First Love: A Single Dad Second Chance Romance

by Amy Brent

  The last thing I wanted to do was get myself in some sort of trouble for not doing my homework. Knowledge was power in job. The more knowledge I had, the more power.

  I tossed the place as carefully as I could while still being thorough. I didn’t want Mr. Bad Guy to know that I’d been through his stuff while he was gone. But the more I searched, the less I found.

  Nothing in the room even looked touched. Every lamp, every knick knack and doily, every item was exactly in its place. The drawers of the dresser were empty as were the closet. The end table held a stack of books that obviously hadn’t even been cracked open and the bed was made crisply and neatly.

  “Come on, Mr. Baddie. There has to be something here you don’t want me to find.” I clicked my tongue in annoyance as I glanced around the room, knowing that I was running out of time. “If I were a piece of incriminating evidence, where would I be?”

  I took a step back, almost ready to give up and get back to my own rooms when I saw it. There. The chair in front of the desk. I could see the imprints in the carpet from the feet pressing into the fibers but it was just slightly off.

  “Not as perfect as you think you are, buddy.” I pulled the chair back, going over drawers I had already looked in, dropping to my knees so I could feel on the underside of each one. I paused as my hands passed over a texture that shouldn’t be there.

  “Bingo.”

  It took a little bit of work to pry up the large envelope that had been taped the underside of the desk but after a moment I held it in my hands. I was surprised to see they were trembling, with trepidation or excitement I wasn’t quite sure but I didn’t let it slow me down. I flipped open the flap on the back and emptied the contents onto the desk.

  It took me a minute to realize what I was looking at but when I did my eyes widened. I grabbed the sheet of folded papers and held them up to my nose. No. No no no. This couldn’t be right. It looked like…a hit contract.

  Not that I’d ever seen anything like it outside of the movies but it was all there in black and white. That’s what he’d been paid under the table for. He was basically a corporate hired hit man.

  This was so much worse than I had though. It was obvious that he’d had help on the outside to get free and that he planned on disappearing to Mexico. There was even a fake passport with a new name and airplane tickets.

  I grabbed everything, quickly shoving the documents and passport back into the envelope. My hands were still shaking and it was definitely fear this time. I was good, but I was also smart enough to know when I was out of my depths and right now, I was way out. Like light years away from my depths.

  This was no cheating husband or lazy businessman in a suit trying to get some cash on the side. This was serious.

  A sudden thought occurred to me and all fear for myself fled. Jonah! He was downstairs right now with this murderer!

  I turned, about to run downstairs and tell Jonah the truth about his ‘guest’ but I didn’t make it two steps before the door creaked slowly open. He was there, staring at me with eyes so cold it froze me where I stood. Mr. Bad Guy, in the flesh.

  “Hey, Hank.” I finally said with far more bravado than I felt. When all else fails, bluff.

  “So, you do know who I am.” He shook his head as he took a step closer into the room and the temperature seemed to drop, “I had thought it might be a coincidence. A bounty hunter checking in to the same place as me. But there’s not many places to stay out here and with your…obvious relationship with the venerable Mr. Moore, well. I had hoped.”

  “Too bad for you. You were wrong.”

  He clicked his tongue, “Too bad for you, actually.”

  “Don’t come any closer.” I said, holding my hands out to show him the envelope, “I know everything.”

  “That’s exactly why I can’t let you leave.” His expression turned into a grimace. “Go to Iowa, they said. No one will find you there, they said. I’ve been waiting in this shit hole for over a fucking week for that passport.” He took another step closer, slamming the door shut behind him and for the first time there was something in his eyes. Rage.

  “I’m not going to let one silly little girl get in my way.”

  I knew in that moment that he meant every word. He had no intention of letting me out of that room alive, but I had to try. I feinted to the left and he followed, but at the last minute I changed direction, diving for the door.

  For one second I thought I was free but then his hand closed around my ankle and fell to the floor with a painful thud.

  “You really don’t want to do this, Hank.” I spat out the words as I pushed myself up to a low crouch.

  “Actually, I really do. I’ve been dreaming of doing this ever since I caught you following me.”

  Terror sat sharp and greasy in my stomach but I ignored it, trying desperately to remember everything Robbie had ever taught me about fighting. I knew the only chance I would have was to catch him by surprise.

  I forced myself to look anywhere but at the black backpack I had dropped to the side of the door when I’d come in. If I could get behind him and by myself enough time I could get to the hand cuffs I had stashed there, or better yet the pepper spray I had hidden in the front flap.

  I knew it was now or never. I lunged before I could let myself think and even though I was quick, his size was the clear advantage in the confined space. He easily blocked me, grabbing my shoulders and wrestling me to the ground.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get free. No matter how hard I struggled I was no match against his brutal strength. In that moment, I knew he was going to kill me and one thought echoed in my head louder than all the rest. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Jonah that I loved him. That love mixed with a terrible sadness and fear that held me paralyzed for a moment.

  But then he smiled. Straddling me, his intent to kill me clear on his face, the bastard actually smiled at me. He was enjoying himself. Playing with me like a cat playing with a mouse.

  Well. He’d fucked with the wrong mouse.

  I gathered what little moisture was left in my mouth and spat in his face, being sure to enunciate as I glared up at him.

  “Fuck you, Hank.”

  His expression transformed, smile fading and twisting into something else entirely. It was a monster’s face I was looking up into. There was nothing human left there. He pulled his fist back and then hurled it towards me, slamming against my right cheek. Fireworks went off behind my eyes and it knocked the breath from me. But then he was pulling back again and this time he loosened his grip and in that split second, I remembered the night I broke in and the scuffle with Jonah.

  With every ounce of strength I had left I brought my knee up straight into his groin and I hit my mark dead on. I didn’t stop to enjoy my victory, or the look of pained shock on his face. I throw an elbow into the vulnerable tissue of his throat and fell to one knee, grasping the wounded area as he gasped for breath.

  I clawed my way to the back pack, all too aware of his much larger frame closing in on me from behind but then my fingers closed around the small plastic tube and turned with a sense of triumph, spraying the agonizing liquid straight into his face.

  He fell back with a clatter as he knock over the chair and the bedside lamp, trying desperately to get the pepper spray out of his eyes but before he could do anything else I was there with the handcuffs.

  A second later, he was on the floor, his hands cuffed behind his back.

  “Consider this your lesson for the day. Don’t underestimate me.” I shot the words out, “And I’m not a silly little girl. Asshole.”

  “Sabrina? Sabrina are you in there?” There was a frantic pounding on the door and a moment later Jonah burst in. In a split second his gaze took in the scene and then he was rushing towards me.

  “What the hell happened? I heard a bunch of thuds coming from upstairs. We all heard it. I came running as fast as I could. What were you thinking? To come after this guy alone?”

  I o
pened my mouth to answer but I didn’t even know where to start. Suddenly, the fear and adrenaline that had been keeping me going fled and my knees buckled.

  “Shit, Sabrina, you’re hurt.” His arms wrapped around me.

  “I’m okay.” I tried to whisper, tried to reassure him as I looked up into Jonah’s worried eyes, “I’m okay now.”

  “Somebody call the cops.” Jonah was saying to somebody that wasn’t me. Which was a good thing. I wasn’t really capable of a damn thing at the moment. “And make sure this asshole doesn’t go anywhere. I’m sure the police will know what to do with him.”

  ***

  Jonah

  “That’s it. Here we go. This is going to sting a little bit, okay?” I asked, waiting for Sabrina’s nod before swiping the alcohol soaked pad over the cut on her cheek. “You’re going to have one hell of a shiner.”

  I tried to force out a laugh but none would come. The fear was too real. The panic at hearing the sounds of a fight coming from upstairs and the terror of knowing she’d full well put her neck in danger without a second thought if it meant getting her job done.

  I finished patching her up with shaking fingers. It certainly hadn’t helped any to find out that he was a hired hit man fleeing to Mexico with the help of some powerful people. When I had found that out I’d put a hole in the wall in the upstairs hallway. Quinn would kill me for that but she would just have to deal with it. I just wished to hell that I could figure out a way to do the same.

  It ate at me, that fear, as I put on the last bandage, smoothing my hand over her raw skin where she’d slid against the carpet. I’d come so close to losing her. To losing her for good this time, with no chance that I’d ever see her again, and I couldn’t get the vision of it out of my head.

  “Jonah.” Her softly spoken word tugged at me but I kept my gaze down. “Jonah, look at me.”

  Her hand cupped my cheek, pulling my face even with hers. She was sitting on the edge of the island in kitchen and it put them eye to eye.

  “I can’t…I don’t…” I trailed off, not ever sure where to start. How could I put any of this into words? The terror, the panic. The bile that I couldn’t quite swallow. And the anger. Not just at Mr. Barron or Mr. Pullman or whatever the fuck his real name was, but at her too. “You put yourself in danger.” I finally managed, “I told you I was here for you. I’m always here for you Sabrina. You don’t…You’re not alone, anymore!”

  “I know.” That was it. Just two simple words but they cut through my anger like a knife. “I know, Jonah.” She raised her other hand, laying her palm against my cheek, holding my face in her hands so that I couldn’t look away.

  “I almost lost you. Again. I can’t…I don’t want to lose you again, Sabrina. What the hell where you thinking?”

  “I broke into the room and found the papers and the forged passport. I found out what he was and I tried to run. I was so afraid for you.”

  “For me?” I choke out the question.

  “I thought, well shit, Jonah’s downstairs with this psychotic asshole and he doesn’t even know. I was rushing for the door to come get you but then he was there. He…he found me. I tried to get past him but I tripped me and then knocked me to the floor. He gave me this.” She gestured to her busted cheek, her skin already starting to darken to a deep purple.

  “I don’t want to hear this, Sabrina. I don’t want to hear how he hurt you. How I failed you.”

  “You didn’t fail me, Jonah. Just listen,” Her eyes never left mine as she spoke and I felt every word wind deep inside me, “I was lying there and he was on top me and for a moment I knew I was going to die. I knew he meant to kill me.”

  “Sabrina, please–.”

  “No, Jonah. Listen to me. I was laying there and the only thing I could think of was how sad I was.”

  I brushed a stray lock of hair back away from her face. “Sad?”

  “I was sad that I never got the chance to tell you that I love you.”

  All the breath rushed from my lungs at her words. Words that I’d longed to hear but never thought I would.

  “I love you too, Sabrina,” I whispered the words like a prayer against her mouth, kissing her softly but with everything that I had inside me.

  She pulled back, giving me a rueful grin through her black eye and bruised lips. “I’m not saying it will be easy. I’m not exactly…”

  “Easy.” I said with a rough chuckle of my own.

  “I was going to say experienced with relationships, actually,” She grinned at me but then her expression grew serious again, her eyes filling with warmth and something that healed all the fear and panic and heartache inside me, “It’s hard for me to trust, but, I want something more. I want a family. I want a home. I want…I want you, Jonah. I want to try and make this work between us.”

  “Me too. More than anything in the world.” I kissed her again, because I had too. She was right. It wouldn’t be easy, not for either of them. But for sure it would be one thing. It would be worth it. Because she was worth it.

  “I love you. My fierce tiger.” I whispered, holding her close as the police escorted out the handcuffed man and pushed him into the back of a cop car. Tears still streamed down his cheeks from Sabrina’s pepper spray. No, it wouldn’t be easy. It sure as hell wouldn’t be boring, either.

  “I love you, Jonah Moore. Now, let’s talk security systems…”

  ***The End***

  Thank you for reading and for your support.

  Continue reading for yet another bestseller – My Best Friend’s Brother.

  My Best Friend’s Brother

  Chapter 1

  Sarah

  “Good afternoon, Dallas. Today, we have a very special guest here with us. Mason Baker, branded in the media as the second-coming of Steve Jobs, will be here with us today sharing his story, his success, and his secrets. Stick around because it’s going to be a doozy.”

  “Sounds good to me,” my makeup artist said.

  “You think so, Ang? I wasn’t sure if I should use his media persona in the opening or not,” I said.

  “It’s what all the newspapers and magazines are saying about him. Can you believe his success? I think he made a deal with the devil,” she said and gave me a look.

  “Have you seen his looks? I think he definitely made a deal with the devil.” I tried to hide the smirk playing at the edge of my mouth. Anyone with a pulse knew how fucking hot Mason was. Hell, he knew it too.

  Angie and I giggled while she put on my makeup. In the three years I’d hosted my talk show in Dallas, she was the only veteran still here. ‘Does This Affect Dallas?’ was a show premise I had rolling around in the back of my mind for years before I finally pitched it to someone. All the talk shows nowadays were glorified gossip tables. I wanted something that would inform as well as entertain, a show that would dive into things that affected our beautiful city, breaking them down in entertaining ways to educate as well as distract.

  And Mason Baker was just that.

  “I can’t get over his dimples. I wanna poke my fingers in them,” Angie said.

  “I could swim in those beautiful peridot eyes all day,” I said.

  “And that thick, dark hair of his? Kill me in the face, please. I’d pay so much money to run my fingers through it.”

  “His hair? I’d give anything to run my hands up those meaty arms of his. Did you see that picture of him in the media last week? Jogging around like he didn’t know the entire world was watching him?”

  “Did you see the fucking video?” Angie asked. “The guy needs a damn jock strap.”

  “There’s a video? Let me see.”

  Angie put down the makeup and pulled her phone from her pocket. I watched the video and practically salivated, watching that cock swinging between his legs. The man was doing this on purpose. He had to be. No one made a hundred and fifty-seven million dollars in revenue their first year in business and didn’t understand he was being watched.

  Then again, h
e wasn’t only known for his quickly-rising technology company.

  “No wonder he’s a playboy,” I said, smirking. “That swinging cock could satisfy an entire block.”

  “Then come back around for dessert,” Angie said, mumbling.

  Out of all the interviews I’d done, I’d never been nervous. I had scored daily interviews with scandalous senators and had video interviews with some of the hottest names in Hollywood so they could talk about their charities. Anything that could educate Dallas and get them off their asses to help the world is what I focused on.

  And Mason Baker’s product was no different.

  His idea started with a social media campaign and the premise was simple, a device you could adhere to any surface to keep track of something. It came with an application you could put on your phone, tablet, or computer, and from there you could track up to thirty different devices. Thirty. You could stick it on the inside of your phone. You could wrap it around the keyring of your keys. It was pliable, bendable, waterproof, fireproof, and you couldn’t ruin it if you stepped on it.

  The original campaign was set to raise two hundred thousand dollars, and it ended up raising almost four million fucking dollars.

  All from donations.

  The applications of this item were endless. You could put it on your car and track your car. You could put it on your children’s electronic toys and track where they were. Hell, you could put it on your fucking kid and track where they were.

  The moment the product launched, it flew off the shelves, and it was Baker’s customer service setup that took the prize for that one. Complaints came flying in immediately from people who used it, and they used those complaints to tweak the product further. An updated product hit the shelves while those who complained about problems got a free upgraded replacement, and the product went viral.