The Arrangement 13

by H. M. Ward

  The Arrangement

  Vol. 13

  H.M. Ward

  www.SexyAwesomeBooks.com

  Laree Bailey Press

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by H.M. Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

  H.M. WARD PRESS

  First Edition: Jan 2014

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT 3

  TABLE OF CONTENTS 5

  CHAPTER 1 7

  CHAPTER 2 14

  CHAPTER 3 19

  CHAPTER 4 29

  CHAPTER 5 36

  CHAPTER 6 43

  CHAPTER 7 54

  CHAPTER 8 63

  CHAPTER 9 85

  CHAPTER 10 90

  CHAPTER 11 96

  CHAPTER 12 101

  CHAPTER 13 109

  COMING SOON 121

  Read more about the characters in this book: 122

  MORE ROMANCE BOOKS BY 124

  H.M. WARD 124

  CAN’T WAIT FOR H.M WARD’S NEXT STEAMY BOOK? 126

  THE ARRANGEMENT

  Vol. 13

  CHAPTER 1

  ~SEAN~

  No matter what the glint means, it’s bad. My mind races through semi-coherent thoughts—images—of what Avery saw, but my mind is sluggish and lust ridden. She’s finally coming out of her shell, finally denying that mundane version of her sexual being. I have her naked body pressed firmly to the cold window. I can only imagine how hot she must look from the other side of the pane, but the fact that she even does it astounds me. I put her on display as if I own every inch of her, and she lets me. It’s almost as if she likes it, and I hope to God that she does.

  The way her body fits against mine is perfect. I slip my palm over the swell of her hips and cup her breasts while kissing the side of her neck. There’s a spot that makes her weak. When I find it, she gives in and does anything and everything. Sometimes I think she’s guarding that area, trying to keep me away. Other times, like now, I think she wants me there, kissing her senseless and doing anything I need.

  Avery breathes in and pushes back against me, so I pin her harder. She gasps. The small sound always pulls my lips into a smile. I manage to undo my jeans and press my hard length to her back. That sound purrs from deep within her again. God, I love it when she does that. That little breath sounds like ecstasy, shock, and desire all wrapped into one tiny perfect noise.

  I grab her hips, angling them so I can take her. I planned on waiting and teasing her more, but I can’t. Not when she’s like this. Avery presses back into me and tells me how much she wants me inside of her.

  Her words undo me.

  Pressing my hands firmly to the sides of her hips, I move until we line up perfectly and push into her. Avery gasps again and claws at the window. Arching her back, she presses her hips toward me, taking my cock in deeper.

  She’s so fucking wet that I can’t think beyond the moment, which is rare. I’m always ten steps ahead of everyone. It’s part of who I am, but here—in this second—I’m lost. A lifetime of pain vanishes with every thrust into her hot, slick core. The past vanishes and I feel alive.

  I tangle our fingers together and don’t want to stop. Pushing harder and deeper with every thrust, Avery takes me and begs for more. I didn’t think I’d have this chance.

  For years I’ve walked around feeling nothing, to the point that I’d become a monster. I’m not some dipshit who can’t admit what he is—what he’s become. I know damn well that I’m a lost cause, that there’s nothing left to save, and yet, this woman brings me back to life. I was a corpse, and completely apathetic, and now my heart is racing and my body is covered in sweat, shaking, because I can’t get enough of her.

  I want more, she always makes me want more, and it’s not just her body—it’s her—it’s Avery. There’s something about the quirky smile on her sinful lips and the way she speaks. It’s the flash of her eyes when she sees something commonplace and finds joy in it. The woman is bursting with life, even though when I met her, I wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

  The darkness within her called to me. It’s been my destruction and my savior, because it brought me to this woman and kept me coming back for more.

  Every inch of my body is tense and I can’t stand it anymore. I need to hear her lose it, and call out my name. Dropping my hands to her hips, I pummel into her harder and faster until she melts into me. At least that’s my plan.

  I want Avery to forget all the shit that’s bothering her, I want those nightmares to abate for just one night, and I want to be the reason.

  I hope to God she needs me as much as I need her. Avery’s become my air, sunlight, and darkness—everything I need. Life without her would be unimaginable.

  That’s when Avery mentions the light—the glint in the darkness. Before I have a chance to sate her, I pull us to the floor. I’m not sure if paparazzi found us or if it’s something worse because I didn’t see it. Either way, I’m not chancing it.

  A second later, there’s a loud cracking noise, followed by the window blowing to bits. Glass fragments blast past us. I try to cover Avery, but I can’t look up to see how much of her skin is exposed. My jeans save my legs from the shards, but not my arms and back. A searing, hot pain shoots through my shoulder and down my arm.

  Avery shakes beneath me, as her nails bite into my shoulders. I know she’s trying to wrap her arms around me, but I pin her to the floor, not allowing her to move.

  The moment lasts forever, giving enough time for ancient worries to reseed themselves in my mind. They spring up like weeds and vine faster than I can uproot them and toss them into the fire.

  That dreadful thought whispers in my mind, What if you can’t protect her? What if she dies?

  That’s what does it. No matter how hard I fight it, I’m pulled into the past, into that goddamn memory that I try so hard to forget. Images flash through my mind like a slideshow: Amanda’s limp hand and curled fingers, pale and cold with dark blood pooled under her snow-white skin. I stand there seeing myself from above as if trapped in a nightmare.

  Then I’m there, sucked into the past, standing in the doorway to our old room, and the emotions come surging back. The insides of my body feel like they’re being crushed. Amanda called me and begged for help, but I didn’t come.

  This is my fault.

  CHAPTER 2

  ~SEAN~

  I stand there shaking from guilt, rage, and grief. I know my wife is gone, but I refuse to accept it. I race to her side and pick up her cold, stiff hand, and that’s when I notice the baby covered in blood, lifeless and silent. My daughter is so tiny and the way she lies silently by Amanda, with those tiny fingers and toes, kills me.

  Jaw trembling, my throat tightens and I try to force the anguish back, but it’s consuming me. Piece by piece, I feel my mind slip away.

  That moment destroyed me and it was my fault.

  When I blink, I feel Avery beneath my body, but the ghosts won’t release me. I choke and realize the room is silent—like before. Images from that night long ago continue to bombard me, flashing in and out of my mind, clouding the present with the past. I can’t stop it.

  “Avery?” I ask her, shaking her slightly because she’s so still. “Are you all right?” My voice is far from steady, and as I pull back to look at her, I see that she’s lying in a pool of scarlet. A shiver takes hold of my soul and won’t release me. Incoherently, I stutter somethin
g else, but she doesn’t speak.

  My mind fractures. I feel it coming apart as if it were a puzzle lifted from a table. One by one, rationality falls away. I want to go after whoever did this to us, but I can’t leave Avery. I call her name over and over again, before lifting her still body from the glass.

  Pieces of the window glitter like diamonds on the floor. I walk her over to the far side of the house, out of sight of the window, and lay her on the couch. Her dark lashes flutter and she looks up at me with those eyes. “Sean?” her voice is scratchy, like she’s going to cry. Her arm has a long gash and is bleeding. She reaches for it and pulls her hand away.

  Avery examines her bright red fingers and then looks up at me. Ignoring her own injury, she asks, “Are you hurt?” I can’t speak. There’s no way to answer that question and confess what this did to me. I don’t want to lie, so I say nothing.

  Working quickly, I grab my shirt and bandage her arm. I don’t see any glass lodged under the skin, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Images of Amanda flicker behind my eyes and mix with the present until I don’t know which reality is genuine.

  I caused this. The thought races through my mind, replaying over and over again.

  Breathe, Sean. Hold it together. I say these things inside my head, but can’t manage to find words for Avery. She lets me wrap up her wound and look her over quickly. When I decide she isn’t going to hemorrhage, everything snaps back to the present and my attention shifts to the fucker who did this.

  “Stay.” It’s the only word I can manage. Turning quickly, I race across the room and find the spot in the corner, where the stairs would have been. I pull the molding free and yank out the gun that brought me so much misery, and load it. I grab my jacket and pull it on before walking over to her.

  Avery watches in silence with her beautiful face full of fear. “Don’t do it. Don’t go.” She clutches at my collar which makes ribbons of scarlet flow down her arm from beneath the makeshift bandage.

  I hate the fear in her voice, but I can’t let this fucker walk away. I say things, I don’t even know what, but I kiss her cheek, shove the gun into her hands, and a horrible premonition claws at my heart. That gun took my wife and daughter from me. That gun destroyed me. Handing it to her feels wrong, but she needs it.

  Wiping the sweat from my brow, I manage to keep my voice devoid of emotion. “Stay out of sight and if someone comes in, shoot them.”

  CHAPTER 3

  ~AVERY~

  I’m trembling as Sean shoves the cold metal into my hand. When I look down, I see an old gun and instantly know what I’m holding—it’s the weapon that took Amanda Ferro’s life. My throat tightens, making his name come out like a squawk, “Sean, wait!”

  But he doesn’t stop. Unarmed, Sean strides across the room, zips his coat, and jumps out the shattered window to the ground far below. Horrified, I stand up and watch him disappear into the darkness. Fear courses through me and I think about going after him, but I’ve lost too much blood. The gash in my arm is dripping down my side and if I don’t stay still, I’ll pass out. As it is, the wound is throbbing, but the gun in my hand distracts me more.

  I can’t imagine what’s going through Sean’s mind. When those blue eyes locks with mine, something inside me cowers. They’re cold, detached, and completely ruthless. Whoever did this is dead. I saw it on Sean’s face, and I wonder. The act of handing me this gun had to suck him into his past in a very real way. Add in the blood and someone trying to shoot me…

  As I think, I manage to pull on a pair of Sean’s sweats, and that’s when reality hits me. This wasn’t an accident. Someone tried to kill me. I’d be dead right now if Sean hadn’t pulled me to the floor. My knees give out and I sit down hard, clutching the gun against my chest like it’s a teddy bear. Tears fill my eyes as terror overflows from my heart and trickles down my cheeks. I glance at the gun and can’t stand to hold it. Leaning over, I place it on the floor and push it away with my foot, before sinking back into the couch. I grab a remote control and shut off all the lights. The darkness swallows me whole, and the only sounds I can hear are my pounding heart and the wind rustling the branches outside.

  The room grows colder from the open window. I remain where I am, lost in shadows, on the couch, gripping my arm and holding it up to slow the bleeding. I’m not thinking about the wound or if I need stitches—I’m wondering about Sean.

  As far as I could tell, he jumped out the window, defenseless. Whoever took the shot is long gone, at least I hope he is. I pull my knees into my chest, wishing I could vanish. I can’t calm down and it feels like my chest is going to explode. It’s as if I’ve been sitting here forever, and every little sound makes me jump as I watch through the window for signs of Sean.

  That’s when I hear it. The sound is barely there, but it makes my eyes grow wide and my pulse quicken. My head snaps toward the noise. I frantically look for Sean through the shattered window, but he’s not there. I can’t see anyone, but I hear footfalls inching closer, crunching their way through the dried grass and fallen leaves. The sound is softer than my breaths but it sounds like drums pounding in my ears.

  The paces are too slow, too careful. My eyes dart through the night, seeking any sign of who’s approaching. The person passes the window, out of sight, and is approaching the front door.

  Sean’s words ring in my ears over and over again, If anyone comes in shoot them.

  I can’t shoot someone. Killing a person, ending their life, even if they tried to kill me first—I can’t do it. I glance at the gun on the floor and know it should be in my hand, but I can’t touch it. That thing destroyed Sean’s life. It feels like a bad omen to even look at it.

  There’s a scraping sound at the front door, a metal key sliding into the lock. The knob twists, and just before the door opens, I jump up and frantically look for a place to hide. There isn’t anywhere obvious, so I act on instinct and dart across to the kitchen, tug open one of those huge cabinet doors, and duck inside. Crouching down as low as possible, I curl into a ball. My hands are around my ankles and I’m shivering all over.

  A small slit is in front of me where the cabinet doors meet. It’s not enough to see anything, but I know the person isn’t Sean. If it was, he would have flipped on the lights and called out to me. This person is quiet, slowly walking across the floor. My heart slaps into my ribs so hard that I think they’re going to crack. Biting my lips, I remain crouched, peering into the opening.

  The man passes me, craning his neck from side to side, searching. Does he know his shot missed? Is he here to finish the job?

  Dark boots pass the couch and then the bed. He stands to the side of the window and looks down at the blood on the floor. The way the moonlight catches the glass looks beautiful in a haunting way. Some of the shards glisten red, nearly black.

  A scream is building inside of me and it’s everything I can do to not release it. Where is Sean? My jaw is locked, biting hard to keep quiet.

  When the man turns, I see a weapon in his hand—a rifle. He raises it and turns slowly, as if he heard my thoughts. He inches toward the bed and aims at the center of the mattress. He holds the gun there for half a beat and fires.

  The sound does exactly what he wants—the blaring noise makes me jump and let out a small shriek. It slipped between my lips before I could stop it. The man turns in my direction. He knows where I am. I swear that he can see my eyes, because our gazes lock as he walks toward my hiding place.

  My heart thumps harder as I begin to shake uncontrollably. I’m going to die. He’s coming to kill me and I’m hiding in here like a coward. After everything I lived through, after everything I fought for, to be here now and have Sean’s ring on my finger, after losing my parents, and becoming a fucking prostitute—this is how I die—hiding in a cabinet.

  My fear rapidly shifts to anger. It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. As soon as something good happens to me, it’s chased by death. Fuck that. I reach around to see what’s near me and grab
a bag. I rip it open, knowing that the crazy gunman already knows my location, and then reach blindly on the shelf with my other hand for something—anything.

  Just as my hand lands on something useful, the man speaks, “Got ya.”

  He pulls the door open and I jump out at him like a deranged jack-in-the-box jerking the open sack of flour as I go. The white powder flies, temporarily blinding him. The man steps back, giving me enough time. I don’t think about the contraption in my hand or what I’m going to do with it. I take my chance, my only chance. The tip of the man’s gun drops enough that I have an opening and I take it. My arm swings down hard and fast, jabbing the meat thermometer into his face. I feel it sink into his eye.

  Screaming, the man swipes at me with his weapon, making it clothesline me across my chest. The force sends me sailing backwards and I land on the floor. The man is shouting, clutching at his eye, and hurrying toward me. He raises his gun, ready to shoot. “You motherfucking—”

  He doesn’t finish his sentence. A loud crack fills my ears as I watch him fall to the floor with a bullet in his head. I’m standing before him with Amanda’s gun grasped firmly between my hands, my elbows locked, and the gun still pointing to the place where he stood.

  I don’t remember picking it up. I don’t remember anything.

  Tremors rake through me, but I can’t move from that spot. Rapid footfalls make me whirl around to the open front door. Sean is standing there, breathless. I can’t move. I can’t lower the gun.

  Sean holds up his hands, “It’s just me. Are you all right?” His voice is so wrong, so frightened. A swipe of dark red runs along his temple and drips onto his cheek. Sean looks past me at the dead man on the floor, before his wide blue gaze returns to my face.