DIESEL (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 13)

by Samantha Leal

“Well hello there,” a male police officer said, peering suspiciously at her with his dark, beady eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Um, looking at a flower?”

  “To your feet.”

  “But – “

  Kyna’s heart began to pound painfully in her chest. It was one of the Guardian sympathizers on the police force. This wasn’t going to end well.

  “What do we have here?” the officer asked, dropping a bag of weed on the ground. “Drugs!”

  “You know those aren’t – “

  “Shut up! You’re going to have to come with me.”

  He forced her hands behind her back and she lost her grip on the flower as he handcuffed her. It fell to the ground as the officer led her away, nobody there to witness what happened or help her.

  ***

  Cain was struggling with a fitful sleep. There were images flashing in his head. Things he didn’t understand. A language he had never heard and yet, he felt it resonating deeply within him. It was an unspoken language and he knew that by being with Kyna he had unlocked it within himself.

  When he woke up, he couldn’t wait to tell her what he had dreamt. Cain was startled when he pulled his boxers back on and realized that he was alone in the apartment. He ran from room to room, checking to make sure his impression was right.

  The search ended with Cain despaired. Where had Kyna gone? He didn’t even have to go to work to distract himself. He showered and dressed. Maybe he could catch her before she got too far.

  Cain set off on foot in the direction they had come from, knowing she was probably heading back to the underground burrows where she lived. He couldn’t tell what that dream had been. All he knew was that it had been profound.

  He couldn’t deny the fact that he was nervous. It was dangerous to wander around in the city. Especially if other people realized that she might not be all there. He was starting to feel guilty for thinking that. Especially because he was beginning to believe her. Especially after the dream that he’d had after they made love. He thought he was finally beginning to understand the lights he had seen in the sky above the tunnels. Why had she disappeared on him right when he needed her the most?

  Cain walked past the park, slowing his gait. There was a wrinkled flower on the ground. He furrowed his eyebrows and picked it up, squinting at it. There was something about it that made him look twice. It made him think of Kyna. Suddenly, he knew beyond a doubt that she had been there. How he knew it, he didn’t know, but he did know he had to find her.

  Cain tucked the flower gingerly in his pocket and took off running, trusting his body to take him where he needed to be before it was too late.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Let go of me!” Kyna growled, fighting against the police officers. The man from the park had led her to a cruiser, where another man, blonde with pale blue eyes, was sitting in the driver’s seat.

  “Got a Loni,” the man said, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

  “No shit?” the driver said, grinning back at her. “She’s hot. What do you wanna do with her?”

  “What do you think?” the man who framed her said, leering at her from the mirror. “The usual. Then take her to the camp.”

  “Right,” the driver said. “I’ll radio it in.”

  The crackle of the radio hurt Kyna’s head and the car jerked forward. She felt nauseated and furious. She had been caught by the Guardians and had failed her mission entirely. What was she going to do? Would they kill her?

  “Cheer up, babe,” the driver said, grinning at her through the rearview mirror. “We’re gonna take good care of you.”

  Kyna squeezed her eyes closed, sending as powerful a force from her mind as possible. A psychic call for help was her only chance. Otherwise, the Guardians would capture her and perform unspeakable tortures on her. Especially once they saw she was the last of her kind and would see her as personally responsible for the death of Richard, the leader.

  The car moved slowly through the city streets until suddenly they were heading into the wooded wilderness. Kyna kept her eyes squeezed closed, silently sending pleas for help to anybody who might be able to hear them. If the Guardians had their way with her, she would never make it back to the Kersh clan, let alone to Kaldernon. She was doomed.

  ***

  Cain made it to the border of the woods, his broad chest heaving with the effort of breathing. He knew deep down that Kyna was in trouble, more surely than he had ever known anything in his life. His body was suddenly electrified by her voice roaring in his head.

  “Please. Route 198. They’re taking me away.”

  Cain cursed and began running with all of his speed. Soon, the trees were blurring around him and he felt himself tapping in to a deep, dormant power. It helped him soar along the ground, eventually lifting him into the air. He didn’t question what was happening to him. He knew that Kyna was telling the truth and had been from the start. That deep down, he could shapeshift into a dragon, and now he was going to find her on Route 198 and destroy anyone who might harm her by any means necessary.

  The scenery moved by in a blur, and didn’t slow down until he spotted a black and white police cruiser. He could feel Kyna close by, and landed forcibly in front of the car. It squealed to a halt and the men driving both got out of the car. Their eyes were round as saucers as Cain unleashed an ear-splitting roar. The men brought guns out, pointing them shakily at him. Cain swung his tail, throwing one of the men back with its force. The gun fell to the ground unconscious and the other man took a shot.

  Cain dodged it, but barely. It grazed his leg and he unleashed a torrent of fire. The man screamed in agony as Cain head-butted him. He fell against the car with a thud.

  The men were taken care of and Cain rushed to the car. The flames were going to reach the gas tank soon. Kyna was in the back seat, watching the whole thing with wide, terrified eyes. He tried pulling the door open. When it didn’t work, he pulled with all his force, ripping it off the hinges.

  “Come on, we have to go,”

  “Cain – “

  “Now!”

  Kyna stopped talking and allowed him to pull her to safety. He picked her up, much the same way he had when he’d saved her from the men in the forest, and took off running as quickly as he could. A few minutes later, a deafening explosion caused him to stumble.

  “How did you –“ Kyna was breathless and confused and Cain smiled down at her.

  “I had a dream. We have to get back to the tunnels. I need to see the world in the sky again.”

  “Cain…”

  “I’m so sorry Kyna. I shouldn’t have doubted you. I know it sounded ridiculous, but it doesn’t excuse the way I treated you for telling me the truth.”

  “It’s all right,” she said. When he finally made it to the underground city, Clayton was standing outside, staring up at Kaldernon.

  “Cain,” he said, moving forward to greet him. He was surprised to see Kyna in his arms.

  “Is she all right?” he asked.

  “She is now,” Cain said. He whipped around, setting her down gently and staring up at the pulsing lights of Kaldernon.

  “They’re using an ancient language,” he said to Clayton. “They have a way to bring everybody back up there. Back home is what they’re saying.”

  “You’re kidding,” Clayton breathed. “I’d heard it told that they were still trying. A Loni visitor made her way down a few years back, but nothing ever came of the message.”

  “That’s because they weren’t ready yet,” Cain said, still craning his neck up at the sky. “You have to follow me. This is time sensitive. There are only a few more hours. Tell everybody!”

  “Tell them what?” Clayton asked, heading for the entrance of the underground city.

  “Tell them to hurry. The time to return is now.”

  Clayton nodded dutifully and disappeared into the tunnels.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cain and Kyna stood outside quietly. K
yna was confused, and scared. Returning to Kaldernon had always been the theoretical goal, but now that they could, she was full of questions and doubts.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Cain said, taking her hand.

  “Are you coming with us?” she whispered. He took her close to his chest and frowned. He hadn’t thought about that yet, but he knew that this would be the only way to truly understand his heritage.

  “It’s time to stop running from my past,” he said finally, pulling away from her and smiling. “If I keep doing that, what kind of future will I have?”

  Suddenly, huge swarms of people began to pool from the entrances in the underground tunnels. They gathered expectantly around Cain, their faces taught with apprehension.

  “We will follow Cain!” Clayton’s voice boomed as he followed the last of the Kersh clan from the burrows.

  Cain grabbed Kyna’s hand and they took off running north, past the lake she had followed to find him. They ran for two hours, stopping for breaks only periodically. Finally, they arrived to a ledge overlooking the forest. Kyna gasped. It was the same peak she had seen in her first dream; the place in the distance Cain had been smiling at.

  Suddenly, a shining golden light appeared above them. It fell over two people, who began to disappear. At first they were terrified, but soon they were smiling.

  “It’s Kaldernon!” they shouted before they fully disappeared.

  “We will keep order! Three at a time!” Clayton commanded, shouting authoritatively. The lines dwindled until it was only Kyna and Cain standing together on the cliff’s face.

  “Are you sure you want to leave this world behind? You were raised as one of them.”

  “It’s not safe even if I did,” he said, peering at her with his beautiful sea-green eyes. He gripped her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing gently. “Now that I have you, I can’t just let you go. Nobody has ever really felt like home. Maybe because my home is somewhere else.”

  Kyna’s heart thudded in excitement when he pulled her toward the light. He squeezed her hand as it began to bathe over them.

  “Are you ready?” she asked nervously.

  Cain leaned down and kissed her tenderly.

  “What are we waiting for?” he asked with a grin.

  Suddenly, they felt the tug of the portal and together, they began their journey to their home world of Kaldernon.

  THE END

  Billionaire Romance

  What the Billionaire Needs

  Leela Ash

  Copyright ©2015 by Leela Ash. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Thank you so much for your interest in my work!

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was another day in the Wall Street boys club; a term I don't use lightly. The stock world is a testosterone driven arena where men assert their masculinity by driving through deals and collecting commissions. I guess with no more lions to kill or Spartans to battle they've gone from swords to the mobile devices they wave around like old west "shooting irons".

  For those of us who were born without "Y" Chromosomes things are different. Men who push hard are deemed "tough businessmen", but when we do it we're called "bitches." We couldn't even expect support from the few women who had made it. They were too busy watching their own backs to worry about some lowly junior stockbroker in a skirt.

  I was one of those junior brokers, cold calling potential clients, hoping to pull in enough commissions to make the one-year evaluation standards. Fifty percent of us would be cut loose after the first year. Seventy percent of those cut loose would be women.

  I didn't deserve to be doing so much time at the lowest rung. I had graduated at the top of my class, with gleaming endorsements from my professors. But there had been one little slip up that continued to haunt me, I'll go into that later.

  ***

  "Have you considered investing in stocks?" I said, using my best selling voice, "Currently we have a tremendous opportunity available…" but he cut me off in mid-sentence.

  "Yeah, you can save that crap. I saw that Leonardo DiCaprio movie and I know all these stock calls are just scams. Don't call me again or I'll report you." And with that my latest potential meal ticket hung up.

  I pulled my headset off and sat back. I’d been rejected probably fifty times that morning, and it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. One cold call, however, had stayed on the line. But I realized he was more interested in what I was wearing than in what I was selling. Maybe I should start a side business, a 976 number where you can sexually harass a marketer for ninety-nine cents a minute, I thought to myself. It would have meant a raise.

  I glanced up in time to see my supervisor Jeff strutting by.

  "What's up Stewart, you taking a coffee break? Come on, time is money," he said and continued on to torment the other junior brokers.

  I graduated at the top of my class… and this is what it got me.

  At the eight-hour mark I headed home. Some of the juniors would stay on, cold calling during the dreaded "dinner hours" when customers were at their most resentful. I just didn't have it in me tonight.

  I stepped out of the building and walked through the now empty financial district. It always amazed me how quickly Wall Street went from a swarming beehive in the morning to post-apocalyptic after six o'clock. Most of the boy's club had adjourned to the districts bars where they'd boast about their deal-making prowess and do bumps of coke in the men's room. Did you know most insider trading is just cocaine induced babbling by brokers? Sad but true.

  I was coming up on the Fulton Street station when I spied a limousine cruising behind me. My first guess was a couple of drunken brokers out heckling women. The perfect end to a perfect day. The limo pulled ahead of me and stopped. The driver climbed out and stood waiting as I approached.

  "Ms. Stewart?" He asked politely.

  I took a moment to appraise the situation. There are two kinds of limo drivers. There are the frumpy rental limo guys struggling to appear classy in cheap ill-fitting suits. They usually have an accent from either Eastern Europe or the depths of Queens. This was the other kind, pressed, well-tailored and immaculate, someone who worked for only one discerning client. This guy stood straight and tall like a US Marine, which he probably had been at some point in the not too distant past.

  "Yes I'm Rebecca Stewart. Can I help you?"

  "My employer asked me to pick you up. He would like a meeting with you."

  "And who is your employer?"

  "Mr. Peter Drake, I believe you’re familiar with him."

  "Peter Drake?" I replied in disbelief. Drake was probably the most successful businessman in America. He'd made billions, primarily as a "corporate raider", buying up businesses and then gutting them for their assets. Drake had diversified into electronics, aerospace and a myriad of other high-risk sectors, always earning a profit where others failed. I had written my college thesis about Drake, exploring the psychology that drove him to success. It was equal parts clinical analysis and schoolgirl crush. "Why would Peter Drake want to meet with me?"

  The driver reached into his jacket and handed me a bound document. I stared at it for a moment in disbelief… it was my college thesis.

  Without another word the driver opened the door and politely gestured for me to climb in.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Twenty minutes later we arrived at Drake International's headquarters, a fifty story building on the Brooklyn side of the bridge. Some claimed Drake chose the location to take advantage of the burgeoning Brooklyn real estate market. Others say he just liked the view of Manhattan.

  The driver escorted me through the still bustling lobby. Drake's various enterprises didn't keep to any traditional schedule.

  We walked to a private elevator. The driver entered a key-code and
stepped back.

  "This will take you directly to Mr. Drake's private offices. I'll be waiting down here to drive you home."

  My mind raced as I rode up to the fiftieth floor. Drake's private offices were legendary… in that so few had ever seen them. I've heard rumors that even heads of state were denied access.

  The door opened, and I stepped into Drake's private domain. I'm not an art lover, but I instantly recognized works by Dali and Picasso decorating the foyer. Handmade bookshelves lined the walls. I studied the shelves as I passed, surprised to find priceless first editions alongside battered Raymond Chandler paperbacks. Obviously Mr. Drake's books weren't just window dressing.

  The view through the full-length windows was stunning, showcasing the priceless beauty of the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. Beyond it lay Manhattan in all its glory. I wondered how often Drake stood here looking out… master of all he surveyed.

  "Weaker men meditate on the complexities of terms like moral, ethical and legal. But the true conqueror whether in business or government does not allow these terms to impede his actions. To him these are issues to be sorted out later."

  I turned; shocked to hear my own words being quoted. Peter Drake stood fifteen feet away, hands folded behind his back, his blue eyes studying me.

  "Your own words I believe?" He added, "I hope I didn't misquote them."

  "No," I replied, trying to sound calm, "I think you got it exactly right, actually."

  "Very insightful for such a young woman," He said, approaching me, "And quite unfashionable in the politically correct world of academia. Most people frown on my tactics, but you understand and embrace them."

  Up close his eyes were even more clear and penetrating. There were flecks of gray creeping into his tousled brown hair, but from his strong features it would be impossible to guess his exact age. His suit was immaculate, carefully tailored to his lean body.