by J. G. Sumner
Surrender
By: JG Sumner
Surrender
Copyright © 2017 by JG Sumner.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: May 2017
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-111-1
ISBN-10: 1-64034-111-0
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my children:
I wish you every success in the world. If you dream big and work hard, great things are bound to happen. Give the world something to remember you by.
“Children are great imitators. So give them something great to imitate.”
~Anonymous
“Remember these two things: play hard and have fun.”
~Tony Gwynn
(RIP 1960–2014)
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
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Prologue
Katherine Anderson strolled down 67th Street in Manhattan. Rush hour was quickly approaching. Cars crept by as they slowly pushed through the traffic in a hurry to get to their next destination. Horns blasted with impatient drivers and the smell of exhaust filled the air. This was home. This is where she’d grown up and become the princess of the city.
Katherine worked as a food critic in New York. She frequented multiple restaurants a week and provided reviews in various magazines, newspapers, and blogs. She was becoming highly respected in her own right, and the future looked bright.
This day was just as any other. A new restaurant named Le Bleu had opened on 44th Street. Every dish on the menu had blue cheese worked into the recipe. She loved blue cheese and was excited to try the food and give her critique. Whether she loved the food or hated it, the article would be printed in Friday’s edition of the newspaper as well as this month’s edition of Food Times magazine.
On her way to the restaurant, her stomach began to ache. Sharp cramping pains shot through the sides of her abdomen. The overwhelming urge to vomit caused her mouth to salivate and skin to grow clammy. She wanted nothing more than to go home, change into her pajamas, and curl up in bed.
Katherine thought about trying to tough out the tasting so she could get her article in on time, but the increased cramping in her stomach made it impossible. Instead, she hailed a cab and promptly headed home. Once securely seated, she pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail; she needed to get the thick locks off of her face and neck. They were only adding to the beads of perspiration already forming. Then she removed the small pink cardigan from her thin five-foot-nine frame.
When the car pulled in front of her building, she wasted no time paying the driver and rushing to the elevator. She didn’t even stop to make small talk with the doorman as she did routinely. She needed to get into her apartment, and fast.
The keys jangled as she unlocked the door. When she stepped inside the foyer, music blasted through the hallways. Despite feeling like death warmed over, a smile spread across her face at the thought of Mike rocking out in the bedroom. It was like a scene out of Risky Business. Watching him sing and dance around was always comical.
Why was Mike home? He was usually out with his buddies. When she worked, he went to a bar with the guys and she’d meet him after her stint at the restaurant. They would hang out for a bit, have a few drinks, and talk about each other’s days. It was comforting and perfect. Everything was as it should be.
She typically went to the restaurants by herself. It helped her focus on the food and the ambiance without distractions. Mike would occasionally go with her, but usually, she wasn’t very good company. She would be too absorbed with the establishment.
She called out to Mike, but there was no response. With her nausea subsiding, she put her keys and purse on the coffee table and kicked off her shoes. Her feet thudded softly against the hardwood floor as she headed down the sage green hall. She was eager to see the handsome man she was marrying in three short weeks. The thought of lying in bed with Mike holding her until she fell asleep was comforting.
Mumford and Sons’s “Little Lion Man” echoed down the hallway. The sound of banjos made her smile as she remembered the time they saw the band in concert. She knocked on the bedroom door before opening it, not wanting to startle Mike. The smile plastered across her face quickly turned to a frown and a gasp. She caught her breath and took a step back. Oh my God. This can’t be happening. She closed her eyes and opened them again in an attempt to erase the image before her. Knots formed in her stomach as she stared at the scene playing out before her. How could this be? Why? There was a naked woman with long brown hair flowing down her back perched on top of Mike. The woman laughed. “You’re my stallion. I never want to stop riding you. You are so fucking amazing!” The voice was like nails on a chalkboard. The laugh was fake—like a desperate girl trying to hook up.
Katherine stood there frozen. Her knees grew weak and body grew numb. The sickness she felt only minutes before suddenly disappeared. All she could do was stare in disbelief as Mike enjoyed the ride of his life with the quirky little grin on his face that was normally reserved for her. Mike moaned, urging the woman to continue her descent down the home stretch. This was the love of Katherine’s life—the man she was supposed to marry and spend eternity with. They were going to start a family and live happily ever after. Instead, the perfect life she imagined was crashing around her.
Still stunned, her heart raced as she tried desperately to catch her breath. She had to get out of this room and away from Mike before she suffocated. She stepped back in the hallway, closed the door, and sat on the sofa. She stared lifelessly at the television, and replayed the life-altering scene she had just witnessed. It was like a bad soap opera with some tramp stealing her man. One part of her wanted to scratch Mike’s eyes out. But the rational side of her didn’t want to create a scene. There would be a time to
deal with this later.
The air suddenly became trapped in her lungs as her throat tightened. Her nausea returned suddenly, saliva poured into her mouth, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She ran to the guest bathroom, where she wretched and heaved her lunch into the toilet. The remnants permeated the air, causing her stomach to continue to cramp and recoil until there was nothing left but dry heaves. Tears filled her eyes as she started to wonder what she was going to do now. How would she ever recover? She remained stoic to this point, but the dam holding back the floodgate of tears crumbled. She collapsed in a heap on the floor and sobbed until the waterway was empty and fatigue took over.
Unsure as to how long she’d been asleep on the floor, Katherine woke to the warmth of Mike’s embrace. The smell of cologne and gentleness of his touch was soothing. Maybe it had all been a bad dream. It wasn’t until she caught the whiff of the other woman’s perfume on Mike’s shirt did she remember what happened. What could’ve been just a nightmare was suddenly reality. Waves of nausea took hold again and refused to let go until she purged her already empty stomach some more.
Mike’s warm hands rubbing her back did nothing to soothe the nausea or the reality of the situation. When she was sure her body was finished revolting, she lifted her head from the toilet and pulled away from him. He wasn’t hers anymore—he was dirty and tainted. She stared at his guilt-ridden face; the slumping of his shoulders left no doubt the magnitude of the situation weighed on him. Mike knew he had been caught cheating.
“Get out!” Katherine’s voice was weak and hoarse.
Mike raised his hands pleading for her to calm down. “I…I can explain. It’s not what you think.”
He was denying what she saw with her own two eyes. Her blood began to boil. Anger took control, pushing the sadness and illness aside. She gritted her teeth and forced the words out. “I said, get out!”
“Baby, we need to talk. Here, let me help you up.”
Mike reached to lift her but she swatted his arms away. “I’m not your baby anymore. You—you get out this apartment. I NEVER want to see you again!”
He stood frozen as a wave of emotions swept across his face. Fear, panic, and sadness all showed up in a matter of seconds.
“I said, get out!” Katherine pointed to the door.
Mike put his head down and left the room. She sat on the cold tiles and waited for the front door to close. What was only a few minutes seemed like an eternity as Katherine listened to the zipper of the duffle bag being ripped open and closed, and the medicine cabinet door slammed shut as Mike packed a few of his belongings. Finally, the sound of keys jingling allowed Katherine to exhale and slowly ascend from the floor. He was gone. Katherine was alone for the first time in her entire life.
Chapter One
The rough texture of jeans brushed against her arm, forcing Katherine out of her trance and to take notice of the guy who had just boarded the train. It was hard to mistake the eye contact that took place—he was all but staring. She glanced away, but his laser beam stare made her look up.
From a distance, it was hard to tell the exact color of his eyes. For certain, the green stood out—glowing like shimmering emeralds. If she had to guess, there was gold surrounding those emeralds. Not wanting to be completely obvious, she studied the stacks of reservation confirmations strategically placed in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the mysterious man settle onto the seat catty-corner from her. For whatever reason, she had a sense her life was about to change dramatically.
“We will be arriving at the Firenze station in approximately forty-five minutes,” the conductor’s voice boomed through the speakers, startling her. Firenze, or Florence, was the next destination. Florence was a romantic city known for various artists and poets, and she hoped it would be everything she imagined.
Katherine was meticulous in everything she did in life. When planning the trip, she dotted every “I” and crossed every “T.” She calculated the distance from the train station to the hotel and found the quickest way to get there was to walk. However, the stories of drug dealing and pickpocketing in Florence convinced her it would be best to take a taxi to the hotel the first time.
The cabin grew dark and claustrophobic as the train was swallowed up by a tunnel. With no scenery to view, Katherine observed the blurred faces reflecting against the window. Intrigued by the man who had captured her attention, she quickly gazed at him through the reflection. Her skin tingled as goose bumps formed across her flesh. When she realized he was staring at her, her heart skipped a couple of beats and she looked away.
A magnetic force pulled her attention back to the reflection of the dark-haired man with the piercing eyes. Knowing he couldn’t see her watching, she studied what appeared to be a work of art. In her mind, an Italian man was average height, about five-foot-eleven, with brown eyes, olive skin, dark hair slicked back, and lots of gold chains hanging over his hairy chest onto his velour Adidas jumpsuit. The stereotype was all but shattered when she arrived in Venice five days ago. If this man was Italian, he certainly didn’t fit the image she had conjured up. Sure, he had dark hair and olive skin, but that was where the similarities ended. He was tall with dark brown hair and a strong jawline that was covered with a couple of days’ worth of stubble. He wore jeans, a black shirt, and some sort of black soccer jacket advertising a team she never heard of. Needless to say, he wasn’t just handsome—he was drop-dead gorgeous.
The train emerged from the tunnel and light filled the cabin. The view out the window changed dramatically. To her surprise, it was vibrant green and lush with lots of foliage and vegetation. It rivaled states like Georgia and Florida with various shades of green everywhere. Florence, being part of the Tuscany region, was known for its spectacular wines. As a result, there were no shortages of small vineyards in sight. May was clearly a beautiful time of year to travel through the Italian countryside.
“Scusi?” Someone tapped on her shoulder. She looked up to find two female attendants pushing a beverage cart through the cabin. In a very strong Italian accent, one of the women offered a drink and a snack.
“Prego. May I please have some white wine?”
“Si.” The attendant poured the clear liquid into a glass and handed it to her.
“Grazie.” The countryside passed by the window as she set down the glass. The attendant moved on to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. With a deep husky voice and a thick Italian accent, he greeted the women and ordered water. The words flowed off his tongue like a thirty-year-old scotch. A sweltering fire roared to life inside of Katherine, leaving her with a sense of pleasure and a hint of embarrassment. Perhaps it was the sip of fruity wine she allowed to permeate her mouth. Or maybe it was the handsome stranger sitting across the aisle.
The gorgeous man smiled and winked at her, causing her to quickly shift her attention back to the window. Even though she was done mourning the loss of Mike, she was in no way ready to move on. She needed to find herself and accept being alone. No, she would just appreciate the good looks of the stranger next to her, and get on with the trip.
Hills lined with vineyards and small houses made of brick and stucco came into view as the train hummed along the tracks, enticing her into a trance. How did she get to this very spot at this moment? Alone on a train heading to Florence. Not in a million years would she ever have predicted this.
As they so often did, her thoughts went to Mike. Catching him cheating had been devastating; it had rocked her core, and many times she found herself collapsed in the middle of her apartment sobbing. She had to stop thinking about what might have been; she had to get on with her life. That was when she decided to go on the honeymoon they had been planning. She would go alone and have the fresh start she needed to come back and start life over.
She continued staring out the window, but saw only Mike’s face. A tendril of sandy blonde hair that fell onto his forehead and his sparkling, crystal blue eyes as he smiled and melted her heart, robbing her of any abil
ity to say no.
An impact from the cart jolted her forward and forced her back to the present. She rubbed the back of her arm as the attendants apologized profusely at the intrusion. She smiled and reassured them that everything was fine. She reached for the napkin occupied by the wine glass and blotted her eyes. It was the first time she had cried since shortly after arriving in Venice.
The speakers crackled as the conductor announced the train was arriving in Florence. The car slowed and the view out the window was replaced with graffiti-ridden walls. Not the welcome she had expected, but she was still excited to get to the city. She finished the wine, packed up all of her paperwork, and tucked the hotel reservation and confirmation neatly into her purse. She sat back and waited for the train to stop and the adventure in Florence to begin.
Chapter Two
Her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, the pearls around her neck, a short sleeve button-up shirt, and the slim-fitting khaki pants were quintessential east coast America travel attire. When she ordered the wine, her New York accent was prominent.
Tony watched the woman with the swollen, red eyes as she stared out the window. The woman was clearly distracted, and seeing the silent tears fall from her face was disheartening. The display of raw emotion pulled at Tony’s heart. His desire to comfort and wipe the tears off the woman’s face was overpowered by his instincts to survive, severing any remaining strings tugging at his emotions.
Tony had his own troubles to worry about; his family had been murdered and he had to figure out why. Traveling discreetly around the country under a fake identity was not an easy task. Not to mention that his dad had sent him on a wild goose chase. Figuring out how to bring the cartel to justice and get out of Italy before anyone found out he was indeed alive was going to be difficult enough.
