by Various
I try to gauge his sincerity in the iffy cabin light. What I see there reassures me. “I could use a friend right about now.”
His smile would light up Manhattan. “Good.”
I smile back before I dial Casey to let him know I’m here. He’s waiting for me in the terminal. After I end our conversation, I tuck the phone in my purse’s inside pocket, still wondering how I managed to put it in the wrong place before.
Chapter 35
Gabriel
“GABE, DARLING, PLEASE WAKE UP.” A woman’s voice drifts into my consciousness, along with mechanical beeps, whirls, a whooshing sound.
Where am I? I struggle to formulate an answer, but my mouth won’t work. I hurt all over. My stomach, my leg, my head.
“Oh, why won’t you wake up?” Someone pinches my hand—hard—and pain shoots up my arm to fuse with the rest of the agony.
“The man’s been through a lot. You might want to take it easy on him.” A deep male timbre.
Yes, obey the man.
A sob. “What if he never wakes up, Jake? What am I going to do?”
The air stirs around me. Somebody’s moving. Alarmed I’ll be on the receiving end of more pain, I force my eyes open.
A woman, blonde, beautiful, tears streaming down her face, sits by me, her head on the shoulder of a dark-haired man kneeling next to her.
“Give it time,” the man says. “The doctors said it would take a few days for him to wake up.” He rubs a thumb across her flawless face, wiping away her tears.
My hand twitches underneath hers. I want to comfort her.
She sits up, stares at the hand, stares at me. “Oh, Gabe, you’re awake.” Her face lights up with a bright, bright smile. She holds the pinched hand to her damp cheek. “How are you, darling?”
Digging deep, I will my tongue to the task. “F-f-fine.”
“I’ll go get the doctor.” The dark-haired stranger races out of the room, leaving me alone with the beautiful blonde.
“We were so worried about you. But now you’re awake, you’ll be up and about in no time. You’ll see.”
The excruciating pain and a broken leg up in a sling tell me otherwise. Even more troublesome than my pain is my recollection. My name’s Gabe. I got that much. But everything else—time, place, her. Not a clue. “Who are you?”
STORM RAVAGED
THE STUNNING SEQUEL TO STORM DAMAGES
A Desperate Woman . . .
Pregnant with Gabriel Storm’s baby, Elizabeth Watson dreads seeing him again. After all, three months earlier she walked out without telling him about his child. But he knows and demands marriage. Something she can’t do. If she did, his mother would reveal a family secret which would destroy everything Gabriel cherishes.
A Determined Man . . .
Hell bent on marrying her, Gabriel will do anything to get her to agree. So he fashions a solution to convince her, a solution crafted from lies and deceit. But he's playing with fire. For if she discovers his subterfuge, he would lose not only his child but the woman he can’t live without.
STORM RAVAGED and STORM REDEMPTION, the conclusion to the STORM DAMAGES trilogy, are available now.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Magda Alexander writes the bestselling, erotic suspense STORM DAMAGES SERIES and the upcoming CHICAGO STUDS SERIES. She loves not only writing steamy romances, but reading them as well. A lifelong learner, she graduated cum laude from the University of Maryland with a degree in Business Administration (because her family had to eat) and a minor in English (because she needed to dream). She currently resides in a city in Maryland which dates back to colonial times. If you enjoyed STORM DAMAGES, you can read more of Gabriel and Elizabeth’s journey in STORM RAVAGED and the conclusion, STORM REDEMPTION (both available at etailers).
Visit Magda Alexander website at: http://magdaalexander.com
Follow Magda on Twitter at: http://www.twitter.com/magdaalexander
Like Magda on Facebook at: https://facebook.com/MagdaAlexanderRomanceAuthor
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Magda would also appreciate a review for STORM DAMAGES at your favorite etailer, if you’re so inclined.
Confessions
Desert Secrets Book 1
by
Wendy Ely
Prologue
Chelsea’s chin rested on the palm of her hand. Her eyes slowly drifted shut. Once her head began to lower toward the table, she yanked it back up. No sleeping in the coffee shop. It might draw attention to herself, but where else could she sleep?
She read the next Help Wanted ad. Even something temporary, a job would be a step in the right direction. She’d have something to show in order to get a place to live, even though the employer would probably fire her as soon as they found out her condition. Good thing she wasn’t showing yet. Shaking her head, she couldn’t imagine how she’d gotten in this situation. Pregnant, a runaway, and broke. Nice combination.
Barely seventeen and alone in somewhere-Idaho, the world looked pretty bleak. With only a carry-on and a one way ticket to Seattle, she had been able to get off the bus during a rest stop
and not returned at the designated time. And it probably had been a very bad idea. At least she could’ve slept for a few more hours on the bus.
Cold air blowing in the continuously open door made goosebumps cover her arms. She reached down for her sweatshirt but couldn’t feel it inside her backpack. Gone. Just wonderful.
Footsteps approached and she figured they would stop at the table next to hers. When the person stopped at her table and then slid into the extra seat, she wanted to cry. Had they found her?
Maybe a cop? She’d never been in trouble with the law but could they arrest her for running away? She slowly slid her eyes up the length of the body in front of her.
A well-dressed woman sat across from her, wearing a giant friendly smile. “Looks like you’re having a hard time.”
“Why do you think that?” The words came out in a whisper. She looked around to make sure nobody else heard them. When nobody looked her way, she turned her attention back to the woman.
“My name is Monique,” the woman said. “And I can tell by the circles around the classified ads. So you need a job and an apartment?”
Chelsea slowly nodded. “It seems impossible. I just got here and without a job I can’t get a place to live. I don’t have credit cards so I can’t even get a hotel.”
“Where’s your family?”
Oh no! “I don’t have any,” she mumbled.
“Well guess what?” The woman leaned toward her. With a lowered voice she said, “I have a credit card and can help you. My husband and I are on our way home from a vacation. Would you like to stay in our hotel and then head to Portland with us?”
She looked at the woman once more. The designer label on Monique’s shirt was one she recognized but had never owned. The purse she had sat down probably cost more than a month’s salary for Chelsea. But should she trust them? What other choice did she have? Either sleep on park benches or go with them. “Okay.”
“One condition first.”
She nodded, knowing she’d do almost anything to get a shower and a nice comfy bed to sleep in for the night.
“Answer one question for me.”
Chelsea nodded again.
“Are you pregnant?”
Chelsea jerked upright. How did Monique know? Could she see the pregnancy already? “No, I—”
Monique stood up from the chair. “Don’t lie to me or I won’t help you.”
“Fine. I am, but how do you know?”
An OBGYN card dropped on the table. “This had fallen on the floor next to your backpack.”
Chelsea got up from the table and followed Monique to the door. Just before going outside, Monique turned to her. “Are you keeping the baby?”
Having not made that decision yet, she gave Monique a shrug.
“Once you’re settled in with us,
we’ll discuss your options. How does that sound?”
Chelsea smiled as she followed her out. Two tons of weight seemed to have been lifted off her shoulders.
Chapter 1
Dear Ms. Montgomery,
Hello. I recently learned you gave birth to my child. I wish to speak to you. Enclosed is my business card. Please contact me before I alert my attorney in regards to this situation.
Jordan Case
An Oregon autumn breeze blew Chelsea’s hair up into her face. She shoved it down while trying to keep her eyes focused on the paper clutched in her hand. The neatly printed words mocked her. The urge to cry built inside her but she wouldn’t allow herself the relief. Wind from the incoming storm ruffled the paper and blew her hair up once again. She chewed on her nail for a minute, caught herself and dropped her hand back down to her lap.
Rain pelted from the sky. Afraid it would smudge the ink, she shoved the letter into her coat pocket. It didn’t matter if her hair was now plastered against her head. She didn’t care that her coat failed to keep the drops of water from slipping down through the collar, soaking her blouse to her skin. The scent of the moldy leaves made her cough. The letter connected her to Jordan, an important connection she hadn’t known she’d missed. Until now.
Jordan Case. His memory came swooping though her like a flooding river. She remembered the way she’d run her fingers through his curls, or when he’d kiss the tip of her nose. He’d made her feel so special when he had carried her books for her, as though they had been in another era. When he had been waiting to walk her home from work at night, he’d grab her in a giant hug as though
he hadn’t seen her in a month. All this time, she’d tried not to care about her past. But she did.
She also cared about how Jordan had found her. What had been the point of the letter? Ten years. Damn, it had been a long time. Why now? Why pull her back? He should hate her and she would, if it were the other way around. But no. Here he was, writing to her. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
She stood up from the park bench and walked out of the park. How many other people knew where she lived? It didn’t matter anymore.
“I owe it to him,” she whispered to herself while crossing the street. She didn’t care if she went into work looking like a drowned rat. Leaving her boyfriend without uttering a word of goodbye qualified her as one. The other thing she’d done made her a monster. Tears threatened to fall as she crossed the street.
She walked into the old one-story building and surveyed a giant room of anonymous cubicles. Luck was on her side when she’d applied for the job. A desk and computer in the faculty building
at the small university had been available at the time. She’d claimed them and had been grateful for the small luxury, since most of the staff did all of their office work at home. Ceiling fans pushed
around the dank smell of stale air. Too many people crammed in too small a space. A few days away would bring her back with a clear conscience, feeling refreshed. She’d welcome the sight of the building again.
Knowing the conversation shouldn’t be taking place over the phone, she sat down at her computer and logged onto the Internet. After typing the address from the business card, the screen
blinked a few times, then brought up a bright map of Wilson, Arizona. A red arrow pointed out the location of Jordan’s house. Bingo! She clicked the print icon, and the outdated printer roared
to life. A minute later, she walked out of the cubicle with the paper tucked safely in her briefcase.
A few other teachers sat at their desks, where all of the university staff went between classes. Once in awhile, a student would wander through to negotiate a grade. She walked past them, though everyone waved or tried to distract her with idle chit-chat to pass their time. Usually, she would stop to visit. Not today. The letter had her rattled so badly she could almost feel her bones shaking. Besides, she didn’t want anyone to ask questions. Nobody in her life knew her secret.
“Hi, Chelsea. Can I help you with something?” Jan, the teaching coordinator, asked with a smile.
She took a moment in hopes of finding the right words for a good explanation about the unexpected trip. Once she opened her mouth, the words came out in a nervous rush and ended with
the clarification of not knowing when she’d return until she reached her destination.
It was simple as a piece of paper shoved at her for her shaky signature and she’d been granted a personal leave of absence. Time to face the frightening skeletons in her closet, emotions pushed to the side while dealing with this. Her weapon against those skeletons was logic.
* * * *
Wilson, Arizona had changed a lot since the last time she’d been there. She remembered peering out of the window as she had left at the age of seventeen, sadness flooding through her.
Nobody had known she was leaving. Not her family, not her friends, and not even Jordan. The idea of never having to return had sucked the guilt from her heart for awhile. But Jordan had found
her and so here she was.
She looked in the direction of the small house from her childhood as she traveled down
Main Street. Patty’s home was tucked out of view, but children darted up and down the sidewalks. Searching the children’s faces, she wondered if some of them might be a niece or nephew. She’d
become an aunt before she’d been old enough to buy a lottery ticket. Without any idea of the children’s ages or how many her sisters had now, she looked away and kept driving.
Patty was the woman who’d given birth to her. Yet, Chelsea couldn’t bring herself to call her anything but her first name. After what she’d done, Chelsea didn’t deserve to call her Mom. Glancing toward the street again, she fought the temptation to drive over there. Even with the strength of the pull her family still had on her heart, she continued on down the street in the opposite direction of their house.
Wilson had a small grocery store, a restaurant, and a few bars along with one church when she’d left. Within a few blocks through town, she counted twice as many of those businesses, along with several new types. A new health food store grabbed her attention. She’d stop in there if she stayed in Wilson for any length of time. But it really didn’t matter what the town had, since she wouldn’t be staying. Once she found out where Jordan lived, wherever Dansea Lane was, and talked to him, she’d be out of there. She already missed her life in Oregon—far from Wilson, her family, and certainly from the only man she’d ever loved.
She looked at her hometown with disgust. Even with the new stores, the town still had a run down feel to it. Litter cluttered the streets and several houses were either abandoned with boards
covering the windows or the glass shattered. Most of the homes weren’t even real houses but worn out trailers. Dirt patches dotted with smashed up cars counted as yards. This certainly wasn’t the glamorous side of desert life.
The diner didn’t stick out between two empty dirt lots as it once had. The Dazzle Me Boutique caught her eye. Little girl’s clothing hung on colorful hangers in the window. Did Elizabeth wear that style of clothes? The fifty-percent-off sale probably meant the store was very high priced, but there didn’t seem to be any other clothing stores around. A fancy looking stucco doctor’s office neighbored the familiar diner. The diner drew her attention back. Did any of her family still work there? Even she had worked in the Roadrunner Café for a short time.
Two blocks down the main street, the old but updated general store sat on the corner. The store’s big pink sign still stood out like a sore thumb. The word ‘open’ flickered in the front window. She pulled up into a parking spot and stared at the building. Her childhood best friend’s family had owned this building. Chrissy had been the only real friend she’d had growing up in Wilson. As teenagers, they had grown apart, but she didn’t find fault in Chrissy’s decision. The girls had developed different interests. She put the car in park and got out without even bothering to lock her doors. After all,
nothing exciting ever happened in Wilson.
The bells on the front door jingled as she pushed the door open. She glanced at them and yes, they seemed like the same bells that had always hung on the door. She walked back to the cooler section for a bottle of water. Her reflection in the glass reminded her how much she needed a shower. Her red hair look stringy and her puffy, tired eyes stared back at her. If she looked scroungy enough maybe Jordan would tell her to stay away, she thought as she grabbed the water and walked to the counter.
The place looked different. The once dreary tan-colored store had been replaced with a brighter, creamy shade. Shelves still lined the room but the table where she and Chrissy had hung out after school had been replaced by shelves of movies to rent.
She stopped in her tracks. A framed newspaper article hung behind the counter. A seventeen-year-old with red hair and freckles smiled from the picture. Chelsea’s photo had been from her junior yearbook but had the “Missing” caption in bold. Why hadn’t they ever taken the picture down? Surely, someone had realized she had run away and wasn’t abducted.
What should she do? Her feet seemed glued to the linoleum floor. She glanced at the door, then back to the doorway which led to the storage room. She willed her feet to move in either direction, preferably the exit. It didn’t work.
An old man came out from the back room. He adjusted his glasses and squinted in her direction. The glasses must not be working anymore. He looked like an older version of Chrissy’s
father. Mr. Brock still owned the store, apparently. She glanced back at the door. Too late to leave? Would he recognize her?
“Is this all for you, miss?” His eyes squinted to tiny slits.