Secret Love

by Drake, Tabatha

  Chapter 39

  Fox

  “Hey, Darla,” I say into the phone. “It’s me.”

  I hear a sharp inhale behind the silence. I wait, casually pacing the carpet at the foot of my bed. Her curiosity will win her over, eventually.

  “Uh,” she finally says. “Hey, Channing.”

  I chuckle. “Hi.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “You gave it to me, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” She clears her throat. “What’s up?”

  “I’m just calling to check on you,” I say. “How are you holding up?”

  “You mean after the whole almost getting murdered thing?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I mean exactly after that.”

  “I’m… peachy.”

  I smile. “Kept your sense of humor, though.”

  “It’s a defense mechanism, I assure you.” She pauses. “Honestly, I’m taking some time off from school, so…”

  “How long?” I ask.

  “Not sure, actually…”

  Her voice fades. I ache with empathy, feeling like a lost teenager all over again.

  “Well, I’m nearby if you want to talk, all right?” I say. “It’s cliché, but I know what you’re going through. Talking helps.”

  She snorts. “Oh, now you wanna be friends, huh?”

  “I do.”

  “I thought that costs too much,” she says, amused.

  “It does, but you can afford it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, do me a favor. Are you near a computer?”

  “Uh…” She chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah.”

  “Check your bank balance for me.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  Darla shifts around audibly until I hear her sit down, followed by the quick tapping of a laptop keyboard as she hums lightly to herself.

  Then, she gasps. “Excuse me. What the fuck?!”

  I grin. “Enjoy your vacation, Darla. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Um…” She makes a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a scream. “Okay…”

  I hang up as a light knock strikes my door. It’s just after noon which means Mrs. Clark probably has some errands for me to run.

  “Coming—!”

  I throw a shirt on before moving toward the door. My fingers brush through my beard. It’s gotten thicker over the last few days. I can expect a light scolding from Mrs. Clark about that…

  I open the door and my heart skips a beat.

  Her lips twitch with a light smile hidden just beneath the surface. “Hi, Fox,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.

  “Dani…”

  I say her name aloud for my own benefit. For all I know, I fell and hit my head and I’m hallucinating her face on Mrs. Clark. Short, black hair. Big, blue eyes. A fresh bandage over an otherwise perfect face.

  And her arm tucked in a white sling.

  “Sorry for dropping in on you like this,” she says.

  “That’s all right,” I say. “It’s… good to see you.”

  “You, too.” She smiles. “So, you’re not in jail.”

  “I’m not. I heard you had something to do with that.”

  “I might have.”

  “Thank you.”

  She bows her head. “You’re welcome.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a DVD case. “So, I’ve got a screener for Night Trials, Part 3. I figured we can curl up with some popcorn and check it out.”

  “You came all the way out here to watch a movie with me?” I ask.

  She lowers the case to her side. “Not really, but…” Her eyes stay on mine, soft and perfect. “I just really needed to see you again, Fox.”

  My gaze drops to the sling on her arm. “You’re not mad?”

  “Why?” She smirks. “Because you shot me?”

  I wince. “Yeah.”

  “A little bit.” She tilts her head. “It could be worse, though, right? It’s not like you’re not going to make it up to me.”

  “Am I?”

  “You better.”

  My heart beats a little faster. “Does Bennett know you’re out here?”

  “I’m sure he’s noticed I’m gone by now.” She chuckles. “He won’t be happy about it, but… he’ll live.”

  I exhale slowly. “Look, Dani…”

  “Fox, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about all the different responsibilities I left behind or all the different reasons why you think we can’t be together, legitimate as they may be. I just want to get off-the-grid for a little while. With you.” She pauses, her eyes glistening. “Is that too much to ask? If it is, I’ll leave and never come back. I’d just like to hear it from you. I think I deserve that much, don’t you?”

  Here she is. Little Miss Perfect staring back at me with that spark in her eyes.

  “Yeah,” I say, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Of course, you can stay.”

  “Thank you.” She holds the DVD up again and smiles a little wider. “Movie?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t watch that, Dani.”

  “Oh.” She shrugs and slides it back inside her open purse. “We can watch something else if you want.”

  “No, I mean… if I watch that without Mrs. Clark, she’ll go mental.”

  Dani shines in the afternoon sun as she laughs. “In that case, she’s more than welcome to join us.”

  “You’ve got a deal, then.”

  Her knees bounce beneath her. “So, I came all the way out here for more than a movie. Are you going to kiss me or what?”

  I smile. “I would, but… we have an audience.”

  I gesture over her shoulder. She looks back at the house just in time to see Mrs. Clark drop the curtain down and disappear from the window.

  “Oh…” She chuckles softly. “Doesn’t she have a hobby?”

  “Spying on me is her hobby.”

  “Well, she has good taste.” Her eyes peek around my shoulder. “Can I come in?”

  “Please.”

  I step to the side and she walks forward into the cabin. My nose instantly twitches, overwhelmed by that stunning apple aroma. My mouth waters for her as I close the door.

  I turn around and there she is, standing beneath me with those perfect, expectant eyes.

  Dani. My beautiful Dani.

  “So, do you want to watch it now, or…?”

  “It’s a little early for a movie,” I note.

  “I agree.”

  She tosses her purse to the floor and rushes into my arms.

  I give her a firm kiss, never wanting to let go.

  “Fox.”

  I rest my lips on her forehead. “Yeah?”

  She trembles in my arms. “I love you, too.”

  I nearly dissolve. After all these years. After so much pain. Four little words are all it takes to bring me back to life again.

  “You heard that?” I ask.

  She nods and kisses me again.

  My laugh overwhelms me. “Dammit, Dani…”

  “What?” She smiles, biting her lip.

  “I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

  “You wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard if you did.”

  “Bodyguard?” I ask.

  “Due to an unfortunate turn of events, I’m in the market for a new one. Are you up for the job?”

  “Depends,” I say as I wrap my arms around her waist. “Does it come with any… benefits?”

  “Maybe,” she teases. “Usually, I’d leave those negotiations up to my agent, but… it looks like I’m in the market for a new one of those as well.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Dani nods. “I don’t want to go back, Fox,” she whispers. “I’m not even sure I can after what I’ve…” She pauses and looks me in the eye. “I’m not that girl anymore.”

  I brush her hair out of her face. “I know what that feels like.” I kiss the bridge between her eyebrows. “But…”
/>
  She flinches. “What?”

  I smirk. “I’m not sure you can afford me,” I say. “My skills are highly sought after…”

  Her devious eyes narrow. “I’m sure we can negotiate a deal that’ll leave us both satisfied.”

  My cock twitches, drawing me even closer to her little body. She tilts her head up and I kiss her once more, hard and fast. Our lips blend together perfectly, sparking a flame that’ll never blow out.

  “You have my attention, Ms. Roberts,” I say.

  She hums. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

  “Good.”

  I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me. I keep a close eye on her arm as I carry her to my bed, making sure not to hurt her further. It’s a promise I’ve made to her. A promise I’m determined not to break this time.

  I’ll never hurt her again.

  I’ll never leave her again.

  I’ll never stop loving her.

  I set her down and she lies back with her good hand hooked in my shirt, purposefully pulling me to lie on top of her.

  “Is there something you’d like me to call you?” she asks, our lips grazing.

  “Yes,” I answer, smiling. “Yours.”

  Chapter 40

  Dante

  I walk into his office with a smile on my face.

  Terrance Vaughn looks up at me from his desk. A bit of frustration crosses his eyes, but it quickly disappears once he sees my grin. He doesn’t say a word. No salutations or pleasantries. I can’t really blame him, though.

  He knows he’s about to die.

  “Good evening, Mr. Vaughn.” I stay on my feet, ignoring the chair at the other side of his desk. Intimidation 101. Always stay standing.

  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. “Good evening,” he says. He lowers his pen to hide the shaking in his fingers.

  I stare him down. What a pathetic man. Middle-aged. More gray than brown in what’s left of his hair. He let himself go years ago. The world will probably remember him for what he used to be, but they’ll get over his death quickly.

  “Do you know who I am?” I ask.

  He’s not sure how to answer. He may not know my name, but he sure as shit knows who I am. “Yes,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “My name is Dante Hart. I work for Antony Zappia.”

  He presses his fingertips into his desk. “I just need a little more—”

  “You’ve run out of time, Mr. Vaughn,” I interrupt. “I am not a debt collector. I’m the one Mr. Zappia sends in when the money doesn’t matter anymore, and he requires something… personal instead.”

  He lowers his head. “Please… don’t kill me…”

  I let my eyes wander his office. I’ve heard this part plenty before. They all do it. Every one of them tries to reason with me or appeal to my humanity.

  “I’m begging you, Mr. Hart.”

  I admire them for the attempt, I really do, but they’d be better off reaching for a weapon instead. They have greater odds trying to kill me first than of me letting them walk.

  “I’ll give you anything.”

  I look at the bookshelf behind him. He’s not big into fiction. Books on business and ballet and music line the shelves with no real order or system from what I can tell. It annoys me, perhaps more than it should, but that also means I’ll get a little pleasure from killing him. More than usual, that is.

  A lonely photo sits on the middle shelf, about eye-level with him if he were to gaze over his shoulder. A girl, young, with long hair tied back in a tight bun on the top of her head. Petite and fit. She wears a skin-tight, dark-colored leotard and pink ballet shoes with one pointed foot raised high against a beam. Graceful, elegant.

  Familiar.

  I sit down on the edge of his desk and point at the frame. “Is that your daughter, Mr. Vaughn?”

  He glances back. “Yes, sir.”

  “May I?”

  His eyes shake with confusion, but he reaches back and grabs the frame. I take it from him and hold it closer to my face to take in the finer details of her. Green eyes. Brunette hair. Not a single wrinkle in her crème-colored skin. Athletic, but not overly muscular. Poised to perfection.

  I lick my lips. “How old is your daughter, Mr. Vaughn?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Does she dance for your company?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she here tonight?”

  He furrows his brow. “Yes.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “… Lucy.”

  I offer him the frame and he takes it back. His hands jitter so badly he can’t set it on the shelf behind him. Finally, he gives up and lays it down flat before spinning around to me, too frightened to keep his back to me for very long.

  I smile. “How much money do you owe Mr. Zappia?”

  “Uh…” He twitches even more. “Twenty-thousand, I think.”

  Chump change. This guy must be deep in the red if he can’t handle that. This hit is hardly worth the effort at all.

  I stand up and step behind his desk. He tremors in his chair beside me. “Mr. Vaughn, what if I told you that you and I could come to an arrangement?”

  I set the frame up so I get another look at the dancer within. My eyes lock on hers, blissfully stunned for the first time since…

  Well, ever.

  Mr. Vaughn stares at me over his shoulder, his eyes jerking down to my hands in search of a knife or anything else I might shiv him with. Not my style, but I’ll let him fear it anyway.

  “What kind of arrangement?” he asks.

  I wander back around to the front of his desk and take a seat in the chair across from him. “I will be more than happy to take care of your debt to Mr. Zappia tonight. In exchange, I’d like to meet your daughter.”

  “What?” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand…”

  I gesture to the frame. “She’s rather beautiful. I’d like to meet her.”

  His cheeks turn red with fear. “No, please. Don’t hurt my daughter. She’s all I have.”

  “I don’t want to hurt your daughter,” I say. “I simply request the pleasure of her company for the evening.”

  “You…” He shifts in his chair. “You’ll pay my debt for a night with my daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  He deflates and awkward laughter spills off his lips. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You will pay me back for the loan, of course. I am not in the business of good deeds.”

  “And Mr. Zappia…” he stutters, “will allow this?”

  “Mr. Zappia cares about his money. It doesn’t matter how he gets it. If I go back to him tonight with enough to cover your debt plus interest, he won’t bat an eye as he marks your name off his books with a big, black pen. Then, you will be indebted to me instead, and I am far more lenient than Mr. Zappia.”

  There’s hope in his eyes. Fearful hope. “And my daughter?”

  “Tomorrow morning, I’ll send her back to you with an adjusted sum and a plan for payments that you will make directly to me until your debt is paid… assuming she cooperates, of course. If not, I’ll send her back with a few broken toes and you and I will have another conversation.”

  “Please,” he begs. “She’s innocent. Don’t bring her into this—”

  “The choice is yours, Mr. Vaughn. Your life or her virtue. In fact, we can safely say the more enthusiastic she is, the more reasonable your payment plan will be.”

  “You won’t hurt her?”

  “You have my word, Mr. Vaughn,” I say. “As long as you keep up with your payments, neither of you will be harmed in any way.”

  He closes his eyes in defeat. “May I speak with her privately first?”

  “Of course.”

  He pushes down on his desk to stand up from his chair and pauses with a look of dread on his face — but not because of me. “She won’t like this,” he says dryly.

  “I trust you’ll convince her it’s the right thin
g to do.” I look at the frame once more and then gaze along the subtle curve of her hip. “She seems the reasonable sort.”

  His brow bounces. “Do you have a daughter of your own, Mr. Hart?”

  “No.”

  “I figured…” he mutters, pushing his fingers back through his thin, graying hair. “Young girls… they aren’t like they used to be, you know.” He walks across the office and pulls the door open while I wonder what he means. “I’ll go get her. You stay here—” He spins around quickly and offers an apologetic smile. “If you don’t mind.”

  I say nothing in response. Finally, he leaves, closing the door behind him with a quick jerking motion, eager to put as many walls between the two of us as possible.

  The innocent ballerina gazes back at me from her frame. I can already imagine her beneath me. Wide-eyed and trembling. Small and lithe. Pure as freshly fallen snow…

  Until I’m through with her, that is.

  My phone vibrates once. I retrieve it from the inner pocket of my jacket. There’s a new text message. Sender unknown, but I know who it’s from.

  Black has gone dark. Await further instructions.

  I bite down, hard.

  Dammit, Fox.

  What did you do?

  * * *

  Thank you so much for reading SECRET LOVE! The saga has only just begun…

  Dante Hart came to kill my father, but he took me home instead…

  TAINTED LOVE, Book 3 of the Killer Love saga, is coming on September 17, 2019. Descend further into the dark and dangerous world of Snake Eyes through the eyes of one of their most ruthless agents…

  Pre-order TAINTED LOVE to receive it on release day!

  Books by Tabatha Drake

  Killer Love Saga

  Killer Love

  Secret Love

  Coming Soon…

  Tainted Love

  Broken Love

  Mad Love

  Cruel Love

  Endless Love

  For more, go to

  tabathadrake.com/books

  About the Author

  Tabatha Drake is the dark and dirty alter ego of USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Tabatha Kiss! She lives in Chicago, Illinois. You can probably catch her huddled up in a hoodie, reading a good romance beneath a tree with her trusty husky by her side. She enjoys roller derby, sushi, and is always searching for her forever bad boy. In the meantime, she writes.