Wicked Love

by Michelle Dare

  “Is there anyone else you’d like us to call?” asked one of the officers.

  I thought of Mitch and my eyes filled with tears. I shook my head.

  An hour later, I sat in a hospital examination room, still feeling nothing and yet everything. My mind kept racing back to the look on Patrick’s face right before I drove into him. At the time I’d felt such a relief to have finally beaten him. Now I felt sick to my stomach for taking a man’s life.

  But he had killed Mitch and John. Plus, he’d almost killed Marcy.

  Still, I felt guilty. I was a nurse. “Life” was something I’d made a pledge to try and save. Not only had I murdered Patrick, but had taken some pleasure in doing it.

  What kind of a person did that make me?

  There was a sudden knock at the door.

  I cleared my throat. “Come in.”

  A medical examiner and a nurse stepped inside of the room. After asking me questions, they examined my injuries, which were minor, and then instructed me to try and get some rest.

  “I bet your boyfriend is excited to see you,” the nurse said, after bringing me some more water.

  “Boyfriend?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I saw him interviewed on the news awhile back. He vowed to never give up looking for you. I think his name is Mitch, right?”

  A burst of joy rushed through me. I was so excited, I literally almost peed myself. “Wait, he’s alive?”

  She gave me a funny look. “Yeah. I believe so. Haven’t heard otherwise.”

  Mitch was alive!

  I couldn’t believe it.

  My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. “Can I use a phone?”

  “Yes, of course.” She brought me the landline phone from the counter. “Just dial nine before you call anyone.”

  My fingers shook as I dialed Mitch’s number. I almost didn’t remember it, I was in so much shock.

  He answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  Hearing his voice, I began to cry.

  “Sophia?”

  “Yes,” I choked.

  “Thank God you’re okay. We’re coming for you, baby. I’m with Marcy right now and we’re headed your way.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I prayed that I wasn’t dreaming. “Mitch, I thought he’d killed you.”

  He laughed grimly. “No. He came close… but I refused to die. Not when I knew your life was in danger. I’m so glad you’re safe now. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “We should be there soon. Is there anything you want us to bring?”

  Smiling, I wiped the tears from my face. “Just yourselves.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  “Yes.” I closed my eyes. “See you soon.”

  19

  Sophia

  Six months Later…

  It was early morning; Mitch and I sat in my father’s old Yamaha boat, our lures floating in the calm water.

  “Here.” He handed me a Thermos filled with warm coffee.

  “Thanks.”

  I took a sip and let out a sigh of content. I couldn’t imagine being any happier at that moment. Here I was, sitting on the lake with my man, not a care in the world. Quite a change from last November, when I’d been stuck in a cage and planning my escape. Fortunately, things were finally getting back to normal. Mitch and I were closer than ever. Marcy had broken up with Robbie, but was now dating a local artist and seemed to be deliriously in love. As for the psycho, Patrick, he’d died from his injuries. They later found evidence in the house he’d been renting, proving that he’d killed Leah—a diary entry confessing to the murder. They still didn’t know where he’d left her body, but Leah’s family finally had some kind of closure.

  Mitch opened up a white bag. The smell of vanilla made my stomach growl. He reached inside and pulled out a sprinkled donut. “You want one?”

  “Nah. I’m okay. Maybe later.”

  “They won’t be as fresh later,” he replied, taking a bite of his. “Mm… you’re missing out.”

  I chuckled. “Fine. If I catch a fish, though, you’re the one getting your hands dirty. So, you’d better eat quickly.”

  “No problem.” He handed me the bag just as another fishing boat puttered by slowly. Two were in it, a boy around ten and an older guy I’d seen in town but couldn’t quite recall the name.

  “You know them?” I asked after we waved at each other.

  “Yeah. That was Rocky and his grandson, Kevin.”

  The names sounded familiar. Both of them. I’d heard them brought up in a victim’s support group for women I’d recently joined. Rocky’s family had been terrorized by some crazy psycho, a couple of years ago. Strange how Summit Lake, a nice, quiet town, could attract such craziness.

  “Do you know Rocky well?”

  “I’ve known him for years. He used to be a paramedic and friends with my dad. Good guy. A little rough around the edges, but he’s got a heart of gold.”

  I’d met Mitch’s parents, who lived in Florida, shortly after the incident with Patrick. They were incredible people and it was easy to see why Mitch turned out so well. Both had been teachers in Summit Lake before retiring down south.

  I pulled out the other donut and was about to take a bite when I noticed something glittery sticking out of the side.

  “What is…?” My eyes widened in surprise as I pulled out a diamond ring. Stunned, I looked at Mitch.

  He grinned. “I swear, it looks much better when it’s clean.” He pulled out a wet-wipe and handed it to me.

  Dumbfounded, I just stared at him.

  His smile fell. “You don’t look happy. Maybe I’m jumping the gun too quickly.”

  “Jumping the gun on what?”

  He took the ring from me and cleaned it with the wet-wipe. Then he held it up. “You know, I was actually going to shove it inside of a fish and have you find it later while cleaning it. But, I thought it might get lost or even damaged.”

  “Mitch, what exactly is this ring for?” I asked, wanting him to say it before I made a fool out of myself. In case I was wrong.

  He searched my face. “It’s exactly what it looks like. I’m asking you to marry me.”

  Tears filled my eyes.

  Mistaking my reaction for sadness, he suddenly looked worried. “I know you once said that you were terrified of trying it again, but I swear… I would never hurt you. And as for Greg… he was a complete idiot. But, I’m glad he was, because… I’m pretty sure I’d be lost without you.”

  I laughed and swiped at my tears. “I’d be lost without you, too.”

  He perked up. “So, does that mean you’ll be my wife?”

  I slipped the ring on my finger. “Yes. Of course! I’d love that more than anything.”

  Mitch’s face filled with so much emotion, I almost thought he was going to start crying himself. He pulled me into his arms and held me tightly. “I love you, Sophia, and I promise to show you just how much, until the day I die.”

  “I love you, too,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I was so happy he’d asked, especially in my favorite spot. I could almost feel my father here with us, nodding in approval and giving us his blessing.

  Suddenly, a large fish jumped out of the water and back in, startling us both.

  Laughing, Mitch and I pulled apart.

  “I guess we have a thumbs-up from the fish,” Mitch joked.

  In my heart, I felt it was much more. That it was a sign from my dad—he approved of Mitch and was sending us his blessing. I told him what I thought.

  “Then that settles it. We’re getting hitched, having a boatload of kids, and naming the first one Cal. After your old man.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “He would have loved that.”

  We both looked out at the water, half expecting the fish to jump again. Instead, everything remained calm.

  “What if it’s a girl?” I asked.

  A thoughtful look spread across his face. After a few second
s, he smiled. “What about Callie?”

  This time, two fish jumped out of the water simultaneously. It gave me goosebumps.

  “Did you see that? I think that means we’ll have twins,” Mitch said. “Callie and Cal.”

  I smiled at the thought, but then the painful memories of my miscarriage resurfaced.

  Noticing the sudden change in me, Mitch asked what was wrong.

  “What if I can’t have children?”

  He slipped my hand in his. “We’ll have children, even if it means by adoption. I don’t care one way or another, honestly.”

  I knew that Mitch meant every word. It was another thing I really loved about him—his honesty. At times he was even too blunt, but at least I always knew where he stood.

  “How in the world did I get so lucky to find a guy like you?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “It only took a psychopath and a bad marriage. Nothing too out of the ordinary.”

  We both laughed.

  The End

  Want More?

  Want to read more thriller books written by Kristen Middleton, including two from the Summit Lake Thriller series? Check out KIDNAP.

  Four stand-alone crime thrillers written by USA Today Bestselling Author, Kristen Middleton. Includes - Searching for Faith, Looking for Lainey, Forget Me Not, and Hear Them scream.

  Readers:

  "Middleton keeps the pace rapid, the thrills coming and the unpredictable twists all wrapped up in a unique package of a psychic woman turned sleuth. SEARCHING FOR FAITH was a one sitting read - Highly recommend." - New York Times bestselling author, Tamara Rose Blodgett.

  "I need more Carissa please. I read these two in 3 days. I'm seriously hooked." - Amazon reviewer for Searching for Faith and Looking for Lainey.

  "If you read it at night, you'll not be able to sleep! Highly recommend." - Amazon reviewer for Forget Me Not.

  "I'm rarely ever actually shocked in a book, but this one did it to me enough to make me gasp out loud." - Amazon reviewer for Hear Them Scream.

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  About Kristen Middleton

  Kristen Middleton is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling author. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and children. Since 2011 she has published over forty stories, in many different genres, including horror, fantasy, and romance. She also writes under the name K.L. Middleton and Cassie Alexandra. When she isn't at her computer, Kristen enjoys traveling, reading, cooking, and spending time with her family.

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  Dead of Night

  Lexy Timms

  People are capable of anything—especially when they’re desperate.

  Jane Westen comes from a broken home, with demons from her past she can’t escape. Between her painful secret and her dead-end job, she isn’t supposed to want things. Not love. Not money. Not the fairytale castle she discovers she’s in line to inherit. Owning the castle would change her life, but one obstacle stands in Jane’s way: the darkly handsome lawyer determined to take the castle away from her.

  When murder happens at the castle, suddenly everyone looks like a suspect and no one is safe.

  Copyright

  Dead of Night

  Copyright ©2020 Lexy Timms

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  1

  A wolf howled in the darkness.

  Jane Westen trudged through the snow, her legs stiff and numb from the cold. Another howl. Low and mournful. Maybe it wasn’t a wolf. It sounded too much like a man groaning for it to be an animal. There had been some detail about wolves being hunted to extinction in this part of Germany, but leisurely scrolling through travel websites felt like a lifetime away.

  A chilly blast of wind slapped at her, nearly tearing her small suitcase from her grasp. Only the vise-like grip of her frozen hand kept the suitcase secure. That was the cause of the howling. The wind was suddenly picking up, and if she didn’t make it to the castle soon she’d freeze to death out here. With the light fading fast, it would be dark soon. Too dark to see her way up the hill.

  Against the sting of the wind on her face, Jane chanced a look up at the hilltop. She must have started her climb up the hill twenty minutes ago, but the castle seemed no closer. It appeared to float over the world, the conical roofs of its towers and turrets almost disappearing behind clouds as they reached heavenward. It was like something out of a fairytale, this castle overlooking a thickening blanket of silver snow. And it could all be hers if she just reached its front gate.

  No, she would have to do a lot more than that if Wintergarten was going to be hers. Especially since she couldn’t afford a lawyer to help her win her inheritance case. That was the whole point of this trip. It was why she had taken the vacation days from her crummy job answering the phone at the motel. Why she had gotten on a plane for the first time in her life, using frequent flyer miles to pay for the trip to Germany.

  Just four months ago, she never would have believed that she would have gotten a phone call in the middle of the night from a lawyer in Germany. The lawyer had called to notify her that her distant relative, Friedrich von Westen, had died with no living heirs. Friedrich’s will had requested that the castle be handed down to his closest surviving relative. That left Jane, her father, and a Wall Street banker she had never met. But her father was in an insane asylum and in no mental state to inherit anything, so it was down to Jane and the banker.

  She shivered. Not from the cold wind, but from thoughts of her father. He had abandoned her mother when Jane was just four years old. And thank goodness for that, because her father had ended up becoming one of the most notorious mass killers in New York State history. He had chopped up a dozen innocent people with an ax by the time Jane was ten years old, and she would never be able to get the horror of the crime scene photos out of her mind.

  That was why she was here. To prove that she was the rightful owner of the castle and restore a little bit of honor to the family name. And not only that. After years as a single mother working her fingers to the bone, Jane’s mom deserved to finally retire. Turning the castle into a hotel would guarantee that her mother never had to work again.

  Finally the castle gatehouse came into view, giving her enough hope to forge ahead. When she reached the gatehouse Jane stopped to catch her breath, exhausted after the long trek up the hill.

  The sound of a low voice speaking German startled her, and she peered through the portcullis.

  “H-hello?” Jane called as she noticed a hunched-over figure on the other side of the gate. “Is anyone there?”

  She cringed. Whoever it was probably didn’t speak any English. She’d have to use the rudimentary German she had been learning over the past couple of months. “Mein name ist Jane Westen.”

  The figure came closer and she saw an elderly man holding a flashlight come into view.

  “I speak English,” the man said, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “Are you Herr Kramer?” she asked. “Wintergarten’s solicitor?”

  The man shook his head. “No. I am the groundskeeper.”

  “Well, Herr Kramer should be expecting me,” she said.

  The groundskeeper’s lips thinned in response.

  “Please. I’ve come all this way.” The wind began to pi
ck up in earnest and she shivered. Jane didn’t know what she would do if she was turned away now. Going back down the hill wasn’t an option. The tour company only drove to the hill’s base every few days, and the small car certainly couldn’t drive up the steep slope to the castle. “Is Herr Kramer here?”

  “Yes. He is here.” The groundskeeper sniffed loudly, eyed her again for a long moment, then motioned for her to step back.

  She did as he instructed and the portcullis slowly went up.

  “Thank you so much,” she said gratefully, dragging her suitcase with her.

  The groundskeeper said nothing. He merely beckoned for her to follow him across the snow to the castle entrance.

  At the castle’s double doors, the groundskeeper produced a set of huge metal keys from his pocket and let her inside.

  She followed him into an immense great hall with a vaulted ceiling that made her feel tiny and insignificant. Despite the large fireplace on the far side of the hall, the place still felt drafty. The air was stale and smelled faintly of mildew. As if nobody had lived in the castle for some time. Old armor and deer heads mounted on the walls cast long, dark shadows, the light from the fireplace doing little to illuminate the place.

  There were scores of paintings on the walls. Each one was some long-ago ancestor—the grand dukes and duchesses who had lived at Wintergarten, starting with what looked like a fifteenth-century nobleman and ending with a photo-realistic painting of Friedrich von Westen. As she moved through the hall it was impossible to shake the feeling that they were all watching her, the painted eyes following her down the hall.