My lungs felt as though they would explode, and the asphalt underneath my feet was more quicksand than concrete, creating a numbing sensation that ran from the tip of my heel to my toes with each footfall. I could barely breathe and what little breaths I did take were spent sips of air, sucked in through car-fume fried nostrils.
How had I let this happen?
Horns blared at me as I crossed the street, sprinting through the boulevard crossing with little regard to the Range Rovers and luxury cars that sped past. The restaurant was finally within reach. But at the pace I was keeping, I was going to kill myself before I ever even made it.
I was twenty minutes late… to a meeting I had scheduled. A meeting I knew I couldn't miss.
Hair windblown, my formerly neat clothes wrinkled and ruffled, I flounced into the front door of the restaurant, briefcase in hand, my ragged breath slowing as I saw the man I was meant to meet. Sitting there, coolly and calmly, a glass of cold ice water in his hands.
I wanted to hate him…
But desperation is a funny thing. It forces you to break bread with the worst of people.
I cross the room to his table, sitting down in the seat as a smile broke across his smug face. I shook his hand.
“Charlie.”
“Katarina.” He stood to straighten his tie. “You look…” he glanced over the mess that was me. “Nice.”
“Cut it out, Charlie. You were always a shit liar.”
He grinned. “Glad to hear you think so. The truth is what my readers appreciate anyway.”
I shook out my napkin. “Yes, because that's what tabloid readers really care about. The truth.”
Another grin from Charlie, but this time there was a silent anger hidden beneath. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. “I'm a busy man, Kat. Even for you. Twenty minutes is a long time to wait for someone… without even the promise of sex.” My nostrils flared at his overwhelming arrogance. “Just tell me what you want,” he finished.
“I want the same things I wanted before. And more.” I slid a picture across the table of the white linen cloth, one I’d printed from my phone, packed away and pored over. I’d gone to the end of the earth to retrieve that photo, and still nine years later, seeing it slammed me in the gut just as much as it had all those years before. A picture of the man-boy I knew… of the bastard he’d become. I traced a finger along the edge. “I want everything you know about Brendon Foxx. The good, the bad and especially the ugly.”
Charlie picked up the picture. He fanned the air with it. “Holy shit… looks like someone has decided to join the party.”
“This isn't business, Chuck.” He hated that nickname. “I don't want this run in the tabloid. This is personal.”
My hands were shaking. It was four days later and still the rage I felt was at full capacity, blurring everything else until all I saw, all I wanted… was revenge. Sweet and simple. Sickening and sordid. Some part of me hated myself for it… and then the other part—the part that was broken into pieces, rolled and reveled in it like a pig in shit. Yes, I was the pig, and I knew that made Charlie the shit.
But I was too beyond reason to care. The tabloid journalist across from me stared, and for a second, I thought he might reject me, but the way he held the photo, like it was a hundred dollar bill, convinced me otherwise. He nodded.
“I'll get as personal as you want. Getting personal comes with a price…” he leaned in. “Can you afford it?”
***
Nine years ago
“I can’t afford it.”
He stared over at me. “You don’t need to. I bought it.”
“How…” I swallowed. “How can you?”
Ethan shrugged, his shoulder rising and falling with nonchalance. “I stole the money from the deputy.”
My eyes widened. I started to grab his arm when his full lips spread into a devious smile. I punched his shoulder instead. “Ass. I thought you were serious for a sec…”
“I almost wish I was.” He pointed. He had me park his car on the edge of the bare dirt lot. “It might make all the trouble he’s going to get us in worth it.”
I fingered my bracelet again, marveling at its beauty before sighing. My eyelids fluttered up to peek at Ethan. “I told you. Ugh. You really think he’ll talk?”
He glared back at me. “No. He’s too prideful to think we got the best of him. Besides…” He grinned from the passenger seat. “I’m sure this is your first time. I wanted to make it special… and let you know that I’m not the bastard you think I am.”
“The bastard I think…?” I raised an eyebrow. “Or the bastard I know?”
“Ouch,” he held his chest, spreading his fingers across its wide expanse. I couldn’t help but notice how wide. Even under his innocent-looking plain white T-shirt. I now swallowed hard for a different reason. I looked down at my bracelet.
“I mean…you still stole my grandmother’s bracelet from me…” I peeked at his face. “But you did fix its broken clasp. The damned thing was always falling of my wrist. I can’t say that I’m too mad that it fell into your hands.”
“Fell into my hands?” he laughed. “More like ‘was slapped into my hands’ when you swung at me outside of the ice cream shop…” The side of his face pulled up into a small smirk.
“Yes, when I almost hit you. By. Accident,” I emphasized, turning to look out the darkening windshield at the deepening sunset. The sky was more purple than blue. The red glow on the horizon was fading with each passing minute, and I found it beautiful, if not frightening, as I gripped the steering wheel of Ethan’s six-gear.
His Corvette was powerful… and freaking gorgeous. The fact that he let me drive was a move I was sure was intended to make amends, and on the drive over to the dirt lot in which we currently sat, he let me know his plans for payback on Deputy Dumb-ass. The fucker who had arrested us and made life in Dayton a living hell, simply because of the fact that he saw us as “foreigners,” outsiders who didn’t belong in his beloved little town.
It was people like him who gave the world a bad name, who made humanity seem dark and dank—a bottomless pit of meanness and misery. The closer we got to the Deputy’s small, closed-off lot, the more willing I was to do exactly what Ethan suggested.
But he was right.
This really was my first time. And I was more nervous than a nun at a porno shoot.
I sighed deeply, taking in long, drawn-out breaths. Until I felt Ethan’s hand on mine, closing.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
I inhaled. “I know.”
“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
His touch was warm. His eyes, normally milk chocolate, had gone dark, and if I wasn’t mistaken, they were full of… concern. To my surprise, it did seem like the bad boy had a soft spot… buried somewhere beneath the muscles and “Fuck you all” attitude—an attitude not unlike my own. I fortified my spine.
“You won’t have to…” The space between us in the car seemed to grow smaller. “I want it.”
He searched my eyes, as if sifting past my worry. When he seemed satisfied, he nodded once, removing his hand and placing the other on the passenger side door. “Alright then. Let’s do it.”
We hopped out of the car at the same time. We fell into step together, our walk muffled by the dirt underneath the soles of our shoes, and as we touched the grass, signaling the start of Deputy Moines’s property, I felt a summertime shudder, a chill beneath the heat that made me want to cling closer to Ethan, who was a center of strength and warmth, a self-assured soldier ready to ride into battle… Everything I wanted to be.
I was covered in his confidence, and my stride became longer—stronger, beside his. His dirty blonde hair was set alight by the fire from the setting sun, and I followed it… like a moth to a flame, until the sounds across the field met our ears. We came closer to the moo-ing beasts.
We approached one that stood dormant, its eyelids turned downwards,
slightly swaying on its heavy hooves. Ethan looked at me under the dirty dusk.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded, bobbing my head vigorously.
“Okay. Don’t be gentle now…” He outstretched his hands. “Now, push!”
His movements were quick. He rushed in, giving a heave-ho to the top of the dairy cow and I joined him, holding my hands out to shove at the pretty beast’s back. It didn’t take long; the process was much shorter than I expected, and Betsy went down with a small bounce on the grass. The large animal barely had time to make a sound.
We ran as if chased, and when Ethan grabbed my hand to pull me along, I didn’t feel afraid anymore. Just invigorated. Fucking with someone’s possessions shouldn’t have made me as pleased as I currently was, but it excited me to know that Deputy Dickless would wake up to a pissed-off herd, one that would sooner kick him than be poked or prodded again.
The tall, sun-fried grass scratched at my ankles and legs, and yet the only sensation that mattered was the one between my fingers. Ethan. Hot-blooded. Smelling of sweat, earth and masculinity. He interlocked his fingertips with my own and led me to the next huge animal, which we knocked over without haste, fleeing to fight our way through the field to the next one.
We laughed out loud, whooping with delight, falling into each other’s arms as we welcomed the havoc we’d wrought on Deputy Do-Nothing’s horde. We laughed so long and hard that at first we didn’t even hear the sounds of heavy hooves, charging directly at us. I whipped around once the thunder came closer to find the devil rushing full steam ahead, a pair of horns peeking out from the top of his crown towards the sky.
The hit knocked the wind out of me. I went flying sideways into the dirt and grass, groaning as I made impact, the weight of the body on top of me taking the breath from my over-exhausted lungs. I coughed, looking up into the face of Hell.
Or, Heaven…
It was Ethan, lying along the length of me, scrambling to his feet as he scooped me into his arms to take me with him. He stood me up, locking his fingers around my wrist to drag me away from the stampede of feet behind my back.
“Fuck,” he cursed over and over. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I huffed beside him, my legs barely able to keep up. My feet hurt and my fingers were starting to numb from Ethan’s grip. But I kept moving all the same, ignoring the pricks of the roughage across my skin, the smell of fear and manure that was saturating the air. I could think of nothing but running. I felt as if we were running forever, and I had never known such relief as I had known when I saw the shoddy red barn in the distance, a sanctuary if I ever saw one.
And I knew Ethan saw it too. He sprinted in its direction, taking the hill that lay before it with ease. And when my knees started to falter from the exertion, he picked me up, sweeping me into his arms to hold me at his chest as he hauled ass, stopping just before the rickety building’s old double doors where he set me to my feet.
I pulled at the rusted handles, peeling away the one layer between us and inside. And that’s when I saw it. Something within the barn that was more jarring than what I’d experienced outside, something that shocked me, making my sweating skin crawl…
Crazy Heart
I suppose whenever you go through periods of transition, or in a way, it's a very definite closing of a certain chapter of your life - I suppose those times are always going to be both very upsetting and also very exciting by the very nature because things are changing and you don't know what's going to happen.
- Daniel Radcliffe
RISKE
My knuckles were raw. The blood across my fingers was dried and they hurt to the touch, the cuts and bruises blending in with the navy of the suit on my shoulders.
My early gym sessions weren’t helping. Beating a body bag wasn’t going to knock Kat out of my system, and still I tried, waking at the crack of dawn to take another crack at my trainer’s padded punching blocks.
Six days.
Six agonizing days since I’d last seen her, and every other second, she was running across my mind, seeping me in misery. Add to that the fact that I’d lost my second client of the week, and I was a walking representation of depression, sullen and sulking around the new office.
I almost made it through day seven before Griff and Chris burst into my office, shortly before the close of business.
Griff motioned. “Alright, lovesick Romeo. Get your ass up.”
I barely glanced up from my brief. “I’m busy.”
“Busy, my ass. Stop burying yourself in work. That’s what employees are for—to take on that shit.”
Chris balked, squinting at my other best friend. “To lighten up the load, not to dump all over.”
“Horse shit. You pay the fuckers to handle all the shit you won’t.” Chris crossed his arms at him. “Including us. I’m no fool. Let us share the bullshit, Foxx.”
“No thanks.” I put the pen back to the paper.
“Come on,” Chris piggybacked. “Come out with us.”
I didn’t look up. “Have fun…”
I heard my two best friends shift on their feet. “It’s a client’s event.” I froze. “Remember those?” Griff continued. I inhaled deeply, daring to meet their eyes.
Chris’s stare was soft compared to Griff’s, which was as hard as stone. Their expressions read “Pull yourself together” and the mixed looks of pity and disgust dug under my skin, making me madder than I’d been all day. I hated the reflection of myself I saw in their gazes.
I stood, closing the binder I was writing in. I brushed imaginary lint off the sleeves of my suit, mentally gathering myself. Raising my chin, I reeled my emotion back in, straightening my shoulders. I leveled my glare.
“A client, you say?”
Forty minutes later, we stood at the wooden bar of some upscale bar, drinking dark liquor behind a velvet-lined rope. My mood was darker than the lighting, and I drank in a mouthful of whiskey, swirling the brown liquid in my glass as I glanced through the dark red hues of the room at the schmoozing taking place in all corners.
I had no desire to rub elbows with the publishing juggernauts in the room, not since I had Chris handle the Harrison Kennedy situation, but I knew better than to not make an appearance. Not when I had writers walking out of the door, citing a need for a more “intimate” press, more suited to their specific needs.
A load of “touchy-feely” bullshit, if I’d ever heard it—undoubtedly fed to them by some silent competitor, sneaking in the backdoor to steal away my best and brightest. The thought had been putting me in an already bad mood, but I was determined to drink through it. Maybe until I stopped wanting to curse out half the fucking crowd.
The music, mellow and full of bass, set the mood for my fading sobriety, and I wandered away from my two busy best friends, who chatted up a fake-titted literary agent and her partner in publicity. I loosened my collar, letting my tie hang when a familiar face emerged on the dance floor.
My client. The star of the evening.
Serena Woods… in the company of the star of my last five evenings. A beautifully built, black dress-clad Kat.
I nearly crushed the glass beneath my fingers. Nearly a week of radio-silence from her had made my wits weak, and I scrambled to collect my shattered thoughts at the seductive sight of her, standing there, laughing… in a backless, glittery number I knew I would never forget as long as I lived.
She kissed the cheeks of those around her, the lush lay of her beautiful brown hair falling and bouncing across her shimmering shoulders. How many times had her hair bounced like that between my fingers as we both found ecstasy in that abandoned field? The one I’d taken her to that fateful night—well, that second fateful night. The night before I left… for good.
She’d been fearless that evening, opening up to me in a way she hadn’t before—in more ways than one. Feeling her beneath me, I knew I would never be the man she deserved, and when I walked away just thirty-six hours later, I knew I’d proven myself right.
I hadn’t been man enough to tell her the truth, to reveal everything and let the chips fall where they may.
I’d gambled. And I’d lost…
As fate would have it, my would-be winnings were on the other side of the room, looking like the lotto, and maybe, just maybe… I was hardheaded—and drunk enough, to gamble again. I set my drink down, wiping the condensation from my fingers, enfolding them within my pants pockets.
My nostrils burned from the stench of alcohol in the air, and I felt my chest tightening, knowing that soon the irritating aroma would be replaced with Kat’s scent—a smell reminiscent of summertime, a combo of sugar, spice… and everything naughty.
I stalked towards her, noting that the tomboy I’d known had grown full woman overnight. Even at seventeen, under that thawing icy gaze, there was a subtle femininity in the way she spoke and walked, a silent grace that now, nine years later, had blossomed into an unbelievable sexiness, the sway of her burgeoning hips belying the fire that lay within.
I was a fortunate fucker back then to even get a glimpse of it. And God help me, I was dying to know what I missed out on…
***
KAT
Shit!
He was here.
Avoiding him had been hard. Ignoring him—almost impossible. Ethan had found where I worked. From what I’d heard from my security, he’d walked right up to the front door of our floor before the receptionist and the extra guards I’d added since had shown him the way out, barring him from returning.
He had returned, alright… but this time he was attempting to open the door between us in other ways. Online, most of all. A masochist to the very core, I had read each message he’d left as the real him—Brendon Foxx, taking my time to process each note before ultimately discarding each one, deleting them and sending them to the depths of the Net’s seventh Hell.
In an attempt to avoid thinking about Ethan, I had decided to make an impromptu visit to Brendon Foxx’s new office, in hopes of expressing my condolences for the fire through which he suffered. I had suffered through my own. But never did I think I’d walk through the flames again, as I opened his heavy oak door to find Ethan—AKA CEO Brendon Foxx, in a position befitting of his title, gripping a pretty blonde woman in the throes of some passion that I preferred not to think about.
Riske and Revenge: A Second Chance, Enemies Romance (Revenge series Book 1) Page 15