her eyes began to die out. Her kicking feet slowed and her body went slack beneath him, she gave one last push of her body against his and then she was gone. Several minutes later, the man got up from the bed and looked down at her body. With a heavy sigh, he untied her from the bed and scooped her into his arms, carrying her out of the room. At the end of the hall, he turned right and then descended a short flight of stairs into a cold basement. He shifted her weight in his arms to open a closet door and then dumped her body in the closet, ignoring the way she immediately tangled with several other waiting limbs. Plucking a white rose from a

table a few feet away, he laid it in the closet with her body and then shut the door; turning the lock with a final ‘click.’ Back upstairs in the room, he stood in front of his self-made shrine and stared at the woman he loved. “Soon. I’ll come for you soon, my love. There won’t be any other mistakes.”

“THAT WAS FOR my wife, you fucking bitch.” Her eyes widened in shock at Sam’s words. “Oh, I know. You thought you had me, you thought I was under your thumb. Well I fucking played you. It took me a year and a half but I fucking did it. This is the end of the line for you, Mila. You fucked with the wrong people when you fucked with my family. Good riddance. See you in hell.”

Sam Ridley replayed the last moments of Mila Stevenson’s life over in his mind. Taking the life of another human being left a stain on his soul he’d been unable to wash away. Did Mila deserve the end she’d gotten? Yes. Without a doubt, she was a woman that needed killing. The reign of terror she’d inflicted on anyone that crossed paths with her was finally over. Never again would she be able to destroy the things she touched or take the life of an innocent. But regardless of how he tried to justify away his actions, the reality was that he’d crossed lines as well. He’d gambled with the goodness inside him and he’d lost. Lost a part of him that could never be reclaimed; he’d slipped

down into a dark path in order to sink to Mila’s level and the worst part about it? He’d enjoyed it more than he should have. The feeling of power, the surge of authority he felt all those times he’d been in control of another person’s life —well, it was a tough addiction to shake. The fun-loving, somewhat nerdy man he used to be was long gone. In his place was a man teetering on the edge of redemption. If he didn’t keep a tight grip on the reins, it wouldn’t take much to send him spiraling back down into destruction. The cell doors swung open, clattering the bars together. The loud noise jolted Sam from his thoughts and

brought him back to the present. The open space beyond his cell seemed to grow smaller, caving in on him with each breath he took. Just a few steps away was his freedom. His chance to rejoin society and form some semblance of a life for himself. “Move your ass, Ridley. It’s time for you to get the fuck out of here so I don’t have to look at your ugly face anymore.” His cellmate’s voice was hard, cold steel. Much like most of the inmates in the state penitentiary, he was tough as nails and didn’t take shit from anyone. A fact Sam had learned within the first few hours of his sentence. The guard waiting for him was also losing patience. “Let’s go,

cocksucker,” he motioned him forward with his nightstick. When Sam still remained rooted in place, he swore under his breath. “What’s your problem, man? You’re free. Done. Your sentence is finished. Don’t you want to move on with your life?” Sam stared hard at the skinny guard, revulsion filling him. He may not look like much, but his reputation for being one of the most brutal of all of them was well-earned. Sam could attest to that brutality firsthand. He moved forward a few feet and stepped over the threshold between his cell and the narrow hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave a quick nod to his cellmate—the only

farewell needed between them—and then met the eyes of the guard. “No. No, I don’t want to move on with my life at all; but we all have to play the cards we’re dealt. And for me...it’s time that I see where the chips lie.” The guard rolled his eyes and shoved him between his shoulder blades to get him moving. “It’s time to make amends,” Sam spoke quietly under his breath as the cell doors swung closed once again, the resounding clatter sealing his fate as a free man. Not some twenty minutes later, after filling out some paperwork and changing his clothes, he was walking down the gravel pathway away from the

State Penitentiary that had been his home for the past seven years. Any other inmate likely would have been overjoyed at being granted early parole, but for Sam being set free was just another sentence. Being forced back into society, into a life that he’d singlehandedly destroyed was like trying to swallow a large lump of coal, no matter how hard he tried to choke it down; it just refused to fucking budge. He could try to deny it all he wanted but the fact remained that he’d walked alongside the dregs of humanity. Traded his soul for a black mask of mayhem. Aligned with malevolence and trudged through the darkest parts of despair. All in the name of justice; revenge. Now that he’d

emerged into the light—was there anything left of him to salvage? “Hey, buddy, you getting in or what?” Blinking, Sam stared at the cab driver who was currently glowering at him. The passenger side window was partially rolled down, allowing him a view of the balding, heavy set man behind the wheel. Sam opened the door and climbed in the back, setting his oversized zip-lock bag of belongings on the gray leather seat. To think that after seven years all he had to show was in that sheer plastic bag, sent a desolate feeling washing over him. How far he’d fallen from the life he’d once mapped out with his beloved wife, Hailey. Even

just thinking her name had his heart constricting in pain; the physical ache he felt over the loss of her never left him. He carried it with him daily. “I love you with everything that I am. With every minuscule part of my soul, you are my match. My soulmate, my one true love. I’m going to think of you every day. I will make sure your name lives on, Hailey love.” He stood and walked over to large pile of earth, taking a small handful. Sprinkling it over her coffin, he made her one last promise. “I will avenge you.” It had taken him two years, but he’d made good on the promise that he made at Hailey’s grave the day they laid

her to rest. He’d infiltrated Mila’s inner circle and had the dark, twisted pleasure of being the one to end her miserable life. The depths he’d had to sink to in order to fulfill his mission disgusted him, but he wouldn’t change it or take any of it back. Mila Stevenson was the devil incarnate, the world was better off without her and he’d never regret being the one to assassinate her. No, he wasn’t the least bit fucking sorry that he’d killed the woman that was responsible for the murder of his wife. Hailey Ridley…she’d been like a firecracker. A force to be reckoned with. They’d been high school sweethearts and had married almost immediately after they’d graduated. He

used to count himself lucky every day that she even looked twice at him; their love story was an unorthodox one—she was the prettiest girl in school, he was the classic nerd. Their life had been far from perfect, they had ups and downs just like everyone else. But through it all, they stayed committed to each other; to the love that they shared. When she’d died, he’d died with her. The Sam Ridley that had been her soulmate had ceased to exist. One of the hardest pills to swallow was the fact that that they’d been trying desperately to start a family. Months after her death, he found out that she had in fact been pregnant. It was obvious his boss and best friend at the

time, Sheriff Brady James, had hidden that truth from him in an effort to spare him any more pain. It’d had the reverse effect on him, sending him in a maddening fit of rage. He could only hope and pray that Hailey hadn’t been aware of that fact since the pregnancy was so early. Now, nine years later he was left with trying to build some semblance of a life for himself in the aftermath of what he’d done; what Mila had done. The only reason he was granted early release was that he’d technically been working undercover for the Florida police department while he gathered intelligence on Mila. Disobeying orders and playing his part too perfectly is what

had led to him being charged, and later convicted, as an accessory in Mila and Bennett’s crimes. The look of revulsion in Brady’s eyes when he realized the extent of just how far Sam’s involvement went is one that would never fade from his memory. Every victim that fell at either Mila’s instruction or her hand was blood on his hands as well. The day they’d let the doors swing shut on his steel cell was the day that he’d lost the last parts of him that made him Sam Ridley. Now, he had no choice but to see if there was any chance of getting back a small piece of that lost man. The car rolled to a stop in front of a brown brick building and the cabbie turned to look at him expectantly.

“Well, this is it, buddy. It said on the manifest this was your destination. Durham Heights Sheriff’s Department. So, that’ll be $37.42. Plus tip,” he added. Sam nodded and absentmindedly handed him a few bills. “Keep the change,” he told him as he got out of the car. He stared at the building, the place that used to mean so much to him. Being a deputy used to bring him a sense of pride; now it seemed as though that life belonged in another time, to someone else. Taking a deep breath, he closed the gap between him and the department and pulled open the main door. It was time to face his former best friend.

SHERIFF BRADY JAMES took a long sip of his coffee before setting the mug down on his large oak desk. “Dad, I’m bored,” Dane whined. Brady glanced at his nine year-old son and sighed. The kids had a day off from school and in an effort to give Gwyn a bit of a break from having to deal with Dane and their two year-old daughter, Tenley, he’d brought Dane into the office with him for the day. A decision he was

currently regretting as he was driving him slowly crazy with his constant complaining. “You said we could go for a ride in the cruiser, I want to see a crime scene. You promised,” Dane accused, crossing his arms across his chest in a full-on pout. It was moments like this one that it was so easy to see his mother in him. The complaining and pouting to get his way was one of Mila’s trademarks and it had been passed down to her son flawlessly. Finding out that he was not in fact Dane’s biological father changed nothing for Brady. When all the horror of what Mila had done came to light all those years ago, her child being a part of her deception, Brady had

secretly hoped that Dane was his. Their looks were so similar and the timing was such that it was quite possible that he could have been Dane’s father. After Mila died, he and Gwyn had taken Dane in and he’d finally got the paternity test he’d been promised. The truth had crushed him, but it didn’t stop his firm belief that Dane needed a family more than any child. Gwyn being Gwyn, was behind him one hundred percent and together they went through the lengthy process of adopting him legally. “After lunch, son. I have a few reports to work on this morning and some follow-up phone calls to make. Tell you what, why don’t you take that

camera there,” he nodded in the direction of the station’s professional Canon hanging from the strap on the back of a chair, “and take some snapshots of the pen. Could get some great ones for your scrapbook,” he suggested. A flash of anger splayed across Dane’s face. “It’s a portfolio. And I’m over photography. This sucks. You should have let me stay home to play video games like I wanted to,” he snapped. His tone raised Brady’s own temper and he had to take a few moments to ensure he didn’t snap back at him. Dane’s anger issues were becoming more and more prominent the older he got, a fact that worried Gwyn on a

regular basis. Lately, she’d been pushing Brady to consider getting him some sort of counselling, but so far he’d been able to put it off. But with Dane’s behavior, he might not be able to convince himself for very much longer that he didn’t need to speak to someone. “Dane—” he cut off when a hard knock sounded on his office door and the handle turned. Looking up, he hid his shock when Sam Ridley entered and then stopped, standing awkwardly in the doorway as his eyes darted between him and Dane. “Uh, sorry. I can come back if you’re occupied,” he eyed Dane curiously for a few seconds, his eyes widening when he finally recognized

him. Dane too was sizing Sam up and Brady wondered if he had any memories of him from the time they all spent together. “No, it’s fine. Come in, Sam.” Brady picked up a roll of crime scene tape and walked over to his son. “Dane, I need to talk to Mr. Ridley privately. Why don’t you go practice setting up the crime scene tape like we’ve talked about. Interview Room A should be free.” Dane had a fascination with the law and all the ins and outs of it. It was Brady’s hope that in the future he’d join the department and one day take over for him as Sheriff. A sense of pride filled him as he once again entertained the idea of working alongside his son.

Dane’s eyes lit up as he grabbed the tape. “Sure, Dad! Thanks,” his attitude completely changed, his excitement evident as he dashed out the door. Strained silence filled the air as the two men faced each other. A lifetime of ghosts, disappointments, sadness and resentment flowed between them. Sam had to fight hard to push down the irrational anger he still felt towards Brady that he’d gotten his happy ending while Sam had lost everything. Logically, he knew Hailey’s death was not on Brady’s head, but it didn’t stop the bitterness he felt towards him from rearing its ugly head more than he’d like. “So you’re out. I heard that they

were considering you for early parole. I’m happy it worked out for you, man,” Brady said and he meant it. He may not agree even in the slightest with Sam’s actions when it came to his involvement with Mila; but there was a part of him that couldn’t fault him for what he’d done. He’d come so close to losing Gwyn not once, but twice. Had that happened, he didn’t know how he would have reacted, what his actions would have been. She was the center of his universe; his true love. Brady knew better than anyone that Hailey was the same for Sam. He’d loved her more than anything and losing her the way he did had ripped a hole in him. “Yeah, just got out this morning.

Feels a bit surreal, to be honest.” Sam closed the door and took a seat in one of the chairs facing Brady’s desk. In the past, he would have greeted his friend with a fist bump and a lame joke; but those days had passed, leaving them with uncomfortable silences and strained exchanges. “I can only imagine,” Brady sat in his chair and took off his hat, running his hands through his hair; his telltale nervous habit. The surprise at seeing Sam had passed a little and now he was left feeling curious about why he’d shown up at his door. Not one to beat around the bush, he cut right to the chase. “Sam, it’s not that I’m not happy for you—I am. But I have to ask, what

are you doing here?” Sam rubbed his sweaty palms on the knees of the no-name jeans the jail had given him to change into. Pushing to his feet, he paced a few feet away, coming to a stop in front of a tall shelf housing forensic crime texts and several other books on investigative questioning. Spotting a silver edged frame, he picked it up and studied the photograph. He angled his body back to Brady, the photo still in his hand. “So you guys finally tied the knot, huh?” he asked, motioning to the image of a smiling Gwyn in a flowing white dress with flowers in her hair while a beaming Brady stared down at her with love.

“Yeah, we did. Not long after…” Brady cleared his throat. “Well, it’s been almost seven years now. She forced me into wearing that damn suit. Most uncomfortable day of my life,” he joked, trying to lighten the tension in the room. Sam cracked a smile. “I remember being forced into the same thing, man. I complained bitterly about the injustice of it to Hailey, it really wasn’t all that fair that she got to choose a dress that was comfortable and made her look like a goddess and yet I was forced into a pair of dress pants that nearly castrated me and strapped into a tie that damn near choked me every time I breathed.” The two former friends

shared a laugh at their similar experiences. For a moment, it felt as though nothing had changed between them; the past disappeared for a few beats and they were just two friends exchanging complaints about their women. As fast as the mood changed, it flipped back. Sam didn’t have any more tales to share of him and Hailey. She was dead. Gone. No longer would she be forcing him into any kind of a suit as she was no longer around to crack the whip like she used to. Brady sensed the shift as well and hurried to change the subject. “We have a daughter. She’s two and quite the fucking handful if you ask me,” Brady

laughed. He picked up another framed photo from his desk and brought it over to Sam. It was of the four of them; Gwyn was tucked into Brady’s side, a blonde curly-haired little girl in her arms. Dane stood between them and although he was smiling; Sam thought there was something forced about his expression. They made a striking family, despite something being off about Dane; they still put off an air of happiness. “Her name is Tenley Anne,” Brady said softly. Sam’s head snapped up at the sound of Hailey’s middle name. “We both loved Hailey, man.” He brought his hand up to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “It was important to us that a piece of her live on in our family.”

Sam’s throat started to close, his voice coming out thick with emotion. “She loved the both of you. This would make her really happy. Although, she’s probably looking down at you giving you shit for not naming the baby Hailey.” Sam offered a small smile and handed both frames back to Brady. “Look, Brady, I can see you’re freaking the fuck out thinking I’m going to ask you for a job or some shit. I’m not. Durham Heights isn’t my home anymore and it hasn’t been since the day I lost Hailey. I wanted to come by and let you know I’m out, simply out of respect for the friendship we once shared. And,” Sam blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry for putting

you in the position that you had to arrest me and testify. I should have let you in on my plans from the beginning but my cause was too important for me to risk it.” Brady nodded. It was true that any kind of future friendship for the two of them was out of the question given what had transpired, but that didn’t mean that he wished any ill will on Sam. In fact, it was just the opposite—he truly hoped he’d finally be able to find some peace in the aftermath of the hell they’d all lived through. “I appreciate that. I’m glad that you’re getting a second chance, Sam. Gwyn will be happy to hear it as well. What’s your next steps?” he asked.

“I’m heading to Tennessee. Roseburn…I was able to secure a carpentry business there. Guess the owner was looking for some sort of a change. Gave me a great deal on the name and the business is right on his property. I’m taking over the whole lot,” he answered. His dad had played a huge role in securing this new venture for him; had even fronted him the money he needed to legally buy the business name and transfer it all into his name. “I guess all those hours he made you help out with his business are going to work in your favor then. This is good, Sam. I think having a solid plan is the best start for you moving forward. For what it’s worth, I know Hailey would be

pleased to see you doing something like this.” Brady held out his hand and after staring at it for a long moment, Sam accepted it, clasping Brady’s upper arm in a firm grasp. They’d once been like brothers; but each man was intuitive enough to know that this was the last time they’d see each other. They didn’t fit in each other’s worlds any longer. One man on the straight and narrow; the other walking in the dark gray of the shadows, trying to find his way back into the light. Nostalgia filled Sam and for a fleeting moment, he wished he’d made different choices that day Mila had showed up at his beach house; maybe things didn’t have to end the way they did for any of them.

Shaking his head, the moment passed. There was no going back, what was done was done and each of them needed to keep moving in the direction their lives were taking them. For Sam, it was time to say goodbye to his life in Durham Heights—and that included his friendship with Sheriff Brady James. “You take care, Brady. Give that sweet Gwyn a kiss for me,” he offered a genuine smile. Despite the fact anger and jealousy ruled his feelings when he thought of the perfect life that Brady and Gwyn had; he truly did wish them the best. No one should have to endure the pain of losing the person they loved the way he did and deep down under all the resentment, he was happy they weren’t

suffering like him. “You too, man. Good luck in Roseburn.” Brady watched Sam move away and open his office door. “Sam, wait.” Sam turned back, his brows knitted together. “Don’t be afraid to open yourself up again. You deserve some sort of happiness as well. You aren’t heartless, no matter what you might think.” His observation was a bulls-eye, but Sam would have expected no less from Brady. “Just think about it is all I’m saying. Don’t be closed off to the idea of love again. If the opportunity arises, take it. Hailey would want that for you.” Brady offered the only advice he could, he just hoped it would be enough

to show Sam that there was still a chance for him. Sam left without another word, closing the door on his lost future.

Six Months Later

EMMA DANVERS STORMED out of her parents’ house after another frustrating argument with her uncle. The complete idiocy of him was driving her mad. He still saw her as the same five year-old child that needed help tying her shoes; he refused to see that she was an adult now and ready to make the necessary changes in her life that would

bring her closer to her goals. It was her dream to open a small wine room style bookstore. A quaint home away from home style establishment that would allow consumers the chance to escape from the pressures of everyday life and get lost in a good book and a fine glass of wine. Her uncle blatantly refused to see her vision; instead, he threw out comments such as “doing right by the Danvers’ name” and “her family obligation to uphold decorum.” Since when had she not been anything but a perfect role model for her family? When her parents had been killed when she was still a minor, control of the Danvers’ empire had reverted to her uncle, her father’s brother, since they

were each fifty percent shareholders in the company. Now that she was of age and had completed her business degree, she wanted nothing more than to start making a name for herself, to make her dreams a reality. Unfortunately, her uncle didn’t seem confident in her skills. He thought she needed more time, more experience before jumping into owning her own business. She’d always been level-headed and responsible…all her life she’d been the one considering every option before making hasty decisions. Some might have viewed this as making her boring; she liked to think of it as practical. Her uncle’s logic made no sense and quite frankly, it pissed her off.

He’d even gone as far as lining up a job interview for her; apparently she wasn’t capable enough of taking care of that herself. It certainly wasn’t anything prestigious as far as she was concerned, but once again his faulty logic came into play and he’d explained that by taking the receptionist position at a small carpentry business, she’d learn how to deal with the public in a more relaxed setting, handling situations that would prepare her for being her own boss. Unless she complied and secured and kept the position for at least six months, he wouldn’t release the capital she needed to start up the store. Furious, she yanked open the door on her small red Mercedes and

threw herself behind the wheel. She’d been so certain that today was the day that she would finally be taken seriously in his eyes. That he’d stop treating her with kid gloves and give in. How wrong she’d been about that. Now, instead of driving into the city to check out available rental spaces, she was headed to the outskirts of town for an interview that she needed to nail if she had any hope of getting what she needed from her uncle. Pulling onto the main highway, she rolled the windows down and let the heat of the day fill the car. The wind whipped her shoulder-length brown curls around her face as she drove, relishing in the small feeling of freedom

she felt while out on the open road. She may not have things exactly where she wanted them for her future; but at least in that moment she was the one in control. While she wasn’t a fan of her uncle’s high-handed manner with her, she knew deep down it came from a place of love. The family had been devastated when her parents’ passed away. George Danvers was a wellliked, well-respected man in both the corporate world and in their hometown of Roseburn, Tennessee. Both of her parents were. When her uncle Henry lost his brother, he’d retreated into his shell for weeks. Depression had befallen all of them and it’d been months before they all started to heal. So while

she was angry beyond belief with him for his methods; she knew he was only doing what he thought was best. What her father would have done if he was still alive. When she reached the address that she’d jotted down on a scrap of paper, she pulled all the way down the drive and cut the engine. The country home was beautiful, not overly large, it was an all-white beautiful wood home with a generous porch. Set off to the side was a large warehouse, with a low sign that simply stated Sam’s. Emma had heard about a new man taking over the existing business, but she hadn’t been aware that he’d changed the name. Thinking about it, she didn’t think she’d

ever seen the man anywhere around in town. The gossip was that he was a bit of a mystery; a man running from a shady past. Shaking off the silly town chatter, she pulled the visor down and checked her reflection in the mirror. Blue eyes blinked back at her as she touched up her lipstick, coating her lips in a shiny pink gloss. Satisfied that it’d have to do, she looked down at her outfit. She was a bit overdressed in one of her best suits, a black pencil skirt with a matching blazer, but she had wanted to make a good impression on any potential real estate agents she might have had the chance to meet. Now it would have to double as a presentable interview outfit.

She would have liked to have chosen something a little more downscaled; but that choice had been taken out of her hands. Climbing out of the car, she headed for the warehouse, her step faltering a little when she heard the loud blast of heavy metal music coming from indoors. “Great,” she muttered under her breath. She knocked once on the steel door and when she got no response, turned the handle and pushed it open. Expecting to find a middle-aged man with a pot belly bent over chiselling away at a walking stick, she was shocked when she was met with a view of the sexiest back she’d ever seen. Naked from the waist up, a tall,

built man with tattoos covering the sleeves of both his arms was currently bent over a work table, working an electric sander over the length of a long slate of wood. The roar of the machine explained the elevated volume of the music, it was difficult to hear herself think over all the noise in the shop. Not that she was able to form any sort of a coherent thought after drinking in the sight of him. A bead of sweat ran down his back and she had to force herself to stay in place and not chase after it with her tongue. Her pussy complained at her self-control, her thighs clenching together as she stared at him shamelessly. His dark hair was in serious need of a haircut; it was almost

long enough to be tied up in a bun. “Oh, my Jesus,” she breathed. If he had a beard…all bets were off. Even though she’d barely spoken, he must have heard her as his spine stiffened and he suddenly whirled around. The sander came with him and his quick action pulled the cord out of the wall, silencing the whirling sound. Their eyes clashed together and Emma took an involuntary step back at the jolt she felt go through her system. Sadly, he didn’t have a beard but he really didn’t need it with his sexy as hell full lips and straight nose. Sensation after sensation tingled down her spine as she stared at him; his dark gaze dropped down to her mouth and continued on down her body in a

slow perusal. She was covered from head to toe, but she’d never felt more on display. Against her will, she mirrored his actions and let her eyes wander over every inch of him. Dressed in a pair of black sweat pants riding low on his hips, his sixpack was the showcase piece of him as even the front of him was covered in sweat. Delicious, hot, wet, intoxicating sweat. He was buff in all the right places and Emma couldn’t help but pray that his package lived up to the rest of him. She could pull those pants down with just one tug… “Is there something you want?” his hard voice interrupted her lustful thoughts. Embarrassed, she flushed.

“I—um, no. I don’t want you…I mean anything. I don’t want anything. This was a mistake, I’m sorry,” she stammered, turning to leave. “Are you here about the job?” he called out before she had a chance to make her escape out the door. Mortified at her behavior, she took a few calming breaths before turning to face him once more. “I was, yes. My name is Emma Danvers…I believe my uncle set this up.” The man nodded before turning his back on her and walking over to the radio to turn the music down. “I’m Sam. It’s a full-time position—Monday to Friday. From time to time I may need help on a Saturday

with some inventory, but we can work out those details as they arise. For the most part you’ll be answering calls and taking orders over the phone, coordinating pickups of finished pieces. It’ll just be you and me around here so you really don’t need to dress so,” he smirked at her outfit. “Efficiently.” Emma bristled at his obvious mocking of her and was close to telling him that he could shove his sander where the sun didn’t shine, but then she remembered her uncle’s ultimatum. Gritting her teeth, she bit back her temper. “It’s just a suit. I wanted to look presentable.” “You look like you’re ready for

some corporate espionage takeover.” “A lot of women wear business suits.” “You’re not an old lady, you don’t need to dress like one.” “You’re an asshole.” “That’s gonna be Mr. Asshole to you.” “Not if I tell you and this job to shove it, you arrogant prick.” Emma knew she’d gone too far when his eyes got impossibly darker and he closed the distance between them in a few short movements. His toes bumped hers as he invaded her space, forcing her to crane her neck back to maintain eye contact. His scent invaded her nostrils, clean and fresh. Her breathing sped up and her

pulse jumped as she watched his brows crash together in dark annoyance. This man was sexy as hell but there was something there, something simmering just under the surface that spoke of violence and a little bit of rage. She knew she should be scared—hell she should be running out the door as fast as her feet could carry her—but instead she was drawn towards it; towards him. His big hands encircled her waist in a rough grasp and pulled her whole body until she crashed into him. They were molded together, his sweaty body claiming her as both their hearts beat in an erratic pace. His hands roamed up her back and then down again in an almost bruising way, as if his hands

wanted to learn the feel of her. It was highly unusual but such a fucking turn on. Her pussy begged her to slip out of her panties and wave them in surrender. If he kept staring at her like he wanted to devour every inch of her; that was exactly what she was going to do. “Monday.” he croaked. “You start on Monday.” As quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go and stepped back, dismissing her without another glance. Emma retreated out the door as soon as she was free, needing the time to compose herself. “Well this should be an interesting job.” As her car pulled out onto the main road to head back home, she never noticed the second car merge

in behind her, following at a close pace.

NIGHT HAD JUST fell

when Sophia Kent stepped out of her apartment complex. Typically, in the evenings she could be found curled up on her couch watching her favorite Netflix re-runs after a long day of caring for patients at the retirement home she worked at. Tonight though, she was out of almost everything grocery wise and wouldn’t be able to eat the following

day at work if she didn’t do some restocking. Her mother’s voice scolded her in her ear for falling so far behind on the day to day necessities, but she pushed it aside. At twenty-three, she was free to make her own decisions and if that meant that she wanted to eat peanut butter from a spoon all day; that’s what she’d do. But as the adult she thought she was, she couldn’t avoid the nagging in the back of her mind. Getting groceries and preparing meals for the week would be the only thing that would give her some peace so she could get back to the next episode of The 100. Her brown hair swung in a low ponytail as she walked, enjoying the warm evening air. The grocery store wasn’t

far from her place and she arrived in minutes. Wandering the aisles, she filled her cart with items at random, not particularly paying attention to what she was picking up. Every so often, she got a tingle up her spine, an eerie feeling that she was being watched. Glancing around, she met the eyes of an elderly man who glared at her and she quickly looked away. “Knock it off, Soph,” she chastised herself. Heading to the checkout, she looked down at her cart and groaned. She’d filled it to the top with who knew what. There was no way she’d be able to carry all of the bags back to her apartment. The line she was in had a changeover of cashiers and

instead of the young school girl, she looked up into the smiling face of a rather handsome man. “You look a little worried there,” he commented as she piled her items on the conveyor. “Oh,” she sighed. “I was just trying to figure out how I’m going to carry all of these home,” she motioned at her groceries. “I might have to call for a taxi.” The man offered her a warm smile and leaned in close. “You can take the cart if you want. I won’t say a word.” Sophia automatically returned his friendly smile. “Really? That would be wonderful, thank you so much. With

what I’m spending here, I don’t really have the extra cash to spend on a taxi. I promise I’ll bring the cart back.” “I trust you. Something about that beautiful smile,” the cashier told her as he finished ringing her in. Sophia blushed and looked down, he really was handsome. “That’s $178.92, please.” Sophia paid him and then loaded her bags into the cart, thanking him again for allowing her to borrow it. Starting the walk back to her apartment, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had more than enough groceries now to last her the month and she’d even met a new man. If she wasn’t mistaken, he might have even been flirting with her. Maybe

when she brought the cart back she would— “Ahhh,” she cried out suddenly as she felt a harsh shove from behind. She lost her balance and stumbled forward, bashing her head on the handle of the steel cart. Seeing stars, she sank to her knees, landing hard on the concrete pavement. Before she had a chance to get her bearings, she was dragged back up to her feet and into the waiting alleyway between two buildings. Her cart continued on without her, as though it knew the way home on its own. Dazed, she called out. “Wait, my groceries…” Something slipped around her neck and pulled tight and she was

shoved up against the brick wall, her feet dangling beneath her as her attacker held her off the ground. Flailing her arms, she fought to break his hold, but she couldn’t get a good enough grip to knock him loose. “You’re so beautiful, my love. I couldn’t help it. I had to see you. Have you missed me?” the voice was unfamiliar to her, but he was speaking as though he knew her. Blood dripped down her forehead into her eyes, blurring her vision. Blinking she tried to make out who had her, but the blood coated her lashes, making it hard for her to see. She sucked in a breath to scream for help but ended up only gasping as her pants and panties were ripped down her

legs and two fingers filled her roughly. “Oh, my sweet. You have missed me,” his breath was hot in her ear as he pumped his fingers in and out in a vicious pace. Sophia squirmed and struggled finally getting enough air in her lungs to scream. “NO! Stop, help me! STOP!” “Quiet, quiet!” he ordered. He pulled his fingers out of her and grabbed at the rope that was currently around her neck; tightening it. “This is our private moment. Why are you ruining it? I’m just trying to love you.” His eyes bored into hers the tighter he pulled the rope. Sophia gagged and gasped, desperate to breathe. The brick wall cut into her back brutally as she thrashed, panicked.

Her hands alternated between beating on his shoulders and clawing at the rope. After a few minutes, it was no use and her body succumbed to the lack of oxygen, going slack in his arms. When she was gone, he let her body sink to the ground before scooping her up. He retrieved the runaway grocery cart and after tossing her bags into the alley, he deposited her body in the cart and covered it with a discarded blanket found on the ground. “Let’s get you home with the others, my love.”

EMMA

HAD BEEN working for Sam for eight weeks and three days. She knew exactly how long it’d been as she was counting down the days when she would be free and clear of her uncle’s ridiculous plan and could finally start building a life for herself. It wasn’t that the job was hard, it actually was quite easy. Sam had built a pretty steady

business from himself, despite being virtually invisible in their town. The customers had become loyal to him and that kept him going in repeat business and new clients as word of mouth spread that his work was quality. Their interactions thus far had been limited to business related issues only. He’d shown her his invoicing system and how to order from the supplier in the next state, he’d taught her how to schedule his appointments based on his preferences and starting the following week he was going to allow her to start making the deposits at his bank. She enjoyed it the most when the clients came to pick up their orders.

There was a cute little elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, that always brought her fresh flowers for her desk when they came in to pick up the bird houses they sold at the store in town. Mrs. Taylor always joked that her husband had a little extra sparkle in his eye for her. Then there was the overly flirty Cole Masterson that she knew always checked out her ass when she walked away to get the paperwork he needed to sign. More than once she’d noticed Sam watching their exchanges with his brows snapped together and a hard-set jaw. Secretly, she hoped he was jealous; but the man kept his emotions hidden behind a damn steel door. There was hardly a time that she could tell what he was thinking.

With the exception of one misstep during the first week, they’d been completely professional the entire time. Each of them dancing around the issue of what she’d seen that one morning that she’d shown up early with coffees; intent on bridging some kind of friendship between them. Not finding him in the shop, she’d wandered up to the main house. It was only fifteen minutes before she was supposed to start her shift, so she wasn’t worried that he’d still be asleep. Knocking on the door, it swung open as soon as she made contact and shrugging, she’d stepped inside. “Sam? Sam, are you in here?” Not getting a response, she entered further into the house. Past the kitchen, she

found him standing alone in the center of the living room holding something in his hands. Walking over to him, she stopped a few feet away. It was a photograph of a beautiful smiling woman and was that…was that him with her? A very different looking Sam had his arms wrapped around the mystery woman. The two couldn’t have looked any happier. It was obvious they were very much in love. A stab of jealously shot through her and she quickly dismissed it. Who was she to be jealous over some woman she didn’t even know—over a man she knew even less. It was ridiculous. She cleared her throat to get his

attention, startling when he snapped to attention and pinned her to the spot with a blazing stare full of unbridled rage. “What the fucking fuck are you doing in my house?” He charged towards her, temper in every step. Shaking she hurried to back up and put distance between them as he ate up the space between them in seconds. “I—I brought coffee,” she explained, eyes wide as saucers. He reached her side and grabbed hold of her upper arm, dragging her to the door. Her hands shook and coffee sloshed onto his floor as he pulled her along behind him like a rag doll, not stopping or slowing down. “Fuck your fucking coffee. Get

out. This is my house. You don’t belong here, your job is to work the desk in the warehouse, not come snooping around.” He was panting, his nostrils flaring as he barked out his words at her. She stared up at him, terrified and fascinated at the same time. He was clearly furious with her, but underneath that was an extreme sadness. He was grieving; and that grief was threatening to break him. Cautiously, she laid her one hand over his, feeling a spark of electricity when their skin touched. “Sam. Who is she?” she asked, sympathy evident in her tone. He flinched as though she’d slapped him and just when she thought he was going to tell her, he shut back down. He

pushed her own the door onto the porch. “Get to the warehouse. No more fucking around or you’re gonna get a late start and I have emails that need to be sent right away.” He slammed the door in her face. At her desk, Emma shook her head, clearing away the memory of the run-in they’d had all those weeks before. Neither had mentioned it, although she was hoping that it wouldn’t be long before he would confide in her. She found herself watching him when he wasn’t looking…there was a definite attraction between them; something about him called to her. Whether it was the demons he was so clearly fighting or just his overly sexy physique; she wasn’t

sure, but she knew she wanted to find out more about him. To be let in and trusted with his darkest secrets. Every time their eyes met, she felt as though she could glimpse into his soul, the damage and heartache he was carrying around was clearly starting to take a toll on him. If he didn’t let someone in soon, he was bound to break. Her own heart ached for him and she was determined to help him even if the stupid man couldn’t see that he needed it. Sam couldn’t take the way Emma looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers. When he wasn’t wanting to snap at her for looking at him with such sympathy, he was imagining bending her over his workbench and fucking her into

oblivion. Thank fuck she’d given up wearing those tight little skirts that molded to her delectable ass. If he’d had to see her bending over once more in one of those fucking skirts, he would have lost all self-control. As it was, his hand had been getting more of a workout than it should have been every night after he finished up in the shop. That morning when she’d showed up unannounced in his house, catching him off guard, he’d been so fucking furious. No one had ever seen him let out his grief the way he was that morning thinking of Hailey. Ironically, the only reason he’d even had that photo out was because of Emma. Guilt over his reaction to her was weighing on him;

he wanted her. That sexy little body wrapped up in the exterior of a sweet woman was calling to him. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to deny himself the desire he felt for her. He was hyper aware of every move she made, if she got up to use the bathroom, he wondered where she was going. And then when he realized, he wondered what color panties she was wearing. He’d bet they were black and lacy and would look fucking fantastic on the shop room floor while he fucked her senseless. He walked past her little desk in the corner of the warehouse to his utility closet to get some fresh sandpaper for his machine. Humming, she was

humming to herself while she put some stupid fucking tabs on files. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled under his breath. “Sorry? Did you say something?” Emma asked, looking at him curiously. Her curly hair was tucked behind her ears and her gaze held way too much trust. He didn’t deserve her fucking trust. He wasn’t fit to share the same air as her. “No.” he snapped and yanked open the door and walked inside the storage room. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to even his breathing. What was next? Were fucking birds going to start circling her head? He should fire her. Yes, that’s what he

needed to do—get her the fuck out of his sight before he did something they’d both regret. Armed with a new plan, he marched out of the closet, forgetting the sandpaper that he’d gone in for. He barreled right into Emma who had just rounded the desk with an arm load of papers. Letting out a tiny squeal of surprise, the papers flew up in the air as Sam grabbed her around the waist to steady her before she fell on her ass. Looking up at him, she smiled and blinked her eyes once. “Thanks for the save,” she said quietly. Her lips were shiny and looked so fucking soft. “Fuck it,” he swore and crashed his mouth down on hers. She rose up on her tiptoes to meet him head on, eliciting

a low moan that shot straight to his straining cock. Her lips parted just enough for him to force his tongue inside, claiming her mouth as his. Their embrace was angry, delicious and full of dark desires. The taste of her sweetness on his tongue awakened the sleeping beast inside him; he was standing at full attention and wanted a piece of such a delectable treat. His grip on her slim waist tightened as he ground his hips against hers. He fisted his hand in her hair and dragged her head back. The white slim line of her throat called to him and he answered it with his teeth, sinking into her tender flesh and marking her as his. She gasped and her hands tightened their grip on the back of his

shirt as she pushed her body closer into his. When she moaned out his name, he snapped out of the daze he was in and stepped back. She took his breath away, her hair was mused and wild from his hands and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He couldn’t wait to see what she looked like when she came; he knew it would be a fantastic sight. “You’re fired,” he blurted out at the same time she said, “that was amazing, Sam.” It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, her face turned bright red. “Wait…what? I’m fired? Why am I fired?” Emma was completely disoriented, one second he was kissing

her like he never wanted to stop; the next he was firing her. “I just don’t need you here. Finish out the day and then we’re done. I’ll mail you a check with an extra two weeks of pay.” Panic started to rise in her as she saw all her dreams start to slip away. If he fired her now, she’d never meet her uncle’s stipulations and be able to start her bookstore. “Sam, please. What did I do? If I made a mistake, I’ll fix it. I can call suppliers…just please, I need this job. Everything I want is banking on me making this work,” her eyes were locked on his again, but this time they were full of desperation and pleading. “What are you talking about?

You’re far too over skilled to be working here anyway. I’m doing us both a favor by letting you go.” He started to step around her. Her hand shot out and wrapped around his tattooed bicep, stopping him in his tracks. “No. You don’t understand. My uncle…he forced me—” Sam’s head whipped around at her words. “Forced you? Forced you how? Did he hurt you?” His eyes roamed over her body searching for any signs of injury. If he’d harmed her in any way he’d fucking kill him. “Of course not. Would you just please listen to me? He forced me to take this job to prove to him that I’m ready to run a business on my own. I

have to stay and succeed at this job for six months, and if I don’t; well, he won’t help me with opening the bookstore and wine room that I’ve always dreamed of running.” “Bookstore and wine room? What the fuck is that about?” Sam sighed, not wanting to be involved in any family drama. “When my parents passed away, my uncle gained control of my family’s corporation. It’s what my father would have wanted. They were very close; best friends in fact. Well, he’s always been very protective of me but this… he’s being completely unreasonable about it. It doesn’t matter to him that I’ve always been very level-headed, that I

completed my business degree at the top of my class—no he ignores all of that and says that I have to prove that I can handle it.” Bitterness coated her voice, her displeasure at the situation apparent. “My mother…she loved books. It was her favorite pastime. If I can achieve this, I know she would be proud of me,” Emma finished. Her tone had softened and dropped a few octaves when she mentioned her mother. “Look, I’m sure if you just explained to your uncle that it was my needs that terminated this arrangement, he’ll understand.” Sam told her, anxious to get her out the door before he ripped her clothes off and had his way with her. Seeing that it was useless to try

and convince him to let her stay, Emma’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Right. Well, thanks for the opportunity.” Sam couldn’t stand the dejected look on her usually upbeat face. Knowing that he was the cause had his stomach rolling knots. She walked back to her desk and sat down, staring straight ahead, not saying a word. He wished like hell she would start humming one of the lame songs he usually hated or pester him for a signature on an invoice, but she’d just completely switched off. When four o’clock rolled around, she picked up her few belongings and headed for the door, not even glancing in his direction. As he watched her retreating form, a sense of dread filled

him. Letting her walk out that door was a mistake, everything in his being was ordering him to stop her; screaming at him that if he let her slip away now, there’d be no second chances for him at love. She could be his salvation, if he opened up to her. “My wife was murdered.” Emma stopped in the doorway and slowly turned back, horror written all over her face at his words. Sucking in a breath, he continued. “Hailey and I were high school sweethearts. She was amazing… this ball of energy that people couldn’t help but gravitate towards. She was my world; I loved her more than anything. But she was taken from me and

everything in this life ceased to matter. What was the point in going on, in living, if I didn’t have her to share my joy with? The way she died…” he trailed off, keeping his gaze trained on Emma as she crossed the room and took his hand, a silent show of support and understanding. Just that one simple act was all he needed to force the rest of the words past his lips. “She never should have died that way. I should have been there to protect her; to bring her home safely. I failed her. I failed them all.” Heartbroken at what he was telling her, Emma sought to reassure him. “Sam, no. Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. I know we haven’t

known each other very long but I know that you’re a good man. I have no doubt that you did do everything in your power to save your wife. And if I’m right about the type of woman you married; she’s looking down at you right now pretty pissed off that you’re beating yourself up like this. Loss is never easy. Death has a way of creeping up on us when we least expect it and blowing our world apart. Time doesn’t necessarily heal the wounds, but I’ve learned that it does make it little more bearable to get through the days. We just have to do what we can to get through it.” “Emma, I’ve done terrible things. I was obsessed with getting vengeance for Hailey. I let it rule and

make all my decisions for me. I got a taste for the depraved and I liked it. I’m not proud of my actions, but at the end of the day, I was successful. I got my revenge on the woman responsible for my wife’s death and I made sure that she’ll never do to anyone what she did to so many others. I could tell you tales that would have you running screaming from this warehouse,” he added the last part as he broke her hold on his arm and paced a few feet away. “While I’m sure that’s true, I have to believe that you did what you felt was best. If you’d done things differently, would Hailey’s killer have been caught? Or would you still be locked in a downward spiral fighting

your way through your grief?” Refusing to let him brush her off, she returned to his side. “Tell me what happened. Let me help you, Sam.” Looking down into her face, he knew without a doubt that he could trust her with anything. That she’d be there by his side to listen to his sins and not view him with disdain. Maybe letting everything out wouldn’t be the worst idea. Deciding to give it a shot, he took a deep breath. “The most devious woman that ever lived, Mila Stevenson, singlehandedly destroyed countless lives. I was her right-hand man for two years.” When Emma didn’t turn away in disgust at his revelation, he continued; filling

her in on all the crimes he committed while at Mila’s side.

THEY’D

BEEN SITTING in silence since Sam had finished re-telling everything that he’d been a part of while working endlessly to bring Mila down. Emma would be lying if she said she wasn’t shocked by some of the details of what Sam had done. The sheer torture that some of those victims had been through at the hands of such an evil being; well it was heartbreaking as well

as more than a little disturbing. While she felt some disappointment that he hadn’t fought harder to save some of the victims, she could see very clearly that he was trying to repent for his sins. That he was in desperate need of absolution if he had any hope of moving on from the hell he’d lived through. Most of all, what he needed was forgiveness. Not from anyone else, but from himself. Having been through a loss that left her suffering as well, she understood on some level what he’d been feeling and how easy it must have been to steer from the path of the good. Now that he’d served his time and had made considerable changes to his life, it was time that he let go of some of the

guilt and to start trusting in love again. Gathering her courage, she walked over to his workbench and hopped up, letting her feet dangle beneath her. His eyes followed her every movement, widening when she gripped the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. Clad only in a black lacy bra and her tight yoga pants, she nervously awaited his reaction. The fear of rejection was creeping closer as he stood frozen in his spot and just when she thought she’d made a grave error, he let out a groan and was on her, claiming her mouth once more in a kiss that packed a punch of power and passion. Their hands were frantic as they

pulled at clothing, fighting to discard them as quickly as possible. Emma reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, letting her breasts fall free. Sam’s mouth trailed down her neck and latched onto a nipple, pulling it tightly between his teeth. She scooted her ass closer on the table, needing to feel more friction between her thighs. “I want you so fucking bad, Emma,” his words sent a thrill through her as she ran her hands over his tattooed arms and let them slip into the waistband of his pants. She wasn’t surprised to find him going commando and when her fingers brushed over the tip of his already rock-hard cock; she gave a silent cheer over the sheer size of

him. Her pussy contracted, desperate to find relief. Sam lifted her up easily with one arm and made quick work of stripping her of her pants and panties. Sparing a moment to glance down, he grinned at the sight of her lacy thong laying on the floor. “I knew they’d look fucking good,” he muttered, before settling his eyes back on Emma. She was absolutely stunning. Rose-tipped nipples stood proud as she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her cunt was bare and so fucking pink and pretty. Laying her back on the table, he couldn’t resist and dragged his tongue across her folds and up over her clit in one swipe. She bucked her hips off the table, letting out

a gasp at the contact. “Oh, my fuck. Jesus. Jesus, Sam,” she babbled as he kept up his assault. She tasted so good on his tongue, her sweetness was intoxicating. Sucking her hard nub into his mouth, he inserted two fingers and nearly blew his load feeling how tight and warm she was. Her hands were in his hair, digging into his skull as he pumped his fingers in and out, loving the feeling of her juices coating him. “You taste fucking amazing, Emma,” he mumbled against her. The words were barely out before she went off, her orgasm forcing a scream out of her throat. Her loss of control snapped something inside him and he pulled

away from her pussy to look down into her eyes. She was flushed and dazed, still glowing in the after effects of her climax. In that moment, she was his. Ripe for the taking and willing to do whatever he desired. The darkness fought to be released; to be reborn and given a new purpose. His hands trailed through her thick hair and wrapped around her slim throat like tentacles, his fingers morphing into one as he slowly pressed down on her windpipe. He thrust his hips against hers roughly, the sickness inside him rejoicing in the fear in her bright blue eyes. “I’m going to fuck you now, Emma. I’m going to fuck you and I’m going to hurt you. I need to hurt you.

But I promise, you’re going to love every fucking second of it.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a condom out from his back pocket and rolled it on. Emma’s eyes were bright with excitement as she took in the length of him, overshadowing the fear his words had put there. With one powerful thrust, he filled her, burying himself deep. “Fuck,” he groaned, feeling her pussy walls grip him. She was so damn tight. Pulling back, he slammed back in again, relishing in the feel of her warm, wet heat. His hands found her throat again and he squeezed, unable to resist mixing a little pain with the pleasure. Emma had heard of “choking

out” during sex before, but she’d never experienced it. The way Sam was pounding into her, with his hands tightening and loosening with each thrust; it was a massive turn on. His eyes had turned a dark, black onyx and bore into hers, searing their connection with his hot gaze. He bent his head and bit down on her nipple tugging it taut until she arched her back, loving the sinful torture he was inflicting on her. He pulled back and flipped her over, grabbing her ass and lifting it in the air before driving himself back inside her, groaning as her pussy engulfed his cock once more. He could feel her shock at his actions, but he couldn’t stop; he needed to possess every inch of her,

claim her as his and his only. Grabbing her hip, he steadied himself and then brought his other hand down over her ass in a stinging slap. Her body jerked forward at the contact and she cried out, surprised. He repeated the same action over and over, loving the way her ass pinked up for him with the imprint of his hand. She was fucking perfect. “Sam,” she panted. “Fuck, you feel good.” Her breathy voice and the way she was taking all he was giving her had his release building as he increased the pace of his thrusts. Sliding his hand between their slick bodies, he found her clit and tugged, smiling when she moaned out his name again. He could feel her thighs clenching together and

knew she was close to her release again. “Cum for me, baby. I want those juices coating my cock,” he told her. She began to push backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust and then left out a low scream as she exploded in ecstasy. Sam wasn’t too far behind, his fingers digging into her tender flesh as he pumped out his own orgasm. They lay there spent for a few moments, neither able to move. Sam got up first to discard the condom and came back with some tissues for Emma. After righting their clothes, Emma stood awkwardly and stared at him. If possible, he looked even sexier than before; his hair tousled and his cocky grin taking up half his face. It was no

wonder she was starting to fall for him. She accepted him. Even though she shouldn’t. She wanted him. Even though he was the wrong choice. Her heart was no longer hers; she’d handed it over to him free and clear. Now she just had to tell him. He kissed her hard on the mouth once and they moved away from the work bench. Stooping he picked up a manila envelope from the pile of scattered papers Emma had dropped earlier. “What’s this?” he asked. Emma glanced at it and shrugged. “I’m not sure. It doesn’t look like I’ve opened it yet…it must have gotten mixed in with that filing.”

Sam tore it open and shook out the contents. Two 5x7 photographs tipped out into his waiting hand, the images making his blood run cold. Both were of Emma—one of her smiling and walking through the town with another female and the second of her completely naked as she stood in what he assumed was the bathroom in her home. Written across that photo in black magic marker was a chilling message. “Soon, my love.” Impatient, Emma peered over his shoulder to see what he’d found that was causing him to make that face and gasped out loud when she was the pictures. “Who took those?! Where did you get them?” she demanded, pinning

him with an accusatory glare. “Emma, the envelope is addressed to you. No sender information.” He flipped it over to show her. A sick feeling of dread tingled over her skin as she stared at the images she’d taken from Sam. Nothing about something like this was good news at all. “The murders…in town. Do you think—do you think these are a message from him?” Emma asked, fearful for his answer. “If I had to guess, I’d say yes. You fit the profile of the victims…I didn’t notice that until now,” Sam frowned at her, uneasiness setting in. Emma stuffed the photos back in

the envelope and headed for the door. “Um, I’m going to come in late in the morning if that’s okay, I better report these photos down at the station. I’d go now, but I really just want to go home and check things out. I feel so…violated that he’s been watching me like this.” “You’re not going anywhere by yourself right now. I won’t allow it, Emma.” He crossed his arms over his chest, showing her he meant business. “You won’t allow it?” she repeated. Who did he think he was, ordering her around? She wasn’t a child; she could take care of herself, regardless of what he thought. “I don’t really care what you’ll allow. Off you fuck over there now, your bossiness isn’t going to

get you anywhere with me,” she snapped, her temper getting the better of her. She was terrified and didn’t need him making it worse. Sam’s brows snapped together at her tone and he went to reach for her arm but she jerked away. “Don’t, Sam. I’m fine, I just want to go home.” Misinterpreting her fear for regret over what they’d just done, he stepped back a few feet. Of course she wouldn’t want him. He was damaged, likely dead on the inside after all the crimes he’d committed; it had been foolish of him to entertain the idea that she might actually have feelings for someone with a past as dark as his. “You’re right. It’s well past your

shift and as I told you earlier, you’re fired. I hope you’re not expecting any pay past four p.m.” With that parting insult, he turned his back on her and walked away while every instinct screamed at him to stop and go back. To beg her not to go; to give him a chance to prove that he was worthy of redemption…that they could be something dynamic together, if only she would trust him enough to let him help her with this stalker situation. Deep down he feared that she was scared of him; that he’d pushed her too far while fucking her and now she couldn’t see anything but the monster he’d become. It was better that he let her go; the police could handle a couple creepy photos.

He was better off alone and she deserved much better than him.

EMMA STOMPED

INTO her house and let the door slam shut behind her. What the hell was wrong with him? They’d had the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had and then he just throws her out like she was nothing more than a whore? Tears stung the back of her eyes as she ripped her shoes off and tossed them in a pile by the low bench she sat on every morning. They had a

connection; she knew he felt it as well. It was impossible not to after the intimacy that they shared. “Stupid men. Stupid men that think they know stupid everything,” she muttered to herself as she headed for the bathroom to wash off the day’s make-up. The crushing defeat she felt over seeing her dreams slip away from her was enough to have her almost breaking down. Maybe her uncle would be reasonable… if she explained about what happened. She blew out a breath and stared at herself in the mirror. The day had not ended up how she thought it would and now it seemed like she’d made a huge fool out of herself by sleeping with her boss. Or former boss now.

Bending over the sink, she splashed warm water over her face a few times, anxious to wash away any trace of what had transpired in the shop. Deciding that a shower was a much better option, she straightened and grabbed a small towel from the pile beside her. Drying her face, she dropped it back onto the counter and then let out a strangled scream when she locked eyes with another person in the mirror. Standing behind her was the hulking form of a man wearing a mask. He seemed somewhat familiar, but she didn’t place him immediately. He advanced on her as she stumbled to get to the door of the bathroom and escape into the hallway, tears of relief burst

from her eyes as she accomplished her goal and sprinted as fast as she could to the main entrance. Her stocking feet slipped on her gleaming hardwood floors and she cursed herself for taking off her shoes. He was close, she knew he was by the ragged way his breath was escaping from him like some sort of freight train. She reached the door and yanked it open getting down a few of the concrete steps. Her car was just a few yards away, if she could get to it; she could lock herself in and wait for help. Just a few more feet— “Ahhhh,” she screamed as she was plucked off the ground around the waist. The man carried her like a

football under his arm, ignoring the way she kicked, screamed and scratched at him. He kicked her door shut again and snapped the lock into place, effectively trapping her right where he wanted her. Entering the living room, he wrestled her onto the couch and bound her hands and feet with a thick rope. When she was restrained, he sat back on the cushions, breathing heavy. “It didn’t need to be that difficult. You could have really hurt yourself, my love,” he scolded her. “Who are you? What do you want? Get out of my house!” she yelled. She had a sinking feeling she knew exactly who this man was and why he was there. He was the killer, the man

with the rope that had been murdering all those young girls. Panic started to bubble up inside her, but she forced it down. She needed to keep calm and stay strong. She wasn’t a weakling; she could outsmart this son-of-a-bitch, she knew it. He brushed the hair away from her face and looked at her with a mixture of tenderness and love. Disgusted, she cleared her throat and spit at him, her aim true and catching him right in the eye. His body went completely still and Emma stopped her struggling at the slight change in the atmosphere of the room. He took a tissue from his pocket and calmly wiped the spittle from his eye. His deliberate movements were sending

her nerves dancing and she knew the retribution for what she’d just done was going to be fierce. His hand snaked out and weaved into her hair roughly, snapping her head back. She let out a whimper of pain and fought back more tears. “That was rude. Rude, rude, rude!” he yelled in her face, his anger evident. He breathed heavy, trying to calm himself. He let her hair go, ripping a few strands from her scalp as he pulled back and then removed something from his pocket, slipping it over her head. Emma panicked as she realized it was some sort of wire rope and he slowly pulled it tight until it was snug

against her skin. He then leaned back and pulled off his mask, revealing himself to her. She gasped and the terror over potentially being strangled to death was pushed aside as she stared at her attacker, shocked. “Cole? Wha—why? What’s going on here?” she asked, still not sure why one of Sam’s best customers and a known ladies’ man would be holding her hostage in her home. “For you. I’m here for you, my love. I’ve been watching you for a very long time, I love everything about you. The way the sun glints off your hair giving it a tint of red. Your smile, so sweet and innocent. The way your nose

crinkles just a little at the end when you laugh. How your nipples turn to sexy little nubs when you step out of the shower. There’s nothing that I don’t love about you, Emma. I’ve waited a long time but I’m finally ready to bring you home.” His words, which clearly pleased him to tell her by the maniacal grin on his face, sent revulsion flowing through her. He was crazy, out of his fucking mind and had clearly been stalking her for quite some time. The fact that he’d even caught her naked made her sick to her stomach. Who knew what else he’d seen. “You’re insane. I’m not going anywhere with you. Look, Cole, I don’t know what’s going on here, but please.

Just untie me and we can go somewhere to talk; just the two of us. You need help. Let me help you.” Emma prayed that by offering time alone, just them, that he would buy her lies and let her go. If she could convince him that she would be by his side no matter what, maybe he would trust her enough to loosen her bonds. He ignored her and leaned in closer, grabbing her when she leaned back to avoid him touching her. He inhaled and then sat back, his face contorted in disgust. “You smell like him. I saw you. I saw you two today in his workshop. He had his hands all over you, his fucking cock was in you. He touched

you when you are mine.” He grabbed the knot of the rope and pulled her onto the floor, heading back towards the bathroom. “I can’t take you home in this state. What will the others think? I need you clean and pure for me,” he rambled on to himself as he dragged her. Emma fought and twisted her body, trying to angle her bound foot around the leg of the end table, hoping to slow him down. She cried out in frustration when she missed and instead starting flopping her body like a fish, trying to dislodge his hold. Once in the bathroom, he pulled back the shower curtain and turned the water on to a scolding temperature.

“Hot water will do the trick. We’ll get you all cleaned up and then be on our way.” He spoke as though he was outlining the itinerary for a family vacation instead of how he was about to burn her in an unwanted shower. “God. No, please don’t do this,” she begged as he grabbed a pair of scissors that she kept in the bathroom to cut tags from new articles of clothing and made quick work of slicing through her t-shirt and bra. He untied her feet and pulled down her pants and panties avoiding her kicking feet as she struggled to get a shot in at his nose. Once she was completely naked, he picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously into the tub and under

the spray of the hot water. It hit her like a red-hot iron poker all over her body. The pain was immediate and hurt more than anything she’d ever felt before. Cole dumped soap over her head and began scrubbing her with one of her hair brushes. The bristles felt like steel and she screamed bloody murder while trying to squirm out of his hold. “Better. Don’t you see how this is better? I love the smell of your soap, Emma. This is how we’ll start our new lives. Clean and pure and ready for a beautiful beginning.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks at the torture. Her body had grown used to the water temperature, but the brush?

The way he was dragging it over every inch of her skin—even between her thighs—was an agony she wouldn’t wish on anyone. When he was satisfied, he shut the water off and wrapped her in a fluffy towel before pulling her from the tub. Her body was limp, the fight gone from her for the moment. She looked him straight in the eyes and mustered all the hate she could gather and hoped it showed on her face. “I’ll never love you. I’ll never think of you as anything more than a cruel, cowardly piece of shit. You’re nothing to me and you never will be. You may win in taking me from my home today; but you’ll never have me. You’re

beneath me and always will be.” Cole sucked in a shocked breath at her words and anguish splashed across his features, which quickly turned to rage. He grabbed the end of the rope around her neck and began to pull. “No. No! You are mine. We are destined to be together; you’ll see.” Emma choked as the air was sucked out of her lungs and black dots danced in front of her eyes. I’m sorry, Sam was the last thing she thought before everything went black.

Sam walked up to Emma’s door

practicing eating crow every step he took. After she’d left, he really felt like an asshole for the way he’d thrown her out after fucking her brains out. She was worth more than that and didn’t deserve the way he’d treated her. The fact of the matter was, she meant more to him than he cared to admit—he was dangerously close to falling in love with her. This business with the stalker really had him worried and he didn’t want her waiting until the following day to report it to the authorities. He was going to convince her to let him help if he had to drag her down to the station. Stepping up to her door, he thought he heard a muffled scream. Not hesitating to see if he’d actually heard

something, he tried the handle. Finding it locked, he stepped back and with one kick, broke the door down and charged inside. The pillows from the couch in the main room were all over the floor and most of the furniture was askew. Hearing sounds from down the hall, he took off running and stopped at the bathroom door. Seeing the man leaning over Emma, he let out a roar and attacked. Looping his arm around the bastard’s neck, he dragged him backwards and away from her. His frame outweighed his by fifty pounds but Sam had rage on his side plus years of combat training. They ended up on the floor in a

heap and the attacker got in the first punch to the side of Sam’s head. Seeing that it was Cole Masterson shocked him for a moment, but he quickly regained his senses and returned his blow with one aimed at his windpipe, effectively disarming him. Cole fell back and Sam gained the upper ground, delivering another blow to his nose. Cole screamed at him and threw his other arm up to block the next punch. “She’s mine! You can’t fucking have her. I’ll kill her before I let you fucking touch her again!” He managed to knock Sam back on his ass and ran back into the bathroom, scissors raised over his head and he reached Emma’s side. “No!” Sam bellowed. He

tackled Cole to the floor once more and wrenched the scissors from his hand and in one fluid movement, plunged them into his jugular. Cole gurgled as blood spurted out, covering them both. He strangled on his own blood and the light behind his eyes went out. Without waiting to see if he was truly dead, Sam rushed to Emma, dropping to his knees beside her. “No, no, no, Emma. Don’t die on me.” History felt like it was repeating itself as he felt for a pulse. She wasn’t fucking breathing. He immediately started CPR, begging and pleading with her to wake up as he started compressions on her chest. It seemed like years passed as he

worked on her, desperate to see her chest rise again. After a few minutes, he sat back in disbelief. It happened again. He’d been too late and hadn’t saved the woman he cared about again. “Fuck, no. No, no.” He covered his face in his hands and let his head fall onto his knees. “Stop swearing, you idiot. And dammit get me a drink, this has been one hell of a day.” Sam’s head shot up and he was met with Emma’s beautiful blue eyed stare. She was trying to smile but it looked more like a grimace. He didn’t care though, she was awake and alive and that was all that mattered. “I thought you were fucking dead.” He pulled her into his arms and

ripped the offending rope off from around her neck. He untied her hands and she wound them around his neck, burying her face in his chest as tears began to fall. “I was so scared, Sam. I thought he was going to kill me,” she cried. Sam rocked her gently and stroked her wet hair. “I know, baby. I’m so damn sorry. I should have been here.” He noticed how red and raw her skin was and swore again. He wanted to kill the fucker all over again for hurting her. “We need to get you to the hospital, Emma. Your skin is all fucked up.” Emma nodded and Sam lifted her in his arms.

“I’ll go as long as you promise me one thing,” she conceded. “What’s that?” “The next time we have sex… don’t fire me right after.” “You got it, baby.”

Two Months Later

EMMA ROLLED OVER in bed and stretched, letting out an unladylike yawn. Seeing Sam sprawled out beside her filled her heart with joy. They’d been living together ever since the day that she’d been taken hostage by Cole and nearly killed. After rescuing her, Sam had insisted that she come and stay with him at the farm house and she’d

been in no condition to argue with him about it. Since that day, she’d just never left. A fact that secretly made her happier than she’d ever been in her life. Sam was slowly learning to let her all the way in; he still had a long ways to go, but he was trying and that was enough for her. Teaching yourself that it was okay to forgive and move on was a lot easier said than done. Guilt and regret were two of the trickiest emotions, rearing their ugly heads at the most inopportune times. Luckily for them, they had the rest of their lives to figure things out. For now, they were taking things a day at a time. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” she whispered loudly in Sam’s ear. He

grunted and buried his head under the pillow, ignoring her attempts to get his ass out of bed. Giving up on him, she swung her legs over the bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom for a quick shower. When she emerged again thirty minutes later with her hair and make-up perfectly styled, Sam was there just on the other side of the door holding out a steaming cup of coffee for her. She accepted it gratefully and took a long sip of the delicious liquid. “You look beautiful, baby,” he told her as he leaned in to claim her lips in a soft yet demanding kiss. She smiled up at him and couldn’t be happier. Today was the grand opening of her shop, the little bookstore and wine room that she’d

always dreamed of owning. The Reading Room would finally officially open its doors to the public and she could hardly stand the excitement she felt. It had been a fight with her uncle to get the capital she needed to get things rolling, even after her brush with imminent death. Thankfully, Sam had been by her side and together they had convinced him that opening the shop was a smart business investment for Emma. Now the day was finally here and everything she wanted was in her grasp. “Are you ready to go?” Emma asked. Sam was taking the morning off to be there when she first opened the doors, a fact that showed just how far

they’d come. “Just about. I have something for you first.” He winked at her and then led her into the living room where there was a large white box waiting on the coffee table. Tossing him a confused look, she walked over and pulled the lid off, moving aside the bright pink tissue paper. Nestled inside the box was the most beautiful hand carved plaque with her store’s name etched in a sprawling font. Her name as the operator was spelled out in block letters surrounded by her small logo of a woman with a glass of wine and a book. It was painstakingly done and must have taken him hours. Love for him bloomed in her chest and she longed to give him the

words but knew he wasn’t quite ready for that yet. This action proved what she already knew, he loved her just as much. “Sam. I don’t even know what to say. It’s breath-taking. Thank you so much.” She hugged him and sighed happily. “You’re welcome, let’s get moving and I’ll hang it for you before the opening.” The drive to the storefront was a short one—Emma had been lucky to secure a prime location right on the town’s main strip. Parking the car, they walked hand in hand to the door and Sam hung back to snap a quick shot of her opening the door for the very first time.

Once inside, he scooped her into his arms and swung her around. Nearly losing her had shown him how much he really did care about her. Despite the darkness that now lived inside him; the urges that he had to give in to…he now had some of the light back. Love had grown in his heart again and sharing it with Emma was something he wouldn’t give up…not for anything. There were still moments when guilt crept in over letting in another woman that wasn’t Hailey, but something always had him pushing those feelings aside. He liked to think it was Hailey kicking his ass from wherever she was; letting him know that she approved of Emma. She would never be replaced, but that didn’t mean

he couldn’t find room in his heart for happiness with Emma. Together, they would build a life free from the constraints of their past. A life built on the foundation of love and trust. Emma deserved a man willing to give her the world, and he wanted to be that for her. He would be that for her. Kissing her gently, he placed her on her feet. “Everything looks fucking perfect. You’ve really outdone yourself here, Emma.” He took a moment to take in the large, hand-stained bookshelves lined with dozens of paperbacks, the small intimate tables set up for two or four and the comfier seats with throw pillows and neatly folded blankets. Towards the back were two large wine

fridges and a glass hutch filled with rows of sparkling glasses. Chalkboard easels announced the week’s new releases in books and a few large wicker baskets were filled with more books, a drop and take system that would allow readers to take any book as long as they left another behind. He was so damn proud of her and couldn’t wait to see her turn her dream into a story of success. The bell above the door chimed as it opened and someone stepped inside. “Sorry, we’re not open—” Sam cut off his words when he saw who was standing in the doorway. Anger and rage bubbled up as he shoved Emma behind her back ignoring her shocked, “hey!”

and stalked forward to grab the man by the collar of his shirt. “Marcus fucking Drake. What the fuck? You must be out of your mind to show up here,” he seethed. The sick, sadistic son-of-a-bitch that had been the leader of a twisted Black Market baby selling ring was now standing in front of him in Emma’s store. Seemed that he’d returned to his own looks as well since he was no longer a dead ringer for Gabe Thornton. “Quite the opposite actually, Deputy Ridley.” Sam blanched at hearing his former title. “But I would like to know why the fuck you’ve got your hands all over my long-lost little sister.” Shock filled the air at his

revelation and Sam turned to face Emma, who was as astonished as he was by Marcus’s words if the look on her face was any indication. “Mother did a good job of hiding you, dear sister. But she sorely misjudged my resources and now here we are. I’d say we have a lot of catching up to do, wouldn’t you?” He flashed a cold grin. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

THE END

Acknowledgements Jerzie, Charlee, Jessica – Here we are at book number four!! Who would have thought we’d have come this far together…it’s been amazing sharing this journey with you and each of you so much. I couldn’t ask for better friends than you xoxo Toni Thompson –Thank you for putting up with all of my crazy requests! You’re an amazing friend and I’m so lucky to be equally lucky to have you as not only that but my PA! 2016 is going to be your year, lady! River Savage, Gilly Jones, Alissa

Evanson Smith – My girls. My whores. My very best friends. I love you guys so much and I’m so lucky that this book world brought us all together. I can’t wait for our reunion in Cleveland!! Thank you for being who you are and for always being there for me, having my back. Lance Jones – You’ve become one of my bestest friends! I’m so lucky to have you not only on my covers, but as my partner as well. Thank you for once again being my muse…Sam is a complex character and having your help was priceless. Looking forward to working together more in the future! xoxo L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover

Creations – You are an insane talent, lady! Thank you for working with me so closely on all of my covers…I couldn’t be happier with what you’ve created for me. Thank you so much for helping me bring the story the best covers to portray my work. Love you! Judi Perkins – I’m so happy that we met!! You mean so much to me and I value our friendship more than you know. Thank you for always being there for me and helping me through some tough situations. Oh and for Facebooking my epic chat fails lol. Flippity flippersons…that is all. xoxo To My Betas – You ladies took this story

and made it what it is!! I don’t know that I could have done it without you. Thank you for listening to my rambles and forcing me to work harder because you knew I had it in me. You are an amazing bunch and I’m lucky to have you. xoxo Sirens – This is my favorite place in the world. My safe place, my comfort zone. I love how each of us supports each other and that we have a place to escape and be ourselves and share our love of books. You’re my biggest cheerleaders and I couldn’t be more grateful for each and every one of you. To My Family – I’m a lucky girl to have such an amazing family. You support me through all of this, through my goals and

ambitions and offer me guidance when I need it to see the end result come to light. Thank you for all the love and encouragement through one of our toughest years. I love you all so much. To The Book Community – Being an indie author isn’t an easy thing. It takes true hard work and dedication. The friends that I’ve made, the readers and fellow authors that I’ve met on this journey—I cherish you all and I’m so grateful for the support I’ve received. Just one PM message can make someone’s day and every one that I receive warms my heart more than you know. Thank you for taking a chance on my work even when it’s more twisted than expected lol ;)

ABOUT CASSIA BRIGHTMORE Cassia Brightmore is a dark romance author. She loves writing dark stories with twisted characters that she hopes will thrill the reader as well as make them fall in love. She loves hockey, video games and online shopping. If she's not writing or editing, you can usually find her doing one of these things. Writing is her passion and publishing her first book as an indie author is truly a dream come true. Cassia lives in Ontario, Canada with her

two furbabies; Molly and Harley. Her titles include: The Darkness Series Trilogy Book One: Malevolent Book Two: Evanesce Book Three: Denouement Book Four: Repentance To look for in 2016: New Dark Romance Medical Series: The Trauma Series. Book One: Lincoln Hospital, expected release: March 27 New Dark Romance Standalone: Unworthy, expected release: June 29

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