by M. L. Ray
Through the haze of agony, she suddenly heard the voice she had been waiting for.
“Motherfucker!”
She felt Shawn being pulled away from her, and then there were soft hands instead of cruel ones. “Baby?”
“I’m okay,” she managed, “just stop him. Stop him.”
It was only afterwards that she realized what she had said.
***
The nurses gathered around Anouk, and Knox took off after Shawn Simon. This was ending, and it was ending tonight.
Shawn Simon was obviously fit. As the two men raced through the hospital, he managed to stay just ahead of Knox. But Knox’s anger was a burning, raging thing, and as he caught up with Shawn at the hospital entrance, he collided with him and they crashed through the glass doors of the hospital.
On top of Shawn, Knox ground his face into the shattered glass, and Shawn screamed out, but Knox didn’t care. He pummeled Shawn with everything inside of him, and it wasn’t until two burly security guards hauled him off the other man, that Knox took a breath. “Let me go…”
Shawn staggered to his feet as sirens filled the air, his face bloodied and torn, but still smiling. “Couldn’t even kill me? Asshole. Think you’re man enough for my Nook?”
Knox growled at him, struggling with the men who were holding him. He saw James Holt approaching Shawn from behind, gun drawn, but Shawn didn’t see him. His entire focus was on Knox. “She’ll never be safe, Zapata. Never. I…”
A gunshot rang out, and Shawn Simon’s face disappeared into a bloody mulch. For a second, nobody moved. Then, as Shawn’s body slumped to the asphalt, Knox turned to see Martha Simon gently placing her gun on the ground and putting her hands up. Her expression was blank, her eyes distant.
The cops flooded the space now, and Martha was handcuffed and led away, silent but with a look of contentment on her face. Knox was so shell-shocked that he couldn’t move, until James Holt came to him and took him inside, back to where the doctors were checking Anouk’s new wounds. To his relief, she looked okay, just breathless and pale, but when she looked at him and smiled, nothing else in the world mattered.
Shawn Simon was dead. It was over.
Chapter Thirty
Three years later…
Anouk smoothed the fabric over her swollen belly, and bent down to whisper to the bump. “No backing out, Bean. Today’s the day.”
She heard someone knock on her bedroom door and Iris came inside. Her friend’s smile widened when she saw her. “Oh, Nook…”
“No getting all mushy.”
“You’re in your wedding dress,” Iris scolded her with a grin, “I’m allowed to get mushy. Even if it’s a shotgun wedding.”
Anouk laughed. “Even if it’s that.” She turned to look in the mirror. “Are you sure I look okay?”
“Don’t give me that, you know you’re beautiful.”
And Anouk did feel beautiful today. It had taken three years to get to this day, three years of rehabilitation, of putting her life and her body back together again. Three years of counselling, of watching Martha Simon be tried for murder. Anouk, Knox and Martha’s parents all spoke up for her at the trial. Now, Martha was getting the psychiatric help she needed at one of the best mental health facilities in the States, paid for by the Vanderson’s.
The wealthy family could no longer deny that their son had been a monster, that he’d killed, or had been responsible for the deaths of others, over and over, including his own children. The shame he had brought down on them had destroyed their status. They had denounced Shawn in the press, and had used some of their vast fortune to help his victims, including Martha.
Anouk refused to take anything from them, except for an apology. She had met with them just once, while she was still having to use a wheelchair to maneuver herself around, and saw two broken people. Her anger had dissipated, but she refused to take their money. She didn’t want anything left of Shawn in her life.
The Zapata family, too, had been healing. Flynn had a radical hysterectomy, which was traumatic, but her cancer had been in remission since then. Levi had scaled down the family business, so he could achieve a more manageable balance between work and life, and he was even considering taking a sabbatical.
And Knox… even more so than Anouk, he had been the one to need the most help, psychiatrically, after everything that had happened. Anouk’s relief that he hadn’t been the one to kill Shawn, was tempered by the fact that Knox, irrationally, still thought he’d let her down.
“Are you serious?” She’d said at first, not understanding the male ego, but through talking to counselors, she began to understand. Knox felt like he’d failed… again. Lily… his mom…
It had caused a good bit of friction in their relationship, but both of them knew they would get to the other side if it… eventually.
When, six months ago, Anouk had come to bed with him, quiet and distracted, he had drawn her to him, and asked her what was wrong. For a long moment, she just studied him, then reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small plastic stick. It wasn’t one of those ‘if another line appears’ tests. It said it plain and clear.
Pregnant.
Anouk hadn’t expected his reaction, his whoop of pure joy and excitement, the way he’d kissed her over and over, his tears tumbling down his handsome face, his beaming smile. She had been afraid he would think it was too fast, but no, Knox Zapata surprised her again, and finally, finally, she allowed herself to be happy.
And now, today, she would marry him. She hadn’t wanted a big ceremony, or a fuss, and Knox was fine with that. Anouk told him she wanted to be married at their home, their beloved, unusual studio, with the sun streaming down through the glass domed roof.
Flynn, of course, had insisted on getting herself ordained so that she could marry them “You know me, I like to be extra.” She’d said, and now, downstairs, the entire studio was wreathed in thousands of tiny white lights and flowers, and their small group of friends were gathered. Anouk’s old boss, Jennifer, flew over from London, as did her artist friend Ophelia, and everyone from the gallery was there. Ruby was Flynn’s plus-one. The two girls had struck up a firm friendship, which eventually led to it becoming something more, which delighted Anouk and Knox. Flynn, still getting back on her feet after her illness, had blossomed.
Anouk was further moved when Sam Granger, Tom’s brother, accepted her invitation to the wedding. “For me, you are my family,” Anouk had written to him, “and I know Tom would be there for me. I understand if you don’t feel you can come, but just know, you would be so very welcome.”
Sam had called her the day he received the invitation and they had talked for hours, about Tom, about life, about what had happened to Anouk. Anouk wept when Sam told her he didn’t hold her responsible for Shawn murdering Tom. “The man was a psychopath. None of you could have seen it coming.”
So now, he was downstairs, talking with her friends and colleagues, and Anouk felt Tom’s presence, too.
There was a knock at the door. “Are you decent?” Jeremiah, who Anouk had asked to accompany her down the aisle—not give her away, she told him with a grin—but to include him in their wedding. Levi was Knox’s best man, a job that he hadn’t seemed to expect, and was surprised when Knox asked him to stand up with him.
“I’m never decent, but I have clothes on. Come on in.”
Jeremiah grinned at her. “You are stunning. Everyone’s ready.”
Anouk took a deep breath, as Iris placed a small flower behind Anouk’s ear and smiled at her. “Ready to roll?”
Anouk smiled. “You betcha.”
As she walked down the iron steps to the studio below, she only had eyes for Knox, gorgeous in a dark navy suit. He gazed at her, his eyes soft with love as she approached, and when she reached him, he kissed her. “You’re an angel.”
She ginned at him. “That’s funny, because seeing you in that suit is making the devil in me really
hor—"
“Dudes, t.m.i.” Flynn interrupted, in mock outrage, as Anouk and Knox chuckled. “Behave yourselves, this is serious business.”
Anouk grinned at her, then back at Knox. “Later.”
“Later.” He agreed, and then Flynn was saying the words that would make their union legal, and before long, they spoke the vows that would bind them together for the rest of their lives.
To Anouk, one hand in Knox’s, the other resting on her unborn child, a gloriously happy future was already set in stone. Knox was her love, her life, and she couldn’t wait to see what happened next…
The End
Sample Story
Claiming Olivia, Cuddlesack Tales Book 1
ASIN: B074Q3MKZW
Prologue
Ten years earlier
The bullet zinged straight across the room, from the doorway to the vine-shaded window, which shattered upon impact. As it zinged, it passed through the bodies of three Harvey Benton College students, an economics professor, and a pendant lamp. Oddly enough, there was no blood. Only a long deep sigh, like the passing of a summer breeze.
A heavy book slipped off the desk and onto the floor with a crash.
Jefferson Quinley shook himself out of a boredom-induced stupor and back to full consciousness. No, that scenario wouldn’t work at all. He needed to change characters, or setting, or ditch the whole fantasy and wake up.
Whatever had possessed him to sign up for this class? Campus buzz complained about how the teachings of Elroy Hawkins notoriously put his undergrads to sleep. Stifling a yawn, Jeff glanced around the cramped, overheated room, with too small a quota even to rate one of the bigger auditoriums. Two guys far to the right were staring dazedly off into space. Another to his left, slumped far down on his spine, was actually nodding off.
It didn’t matter to Professor Hawkins. He droned on and on. Bumblebees collecting pollen in today’s September sunshine couldn’t have done better.
Only three females had elected to set foot in this class. Two were decently attractive but were, he’d noticed, already attached at the hip to a couple of fellow academics. The third was barely worth his while. She wore slouchy, cheap clothes; had a schlumpy figure; unfashionable glasses on top of a sizable nose; long, sort of reddish hair, braided like a milkmaid’s. Not much to look at there.
Jeff, yawning in earnest, wondered if there’d be any point in moving in on her. Might as well add another notch to his belt. He’d already nailed a conspicuous number of co-eds as it was, over the past three years. And, given the way she looked, she’d put out all over the place, in sheer gratitude for the attentions of a sexy player like yours truly. Besides, a conquest would be something else to brag about to his crew of hangers-on. As if he needed anything to brag about.
Huh. She seemed to be pretty pathetic. But plain girls were always much more appreciative of a little consideration, and it wasn’t so important how they looked above the neck, if all the parts down below were working as they should. Plus, he was at loose ends right now, anyhow.
“A question, Mr. Quinley?”
Oh, bunkum. Unconsciously he’d stretched one arm overhead, as if calling for attention. “Uh, no, Professor. Sorry.”
The ring of the bell brought an audible sigh as students, released from their seats like sled dogs released from harnesses, gathered their books, laptops, and miscellaneous belongings, to herd noisily out into the hall. Anyone not tall enough to claim space might have been trampled in the rush.
“Hey! Hey, you—uh, Miss, wait up a sec, will you?”
She was a fast one, this girl he was claiming as his temporary target. She put her head down and barreled on through the crowd like a linebacker. But his voice, and the tap of a stretched-out arm in her direction, stopped her cold. Astonished, she backed up against the paneled wall, pushed her sliding glasses into place, and waited for him to approach.
“Who, me?”
“Well, yeah, you.” He gave her the slow, smoldering smile that never failed to elicit a response. Too bad no mirror was handy. Jeff knew he was always at his best during the initial stages of pursuit; his biscuit-brown hair artfully tousled, blue eyes alert and attentive, tall athletic body with its work-out muscles, the envy of males and females alike. “I’m sorry. I missed seeing you before, and I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh. Um. Well.” She seemed to have shrunk a couple more inches in height, if that were possible, and her gaze was fastened on her feet. “Yes, I—um—just transferred in.”
“Yeah? Where from?”
He had braced one hand on the wall behind her and eased in a step closer, which seemed to be causing her some distress. Her breathing quickened, her complexion had flushed a little, and her myopic gaze slid up to his face and back down again. “Um—from New Hampshire. We just moved here, and I’ve been trying to… Listen, I have to go. I mean, I really need to get going, because—”
“Oh, too bad. I’m done with classes for the day, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to go grab something to eat. Jeff Quinley, by the way.” His left hand remained where it was. His right hand reached for a quick shake, which meant he could move closer still. Not pushy. Not aggressive. Just available.
“Um—Olivia. Olivia Bower.” She ducked her head, and the untidy braid swung over one shoulder. “No, I can’t, I’m sorry. But thank you, anyway.”
“Well, Olivia Bower, it’s nice to meet you. Guess I’ll be seeing you in class, then. Twice a week, right? Maybe next time you won’t be so busy, and we can get to know each other better.”
She was like a little brown rabbit, frantic to escape. “Maybe.” And she hastened away.
Jeff stood watching her bob and weave through the thinning crowd, toward a doorway. An odd duck, which might make his plans more challenging. Oh, well. What else did he have on his plate right now? Just studying to get his degree, go on to graduate school, and make a fortune on Wall Street.
It was another week before he saw her again. His behavior must have scared her away, because she didn’t show up for the next class; and he missed the one after that because he had better things to do at the time. Namely, taking to bed one of the more popular girls from Advanced English Literature.
But there he was, in early October, when maple and oak leaves were turning to burnished gold around this north Chicago suburb, sitting so directly behind her in that same stuffy classroom as to definitely cause unease. Oh, Jeff wasn’t crass or juvenile enough that he would poke her in the shoulder with his pen, to gain attention, or tug on the slightly frowzy braid that switched from side to side with every turn of her head. But he could read decided discomfort in her stiffened posture and refusal to acknowledge his presence.
The professor had posted a few charts and graphs for a PPT lecture that was no more exciting than his usual nasalized speeches. Jeff suffered through the worst of it, yawning and mentally complaining about his lack of foresight. Instead, he daydreamed about the luscious Lana, and what they had done for, and to, each other, until the crotch of his jeans began to feel inordinately tight. Which primed his physical state to casually accost the un-luscious Olivia once more, halfway down the hall, once their torturous hour was finished.
“Hey, Liv. Are you rushing off somewhere again?”
“Actually—um—yes, I am.” Apparently she had gained some courage from somewhere, for she bravely met his gaze without even a tremble.
“Oh, yeah?” He flashed his dimples—not enough to set her heart thumping madly, just a small sample to keep her interested—along with the patented blue-eyed twinkle. “Got a hot date?”
Color rushed into her sallow cheeks. “Not in the way you mean. I have a job.”
A football player the size of Yankee Stadium squeezed through a nearby door and began huffing and puffing his way toward them. Courteously but quickly, Jeff drew Olivia out of the way of collision, and then waited until the Colossus was safely past.
“Job, huh? Well, far be it fr
om me to keep you. Is it something you like doing?”
Her face suddenly lit up, as if a candle had been set aflame somewhere inside, making her, for a moment, almost attractive. “I’ll say. I volunteer two days a week at Arnold Animal Shelter.”
His hand on her elbow urged her forward, toward the door and a cooling autumn day. “An animal shelter? What do you do there?”
“Whatever needs to be done. Walk the dogs, write up intakes and adoptions, general cleaning, ordering supplies—you name it. They always need help, so I do what I can.”
“Huh. Sounds like a worthwhile cause.” Jeff wouldn’t know, since he had never donated free time to any cause of any kind, anywhere. As for animals, he could take them or leave them. The only animal he felt totally concerned with was the one he saw in the mirror every day; his own beautiful self. “And you just moving into town, besides. I’m still trying to get you to join me for coffee sometime, Miss Do-Gooder Bower, to find out more about you.”
Olivia stopped dead to peer up at him. The jade-green eyes behind the tortoiseshell glasses gleamed with sudden, sharp intelligence. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to find out more about me?”
“Well. Uh.” Never having been asked a question so direct before by his admiring fans, Jeff, who was no slouch either in the intelligence department, now fumbled for an answer. “Well. You’re new to the area. And the school.”
“I am.”
“And—uh…well. Just thought maybe we could—uh—be friends.”
“Friends.” She repeated the word in a skeptical tone. “Sure.”
Jeff was suddenly taken by the disturbing notion that that cool, penetrating stare saw right through him, past all the subterfuge, deep into the heart of where he actually lived. “Why not friends?” he decided to challenge her.