Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series

by Gemini Jensen

  Jolted by shock, my stomach dips and twists and nose-dives as if I were an unwilling participant forced to ride a roller-coaster.

  That’s a lie and you know it, my mind rebels.

  I know it because I’ll never be able to forget how he had me pinned up against a wall in the powder room—for thirty minutes. Making me want to cry, making me want to scream, and giving me the most intense orgasm in history.

  The sting of betrayal burns in my throat. He’s the reason I have to move, and far away, because he ratted me out to my mom. He’s forcing me away from him, nearly as far away as I can get within the continental United States, and that hurts like hell. At least, until my pain morphs into a simmering anger that I can’t control.

  My chair clatters to the floor as I stand—all at the same time my poor waitress brings out the entrée I’ve ordered. I glare at her, and she drops it on the edge of the table, eyes widening in fear as she takes two steps back before running into the kitchen.

  It takes me three seconds to fly around the divider, and come to a stop beside the table. Mom’s back is to me, but I see Gray glance my way as I approach, look away, and do a double-take before his Adam’s apple bobs. Jameson follows the direction of Gray’s eyes, squinting as the wheels begin to spin.

  He’s a smart guy. The realization dawns on his face within seconds, but he still looks to Gray for confirmation, which he awards with a nod. All of this occurs within the small window of time it takes me to reach their table. Mom still hasn’t caught on.

  “So, everyone is just going to sit around a table and decide my future without me?”

  Mom jolts, turning around in her chair with eyes emulating a perfect circle.

  “Newsflash! I’m not a kid anymore in case you haven’t noticed. I should get a say in what goes on with me.” My words grow louder and louder, all the while, Mom’s face grows more pale by the second.

  “V—” she interjects, but I slice the air with my palm as I yank out the only available chair sitting across from her, and in between the two men.

  “Save it, Mom. I’m not moving. I’ve just made up my mind. And you,” I direct my attention to Gray now, “how dare you? You’ve been working alongside my Uncle Jameson all along? Not to mention, you’re provoking them to force me to move?” I ask incredulously, before adding, “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact you think I’m seeing Pierce still. It’s just all about my safety, huh? Just so all of you know, I broke things off with Pierce after the event.”

  Surprisingly, everyone remains silent. When someone finally does speak up, it’s not one of the two people I’m most familiar with.

  “Val, it still doesn’t change the fact you’ve put yourself— and your mother by association—at risk here. The fact you broke things off is fairly inconsequential considering you shouldn’t have been out and about in public, particularly with someone who’s a well-known magnet for press-coverage, in the first place,” Uncle Jameson reminds me, his deep brown eyes giving me a stern look, and for a brief moment I feel like I’m a child who’s being scolded by her parent.

  A warm sensation lands on my knee, then pressure like a squeeze. Glancing down, I see it’s Gray’s palm attempting to soothe me without anyone else at the table noticing. Something about it is nearly sweet, but it just pisses me off more. I shove his hand away and glare. He shows no outward signs of emotion, but he doesn’t break eye-contact either, his eyes almost pleading as he attempts to convey something surreptitiously.

  “I’m not moving,” I repeat sullenly, continuing to glare at Gray. “Mom can move if she feels that’s what needs to be done. But I refuse.”

  Uncle Jameson scoffs, chuckling in amusement. “You’re hardly in a place to be bargaining. Using poor judgment. Making rash decisions. Might as well accept what is and let the adults here—the people who care about you—make the decisions for you.”

  My glare cuts across the table like two powerful lasers shooting from my eyes. Its path slides across my mother and hones in on my uncle.

  Adults who care about me? I come this close to letting loose an outburst of words I can’t take back, all out of spite. I’m proud to say I don’t. Because I’m just as much an adult as they are.

  I’m sick and tired of being labeled a child. Keeping all this in mind, I go for the adult approach in handling Uncle Jameson as well.

  “Uncle Jameson, I’m so thankful for all the sacrifices you’ve made over the years, for everything you’ve done for my mother and I. It’s no exaggeration to say, I wouldn’t be alive today without you. Mom wouldn’t either. But I’m tired of running. I’m tired of lying to good people, and living day to day always looking over my shoulder, like there’s nothing more important than tiptoeing through life just to ensure my safety. That isn’t life. It’s time for me to do something different, even if it is dangerous.” I sit up straight as I deliver the words, keeping my voice even yet assuring the tone is sincere.

  The softening of his eyes nearly tricks me into believing I’m victorious, but I know better.

  This isn’t a battle easily won.

  This isn’t just a battle anyways; it’s a war.

  “Valentina,” Mom’s soft voice comes out of nowhere, full of astonishment, “what is with you? Where is all this coming from?”

  I can’t help but allow my eyes to flick to Gray. “It’s coming from the fact I’m tired. I want a change, and the fact of the matter is, my life is going to change, ready or not,” I argue, grabbing the closest water to me and guzzling it down until it’s empty. I wipe my mouth to find the entire table staring at me like I’m on display.

  “Have you lost your mind, V? Are you suicidal? Because just waking up one morning and deciding to throw caution to the wind, to live however the fuck you want and ignore everything you’ve learned over the years, is pretty much like deciding you don’t care if you live or die. You’re going with your mother if I have to tie you up and put you in the backseat of her car. At least until you decide to get your head out of your own ass and start thinking clearly again. There’s no discussion. You will be safe,” Gray leans forward and grabs my hand as he speaks. I try to wrench it away, but he holds on tightly like he expected that reaction. So, I become pliant giving a small nod in agreement, and when his grip finally softens, I jerk away, standing up in one fluid movement.

  “Before you leave town again, I need to speak to you,” I say to Gray. My eyes flit about the table. Mom looks sad. Uncle Jameson looks annoyed and slightly disappointed. “Alone,” I add pointedly. “Now, I’m going home. And I’m unpacking. There’s not a damn thing any of you can do about it.”

  I turn around and storm off in the other direction, but I hear Gray’s voice address the table just before I’m out of earshot. “I’ll talk to her. I’m sure I can reason with her,” he tells them confidently.

  I scoff.

  Everyone seems to think I’m being petulant and childish. What they don’t understand is that I have my reasons, my very valid reasons. I get that Gray is worried about my safety, that his main goal is keeping me alive. But being without him is like seeing the world in only black and white; like eating without taste buds; like music without sound… It just doesn’t make sense. If Gray truly loves me, he’ll hear me out whenever he comes to talk to me.

  Because when you love someone, you want them as close to you as possible. You want to be able to reach out and touch them, to kiss them, whenever the need strikes you. You want to be able to see them each and every day. And when you truly love someone—passionately, madly, and slightly fanatically—you want to be consumed by them, you want to breathe them, drink them, devour them until they become a part of you forever.

  So, if Gray truly loves me, it would kill him to be apart from me, too. It isn’t just about me anymore, it’s about both of us.

  Walking past the hostess, I throw her another fifty dollars for my meal.

  “That’s for my food. The rest is for my waitress. Let her know it was delicious, I’ve just suddenl
y lost my appetite.”

  I didn’t actually touch my food at all, but I feel bad about the terrified look on my waitress’ face. I’m probably the customer from hell, and for all I know, this could be her first day or something. Rule number one: kindness is important. I wasn’t kind at all, so I’m trying to at least make some sort of amends.

  Stepping out into the parking lot, I walk over to my car, completely wrapped up in my own head. I hardly even check to see if any cars are coming as I cut across the rows of parking spaces. I unlock my car and open the door, and just as I bend down to climb into the seat, everything goes black.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gray

  “MAYBE YOU OUGHT to go after her, Gray. Make sure she doesn’t set us back by unpacking and having to repack again,” Jameson suggests, glancing across the table at Althia.

  I don’t need a second invitation. It’s not hard to read between the lines and tell when two people are seeking privacy. I already know the gist of what we all came to discuss, so there’s not much reason for me to be here other than the fact I wanted to catch whatever details about V and her day to day life I could, what she’s doing, who she may be seeing, if she has any new interests or hobbies—literally ANYTHING, that assures me she’s happy.

  From the way she just flipped out, it seems like she isn’t. Why else would the smartest girl I know be okay with putting herself in danger?

  We need this alone time together. We need a chance to catch up, and I’m eager to see what it is she wants to talk about. I nod and head out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. She’s been gone about two minutes, but I’m pretty sure I spot her car over in the corner. It’s crazy how, even though I’ve seen her only three times in the past four years, I still know almost everything about her. Everything Jameson says in passing just imprints into my memory forever. So, even though I haven’t seen or spoken to her since before she even received the gift, I still know the make, model, color, year, and even the damn plate number. Like everything else about her, I’ve memorized it all. I bypass my own car and walk straight to hers, right up to the passenger window. Surprisingly, she’s not inside. She was in such a fury when she left, I sort of expected her to already have vacated the area and be pulling back into her own apartment complex by now. Glancing around the parking lot, she’s nowhere in sight. Knowing she likes to go for walks when she’s upset, I decide to go grab my car and cruise up and down the nearby streets to see if she’s gone storming off somewhere.

  Yet, out of nowhere, a strange sensation slithers down my spine, and I decide to check her car, just to be sure it’s locked. The passenger side is still locked, but I head over to the driver’s side just to check it as well. As I round the rear of the car, I feel it in the air, my instincts yelling to me something is off. I notice her door is cracked, never having made it all the way closed. V always locks up when she leaves her home or her car—doesn’t matter what she’s doing; she’s been raised and trained to expect the worst.

  Drawing closer to the door, I open it, my eyes instantly landing on her toppled-over purse laying in the seat. My ears pick up on a vibrating coming from the floorboard of the driver’s side and as I lean over, I spot her phone lighting up with her mom’s picture.

  Blood rushes to my head, an intense pounding in my ears like a war drum following right after. My stomach drops to the ground. Picking up the phone, I answer it.

  “Send Jameson out here to the parking lot, NOW!” I order because as I lean back up, my eyes land on a few tiny drops of something I would have missed if I weren’t in such close proximity.

  Dragging my finger across the substance, then bringing it up to my face for further inspection, I can’t hold in the string of expletives that follow. The droplet has spread over the pad of my finger creating a thin layer of vibrant red, and it’s still wet.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck!” I roar, my body vibrating with the most anger I’ve ever experienced in my life. Like an idiot, I start running up and down the rows of parking spaces, peeking through the windows of all the cars. Logically, I know she’s already gone, but I’m not taking any chances.

  I look toward the front of the building but still don’t see Jameson. Where the fuck is he?

  Two seconds later, the doors fly open and he comes stalking out, his brown eyes wide in alarm as they scan the area and land on me. “What is it?” he bellows, heading straight toward where I’m still running the path of the last row of cars, checking in the windows.

  “What the hell took so long? Someone took Valley!”

  His face turns white, like someone splashed him in bleach.

  “What?” he sputters, before recovering himself and ordering, “Show me.”

  He follows at my heels as I take him over to Valley’s abandoned vehicle and allow him the time to draw the same conclusions I have, adding in the part about picking up her cell from the floorboard. Having more experience in these kinds of scenarios, it takes him far less time to find the droplets of blood, almost like he’s looking for it. He glances up at me, but I don’t think he’s actually seeing my face. His mind is somewhere else.

  Jameson is one domineering, ruthless, sometimes coldhearted, motherfucker. If I didn’t respect and trust him, he’d frighten me sometimes. I’ve seen a thousand different expressions on my boss’s face. Anger. Disdain. Pure disgust.

  But Fear has never been one of them.

  Never, not once…until now.

  And that look of fear currently marring his features is almost enough to induce a heart attack. My chest literally seizes, squeezes, and pain rips through me so intensely I think for a moment, I might die.

  But the words Jameson once advised when I began working for him overrule everything else.

  “You cannot allow your emotions to get in the way of your head. It can get you killed. It can get others killed. Emotions have no place in this business, and I know your feelings are what’s driven you to be here in the first place, but push all that aside. Lock it down. Only bring those sentiments back out when you feel like you’re overwhelmed and ready to give up.”

  Time is of the essence in this case. Extending my hand in front of my boss and letting it hang there, I watch him slow-blink, shaking the stunned reaction right out of his head, before allowing me to pull him up to standing position.

  “We need to act fast. I’ll go back to the restaurant and gain access to their security feed. You go to the store next door and see if you can’t get a different angle. There are four cameras pointed around the parking lot from what I can see,” I point them out as I continue, “I think the restaurant’s cameras will be the best vantage point for what type of vehicle she’s been picked up in. The store cameras will allow us to figure out which direction they headed when they left the parking lot. I’ll call you when I have the vehicle make so you know what to watch for specifically.”

  Not even giving him a chance to respond, I sprint back in the direction of the restaurant, passing Althia as I skip over the steps completely in one swift leap.

  “Gray,” she calls in panic as I pass, “what on earth is going on?”

  “Someone took V. Jameson is checking cameras next door. He’ll fill you in,” I huff, not taking the time to stop and explain more. I don’t even have time to stop and dwell over the shriek of a sob that reaches my ears. Jameson will comfort her if need be; Valley needs me more than her mom needs my reassuring words.

  Once inside the lies come easy. Luckily, the restaurant's manager is a woman a few years older than me, and she is easily charmed. I’m not really surprised by how quickly I’ve been given access to the office housing the security cameras to play back the footage. And making these idiots fall for my cover story explaining the need to not alert any nearby authorities, about Valley being someone whose family has connections and notoriety in certain circles and this is all a big training exercise so she’ll know what to do in a worst-case scenario, is far too easy. Not that I’m complaining. People are predictable. Lay on the charm, to
ss in some decent looks, and you can get practically anything you want from them. Plus, my excuse isn’t that far from the truth. The Malones do have connections and notoriety in certain circles, which made the lie even easier to tell. When I throw some money down on the table and thank the manager for her cooperation in being discreet, it seals they deal.

  I continue to stare at the monitor.

  Finally, a shot of a beautiful redhead enters the screen. She strides angrily down the steps located outside the front entrance, heading straight toward her car without giving much care to her surroundings. From her stiff posture, you can tell she’s upset. I even think I notice a subtle shake of the head as she stares at the ground, turning the corner of her car’s rear and making it to the driver’s door.

  And that’s when it happens. She’s so lost in her own head, so upset she doesn’t even notice the large form exiting the car beside her. Her back is to the man as he walks up behind her, striking her in the side of the head. From the way he’s holding his hand down to his side as he approaches, it makes me suspect he’s holding something when he assaults her right at her temple.

  I watch in horror as she visibly crumples, out cold, making it easy to lift her up and throw her in the back seat of the black Chevy Suburban. He climbs into the passenger seat, the vehicle backs out, and leaves the screen.

  Pulling out my phone, I begin rewinding the footage until I see the vehicle entering the parking lot, and begin recording. It doesn’t escape my notice that the Suburban pulls in about a minute after I do, when V’s car was already parked cautiously in the corner. Either someone tailed me, and I led them straight to her…or my car has a tracking device, and I led them straight to her.

  It’s all my fault.

  My fault she was upset.