Reddest Black: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Book 7 (In the Shadows)

by P. T. Michelle

  Reddest Black

  In the Shadows - Book 7

  P. T. Michelle

  Limitless Ink Press

  Contents

  Reddest Black

  Copyright

  Summary

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty One

  Blood Rose

  Other Books By P.T. Michelle

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Reddest Black

  In the Shadows - Book 7

  To Joey, a dedication I think you’ll appreciate…

  Family always comes first

  Copyright

  Reddest Black - Copyright 2017 by P.T. Michelle

  All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook cannot be re-sold or given away to others. No parts of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  To stay informed when the next P.T. Michelle book will be released, join P.T. Michelle’s free newsletter.

  V101917

  Summary

  Passion, betrayal, and heartache collide in an emotionally charged and dangerous chain of events that could unravel everything Sebastian and Talia have worked to overcome.

  While looking forward to a bright future with the upcoming birth of their child, and navigating the often humorous and overbearingly protective aspects of approaching parenthood, Mister Black and Little Red manage to strengthen their passionate connection.

  But connections can be severed in the most insidious ways, and the power couple must learn to trust each other’s instincts if they hope to uncover the threat determined to destroy their family.

  Author’s Note: REDDEST BLACK can be read as a standalone story, but for the richest reading experience you can always start with the first book, MISTER BLACK, to see how Sebastian and Talia’s epic love story began.

  IN THE SHADOWS SERIES:

  NOW AVAILABLE…

  Mister Black (1) (Sebastian & Talia Part 1, Novella)

  Scarlett Red (2) (Sebastian & Talia Part 2, Novel)

  Blackest Red (3) (Sebastian & Talia Part 3, Novel)

  Gold Shimmer (4) (Cass & Calder Part 1, Novel)

  Steel Rush (5) (Cass & Calder Part 2, Novel)

  Black Platinum (6) (Sebastian & Talia, Novel)

  Reddest Black (7) (Sebastian & Talia, Novel)

  COMING…

  Blood Rose (8) (Cass & Calder, Novel) - June 2018

  Chapter One

  Talia

  You killed me once. Now I’m going to return the favor. Permanently.

  I smirk at the last sentence, my fingers hovering over the delete button. My editor won’t let me take my main character down that dark path on her quest to find the serial killer who’d left her for dead eighteen months before. No matter that she carries scars and suffers nightmares from her ordeal, Jared says, “She’s the white knight, championing causes through her investigations, Talia. Even when the hunt turns personal, she must always stay above the malevolence she’s reporting on.”

  He claims my readers will revolt. And the blinking curser taunts me, challenging. Waiting for me to make a decision. I know exactly how the story ends. At least the version I had in mind. Now Jared’s comments from our working lunch yesterday are making me second-guess myself. Should I take my character there? She had to overcome many obstacles to beat the serial killer, so I’m not sure why my fingers are pausing over the keyboard. How much of my own moral code should I impart on my characters? Just because I wouldn’t go there doesn’t mean they couldn’t. “Not if it fits the story and their journeys, right?” I utter under my breath.

  My belly suddenly thumps against the desk’s edge. Smiling, I rub the spot where my baby just gave a vote. “You agree? You don’t kick like that often, but when you do, it seems to be with purpose. Just two more weeks and you get to do that in less confined space.” A bit disappointed my husband missed such a strong kick, I slide my gaze to the side door Sebastian had added between our adjacent offices at BLACK Security. So far he’s only felt tiny flutters on my belly. Maybe if I discuss the character issue with him, our little Noodle might do a repeat performance. Standing, I walk over to the door and grab the knob, but pause.

  It’s mid-week, yet this morning is the first day this week he’s been back in the office. He has been working crazy hours, splitting his time between BLACK Security and his father’s business, Blake Industries. He’s determined to incorporate the new corporate security segment of BLACK Security into his father’s company before the baby arrives. His office might be sound proofed, but this door isn’t. I hear him talking to another man. The last thing I want to do is interrupt the limited time he has with his employees here.

  Just as I lower my hand from the knob, the man says, “I’m not sure why I was shown to your office, Mr. Blake.”

  “You’ve stated your business. The answer won’t change,” Sebastian says curtly.

  “But, if I could just speak with your wife directly—”

  My husband’s tone turns harsh. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  I immediately open the door. “Hello,” I say to the dark-haired man in a suit that has seen better days. “I’m Talia Blake. What did you want to see me about, Mr…”

  “Pastor Jeff Willows.” He starts to step forward to shake my hand, but lowers his hand to his side when Sebastian steps into place beside me to glower at him.

  Taking in Sebastian’s towering, six-four height, the man tugs at his tie. “As I told your husband, I’m here on behalf of a valued volunteer member of our church, Paulo Cantor.”

  “I didn’t want him to waste your time,” Sebastian says as he wraps an arm around my waist. “Nor do I want his presence here to compromise the case against Paulo.”

  “What exactly are you here for, Pastor Willows?” I say.

  His brown eyes drop to my pregnant belly briefly, then he clears his throat. “Paulo hopes that you’ll speak up on his behalf.”

  “Absolutely not,” Sebastian barks, his arm pulling me closer to his side. “This conversation is over.”

  “Sebastian’s right. I can’t compromise the case. And I don’t understand why Paulo would think I would help him. You do realize the man kidnapped and threatened me, right?”

  The Pastor’s pale skin flushes slightly. “He knows he’ll get jail time for his offenses, of which I also believe he deserves. Hopefully he’ll learn from his mistakes, but he doesn’t deserve time for murder. He doesn’t kill. He said he told you that directly.”

  “No, he just forces others to kill for him,” I say, folding my arms.

&nb
sp; “Well, um…” the man pauses and swallows before blurting out, “He’s hoping you’ll consider it a favor for almost taking his eye out.”

  “I was defending myself and my family,” I snap. “What does he want from me anyway?”

  “He’s hoping that you’ll help prove that he didn’t intend to kill Mrs. Blake.”

  “He put a bomb on our limo that ended up killing my stepmother,” Sebastian cuts in. “You can’t get any deadlier than that.”

  The Pastor folds his hands together in a plea. “He swore up and down that he only planted it in the wheel-well. He says someone moved it.”

  “I don’t give a damn who did it, him or his partner,” Sebastian says. “They’re both equally guilty as far as I’m concerned. If I see your face around here again, Pastor or not, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. Is that clear, Mr. Willows?”

  When the man shifts his gaze to me, clearly hoping I’ll intervene, Sebastian takes a step forward. The man sighs and steps back. “Please just consider it, Mrs. Blake,” he says, before he walks out the office door with my husband shadowing him.

  A few minutes later, Sebastian reenters his office. Raking a hand through his short, dark hair, he unbuttons his suit jacket and grumbles, “That’s some brass-balls coming into my office with some bullshit excuse just to get a guilty man out of a murder wrap.”

  “The Pastor’s heart was in the right place. He believes everyone deserves a chance to repent for the sins they have committed. You know a murder charge carries a much harsher sentence,” I say quietly. “What if he’s right? What if—”

  “We got the bad guys.” Sebastian moves behind me and pulls me back against his chest. “It has been almost seven months. I hate that this case has dragged out this long, but don’t let Paulo’s desperation make you feel one ounce of guilt or question the evidence. We’ll never know for sure which of the two bastards was responsible, since both Paulo and Detective Mayhew have adamantly blamed each other for Isabel’s death. I’ll sleep just fine if they both end up with murder charges tacked onto their jail time.” Resting his hands on my stomach, he rubs his thumbs slowly back and forth. “How’s Peanut doing?”

  I know Sebastian doesn’t want the man’s comments about the bomb to plant themselves into my subconscious, but the seeds have already been sown. “Peanut?” I place my hands over his. “So we’ve moved on to legumes, have we? At some point we’re going to have to discuss real name options for the little one.”

  “If you had let the doctor tell us the baby’s sex, I would happily discuss names with you.”

  He sounds so disgruntled, I snicker. “Ah, I see. Because I’m torturing you by keeping it a surprise, our unborn child will have lots of different food names between now and the birth?”

  His big hands slide from the top of my round belly to the bottom. Locking his fingers together underneath, he fully supports the baby’s weight and exhales a low laugh. “You’re right. The name should reflect reality.”

  I love being surrounded by his warmth and masculine smell. Even through his suit, I feel the strength and protection of his muscular arms and for a brief moment I allow myself to fully melt against him. “That’s better.”

  “So, Little Watermelon, has your mother finished her book yet? She’s running out of time to get it turned in before you arrive.”

  “Little Watermelon? I’m not that big!” I smack his arm, gasping in horror. “I’m a…mini-basketball, tops.”

  Sebastian’s hold on me tightens and he brushes his lips against my temple. “You’re perfect just as you are, Little Red. But we’re discussing your deadline, not your waistline.”

  A part of me wants to argue that he’d just compared me to the largest fruit out there. He’d better not call the baby Pumpkin next! But the other part doesn’t want to discuss my ever-widening waist, at all. I’ve never been one to worry about weight, but this is in a whole other realm of size adjustment. So instead, I shift back to the subject at hand.

  “Jared bumped the book’s deadline during lunch. He said he wanted to give me plenty of time, so technically my book isn’t due until three months after the baby is born. I still plan to have it done before the baby arrives. Actually, though…speaking of my book. That’s the whole reason—”

  A knock sounds at Sebastian’s open doorway and Elijah leans against the jamb, his dark eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I thought we had a meeting. I can come back.”

  Sebastian releases me and I wave Elijah in, smiling. “I need to get back to work anyway. Have a good meeting.”

  After I close the adjoining door between our offices and sit back down at my desk, I can hear the men’s deep voices, but not what’s being said. I rest my hands on the keyboard, but the words aren’t coming. My gaze strays to my phone where I see I’ve missed a couple of calls.

  The first one is a hang up from an unlisted number. My first thought is that it’s for the previous owner of my number, but then for a split second I wonder if it’s my aunt playing games again, until I see that the second call is from my aunt’s phone. I hit the button to play her message.

  “I’m sorry I missed you, dear. I know you’ve been keeping yourself busy with work and the upcoming baby shower, but this is a work-related question. I’m considering installing a security camera and would like to know which one your company might recommend. Give me a call when you get a chance. Otherwise, we can discuss it tomorrow night at the party.”

  My aunt and I haven’t really spent much time together with all I’ve had going on, but I hope that inviting her to the baby shower shows I’m making an effort to forgive her past transgressions. Shaking my head that she thinks BLACK Security installs equipment, I realize that Elijah would probably know the answer, so I send him a text.

  I know you live for this techy stuff. What security camera would you recommend for home use? A high-end and mid-range suggestion would be awesome. Let me know your thoughts.

  A text instantly pops up from him.

  With the BLACK Security/Blake Industries integration, it’ll probably be the weekend before I can get back with you, but will do.

  While I’m typing a thank you text, another message comes through from him.

  This is your husband. This better be a research question. No BLACK Security cases until your book is done.

  The man just can’t help but be dominant. Snorting, I punch out a response.

  Stop being bossy and give Elijah his phone back.

  After I text my aunt that I won’t have some suggestions for her tomorrow night but hopefully by the weekend, my mind wanders back to Paulo insisting he’s innocent of Isabel’s murder.

  During our investigation of Isabel’s death, I’d asked Elijah to pull all the footage we could collect from the buildings next to and across from the church the night of the bombing, but then Paulo kidnapped me, proving he was behind the threats on the Blake family. Later that night, Paulo and Phil were both arrested. With the guilty parties in jail, subsequent police and trial interviews, work, and getting ready to become a mom the past few months took precedence. I never viewed the videos.

  But the Pastor’s presence today makes me question if I should’ve taken the time. It’s entirely possible that Paulo is innocent of murderous intent and Phil really is the culprit. Sebastian may be fine with them both being charged to the full extent for Isabel’s murder, but if there’s any doubt of their guilt, then both men might end up with less jail time. If we can prove for certain who moved that bomb that blew up the limo, then the right man should do the extra time.

  I glance at my book in progress, then sigh and save the document before opening the server file Elijah had created with the video files I’d requested. So long as the videos have the right angles, if nothing else, they’ll at least prove that no one else was around the vehicle prior to the explosion. Tight security would’ve noticed the device beforehand, so whoever moved the igniter to the gas flap would’ve had to do so while the cars sat outside in front of the chur
ch. Pulling up the first video, I start scrolling through the footage.

  Two hours later, I yawn and arch my back as I click the fast forward button for the thousandth time. A blur near the limousine marked with a red bow for Sebastian and me has me pausing and rewinding the video caught by a surveillance camera diagonally across the street from the church. Unfortunately, the video isn’t the best quality, but it’s the closest with the best angle.

  Hitting Play, I try to ignore my aching back and the baby’s soft movements as I watch an old man shuffling along, walking his small dog across the street toward the church. Of course the dog poops right next to the car and the old guy has to lean over to pick it up with a baggie.

  I write down the timestamp on the video, then fast forward through to the point the explosion happens. My heart twisting at the visual reminder of the tragedy, I push back from my desk, then carry my laptop to the door and knock.

  “It’s open,” Sebastian says, sounding distracted.

  As I walk over to his desk, he straightens the paperwork on his desk and stands. “You never have to knock, Talia. You’re the one who insisted on the door.”

  “You need your privacy for business.” I slow my steps as he slips the papers into a folder, then picks up his briefcase. “You’re leaving?”