White Knight

by Nicole Flockton

  “Must be fate.”

  She cupped his cheek, loving having the freedom to finally touch him and not hide her feelings any longer. “I love you, Derek.”

  “And I love you, Sasha White.” He claimed her lips with an urgency that drove every other thought out of her mind. As he did so, a bolt of energy slammed through them, electrifying her nerves and even rattling the furniture in the room.

  They yanked apart, and both looked down. Sasha fully expected to see lines of electricity dancing over her skin or maybe even singe marks on her clothes, but no visible sign remained of that shock. Only her left ring finger burned.

  “Whoa!” she breathed. “That was you, right?”

  Derek frowned, dark eyes reflecting his confusion. “I guess so, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt more like . . . ”

  “Magic,” they said together.

  A razor-sharp pain lanced through her hand. Sasha gasped at the same time that Derek swore.

  “Shit. That hurts.” He shook his left hand, then glanced down. “What the hell?” He lifted it for her to see.

  An image of a sword wrapped his finger, the tip and hilt connected by a crown.

  “Oh my God.” She looked at her hand and saw a matching image adorning her ring finger. She rubbed it, but the etching didn’t smudge.

  “You don’t suppose . . . Impossible,” he murmured.

  “The curse is broken?” she asked. “Or the Immortality Stone confirming us to be fated souls?

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Should we go tell the Knights?”

  Fire ignited in his eyes again, and she was smiling before he ever answered.

  “Yes. But later.”

  She sighed into his kiss as he took possession of her lips. Broken curse or not, they had each other and together their strength and love would be all they ever needed.

  Acknowledgments

  A big thank you to Tara, Julie, and Crimson Romance for believing in this project and giving it a chance. It’s a pleasure to work with you all again.

  A co-writing effort is always a challenge, so thanks to my co-writing partner, Abigail Owen, for making this project so much fun to work on. I’m hoping we can do it again. Thank you also for your friendship and brainstorming skills. It was a great day when we met each other at RT in Las Vegas.

  To my readers, thanks for following me into this new genre. I tell you it was fun to write a story where I could play around with paranormal elements and the characters could have powers.

  To Jason, my princess and knight, I love you and thank you for your continued support.

  • • •

  As always, I have a ton of thanks I owe to a wide support network of fantastic folks.

  To my writing partner, Nicole Flockton. Writing this with you was awesome. You rock, and I’m so excited to share in the excitement of a new release and new series with you. You make this gig fun day in and day out with your support, love, and straight talk.

  To the readers, thanks for the support, and hugs, and interest, and being awesome. And especially for reading my books! Sasha and Derek and their entire world were beyond fun to play in. If you have a free sec, please think about leaving a review. I love to connect with my readers, so I hope you’ll drop a line and say “Howdy” on any of my social media!

  To our awesome editors, Tara and Julie and the entire team at Crimson Romance. Thank you for loving this series idea and book. And thanks for all the hard work, wonderful suggestions, and support to bring it to readers.

  To my agent, Evan Marshall, for dealing with my constant insanity with grace and kindness and a guiding hand.

  To my support team of beta readers, critique partners, writing buddies, reviewers, RWA chapters, friends, and family (you know who you are). I know I say this every time, but I mean it . . . you’re the best and make my days brighter being part of them.

  Finally, a huge THANK YOU and I LOVE YOU to my happily-ever-after husband and my incredible kids, who laugh and shake their heads as I wander around in a daze 90% of the time, living in the worlds in my head. You are my inspiration and my heart. Because of your support and love, I get to live my dream.

  Turn the page for an excerpt from

  Sweet Texas Fire

  CHAPTER 1

  Gage Cooper drummed his fingers on the armrest as the plane taxied toward the gate. He wasn’t used to the slow crawl of a commercial flight. Unfortunately, his jet was undergoing some routine maintenance. He’d needed to get back to Houston in a timely matter and couldn’t wait the extra eight hours it would take for his plane to be ready.

  At least he was able to get a ticket in first class at the last minute.

  “Is there anything I can get you once we finish taxiing, Mr. Cooper?” The sultry voice of the flight attendant, who’d been trying her best to flirt with him the whole flight, pulled his attention from his internal thoughts.

  He knew the attendant wasn’t inquiring whether he wanted some peanuts for the walk down the tunnel to the terminal. On any other given day, he might be tempted to take her up on the offer. Right at this moment, he had business hassles popping up every three minutes.

  “Thank you, but no, I’m fine.” He turned to look out the window, relieved to see the plane pulling up to the gate. He undid his seat belt before the plane stopped. He wanted to be first in line to collect his luggage and then get into a cab.

  While another flight attendant welcomed everyone to Houston, Gage was reaching into the overhead locker to take out his carry-on and laptop bag. As he waited for them to open the doors, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and checked his e-mails. Hopefully, no more drama had cropped up while he’d been in the air from Midland to Houston. Quickly thumbing through his in-box, nothing seemed like it needed his immediate attention.

  Relief swept through him. He’d spent the last month dealing with the unenviable task of reducing the output on some of his rigs due to the downturn in oil prices. Not to mention the petty environmental issues he’d had thrust on him over the last few months as well by his nemesis, Charlotte Wilkinson. He’d never had problems in the past with the environmental agency he’d always worked with. That was, until Charlotte began working for Gold Star Eco and started investigating the deals his company worked on. So what if the other guy hadn’t been anal about compliance issues. Charlotte focused all her attention on his company now and made the process a nightmare. He was sure she’d found the most obscure plant in the world that needed protecting on his site in Midland. Didn’t she know how much money he would lose if he had to move his rig even one foot from the original plan? He knew he needed to care about the environment, but her almost tyrannical approach to protecting something no one had heard of made him want to pull his hair out.

  And now she owned the piece of land he’d thought was his.

  Finally, the doors opened and he stalked out of the plane, giving the flight attendants a cursory nod. Making his way down the tunnel, he ignored the constant beeping of his phone from more e-mails coming in. He almost gave in to the temptation to turn it off again. He needed to keep his mind clear so he could formulate his plan to confront Charlotte and demand to know what spell she’d cast over his father.

  His phone rang as he climbed into a cab after waiting for what seemed like forever to get his luggage. He pulled the device from his pocket, glancing at the screen to see his brother’s name.

  “Hey, Gray. What’s up?”

  “I still don’t control Guac Olé.”

  Gage suppressed a sigh. If he’d had it tough over the last month since the reading of his father’s will, Grayson had it worse, expecting to inherit controlling share of the company he’d loved as much as his father had. His older brother ended up with nothing but a strawberry charm.

  “And I don’t have the land I could do with right now, seeing as the price of oil has tanked in the last few months.” What Gage did have was a key and twenty five percent of a company he didn’t want.

  “What
was the old man thinking?” Grayson lamented. “He knew what we expected to receive. Hell, he told me not two weeks before he died that everything was sorted out and that all of us would be happy with the contents of his will.”

  “I know. Have you spoken to Gavin? Has he worked out what the glasses he inherited mean?”

  “Don’t know, he’s been somewhat occupied with other things. If he did work it out, he hasn’t mentioned anything to me. What about the key? Any luck there?”

  “No. The key is still a mystery to me.”

  Gage had spent some of the time while he was away visiting his rigs Googling images of keys to see if he could find something that matched the one his father had left him. He gave up when his vision started going blurry after the tenth page. Nothing seemed to match the elaborately ornate key with its thin, round blade and two-pronged tip. The key looked like it belonged in a fairy tale rather than in his possession. He could only assume it was custom-made to fit a unique lock.

  He had no idea where to start looking for the lock it would fit into. There had to be something Dad wanted him to find. But what that thing was, he had no idea.

  One thing he did know—he really didn’t want to have this conversation in a cab. “I’ve got to go, Gray. I’ll give you a call later on tonight.”

  “Wait. I actually wanted to find out if you were free to come into the office tomorrow.”

  “Not sure. It’s not like it’s down the road for me. I’ll have to check my schedule. I don’t know what Dana’s organized for me. It’s my first full day back in the office after being out for a month. What time were you thinking?”

  “Why don’t we make it for drinks and then dinner? That way you can try to clear as much as possible off your desk and drive down to Sweet Ridge. Let me know if that works.”

  “Okay, I’ll send you a text once I know for sure.”

  “Great. See you, Gage.”

  “Bye, Gray.”

  Gage disconnected the call. He rested against the headrest and closed his eyes. He was still trying to come to terms with his father’s death. He’d left Houston the day after the meeting with Dad’s lawyer. The only emotion he’d felt then was anger. And he’d had plenty of time over the last month for the anger to simmer below the surface.

  The cab’s slowing pulled him from his reverie. There was the familiar sight of his building just beyond the traffic lights.

  Home sweet home.

  More like a place to rest his head between trips. The condo could never be called a home. He’d worked in so many different locations that he’d lost the sense of what a home should be. A place where everything was happy, like the family sitcoms he’d watched as a teenager. Oh, the house he’d grown up in had been a home, when their mother had been alive. Even though, with the hindsight of an adult, he now recognized the tension between his parents.

  Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet as the cab came to a halt. He passed the driver enough cash for the fare and a tip, got out of the car, and walked into the foyer of his condo’s building, nodded to the doorman, and made his way to the bank of elevators.

  Screw thinking about happy families. He needed to focus on his upcoming meeting. He had to make sure he had all the facts . . . well, what he thought were the facts.

  It wasn’t going to be a pleasant meeting. He’d never met Charlotte Wilkinson. With the way she sounded on the phone with her hoity-toity British accent, she was probably a scorned middle-aged woman. No a doubt divorcée who hated all men. It was the only explanation he could come up with for the way she expected his company to kowtow to the petty environmental issues she always highlighted in her e-mails and reports to him.

  Now he had another reason to be angry with her. What had she done to Dad to convince him to bequeath the house and surrounding ten acres of land outside of Sweet Ridge to her? Land he knew held a decent oil deposit beneath its surface. Had she blackmailed him? Claimed to be a long-lost daughter? Or worse, had she seduced his father? He shuddered at the thought. He hoped his father was smarter than getting sucked in by a woman. Or women, considering the contents of his will.

  He’d started visiting Sweet Ridge, Texas, in the months prior to his father’s death to try to mend their broken relationship. They’d talked about the past, sorted through some of the mistakes he’d made. There had still been more he’d wanted to say to Dad. He’d thought they’d reached an understanding. They’d even discussed Dad leaving the land to Gage.

  Did Dad still not trust him?

  He ran a successful business. He’d obtained his college degree while working his ass off doing the hard work on oil rigs in places no one would want to go to.

  He’d worked for everything he had. His bank account was probably as substantial, if not more, as his father’s had been. Hadn’t he proved to Dad he wasn’t that kid anymore? The one who’d acted impulsively without thinking about the consequences. The kid who believed the world owed him because of his prowess on the football field.

  He’d changed, and it burned him that Dad didn’t think he deserved the land. He’d told Dad what he planned to do with it. How the profits from pulling the black gold out of the ground would be more than he’d ever make from guacamole—even though the guacamole plant had provided Dad and his family with a very good lifestyle. Dad had seemed excited.

  Now Gage knew it had been an act and Dad never planned on leaving him the land at all.

  The land had been the first piece of property their father had bought, but for some reason he’d never lived in the house on the property. The family hadn’t even gone there for the odd weekend away, like a family fun mini-vacation. Still, the land abutted a stretch of bush that was great for hunting deer, so before Gage had left for college, he’d spent a weekend there with his football buddies. One last hurrah before they all headed off to college, all with dreams of making the big time.

  No. He wasn’t going to think about that. How he’d been so arrogant and confident. How he hadn’t given any thought to what going to college on a full football scholarship really meant. How it didn’t matter if you were the star player on the team.

  You break the rules, you’re out.

  His phone buzzed with the reminder that his meeting was going to take place in thirty minutes. He needed to get his head in the game. No way was he going to let Charlotte cause any more delays on his oil fields. And he was going to get back the land that was rightfully his.

  No matter what it took.

  About the Authors

  USA Today bestselling author Nicole Flockton writes sexy contemporary romances, seducing you one kiss at a time as you turn the pages. Nicole likes nothing better than taking characters and creating unique situations where they fight to find their true love. Find Nicole Flockton at www.nicoleflockton.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/NicoleFlockton/, and on Twitter @NicoleFlockton.

  Award-winning author Abigail Owen loves to write feisty heroines, sexy heroes who deserve them, and a cast of lovable characters to surround them (and maybe get their own stories). Abigail currently resides in Austin, Tex., with her own personal hero (her husband) and their two kiddos, who are growing up way to quickly. Find Abigail Owen at www.abigailowen.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Abigail.Owen.Books, and on Twitter @AOwenBooks.

  We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

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  Copyright © 2018 by Nicole Flockton a
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  First Crimson Romance ebook edition JANUARY 2018.

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  Cover images © HotDamnStock, © 123RF/preve beatrice

  ISBN 978-1-5072-0795-6 (ebook)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and Simon & Schuster, Inc., was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed with initial capital letters.