by W Winters
The feeling of betrayal, for fantasizing about Tyler’s older brother.
The heartache from knowing what happened only three weeks after that night.
The desire and desperation to go back to that point and beg Tyler to never come looking for me.
All of those needs stir into a deadly concoction in the pit of my stomach. It’s been years since I’ve been tormented by the memories of Tyler and what we had. And by the memories of Daniel and what never was.
Years have passed.
But it all comes back now that Daniel's back.
* * *
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Chapter 1
Addison
The night before
* * *
I love this bar. Iron Heart Brewery. It’s nestled in the center of the city and located at the corner of this street. The town itself has history. Hints of the old cobblestone streets peek through the torn asphalt and all the signs here are worn and faded, decorated with weathered paint. I can’t help but to be drawn here.
And with the varied memorabilia lining the walls, from signed knickknacks to old glass bottles of liquor, this place is flooded with a welcoming warmth. It’s a quiet bar with all local and draft beers a few blocks away from the chaos of campus. So it’s just right for me.
“Make up your mind?”
My body jolts at the sudden question. It only gets me a rough laugh from the tall man on my left, the bartender who spooked me. A grey shirt with the brewery logo on it fits the man well, forming to his muscular shoulders. With a bit of stubble and a charming smirk, he’s not bad looking. And at that thought, my cheeks heat with a blush.
I could see us making out behind the bar; I can even hear the bottles clinking as we crash against the wall in a moment of passion. But that’s where it would end for me. No hot and dirty sex on the hard floor. No taking him back to my barely furnished apartment.
I roll my eyes at the thought and blow a strand of hair away from my face as I meet his gaze.
I’m sure he flirts with everyone. But it doesn’t make it any less fun for the moment.
“Whatever your favorite is,” I tell him sheepishly. “I’m not picky.” I have to press my lips together and hold back my smile when he widens his and nods.
“You new to town?” he asks me.
I shrug and have to slide the strap to my tank top back up onto my shoulder. Before I can answer, the door to the brewery and bar swings open, bringing in the sounds of the nightlife with it. It closes after two more customers leave. Looking over my shoulder through the large glass door at the front, I can see them heading out. The woman is leaning heavily against a strong man who’s obviously her significant other.
Giving the bartender my attention again, I’m very much aware that there are only six of us here now. Two older men at the high top bar, talking in hushed voices and occasionally laughing so loud that I have to take a peek at them.
And one other couple who are seated at a table in the corner of the bar. The couple who just left had been sitting with them. All four are older than I am. I’d guess married with children and having a night out on the town.
And then there’s the bartender and me.
“I’m not really from here, no.”
“Just passing through?” he asks me as he walks toward the bar. I’m a table away, but he keeps his eyes on me as he reaches for a glass and hits the tap to fill it with something dark and decadent.
“I’m thinking about going to the university actually. To study business. I came to check it out.” I don’t tell him that I’m putting down some temporary roots regardless of whether or not I like the school here. Every year or so I move somewhere new … searching for what could feel like home.
His eyebrow raises and he looks me up and down, making me feel naked. “Your ID isn’t fake, right?” he asks and then tilts the tall glass in his hand to let the foam slide down the side.
“It isn’t fake, I swear,” I say with a smile and hold up my hands in defense. “I chose to travel instead of going to college. I’ve got a little business, but I thought finally learning more about the technicalities of it all would be a step in the right direction.” I pause, thinking about how a degree feels more like a distraction than anything else. It’s a reason to settle down and stop moving from place to place. It could be the change I need. Something needs to change.
His expression turns curious and I can practically hear all the questions on his lips. Where did you go? What did you do? Why did you leave your home so young and naïve? I’ve heard them all before and I have a prepared list of answers in my head for such questions.
But they’re all lies. Pretty little lies.
He cleans off the glass before walking back over and pulling out the seat across from me.
Just as the legs of the chair scrape across the floor, the door behind me opens again, interrupting our conversation and the soft strums of the acoustic guitar playing in the background.
The motion brings a cold breeze with it that sends goosebumps down my shoulder and spine. A chill I can’t ignore.
The bartender’s ass doesn’t even touch the chair. Whoever it is has his full attention.
As I lean down to reach for the cardigan laying on top of my purse, he puts up a finger and mouths, “One second.”
The smile on my face is for him, but it falters when I hear the voice behind me.
Everything goes quiet as the door shuts and I listen to them talking. My body tenses and my breath leaves me. Frozen in place, I can’t even slip on the cardigan as my blood runs cold.
My heart skips one beat and then another as a rough laugh rises above the background noise of the small bar.
“Yeah, I’ll take an ale, something local,” I hear Daniel say before he slips into view. I know it’s him. That voice haunted me for years. His strides are confident and strong, just like I remember them. And as he passes me to take a seat by the bar, I can’t take my eyes off of him.
He’s taller and he looks older, but the slight resemblance to Tyler is still there. As my heart learns its rhythm again, I notice his sharp cheekbones and my gaze drifts to his hard jaw, covered with a five o’clock shadow. I’d always thought of him as tall and handsome, albeit in a dark and brooding way. And that’s still true.
He could fool you with his charm, but there’s a darkness that never leaves his eyes.
His fingers spear through his hair as he checks out the beer options written in chalk on the board behind the bar. His hair’s longer on top than it is on the sides, and I can’t help but to imagine what it would feel like to grab on to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had.
The timbre in his voice makes my body shudder.
And then heat.
I watch his throat as he talks, I notice the little movements as he pulls out a chair in the corner of the bar across from me. If only he would look my way, he’d see me.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips and I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t.
I can’t do a damn thing but wait for him to notice me.
I almost whisper the command, look at me. I think it so loud I’m sure it can be heard by every soul in this bar.
And finally, as if hearing the silent plea, he looks my way. His knuckles rap the table as he waits for his beer, but they stop mid-motion when his gaze reaches mine.
There’s a heat, a spark of recognition. So intense and so raw that my body lights, every nerve ending alive with awareness.
And then it vanishes. Replaced with a bitter chill as he turns away. Casually. As if there was nothing there. As if he doesn’t even recognize me.
I used to think it was all in my mind back then. Five years ago when we’d share a glance and that same feeling would ignite within me.
But this just happened. I know it did.
And I know he knows who I am.
With anger beginning to rise, my lips part to say his name, but it’s caught in my throat. It smot
hers the sadness that’s rising just as quickly. Slowly my fingers curl, forming a fist until my nails dig into my skin.
I don’t stop staring at him, willing him to look at me and at least give me the courtesy of acknowledging me.
I know he can feel my eyes on him. He’s stopped rapping his knuckles on the table and the smile on his face has faded.
Maybe the crushing feeling in my chest is shared by both of us.
Maybe I’m only a reminder to him. A reminder he ran away from too.
I don’t know what I expected. I’ve dreamed of running into Daniel so many nights. Brushing shoulders on the way into a coffee shop. Meeting each other again through new friends. Every time I wound up back home, if you can even call it that, I always checked out every person passing me by, secretly wishing one would be him. Just so I’d have a reason to say his name.
Winding up at the same bar on a lonely Tuesday night hours away from the town we grew up in … that was one of those daydreams too. But it didn’t go like this in my head.
“Daniel.” I say his name before I can stop myself. It comes out like a croak and he reluctantly turns his head as the bartender sets down the beer on the wooden table.
I swear it’s so quiet, I can hear the foam fizzing as it settles in the glass.
His lips part just slightly, as if he’s about to speak. And then he visibly inhales. It’s a sharp breath and matches the gaze he gives me. First it’s one of confusion, then anger … and then nothing.
I have to remind my lungs to do their job as I clear my throat to correct myself, but both efforts are in vain.
He looks past me as if it wasn’t me who was trying to get his attention.
“Jake,” he speaks up, licking his lips and stretching his back. “I actually can’t stay,” he bellows from his spot to where the bartender, apparently named Jake, is chucking ice into a large glass. The music seems to get louder as the crushing weight of being so obviously dismissed and rejected settles in me.
I’m struck by how cold he is as he gets up. I can’t stand to look at him as he readies to leave, but his name leaves me again. This time with bite.
His back stiffens as he shrugs his thin jacket around his shoulders and slowly turns to look at me.
I can feel his eyes on me, commanding me to look back at him and I do. I dare to look him in the eyes and say, “It’s good to see you.” It’s surprising how even the words come out. How I can appear to be so calm when inside I’m burning with both anger and … something else I don’t care to admit. What a lie those words are.
I hate how he gets to me. How I never had a choice.
With a hint of a nod, Daniel barely acknowledges me. His smile is tight, practically nonexistent, and then he’s gone.
* * *
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Sneak Peek at Merciless
From USA Today bestselling author W Winters comes a heart-wrenching, edge-of-your-seat gripping, romantic suspense.
* * *
I should’ve known she would ruin me the moment I saw her.
Women like her are made to destroy men like me.
I couldn’t resist her though.
Given to me to start a war; I was too eager to accept.
* * *
But I didn’t know what she’d do to me. That she would change everything.
She sees through me in a way no one else ever has.
Her innocence and vulnerability make me weak for her and I hate it.
I know better than to give in to temptation.
* * *
A ruthless man doesn’t let a soul close to him.
A cold-hearted man doesn’t risk anything for anyone.
A powerful man with a beautiful woman at his mercy … he doesn’t fall for her.
Chapter 1
Carter
War is coming.
It’s something I’ve known for over two years.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
My jaw ticks in time with the skin over my knuckles turning white as my fist clenches tighter. The tension in my stiff shoulders rises and I have to remind myself to breathe in deep and let the strain of it all go away.
Tick. Tock. It’s the only sound echoing off the walls of my office and with each passing of the pendulum the anger grows.
It’s always like this before I go to a meet. This one in particular sends a thrill through my blood, the adrenaline pumping harder with each passing minute.
My gaze moves from the grandfather clock in my office to the shelves next to it and then beneath them to the box made of mahogany and steel. It’s only three feet deep and tall and six feet long. It blends into the right wall of my office, surrounded by polished bookshelves that carry an aroma of old books.
I paid more than I should have simply to put on display. All any of this is a façade. People’s perceptions are their reality. And so I paint the picture they need to see so I can use them as I see fit. The expensive books and paintings, polished furniture made of rare wood… All of it is bullshit.
Except for the box. The story that came with it will stay with me forever. In all of the years, it’s the one of the few memories that I can pin point as a defining moment. The box never leaves me.
The words from the man who gave it to me are still as clear as is the memory of his pale green eyes, glassed over as he told me his story.
About how it kept him safe when he was a child. He told me how his mother had shoved him in it to protect him.
I swallow thickly, feeling my throat tighten and the cord in my neck strain with the memory. He painted the picture so well.
He told me how he clung to his mother seeing how panicked she was. But he did as he was told, he stayed quiet in the safe box and could only listen while the men murdered his mother.
It was the story he gave me with the box he offered to barter for his life. And it reminded me of my own mother telling me goodbye before she passed.
Yes, his story was touching, but the defining moment is when I put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger regardless.
He tried to steal from me and then pay me with a box as if the money he laundered was a debt or a loan. William was good at stealing, at telling stories, but the fucker was a dumb prick.
I didn’t get to where I am by playing nicely and being weak. That day I took the box that saved him as a reminder of who I was. Who I needed to be.
I made sure that box has been within my sight for every meeting I’ve had in this office. It’s a reminder for me so I can stare at it in this god forsaken room as I make deal after deal with criminal after criminal and collect wealth and power like the dusty old books on these shelves.
It cost me a fortune to get this office exactly how I wanted. But if it were to burn down, I could buy it all over again.
Everything except for that box.
“You really think they’re going through with it?” I hear Daniel, my brother, before I see him. The memories fade in an instant and my heart beat races faster than the tick tock of that fucking clock.
It takes a second for me to be conscious of my facial expression, to relax it and let go of the anger before I can raise my gaze to his.
“With the war and the deal? You think he’ll go through with it?” he clarifies.
A small huff leaves me, accompanied by a smirk, “He wants this more than anything else,” I answer him.
Daniel stalks into the room slowly, the heavy door to my office closing with a soft kick of his heel before he comes to stand across from me.
“And you’re sure you want to be right in the middle of it?”
I lick my lower lip and stand from my desk, stretching as I do and turning my gaze to the window in my office. I can hear Daniel walking around the desk as I lean against it and cross my arms.
“We won’t be in the middle of it. It’ll be the two of them, our territory is close, but we can stay back.”
“Bullshit. He wants you to fight with him and he’s going to start thi
s war tonight and you know it.”
I nod slowly, the smell of Romano’s cigars filling my lungs at the memory of him.
“There’s still time to call it off,” Daniel says and it makes my brow pinch and place a crease on my forehead. He can’t be that naïve.
It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him since he’s been back. He spent years away. And every fucking day I fought for what we have. He’s gone soft. Or maybe it’s Addison that’s turned him into the man standing in front of me.
“This war has to happen.” My words are final and the tone is one not to be questioned. I may have grown this business on fear and anger. Each step forward followed by the hollow sound of a body dropping behind me, but that’s not how it started. Y can’t build an empire with blood stained hands and not expect death to follow you.
His dark eyes narrow as he pushes off the desk and moves closer to the window, his gaze flickering between me and the meticulously maintained garden stories below us.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” his voice is low and I barely hear it. He doesn’t look back at me and a chill flows down my arms and the back of my neck as I take in his stern expression.
It takes me back years ago. Back to when we had a choice and chose wrong.
When whether or not we wanted to go through with it meant something.
“There are men to the left of us,” I tell him as I step forward and close the distance between us. “There are men to the right. There is no possible outcome where we don’t pick a side.”
He nods once and slides his thumb across the stubble on his chin before looking back at me. “And the girl?” he asks me, his eyes piercing into mine and reminding me that both of us survived, both of us fought, and each of us has a tragic path that led us to where we are today.
“Aria?” I dare to speak her name and the sound of my smooth voice seems to linger in the space between us. I don’t wait for him to acknowledge me, or her rather.
