Breaking Out

by Lydia Michaels

  “So you’re saying he gave me to you? No. He wouldn’t do that.” She turned to Lucian, waiting for him to call Parker a liar, but came up short when she saw the regret clear on his face. “What is this? Is this how you do it, like what you did with Slade and Monique?”

  She couldn’t wrap her brain around what she was hearing.

  Lucian swallowed tightly. “I never wanted to agree to—”

  “You’re saying it’s true then?” Her spine stiffened and her shoulders drew back. “You broke up with me so another man could try to fuck me?”

  “Scout—”

  “Oh, shut up, Parker. I’ll deal with you in a minute.” She turned her scowl on Lucian. “Lucian, tell me that’s not true. Please.”

  “It was freezing. I couldn’t find you. Hughes knew where you were and I was desperate. He wouldn’t help me unless I promised him something in return.”

  Her mind tripped over visions and scenarios that were far too bizarre to believe. This had to be some sort of a misunderstanding. “Whose idea was it?”

  Lucian’s lips formed a thin line. She turned to Parker and had her answer. “You said you were my friend.”

  Lucian grunted.

  She turned on him. “And you said you loved me. What kind of man does something like that to the woman he loves?”

  She found herself backing away from the two of them. They were despicable, the both of them. “Is that all I ever was to you? A bargaining chip to pass around when money didn’t work?”

  “God, no, Evelyn—”

  “Then explain it to me in words I can understand!”

  “I just wanted to find you,” Lucian said, pleadingly. “It was just before I found you at the tracks in the blizzard. You would have frozen out there. Pearl would have died. I swear to God my only intention was getting you home.”

  “So you could eventually give me away?”

  “I never would have agreed to his conditions if I wasn’t desperate.”

  “What exactly were your conditions, Parker? I’d like to know what price my friend puts on my survival.”

  Parker’s face twisted with a multitude of emotion. “You weren’t supposed to find out this way. We should still have two weeks together.”

  “You tricked me.” Her fingers went to her lips. “All of this was to get me to go to bed with you.”

  Lucian stiffened and Parker’s head jerked up. His green eyes pleaded as his head shook in denial. “No, I just wanted to show you what it was like to be loved.”

  “I was loved! At least I thought I was. Now I don’t know anything!”

  “Evelyn, get dressed. I’m taking you home.”

  Lucian reached for her, and she snatched her arm back. “Don’t touch me.” Tears rushed to her eyes. “How could you do this to me? To us? To everything we had?” Her chest tightened and she fought to get the words out. “I loved you.”

  All the blood rushed from Lucian’s face. He stepped forward, but she stepped out of his reach. “Evelyn, please, come home with me and I’ll fix everything.”

  She wiped her eyes and stared at their surroundings. “I don’t have a home.”

  “Yes, you do, with me. Please, baby. I’ve been miserable since you left. I love you. We can fix this—”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. There is no fixing this. The two of you are perverted.”

  She glanced at Parker, but he wouldn’t look at her. “And you, pretending you live by some code of honor. Your moral compass must have been broken that day.” Turning back to Lucian, she analyzed her path of escape. She needed pants.

  She spun on her heel and went to the room where her clothes were already put away in drawers. Yanking down her bag from the closet, she tossed it on the bed and began filling it with whatever she could find. When she found jeans, she slid them onto her legs. Her limbs convulsed with uncontainable emotion.

  Both men crammed in the bedroom doorway, staring at her as she laced up her sneakers.

  “Stay here, Scout, I’ll go,” Parker said quietly.

  She stilled. “No.”

  “Where will you go?” he asked.

  She didn’t know. She wouldn’t go back to her apartment. She’d go where no one could find her.

  “Evelyn, come to the hotel. I’ll give you a separate room. You can’t just walk away like this.”

  She knotted her laces and stood. Her bag zipped with an obnoxious final zing. She turned and they backed up.

  Parker stood aside, but Lucian blocked her exit like an immovable oak. “Get out of my way.”

  “No,” he rasped. “I can’t let you go. I can’t lose you again.”

  Shaking her head, she looked up at him, tears running down her face. “You already lost me.”

  When he didn’t budge, she said, “Please, move.”

  He was an anchor. She tried to shove past him and his strong hands caught her arms.

  “Don’t touch her!” Parker snapped, closing in on him.

  Lucian turned and snarled, “You stay out of this.” Turning back to her, he pleaded. “I can’t let you leave.”

  Wasn’t this a pretty picture? Lucian, the king, backed into the corner as the black knight stood poised and ready to attack from the left. She was prepared to do anything to knock them down.

  The queen has more power than any other piece. She is the most coveted player of the game and can move any way she pleases.

  Swallowing hard, she looked up at the man she had stupidly trusted with her heart and said the only word she hoped would get through to him.

  “Checkmate.”

  His eyes closed and his face crumbled. Social intercourse. It was all a game. He’d taught her how to play, by rules she never chose, and he lost. He stepped aside.

  She crossed the threshold and swung the front door wide.

  “Scout!”

  Lucian held Parker back. She never expected to lose him twice. She was free now. She finally understood she’d been manipulated, and while she was still standing, she was barely breathing. All her questions suddenly had answers, and she realized her unwanted ignorance had actually been a blessing in light of her reality. She’d lost the only two people she could ever count on.

  As she stepped into the elevator, she turned and faced them. What a haggard pair they made. Good. As bad as they looked on the outside, she was a hundred times worse on the inside.

  Lucian’s dark, onyx eyes met hers. Those were the eyes that could make grown men crumble, with enough determination to dominate a city the size of Folsom. He set those eyes on her, his mouth a hard line, drawn with challenge. “You get a five-minute head start, Evelyn, while I settle some things with your friend here. And then I’m coming for you. I’m done playing games.”

  Not her friend. She had no friends.

  The doors to the elevator closed, and her legs quaked with understanding. He thought she wouldn’t get far. He thought he would come for her and nothing would stop him. But he was wrong. Lucian owned the heavens of Folsom, but he underestimated the depth of its hell. Scout was a master of hiding. She’d disappear before he made it to the street. She had to move fast, because once he found her, there was no telling what would happen.

  The elevator opened again and like a queen conscious of the treachery that poisoned her court, in high dudgeon she walked on.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book would not be possible without the wonderful readers in this world. I thank you all for allowing me to bring my characters to life and introduce them to your world.

  I would like to send a special thank-you to Team Surrender for all of their extraordinary support: Becca, Carla, Nikki, Lori, Ivone, Regina, Michelle, and Mary—you are awesome! You make my job so much fun and I love you all!

  And I would like to thank the incredible Tigerlilians. You know who you are. Your friendship means
more than I can say and I love that the clubhouse has become the backdrop to every story I pen. Thanks for the love, the care, the friendship, the laughs, the roundtable escapes, and the cupcakes. Your “unrestrained” presence in my life has made me smile many times while writing this trilogy.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from the third book in the Surrender Trilogy

  COMING HOME

  Available January 2014 from InterMix

  The burst of pollen hit Scout’s nose like a feather laced with pepper. No, she couldn’t sneeze. If she sneezed she’d get glassy eyed and look as if she were crying when she certainly had not been crying. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t cried for days. After what was likely the most trying five days of her life, Scout made a vow to never cry again. Tears were useless and, frankly, a big pain in her girly ass.

  Shifting to the shade, out of the warm May sun, her pale pink dress shirt was a light cover to her skin. Her heavy gray wool slacks, however, were not. Coming directly from work and living out of a small bag for the past week hadn’t left her much choice in the wardrobe department. Pavement smacked beneath her Nikes along the busy Folsom sidewalks with each determined stride.

  For five long days, Scout contemplated her predicament. She’d always aimed to be something more than homeless, but tolerated her circumstances all the same. Now, however, things had changed. There was no way she was going back to where she started.

  Her memory was an endless revolving door of strife, covered in a bleary haze, smothering the prettier things in this world. Scout never had pretty things. Well, that wasn’t true. Lucian gave her many pretty things. He also gave her away.

  The pain hadn’t subsided. It was very real and seething angrily inside of her. Scout simply made a decision to channel that anger into something worthwhile. And that was what today was all about, something worthwhile.

  She was worthwhile. So worthwhile, it was possible to put aside the hurt and the sting of his betrayal to do something for herself.

  For twenty-three years she struggled to survive. At age four she was diving in dumpsters for the smallest scrap of salvageable food. At age seven she’d been scavenging while other girls her age played house and learned their ABC’s. Scout never played house, because she didn’t know the first thing about living in a home. And she never learned her ABC’s because her mother, the only person Scout ever had to look up to, didn’t know how to teach her.

  Pearl wasn’t a typical mother either. She never baked cookies, sang lullabies, or kissed scraped knees. Rather, she cooked crack, mumbled ramblings of a stoned soul, and gave her body to men who funded her next high. Scout was likely seven by the time she realized if you gave certain things to men they’d give you almost anything in return, yet she never wanted to go down that same degrading road.

  Scout wanted to be somebody. Her needs were more basic. She wanted four walls and a roof to call home. She wanted a key for her own front door. She wanted a job and she wanted money for food and heat, and clothing thick enough to keep her warm even in the coldest blizzard.

  Now she was halfway there. She had a job working at Clemons Grocery Market. It wasn’t a spectacular place to work, but she liked it. The people treated her nice. And her boss, even though he sometimes gave her the creeps, was tolerable.

  Her last boss expected much, much more. He expected her heart. The son of a bitch got it too. Scout was still dealing with that emotional fallout.

  Lucian Patras was likely a name she’d always know. He was a person quite difficult to forget. She tried. Lord knew she tried, but he was inside of her like a tattoo inked deep into her flesh. She couldn’t wash him away no matter how much she wanted to.

  Scout finally admitted that he’d used her and with the shameful admission came some much-needed clarity. She could use him too.

  She required a plan. Lucian taught her many things. He taught her how to make love. He taught her how to socialize with aristocrats. He taught her how to play chess. And he taught her she was more than a lost cause. However, he also taught her what it feels like to be truly fucked over.

  She learned the agony of a broken heart, the torment of betrayal, and the misery of knowing the one person she wanted was the one she could never have. Her intimate relationship with Lucian was over.

  One didn’t have to be literate to read between the lines. She was given a chance to see behind the scenes as to how men of wealth play the game. She might not know how to count very well or be able to read heavy books, but Scout was not a stupid person. And she was a survivor.

  Business was business and so long as she kept the intimacy at bay, she could do what she needed to do. Scout’s abbreviated taste of high society left nothing but a bitter taste in her mouth and it was time to change the game.

  Rounding the corner, Scout brushed her moist palms down the coarse wool covering her thighs. She could do this. She’d thought long and hard about what she wanted and nothing, not even the infamous Lucian Patras, would get in her way.

  The revolving door of Patras Industries reflected the bright rays of sun peeking through the high rise buildings across the street. Scout’s sneakers moved silently over the polished marble of the lobby floors and her thumb pressed into the smooth button of the elevator with purpose.

  After keying in the floor, she waited, her empty belly doing a row of summersaults having nothing to do with the rise of the lift and everything to do with coming face to face with her past and finally having the balls to go after her future.

  Cheeks puffed as she forced out a shaky breath, her clammy palms brushed over her blouse. “Your terms, Scout. Don’t take any shit,” she whispered as the elevator eased to a stop.

  The door chimed softly as it opened and she stepped onto smooth burgundy carpet. She looked nothing like she had the last time she was there. Her polished Mary Janes were humbled down to rubber soled, serviceable shoes. Absent was the lace that once adorned her legs. This was not a mission of seduction, but an exercise in influence.

  Same as before, she arrived at the reception desk with a deep hunger burning in her belly, but this hunger was something much more potent than any form of lust. This was a hunger for well-deserved recompense. No need to pretty herself up to get what she came for, what she deserved.

  It might’ve taken her five days to figure out, but she finally understood. She held all the power. She was no longer an outsider. She’d been on the other side of the looking glass and realized she very well could stand on her own two feet. It was only a matter of declaring her intentions and not backing down. It was time to do for her.

  “May I help you?” Seth, Lucian’s personal assistant greeted. He clearly didn’t recognize her and why would he? She’d only met Seth once, several months ago. She’d been dressed to the nines and ready to seduce his boss. Without makeup she looked like a child. Her hair was pulled into a no nonsense ponytail and her Clemons uniform was anything but flattering. She’d also dropped well over ten pounds, which on a small frame like hers was not a welcome loss.

  “I’d like to speak to Mr. Patras.”

  His eyes narrowed with rejection before he voiced his reply. “You need an appointment to meet with Mr. Patras.”

  “I’m sure I do not.” Insecurities rattled her confidence, but she kept her chin up and remained polite. She had every right to be there. Convincing herself of such was step one. “Please tell him Evelyn Keats is here to speak with him.”

  Seth’s eyes bulged. “Ms. Keats, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Let me tell Mr. Patras you’re here.”

  That’s right!

  He pressed a button on the intercom and a tight shiver pinched her heart at the sound of Lucian’s voice. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Patras, Ms. Keats is here—”

  It shouldn’t have been possible to get from his desk to the door in such a short breath of time, but the door to Lucian’s office whipped open and his muscular frame f
illed the doorway, stress marring his expression and exhaustion weighing in his eyes.

  Lips parted in obvious surprise, he stilled. “Evelyn.” His voice was a mere rasp of the self-assured baritone he usually spoke with.

  She nodded. “I came to talk—”

  “Come in my office.”

  Her lips twitched as he cut off her request. She wouldn’t let him obtain the upper hand. This was her show. She was there for a reason and she couldn’t let her heart distract her. That foolish organ had caused enough problems.

  Aiming for poise, she nodded and carefully stepped past him. The office door shut with a sharp snick. Her mind replayed the first time they’d met. Lucian had stood like a giant, a thin veneer of control, masked in immeasurable power, seething behind her then, and he reminded her of the same giant now. Her sneakered feet quickly stepped away.

  When he faced her, she saw he was still speechless, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. “I need to talk to you,” she said quickly.

  “Where have you been?” he asked, his gaze filled with bewilderment as it traveled back and forth from her feet to her face.

  “That’s not your concern.”

  “Evelyn.” He leveled her with a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for games. Neither was she.

  There was no way she’d tell him she’d actually returned to sleeping on the streets, using her bag as a pillow, a playground for shelter, and a McDonalds for facilities. He’d see it as a weakness and she couldn’t stomach his pity. Her pitiful circumstances were only temporary and tonight she’d be in a bed once more, so long as she stuck to her plan and didn’t let him intimidate or bully her.

  Steeling herself, she met his gaze. “Lucian, I came to talk about other issues, not where I’m living.”

  “You haven’t been at the shelter.”

  She pursed her lips. “No doubt you had your minions checking every crevice of the city for me. I’m a lot more resourceful than you give me credit for.”

  His brow softened as though her words wounded him. “Did you expect me not to look for you? I told you I’d find you.”