by Liliana Hart
The Promise of Surrender
A MacKenzie Family Novella
By Liliana Hart
1001 Dark Nights
The Promise of Surrender
A MacKenzie Family Novella
By Liliana Hart
1001 Dark Nights
Copyright 2015 Liliana Hart
ISBN: 978-1-940887-78-4
Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose
Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Book Description
The Promise of Surrender
A MacKenzie Family Novella
By Liliana Hart
Mia Russo spent ten years working undercover, entrenched in the dregs of society before handing in her shield. Opening her own pawn shop is a piece of cake in comparison. All she needs is the bad attitude she developed on the streets and the shotgun under her counter to keep law and order. Until the day Zeke McBride walks into her shop.
Zeke knows Mia has every right not to trust him. He was the one who chose the next op instead of her. And all he can hope is that somewhere under the snarl and cynicism is a woman who can forgive. Because whether she trusts him or not, they're going to have to work together to bring down the gang that's decided Mia is their next target.
About Liliana Hart
Liliana Hart is a New York Times, USA Today, and Publisher's Weekly Bestselling Author of more than 40 titles. After starting her first novel her freshman year of college, she immediately became addicted to writing and knew she'd found what she was meant to do with her life. She has no idea why she majored in music.
Since self-publishing in June of 2011, Liliana has sold more than 4 million ebooks and been translated into eight languages. She's appeared at #1 on lists all over the world and all three of her series have appeared on the New York Times list. Liliana is a sought after speaker and she's given keynote speeches and self-publishing workshops to standing-room-only crowds from California to New York to London.
Liliana can almost always be found at her computer writing or on the road giving workshops for SilverHart International, a company she founded with her partner, Scott Silverii, where they provide law enforcement, military, and fire resources for writers so they can write it right. Liliana is a recent transplant to Southern Louisiana, where she's getting used to the humidity and hurricane season, and plotting murders (for her books, of course).
Connect with me online:
twitter.com/Liliana_Hart
facebook.com/LilianaHart
My Website: www.lilianahart.com
Also From Liliana Hart
Click to purchase
The MacKenzie Series
Dane
A Christmas Wish: Dane
Thomas
To Catch A Cupid: Thomas
Riley
Fireworks: Riley
Cooper
A MacKenzie Christmas
MacKenzie Box Set
Cade
Shadows and Silk
Secrets and Satin
Sins and Scarlet Lace
The MacKenzie Security Series (Includes the 3 books listed above)
1001 Dark Nights: Captured in Surrender
Sizzle
Crave
THE COLLECTIVE SERIES
Kill Shot
THE RENA DRAKE SERIES
Breath of Fire
ADDISON HOLMES MYSTERIES
Whiskey Rebellion
Whiskey Sour
Whiskey For Breakfast
Whiskey, You’re The Devil
JJ GRAVES MYSTERIES
Dirty Little Secrets
A Dirty Shame
Dirty Rotten Scoundrel
Down and Dirty
STANDALONE NOVELS/NOVELLAS
All About Eve
Paradise Disguised
Catch Me If You Can
Who’s Riding Red?
Goldilocks and the Three Behrs
Strangers in the Night
Naughty or Nice
Acknowledgments
To Scott,
I'm glad I married you. Even though you jumped out of the closet and scared me.
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Table Of Contents
Book Description
About Liliana Hart
Also by Liliana Hart
Author Acknowledgments
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Also From 1001 Dark Nights
An excerpt from Captured in Surrender by Liliana Hart
Sweet Surrender, Coming December 13, 2016
MacKenzie Family World, Coming February 16, 2016
Rising Storm
Special Thanks
One Thousand And One Dark Nights
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
library at my father’s home and collected thousands
of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
people through the millennium. And the more I read
the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually
become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
(Persian: شهریار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then
sent yesterday’s wife to be beheaded. It was written
and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,
the vizier’s daughter, he’d killed one thousand
women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
never occurred before and that still to this day, I
cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can
protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I st
op at a
point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that
he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before
you now.
Chapter One
Surrender, Montana
She had him pegged for a cop the second he stepped out of the beat-up pickup truck.
He opened the back of the cab and pulled out a cardboard box, maybe a foot long and wide. His worn sneakers scuffed against the graveled parking lot, and even through the surveillance cameras that covered every square inch of her property, she could see the outline of his backup weapon strapped to his ankle.
“Lord, save me from rookies.” Mia stopped processing her inventory to watch him out of curiosity. She’d spent the weekend at an estate sale and ended up with more boxes than she’d planned. That was usually how it went, but she had a knack for things that would sell for a profit.
The guy was tall and thin as a rail, his hair long and shaggy, and he had a partial growth of beard on his face. She could see why they’d want him for undercover work. He had the naturally too-thin build that made him able to pass for a junkie. He was just a baby, maybe a year or two out of the academy, and he had no idea the toll that working undercover would have on his life.
“Get out while you still can, boy.” She shook her head sadly.
There was no warning them—the rookies. They thought working undercover was like it was on TV—sexy and dangerous—living life on the edge between good and evil. And then six months into the job they realized it wasn’t so sexy, but it sure as hell was dangerous. They were lying to spouses and family and friends, living a double life, and they were doing things the soul would never be able to reconcile. All for the greater good.
His jeans and T-shirt looked like he’d gotten them straight from a thrift store and he wasn’t quite comfortable in them. He was used to being pressed and polished. A silver-spoon kid. He’d probably been a patrolman, used to the uniform, and the dead giveaway was the way he kept tapping his elbow against his side, checking for his duty weapon.
He walked like a cop. And his eyes scanned the area like a cop—like he was trying to see where his backup was located just in case he needed a rescue. Surely working undercover hadn’t changed that much in the last ten years. This guy was lucky to be alive if his commander was sending him out with that much green on him.
Mia wasn’t the most patient of people on her best days. And today wasn’t one of her best days. It was barely noon, and a variety of customers had already come into the shop. Each one had made her head pound a little harder.
She’d opened Pawn to Queen six years before with nothing but sweat, blood, and the money she’d taken in one lump sum from her pension. There’d been no rhyme or reason as to why she’d picked Surrender, Montana. Not that she wasn’t familiar with the area and all the little towns that dotted the Montana landscape like pictures on a postcard. But there’d been something about Surrender that had called to her to make it home.
Even with the appeal of the rolling hills, white fences, and the shops downtown with matching black awnings and flowers placed along the wooden walkways, she knew she couldn’t sully the peaceful image of the town with her shop. She’d never fooled herself into thinking her clientele was a cut above all the other pawnshop owners out there. For the most part, she was dealing with the dregs of humanity. So she’d built her shop on the outskirts of town, just outside the city limits on the other side of the hill.
Surrender was unique in that it was located at the base of several large hills, nestled like a little green jewel in the valley. Any direction visitors came from, the exits led to one main road, up and over the hill, so when they reached the top there was a crystal clear view of the little town tucked below—the Welcome to Surrender sign gleaming a bright and polished green at the summit.
Mia lived in a pretty little apartment above the bakery. It was painted white and had beveled windows and a spindled railing along the balcony. Smells of cinnamon rolls and fresh baked bread wafted up through the vents each morning. She was still considered an outsider, though people were friendly when she did her weekly grocery shopping or stopped to grab a bite to eat at the diner. They were friendly—but wary.
The people in Surrender came from a different era. The men were rugged and muscled from working the ranches. The denim of their jeans worn at the knees and back pockets, their boots scuffed and comfortable from use. The ranch women were as sturdy as their men, and they all worked like dogs to preserve a heritage that would go to their own children. Ranching was harsh, but it provided a good life.
The town ladies—at least that’s what Mia liked to call them—were a whole different story. It was almost comical the way they scurried about from shop to shop, gossiping more than attending to errands. It was their pastime and they made no apologies about enjoying it immensely.
They’d start the day at the bakery, then take their recyclable shopping bags over to the mercantile. They’d eventually wander to the bookstore, the florist, and a little place that only sold honey and homemade candles made of beeswax, visiting with the shop owners and catching up on any news they might have missed—engagements, new babies, whose cows got loose and caused a ruckus, or who got drunk and disorderly down at Duffey’s Pub the night before—all news was met with equal excitement.
There was a clothing boutique for ladies owned by Annabeth MacKenzie, but it didn’t exactly cater to the kinds of things Mia liked to wear, though Annabeth was very sweet, if a little shy. Next door to Annabeth’s shop was a clothing store for men that carried the hardy clothes for ranch life—Wranglers, Stetsons, and boots. There was a feed store next to that, an ice cream parlor, and the bakery occupied the corner building.
There was always some kind of ladies club meeting happening one place or another. Casserole recipes were doled out like gold bullion, and they all dressed like every day was Sunday.
Mia was a puzzlement to the women in town. She didn’t talk about herself, though she was always friendly when they spoke to her. But she’d had a lot of practice avoiding invasive questions, so she smiled and turned the conversation around so she wasn’t the focus.
She’d had to fill out a background check when she’d rented the little apartment, but law enforcement records didn’t show on a standard check. All they knew was that her name was Mia Marie Russo and she was a thirty-four-year-old female with no family and no criminal history. And it hadn’t hurt that she’d been able to pay six months rent up front.
Her landlady had been disappointed at the lack of news to carry on to her friends. It wasn’t every day a single woman with a sleeve of tattoos and purple streaks in her hair moved to Surrender. And it wasn’t every day that same woman built a pawnshop on the outskirts of town and carried a visible weapon everywhere she went.
Mia had built her shop just after the exit at the base of the other side of the hill, away from the pristine beauty of Surrender. She’d picked the perfect location. It was nothing but open land—no trees or hills or valleys. With the amount of cash and valuable inventory she often had on hand, it was best not to give people available hiding places.
A long, rectangular cabin with a metal roof had given her the most efficient space for the best price, and it was surrounded by a graveled parking lot. In a year or two she’d be able to afford to have it paved. She’d had bars installed on the windows for extra security and the door at the back of the cabin was solid steel and bolted tight unless she was unloading a shipment or leaving or entering the premises. Her front door was always locked and customers had to be buzzed in. She was always armed. Which she was grateful for after the customers she’d already dealt with that morning.
Her first customer of the day had been an addict trying to pawn what looked like family heirlooms. He’d probably stolen them from his own
mother, as he’d seemed familiar with each piece. She’d lowballed him, hoping he’d reject the offer, but he’d taken the cash with shaky hands and a gleam in his eye that told her he was already focused on his next fix. She entered the information into the online database, put the heirlooms in an envelope, and stuck them in the safe beneath her register. Maybe someone would come in looking to get them back.
Her second customer had been a woman on the verge of a breakdown. The woman carried a baby in a sling around her chest and held a toddler by his chubby hand. Mia had listened with a pounding headache while the woman sobbed out a story of betrayal about her no-good husband. And in the end, she’d given the woman a little more than she should have for the wedding ring set. Everyone deserved a fresh start.
Her third customer had been a big brute of a man, decked out in Vaquero biker colors and 1% patches. He’d parked his Harley sideways in front of the steps that led up to the door, and she’d felt the reverberation of his footsteps as he made his way onto the porch and hit the buzzer multiple times. She debated whether or not to let him inside. It was the reason she’d had the system installed in the first place and the cameras in the lot. It was her business. Her terms.
Her gun was holstered at her waist and her right hand rested comfortably on the sawed off she kept beneath the counter. She flicked the button to release the door latch and allowed him entry. Each step he took shook the floor-to-ceiling metal shelves.
Her display counter was three sides of a big square—the fourth side was a blank wall and door that led back to her office and the storeroom. Her register was centered in the middle of the square so no one could reach over the counter and take money. Her customers didn’t know it, but she’d invested in bulletproof glass to protect the more expensive items she kept in the display counter.
