by S R Mitchell
“It’s like my business; except my dad, I think, cut my uncle out on purpose,” Brock said, looking at Allie. “My dad and uncle started the business together, but later there was a clear divide between them. My dad took over as CEO of the company and my Uncle Jess as head of the training facility. A few years before my dad died, he’d cut my uncle out of everything pertaining to business meetings, client interaction, and setting up jobs. My dad grew his share of the company while my uncle remained the trainer.”
“Wow,” Allie said, “makes a person wonder what happened to cause the strain.”
“I remember there always being some tension between my dad and uncle. My mom always kept some distance between herself and my Uncle Jess when he came over to the house or even in public. You don’t think about that as a kid. Other than that, he was always cool with me, and from what I saw, an okay guy.”
“It’s easy to talk to you,” Allie stated. “I’ve never ever told a man about what I am or about my family. They would run. They always run.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Brock replied. “I’m very interested in you—in us,” he said. “I know that sounds crazy because I’ve known you only a week, but I think there’s more to us, to this. I never felt like this with anyone and I knew when I first saw you that you were special, different.”
“I feel the same way,” Allie smiled. “So, what does that make us?”
“Whatever you want us to be,” Brock answered softly in a deep voice. “But I know I’m interested in more Allie, even though you physically drive me crazy.”
Allie stood and smiled as she ran her finger down the length of the bookshelf filled with candles, each wick lighting on its own in her wake.
Brock smiled, watching her, amazed as she lit the candles. That’s what he was—truly amazed by her. He watched as she slowly walked over to the dresser and gently blew on the wick of a large orange candle sitting on top and watched it come to life.
She then walked over to the far wall and turned off the light switch and they were bathed in the warm glow of the candles. With a soft snap of her fingers, small little orbs appeared, hovering above the window where snow still fell to the ground below.
There was a glint in her eyes that he liked. Brock pulled her to him between his legs where he sat on the foot of the bed and kissed her with the pent up passion that was boiling over inside.
Allie felt, deep down, like this was right and for once in her life, she wasn’t going to hold back. Whatever this was, she was going to embrace it and enjoy it. People talked all the time about true love and maybe that’s what this was. Allie could only hope. So far, so good, and with everything he’d just learned, he still wanted her.
She moaned into his mouth as his hands made their way down her body, and the feeling made her spine tingle in the most delicious way.
They quickly divested the other of their clothes and Allie found herself covered by Brock’s strong body. She’d never seen a man as well-built as he was, and her hands roamed over his muscles. She urged him on and he seemed to quickly find and memorize each sensitive spot she had.
Allie nipped at his ear and shoulder as her hands snaked down his body. She was rewarded with a moan from him this time.
Brock grabbed her hands and held them above her head against the pillow. “Too much of that, and you’ll undo me.”
“Please, Brock,” Allie sighed against his lips as she arched her hips towards him. She kissed him with vigor, biting his lip, trying to move her hands to touch his skin, but he kept them pinned above her head.
They fell together and it was like nothing she’d ever experienced.
“Wow,” Brock muttered as he pulled her close to his side, breathing deep to catch his breath. “I am going to make that happen often.” He kissed her neck.
Allie sighed happily and giggled as he found a ticklish spot.
It wasn’t stars they gazed up at, but hundreds of tiny little glowing orbs of light that danced above them near the ceiling, and it was beautiful.
Allie rolled out of bed and stood, smiling down at him. “Shower?”
“Round two?” Brock laughed, reaching for her to pull her down for a kiss.
“Yes, and there are no orbs yet in the bathroom,” Allie teased as she swatted his exposed butt cheek.
Chapter 14
Brock, David, and Trent had all awoken late that morning feeling like total crap. Nothing felt right and they realized what it was as soon as the fog started to clear from their brains; Allie was missing.
Brock was pulling everything apart in a rage, ignoring the nausea rolling in his stomach and ignoring the voices of David and Trent trying to speak to him.
“Brock,” David said, repeating his name several times, trying to get through to his friend. “Dude, calm down. You need to drink some water and flush your system.”
“We were all drugged,” Trent added. “There was nothing any of us could have done, but we can work together on this and find her.”
Brock growled loudly. “How the fuck did they find us? How the fuck did we not hear anything? How the fuck did they get in here?”
“There’s no sign of forced entry on the door, so they must've picked it,” David said, running his hands through his hair. “They knew exactly what to do.”
“There has to be a fucking tracker somewhere. Son of a bitch!” Brock all but yelled in a deep angry tone. “How the fuck else do you explain this?”
David didn’t have time to reply.
“First the safe house, then here? And that friend of her aunt had us leave the house because of trouble headed that way,” Brock growled. “Once is a damn coincidence, but two or three times? No. Somewhere, somehow, they have placed a tracker and we need to find it—now!”
“Get your kit out and find the damned tracker!” Brock growled as he continued to turn David’s apartment inside out.
They found it in the last place they looked, David’s truck. Attached high up under the bed of the truck was a small tracker and his blood went cold. He’d seen this tracker multiple times used on jobs within his company.
“They were tracking you from the beginning,” Brock grimaced, looking toward David. “Somehow they’d known I’d go to you for help if I was in trouble. Not many people know how far back we go.”
“You know we’re not the only company to use those trackers,” Trent interjected. “There are a lot of people that use them.”
“You’re right,” Brock breathed. “My mind keeps going back to what we discussed about a mole, someone on the inside. Whoever was in the apartment this morning knew their way around,” Brock muttered. “Same as the safe house.” He rubbed his face, “It was a setup, a damn trap for when we showed up, not if.”
“If Pratt is involved,” David began, “no telling what the hell he has up his sleeve.”
“Uncle Jess,” hissed Brock.
“He wouldn’t,” stated Trent, but Brock cut him off.
“He was so angry over dad cutting him totally out and giving the company to me, even though he tried to hide it. I should have connected the two,” Brock offered.
“I’m going to call Mason and tell him to give Jax full clearance in the system,” Brock stated firmly. “So far, he’s been our best source back at the company, and we need someone who can snoop unnoticed. Jax is trustworthy. There is no way in hell any of us are going to be able to get close enough to do that.”
“So, what happens if you’re dead?” Trent asked. Brock and David just looked at each other, then back at Trent. “Who does the company pass to if you die?”
“Uncle Jess,” muttered Brock. “I don’t have a son to pass it to.”
“Shit,” muttered David.
“Shit,” Brock echoed.
“Yeah, double shit,” muttered Trent. “I think we just figured out who’s after you.”
“And who has Allie,” Brock interjected. “Take this,” he said, handing the tracker over to Trent, “and find something to stick it to.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Trent took the tracker and walked off with a mischievous smile.
~*~
She woke feeling foggy, strange, and for a moment the nausea almost overwhelmed her. When Allie tried to move, she couldn’t. She looked down to see she was strapped to a wooden chair.
Panic quickly replaced the nausea she was feeling and her eyes darted around.
The lighting was dim and everything around her was dusty and old looking with cobwebs clinging to almost every surface.
Her brain finally registered the fact that she was not in David’s apartment with Brock and that she was cold and in the pajamas she’d slipped into after her and Brock’s steamy shower.
Allie shivered.
The grayish brick and high, narrow windows half-covered by snow only meant one thing—a cellar. Why did bad guys always have to use a damn cellar? It’s why cellars gave her the creeps. Was it written in some kind of freaking bad guy code book? It would figure that this would be the place chosen to bring her.
“The affects of the drug will soon wear off,” came a masculine voice.
Allie looked at the older man who now held her hostage standing off to the right by an old rectangular wood table. There were several items on the table that she couldn’t make out and a few she could like the laptop, but the screen was blocked.
He looked a lot like Brock. She could see the family resemblance. There was only one conclusion to make from what Brock had told her. He was Brock’s Uncle Jess. It was sad to her that he’d come to this low point.
“You look like him,” Allie stated, but he just smiled and stared at her a moment.
“Guess it doesn’t hurt for you to know who I am,” he paused, “I am his Uncle Jess, but I had planned this to go so damned differently and you had to go and screw it up.”
Allie felt dismay. What would make Brock’s uncle turn against his own flesh and blood?
“You blew up part of my house,” Allie muttered, feeling perturbed with the man standing in front of her, looking her over. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl.
“You are a pretty little thing,” he muttered. “I didn’t think it was going to be as easy as it was when I entered David’s apartment, but after drugging David and Trent while they slept, Brock wasn't a problem. He was obviously well spent and in a deep sleep—both of you, for that fact.” He smiled at her, “You must be a very talented woman.”
“It's none of your business what happens between Brock and me. Brock is a good man,” Allie defended.
“Well, you got in the way,” stated Jess crudely. “That’s the fact or it would have been a clean shot.”
“You can do what you want with me, but he’ll find me and he'll kill you for this,” Allie spat. “He’s probably already looking for me as we speak.” She wasn't about to go down without a fight, though. She tried to look around to see if there was anything she could use for a weapon.
Allie’s attention was drawn back to him as she heard the sound of a blade sliding against something rough and it made a shiver run down her spine.
“You screwed this up,” yelled Jess. “It was supposed to be simple—a quick kill—but no, you had to interfere and get involved.” He turned and slapped her hard across the face. Allie felt warmth trickle from her lip. “You fucked this up for me. Everything was planned out. It went from simple and get it done to a crap fest, and now I have a crazy ass guy breathing down my neck for results.” He turned around with the blade in his tight grip and sneered, “You know what that means for me? No backing out. The fucking money Pratt already gave me as an incentive is gone. I can’t return it.”
“You want the company,” Allie suddenly realized. “You were trying to get rid of Brock so you could have the company.”
“His father and I started that damned company, and Brock should have never been given free rein over it,” he hissed. “His dad screwed me over because he thought he could do a better job and he had schooling in business, but that didn’t make him an expert.”
“He mentioned a rift between you and his father,” Allie said, trying to get more information and buy time.
“The rift was his fault,” Jess snarled, then slapped her hard again. He walked up to her and ran the tip of his blade down her forearm and smiled as Allie cried out, “I think it’s sharp enough.”
It left an inch-long slice in her arm that oozed blood and dripped to puddle on the floor. “He will come for me.”
“Actually, I hope he does, but you’ll be dead before he gets here,” Jess stated, leaning against the old wooden table. “At this point, they’ve yet to leave David’s apartment, so you may be stuck here for a while and I will have to entertain you.” He ran a hand down her cheek to her neck and tightened his grip slightly, rubbing his thumb over her busted lip and smearing a little of her blood. He brought the tip of the freshly sharpened blade to her cheek. “I can see why he would want you. The boy has always been attracted to pretty things.” He cocked his head, “But let me guess,” he paused, “you’re different.”
“Yes, she is,” came Brock’s voice in a very low tone from behind Allie. “It took us a while to figure out exactly where you might be, but the hunting cabin?”
Jess smiled, “So, you found the tracker? Guess this is now obsolete.” He closed the laptop.
“So, when did you attach the tracker? At the safe house?” Brock questioned, stepping slowly farther into the room.
“The safe house? No, no,” his uncle shook his head. “That was not my work. I tagged David’s truck after I missed my mark at this beautiful little woman’s house.” He ran a finger down her cheek.
“Do not touch her,” Brock growled, low and menacing.
Jess just laughed at Brock’s tone.
“The business should have been mine; she should have been mine,” he spat. “You should have been mine,” he confessed. “But, no, your damned father had to butt in like always and win her over and take her from me. Even as kids he always had to have what I had and couldn’t leave well enough alone. Your mother knew I still wanted her, loved her, and yet she avoided me.”
“Mom?” Brock asked, confused.
“She was mine first and your father took her from me,” Jess spat. “She loved me; I know she loved me.”
“You’re delusional,” Brock retorted, looking at the crumbling man in front of him.
Brock just watched his uncle’s pathetic display and shook his head. It explained some things. “Uncle, I’m sorry you’ve been holding this in and carrying a grudge, that you had issues deep down that caused you mental anguish and that no one noticed you needed help, because you are obviously delusional,” Brock stated in a low warning tone. “But you touch another hair on her head, and you will regret it.”
“Your father should have put me in charge, not you,” said Jess.
“You can put blame wherever you want, but my mother deeply loved my dad and you made this shit worse for yourself. If anyone held a grudge it sounds like it was you, Uncle Jess.”
Allie watched in horror as Jess lunged toward Brock with the knife. Brock punched out and landed a hit to his uncle’s jaw. The men fought each other, landing blow after blow in front of Allie, and she felt so helpless. They were both trained, strong men, and the fighting showed that.
Brock knocked the knife out of his uncle’s hand and land yet another hard punch, but somehow his uncle managed to get the knife back.
Allie’s chest tightened as she watched the knife, almost in slow motion, sink into Brock’s side as far as it could go before pulling back out.
Allie closed her eyes and concentrated on her surroundings, focusing her energy for something, anything, and she found it just outside the window.
The vine broke through the glass to wrap around Jess’s ankle, tripping him before he could land another blow with his knife. He hit the ground hard and his now bloody knife skidded across the hard floor of the cellar.
As Jess managed to gain his footing and stand, a shot rang out f
rom the door as David and Trent came rushing in and realized what was going on. The bullet hit him square in the chest. The air rushed from his lungs with force and the room filled with the sound of gurgling as he sank to the floor, a look of shock on his face.
They’d been checking the perimeter and cabin to make sure no one else was there and to take them out if they were. They’d heard the commotion and headed down the stairs at the back of the kitchen.
Now Brock’s uncle lay in a pool of blood on the cellar’s cold cement floor.
“Hurry, please,” she cried to David and Trent, “untie me.”
Trent quickly came over, cutting the rope with his pocketknife and freeing Allie’s hands and body from the chair.
Allie quickly ran to Brock and reached for him, pulling him into her lap the best she could. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she wiped the blood splatter from his strong, handsome face. She felt his blood seeping from his side into her pants and coating her legs.
“Shit,” came David’s voice behind her.
He’d come here for her, to save her, and now… Allie closed her eyes and focused inside her and breathed deep.
“It’s okay,” Brock choked out as Allie met his silvery-blue gaze. “Allie, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want you to know that, but you also have to keep calm, honey. Trent is calling for help. David, can you go help Trent?”
Allie turned to see David’s eyes on them. “Can you try to find a first-aid kit or some towels and bandages, please?”
David nodded and backed up as he began heading for the stairs.
Allie felt the hot tears that she couldn’t keep back trailing down her cheeks. She placed her hand over the deep stab wound in his side and focused everything she had—all her magic—into Brock.
Light and heat emanated from her hand as she held it to him and Allie began to feel light-headed, but she knew she had to do this; it had to work. She focused on him with everything in her.
“Oh, crap,” came David’s low, shocked voice from behind her as the towels dropped to her side. Allie didn't care; she continued to stay focused on Brock.
