Black Listed

by Shelly Bell

  “No,” he said quietly, turning away from her. “The fact is I never knew you at all.”

  Didn’t he understand he knew her better than anyone? “What is your deal?”

  He flinched. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do.” She got into his face and angled his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Four hours ago, your dick was lodged in my throat, and now you won’t even look me in the eye. What the hell happened between then and now?”

  His eyes went liquid when she mentioned the blow job but then immediately froze again. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  She threw her arms up in exasperation. “I don’t get it. You ask me to trust you and—”

  “And you refused.”

  She studied him, noting the extra tightness in his jaw, the hardness of his eyes, and the rigidness of his shoulders.

  That was what this was about? Trust?

  Why couldn’t the trust she showed him through her submission be enough for him? She couldn’t give him more. Besides, what did it matter when this whole thing between them was temporary?

  “I was practically asleep,” she said as explanation. “You can’t blame me for something I uttered while I was crashing from our scene.”

  “You’re right. I can’t.” He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her until she was flush with the wall. “So I’m asking you again while you’re awake. Can you trust me enough to ask for help? Because I know there’s a lot you haven’t told me.” He swept his thumb across her lips, and it took everything she had not to suck it into her mouth. “You loved me. I know you did. But when something or someone spooked you, you didn’t love me enough to trust me.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I would’ve helped you. I’ll still help you, but you have to trust me first.”

  “It’s not that easy.” He couldn’t save her with all the money in the world. If they stayed together, her father would find her. He’d go after the black list and kill them both. She couldn’t afford to take that risk.

  “It can be. Trust me, and I’ll slay all your dragons,” he said, cupping her face. “Tell me why you took that money from me and where it all went. Tell me why you’re scared.”

  She covered his hands with her own. “I can’t.”

  “You can, Annaliese. Just say the word, and I’ll—”

  “Black list,” she whispered. If he kept pressing her, she was afraid she would crumble under the sweetness of his words and tell him everything.

  He dropped his hands and stepped away from her. “Right.” He cleared his throat, his gaze on the door. “Before I drop you at your office, I want you to make a list of people who might have done the damage to your condo. While you’re at work, I’ll see what I can find out about them. Maybe one of them recently flew into town.”

  “I’d ask how you’re going to check the airline records, but I don’t think I want to know.”

  He gave her a grin, but it looked forced. “It’s probably better that way.”

  All business now, he strode over to the desk and handed her a notepad and pen.

  She took it from him, nervous about what he’d think of her when she finished. Could she do this? She worried her lip with her teeth. As long as she didn’t have to give him the details of her cons, she supposed she could handle it. “It’s a long list, Sawyer. I’ve hurt a lot of people throughout the years.” And without the list in front of her, she wouldn’t be able to remember them all. Later, when she got the chance, she’d check the journal to see if she’d forgotten anyone.

  He raised his brows. “How many years are we talking about? You’re only twenty-five. Or did you lie to me about your age?”

  “No. I didn’t lie about that. But my age is irrelevant, because I’ve been conning people since the moment I was born.”

  He waited a beat, his eyes searching her face. “What’s your real name?”

  “Annaliese Hunt.” She shook her head. That wasn’t the name she wanted him to know her as. “Well, Annaliese Hayes. At least for a little while longer.” Until their divorce.

  His hands went into his pockets as he leaned against the desk. “Why did you give me your real name when we met?”

  She’d spent countless hours pondering that very question, never coming to a concrete answer. But only one thing made sense. “Because from the moment I met you, I recognized you as my Master. I needed you to know the real me.”

  He frowned. “And yet I don’t know the real you, because you haven’t let me. Do you even know who you are?”

  “I thought I did. Then you walked back into my life and have made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.” Paper and pen in hand, she rested her backside against the desk, her shoulder brushing against Sawyer. “These last few years were the longest I’ve ever gone by the same name, did you know that? I’ve kept my hair short and brown, worn the same colored contacts under non-prescription glasses, and dressed conservatively. I don’t have a hobby. I don’t watch television. I don’t date. With the exception of my weekly girls’ night, I work and come home.” Eighteen-hour days let her return home for a bath and a glass of wine before falling into bed exhausted.

  Her friends were her lighthouse as she floated aimlessly on the endless sea. Without them, she would drown. They had no idea how their friendships had yanked her out of the deep, dark depression she’d lived with since losing Sawyer.

  She waited all week for Thursday night, when they’d meet up at the bar for dinner and drinks. It was her chance to live vicariously through them as they shared stories about their adventures in kink.

  Although she couldn’t tell them the truth, she envied them for their ability to experience their sexuality freely. Kate, a masochist, got the pain she needed through whippings and floggings from her Dominant, Jaxon. Danielle was an exhibitionist, and she and her husband, Cole, loved to fuck in front of an audience. Logan and Rachel were into bondage. Gracie was into . . . well, everything, but she desperately sought a permanent full-time Master and loved to participate in threesomes.

  Lisa longed for all of it and could have none of it. With the exception of Rachel, none of them even knew she was kinky. They thought she was uptight, conservative, no-nonsense Lisa Smith, the daughter of two teachers who had died in a car accident when she was eighteen. They didn’t know she’d never gone to college. That every piece of ID she owned was fake. That even if she had wanted to go to the state and apply for a driver’s license in her real name, she couldn’t. According to the world, Annaliese Hunt didn’t exist. She had been born at home, so there was no birth certificate. Nothing to tie her to anyone. She was a ghost, a shell of a person walking around on this earth without any real substance.

  Except with Sawyer. With Sawyer, she felt real. Tethered to this world. Whole.

  He was right. She had no idea who she really was. “I mean, what kind of a person doesn’t have a hobby?” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you. Someone who doesn’t know what the hell she enjoys.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”

  “Maybe.” She lifted a shoulder. “And what about you?”

  “Me? I know what I enjoy.”

  She hummed in agreement. “Computers. So why are you still the CEO of Hayes Industries?”

  He eyed her warily, his hackles coming up in his defense. “You know why. It was my parents’ company, and I owe it to them.”

  “You owe it to yourself to be happy. Why not hire someone else to run the company, so that you can spend more time doing what you love?”

  He released her hand to run his fingers through his hair. “You don’t understand.”

  “No, you’re right. I don’t.” She turned him toward her. “Because you’ve never explained it to me. All this talk about my inability to trust, and you’re no better than me.”

  A million expressions flashed over his face until only sadness remained. “There are some sins we commit that are too dark to ever see the light.”

  “I get t
hat. Boy, do I get that.” She sighed. “But do you honestly think if you told me about your sins, it would change how I look at you? How I feel about you?”

  Especially since she carried the heavy weight of her own sins on her tarnished soul.

  “If I confess my sins, they become real. And I’m not ready to accept them yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

  What terrible thing did Sawyer do to make him think he had to forgo his own happiness in honor of his parents?

  And if he couldn’t forgive himself for his sins, how could he ever forgive her?

  Chapter Nine

  BLOWING ON HER cup of hot coffee, Lisa stared at the computer screen in front of her, waiting for the feeling of normalcy to wrap her in its arms. Six hours in her office, and she hadn’t accomplished a damn thing, still too shell-shocked over the last twenty-four hours. The soreness between her legs constantly reminded her of Sawyer. After she’d given him the list of people who had a reason to want her dead, he’d dropped her off at her office, telling her to call him when she was ready for him to pick her up.

  She didn’t like unpredictability. Her life was about staying in control and staying one step ahead of everyone else. She lived for the routine of the day and worked long hours so she didn’t have time to think about all the horrible things she’d done in her past and all she’d lost.

  She rubbed her temples, trying to focus on the numbers on the spreadsheets. She had to forget about any future with Sawyer. The sad truth was at the end of the week, she and Sawyer would go their separate ways. Permanently. There was no other option.

  “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” came a voice from the doorway.

  She froze, her coffee halfway to her lips. That familiar southern drawl sent her heart beating double time. It couldn’t be. And yet it was.

  He’d found her.

  She took a deep breath and got to her feet. Then, slowly, as if she could make it all go away if she just didn’t look, she turned toward him.

  Her brother.

  “Where’s my hug?” he asked, holding his arms open and smiling like four years hadn’t passed.

  And maybe they hadn’t. He hadn’t changed at all. Still her handsome big brother with his dark eyes and olive skin, hair as black as the night sky. So different from her light complexion and her almost Nordic appearance. It was something she’d questioned constantly as the only fair person in the family. Her mother had always said she’d taken after her maternal grandmother, that she was special because her grandma had been one of the most successful grifters in the country back in the thirties. While the Great Depression had ravaged the country, she’d prospered off people’s hunger and had skillfully conned hundreds of men into giving her their last penny to buy foreign bonds that promised to quadruple in value in six months.

  Resembling a criminal who took advantage of the weak was nothing to be proud of, and yet, when her mother recounted the tales of her grandma, she felt as though she belonged.

  Her parents were cold and calculating people. There were no hugs. No bedtime stories. No cute notes in her lunchbox during the times they had allowed her to attend school. The only time she received any affection was when she made them money. But it was never enough for them. Every dollar they brought in somehow disappeared within a few short months. She hadn’t understood it until she grew older and followed them one night to a casino.

  They were compulsive gamblers. It wasn’t the money they sought from the con. It was the rush. The high. They kept just enough so they didn’t starve and always had a roof over their heads. Millions of dollars were stolen and lives ruined because her parents had a gambling addiction they had no intention of ever overcoming.

  One of her brothers, Mitch, had been the same way. He loved the thrill of a con and felt no remorse for taking others’ hard-earned money. He’d also been cruel, often beating her black and blue for fun.

  But the brother standing in front of her waiting for his hug had been her lifeline. He’d bandaged her knee after she’d fallen off her bike. Had made her dinner when her parents had forgotten to feed her. Had comforted her when she had nightmares.

  Asa was the only reason she hadn’t left her family sooner. He’d always made it better. Until he no longer could.

  She eyed him warily, but she couldn’t stay away any longer. She hurled herself into him and wrapped her arms around him. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said shakily, suddenly realizing her entire body was trembling.

  Her gaze jumped to her small bookshelf, where she kept her special copy of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities.

  “I’m here. As soon as I saw your photo, I knew I had to see you. Let you know everything that’s happened.”

  She pulled back, suddenly both curious and cautious. “What’s happened? Is Dad finally in prison where he belongs?”

  A slow smile broke out on his face. “No. Even better.” He took her hand and squeezed. “He’s dead. He ain’t ever going to lay a hand on you again.”

  She stood there, unable to say or do anything.

  Her father was dead.

  The man had made her life a living hell after her mother had died, his abuse escalating to the point that she thought he would actually kill her one night. Intense relief flooded her, filling her with a light buzzing sensation. Not that there weren’t several other people who wanted her dead or behind bars. But knowing her father could never manipulate her into doing his bidding again brought tears of joy to her eyes.

  “What happened?” she asked, gesturing to a chair as an invitation for him to sit.

  Along with her desk, she had a small round glass table where she occasionally sat with clients.

  He plopped down in the chair, slouching to the side and kicking out his long legs. He did a quick perusal of the room, and then he nodded as if impressed by what he saw. “Heart attack. He and Mitch were casing a building, and dear old Pops just keeled over and died. Mitch didn’t find no pulse or nothing when he checked. He couldn’t carry him back to the car, so he left him. Sure he was bagged and tagged as a John Doe. County probably cremated his ass. Fitting, right?” His lips curled in disgust. “Don’t worry. He’s burning in hell for his sins right now.”

  She thought about Sawyer and his inability to forgive himself for his alleged sins. If there was no forgiveness for him, was she doomed as well?

  “And what about us? Will we burn in hell for our sins?”

  Her brother had the audacity to appear confused, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “What sins do you think you’ve committed?”

  “The same as all of us Hunts. Lying, stealing, cheating.”

  Her past weighed heavily on her shoulders. There was no absolution for her. No going to church to confess her sins to the priest. No forgiveness from those she had transgressed against. No way to escape the guilt that plagued her day in and day out.

  Asa leaned across the table and held her hands. “Do you regret it?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

  “You were never one of us, Annie,” he said softly.

  His old nickname for her brought back memories of all the times they’d snuck away from their parents to go fishing down by the creek or get ice cream cones in town. They’d spent days exploring every time they moved to a new city, riding their bikes through woods and taking long walks together. Unless they were given explicit permission from their parents to make friends, they only had each other for company. Usually the only friends they were allowed to have were the kids of the target, and it was difficult to let yourself become close with someone you’d eventually betray.

  Until Sawyer, she’d always been able to stay detached from her marks. But she’d given him everything she had.

  Except the truth.

  And once again, it would tear them apart.

  But was she truly different from her family? What differentiated them, when they’d all destroyed so many lives? Her guilt?


  She leaned forward across the table. “Did you feel bad for lying to all those people?”

  Asa’s brows wrinkled, and his mouth pursed. “Not when we were kids. I thought it was a game. Without someone to teach me about right and wrong, I thought we were doing a job like everyone else. Rather than sitting behind a desk or saving lives as a doctor, this was how we made our money.”

  Yes, that’s what it was like for her as well. “What changed?”

  He took her hand. “I heard your argument with Dad over that Hayes guy. Heard the ultimatum Dad gave you. I realized then what we did had real consequences. I mean, stealing money is one thing . . . but killing someone is another.”

  Her throat tightened as she recalled that terrible day. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

  He pulled back his hand and drummed his fingers on the table. “I thought there’d be time to tell you I supported your decision and would try to change Dad’s mind, but you left without saying good-bye. Got to tell you, I was pretty pissed off at you for a while.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Hell, yes you should have,” he said, surprising her. “You didn’t do anything wrong, and I understand why you had to go without any strings. But I would have gone with you, Annie. You were the most important person in my life. Until recently, you were the only person I ever loved.”

  “Until recently?”

  He jutted his chin at the ring on his finger. “Married just over a year now. Got a daughter and one more kid on the way.”

  “I’m an aunt?” Joy warmed her heart, but she had to admit, she was envious.

  Would she ever have that?

  “You are. Here’s a picture of my wife, Thea, with my daughter.” He flipped open his wallet and retrieved a photograph of a perfect-looking family. A beautiful woman with long dark hair and a friendly smile sat on the steps of a house with a pudgy baby girl on her lap.