by Tracy Ellen
A Date with Fate
(The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod)
Volume I
by
Tracy Ellen
A Date with Fate by Tracy Ellen
Copyright © 2012 by Tracy Ellen
License Notes.
All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold, copied, published, or given away to other people unless authorized by the author in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the bookseller site and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, locations, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
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Dedication
This first book could only be for My Darling
A Date with Fate Cover Art
Bookin’ It Designs
Contributing Editors
Kelly Beausoleil
Amber Leigh Gleisner
Beth Lake
Iveta Cvrkal
Elizabeth Connor
Thank you for your invaluable assistance.
I owe you all big time!
A preface from the author: The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod is an ongoing book series intended for adult audiences 18+. If you are offended by swearing, sexual content, sexual fantasies, sexual role playing you might not want to do at home, mild violence, cliffhanger endings in an ongoing series, some plot lines that might continue over several books. and/or no guarantees of HEA in all relationships, please do not read this book. My goal as a writer is not to offend, but to entertain. On that note, I hope you have great fun reading A Date with Fate, and all my books. Thank you!
Tracy Ellen
Prologue
Monday, 9:00 AM
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: What I did last weekend
Dearest NanaBel,
I’m hoping this email finds my favorite camel jockey in her usual fighting form. My mind pictures you lingering over an exotic drink by an oasis wearing a pith helmet and jodhpurs while surrounded by exotic men in long, white robes.
Meanwhile, back here in the tundra, we’re finally getting the snow predicted for the last two days. It’s really coming down, so I’m expecting a slow day at the store.
I’ve finished customizing the last report on the new inventory system. Total pain, but it should pay for itself in the short run. I’m flooded with data to analyze and trying to not wet my pants in excitement. Also, YTD numbers are kicking major butt over last year.
Now, don’t fall off your hump when reading this, but I actually took this past weekend off to have fun. I know, right?
I’m sure my weekend fun didn’t come near in comparison to the splendors of exploring the deserts of Ancient Egypt, or the splendors of exploring the personal tent of a Bedouin Sheikh. (Woman, thy name is Jezebel!)
But since you’ve asked repeatedly what I’ve been up to, and since I am a most dutiful granddaughter, and since I know you’ll hear twenty different versions from twenty different people, and since we’re speaking of jezebels…
Last Friday night, I had stayed home and was minding my own business when I fell asleep reading…
Chapter I
“Free Your Mind” by En Vogue
Saturday, 11/17
2:30 AM
Before realizing I was even fully awake, I found myself sitting up at attention with my instincts screaming and adrenaline racing through my veins. My heart was beating so loud I couldn’t determine what roused me over the pressure of the blood pounding through my head.
I live alone. I had spent a quiet Friday night at home by myself to start my weekend off from work. Last I remembered I had been lying on my bed, surrounded by several fluffy pillows for protection, and reading a surprisingly good zombie book. I must have dozed off despite all the grisly excitement.
My room was pitch black. To get my bearings, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw the faint illumination of red numbers reading 2:31 AM. Okay, the power was working.
I concentrated on breathing to settle myself down. After a few seconds of breathing slowly, I could hear again. I held perfectly still and listened intently.
My bed faces the open doorway. There are no windows in the hallway outside my second floor bedroom. A yawning darkness offered no clues as to what had catapulted me from sleep.
I was beginning to think it was a zombie-induced hallucination that had scared me awake. I was cussing myself out for reading a scary book right before bed when I heard it again. On the floor near my bed is a register vent that allows me to hear noises on the ground floor below me. Straining to listen, I recognized the sounds of the hardwood floorboards squeaking in the main entrance lobby. The noise was distinctly audible as footsteps, if you knew what you were listening for. I have lived in this upstairs apartment since I was a kid and now own the entire old building. I know every squeak of every floorboard in the whole place- I know what to listen for.
‘What the hell…? Had someone really broken into my building?’
I quickly pictured the layout downstairs. The main lobby is a large room situated in the northwest corner of the building. The entrance doors to the apartment and Bel’s Books, my shop that encompasses the entire first floor of the building, are located off the lobby. All of these doors were locked.
I sat frozen unable to move. I was still in denial over the sounds I’d identified and had not reacted. The soft squealing noise I heard next meant the intruder had somehow unlocked the door leading up to my apartment. The acoustics of the high ceiling in the open staircase amplified every sound.
Now I was reacting. I was whispering aloud, “Oh my God, Oh my God!”
I had been meaning to get someone to fix the sticking door for the last week. Thanks to being a slacker, I knew someone was coming up the stairs.
Anytime I’ve been in tight spots in my past, I have been perfectly willing to bargain my soul and convert right then and there. I vowed fervently to be a good girl for the rest of my life. In my head, I recited my lifetime litany of these negotiations.
‘Oh, please, please! Get me out of this in one piece. I swear I’ll never do anything bad again...’
It seemed like I waited an eternity, but it was probably only another heartbeat before my brain took over my wimpy, codependent subconscious and shouted, ‘Get your butt up and do something yourself!’
Thinking weapons, my next immediate thought was to grab my gun from the nightstand drawer. A stellar idea except for the fact my Glock 9mm was currently with my cousin on a gun safety and handling retreat up north in Duluth. I swore silently at the irony Candy was learning how to safely use my weapon while I had to handle a home invader with my good looks.
My mind was racing a mile a minute. Pushing aside the chenille throw I’d been dozing under, I reached for my cell phone in the dark. I patted all around the surface of the nightstand. I felt my book and my empty gelato bowl, but no cell.
I then remembered I had left it charging in the bathroom down the hall, close to the stairs. I couldn’t take the risk of trying to sneak over there without being heard and possibly intercepted. Even if I did make it there without being heard,
I could still end up being trapped in the bathroom with no phone because mine had been dying intermittently lately. I probably need a new battery.
With my heart beating a frenzied double time in my chest, I stood up and concentrated on listening. It wasn’t long before I detected another stealthy sound on the stairs. The creak I heard was near the landing leading to the foyer.
‘Crap, crap, crap!’ I bit my lip, hurriedly thinking over my options. I desperately needed a plan right about now. The urge to freak out was not a plan. I suspected it was not a good idea to give in to the temptation to lie on the floor and play dead like I did in bad dreams when monsters were chasing me. I could hide, but probably would be easily found since my bedroom has no great hiding spots like a secret panic room complete with a big, red button.
I was majorly bumming I hadn’t paid more attention when my girlfriends had been discussing the importance of always having an aerosol can and a lighter within easy reach. Tipsy on vodka tonics at the time, I thought it had seemed unwieldy, and a tad brutal, to choose to set someone on fire with a Rube Goldberg flamethrower as a defense when you could simply shoot them. What I wouldn’t give now for a supersized can of Raid and a Bic.
Sadly, I am not a secret ninja or a supernatural female. All 5-foot-1-inch and a hundred and four pounds of me is an entirely mortal, girly-girl. The odds are decidedly stacked against me winning over most men in a physical fight. No matter how I looked at it, without my gun to scare off the intruder, I was screwed.
A flash of inspiration had me dropping to my knees on the rug. I urgently felt around under my bed for the forgotten weapon of choice before I purchased my pistol.
‘Yes!’
I sprang back up, immediately feeling a little tougher with the Louisville Slugger in hand. A crack with a bat could give me some time. If anyone came into this room, my plan was a simple one. Hit and run.
Outside my bedroom windows are bright streetlights. I need total darkness to sleep well. At night, lined draperies are always pulled tightly closed across the windows on either side of my bed. Right now, I was really happy with this quirk of mine. As long as the intruder wasn’t wearing night vision goggles, the blackout conditions could give me the advantage of surprise.
On TV, it shows green lights flickering around their heads when people wear those creepy, alien-looking goggles. In that event, Plan B would be to flip on the overhead light, blind them, and then continue with my Plan A of hit and run.
A bubble of hysteria rose in my throat when I realized I was basing my escape on the accuracy of a freaking television show.
‘Why would green lights be flickering around their head if they were wearing NVGs? Wasn’t the whole blasted point to have the advantage in the dark, not be lit up like a neon sign?’
I was losing it and seriously contemplating nailing myself in the head with the bat, so I could pass out to avoid whatever was coming my way.
Standing there, I was chilled and shaky, goose bumps popping up all over my body. I’m not the type that gets cold easily. I knew it was from being hyped-up. It didn’t help that my long hair was still damp from my earlier bath, and I was wearing a little nothing of a nightgown so short it barely covered my shivering butt. I almost shrieked when I heard a faint rustle of cloth and a definite creak of the top stair. The sound galvanized me into action.
I swiftly crossed the floor of my room, but stayed on the thick pile of the area rug to avoid noise. I stood slightly behind the halfway open door. I didn’t want to try and close the door; it would serve no purpose. It doesn’t lock and is squeaky like everything else in my old building.
I hefted the bat in readiness. It was likely I’d only get one good swing and I needed to make it count. If I missed- well, my mind wouldn’t even go there.
A few agonizing seconds later, I heard the intruder pause on the threshold of my doorway. I held my breath. I heard a soft footfall and then another. With the third step, the person was now squarely in my bedroom. With my eyesight more adapted to the darkness, I guessed it was a man by his general height and width of shoulders. His vague outline seemed tall, but it was hard to be sure. Even under the best of circumstances, most men appear tall from my vantage point.
I tried to ignore my churning stomach and keep a level head. I strove to feel a little calmer, more coherent. I’ve always sworn I would not be that girl that fell down in her high heels when being chased by a man. Now was the time to prove it.
These thoughts were all a quick flash across my racing brain as I acknowledged one, indisputable fact with a tingling, dizzy sensation. By coming straight to my room as he unerringly had, this man proved he meant to come after me.
Within the first moments, I realized it was too dangerous to go for his head in the dark. I readjusted my aim for the vicinity of his knees. Even as I swung the bat, I sensed movement in the air around me. My swing was prematurely halted against something solid with a loud WHAP! It sounded like an open hand. My heart plunged. I had somehow broadcast my intent. I felt a sharp yank and the bat went flying out of my slippery grip. I heard the muffled thud of the bat when it landed on the rug somewhere in the dark room. My only weapon may as well be on Mars.
Above me, a deep voice softly hissed, “That wasn’t a very nice way to greet me.”
‘Holy Freakin’ Moly!’
I didn’t wait around to chat. I pivoted and took off running for the open doorway. I hadn’t gone two feet when I was caught mid-stride by arms locking around my waist tighter than bands of steel. I let loose with a startled scream as I was swung around like a rag doll. My feet were off the ground, and my back pulled against a chest that felt as hard as granite.
My next move was a knee-jerk reaction; it was a Déjà vu move from my childhood fights that had always resulted in a quick getaway. I pried up one of his fingers at my waist with both of my hands. I wrenched it backwards with a jerk.
“Dammit!” his voice spit out in the darkness. He snatched his hand away from mine.
‘It worked!’
Unfortunately for me, it didn’t work for more than a second. I had no chance to get at his other hand to free myself before he quickly maneuvered and repositioned his hold. Now he entrapped both my arms against the front of my body. One of his arms was across my chest and the other around my hips.
I kicked at him backwards. I tried to twist my body to knee him in the jewels. Like a vice, his arm clamped across my hips prevented that move. I couldn’t get at him. If his low laughter was any indicator, kicking him furiously barefoot wasn’t doing him any damage but really hurt the hell out of my toes.
He stepped us nearer to the vicinity of my bed. Right at that very instant, I learned something new about myself I’ve never before had a reason to know. I hate being bound without the use of my arms. My response came from deep within me at some primal level, and instinctually, my reaction was to fight like a wildcat. I bucked my body, kicked my legs, and tried to smash my head back against his face- anything to throw him off stride and give me an opening to get loose.
He made a mockery of my efforts by easily controlling my frenzied attempts to get free. As if to emphasize his total power over me, he put his hand over my breast and squeezed. Throwing my head wildly around didn’t stop his tongue from licking up my throat to my ear.
He growled, “You aren’t going anywhere, little girl, but try all you want.”
His touch and guttural voice held me frozen in suspended shock for an instant. This was really happening to me.
I used every trick I had ever been taught to break his holds. Too bad these tricks were from years ago, and against my sisters. I haven’t been in an actual physical fight since I was thirteen. I can verbally slay Hannibal Lector into a blubbering fool without breaking a sweat, but I am not a kick-ass fighter against a man. I was captured with no use of my arms. I was unable to turn my hips, so my legs were useless, too. I still had a functioning brain, though. I allowed my body to relax and go heavily limp in his arms, as if in a dead faint.
/>
He took advantage of my feigned slump and stuck his hand down the front of my nightgown, cupping and squeezing my breasts. His other hand moved to my naked butt and he pinched me hard.
Unexpectedly shocked from my coma, I inadvertently yelled, “Ouch!”
He laughed at my pained reaction. Until I jumped up and snapped my head back, catching his mocking mouth with the top of my skull. It felt like his front teeth were embedded to the gums in my cranium. I didn’t think grown-ups had soft spots, only infants. Apparently mine never fused.
The man recovered quickly. With a bounce, he hoisted me up higher against him. His hand roved all over my ass and the back of my thighs. He held me close against him to limit my range of motion. His mouth was hot on my ear whispering words I couldn’t distinguish or be sure were even in English.
I wrenched my head away as far as I could to avoid his mouth, but couldn’t move my hips enough to avoid his busy hand. I felt his fingers strumming boldly down my rear end. Then I felt those fingers move between my legs and the vibration of another mocking laugh against my neck.
I erupted against him like a woman possessed and blindingly out of control of anything I was doing or yelling. I was only dimly aware of kicking and scratching, head butting, throwing myself from side to side, and even snapping at his face. Had he come within range, I would have eaten his face off zombie-style and then asked for seconds. I don’t know how long it took before his excited laughter started to penetrate my futile haze of bloodlust.
I could hear the underlying sexual tension in his voice as he held me to him, goading me on while whispering he was stronger and would always win.
The next thing I knew, I went sailing through the air in the darkness. I landed on my bed and bounced not once, but twice. My antique bedsprings were squeaking protests louder than my own shrieks. He snapped on the bedside lamp and tore his T-shirt off over his head by the time I came to a stop from the bouncing. I was disoriented at the sudden blaze of light and struggling to catch my breath.