Stolen Love (The Wildheart Duet Book 1)

by Murphy Wallace

  He speaks up first. “Are you okay?”

  I struggle to speak. I’m convinced that I no longer know how to form sentences. Finally, I utter, “I’m perfect.”

  “Yeah, you are.” He says before covering my body with his. He takes both of my hands in his once more and lifts them above my head. He kisses me with passion and meaning. He lets go of my hands and reaches behind himself for a moment. When he brings his hand back into view, I see that he has a condom. He unwraps it and makes a show of putting on.

  “Cocky are we?” I joke.

  “You’re about to find out.” He says as he places one of my legs over his shoulder and enters me gently. The pleasure is insurmountable. I’ve never been this high before.

  “Oh my God,” I sigh.

  “Adrienne. You feel so good. So warm and tight. I could get lost in you forever.”

  He puts my leg down and is once again bracing himself on the bed between my legs. He cups my cheek and brings his lips to mine. He pushes himself in further, before retreating, over and over. Each time bringing me higher and higher, threatening to push me over the precipice once again.

  As our moans of ecstasy intertwine with each other, as the room gets hotter with every push and pull, his shudders end where mine begin. As two become one, we rise and fall together. As soon as he’s finished, he looks down at me, telling me so many things with one stare. He may be able to warm my body with his touch, but the heat from his gaze is enough to set my soul on fire.

  Present Day

  Lochlan

  I just got back from the city and I’m still on fire. I can’t fucking believe Trent was that close. When I walk through the door to my office, Skylar, my second in command, is there with Carter and Reese. At 6’ 5”, 310 pounds, Skylar makes even me look like a dwarf. His black, military-style haircut and dark beady-eyed stare makes him look every bit as sinister as he actually is. I hired him because he’s the best at what he does, hunting and killing. Skylar is the number one reason why we’ve been able to keep track of Trent as much as we have been. As much as I hate Trent, even I can’t deny that the guy has an amazing ability to stay hidden.

  “Who the fuck was supposed to be on guard this morning?”

  Carter and Reese, who are standing in my path quickly move out of my way with terrified looks on their faces. They’re smart and promising, ready to follow in Skylar’s footsteps. Today is the day that they’ll get a first-hand look at one of the responsibilities they will have to take on in order to move up the ladder.

  “Barrett,” He answers.

  “Where is he?” I demand.

  “Down in the pit.”

  “Good. We’ll deal with him later. Do we still have sights on Trent or is he gone?” I ask as I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ease the growing ache in my head. Skylar looks at me with an evil grin on his face.

  “What?”

  “We weren’t able to catch up with him, but we got a lead. As soon as I realized that Barret dropped the ball, I sent Robbie and Mica into the city after you. While they were en route, we were able to tap into the CCTV cameras and do some surveillance in the area. That’s how we found his car down the street from the doc’s office. Everything went down before Robbie and Mica had a chance to get to him, but when they got there, they found an envelope in the gutter near where his car was. We have an address. I don’t know if it’s business, personal, or whatever, but it’s something.”

  “Where is it?” I ask. He hands over the envelope to me and I take a look at the address.

  Marshall J. Trent

  1397 Sutton Lane

  Beaver Falls, PA

  I look down at the envelope in disbelief. It can’t be. I don’t know how long I stand there, but I’m frozen in shock as the memories swirl around in my head.

  Carolina. She was beautiful with long, wavy, golden hair, soft, chocolate eyes, and a caramel tan. Not one day goes by that I don’t think about her. Think about the fact that we were supposed to be married. That she was carrying my child. We were young, but the love that we had for each other was strong. This was the address where her parents lived, where she grew up. There was a lake out back with a boat house, which was where we spent most of our time. It was out there, under a blanket of stars when we were seventeen that we professed our love for one another. It was on top of an old quilt, under the maple trees, where we first made love. We were still virgins and it was awkward and clumsy, but it meant more than anything in the world to both of us.

  It was out on the floating dock in the middle of the lake where she cried her eyes out while telling me that she was pregnant. It was there that I promised her I would always be there for her and our baby and that as long as we had each other, we would get through anything. And it was out there on the sandy bank of the water where I was found after trying to end my life a week after we laid them both to rest. I worked as a cook at a cafe in town and I was going to meet her at her parents’ house after my shift was over, like every other night. She ended up coming into town with her friend to see a movie and, instead of having her friend drive her home like she was supposed to, she decided to walk a few blocks over to the cafe to surprise me. The drunk driver that hit her in the crosswalk was one and a half times over the legal limit. I’ll never forget him either.

  Jimmy Hayes. He was the first person that I ever killed. He served 6 years of his 10-year sentence before he was granted parole due to over-crowding. When I found out that he was free, I tracked him down. One night, I followed him from his run-down, piece-of-shit apartment to a dirty, hole-in-the-wall bar down the street. A bar where he never should have been because of his probation. That only fueled my rage. I waited across the street for him for three hours before I saw him stumble through the doors and crash, face-first, onto the sidewalk out front. I pulled my crappy Toyota Tercel up to the curb and threw him into the back seat. Then, I drove him out to an old abandoned, rusted-out warehouse, strung him up, and waited for him to regain consciousness. Once he did, I made sure that he endured a slow and agonizing death.

  Each prick of my Kukri made him whimper. It wasn’t enough. Each punch with my brass knuckles made him cry out. It still wasn’t enough. Each slash from my machete made his blood run like a river, turning pink as it mixed with the falling rain. This was almost enough to satiate my fury. Each time that he would pass out from the pain, I would douse him with cold water to bring him back, and then I would start all over again.

  “Son of a bitch!” I roar as I crush the envelope inside of my fist before throwing it across the room.

  “What’s the matter, boss?” Skylar asks, confusion written all over his face.

  I’m filled with so much rage that I may actually black-out. Marshall is playing me and when I find him, I am going to take my time slicing him from limb to limb. He thinks that he’s known pain before, but he hasn’t seen anything yet.

  “Let’s go see Barrett,” I say, “I want to play.”

  Lana

  I sneak down the hall toward Lock’s office as quietly as possible. I tried staying in my room to calm down after all of the commotion in the city, but I’m too restless. I need details. I need to know what’s happening. There was always a part of me that thought Lock was lying about Marshall wanting to kill me, but after today, I’m not so sure.

  I hide away in the corner of the corridor where his office is, as I’ve done many times before. I’ve always tried listening to see if I could get details about anything; details about me, something to use as ammo against Lock, something regarding his business plans, anything that could keep me on my toes.

  “Do we still have sights on Trent or is he gone?” I hear Lock ask.

  No answer, and then, “What?” Lock asks again.

  Skylar speaks next, “We got a lead.” It’s been a while since they had any leads on him. I know that Lock has some aggression to dispense with, so I hope this will help calm him down a little. I don’t hear anything for a few moments. What’s happening? I’m getting frustr
ated. I wish I could be a fly on the wall in there sometimes. I just want to be able to see and not be seen, hear and not be heard. I can’t stand being in the dark all the time. It drives me—

  “Son of a bitch!” Lock screams. It scares the hell out of me and roots me to the spot. I’m trembling when I hear him say, “Let’s go see Barrett. I want to play.” Just as I turn and try to run away, I hear, “Lana! What the hell are you doing outside of my office?” He grabs me by the hair to keep me from going anywhere. I’m terrified that he’s going to turn his anger around on me.

  “I—” I gulp in a big breath of air while he turns me to face him. “I was scared, af— after this morning. I— I wanted to see if you had any information or anything.” I was sobbing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen.”

  I stand there, blubbering like an idiot and praying like hell that I haven’t gotten myself into trouble. His grip in my hair loosens and his hands come toward my face. He takes his thumbs and dries the tears falling down my cheeks. I stand there, dumbfounded, and watch him lick my tears off of his fingers with a dark gleam in his eye.

  “Shhh, I know you’re scared. You have every right to be after what happened this morning. But do you see why I try so hard to protect you? Now, do you understand?”

  I shake my head to let him know that I understand. And for once I’m not lying. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. Lock places his hands on of each side of my face before moving them down my neck and onto my shoulders.

  “Everything’s going to be fine. You want to know how I know that?”

  “How?” I answer, skeptically.

  He begins to walk us down a hall that leads to the pit before he responds to me. “Because we’re about to go show everyone what happens to them,” he starts off, speaking in a calm tone. But then he starts squeezing my shoulders as he shouts, “When they don’t do the mother-fucking job that I pay them to do!”

  December 2012

  Marshall

  “Do you know how badly I want to tear your lingerie from your body, throw you onto the bed, and lick you from head to toe?” I pull the elastic band of Adrienne’s panties away from her skin before letting it go again, snapping her right above her sweet ass.

  “Marshall!” she squeals, but I know she enjoys it. “If we don’t get a move on, I’m going to be late to my own graduation!”

  “Sweetheart, relax. We’re right on schedule, I promise. Plus, with Steele driving, we can just take this party into the car.” I skirt my fingers up and down her arms lightly.

  “Where are we going for dinner? Does it have to be a surprise?” she turns around, hands on her hips, and gives me the most pathetic pout ever, completely ignoring my comment that I made about the car.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes!” she screams.

  “I’m going to need a kiss first.” She stands there, skeptically, before rolling her eyes and moving in for a kiss. She tries to get away after a quick peck, but I capture her head and hold her in place, lips to lips. My tongue lashes out, licking over her bottom lip until she relents and opens her mouth for me. The taste of her drives me wild. For the past eight months, I’ve been lucky enough to taste her lips, touch her body, and make love to her whenever and wherever I’ve wanted. I’ll never get tired of it. I break the kiss off before I lose control and throw her in bed for real. She’s right, we do need to hurry.

  “So? Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Marshall William Trent!” she screams; her hands back on her hips. My God she’s sexy when she’s angry. I wrap her in my arms, hugging her to me, but release her when I feel my phone vibrate in my jacket pocket. I pull it out and take a look.

  Everything is set up and ready to go. See you when you get here.

  Adrienne

  Marshall turns to face me in the back of his limo. “I’m so proud of you. The combination of your brains and beauty astounds me.”

  He’s about to turn me into a blubbering mess. I barely made it through the commencement without crying.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I plead with him.

  “Adrienne, I just need you to trust me.”

  Shaking my head in frustration, I give him a half smile and he puts his arm around me to pull me closer. I can’t believe that he’s still in my life. I can’t believe how much I love him and that he loves me back. I feel like I’m going to wake up from a dream at any moment.

  * * *

  We’ve been driving for about an hour when we turn off the main road onto a long driveway. It’s lit by old-style lanterns hanging from posts on either side. The entire driveway, which is just wide enough for our car, is completely encompassed by woods.

  About one-hundred yards up, there’s a stone guard shack as well as a gorgeous, ornate wrought-iron gate, held in place by two stone columns on either side. There are vertical bars going across the expanse of the gate, which are as tall as the columns themselves. The top of the gate is adorned with a gorgeous pattern of iron filigree.

  Steele stops the car at the guard shack and gives him our names. The guard marks us off his list and waves us forward. There is a large, cursive letter “E”, in the middle of the gate, which splits down the middle as the gate begins to open.

  We continue up the drive for what seems like forever, until a soft light starts shining through the trees. We drive around one more turn before breaking free of the woods and start toward a palace-type structure.

  The building is shaped like a “U”, with a long section squared off by wings on the right and left. The white, stone walls rise up at least 70-feet, not including the dormers and turrets.

  There is a long concrete bridge connecting the drive to the courtyard, which guides us over the river that flows around the entire building. Once we pull up to the front entrance, I notice that there are candles lit everywhere; on the ground, in the windowsills. There are candelabras, both tall and short, topped with white candles in varying sizes.

  Steele pulls up and the doorman moves forward to open our door. Marshall gets out first and reaches for my hand, helping me out of the car.

  Hand in hand, we walk toward the entrance and are met by a set of very large, very thick wooden doors that curve up and come to a point on the top; much like the shape of a church window.

  When we get inside, Marshall tells me to wait by the door, while he speaks to the Maître d’. The inside is breathtaking. The white stone walls on the facade is carried over into the interior and covering the floor of the entryway. There is a huge iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling with seven tiers filled with even more candles.

  The Maître d’ nods his head and tells us to follow him. The candles continue down the hall that we’re following. Just ahead on the right, there is a break in the wall and that’s where the Maître d’ turns to enter the dining room.

  We enter the room and, immediately, the sounds of classical music mixed with the romantic candlelight makes me feel like I’m floating through a dream. The room is nearly dark, the only light is provided by the flames dancing on top of the candles. He leads us to a small table for two in the center of a dance floor. There aren’t any other tables near us; the closest table is about 20- or 30-feet away.

  A bottle of wine is already chilling in an ice bucket to the left of the table. As we sit down, the Maître d’ opens the bottle and offers a small portion to Marshall to taste. Once he gets the “okay” he pours both of us a generous amount before turning and walking away.

  “He didn’t leave us menus,” I mention.

  “I’ve already handled everything,” He smiles.

  “Oh. Okay,” I start. “Marshall, this place, it’s absolutely stunning! Where are we? I’ve never heard of this place before.”

  “Ermenonville. It’s a replica of the actual chateau in France.”

  “This is,” I start, before looking at my surroundings in disbelief. The candles continue into the main dining area an
d are littering the dance floor. Each table has its own candle as well. “This is amazing, Marshall. You shouldn’t have.” He reaches over the table and takes my hand.

  Just then, a waiter comes by with baked Camembert and warm, flaky bread. He places them on the table before whispering something to Marshall. I look at him suspiciously and raise an eyebrow. I know that he’s planning something, and I hate surprises.

  The waiter leaves, and as he does, he gives a thumbs up to the leader of the band that is performing this evening. He turns to address the other members in the group and signals them to stop playing.

  The gentleman comes down off of the stage and walks right over to us. He hands a microphone to Marshall. I’m already turning red, I can feel the heat rising from the center of my chest up and over my face.

  Marshall stands up, and addresses the crowd. “Good evening, everyone,” he begins. The room is silent in an instant. Then he turns his attention back to me, walks back over to our table, places his hand in mine and pulls me to my feet.

  “Marshall,” I whisper shout, “What are you doing?”

  He gives me a chaste kiss before bringing the microphone to his lips. The band begins to play a sweet melody in the background as he starts talking.

  “I was lucky enough to meet this beautiful woman eight months ago. It might not have been the ideal way that a guy wants to meet a girl, but I am incredibly thankful, nonetheless. One week later, on April 16, we had our first date.”