“Tell her,” John said, and looked to Celeste. “Celeste is right. Guilt’s an ugly thing, and the past can be, too. Quit living in it, and embrace the future.”
“And buy her a gnome,” Celeste added with a rueful smile.
*
Two days later, Dr. Alex Trumane rolled onto his side, bringing Kira with him. They’d made love twice already tonight, and despite pushing forty-six, he was ready to go again. He hadn’t planned on sex. He’d just wanted to be honest and upfront with her, before they’d gone out to dinner.
They’d never made it to the posh, exclusive restaurant, though. After he’d given her every sordid detail, from the past all the way to the present, she’d pulled him into her arms and held him.
And when he prematurely told her he’d loved her, she’d held him tighter, and told him the same.
“Thank you for accepting me, faults and all,” he said, and kissed the top of her head, as he caressed her back.
She shifted on top of him, and kissed him on the lips. “I love you, Alex. I swear from the moment I met you. But this sealed the deal for me.” Straddling his arousal, she reached over to the nightstand.
Kira embraced the kissing gnomes Celeste had recommended. “I love these two,” she said, then set the plaster couple on the bed next to them. “They’re so cute, I think I might have to buy myself a few more.”
He moved her onto her back, and kissed her. “I’ll buy you as many as you want,” he murmured, then tossed a pillow over the kissing gnome couple. “Let’s just keep them out of the bedroom.”
Epilogue
Three weeks later…
Celeste sipped wine and scanned the crowd. According to the owner of Zuko Art, an exclusive gallery located in the heart of downtown Chicago, over one hundred people were expected for Will’s debut. Based on those waiting on the sidewalk to enter, and the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd inside, she believed him. She’d also never been more proud of her brother.
She smiled when she caught sight of him surrounded by a group of men and women. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him so animated and happy. Still the artist, just no longer brooding, Will had finally accomplished his lifelong dream. Before the gallery had even opened, the owner allowed a select few to view Will’s work. All of them had bought either a couple of paintings or one of his sculptures. One anonymous art aficionado had supposedly paid over twenty thousand dollars for one sculpture in particular. Yes, everything was right in Will’s world—she met John’s gaze from across the room—and in hers, too.
She broke eye contact with John, and looked to her dad, Hugh, who was laughing at something either Ian or Roy had said. The day she’d been released from the hospital, she’d spoken with her dad. When she’d told him she knew the truth about Ian, he’d sighed and said that it was about time. And when she told him about John, and her plans to move to Chicago, he hadn’t mentioned the diner, or asked who would run it. Instead, he’d given her his blessing.
Between recuperating from her injuries and packing for the move, the next two weeks had flown by with a whirlwind of activity. Her dad had sold the diner to Karen, her assistant manager, and Rick, the short order cook, who had promptly eloped to Las Vegas after the transaction. How she hadn’t caught on that the two were dating, she didn’t know. Not that it mattered. Karen and Rick both loved The Sugar Shack and she knew they’d make sure the diner would prosper.
She’d sold her house to the young deputy, hired by Roy after CORE had done an extensive background check that went beyond the norm, and his wife who was expecting her first child. They, in turn, had decided to rent the studio apartment above her garage to the other deputy Roy had hired to replace Lloyd, who had moved to Chicago with Will and was now the newest member of the CORE team.
Yes, everything was right in her world. She loved John’s condo and living with him. She loved waking up in his arms, dreaming pleasant dreams while lying beside him, laughing, loving, and planning for the future.
He snared her gaze, then smiled as he broke away from her dad, Ian and Roy. Carrying a fresh glass of wine, he moved next to her and kissed her cheek, where the bruises had finally faded.
“Isn’t that your sister?” he asked, and nodded to the corner of the room.
She glanced around and spotted Eden on her cell phone. In the week that she’d been in Chicago, she’d only seen her sister once. While still beautiful, Eden’s super thin figure and the tired smudges under her green eyes worried her.
“Yes, that’s her. Probably following a hot lead or something. I swear she’s a certifiable workaholic. My dad’s been here for two days. Tonight’s the first time he’s had a chance to see her and instead of mingling she’s on the phone.”
“Bitter much?” he asked with a grin.
“That did sound bad. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her. Network is seducing her away from Chicago with the opportunity to have her own show. I’m so proud of both Eden and Will. They both had big dreams and are now living them.”
“And I’m proud of you, and the way you’re finally fulfilling your dreams,” he said, and kissed her again.
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get carried away. I’m a baker, not a famous reporter or artist.”
“Once the people of Chicago taste your apple pie and chocolate chip cookies, you’ll become the most famous baker this town has ever seen.”
Thanks to the money she’d made off her house, and the unexpected cut her dad had given her from the sale of The Sugar Shack, she would open her own bakery/coffee shop in a few months. Ian had his lawyer negotiate the rent and renovations for the coveted space on Michigan Avenue. He hadn’t been disappointed that she’d decided to not take his job offer at CORE, but instead made her promise he’d be her first sale once she opened the doors.
She nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re biased.”
“Because you’re my fiancée?” He nipped her earlobe. “Or because I not only get to sample the baker, but her sweet treats, too?”
“Stop before my dad sees?”
“Which one?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“After how they’d both grilled me when I asked each of them for their permission to be your husband? Not at all.”
“They did say yes, though,” she reminded him.
“True, but I could have done without the threat of bodily harm should I ever make their baby girl cry.”
She laughed. “Then I guess you better make sure you keep me happy.”
“Why don’t we go home and let me get to work on making you happy enough we’ll wake the neighbors.”
“Mmm, sounds good, but you’ll have to wait. I’m not about to leave in the middle of Will’s big night.”
“Your sister is,” he said and nodded toward the door.
Celeste ignored her disappointment as Eden left without a word to anyone. But she couldn’t fault her sister for living her dreams, not when her own were finally coming true.
“John,” she said with a raised brow. “If you promise to exercise some patience, I’ll let you—”
He cupped her rear. “Exercise this hot body?”
Warmth rushed through her, and settled between her thighs. “Yes,” she said, fighting a moan, and wishing they really could leave. “You’ll need it.” She licked her lips and dropped her gaze to the bulge he was trying to hide against her hip. “After I do some serious sampling of my own, I have plans for that talented mouth of yours.”
His hot breath fanned across her cheek as he released a chuckle. “I had no idea how demanding you could be.”
“What can I say? If I’m fulfilling my dreams, I might as well fulfill my fantasies, too.” She kissed his cheek and started to move toward her dad, Ian and Roy before he could sweet talk her into leaving. “Coming?” she asked, when she looked over her shoulder at him.
“Not soon enough,” he said as he offered her his arm.
She pressed her breast against his bicep. “I’ll make it up to you.”
>
“Promise?”
“With all my heart. I promise to love you forever.”
His smile melted her heart. “That wasn’t the promise I was looking for, but I’m still going to hold you to it.”
The End
Coming August, 2013…
Shadow of Perception
Book Two of the CORE “Shadow” Trilogy
What happens when negligent plastic surgeons receive a taste of their own medicine…?
Chicago investigative reporter, Eden Risk, receives an unmarked envelope containing a postcard ordering her to watch the enclosed DVD…or someone else dies. No Police. After Eden watches the DVD, a gruesome, horrifying surgery, she turns to the private criminal investigation agency, CORE, for help. Only she hadn’t expected that help to come with a catch. Her former lover, Hudson Patterson, has been assigned to the case.
Hudson would rather have another CORE agent handle the investigation. Two years ago, he’d screwed things up with Eden…bad. And as more DVDs arrive, Eden and Hudson find themselves not only knee-deep in a twisted investigation, but forced to deal with their past, and the love they’d tried to deny.
Enjoy an excerpt from Shadow of Perception…if you dare.
SHADOW OF PERCEPTION
By
Kristine Mason
Prologue
“Look at me, Daddy.”
Michael Morrison ignored the howling wind lashing against the metal building and concentrated on the old TV. A slow, bitter smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as his daughter moved across the screen. She’d just turned five and had looked so adorable and proud dancing and twirling for the camera in her lavender taffeta dress.
“Do you think I’ll win, Daddy?” she asked as she paused to admire herself in the mirror. “Mommy says I’m sure to be crowned Little Miss Hanover.” She frowned at her reflection and plucked at the puffy lace capping her slender shoulders. “But I saw the other girls during rehearsal and—”
“Don’t you worry about those other girls,” he reassured her as he’d held the camera steady. “And even if you don’t win, no matter what, I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
He still did.
His eyes misted, with grief, with regret, with overwhelming sadness.
Another strong gust swept against the building. Howling and protesting, the wind angrily pelted the metal walls. Almost as if nature, the universe, God, or whatever higher powers there may be, understood and shared his pain. Approved of what he was about to do.
He wiped a hand across his damp forehead, a huff escaping from between his dry lips. If anyone had heard his inner thoughts they’d think he was crazy. Hell, if anyone had a clue of what he’d planned they’d lock him in a padded cell until his body rotted to dust and his soul slid to the bowels of hell. But he wasn’t crazy. Angry, yes. Vindictive, you bet your ass.
Hardening his jaw, he returned his focus to the TV, where the DVD he’d created from old home movies segued to the next scene. The crowning of Little Miss Hanover. As her mother had predicted, Eliza had won. While the crowd had cheered and the judge placed a bejeweled crown on her head, Eliza had smiled for the camera, mouthing “I love you, Daddy” as she’d smoothed her tiny hands over the full skirt of that lavender dress.
Her proud, innocent smile faded from the screen as the film moved forward. Images of Eliza’s many other beauty pageants—that she’d ultimately won or placed—flew by almost as quickly as her short life.
The wind barraged the building again, the TV screen suddenly flipped, blurring the frames into a Technicolor nightmare. The old picture tube protesting its use, he supposed as he stood and gave the top of the box a slap. After a second, the screen burst to life again, but in slapping the TV, he must have accidently rattled the DVD player, too. The images jerked to a screeching halt before jumping ahead. Past Eliza’s cheerleading years, the night she’d been crowned homecoming queen, her first modeling shoot, and straight to the final scene.
He hit PAUSE and froze the image. No. Not a scene or a segment from the old home movie collection, but a still shot of his daughter lying on her bed.
Naked. Dead. Unrecognizable.
His throat thickened and his eyes filled with tears he couldn’t afford to shed at the moment. Holding his grief at bay, he focused on the anger. And as he leaned forward and traced his fingers along the TV screen, along the gaping slashes across her wrists to the blood pooling at her sides, he allowed that anger to take root. Let the hatred numb his heart and blacken the soul that would eventually belong to the devil. The devil could have him. He could give a shit if he burned in hell for an eternity so long as he took the men who had destroyed his daughter along for the ride.
He would have added her mother, the woman he’d once loved fiercely, to what he liked to refer to as his “death wish list.” But, Sarah had scratched herself off his list before he’d written a single name by putting a bullet through her head at their daughter’s funeral. Not even in death could Sarah allow Eliza a moment to shine. No, the narcissistic bitch had to blow her brains all over the metal casket, making it about her. Always about her.
Now it was about Eliza. As it should have been from the beginning, as it would be now, and ever shall be, world without end. A-fucking-men.
The alarm on his watch beeped, reminding him what he’d already known. His patient would be waking soon, and by the low moan from the other room, Michael would have to act fast before the bastard regained full consciousness. Sure he’d strapped the man down, but he didn’t want to miss the look on the shithead’s face when his eyes fluttered open only to discover he’d just woken up in hell.
As he was about to exit the office, though, shame suddenly clouded his judgment. What he’d spent seven long years preparing for went beyond immoral and had his conscience battling with his anger and need for revenge. Sweat coated his skin and trickled down his back. His heart quickened and his head grew dizzy with the onslaught of a panic attack. Until he glanced at the letter he’d framed and hung on the wall. The final contact he’d ever have from his beloved daughter. While he’d memorized Eliza’s words, each bold and bubbly stroke of her script, he honed in on one line in particular for encouragement.
Make them listen, Daddy.
Another moan, this time even louder, filtered into the office. His head cleared, his heart slowed to normal, and an eerie calm settled over him.
“They’ll do more than listen, baby,” he whispered, rage suddenly sweeping away any thoughts of immorality or ethics or principles. Screw those things. Screw those quacks who’d destroyed his daughter’s life.
Without hesitation he left the office and entered the main section of the thirty by fifty steel garage. He hadn’t needed the entire space and had chosen to fulfill his plans in the west corner of the building, where the lighting was best and the bathroom and utility sink were closest. Things would become messy after all.
When he reached the corner that housed his private operating room, he couldn’t help a stab of pride. He’d worked half his life in the medical field and knew the space he’d created here rivaled most hospitals. Although, his OR did lack a heart monitor, he amended with a grin as he rounded the operating table and stared at the man strapped to it. His patients were here to suffer, not survive.
As he reached for his scrubs, the man on the table lolled his head and his eyes began to flutter. Grabbing a water bottle from the bench next to him, Michael opened it then splashed water on Doctor Thomas Elliot’s face.
Coughing and sputtering, Elliot widened his eyes. Before the man could release a word, Michael pierced the doctor with a syringe, sending a paralytic rushing through the man’s veins.
Elliot’s eyes drifted shut and his body stilled. If someone were to walk into the room, they’d think he was dead. The drug paralyzed the body, but not the mind, or hearing, or...
Michael used masking tape to force the doctor’s eyelids to remain open. “Can’t let you off that easy, can I?” he asked Ellio
t, then turned the man’s head toward the bench that held the medical instruments. He wanted him to see the tools. He wanted him scared out of his mind. Helpless and at his mercy.
Make them listen, Daddy.
Even though immobile and paralyzed, he’d guarantee he had the bastard’s full attention.
“Good evening, Dr. Elliot. I’ll be handling your surgery,” he said as he shed his own clothes and reached for the scrubs again. Once dressed he pointed to the instruments on the bench.
“I’m sure these items are familiar to you considering you’re a doctor. As you can see, I have everything needed to perform your procedure. I wouldn’t want you to think I was a quack or anything.”
He glanced at his watch. The paralytic would wear off in less than a minute. He’d love to give the good doc another dose, but didn’t want to risk killing him before he had a chance to perform the surgery.
“I’ve got a schedule to meet, so let’s get this show on the road.” After slipping on his surgical cap and gloves, Michael reached for the Ziploc bags lying on the bench. He pretended to weigh the bags in his hands, fighting a grimace as the maggots inside moved. “Like you tend to do for your own patients, I took it upon myself to choose just the right size for you. With your height and build, I thought a D-cup would be perfect. Don’t you think?”
He dangled the bags in front of Elliot’s face. “No? Yes?” With an exasperated sigh, he set the bags on the man’s bare chest. “I have to admit, I am a bit nervous. After all, you’ve performed hundreds of breast augmentations and this is my first.” He shrugged. “But, gotta start somewhere, right? I just hope I don’t botch this up. Not that you would know anything about botching up a surgery. I mean, you are the expert.”
Michael noticed the bags on the man’s chest begin to move, and it had nothing to do with the contents. The drug had started to wear off and within seconds, Elliot would regain control of his body. He leaned closer to the man’s still paralyzed face. “This is truly an honor, Doctor. One I know I won’t regret. Oh, and thanks so much for agreeing to do the surgery without anesthetic. It really saves on time and money, don’t you think?”
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