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Loving Leila - Codename Heartthrob, Book 1: Loving Leila – Chapter 2

Posted on by Dorothy

Merlin

 

As we wait for Commander North, the team sit shooting the shit, blowing off steam. Nearly three weeks in the mountains of Morocco, hunting down known traffickers, we’re a little wound up and ready for some downtime.

“Good morning,” he says, entering the room. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover this morning, so let’s get down to it, shall we?”

He places a stack of folders and papers on the table, and his gaze takes each one of us in, as if gauging how we’re doing. Apparently happy with what he sees, he starts the debrief. Going over the facts and events of the mission, we get through it by lunchtime and are looking forward to being dismissed.

“Gentlemen, I know you’re looking forward to your R and R, but we’ve had some intel come in about the group you were hunting in Morocco. I need your eyes on the info while the facts are still fresh in your minds. Just a couple of days, and then I’ll be happy to grant you your time off. Unless something else comes up, I’ll even throw in a couple of extra days to compensate.”

A good-natured groan goes up, but I simply reply, “No problem, sir. What’ve you got for us?”

The commander passes folders around the table. “There’s been whispers the group is redoubling their efforts after you hit their operation outside Marrakesh. They’re pissed as hell we rescued their captives who’d already been earmarked for specific buyers.

“Their buyers are equally pissed and are demanding ‘replacements’,” he continues, using air quotes to emphasize replacements. His face twists in distaste. “A list of the buyers is included in the folder, and there are some hard hitters on there. People with the money and clout to get what they want. So, we need to shut this operation down.”

Commander North pauses a moment as he searches for something in the folder. Finding what he’s looking for, the man holds a photo up for all to see. “In your info packs is a copy of this image. Study it, acquaint yourselves with it. The man in the photo goes by the name Edgar Mason and has been gainfully employed at StanCorp for the past five years.

“A British National, his real name is Bruce Whitcomb. Employed as the Chief Financial Officer of StanCorp, it’s put him in a position to not only skim from the top, but also use the company to launder money from the sale of, mostly, young women — the younger the better. Sometimes, though, there are requests for boys.”

The atmosphere in the room turns electric at his words. We see the absolute worst of humanity in our job, but trafficking slices deep. The buying and selling of human beings — men, women, boys, girls, they’re all fair game — just hits different.

Shuffling through the contents of the folder, I find the image of Edgar Mason. As I lift it out of the folder, I catch sight of Phillip Stanton beneath it. “Is Phillip Stanton involved in this, sir?” I ask.

Being the son of Senator Grant Stanton, Phillip Stanton being involved in this would rock the political world and have far-reaching consequences.

“Not that we can find. We’ve been through his staff with a fine-tooth comb, but found no evidence that anyone else on his payroll is involved in Mason’s depraved activities.”

I lift the photo of Stanton to see the one beneath, and it feels like I’ve been sucker punched. A recent photo of my Leila stares up at me. No. Not my Leila anymore. I fucked that up five years ago when I broke not only her heart but my own.

My head was in a really bad place after Maverick was killed. Seeing the hell Sheri was going through while trying to keep it together for her two small children, I thought I was sparing Leila the same pain. When I finally pulled my head out of my ass, I realized how badly I’d fucked up but couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Worse, I lost my connection to Sheri for a while. She was so pissed off at me for what I’d done. Thankfully, she eventually forgave me after we had a throw-down, drag-out yelling match and I broke down. Not my proudest moment, but certainly one of my most vulnerable.

I’m jerked out of my musings when Ace kicks my booted foot under the table.

“What the fuck, dude?” I whisper. He nods toward the commander.

“You back with us, Merlin?” Commander North enquires.

“Yes, sir. My apologies. I was just looking through the intel here,” I reply.

The rest of the afternoon is spent researching, strategizing, and going through the intelligence contained in the folder. At the end of the day, while everyone’s attention is focused on wrapping up for the afternoon, I’m driven to surreptitiously snap a shot of Leila’s photo with my phone.

Locking the folder away in my desk drawer, I follow the rest of the team out to the parking lot. The guys are talking amongst themselves, making plans to grab a bite.

“You in Merlin?” George Alvez, known to all as Cougar, asks.

“Nah, I’ve got stuff to do,” I reply, shaking my head for emphasis.

Stopping beside his motorcycle, he studies me for a moment, but all he says is, “All good, man. See you in the morning then.”

My only response is a chin lift as I keep walking toward my truck. The rest of the guys call out their goodbyes, and I wave in response.

I reach my car, and Ace stops beside me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I answer his question with my own.

“Merlin, I saw the contents of that folder. We all did.”

My body goes rock solid, the muscles clenched tight. I was so lost in my own misery, it didn’t even occur to me that the guys were seeing the same thing I was.

“I’m fine.” It’s all I can manage to say past the lump in my throat and my gritted teeth.

“Yeah?” Sarcasm clear in that single word, I nod, my teeth still tightly clenched.

“Well, I call bullshit.”

“Yeah?” I repeat his earlier question back at him. “Well, fuck you, Ace.”

The man stares at me, wordlessly, for long seconds, and it’s all I can do not to fidget under his intense scrutiny. Anger flashes across his face, for just the briefest moment, before he masks it. He nods once.

“That’s how we’re playing this. Coolio. You have a good evening.” With that he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving me feeling like a colossal asshole.

“Ace — wait.”

“Later,” he replies, not even breaking his stride.

I stare down at my booted feet and sigh. Fuck. I hate being on the outs with Ace, or any of the guys. But Leila isn’t something I can talk about. That wound may no longer be a festering one, but it’s barely scabbed over. Talking about her will only rip it open and leave me a bleeding mess, once again.

With another sigh, I get into the truck, pull out my phone, and dash off an apology to Ace. I tuck my phone back in my pants pocket, start her up, and head for home, not looking forward to a crappy evening by myself.

Yeah, I could join the guys, but I’d be terrible company, and it’s unfair to inflict that on them.

I’m just letting myself into the house when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see a reply from Ace, accepting my apology. Thank fuck for that. Since losing Mav, Ace and I have gotten closer. I mean, we’re a tight-knit group in general, even Phantom. Jake Stevens took over Maverick’s spot on the team five years ago, and while he could never replace him, he’s as much a part of this team as Mav was.

Opening the fridge, I stand studying the contents for way too long. Nothing inspires me, so I shut the door again. God, I can’t stand myself when I get into a funk like this. I don’t have anything better to do, I figure I may as well go ahead and shower.

I empty my pockets onto my dresser, and as I take my phone out, I feel an overwhelming need to see Leila’s face again. It’s not a good idea, I know that. I should never have taken a snap of her photo for this very reason. The last thing I need is to be brooding over a woman I walked away from.

Helpless to prevent myself, though, I open my photo gallery and find myself staring into her beautiful eyes. Falling into them, more like. Leila always did have the most expressive eyes, and face. You knew you were in deep shit when she masked what she was thinking or feeling.

Like always, I find myself getting lost in those smoky gray orbs, and I feel myself getting hard as I lose myself in memories of our years together. Times I had blocked out of my mind in my bid to save my sanity.

I have no idea how long I stand staring at my phone, but the sound of an email coming in pulls me out of my head. Since it’s nothing important, I put the phone down on the dresser and undress. Packing everything away neatly, dirty laundry in the hamper, I head for the master bath. A cold shower is just what I need.

But five minutes into my shower, I’m shivering my ass off and still turned way the hell on. Giving up, I turn the hot water on to warm up. As the cascading water sends rivulets running over my now sensitive nipples, my thoughts still firmly centered on Leila despite my best efforts, I find myself going hard again.

There’s nothing for it but to take care of my raging hard-on. Closing my eyes, I wrap a hand around my dick and, with zero effort, images of a very sexy Leila flicker through my mind. A memory of the last time I got to make love to her pops into my head, playing out like a movie on the big screen.

All made up from our date night, she took my breath away. She’d done something to her eyes, making them smoky and mysterious, as if the gray orbs held the secrets to the universe. Her full, pouty lips, a luscious red, had me desperate to see them wrapped around my dick — to see it glide in and out of that hot, wet mouth of hers.

Her dress was a contradiction, making her look demure and like a siren, all at the same time. All evening I’d been getting glimpses of the lushness that lay beneath the floaty material — a thigh, her bare back — and I was itching to get my hands on all that soft, glorious skin.

Dick in hand, my strokes become more frantic and urgent as the memories of how Leila did a striptease for me, ratcheting desire up and up until I was ready to rip her pretty dress from her body. With a lick of her lips and a husky laugh at my impatience, she undid the tie of her halter neck, allowing the material to glide down her body and pool at her feet.

Standing in nothing but a barely-there thong, she ran her hands over her tits, tugging at the pebbled nipples before moving toward her underwear.

“Planning on standing there ogling me all night, sailor, or are you going to do something about this almighty ache I have going on between my thighs?”

I reach for her, and as my hands touch her skin in my mind, my hand tugging frantically in real life, I feel the tingle right before my orgasm hits. Coming hard, all over my hand and on the tiles of the shower, I brace my free hand against the wall as my knees weaken with the intensity.

With thoughts of Leila still running rampant, neither my body nor my mind are satisfied, and loneliness swamps me.

Loving Leila - Codename Heartthrob, Book 1: Loving Leila – Chapter 1

Posted on by Dorothy

Leila

Five Years Later

 

A sound coming from the doorway has me looking up to find Edgar Mason, Chief Financial Officer Extraordinaire — or at least that’s what he thinks — standing in my doorway. I have to work hard to suppress a shudder as I take in all that is the insipid, arrogant, ick-inducing asshat.

From the time I started here at StanCorp, there’s just something about the man that gives me serious off vibes. I can’t quite put my finger on why I feel the way I do, but I wouldn’t trust him with my goldfish let alone my company’s financials. But Phillip Stanton — the company CEO and my boss — seems to trust the man. So I tolerate him.

“Leila.” The nasally twang of his voice grates on every last nerve ending, as always, and it’s a constant fight to keep the utter dislike I have for the man off of my face.  The disdain that usually drips from his every word doesn’t endear him to me either.

“Edgar,” I reply, waiting for him to state his business and then, please God, be on his way.

“Is Phillip in his office?”

“He’s just popped down to Research and Development. I’m sure he won’t be much longer. I can ask him to call you as soon as he’s back.”

A weird something passes behind his washed-out blue eyes, something I can’t identify that makes me uneasy, nonetheless. But then he shakes his head. “No. I’ll contact him later.”

And, with that, he takes himself off to who knows — or cares — where. Releasing a nervous sigh, I shudder. Man, he gives me the heebie-jeebies. I push all thoughts of the creepy Edgar out of my mind as I get back to my enormous to-do list.

Sometime later, Phillip returns to the office, annoyance clear in the stiffness of his posture.

“Hi,” I say, smiling up at him as he stops at my desk.

He takes a beat before his face softens into an answering smile, his body relaxing some. “Hey.”

“Rough visit?”

“No, good actually. Just ran into Edgar on my way back, and he’s in a mood. Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on with him lately, but he’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that he’s been grating on mine since day one but think better of it. Phillip and Edgar seem to get on well enough, and I don’t really want to get into a whole discussion about our weird Chief Financial Officer.

“Can I get you some of that superb new coffee you got, to soothe those irritated nerves?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Phillip grins. “Grab your notebook on the way into my office. I’ve got some things I need done before we leave on the cruise next week.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right there.”

Phillip Stanton is ten years older than my own thirty-two years, but he’s handsome in a polished way and in pretty good shape for a desk jockey. Exactly the kind of man I thought I wanted until one night in a crowded bar turned that belief on its head. To be honest, I’m surprised some socialite hasn’t snapped up this eligible bachelor.

Before thoughts of Kyle Jackson, or Merlin as his teammates call him, can sour my mood, I get up to make my boss’s coffee, grab my notepad and pen, and head into his huge corner office.

There’re a million little things that I need to finish before we go sailing the seven seas — or one of them, at least — next week, and Phillip’s just added a ton more to my list. So, when my phone rings just as I’m walking back into my own office, I can’t hold back the frustrated sigh that escapes.

But I feel it ebb as I answer and hear Sheri Henderson’s cheerful voice on the other end. Sheri was the person who got me through when Kyle broke things off with me and I thought I wouldn’t make it. There were so many days I just wanted to curl up and die, but despite her own devastation at having just lost her husband, she dragged me back into the light. Sheri was single-handedly responsible for me having made it through some of the darkest days of my life.

“Hello, you gorgeous thing you. How’s your day going?”

“Fine until Eerie Ed appeared at my door. But now that I’m talking to you, I’m fantastic, thanks. How about you?”

“Good, thanks. Well, great actually,” she replies.

“Ooo, do tell. That sounds intriguing.”

“I don’t have time — I’m about to dash out the door to fetch the boys, but I wanted to see if you had any plans for tonight.”

“Not a single one. I was going to go home, run a bath, savor a glass or five of wine, read my hot new novel, and then grab some shuteye.”

“Sounds scintillating. Wanna come over and have dinner with me and the boys instead?”

“Hell, yeah. I’m always down for that.”

“Fabulous. I’ll see you around six thirty then?”

“Yup, I’ll be there.”

Hanging up the phone, I tackle my to-do list with renewed vigor now I have something to look forward to at the end of my day.

The day simply flies by, and it’s a little after five when I check the time. Wanting to stop by the store on my way to Sheri’s place, I quickly pack up and make my way over to the connecting door that leads into Phillip’s office.

“I’m headed out, anything I can get you before I leave?” I ask.

He looks up from the papers he’s got strewn across his desk, a small frown creasing his brow. “Hmm? Sorry, I missed that.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb. I just wanted to let you know I’m about to leave and to check if you need anything before I go.”

“No, I’m good thanks,” he replies after some consideration.

“All right, well don’t forget you have that charity thing at seven this evening, and Mike will be here to collect you at six so you can go home and change.”

“Okay, good. Thanks.”

“I’ve set a reminder, which will alert you at five thirty, and then five forty-five, and then six again.”

This time Phillip laughs. “You always take such good care of me. Right from the very first day. I have no idea what I would do without you.”

I’m taken aback, not just by the words but more by the soft look on his face as he looks over at me. So thrown, in fact, I don’t know how to answer him.

“What are your plans for the evening?” Phillip asks, changing the topic.

“Oh, um, I’m having dinner with my girlfriend and her two boys.”

He nods. “Well, have a good evening, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Have a lovely evening too,” I reply, before hurrying out of the office.

My thoughts are reeling as I make my way to the parking level of our building. In the four-and-a-half years I’ve worked here, this is the first time Phillip’s looked even remotely at me like that. For an uncomfortable moment there, his look was more that of a man interested in a woman than a look a boss would give an employee.

And honestly, it shook me a little. Yes, he’s a good looking-man, nicely built, polished, and a gentleman to boot. I’d be lying if I said that I wouldn’t have been interested in a man like him in the past, but Kyle spoilt me for all men.

We were amazing until we weren’t. One minute I had a hot Navy SEAL treating me like a queen, and the next I was alone and broken. I still have no idea why he simply walked away without so much as a backward glance.

The man had a talent for making me feel as if I was his entire universe, the only important thing in his world. So when he broke things off, I never saw it coming. True, he’d been a little distant, not his usual self for the couple of weeks between Maverick’s death and the day he shattered my heart. But I’d simply put it down to him losing his best friend.

Turned out, he was distancing himself in readiness to leave me. Blindsiding me in the process.

A sound to my right pulls me out of my depressing thoughts, and I turn to scan the area. One of the many things Kyle taught me was to stay aware of my surroundings, to stay safe. Getting lost in my head was neither staying aware nor safe.

Not seeing anything out of place, I stayed alert as I cautiously made my way over to my car, only releasing a sigh of relief once I’d locked myself inside my treasured Audi. Today’d certainly turned out to be a weird one.

Edgar being more Edgar than usual, Phillip being less Phillip than usual, and thoughts of Kyle rioting through my head unlike I’d allowed myself to do in a long, long time. With another sigh, I put my car in gear and pull out of my spot, eager to get to Sheri’s house.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long to get through traffic this evening, and I’m grateful. Dashing through the store, I’m back in my car within fifteen minutes and at my destination fifteen minutes after that. And, as I pull into Sheri’s driveway, I feel muscles I was unaware were so tense relax.

I’m guessing she must have been keeping an eye out for me, because as I climb out, I see my sister of the heart standing in her front doorway, a happy grin on her face. I grab the stuff out of the back of my car and hurry up the walk and into Sheri’s open arms.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she murmurs as she wraps me up in her tight embrace.

“Hello, your own gorgeous self,” I reply, returning the hug equally.

“Aunty Lee’s here,” Sheri calls out as she ushers me into her beautiful home, and I hear the clatter of running feet upstairs. And then, there they are, my two sweet godsons.

“There’s my handsome boys,” I say, bracing as they come racing toward me.

I feel myself settle as the boys fling their arms around me, one on each side, hugging me just as tight as their mom did. Looking down at them, I feel a pang in the region of my heart. They’re miniature cutouts of their dad. Luke, at eight, and James, now six, resemble their father so much I sometimes wonder how Sheri’s heart doesn’t break every time she looks at her sons.

“You hungry?” I hear her ask from behind me.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“Come on then. Boys, go wash up, it’s dinner time.”

“Yay, dinner time!” James yells, tearing off to do as instructed, Luke not far behind.

A shiver wracks my body as, out of nowhere, a premonition of something bad coming washes over me. In an attempt to shake it off, I follow Sheri into the kitchen.

“Wine?”

“Yes, please,” I reply, hoping the alcohol will dispel my unease. “After the day I’ve had, I could use a glass.”

Accepting the proffered glass, I settle at the counter to visit with my friend, pushing any dark thoughts out of my head.

Loving Leila - Codename Heartthrob, Book 1: Loving Leila – Prologue

Posted on by Dorothy

Prologue

Merlin

 

The sound of the minister’s droning voice becomes background noise as my mind drifts back to the moment that changed everything. The reason we’re now sitting here, listening to a cleric waffle on about irrelevant crap when we’re heartbroken over the loss of an amazing, vibrant, larger-than-life man.

My mind gets caught up in memories of the worst day of my life — the day Maverick died. The events leading up to his demise play out like a movie in my head.

“Are you able to stand, sir?” Wolf asks.

“Negative, sailor. Circulation’s pretty sluggish.”

Wolf and I get to work chafing circulation and feeling back into the man’s arms and legs, and when he’s finally ready, we help him to his feet. You’d have to be blind not to see that the act of getting upright causes Commander Jones an enormous amount of pain. But he doesn’t make so much as a murmur.

Without warning, Armatrout’s one henchman – who’d been standing quietly to one side – decides to make his play, attempting to dive tackle the commander. I’m assuming Armatrout decided to use it as a distraction as he erupts into action, ramming a vicious elbow into Digit’s gut, just below his vest.

Clearly not expecting it, Digit’s grip slips for a moment, and my gut clenches as his gun clatters to the floor, skittering toward the door. The fucker uses it to his advantage, breaking free of Digit’s grasp. A scuffle ensues as Digit and Scooter go to apprehend the two men again, while Wolf and I continue to support the commander between us.

A shout of warning goes up as Armatrout throws himself to the floor, reaching for the weapon Maverick had kicked out of the way. I see Armatrout raise the weapon, momentarily unsure who his target will be.

Then I see him bring the weapon to bear and, following his aim, realize the commander is his intended victim. The fucker knows if he takes Commander Jones out, it’ll deliver a devastating blow to Knight’s lady.

I hear the weapon discharge, loud in the underground space, and watch in horror as Maverick throws himself in the bullet’s path, using his body to shield Commander Jones. I see his body jerk, and he drops to the floor like a stone.

For long moments Wolf and I continue to support the commander as my brain reels, trying to process what I’ve just witnessed. Everyone else focuses on Armatrout and his two men. My focus is solely on Maverick.

Nodding at Wolf, we lower our charge back onto the chair before rushing to where my teammate and friend is lying — far too still for my liking. My gut clenches, hard, when I spot the ever-growing pool of blood under his neck as he continues to lie unmoving on the cold concrete floor.

He’s clasping his neck, and bright red blood spurts out rhythmically between his fingers, despite his best efforts. Fuck. It looks like Armatrout’s hit an artery. Engaging my comms, I call for a medic, my heart pounding like a jackhammer.

“Hang in there, Mav. Help’s on the way, brother,” I hear Digit say, his voice breaking at the end.

Maverick turns glassy eyes to Digit. “Not gonna make – it. Need you – to …” A cough wracks his frame, and I can see blood in the spittle that lands on his chin. “Tell Sh – Sheri I lo – love her infinitely — ‘n I’m so – sorry I di – didn’t make it – home.”

“No, damn it, Mav. Hang in there, brother. I need you to hang on a little longer. For Sheri and the boys. For me. Please …” Digit’s words stumble to a stop as Maverick’s eyes roll back in his head, and the life drains from his body on a quiet exhale.

My brain refuses to comprehend what’s just happened. I stare blindly at the man who’s been a part of my life for years. He was more than just a teammate — he was my best friend, my brother-in-arms. More than that, he was a son, a husband, a father, a brother. A man who loved and cherished.

Watching Digit struggle to assimilate what’s just happened, I scramble to get my own brain to re-engage, because as broken as I am over losing Mav, shit still needs to get done, and my team is counting on me to get them through this and out safely on the other side.

Knight lays a hand on Digit’s shoulder. “Digit, you need to let Ace and Bear take care of Maverick now. You need to let his hand go, my friend.”

“It’s too late. He’s gone.” It’s painful to hear the words.

“I know, buddy. But we need to take care of him so that we can take him home.”

“Yeah,” is all he says.

Knight helps Digit to his feet, and I go on high alert as he turns his head, his eyes tracking. The only person he’d be seeking out would be Armatrout, and that means nothing good for either man. I know that bad place he’s gone to — the one where he’s ready to throw the rule book out and damn the consequences.

It’s only when his body locks and I follow his gaze that I see Armatrout lying on his back, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, a gaping hole in the middle of his forehead. And the only single regret that flashes through me is that I’m not the one who got to pull the trigger that ended his depraved life.

Ready to get the fuck outta Dodge, I turn to find Knight whispering something to Digit. Figuring I’d give them a minute, I’m about to speak when our comms engage.

“Compound’s secured, Knight. What are our orders?” Dutch asks.

“We’ll organize for the choppers to come get us so we can get the hell off this godforsaken mountaintop and home to our families,” Knight replies.

“Everything okay there, Boss Man? You sound a bit off,” Dutch says.

“I’ll bring you up to speed later,” Knight responds.

“Understood,” is all Dutch replies.

“Digit, call for our transport home,” Knight requests quietly.

It takes the man a moment to respond, and I figure it’s because, like me and my team, he’s watching Kansas zip the body bag closed with care, pain ravaging his face. Moving to assist, Kansas and I gently lift the bag in readiness to carry him out.

“On it,” Digit replies.

Digging the satellite phone out, he calls for our extraction.

When we board the chopper, he insists on sitting beside Maverick’s body. As he sits vigil, clearly deep in thought, my heart downright aches. Not just for myself and my team, but for Digit, Sheri, their children, Mav’s parents and siblings.

What I wouldn’t give to go back and rewind time. To, if I couldn’t prevent his death, at least be the one to put Armatrout down like the rabid dog he was.

As the helicopters rise up into the sky, taking us home, we all turn at the sound of the first explosion. A loud cheer goes up as the detonations chase each other until the last one goes off and the mountaintop compound is reduced to nothing more than stone and rubble.

A grim grin stretches my lips in a parody of a smile, watching as yet another one of Armatrout’s strongholds is obliterated.

“Honey?” Leila’s quiet voice pulls me from my tortured thoughts.

I’ve gone over them so many times since Mav was taken from us, looking at everything that happened from all angles, trying to figure out if we could have done anything different to prevent his death. But no matter how many times I play it over in my mind, I can’t see a different ending.

It was an indication of the man John “Maverick” Henderson was, that he would give his own life to protect the life of another. It’s what we sign up for when we take on the job. But Mav was all in. His commitment to the job went above and beyond. It was just who he was.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Just got a little caught up in my head.” A painful sounding sob from Sheri has me shifting my gaze to the pew in front of me, where she’s sitting with the family.

She turns to Digit, who’s sitting beside her, as he says something to her. Her anguish is a palpable thing — like a living, breathing entity, ravaging her heart and soul.

I feel Leila’s soft hand wrap around my much larger one and, turning to look at her, I’m suddenly hit with the thought that I don’t want this for her. Her beautiful heart and generous spirit would be crushed if she were to ever find herself in Sheri’s situation.

A sense of urgency washes through me and suddenly, with startling clarity, I know what needs to be done. The fear and uncertainty that’s been riding me in these weeks since Maverick was killed, demand a way to shield her from this happening to her.

We’re already in so deep, but if I walk away now, I can spare her the agony of having to endure what Sheri is right now.

My Girl: My Girl – Chapter 3

Posted on by Dorothy

Gabriel

The past two months had been pure hell.

Waking up in hospital to smells and sounds that brought nothing but the worst memories bubbling back to the surface had his skin crawling and his mind in turmoil. In those first moments of consciousness, he could swear he’d heard Mr Daniels calling him. But that couldn’t be. Jarrod’s father – the man who’d taken Gabriel into his home when he’d had nowhere else to go, no hesitation whatsoever – had passed away shortly before they’d gone on the road.

When he’d finally been awake enough, the doctor had explained that he’d been in an accident and listed his injuries. Most of them were fairly minor and would heal pretty quickly. It was the damage to his arm and shoulder that had him freaking out. If he lost the use of his arm or, God forbid, lost his arm completely, his career would be over.

His career was all he had. It was who he was. His identity, as he saw it, was completely wrapped up in it. It was all he’d ever wanted to be, and now that he’d made his dream a reality, there was a chance the dream would be taken away from him. Just like the other things that had meant so much to him.

Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been cursed. Doomed to lose anything that mattered to him.

Now, here he was, doing his utmost to regain the use of his arm so he could get back to what he loved to do and praying it would be enough.

“Good morning, Mr Stone.” The sugar-sweet, cheerful tones of the physiotherapist so early in the morning was like fingernails down a blackboard.

For a split-second Gabriel felt bad about his uncharitable thoughts about the woman, but God help him, she worked on his every last nerve. There wasn’t anything specific he could put a finger on that set all the little hairs on his neck standing up other than the gleam she got in her eyes every time she looked at him. He’d come to dread this time of day, knowing she was there to help him, but wishing it were anyone else but her.

“Morning,” he mumbled in reply.

“Ready to get your workout in today?” she asked, resting a hand on his forearm.

“About as ready as I’m ever going to be, so let’s do this.”

She put her arm around his shoulders to help him out of the bed and over to a chair by the window. It wasn’t like he needed the help getting out of bed, and it irked him that she found any excuse to touch him. Although, if he were being honest with himself, everything pissed him off these days.

When the physio had done her first consultation, he’d seen how her eyes lit up when she’d recognised him. Gabriel had seen the same kind of reaction from groupies that followed them around on tour, and he hated it. But she was there to help him regain the use of his arm, and that’s all he cared about.

He went through the exercises, gritting his teeth and praying it would soon be over. The pain was excruciating, and he was frustrated with how slow his progress appeared to be. By the time they were done, Gabriel’s body was covered in sweat, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He was so ready to call it a day.

In fact, he was so ready to leave this place. All he wanted was to go home. The doctor had told him if he continued to improve, he could do so within a week, and he was holding onto that thought like a lifeline.

All he could think of was returning to Cape Town and seeing Sheridan again.

My Girl: My Girl – Chapter 2

Posted on by Dorothy

Sheridan

Sheridan’s day was shaping up to be a crappy one. Nothing seemed to want to go as planned, and she was about ready to tear her hair out. A patient’s mom had called to cancel for the millionth time on her daughter’s behalf, and she was at her wit’s end as to how to convince the woman her daughter needed help sooner rather than later.

She’d have thought as a psychologist she’d be better equipped to deal with the daily irritations, but no. She was just a regular woman, and like anyone else, her temper sometimes got the better of her. Her father had always said it was the red in her hair. Maybe he was right.

Returning from the vending machine in the hall outside her small suite of consulting rooms, she detoured toward the reception desk as her receptionist called her over.

“Dr Daniels, your brother is on the phone for you. He says it’s urgent. I was just about to come call you, but you saved me the trip.”

“Thanks, Nancy. You can put him through. I’ll take it in my office.”

“Certainly, Doctor.”

She heard the strident sound of the ringing phone on her desk as she dashed down the passage.

Grabbing the handset off the cradle, Sheridan dropped into her chair. “Hello?”

“Hey, sis.” Something in Jarrod’s voice sounded off.

“Hey, brother mine. Everything all right?”

Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “Do you have a patient waiting for you?”

“I’ve actually just had a cancellation, so I don’t have anyone for another hour. Why?”

“Sheri, I …” Jarrod’s voice cracked.

Sheridan’s body stiffened, preparing herself for whatever would come out of her brother’s mouth next.

“Jay, what’s the matter? You’re starting to freak me out here.”

“There’s uh – there’s been an accident with the tour bus.”

“Oh no. Is …” The question trembled on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words out loud. Instead, she asked, “Is everyone okay?”

Jarrod’s harsh inhalation could be heard clearly down the line. “We lost Carter and Jesse.” He paused to clear his throat, the emotional pain evident in his voice. Sheridan wanted to scream out her frustration. What about Gabriel? she wanted to ask. “Thankfully, there were no other fatalities. Gabe and the others survived the crash, but sis, he’s badly hurt. The doctors are saying that they’re not sure they can save his arm.”

At Jarrod’s words, tears spilled over Sheridan’s bottom lashes, falling freely down her face as she struggled with the overwhelming gratitude that Gabe had survived while her heart ached. Jarrod and Gabriel’s friendship had been forged in childhood, so he’d been almost as big a part of her life.

The two boys had shared a dream of one day starting their own band and, for as long as she could remember, all Gabriel had ever wanted to do was be a drummer. He and Jarrod had worked hard to set up their band – Gabe drummed; Jay managed them. Gabe would be devastated if he lost his arm and his career ended. Her heart hurt for her brother too. His best friend was badly injured, and he’d also lost two friends.

“Oh God, Jarrod – I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really. It’s chaos dealing with the fallout this side – police, insurance, and the media … Jesus, they’re all over this thing like rabid animals. But there’s nothing you can do to help with that. Where I will need your help is when Gabe’s released. I’m going to send him home to you to recuperate.”

“No problem. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll organise it from my end. How are Bailey and Rochelle holding up?”

“They’re understandably wrecked over their loss. Rochelle’s quit and gone back home. Bailey’s doing little better, but since she’s got no one to go home to, she’s offered to fill in for Rochelle. The busy work is helping her cope, I think. But it’s still hard on her.”

“I can only begin to imagine how difficult it must be for them. Let me know if Bailey would like to do online counselling sessions. In the meantime, I can start organising things for Gabe’s homecoming. Just let me know what you need.” She measured her words before continuing, “And Jarrod, if you need someone to talk to, reach out. Yeah? I know you’re not big on psychology, but don’t bottle your emotions up, okay? It isn’t healthy.”

“I hear you. Right now, I’m too busy trying to sort shit out this side to deal with the loss, but I’ll reach out if I need to talk.”

“Promise?”

His long-suffering sigh had Sheridan smiling briefly. “Yes, Dr Nag Bag, I promise I’ll phone you if I need to talk to someone.”

“That’s all I ask. I love you and worry about you, bro.”

“I know, little one. I know. I love you too. I’ve gotta dash. I need to do a press conference – the world is clamouring for news. So, before they start spreading misinformation and freaking people out unnecessarily, let me go do this. Chat soon, sis. Love you.”

“Love you too, Jay.”

Setting the handset back in its cradle gently, Sheridan gave in to the tears clogging her throat and making her nose burn. When she finally got them under control, she called for her receptionist.

The woman took one look at Sheridan’s face and asked, “Do you need me to cancel your appointments for this afternoon, Dr Daniels?”

“Yes please, Nancy. An emergency’s come up, and I need to leave.”

“No problem, Doctor. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

“That, sadly, remains to be seen, but thank you.”

Jarrod’s news had shaken her, badly. When they’d left home nearly two years ago, she never thought about this kind of thing happening. It was an everyday occurrence – the thought had just never occurred to her. Thank God her brother hadn’t been on the bus too. Then she’d have two people to worry about. But his news had definitely made a crappy day even crappier.

She needed to get out of the office. Right this second. To go to her quiet place. The beach called to her – her place of solace and calm. Where she could quietly sort through the chaos of her feelings. She couldn’t get there quick enough.

My Girl: My Girl – Chapter 1

Posted on by Dorothy

Gabriel

The shriek of metal as it twisted, a child’s shrill scream of distress, and the sound of glass shattering as it exploded ripped through the quiet of night. Sleeping passengers were woken with a fright as the bus tipped over, and then over again, onto its roof. As the bus skidded down the road upside down, time slowed. Like he was viewing the world from underwater, Gabriel watched from his window as the barrier grew ever closer to their vehicle.

He closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable. Regret filled him. For all the things he should have said or done. For missed opportunities. But most of all, for never having had the balls to tell the most important person in his life how he felt.

That barrier was the only thing between them and a substantial drop down a mountain cliff. There was no way they could survive a fall like that. His thoughts went to the families on the bus, the small children whose innocent lives would be over before they even began. A familiar feeling of helplessness assailed him, and he had to fight back the urge to scream out his pain and his rage against it.

Time seemed to slow, and Gabriel lost all sense of it and reality. At some point during the continually rolling over of the bus, he became trapped, his right arm and upper torso pinned between two seats. Blood trickled in his hair, over his face, and down his arm.

When the bus had first gone over, he’d been jostled about like a ragdoll. But when the metal had started twisting, clamping him in an unforgiving metal grip, he’d no longer been able to move. Excruciating pain had radiated out from his arm, quickly spreading through his body. Everything hurt. But as he hung there, a blessed numbness finally settled over him.

In his mind’s eye, however, present and past merged, becoming impossible to separate, and he could see the past like a movie playing solely for his viewing. It took him back to another time, another place. He’d been consumed by this raw anguish, powerlessness, an all-pervasive fear that had gripped him on that other night. The terror was so like the past that at some point they blurred into one, and he slipped into that nightmare.

He no longer heard the scraping of the metal as it slid across the asphalt to what surely would be their death. He never noticed the change in the road’s camber slowing the bus down in its final approach to the barrier. He was oblivious to the vehicle coming to a jarring halt against the structure as it held firm. All he could see was the traumatic events on that night long past.

An eerie hush settled over the accident scene.

But for Gabriel, there was no lack of noise. His world was overwhelmed by deafening sound. Glass shattered, wood splintered, and all hell broke loose as five armed men burst into their homestead. He watched as his father shouted at the home invaders in rage, his mother screaming in pain when they dragged her away by her hair, and his siblings huddled together, wailing out their fear. He stood, immobilised by the horror he was witnessing, unable to utter a sound.

Then he heard his father shout, “Boeta, vat hulle en hardloop.” Son, take them and run, referring to his younger siblings.

But he’d been unable to. The feeling of paralysis persisted. His heart pounded in his ears, rivalling the rest of the noise. It was only when he saw his father lurch for the nearest gun that he was finally galvanised into action by an even greater fear.

“Nee, Papa. Moenie!” No, Daddy. Don’t! He screamed as he ran towards his father.

Gabriel heard a terrified scream from his parents’ bedroom a split second before a single gunshot. As if in slow motion, he saw his father sink to the ground, a startled look on the man’s face, his own unfired weapon still clutched in his hand. Gabe watched as a crimson-red patch appeared, growing at an alarming rate.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder but couldn’t turn his head to see who it was. Couldn’t run to escape certain death. The paralysis had returned.

“Mr Stone? Mr Stone? Can you hear me, sir?”

The voice was unfamiliar. Confused, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Mr Stone? Can you open your eyes for me? Mr Stone?”

Slowly, unbearable pain began to filter into Gabriel’s awareness. As if through a filter, he heard the racket around him, but the distinct sound of flames was now missing. Had they managed to put the blaze out? Why did he hurt so badly? Had he been shot? Where were his parents, his siblings?

“Mr Stone?”

He couldn’t hold back the groan of pain as consciousness flooded his mind.

“There he is. Can you open your eyes, Mr Stone?”

Cracking an eyelid, he stared at the unfamiliar face.

“Welcome back, Mr Stone. We were getting concerned,” the paramedic said.

“Where’s my mother? Is she okay?” Gabriel whispered, his voice hoarse.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t recall a Mrs Stone being listed amongst the passengers accounted for. Was your mother on the bus with you?”

“Bus? What bus?” He frowned. Nothing made sense. “Is the house still burning? I can’t hear the flames anymore.”

The EMT looked over at his partner. She nodded and wheeled the gurney closer. Removing the backboard, she placed it down beside Gabriel, and together, they moved him onto it as carefully as they could. Despite the care with which they worked, Gabriel couldn’t bite back a low moan as agony washed through him. Once the straps were secured, they lifted him up onto the gurney and wheeled him over to the ambulance.

Ready to leave, the paramedic went over to speak to a police officer while his partner hopped in with Gabriel to monitor him en route.

“We’ve got a Mr Gabriel Stone loaded, and we’re taking him to St Marks Hospital.”

The officer acknowledged him, making a note of it on his pad.

About to turn away, he stopped. “Was there perhaps a Mrs Stone on the passenger list?”

The policeman consulted a piece of paper on his clipboard. “No, no Mrs Stone. Only a Mr Gabriel Stone.”

“Thanks.”

Returning to his vehicle, the paramedic carefully negotiated through the chaos before pointing it in the direction of the hospital.

Liberating Mia - Book 2, Unchained Duet: Liberating Mia – Chapter 3

Posted on by Dorothy

Mia was about ready to go out of her mind. She was stuck in a hotel room in Cape Town, cut off from her family, and loneliness ate at her. It seemed like a lifetime ago since she’d last seen or spoken to them, and she was feeling the isolation deeply.

Staying on the move, she’d zigzagged her way across the province of Gauteng before finally making her way back to the Western Cape and repeating the process in that province too. Finally too exhausted to keep going, she’d found a small hotel away from the popular beach area to hole up in and rethink her options.

Since she’d been on the run for about four weeks already, she hoped to hide in plain sight. Hoped that Dylan would think it too obvious a move for her to go home. She was beginning to feel like a rat trapped in a maze with no way out. If this was what her life would be like from now on, she’d far rather end it now.

There was no way Mia could see herself living the rest of her days on the run like this, always looking over her shoulder. Wandering from place to place just waiting for the day Dylan found her. And each day, she grew to hate him a little more for forcing her into a life that was no life at all.

Mia knew she couldn’t stay – she’d already been here for a few days. She just didn’t have it in her to move on quite yet. However, to stay in one place for too long meant the chances of Dylan finding her improved exponentially. In a day or two, she would need to be back on the road, but Mia realized that, at some point, she was going to run out of places to hide. Johannesburg and Cape Town were out of the question. Those were his home territories, and the risk was too high that he would find her.

By now, her family would have figured out something was going on since she used to speak to her mother almost daily, and it tore her up inside knowing they would be beside themselves with worry. But her fear was so great she didn’t want to contact anybody lest she put them in harm’s way. If Dylan suspected she had anything incriminating or that she’d seen what had happened, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her family to draw her out.

Mia couldn’t believe she’d never seen this side of him. How had she missed such a fundamental part of his personality? How could she have been so blind? Apparently, he’d simply been so good at hiding that side of himself. She’d never suspected such a monster lurked under that suave exterior.

Standing at the window staring out as the rain sleeted down, it echoed the desolation in Mia’s heart as the tears rolled unnoticed down her cheeks. What she wouldn’t give just to connect with someone without fear of putting their safety at risk. Even if only for a little while. Even a couple of hours interacting with another human being would be better than this deafening silence and godawful unrelenting loneliness.

Watching a water droplet slowly slide down the windowpane and collide with another, to be absorbed and make a bigger droplet, she got lost in the chaos of her thoughts. When she could no longer take it, she spun away from the window. Mia grabbed the remote off the bedside table and channel surfed aimlessly. Nothing grabbed her attention, and with a sigh of disgust, she threw the remote onto the bed beside her.

In a moment of rebellion, she decided to go down to the bar, and maybe later she’d treat herself to dinner in the hotel restaurant. She pawed through her meagre supply of clothing for something suitable to wear. Then she took extreme care getting ready, making the most of this one opportunity she would allow herself. When she was satisfied with the results of her efforts, Mia made her way to the elevator and to the bar.

She crossed the room, oblivious to the looks she was getting. Sitting down on a barstool, she ordered a drink. When the bartender put it down before her, she smiled her thanks.

Mia sat sipping her drink, contemplating what to do as yet another lonely evening stretched out before her. Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Dylan and the mess she found herself in.

In an effort to get away from her thoughts, she twisted in her seat to look around the room and noticed a man sitting at a table by himself reading a newspaper. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see his hands. And what hands they were. Tanned, manly, strong looking; they conjured up all kinds of thoughts as to what he could do with them.

No companion, no wedding ring. Her curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do other than stare at this man and create a fantasy in her head about who he was and what he did. Whether he was married, involved, single? Why was he here? Business? Or was he here for some personal business? Maybe he was here on holiday? But maybe, most importantly, how would it feel to have those hands all over her body?

As if feeling the weight of her stare, the man looked up, straight at her. For a moment, he just gazed at her. And then he smiled and took her breath away. The man was devastatingly handsome, but when he smiled? Dear god, he was positively lethal. He studied her for long moments, and Mia could feel her heart pounding just from his gaze. With another panty-dropping grin revealing a dimple in his left cheek, he stood.

Tall and well-muscled, he held himself with a confident ease she envied. Not once had he looked away from her. While maintaining eye contact, he folded the newspaper neatly, dropping it onto the table, and sauntered toward her.

Liberating Mia - Book 2, Unchained Duet: Liberating Mia – Chapter 2

Posted on by Dorothy

Mia sat with her phone in her hand, staring off into the distance. The call with their wedding planner had not been good news, and Dylan wasn’t going to be happy. Heaving a deep sigh, she decided to get it over and done with.

Striding down the hall, she called out to the housekeeper.

“Sabine, do you perhaps know where Mr. Dylan is?”

The Austrian woman and her husband had been in Dylan’s employ when Mia met him, and they were fiercely loyal to the man.

Sabine came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “He said he was going down to his office, Ms. Mia. He said there is some business he needs to take care of urgently.”

“Thanks, Sabine.”

Mia turned for the stairs that would take her down to his office in the basement. This was a feature that had puzzled her from the start as, generally, houses in South Africa weren’t built with basements. And yet, this monstrosity of a house had one.

When she’d asked about this peculiarity, Dylan had shrugged her off with a simple, “It’s for security reasons. My work is very sensitive.” She’d left it at that, but the area had always given her the creeps. She avoided it as much as possible.

The plush carpeting in the hallway deadened the sound of her footsteps as she made her way toward his office. As she neared the door, Mia heard Dylan shouting. Stopping short of the entry, she hesitated. If he was that mad already, maybe now wasn’t the best time to be having this discussion with him.

From her vantage point outside Dylan’s office, Mia noticed the conference door was slightly ajar. She crept closer, careful to stay out of sight of the door. All she could see were his legs, as if he were leaning against something, and a man whose face she’d couldn’t see from that angle sitting in a chair in front of Dylan. As she was about to turn and go back upstairs, she saw the man jump to his feet and realized it was Dylan’s friend, Omari. Without warning, Dylan struck. Shocked that he was attacking his friend, Mia stood rooted to the spot.

As he landed a punch, Mia clapped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to smother the gasp she couldn’t contain. Frozen in fear, she waited to see if he’d heard, but it seemed the sounds of his rage had masked that small sound. Something told her that had he heard her, she would have found herself in deep trouble.

In horror, Mia watched as Dylan systematically assaulted the man until he fell to the floor. He lay unmoving, and she started to back away, thinking it was all over. To her horror, the attack continued. Blow after blow rained down on the clearly unconscious man until all she could see was a bloody mess.

She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.

It was beyond her realm of comprehension that one human could harbor such intense violence. Mia had discovered early on in their relationship that Dylan had a temper when things didn’t work out as he wanted, but she would never have guessed he was this man.

With sudden clarity, Mia realized she didn’t know him at all.

The pleasant, thoughtful, loving man she thought she knew had been a façade he’d presented to the world to hide the monster that lurked within.

So lost in her thoughts, Mia’s body jerked in fright as the first shot rang out. She had to escape. Whirling away from the door she had almost opened, with the sound of gunshots ringing out, she ran as if the demons of hell chased her. Knowing she had to flee, Mia’s brain scrambled to formulate a plan of escape.

Dylan was a respected entrepreneur in the South African business community. He had diligently built up his reputation as an American investing in South Africa’s economy, so there was a high likelihood no one would believe her if she told them what she had just witnessed. Without any proof, she had no chance.

She couldn’t go to her family. Although her brother, James, was in law enforcement, it would be putting all their lives in danger, and she would never be able to forgive herself if anything happened to any of them because she’d fallen for Dylan’s lies.

The fog of shock began to dissipate, and her brain scrambled for a plan of action. A sudden thought popped into her head. She needed proof, and she was sure there would be something on Dylan’s computer. Sending a prayer heavenward, she hoped she’d be able to access it.

Dashing into Dylan’s office, Mia was grateful to find his computer on. If she could find anything implicating on it, maybe it would give her some leverage. She wiggled the mouse and thanked all the gods that someone was on her side as the desktop came to life.

Randomly pulling desk drawers open, she searched until she found a flash drive. Praying that she wouldn’t be caught, she inserted the flash drive and set the computer to copy files over.

Mia waited on tenterhooks for the files to copy. If anyone found her, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Dylan would kill her. There was absolutely no reason for her to be in his office, especially since he wasn’t there, nor had he given her permission to be there. Every unfamiliar sound made her heart pound.

After what felt like an eternity, the task was complete, and Mia pulled the flash drive out, put the computer back to the screen she’d found it on, and returned it to sleep mode. It would never do for someone to discover that she’d been there if she hoped to get away without a trace.

She made her way back to the door as quickly and quiet as she could, then spotted the wall safe standing open. Praying it wouldn’t make a sound as she opened it wider, Mia rocked back in surprise at the neat stacks of cash within. She stuffed as much as she could into her clothing, anywhere she was able, before bolting from the room.

Dashing up the stairs to their bedroom and into the walk-in closet, Mia grabbed an overnight bag and haphazardly threw things in. She cast a critical eye around to ensure nothing appeared to be out of place, and she hurried out of the house, making sure to avoid anyone. There would be no way to explain her way out of her apparent departure.

As Mia slipped into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes SLK, she breathed a sigh of relief. She backed the vehicle out of the open garage and quickly made her way to the gate. Once she was off the property, Mia drove like one possessed to put as much distance between her and Dylan as she could before he realized she was gone.

She could only hope he wouldn’t figure out she’d been witness to his little “meeting” with the dead man. Considering what he’d done to his one-time friend in his boardroom, she had no doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her too.

What she couldn’t understand was how she could have been so wrong about him.

Had there been signs of the real Dylan that she had missed? Or had she subconsciously ignored any warning signs? Looking back, Mia supposed there had been, but she’d been too dazzled by the persona he had presented in his fierce and single-minded pursuit of her.

At the time, Mia had been overwhelmed by the charming man he’d appeared to be. He was wealthy, sophisticated, and had seemed so far out of her league. When he had started wooing her, Mia had been so deeply flattered this sought-after bachelor had wanted her she had been too star-struck to see him for the ruthless cut-throat he apparently was.

Smothering a yawn, she pulled into the parking lot of a small hotel. The adrenalin rush had subsided, and she was crashing. She would get herself a room so she could get some rest and regroup — try and figure out what to do next.

Mia figured her best chance at survival would be to stay on the run. She couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, put her family in danger. She’d been the one to bring this monster into their midst. So it would be up to her to find a solution to this problem.

A meal and a shower later, Mia felt a bit more herself. She powered up her laptop and inserted the flash drive she’d taken from Dylan’s office. The directory came up on her laptop, and she started opening documents to see what they were.

Mia reeled in shock as she began to realize exactly what it was she was reading.

The documents were detailed records of transactions buying and selling women and young girls. They listed dates, exchange points, and how much each female was bought and sold for.

Sweet baby Jesus, her fiancé was a human trafficker. The man she’d promised to marry was this man – this … monster!

Overwhelmed, stressed, anxious — exhaustion crashed over Mia, dragging her down in a pit of despair.  No longer able to hold her head up, she lowered it onto her arms and sobbed as if her heart were breaking. She needed to find a way out of this nightmare, and she had no idea how she was going to do it.

Liberating Mia - Book 2, Unchained Duet: Liberating Mia – Chapter 1

Posted on by Dorothy

Rage bubbled through Dylan like acid as he watched his friend and business associate via the security monitor. As he stood before the bank of screens, he studied Omari pacing like a caged animal within the confines of a reception room. He’d specifically given instructions the man be left alone in the room.

I see you. I see the nerves you’re trying so hard to hide. You’re right to be scared, you stupid bastard.

While the thoughts churned in his mind, Dylan stood perfectly still. Outwardly, he gave no indication of his inner turmoil. That was his strongest asset in his business. In his circles, he was known as El Tiburón. The Shark – cold and calculating. His name was whispered in fear.

The report he’d received from America regarding the last shipment to arrive lay on the desk beneath the row of monitors, as if mocking him. He snatched it up, skimming the contents for the umpteenth time. Now, the shipment that should have been leaving in a day or two would have to be delayed as they inspected the merchandise for damage. A fresh wave of searing fury washed through him as he contemplated the possible loss of revenue.

His brother, Mason, served as his operations manager and had brought the issue to his attention initially. While there were times Dylan worried about his brother’s mental state in his personal life, there was no question the man excelled at his job. Mason never missed a thing when it came to their business.

His summons had been brief and intentionally vague, crafted to create the impression of an invite. It wouldn’t do to tip the man off. Omari was slippery and would disappear without a trace. If he did, it would rob Dylan of his one chance to exact his revenge. And that really wouldn’t do.

They’d met at college, and he’d soon discovered he had much in common with the Congolese national. When he’d been drafted into the syndicate, his friend had been a natural choice to help him expand his business outside of South Africa and into Africa as a whole. Omari had a natural head for business and a wide list of contacts that would serve them well.

But in the past year, things had changed. The friend he thought he knew had morphed into someone unrecognizable. It had only recently come to his attention the man had been sampling a variety of the merchandise. That’s when discrepancies that had cropped up in the books made sense.

Dylan whirled around and stalked to the door. Before leaving the room, he spoke softly to his righthand man and trusted enforcer.

“Christoff, please bring Mr. Kitengi to the boardroom.”

“Yes, Mr. Hunt, sir. Right away.”

As he settled in at the conference table, Dylan called up the surveillance for the reception room Omari was in. He watched as Christoff opened the door and motioned for the man to follow him. As his friend went to do as instructed, Dylan turned the screen of his phone off and sat back in his chair. Hands folded on top of the table, he waited for them.

At the enforcer’s knock, Dylan called out, “Enter.” The door opened. “Ah, Omari. Please, come in,” Dylan invited.

The man stepped into the room.

“Good afternoon, Dylan. It’s good to see you.” Omari offered his hand in greeting.

Shaking the proffered hand, Dylan smiled. “Come, sit. What can I get you to drink?”

“Some of that single-malt scotch of yours would go down well, my friend.”

“Christoff, if you will?” He turned his attention to the document lying on the table. With a gesture to the papers, he addressed Omari. “I’ve received a report from the US. It seems we’ve suffered some damage of the one brand of merchandise and loss of another brand. Thankfully, the loss is minimal, but the damage. Well, the damage is going to be more costly. And that displeases me.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan, but I don’t follow. Everything was in order when the shipment left. Was there a storm at sea? And the loss of merchandise – did this not perhaps happen at customs?”

Dylan’s cold smile did not reach his eyes. Omari attempted to surreptitiously wipe his hands down the leg of his pants. Ran a finger around the inside of his collar.

“There’s always the possibility,” Dylan replied. Steepling his fingers, he rested his chin on his fingertips. Studied the man opposite him. His gaze didn’t waver as Christoff returned with the drinks. Not once did he blink as he regarded his friend. The bitter taste of betrayal was a flavor he found he had no stomach for.

“Christoff, would you please be so kind as to hand this document to Mr. Kitengi?”

Dylan continued to watch as a clearly uneasy Omari read the pages. Sweat had beaded on the man’s forehead and top lip, and Dylan watched as a drop rolled haphazardly down his friend’s cheek.

“Dylan …”

With a chopping motion, Dylan stopped him. Ever so softly, he said, “You get one chance to tell me the truth.”

“I–I don’t kn—” Omari swallowed. “I don’t know what happened here. But I’ll make it my mission to find out.” He snapped his mouth shut as Dylan continued to stare at him, not saying anything more.

Silence stretched uncomfortably in the heavy atmosphere. Dylan saw the other man’s eyes widen in fear as Dylan stood and came around. Resting against the sturdy wooden table, Dylan stretched his legs out in front of him. Crossed them at the ankles. He had yet to say a word, all the while holding Omari in his steady gaze. Gracing Omari with another emotionless smile, Dylan crossed his arms over his chest.

“You stupid bastard! Did you really think you could ‘sample’ the merchandise without consequences? They are not prostitutes for your personal pleasure; they are my business, my means of making money. Not to mention the powder you’ve also been ‘sampling’!” Dylan suddenly screamed, his face mottled with rage.

“No, that’s not– I– no, no—” Omari held his hands up as, once again, Dylan cut him off.

“Shut up! I just spent the better part of an hour trying to calm my associate in San Antonio after he got a good look at what you did to your last bedmate. It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t beat the ever-loving crap out of them. But that’s neither here nor there, since I will not tolerate this kind of bullshit. This is my business, not your personal playground. If you want a fuck buddy, find one of your own. Keep your hands off my merchandise.”

Omari jumped to his feet, terror clear on his face.

Without warning, Dylan pounced. He struck the man, and as Omari reeled from the force of the blow, Dylan went crazy, punching him repeatedly as his anger grew. When Omari finally fell to the ground unconscious, Dylan didn’t even notice as he continued his assault by kicking the prone man. When his rage finally abated and Omari lay unmoving on the floor, Dylan turned to Christoff and said, “Give me your gun.”

Taking the pistol in hand, Dylan calmly emptied the clip into the man who had been his friend and business associate, his go-between with Africa.

He straightened his clothes, and sighing deeply, turned back to Christoff, snarling, “Find me someone reliable to take Mr. Kitengi’s place.” He started for the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Oh, and Christoff, get the cleaners in to clean up this mess.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Hunt. Consider it done.”

Trusting Laurence - Book 1, Unchained Duet: Trusting Laurence – Chapter 3

Posted on by Dorothy

With a watery laugh, Maddie stepped out of her mother’s arms. She turned to the man standing in the hallway, wiping at her tears.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Tahlia stepped back to make space for the two of them to enter her suite.

“Come on in. Make yourselves at home.” She gave a little smile of her own, just as she too wiped at the tears on her cheeks. Once they were seated, she asked, “Can I get anyone something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Perhaps something a little stronger?”

Maddie shook her head and patted the seat beside her. “No, Mama. Come sit. We have so much to talk about.”

Tahlia took the seat beside her daughter, worrying at the Kleenex in her hand. Eventually, the other woman took her hand in her own, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. She held tightly, unable to do more than savor the moment. There had been many nights she’d cried herself to sleep, believing she would never experience a moment like this one again.

“Mama?”

With a jolt, Tahlia realized Maddie had been speaking to her.

“Sorry, darling. Did you say something?”

“No, thank you on anything to drink.”

She nodded her acknowledgement. “Well then …” She faltered.

Giving the man sitting opposite them a smile, Maddie turned back to her mother. “Mama, I’d like to introduce you to my fiancé, Darryl Montgomery. Darryl, my mother, Tahlia Forrester.”

A confused look on his face, Darryl asked Tahlia, “Forrester? I thought you said O’Connor on the phone.”

“Yes, that’s correct. I took my maiden name again when my divorce from her father went through.” Tahlia answered, before turning to her daughter. “Oh Maddie, I’m so sorry, my love. I wish things had been different. I regret the years we’ve lost. I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

“I don’t understand, Mama. What happened? Why did you disappear like that? Why did they tell us you were dead?”

Tahlia braced herself. She knew she owed her only child answers, and she’d known this conversation wouldn’t be an easy one. She just hadn’t realized quite how hard it would be to put it all into words. The emotion thickening her throat didn’t make things any easier. With a sigh, she squeezed the hand that still clung so tightly to her own.

“When Aunt Clary found me after the last beating, she called in a favor from a friend. She knew, with your father’s connections, that if we simply reported it to the local precinct, it would be made to quietly disappear, like the first few times I’d filed complaints. Her friend knew of an organization called Friends of Patty who help victims of domestic abuse find safety.” Stopping a moment to gather her thoughts, she couldn’t bring herself to meet Maddie’s gaze. As if from a distance, she heard the other woman murmur to Darryl. The next thing, she felt her free hand being lifted and a glass being pressed into it. On pure reflex, her fingers closed around the glass. Focusing on it, she saw it contained water.

“Have a drink, Mama.” Maddie started the soothing rubbing over the back of her hand again.

Tahlia took a sip, then another. Gathering her composure, she continued. “They were more than willing to help, but it meant I had to disappear. Tahlia O’Connor would cease to exist, and in her place, someone new would emerge. When they said that, I didn’t realize it meant they’d tell everyone I’d died. Although, it makes sense, I guess. So, I disappeared. I gave up everything that day. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. I got tired of living in fear that someone your father hired would find me and that I’d have given it all up for nothing. So, here I am.”

When she finished speaking, absolute silence reigned. No one said a word. Eventually, she gathered the courage to look up at Maddie. “I’m sorry, baby. Sorrier than I can adequately express. I would never have agreed to it if I’d known they’d put you through such hell. I would have found another way.”

Maddie’s eyes welled with fresh tears. “Oh Mama, I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that. I won’t deny it was a difficult time. And I can’t tell you how much of a shock it was when I heard your voice on the phone earlier. But I understand why you did it.” Dashing away tears that had escaped, she continued. “After you, well, I guess, left, Aunty Clary gave me time to grieve and then she sat me down, said there was something she needed to tell me. She warned me it wasn’t pretty, but dear god Mama, never in my wildest dreams did I expect what she told me. Aunt Clary laid it out for me, everything that Daddy did to you all those years.”

Her words faded away as a sob broke free. Tahlia folded Maddie in her arms and rocked her like she used to when she was a little girl.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Without a word, Maddie tightened her hold on her mother.

After some time, when both had their emotions under control again, they shared stories of their lives over the years that Tahlia had been gone. Maddie told her how she’d met Darryl, sharing photos of their engagement party and all about the wedding.

“You know you’re going to have to come to the wedding now, right? There’s no way I can get married without you, now that I know you’re alive and well. In fact, I would love it if you would walk me down the aisle. I’d intended asking Darryl’s dad, but I want you to do it. Please, Mama?”

Tahlia couldn’t hold back a soft gasp. She’d hoped Maddie would be willing to let her be a part of her big day, but she’d never imagined she’d go so far. Her heart was full to bursting with love and happiness.

“Maddie, I would love that!” She could do nothing else but agree.

Giggling like two little girls, they hugged.

“Maddie, sugar, I hate to ruin your reunion with your mama, but we need to get going. We have to be at the caterer’s in thirty minutes.”

“Oh damn. I forgot all about the caterers.” Clapping her hands, she grinned at her mother. “Why don’t you come with us? I’m not ready to say goodbye, Mama. Please say you will?” She turned to Darryl. “It’s okay if Mama comes with, isn’t it, Darryl?”

“Yes, of course. You’re most welcome to join us, Ms. O’Connor.”

Maddie’s excitement was contagious, and Tahlia couldn’t, didn’t want to, say no.

“I’d love to, princess.”

“It’s settled then. Come on, let’s get going.”

She watched as Maddie bounced off the couch and headed for the door. Rising from the couch at a slower pace, she fetched her purse. Her heart singing with joy, she joined her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law.

***

Larry had spent days combing through the accounting records Tahlia had given him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited about something, anything. It reminded him of how he’d felt as a young boy on Christmas morning, dying to see what Santa had left him.

For years, he’d looked for ways to take Marcus Forrester down. Before Larry’d joined the FBI, Marcus had hired the private company he’d worked for as security detail for his family. As Tahlia’s personal bodyguard, he’d seen firsthand how the bastard had beaten his young wife. In fact, Larry had almost lost his job because he’d intervened on one occasion. His boss had to do some fancy talking to save his job. Back then, he’d been stupid enough to believe he could save Tahlia from her husband.

He’d finally wised up when she’d refused to leave Forrester, despite the fact that she’d just come out of the hospital because of the last beating Marcus had given her.

Now, the key to incriminating Forrester had been handed to Larry, and the man was going to be his own downfall. Larry couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried.

A knock on his open door had him looking up from the document he was going over again. Mary-Beth stood with another sheaf of papers in her hand.

“What can I do for you, Mary-Beth?”

“It’s more like what I can do for you, sir. I’ve got more on Senator Forrester.”

“Excellent. Thank you,” he said, holding out a hand.

Once she’d returned to her desk, Larry scanned the new information. Nothing jumped out at him on his first pass, so he laid them on his desk, going back to the financial records he’d been reading.

A sudden thought had him reaching for his desk phone and hitting the speakerphone button.

“Mary-Beth, do me a favor and get Jim Wilder, the warden of Colombia Penitentiary, on the line for me?”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

While he waited for the call to be put through, he swung back and forth in his chair, formulating a plan in his head.

He picked up the handset on the first ring.

“Warden Wilder on the line for you, sir.”

“Thanks. Please give Finn a call and ask him to come see me as soon as he’s able?”

“Yes, sir. Patching the call through now.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He heard the transfer taking place, and when the line connected, he said, “Jim, how’s it going?”

“Hey, Larry, my man. I’m good. How about you?”

“Yeah, I’m hanging in there.”

“So, what can I do for you today?”

“Listen, I hear you’ve got former Senator Forrester enjoying your facilities on the taxpayers’ dime. You reckon you could organize a visit for me?

“Yeah, I reckon I could swing it. What’s got you wanting to chat with our guest?”

“Seems he’s had his fingers in some nasty pies. Just wanted to have a little talk, see if he’s willing to share a little information.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Yeah, give me a few. I’ll come back to you with a time”

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Haven’t seen you at the club lately. You got a new subbie you keeping to yourself?” Larry heard the man chuckling.

With a laugh of his own, Larry replied, “Nah, just haven’t had the time. This case I’m working on has had me tied in knots. It’s run cold, and we’re scrambling to heat it back up. That’s why I’m hoping Marcus Forrester’s going to hand me a match. I need to make a plan to pop in soon though.”

“All right, my man. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have that time for you.”

“Thanks, Jim, I appreciate it.”

Hanging up, he dialed Mary-Beth’s extension.

“Sir. I got hold of Finn. He said he’ll be back in the office around two. I told him to come straight here.”

“Great. Thanks.”

He returned the handset to the receiver and sat back in his chair. With a grin, he contemplated how difficult he could possibly make Forrester’s sequestered life. Damn, he was looking forward to it.

Much as he anticipated his visit, he had work waiting for him. This case wasn’t going to solve itself.

While he waited for Finn to join him, he returned to the pile of files lying on his desk. Television glamorized his job, but when you got right down to it, it was boring, repetitive fact-checking and clue searching that made up the bulk of any investigation. The exciting bits were fewer and farther between than they like to make out.

Eventually, he picked up the file Jackson had put together for him on Marcus. She’d been pretty thorough in her search, and he was surprised at some of the things she’d managed to dig up. Although he shouldn’t have been. She’d been on his team for a good number of years, and she’d proven her worth, time and again.

He had no idea how or where she found the information that she did, but he had never known anyone quite as talented at ferreting out the kinds of things she managed to dig up on suspects. The kinds of things nobody wanted discovered.

He became so engrossed in the file it took a moment for him to realize there’d been a knock on his door. Looking up, he found Finn standing in the open doorway.

“Finn. Come on in. Have a seat.”

“You’re looking for me, Boss?”

“Yeah. I’ve got some interesting reading for you,” Larry stated as he handed the file over. “Jackson’s found us some interesting tidbits. Also, I’ve had a chat with the warden at Colombia Penitentiary. Thought you might want to ride along on the day.”

“Yeah, I’m down for that.”

“Great. As soon as I’ve heard back from Wilder with a time, I’ll let you know.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get the file back to you.”

Larry watched as Finn left, his mind already turning to thoughts of his impending visit.