Seeking Solace

by Chelsea Camaron

  We were comfortable.

  This journey had been a long one. It took more from me than not giving up, more than continuing to exist, it took me finding love and life again. Alanzo helped me set up a new start on the West Coast. The small Oregon town was a short commute to the college and gave me the sense of security I once again found in solitude. With Giano dead and having had a public service, Alanzo felt that my move to the West would mean I would stay relatively safe.

  Giano’s enemies no longer needed me for leverage with him gone, and my desire to relocate only pushed me further off their radars. It had worked wonderfully for the most part for all of this time. Well, that was until Shawn’s father brought the Valencia name back to light on my wedding night. Now, I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but I couldn’t live my life locked down my fear. I had found my happy and I was trying to embrace it with all that I had.

  Recently, with the aid of a long-time resident who also happened to be a realtor, Shawn and I bought a two-bedroom cabin. Our life together had truly begun.

  True to his word, Giano had made sure I was taken care of in both his life and after his death. Life insurance, stocks, bonds, and assets gave me the home I knew with pink walls and a lace curtain, as well as this cabin to make my own. Even with a solid financial footing, Shawn continued to teach and I continued on with school.

  After Giano had taken his life in front of me, my world had crumbled around me. The days passed by, and I wondered why I was still there.

  Angelina Nylene Diamante.

  A name. It held more power than people realized.

  The picture I loved so much of her behind the bubble called to me even now. It was wrinkled and had faded with time, but I still carried it with me. The blurred face still seemed to speak to me. Her eyes were hidden behind the innocence of childhood behaviors. Everything she lost, I gained. How could I throw her gift away?

  My eyes reminded him of Nylene. My face reminded him of Angelina. His angel. I was his angel, his gift from the ones he loved most. How could I toss that away when I should have had no existence beyond being my real father’s play thing for his sick needs?

  The road before me was still long, the end nowhere in sight. Studying psychology, I was hoping to understand myself and those who were once around me so that maybe, in the future, the past wouldn’t repeat itself. I had grown in my studies and healed some deep-seated wounds. I was still learning and growing, but I wasn’t alone. I had endless possibilities ahead.

  A girl could only hope.

  In my studies, we had been told, for some people, love was a choice. We somehow choose whether to love someone or not. I didn’t know whether I agreed with that statement or not.

  Scientists and doctors found great success in breaking down the chemical makeup of a human being. They wanted to fix our depression with a pill. Physicians all agreed exercise had an impact on one’s mental health. Getting the blood pumping and increased endorphins all aided in overall well-being. I didn’t know that I agreed with that analysis, either.

  It had been my experience that, if you were drawn to someone, had a bond, those things weren’t done by choice, but rather by something bigger than all of us. I didn’t believe in faith, karma, destiny, or a connection of souls. What I had a firm foundation in was the touch of an angel. It was the angel of Nylene and Angelina Diamante that saved me all those years ago. I could believe in that. They didn’t fail me whenever everyone and everything else did.

  Opening my desk drawer, I took out the picture from my old wall that Alanzo had cleaned of Giano’s blood. Angelina’s dark hair flowed in the sunlight. Her back was to me, as always. My faceless angel always carried me through. When no one else would stay, she was always there.

  Sometimes I wondered if she gave me Shawn. If he was my gift from the Heavens. For in him, I found the solace I was so desperately seeking.

  Classes had taught me that children outgrew imaginary friends. Angelina wasn’t a figment of my imagination, though; she was as real as I was. No longer was I torn between my existence and her loss, but rather, we were one in the same—two little girls with innocence gone. Hers was ripped away in an act of violence, and mine had never existed.

  Giano had said he touched innocence, that I was his redemption for seeking retribution. He was wrong, and it cost him everything.

  How could he touch innocence when I set him up? In my sick and twisted desires, I had killed the only person who had ever cared to save me. His blood was on my hands, just like my father’s.

  No doubt, Giano would have killed him that night regardless, but it was my face he saw last, my body he touched last. I could have cried out. I could have warned him. I didn’t. He got what he deserved.

  Giano hadn’t deserved what I did. He hadn’t deserved the lust and want of a young woman to rage so out of control that she got him drunk to let down his inhibitions in order to feed her greediness.

  “My baby girl, always so greedy.” My father’s words came back to haunt me. He was right, and he was wrong. I was greedy, but I was not his baby girl. The day he touched me, he tainted me; he darkened my soul. The day he touched me, I was no longer a baby.

  Giano saw his wife and daughter in my eyes. He longed to have his family again and clung to hope through me. He saw an innocence he only wished was there, and in the end, my blackened soul consumed him, too.

  While I didn’t agree with love being simply a choice, and I didn’t agree that we as humans all had chemical imbalances, I did hold firm that we all had a choice, and we all were imbalanced.

  I had a choice with Giano—to accept our relationship for what it was. I chose to push the boundaries. I chose wrong. I looked too far into things and saw only what I wanted to see, not what was really there. He had paid the price.

  Nothing in my life had ever been balanced, fair, or just. I was a black widow of my own making, poisoning everything and everyone around me.

  What I had learned in my losses was that solitude was my savior. I had escaped hell with my family and never allowed myself to be the version of Angelina I wanted to be. I had lived in a bubble of my own creation, and it was as twisted as anyone could imagine.

  To the outsider, I seduced my father when, in reality, my father had tainted me, and my savior had become my victim. The killer became the killed. Only, it wasn’t by my hands in the literal sense, but in my actions.

  I owned that. I lived it, breathed it, and tried to lock it away in my blackened soul. I failed. Therefore, now here I was, studying psychology in the hopes of one day saving myself.

  Giano had always told me I needed a man to treasure me. He had wanted me to wait for a man and not a boy. He was right, but he left a part out. See, in order for a man to treasure me, I first had to treasure myself.

  I was broken, cursed, jaded, and defeated, yet I also was finding my way back to the new me. I would somehow give Giano the redemption he sought by finding a way to love myself, and then maybe one day I could believe someone else could love me.

  When it was all said and done, hope had gotten me through every minute of every day this far, and no matter what the future would bring me, I couldn’t lose hope to break the cycle of pain.

  With Shawn I felt like I had overcome it all. I believed in dreams again.

  Dare I hope, dare I dream, maybe one day I could believe someone would stay.

  With every passing day, I fell more in love with life. With every passing day, it was another day Shawn was with me and I held onto the belief I would have a future; a real future full of love and family.

  So as I sat at my desk filling out the paperwork, I proudly entered the name, my name.

  Angelina Nylene Diamante-Patrick.

  Twenty

  “Hey this is Shawn, can’t get to the phone, leave a message. If this is Angel, I love you.”

  His voicemail was mocking me at this point. I had called for three hours straight, every five minutes. I was the crazy stalker wife.

  I knew by now he sho
uld have called.

  Dialing the number, I blew out a breath. I didn’t want to reach out. I felt I had no choice. Shawn was more important to me than anything so pride and paranoia be damned.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “Hello Angel,” his mother greeted.

  “Have you seen Shawn?” I didn’t hide my worry.

  “He left yesterday, honey. He wanted to surprise you. Being newlyweds,” she rambled, “and pressure being around his dad, he wasn’t happy here. I told him he could go home.” She paused. “I want to say thank you for getting him to come visit. This chemo has drained my body. He was just the pick-me-up I needed.”

  I didn’t care about her chemo right now. Something didn’t feel right. He never would have boarded a plane without calling me first. He was supposed to leave today, not yesterday

  “Thanks for letting me know. Get better,” I said in a rush.

  “Well, I’m going to die either way, Angel. But thank you for convincing Shawn to give his mom one last visit. It was good for me. I told him I was sorry and I loved him. Please, Angel, remind him I did love him.”

  The weight of her words were heavy on my chest. “I will, Ann. If you hear from Shawn, by chance, will you tell him to call me?”

  “Of course. I can’t believe he’s not there.”

  Me either, but I didn’t give her more of my time. Instead I disconnected the call.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  Shawn always called or texted no matter what. If he left their house, he would have given me an update. His mother was battling a rare, terminal bone cancer. She was given four weeks to six months to live. He went home to give her some encouragement and make peace. I knew firsthand what it was to lose someone, even someone you weren’t close with, and not have closure.

  Pacing the cabin, I was doing nothing to calm my nerves.

  “Angel,” Alanzo answered on the first ring.

  “Did you take Shawn to the airport?”

  “No, he called and said his dad was going to get him there yesterday. He was done here and ready to get back home to you.”

  I tried to calm down.

  “Next time he visits, you come with him. Your Uncle Zozo is an old man and you light up my life. I could use a visit, too, and without having to get cancer to get it.”

  I laughed, hiding my emotions. I didn’t want to worry Alanzo when I wasn’t even sure what happened. Maybe his phone died and he got delayed and then missed a connecting flight.

  My doorbell rang and I rushed to it, thinking maybe Shawn forgot his key.

  I was stunned to open the door and find a parcel carrier at the door.

  “Angelina Patrick,” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, not expecting a package.

  He pushed a device at me, “Sign here, please.”

  I scribbled my name, tapped accept with the stylus, and took my box.

  Going to the kitchen, I open the brown box.

  Inside I found a smaller white box with a red satin ribbon around it.

  Pulling it out, I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

  A note lay on the top with red and brown stains on the bottom of the paper. I lifted the paper to find a severed finger laying on tissue paper.

  On the finger was his ring.

  Shawn’s wedding ring.

  I screamed and backed away from the box.

  It took me a moment, but with trembling hands, I lifted my phone and dialed.

  “Angelina,” Alanzo answered casually.

  “Uncle Zozo,” I sobbed. “They sent me a package.”

  “Who? What?” He said sternly.

  “I don’t know. I can’t reach Shawn and a box arrived with a finger that has his ring.”

  “Is there any return name or a letter.”

  I lifted the white paper up. “All of this could have been avoided if you had told him the truth, Fallyn Valencia.”

  “I’m getting on a plane. Do not make another call. Do not leave your house. Get your gun, and sit tight. I’m on my way, Angel.”

  “Uncle Zozo, where’s Shawn?”

  He paused.

  His hesitation was all the confirmation I needed.

  “They want Fallyn Valencia back,” I muttered, feeling completely defeated and unable to process what was going on.

  “It would seem so, Angel. But sit tight and let me get to you.”

  I nodded as the anguish washed over me. I clicked the phone off and let it hit the floor.

  If it was Fallyn Nicola Valencia they wanted, well they should be careful what they wished for.

  They took from me.

  Now they would understand what it was going to cost them all. For every single ounce of pain they gave to Shawn, I was going to deliver my own retribution for my grandfather, for Giano, and for my husband.

  For every ounce of love I had for these men, would now be every ounce of hate to fuel my fire for vengeance.

  I was Fallyn Nicola Valencia and I was reclaiming me.

  The End

  Reclaiming Me

  Fallyn’s Revenge

  My name was tainted in death.

  Giano was my way out, my escape.

  A debt paid in full with his blood.

  Freedom from my destiny had a special allure … except revenge was a temptation I couldn’t resist.

  My father’s dark underworld was mine to claim. I would do anything to be the real me again. Love and life be damned!

  Preorder today!

  Sneak Peek Reclaiming Me

  They called me Angel.

  I was their demise.

  They loved me fiercely.

  I ended their lives.

  Every connection to me ended in the death of a man I loved. From the moment I was born I was cursed. I had been broken, lost, defeated. Life had kicked me hard, broken my heart, shattered my dreams, but I was like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

  These people who were tied to a world I didn’t understand took from me.

  They had no idea the depths in which my loyalty ran. They had no idea the woman I had locked inside.

  They had no idea who they unleashed.

  It wasn’t going to be easy, but then again I had never known easy, now had I?

  I was Fallyn Nicola Valencia. I had a list of names and I was ticking them off one by one.

  Starting with Paul Castillo.

  About the Author

  USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She’s a wife and mom, chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and romantic thrillers. She loves to write about blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics, bikers, oil riggers, smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder.

  * * *

  Chelsea can be found on social media at:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorchelseacamaron

  Twitter: @chelseacamaron

  Instagram: @chelseacamaron

  Website: www.authorchelseacamaron.com

  Email chelseacamaron@gmail.com

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  Also by Chelsea Camaron

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  Crash and Burn

  Restore My Heart

  Salvaged

  Full Throttle

  Beyond Repair

  Stalled

  Box Set Available

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  Hellions Ride Series:

  One Ride

  Forever Ride

  Merciless Ride

  Eternal Ride

  Innocent Ride

  Simple Ride

  Heated Ride

  Ride with Me (Hellions MC and Ravage MC Duel with Ryan Michele)

  Originals Ride

  Final Ride

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  Hellio
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  Hellions Ride On Prequel

  Born to It

  Bastard in It

  Bleed for It

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  Bold from It

  Broken by It

  Brazen being It

  Better as It

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  Blue Collar Bad Boys Series:

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  Wendol

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  Devil’s Due MC Series:

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  In The Red

  Below The Line

  Close The Tab

  Day of Reckoning

  Paid in Full

  Bottom Line

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  Almanza Crime Family Duet

  Cartel Bitch

  Cartel Queen

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  Romantic Thriller Series:

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  Seeking Solace: Angelina’s Restoration

  Reclaiming Me: Fallyn’s Revenge

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  Bad Boys of the Road Series:

  Mother Trucker

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  Stand Alone Reads:

  Romance – Moments in Time Anthology

  Shenanigans (Currently found in the Beer Goggles Anthology

  She is …

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  The following series are co-written

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  The Fire Inside Series:

  (co-written by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt)

  Kale

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