by Wyatt, Dani
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter Twenty-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
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Epilogue
Backpage
PUSH
Dani Wyatt
© 2015 Everafter Publications and Dani/DD Wyatt
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2015
by Dani Wyatt
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
Visit my author page! Dani Wyatt on Amazon
Cover Credit Cormar Covers
A NOTE TO MY READERS:
I appreciate every one of you.
I like to interact with my readers and have some fun.
I also post lots of free snippets and chapters.
facebook.com/ddwyattauthor
Dani Wyatt Facebook
Join Dani’s Readers Group and receive
an exclusive free book entitled ‘BABY’
CLICK HERE
http://eepurl.com/bubxzz
Get ready, PUSH brings the heat…
She made soft, halting gasps; every sound sang out like a siren. Every noise only made him more crazed, his brain imagining taking every part of her into him. Tasting and fucking and giving her everything she deserved.
Chapter One
If she woke, she would scream, and Flynn would be dead.
Still, the only thing he could think of was how he wished he could touch her hair.
Even in the darkness he knew the color of that hair, with its waves and curls the color of a bright copper penny. One mile long spiral tumbled across the sky blue and white lace of the pillow cover, falling almost to the tips of her fingers where her arm hung like a lazy branch off the edge of the mattress.
He wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair’s softness and pull her face to his.
Behind her closed lids, her eyes could light the midnight sky in a glow of green and gold like a field of fresh grass and wild Daisies. But, she refused to open them, refused to let him see them one last time before he died. So, here he sat, waiting, hoping for just one more look.
Minutes earlier, her unmistakable scent hit him as he’d wiggled and strained to crawl through the window. Her floral sweetness tightened around his throat, reminding him that there was only one soul in this entire fucked up world that existed just for you. Only one.
The oak branch outside her window laughed as it’d held his 235 pounds of trained, fighting muscle thirty feet off the ground. The less-than-solid wood had mocked and squeaked as it held his fate.
The gargantuan century old Tudor that held her prisoner stood in its own grand darkness against the onyx sky. Tired grey clouds covering the sliver of silver moon light which fought to reveal his entry.
Below him, windows cut with diamond-shaped, beveled glass still glowed from the first floor where legions of evil plans were laid for both strangers and family alike.
Inside, shadows moved, stepping then stalling, turning toward the world outside while Flynn felt his warm blood trickle down his bicep — the cut inflicted by a rusty wire that had caught him on the back fence around the historic estate.
Lilly, I’m here. I might die tonight. I don’t give a shit. I’ll die and your face will be the last thing I see. I’ll go knowing I was this close to touching you again. Nothing else in this fucking life matters anymore, so what the fuck do I care. Live. Die. I’m not even sure I know the difference anymore.
Rubbing his hands over his face, Flynn sat in the chair, watching. The dull throbbing from his swollen, purple left eye did not register as pain. Last night’s fight an easy mark, a quick $500 to keep him hidden for another night until he could come here and say goodbye.
Wake up. Wake the hell up so that they can kill me. If they do, I won’t have to look at you for another day. When I die, we die…or the beautiful disaster we could have been will die. For one fucking moment, the empty space in my chest felt a beat — a warmth — and now it’s ice again. But, that’s for the best. I was never cut out for this. For you.
Lilly’s eyes moved beneath the thin veil of her lids. Without a hint of surprise, she looked at Flynn as though she’d expected him to be there, her focused glow of green and gold on him like a cheetah deciding which angle of attack would be most efficient.
“I hate you.” She went straight for the kill.
“I know.” Flynn sucked in some air, the sound of her voice weaving a noose around his neck.
Flynn caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over her bed, his face cast in half-shadow by the moon. He looked like a man who had nothing to lose.
“I love you,” Flynn whispered.
“I know.” Lilly’s eyes keened on him, her voice sadly resigned.
“Come with me. Right now, we’ll disappear.”
Flynn knew it was pure folly, but he was about to die, so he let his fantasy take flight in the streaks of moonlight that filled the air between them.
Flynn Dunleavy — the bastard son of the infamous Colin Dunleavy, marked by his mother's hot green eyes and his father’s elegant symmetry of features. He was equal parts lean fighting-thug and Detroit, mob royalty.
“That’s impossible. I’m already invisible. I don’t exist. And soon, you won’t either.” Lilly brushed the tangle of waves and curls off her translucent pink cheeks as she shifted under the stark white bedding and leaned, half sitting, against the pile of pillows at her back.
“Why haven’t you screamed yet?”
“I’m playing with you. Isn’t that why you’re here?” The forced cheerfulness in her voice shining light on the hopelessness it tried to hide. “What made you decide to speak to me? I’ve gotten used to the silent stare. I think I’ve enjoyed wondering what’s been going on inside that head of yours more than actually knowing.”
He watched her hands pull at the covers, then wrap around the lush curve of her waist. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, to silence the insecurity that told her somehow her glorious soft lines made her less-than.
“It took me a long time
to decide what to say is all.”
“It’s been almost a month since you spoke to me.”
“I had a lot to think about.”
Flynn could see the almost imperceptible movement of her pulse just below her jaw. His own blood rushed downward, filling the length under his pants even as he realized that he would die without ever discovering the dream of binding himself to her.
“So, you’re here. All I have to do is scream, and they'll come. It will take them a few seconds to get through the locks, but it won’t be enough time for you to get away. After a month of thinking, do you have anything interesting to say?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. He could see the way the blood flushed and blotched over the swell of her chest. Her hair, an utter mess, only made him want her more. And, the way she looked so fragile yet so fierce told the story of the years that had molded both of them into the broken soldiers of their family duty.
“No.” Flynn choked on the word because he had so much to say, and yet nothing to say.
Come with me, I need you more than air. I’ll carry you through thorns and storms and the highest mountains until they can’t find us. I’ll make love to you until you can’t remember what it was like for us to be apart. I’ll put walls around you, choke with razor wire any fuck who comes near you until the world understands this is a bridge not to be crossed. I’ll taste you until your flavor becomes part of me, root inside you until your belly swells and your smile never leaves your lips. I’ll leave a path of destruction behind us with all the faces of those who made you what you are now…who caused your indifference, your heart to forget to beat, lest you feel anything.
“Two poison vials and we could be yet another star-crossed lovers’ tragic story. Only, we never got to be lovers, not really.” Lilly fisted the white sheets in her hands.
It became difficult to take a breath. The word ‘lovers’ coming from her rose-petal pink lips creating in him an entirely new level of need.
“Maybe I don’t scream.” Lilly’s voice turned flat. “Maybe we die together. You snap my neck like you did to that boy, then throw yourself off the tower onto the patio. That would be a fitting end, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.” Flynn locked his gaze with hers, his tension showing in the notch of his eyebrows.
“Could you imagine?” She shrugged. “What a war you could start; it would almost be worth dying for. Our fathers, once united in their pursuit of all things evil and profit-making, turning against each other in mutual blame and hatred. Neither of them able to claim the prize of fortune I hold inside my head. What a tale it would be back in Ireland. We would be legend. Folktales filled with angst and heartbreak, all about us. They would have to embellish, of course. Lovers have to be lovers, after all.”
The gentle lilt of her accent made Flynn think of running away with her, back to the stone cottages and fields of a world far away.
“If you love, you’re lovers.” Flynn looked at the floor, not sure he’d even said the words out loud.
“People like us don’t love. We don’t get happy endings. That’s what you told me the day you picked me up off the front steps. Remember? Colin came out, told the driver to let me carry my own bags, then showed me exactly how he would love me. You — as silent as you are now — watching as he split my lip and kissed my forehead. My future husband, the man I thought loved me enough to bring me halfway around the world and make me the happiest girl ever.” Lilly tipped her head and put her hands under her chin like a bad actress.
“You changed my mind.”
Lilly ignored him as she looked at the ceiling, then settled her jaguar-green eyes on his.
“I remember precisely what you said. You helped me up, then told me, ‘Did you plan on Prince Charming, Cinderella? This place ain’t no fucking fairy tale. There’s no love here. Welcome to hell.’ ”
“A lot’s changed since then. I changed. You changed.”
“No, nothing’s changed. You were right, about everything. I’m the princess in the tower, right? My own father abdicating my care to a man with hands and heart as cold as ice. Then, there’s you. What do you want from me? I have nothing for you. What we could have been was exactly what you told me not to believe in. A fairy tale. This is a tragedy. Everyone dies in the end.” Her smile, as dark as the sky, still lit up the room, and Flynn felt his own heart pound against the wall of his chest. He felt sick.
“I want to die.” Flynn fought to keep his voice steady. “I’ve seen enough people die, I’m not scared. Hell will be better than this. I know that’s where I’m going for the things I’ve done. I could have been everything to you, everything you want, everything you need. You fucking belong to me even if I never get to have you.”
A creak on the floor boards outside the door drew their eyes.
The slow, steady steps faded, and Flynn watched Lilly’s chest begin to rise and fall again.
She reached for the cut crystal glass on her nightstand, the resting vessel for the amber liquid she kept hidden in a shoe box on top of the mahogany armoire.
“I’m not going to scream.” Lilly looked out the window and took the last sip from her glass.
Flynn leaned forward, trying to catch his breath, imagining how it would have felt to be inside of her, two souls melting into a bliss only reserved for those willing to risk indescribable pain. He could smell her subtle scent in the air. It rippled his skin and made the room seem too warm.
When he raised his own emerald eyes, Lilly sat staring at her hands, playing with the gold band on her right ring finger, a reminder of the mother she wished would have protected her. But, still the one person in the world she loved.
“I want you to live.” The ice in her voice melted.
Flynn strained to hear as her voice softened until he could barely make out the words. “I want to keep you around as a reminder of just how close I came to real danger, the kind of danger that only comes when you allow yourself to be seduced by what could have been. By fairy tales.”
Flynn let out another long breath, both hands rubbing over his head before settling on his face. He felt the weight of their sadness, their obligations and secrets. The room felt like it was filling with ice water, both of them freezing and suffocating and unwilling to swim to safety.
“Did you hear me?” The cut in her voice brought him back to the moment.
“What?”
“I’ll let you live if you make me a promise.”
I’m not sure I want to live. I came here to die. I was ready — now my heart is beating again.
“What?” Flynn felt the wave of sick grip his gut.
“Don’t come back here. Don’t think of us. Pretend I’m dead… or you will be.”
The crystalline reflection of a single gathering of salt water in the corner of her eye wrapped wire around Flynn’s slowly thumping heart. His fingertips were cold and the room warmer with every second he let his eyes stay on hers.
She held his life in her hands. He’d come here to die. He’d already decided. One scream from her and it would be over.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Flynn didn’t bother to whisper. He was done playing.
The gathered tear found its way down the ripe warmth of her cheek, and a sardonic smile curved the fullness of those beautiful lips.
“I hate you,” she said.
“I know.”
Flynn closed the ten feet between them and took those lips from her, tasting the flavor that haunted his dreams every night since she took his hand that day on the front steps.
Her taste crashed over him. When he released her, the sound of her scream echoed inside the mansion loud enough to raise the roof. Within a minute, the room filled with the sound of footfalls from the hall and the click of the locks opening from outside her gilded prison.
And let it all be done.
Chapter Two
Flynn’s half-brother had arrived at the hospital less than two hours after the knife had done its work as he lay on the floo
r next to Lilly’s bed.
“Does it hurt?” Gideon sat back in the chair next to the emergency room bed.
“Fuck off. Why are you even here?” Flynn winced as the nurse cleaned around the stitches, the gauze pink with the final cleanup of what should have been the last pumps of his heart.
“Dad sent me. You should know that, dumbass. Besides, this is better than anything else I could think to entertain myself tonight. I should have brought popcorn.”
“Keep your arm in the sling, Mr. Dunleavy.” The young auburn haired nurse struggled to use her most professional voice. “You will tear the sutures if you move it too much. It’s a deep laceration; you will have some blood seepage for several days. Call the emergency number if you experience sharp pain, you cannot stop the bleeding, experience fever or the wound becomes inflamed and red. Here are your discharge instructions. You really need to be admitted. You are leaving against medical advice.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I need to call a cab.” Flynn sucked in a deep breath and crunched his abdominals, doing his best to sit up without using the muscles in his left arm or chest.
The nurse unconsciously licked her bottom lip as Flynn’s six-pack flexed, her eyes moving over his shirtless upper body.
“They added a new element to your ink.” Gideon said. “Cut right through that tribal Celtic bullshit. I think I like it. Scarification, looks good bro.”
Gideon slumped lower in the vinyl chair as he watched the nurse leave through the curtain. The ball bearings on the metal track over their heads scraped back and forth with the opening and closing of the cloth divider.
Gideon and Flynn shared half their DNA, but they moved in different worlds. Gideon lived in a bubble of his dark privilege, born perfectly into the corrupt world of crime and family loyalty. His onyx, slicked back hair and dark eyes were the same color as his soul.
Flynn fought to breathe. The plan hadn’t come to fruition. Laying on the floor of Lilly’s room a couple hours ago, he didn’t fight back as Leonard brought the knife down and cut a long, slow road from his shoulder across his pectoral muscle.
