by E. K. Blair
I first heard that name sixteen years ago when my brother was arrested for smuggling guns over international lines.
I sought my revenge on that man after I found out he ratted out my brother, but it was too late, he was already dead.
Or so I thought.
I hung up the phone and immediately pulled up the manifest for the flight in question. Since I work for the airline’s IT department, retrieving the document took mere minutes to do. Steve Archer wasn’t on the list though.
But that’s okay, because I have the man’s name that’s looking for him. Lachlan Stroud—he will serve as my map, leading me to fulfill long overdue retribution.
WAKING UP THIS morning is surreal. It’s what I used to fantasize about back in Chicago when Declan told me about this estate. And although I’ve been staying here with him for a couple weeks now, this is first time I’ve truly felt connected to him. He’s made his feelings known; he’s made it very clear that he’s not leaving. I’ve had my doubts, but after talking to Pike last night and Declan forcing me to reconnect and trust him, something has shifted between us.
I’m snug in his arms as I watch the sun bathe the walls. Everything around me glows in warmth. My body sinks into the arms of my prince as we wake in our castle. I try to control my elation, because this world is filled with unknowns that lurk behind the corners of life’s winding streets. But for now, I’m at peace.
I watch Declan as he sleeps, and for the first time, I see the stress I’ve inflicted up close. It’s in the extra grey hairs that weren’t there in Chicago. It’s in his beard that’s a few weeks overgrown. It’s in the deepening lines at the corners of his eyes. I reach out and run my hand along his jaw, through the bristly hair of his beard. It crackles against my palm, and I smile. He begins to rouse, but I don’t stop touching, feeling, studying. Every touch, smell, sight, I cement to my memory. Carving everything about him into the delicate flesh of my heart.
Strong fingers comb through my hair as he wakes, opening his eyes—bright emerald green.
“’Morning, darling.” His voice is wrapped coarsely in sleepiness.
“Mmm,” I hum softly, nuzzling my head against his chest, and I fall deeper into his hold when he tightens his arms around me.
His body is so warm against mine, and I wonder what I was so afraid of. How did I allow my mind to trick me into believing he was the one to fear? So many questions come to life, and I want to punish myself for doubting him so much, for shutting him out, for not trusting his love.
“Tell me how you feel,” he requests, and without any hesitation, I respond, “Safe.”
He rolls over on top of me, propping himself up on his hands. I push a lock of hair back that’s fallen over his eyes and keep my hand fixed in his thick tresses.
“This is all I wanted, you know? You, here with me—safe.”
“I’m here,” I whisper softly.
He drops tender kisses along my shoulder, across my collarbone, and over the swell of my breasts. I feel his cock harden against my thigh beneath the sheets, and I open my legs for him to settle against me. His lips move down the length of my body, and his soft kisses intensify when he sinks his teeth into my flesh. His greedy hunger punctures, and I scream through the pain, but I don’t want him to stop.
Blood trickles along my stomach and legs as he continues to bite me between his gentle kisses.
This is how savages love.
With his scent from last night still dried on my body, he now marks me in a different way.
My legs open wider when he buries his head between my thighs. He’s a wild beast, fucking my pussy with his mouth. He leaves my hands free to pull and rip his hair as I mewl loudly in sexual delirium. Time no longer exists in this room as he devours me powerless.
He doesn’t stop after my body explodes; he keeps going, sending me into a freefall. Every bone in my body aches, both his hands holding both of mine through every orgasm that pounds through my body. It becomes too much, but I don’t deny his appetite.
I let him take me higher as my chest seizes in overwhelming paroxysms love. It’s only when I lose my breath and begin to gasp for air that he stops. He moves above me, but I can’t make out his face. Everything is drowned behind hazy pops of light as I struggle to fill my lungs with its life source.
My body lies limp on the sheets that are drenched in our arousal, sweat, and blood. There’s no doubt that Declan is as raw as they come, but that’s what I love about him. This love is shamelessly amaranthine.
He’s all over me.
I’m all over him.
There’s no doubt we belong to each other.
My body is sore as I walk down the stairs with Declan. We’re showered and dressed and in dire need of food. Walking into the kitchen, Lachlan says goodbye to whomever he’s talking to on his cell.
“Afternoon,” he greets when we walk in.
Declan starts pulling out food from the fridge, and I eye Lachlan’s cup of coffee and the French press on the table, asking, “Is the kettle still hot?”
“Yes.”
I take a teacup down from the cabinet and begin to prepare a cup of hot tea.
“Roasted tomatoes and toast?”
“That sounds good,” I respond to Declan as I take my tea to the table to join Lachlan.
It’s been nice having him around. When Declan is up in his office working, Lachlan will often take walks with me outside. It’s a relief that his treatment of me never changed after what he saw the night he and Declan found me. His banter has been a welcome reprieve from the stress of late.
“Are you hungry?”
He takes a sip of his coffee before responding. “I had a bowl of oatmeal already.”
I try to hide my laughter, but he catches me, giving me a questioning glare.
“You eat that every morning.”
“It’s good.”
“It’s old man food.”
He removes his glasses, and sets down the newspaper he’s reading, and teases, “Says the old lady who’s about to eat toast for a meal.”
“Touché,” I admit with a smile, and quickly change the direction of conversation, asking eagerly, “Have you found any leads on my dad?”
“I’ve made calls to all the contacts I have that have links to the airlines. I’m waiting to hear back.”
“Well, how long do we just sit and wait?”
“I know you’re anxious,” he tells me, “but it’s only been a day. I promise you I’m doing all I can, love.”
“Lachlan,” Declan calls out when he shuts the oven door, taking Lachlan’s attention. “What did you decide about London?”
“A hotel would be best.”
“A hotel?” I ask. “A hotel for what?”
Declan takes a seat next to me at the table. “Lachlan’s coming with us to London.”
“Why?”
“For protection.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Declan.”
“Is that so?”
Narrowing my eyes, miffed, I respond, “Richard’s dead. What are you worried about?”
“When it comes to you . . . everything.”
I look to Lachlan and tell him, “No offense, but I don’t need you looking over my shoulder.”
“I agree with Declan on this one.”
“We’ll be living in one of the most secure buildings in the world,” I argue. “What could possibly happen?”
“What about Jacqueline?”
“Jacqueline? Richard’s wife?” I practically laugh. “She’s nothing. She’s a socialite. A housewife. A whore. A—”
“A widow,” Declan interrupts harshly. “She knows we killed her husband.”
“She doesn’t have it in her. She’s too weak.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to underestimate. She’s lost everything, and now her baby has no father.”
“Richard wasn’t her baby’s father,” I reveal. “It’s Bennett’s child.”
Declan’s brows cinch together in quest
ion, and I explain, “He got her pregnant while I was married to him. I didn’t know until after he died. That bomb was laid on me when I went to have the will read. Bennett left the business assets to him.”
He quickly looks to Lachlan, saying, “Could you give us a minute?”
“Of course.”
Once Lachlan leaves the room, Declan continues, “You took his money?”
His accusing voice has a lick of judgment to it, sparking a tingle of rebellion from me.
“Yes,” I bite. “I took it.”
“How much?”
“Not as much as his bastard child got, but enough.”
His teeth grind before he presses further, stressing his words, “How much, Elizabeth?”
My hands grow tense when I think about the number, but I tell him the truth. “One point two.”
Declan releases a relieved sigh, and it’s then I realize he’s assuming fewer zeros, so I clarify, adding, “Billion.”
“Billion?” he blurts out.
“Yes, Declan. One point two billion. Surely you knew how wealthy he was. This shouldn’t come as a surprise. The only thing that was surprising was how little I got.”
My words are snappy, and it frustrates me to see his indignation.
“What?” I question with vexation. “Stop looking at me like that. If you want to say something, just say it.”
“You can’t take that money.”
“Why not? Do you have any idea the hell I went through to get it?”
“But why? For what purpose, really? Because unless you’ve left out some important detail, Bennett was, by all accounts, an innocent man.”
“Innocent?” I yell as heat creeps up my neck. “His lie took my father from me! His lie put me in that foster home! His lie raped me of the life I deserved!”
“He was a child, for Christ’s sake!”
“If you want to rationalize this, do it with someone else.”
“I saw the way he looked at you, Elizabeth.”
“Stop.” My voice is cold and hard and blatantly demanding.
“He loved you.”
“Stop.” I shake my head, blocking his words and refute, “He loved an illusion. He loved Nina, the woman who molded herself to be everything he ever wanted in a wife. It was a con, so don’t you make me feel guilty.”
“But the con is over.”
“It may be over, but my feelings about him haven’t changed.”
“I see that,” he finally concludes. “I understand your need to pin the blame for all this, it’s just . . . you’re blaming the wrong person.”
“What does it matter? He’s dead. It’s not like I can hurt him anymore even if I wanted to.”
His eyes are sternly focused on me when he repeats, “You can’t keep that money. I killed him; I don’t want that on my hands. You may not see this clearly for what it is, but that doesn’t mean I don’t.”
I shake my head, not wanting to lose everything my brother and I worked so hard for.
“It’s just money. Money you don’t need because you have me.”
“That’s not the point,” I tell him. “And besides that, how do you suggest getting rid of that amount of money without raising suspicion?”
“What about his parents?”
“Are you kidding me?” I exclaim. “His father took my dad out. They worked together and he used Bennett’s claim to ensure my dad would be out of the way so he could move up the chain and make more money. Bennett’s father hated him!”
Declan lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. I know he’s stressed trying to digest all this information I’m throwing at him. It’s generations bound by a twisted web of deception and fraud. Everyone is a con in someone else’s agenda.
“If I found a way to get rid of the money, would you do it?”
I look at him as my mind goes to Pike. I think about all he gave up for those few years while I worked the scheme with Bennett. I think about his life in that shithole trailer, about the days, weeks, and sometimes months we’d have to be apart. This is as much his money as it is mine. Am I really going to just toss it away as if everything we sacrificed wasn’t worth it?
“Tell me your hesitation.”
“Pike,” I blurt without thinking first.
“Your brother?”
“He earned that money too.”
Declan reaches over and takes my hands in his as his eyes immediately soften. “Elizabeth, you’re making decisions based on people that are no longer alive,” he tells me as gently as he can, but his words still hurt. “When people die, the world changes whether you want it to or not. Your refusal to change with it is doing nothing but hindering the future. A future you deserve. But I’m telling you now, I can’t live in the past where you still are.”
He motions for me to come to him, and I do. Pulling me onto his lap, he wraps me up in a strong hug, and I hold him close. I need comfort, because I’m not sure if I can continue to carry the weight of my world anymore.
“I need you to let go of the past. I’m not asking you to do it all at once, but you’re with me now. I’m your future. Can you do that? At least try to?”
I loosen my arms and pull back to look in his eyes.
“Start with the money,” he tells me.
“Don’t hang on to this for me. Let the money go. It isn’t worth pushing Declan away.”
“Okay,” I agree with a boulder of reluctance, but Pike is right. I can’t take a step back with Declan when we’re finally moving forward.
He smiles, repeating, “Okay.”
“I GOT THE address,” my buddy tells me when I answer my phone.
I’d be stupid to email, fax, or deliver this manifest in any other electronic way. I don’t need my ass getting busted for this breach of security with the FAA. With an address, I can payoff some random Joe to mail this off from any location.
But more importantly, I now have a point of contact.
“Thanks. I’ll get this overnighted.”
Now, I need to start making a few calls because I need a PI, and quick.
“I’LL GET YOU added to my accounts so you can go shopping. I don’t want you touching Bennett’s money any more,” Declan says when I zip up my luggage.
“What are you talking about?”
He eyes my bag, asking, “Those are all your belongings, right?”
“Yes. Well, most of them. I left everything else behind in Chicago. It felt strange to keep them. Those are all Nina’s clothes, not mine.”
“That’s why you need to go shopping.”
I take my luggage off the bed and set it on the floor before taking a seat on the mattress.
“Did I say something wrong?” he questions as he walks over to me.
“No, it’s just . . .”
He takes a seat on the bed next to me. “Tell me.”
“I’ve never had money,” I begin. “I came from white trash. It was one thing for me to spend Bennett’s money, because I hated him and it felt good. But . . . I’ve never . . .” I stumble over my words, unsure of how to say what I’m attempting to and finally conclude, “I don’t come from your world, Declan. I can fake it. I can blend in. But at the end of the day, I’m just a runaway street kid. And you asking me to spend money . . . it doesn’t feel right.”
“Darling.”
“I wouldn’t even know what to buy. I don’t know what I like and don’t like. I’ve never had the luxury of that choice because I wore whatever scraps we could afford from thrift stores and garage sales. It was easy shopping on Bennett’s dime because I simply copied what the other women in his circle were wearing.” I pause for a moment before admitting, “I know Nina well, but I have no idea who I am because I’ve spent my life caged up and detached. And when I was with Bennett, I was simply pretending to be what he wanted.”
“You have choices now,” Declan says. “And you have time. You take all that you need to find yourself. That’s one thing I won’t rush you to do. But I don’t want you feeling
guilty for the things I want to give you. You may not have started in my world, but you’re here now.”
“A part of me still doesn’t feel like I deserve to be. I don’t doubt you when you say you love me, but it feels undeserving.”
“It’s not. If I could give you more, I would. Nobody should ever have to face the nightmare that you did.” He takes my chin, angling me to him when he states, “You are not trash.”
“Some of those choices were mine though.”
“Like what?”
“Pike.”
His hand drops as he sighs. “I’ve tried to make sense of your relationship, and although I hate knowing that side of you two, all I can conclude is that you guys were just two kids trying to survive in a world that was deeper than hell. But you’re right, it was a choice you made. Luckily our choices don’t define us.” He then cradles my face in his hands, saying, “And you, darling, you were never a choice. You were put on this Earth destined to be loved by me.”
And with his words, in our continuing need to reclaim each other, he throws me back onto the bed, strips me, ties me up, and fucks me. It’s raw and primal and everything else Declan embodies.
Later that day, after all our bags are packed and the boys have prepped the property for our vacancy, we are ready to go to London. I feel like a child on her way to Disneyland, and I wear it on my face in an obnoxious smile. Lachlan loads our bags as I sit with Declan in the back seat of his Mercedes SUV.
“You seem mildly excited,” Declan teases, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
I turn my head to him. “Is it that obvious?”
“Insanely obvious. You might as well be skipping instead of walking.”
“Skip? I’m not sure I ever learned how to skip. But keep joking with me, and I just might.”
“Well, that’s everything,” Lachlan announces when he gets into the front seat. “Are we ready?”
Declan looks to me, and I give him an approving nod. “I’m ready.”
Lachlan drives down the winding road that leads to the gates I used to cling to and cry when I thought Declan was dead. He pulls out onto the main street, and as we get further away, a part of me feels free. Even though I love Brunswickhill, I’m ready for a little distance. So much has happened in the past couple weeks, so many lows, so much anger blended with beatific highs of love and newborn trust. It’s a rollercoaster I’m ready to get off because I’m craving the stability of walking with Declan on a solid surface.
