But that doesn’t mean it isn’t useful. With the gun held so the barrel points to the ceiling and the stock at the floor, I slam it into the door knob. It takes me five tries this time, and the noise is awful...but it’s the only way.
The knob shears off and hits Aiden, who grunts. Thank God, he’s still alive. Wedging my fingers into the now exposed locking mechanism, I slide it open.
Footsteps on the stairs leading down to the basement make my heart race, but I’m so close. I sprint across the room and press myself to the side of the couch, mostly hidden from view.
“Fuck!” Sylvio swears loudly as he heads for the closet, then finds Aiden. “Where’s the girl?” The sound of a fist on flesh is followed by the enforcer’s growl. “I should kill you right now.”
“Don’t touch him.” I aim the rifle at Sylvio as I stand and edge around the room. His hand goes to his hip, but I shake my head. “You don’t want to do that. Because then I’ll shoot you.”
“You don’t even have any bullets.”
“Are you sure?” The one thing I learned from my father? Always project the confidence you don’t feel. Especially when you’re lying.
“Yes.” He pulls out his pistol, but then Aiden grabs his legs with a grunt, and Sylvio crashes to his knees.
I race for the two of them, turning the gun in my hands as I do, so I can slam the stock against the side of Sylvio’s face. He crumples into a heap, and I grab his gun. “Aiden? Aiden, can you hear me?”
“Go…Dahlia. Now,” he whispers.
“Not without you.” I try to lift him, to grab his arm and pull him up with me, but he’s dead weight, and tears shimmer in his eyes. “Aiden, please.”
“Alpha-983-Echo-X-Ray-Tango.” With a sigh, he closes his eyes, and even when I shake him, he doesn’t move. If I stay, we’re both dead, so I check the pistol, then head for the stairs. When I open the door at the top, I hear Paulie talking with another man. They sound like they’re in the main room, and I look both ways, then dart into the kitchen.
There’s a back door here somewhere. There has to be. But this single room is almost the size of my apartment, with an eating nook off to one side and a pantry and—there! A mud room with a small sink has a narrow door with a window. As my foot lands on the concrete step, Paulie shouts, “Bitch!”
Whirling around, I don’t think, just fire the gun in his general direction. He swears and drops behind the kitchen island, and I run.
20
Dahlia
The FBI field office is in a nondescript gray structure that looks like every other building on this block. After calling 911 and relaying Aiden’s code, the next six hours passed in a whirlwind of activity. An ER visit with two FBI agents as bodyguards, a change of clothes—supplied by a kind female agent I think is named Susan—endless questions, and finally, just a few minutes before midnight, a burger and fries.
I keep asking about Aiden, but no one will tell me anything, and the meal sits untouched in front of me as I draw my knees into my chest and hug myself tightly in the hard plastic chair.
As soon as Agent Susan shut me in here, I ran to the door to make sure it wasn’t locked. I’m not a prisoner, as far as I know, but I also don’t have any means of leaving. No hotel key, no money, no wallet. And no shoes. Just a pair of hospital slippers that feel more like plastic than anything else.
After a brisk knock, Agent Susan opens the door. She has a last name, I just don’t remember it. I’m too tired. Too sore. And too worried about Aiden.
“Aiden?” I ask again.
Her face softens. “He’s alive. That’s all I can tell you, hon. But, there’s someone else here to see you.”
My brows draw together, and I’m about to ask her who else would even know I’m here when my father shuffles into the room. He leans heavily on a cane, but under the injuries, the man I used to idolize is still there.
“Dad!”
He makes a weak sound, not really a grunt, not really a moan, and Agent Susan closes the door as I leap up and embrace him. The tone of the sound changes when I warp my arms around him. Now…it’s almost a sigh, and my tears soak into his suit jacket.
After a few minutes, he pulls away and gestures to one of the chairs, then touches his mouth, like he’s suggesting I eat.
“I’m not hungry. I have so many questions. Can you, um, can you talk to me?” I reach for his hand and link our fingers, and he nods, then pulls a small tablet from his breast pocket and begins to type.
“I love you, Dahlia Rose. I wanted to tell you, but as long as I was dead and no one knew the alias you were using, you were safe.”
“Maybe I was. But I didn’t have my father!” I swipe at my cheeks, then push to my feet and start to pace the room. “And I had to find out you were…” I wave my hand, and he types some more.
“A bad man.”
“A criminal.” I want to rail at him. To grab him and pound on his chest and scream until he takes it all back. Every night I cried myself to sleep. Every day I had to live with the memories of coming home still wearing my cap and gown to find the FBI in our living room. Until he erases the mugging, my kidnapping, Sylvio and Paulie’s hands on me, and…Aiden.
But nothing can make that happen. And…I don’t want it to. Because Aiden…I think I love him.
Epilogue
One Month Later
Dahlia
The little town of Portsmouth, New Hampshire is starting to feel like home. Or…at least like it has the potential. After two nights in a suite at a very posh San Francisco hotel with my father, getting to know him again, talking about everything that had happened—to both of us—after his “death,” the FBI showed up with stacks and stacks of paperwork.
Nina Rose West is my name now, and I’m the head librarian in this little town. Not exactly teaching, which I do miss, but I’m organizing a young writers’ workshop once a month now, and that helps.
Nina has a small cottage within walking distance to the water, a little red used car, and a short, asymmetrical cut of crimson curls. I still stop almost every time I pass by a mirror, not quite recognizing the woman looking back at me. But one day, I’ll feel like I belong in this new skin.
Before we left San Francisco and I had to say goodbye to my father all over again, he explained what happened the day he supposedly died. How Aiden was there, but refused to shoot him. How Aiden tried to warn him, and put himself in the line of fire to stop Ricci’s thugs from killing him.
I begged every agent I saw to take me to Aiden. To let me see him. They all refused. I don’t know why they denied my requests, or where he is, or what his last name is. Even if I did…I couldn’t contact him. I’d be kicked out of the witness protection program.
Pushing the useless thoughts aside, I return to my mundane end-of-day task list. It’s Saturday night, and tomorrow, I can hole up in my little cottage with its antique wood stove and spend the day reading. We’re supposed to get snow tonight, and the whole world will be clean and fresh in the morning.
The front door swings open, and a gust of frigid air sweeps into the warm, well-lit room, stirring the papers on my desk. I dive for a stack of library card applications that tumble to the floor, and when I stand up, prepared to tell the visitor that we’re about to close, my entire world stops.
He’s tired. Beaten, almost. Like the world chewed him up and spit him out. But his eyes…his eyes are the same. Deep blue, and filled with need, hope, and fear.
“I was told this was the place to sign up for a library card.” I’m speechless until he hands me his driver’s license with a sheepish smile. “I’m Andrew. Andrew Patterson.”
“Andrew,” I say quietly. “That’s…a nice name.”
“So is Nina.”
I can’t move, even though I ache to touch him, to kiss him, to tell him…how I feel about him. But Aiden—or Andrew—seems to sense my uncertainty and rounds the desk until he’s standing right in front of me. His fingers along my jaw are gentle, tentative. Until he gets t
o my hair. “I like this. Just long enough for me to…” He tightens his grip and tips my head back, then leans down and brushes his lips to mine. “Fuck. Dahl—Nina, I’ve missed you.”
I meet his gaze. “I can close this place up right now.”
“Do it.”
Now, Master A stares down at me, and I log off the computer, race around the main room flipping off the lights, checking the five private reading rooms and both bathrooms to make sure there aren’t any kids—or adults—who’ve managed to be so quiet I didn’t know they were there. Within five minutes, I’m bundled up in my wool coat and Andrew has his arm around me, a duffel bag on his other shoulder as we walk to my car.
The drive passes in silence, and I’m so nervous, I almost miss my own driveway.
“This…is me,” I say as I unlock my front door and meet Aiden—Andrew’s gaze.
“Do you feel safe here, Nina?”
Nerves flutter in my belly. “Most of the time, yes. I mean…I am safe here. Right?”
With a quick, hard kiss, he steals my breath. “You are, mon jouet. Mon couer. I promise.”
I move to the antique wood stove, add a few logs, and strike a match while he checks both bedrooms, the bathroom, and the little cellar before meeting me back in the living room.
Once the drapes are closed, he helps me to my feet and pulls me against him. “I wanted to come sooner. But…”
“Tell me what this is…Andrew.”
“This?” His hands stroke down my back, to my ass, and he lifts me with a slight grunt and urges my legs around his hips. “This…is mine. You, Nina, are mine. If you want to be.”
“For how long?” I’m terrified of the answer. A night? A weekend? A week? “How long until you have to leave me again?”
His face shutters, all emotion suddenly gone, except for his eyes. So much pain.
He sets me down on my sofa and sinks stiffly to his knees in front of me. “I’m out, Nina. For good. My cover’s blown. When I woke up in the hospital…” The man who protected me glances down at his left wrist. “I was handcuffed to the bed. It took three days of debriefing before they agreed not to charge me with anything. What I did to you…on camera, for fuck’s sake…”
“You kept me alive. You stopped them from killing me. From doing…” I lower my gaze to my hands clasped in my lap. “You saved my life.”
“I should have done more.” He links our fingers, holding on as he ducks his head so he can see my eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again. But I had to try.”
Aiden
If she doesn’t say something soon, I’m going to yank off that soft green sweater and start ravishing her perfect breasts. Or run. One of the two. The odds are dead even right now.
“Is Andrew your real name?” The demand in her tone surprises me, as does the question. Of everything she could say to me in this moment, that isn’t what I expect.
“It is n-now. It wasn’t b-before.” Dammit. I rub the back of my head, finding the old scar. “Part of the…uh…the…”
“The program?” she offers. “The witness protection program?”
I nod, sink down to my ass, and run my hands through my hair. I’m letting it grow out now, no need to keep it cropped like Ricci always wanted. “Sorry.”
“You said this happens when things get…intense?” Dahlia Rose—Nina—slides off the couch to join me on the floor. “There’s only one thing that needs to be intense between us. Andrew.”
“What’s that?” Hope takes hold, but I wait for her to say the words.
Nina offers me her wrists. “Tie me up, Master A. Tie me up and make me yours.”
“Are you sure? After what happened…what I did—?”
She leans in and kisses me, and the hard points of her nipples press against my chest. “I need you to do this. To erase those memories and help me make new ones. With you.”
“I don’t…” My head spins, and I can’t force the words past my lips. So I rest my forehead against hers and force myself to calm. I can do this. One word. A simple question. “Why?”
She smiles, and it’s like the sun on the first day of spring. New. Fresh. And full of promise.
“Because I love you.”
The End
About Patricia D. Eddy
Patricia D. Eddy likes to consider herself an unstoppable force. As long as there's coffee. Then, the voices in her head come to life.
Her tales of werewolves, vampires and witches; Doms and subs; and battle-hardened, scarred military heroes feature characters so real, you'll want to jump inside the pages of her books to be friends with them. Or just give them a hug.
When she's not writing, she's a professional freelance fiction editor and technical writer. On weekends, she loves to take on home improvement projects, especially if they involve power tools.
Patricia lives in Seattle with her husband and very spoiled cats. You can find Patricia all over the web, and she loves to hear from readers. Email her at [email protected].
Sign up for Patricia’s newsletter on her website, http://patriciadeddy.com.
DARE DARK
A Novella by Pepper North
DARE DARK
by Pepper North
Do you want your fantasies to come true?
Mia Daniels answers this simple question that appears on her computer. By selecting yes, the willowy brunette submits completely to her secret desires.
Rafael Montalvo selects Mia at first sight. This magnetic man orchestrates her plunge into a new life that he controls completely. Trapping her in shadows, he offers her the freedom that darkness only brings.
1
The willowy brunette let herself into her beautiful apartment. She’d lived there for almost six months. It hadn’t been the first place she’d seen in the complex. Mia Daniels had actually toured a much smaller studio apartment in the fancy building. To her delight, the facility manager had called her the next day, stating that something larger on an upper floor had just become available if she would be interested in that one for the same price.
“Is there something wrong with it?” she had questioned, wondering how she could be so lucky.
“Not at all. The owner’s mother lived in the apartment for many years. He has only just become comfortable in having it rented now,” the manager had explained. She hadn’t hesitated for a second and accepted the new apartment sight unseen.
Dumping her lunch bag and purse on the beautiful entryway bench, Mia thanked whoever had moved out before her in such a hurry that they had left several beautifully carved pieces of furniture, a massive arched mirror, lamps, and even a few pictures. The manager had assured her she should use them.
After crossing the living area, she dropped into the office chair in front of her home computer. Staring at the black screen, Mia gathered her courage. She knew he was there—waiting for her to join him online. Rafael. The man she’d met on the fetish website.
The handsome, older man had sent a message within minutes when she’d introduced herself on the sub chat space. Using an alias to protect her identity, she’d gotten a lot of graphic messages that she’d immediately trashed. Rafael’s message was different. She’d hesitated to respond, but something drew her to his direct message.
Your fantasies can come true. Let me show you how.
After reading and rereading his message, Mia had answered. His probing questions had demanded honesty. Sharing things that she had told no one before, she was mesmerized by the older man. Taking advantage of every spare minute, Mia reached out to him over and over again online.
Soon Rafael knew her so well that it scared her and thrilled her at the same time. Mia hadn’t ever told anyone about that secret need inside her. She had always been careful to keep it hidden away from everyone. Were there people like her out there? Those who needed… more from a relationship? Those who had the same dark desire.
She dragged herself through work and the drudgeries of life to steal those few minutes or h
ours talking with him online. He wasn’t always there when she reached out to him. Irrationally, she was jealous of whatever or whoever, Mia thought with a jolt of anger, had captured his attention instead of her. She hadn’t even met him. They weren’t in a committed relationship. Mia just felt like she belonged with him.
Mia didn’t understand it, but her heart beat faster each time he called her ‘my sweet’. Something in him called to her and she couldn’t resist.
2
Arriving at her door on a Tuesday evening, Mia juggled the wet umbrella, her purse, and her lunch tote as she searched for her keys. She paused and looked around curiously. There was a scent lingering in the doorway. Her mind dismissed the fact that the aroma grew stronger as she leaned toward the door. Smelling of sandalwood, the cologne captured her attention as she inhaled. It was masculine and virile.
Shaking the silliness out of her head, Mia thrust her key into the lock and opened the door. She stepped inside and dropped everything onto the bench next to the door. Turning back to face into the apartment, she froze in place as something white caught her attention on the fashionable gray carpet.
An engraved invitation lay on the floor right inside the door. Just as if someone had stepped into her apartment and placed the crisp white envelope on the floor where she couldn’t help but find it. She sniffed automatically. Her nose reacted once again to that scent that had tantalized her in the hallway. He came in here! The thought had her heart rate quickening.
Snatching her umbrella from the tumbled pile of belongings as a weapon, Mia raced through the apartment searching in every possible hiding spot for an intruder who had invaded her home. Nothing. Nothing was missing. Nothing was out of place. No one was there.
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 79
