Deceptions: A Collection

by Shiloh Walker

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “What?”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “What’s going on with you anyway?” Selah leaned in closer this time. “I mean…you and Decker—”

  Elizabeth shot her a narrow look.

  Selah clamped her mouth shut. “Mierda. So no you and Decker?”

  “I…hell. I don’t know.”

  “That why you didn’t call him tonight?”

  The beat of the music was making her head pound. She also felt a little queasy from the potato skins she’d eaten. No food all day and then all that grease on an empty stomach. Perfect.

  “Selah? Can we just…not talk? I’m feeling lousy,” she said, raising her voice. She buried her face in her hands and tried to brace herself to get up and go find a two-top to wait for O.

  “You know, you should have…hey. Decker. Why are you here?”

  Tension slammed into her. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked up.

  She had a fleeting hope that Selah was playing with her, but…nope.

  Decker stood by the table, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He wore a button-down shirt instead of his normal T, one that opened up and revealed the tattoos. She had an image of the way she’d laid across him last night and kissed some of those tattoos.

  He wasn’t looking at her, though.

  “Selah, can you get lost?”

  The woman laughed. “If I didn’t know you loved me, I’d be insulted.” She bumped her hip against Elizabeth’s. “Let me up.”

  Numb, Elizabeth got up, grabbing her bag. She needed to find a place to wait for O. He’d said he’d be wearing a black button-down.

  Her gaze skipped to Decker.

  A black button-down—

  Jerking her eyes away, she looked around. “I need to go,” she said, not looking at either of the people standing at the end of the table. “I’ve got to find—”

  Decker just talked right over her. “Thanks, Selah.”

  And then he caught her hand. “Can you come outside, Lizzie?”

  “I’m meeting somebody.”

  His blue eyes met hers. “Do you see him?”

  Helplessly, she looked around. I’m a big guy. I’ll be wearing a black button-down. I’ll find you if you don’t find me.

  The only big guy with a black button-down was Decker.

  “No, but…”

  “Then come on. You can keep looking.”

  Selah waggled her fingers at her before disappearing into the crowd. Helpless, she let Decker lead her through the crowd. They didn’t head out the side door, though.

  They went to the front.

  Not a bad idea. Easier to see who was coming in. Right?

  Out in the parking lot, she tugged on her arm and Decker let go.

  She decided to get a jump on things. Better than way. “Decker, look, about last night—”

  “Lizzie…”

  “No, just let me finish,” she said, linking her hands behind her back as she started to pace. Finish…finish? I don’t even know how to start. She spun back around and started toward him.

  Only to come to a dead stop.

  Decker had his hand up.

  His right palm.

  It faced her and she saw, then, something she’d never seen.

  “It’s a promise,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And a fact. It’s been a fact pretty much from that first day when you refused to let me chase you off.”

  Stunned, she just stared at the tattoo.

  You own me.

  His hand curled into a fist and he slowly lowered it to his side and now, with nothing between them, she found herself staring into his eyes. Her heart thudded so hard, it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it.

  “Lizzie.”

  Shaking her head, she backed away.

  He caught her, his hands closing around her upper arms. “Don’t,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. “You ran away from me once—twice. I get it, I understand it. But don’t run away from me now.”

  “You lied to me. You made a fool of me,” she said, her voice thick. “What…what is this? Am I too stupid to take care of myself on that site and you thought it would go better if you were on there, too?”

  “No.” He kissed her, brushing his lips over her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. She went to bite him—hard—and he let her. “No,” he said again, sliding one arm around her. “I did it for the same reason I came to your house that night when you saw me with Jeannette. I did it because I love you. I always have…I told you hundreds, thousands of times.”

  She stiffened in his arms.

  “You’ve never told me,” she said, shaking her head.

  He let her arms go, then. It was, he realized, now or never.

  “I did.” He slid the backpack of his shoulder and went to his knees on the long, rambling deck that wrapped around most of Rush. People were looking at them oddly, but he didn’t care. Unzipping the backpack, he emptied it and envelopes spilled out around her feet.

  He grabbed one at random. It didn’t matter which one it was because they all told the same story.

  He held it out to her.

  For the longest time she didn’t move—she barely even seemed to breathe. Then she reached out and closed her fingers around the letter.

  As she started to read, he just stayed where he was.

  She hadn’t realized it, but he would have gone to his knees for her at any time in the past twelve years. It didn’t faze him at all to be there now.

  Her eyes raced over the sheet of paper and it seemed that tears gleamed in the depths of that warm brown gaze.

  “What is this?” she whispered.

  “The letters,” he said. “Every week, you wrote. I always wrote back. The letters you got were the ones that had what you needed to hear…you wanted a friend, so I said what a friend would say.” He lifted a letter, eyed the date on the envelope. He’d dated each one, on the back. This one was just a few weeks before he was released. Without opening it, he held it out.

  She took it with no hesitation this time.

  Dear Lizzie

  I have a parole meeting coming up. If they listen, I could see you soon. If not, well, we both know what that means. I’m just here another year.

  A part of me hopes I’ll just stay here. As much as I need to see you, as much as I want to walk around someplace besides these walls, everything I was hoping for is just gone.

  I held on to one thing.

  You never really dated anybody the whole time I was here. I put too much stock in that, because part of me let myself believe that you were waiting for me.

  Just like I’ve been waiting for you.

  I guess it would have helped to tell you. I should have sent these letters, even just one. Could have tried to tell you the truth, tell you that I love you.

  But I didn’t.

  If I get out, it’s going to be to find you with this Noel guy.

  If he makes you happy, I’ll be happy for you.

  That’s a promise.

  Here’s another.

  You own me.

  Love, Decker

  Clutching that letter in her hand, along with the first one, Elizabeth bent down, grabbed another, half tore the envelope to get it out. She saw the date, four years ago, before she met Noel. When they were still just watching the calendar, because he still had so much time to go.

  Dear Lizzie… Christmas…snowing outside… I miss you. Next time…don’t cry.

  No regrets, Lizzie. Not for me.

  I’d do it all over again if it kept you safe.

  You own me.

  Love, Decker.

  She grabbed another.

  You own me

  Love, Decker

  Another.

  You own me.

  Trembling, hands full of letters, she went to her knees and looked up, met those blue eyes she’d thought she knew. And she did know them. There were just…truths, she realized.

  Truths he’d hidden. The same w
ay she had.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “I couldn’t keep quiet anymore,” he said, not understanding. He reached out.

  She cringed away. “No. Why do you love me? How can you? It’s my fault you went to jail. It’s my fault you were there that night—that I even ended up in trouble with Hamilton.”

  His eyes narrowed and fire flashed in them.

  But just like that, the look faded and he reached out.

  Close by, somebody said something and Decker shot a look over her shoulder—it was that deadly, dangerous look that would make so many stumble over their feet to get away—and then, eyes softening, he looked back at her.

  “No.” He rubbed his lips over hers. “Lizzie, what happened to Hamilton wasn’t your fault. It happened because he tried to rape you—he hurt you and that’s the one thing I would do anything to stop. You know that. He hurt you…he was hurting you when I came in there and I lost it. It’s my fault I lost control and killed him. But it’s his fault he ever put his hands on you like that. None of it is your fault.”

  “I only went out with him because I was mad at you. I saw you with Jeanette and I hated it.”

  “And I had sex with Jeannette because you were out of my league, but every time I saw you, I died a little inside because I wanted you so much. I couldn’t touch anybody without seeing you.” He brushed the tears away from her cheeks.

  And then he stole her breath as he brushed her mouth with his. “Lizzie, we were kids. I was a stupid fool who couldn’t control his temper…or other things. You trusted the wrong guy. But nobody is to blame for what Hamilton did except him.”

  His hand came up to grip her hip, one thumb rubbing up and down. She felt it through the thin layer of the dress she’d pulled on, felt the heat of his body reaching out to touch hers. “And all of that is in the past. It’s done. What matters is now. Lizzie, I love you. You’ve owned me, heart and soul, from the beginning.”

  Now he pulled back and blue eyes caught her, held her captive.

  She reached down, caught his hand—his right one—and tugged it from her hip.

  Lifting it up, she studied the tattoo there. It was faded, probably from all the work he did with his hands.

  “Chuck Oleander,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Why did you go with that name?”

  His hand remained passive in hers. “It’s mine…sort of. Decker Calhoun, all mixed up. An anagram. Besides, you don’t mind oleander…dangerous things don’t bother you much.”

  If she’d let herself think about it, would she have guessed?

  She really didn’t know.

  “You told me you’d tell me what this was for,” she murmured.

  Now his hand closed into a fist. “I already did. It’s for you. You own me.”

  She swallowed and then tapped on his fingers until slowly, he uncurled them. She leaned in, pressed a soft, open kiss to his palm.

  “Do you know why I came over that day?”

  A hood fell over his eyes. “No. But we need to—”

  Reaching down, she picked up another letter, studied the date. She’d read these, every single one.

  He’d given her these secrets. It was time she give him the other one she’d kept tucked deep inside. “I came over there because I had something I wanted to tell you.”

  Now she looked up at him. “I was nervous. Scared. I really didn’t know how I was going to tell you, but you…you were leaving soon, and I didn’t want you to leave for Alabama without me telling you.”

  Her eyes were intent. Locked on his.

  His heart thudded in his chest, hard and fast, and Decker couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever had this much trouble breathing. His tongue felt too thick inside his mouth and he had a hard time asking, but he finally managed to get the words out.

  “Tell me what?”

  He didn’t remember when he’d done it, but at some point, he’d buried a fist in her hair. And he’d pulled her closer, too. So close that when she spoke again, her lips were pressed to his.

  “My secret,” she said. “I hid it, ignored it, tried to pretend it didn’t exist for a long time.”

  Her tongue flicked out, stroked his lip.

  Heat exploded through him, but he grabbed a hold of it, lashed it down.

  Because this mattered—in that very moment—this mattered more than the need that threatened to eat him alive any time he was near her.

  “What secret?”

  Now a smile bloomed over her lips. “That I love you. I loved you then…I loved you when you held me while I was crying and shaking on the floor, and I loved you when you stood in that courtroom and then told me that you didn’t have any regrets. I loved you every day you were gone and I love you now.”

  “That’s…” He blew out a ragged breath. His head was spinning. Wow. “That’s a big secret.”

  “Yeah. Feels kind of good to let it out.” She slid her hand inside his, teased the faded tattoo there. She’d wasted years with somebody who hadn’t really loved her…all because she’d needed to belong with somebody.

  But somebody had been there all along.

  “I should have figured it out, you know. When I saw this. I should have known,” she murmured. “You own me, too. We belong together.”

  “Hmmm. Lizzie?” His mouth caught hers, a hard, deep, drugging kiss.

  “What?” She was panting when he lifted his head.

  “I’ll take you back inside now, if you really want to go. But I’d rather take you home.”

  “You can take me anywhere you want.” Absolutely anywhere…she thought. Then she looked down at the letters. “As soon as you help me get all these letters. I’ve got years of reading to catch up on.”

  Hunt Me

  A NOVELLA OF THE HUNTERS

  STANDALONE

  PUBLISHED BY SHILOH WALKER

  COVER ART BY CROCO DESIGNS

  EDITORIAL WORK BY D.Y.M.K. PRODUCTIONS

  & SARA REINKE

  Chapter One

  “Hello, gorgeous.”

  The low, rich purr of her voice was enough to have Drew Quentin shifting in the miserable, busted chair. He also had to fight the urge to smile as he reminded himself he’d decided to end things with Dakota Coulter.

  He wanted her, he was halfway in love with her…and she refused to so much as give him her damn phone number.

  He could have handled that.

  But the cop in him was a little bit disturbed by the fact that Dakota Coulter had a past that was just a little too mysterious. Oh, her background check held up—too well, actually. Something about her had his instincts quivering.

  She wouldn’t open up for him.

  “Drew?”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m here, Dakota.”

  “Having a rough night, sugar?”

  The compassion in her voice all but gutted him. Damn it. This would be so much easier if she didn’t care—so much easier if he wasn’t in love with her.

  “Yeah, you could say that.” He rubbed his temple. He shouldn’t have answered the damn phone. But shit, it wasn’t like he could avoid this forever. He looked up and saw Nicole staring at him. Nicole Halloway, the local DA with the pretty blue eyes, sweet smile and dynamite body.

  She was there, she was steady. She was the reason he needed to break things off with Dakota. He liked Nic. Cared for her—a lot. There was an attraction there, too, one that could maybe become more. But not if he was obsessed with a woman who wouldn’t ever hang around for longer than a night or two.

  “I guess you’re not up for meeting me after work, huh?” Dakota sighed. “That’s cool, sugar. I understand. I’ll look you up—”

  “No.” He continued to stare at Nic. He had to get this done. “We can meet. I…I’ve been needing to talk to you anyway, Dakota.”

  Now Nic’s brows arched up over big blue eyes. So far their ‘dates’ hadn’t been much more than a cup of coffee, a quick lunch. She knew he’d been seeing another woman, knew he wasn’t going to get s
erious until he’d been able to break things off. It was time he did that.

  Even if it did feel a little like he was ripping out his own kidney with his teeth. Or even his heart.

  Sighing, Dakota ended the call.

  Something in Drew’s voice had her heart aching.

  “We need to talk, huh, lover? Yeah. I’ve heard that line before.” Then she tipped her head back, staring up at the nighttime sky. Granted, she hadn’t heard it much in recent years. Not since she’d slid into a crazy little world where vampires, werewolves and other things went bump in the night. Sometime back in the 70’s, she thought.

  Yeah. She smiled absently, some echo of fondness trying to lift the melancholy settling over her heart. But it wouldn’t budge. She’d been kind of happy about coming to Asheville. Now? Not so much.

  She was a Hunter without a territory or Master. Her random circuit had her rambling all over the east coast. She often ended up in this area, and she’d been just fine with that. Because this area held a lot of appeal for her, namely in the fine form of one Asheville city detective…Andrew Michael Quentin…Drew.

  Drew—the cop who was getting ready to dump her.

  She glanced down at her clothes, remembered she’d planned to change before she saw him. “Screw changing.”

  She was going shopping.

  If he was going to dump her, she was going to show him in vivid, glorious detail what he was missing.

  Maybe it would make her feel better.

  Although she wasn’t particularly counting on it.