Shouldn't Have Dealt

by Mara Lynne

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  Copyright © 2016 by Mara Lynne

  All Rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known, hereinafter invented, without express written permission of BLVNP Inc. For more information contact BLVNP Inc.The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  This book is a work of FICTION. It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book.The author’s opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher.The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Enjoy.

  Shouldn’t Have Series

  Shouldn’t Have Dealt

  By: Mara Lynne

  ISBN: 978-1-68030-728-3

  ©MaraLynne2016

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1: Moving On

  Chapter 2: The Devil’s Way

  Chapter 3: Goble and Verne

  Chapter 4: The Inevitable

  Chapter 5: Damien

  Chapter 6: Trying

  Chapter 7: The Beast Out for a Hunt

  Chapter 8: An Eye for an Eye

  Chapter 9: Stopwatch

  Chapter 10: About Time

  Chapter 11: Dawn

  Chapter 12: Harm and Protection

  Chapter 13: Wingless Angel

  Chapter 14: Magazine

  Chapter 15: Suddenly

  Chapter 16: Vesuvius

  Chapter 17: Mrs. Stone

  Chapter 18: Grace Under Pressure

  Chapter 19: On Hunter’s Defense

  Chapter 20: Catch 22

  Chapter 21: Adverse Effects

  Chapter 22: Intimidation

  Chapter 23: Chained

  Chapter 24: Heaven Sent

  Chapter 25: Another Attempt

  Chapter 26: Unmentioned

  Chapter 27: Tickets to Colombia

  Chapter 28: Ridding Doubts

  Chapter 29: Angel’s Resolve

  Chapter 30: Stag and Fawn

  Chapter 31: Stag or Fawn

  Chapter 32: Rage in Silence

  Chapter 33: Just A Scratch

  Chapter 34: Should Have Not Dealt

  DEDICATION

  To all dreamers, never give up on your dreams! And to my first ever reader, I told you dreams do come true.

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  Chapter 1: Moving On

  My eyes scan for a five-foot tall man—well, 5’7” to be exact—coming down the elevator of the arrival area. I hold my cold hands together. It has been six months after my graduation, and since that day, I have never seen or even talked to him. I know I have wronged him in so many ways, and I can’t imagine the pain he has gone through because of my betrayal. I begged for his forgiveness for days, but he was not ready to hear me out. Instead, he flew out of Jersey and went to some place I do not know.

  A smile gradually forms on my face when I catch a glimpse of him coming down the elevator. Our eyes meet for seconds—and right there, I know I am forgiven. The unaffected look on his face melts away after seeing me almost teary-eyed. It must have touched his heart of stone.

  By the time he reaches the elevator’s landing, I was already running, quickly throwing myself at him. My arms wind around his waist, my face on the curve of his neck. He smells lovely as usual.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” I say after I wipe a tear off the edge of my eye.

  His hands go straight to my arms, pressing them lightly as though gauging the remaining muscle mass I have there.

  “You’ve lost so much weight, Angel,” he hisses, his eyes looking sympathetic as ever.

  “You left me! That’s why!” I tease.

  He rolls his eyes at me then takes me by the arm, and we start walking toward the exit of the airport where cabs are waiting for arriving passengers.

  “You know how much I love you,” he says. “I even came back because I think we need to fix this thing between us, and I’m really glad it’s over.”

  “No more lies,” I reply.

  “No more lies?”

  “I swear.”

  “Okay, then. You’ll have to tell me everything that has happened to you in the six months I was away!”

  Ray pulls the cab door open for me to get in then shoves all his luggage at the back of the cab. The cab driver starts the meter and the engine and begins to drive. He swerves the car multiple times before we reach the long, straight boulevard that connects the city to our suburban town.

  “So what did I miss?” Ray asks with one eyebrow arched, his eyes directed at me.

  I miss this kind of inquiry from the ever curious Ray Gaskell. I must admit that the unknown place where he had been didn’t change his inquisitiveness.

  “But first, tell me where you have been. Your complexion has turned fair, and your pores seem to have—”

  “Okay enough!” he cuts me out. “You don’t have to remind me how huge and ugly my pores are, Angel. You know I dread them.” He briefly peeps into the rear-view mirror and pulls out a compact mirror from his Chanel handbag. “I love this foundation. Charles bought it for me.”

  “You went to France?”

  “No. Not in France.”

  “Then where?”

  Ray pulls out a paper bag from his side and hands it over to me with an unparalleled smile plastered on his face.

  My eyes grow big as I hold a huge can of Wild Berry Products.

  “Chocolates are so good for depression, honey. I know you are not so over with what happened.”

  It’s been six months, I know, and Ray got me there. He shouldn’t have said anything about getting over something. It still hurts, and every time I am reminded of my foolishness, the deep wound in my heart goes deeper that I fear no amount of time and space can provide healing for it. I wish I can cry right now because the hammering in my chest is pushing those tears out of my eyes, but I can’t let the driver see how emotionally unstable I am, and so I bite my tongue and press my lips together.

  “Try them, honey, and you’ll definitely forget the graduation nightmare.”

  “These Alaskan chocolates must be so good, Ray.”

  I turn my eyes to the view outside my window. The tall buildings and the different colors their glasses reflect were so beautiful, but they cannot take away the th
oughts out of my head.

  Ray continues to talk about his beautiful experience in Alaska while I watch those mesmerizing glasses change colors every time the sun hits them.

  His face doesn’t leave me.

  The look on his face is engraved in every fiber of my memory.

  Every night, I can only wish for the storm to cease. Every night, I can only wish to eliminate the doubt and rage from his face.

  But I know all of these will stay as wishes.

  “Angel?”

  When I finally feel Ray’s nudge, we are already at his place.

  The cab driver helps us unload all Ray’s luggage and transport them inside his small foyer. Surprisingly, his house has been kept neat and organized this whole time even in his absence.

  “Dinner tonight? Mom will cook for you,” I say while watching him place his entire luggage to one corner.

  “You are too quick to relay to them our climactic reconciliation, sweetie!”

  “Mom was actually expecting for everything to be okay.”

  “She was that positive?”

  I nod. “She’s always been an optimist, and she knows you love me like a sister.”

  “Then Sarah is officially my new favorite girl!”

  “What about me?”

  “I can only make you my favorite girl again if you tell me everything—everything, Angel! No hidden secrets, okay?” he says after clearing the couch off some piles of magazines and books. He set two bee-shaped pillows in each crook of the couch. “I am waiting!” he exclaims as he taps the other side of the sofa.

  Okay.

  I let out a sigh.

  I thought he has forgotten about the nightmare.

  “Which part do you want to know first?”

  “You and Stone.”

  I tell him everything about Stone and me—how we first met, the lady who referred me to Paul, my first escort job, and the second one that led me to my demise. I practically leave out nothing, and I know he appreciates my honesty this time.

  “You did all that for a kidney?” he says after a trance.

  “I was desperate, Ray, and it’s not like I was selling my body to Stone,” I explain. I always thought it was a better thing than selling sex.

  “And what happened next?”

  “It’s a finished deal. Angel Grant is dead,” I answer.

  “How did Stone magically erase Angel Grant from the face of the planet, then?”

  Because of that one act, I gained the fury of the entire Etheridge clan. When Stone spilled the news to the mayor that night after the party, he was enraged, as Paul claimed. Stone was so devastated that he flew out of the state and went somewhere in the Caribbean. Since then, the Mayor was in and out of the hospital. The blame is pointed at me although it was Hunter who perpetuated the argument. I have no idea what Stone told them about the breakup, but by the looks of it, I think I was painted as the villain. Even the first lady got Angel Grant investigated, and the news of the break-up became an overnight sensation. For weeks, my face was in the headlines, and I had a difficult time telling Mom and Dad the truth. They never asked me why I did that because they knew why I would do something like that. They kept silent as though nothing happened, as though Angel Grant was just fiction, as though she wasn’t the daughter they raised… as though I was immaculate.

  “So Angel Grant is really gone now?” Ray clarifies.

  “She’s good as dead.”

  “And what did Mr. Etheridge find out from the investigation?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I have no idea. Stone must have done something to protect my identity.” He should have because if the first lady finds out who I really am, I can’t imagine the scandal that would arise. She is a powerful woman, and with just one flick of her fingers, I’ll vanish from the US map—I will literally evaporate into thin air.

  “And that’s pretty much it,” I add. “The story of the transient Cinderella—my story.”

  “Allow me to give you a warm hug, sweetie.” Ray’s words fill me with warmth and security. “I feel sorry that I left you. How immature of me!” Little by little, his eyes turn red. I can tell he is about to cry.

  “I can’t blame you, Ray. I lied to you. I lied to a lot of people.”

  “You didn’t lie, Angel. You just kept things from me, and I felt thwarted because of that.”

  “I’m really sorry.” I hold his hands tight and squeeze them to let him feel I mean what I said.

  “No. I should be sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t imagine how you handled all those alone. Your mom and dad, I suppose, can not do anything but silently pray for you and see that you still eat thrice a day. Then, you had Hunter Stone who’s gone missing in action, leaving you vulnerable to Cruella de Vil.”

  I smirk. “Who’s Cruella de Vil?”

  “The first lady, of course!”

  “You’re impossible!”

  “But seriously, that woman could have done you harm had she found the truth!”

  I know.

  “And with the Mayor not feeling well because of Stone and Angel Grant, I am sure the media will not let you off the hook right away. They might be looking for you in the four corners of the world.”

  Speaking of that, I have been extra careful when I go to public places. I would either wear dark glasses or a shawl to cover my face or go in complete disguise with a pixie-cut wig. Except for today, I have to be me—Angel Mohr. It is a special day because of Ray.

  “I am careful,” I reply.

  “You better be. The media can make or break you.” Then he stands up and saunters toward the kitchen. “Want some nuts?” He shows me a bowl of pistachio nuts.

  “No, thank you.”

  “It’s salmonella-free,” he says while gnawing some nuts.

  “My stomach is a little sensitive to nuts these days.”

  “Okay.” Ray sits back on the couch and sets the bowl on the glass table just beside us. “So did you get the job in McGarry Publishing?”

  A curve on my lips appears. Finally, we’re veering away from the difficult topics. “Still in probationary, though, but the compensation is really good.”

  “That’s wonderful! I told you, your genius can go places!”

  “I’m just so happy that money is no longer an issue now. Loans are easier to acquire because I have a decent job to back me up.”

  “And what about your dad? His condition?”

  I straighten my back and let it rest on the back of the couch.

  Ray reaches for the remote control and turns the television on. I like it how our conversation had become spontaneous and natural when he only forgave me about an hour ago.

  “Still the same. Continuous dialysis. Continuous laboratory works.” The good news is he is out of the hospital for six months already, and I know he isn’t missing any of his stay there. “But all is well. Just still waiting for the new kidney. Dr. Martin said we’re near the list.”

  “The hottie doctor?” His voice heightens at the mention of Eric. What a typical Ray thing! His eyes brighten as well.

  Meanwhile, Andrew Fischer, the reporter of the local TV news, appears on the television in his gray suit and yellow tie. He begins the show with his usual repertoire of jokes about the politicians and the rising prices of commodities in Walmart stores.

  “Martin’s married, Ray.” My eyes are on the television, waiting for some real news.

  “Married?” The glow on his face suddenly turns dark and bitter. “Married at such a young age?”

  “He’s in his thirties. Give the man the chance to be happy.” I think he wants me to say that Eric Martin would have been happier had he been with Ray than some other woman.

  “This is such a letdown!” he murmurs to himself. “If only Charles could just liberally marry me.”

  “Time will come, sweetie. His parents will approve of you, eventually.”

  “Damn tradition!”

  Suddenly, we fall into silence when Andrew Fischer disappears from the television
and a picture of a young man being arrested by the local cops flashes on the screen.

  It hits me deep into my bones.

  The headline on the screen says “Damien Etheridge hits the Metro with Coke.”

  Chapter 2: The Devil’s Way

  I knew turning the television on was not a good idea.

  Ray jumps from his seat to reach for the remote from the table on my side. He quickly pressed the power button off and pulled me out of the couch, dragging me toward the kitchen for a hot choco. He thinks the hot drink will make miracles for me. I was quiet the whole time he was talking about his flight to Alaska through a small plane. He said he prayed the rosary fifteen times throughout the flight.

  It was so hard to just forget what I saw on TV, though. It was like a hundred needles pricking the neurons in my brain, burying their way into my memory of him. I have been there. I have done every possible way to stop myself from believing that everything between us will be back to normal. I don’t think second chances are for us. It’s just impossible. He is doing all he can to keep me away from him. No matter how I try to push myself to him, he moves away.

  It will never work.

  The next day, I am still reeling from what I saw. Not even Mom’s butter pancakes and fresh strawberries could wipe his horrible image out of my mind.

  “He was here yesterday, you know.” Mom manages to say, her entire focus on washing the dishes. “Again. It must be the hundredth, I think.”

  Since that day, I tell myself.

  “He never gets tired. How can he do that?” I hear her silently chuckling.

  But I choose to keep silent. Saying anything about him might mean another decision I might regret. It is not the time. Not yet.

  She turns to me with her hands on her hips, letting water drip on her apron.

  “You should talk to him and end this eerie wooing, sweetie. I thought this kind of thing only happens in Nicholas Sparks’ books and Hallmark movies, but I’m witnessing it with my own eyes.”