by M. Never
A.C.H.E.
M. Never
Copyright © M. Never 2018
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from author M. Never
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Marisa-Rose Wesley, Cover Me, Darling
Cover photo by Regina Wamba
Editing By Candice Royer
Proofreading by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, Virginia Tesi Carey, and Terri Fantauzzi
Created with Vellum
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by M. Never
Prologue
Juliet
Age 16
“And what princess are you pretending to be tonight?” Tage slithers into my bedroom window like the cat burglar he is. It’s dark. He’s late. I’m impatient.
“When I'm with you, I’m not a princess, I'm a Capulet.”
“So, I'm calling you Juliet?” He creeps across the room.
“That will do.” I giggle softly as he skims across the top of my bedcovers and delivers a possessive, heart-stopping kiss. I thread my hands in his short, dirty-blond hair and hold on for dear life. I live for these clandestine moments. These secret rendezvous that are as dangerous as life and as imminent as death. Tage and I live in a perilous universe where violence rules and power reigns. We aren't supposed to know each other. Our paths were never intended to cross. He isn't supposed look at me or talk to me, let alone touch me. I'm the Lladró in the glass curio cabinet left to look out over the world, alone. Separated, a precious porcelain figurine to be admired by one man, and one man alone.
“Did you miss me?” Tage asks as he sheds his leather jacket and then his shoes.
“Are you seriously asking that question?” I pull off my shirt and reveal my little pink, lace bra.
“I like to hear the answer.” He covers me with his big, broad body.
“You know I did. I live for you,” I squeak like a church mouse.
“I live for you,” he professes, pressing his mouth to mine, swiping his tongue between my lips. An electrical charge passes through my entire body. It's a feeling only Tage can bring forth.
The first time he kissed me, I understood what it meant to be alive. For so long, I have been a doll. Propped in my pretty pink cage and hidden away from the world.
If anyone found out he was here, knew what we were involved in, or taking part in, he’d be executed like a prisoner of war. On the spot. No trial or jury, just guilty.
Tage knows the risks. He knew them the moment he laid eyes on me. He knew them as he silently stalked me for months. He knew them the night he crawled into my window and stole my first kiss. He knew them the night he took my virginity and uttered the words “I love you” — and he knows them now. We both do. Our relationship is treacherous, but it's undeniable. Incontestable, irrefutable. It's the air, and we suffocate when we’re not together.
“How’s my caged little bird?” Tage hooks his thumbs into the side strings of my panties. They’re dainty and made entirely of lace. Much too mature for someone my age.
“She wants to be set free.” I wiggle beneath his imprisoning body, helping him to rid the restrictive material as much as I can.
“Soon enough.” He smothers me with a kiss while forcing my legs apart.
I fly higher and faster than a fighter jet as his essence seeps into my soul. As he brings me back to life. As my heart begins to beat and the apex of my thighs begins to pound.
I inhale fresh air for the first time today.
“I missed you,” I sigh emphatically.
“I missed you, too. Every goddamn second.” Tage’s breathing quickens as the bulge beneath his zipper hardens rapidly. I love the pressure. The feel of the hard rod smashing against my pelvis.
I snake my hand between our bodies and pull at the button of his jeans, tugging until it comes loose and the whisper of metal teeth hisses.
“Ah,” Tage groans gutturally as I stroke his erection. He taught me what he likes. Showed me how to touch him and what he’s capable of when touching me. “Have you been taking your pills like a good girl?”
“Yes. Everyday, just like you told me.” I hide my birth control in the lining of my mattress, right where he showed me.
“Good. Good girl. My girl.” Tage kisses me between rasps, firmly, possessively, as he pushes his jeans down past his thighs.
“Are you wet for me?” He nudges the head of his erection against my entrance.
“Yes,” I moan. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“And touching yourself?” He slides in just slightly.
“Yes,” I huff. “Like you wanted.”
“So, you’re all ready for me?” He sinks all the way in and the wind is knocked out of me.
“Yes,” I heave.
“Mmmm, baby, my baby.” He circles his hips and the wall of my womb throbs.
“Tage,” I whimper as I claw at his back. He’s so much bigger than me, stronger, more powerful. When it comes to Tage, I’m his willing prisoner. And I want to be for the rest of my life.
I gasp as we fuck — wild and passionate, like it means life or death.
If we’re not caught, it’s life. If we are, it’s death.
That tightness between my legs I associate only with Tage starts to pulsate. It spreads through my limbs like a pounding drum.
“Oh, God, oh, fuck.” My words are swallowed by his hungry mouth eating away at mine.
“Shhh.” He silences me with a French kiss so deep and demanding I drown in its dominance. I can’t help it. I can’t help the way he makes me feel or the response he elicits. I want to scream it to the world. I want to come loudly and freely like there’s no consequence. But there is. A severe one. I calm myself, feeding off the slowing rhythm of Tage’s hips. I am utterly enamored by this man.
He breaks the suffocating kiss and looks down at me with raw, hazel eyes. The brown ringing around his pupils is so dark and so deep. So captivating. I could stare into them forever.
“I was never supposed to fall in love with you, Juliet. But I did, and you’ve become mine.” I flood with emotion. With hope. “I’m going to free you.”
“When?” I plead desperately.
“Soon.” He shivers, his climax threatening.
“What will happen to us?” My stomach muscles clench.
“We’ll be together. And I promise, on my life, nothing will ever come between us.” Tage pushes my body, my mind, and all my emotions.
“I want that.” I cry as I come, spiraling down an orgasmic black hole.
“Oh, fuck, baby.” He groans, tormented b
y the feel of my spasming pussy. “You’ll get it. I promise, I’ll take care of you. You’ll never belong to anyone but me ever again. I’m the first man and the last man who’ll ever touch you.” Tage tenses, his last word lingering in the air as he finds his own earth-shattering release right behind mine.
Time stills as the man who means everything to me holds me tight, protects me, loves me. He’s the first person in my entire life to show me real affection.
Relaxing after a few intense moments, Tage settles next to me on the mattress. I snuggle up to him, burying my face in his chest and inhale his signature scent. It’s an intoxicating mix of tobacco and mint.
The room is silent and dark, and even though threat looms over us with every passing second, our stolen moments are worth more than diamonds or platinum or gold. Worth more than life, because I am certain, if he asked me to, I would die for this man.
Tage gave me something priceless.
Himself.
And I handed him back the only thing I owned that was of any value.
My heart.
“I love you,” I murmur.
His arms tighten around me. “I love you more. I’ll love you always.” He presses a firm kiss to my head.
“Don’t go.” I hold on to him for dear life. “Every time you leave, another piece of me crumbles away.” I have a ridiculous, childish fantasy that he becomes the monster who lives under my bed. And although he looks and sounds scary, he isn’t there to hurt me, he’s there to protect me.
“Do you trust me, Juliet?” Tage tilts my face up. It’s hard to see his features in the dark, but I can feel his heavy eyes on me as if they were free weights. Of all the times we have been together — the months of sneaking around, the secret rendezvous, and stolen moments — he has never once asked me that question. Ever.
Do I trust him . . .?
“With my life.”
“Good. Because your life is my main concern. It’s my priority. My duty. And I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing. That I have a plan.”
“Want to give me a few details of that plan?” I fish.
“I can’t give you many. I can just tell you soon. Very, very soon.” He swipes the pad of his thumb across my heated cheek.
Soon. That sounds so . . . hopeful. Tage is one of my stepfather’s foot soldiers. He’s a thief, and a liar, even a killer when he needs to be. I’ve been surrounded by men like that since I was seven. Since my sleazy, drug-addicted mother entered into a relationship with Malcolm “Gunner” Tremmall, a Chicago Southside drug runner who was quickly making a name for himself.
Eight years later, he’s built one of the most lucrative drug-trafficking rings north of the Mason-Dixon line.
My life wasn’t always this secluded, though. When we first moved into the compound, I had my freedom. I could roam when and where I wanted. Neither my mother nor my stepfather bothered with me much. They were both concerned with more important things — my mother getting high, and Gunner carving out his empire through intimidation and fear. He’s no one to fuck with. It’s clear by just the way he presents himself. He’s an imposing figure. Tall, stoic, and ruthless as hell, with black eyes that are a perfect match to his black soul.
But one day, everything changed. Everything I had grown accustomed to was taken away from me. The little freedom I had, gone.
It happened right after my thirteenth birthday. It was like any other morning. I woke up, brushed my teeth in my en suite bathroom, and then tried to go downstairs for breakfast. Tried being the operative word. Two of Malcolm’s huge goons were guarding the door, and when I attempted to walk past them, they stopped me. Blocked me. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I never really received an explanation either. From that day forward, I became a prisoner. Sentenced to spend my life alone, in solitude, in an elegant prison decorated in pink and white. I was Rapunzel, minus the long blonde hair, staring out at the world from the window of my tower. And for three years, that’s how I lived, secluded, until the night Tage Andrews appeared and changed everything. Changed me.
I had seen him many times walking across the courtyard — a paved square in the middle of the property surrounded by beautiful climbing vines in the summer and snow-covered grounds in the winter — and every now and again the path of our eyes would meet. Only for a fleeting second, but the connection was like fire. For me, anyway. I don’t know how many times it happened, countless probably, but I felt his stare touch the same place inside me every single time. Deep in my core, it kindled my insides in ways I didn’t understand but became addicted to. I would search him out, just to feel that little flash of excitement. I began to live for it, and soon, live for him. I didn’t even know his name. He was a stranger, a mystery that occupied my mind. A person I could never touch, or meet, or talk to. But that all changed the night he climbed into my window. The night he altered everything, my entire existence.
One kiss possessed me. One kiss turned a fixation into an infatuation.
I watch quietly as Tage drags up his jeans and zippers his fly. My heart deflates. I don’t want him to go. It’s getting harder and harder to watch him leave. To be alone.
“Please don’t go yet.” I reach for him desperately. Tage grabs my hand and plops back down on the bed.
“Soon, I’ll never have to leave.” He traps my face and embraces me wildly, one wet, starving, paralyzing kiss right after another. I’m light-headed by the time he’s done, and dizzy with so many emotions. “Be patient, Juliet, promise me.”
“I promise,” I sigh. “I’d wait forever for you.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” Tage stands, and I sag. Please don’t go. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“You promise?” I stare up at him. His strong frame is highlighted by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.
“Yes. You promise, I promise.” He drops a kiss on my freckled nose.
I nod. I trust him. With everything I am. With everything I have.
Tage slithers out of the room the same way he came in, like a cat. Like a thief, making off with my heart.
Once he’s out of sight, I spring out of bed and grab a pink sheet of paper and a pen off my desk. I scribble a few words down, then fold the paper into an airplane. I rush to the window and call out in a hushed tone, “Tage!” I send the pink paper airplane soaring in his direction, and he catches it right before it crashes into the ground. Then he’s gone. Swallowed by the darkness.
I climb into bed, playing the events of the night over and over like I always do. It helps me hold on, helps me stay sane.
“Soon, Juliet.” I hear Tage’s words echo around me. Soon.
The sound of a gunshot startles me awake. Another prompts me to scurry out of bed and crawl to the window. I peek out of the glass from the floor to find Gunner pointing a gun at Tage. Tage is crawling on all fours across the courtyard, clearly injured. I want to scream, but fear is choking my vocal chords. I watch helplessly as Gunner stalks Tage under the faint moonlight. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can see the gun glint as he moves. My eyes sting from prickly tears, and my heart is beating so fast my chest feels like it’s cracking.
Please no, please no, please no is all I can think. It’s a drumline beating through my head.
The world becomes blurry as the onslaught of tears cloud my vision.
Please God, take anything or anyone except Tage.
Another gunshot rings out and my nails break against the windowsill. My world shatters. I hear screaming, but it’s so far and removed it takes me a second to realize it’s me. It’s my voice, my pain, my anguish, projecting from my own throat.
Then there’s chaos. Bright lights, loud swooshing sounds, and a man’s voice raining down through a loudspeaker.
I wipe my eyes, trying to find my bearings. So much so fast. A helicopter hovers over the courtyard with the letters “FBI” accented in gold. People with guns flood the courtyard, and Gunner’s crew seem to scatter like rats. I’m terrified, fr
ozen in place, watching the one and only person I care about die on the cold ground.
As I’m suspended in time, my door is kicked open, and more men in black invade my bedroom. There must be ten of them. They’re bigger than life and crowd the spacious room. One scoops me up, but I grab onto the windowsill. I can’t go. I can’t leave Tage, not like that. Alone. Dying.
“Save him!” I scream as they tear me away. “You have to save him!” I flail in the stranger’s arms in a fit of panic, reaching for the window.
For Tage.
For my heart.
For my life.
For my everything.
1
Everly
Eight years later
Present day
“I swear to fucking God, if I didn’t like Mr. Turner so much, I’d quit.” Lara spins in her chair and glares at me.
“Another ‘special request’?” I giggle.
“They are superlative submissions according to him. Leave it to a lawyer to eloquently rename bitch work.” She slams a stack of papers on our shared desk.
“But no one does bitch work like you.” I bat my eyelashes at her mockingly.
“Apparently not, because not one other secretary in this firm has to confirm with one hundred names on the guest list for the company party tonight. That’s what he has a party planner for,” she hisses.
“There’s not one other secretary sleeping with a junior partner either,” I sing softly.
Lara straightens in her chair. “Do you think he knows? Are Luke and I that obvious?” she whispers conspiratorially.
