Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels

by Aly Martinez

  She had. She’d looked more than okay. Carefree and radiant, even. But all of that had splintered into a million broken shards when I’d shown up.

  I’d done that to her. Not on purpose. I had no idea she’d be in that bar. But, right then, I knew she was on the other side of the door. And, if I went after her the way I longed to, that pain in her eyes would have become mine to own.

  I’d done enough to that woman without adding this selfishness to the list.

  I rubbed the back of my scarred neck and dropped my eyes to the ground. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t reply. Nor did he move as I backed into the elevator. When I started digging through my pockets for my security card, he slid in front of me. Respect blazed in his eyes as he waved his card in front of the sensor and then slapped the button for the garage.

  Slowly backing out of the elevator, he said, “She’d say she was sorry, too.”

  My chin jerked to the side. He hadn’t said it with malice, but it still wounded me all the same. I didn’t deserve any apologies. Especially not from her.

  Johnson held my stare until the door slid shut.

  Completely numb, I rode the elevator down to the garage.

  I didn’t go back to my hotel room. Or the bar.

  I did the one thing I hadn’t done in years.

  After picking up a bottle of Jack and committing a minor trespassing offense, I stared up at the stars above the empty lot in Park Hill Estate while trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong.

  Chapter Seven

  Rhion

  It didn’t feel like I was moving, but somehow, I knew I was falling. The world became a blur as terror faded into acceptance.

  I was going to die.

  My only hope was that it wouldn’t take long for that sea of flames to end my twenty-two years of life. Every memory I’d made, every breath I’d taken, every dream I’d had for the future—they would all become nothing more than fuel to feed the dancing, red conflagration. And then, when it was ultimately smothered out, my entire existence would be extinguished right along with it.

  In those seconds, as I plummeted toward my death, the fear subsided and I became hyperaware of my surroundings. A cool rush of air licked at my skin despite the unbearable heat roaring up at me. And, as though someone had parted it from above, the cloud of smoke broke apart, revealing a clear night sky. I stared up at the stars in rapt awe, wondering if this was my father’s way of letting me know he was there with me. He’d been gone for six weeks. Maybe he’d come back for me. With the thought, a calm washed over me.

  Nothing felt real anymore.

  There were no more screams for help.

  No more pleas to God that would go unanswered.

  Yet, as every nerve ending in my body exploded in pain, I heard someone yelling. Masculine war cries pierced through me in a way that left me unable to focus on the overwhelming agony flooding my system. Shock did weird things to a person, because I was very aware that I was on fire, but as my lungs burned for a single breath, my heart yearned to soothe the man’s suffering.

  And then I died. Or so I assumed as the world around me fell silent and the bright light faded to absolute darkness. It was utterly beautiful in the sense that it was nothing.

  No pain.

  No fear.

  No heartbreak.

  The end.

  Until his strong hand landed on mine, snatching me back from the grips of death.

  “Hang on!” he barked, dragging me clear of the flames.

  I struggled through the unbearable pain to find my way back to consciousness, his voice being my only guide.

  “Stay with me,” he ordered as I felt my shirt being frantically tugged over my head.

  Those three words were all it took for the terror to engulf me again.

  Hope was funny like that. Without it, accepting the inevitable was a simple process. But, when presented with even the thinnest threads to hold on to, my body’s fight response kicked in full force.

  I gasped as I sat straight up, my hands flying out to the sides as adrenaline flooded my veins. A choked, “Oh God,” tore from my throat as I flailed and did my best to help him get my shirt off. His hands slapped down on my aching flesh, patting out flames before tearing my pants down my legs.

  I struggled for a gasp of air, but panic had paralyzed my lungs.

  “Shhhh. Calm down. Paramedics are on the way,” he assured me, kneeling beside my head and brushing the hair away from my face. “It’s over.”

  But it wasn’t. And, if the excruciating pain devouring my arms and my chest was any indication, it never would be.

  I peered up into his dark-green eyes as he raked them down my naked body.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’re okay.” The lie showed on his grim face.

  It was bad. That much was clear.

  But I was alive.

  “You…you saved me,” I squeaked, tears pouring from my eyes.

  His lips thinned, and he shook his head. “You gotta keep breathing.”

  The fire roared behind him, lighting him from the back. He looked like an angel. His face was shadowed, but I would never forget a single curve of it. From the hard angles of his jaw to the delicate dark lashes that surrounded his eyes—I committed them all to memory. He was beautiful, and for the briefest of seconds as he stared down at me, soot streaked across his handsome face, I feared I’d made him up.

  When I had been hanging from the window, he’d seemed to appear out of nowhere. What if my panic-stricken mind had somehow conjured him? What if he was nothing more than one last hallucination from my subconscious as I sought any possible way to avoid accepting the inevitable?

  “Oh God, are you real?” I cried, my body trembling in fear of the truth.

  His forehead crinkled. “I’m real,” he swore before sucking in a shaky breath. “I just don’t know if you are, Butterfly.”

  A sob caught in my throat. “Please don’t disappear.”

  He blew a ragged breath out. “Same goes for you. You stay with me. And I’ll stay with you.”

  The sound of sirens screamed in the distance, but for what felt like a million years, his gaze never left mine.

  I cried.

  He soothed my soul without actually touching me.

  I writhed in agony.

  He whispered promises that it was almost over.

  I prayed for death.

  He refused to let go.

  He was the only thing that kept me alive.

  And then, seconds later, he was literally the only thing that kept me alive.

  The ground rumbled beneath me as a deafening creak came from inside the angry house.

  He swung his gaze over his shoulder. “Fuck,” he cursed, his eyes growing wide in horror.

  Fear surged through me, momentarily pushing the pain into the background. I didn’t have a chance to see what was happening before he was gathering me in his arms. My stomach lurched and a strangled cry escaped my throat as he jostled me.

  I hadn’t made it all the way off the ground before he dropped me back down. Pain exploded within me as the heavy weight of his body landed on top of me.

  “Oh God!” I cried out, my vision blurring.

  The rumble became louder.

  “Brace,” he ordered, palming the back of my head and tucking my face into his neck.

  My mind swirled, fading in and out of the welcome darkness. Through the smoke clinging to his skin, I caught a whiff of his cologne, and for reasons I would never understand, it eased the panic brewing within me.

  He was real.

  He was there.

  Saving me.

  But, as the house collapsed to the ground, sending a wall of brick falling our way, I feared one of us was going to disappear, and worst of all, I worried it would be him.

  “Jude!” I gasped as my eyes popped open. The lights from the busy city below illuminated my otherwise dark bedroom.

  I was at home.

  Not at
the fire.

  I shook my head, trying to rattle off the hold my memories had over me.

  There was a pair of green eyes I couldn’t shake. They weren’t a memory—at least not an old one.

  He’d been there. At the bar. His hair had been longer and his skin now carried a golden tan, but it was still him, just as beautiful and strong as I’d remembered.

  But that was exactly the problem. He didn’t belong in that bar.

  Jude Levitt was only real in my dreams.

  A broken ray of light from the hallway streamed in as the door cracked open.

  “Jude?” I called, scrambling off the edge of my bed, hope blossoming within me.

  “It’s me, Rhion,” Johnson said gently, his large silhouette filling the opening as he pushed my door wide.

  My shoulders sagged in disappointment only to stiffen as the memory hit me.

  “Apollo,” I breathed, sinking down to the bed. “He was there too.”

  “I know. I saw him.”

  Anxiety climbed in my chest. “He…he’s never come that close.”

  “And he won’t again,” he stated definitively.

  If I knew anything about Aidan Johnson, it was that he’d make sure of that or he’d die trying. We’d grown up together. Well, more accurately, I’d grown up. Johnson had been twenty-five and very much a man when he’d starting working for my father. I’d never forget the day I got my first eyeful of Dad’s new tall, dark, and mysterious bodyguard. For a sixteen-year-old girl, Johnson was what fantasies were made of—and boy, did I dream about him. Actually, my entire softball team and I dreamed about him. Though, as I got older, our relationship evolved into something else. That something being that he was the only man on Earth I trusted completely.

  I hung my head and rubbed my temples as the night filtered through my mind. I had thought my heart would explode the moment I’d heard Jude call me Butterfly. Chills had broken out on my skin and a shiver had traveled down my spine.

  But it was the icy-blue gaze that matched my own that had sent me running.

  Why, of all nights, had my brother chosen that one to make an approach?

  The one man I’d been dreaming of had finally shown up and Apollo had ruined it as though he’d known how badly it would hurt me. And let’s be honest. This was Apollo; he might have. Destroying me was his life’s mission.

  “He can’t hurt you, Rhion.”

  It was something Johnson said a lot. I wore the scars to argue otherwise.

  “I don’t want to talk about him.” I never did. I couldn’t forget Apollo, but that didn’t mean he had to be the subject of discussion.

  He sighed and walked into the room. The bed dipped as he sat beside me. “I’m not gonna fill your head with bullshit. You definitely could have reacted better tonight. You had four men surrounding you. Apollo could have brought an army and he still wouldn’t have been able to touch you.” He bumped his shoulder with mine. “But we’ll get there.”

  I groaned then repeated sarcastically, “Yeah. We’ll get there.”

  “We will,” he promised.

  I offered him a tight smile then collapsed backwards on the bed. “What was Jude doing there?”

  He lowered his bulky body back beside me. “He’s Leo’s new guy.”

  My mouth gaped open as I slowly turned my head to face him. “No way.”

  He chuckled and folded his arm behind his head. “I was gonna warn you tonight. I’d have told you sooner, but you were locked up tight in your writing cave.”

  I rolled to my side and propped myself up on an elbow. “I appreciate you respecting my privacy when I’m working, but you could have interrupted me for that kind of news.”

  His lips twitched as he fought a grin back. “Yeah, well. I was hoping he wouldn’t hang around long enough for me to have to tell you.”

  I knew that grin all too well.

  Cocking an eyebrow, I accused, “What did you do?”

  He laughed and sat up. “Let’s just say he won’t be sexually harassing anyone any time soon.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but chances were, with Johnson, I didn’t want to know. And I really shouldn’t have wanted to know when it came to Jude Levitt.

  Except I did.

  I wanted to know everything about that man. There hadn’t been a day in over four years that I hadn’t thought about him.

  It had been the deep timbre of Jude’s voice reminding me that it was almost over that rang in my ears as I’d cried out while the nurses changed my bandages. He might have been the only thing that had gotten me through those first few weeks.

  It was the memory of his calming, green eyes I focused on as yet another agonizing skin graft took the slow path to healing. And, with over twenty-seven percent of my body covered in burns, it was safe to say I spent a lot time with Jude’s eyes those first few months.

  Every time I pulled my compression garments on, I imagined they were his arms holding me tight. And, for nearly twenty-three hours, every day for over a year, I pretended Jude held me safely in his arms.

  And, when it was all said and done, dense scars covering both of my arms, it was his reassuring words that kept me from spiraling into a deep depression.

  Jude Levitt was why I’d picked up the proverbial pen and started writing.

  Because of him, I didn’t have to live in a fairytale to know that heroes were real.

  I winced and bit my bottom lip, drawing up all the courage I could muster to ask the one question I wasn’t sure I’d survive the answer to. “Does he hate me?”

  Johnson’s hand landed on my back, and I braced for his response.

  “Not at all,” he rasped.

  My hopeful gaze jumped to his to find him watching me with that same gentle understanding that had bonded us from the start.

  My chin quivered. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. He followed us up, saying he was sorry. I had to scrape him off the door.”

  Guilt soured in my stomach. “He lost everything because of me, Johnson.”

  His lips thinned. “Jude lost everything because of Jude. You do not take on that responsibility.”

  But I had. For four years. It was the only thing that had kept me from reaching out to him after I’d gotten out of the hospital.

  And, tonight, when he’d suddenly reappeared in my life, I had run.

  I threw both hands up to cover my face. “Oh God. He’s going to think I’m crazy.”

  Johnson pried two fingers away from one of my eyes and declared, “He thinks you’re crazy, I’ll kill him.”

  I didn’t believe he would commit an actual homicide for me. Though, I wasn’t about to chance it when it came to Jude.

  “Please don’t,” I begged.

  He shook his head and stood up off the bed. “I’m not going to kill the guy. At least, not yet. But I do need to know how you want to handle this.”

  “Well…” I started, sitting up and uncovering my face. “First off, I’d like a do-over at the bar. Perhaps one where my sociopath brother doesn’t show up and I don’t end up making a fool of myself. Maybe, this time, I could do something bold like say hello to Jude. Or, hell, I don’t even have to talk. What about a wave? That’s still considered polite, right?”

  He grinned. “Bad news. Last I heard, Doc was off trying to find Marty. We’re gonna have to wait a few years for the DeLorean.”

  I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. “That’s unfortunate news for me.”

  His big hand patted me on the back of my head. “It wasn’t that bad. Levitt will forget about everything by the morning.”

  “You’re such a liar.”

  “Yes, but I’m also worried.”

  “I want to see him, Aidan,” I confessed.

  He sat back beside me on the bed, his hand going to my knee, where he gave me an encouraging squeeze. “I know. But I think you need to give it some time. I have to go to Indy for a few days. What if I drive back Monday night? We could all go out to dinner
. I’ll be there if things get rough. You give me the word, we leave.”

  “You think Apollo’s going to try to get closer?”

  “No,” he stated firmly. “I think it’s going to be fine. But if—and that’s a big if—he shows and you lose it, I’m gonna be there to make sure you get home safely.”

  I dropped my head onto his shoulder. “Jude saved my life. I bet he could get me home safely.”

  His entire body stiffened, and I tilted my head back in question, only he looked away before I could read his face.

  “I’m asking you to give it a few days,” he said. “Think about it. Prepare for it. And then let me be there just in case. Jude seemed genuinely apologetic tonight. But I’ve seen this guy in action. I don’t trust him. Not with you.”

  “I trust him,” I whispered.

  He groaned. “And that’s the problem, Rhion. You don’t know him.”

  I closed my eyes to keep the pain from showing.

  He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t know Jude.

  But, in my heart, I did.

  “A few days, babe,” he urged.

  I could do that for Johnson. He’d done so much more for me.

  “Okay,” I relented. “But I’m not paying you extra for after-hours protection when we go to dinner.”

  He grunted. “You buy me a steak, we’ll call it even.”

  “Christ, a steak? I can’t afford that!” I teased. I was loaded. Though I’d been trying to be a little thriftier recently. “Perhaps we should go ahead and get married. My monthly Guardian bill is doing a number on the old purse strings.”

  He laughed loudly, a huge grin splitting his mouth. “You grow another appendage since the last time we had this conversation?”

  “Hey, I know for a fact you’ve slept with at least one woman!”

  He arched an incredulous eyebrow. “You know for a fact, huh?”

  I scoffed. “I’m not thinking there’s any other reason a certain blonde nearly beat down my door last year. I could be wrong, but women usually reserve ‘cunt-ass whore’ for people they assume are sleeping with their man.”

  I’d barely finished talking when his eyes flashed dark and his smile transformed into an angry scowl.

  Uh oh. Maybe bringing What’s Her Name up wasn’t the best idea.