Freeing Lily: A Steamy Romantic Suspense (MacKay International Book 3)

by Rene Webb

  “Writing the letter wasn’t really for your mother, but to give you the time and space to articulate your feelings.” She pauses, letting the words penetrate my mind before continuing, “How did it make you feel, putting your feelings down on paper?”

  “Scared at first,” I admit, remembering curling up in the corner of the couch as I struggled to put my feelings down into words. “But when I was done, I felt free.”

  “That makes me so happy,” Jasmine smiles. “The point of the exercise was to help you move on from the past and freely enter into your future.”

  I may never send the letter to my mother; the truth is she probably doesn’t care what I have to say, but what’s important is I now understand my own emotions and feelings. I was so afraid of losing her love. I realize now how selfish my mother always seemed. Wanting my father’s attention only on her. She always hated sharing him with anyone else, including me, Aunt Kitty, and Peter.

  Having Aunt Kitty back in my life, seeing her unconditional love for Peter, and feeling it myself, I now know what a mother’s love should be. Even Finn’s mother, who’s not my favorite person, loves him unconditionally.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later, Paris

  ~ Finn ~

  “We had our first date here,” Lily muses with a smile, turning slightly in my arms to look back at me as we stand, staring out at a sunlit Paris on the Eiffel Tower’s observation deck.

  “We did.” I lean down and press my lips to her upturned ones. “Happy anniversary, princess.”

  “You too, stud,” she giggles, turning fully in my arms. Lily wraps her arms around my waist and presses her soft body against mine. Hugging me tightly, she rests her chin on my chest and looks up at me with a smile. Whisps of her wavy hair have escaped her ponytail and now blow in her face, obscuring my view. I reach up and brush them away. I run my fingers across her face, committing it to memory.

  So much in my life has changed, for the better, in the past year since I rescued Lily. After Peter took over MacKay International, we joined forces and, with Lily’s help, are making strides to repair the damage Mayer did. Although they were unable to successfully prosecute Mayer for Lily’s father’s death, he is now safely behind bars, awaiting sentencing on a string of charges, including unlawful imprisonment and kidnapping. He will be sent down for a minimum of ten years, but we’re hoping for thirty. Lily has cut all ties with her mother since she supported her husband throughout the trial and even sold the house to help pay his legal fees. Mrs. Mayer has since moved to Arizona. Lily is still healing from her ordeal, but the sessions with her therapist have helped immensely. She’s no longer having nightmares or anxiety attacks in small spaces. Lily has also successfully graduated, only a semester later than planned, and has found her niche within MacKay International. She now heads up corporate giving, helping Peter and me steer the company back to its core values.

  I have claimed this kind and giving woman as my own. The question remains, does she want to claim me? I know she loves me and wants to be with me. Lily happily moved in and made herself at home in my—our—condo. But does she want me entirely?

  “I can’t believe it’s been a year already.” Her emerald eyes sparkle with happiness as she gives me a quick, tight squeeze saying, “It turned out to be the best year ever!”

  “The best is yet to come,” I promise, cupping the back of her head and kissing her again. Her body relaxes into me as she sighs softly and moves her lips against mine. As we pull out of the kiss, my woman nips my lip playfully with her teeth.

  “What are we doing next?” she asks, bubbling with excitement.

  My heart pounds in my chest, and my hand shakes as I reach into my pocket. Suddenly, I am sweating underneath my sweater, wondering how she’ll react to what I have planned.

  “Getting married?”

  Lily’s green eyes widen, and her mouth opens as I pull out the small box I smuggled into our suitcase. I’d asked her once before, a year ago today, and she had rejected me. The circumstances at the time weren’t ideal for a proposal, but it stung, nonetheless. I’m not sure I could handle Lily rejecting me again.

  Time stands still as she lets go of her hold on me and takes a step back, leaving a chill where her warmth had been. Lily’s eyes flit from my face, down to the box, and back again. Her hands move to grab the front of my sweater.

  “Finn,” she breathes out.

  “We don’t have to rush into anything,” I tell her quickly, snaking my free hand around her waist and pulling her tight against me once again—not wanting to let her go.

  “Let’s get married in Vermont.” She beams, pulling back against my hold and grabbing for the box. “Aunt Kitty can help us plan everything.”

  I am dazed, stunned, by her response. Unable to believe that she’s actually accepting me. That this strong, resilient, kindhearted woman, who has gone through so much and yet is still unbelievably sweet, has finally agreed to be my wife. To spend the rest of her life by my side.

  “Is that a yes?” I choke out, watching as she flips open the box excitedly.

  Lily looks up at me and gives me the most dazzling smile, her emerald eyes gleaming in the sunlight. Jumping up, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek repeatedly, giggling, “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “Good,” I growl, tightening my hold on her and burying my face in her neck. I breathe her in and kiss her gently there, tasting the familiar sweet and saltiness of her skin. I can hear people in the background clapping and congratulating us, but my entire focus is on the woman in my arms. On Lily. I may have rescued her, but she’s saved me from a lifetime of loneliness. I hadn’t realized how lonely I was before she snuck into my life. I had friends and family, but work and my business had consumed me.

  Letting her go, I watch as Lily takes the ring from the box with gentle fingers. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you, princess,” I tell her, taking the empty box from her hands and tucking it again in my pocket.

  “Finn.” My woman laughs, slips the ring onto her finger, and holds up her hand, admiring the way it sparkles in the sunlight.

  “You really want to marry me?” I find myself asking.

  “Yes.” Her voice is resolute as she places her ringed hand on my chest and raises herself up, giving me a reassuring kiss. “I love you, Xavier Rodolphus Finch. I don’t want to imagine a life without you.”

  “I love you more than I can say, princess.” I take her ringed hand in my own and kiss the palm before placing my lips gently on the gold now encircling her fourth finger. “I’ll do anything to make you happy, to give you the life you deserve.”

  “All I need is you.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “What ever adventure we find ourselves on next, there’s no one I’d rather be with than you.”

  “Ditto,” I mutter against her palm. Lily laughs and moves her hand to cup my cheek before pulling me down to touch her lips determinedly against mine.

  Moving my lips across her cheek, I whisper in her ear, “Let’s go celebrate,” before nipping the lobe. I feel my woman, my fiancée, shudder against me.

  “Yes,” she says breathlessly before pulling away, flushed. Stepping back, she opens her purse, and the silk scarf tied to the handle catches my eyes. The very scarf I bought her during our first trip to Paris. “But first, pictures. I want to remember this moment forever.”

  Lily pulls out her cellphone and hands it to me expectantly. I take it from her before wrapping one arm around my back and resting her ringed hand on my chest. “You have longer arms.”

  “Are you going to text these to everyone?” I tease as I watch her admiring the ring, the diamonds sparkling in the sunlight.

  “No, I’ll take new ones of the ring once I have a manicure,” she tells me seriously, grinning up at me from ear to ear. “These are just for us. I’ll text new ones to our family later. I know they’ll be happy for us.”

  “As long as you’re happy, I don’t fucking care what anyone
else says.” I lean down and press my lips roughly on hers.

  “You’re all mine now,” she tells me, fisting my sweater tightly in her hand. “I’ve never been happier.”

  “I was yours the moment I looked up and saw you standing in front of me,” I confess softly. “Never doubt that.”

  The End…

  Keep reading to fall in love with Bethany and Derek Lion, the owners and founders of Pride Security…

  Excerpt from Shock and Awe (A Pride Security Novella)

  2008 - Falls Church, Virginia

  ~ Derek ~

  “Mornin’ Boss.”

  I am greeted upon entering the small kitchen. My body automatically moves towards the coffee maker. Glancing over, I see two of my operatives crowded around the small kitchen table, devouring plates of scrambled eggs and sausages while drinking from their own steaming mugs.

  Lee “Mike” Mikhail and I served together during Desert Storm. The former Army medic is as gentle as he is lethal, the perfect combination to have in a private security operative. Sitting next to him is a former Marine sniper and our only female operative, Josephine Johnson.

  “Johnson. Mike,” I grunt in greeting, opening the cabinet directly above the coffee maker and blindly reaching for a mug. Instead, my hand hits bags of coffee beans. Looking up, I scowl at the cabinet I swear only yesterday held the essentials for drinking coffee. Now it contains everything you need for making it.

  “Where the fuck are the mugs?” I demand, looking over at the table.

  “Next one over,” Johnson says, waving her own mug towards the cabinet to my right.

  Slamming the door shut, I open the next to see them neatly organized according to size and function, with the travel mugs on the top shelf. “Who the fuck moved them?”

  “B,” Mike answers. Looking over, I see him smiling into his own cup.

  Bethany Colombo.

  For the past two years, the woman has unknowingly been tormenting me.

  Hiring Bethany to keep my private security company, Pride Security, running smoothly was both the best and worst thing I ever did. There is no question she’s the most reliable, especially considering recent events, and hardworking employee I have. If only she wasn’t wrapped up in such a sweet-smelling, amazing-assed, too young for me package. I hate and crave, in equal measure, each morning when she bounces through the back door. Bringing with her youthful energy, enthusiasm, and a perfect body - that full, round ass.

  Taking a sip of coffee, I cringe at the taste, Bethany certainly didn’t make this pot. She may be strictly a tea drinker, but she brews the best damn coffee I’ve ever tasted. I bet she tastes even better - out of this world. Not that I’ll ever know. I lick my lips in vain.

  Just as that frustrating thought comes to mind, I hear the back door open. The unmistakable sounds of Bethany shuffling around in the entryway can be heard, no doubt putting her purse in the closet and hanging up her sweater. Her light steps follow as she walks into the room, carrying a large colorful box of donuts.

  “Good morning,” she says cheerily, her smile lighting up the room and grating on my nerves.

  “Did you move the mugs?” I growl at her as the others greet her warmly.

  “Yes. It’s more efficient,” she answers brightly placing the box on the counter, seemingly immune to my tone.

  “Who gave you permission to reorganize my kitchen?” I ask, watching Bethany move around as if she owns the room. As if she belongs here.

  Pushing past me, she grabs a large plate from one cabinet and napkins from a holder on the counter, answering, “You did.”

  Why did I ever tell Bethany she could change anything she wanted? I’ve allowed her to put her stamp on the entire house. And the worst part is, Bethany has made it feel more like home than it ever did when my ex-wife and I lived here together.

  “Are you trying to make them fat?” I ask, annoyed as she begins piling the plate with donuts.

  “They’re just donuts,” she clips, not bothering to turn and look at me.

  “They shouldn’t be eating all that fat and cholesterol.”

  Whipping her head around to look at me, her eyes begin sparking, and she glares at me, asking, “What do you think is in those eggs and sausages?”

  “Protein,” I fire back.

  “Mommy and daddy are fighting,'' I hear Mike chuckle quietly to Johnson.

  “What?” I snap, looking in his direction. They both avoid my eyes and focus on selecting a donut from the plate Bethany set down in front of them.

  Why am I arguing with her?

  Maybe it’s because every time, like today, her thick honey-colored ponytail swings hypnotically and the green in her hazel eyes sparkle brightly as her emotions take over. There’s no question, I enjoy getting her riled up. Seeing her come alive and ready to attack. I need to stop before I begin imagining her in an entirely different tussle.

  Naked.

  My hand warming her round ass as it bounces. I wouldn’t want to spank the fight out of her, no, only stoke the flames where I could then fuck her into submission. I grip my coffee mug tightly, attempting to push away the inappropriate thoughts. I’m her boss for fuck’s sake.

  I take a deep breath as Bethany steps close to me, invading my senses with her sweetness. She says in a low tone, “It’s not my fault Toby fucked up.”

  Fucking Toby Lars.

  Lars had been with the company since the beginning and was one of the first operatives I hired, but that didn’t stop me from firing his ass last night. Bethany was the first person I thought of to call, to help me deal with the mess. And not because she’s my assistant. In reality, I should’ve called Mike first. Since our client needed coverage after the asshole was fired. I ended up staying up most of the night working his shift, which is why I’m only now on my first cup of coffee.

  “I know,” I murmur contrite, setting my mug down on the counter before thrusting my hands deep into my pockets to stop them from reaching out and touching her. Stroking her cheek, grabbing her by the back of her neck, and fusing my lips to her wet pouty ones.

  Standing there gazing at one another for several long moments, her body sways towards mine. Grinding my teeth together, I can barely resist the urge to pull her into my arms.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll bring in a fruit salad,” she announces cheerily to the room and moves away to pluck the last donut from the box. I watch as she takes a bite, and her pink tongue darts out as she licks her lips. I need to get the fuck out of here.

  “I’ll be in my office,” I tell everyone.

  Grabbing my coffee mug, I make my way through what used to be my living room, but now, like most of the house, aside from the upstairs, is Pride Security headquarters. As I walk down the hall towards my office, I pass the surveillance room, which is filled with tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment to help keep tabs on both our clients and my operatives. Next to my office is the small half bathroom.

  The house looks nothing like when my ex-wife and I lived here. I did my twenty in the Army, got out nearly unscathed, and had hoped to settle into civilian life. It wasn’t too late to start a family or find a new career. My ex had other plans. Unbeknownst to me, during my last tour in the Gulf, she had met someone and started an affair. I came home to broken promises, an empty house, and an uncertain future.

  What began as people reaching out to me to see if I would be willing to provide private protection services for politicians that didn’t quite make the secret service’s radar and asking if I knew of any other veterans up to the task quickly morphed into Pride Security.

  I tell myself we are using the house for operational security, as all our mail goes to a PO Box in Washington DC, and none of our clients know this address. But the truth is, there’s no way I could afford the rent on the kind of building I’d need and still pay my employees a decent salary.

  Here we have a basement, with a gym, armory, full bathroom, and a bunk room in case one of the operatives is on-call.

  We
also have a full kitchen that makes sure, when Bethany isn’t feeding them donuts, that everyone is maintaining their optimal health. My operatives are from all branches of the military, and the house gives them a place to spend time together, to maintain the comradery of being in a unit. Pride Security has come a long way since I founded the company three years ago, but I know we could be so much more.

  Plopping down into the chair behind my desk, I grab the phone to begin the tedious process of alerting several clients to the changes in our schedule. I move pieces around to fill the hole that fucking Lars created by getting his ass fired. For the past year, I haven’t been working in the field but rather here in the office. That’s all about to change since we’re now an operative short. Last night, Bethany and I talked on the phone for over an hour to quickly come up with a new schedule. Despite the circumstances, hearing her voice on the other end gave me a sense of peace. That everything would work out. When I finally fell asleep last night - this morning - it was to the memory of her soft “Night Derek” still in my ear.

  “Lion,” I answer, leaning back in my chair and grabbing my ringing cellphone off the desk and picking up the unfamiliar number.

  “Mr. Lion, it’s Jason Roberts here,” a man says. The vestiges of memory tease my brain until he continues. “We met through Senator Lewis, I’m an exhibit curator at the National History Museum.”

  “Yes, of course, sir. How are you?”

  “Honestly, I’ve been better.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “We have a situation here at the museum, and I was hoping you could help me out with it.”

  Catching my interest, I sit up straighter in my chair and ask, “How can I help?”

  The museum has a government security contractor already working on site. It makes me wonder what he could possibly need Pride Security for.