Virtually Yours: A Virtual Match Anthology

by Kait Nolan

  Reeling with pain, she pushed herself up. She was in one piece, though her right foot was trapped underneath the man’s unmoving body. The door was close. The only thing between her and safety was her attacker.

  She carefully eased back, afraid to even breathe.

  Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up.

  She didn’t take her eyes off him. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the pain, but she tugged her leg free, a soft whimper escaping. She watched him closely. When he didn’t move, she slid back.

  Her cellphone was still upstairs, most likely plugged in next to her bed. First rule in every horror movie she’d ever seen?

  You’re dead if you go back upstairs. Get to the car. Find a neighbor. Call for help.

  The pain in her ankle told her that it was most likely broken. Still, she could probably drive if she could just get to the car keys hanging by the front door. Sucking in breath, she grabbed hold of the stair rail and pulled herself up. She swallowed back a cry as a lightning bolt of agony shot through her shoulder. Her ribcage ached with each breath.

  Her foot was mostly holding her weight. Probably not broken, which was good. She could drive. She zeroed in on the car keys and took a step forward, making her body as light as she could. A floorboard squeaked beneath her, and she flinched as the man’s body moved slightly.

  She skirted around him and reached for the keys. She heard the man waking, gruff coughs and wheezes coming from behind her. She didn’t look back. As her fingers brushed the doorknob, a hand gripped her neck, tightening like a vise. Her attacker pulled her backwards, fresh pain jolting through her body as she hit the ground. The keys skittered to the floor. He straddled her again, both hands now squeezing her neck.

  “You know, I was just planning on scaring ya.”

  She writhed underneath him, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his arms, as she tried to pry him away.

  “I just wanted to make you leave.” He spat. A thick rope of bloody saliva hung from a corner of his mouth. He licked it away. “Put this house back on the market. Let the real owners take it. Thought the letters would do the trick.” He squeezed harder.

  Her head throbbed. Her vision went red around the edges.

  “I thought I might have some fun with you tonight. Show you a real man.”

  The world was going darker. She flailed wildly against it. He wouldn’t have her. Not tonight. She balled her hands into tight fists and began to punch anything she could touch. She hit what felt like the center of his neck. He inhaled sharply, loosening his grip.

  Evie took advantage of the moment and slammed the heel of her hand into his nose with every bit of force she could muster. Blood sprayed from his nose. He brought both hands to his face, hurling muffled insults her way.

  Oxygen rushed to her head. She scrambled from beneath him and limped toward the door. She saw the car keys out of the corner of her eye. Bending down, she grabbed them and reached for the doorknob. Her attacker was scrambling up. She had to move quickly. She swung open the door just as the man grabbed her by her hair and tugged her back towards him once again. He still had a tight grip on her hair when she saw a figure of another man standing on the porch.

  A second attacker.

  A panic-fueled scream came from her as she reached back, trying to free her hair from the grip of the first monster.

  The second man ran into the room and lunged toward them. Evie flinched. The first man let go of her hair and she ran for the door, scanning the floor for the car keys that had dropped in the scuffle.

  “Get out of here,” the new man screamed. “Go!”

  Evie looked up and realized that he was punching the other man, having cornered him against the staircase. Both men were red-faced from the exertion. Evie’s first attacker’s eyes narrowed and he lunged for this new man, pushing him to the floor.

  “Go!” the second man screamed again.

  The stalker silenced him, a fist cracking into his jaw. Spit and blood flew out onto the monster’s face. He wiped it away and looked up at Evie.

  Her eyes widened. She backed out of the front door. Evie’s attacker lunged toward her but the other man was able to grab his legs, pulling him down. His face smashed into the doorframe. He shook his head and tried to get up, but the other man was faster. He reached for a hammer that had been lying in a nearby pile of tools and swung. Evie watched as the broadside of the hammer crunched into the monster’s temple.

  With almost comical slowness, he blinked, then slumped to the side, eyes closing.

  “Are you okay?”

  Evie blinked and nodded, stunned. Her breathing was beginning to slow.

  The man stepped over the stalker’s body and reached out to Evie. “We can’t stay here.”

  She recognized his voice all at once. “Luc? I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He nodded and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him. He draped an arm protectively around her and guided her down the stairs. She tried to look back, but he shook his head. “He’s not getting back up. And if he does…” Luc waved the hammer in the air. “We can call for help in my car.” He nodded toward a dark-colored sedan parked in the drive.

  The adrenaline was leaving her body, and she began to sob. He pulled her head into his chest, and she kept it there, leaning on him for support as they walked. When they made it to his car, she looked back to make sure that her attacker was still there where they had left him. His body was slack in her doorway. He wasn’t moving.

  Luc gently tilted her face up. “You’re hurt.”

  She winced as he ran a finger gingerly over her chin. “Yeah, but you should see the other guy.” She tried for a weak smile and studied Luc. He looked nothing like she had pictured. All the while, she had been imagining some sort of rom-com heartthrob, with chiseled cheekbones and sculpted muscles. But he was an ordinary guy—cute, with a round face and thick, dark curls. His honey-colored eyes were full of concern.

  “We are going to get you help.”

  ~*~

  Evie’s yard was soon swarming with blue and red lights. Fortunately, the police cruiser had been close, and the others, two ambulances included, had not been far behind. Evie sat on a cot inside the back of an ambulance, while a cop interviewed her and Luc, who was holding her hand. Together, they watched out of the opened ambulance doors as two men wheeled out her attacker.

  “Is he still alive?” she asked.

  The cop, her old friend Officer Mustache, nodded, looking over his notepad in his hand. “Yeppa. You walloped him good, though. Knocked him right out. Good thing for you, though, your friend got you out when he did. Bram was just waking up when we got there. He was fighting mad too.”

  “Bram,” she repeated, rolling the name around her head to see if it sounded familiar to her. It didn’t.”

  “So who was this guy?” Luc demanded.

  Officer Mustache sniffed and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, still holding his little notepad. “Abraham Bowen. I’d ask your little girlfriend there.”

  “Bowen?” Evie struggled to sit up straighter, but Luc held up his hand, trying his best to keep her relaxed. “Who is this guy?”

  The cop frowned. “You really had never seen him? There are a lot of Bowens down here. One of the first families of Lost Beach. And this is their family land. Henry made quite a lot of people mad when y’all came in and bought this place. Word around town is that more than a few of them, Bram Bowen included, thought they had the rightful lease on this place. My guess is that he just got himself good and liquored up and thought he’d finally do something about it.”

  Evie sat back against the pillow on the cot and rolled the idea around in her head.

  “Now,” Officer Mustache said. “Let’s finish telling me the story. I think we got right up to the part where your friend here showed up.”

  “Luc,” Evie said.

  The police officer nodded. “And your full name, Luc?”

  Luc turned to Evie. “It’s actually
Myles. Myles Quinley.”

  Evie smiled, feeling a blush creep to her cheeks. “Myles. It fits you better than Luc.”

  “Now how do you get Luc from Myles?” the cop asked. “Gonna have to explain that one to me.”

  Evie and Myles looked at each other and laughed.

  Once they were alone, Evie’s eyes met Myles’s. “How did you know to come? Where to come?”

  He shrugged. “I almost didn’t. But something in your voice. It scared me that you weren’t scared. I knew your address was in the company profile. It was pretty easy for me to hack into your account and get it from the payment information.”

  “Hacker in a past life?”

  “Another side job. A story for another day.”

  She nodded.

  “I figured at best I could save the day,” he said. “I mean, if there was really someone trying to get you, and you were here alone, I had to help. At worst, and there was no one here but you...” He grinned at her.

  “Late night booty call?”

  He blushed but looked at her devilishly. “A guy can dream, right?”

  ~*~

  A week later, Evie’s bruises had begun to heal. She had a dislocated shoulder, for which her arm hung to her side in a sling, and a broken ankle, which thankfully had been a small and clean break, requiring only a small boot and one crutch. Still, she’d be glad when she could be on two feet again. Myles had been by her side nearly the entire time she was in the hospital, which only turned out to be a day, but he had graciously put up with her mother and her sister while he was there. He even seemed to enjoy them. And he had called every day since then. It was becoming a ritual for him to be the last call of the night before she went to sleep. And now he was rescuing her once more, by escorting her to her sister’s baby shower. She had to admit that she was getting used to having him around.

  “I feel ridiculous,” she said, standing outside of her cousin’s house.

  Myles smiled. “Well, you look beautiful.”

  Evie looked down at her dress, a sleeveless hot pink wrap dress—about the only thing she could fit around her injuries. The color had been her sister’s choice. Before she had a chance to say anything, her phone rang. Myles reached in her purse and pulled it out, holding it up to Evie’s ear.

  Evie grinned at him. “Hello?”

  “Miss Evelyn, I was calling to see how you were feeling.”

  “Mrs. Birdie,” Evie said, looking wide-eyed at Myles.

  “I just have to say how sorry I am about what happened to you. We’re all just shocked at what Bram did. I hope you’re recovering okay.”

  “By recovering, do you mean back renovating? Because, yes, as a matter of fact I am. Now that Bram has been arrested, my lawyer assures me that I will be getting a rather large settlement. His family is anxious to put this behind them. Everyone has been so kind. They want to be clear that they didn’t have anything to do with Bram’s actions. I’m sure you understand.”

  Mrs. Birdie cleared her throat. Evie smiled, imagining the woman shifting uncomfortably. “Of course, my dear. Of course. We want to make sure that you know we support you. Did you hear that the paint requests were approved?”

  “Good to hear. Renovations will be starting back in full force. Listen, I’ve got to go. Lots to do.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  Evie nodded and Myles turned off the phone.

  “I’m guessing you have to turn in more renovation requests?”

  “Something tells me that I won’t have to get her permission to do much of anything anymore.”

  “Well,” Myles said, taking her purse so she wouldn’t fall, “You are one step closer to your dream home.”

  Evie smiled. For the first time, it did feel like her dream home, not just something she was doing for Henry. She was excited for what was to come.

  “You sure you want to do this?” she asked. “It’s not too late to bolt, you know. We could get in the car and just drive away. Go somewhere else.”

  Myles shook his head and draped his arm around her shoulder. “What and waste that pink dress? Besides, I hear they have baby bottles full of whiskey in there.”

  Evie groaned and wrinkled her nose as he marched her towards the door.

  Anne greeted them at the door with a huge squeal. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting inside.”

  Myles squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s do this,” he whispered into her ear.

  THE END

  A Note From Lisa

  Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little introduction to Lost Beach, Mississippi’s perfect little Gulf Coast small town where the citizens are great at keeping sweet tea on the table, gumbo on the stove, and the dead bodies hidden. If you like romantic thrillers with heat and heart-pounding tension, then the Lost Beach series is perfect for you. If you prefer a darker story with true horror at its heart, then look to the New Salvation books. To make sure you don’t miss out on the fun and screams! Sign up for my newsletter. And if you liked this one, please leave a review!

  About Lisa

  Lisa Kröger is a writer of thrillers and horror stories, where southern belles meet all kinds of nightmares—though sometimes they stop for love. Find her online at www.lisakroger.com. Follow her on Twitter @lbkroger, on Instagram @lisakrogerauthor, and on her Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LisaKrogerAuthor/.

  Something Old and Something New

  By J.R. Pearse Nelson

  Heat Level: 1 Flame

  Written and published by J. R. Pearse Nelson

  Copyright 2016 Jessica Pearse Nelson

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of fiction. All people, places, and events are purely products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  If blue is the color of luck for a bride on her wedding day, blood red is a good stand-in on the day one gets divorced.

  “Grandma, are you sure?” Delia Harris Scott—soon to be minus the Scott—held the rough-cut garnet pendant high, examining it in the light streaming in through the tall front room windows of her grandmother’s elegant home in Sacramento’s El Dorado hills.

  Grandma Elle smiled softly and gave a small wave. “Oh, yes. I am sure. It is time this piece had a new home. You’ll wear it often, yes?”

  It was hard to imagine Grandma Elle parting with any of her stones. They were precious to her. Crystals adorned the place; large crystals sat on nearly every flat surface, and smaller pieces were organized in beautiful wooden boxes in her dressing room.

  When she was four, Delia’s favorite game was dressing up in all of Grandma Elle’s sophisticated things. She dreamed of being a princess like her beautiful grandmother, whose house always smelled of roses. Now she was grown, and life was so much more complicated than she ever would have guessed when she played dress-up in this very house.

  Delia swallowed, overcome with gratitude that shoved her recent melancholy to the side. She needed this gift today. She didn’t deserve it, but she needed it all the same, and Grandma Elle, bless her heart, knew it without Delia saying so.

  “Yes, I will treasure it, Grandma Elle. Thank you.”

  Grandma Elle reached out and clasped Delia’s hand in her gnarled, aged ones. “More than that...it will protect you. Trust the stone—”

  She cut off, a new intensity in her eyes that startled Delia.

  “What do you mean, trust it?”
she asked slowly. If Grandma Elle was beginning to go senile, she wasn’t sure she wanted to acknowledge it right now, with everything else going on. Wouldn’t that just be the luck?

  “You will be fine. You will understand, when you need to.” Grandma Elle patted Delia’s hand. “Could you fetch me a glass of ice water, my dear?”

  That was a subject change if Delia ever heard one. But she couldn’t wipe the intensity of that stare from her mental slate.

  Delia strung the delicate chain around her neck and clasped it. She clutched the stone, and Grandma Elle clucked her tongue, watching her.

  She took a deep breath. Maybe it was the offer of protection on one of the worst days of her life, or maybe it was her grandmother’s kind eyes—the ones that had watched over her since she was a tiny child playing in all of her fine things—but a calm settled over her. Her burdens felt lighter.

  Suddenly she realized that she would end this day a single woman.

  A big change.

  She was ready.

  ~*~

  Delia held her head high and smiled to herself as she entered the restaurant—an upscale place in the Midtown area, sure to have Shaun nervous as hell. That’s exactly what she’d wanted. Mention of her money always set him on edge, and she’d been twisting that knife recently.

  Why not? She and Shaun didn’t have anything else to lose.

  Twice divorced before thirty.

  She couldn’t get the imaginary headline out of her mind.

  The Maître d’ escorted her to their table, and she took her seat across the table from the most handsome man she’d ever met, probably for the last time.

  Shaun sipped from his ice water and watched her. He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back neatly, as if to mock her choice of restaurant by showing up looking the part. He wore her money well. But his eyes were not warm; they were not soft and caring. Sometime in the last two months, they’d gotten mean.