by J. Kenner
It feels as though the universe is punishing me, slapping me with such horrible, painful irony. Telling me that it’s all over, the fight’s done, and that at least I’ll be with Winston again soon.
Except that’s not who I am. I’m not going to submit. I’m going to fight. For myself, for Winston, and for every person Hawthorne has hurt over the years. Especially those he and Collins manipulated me to hurt.
So no. It’s not the universe punishing me—it’s Hawthorne fucking with me.
And although I don’t have a clue how I’ll manage it, I intend to end this guy. Or die trying, anyway.
“I trusted you, you cunt,” he snarls, pacing in front of me. “I was your friend. I gave you work. I let you into my circle. And now I learn this? Let me tell you, sweet cheeks, I am very, very disappointed in you.”
I want to tell him to fuck off. Instead, I keep looking straight ahead. I know Hawthorne. My reaction is what he wants. My fear is what gets him going. My hatred gets him hard.
I’m not giving him any of that.
He makes a scoffing noise, then comes closer. “Pity about your big strong man. Not so big and strong now, is he? Now he’s just little bits of goo scattered all over the lawn. Serves the fucker right. Shame about that truck, I’ll admit that. But the prick inside it? I got no remorse there at all.”
I can’t help it. I lift my eyes to look at him. But I say nothing. I still won’t give him the satisfaction.
His face goes red, and he rushes forward and gets right in my face, his hands on the arm of the chair. He’s so close I can smell his breath. Onions and something putrid. I want to gag.
“Say something, bitch.”
I meet his eyes. I stay silent.
He pulls a knife from his back pocket, flicks open the blade. I go stiff, fear icing my blood. If I’m going to die, I’d prefer it be quick. Hawthorne, I’m sure, will make sure that it’s not.
I expect to feel the steel of that blade on my skin. Instead, he starts to slowly and methodically cut my clothes off of me.
“No fast death for you,” he says as he slices the seams on the jacket. “No, we’re going to do this layer by layer.”
He’s detached the sleeves, and he slices forward, opening the armhole so he can take off the bulk of the jacket. He tosses it on the floor, and I hear a subtle clink as the ring tumbles from the pocket onto the concrete floor.
He doesn’t notice, and I force myself not to look down. I continue to look straight ahead as he uses the knife to start slicing my shirt, peeling it off in strips until it’s in a pile on the floor, too. I’m still in my bra with the suit’s detached sleeves on my arms, and I force myself to stay still. No reaction at all.
“I’m down to skin,” he says. “So do I undress the rest of you? Or do I start peeling away the skin of those lovely brea—”
He cuts himself off, and I frown, then bite back a curse when I see what’s drawn his attention. The ring.
“Well, isn’t this interesting?” He bends to pick it up. “Collins always did give his people the most interesting toys. This one has two needles, right? A sedative for most missions and a poison for those dark and dangerous circumstances.”
I say nothing. He’s right, of course. I’d intended to use the poison on Bartlett. It’s conveniently untraceable. And later, I’d tried to maneuver it so that I could use the sedative on Winston.
That didn’t go so well.
And now, because of the guard in the vault, there is only poison left in the ring.
“I’d intended to draw this out,” Hawthorne says, taking a step toward me. “But now I’m thinking that a fast death might be amusing. I can watch the fear build in your eyes, as I come closer and closer, because you know exactly what’s coming.”
He takes another step.
“Or do you? Will you get the poison or the sedative?” he continues, obviously not realizing one needle has been emptied. “Which scares you more? Death? Or sleep and the knowledge that I can do anything to you—touch you however I want—and you’ll wake up ripped apart and bleeding?”
A vile smile slithers across his mouth. “You really are such a pretty thing, and I’ve always wanted you in my bed. How is it you never fucked me? How is it I never made you?”
I resist the urge to spit, my mind churning for some solution. But I’m strapped down tight, and even though I could shove the chair backwards as he approaches, that would only buy me seconds.
Still, seconds are something…
“Poison or sleep?” he continues. “It’s like flipping a coin. Like the lottery.”
He’s right there now, leaning forward, the ring outstretched. And, yeah, I claim those seconds. I lean forward, then lurch backward, trying to kick my strapped-down feet out in the process. I don’t get much momentum, but I get enough, and I tilt backward at the same time that I hear a sharp crack!
At the same moment, something wet and sticky splatters my face and, as if in slow motion, I fall the rest of the way, landing on my back on the hard concrete, still tied to the chair.
I open my eyes, and see Billy Hawthorne fall. There’s a sick crunching as he lands facedown beside me, a huge chunk missing from the back of his head.
I wrench my head around, trying to see, and manage to scoot the chair just enough to open up my field of vision.
Winston.
He’s alive.
He’s either alive or I’m dead and dreaming, but he has to be alive. Because there is no way in hell my subconscious would have him half in and half out of a doggie door, a Ruger tight in his hands.
“Winston?” I say. And that’s when the tears start to flow.
My heart pounds as he wriggles the rest of the way in. He’s at my side in an instant, using the knife that Billy dropped to cut me free. He pulls me up, then rips off his tee so that I can cover myself. He bends for a strip of my shirt, then gingerly cleans the blood from Billy off my face.
“I thought you were dead.” My voice is raw from the force of my sobs.
“I almost was. I realized I forgot something. I got out of the car with only seconds to spare.”
That’s when I notice his clothing is singed. “They must have used a manual detonator. One of Billy’s men—oh! There are more of them.”
As I speak, the garage door rattles open. I turn, the terror fading to relief when I see Renly standing there. He gives Winston a thumbs-up, then smiles at me. “Thank God,” he says. “Backup is on its way. Take your time,” he adds, then walks away.
I shake my head, not certain I’m following everything.
“Those other men have been taken care of,” Winston tells me. “We can stay here until the cavalry arrives. Give a statement, then go home.” He cups my chin as he meets my eyes. “Sound good?”
“Better than good.” Right then, covered in blood and my body aching, I’ve never been happier. After all, the man who’d died in front of me is standing here alive.
I swallow. “Winston, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Confusion plays across his face. “For what, sugar?”
“For not believing that we were really in love before. I sat there in that chair certain that you were dead. I felt what you went through after I supposedly died. I made you go through that back then, and I—”
“You didn’t have a choice. And we’re together now.”
“We were together then, too,” I tell him. “And you’re right. It wasn’t the role we were playing, it was who we were in our hearts. I loved you then, real and true. Just like I love you now.”
“Oh, baby.” His pulls me close and looks deep into my eyes. “I love you, too. We’re so damn lucky.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he says.
“Will you marry me again? This time in front of our friends and your family, and with our real names?”
He stokes my hair. “Funny, I was planning to ask you that very thing.”
“I still have my wedding ring,” I tell him.
“It’s in a PO Box in Chicago.”
He closes his eyes, the pain on his face obvious. “I had them scour that car to find it. I finally decided whoever planted the bomb took it from you first.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “No. I went along with the fake death to protect you. But I refused to part with the ring.”
“We can get a new one,” he tells me, but I shake my head.
“No. That’s the ring I want. It’s been through a lot. So have we.”
The corner of his mouth curves up. “’Til death do us part.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I think we’ll be together a long time. We’ve gotten around death twice now.”
“Yeah,” he says, matching my grin. “We have. I love you, sugar.”
“I know,” I tell him, joy replacing the last remnants of this ordeal. I move closer, my arms tight around him. For a moment, I just hold him. Then I pull back a bit and look up. “Winston,” I say, my voice thick. “Let’s go home.”
Epilogue
“I’m so happy you’re joining Stark Security,” Emma says, grinning as she takes Tony’s hand. She smiles up at him. “Linda’s a badass,” she adds, making me laugh.
Tony’s brows rise. “Coming from you, that means a lot. Seriously, Linda, it’s great to have you on the team.”
“I’m thrilled, too,” I admit. “About all of it,” I add, referring to the fact that I’ve not only joined the SSA’s payroll, but my apartment in Chicago is now empty and the boxes of my stuff are stacked in Winston’s garage. A garage that, I hope, won’t stay empty for long. I’ve been answering ads from all over the country hoping to find a replacement for Old Blue, and I’ve narrowed it down. Now, I just have to keep it a secret from Winston.
As if he heard my thoughts, he looks over from where he’s talking with Renly and Nikki Stark. From what I understand, it’s not common for Damien to be in on the day-to-day operations at the SSA, but this isn’t a regular day. This is an after-hours celebration, complete with cocktails, to welcome me and Renly into the fold, and both he and Nikki are here, along with Ryan’s wife, Jamie and a few others.
I’ve met everyone, I think, and I glance around the room, putting names with faces. But I don’t stop to linger with my new colleagues as I head toward Winston. Right now, it’s only him that I want.
For that matter, I’m ready to find Damien and Ryan, officially thank them, and get Winston home. I have plans for this evening…
He smiles as I come up, and I slide my hand into his. I’m wearing my wedding ring, though we haven’t yet renewed our vows, and I feel the pressure of it as he squeezes my hand, smiling down at me with a kind of tenderness that makes me happy to be alive. More, it makes me feel like the luckiest woman on earth.
I have him again, after all. I’d lost him, and now he’s back, and we’re stronger together than ever. I tilt my head up to find him smiling back at me, and the love I see there makes me weak in the knees. Across from us, Renly grins. “I feel like a voyeur,” he says, as a blush warms my cheeks.
I glance at Nikki, strangely self-conscious about feeling sappy in this environment, but she’s frowning at her phone.
“Sorry,” she says, looking up in apology. “There’s an emergency. I need to run.”
“The kids?” Winston asks.
She shakes her head, her brow furrowed in concern. “No, no it’s my assistant.”
Across from me, Renly stiffens. “Abby? Is she okay?”
“I—I’m not sure. Sorry,” she says again. “I really need to run.”
“Of course,” Winston says.
Renly puts a hand on her arm as she starts to pass. “Wait,” he says. “I’m coming with you.”
the end
* * *
I hoped you enjoyed Winston and Linda’s story! And I hope you’re excited to meet Renly in Memories of You!
* * *
Hollywood consultant Renly Cooper is fed up with relationships. His recent breakup with a leading lady played out across the tabloids, and the former Navy Seal is more than ready to focus on his new position as an agent at the elite Stark Security agency. He’s expecting international stakes. Instead, his first assignment is to protect one of Damien Stark’s friends from a stalker. A woman who, to his delight, turns out to be one of his closest childhood friends.
* * *
After a foray into online dating puts tech genius Abby Jones in danger, she needs a bodyguard, and her business partner, Nikki Fairchild Stark, enlists help from Stark Security. When the assigned agent turns out to be her best friend from junior high—and her first crush—she’s thrilled to discover he’s even more delicious now. She hopes one sexy night can turn into more, but Renly is firmly in the friends-with-benefits camp.
* * *
As the threat to Abby increases, she tries to keep her growing feelings for Renly at bay. But as the sparks between them burn even hotter, can they go from friends to lovers when the first order of business is simply to keep Abby alive?
* * *
Charismatic. Dangerous. Sexy as hell.
Meet the elite team of Stark Security.
* * *
Shattered With You
Shadows Of You
(free prequel to Broken With You)
Broken With You
Ruined With You
Wrecked With You
Destroyed With You
Memories of You (novella)
Ravaged With You
* * *
And be sure to preorder Ravaged With You. The hero in that upcoming novel, Red, was first introduced in Cherish Me!
* * *
Be sure to subscribe to my newsletter or Text JKenner to 21000 to subscribe to JK’s text alerts and be among the first to know about new books, sales, free content, and other fun stuff!
* * *
The Stark Security books are set in the world of Stark International, a world that first came to life for me in Release Me, Damien Stark and Nikki Fairchild’s story. If you haven’t read it yet, I encourage you to dive in!
* * *
And did you know that you can find Jamie and Ryan’s story in Tame Me?
* * *
Be sure to keep turning page for a peek into my sexy new trilogy, My Fallen Saint!
* * *
JK
My Fallen Saint
Sneak Peek!
“J. Kenner knows how to deliver a tortured alpha that everyone will fall for hard. Saint is exactly the sinner I want in my bed.”
Laurelin Paige, NYT bestselling author
The wind stings my face and the glare from the afternoon sun obscures my vision as I fly down the long stretch of Sunset Canyon Road at well over a hundred miles per hour.
My heart pounds and my palms are sweaty, but not because of my speed. On the contrary, this is what I need. The rush. The thrill. I crave it like a junkie, and it affects me like a toddler on a sugar high.
Honestly, it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to put my 1965 Shelby Cobra through her paces and kick her powerful engine up even more.
I can’t, though. Not today. Not here.
Not when I’m back, and certainly not when my homecoming has roused a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. When every curve in this road brings back memories that have tears clogging my throat and my bowels rumbling with nerves.
Dammit.
I pound down the clutch, then slam my foot onto the brake, shifting into neutral as I simultaneously yank the wheel sharply to the left. The tires squeal in protest as I make a U-turn across the oncoming lane, the car’s ass fishtailing before skidding to a stop in the turnout. I’m breathing hard, and honestly, I think Shelby is, too. She’s more than a car to me; she’s a lifelong best friend, and I don’t usually fuck with her like this.
Now, though…
Well, now she’s dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, her entire passenger side resting parallel to a void that boasts a view of the distant coastline. Not to mention a seriously stunning glimp
se of the small downtown below.
I ratchet up the emergency brake as my heartbeat pounds in my throat. And only when I’m certain we won’t go skidding down the side of the cliff do I kill Shelby’s engine, wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, and let my body relax.
Well, hello to you, too, Laguna Cortez.
With a sigh, I take off my ball cap, allowing my dark curls to bounce free around my face and graze my shoulders.
“Get a grip, Ellie,” I murmur, then suck in a deep breath. Not so much for courage—I’m not afraid of this town—but for fortitude. Because Laguna Cortez beat me down before, and it’s going to take all of my strength to walk those streets again.
One more breath, and then I step out of the car. I walk to the edge of the turnout. There’s no barrier, and loose dirt and small stones clatter down the hill as I balance on the very edge.
Below me, jagged rocks protrude from the canyon walls. Further down, the harsh angles smooth to gentle slopes with homes of all shapes and sizes nestled among the rocks and scrubby plants. The tiled roofs follow the tightly winding road that leads down to the Arts District. Tucked neatly in the valley formed by a U of hills and canyons, the area opens onto the town’s largest beach and draws a steady stream of tourists and locals.
As far as the public is concerned, Laguna Cortez is one of the gems of the Pacific Coast. A laid-back town with just under sixty-thousand people and miles of sandy and rocky beaches.
Most people would give their right arm to live here.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s hell.
