Chandelier (Tarnished Crowns Trilogy Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  Blair would be safe even if I wasn’t there. There was a team around her, one that could be trusted. And there was Isaac.

  Our dark horse.

  For the first time, I think of them both and wonder when they knew I was gone. If they knew how I had gone. What they thought I’d done.

  Traitor.

  Majken shakes her head. “I think you underestimate yourself. Just like you always did. Maybe we should’ve spent more time together. Maybe a few weeks here in this remote place, will give us the chance to reconnect.”

  Blair had told me she loved me. New Year’s Eve, as the fireworks lit the sky above the loch and the three of us held each other. Isaac had breathed the words into my ear later when we lay spent on the bed, just as he had weeks before.

  “Remember why we started this, Ben. Remember what happened that day. What we promised each other.”

  Thief.

  I’d stolen hearts. Blair’s. Isaac’s. Majken’s. My father’s.

  “We were children, Majjie.”

  “We stopped being children when our mother died.” She smiles softly. “I know we need to move past it, that’s what we should do, being healthy adults and all, but we both know that closure is the only thing that can help. Blair will unify the two countries. She’ll carry out her brother’s wishes. That can’t happen, Ben.”

  “You don’t know anything about Blair’s wishes.”

  “I know more than you think. She doesn’t tell you everything. And you’re right; We don’t only have you.”

  I remember the last delegates’ ball, the last time in London. Whispers in a darkened room and footsteps echoing on wooden floorboards after I was left with an empty bed.

  We had promised each other nothing.

  Liars.

  All of us.

  We had to be.

  “I’m not asking much. No one need know.” Majjie stands up, leaves her lover.

  He’s put away his gun. Her plaything.

  “Just two things.”

  I think of her and Isaac. I know who he is.

  She doesn’t.

  Not yet.

  I think of what she can become.

  “Just two things? That’s all you need from me?”

  Majken smiles. Nods.

  I stand up and go to the window, showing them my back. Vulnerability.

  Trust.

  For the first time in weeks I breathe easily. The trees twitch in the wind, another January storm setting in.

  Lovers.

  Is that what we were?

  I turn towards my sister. She’s watching me, waiting. She needs me to agree and even if I do, I don’t know what I’ll need to do to get out of here alive or without more blood on my hands.

  Blair. Isaac. Me.

  Pretenders to a tarnished crown.

  “Tell me what you want to know.”

  Get it now: Grenade

  ANNIE DYER’S CALLAGHAN GREEN

  Engagement Rate is the first in the Callaghan Green series. Here’s a taste!

  Chapter One - Jackson

  I’d never considered that watching a woman do pull ups was a way to get rid of jet lag. This woman was wearing a sports bra that did nothing to hide the shape of perfect breasts and exposed a toned, smooth stomach; her yoga pants outlining long, long legs that would look fucking amazing around me as I thrust into her.

  But sleep deprived, jet lagged and being travel-fresh wasn’t the best way to be caught staring at the dark-haired mystery currently working out in the gym. I was a professional: a lawyer and a businessman. Or at least I tried to give that impression at first. Staring at her tits was not the best start.

  I kept a change of gym gear at work: trainers and shorts, but today I hadn’t bothered with a vest as I didn’t think anyone else was likely to be around for an hour or so, unless Seph, my youngest brother turned up to train. Deadlifts, bicep curls, tricep extensions and a chest press too heavy to be doing without a spotter took my focus away from obsessing exactly how her long dark hair would look wrapped around my fist.

  I had missed this space in the past three weeks; it was my retreat, my sanctuary. The place where I could be me and not just the man who ran his family’s law firm. I focused on the music that was blaring out of the speakers, and tried to stop staring at the woman who I should probably know. She was on the other side of the room, my main view of her via a mirror, the perfect place to creep at her, which I gave up trying not to do.

  “Fuck me,” she said, as she half collapsed to the ground from the pull up bar, shaking her arms.

  I managed to bite my tongue, stopping myself from offering to do just that. I watched her as she began another set of pull ups, waiting for her to realise I was there. She was tall, around 5’9, with dark hair pulled into one of those messy bun things; all lean muscle and the best pair of tits I’d seen for years. She was pretty: large blue eyes and high cheekbones.

  I turned my back to head for the showers, needing to escape. I had no idea who she was – Maxwell tore through secretaries like he did girlfriends only with less pleasure – so she could’ve been a temp or equally the marketing woman we’d recently hired. Either way, she didn’t need to know about the tent she’d caused in my shorts.

  “Sorry,” I heard her say and I turned back, my neck twisting like an owl’s and my brain trying to conjure up images of Granny Callaghan without her teeth in. “I was oblivious to anyone else being in here. Sorry if you heard me swear like an Irish navvy.” She massaged her hands and I wasn’t sure whether it was a nervous reaction or they were hurting from the grip she had to use to do the pull ups.

  I shrugged, the images of Granny doing their job. “Not like I never use those words. I’m Jackson Callaghan. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

  She stepped forward, beads of sweat glistening on her skin. I was conjuring up several different ways to get her equally as sweaty. “Vanessa Moore. I’m from Cole Henderson. Claire said it was okay to use the gym down here…” She looked a little nervous, although I was pretty sure she knew who I was, even though I looked a lot different half naked than the photos on the website. Shirts and suits went a long way to covering up most of my tattoos and I generally looked more presentable when my hair was not tied up in a shitty man bun and my scruff was tamed instead of looking as if garden birds were nesting there. She was the marketing consultant. I congratulated myself on remembering.

  “It’s absolutely fine while you’re working with us. How’ve you found the first few days?” Vanessa seemed to have managed my grump of a mood even better than the weights. She was close enough now for me to see that she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, her cheeks red from the exercise and blue eyes bright.

  God forbid she was a morning person.

  “Good. There’s a lot to do to rebrand and get everything ready for your father’s retirement ball but the firm’s got a clear direction and ethos so it’s volume of tasks rather than having to come up with the creative.” She tightened the pony tail and I sensed again that she was nervous of me. I didn’t mind that – at thirty-four I was young to have this sort of role, managing and directing an extremely profitable and noteworthy law firm, so I didn’t need anyone to think I was a soft-touch.

  “How about staff? I hope Kirsty’s been accommodating.”

  Vanessa’s eyes dropped to my chest and I couldn’t resist the urge to very slightly flex my muscles. Her cheeks grew redder and I smirked. Also at thirty-four I was too much of a child to always be professional, especially when a pretty lady was standing in front of me. “It’s different for her. She’s not used to someone else directing. But she’s got a decent skill set and it’s a case of trying to develop her a little more so once we’ve finished you’ve got a good employee.”

  This confirmed some of my concerns. “Look, Vanessa.” I didn’t even bother with the formality of calling her Ms Moore, partly because she could be married, partly because I had enough stuffy clients to be uber-polite to. “Here probably isn’t the best place
for this conversation and I probably smell of planes as well as sweat. How about we get showers and I’ll spot us breakfast? We can discuss your ideas and how they align with the brief so far. And probably introduce ourselves.”

  “I can do that,” she gave me a slight nod. “I’ll leave a note for Kirsty to let her know I might be running a few minutes late to meet her.” There was a smile that turned into a grin, with, God forbid, a dimple. “I have a huge appetite, by the way, and I don’t do prissy food.”

  “Noted.” I shot back a smile back. “I don’t do prissy anything. See you in reception in – 30 minutes?” I wondered how much time she needed to shower and dress. I’d had two longish relationships in the past, both ran their natural course and we grew apart - no fault of either party - and both women took forever to get ready.

  “Sure,” she nodded, her eyes drifting down to my chest again and I struggled not to preen. She headed to the female changing rooms and I tried to casually walk away, my mind totally conjuring up images of her naked in the shower with water pouring over those tits and all the ways I could help get her clean.

  And then dirty again.

  I showered quickly, turning the temperature onto Baltic cold to get rid of any lingering hardness in my cock. I needed to focus on work and getting involved with a contractor was not good business practice. Yes, she was beautiful and probably intelligent given she ran her own business but I’d need to find my relief elsewhere. Vanessa Moore was off-limits. So why the fuck was I taking her to breakfast?

  Continue reading Engagement Rate here!

  SEVERTON SEARCH AND RESCUE

  Sleighed is the first book in the Severton Search and Rescue Series.

  Read the first chapter here!

  Sleighed - Chapter One

  Zack Maynard rubbed at the thick stubble that had accumulated since that morning and debated which incompetence he should yell about first. He was spoilt for choice given that one of his staff had failed to lock a door that should be kept locked and bolted at all times, and a resident had gone exploring. His cousin, Jake, had delivered a truck full of alpacas to the field next to Severton Sunlight Care and Nursing Home and had neglected to tell his farmhand to ensure the gate was shut. And the world’s slowest builders had seemingly been employed to take as much time as possible to erect the extension to the dementia care unit and entertainment hall, and the words coming out of the site manager’s mouth were not the ones he wanted to hear.

  “We’re looking at mid-January.”

  Zack stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

  “It’s unlikely to be finished before mid-Jan. I realise that’s a bit of a pain…”

  His accent was broad, thickly Northern and Zack knew he needed to be careful not to mimic it.

  “You realise there’s a clause in the contract if the building wasn’t fit for purpose on December twentieth so we can use it for Christmas dinner?” He managed to ignore an alpaca that was lingering nearby. He was going to kill his fucking cousin.

  Jez Hammond, site manager non-extraordinaire, nodded and made a noise that could be interpreted as an agreement. “I realise that, as does the company. However, there was some issues with laying the foundations that’s slowed us down and we’ve encountered a problem with labour.”

  Zack looked at the site, the half-finished shell of a building and the surrounding rubble. “What’s the issue with labour?” He could see maybe four men at work and even though he wasn’t an expert on construction, even he knew that this wasn’t enough.

  “The usual shortage. Contractors, you know?”

  The alpaca made an odd snorting noise and edged closer, its mouth slightly hung open, displaying large teeth.

  Jake was going to die.

  And then possibly be used as alpaca food.

  “I don’t know. I manage a care home for the elderly. Working with builders, electricians, plasterers, plumbers—that isn’t my speciality. It’s what I’m paying you for. And right now, I can count the number of people working on this project on one hand.”

  The alpaca came closer. It nudged Jez’s arm and made a strange sound again. A rather excited sound. One Zack was wary of. He was going to fucking kill Jake, even if it would upset his aunt.

  “I’m doing what I can, son. We were running behind, but we should’ve been done in time for Christmas so you could use the hall for your do, but the lass at the hotel on the hill has paid over the odds for labourers so we’re down. If these bloody schools would stop encouraging kids to go to university to study bleeding Harry Potter and get them in proper work instead, we wouldn’t be so far behind.” Jez patted his shapely beer belly.

  Zack’s words froze in his mouth. Not because the temperature was skating lower than normal for this time of year, but because the alpaca’s expression had turned to one of sheer delight as it started to sink its teeth into the thick fleece of the site manager’s coat. It was an action Zack could only attribute to fate.

  “Holy fuck!” Jez yelled, yanking his arm away. But the alpaca’s teeth were firmly sunk into the material. “Get this bastard animal off my bleeding arm? I thought this was a care home, not a freaking petting zoo with sadistic fucking beasts.” He carried on pulling his arm away from the set jaws of the alpaca.

  “I’m going to feed Jake limb by limb to his new fucking pets,” Zack muttered under his breath, trying to entice the alpaca away.

  He saw Lee Barnes, Jake’s farmhand trying to round up the rest of the escaped animals and shouted him over. Lee strode over, taking his own sweet time. He was dressed in just a T-shirt and ripped jeans, oblivious to the cold.

  “We have a situation.” Zack pointed at the animal. “Please let my cousin know he’s going to be in a situation later. Where the hell have these creatures come from? And why?”

  Lee shrugged. He was a man of few words at the best of times, preferring to communicate through the set of drums he hit most weekends. He leaned over to the creature and blew at its nose. The alpaca gave a gentle snort and released its death chomp.

  “Sorry about that.” Lee didn’t look that sorry. “I’ll get rounding them up.”

  “Make sure you do.” Zack turned back towards Jez. “Why can’t you stop your contractors from working on the hotel and get them back down here?”

  Jez rubbed at his arm. “We don’t have the budget to pay them what the lass up there has agreed to. And they’ll only be a couple of weeks, then they’ll come back down here and finish off. I’m sorry, Zack, but there ain’t much more I can do.”

  “I’ll see about upping the budget.” Zack rubbed his face. He hadn’t slept well the night before, which wasn’t unusual, but he could do with climbing into bed in one of the unoccupied rooms—or hell, even May Pearson’s room because she didn’t move from her sofa in front of the TV—and collapsing for an hour or six. “Find out how much more she’s paying them and let me know.”

  Jez shook his head. “But then you’ll be stuck paying that rate until the job’s done. It’s not just extra cash over two weeks, you’ll end up going right over. If I were you, I’d hang on till the lass has had her work done. It’s only an extension and from what I hear it’s pretty straightforward.” He looked to where Lee was herding the alpacas, apparently turning into the animal whisperer. “How do you think those animals taste?”

  “Not as good as revenge will when I get hold of Jake.”

  Zack felt the heat smother him as he entered the care home. It was always warmer than he liked but he wasn’t important here: the sixty-three residents were, and if you were elderly or not in the best of health then heat was important.

  Unless you were Mr McNeild. In which case you had every window open, plus the door to your patio propped wide and a fan on. It was a room where Zack would find refuge on a warm summer’s day, and maybe at the end of a shift partake in something to take the edge off. Mr McNeild still had every one of his marbles, and possibly a few of someone else’s. The only thing he didn’t have was
mobility, although Zack had seen him race across the bowling green to chase off the odd cat more than once before now. And he was pretty speedy then.

  “I heard there’s a delay on the ballroom.”

  He stopped in his tracks, not sure if the dulcet tones of Veronica Moore were welcome right now or not. He also wasn’t sure how she knew, given that he’d only just found out himself.

  “Afternoon, Gran,” he said, spinning round to see the small but sturdy old lady he’d known pretty much all his life. He’d been in the same primary school class as her granddaughter, Vanessa, and had felt the power of Gran’s right hand on the back of his head when he’d tried sneaking out a dirty magazine from the post office that she’d always run.

  “I notice you didn’t put the ‘good’ on the front of afternoon there, Zack Maynard,” Gran said. “I also notice you look like you developed a new way to murder someone and dispose of the body without being caught.”

  He found himself smiling. “Jake. And his fu… flipping alpaca monsters. And that stupid site manager. Plus, the idiot woman who bought the old building and is trying to set up a boutique hotel in Severton.” His smile faded, knowing that the list could continue. His mood darkened to the same colour as the river during a nighttime storm.

  Gran eyed him. “So where do you start? I’m not sure your dad would thank you if he lost Jake any time soon. Best let him live a little longer and maybe stuff his exhaust with manure like you did last time.”

  “He’s still checking his exhaust every time he takes the Range Rover out. It didn’t help that Scott stuffed it full of mashed potatoes two weeks after the manure,” Zack said.

  He truly loved his family. His two brothers, Scott and Alex and his cousins, Jake and Rayah, were the reason he’d come back to Severton after working in Manchester for three years once he’d graduated. They’d all drifted back to their hometown, even after swearing as teenagers that they were going to leave and never return, but the small town pulled them back home like a magnet.