Chapter 1
Chapter One
I can hear your moans, your cries, and listen to your pleas,
I’ve imagined your tongue, your fingers, your hands stroke and tea S e.
Your limbs would writhe, your body twist as you beg for permission,
When what you truly need do is f A ll to your knees and seek redemption.
The path you’ve chosen is that of the devil—they are his words you spew,
Your saving grace is that I alone have been chosen to saVe you—from you.
Do you see? Do you hear? Every sense inside screams for recognition,
That feeling of snakes slithering across your sk I n isn’t just premonition.
Those who choose to leave the light are left to walk through the darkness in fear,
There is always a price, a sacrifice made—for those who sin—at O nement is near.
Fiona
I wanted to ask her to stop, tried to block out her voice, because I didn’t need to hear the words again. I’d read them dozens of times… why, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps because I thought that somewhere within them lay the identity of the… the what? Poet? I couldn’t accept that this was poetry–words meant only to frighten me. And that is what each one of those slips of paper had done the moment I’d received them. What they were still doing.
Scaring the shit out of me.
Being terrified didn’t mean I would cower in a dark corner and hide, though. I refused to be defined by some demented monster’s idea of what was right and what required redemption. All I could do was wrap my arms across my middle and present a brave front.
“Is this all of them?”
The question came from the woman seated behind the desk. She had the eyes of someone who not only understood my fear but someone I was pretty sure had experienced terror at some point in her life. When I didn’t immediately answer, she stood and moved around the desk, not to take the chair next to the one I was currently sitting in, but to squat down until she was eye level with me. It wasn’t until she held out the tissue that I realized she’d plucked it from the box on the corner of the desk.
“I know this is shitty and scary as fuck, but you’re no longer alone.”
After I’d taken the tissue and wiped away tears I hadn’t even been aware of shedding, I tried to speak, but it was as if I’d either forgotten how or was too afraid that if I opened my mouth, instead of words, a scream would come out. Feared that once the first note of hysteria sounded, I’d be unable to stop others from escaping.
Audra Brooke, as the blonde woman had introduced herself, didn’t rush me, didn’t look at her watch or act as if she had anything else to do other than remain at my side and hand me a second and then a third tissue. And when I finally broke and no amount of tissues was enough, she simply opened her arms and wrapped them around me. I had no idea how long I cried, but by the time the flood had tapered off, I was exhausted and the front of her white blouse was soaked enough I could tell she’d chosen to wear a pale-pink bra beneath the saturated fabric.
I inhaled deeply, and though it was admittedly shaky, it was enough to have Audra give me a little smile.
“Hold that breath.”
I obeyed and when she instructed me to release it slowly, I did that as well. She had me repeat the cycle three more times before she dropped her hand over my clenched ones and gave them a squeeze. The fact she managed to rise without so much as a grimace after squatting for so long told me she wasn’t a stranger to the gym. I’d always been pretty content in my own skin, but right now I really wanted to be the gorgeous woman in the black pencil skirt and white blouse, wet spot and all. I wasn’t sure what startled me the most. The sound of a laugh or the fact it came from me.
Audra didn’t seem surprised in the least. “Good.”
“Good?” I had no clue what could possibly be considered good.
“I knew you weren’t some meek little lamb the moment you came through the door, but to hear you laugh tells me you are also ready to kick some arse.”
Audra walked to the credenza spanning the wall to my right. Opening a door, she pulled out a rather large bottle and two shot glasses. From the level of the liquor, this wasn’t the first time the bottle had come out of its hidey hole. That didn’t particularly surprise me, but the label on the bottle sure did. If I wasn’t mistaken, the portrait of the man on the label with his wire-rimmed glasses and smoking cigar told me she was currently pouring one of the most expensive bourbons in the world. She offered a glass to me and I was pleased to see my hand wasn’t shaking as I took it… well, at least not enough to cause the rich, amber-hued liquor to slosh over the glass’s rim.
Damn, just hearing the suggestion in the lilt of her accent, proved the British had the upper hand when it came to calling someone an ass and still making it sound both a little naughty as well as a whole lot sexier. She clinked her glass against mine and we both tilted our heads back. We didn’t take dainty sips. That wasn’t what this situation called for. No. Girding our loins to figure out how to find and stop the creep stalking me required throwing back the entire contents of the glass in one move.
“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s ass not arse?”
The new voice came from behind me and was as deep and smooth as the aged bourbon I’d just attempted to swallow. Instead, I whipped my head around and in a very unladylike manner, spewed at least $300 worth of Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve all over his suit. To top it off, I almost fell in an attempt to put my glass on the desk before grabbing a handful of tissues from the box, and then tripped over my chair’s leg to land on my knees at his feet.
Where was a lightning bolt when one needed it!
Forget stalkers threatening to show me the way, the scariest thing I’d done in years was to lift my head. My gaze traveled over a pair of legs clad in black trousers, the fabric damp where the bourbon had landed. The cut of the suit, the tailoring, was perfection. My eyes lifted higher to see how smoothly the fabric laid over thighs I imagined were the circumference of my waist. I could feel my face flush as my focus moved to his crotch, trying to convince myself I was checking to find perhaps at least a wrinkle or the slight puckering of a seam. My concentration might have remained on the area that zipper hid beneath the cloth except for one thing. Right above that zipper was a buckle, and threaded through that buckle was a thin black leather belt.
I was positive I quit breathing at that moment, but the masochist living inside me didn’t stop my gaze’s journey. The suit jacket’s button hid what I’d bet my life would be an abdomen as hard as steel and as flat as the desktop. A white button-down shirt’s collar was the last chance I had of not confirming what I’d known the moment I’d heard that voice.
Tilting my head back another fraction of an inch, my gaze slid over a chin that had just the right amount of stubble to have my thighs clench in anticipation of the slight scratch against tender flesh as he smiled up at me just before he lowered his mouth to my core. The thought of his lips parting to take my throbbing clit between his teeth had me biting my lower lip. His nose was just slightly crooked, having been broken when he’d been the town’s local hero on the football field, as the quarterback, of course.
After what felt like both an eternity and at the same time no more than a second, I finally met eyes that had always brought to mind the waters of the Caribbean. I felt as if I were in a dream, could feel my body swaying. For the briefest of moments, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Beg his forgiveness for spitting on him, beg him to tell me why I hadn’t heard from him in over a decade, or beg him for permission to suck his cock.
Instead, when he grinned and his right eyebrow quirked, all confusion fell away and I did the only thing to be done. I jumped to my feet, pulled back my arm, made a fist with my right hand, and slugged him as hard as I could right above that stupid shiny gold belt buckle.
I’d love to say I lifted my fisted hands over my head in victory as I did a happy dance around the room. But, though I did dance, it was more like jogging in place as I clenched my right fist in my left palm and… well, I guess you’d call it whined.
“Oww, oww, oww, oww!” Even as I furiously blinked back tears, I glared up at the slab of granite that had most likely broken my poor hand. “Don’t you ever eat a damn cookie? How in the hell do you stay so fucking hard?”
“Don’t swear.”
If I had any sense, which I’d already proven I didn’t, I wouldn’t have pulled back my arm again when the order came without so much as a whisper of pain. As I launched my next punch, Landon Westerly simply reached out, caught my fist in mid-air with one hand, wrapped his other arm around my waist and pulled me in close enough that all I could see was an expanse of white and feel the button holding his shirt closed as my nose pressed against it.
It took a moment for my fury to finish its course through me, and another to chastise myself for reveling in the feel of his arm around me, but I was suddenly too exhausted to be angry.
“Uncle.”
As it had in our youth, uttering that one word was enough for the steel band of his hold to relax and for his hand to lift my chin and tilt my head back. “Good to see you too, Foo-Foo.”
“Don’t call me that!” Even my best growl sounded more like I was suffering from a bad case of laryngitis. My throat still burned from the bourbon it had half swallowed before shooting it out again.
“I take it you two know each other?”
I had to hand it to the statuesque blonde. Audra wasn’t only beautiful, professional, and compassionate, there was a good chance she was related to her countryman, Sherlock Holmes. Her investigative skills were proving legendary.
Being catty isn’t a good look for you, Fiona. And she is not the one you’re upset about is she?
I hated it when that stupid inner voice was right. In an attempt to save what little dignity I still had left, I pushed away from Landon’s chest and swiped my hands down my body as if they could remove the wrinkles in my shirt or the back splatter of alcohol on my jeans.
“Let’s just say that before I grew older and wiser, I was that clueless teenager who not only thought this jerk was the man of my dreams, I got laryngitis from screaming out his name.”
Audra looked between Landon and me, finally settling on Landon. “I’d say I see, but I’m afraid I don’t. The fact you aren’t strangers would be obvious to a blind man simply from the electricity I can feel sparking between you.” Her gaze shifted to me. “I’d say it was a case of unrequited love as rejection does tend to return one to our basic urges but screaming out his name ? That seems to contradict the unrequited portion, so I’m gathering you two were…?” Audra asked, leaving the last word unspoken as she poured another shot into my empty glass and held it out.
I took it, this time throwing it back successfully, the bourbon warming me the instant it hit my bloodstream. I honestly regretted wasting such a treasure and decided then and there that I’d suck on those spots of damp denim before I threw my jeans in the wash. Realizing I’d never answered Audra’s question, I shook my head. “No, I was a cheerleader. Any screaming was a requirement for my position on the squad and not for any, as you Brits say, shagging.”
“Fiona—”
“She wasn’t fucking asking you?—”
“If my memory serves me correctly, and it does, I believe you two includes me as well,” Landon cut in. “And stop swearing.”
“I didn’t swear. I said shagging !”
“Doesn’t matter. We all know they mean the same thing and you also managed to utter both.” He spoke with authority as well as a bit of humor mixed in. His chuckle was a full-throated rumble that invoked a sense of warmth and comfort. My hand might still be a bit achy from punching him, but that grin told me all was forgiven and made me want to crawl onto his lap, bury my face in his shirt and…
Oh shit!
Startled and way too late, I finally stomped on my libido and ripped my gaze from the sexiest grin I’d ever seen. Pulling myself up to my full height of five foot four and three-quarters of an inch, I looked at Audra.
“Would you please inform Mr. Westerly that I am in a meeting with you and we do not care to be interrupted?”
Audra’s eyes reflected an emotion I didn’t like as it looked far too much like sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ms. Flanagan, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not! I came to your office seeking help and?—”
“And we will definitely help you, but this office isn’t mine.”
“Whose is it?” I demanded, though I suddenly had a good idea I already knew the answer.
“It’s mine.”
Of course it was. I’d suspected it, but that didn’t make hearing it any easier. Still, I pulled up my big-girl panties and powered on. Turning my head, I met his gaze. The throbbing in my hand was the only reason he wasn’t doubling over in agony. “You work here too?”
“You could say that.”
I didn’t bother hiding the roll of my eyes. “I’m not saying it, I’m asking it. Do you work here or do you just serve as fucking eye candy?” The moment I said the word, I wanted to take it back more than I wanted my next breath. Not the curse word… I was mad and could cuss all I wanted. It was the word before that. Though Landon didn’t say a thing, he didn’t need to. All it took was his lips not just to twitch, but to curl into a full-on smile, open lips, pearly-whites gleaming to have me remembering the last time the word serve had been part of our conversation.
The floor didn’t open up to swallow me. Lightning didn’t strike and I didn’t suddenly drop to the floor in a dead faint. Nope, all I could do was stare at the man as if I trying to imprint every last feature into my mind. Features I already saw every single night when I closed my eyes.
I had to fist my hands to resist the urge to slide my fingers through his hair. A ray of sunlight suddenly spotlighted Landon, bathing him in gold. But it wasn’t the halo the light provided, but the sheen of the strands of silver in his thick black hair that mesmerized me. Yes, it had been twelve years since I’d seen him, and yes he was a few months older than me, but I wouldn’t have thought enough time had passed for him to have gray hair. It took me a moment to realize that, while his smile remained, the humor in his eyes had shifted into something else. The cool blue of the ocean had darkened into the hue of water only seen where the land dropped away into an abyss. Dark sapphire blue drilled into me, sending me back to my teens as another memory surged to the surface. Landon wasn’t a man to give out warnings and the fact he’d already given me two about cussing had my feet instantly shuffle and my buttocks clench. All the words I’d ever known flew from my head, leaving me completely incapable of speech.