by Tia Louise
She struggles against me, raising her hands to slap mine away. “I have to do what he says… You have to go before he comes back.”
“Who?” I look all around.
We’re in an elaborate bedroom with mirrors on all the walls. A narrow fireplace is across from a single bed, and a red divan sits in the corner waiting. It’s a boudoir.
“Are you…” I can’t even say the words. “Why are you doing this? What’s happening?”
“Give me the mask.” She holds out her hand, but I swing the piece of silk behind my back.
Her chin trembles and she looks down at her lap. I wait, doing my best to swallow the pain in my throat, doing my best to keep breathing.
I’m on my feet, this time, pulling her up by the waist with me. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“It’s too late,” she cries.
The words pull me up short. “What?”
She goes limp in my arms. “I thought I could keep her safe. I thought I could get her out of here, but it’s too late now.”
I’ve never cared about money, but for the first time in my life I’m confronted by what a necessary evil it is.
She reaches up and touches my face. “Sweet Mark. You want to help me?”
“More than anything,” I say with all the conviction roiling my stomach.
A bitter smile crosses her face, and her eyes are full of so much sadness, it breaks my heart. “Then go.”
“No,” I say desperately. “I’m getting you out of here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Thick lashes lower over dark eyes, and she shakes her head. “No one can save us now.”
Pain flashes in my stomach. I’m ready to argue I can save her, and I will, when she rises onto her toes and places her parted lips against mine. Her cool hand cups my cheek, and her tongue touches mine.
It’s a match to the desperate heat inside me. I grasp her body, pulling her closer. A noise comes from her throat as I consume her mouth, pulling her lips with mine, sliding my tongue to hers, stoking the flames higher with each pass.
My arms are around her, and I’m momentarily distracted by how she melts into me, gripping my shoulder with her free hand. Mine moves up her back into her hair. My fingers curl in her silky locks, and my cock stiffens in my jeans.
“Mark,” she gasps, breaking her lips away, but I can’t stop. I chase her mouth, covering it again with mine, drinking from her like a fountain in the desert. I want to take her away from here and keep her safe… I want to make love to her.
“You’re coming with me,” I whisper against her ear, overwhelmed by the passion coursing through my body. “You’ll stay with me. You’ll be mine, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
My hand travels down the curve of her ass, and her fingers tighten on my shirt. “I want to go with you,” she says in a voice that nearly slays me.
Stepping back, I’m ready to drag her to the nearest exit, leave this place, and never look back. I imagine days in the sun, a little white house with a picket fence and children playing in the yard. I imagine every corny thing a man ever imagines about the girl of his dreams when an iron hand slams down on my shoulder. I’m gripped in a vise-like metal claw, and our moment is shattered to little tiny pieces.
“Who the fuck are you?” A wolfish voice snarls loudly behind us.
I’m jerked around so fast, my grip on Lara slips. I reach for her again when a fist blasts pain through my entire face. White fills my eyes, and when I manage to shake the confusion away, I realize I’m on all fours on the floor.
“He’s going to be a problem.” Another man is in the room with us.
“Oh, no he’s not,” Wolf-voice replies. “I’ll take care of this little fucker.”
“No!” Lara screams, and I try to stop the room from spinning.
I try to get to my feet.
It’s no use. A violent kick to my stomach sends me flying down onto my side, another blast of pain shatters through my body. More kicks, one after the other, and I’m coughing up blood. Still, they don’t stop beating me.
The taste of copper fills my mouth, and I see the boot just before it flies at my face. I manage to get my arms up in time to block it from hitting my eyes, but my deflection only makes my attacker angrier.
“You want to be a hero?” the man shouts. “Heroes don’t last long in this place.”
“Stop, please!” Lara’s cry is more of a whimper now, and I look up to see her face shining and slick with tears. Her eyes are red and her nose is swollen.
Terror is on her face, and I try to reach for her. I try to say her name one last time. I’m sure the words are on my lips. I stretch out my hand. “Lara?”
It’s the last thing I remember before another blast of pain hits my head, and everything goes black…
It’s black as pitch when I open my eyes again.
Time has passed, but I don’t know how much.
My entire body is a vessel of intense pain. The flavor of blood is still in my mouth. I try to move, but my wrists are tied to my ankles. I try to roll, but my shoulder collides with hard wood. I’m in some kind of box. I’m rocking side to side in a rhythm, and as I listen, I hear a familiar noise. I hear the sound of a train.
I’m tied up in the dark in a box on a train.
I didn’t save Larissa.
I can’t let myself think about how they might have hurt her.
I’ll never see her again.
It’s the end of my story…
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(NOTE: A slightly different version of “Sundown” previously appeared in THE VAULT anthology.)
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Acknowledgments
The story behind this book is five years in the making. Maybe one day I’ll share it, but for now I’ll just say it’s a story I’ve wanted to share with a large audience for a long time. I hope you loved it as much as I do. It’s so special to me.
To get more specific, I have to thank the beta readers who helped me transform it into the version you’re holding now—Ilona Townsel, Tina Morgan, LuLu Dumonceaux, and of course Mr. TL. I love you all!
HUGE thanks to my editor Tamara Mataya, and to my dear dear friends who always give me so much encouragement, Aleatha Romig and Ilsa Madden-Mills.
To all my amazing author-friends who made room in your crammed holiday schedules, THANK YOU so much!
Special thanks to Letitia Hasser for the gorgeous cover design, and Wander Aguiar for the perfect photograph! Thanks to Shannon for the gorgeous teasers and Nita Banks for the PERFECT book trailer. Love you, peeps!
Thanks to Jenn Watson, Lisa Hintz, and Brooke Nowiski for the tireless PR and marketing help! I appreciate you ladies more than I can ever say!
To my MERMAIDS, Thank You for giving me a place to relax and be silly. THANKS to ALL the bloggers who have made an art and a science of book loving. Sharing this book with the reading world would be impossible without you. I appreciate your help so much.
To everyone who picks up this book, reads it, loves it, and tells one person about it, you’ve made my day. I’m so grateful to you all. Without readers, there wou
ld be no writers.
So much love,
Stay sexy,
<3 Tia
About the Author
Tia Louise is the USA Today best-selling, award-winning author of When We Touch, the “One to Hold” and “Dirty Players” series, and co-author of the #4 Amazon bestseller The Last Guy.
She loves all the books (as long as they have romance), all the chocolate (as long as it’s dark), strong coffee and sparkling wine.
After being a teacher, a book editor, a journalist, and finally a magazine editor, she started writing love stories and never stopped.
Louise lives in the Midwest with her trophy husband, two teenage geniuses, and one grumpy cat.
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