Relentless Night (New York Knights Book 4)

by S. M. West

  But my muscles remember. Every fiber is taut, every joint is tense, and it’s like I’m standing on the edge of an abyss. My body is on the brink of his order, just waiting for my mind to pull the trigger.

  To succumb.

  “I’ve missed you.” The tip of his forefinger skates down my cheek, wiping at my tears. Tears I didn’t even know had fallen. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

  “Please let me go.”

  My wobbly voice sickens me, as does my politeness. I hate how easily he reduces me to a scared little girl, so eager to follow his instruction and please. So eager to make him stop.

  “You’ve been a bad girl, Thomasina. A very bad girl. I should skin you alive for what you’ve cost me.”

  His grip intensifies around my neck and air stops flowing. As each second passes and his hold tightens, his smile grows.

  Everything burns.

  Hurts.

  My eyes bulge. Saliva rises like a tide up my throat and mucus builds in my sinuses. It’s as if every part of me is working with him to stop any oxygen from filling my lungs. I beg with my eyes for him to release me. But there is no hope; I’m staring into the darkest depths of hell.

  “And Evan Hart. I’ve a special plan for him. He deserves to die slowly and painfully.” He loosens his hold but doesn’t let go.

  His hatred toward Van, the man who saved me, is evident in his hostile eyes. I won’t let him hurt Van. I’d die first and will if that’s what it takes.

  “Nooo.” My fevered wail is foreign to my own ears.

  The tears are uncontrollable now. Torrents rushing down my cheeks. Hot and wet.

  There’s a knock on the door and my first thought is Max, and I’m overcome by relief and more fear, if that’s even possible. He would kill Max.

  But then a dainty voice says through the thick wood, “Hello? Please open up. Are you okay in there?”

  I want to scream for the woman to get help, but that would draw his attention to her. There is no telling what he’d do. He could just as easily ignore her as kill her. He doesn’t fear consequence and pays the interruption no mind.

  He hasn’t a care about anyone finding him in the women’s washroom, abusing someone, no less. Nothing ever fazes him. We are all on this earth to entertain him. Humans are his to do with as he wishes. His greatest pleasure is bringing pain, destroying lives.

  “Leave Evan alone, please.” Remembering how much he likes my pleas, especially the most mild and polite ones, I willingly slide into old patterns. Manners are important to him.

  He chuckles, loving my distress and clearly knowing he’s struck a chord. There’s no point in me denying it. While I’ve tracked him this past decade, he too has been tracking me. I no longer have any doubt.

  He likely knew where I was all along. I’d foolishly pushed that thought out of my mind all these years. Even knowing he had the best hacker I’ve ever met, Zero, doing his bidding, I refused to face the simple fact he could take me whenever he wanted. It was only a matter of time.

  “And you now go by Tommie. What a travesty. You’re not a man.”

  Large fingers grope my breast and because I’m not wearing a bra, he easily finds my nipple, pinching hard.

  “You’re a woman.”

  The pain shoots through me and every one of my organs spasms and shrinks as something cold and poisonous seeps into my bones. My blood toxic. My heart stone.

  It doesn’t matter that it’s been ten years since Van rescued me from his clutches.

  It’s as if no time has passed.

  I’m still at the mercy of this man.

  He was slowly killing me all those years ago and it feels the same way right now.

  The mess of my mind clears. The wild thrumming of my heart, hard in my chest, steadies to a firm rhythm and my breath slows. He didn’t kill me then and he won’t get to do it now.

  My terror is violently shoved aside, rage taking its place. How dare he lay a hand on me? I won’t accept the past as my future. I am not his and never was.

  I knock his hand from my breast and writhe to get free. The fingers of his one hand still dig into the flesh of my throat and he clamps down harder than before.

  “We’re not done, Thomasina. We’ll never be done. It will do you good to remember that.” He leans into me—his hot breath, acrid with the bitter smell of smoke, washes over my face. “I could have come for you at any moment, so don’t go running to Evan. Or Max. Or anyone at Hart Corporation. If so, I will deal with them in my own special way.” His voice drips with intimidation and I won’t deny, panic skitters through me and he must see it. “Something tells me you won’t.”

  His fingers flex, pushing me into the wall, and my larynx burns, the crushing sensation overwhelming. My head is going to explode, until just as suddenly, he releases me.

  Bending forward, I cough and gulp, inhaling copious amounts of air, so intent on breathing I don’t see him leave. The next thing I know, I hear the voices of women outside the bathroom.

  One says chidingly, “This is the women’s washroom, what were you doing in there?”

  “Did you see that man? How rude of him, and he locked himself in—”

  When the ladies round the corner into the bathroom, silence descends like a heavy, dark curtain.

  Their gazes fall on me, hunched over, my face red and tear-stained.

  “Oh my God, are you all right?” an older woman asks as the ginger-haired one rushes to my side.

  A middle-aged brunette turns back toward the door, saying she’s getting security. I rush past the three women, out into the corridor, hoping to find Max. We need to get out of here.

  I crash into his solid frame and his scent hits me like a solid, comforting blanket. I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face into his chest, not wanting him to see the state I’m in but also needing his warmth and strength.

  “Sorry I took so long.” His strong comforting arms hold me. “What’s wrong?” He brushes the hair from my face and thrusts me backward to get a better look at me. “What the hell happened?”

  “I wasn’t feeling well.” I use the excuse I gave Edith, unable to look him in the eye.

  I will tell him, but not now. We need to leave.

  “Were you sick?” His strong jaw is set hard and concern rolls off him in waves.

  Max Conrad has both the sexy, protective streak many women flock to, and a tender, caring side others crave.

  “Can we just go? I know you have to be here but I’m—”

  “Of course.” His wrists rest on either side of my neck and his eyes dip to where his warm, reassuring hands cup my face. “What happened?” Fingers trace what I’m guessing are now marks along my neck.

  He freezes, furrowing his brow and stabbing me with a concerned glare. “What the fuck happened? You’ve got bruising as if someone choked you.”

  He’s too observant and a damn good doctor. “Can we just leave, and I promise I will tell you everything.”

  His strong fingers softly cradle my cheeks. “You’re scaring the shit out of me. Do we need to call the cops?”

  I glance down the long hallway over Max’s shoulder in a way to avert his gaze, but I’m hit with another blow.

  He is there.

  Ash.

  He’s standing forty, no, more like fifty feet away, resting his shoulder against the wall with his legs casually crossed at the ankles. The pose is odd for him. It’s almost a lazy, carefree look and I’ve never seen him anything less than alert and challenging, ready to strike.

  His black as night eyes bore into my skull even at this distance, and an overwhelming sense of falling swamps me.

  We must get out of here. The police won’t help. He’ll be gone by the time they arrive.

  “No. Please let’s leave.”

  Max

  We burst through the large door into the dark summer night, her long sable hair flying behind her. Holding my hand tightly, she races down the stairs like Satan is on our heels.

  I had
called the driver on our way out and fortunately the car idles at the curb. Shoulders tense and stomach in knots, I’m sick with worry. Her neck… someone tried to choke her, and leaving without making sure whoever did this is dealt with doesn’t sit right with me.

  The driver stands with the back door open and before Tommie slides in, she peers over her shoulder, casting a hard glare back at the entrance we just exited. Ominous expectation, ready for someone to walk out of those doors. But who? By her expression — the devil himself.

  What the hell happened? My heart bashes around in my chest and I feel my blood pressure climbing. Was it my mother? She’s controlling in every aspect of the word and wouldn’t be above threatening Tommie to stay away from me. But with force in a public place? That doesn’t make sense.

  Taya is more discreet than that; she has a reputation to uphold, although she’s no less violent behind closed doors.

  I’m not even buckled in when Tommie’s body presses against mine and she rests her head on my shoulder, her forehead nestling into my neck.

  “Talk to me,” I murmur into the crown of her dark head.

  “I will, but can we just sit for a bit? And talk when we get home?” Her warm breath coasts over my neck, sending tingles through me.

  I’m briefly soothed with the knowledge that I’ll know more soon and for now, all she needs is to be with me. My arms tighten around her body. We sit in silence for the entire drive to my place and remain so as we take the elevator up.

  Once in my place, she kneels to pet a happy Gunnar, who’s wagging his tail and leaning into her as she strokes behind his silky ear.

  I walk further in, turning on lights, and while I want answers now, I don’t push. “What can I get you?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” Still shaky, she walks down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

  Both dog and I follow like shadows as she passes both guest bedrooms and enters my room, stopping at the end of the bed. She’s in my room and I don’t know what to make of it.

  “I need a shower,” she whispers, her back to me as she trudges to the bathroom. “Then we’ll talk.”

  “Are you okay?” I flick on the light behind her and she nods, not sparing me a glance.

  Revulsion mars her features as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. I don’t like what I see, or more specifically, how she’s reacting to what she sees. Her expression is laden with shame or blame. But for what?

  If only I knew what the hell was going on, then I might be able to help. I’m struggling to stop myself from conjuring what could have happened to make this night take such a drastic turn.

  Patience. I need patience. Anything else won’t help the situation. Time is what she clearly needs. I will give her that and then we will figure it out together.

  I turn the door and minutes pass with no sound from the bathroom as I undress, anxious to get out of the proverbial dark. After several long minutes, the shower still hasn’t started. Tapping on the door, I peer in to find her in the same spot I left her.

  “Tommie.” Now standing in front of her, my hands grasp her shoulders. “Look at me.”

  I’m close enough to see how her dark chocolate eyes teem with unrest. It’s deep and persistent. The kind that spreads through your muscles, blood and bones. My knees lock, fighting the urge to buckle under the weight of comprehension. Whatever this is, it’s huge.

  “I need help with my dress.” She lifts an arm, revealing the side zipper, and relief courses through me.

  Maybe I’m overreacting and her fixed state is a simple access problem. She’s stuck in her dress. But the longer I think about it, the more uneasy I become. She was more than resourceful when she put her dress on in the car. She didn’t need my help.

  The zipper ticks down her curves and I slide the dress from one shoulder, far enough that she can do the rest herself.

  Earlier tonight, overcome with attraction and arousal, this would have felt like an invitation, but now all I have is an overpowering desire to protect.

  “You good now?” I clasp her shoulder and she nods. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Okay.”

  Eventually, the water turns on and I gather a shirt and the smallest boxers I have, leaving them on the bathroom counter while she showers. Coming to the end of the bed, I sit, trying not to jump to conclusions or speculate any further about the night’s events.

  Every possibility ends with her being assaulted. And if that’s the case… fuck, I can’t go there unless I have to. The waiting and not knowing is driving me more insane.

  With my head in my hands, elbows propped on my thighs, I wait. I’m not sure how long it is until her legs pass my vision, on her way to the far side of the bed.

  She slips under the covers, pausing when our gazes collide. “Is it okay if I sleep here? In your bed?”

  Never has she looked so young and so vulnerable. Her face is bare, hair knotted in a large messy bun on the top of her head and my t-shirt hangs off one shoulder.

  “Sure, but let’s talk.” My heart lurches in anticipation.

  “Yes.” She pats the empty side of the bed and I make my way next to her. “I’ve been thinking about telling you this for some time now.”

  “This? What do you mean?”

  “About my past. I was going to tell you today, and then when you told us about Taya, I figured it could wait.” She hangs her head, staring at the sheets.

  “None of that has anything to do with you. With us. If you’re worried it’s too much. Never. I’m always here for you.”

  Deep guilt, or dare I even think, shame shimmers in her gaze and I don’t fully understand, but I hope she lets me in, so I finally get the full picture. So I can help her. So I can be there for her how she needs me.

  Nodding, she smiles through a sheen of tears. “Just a week ago, my past popped up online, and since then I’ve been lost, trying to figure out what to do and also hoping it would go away.”

  “Did you tell Van?” The thought of her dealing with this alone is my first concern.

  He’s a pillar of strength for her, and while at times I wish she would turn to me, I’m grateful for him. Grateful that she has someone to go to.

  “Yes.” Her fingers lightly graze my stubbled cheek. “I know it’s time to face the past. Even with years of therapy, none of what happened is fully behind me. No justice was served even though we tried. And tonight has made it abundantly clear that now’s the time to end this, once and for all. He isn’t going away.”

  “He?” My spine stiffens.

  Someone is responsible for what happened to her, that isn’t a surprise, but I always figured from what I know of Van, he would have taken care of it. He would have made sure those who hurt her paid. It doesn’t sound like that’s the case.

  Her lower lip trembles and her head turns away from me to look straight ahead, pulling back her shoulders as if strengthening not only her posture but also her resolve.

  “This isn’t easy for me. I never told you everything because… well, let’s just say if I hadn’t had to tell Van, I wouldn’t have. It’s ugly and unbearable and I’m to blame.”

  A raw, bottomless pain saturates not only her voice but her entire being, and my chest threatens to explode. My heart breaks. She hasn’t even begun to tell her story. I’m blind to what she faced and yet I ache to shield her from those memories.

  I care so deeply for her, love her, and I’m so helpless against the pain and suffering she has already endured and which I’m sensing is threatening to hurt her again. God, if only I could erase it all, I would.

  Tommie

  “He knew my father.” My teeth clack together, hard, and my nostrils flare. I don’t want to do this but have to, for me.

  Tonight was horrible, and the longer I keep my past to myself, the longer Ash has power over me. He threatened those I love and wants me to keep my mouth shut. But if I do as he says, he keeps all the power. Not going to happen.

  “I was ten when my parents died in
a fire.”

  Max already knows this, but he doesn’t know the story behind it. Why there was a fire in the first place and who started it. All I’ve been able to tell him is how I was an orphan in a horrible situation where I was abused until Van rescued me.

  “One day, after school, I came home to find my father arguing with a man in his office. I’d never seen him before, and they didn’t know I was there. The stranger was berating Papa.”

  I pause and it’s as if I’m standing in the hallway shadows of my home listening to this stranger’s sharp, demanding voice, spewing hurtful, offensive things at my father.

  “If you knew Papa, you’d know that was unheard of. He was a proud man, no one ever treated him with anything but respect. Yet this man was not only insulting but threatening my father and family. And worst of all, my father stood there, silent, taking everything this man threw at him. Not once did he fight back.”

  “What did you do?” He slides closer, resting his hand on mine in my lap and I intertwine our fingers, comforted by his presence even if I’m afraid to share this with him.

  “My father owed him money. A lot of money. I was really bothered by what I saw but I was also cocky. Very computer savvy, a budding hacker.” The thought pulls a humorless laugh from deep in my chest.

  If I could go back and talk to the younger me, before everything fell apart, oh what I would say. My arrogance led to my downfall.

  “I was so mad at this man. I’d never seen my father so dejected and I was sure I could help. I used the only power I had and went online to find anything I could about him. He was a businessman, wealthy, and little did I know, for all my digging, I was leaving the equivalent of my fingerprints everywhere.”

  A deep sigh drains the tension mounting in my shoulders, but it’s short-lived. My anxiety isn’t going anywhere.

  “I hacked his bank accounts. It was a stupid idea and at the time, the biggest fucking thrill. I thought because he had so much money, he’d never miss a few hundred thousand.”

  I shake my head, fingers curling, and angrily thump a fist against the top of my thigh.