Relentless Desire (Relentless Romances Book 1)

by Amber Burns

  “N-N-No… I-I don’t know.”

  That fucking stutter always ruins everything.

  It was all I needed to hear though. I dropped her chin, kicked out of the bed, and located my pants before my boxers. I pulled them on and slipped on my shirt before beginning a hunt for my sneakers.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  I stopped, my shoes were now in my hands and I flung them out to the sides with my gesture. “You care?” I was being rude, and hurtful, and spiteful. Everything Amos Fuller wasn’t.

  Normally.

  But nothing about my meeting Vanna, and nothing about these past several days, had been normal for me. I felt like I was tied to her by some voodoo-hoodoo magic. How else could I explain how I wanted to run to her now, kiss that wobbling mouth, and smooth out her pleated brow before fucking her to sleep?

  “I’m leaving,” I grumbled then paused at the door and turned around, my nostril flaring. “Answer just one thing and then you’ll never see me again.”

  I took her silence as a go-ahead.

  “Did you ever miss me? Did you ever dream about me? Did you once pick up the phone and then decide not to call me out of some stupid fear I’d hang up?”

  She didn’t answer me. She just stared down at the floor, and I understood then the true sense of being crushed and utterly defeated.

  I rallied one last time. “So that’s it?”

  Far from welcoming me back into her embrace, Vanna clutched the sheets around her, and that was my answer. I stayed only as long as it took me to shove my feet into my sneakers, then I grabbed a card key and split for the door.

  I wasn’t going to stay and look at her. I couldn’t remind myself anymore of how that would be the last time I’d see her face, her smile, her… anything.

  I passed the lobby, ignoring the staff out front and any looks of curiosity at the big, bearded, bald guy heading outside into the cold rain in his sleepwear.

  I figured the truck was as good a place as any to crash tonight. Albeit a cold place, but at least it was shelter from the rain and most of the chilly evening. More importantly, it was far from Vanna, her rejection, and everything I could no longer have with her.

  I kicked the door, not caring whether I left a dent. I was heartbroken and nothing else seemed to matter. I saw it for what it was now. All those ill emotions swirled through me and made me want to scream and tear out the hair I didn’t even have on my head. Anything to stop the truth in my mind that Vanna was no longer part of my future.

  “Fuck!” I cursed loudly, glad for the rain’s steady drumming over the truck.

  It was raining that evening, too, when I felt no different watching - and not stopping - Vanna from running from me.

  Only this time, I was doing the running.

  13

  It took about six days to realize I was home.

  Home being back down in Atlanta, or as I was beginning to look at it, home was a thousand and some miles from Albany, New York. My leaving felt like a blur in one way, but I also had a crystal clear memory of throwing Pops’ truck into Park, rushing into my childhood home, packing my suitcase and carry-on backpack, and holing up until sunrise before I called the first car rental store I could find to reserve my ride.

  I had flown into Albany, but I drove out. I used that long, fourteen-hour drive to think. And think I had, not that it had helped an ounce. I felt more conflicted by the time I had dropped the car off at the store branch in Atlanta and took an Uber home. The sight of my two-story, three-bedroom beauty wasn’t even enough to pick me up. It was, sadly, a reminder of everything I’d failed to bring back with me.

  I didn’t have a future to look forward to. No dreams of filling my house with sounds of love, laughter a… family. Things couldn’t have been any bleaker if I had opted out of meeting my sister and her wedding party, if I never set foot in Albany, or walked down the sidewalk that brought me by Sterling Outfits and the display case where I first saw Vanna.

  “Like this?”

  The voice shocked back into the present. I blinked while taking in the sounds of the loud gym. I was suddenly aware of the machines being put to work, the grunts and groans of the early bird visitors, and the voice of my morning appointment.

  Slowly, too slowly, I realized my hand was placed on her outer thigh, and I moved it a little too hastily, before wondering how long I’d been touching the pretty redhead. I hoped it hadn’t been too long, I didn’t want to give her the wrong sign. But her wide smile, almost cat-like in its spread over her vibrant pinked lips, suggested it had been a little too long.

  Fuck, Fuller. Get your head in the game.

  This girl was a prime example of why I never tried the ‘wham-bam-thank you ma’am’. She wasn’t looking for anything other than a quick fuck. Luckily for me, I don’t sleep with my clients.

  She was reaching for my hand again, and she set it over her thigh before smiling coquettishly. “It reminds me to bend correctly, so I don’t pull a hamstring or something painful like that.”

  I’m sure it does.

  “It looks like you got the hang of it,” I told her before I tried, and failed, to move my hand. She had settled her palm over my hand and was holding me against her. It left me with little choice, so I had to lean in and attempt to make it inconspicuous.

  I only had to remember to keep my cool. Chicks like this latched on tighter when they sensed their actions were eliciting some response, even if that response was unpleasant.

  “I really don’t want to pull a muscle. I have an important presentation today. Well, my boss does, but I’m helping pass out portfolios and all that, so I don’t want to be limping all day, right?”

  “Sure.”

  A one-syllable answer was all I had for her. I was busy counting down the minutes until I was free of her for another morning. Meanwhile, I kept my hand rigid over her thigh - flat and rigid - as I waited for her to lift up from the leg stretch. Finally, she pulled herself back up and tossed her long red ponytail painfully close to my face.

  “That’s a good warm-up, but we should probably hit the weights now,” I told her.

  We really had only just started to warm-up with the leg stretches, but I wanted her doing something that didn’t involve me having to be so close.

  “Just a bit more,” she instead while going in for another leg stretch. “Besides, you were telling me about your trip. I love New York. Did you go to Broadway? Oh, tell me you went on an evening walk through Central Park! Bryant Park and Battery are really beautiful, too. Super romantic.”

  I stayed silent, not wanting to discuss my trip any further. She apparently took that as a queue to keep yammering on.

  “And, if you haven’t already, Bronx Zoo is just the sweetest place to watch cute little animals. It’s also, like, a great first-date kind of place. Anyways, what did you do in the city?”

  “I didn’t go to that city,” I gritted out.

  I shouldn’t have told her anything. But she bounced in, as usual, and started whining about having to work without me for ‘a whole week’. She completely ignored the fact that she’d been assigned, like all of my appointments last week, to another capable trainer and fellow employee.

  “Where did you go then if not the Big Apple?”

  “Albany, actually. Real swell place, too,” I said, trying to placate her.

  “Never heard of it,” she commented then went right back to grilling me. “So what did you do there? Family stuff? Vacation?”

  “A bit of both.”

  “Did you go up alone?”

  Yes, and I came back alone. Now shut the fuck up and give me my hand back, lady, I thought but didn’t say. Instead, I made a noise from my throat, more of a groan than anything, and hoped this would keep her quiet.

  It didn’t.

  “That’s cool, I guess. I mean, I usually love the whole road trip thing with friends or family or a boyfriend, you know. Don’t have any of those any more… the boyfriend, I mean. Not since Dwayne, my la
st ex, decided to mess with my computer and phone. He thought I was cheating but then I ended up catching him man-whoring himself…”

  She lifted up from her stretch, pushed her chest out at me, and then went down for another.

  “Sorry, TMI, I know,” she continued, apparently convinced I was interested. “He just makes my blood boil. Um, where were we? Oh, yeah! So what did you do in Aubrey?”

  “Albany.”

  “That’s what I said, didn’t I? So, what did you do in Albany?”

  I spent the rest of the excruciating session answering questions with grunts and doing my best to keep my client from hurting herself while maintaining minimal interaction. It wasn’t exactly the best session to have with a client, but my sour mood didn’t really care.

  “No, seriously, it should be illegal to be that happy this early.” I insisted to my boss as I sat in his office. “Just tack it up there on the front door alongside the rules that bans dogs, rollerblades, skateboards, nudity, and being shoeless. No morning people.”

  Jordan, who was actually more of a friend than a boss, shook his head at my comment. He was from a long line of police officers, detectives, and military personnel types. He not only ventured away from the long-standing tradition to serve, but he started his own business at twenty-two when opened this gym. We had met through his brother, a fellow Marine who was still serving his country, and we had been tight ever since.

  “You’re going to have to get one of the others to pick this girl up. I’d do it, but then I’d be called out for playing favorites.” Jordan chewed into his apple and gave me a ‘sorry, that’s the best I can do’ look. “Just fill out the client transfer form and swap with whoever will take her. Maybe Serena or Jessie?”

  It took some doing, but I managed to convince one of the female trainers, Jessie, to trade with me. She signed the transfer form, and I stuck it in my pocket before hustling to my next appointment, which I was already five minutes late for.

  It wasn’t until three clients later, all three of which I was contemplating filing similar transfer forms for, that an epiphany settled over me.

  Maybe it’s me.

  I was on my way to Jordan’s office to return the paperwork when he poked his balding head out and beckoned me over.

  “Just the man I wanted to see.” He gestured for me to sit. I stood still, and he shrugged. “You got my phone ringing off the wall.”

  “Your phone’s not on the wall.” That got me another shrug then a slow headshake.

  “Yeah, yeah, smartass. Just pick the phone up and use that smart mouth to get them to stop calling me. Cool?” He grabbed a twenty from his wallet and a folder from his desk before he headed for the door again. “Lunch,” he clarified, “and if that’s your transfer form, then toss it on my desk after you’re done.”

  I gave Jordan a slight nod, and he turned to leave for his lunch. A moment after I pulled the transfer form from my pocket and placed it on his desk, the phone rang. At least I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Amos Fuller speaking.”

  “You are a hard man to get hold of, Mr. Fuller.” I pulled the receiver from my ear and searched my sub-par database of female voices to ID the caller. I had no aptitude for voice memory; no amount of Marine training could tune my ears.

  “Exactly who wants to get hold of me?” I asked, the phone back on my ear. Curiosity and suspicion deepened my tone.

  The voice on the other end was laughing. “A week later and you’ve already forgotten me? My, Mr. Fuller, you are the charmer,” she said, the laughter still in her voice. “It’s Violet Sterling from Sterling Outfits in Albany, also Vanna’s sister. Ringing any bells here?”

  I tensed at the mention of Vanna and was dangerously close to crushing Jordan’s phone in my hand. I was suddenly both annoyed and angry, and it flared out.

  “It hasn’t been a week.”

  It was a petulant and pointless response that toed around the source of my irritation, but Violet being Violet laughed it off.

  “Don’t be like that. I’m joking. It’s nice to hear from you. You’re a hard man to reach, Amos.”

  “I’ve been told… by you… just now. How did you get this number?”

  I liked Violet, but I don’t want to get sucked up into a friendship, long distance or otherwise. I couldn’t be a friend to anyone that had Vanna so close by. It would be like torture to have her just out of reach.

  My mind meandered back into what Violet was saying in time to hear my sister’s name.

  “What about Iris?” I asked.

  “We had her number in our database, like all our clients.”

  “Oh, right…”

  “She gave me your home and work contacts. I called your place a couple times, but you didn’t pick up, so I called this number. But, if calling you at work is getting you in hot water, I’ll be happy to call at a private number. Maybe your cell since I’m figuring you’re not at home?”

  I grunted at her suggestion then said, “I don’t give it out easily, but I do have a cell.” The longer this call went on, the pricklier I was becoming. “What do you want, Violet? I don’t mean to be rude, but yeah, we don’t have much to talk about last I recall.”

  I heard her inhale deeply, and I didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Promise you won’t hang up,” she implored.

  “Fine, but only if you talk fast. I have a client waiting on me.” That was a lie.

  “It’s about Vanna.”

  I should hang up. The thought ran through my mind and I muffled my end of the receiver before let out the ‘Fuck!’ I’d been bottling up. I placed the phone back at my ear just as Violet said, “…and we don’t know what to do.”

  “About?”

  “About Vanna! She’s not with you, right?”

  I didn’t bother to cover the curse this time. I could almost see Violet flinching, and her end went eerily quiet after the yelled profanity.

  “Is this some sort of sick joke? Why the fuck would Vanna be here? Hasn’t she told you she’s ripped my heart out? We’re broken the fuck up, and people who break the fuck up don’t normally state-hop with each other.”

  Violet laughed again, but this time it was a nervous, tittering sound. I recognized it for what it was; I’d put her on the spot, but I was too fired up to care.

  “Is that the asshole?” Wes’s voice floated across the receiver from the background. “Are you talking to the asshole, Vi? Answer me, dammit.”

  There was a shuffle as, I assumed, Wes was taking over the call. That was fine with me, I’d feel less bad later for ripping into Wes than Violet.

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that? First Vanna, and now you’re ripping through my not-missing sister? You big, bald shithead.”

  “I’m not fucking bald!”

  He couldn’t see or feel the backlash of me hammering my fist down on Jordan’s desk.

  Wes wasn’t listening to my correction. He was on a verbal roll and had way more fire than I expected for an uppity, suave urbanite.

  “Listen, ass for brains, I’ll ask you once and only once before I get the cops busting down your door. What the hell did you do to Vanna?”

  “What?”

  I put the pieces together from the snippets of conversation I hadn’t tuned out. I was standing in a second, Jordan’s chair kicked back and his damn corded phone upsetting a stapler and pencil holder from their perch on his otherwise neat desk.

  Damn Jordan and his cord phone. I don’t need this shit right now.

  If I thought I was in the mood to crush the phone before, Wes had made me want to try it. He was lucky he was several states away. I closed my eyes, and breathing deeply, I repeated my question.

  Wes started screaming his empty threats again, and I pulled the phone from my ear, waiting for the pause of breath on his end so I could dive in.

  “Obviously you don’t listen to your sister. You guys fight like cats and dogs, and that’s no business of mine, but you’d save my time and yours if
you did. Violet already asked the same fucking question. Vanna. Is. Not. With. Me. What part of a breakup don’t you understand, little man?”

  “The part where my sister’s missing and there’s nothing, not even one of those cryptic notes, to tell us where she is. The last time I saw her not crying her eyes out was six nights ago, right after she got back from wherever the fuck you took her.”