Shot in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

  I narrowed my eyes at him. He had acted strange earlier, and he was being cryptic now. I wondered if it was related. “Well, then I guess I’d better have a look at what Mrs. G brought me.”

  Declan smiled, clearly pleased that I wasn’t putting up a fuss at the idea of him dressing me for the weekend. The more I got to know Declan, the more I realized that it brought him joy to do things for me. So instead of insisting that I didn’t need a new dress for every special occasion, I’d gotten in the habit of accepting his beautiful gifts.

  “I’ve brought several beautiful things for you to try,” Mrs. G said as she started sorting through the racks.

  I slid my arms around Declan’s back and looked up at him. “You need to go pack or something, and leave me to this.”

  “You don’t want me to stay and watch?” he asked with a hint of slyness.

  “No, I’d like to surprise you with what I wear to our engagement party.”

  “I can’t wait.” With one last kiss, he backed out of my arms and departed.

  “Were you able to obtain what I requested?” I asked Mrs. G.

  She walked over to her bag, pulled out a small box, and set it gently in my hand. “Declan will love these. I asked the auction company to send over the appraisal.”

  I opened the box and examined the cufflinks I’d had Mrs. G purchase at auction for me. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” I tucked the gift inside my tote.

  “Now, what do you want to wear to your party tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” I began thumbing through the garments hanging on one of the racks. The truth was, I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d been more worried about seeing my mother for the first time in over a year. And seeing her with Declan beside me.

  “You would look beautiful in jewel colors. Maybe this emerald green dress?” Mrs. G held out a lovely silk knee-length dress. “We’re nearing the holidays. You could repurpose it for holiday parties.”

  “That looks like a dress my mother would love to see me wear.” I grabbed a black dress off of the rack. It was long, also silk, and the back was nothing but several crisscrossing spaghetti straps. It didn’t scream conservative, blue-blood cocktail party. “This one. It’s perfect.” I spun around to face Mrs. G.

  “You’ll be stunning in that dress.”

  Mrs. G wouldn’t have brought a dress if she thought it wasn’t suitable or wouldn’t look good on me.

  “Now, what else would you like? Declan told me he would buy everything in this room if you want it, or you could pick out a few pieces.”

  I scanned the room. There were three full racks of dresses, another rack of casual, everyday clothes, and three carts with shoes, purses, and other accessories. “He’s over the top.”

  “He loves you and wants you to have everything you ever desired.”

  I looked at her. Tears pooled in my eyes, but I quickly blinked away the emotion. “I feel the same way about him.” I glanced at the row of casual things, including various styles of jeans. “I could use some new jeans.”

  “I brought a couple of winter jackets for you to look at, too. Thought you might like the tan faux suede over there.”

  I saw the jacket she was referring to, and she was right. Mrs. G knew how to please her clients, and she had figured me out in no time. Or Declan had, and had given Mrs. G the perfect guidelines.

  Thumbing through the clothes, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I needed to tell Declan about my conversation with Mike. And about my Romeo binder. “Mrs. G, do you mind packing up a couple of casual outfits and another dress for whatever business Declan has tonight? I have something I need to take care of.”

  “Of course, honey.”

  I gave her a hug. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “You and Declan are going to be very happy.”

  I smiled. “I think you might be right.”

  I found Declan standing in the closet, holding up two ties against a dark suit. “I like the one on the right.” It was a beautiful gray tie that would go well with the black dress I’d just picked out.

  He turned. “Then that’s the one I shall pack.” He grabbed the suit, plus another covered suit behind it, and carried them and the tie past me to the bed, where he’d started packing a suitcase.

  “What’s the second suit for?”

  “A tux. The party is black tie.”

  “Black tie optional,” I said. “With emphasis on optional.”

  “I’ve never really believed in the optional part.”

  “Oh, my! My mother is going to love you.”

  He barely cracked a smile at that. He was digging inside the suitcase, his brow furrowed.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  He looked up. “No, why?”

  “You were acting strange this morning, and I can tell something’s bothering you. What’s got you all worked up?”

  “I’m not worked up.” He continued to push some things around in his suitcase, winced, then stopped.

  “You seem… I don’t know… edgy.” I crossed to him and slipped a hand around to the back of his neck. His intense blue eyes were dark on mine. “Are you feeling okay? It’s not the gunshot wound, is it?”

  He ran a finger down what I imagined was a line forming between my brows. “Nothing is wrong with me. I’m just excited to get you away from here for a few days.”

  “Really? Because I was thinking we could skip the whole Virginia thing and just hole up here for a few days instead.”

  “I’m pretty sure your dad would send a team of agents to hunt us down if we didn’t show.”

  “On my mom’s orders,” I added.

  Declan chuckled. “Did you pick out some clothes?”

  “I did.”

  “When do I get to see them?”

  I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. “You’re going to have to be patient.”

  “Patient, huh? Not my best trait.”

  “We have that in common,” I joked. “Mrs. G is preparing the items I picked out, but I probably should pack a few other things as well.”

  He and I gathered everything we’d need for the next few days. Because we were flying on his private plane, space wasn’t an issue, but I still tried to be efficient with what I took. As I folded a sweater and placed it on top of my bag, I saw Declan frowning down at his phone and typing. There was no use putting it off any longer. He wasn’t going to like it, but it was time to tell him about my investigation into Romeo.

  I grabbed my tote from beside the door. I had just opened my mouth to tell him about the binder, and about Mike’s phone call, when he spoke first.

  “How was breakfast with Ty? He’s coming to the engagement party, right?” He didn’t stop typing on his phone as he spoke.

  “It was good. And yes, he and James are leaving early tomorrow morning. They’re driving.”

  Declan returned his focus to his suitcase without even glancing at me. I was pretty sure he hadn’t heard a word.

  “Ty said James picked out matching purple and lime green suits to wear to the party,” I said.

  “That sounds great,” Declan said casually, fiddling with something in his bag.

  I set the tote aside, jutted out a hip, and crossed my arms. “Declan,” I said a little louder than necessary.

  He finally stopped what he was doing and looked up. “What?”

  “You’re not even listening to me. And quite frankly, you’re worrying me. What is wrong?” I had thought this was the time to tell Declan about my fears where Romeo was concerned, but he was clearly preoccupied and stressed about something, and I didn’t want to add to that. I’d never seen Declan anything but calm and in control—except maybe right after I’d woken up from suffering smoke inhalation in the cottage fire. But the doctors had warned us about the power of stress after an event like the shooting in Georgetown. Declan had recovered physically, but he needed to take it easy mentally.

  When he didn’t answer me, I stepped around the bed and placed a ha
nd on his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  His phone rang, and he looked down at the screen. “It’s nothing. I’ve just been trying to purchase the farm that neighbors this one out the back gate. And the sale fell through.” He looked up at me. “I’m sorry. I need to take this. We’ll leave soon.” He walked quickly out of the room before answering the phone, as if he wanted to keep me from hearing his conversation.

  But why would he hide his conversation from me? This was clearly not about some piece of land.

  As his voice disappeared down the hallway, I began having irrational thoughts. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who was stressed about this weekend. But I was stressed about my mother, whom Declan hadn’t even met. What could he be stressed about?

  Then it dawned on me.

  Maybe this was all too much. What if we were moving too fast? Maybe Declan was stressed about meeting my family. Was it possible he was having second thoughts? About the weekend? About the engagement party?

  About marrying me?

  Chapter 4

  Brooke

  The flight to the nation’s capital was short. Declan typed on his computer most of the trip, while I reviewed intelligence reports from the Department of Homeland Security and a host of other three-letter federal agencies that filled my inbox on a constant basis. I was off until the following Tuesday, but I liked to stay on top of what the intelligence community was monitoring in case I identified a Kentucky connection that called for the involvement of my fusion center analysts.

  A limousine was waiting for us on the tarmac when we landed, and we were whisked away to The Jefferson, a luxurious boutique hotel less than a mile from the Washington Mall. Declan checked us in, then spoke with the concierge. I stood nearby, pretending to make a phone call, but was actually watching him. He tapped his fingers nervously on the concierge’s desk and looked over at me several times. I hadn’t asked him what business he had in DC or what dinner we were going to, and I was starting to wish I had. Something was clearly causing him anxiety.

  When he was finished with the concierge, he returned to me. “We’re all set. Emanuel is going to show us to our suite.”

  I lifted a brow at the mention of a suite. It was just the two of us. Did we really need a suite?

  A gentleman in a charcoal gray, extremely formal hotel uniform—presumably this was Emanuel—led us to an elevator, to the top floor, and to the Thomas Jefferson Suite. It included a living room with a baby grand piano, a private dining room, a kitchen, a master bedroom, and a luxurious bath. An oversized vase of fresh flowers adorned the suite’s private foyer, with a smaller bouquet in the living room, and another in the grand bathroom. The suite was massive, large enough to have his and hers closets.

  “Your luggage has already been placed in the closets,” Emanuel said. “If you need anything during your stay, all you have to do is ask.”

  As Declan followed Emanuel back through the suite, I made my way to one of the balconies. I opened the doors and was greeted by a lovely view of the Washington Monument and the White House, but also by a frigid breeze. I pulled my leather jacket tighter, but it wasn’t warm enough.

  I hadn’t heard Declan approach when he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to him, my back to his chest. He kissed the side of my head. “We are alone, Miss Fairfax.”

  I turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Yes, we are.” I placed my arms around his neck. “Why do I feel like you’ve got a plan that you’ve kept from me?”

  He smiled. “You don’t like surprises.”

  “No, I don’t. For good reasons. Most surprises in my life have been bad.”

  “That’s going to change.”

  “What’s going to change, exactly?” I asked.

  “I am going to show you that life with me is going to be filled with nothing but pleasant surprises.”

  I furrowed my brows, trying not to frown as I considered my earlier fear that Declan was having second thoughts about marrying me.

  “What is it?” he said. “Something’s bothering you.”

  I backed out of his arms and squeezed past him back into the suite. He followed, closing the doors behind him.

  I turned to face him. “You’ve been acting strange since this morning. You’ve been keeping things from me. I thought…” I stopped myself from finishing the sentence, realizing that I might have been overreacting.

  “You thought what?”

  “Nothing.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose and smiled. “I think the stress of tomorrow night—of seeing my family—has gotten to me. My mind was playing tricks.”

  “What were you thinking?” It was Declan who was concerned now.

  I remembered how irritated I had been that Declan wouldn’t talk earlier, so I decided to be honest with him. “I thought maybe you were having second thoughts.”

  “About what?” He looked sincerely confused.

  I looked down, twisting my hands in a rare show of insecurity. I sucked in a deep breath, then met his gaze again. “I thought maybe you were rethinking the decision to…” I shrugged. “To go through with the engagement party, or to… I don’t know… marry me. This has all happened very fast. Maybe you want to—”

  He flinched. “You thought I was having second thoughts about marrying you? What in the bloody hell would give you that idea?”

  To continue reading Desired in Darkness, CLICK HERE.

  Also by Heather Sunseri

  PAYNES CREEK THRILLERS

  Death is in the Details

  Truth is in the Darkness

  The Secret is in the Bones

  * * *

  THE IN DARKNESS SERIES

  Exposed in Darkness

  Cut in Darkness

  Covered in Darkness

  Shot in Darkness

  Desired in Darkness

  * * *

  SPECIAL IN DARKNESS STORY

  (Sequel to Cut in Darkness)

  Free to Newsletter Subscribers

  Protected in Darkness

  * * *

  THE INTERNATIONAL THIEF SERIES

  A Thief Revealed

  A Thief Consumed

  A Thief Obsessed

  * * *

  THE MINDSPEAK SERIES

  Mindspeak

  Mindsiege

  Mindsurge

  Tracked

  Deceived

  * * *

  THE EMERGE SERIES

  Emerge

  Uprising

  Renaissance

  The Meeting (A short story)

  About the Author

  Heather Sunseri is a recovering CPA who began writing novels in order to escape the mundane life as a muggle. After twenty years in the corporate world, Heather decided to use her business savvy and curious mind to start a publishing business anchored by fictional stories. She is proof that one can be a numbers person and a creative And that it’s never too late (or too early) to get a do over. She’s married to the love of her life, mom to two amazing kids, and caregiver to the best golden retriever and one very, needy cat. When she’s not writing, she’s making homemade pizza, listening to true crime podcasts, and drinking Kentucky bourbon.

  Connect with Heather:

  heathersunseri.com

  heather@heathersunseri.com