Rescued By Midnight (Men of Midnight #1)

Chapter 1

ALICE - THEN

It’s the dreams of Before that are both the torment and the reprieve. I let them swallow me down, even though I know, when I wake, that everything will be so much worse.

In this dream, Brayden comes home early from work. He calls out, “Alice?” before stomping inside, not bothering to remove his work boots.

How many times have I asked him to take off his shoes on the porch? The mud ruins my clean floors. I roll my eyes before hurrying to greet him, a fresh coat of the palest lipstick on my mouth. As I walk, I dry my hands on a dishtowel I’ve embroidered.

“Did you change something?” he asks, eyes narrowing playfully as he evaluates my outfit. “Haircut? New dress? You know we can’t afford to spend more money on things like that, not if we’re going to create your dream nursery.”

“No, silly.” I point to the vase of wildflowers on the carefully polished table that stands in our entryway. “I arranged those for you.”

A whole hour of work, and he barely looks at them before lifting me up and whirling me around in a circle.

“You’re too good to me.” He speaks the words into my neck before inhaling deeply. “I don’t deserve you, Alice.”

ALICE - NOW

Waking up is hardest. My dream disappears in a trail of noxious cigarette smoke. The faint sunlight streaming through cracks in the walls holds no heat. Beyond these flimsy walls, the chickens cluck in their coop, enacting their usual power struggles.

But today is different. Today, I wake alone. The cot next to mine is empty.

My eyes scan the interior of the tiny cabin. Where is he? Some kind of hunting excursion, probably. But he always warns me before he leaves. He always checks the chain, first.

“I need to make sure you’re secure,” he’ll say gruffly, tugging on it so the metal scrapes against my ankle. I barely feel it anymore.

I look down.

There is no chain.

That can’t be right. I search the bedding, hands shaking. Where is it? Maybe I imagined it all this time. “You’ve been free all along,” I whisper, giggling to myself.

I can leave. There’s no lock on the door. Nothing to keep me inside.

Tentatively, I stand. He could be waiting just outside. This is another one of his tests. If he leaves out a knife, will I try to stab him with it? Or will I try to unlock the chain? If there’s rat poison in the cupboard, will I try to poison him?

I did. I tried all those things.

Until I stopped.

Maybe he trusts me now.

Wishful thinking.

I step up to the door, my long nightgown trailing behind me. I hate this thing, all white and lacy, like something a Victorian grandmother would wear.

“Abe?” I call.

No response. He never has told me his name, but when I started calling him Abe, he responded. I needed to call him something.

I try again. “Abe, are you there? Do you want eggs for breakfast?”

He always answers me when I ask for him. When I’m scared in the night, he’s the one to comfort me.

Is he hurt?

Better question: do I want him to be?

I may as well fix breakfast. If he’s out hunting, he’ll be hungry when he returns.

It’s strange taking steps around the cabin without the metallic slither of the chain following my every move.

I stop in front of the camp stove. What am I doing?

My dreams aren’t filled with chains and camp stoves.

They’re filled with my perfect home in San Esteban, and my perfect husband.

They’re filled with clean floors, a spotless kitchen, and paint swatches for the nursery, for the perfect family we were planning.

Turning back toward my cot, I see the chain. Unlocked, coiled under the bed like a waiting snake.

If this is a test, I will fail it like I failed the others.

Returning to the door, I open it.

And then I run.

CODY - NOW

Somewhere behind and above us, the Vice DJ switches to the next song. Everyone dancing screams in delight, and several people at the bar abandon their drinks and run for the floor.

The dancers seem so young, although the club caters to ages twenty-one and up.

Leaning over, I nudge Landon with my elbow. “Tell me again why we’re in this club?”

“Because.” He spins around on his stool at the bar to survey the dance floor. “Somewhere in that crowd is the girl we’re taking home with us tonight.”

I snort. “Nope.”

“If we’re lucky, we can convert her to our kinky ways.”

“Still nope.”

He sighs and pretends to stare morosely into his whiskey. “You’re about as much fun as my sixth grade teacher, Mr. Kleff.”

“Yeah? Did he also tag-team dates with you?”

He scoffs. “Don’t be an asshole, Wells.”

“Don’t be a dickhead, Sprechter.”

He looks tempted to fight it out, something we often did in college when we’d get competitive over a woman. However, we stopped fighting once we realized we were much better at pursuing a woman together, and giving her everything she could possibly want—twice.

Landon holds up his drink. “You’ve been walking around like a sad country song ever since the end of the Nove job.”

The Nove job. We’d been in charge of helping Seth Colton and Damiano Romano protect their girlfriend, Madison. Witnessing their interactions pushed Landon toward something like hope for our future, for finding another woman for a long-term relationship.

There’s no hope. We had it, and it’s gone now. Forever.

And it’s not just the Nove job. Too much has happened over the past five years.

“What the hell fucked you up?” His lips quirk. “Did your dick stop working?”

I bend my elbow and aim for his dick, but he’s too fast. Or maybe he expected it.

“The only impotent thing in this room is your sense of humor.” I stare into my nearly empty pint glass, wondering if I should order another.

“Get your ass up and dance with someone,” he says. “Anyone. I swear if you don’t, I’ll…”

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for his threat.

“I’ll call your sister.”

“Fuck you, you wouldn’t.”

He reaches for his phone. Goddamn him. I drain my beer and stand. The song is pretty catchy—something new by Cinderella, from the sounds of it. When I hear Bastian Crown’s voice join hers, I know for sure it’s a Cinderella track.

Everyone on the dance floor is pressed together, bodies writhing. From the DJ’s vantage point, it probably looks like some kind of orgy. I find a group of women and dance close by until one of them eyes me back, her smile encouraging.

I move in, dancing without showing off. Letting her shine. One of her friends mouths, “Oh my god, Julie!” as I come in closer and grab the hips of who I assume must be Julie.

“This is cool?” I lean in close to ask her.

“Yes.” She spins in my arms and puts her hands on the back of my neck, her fingernails lightly scratching.

We sway to the music. She presses closer, which I certainly don’t mind, although I wouldn’t have pushed so far, so fast.

Landon was right to bully me into this. I need to move my body, to touch another person. Physical contact is important to me, always has been. In the past few years, that’s been easy to forget.

Maybe Landon would do a one-night-stand with me. Probably not with Julie, who seems too brazen for our tastes, but we could find someone else who suits us both, at least long enough for a night.

Julie’s eyes narrow at something behind me.

“Everything okay?” I turn and see Landon gesturing at me from the bar.

She pouts. “That guy over there is trying to get your attention. Is he your boyfriend or something?”

“No.” But I don’t like the way she said the word boyfriend. It sounded a touch too judgmental. I carefully remove her arms from my shoulders. “I should see what he wants. Thanks for the dance.”

I barely hear her huff of outrage as I move away. That interaction could’ve gone better. Usually the women I dance with here are happy for a brief connection, like I am.

Ignoring whatever fallout is happening behind me, I meet Landon at the edge of the floor.

“We gotta go,” he says.

“What? I’m finally dancing like you wanted. See?” I point at Julie, who is angrily pointing back while likely talking shit about me to her friends.

“No, I’m serious.”

I give him a doubtful look.

“An alert just came in.” He holds up his phone to show me a status update from the San Esteban Police Department. “They found her.”

ALICE - NOW

Brayden strides into the room, his face pale as he looks me up and down in my hospital bed. He’s shorter than I remember.

“Alice,” he croaks.

I want to laugh. The surprise on his face, all wide eyes, makes him look like a frog. When he says my name like that, with his mouth gaping, he sounds like one, too.

But I also want to cry with relief, because all those dreams I’ve had for the past year, all those memories that helped get me through…they saved me. He saved me. And here he finally is, in front of me.

I reach for him, my hand weighed down by the IV line.

He starts forward, but then someone else enters the room. Jericha, my best friend.

“Alice?” Disbelief is etched on her features, and although she smiles, I know her. I know that smile is fake. She lowers her hand protectively over her protruding belly. She’s pregnant.

A glittering diamond sparkles on her fourth finger.

Brayden stops dead, looking from me to her.

And in that moment, I know.