by Alexis Davie
Adam whirled around, his eyes flashing. “You’re just so damn infuriating!” he snapped. “I—I never know where I stand with you!”
Isabella was taken aback by the candid confession.
“Where you stand?” she echoed. “What do you mean?” Adam gazed at her, his expression suddenly indecipherable.
“You don’t think about that time in the hot tub before you left for New York, do you?” he asked.
Goosebumps exploded over Isabella’s skin. “I—”
She didn’t know how to answer.
They had been drunk after some soiree Brandon and Sabrina had hosted.
“It was a kiss,” she mumbled, her heart hammering. “I—”
“It was more than a kiss,” Adam exclaimed, “and you know it!”
At once, Isabella realized she had buried the memory deep in the back of her mind, not wanting to admit that she had been in love with Adam since they were teenagers.
“You ran away and left me here with them,” he spat.
The hurt in his voice and the emotion in his eyes told Isabella that Adam had stayed here because he was waiting for her to come back.
His coffee eyes burned into hers, and he nodded almost imperceivably. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses and return home… where you belong.”
A wash of conflicting emotions threatened to overpower Isabella as she returned his longing gaze. She had been running from Adam, from her feelings for him, and it was about time she admitted it to herself.
A slow, relieved smile graced Adam’s mouth. In a second, he was at her side, embracing her warmly.
“You see it, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “You belong with me.”
Isabella started to shake her head.
“We can’t,” she murmured. “What will our parents say? What will everyone else say?”
“If we spend our whole lives worrying about everyone else,” Adam said, “we’ll never be happy. We’ve stayed apart this long, under the guise of hating one another, and for what? To appease our miserable parents? They can’t stand to be in the same room together! My mom took off without a word to even me!”
“They think we dislike one another, too,” Isabella reminded him.
Adam shook his dark head.
“It’s a moot point now,” he told her. “They’re going to get divorced. There is nothing taboo or wrong about it if we’re not stepsiblings anymore.”
Isabella cocked her head to the side and stared at him, her pulse quickening as she considered what he was saying.
Could we make this work? she asked herself. If Sabrina and Dad split up, he’s right, there’s nothing forbidden—
“There you are!”
The door flew inward, and they both guiltily jumped out of each other’s arms as Brandon strode into the room, a huge smile on his face.
A spark of alarm lit Isabella’s mind.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked nervously, casting Adam a sidelong look.
“Sabrina is home!” her father announced, and Isabella’s knees went weak as she recognized the implication of what he was saying.
“Is she?” she mumbled, and Brandon nodded happily.
“We are going to try counseling. I just thought I would tell you that you can head back to New York now.”
Her father placed a prefectural kiss on her head and sauntered out of the den, humming to himself while Isabella’s world crashed around her feet.
* * *
Adam slipped the key into the lock and entered the long hallway, flicking on the light as he moved. The condo was dark except for the flickering of the city beyond the vast windows.
He paused in the living room to fix himself a drink from the bar, his heart hammering as it always did when he slipped away from Scarlet Oak. Bears did not belong in the city. It was a dangerous place for him to be.
A stiff scotch in hand, he stepped onto the wraparound balcony, Central Park below, and inhaled sharply before downing it in one sip.
“You beat me here.”
He whirled, surprised he had not heard Isabella enter.
“I did,” he agreed, extending his free hand to draw her toward him. She hesitated, gazing at him from the doorway.
“How much longer are we going to do this?” she sighed. “You don’t belong here. You can’t stand to be here. I see it all over your face.”
“I do belong here,” Adam stated, reaching forward to snatch her by the waist, his mouth latching onto hers. “I belong with you.”
Isabella tensed against his broad chest, but she allowed her head to fall upon his breastbone, as if listening to his heart.
“We need to figure something else out, Adam,” she murmured woefully. “I want to be with you always, not just when you can get away or when I have free time.”
“Then you should come home,” he told her.
“We both know I can’t,” she sighed. “Even without my job…”
“Well,” Adam drawled slowly. “I happen to know that my mother is searching for divorce lawyers this weekend. Your dad crossed the line this time. Slept with one of Mom’s good friends.”
Isabella jerked her head back and stared at him. The news that her father had outdone himself with his philandering ways was truly no shock, but to hear that Adam’s mother was considering a divorce? That was new territory.
“Really?” she gasped hopefully. Almost as soon as she said it, she groaned aloud. “Why does their misery have to mean happiness for us?” she moaned. “I feel like the worst person in the world.”
“You are not the worst person in the world,” Adam said gently. “You are a woman deserving of great things.” She glanced at him again.
“And you’re great things, are you?”
“Isn’t that why you married me?” Adam murmured, and Isabella laughed, burying her face back into his chest.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice a soft purr. “It is.” Her hands slipped underneath his belt to cup his buttocks, pressing his toned form against her. “Remind me of the other reasons I married you, Mr. Hayes,” she whispered, her nails digging into his flesh.
“It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Hayes.”
* * *
THE END
9
The Rescue
“Good morning, baby.”
The light trace of fingers over Henry’s shoulders caused him to open his eyes before he was ready, a shiver of inexplicable annoyance coursing through him. He wasn’t even awake yet, why was he being bothered?
He groaned and turned to look at the woman beside him, blinking several times as he remembered what had happened the previous night.
What was her name? Liz? Liza? She purred and stretched, her naked form much less appealing in the light of day. That was nothing new, though; it always seemed to be the case when the bourbon wore off and dawn crept through the blinds of Henry’s bachelor apartment.
What is she still doing here? he wondered angrily, slowly sitting up against the sheets.
“Breakfast?” the woman cooed, her voice nasal, and Henry shook his head.
“No,” he replied, his voice still gruff with sleep. “I have to get to work.” She stared at him with wide, surprised eyes.
“It’s Sunday,” she told him, and his green eyes narrowed dangerously.
“I know,” he retorted, trying to keep his temper in check. After all, it wasn’t her fault he hadn’t thrown her out after their tryst. He had obviously fallen asleep before he’d had the chance.
“Can I at least make some coffee?” the woman muttered, and Henry instantly felt contrite by her hurt expression.
“Of course,” he said, ashamed with himself for behaving in such a way. The least she deserved was for him to be respectful of her. “Don’t mind me; I’m a little grouchy before my caffeine fix.”
The woman eyed him and nodded slowly, a smile forming on her lips.
“I can see that!” she chirped, and Henry hoped he hadn’t given her false hope. After she’d ha
d her cup of joe, he was sending her on her way.
The woman busied herself in the kitchen as Henry rose from the bed, watching her work. He again tried to remember her name.
Like so many of the others, he had picked her up in a bar the previous night. He remembered she was a nurse, having seen her around a few times during routine calls at Scarlet Oak Memorial, and they had chatted every now and then, but this had been their first sexual encounter. As the coffee maker began to spurt, Henry thought that it would more than likely be their last.
“How do you take yours?” she asked.
“Black.” He disappeared into the bathroom, pausing to stare at his haggard reflection in the mirror.
I really overdid it last night, he thought grimly, leaning over the running faucet to splash cold water over his dark five o’clock shadow. He didn’t need to go into the precinct that morning, but it was a good excuse to get away from his latest conquest. Besides, there was an ever-growing mound of paperwork that needed to get done. A few hours today wouldn’t do him any harm.
Henry picked up his toothbrush to scrub at his pristine white fangs. His incisors were throbbing, threatening to break through the gum line, and as he inspected his scruffy face more closely, he saw remnants of a shift along his hairline.
Did I shift last night?
A smidgen of alarm coursed through him.
He reasoned that he probably had not. After all, the woman in his apartment was still there. If he had shown his true nature, she likely would have run screaming for the hills by then.
“Coffee’s ready, babe!”
The term of endearment made Henry cringe, but he made no comment as he replaced his toothbrush and went out to join her in the kitchen.
She’s a nester, that’s for sure, he told himself. You can never see her again. Nesters are the hardest to get rid of.
She was rambling on about something, though Henry had already tuned her out, his mind fixated on the work he hoped to get done today as he took a sip of his coffee and scrounged around the tiny apartment for an appropriate outfit. He really needed to do some laundry. Did he even have anything clean to wear?
“So, detective? What do you think?”
Henry’s emerald eyes darted toward her, his brow furrowed.
“Pardon?” he asked, realizing he had not heard a single word.
She smiled patiently. “I was thinking we might have dinner tonight. What do you think?”
Yep. stage five clinger. I called it. Henry shook his dark blonde head and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, knowing that he had come to the inevitable time. “I can’t.”
The woman’s smile faded slightly, and she folded her arms over her chest. “Working late?” she asked curiously. Henry shook his head again.
“No,” he said flatly. “I just have no interest in seeing you again.”
Shock and anger filled the woman’s face, but it was a look Henry had seen many times on many women over the years.
“Well, that’s classy,” she snapped, slamming her mug down on the counter. She shoved herself off the ledge and looked about for her clothes, her face stained red.
“Sorry,” Henry said, even though he didn’t mean it. It wasn’t like he pretended to be in love with them, or like he made them any promises. Why couldn’t they just accept a glorious night of meaningless sex and then be on their way?
A tense silence grew as the woman haphazardly threw on her outfit, her lips pursed into a fine line. Without another word, she spun and left the apartment, her shoes in hand. The door slammed, reverberating the apartment at its core, but Henry was not overly perturbed by the action. He had seen worse.
He did have to admit that her fiery departure had caused a stirring in his loins, though.
I should have at least gone one more round with her before sending her off, he lamented. It was too late for that now. He hadn’t played his cards very well.
Grunting quietly, Henry turned back to his coffee and took another acrid sip. This was exactly why he had no interest in relationships: there was too much drama involved. Life was much simpler when he just lived one day to the next. That way, there were no expectations and no broken hearts. Sophia had taught him that the hard way.
The unexpected thought of his ex sent a chill of apprehension through Henry’s body.
She is the last person in the world I should be thinking about right now, he thought grimly, swigging back the remainder of his coffee. He forced his mind into work mode, but the fleeting image of his former lover seemed ingrained in his psyche. His day was already shaping up beautifully, and he hadn’t even been awake for half an hour.
* * *
Sophia hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, her nerves taut with worry.
It’s okay now, she told herself. You have nothing to fear. But no matter how much she tried to reassure herself, she knew that her concerns were not unfounded.
It was midmorning, and Sophia was exhausted. She was contemplating a nap, but like everything else, it required careful deliberation.
Of course she was exhausted; she hadn’t slept in seven years. It wasn’t much of a fabrication: the last few years of her life had been a nightmare, one that she had managed to contain from everyone else in her life.
With Lennon’s help, she thought. Don’t forget the crucial role he played in all this.
But the time for hiding was finally done, despite the insurmountable fear that had plagued her.
The shrill sound of the phone shocked her back to reality, and Sophia gazed at it, the blood draining from her face. Was it Lennon? Had he found her already? She was delusional to believe that she would be able to stay off Lennon’s radar while still living in Scarlet Oak. Her hope had been that he would spend more time in DC, working with the CIA, and less time in her hometown, where they had set up residence. Like all her other hopes, though, this one was also about to be shattered.
The phone continued to ring, and with trembling hands, Sophia answered it.
“Hello?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, expecting the response to be menacing and full of malice.
“Sophia?” Sophia exhaled in a whoosh of air, relief flooding her body. “Honey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” Sophia responded quickly, forcing a note of cheerfulness into her voice. “How are you?”
“You know how I am,” her mother, Catherine, said shortly. “I am worried about you. How could you just leave Lennon like that? You know he’s called here half a dozen times looking for you? He’s out of his mind!”
Terror shot through Sophia like a knife. “You didn’t tell him where I am, did you?” I’m not ready to deal with him, not yet! It’s too soon, it’s—
“You made me promise not to tell him anything, remember?” Catherine answered. “But you’re putting me in a terrible position here, Sophia, especially since I don’t know any of the details.”
Sophia swallowed the bile rising in her throat. What could she tell her mother? That Lennon had beat her almost from the day they had moved in together? That he worked for the government and no one would believe her if she reported him. Sophia even had doubts her own mother would believe her side of the story.
She said none of those things.
“It’s between me and Lennon,” she replied quietly. “I have to go.”
“Oh, Sophia, come on!” her mother groaned. “You have punished him enough! Whatever it is, he’ll say sorry, and you two can go back to—”
“Bye, Mom.” Sophia ended the call before Catherine could finish her sentence, tears pooling in her gentle hazel eyes.
Slumping into a chair at the kitchen table, she peered outside the window into the bright backyard, oblivious to the gorgeous Georgia sunshine. It was as if a dark cloud had enshrouded her, a cloud she could not escape, no matter where she ran. The light and joy in the world had been methodically sucked from her life, and all that was left was cold, black fear.
I’m all alone, she thought
miserably, not understanding how Lennon had managed to alienate her from everyone she had ever loved.
Wistfully, she gazed at the phone again, this time willing it to ring with good news or a comforting voice, at least. But no one except her mother knew where she was. For now, in any case.
It wouldn’t be too long until Lennon found her, and Sophia knew it. He worked for the CIA, after all. Then again, she had done her best to ensure her anonymity, renting the secluded farmhouse under her sister’s name and quitting her job at the Scarlet Oak Special Education Center. She had even considered calling Henry Sandz for help, albeit briefly. He was a detective from the Scarlet Oak Police Department, so he might be able to help her unravel the mess she had fallen into with Lennon.
It had been the one spark of hope that guided her through the days, but as time passed and her escape grew closer, she realized how foolish a thought it was. Even if Henry had forgiven her for their break-up all those years ago, he was only a detective. He would be no match for Lennon’s connection with the CIA.
No, Sophia told herself firmly. Dragging Henry into this will only put him in danger, too. I can’t risk it.
Oddly, even after all the years that had passed, the thought of Henry still made her heart flutter slightly, as if he had seized a piece of her, and she would never get it back.
He was her first and only love. He had treated her like a princess, but she had been unable to see it. She had been too young and stupid to accept that a man as forthcoming as Henry could be a good mate. Instead, she had been fooled by the flash and phony Lennon had presented—she had been too blind to see just how evil he was.
But Sophia had a much more serious and pressing issue than rehashing a play-by-play of her high school romance. Lennon was out there, looking for her, and he was dangerous in every way imaginable. Her hope was that, in time, he would move on and forget about her. In the meantime, all Sophia could do was lay low and wait for it to blow over.
