She sat back so we could look into each other’s eyes. T continued, “I slit her throat and let her bleed out at my feet. I killed her yesterday. For you.”
“Shit.” I was shocked. T had me convinced that she was happy with Albany in jail.
T grew more somber. “This is who I am. Who I will always be. If they hurt you, they better stay ready. I will always come for them. No matter who it is.”
She took a deep breath.
I licked my lips. This lady. We were tighter than family; we were closer than soul mates. It was bigger than the universe—how it was for us. I leaned forward and lifted her from her seat by her ass. I settled her on my lap. She could tell how much I wanted her.
“I want to marry you again right now. Holy shit. My wife.” I kissed her with tongue. She was perfect. Albany’s blood was my wedding present. Hot damn.
T seemed concerned at first, but then pleased that I was still onboard with this side of her. She was badass. I loved it. And her.
“Turns out I have a present for you as well.”
We kissed for a while before I pulled out the duffle bag from behind the bench.
She seemed genuinely puzzled. “Well, I promised you some time ago that we’d have a house on a hill…” I gestured to our setting. “And, do you remember?”
She thought for a moment, closing one eye. “Something about burning money?”
“Hell, yes.” I unzipped the bag. She gasped.
I’d packed it with money of all denominations.
“No. That’s too much.” She pointed at the contents.
I reached inside and grabbed a handful, passing it to her. “Light it up, wife.”
After some hesitation, she leaned backwards to grab our wine glasses. After we drained them, she put the cash back in the bag.
“I have a better use for this now.” T zipped it up. “How about we drop it off for Sister Mary at the Benfell Academy, instead?”
I liked it. Showed growth and all that. But I knew my way around some pizazz, and had buried a few sparklers in with the money. I fished out a nice handful and tossed them among the logs. I did use a ten-dollar bill to light the fire though, because I liked to keep promises. Soon, we had a mini fireworks show. I had my wife on my lap and my future ahead of me.
Life was turning out just fine.
Sneak Peek:
Ember’s book --Coming Summer 2018
When I saw him walking out of the woods behind my aunt’s backyard, my first emotion wasn’t fear. He was hot; I noticed that first. He was limping; I noticed that second. He was my soul mate. Love at first sight. And the smirk on his lips seemed to tell me he knew what was happening in my head.
I was standing on the old disk swing my aunt had strung up from an oak tree when I was a kid. Don’t mistake that for her doting on me. I was a showpiece, and the swing was implemented during her photo phase. I was her model, and I never captured innocence the way she wanted me to. But I was a kid who was far more interested in catching salamanders than making sure my hair was hanging over my face just so.
The swing was a favorite place long after my aunt’s camera was packed upstairs in the attic.
Aunt Dor would leave me alone outside because the mosquitoes loved her so much. She said it was because her blood was sweet. I read somewhere that it was because she had an abundance of testosterone. That would explain that one long chin hair. Which wasn’t nice, but lately I wasn’t interested in being nice.
I looked from dreamboat hottington’s hazel eyes back to my phone’s screen like he wasn’t anything to get excited about. Dismissal. It was what all the players deserved. Even if this one had rung a bell in my pants and my heart with just a glance.
“Hey.” His voice was worse than his face for my lady parts. And that was saying something. It was deep and naughty. Intimate.
“You’re trespassing. And I have a trained assassin watching my every move. So you best move on.” I tried to peek through my lashes unsuccessfully.
His fluid movement was the kind that tipped you off to the fact that he was probably good at sports and maybe dancing and definitely sex.
He stepped up onto the disk swing, placing his hand on my lower back to keep me balanced. Before he grabbed the rope, he plucked my phone out of my hand and tossed it over his shoulder.
My jaw dropped in indignation. I couldn’t avoid his face anymore. He was even better up close. He had on too much cologne. I wanted to tell him that, but he was taking the side of his hand and running it down my cheek. He swept my words away with the touch.
Tingles. His strong jaw and plump lips made me swallow. He was handsome, and he knew it.
I was losing my balance on the swing; he’d caught me off guard. Of all the hours I’d spent on it, I’d never shared it quite like this. Our feet were overlapping, and to stay upright I had to thrust my hips toward him.
“Just calm down. Don’t look at your feet. Look at me.” He countered my off-balance-ness with his feet. Like we were on a swinging skateboard or something.
I did what he asked. The swing stopped bucking around.
I was wondering where T was. Why her knife wasn’t sticking out of this guy’s neck, but then his mouth was on mine.
Spearmint. His lips tasted fresh. It occurred to me that he knew he was going to kiss me before I’d even seen him.
And suspicion was there, somewhere because of who I was, of course, but the kiss was so very…
Monumental.
My heart was pounding in my throat. I squeezed the rope so hard between my fingers, later I would have to pick a few splinters out of my palms.
It was the start of a love story. It felt tragically right.
And then he stepped off the swing. My dress touched my calves when I registered the kickback from the loss of his weight.
“Maybe your assassin can kill me next time, peaches.” He winked.
The smorgasbord of hotness sauntered out of my back lawn toward the driveway.
He hadn’t told me his name, but I knew I would see him again. As soon as possible.
Note from the Author
When I was first deciding on my pen name in 2009, I knew I wanted to incorporate Anastasia. It’s a family name. My maternal grandmother wasn’t in my life physically very much. Manic depression (now known as bipolar disorder) kept her locked away from her family. Connections with us and her daughter (my mom) would send her into a tailspin. Because she loved us so much, she would forget to take her medications. I didn’t understand much about it as a child—it was just the way things were. But my mother had an entire childhood filled with the very real struggle of having a mentally ill parent.
You’d never know, though. My mom is a fantastic parent and grandparent. She’s fun, loving and incredibly thoughtful. She’s also a pit bull for those that she loves so deeply.
The Anastasia on the front of this book is dedicated to my grandmother, but also my mom --who had the courage as a little girl to lie in bed every night and say to herself, “Tomorrow will be a better day.”
I can’t think of anything braver.
Cheers Anastasia and Valerie.
Love Always,
Deb
Acknowledgments
Hubs and Kids: Thank you for letting me flop around as this one took shape. I love you.
Helena: As if Pepper could live without Salt.
Tijan: You keep me sane and that’s a hard job.
Texas K: I can’t wait until we write a horrible book together someday.
E: Word Counting is a skill! <3 Thanks for keeping me honest.
Jenn Watson: I waffle you.
Christina Santos, you are the way this train stays on the tracks. I #skull you.
Lauren R. Thank you for being the bomb.
Tina Reber: For watching out for Animal!
Family:
Mom and Dad, thank you so much for keeping a copy of all my weirdness in your house so you have to explain to the neighbors how “unique” your daughter is.
<
br /> Pam and Jim: Happy marriage!! So proud of you both.
Mom and Dad D: Thank you for treating me like the daughter you never expected to get and also can’t get rid of!
Uncle Ted and Aunt Jo: Thank you for being Disney magic, I love you!
Business Beauties:
Kimberly Brower, you are a rock star. Thank heavens for you, Aimee, and Jess.
CP Smith, my incredible interior design genius.
Paige Smith for kick ass edits.
Gitte and Jenny from Totally Booked.
Give Me Books Blog.
My Swat Team, Debra’s Daredevils and the Beta team! I’ve got access to the most amazing crew in the world. Thank you!
Christina Santos
Lauren Rosa
Ashley Scales
Angelica Maria Quintero
Michele Macleod
Elaine Turner
Sarah Piechuta
Lauren Lascola-Lesczynski
Jennie Gordon Coon
Friends I love and lean on:
Tara Sivec
Meghan Quinn
Nina Bocci
Liv Morris
Ruth Clampett
Daisy Prescott
SM Lumetta
And so many more I know I am forgetting.
MERCY
1
SUPERHERO
Fenix
“Hold these eggs.”
My father handed me the white carton in the grocery store. The aisle was cold. I was cold. My hands were shaking.
“Don’t you drop those eggs, son.” His voice was menacing. But everything about him was menacing.
He’d finally done it. He’d killed my mother. Last night. This morning.
We were in the grocery store because we needed food. My sister was at my aunt’s house, which was good.
Because Mom was dead.
My hands shook more. I stared at them and willed them to stop shaking. I begged them to stop shaking.
Mom was shaking before she died. Seeing her like that was all there was. In this grocery store. In my head. My hands were clean now, but Dad had scrubbed them before he’d put me in the truck.
To come here. To get groceries.
I felt sick to my stomach.
Mom had been trying to make dinner. In the end all the food from the fridge had been tossed around the kitchen.
The squeaky Styrofoam container the eggs were in was giving me away. He was watching. He was getting even angrier.
Mom wasn’t here anymore. To step in. To stop him when he got this way.
“Stop shaking, Fenix Churchkey.”
It was a whisper from the scariest man on the planet. I tensed my muscles. There was no difference. Maybe it was making it worse.
“You’re the best boy, Nix. I love you so much. Just remember that.”
Mom. She was gone.
I watched in horror as the carton tumbled from my hands and hit the floor. The eggs made a sickening noise inside.
Mom was shaking before she died.
Before he murdered her.
I looked at his face, knowing he would kill me too. Not here. Most likely not here.
He liked private. He liked closed doors.
I knew not to make a sound when his hand grasped my arm so hard. He would squeeze right through the bones maybe someday.
I started to count my matchbox cars in my head. It was how I kept quiet. In a box under my bed there was three cars. The red car. The blue van. And the Hummer, my favorite. It was purple and…
“What did I tell you?”
His mouth was next to my ear. His breath smelled bad. His sweat smelled bad.
Mom was gone now.
At least my sister was at my aunt’s house. She was just a baby.
Dad grabbed my other arm, a little lower than the edge of my T-shirt sleeve. I watched as my skin came up between his fingers.
I felt the tears.
Crying always made it worse.
He was going to break my arms. Both my arms.
“Hey! Mister! Leave that boy alone.”
I felt chills up my spine. We were private. We liked closed doors. No one was allowed to know.
“I said let go! You’re bigger than he is. And let him go. He’s good.”
She was a kid. Like me. She put her hands on his forearm and pushed. I was stunned quiet. I was stunned stupid.
She wasn’t wearing matching socks and her hair was a giant halo of curls. She had a shiny purse with a stuffed dog sticking out of it and a fistful of coupons. There was a spiral pad with a cat doodled on it popping out of a pocket.
Dad took one hand off of me and lifted it. He was going to backhand this little girl. I put my hand up to block him.
I saw my death in his eyes then. You don’t stand up to him.
Ever.
Mom was gone.
The little girl didn’t flinch.
It would occur to me years later that she’d never been hit a day in her life. But not now. Now she was a superhero.
“You don’t hurt kids. That’s wrong.” She looked from his face to his hand that was still squeezing me.
“Go on, girl. ’Fore I change your mind.” Dad wiped his mouth with the back of his threatening hand.
Restraint.
He had it for her. For this little girl.
She frowned at my father and then put her lips to the side like she was fed up with him.
I felt my mouth drop open.
Then she was looking at me. Her clear blue eyes saw me. Saw through me. “Are you okay?”
To see this wild disrespect of what my father could do, what he demanded from Mom, from me was like getting hit with a wave in the center of my chest.
I felt my father’s warning hiss to me. This girl was the sun on the darkest horizon. She made dark turn to light.
I nodded. I was fine. We were always fine.
Mom was gone.
“Mister, you need to let go of his arm.”
The girl pointed at me. I knew what she saw. His fingers biting into me like teeth on a tiger. I had so many bruises all over my body that were in the outline of my father’s hand. This new one on my arm would only be unique because it didn’t feel entirely in the safe zone of how my shirts lay. I would wear a long sleeve if I could find it tomorrow. If I made it to tomorrow.
“I said for you to get. And mind your own damn business.”
The girl’s eyes went wide at his use of the word “damn”. If she only knew.
I wanted her to know.
She narrowed her eyes at my father. “You’re a bad man.”
The veins in my father’s neck were starting to pop out.
She was in danger now. And I knew I should protect her from him, but to not be alone for a moment. It was making me breathe, and I needed that so much.
“You’re about to learn how bad I can be.”
It was a low growl. It was his home voice. It was his closed-door voice. It was the voice I was never going to get away from. It was the last voice my mom heard.
Mom was gone.
“You’re trying to scare me, and I don’t scare easy. I sleep in my own bed with the lights off and no nightlight anymore.”
She lifted her chin at my father like a boxer just before the first punch.
“Dad, let’s go.” I spoke for her. Normally I never spoke. Not when my father’s voice had cracked its way into my soul. But I didn’t want to see the light in the girl’s eyes fade.
I didn’t know what a soul was until I watched my mother’s leave last night—or this morning. It was that eye light.
“Rebecca Dixie Stiles!”
The girl snapped her head around. Rebecca had to be her name.
“Over here, Dad! I need your help!” She crossed her arms in front of her.
I watched as my father shifted his weight and a muscle twitched in his jaw.
My father didn’t say anything else. He abandoned our groceries on the floor by the egg carton and pulled me with him.
/> I looked over my shoulder at her. She was waving down her father, who I didn’t get to see. “Dad! This guy! Wait!”
She reached past her stuffed animal into the sparkly bag and jogged after us. She held a lollipop out to me. I looked at it. The words “Hug Me” were printed on it. I stuck it inside my pocket.
Rebecca locked eyes with me then. “Be okay. Okay? Be okay.”
I nodded.
It just didn’t happen that day.
Or the next.
Or the next.
2
SETUPS
Becca
Fifteen Years Later
Having to listen to Henry talk about her boyfriend, Dick Dongy, with a straight face was hard at first. But now it seemed like second nature. Hendrix Lemon was a bartender/waitress with me at Meme’s. It was a bar loosely themed around funny memes from the Internet. Mostly the decorating consisted of print outs of said memes taped to the walls of the interior. And of course, the female employees had to be scantily dressed.
Henry had met her man and he’d locked that shit down. Not that I blamed him. Henry’s body was insane and her hair and lips—well, she was a draw to the bar. That was for sure.
Henry lived with Dick now, and I’d lost my partner in all kinds of man-hunting crimes.
“So, Dick said that we were going to do some renovations to the roadkill hospital this weekend, so I’m going to have to cancel our girls’ pampering day.”
Henry got to be dressed as herself at work, which was a cop-out because she’d become a viral Internet meme last year. I still had to fulfill the owner’s fetish for Bubble Gum Girl, which was the most obscure meme ever. I wore pigtails and a pink bra. My hot pants were white and silver and my high heels were a sexy variation of combat boots. I had to spray myself with a bubble gum scented perfume every hour or so. High heels and bartending/waitressing was the worst part of all. Well, and all the different ways drunk guys found to run their hands along my bare skin.
I wiped down my last table before we opened and pouted at Henry. She was a serious downer.
HAVOC Page 23
