Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels

by Aly Martinez

  So I stayed silent, leaned into the back seat, and pulled a fucking Kevlar vest on, vowing to arm our boys in blue with Rubicon the first chance I got. And then I prepared to take back my family.

  Clare

  “You stupid cunt!” Walt yelled into my face.

  His hand was still around my throat, and I struggled to pry his fingers away.

  I couldn’t breathe, and I was precariously close to losing consciousness.

  But knowing that, if I let go, I’d probably never wake up again gave me the strength to slam my knee into his groin.

  His body jerked and his grip loosened long enough for me suck in a sweet gasp of oxygen.

  He regained his hold on me, but with fresh air in my lungs and a lifetime of fear fueling me, I threw my fists into his face and another knee into his groin, and then I shoved him as hard as I could. Desperation made me strong, and he stumbled back.

  Suddenly free, I took off at a dead sprint. Snatching Tessa off the floor and then darting to the front door.

  My pulse was roaring in my ears, but I could hear his footsteps echoing behind me.

  I pushed myself faster.

  I struggled with the door before swinging it open and racing out front.

  I only made it two steps before pain detonated at the back my head, forcing me to a sharp halt before snatching me backward.

  “No!” I screamed as Tessa fell from my arms.

  Roman

  Heath parked one street over, and we jogged the rest of the way up to the Noirs’ front gate. His gun was drawn as he scanned the perimeter. The sun was just starting to set, and the pink Georgia sky made for a picturesque view. From the outside, it looked just like any other Atlanta mansion. No one could have imagined the evil residing inside.

  However, as a man’s vicious yell came from inside the house, I jolted into a reality I’d never wanted to be a part of.

  “Fuck!” Heath growled. “I’m going around the side to see if I can get in. You stay here,” he ordered before bolting away.

  The man yelled again, and this time, I heard the shrill of a child screaming too. An icy rage sent a shiver down my back, and fire shot through my veins. Shaking the tall, metal structure, I furiously tried to find a way inside. The steel wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I fought. Refusing to stop until I got to Tessa, I attempted to squeeze my bulky body between the bars, but it was useless.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I snarled, using my weight to try to pry the bars apart.

  I’d managed to wedge my shoulder between two of them when I saw the front door swing open. Clare came flying out, Tessa in her arms, Walter Noir directly behind her.

  “Clare!” I yelled as Walter snatched the back of her hair, pulling her to an abrupt halt and sending Tessa to the ground.

  “No!” Clare screamed as she fell.

  I shoved an arm through the bars, frantically trying to reach her, but she was yards away. “Tessa!” I shouted next, hoping I could get her to come to me. Her small body would have fit through the bars.

  Terror churned in my gut as Walter slammed Clare into the ground then charged after the child.

  I rammed my shoulder into the gate again, yelling, “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

  I swear to God I was going to rip that son of a bitch in half.

  If only I could get my hands on him.

  Clare

  I twisted, diving for Walt’s ankle as he went after Tessa. I caught him with one hand and sent him stumbling to the ground just as I heard a man yelling. I glanced up, fear consuming me at the possibility of it being one of Walt’s men.

  Only for my heart to burst when I saw Roman Leblanc standing like a white knight coming to rescue Tessa from the dragon’s lair.

  He was there.

  Someone had come.

  The sob tore through me as I fought to keep Walt down.

  “Take her!” I shrieked. “Take her!”

  “I can’t reach her!” he shouted, thrusting his arm through the metal bars of my prison.

  Walt reached back, ripping my hand off his leg.

  “Tessa, go!” I screamed when he got back to his feet.

  She was hysterical, tears streaming down her face, blood dripping from her scraped knees and elbows.

  “Mama!” she cried, running from Walt but too afraid to go to Roman.

  She was so close to being free. I couldn’t allow him to get his hands on her again. Drawing up the remainder of my strength, I pushed to my feet and sprinted after him. Slamming into his back, I once again took him to the ground.

  “Goddamn it!” he barked, rolling over, his fists flying at my face.

  “Tessa, go!” I ordered, doing my best to defend myself from Walt’s blows.

  Even through the struggle, I heard Roman trying to coax her over to him.

  “Tessa, don’t you fucking move!” Walt barked, his hands momentarily slowing their assault.

  I couldn’t see her from my position, but I prayed that Walt’s reaction meant she was heading to Roman.

  I couldn’t do anything but hurry her along and try to ease her into the arms of a stranger. “Tessa, it’s okay. Please, baby, go to him.”

  Then, suddenly, the chaos stopped.

  Everyone stopped yelling.

  Tessa’s cries fell quiet.

  And, in the silence, I actually heard the Earth begin spinning again.

  She had to have gone to Roman.

  He had to have finally gotten her.

  She was safe.

  She was safe.

  Oh my God. She’s finally safe.

  Tears poured from my eyes.

  My job was done, and within a second, my entire battered, beaten, and exhausted body finally gave out. Gravity finally defeated me as I sagged on the concrete driveway.

  My arms and legs were limp as one more of Walt’s fists landed on my face, but I didn’t feel it amongst the euphoria and relief.

  “She’s safe,” I found myself repeating as I felt Walt rise up off me.

  Keeping my eyes closed, I waited for the final blow that would end it all.

  I smiled, eager for the darkness.

  But it never came.

  The familiar sound of my name made my eyes flutter open.

  Walt was standing there. A gun to his temple.

  A long, muscular arm at the other end of the trigger. My daughter safely tucked into his side. Warm, blue eyes I immediately recognized stared back at me.

  “Heath, give me the girl!” Roman called.

  Heath?

  I blinked as he dug the gun into Walt’s temple. Then he whispered something in Tessa’s ear and set her down.

  Glancing back at me over her shoulder, she reluctantly ran to Roman and clung to his neck as he gently guided her between the bars of the gate.

  “Just get her out of here,” I begged.

  “Oh, I am, but I’m taking you, too,” he said.

  Oh my God. It has to be a dream.

  But not even my mind could have conjured a moment that beautiful.

  “Okay, Luke,” I whispered.

  Read more of the Retrieval Duet

  Transfer, Book 2

  I fell in love with a man who didn’t exist.

  What started out as romance ended in hell.

  His words turned to razor blades.

  His kisses converted to fists.

  His embrace became my cage.

  His body transformed into a weapon, stealing parts of me until ultimately….

  I broke.

  I hated him.

  My sole job in life became to protect our daughter.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever escape the prison he’d skillfully crafted from my fears.

  Until the day our savior arrived.

  This is the story of how I escaped the man who thought he owned me.

  The transfer of my life and my family.

  Buy Now: Transfer

  The Fall Up

  (Book 1 in a series of interconnected standalones.)

/>   I wanted to jump.

  He made me fall.

  As a celebrity, I lived in the public eye, but somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself in the spotlight.

  Until he found me.

  Sam Rivers was a gorgeous, tattooed stranger who saved my life with nothing more than a simple conversation.

  But we were both standing on that bridge for a reason the night we met. The secrets of our pasts brought us together—and then tore us apart.

  Could we find a reason to hold on as life constantly pulled us down?

  Or maybe there’s only one direction to go when two people fall in love at rock bottom—up.

  Chapter One

  Levee

  IT WAS RAINING. Isn’t that the way all great love stories start? And also usually end? The midnight air was cool against my skin as I stared off that bridge. My blond wig was secured in place by a headband, and chunky sunglasses covered my whiskey-colored eyes. I didn’t look like myself any more than I felt it. Bruises from the night before painted my legs while fresh scabs covered my knees, but it was the hollowness in my chest that hurt the most.

  Yep. Still me.

  Which was exactly why I was standing on that bridge, wishing for the mental fortitude to hurl myself off.

  A man’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “You finally gonna do it tonight?”

  I instinctually smoothed my fake hair down and pressed the bridge of my glasses closer to my face, sealing out any possible glance he could catch. I stared ahead as I snapped, “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve seen you here three nights in a row now. I was just wondering if tonight was going to be the night you finally jump.”

  My eyes flashed wide, but since they were covered by the dark glasses, my reaction remained hidden. “I just like the view. That’s all.” What a load of shit.

  I watched him nod out of the corner of my eye. “Yeah me too. It’s gorgeous up here.”

  Shuffling my feet to the side, I attempted to slip away as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered it my way.

  “You want one?”

  I shook my head and then crept down a few inches to put distance between us.

  “Suit yourself.” He used a hand to shield the lighter from the wind, but the constant sprinkle of rain made his task impossible. “Damn it,” he cursed with the cigarette tucked between his lips. “Little help?” he asked, swinging his gaze to mine.

  Arching an eyebrow, I asked, “With what?”

  “It’s raining…and windy…and I’m trying to burn one.” He tilted his head, equally as incredulous.

  “You want me to call God? We had a bad breakup recently, but he might be willing to do me one last favor.”

  He breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. “That would be fantastic. What’s the big guy’s response time like these days? Last time we spoke, it was”—he paused to look at his watch—“oh, twenty-seven years.”

  A soft laugh bubbled from my throat, and one side of his mouth lifted in a gorgeous grin.

  “I’m not exactly in the mood to wait that long, so maybe you could just block the wind with your body?” His smile spread as he stepped toward me, forcing my gaze to nervously bounce away.

  “Sorry. Can’t help you there. Lung cancer and I broke up too.” After gathering the back of my wig into a ponytail, I pulled it over my shoulder and turned away from him. The chill of the wind blasted my face and roared over my ears as it rushed past me.

  I went back to staring out at the dark, choppy water, becoming lost in the idea of how cold it might be.

  Is tonight the night?

  No.

  My feet would more than likely never leave the edge of that bridge, but there was a definite reason why I was imagining ending it all. Exactly zero other people in the world would understand why. I had it all, and I dreamed about losing it all—more often than I would ever admit, even to myself.

  After stepping out of my heels, I slipped my foot between the bars on the railing. The wind slammed my bruised leg against the metal. “Shit,” I hissed as pain shot through me.

  “You think that hurts? Imagine falling twenty-five stories then crashing into the water, which might as well be concrete, at speeds upward of seventy miles per hour,” the man said, leaning on the metal railing next to me.

  “Wow. Someone’s done some research,” I said sarcastically, barely sparing him a glance.

  “Daily,” he responded frankly, causing my surprised gaze to swing to his. Simply shrugging at my reaction, he turned his back to the railing and propped himself up on his colorfully tattooed forearms. “You forget I’ve been here the last three nights in a row too.” He smirked, lifting the cigarette up to his lips for a deep inhale.

  “Listen, I’m not going to jump if you’re some kind of caped crusader on a mission. I just needed some fresh air.” I pointedly glanced at his cigarette.

  A laugh escaped his mouth in a grey puff. “Fresh air is overrated. Especially given the reason you’re standing here.” He knowingly arched a dark-brown eyebrow.

  “Riiiiight,” I drawled, rolling my eyes behind my glasses. “Okay, well, I was just heading out anyway.”

  “Then my work here is done.” He bowed, and the corner of my mouth lifted in a smile as I stepped back into my shoes and walked away.

  I shook my head at the random stranger. Then, a thought struck me, stopping me only a few feet away. Spinning back to face him, I asked, “Wait. Were you reaching out to me as a cry for help?”

  “Oh look. Designer Shoes has a conscience!” He dropped his cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it with the toe of his well-worn, black boots. Bending over, he picked the butt up and tucked it in his pocket.

  At least he didn’t litter.

  “Oh look. Tattooed Stalker has jokes!” I smarted back.

  He smiled, pulling another cigarette from his pocket and then pausing just before guiding it between his lips. “Were you judging me based on my tattoos? I’m offended.” He feigned anguish then laughed while lifting his lighter to once again battle the wind for a nicotine fix.

  I wanted to walk away, but he wasn’t wrong. I did have a conscience, and right then, I was worried that it might really be his night to make good on his apparent numerous visits to the bridge.

  With a huff, I headed back toward him, praying that I could wrap it up as quickly as possible then head back to my house for a few hours of sleep. Or, more likely, lie awake while staring at the ceiling and crying.

  “Are you planning to jump for real?” I asked.

  His smile fell as he focused on the water. “Nah. I don’t have the balls to do something like that. Talking to you wasn’t a plea for help or anything. You just look worse than usual tonight.” His gaze slid down to my battered legs.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed in understanding. “That’s not at all what you’re thinking. I fell down some stairs.”

  He quirked his lips in disbelief.

  “I’m serious!”

  “I’m sure you are,” he told the wind. “You can go. I’m good.”

  I could have walked away, but for some reason, I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders and silently stood there while he finished his cigarette.

  After a final deep inhale, he flicked it over the railing of the bridge.

  Apparently, he does litter.

  Turning to me, his face became serious. “You need to call the cops before he makes the decision to end it all for you.”

  “Who?” I asked, watching the burning ember hit the metal column then explode in a million different sparks before disappearing down to the water below.

  Lucky cigarette.

  “The stairs…and whatever inanimate object you’re blaming for those bruises you’re hiding behind sunglasses at one in the morning. You should call the cops before…” His voice trailed off, but his dark gaze narrowed on mine. His eyes bored into my hidden stare, combining with the rain and wind to send chills down my spine.

  I took the moment to secret
ly assess him. He was insanely sexy, but nothing like the men I was accustomed to. His chin was the kind of scruffy that made women weak, but it was obvious he didn’t pay four hundred dollars for his personal hairstylist to shape it. Judging by his shaggy, brown hair that begged for me to thread my fingers in it, I wasn’t sure he was even a barbershop kind of guy. He stood a few inches taller than I was in heels, so I pegged him at around six one. And while his tattooed forearms were deliciously sculpted and his shoulders were notably defined, his body didn’t appear to be swollen with muscles from hours spent at the gym. By the aura of bad boy he gave off, I would have expected him to be a self-consumed, arrogant prick.

  He wasn’t though.

  He was just an average guy worrying about the well-being of an average girl.

  Only he couldn’t have been more wrong, and a pang of guilt hit me hard.

  Just not hard enough for me to do anything to correct his assumptions about who I was.

  Very softly, I attempted to put his fears to rest. “I promise it’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “Okay,” he responded, unconvinced. He nodded to himself before dragging another cigarette from his pocket.

  I watched him struggle for a second before I scooted towards him, using my body to block the wind.

  Biting the cigarette between his straight, white teeth, he smiled devilishly around it. “Thanks.” Flicking the flame to life, he hunched over until a stream of smoke swirled up from the red tip.

  “You should stop smoking.”

  “Noted.” He exhaled through his nose.

  We went back to silently staring over the side of the bridge. The familiar lights of the San Francisco skyline danced all around us. And, even as tourists and locals alike passed by us, I felt an odd, and unbelievably comfortable, isolation standing there with him.

  When my teeth began to chatter, his attention was drawn my way. “I’m not here to jump. You really can go.”