by Milly Taiden
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Guillory shuffled his cards around, organizing them while assessing his hand. After a few moments he ran his tongue along his top left molars and tossed some chips into the pile. Johnny Pollard didn’t look up; he watched his friend roll his head in one direction then another in a painfully slow fashion. With an exaggerated sigh, Guillory laid his cards down in front of him and folded his arms across his chest.
“All right,” Pollard nodded, stacking his cards and then tossing his chips. “I’m in.”
This was Guillory’s “real” retirement celebration. Earlier in the day, the department had thrown him the standard cake foofaraw. Now it was time for the real deal. Liquor, gambling and inflated stories of heroism amongst men.
Guillory glanced at Eva Lipton to his left and cracked a side-ways grin. Women too, he thought. Lipton was a relative newbie and just barely past the rookie status. But she was tough as nails and had good instincts. The few cases he’d worked on with her proved to him she was worthy of joining the monthly–and formerly all-male–poker game.
More chips hit the table, cards were exchanged, and the game proceeded amidst mostly silence for a few minutes.
“So she got off, eh, Guillory? Was that your swan song or what?” Lipton finally spoke. Hernandez to the right grunted. The recent talk around the department had been the entire Hope Sheffield debacle. Just a few days earlier, Harold Taggart had managed to raise his $250,000 bail on the child molestation charges stemming from the Sheffield trial.
Guillory only licked his lips and raised a brow.
“The hell it was Guillory’s doing. I’m the one who found the sister, and yet this prick’s the one who gets the interviews and accolades.”
“Well, hell,” Lipton cursed after taking a card and watching Hernandez up the ante. “I’m out.”
“Hehehe,” Guillory chuckled.
“So why’d you do it, man?” Hernandez asked, glancing at him with intense black eyes. “I know you were leavin’ anyway, but you’ve had a good career with the force and if this thing had gone bad, you could’a lost. Big time.”
“He was hot for the defendant.” Those were Pollard’s words, his eyes crinkling at the edges with carefully restraining mirth. Guillory stared him down, still saying nothing.
“Hey, man, don’t try that evil-eye shit with me. It won’t work.”
So, apparently some people were impervious to the cold, dead look. Rolling his eyes and flicking a few more chips onto the pile, Guillory finally laughed. “You guys are as nosy as a bunch of old women. What the hell do want to know?”
Lipton laughed. “Avoiding the question? We asked why. It’s a pretty simple question, officer.”
He shrugged, tapping his cards against the felt-covered table. “It was time for me to get out of this… this crap. I see perps around every corner. I can honestly say that nine out of every ten people I run across give me that gut reaction that says ‘you’re guilty as hell of something.’ I mean, there’s got to be more than that out there. From the moment Sheffield’s case dropped into my lap, I was missing that gut reaction where it was supposed to be.”
“So you followed your gut. You did the right thing.” Lipton nodded, a lovely smile softening her normally hard expression.
Swiping his cards across his chin, Guillory thought about her words and then shook his head. “Nah, you see, you’re missing what I’m trying to say. Or I’m screwing up what I’m saying. I knew she took that kid. I knew she was still alive. Knowing that and even knowing that Taggart was probably a sick SOB shouldn’t have mattered. I had a job to do. But it was the last turn of the merry-go-round for me, and I needed that brass ring. Sheffield was my last chance at it. I needed something, someone to believe in.”
Silence fell heavy on the room and every one paused a moment.
Eva’s brow drew together, and she shot Guillory another disarming grin.
“So, what you needed was hope.”
***
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The adoption hearing didn't last long. All it took was both Justine and Geneva's testimonies, along with Justine’s agreement to forfeit her parental rights, and Judge Kleinburg was convinced. Hope, Brennan and Sir James then assured the court that the baby rightfully belonged in the Rawley family.
In the end, the judge agreed. Hope screeched when he announced that Michelle Taggert was now Michelle Rawley. The Coles entered the courtroom when the doors were opened, Michelle laughing in Mrs. Cole’s arms.
The little girl looked up when Hope called her name. She stared at Hope a moment, and Hope feared the baby had forgotten her.
Then the little girl shrieked with excitement and threw her arms out. “Mama!”
Brennan placed one arm around Hope’s shoulders. Together the Rawley gang moved out of the courthouse, glad to be leaving for good. Cindy sighed as she watched them go. Mark smiled, taking his wife’s hand.
“It’s finally all over.” he said.
“Yes,” she said woefully.
“What’s wrong?”
Cindy smiled as she sighed again. “Mark, this is the most excitement I’ve ever had in all my life. I think I’ve really enjoyed most of it.”
Mark looked down at his young wife, smiling despite himself. “This was not fun, Cindy. However, if you feel your life needs some excitement, I can always kidnap you.”
“Really?” she asked coyly. “And whatever would you do with me?”
He put his lips to her ear and told her in detail what he would do with her. By the time they left, her knees were weak and her face was cherry red.
***
EPILOGUE
Almost a year later, the court allowed Hope to transfer her probation so that she and Brennan could return to New Durma. In celebration of what amounted to the final victory for them, both the Rawley family and the Sheffield family, along with Mark and Cindy gathered together at a restaurant not far from New Durma; it was the same restaurant the Rawleys had visited once before. This time, however, everyone was on their best behavior, even Michelle and newborn Melody.
And so, all for Hope, they carried on polite conversation and kept their voices soft and dignified. Hope allowed her eyes to skim each and every face. It was becoming one of the most boring dinners of her entire life.
Where the heck is my real family? She wondered to herself. Did I leave them at home, maybe?
With a frustrated sigh she innocently picked up a long piece of bread and twirled it in her hands, contemplating what she wanted to do. Sir James politely made a comment about the weather, and Hope rolled her eyes. Taking perfect aim, she hurled the bread stick at her uncle-in-law, striking him right across the bridge of his nose.
The elder man blinked, shook his head, and then wiped a smattering of garlic from his face. Hope snorted with laughter, slapping her hand over her mouth, astonished at her own behavior.
“Hope!” Brennan admonished, mouth agape.
“Mommy!” Michelle screeched, a toothy grin on her face.
“Michelle, darling, this is a celebration. It was time to get the party started.”
Brennan smiled at his wife, remembering the conversation at the jail when she had told him how much she had loved the last time they were here. He broke a piece of bread off of his slice and catapulted it with his fork at Jeremy's head.
“Daddy!' Michelle squealed again and slapped her hand into her mashed potatoes, splatting them everywhere.
It didn't take long for a full-fledged food fight to begin. When things died down, most everyone had some sort of food on their clothes or in their hair. They could only be glad they had gotten a private dining room, or else they might have been booted out of the restaurant.
Hope stood, raising her glass and tapping it with her fork.
“Okay, okay. Settle down everyone,” she told them, just as Uncle James dashed a piece of raw broccoli at her. Everyone giggled as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Uncle.” She inclined her head t
o the elder Rawley. “I had wanted to say this last night, but I didn't want ruin your good news, Kay,” Hope explained, referring to Kay's and Audrick's declaration of their engagement.
“It’s too early to announce another baby, Hope!” Jeremy taunted with a wry grin at his cousin Brennan.
“Haha.” she mocked back. “Really, everyone, I need to say this. I’ve struggled with the words, how to explain what all of you mean to me. Life for me has spun in so many different circles over the last year or so that I can barely keep up. You are, each of you, the most special and most important people in my life. I cannot imagine a day without you as my friends. If I’m being reflective, well, who could blame me? Without the struggles that brought us all together in this way, I may not have ever realized how lucky I am, and I just don't want this opportunity pass by to let you know that I love you all and to thank you.”
There was a silence as all of the adults absorbed the heartfelt words. She watched Uncle James and Jeremy squirm a bit in their chairs, just as men do when they’re uncomfortable with sudden shows of intimacy. Audrick’s arm was wrapped around Kay’s waist, holding her close to his chest, but he tossed Hope a supportive wink. When she turned her eyes to Mark she was pretty sure she saw tears there, but when Meg began to sniffle, Hope gazed at her and smiled.
“Tell Mommy to stop with the mushy stuff before she makes us all cry,” Brennan murmured to Melody, lifting the baby’s face close to his mouth so that he could kiss her nose. Melody pressed her fist between his lips where he also kissed the tiny digits.
Leaning down to hug her husband, she felt Brennan sweep his lips close to her ear. “Quite the family you’ve got for us here, Hope.”
“I wondered when you would realize it,” she said, grinning and nuzzling his neck.
“I did realize it—it just still amazes me how lucky I am. I really wasn't sure I would ever have any of this. I wasn't ever sure I wanted it.”
“I know. You were quite a rake—but I’ve tamed, you haven't I? I have made a respectable man of you.”
They both laughed and kissed again. Just as Bren pulled away, he grinned.
“Thank you, Hope.”
Then he reached over for a scoop of mashed potatoes and smeared it on her nose.
***
Sometimes the road you’re on is just a detour to your heart's destination... Kay Rawley has plans. She might be the second child of an earl, but she wants a life away from her father’s estate in New Durma. She wants a life apart from her family’s name. Becoming a lawyer was a bright, shiny object she just couldn’t resist grabbing. Her classes are complete, and all she has to do is pass the bar to get permanent employment at the Dallas law firm where she’s been interning for the past year. Kay's been on Audrick Van Buren's radar since the day she walked into his classroom two years ago. That admiration only grew when she came to work for his firm. But if there's anything he recognizes, it's a woman who's driven--and Kay is definitely one. It's all he can do to keep his distance and allow her the chance to come into her own. What Van doesn't know is that someone else is watching Kay, too, and if he doesn't step between them, that person might not only derail her career but threaten her very life. Things aren’t always what they seem, and Kay’s about to learn that the best laid plans are so much better when they go astray.
JUSTICE FOR ALL ( A RAWLEY FAMILY NOVEL)
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About Olivia Hardin
Olivia Hardin always realized how strange she was to have complete movie-like character dreams as a child. Eventually she began putting those vivid dreams to paper and was rarely without her spiral notebooks full of those mental ramblings. Her forgotten vision of becoming an author was realized when she connected with a group of amazingly talented and fabulous writers who gave her lots of direction and encouragement. With a little extra push from family and friends, she hunkered down to get lost in the words. She’s also an insatiable crafter who only completes about 1 out of 5 projects, a jogger who hates to run, and is sometimes accused of being artistic, though she’s generally too much of a perfectionist to appreciate her own work. A native Texas girl, Olivia lives in the beautiful Lone Star state with her husband, Danny, and their puppy Bonnie.
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Table of Contents
Their Second Chance by Milly Taiden
Forever Sheltered by Deanna Roy
Kiss of Memory by V. M. Black
The Cowgirl Ropes A Billionaire by Cora Seton
What a Girl Wants (Rock Stars in Disguise: Rhiannon) by Blair Babylon
Beyond Love and Hate by Zoe York
Ripped by Olivia Rigal
Ready to Fall by Daisy Prescott
My First, My Last by Lacey Silks
Azure by Chrystalla Thoma
Wicked Little Sins by Holly Hood
The Royal Elite: Ahsan by Danielle Bourdon
All for Hope by Olivia Hardin
High Risk Love by S.J. Mayer
Rush by Violet Vaughn
First Taste by Mira Bailee
The Perfect Someday by Beverly Preston
St. Charles at Dusk by Sarah M. Cradit
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HIGH RISK LOVE
By S.J. Mayer
HIGH RISK LOVE
By S.J. Mayer
HIGH RISK LOVE © HiJinks Ink LTD 2013
Photographs.
Images.
Snapshots in time.
This is how I experience my life. I’ve hidden behind my camera and viewed the world through the lens. I’ve given up on my dreams, and sheltered my heart from love; because both have given me nothing but pain. It’s better to be safe, than to take a risk and have your life shattered into pieces alongside your heart.
But then I met Jet . . . the epitome of living on the edge, a man whose life is all about risks and danger. A man who lights a fire in my soul, and a brings me to a passion I thought I’d lost.
If I risk my heart on him, I may set myself up for more than I bargained for. A broken heart, and another loved one stolen from me. Yet I can’t stay away from him . . . any more than he can stay away from me.
And suddenly, the stakes are higher than they've ever been.
Prologue
Jet
Some moments in life should never be remembered, the horror and pain eradicated from your mind for all time. Yet, those are often the moments that define you and make you who you are. They make you stronger than you would’ve been otherwise. At least, that’s what I told myself.
I waited, on my knees, for his fist to slam into me. My body tensed to absorb the blow, to take whatever he dished out without a whimper. That was my job. At fifteen, I was scarred and battered like that of a war-hardened veteran. It never occurred to me that this kind of punishment wasn’t normal, especially for nothing more than an old man’s whims. This was my life, and it was all I knew.
His boot snapped through the air, driving into my ribs with the point of the steel toe. Bones cracked, separated from muscles and tissue, and I couldn’t stop the grunt of pain that escaped me.
“What’s that, Jethro? You got something to say to your old man?” He laughed while I struggled to breathe, to find a way to make my lungs work around the ribs that pressed inward.
I shook my head once, felt my gorge rise, and stopped moving. If he was talking, then it was almost finished. We were down to the final insults he’d throw, and then I’d be left alone for a while—maybe a few weeks if I was lucky, less if I wasn’t. If nothing else, my father was predictable. The pattern was the same every time. Too much whiskey, a fight with Sharon, an imaginary slight on my part, the beating, the insults . . . and then we were done.
“Fucking pussy. Can’t even take a bitch slap without cringing on the ground. You will never be a man. Should have drowned you in the river the day
you were born.” His tirade went on and on, but the physical beating had stopped. I just had to ride this out. Pretend I was somewhere else.
Worthless.
Piece of shit.
Dumbass.
Disgrace.
I felt the words as if they were fists instead of vowels and consonants. They drove deep, circling around what was left of my own belief in who I was. My mother’s voice was a quiet whisper in my ear, trying to combat the words.
He’s wrong; you’re good enough. I promise. You can survive this. I remembered her eyes; they were green, sweet, and soft.
I remembered that, but not much else, and the older I got, the less I heard her voice. The more I heard his inside my head, telling me what I wasn’t, what I could never be. I clung to the whisper of my mother like a lifeline. Her laughter was long gone, eaten away by the insults. Degradation had taken its place. But I fought to believe the few words that remained. One day I would be good enough. I promised myself. Whatever I did, I would be the best.
I looked like her—my mother—my coloring, the way I smiled, my laugh. Even I could see it in the old pictures hidden beneath the stairs. Jasper and I had only saved a few, kept them away from Sharon and her need to purge anything that was left of our mom. I figured that was part of why he hated me so. Jasper had her eyes, which I suspected was why Dad didn’t hit him—at least not yet. That would maybe be too much guilt, even for the old bastard. Mom had left him, taking us with her. For a few short months, we’d been free . . . and then he found us.