TRIGGERED: A Romantic Suspense Bundle (5 Books)

by Evie Nichole

As for Josh. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters. It’s been several years. We have a little boy we named Henry, Charles is his godfather. We’re happy in our home where we’ve put our roots down, but Josh still takes to the open road sometimes. Just for a few days at a time. I know he’ll never be able to clear that out of his blood, the joy of riding, the boundless promise of the horizon.

  I guess in some ways the road and I have a strange relationship too. It took Daniel from me, but it also brought me Josh and everything that followed. Who knows where it will lead in the future. There may be bumps or hazards ahead, but I know longer fear my life like I once did, when grief tricked me into believing things would never get better. I realize now that we all travel long and winding roads, and that each of them meander through sad and happy places. When you reach a long stretch and the rain lashes down, and there seems no end in sight, all you have to do is hold on; hold on and hope for a better tomorrow, because somewhere up ahead, such places do exist. Just hold on...

  ~ END ~

  BETRAYED

  Chapter 1

  Monica never hooked up. Ever. There had been a few times she’d gone to a bar, alone or with friends, and had given some cute guy her number. She never went beyond kissing them and definitely never went home with them. And even though today was shaping up to be one of the worst this year, maybe the worst this decade, she still did not foresee breaking her rule.

  She’d wound up at the bar because a reckless night of drinking seemed like the best ointment for the festering wound of a day she was having. She’d woken up this morning in Alan’s bed, the doubts of the night before had seemed as distant as the details of a dream. That was, until she rolled over to find Alan sitting up, watching her, with an unsettling look on his face.

  “We need to talk,” he said, before she’d had a chance to wipe the sleep out of her eyes.

  As she stepped into the bar, past the bouncer who knew without looking at her ID that she was allowed to be there, she realized that her doubts had been a warning sign she had willfully ignored. He’d been quiet and tense their entire last night together; he’d been quiet and tense for the past month. They’d only been together six months, but she had been sleeping over half the week pretty regularly. She had convinced herself that he was just worried about something and that they were fine; she’d been telling her friends that she was happy, hoping that the nagging in the back of her mind would go away eventually.

  She’d been in tears when she got to work forty-five minutes late. She tried to dry her face as she passed desk after desk of openly staring coworkers. She forgot until she got to her own cubicle that today was the day Mr. Johnson announced the promotion. It didn’t cheer her much even though she’d been sure she’d get it and had anxiously looked forward to today for weeks. The thought passed through her mind—as she tried to rid her face of smudged mascara—that the distraction of a new position and more money would be like Novocain for a broken heart.

  Then Mr. Johnson knocked on her doorless cubicle and asked her to come meet him in his office. She knew from the seriousness of his body language that she’d been passed over. She felt an overwhelming numbness that couldn’t even be described as disappointment. She barely heard anything he said after “I decided to go with Max this time.”

  She shook her head as she watched the bartender measure shots for her cocktail. She thought, vaguely, that the puffiness and redness, signs that she’d been crying off and on all day, were definitely going to be a deterrent to any cute guy who may pass her tonight.

  As she took the drink from its maker, she asked for another one immediately and slid more cash to him, ignoring his judgmentally raised eyebrows. She didn’t even defend her choice with “It’s been a rough day,” though she as sure a day like this would have wiped that judgement right off his face. She downed the first drink before the second was halfway made and waited impatiently for the next. She glanced around, wondering if she even wanted to talk to anyone here. There were some handsome guys but several of them looked like they were still in college; college boys had been out of the question from the moment the diploma hit her hand. This was partially an age thing and partially her desperation to get as far away from the college experience as possible. She was ready to be an adult in the real world and didn’t want to talk to anyone about fraternities and econ classes. Though the adult real world was being extremely abusive to her today, she shook her head. No college boys.

  There were guys in suits who reminded her of Mr. Johnson though they were all more handsome, lacking his developing beer gut and bedhead. He had that messy look that didn’t magically look sexy as hell; it just looked messy. These guys seemed to know what gel was, or at least a comb.

  She saw one guy—in the back dark corner—that she thought may be looking at her. His features were obscured by the lack of light, but she could tell he had a strong jaw and that his hair was decidedly in place. He was wearing a suit jacket and button-down, open without a tie, casually business-like in a sexy, clothing catalogue sort of way. She turned back when she heard the clinking ice that meant the bartender had delivered her second drink. She sipped this one, instead of chugging it, though she sipped it quickly. She felt angry restlessness building inside her and wanted to have at least a buzz going to justify whatever actions she might want to take. She leaned against the bar, focused on nothing but the straw between her lips, her mind’s eye blinded with a general sense of rage and sadness. She didn’t register that someone was talking to her until she felt a slightly timid tap on her shoulder.

  “What?” She didn’t mean to snap, but she felt like she’d been woken abruptly from sleep before she was ready to be awake.

  It was the man from the corner. He looked taken aback momentarily by her anger, and then his face softened into concern.

  “I asked if I could buy your next drink,” he said, and she realized he must have asked at least twice before she’d heard anything. Before she could answer, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as he took in her face, “Are you okay?”

  She had to bite her teeth together to stop the barrage of tears from beginning again. She looked away, downed the rest of her drink and took a deep breath, trying to forcibly relax the knot in her throat. “I’m fine,” she muttered through still gritted teeth. He raised one of his eyebrows slightly, not believing her. She took a deep breath, unclenched her jaw and said, “I’d love another drink.”

  He signaled the bartender, and she tried to collect herself while he was distracted. The buzz was setting in, and instead of the reckless abandon she’d been hoping for, she was feeling an overwhelming vulnerability. She needed that next drink. Pronto.

  Just then, the man turned around, handing her a fresh drink. She took it quickly, drinking down half of it in one move. The entire thing was almost gone when she looked up and noticed that there was no drink in his hand. He was watching her, his eyebrow still raised and the corner of his mouth turning up slightly, as if he found her amusing.

  In the back of her mind, she felt ashamed of how quickly she had finished the drink he handed her, especially since he wasn’t drinking at all. She shook that off quickly, however, as the inhibition thankfully replaced the need to cry.

  “I’m Monica,” she said, slurping the last tiny bit of drink at the bottom of her third glass. “Thank you.” She held her hand out and he took it.

  “Jason,” he said, the right corner of his mouth twitching up as she held onto his hand for slightly too much time.

  She pulled her hand away self-consciously and looked down under the guise of fumbling for more cash. He beat her to it, however, and was ordering a fourth drink for her before she could look up again.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said, her words beginning to slur a little.

  “You seem like you’re having a bad night,” he said with a shrug. She looked at him closely, as he watched the bartender pour her drink. Normally, she would be suspicious of any man who bought her more than one drink so quick
ly, especially one who was choosing to remain sober. However, he didn’t look suspicious, she realized, and he had sounded sincere, not as if he was just trying to get her drunk. She wanted to scrutinize him, draw a proper conclusion, and prevent herself from becoming some man’s prey, but her walls were crumbling just as quickly as her sobriety.

  “Just to be clear,” he whispered, leaning in as he handed her the new drink, “I’m not trying to sleep with you.”

  She almost laughed at herself as she felt instantly offended. She bit back the laugh, much like she’d bitten back tears a few minutes earlier, and looked at him, hard. “I—thank you? Thank you.”

  He was gorgeous, a few inches taller than she was, with light brown eyes that may even be green, though it was too dark to tell inside the bar. His hair seemed to be naturally tame, as if he ran his fingers through it and it just stayed; it looked so soft she had an overwhelming desire to run her own fingers through it. She could tell through the top of his casually open shirt that his chest was well defined and suspected that there were similarly defined abs below that. She was definitely attracted to him and definitely feeling the drunken recklessness that would have gotten her to break her hook-up rule. The part of her brain that was still sober was grateful that he was, or at least claimed to be, not interested in taking advantage of her.

  “Sorry, I just wanted to put it out there before you….” He trailed off, looking down.

  “Got too drunk to remember,” she finished for him, sipping this drink much more slowly as she began to feel a bit dizzy.

  “Yeah.” He looked mildly ashamed, but retained an intriguing, serious look on his face. She noticed that he kept glancing around the bar periodically, though she couldn’t tell if he was looking for someone specific or just taking everyone in. When he looked at her, it was so intense that she couldn’t tell if she was blushing or if her cheeks were just burning from the alcohol.

  Though she knew if she were sober she would be judging herself, something told her she could trust him.

  “I had a really shitty day,” she said, continuing to sip her drink and staring into it without really seeing anything. Her mind was flashing through her day, on a loop from one bit of bad news to the other.

  “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to talk about anything and everything else?”

  She looked up and the little smirk was back at the corner of his mouth. Damn, he’s cute, she thought. Then she considered what he had asked, realizing he had given her an out and that some people would really want to just forget everything and bottle it up tightly. She’d intended to do just that, hence the boozy binge she’d started, but as she looked at him, she realized she really just needed to get it all out.

  “Are you offering to listen?” she asked, slipping some flirtation in because she was too drunk to care.

  “I am.” He glanced around again, and she had the vague impression that he was suspicious of their surroundings, and then he looked at her again with a depth of compassion and concern in his eyes that almost made her cry again. When she didn’t say anything, he placed a hand gently on her shoulder, leaning in to speak into her ear. “Do you want to go somewhere quiet?”

  Chills covered her body, and it took every bit of resistance she had left in her not to openly shiver.

  She nodded because it was the only thing she trusted herself to do. She sat her drink down—only half finished—and saw that he noticed this as he waited for her to lead the way out. She felt a tiny surge of pride at her display of restraint. She wasn’t making a complete fool of herself around this kind and extremely handsome stranger after all.

  She walked out into the cool summer evening and the chill from earlier released itself fully—throughout her entire body. Without hesitation, Jason pulled his suit jacket off and draped it over her bare shoulders. It hung down to her thighs; her lacy, cotton dress was a bit longer and stood out brightly white against its dark navy. She hugged it to her, inhaling his spicy cologne and subtle musk. She looked at him cautiously, conflicted by her attraction and his earlier statement.

  “You know,” she said, knowing she would never in a million years say this if she were sober, “if you were trying to get laid, you’d be well on your way to succeeding right now.” She giggled uncomfortably, having shocked herself, and covered the bottom half of her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I said that.”

  His smirk grew into a closed-mouth grin and he shook his head, amused. “Too bad,” he muttered, as he scoped their surroundings once again.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t realized she’d noticed. He paused, flicking his eyes left and right without turning his head.

  “Just…keeping an eye on things,” he said, and then he turned before she could ask anything else and started walking down the sidewalk. Monica watched him for a full five seconds before she decided to follow. Her first few steps were swaying, but she found her pace and caught up to him. They walked, and she talked, recapping her day in a cold monotone that was meant to prevent any further crying. They walked past closed coffee shops and stores until a neon sign beckoned them into an all-night diner. Jason held the door for her, and she hardly noticed his glance up and down the street as she was blinded by the bright lights reflecting off buffered linoleum. This was definitely not a dark, crowded bar.

  Chapter 2

  She ordered too many carbs and extra bacon and only added a black coffee to her order after Jason ordered that, and nothing else.

  “You’re going to make me look like a pig.” It was more of a question than a complaint; she wanted to know why he wasn’t eating. He just looked at her and shrugged dismissively. “Well, you’re not paying for any of this, so there.” She stopped herself from sticking her tongue out at him; she was trying to be playfully flirtatious, not child-like.

  “Tell me about your ex.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a demand, it was more of a prompt for her to continue their conversation from earlier. It took her a long time to answer.

  “It’s really not a huge deal. We were only together six months, and in the scheme of things, that’s not anything, is it?”

  “It meant something to you,” his voice was quiet and his gaze was steady. She felt slightly unnerved by his intensity.

  “Yeah. Anyway, I don’t really know what happened. He got a little distant the last month or so. I thought it was work. I don’t know what he does, exactly, but he makes a lot of money and sometimes has really long days with emergency meetings. Oh god,” she stopped suddenly and Jason turned around quickly, scanning the restaurant, his hand shooting behind his back.

  “What? What is it?” he demanded.

  “No, sorry, sorry,” she was startled by his reaction. “I…I didn’t mean to scare…I just thought, he was probably cheating on me, wasn’t he?” Jason relaxed and turned back to face her, though a vein in his temple pulsed noticeably.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked, obviously trying to cover up his tension. She eyed him suspiciously, but her brain was too soggy to give too much thought to anything but what she was talking about. The thought flashed through her mind that she shouldn’t be spilling her heart out to some stranger like this, but she needed to talk and she was too drunk and reckless to even begin to care.

  “Long nights, and he usually wouldn’t call. And this past month, it’s like, whenever he was with me, he wasn’t actually with me, you know?” Jason nodded. She started to tear up, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it once she started; her body was almost entirely out of control at this point. I always forget to eat dinner first. She hoped the food would come quickly so her lightheadedness would stop.

  “He sounds like a jerk.”

  “I guess so. I wish I would have seen it sooner.”

  “We all get kind of lost in liking someone and can miss the warning signs of who they really are. You shouldn’t blame yourself. ”

  She
smiled. “You’re sweet.”

  “Just honest,” he shrugged.

  “I still wish I had seen it before I got so involved. But, then again, his confidence about his work and his money were kind of attractive to me at the time. I think I wanted someone who would inspire me to work harder, to have more successes.” She didn’t know why she was revealing so much to him; the way she felt, drunk and drained from sadness, she probably would have unloaded on anyone.

  “You said you didn’t know what kind of work he did?” If she had been sober, she may have noticed the forced casualness of the question. She was drunk and distraught, however, so she just shrugged. “Um, I think it was sales or something. He was always talking to someone in Africa or something.”

  “He had a lot of money, you said?”

  “Yeah. Huge apartment. He had a car with a driver; I felt like I was on ‘Sex and the City.’” She giggled; Jason smiled in response, but his eyes remained serious.

  “So he took business calls around you?”

  She nodded, staring into space; she was remembering a beautiful night when Alan had the driver take them over the Brooklyn Bridge as the sun set, and they drank champagne and kissed in the pink light. “What? Oh, yeah. A couple times someone called late at night when I was over. He always left the room, but I was sure he was talking about work. He’d mention prices being too high and stuff about shipments. Maybe it was all code.”

  “What about shipments?”

  She was happy to find that the need to cry had subsided; she felt a rush of anger at the thought that Alan had cheated on her. “Oh, god, does it matter? It was probably just code between him and his…his mistress!”

  “I’m sure he wasn’t cheating on you.” She felt reassured, though she realized that he had no way of knowing that. “You okay?” He asked; she was chewing the inside of her lip and glaring out the black window to her left.