The Embrace Series: Romantic Suspense Box Set

by Dana Mason

  “Okay, good.”

  “What happened with Ali?”

  “She’s having a rough time and needed a target for her frustrations. You don’t need to worry, though, we worked everything out.” He shifted the phone in his ear and hoped she didn’t catch the worry in his voice.

  “Maybe she’s right about me staying there?”

  “She’s not right, and I honestly don’t care if she has a problem with it. Once I reminded her that she slept with her current husband in my house, in my bed, she didn’t have a leg to stand on.”

  The line went silent for a few seconds, and he wondered if he’d said too much. “All right, I’m going to Ace Hardware to get you another lock for the back door and then get the pizza. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “‘Kay, see you then.”

  Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mark arrived as promised within the hour carrying an extra-large pizza. He delivered the pizza to the kitchen before he stepped back outside to get the bags from his truck. He stopped to grab her mail. The only thing in the box was an unmarked, sealed envelope. Fuck—he thought this was over. It’d been over a week since the last note. He carefully pulled it out and slipped it in the inside pocket of his jacket. His heart raced as he entered the house with the bags.

  After one look at Sarah’s smiling face, he felt sick, knowing he was about to completely ruin her evening.

  “Thanks so much for dinner.” She lifted the pizza box lid and closed her eyes as she inhaled the aroma. “I’m starving.” She reached into the cabinet for three plates.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Mark slipped from the room to call Brian. He could at least let her eat something before he told her.

  “Hey, Brian, I got something.”

  “What now?”

  “I found a new note in Sarah’s mailbox—unmarked and sealed. Can you come get it?”

  “No kidding, it’s been over a week. I thought maybe this guy was gonna give it a rest. You didn’t open it, did you?”

  “Nope, it went from the mail box to my pocket.”

  “Why your pocket? You hidin’ it from her?”

  “No, I’ll tell her when I hang up the phone.”

  “I’ll see you within the hour.”

  Mark stepped back into the kitchen just as Sarah finished her piece of pizza. It looked like Devon was reaching in the box for a second piece.

  “Grab a plate before Devon eats it all,” Sarah said, gesturing toward the box.

  “Ha!” Devon pointed to his own chest. “Me? What about you, little piglet.”

  Sarah laughed and met Mark’s eyes. The smile dropped from her face instantly. “What’s wrong?”

  He tugged the envelope from his pocket and held it up. Sarah’s face paled, and she gently set her plate down on the counter.

  “Brian is on his way over to pick it up...sorry.” He dropped his head in defeat. “Sorry to ruin all your fun.”

  “What the hell is that?” Devon asked, reaching for the envelope.

  “Wait.” Mark pulled away and walked over to the drawer to pull out a Ziplock bag. After securing the bag, he handed it to Devon. “It’s evidence. I don’t want more fingerprints on it.” He glanced at Sarah.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She waved a hand at the note. “Thought...hoped he was done with this.”

  “Did you explain everything to Devon?”

  “Yeah, he knows.”

  Mark took a step toward her. “Are you okay?”

  She grimaced and slid down off her barstool. “Yes, God...I’m...it’s fine.”

  She walked over to the corner cabinet and opened it.

  The Patrón bottle she pulled out surprised him—he was expecting another bottle of wine. She twisted off the cork cap and lined up shot glasses.

  Mark tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

  “Drinking—want some?”

  “Huh—yeah...but I should wait until after I hand this over to Brian.”

  She grabbed a lime from the fruit basket. “I’ll try to save you some.”

  As Sarah and Devon were taking their first shot, the doorbell rang.

  Mark, Sarah, and Devon all stepped into the living room. Mark tugged the door and held it open for Brian.

  He stepped inside and nodded at everyone. “Hello.” His eyes froze on Devon.

  “This is Sarah’s brother, Devon.” Mark said.

  Brian stuck his hand out and said, “So the big brother does exist. Hi, Devon, nice to meet you.”

  “Devon, this is Brian Hammel. He’s heading the investigation against the rapist.”

  Devon gave a curt nod to Brian and shook his hand. “Good to meet you. Thanks for watching out for my sister.”

  Brian chuckled but it lacked humor. “I’m trying.”

  He stuffed the note into his pocket and shook his head when Mark offered him pizza.

  “No, I have to get this to the lab. I’ll call you when I have the results.”

  He nodded to Sarah. “How are you doing, Sarah? You look better.” He wagged a finger at her face. “The bruises have faded.”

  She forced a smile. “I’m better, thanks.”

  Brian ducked back out the front door, and Sarah went right back to the tequila bottle. She wanted to be numb for a while. Just forget about everything and enjoy her brother’s company.

  The tequila shot went straight to her head and now she was spinning. Another note...was this ever going to be over? She was tired—tired of being afraid, tired of seeing the worry in Mark’s eyes, and now in Devon’s.

  Devon came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I thought this was a party.” He kneaded at the tension in her shoulders and shook her a little. “Take a break and let it go for tonight.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mark said. “Will you pour me one of those shots?”

  She mumbled, “I will let it go tonight.” She poured tequila into a shot glass for Mark and handed it to him. “What else can I do?”

  She ate a couple more slices of pizza, and they continued taking shots of tequila while she and Devon shared stories about their life and about their mother’s various husbands.

  As if on cue, and after only a few shots, her southern drawl slipped right back into place. She didn’t realize it until Mark’s eyebrows lifted in amusement, and Devon pointed at her with a stupid grin.

  “What are y’all lookin’ at?” she said, pushing Devon’s finger away from her.

  Devon nodded at Mark in triumph and then glanced back at Sarah. “We’re just lookin’ at you, darlin’,” he said with a drawn out, fake accent.

  Sarah slapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Shut up.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s sweet,” Mark said. “I didn’t know that was hiding in there.”

  “Yep, she sounds just like our mama.”

  “Hah! I do nawt,” Sarah said, punching at Devon’s chest. “Besides, her accent is fake. The more men she has around, the thicker her accent gets.”

  “Yeah, she does know how to play the game,” Devon said.

  “Knows how to play.” Sarah snorted out a laugh. “Shit, she made up the rules herself.”

  “What do you mean by ‘play the game’?” Mark said.

  “Work what she has,” Devon said, “bat her eyelashes, give a little hip shake and smile real big. Let’s just say, our mama is the queen of free stuff.”

  “Yeah, all she has to do is purr a little and people jump at the chance to serve her. I don’t think I‘ve ever seen her pay for a drink.”

  “Or a meal,” Devon added.

  Sarah laughed at Mark’s lopsided expression. He couldn’t understand the life of a con artist like her mother. How could he—his parents were normal compared to hers.

  “She sang in a lot of clubs so she was in tight with the owners, and they would always let us tag along.” The smile slipped from her face. “Okay...not always. We spent many nights stuck in the ca
r.”

  Mark held up a hand to stop her. “Are you telling me that your mother would leave you in the car while she drank in clubs?”

  “Worked in clubs,” Sarah said. “She didn’t have a babysitter, so she brought us to work with her. She just happened to have a job where she was allowed to drink too.”

  “But we had some great times back then,” Devon said. “Remember Patty Rose? She used to always let us hang out in her kitchen while she cooked.”

  “Yeah well, that was also usually the only time we had a decent meal.”

  “Mama was not exactly Holly Homemaker.” Devon snickered. “Eventually we were old enough to stay home alone. But we survived, didn’t we, Sis?”

  Sarah nodded and downed another shot, realizing that if she were sober, she’d never tell anyone that stuff about her mother. “Somehow we survived.”

  After draining the remaining drops from the bottle, Devon stumbled into the office to crash, leaving Mark and Sarah on bar stools in the kitchen still talking. Mark stood up and left the room. She heard him checking the locks on the doors and windows.

  When he reentered the kitchen, she was watching him, appreciating the way he moved. Damn she wanted him, and tonight she wouldn’t chicken out.

  “Do you need help?” he asked, reaching a hand out for her as she teetered on the bottom rung of the barstool.

  She hopped down and into his arms before he was ready to catch her. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, making them sway against the wall with locked lips. She knew he’d catch her. He would never let her fall.

  Mark’s blood heated from the kiss—fuckin-A, she was sweet. He wrapped his hands around her hips, holding her to him, wanting to lay her down right here on the kitchen table.

  “Wait...wait, Sarah.” He tried to act serious, but he couldn’t stop the wide smile that had taken over his face. Sarah’s lips moved to his neck, making goose bumps break out on his arms.

  She giggled. “Right, wait...wait for what?”

  “We should move to the bedroom so your brother doesn’t walk in on us.” He forced a straight face and looked into her eyes. Her expression became solemn, and her eyes darkened with desire.

  “Okay,” she breathed. “Let’s go into the bedroom.”

  “Are you going to be okay with this?”

  She stared unblinking at him and lifted her finger to trace his lips. “This won’t be a problem.”

  Mark gripped her firmly and stumbled into the bedroom, gently laying her down. He tried to go slow, but Sarah impatiently pawed at his clothes. He pulled his shirt off, and then tugged at her shirt buttons until they were unfastened. They rolled, and Mark shifted her on top of him. He unbuttoned her jeans, sliding his hands under the waistband while she kissed, nipped, and bit his lips.

  “Sarah, oh God...you’re killing me.”

  When his hands traveled over her hips to slide her jeans down, she stiffened and inhaled sharply. Mark glanced up to find her eyes closed. She was holding her breath and all the color had gone from her face.

  His heat instantly cooled at her expression. He’d done something wrong again, but what? He pulled his hands away and shifted to lay her down.

  “No, keep going,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “I can’t keep going, you’re uncomfortable.” He cupped her face and kissed each of her closed eyelids in turn.

  “I don’t want you to stop.”

  “I will absolutely not keep going. You’re not ready for this.” As if he would keep going after scaring the shit out of her. “I can wait.”

  She shook her head. “I will be okay.”

  “Stop it. I want to make love to you when we can both enjoy it. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

  Sarah covered her face with her hands. “God, I am so sorry I keep doing this to you.”

  Mark sighed and brushed his lips against her forehead. “Maybe I need a different approach.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I like your approach just the way it is.”

  “Are you okay?” His buzz had melted and from the sound of Sarah’s voice, so had hers. “Do you know what triggered it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know...I was really enjoying it...”

  He stared at her for a moment and thought about everything she’d told him the day before. Any woman who’d been raped was bound to have some issues. He needed to know what he could do to help her overcome those issues.

  “Maybe it wasn’t a physical trigger.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe it’s psychological?” He twisted a few strands of her hair between his fingers. “What were you thinking about?”

  Her cheeks turned bright pink. “What do you think I was thinking about?”

  “Maybe it’s a trust issue, subconsciously. Maybe in your heart of hearts you’re not comfortable being intimate with me.”

  Mark had to figure out a way to help her come to grips with this or they would both go crazy. He moved up and sat cross-legged on the bed so he could give her some space.

  “Let’s just talk this out.”

  “Okay,” she said, reaching for her discarded shirt.

  “Are you comfortable talking about this?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Are you having trouble being intimate with me because you’re unwilling to give up some of yourself to me?” He hesitated, trying to find a way to explain what he meant. “Maybe you’re not comfortable enough with me to...”

  “I want to do this. I don’t feel pressured, if that’s what your—”

  “No.” He reached for her hand, wanting to touch her. For the first time since he’d known her, he couldn’t read her feelings by her expression. “Do you remember our conversation about those women who were raped? You told me that having a man force himself on you was a powerless feeling and that loss of control was something a woman never got over.”

  “And that’s true, I’m surprised you remember all that.”

  “I couldn’t forget it. Being that vulnerable has to be utterly frightening. I can’t imagine it.” He closed his eyes to push back the instant anger he felt at the thought of someone doing that to her, especially that Neanderthal, Kevin Lewis. The tequila in his stomach burned like fire.

  “But, Mark, I don’t feel like that with you at all.”

  He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Good, I’m glad.” He smiled and said, “I think between your past and this attack, the notes, the phone calls, this monster trying to get to you, breaking into your house—you’ve had me in your face, hovering and...” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Because of all that, you have lost some of the control you have on your life. Maybe this is your subconscious way of taking that control back.”

  He watched her face as she thought about everything he said. She didn’t speak. She just looked into his eyes for a long time. Every emotion seemed to flash across her face in that lifetime of a moment.

  “What are you thinking?” he whispered.

  She shrugged and looked away.

  “Did I get that completely wrong? Talk to me please...”

  She shook her head and fisted her hand. “I don’t know, but if you’re right, I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “I don’t know either, but I’ll help you. Maybe it just takes time.” He waited for a moment. “Tell me what you’re afraid of. What’s got you worried?”

  “Do you believe that I trust you?” she asked.

  “I do, Sarah, but do you believe me?”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry. I just feel like this is going to get old to you. How many times can we come so close just for me to chicken out? It’s frustrating for me...I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

  “Do you think I’m only here for sex?”

  “Of course not...,” she said, droopy-eyed.

  “Okay, then stop worrying about me leaving.”

  She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

  Mark w
atched her for a few minutes, and then reached out and pulled her to him. “Let’s go to sleep, we can talk about this again when we’re both sober.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When Mark woke up, his thoughts went directly to the note he found in Sarah’s mailbox. With a full mug of coffee in his hand, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Brian’s number.

  “Hey, Brian, anything yet?”

  “No, man. It’s been less than twelve hours. I told you I’d let you know.”

  “Okay, you’re right.”

  “No wonder she’s so tense, you’re feeding it to her like candy. Take a break and let us do our job.”

  “Yep, okay. I get it.” Mark shut his eyes and tried to relax. “You’re right. Call me when you get something.”

  Mark closed his phone, and at the same time, Devon entered the kitchen, shirtless and looking for coffee.

  “Morning. Right on—there’s coffee already, thanks, dude.”

  “How’s the air mattress?” Mark asked.

  Devon looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s better than some other places I’ve slept.” He sat down at the kitchen table across from Mark with his cup of coffee. “I’m actually glad I got up before her, I need to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “She told me she clued you in on Kevin Lewis. I didn’t want to tell her, but he’s been looking for her again.”

  “Again?” Mark sat up and gave Devon his complete attention. “You mean this isn’t the first time?”

  “Not even close to the first time. He calls me, leaves messages—fucking acting like nothing ever happened, like we’re old buddies or something,” Devon said, disgusted.

  Mark considered him for a moment. “When was the last time you actually talked to him?”

  “A couple of years ago, he showed up in San Diego. I told him Sarah and I had a falling out and hadn’t been in touch in years, but that the last I’d heard she was somewhere in Tennessee. I tried to throw him off the California trail.”

  “Why Tennessee?”

  “We lived in Nashville before moving to Flagstaff. He’d heard enough about Charlie to believe it.”