“Clyde?”
“No, it’s Anzio.”
Ramsey deflated, greatly disappointed. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know why I dialed your number.”
Anzio had a way of dancing around things. And right now, Ramsey didn’t have the patience to play the guessing game. “Get to the point, brother.”
“Madison is here.”
“Is she all right?”
“Depends who you talk to.”
Ramsey rolled his eyes. “Is she physically safe?”
“Yes. But it’s her heart I’m worried about.”
Goddamnit. Every time he turned around, something or someone reminded him of the woman he couldn’t have. “Why?”
“She loves you.”
He edged around the granite island and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. Those words were foreign to him, especially when they were related to a woman other than his mother. “We’re not in fucking high school, Anzio. Don’t play Cupid. Don’t force the issue. Madison and I reached an understanding already.”
Anzio’s humorless chuckle pissed him off. “She confessed to me a couple hours ago. Now she’s on stage singing love songs. If you’re stupid enough to ignore this, then go fuck yourself.” His friend hung up.
Ramsey stared at his phone. In the fifteen years he’d known Anzio, the man had never raised his voice at him. But that’s not what gave him the biggest jolt of his life. The idea of Madison loving him made him feel helpless. And the fact that she had the courage to admit it, blew his mind. Madison loves me. He let the reality of it sink in.
Nothing could have prepared him for this moment, because it was never supposed to happen. He recalled all the conversations he’d had with Madison, his cavalier attitude, what he’d always told himself, and deeply regretted it. De Wolfe men hunted women. They didn’t second guess their actions. De Wolfe’s don’t fall in love. De Wolfes don’t get married. Could the shit get any deeper? Could he possibly sound more heartless? He raked his fingers through his hair, everything hitting him at once. No wonder women only wanted sex with him.
Yet Madison still loved him.
He shot up from the stool, then raced upstairs to take a shower. He couldn’t ignore his gut feeling; Madison deserved his undivided attention.
Finished for the night, Madison waved goodbye to Anzio and walked outside. The rain had let up, so she didn’t mind walking the three blocks to the closest bus stop. Police patrolled the area regularly and customers were usually walking from one bar or restaurant to another, so she felt safe. She passed by a closed French bakery, then a Sushi bar with patrons sitting at high top tables next to the windows. Checking for traffic before she crossed the street, Madison pushed the straps of her backpack higher up on her arm.
Just as her foot hit the sidewalk, someone grabbed her from behind and dragged her into the alley between the buildings to her right. She started to scream, but a gloved hand covered her mouth. Dear God. She kicked her feet violently, punching the assailant’s arms, but nothing helped. His strong arm was clamped around her from behind, effectively controlling her movements.
They stopped at the end of the corridor. He jammed something hard into the side of her neck. “Make a sound and I’ll fucking kill you right here, understand?”
All she wanted to do was scream and fight. But she knew it was a gun aimed at her head.
“Answer me.”
She nodded.
“Good.” He freed her, and Madison swung around.
Fear and anger collided inside her. The asshole was wearing dark clothing and a black ski mask like the guy who tried to break into her house. “What do you want?”
He aimed the firearm at her chest. “Strip.”
Madison’s gaze zigzagged around the sheltered area. A dim light shone from the back entrance to one of the businesses. The occasional raindrop hit her cheeks. This isn’t how she wanted to die. Raped and shot in an ally. No. “Did you try to open my door the other night?” she asked.
He edged closer, the gun still on her. “Take. Your. Fucking. Clothes. Off. Bitch.”
Her legs trembled as she dropped her backpack in the dirt, then started to unbutton her coat.
“Slow,” he said. “I want to enjoy this.”
Bile rose in her throat. She undid the second button, then the third…
“Just like that.” He sounded turned on.
Madison opened her jacket and eased her arms out. She laid it on top of her bag and froze.
“Now your blouse and bra. Show me your tits.”
“No.”
“Do it.”
She hugged herself, terrified of what he’d do to her for refusing. But she preferred a bullet over giving this pervert a striptease.
He rushed forward and grabbed her by the throat. He squeezed hard enough to make his point. “If you don’t take that shirt off…”
He never got a chance to finish his sentence. A single shot sounded and Madison screamed, shrinking back into the shadows. Her gaze flicked beyond her attacker, to Ramsey De Wolfe standing nearby with his gun in his hands. How did he know? Where did he come from? Panicked thoughts swirled inside her head, and she felt suddenly hot. Her legs gave out, but she didn’t lose consciousness. She watched Ramsey disarm the gunman and cuff him, hands behind his back. Then he turned her direction, his eyes sharply focused on her.
“Madison!” He rushed over, knelt beside her, and cupped her face between his hands. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no.”
“Thank God, sweet heart,” he said, his voice laced with worry.
“How did you know where to find me?” She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t hold on to a rational thought. Her chest tightened. “Ramsey … I can’t…” Everything went dark.
“She’s stable now, Detective De Wolfe.”
“Her heart rate?”
“Back to normal.”
“Thank you. Let me walk you out.”
Madison opened her eyes slowly. At first she didn’t recognize her surroundings, but she clearly heard Ramsey’s voice. His unmistakable scent filled her head. She was tucked safely in his bed, a roaring fire the only light in the bedroom. She turned and found an opened bottled water on the nightstand. Praise God he showed up when he did. She took a long drink, unable to remember when she was ever this thirsty before. After she emptied the bottle, she put it back on the nightstand and pulled the covers back.
She was wearing a T-shirt and panties. His shirt, and it smelled like his citrusy cologne.
“Madison?”
“Ramsey?” Tears filled her eyes. He saved her life tonight. And if she ever doubted her feelings before, seeing him in the doorway reminded her why she loved him.
“How do you feel?” He didn’t move.
“Exhausted, but so happy to see you.”
“The EMT just left. I hope you don’t mind being here. I thought you’d prefer my place over the hospital.”
She nodded. “Thank you. F-for everything.”
They met in the middle of the room, desperate for contact. He lifted her into his arms, kissing her face over and over again. She melted against him, feeling safe and wanted.
“Sweetest, Madison. I almost lost you tonight.” His arms tightened around her. “It will never happen again.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I arrived at the club minutes after you left. Anzio told me you were taking the bus home.”
Her knees buckled, but he swept her off her feet and carried her to the leather loveseat in front of the fireplace. She curled up on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. “What were you doing at the bar?”
He gazed down at her. “Anzio called.”
Oh no.
“Do you love me, Madison?” His dark eyes pierced her heart like an arrow.
“Yes.”
“I love you, too,” he said without hesitation.
Was she still asleep and dreaming? Or had she died in that ally and this was her
version of heaven? “But you’re a De Wolfe.”
“I am,” he said in a gravelly voice. “But that doesn’t change anything. I’ve waited for you all my life. And until tonight, I thought it was impossible to ever love someone. But when Anzio told me what you said to him, all the loneliness and pain I’ve carried with me lifted. You’re the key to breaking the curse, Madison. You rescued me from a meaningless life.”
She fisted her hand in his shirt and pulled his face close enough to kiss. Their lips pressed together in tender need. “I’ve loved you since I was a teenager I think. And I can’t believe I’m here in your arms.”
“Believe it, Madison, because I’ll never let you go.”
Epilogue
Six weeks later…
Madison smiled at Ramsey as he left the table. Claire had invited them to lunch at her favorite café.
“Show me that diamond again,” Claire said.
Madison lifted her left hand, gazing at the princess cut stone with as much fascination as Ramsey’s mother. “I still can’t believe it,” she said.
“Remember what I told you, dear? Always follow your heart.”
“But the curse…”
Claire squeezed her hand affectionately, then looked down at her tummy. “Since you’re engaged to my son and carrying my grandchild, I think it’s safe to share the secret.”
“What broke the curse?”
She nodded. “True love, Madison. As simple as that.”
“But didn’t you love Ramsey’s biological father?”
“With all my heart.”
“So why didn’t it work for you?”
“Because he never loved me back.”
Madison didn’t know what to say. She felt so blessed and happy. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Claire said. “My husband is everything I ever wanted.”
Madison’s hand slipped to her stomach. Her greatest joy was growing inside her, Ramsey’s son or daughter. “What if we have a boy?”
“Teach him better than I did.”
Ramsey rejoined them, looking grim. “I have news.”
“What is it?” Madison pulled his chair out.
“It can wait until later.”
“No,” she said. “We share everything, remember?”
He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Carl Gentry hung himself in his cell today. He left a suicide note confessing to all the murders.”
A moment of silence passed.
“Better for all of us,” Claire commented.
“Yes.” Madison shivered, the memory of the assault still fresh.
Ramsey squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, baby. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise.”
“I love you, Ramsey.” And as long as she had her De Wolfe at her side, she knew life would be perfect.
About Violetta Rand
Raised in Corpus Christi, Texas, Violetta Rand spent her childhood reading, writing, and playing soccer. After meeting her husband in New England, they moved to Alaska where she studied environmental science and policy as an undergraduate before attending graduate school. Violetta then spent nearly a decade working as an environmental scientist, specializing in soil and water contamination and environmental assessments.
Violetta still lives in Anchorage, Alaska and spends her days writing evocative New Adult romance and historical romance. When she’s not reading, writing, or editing, she enjoys time with her husband, pets, and friends. In her free time, she loves to hike, fish, and ride motorcycles and 4-wheelers.
Where to contact Violetta Rand:
Author website:
violettarandromance.com
Email:
[email protected]
I’d love to hear from you; please contact me with any suggestions or just to say hello.
Series by Violetta Rand:
All titles are available on Amazon.com
Violetta Rand on Amazon
The Blind Series – Viking Romance
Blind Allegiance
Blind Mercy
Blind Redemption
Blind Confession
Devil’s Den Series – Contemporary Romance
Surrender
Seduction Sin
Lies and Leather Series – Contemporary Romance
Loving Lucas
Winning Mason
Sons of Odin MC Series – Contemporary Romance
Persuasion
Possession
Property of JT
Bad Wolfe on the Rise
De Wolfe Pack
The Series
Sarah Hegger
Prologue
Elewys drew her shawl about her shoulders. Night still clung in long shadows that the dawn had yet to dispel.
She bent and took a handful of the new earth, raw and bare, atop the seventh mound.
Seven mounds lined up in a row. Seven mounds of earth atop tiny bodies that should have been in her arms. One child for each day of the week, but none for Elewys. Year after year, one still birth following another and still she had believed this last babe would live. Her breasts, still heavy with milk, ached to suckle her latest child.
Every day she came here to soothe their restless spirits. Her babies would never see heaven, or be gathered into the arms of the Lord. They had all died before they could receive the sacrament of baptism.
“You should have lived.” She pressed her fingers into the seventh mound. Her prayers and alms, confessions and penance had been for naught. Still he had died. A cold wind blew off the river and dried her tears on her cheeks. “You were murdered.”
Murdered by the child with the devil eyes. The first time he had turned his gaze to her gravid belly a chill had run through her marrow as if she had been touched by the devil himself.
Her sister had carried and delivered the spawn of the dark one and brought him into her life. His odd yellow eyes were the eyes of a hellhound. The child bore the mark of Satan and he had looked at her unborn babe and laid a death curse on him.
A boy, the midwife had told her after she had birthed her child, a beautiful, fully formed boy. Her sweet baby had never taken his first breath because of that evil boy. They had not let her hold her child, not even once, before her husband had taken his dead body away.
“Your name is Oliver. I baptize you Oliver,” she whispered to the mound. Her little ones looked to her to release their souls and bring them peace.
An eye for an eye. One death for another and there would be no consecrated ground for the demon child called William either.
“Mam! Where are you?” A child’s voice travelled on the wind.
Her heart forgot to beat for a moment. From beyond the grave her children called out to her.
“Oliver?” She turned toward the sound of the child.
A large covered wagon lumbered along the rutted lane that continued on to the church. A little boy, his spindly legs pumping beneath his threadbare shift ran after the wagon. The boy had dark hair.
Hair the color of her Oliver’s. She had caught a glimpse of his head as the midwife bundled him and took him away.
The boy stopped in the lane and wailed at the wagon. “Mam!”
Other children sat inside the wagon and yet another ran beside it. So many children. Too many children for one woman to call her own. See how little Oliver stood in the lane and cried for a mother who did not come.
Such a mother did not deserve Oliver.
Fortunately for Oliver, his true mother stood nearby and would save him.
Dylan let the wagon creak on and walked back to fetch his second oldest son. The bullocks plodded forward, endlessly patient.
A stiff dawn breeze snapped the wagon covering, but inside the smaller children did not stir. Ciaran had been walking for much of the night, far longer than his young legs should have and had grown weary and fretful. Determined to keep up with his older brother Rhys, he now stood in the lane and tried not to cry.
Looking so much like him, Ciaran had escaped his mother’s
body at a trot and had not stopped moving since. It was easy to forget how young he was with his brimming energy and indomitable will. This son of his would grow into a man to be reckoned with.
“Mam,” Ciaran wailed.
Rhys pointed and jeered and Ciaran. “Stop crying like a baby.”
“Not a baby.” Ciaran’s soft face tightened in determination and he dragged his wrist over it. Snot, dirt and tears streaked his skin.
A church stood to their left, it’s spire etched against a dawn sky. A woman stood outside the church yard, her cloak rippling in the breeze. Dylan would not have noticed her, only she had moved toward Ciaran when he begun to cry.
“Good morrow.” Dylan raised his hand. “I hope Ciaran did not disturb you.”
Motionless the woman watched them.
Dylan shrugged. It took all kinds in this world and she was standing in the unhallowed ground beside the church. He could not say what brought her out on such a cool morning.
They would all be better for a good sleep and a full belly. Even the younger ones travelling in the wagon grew weary of this endless journey.
“How much longer, Da.” Rhys kept his complaint clear of younger ears.
Dylan picked up Ciaran and tossed him atop his shoulders. He ruffled Rhys’s hair. “Not too far now.”
Rhys scowled at Ciaran atop Dylan’s shoulders. “Why does he get to be carried? Is it because he is a small, whiny baby?”
Ciaran’s hands tightened in Dylan’s hair.
“Stop that, you great lout.” He cuffed his oldest son, a blow Rhys dodged easily and sprang away laughing.
Ciaran’s heels drummed on his chest as he walked.
“Da?” Rhys settled into step beside him. “Why do we not just use Teithiwr and magic ourselves there?”
“Hush.” Dylan cast a quick look around. Talk of magic could upset God-fearing folk. “We do not use Teithiwr, because it is not a toy. It is a powerful tool that is always to be respected.” He glanced up at Ciaran and then down at Rhys to make sure they heeded him. “Make sure you remember that. Teithiwr was given to us in sacred trust, and we must never abuse that.”
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