by Lea Griffith
Everything went fuzzy for a split second. “Go where?”
“To your room,” he said, and it sounded like he was getting farther away from her.
The room began to spin and she looked down, noticed the IV in her arm, and cursed loudly. “I’ll fucking kill you, Dmitry.”
He leaned over her, and he helped her down, down, down, back to the bed. “You may try when you are a hundred percent. I’d hate to think I’d get anything less than your very best.”
“Such a funny man,” she said, and knew her words slurred.
Her vision dimmed, and right before she winked out, she heard someone call her name. It was the same voice that had called to her from the water pit.
Rand.
Remi came awake on a scream. The memory had followed her into wakefulness, and before she could draw a breath to purge it, she felt a hand on her head.
“Relax. It’s just a dream,” Rand said above her.
“I don’t dream.” Her response was automatic. The sound of it in her ear was off.
He pulled away from her, and she looked up. Sitting beside her was the one person she’d never regret her bullet missing.
Rand.
He was still beautiful, still made her heart thud, and he was still a no-no.
Her hand rose of its own volition, stroked along his lips, over his cheekbones, and outlined the scar at his temple. “I shot you,” she whispered.
His gaze searched her face. She felt the tactile caress of it, wishing it was his fingers. “And can I just say how glad I am you missed wide to the left?”
She shook her head. “I never miss.”
He leaned closer, his scent, sandalwood, male, and all Rand, enveloped her, and she barely contained a shiver. “I know.”
She started to speak, needed to speak the words, but they refused to leave her throat. There was nothing she could say, and she dropped her hand from his warm skin. Held by his deep blue-purple gaze, she wanted to be one who dreamed and didn’t remember.
Rand Beckett made her want impossible things.
“I know you said you had no plans for after Arequipa.” He cleared his throat, his strong hand wrapping around the side of her throat, his fingers toying with the base of her skull.
She raised a hand, ran it over her head, and closed her eyes. Like Blade, Bullet had been marked. Hair shorn from her scalp, she’d been wiped of the only thing she had of beauty . . . her hair. It was the one thing Joseph had let them all keep, telling them it was their only beautiful asset.
And he had taken even that from her.
She swallowed. “There is a question in there somewhere, Mr. Beckett?”
He wiped a thumb over her cheek, and Remi realized she was crying.
“No, more like a request,” he murmured.
She opened her eyes then and cocked her head. Though the movement hurt a bit, she overcame it. It was a small hurt compared to the one in her heart.
“Okay.”
“I haven’t said what the request is,” he said with a small lift of the corner of his mouth.
She took a deep breath and ignored his baiting. “What is the request?”
“I want you to stay here, with me as you heal. I want you to become a part of Trident, and I want you to help me defeat The Collective,” he said in a low tone.
Stay? Here?
“I cannot. He will not stop coming for me. I must find my sisters and we must—”
He pressed a finger against her lips, cutting off her words. His face went hard for a second, and then smoothed out.
“What you must do is heal.”
She shook her head and pushed the pain that threatened to overtake her down deep. “People die around me. I will die. I would not bring that to you. He has tried once, Mr. Beckett. Did you not learn anything?”
He stood abruptly, gaze hard and fiery as he stared down at her before he ran a hand through his hair and turned away from her. She glanced around the room then. It wasn’t one she’d been in before. Maybe his? Sparsely furnished, the bed was huge, but besides the chair he’d been sitting in, it was the only furniture in the entire room.
He stared out the window and her heart constricted. His big, beautiful body outlined by the falling sun took her breath. “You know what, Gretchen? I did learn something,” he said softly.
She sighed. “Feel free to enlighten me as to what that is, because you asking me to stay here and bring more killers to your door tells me you’ve learned nothing.”
“I learned that you cannot be broken. I’ve learned that you would give you own life to right a wrong that wasn’t yours to begin with. And I’ve learned that you are the strongest person I’ve ever met and I want that. I want you here with me, healing.” He returned to her side and sat down.
When she would have scooted away, he put his hand on her unbroken arm and restrained her. His touch was everything she craved.
“Do not do this to me,” she whispered.
To stay would be lunacy. She would not do it.
Would she?
“I will keep you safe. I’ve already begun to strike against the members of The Collective. Stories to reporters, shipments interrupted, money gone missing from overseas accounts, and other ventures have thrown them into a whirlwind. They are even now trying to pick up the pieces before they scatter to the wind. If they are running from us, they will not be able to attack.”
She shook her head, denial whipping through her. “Joseph will never stop. We are his and he won’t stop until we end him. I cannot allow you to be in the middle of that. I will have a difficult enough time keeping you safe as it is.”
Anger flushed his cheeks. She felt the change in him. His body hardened imperceptibly, and the air charged with his fury.
“You can barely keep yourself safe!” he spit out before he took a deep breath and began again. “I don’t need you to keep me safe. But I’ve had time to think the past couple of weeks as you’ve lain there, almost lifeless and unmoving.”
Her gaze sought his. That was a long time. Much could’ve happened. Probably had happened, and she’d been out for it.
“Yeah, I’ve had plenty of time to think and act on the things I’ve been thinking about.”
He went silent, and she just stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was obviously trying to tell her.
He chuckled then and her own anger bubbled up. “Ne me moquez pas!” she muttered.
“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, and there was weariness in his voice. She ached, both body and heart.
“Then who the hell are you laughing at? Wait, did you understand what I said?” She’d woken up in an alternate universe apparently.
“Well, I’ve had nothing to do these past two weeks but study French,” he said with a grin. “You sleep like the dead.”
“You learned French in two weeks?” Amazement floated through her, and then she laughed. Of course, he had.
“If I can pull the woman who found my heart and then stole it from the jaws of death, surely I can learn French in two weeks? Vraiment?”
She winced. “You need to work on your pronunciation and accent. Tu suces,” she said with a smile.
“That I may, but you haven’t responded to my request.” Where weariness had been, there was now steely determination.
“Yes, I did. I said—”
He shook his head emphatically, dark black hair, longer since she’d last seen him, falling over his brow. “Not the response I wanted.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are acting like a child, and this is not a game.”
He got in her face then, anger pouring off him. He smelled so good, and his breath was warm as it blew against her face and neck. “You’re goddamn right this isn’t a game. Do you think for one fucking minute that, as I looked down on you dying in that pit, I thought it was fun? You nearly died, Gretchen. It is intolerable. I will not lose you!” He was yelling by the time he finished and he took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.
> “You wormed your stubborn ass into my soul, and I’ll not fucking allow you to kill yourself for vengeance. You’ll stay here, where I can keep you safe, and we’ll plan, Gretchen. We’ll plan, and then we’ll act, but we will do it together. You will never put me through that again,” he said viciously.
“You cannot mean this,” she whispered, tears flowing unheeded down her checks, their fiery tracks a reminder that she felt now. Because of the man yelling in her face, she felt.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
She tried to pull away, the intensity of his gaze gripping her soul and refusing to let her think. “You don’t know what you’re doing. . ."
She trailed off as he just stared at her, refusing to budge or allow her to.
“You told me the first time I saw you driving away from me in Seattle that I would thank you for saving my life.” He smiled then, and it was painful, but it made her heart thump heavily. Blood pushed through her veins, reminding her of the reason she was here. “You were right, Gretchen. Thank you.”
He punctuated his words with a kiss at the corner of her mouth, and her eyes drifted shut.
He could not know what he was asking of her or what he was getting himself into.
“But this is about so much more than my life—it’s about my heart. I know what I’m doing. Now it’s up to you to let me in,” he said, and then stepped away from her.
She felt bereft, as if her anchor to the world had been raised. She could not do this with him. She had not broken, but she was changed. Gretchen was no more as much as he wanted to believe it so. She was only Bullet, sometimes Remi. She was damaged. As much as he’d lost, he deserved better.
“I have not broken, but you, Rand Beckett . . . you could be the one to do so,” she whispered.
“I cannot break that which has become a vital part of me. I don’t know how it happened—how you happened. But you are here now, and I won’t let you be hurt anymore.”
It was impossible that he was saying these things to her, and yet her heart reached out to him, refused to be quieted, in fact, demanded to be listened to.
“I do not know what you want me to say.” Her voice broke on the last word, and more tears welled up and fell over. Her head pounded, and she quaked from head to toe.
He nudged her face up with his finger. “Say you’ll stay here, with me.”
She’d reached a ledge she’d never thought to prepare for. Her heart answered before her brain could check it.
“I’ll stay,” she whispered, shaking with . . . fear. God in Heaven, Rand Beckett had managed to instill in her something she’d not felt since she’d watched her parents gunned down.
Fear. What was this warmth in her chest? This agonizing need to see him, smell him, touch him? Never had anyone besides her sisters meant as much as this man did to her. It was unacceptable.
And yet it refused to not be accepted. Even as the feeling hissed and snarled at her, she dared it to fuck with her. She would stay, and she would keep him safe. She would heal, and then she would go after Joseph with everything in her.
“Lie down,” he murmured against her lips, his own soft but firm, teasing her with their closeness. “You need to rest. There’s time to work it all out later. For now, sleep,” he urged.
She did as he instructed. She even allowed him to tuck her beneath the covers. She watched him warily, still not understanding or fully trusting this tentative thing between them.
He sat down in the chair beside the bed and relaxed into it, his gaze never leaving her face, intent and communicating everything with a single look.
“Rest. I’ll be here.”
She nodded and turned over, her heart slowing, her body succumbing to its weakness. She took a deep breath and felt her soul take flight.
For now, she’d rest. She would fight this fight with him when she was better. Maybe tomorrow...
Glossary
Ce n'est pas grave, non?
It doesn't matter, does it?
Arrete
Stop.
C'est trop. Nous devons cesser.
It's too much. We must stop.
Dis-le!
Say it!
Et il sera toujours doux parce que vous serez morts.
And it will still be sweet because you will be dead.
Et votre mort sera doux pour nous tous.
And your death will be sweet for us all.
J'ai besoin. Arrête ça!
I need. Make it stop!
Je ne suis personne.
I am nobody.
Je suis ici. Bientôt le chasseur devient le chassé.
I am here. Soon the hunter will become the hunted.
Kanojo wa anata kara no orokana o shiri o nani mo uketoranakatta
She took nothing from you stupid ass
Mais qu'est-ce un choix à faire. Je n'aurais pas pu faire l’un ou l'autre.
But what a choice to make. I couldn't have done either one.
Me toucher.
Touch me.
Merci
Thank you
Mon nom . . . dis-le
My name..say it
Ne me faites pas faire cette chose.
Do not make me do this thing.
Ne me moquez pas!
Don't laugh at me!
Nous quittons aujourd'hui. Attendez-vous à nous demain.
We leave today. Expect us tomorrow.
Ou je ne vous diront jamais où le garçon est.
Or I will never tell you where the boy is
Oui, rien n'est trop cher quand il s'agit de
Yes, nothing is too expensive when it comes to . . .
Oui.
Yes.
Poupon
Little baby
Savent, Minton, elle vient.
But please know, Minton, that she is coming.
S'il vous te plaît
Please
Toi
You
Tu suces
You suck
Ven
They come!
Vous
You
Vous me comprenez?
Do you understand me?
Vous n'êtes pas la mienne pour tuer à prendre.
You are not mine to kill to take.
Vous pourrir en enfer, salope!
You will rot in hell, bitch!
Vraiment?
Right?
About the Author
Lea Griffith began sneaking to read her mother’s romance novels at a young age. She cut her teeth on the greats: McNaught, Woodiwiss, and Garwood. She still consumes every romance book she can put her hands on, but now she writes her own.
Lea lives in rural Georgia with her husband, three teenage daughters, two dogs, a cat, and a Betta fish named Coddy George. When not working at the EDJ, she’s usually at her keyboard writing. She loves romance and nothing is off-limits when it comes to her muse.
http://www.leagriffith.com/
Taliesin Publishing thrives on introducing you to new authors and stories. If you enjoyed this book, please continue reading for an excerpt of the next book in this series, as well as excepts of other stories releasing soon we think you’ll love. And if you do, please spread the word.
Taliesin Publishing
Where great stories give birth to legends.
Arrow to the Soul by Lea Griffith
Coming February 2014
Chapter One
The sounds of the busy outdoor café permeated Adam’s thoughts. A car backfired, people chatted, and the clank of silverware against plates was loud as he waited for her arrival. The smooth purr of a street bike hovered over the background noise. And then she was there.
The woman parked the sleek Suzuki Hayabusa 1340 and took off her helmet. Long ebony hair, pin straight and so shiny, so soft looking his hands itched to grab hold of it, fell down her back, skimming the top of her luscious ass. His body hardened. Fuck.
She lifted a leg over the bike and Adam’s hand tightened on the mug he lifted t
o his lips. She moved like water. Fluid, easy, and flowing—every movement a testimony to her training, and something else Adam could not name. It was indefinable, but it spoke of a decided lack of worry, indeed an overabundance of confidence. Even as he recognized the seductive curve of her hips, the gorgeous, clean lines of her body wrapped in tight black leather, his mind struggled to reason with his body. Everything she was should be abhorrent to him.
But it wasn’t.
Her smell still taunted him, a phantom in his nose and over his tongue. He’d been in Vancouver once as the plum trees were blooming. Their sweet, honeyed fragrance had called to the wildness in Adam back then. Her scent had done the same two weeks ago.
He’d stood beside a woman who’d faced down over twenty-five armed men and dared them to save her sister. She had threatened him, hell she’d threatened them all, and then she’d walked away, disappearing into the fog. He’d been marked that day by her golden eyes and hardened soul. Adam had not been the same since.
It had been two weeks since they’d rescued Bullet from a water pit in Peru. They’d been the longest two weeks of Adam’s life, all because of the woman he now watched making her way toward a family of five.
It would be four when she walked away. If anyone nay-sayed her, the family would be wiped off the face of the earth altogether.
Adam couldn’t let that happen. Bullet had begged him to go after Arrow. What she hadn’t known was he’d been planning on doing just that anyway.
He set his mug down carefully. The heavy afternoon heat of Mexico City didn’t faze him, yet nobody gave the woman a passing glance. Odd considering she was decked out in full leathers and the temperature soared well over a hundred degrees today. But she seemed to fit into the tableau; the control she wielded somehow morphed the setting to her whim.