Promise Me: A Second Chance Romance

by Willow Winters

  The man looks down at me with a twisted snarl on his face and tries to shove me away. It gives me enough room to elbow him in his ribs and as he hunches over, the gun falls to the ground and goes off.

  This is my chance. My only chance.

  Chapter 36: Vince

  The tires screech and I jump out before we even come to a stop. I know they have cameras here. If there’s anyone looking, they’ll see us coming. I don’t want to give them time to hide her. Or worse.

  I hear Tommy and Anthony call out from my right as they each pull out their guns and run up to my side. Uncle Enzo and Pops are coming, too. Dom has Tony and Joey going with him. A few of the soldiers should be there waiting for them, too. Every last motherfucker is going to die.

  I stand in front of the large doors and Anthony opens them up, staying behind the doors as a barrier. Not me. I’m planted right in front with my guns raised, one in each hand. As soon as I see those fuckers I fire.

  They don’t even see it coming. Immediately I take out three MC assholes. Got one in the chest. Bang! Another in the head. Bang! Bang! Another tries to run, and I shoot that fucker in the back. Bang! Bang! Bang! I walk into the larger room. Stacks of coke and pot are on my left. Bricks of each of them, wrapped in plastic. A bagging station is on my right. Their operation is shit. And now, it’s fucking over. As I walk in a gunshot goes off to my left and I fire. Bang! Bang! Bullets fly by me from my right. They whiz past me in what seems like slow motion. Anthony gets a kill. Another MC fucker in leather drops behind a counter. He was counting the cash. With the doors open the wind blows the money off the table.

  I walk over to the fucker who got a shot off. Looks like a gunshot caught him in the neck. It must've hit an artery, judging by the way blood gushes out from the wound as his heart pumps. He’s clutching the wound with both hands as blood pools around his head and soaks his hair. His eyes focus on me. He tries to speak, but blood coughs up his mouth. I point the gun at his head and pull the trigger.

  I keep walking at a fast pace with my guns raised. My heart beats frantically, trying to jump out of my throat and the only sound I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears. But on the surface, I’m a cold-blooded killer, walking with purpose, moving with a deadly calmness that would frighten sociopaths. I have one goal in mind. Only one thing that matters.

  My girl. My sweetheart.

  Three men run out with guns firing, and a bullet hits me right in the chest. I fire off both guns. One man’s downed immediately but the other two move off to the side to take cover behind an old rusted car. Tommy and Anthony go up the right side and duck as the guns come up and fire aimlessly. I take a step forward and aim. I hit the hood right where the hand was and hear the bastard swear. That’s not good enough. If he’s talking; he’s breathing. I walk forward and watch my guys go up the right side, sneaking behind. I’ll distract them. I run up close and fire continuously. Four more shells each. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! They sound off one after another, after another, until I’m firing blanks. I keep pulling the trigger, letting the empty clicks fill the air. I want them to know I'm empty. I'm counting on them to stand up and fire at me. And they do. As soon as they’re visible, shots fire from behind them and both men only get a single shot off. One just misses me. But the other lands on my chest, close to the first shot that hit me.

  It hurts like hell.

  I look down and make sure the Kevlar held up and there’s no blood. I’ll fucking live. But not without my girl. I take the pain and keep moving as I reload my guns. I need to find her.

  I know there are rooms in the back. She’s got to be in one of them. My phone’s in my pocket. It’s silent. I don’t know how they’re doing at the clubhouse. But until it goes off, I've got to assume she’s here. My eyes raise and my guns point at a door as I hear bullets firing in the distance, somewhere in the back, and a terrifying scream.

  Elle!

  All at once we run down the hall, my only focus on the door. I need to get to her. She’s here. I heard her.

  Gunshots fire over and over. Three shots, four shots, five shots. No!

  I kick the door and it flies open. I run through ready to fire, and instead I stand in shock.

  Anthony and Tommy stop behind me. I hear Uncle Enzo yell something from the back, but I don’t know what. All my focus is on my girl.

  She’s got blood on her face. A nasty bruise on her chin. And she standing, breathing heavy, with her arms straight, holding a small gun. It’s pointed down at a short, bald man lying face down on the floor. His leather jacket is speckled with bullet holes and blood. So much blood, pooling around his body.

  “Elle,” I call out to her, and lower my guns. I see Anthony and Tommy searching the room. I hear a yell clear outside the room, it sounds like Pops. But I’m not paying attention like I should. I walk to my girl. She hasn’t moved, except for her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath as she keeps the gun still pointed at the dead man.

  “Sweetheart?” I try to get her attention, and it works. Her startled eyes find mine, and her body relaxes finally. She drops the gun to the ground. It falls to the cement floor with a loud clank and she runs to my arms.

  Her small body wraps around me and she holds onto me tight. I hold her to me, loving how she’s clinging to me. But hating that she had to do this. Hating that she went through this.

  “Are you alright, sweetheart?” I finally ask her. She doesn’t pull away and doesn’t answer.

  “We gotta go, Vince,” Tommy says to my left. I turn, still holding her to me and see all the guys looking at us. I nod my head and kiss her hair.

  “Sweetheart, are you alright?” I ask again. My heart won’t beat right until I hear her talk. I know it won’t. I just need to hear her say it. I need to hear her voice to really believe I’m holding her in my arms.

  She nods her head in my chest and pulls back. Tears run down her face. “I’m okay,” she answers me, and then wipes her face. My lips crush hers in a passionate kiss. Her hand wraps around my neck and she kisses me back with the same ferocity.

  “I was so scared, Vince,” she whispers with her eyes closed as she pulls away.

  I kiss the tip of her nose. “I got you now, sweetheart.”

  She hugs me close, molded to my side, as we walk over the dead body and leave the room. “I won’t let that happen again. I promise you,” I murmur into her ear. I see my men nod and walk around us. They’ve got us covered so I can just hold her and give her the comfort she needs.

  She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “You'd better not.” She gives me a small laugh, but it’s accompanied with tears.

  “I promise you, baby. No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” She buries her head in my chest and wipes her face on my shirt before looking back up at me. I wait until her eyes are firmly on me. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Vince.” She reaches up to kiss me again as we exit the warehouse and I have to stop to wrap my arms around her and kiss her back. “I love you so fucking much.”

  Epilogue

  Elle

  “You look beautiful.” Vince’s mom mouths at me as I walk down the aisle of the church. I smile at her and mouth back a thank you. The church is gorgeous. It's more beautiful than anything I’ve ever imagined. St. Rose. The family church. The large stained glass windows and intricate frescoes on the walls give it an old-world feel. It’s a traditional wedding, during Sunday mass. So I don’t know everyone, but all eyes are on me.

  My hands tremble and I hold the bouquet tighter. I love my wedding dress. It has a sweetheart neckline, with an A-line silhouette and it's covered in expensive lace. The gown hugs my baby bump and my curves before flaring out at the top of my thighs. My eyes focus straight ahead. Vince is waiting for me. His hair is styled neatly and he’s clean-shaven. His suit is perfectly fitted to his muscular form, and emphasizes his broad shoulders. His eyes travel down my body with lust, and I find myself walking faster. I have to really work to slow my walking to match the pac
e of the bridal chorus.

  Everyone’s here. Even my mother came. She’s in the back, and I’m not sure if she’ll speak to me, but it’s a start.

  I take a step up the stairs and feel my heart swell with happiness. It overrides my nerves and I take another, to stand with him in the center of the room in front of everyone.

  “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Vince says, as I turn and pass the bouquet to Clara. I feel my cheeks heat with a blush. Behind Clara, Becca’s holding her little girl. I insisted she still stand up here as my bridesmaid, even if Cloe was being a little Velcro baby. My heart swells and tears prick at my eyes.

  I can’t wait for the vows, or any of the readings. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion.

  “I love you, Vince.” I lean forward and give him a quick peck on the lips.

  Vince smirks at my impatience. His hand wraps around the back of my head and the other around my waist and he pulls me in for a kiss. A real fucking kiss. My lips mold to his and my body bows under his touch. The cheers and catcalls from the members of the church make me wanna pull away, but I know better.

  “Alright, alright, you two,” the priest says, and Vince finally loosens his grip on me. I know my cheeks are bright red and I’m slightly embarrassed, but Vince takes my chin between his thumb and his forefinger and makes me look him in the eyes. I’m lost in his look of pure devotion.

  “I love you too, Elle,” he whispers, and plants another kiss on my lips before taking my hand in his. My heart beats louder in my chest. There’s not a doubt in my mind. I know he loves me. And I love him.

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  About the Author

  I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it.

  More by Willow Winters

  The Valetti Crime Family

  Dirty Dom (Book 1)

  His Hostage (Book 2)

  Good Girl (Book 3)

  Bad Girl (Book 4)

  Bad Boy (Book 5)

  Standalone Romances

  Inked: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance

  Tempted: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance

  Mr. CEO

  Broken: A Dark Romance

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  His Hostage

  SEAL’s Bride

  For Margaret, without whom this book would not exist.

  Author’s Copyright

  Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creation

  Copyright Vivian Veritas Publishing 2016

  May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  One

  Four Years Earlier

  Remy River stood amongst the sugarcane buds, the tiny, grainy, black and white picture laying flat in her hand. Tiny green shoots were just beginning to poke through the dirt around her boots, the sign of burgeoning life all around her.

  Biting her lip, Remy held in the tumult of emotions she felt. Tucking the picture into the back pocket of her jeans, she walked across the rich, dark soil of her family’s sugarcane farm.

  Her cowboy boots left neat tracks in the soft soil as she walked to the tallest point on her family’s lands. From the big hill, she could look right across at Roman Ranch. She could see his house from here, if she squinted.

  No Sawyer, though.

  Her high school love, the prom king to her prom queen. Tall, dark, and handsome to her fair-skinned blonde beauty. The perfect couple… until he joined the Navy.

  He’d left Remy in the dusty quiet of their shared past, and moved on to what she presumed were much more exciting things. Sawyer was probably capturing terrorists and winning medals right this second, and what was she doing?

  When he’d come home to visit two months ago, Remy’d known he wasn’t here to stay. The same song had been playing on the same radio, and just like always, she hadn’t been able to resist his heated looks, the way his touch lit her up inside.

  She bit her lip, feeling tears begin to well up as she pulled out the photo again.

  The sonogram. A little white blob surrounded by darkness.

  Her baby.

  She ran a fingertip over the image, swiping at the tears that spilled down her face before they could splash onto the photo.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about the last night that Sawyer was in town, and all the sweet things he’d whispered. He’d told her that he couldn’t write much — SEALs didn’t stay in one place too long.

  He’d made promises… promises that she wanted badly to believe…

  Still, she’d rose at dawn and left him sleeping in his room, slipping away with the sunrise. She loved Sawyer, loved him with all her heart, but when he didn’t write…

  She was hurt, but not surprised.

  No, the surprise had come today. She’d gone to the town doctor, complaining of fatigue. The last thing in the world she had thought was that she might be pregnant…

  She pressed a hand to her flat stomach, uncomprehending.

  “What am I going to do?” she whispered, her words blowing away in the cool spring wind.

  She was 25 years old, no longer a girl. She’d made a mistake, a huge one. And she had no living idea how she was going to fix it.

  She had a part-time job at a bar in town, lived at home in a house that was already cramped with five other people. She’d gone to community college, but never made it any further.

  The father of her child was halfway across the world, serving in the military and not answering her letters. She could tell Sawyer’s father, perhaps… but even the idea of telling Colonel Roman made her cringe. She didn’t know what the retired Navy man would say, but it wouldn’t be kind.

  At least Sawyer has good genes, she thought. My baby will be healthy.

  She pictured herself holding a newborn, looking down at a baby with those stunning hazel eyes.

  Sawyer’s eyes.

  A low sound escaped Remy’s lips. She sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands.

  Stupid, stupid, she thought. I’ve been so stupid. Now I’m all alone…

  She let herself cry for a few minutes, releasing all the pent-up anger and fear and worry in her heart. When she’d exhausted her rage and self-loathing, she straightened and blew out a breath.

  She looked at the little photo again, damp and wrinkled from her tears. She smoothed it out, trying to calm herself.

  She could cry all she wanted, but there were certain inescapable facts.

  One, she was pregnant.

  Two, she’d keep the baby, no matter what.

  Three, people were going to talk.

  Four, her life was about to become very difficult.

  Five, she was going to have to do this on her own.

  At this precise moment, she didn’t even know if Sawyer was alive, much less if he was interested in coming home to help her parent a baby.

  Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she realiz
ed that she might not even tell him. After all, if Sawyer wanted to be in her life, he could’ve called or written. Instead, she’d received nothing but radio silence.

  That made his intentions pretty damned clear, didn’t it?

  The sooner she came to terms with all of that, the better off she’d be. Wiping away the last of her tears, she took a deep breath.

  “I can do this,” she said. “I can do this myself.”

  Not that there was anything to decide, per se… but the act of self-reassurance made her feel better. Made her feel like there was a chance that this would work out. That she wasn’t going to spend every minute of the rest of her life looking at Sawyer’s child and regretting the life they could’ve had…

  No, she told herself. He’s made his bed, as I have mine. I need to put him out of my head, because I have way bigger things to worry about. This baby needs me now.

  Tucking the photo back in her pocket, Remy strode down the hill, leaving her tears behind her.

  Two

  Current Day

  Cruising out I-10 West through central Louisiana, Sawyer Roman felt as though he was driving into the past. The sense of deja vu that clung to him had started the moment he stepped off the plane in New Orleans, and only grew with each passing mile.

  After a quick stop in the city to pick up his gleaming black Range Rover from the garage where he’d stored it during his last deployment, he headed west toward Catahoula Creek, Louisiana. It was his childhood home; a land of hot sun and sugarcane fields, Sunday church socials and marsh life, and Creole fiddles and Cajun cowboys.