Radiant
Page 1
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2016 by James Patterson
Cover design by Kapo Ng; photograph by AVprophoto / Shutterstock
Cover copyright © 2016 Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
BookShots / Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104
bookshots.com
facebook.com/JPBookShots
twitter.com/Book_Shots
instagram.com/jpbookshots
First ebook edition: December 2016
BookShots is an imprint of Little, Brown and Company, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The BookShots name and logo are trademarks of JBP Business, LLC.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591.
ISBN 978-0-316-27656-6
E3-20161104-NF-DA
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
A Preview of “Exquisite”
About the Authors
Foreword
When I first had the idea for BookShots, I knew that I wanted to include romantic stories. The whole point of BookShots is to give people lightning-fast reads that completely capture them for just a couple of hours in their day—so publishing romance felt right.
I have a lot of respect for romance authors. I took a stab at the genre when I wrote Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas. While I was happy with the results, I learned that the process of writing romance novels requires hard work and dedication.
That’s why I wanted to pair up with the best romance authors for BookShots. I work with writers who know how to draw emotions out of their characters, all while catapulting their plots forward.
I hope that’s why you decided to pick up this book, Radiant. Maybe you were so consumed and intrigued by Siobhan and Derick’s relationship that you had to read more. Since Siobhan has moved to Detroit in this book, and Derick doesn’t know how to approach her, it might seem as though this couple will never get back together. Unless love really is the most powerful force on earth…
James Patterson
Chapter 1
Derick Miller moved through the space once more, each step on the dark wood floors echoing as he walked. Pristine white walls, ideal location. It’s perfect.
Janet walked over to where Derick had stopped to look out the window to the street. “Do you have any questions?”
Derick looked over at her and slid a hand into his pocket. “Just one,” he said. “How soon can you write up the paperwork? I’ll take it.”
Chapter 2
Squeezing through the crowd, Siobhan Dempsey headed toward the back of the large space in the direction of the food.
“You gotta try the dumplings.”
Siobhan turned to see Wendell stuffing his face a few feet away. She lifted an amused eyebrow. Ever since she’d moved to Detroit about a month ago and met the happy-go-lucky street artist, Wendell had only talked about two things: food and the building they were currently in.
“I don’t gotta to do anything,” Siobhan replied with a grin, opting to grab a small sandwich and some fruit instead.
Once he had found out Siobhan wasn’t a fan of Chinese food, Wendell had made it his mission to get her to at least try one of the dumplings from a local spot down the block from their apartment building. Between that and attempting to save the building—and, more important, the beautiful mural on its side—from destruction, Wendell had had his hands full. At least he’d been successful at one of his endeavors. “Untrue. You need to celebrate.”
“And celebrating means drinking,” Lilah slurred as she handed Siobhan a cup of…
“What is this?” Siobhan asked, bringing it to her nose and inhaling. She winced when the scent burned her nostrils.
Her roommate leaned in to give Siobhan a nudge, but she lost her balance and nearly fell into the table. “It’s moonshine. Jesse’s been making it for months. He’s gotten pretty good at it the last week or so.”
“I don’t even know who Jesse is,” Siobhan said.
“Woo!” Lilah called loudly as she waved a hand in the air. “Hey, Jesse! Jesse!”
After a moment, a blond-haired guy in a white T-shirt and gray vest gave her a nod and held his drink up.
“That’s Jesse,” Lilah said.
“Yeah, I got that,” Siobhan said with a laugh.
“Try it,” Lilah urged. “It’s totes drinkable.” Then she nodded dramatically, as if it would strengthen her argument. “You can trust me.”
Siobhan narrowed her eyes and tilted her head playfully. “Mmm, why do I feel like that’s not true?”
“Listen, Brooklyn,” Lilah said, giving Siobhan a bump with her hip. “We took you in and gave you a home. The least you can do is try Jesse’s moonshine.”
Siobhan laughed at the way Lilah made her sound like a stray kitten. “I’m not really sure how those two things are related to each other, but screw it. We’re celebrating, right?” She put the cup up to her lips and drank in long gulps, holding her breath. It did nothing to disguise the flavor.
“Yes!” Lilah yelled. “I knew you had it in you, Brooklyn.”
When she couldn’t take any more, Siobhan pulled the cup down and shivered. “Jesus, that stuff tastes like rubbing alcohol and shoe polish.”
Wendell held out a dumpling to her. “You know what’ll cover that taste right up?”
Laughing, Siobhan pushed his hand away. “Get away from me with that.”
“Fine,” he said. “More for me.”
“This is an awesome turnout,” Siobhan said. “I had no idea you guys had this many supporters.”
“Yeah, I mean, we had thousands of signatures on the petition that circulated around social media, but this is pretty crazy,” he said, gesturing to the artists mingling throughout the building.
“So what happened? The city just agreed not to tear it down? I tried to get the story from Lilah, but that’s like asking a toddler if they want to go to the zoo. All I got were partial sentences and squeals of delight.”
Wendell pulled on the long curly hair on top of his head and laughed.
“Someone actually bought it. Thank God there are people who still believe that art is a worthy cause, or this place would be rubble right now.”
“Yeah, no kidding. It’s nice to finally be in a place that supports what we’re doing. The art community here is amazing.” Until Kayla, another artist from New York, had told her about Detroit’s art scene, Siobhan hadn’t realized how important artists were to the revitalization of the city. But she was happy she’d finally found somewhere that felt like home. “So what’s the person going to do with this place?”
Wendell shrugged. “Not sure. But they must have agreed to renovate it into some sort of a usable space, or the city wouldn’t have agreed to sell it.”
“Yeah, and the buyer definitely has their work cut out for them.” She looked around the room at the beat-up walls and concrete floor. But leave it to a bunch of artists to still make it look presentable for a party. The place didn’t look half bad, considering its actual condition. Then Siobhan thought of a question she wasn’t sure she should ask. But she did anyway. “How do we know the buyer won’t paint over the mural when they renovate?”
“The city released a statement saying that stipulation was included in the terms of sale. Gotta love how they tried to save face with that one. They were two seconds from tearing the place down, but a buyer shows up and they refuse to sell until she agrees to keep the mural. Politics—ain’t it grand?”
“I’m just happy she let us have the party here and even turned on the electricity for us.”
“She? You know it’s a woman who bought it?”
Wendell grinned broadly. I don’t know. I’m just hoping. I feel like it’s destiny, ya know? Like me and my mystery lady are meant to be together. I can see it now. Art-loving hottie revitalizes city and falls in love with passionate kid from—”
“You’re thirty-three.”
Wendell looked offended. “You’re ruining my fantasy.”
“Sorry.” Siobhan laughed and waved across the room when she saw her friend Daphne arrive. Like Siobhan, Daphne was an expressionist painter, and she had helped Siobhan get her work into a few of the galleries in the area. Siobhan had even sold two pieces. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Daphne just got here, and I need to talk to her about the exhibit next weekend.”
“Okay, okay. I see how it is,” Wendell replied with a smile.
Siobhan made her way through the crowd, stopping briefly to chat with a few people she hadn’t seen since she’d first gotten to Detroit. She had almost reached Daphne when her phone rang. It was Marnel.
Siobhan hadn’t talked to her friend on the phone since she had left New York. They’d texted back and forth a ton and connected through social media, but she hadn’t actually spoken to her in more than a month.
“What’s up, hooker?” Marnel said when Siobhan answered.
“Hey! It’s so good to hear your voice. I miss you.” Siobhan moved toward the door and stepped outside so she could talk without yelling over the music.
“We miss you, too,” Blaine chimed in. “We’re all here. We’re just about to leave for the night. Saul hired some girl named Jill as your replacement. She’s awful. Constantly dropping stuff and messing up the phone lines.” Blaine paused. “Actually, I guess that makes her a lot like you.”
“I hate you.”
The girls laughed. “But enough about work. What are you up to?” Marnel asked.
“Just standing outside of an abandoned building. You?”
There was silence for a moment before Marnel spoke again. “Siobhan, I know you’re struggling, but you need to draw the line somewh—”
“There’s a party inside, asshole. I just stepped out so I could hear.”
“A party in an abandoned building?” Marnel said. “Why’d you go halfway across the country for the exact same thing you can get in Brooklyn?”
“Stop.” Siobhan rolled her eyes. “It’s pretty cool, actually.” She told the girls about the mural and the building. “The person who bought it let us throw a party here to celebrate. My friend Wendell thinks the buyer is his future wife.”
“Sounds like you like it out there,” Cory said.
Siobhan smiled and leaned against the wall. “I do. It’s been good for me. I’ve been able to show some of my work and even sold a few paintings. The art community’s really welcoming. You guys should come out sometime.”
“Yeah, definitely. You should come back here at some point, too,” Marnel said. “Maybe for my birthday.”
“Yeah, that’d be fun.”
“Do you miss it at all?” Cory asked.
Siobhan thought for a moment. “I think I miss the idea of New York more than I miss the city itself. The vision I had in my mind before I moved there didn’t quite match the reality.”
“You mean your dream wasn’t to bring menus to the wealthy?” Cory asked.
“Not exactly.” The mention of the Stone Room and the people who frequented it brought thoughts into her mind that she’d somehow been able to avoid for the better part of the last month or so.
“So I have to ask,” Marnel said. And by the hesitation in her voice, Siobhan knew what was coming next. “Have you heard from him?”
Chapter 3
Hefting her bag higher onto her shoulder, Siobhan waited for the light to turn green so she could cross the busy intersection. As she transferred her weight from one foot to the other, her impatience escalated. She needed to paint.
The phone call from the girls the night before had kickstarted an emotional storm of Dust Bowl proportions. Every thought was hidden beneath a thin film of all things Derick.
As she continued walking toward her studio, Siobhan cursed Marnel for approximately the five-hundredth time. She had tried so hard to actively not think of Derick over the past month, and it had been working. Perhaps she hadn’t been completely happy yet, but she’d been getting there. Making new friends, finding a well-paying job, and having her art be well received had all been major stepping-stones toward an improved mood.
But now she was grumpy. And tense. And…sad. Damn Marnel.
Siobhan turned her head to look into her favorite coffee shop. Since she’d barely slept the night before, she could use some tea to give her some energy. But as she gazed in the window, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. She jerked to a stop, not because of what she saw through the window but because of what she saw reflected in it. Or, rather, who.
Her sudden stop had caused a man to barrel into her, breaking her focus.
“Sorry,” they both muttered as the man proceeded down the sidewalk, and Siobhan’s eyes darted back to the window.
He was gone. But she was sure she’d seen…no, it couldn’t have been. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d left New York. Siobhan shook her head. Now she wasn’t just thinking about him, but she was imagining seeing him, too.
Tightening her grip on her bag, she quickened her pace toward her studio, where she could lose herself in her work and forget all about him.
As if it’d be possible to ever forget Derick Miller.
Chapter 4
Siobhan sighed loudly at the knock on the door. Lilah had texted her a few minutes ago to ask if she was home because she’d forgotten her keys. Again. Siobhan yanked the door open. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more forgetful—”
The words died in Siobhan’s throat. She struggled to find them but could only manage one. And it came out in a whisper. “Derick.”
Derick flashed her a small smile. “Hi, Siobhan.”
She gripped the door harder in order to keep herself steady. “What are you doing here?”
Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he briefly looked down at the floor before meeting her gaze again, his eyes causing the stir of a familiar warmth that she quickly pushed away. “I wanted to see you.”
“Well, you’ve seen me. Hope it was worth the trip.”
“It was.”
Siobhan was trying to keep herself detached, distant. But that was pretty dam
n hard when the man she loved showed up looking like a conglomeration of every fantasy she’d ever had. His gray slacks and white button-down with the collar left open hugged every muscular curve of his body. Christ.
She ignored the slight flutter in her chest and the tightening in her core. How dare her body betray her at a time like this? She breathed in deeply, preparing to keep her voice firm. “Listen, Derick, I’m kind of busy. I appreciate that you flew all the way here to see me. I’m not even going to ask how you knew where I lived, because I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know the answer. But I don’t really have anything to say, so…”
She started to close the door, letting her words trail off because she didn’t know how to finish the thought anyway. She’d already said good-bye to Derick. It wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat if she could avoid it.
But before the door closed, Derick’s arm shot out and stopped its movement. “You may not have anything to say to me, but I have a lot to say to you. When you left New York, you did it in a verbal blaze of glory. You didn’t let me explain things. I need that opportunity, Siobhan. Whether for the chance at fixing things or for closure, I need it. Please.”
Siobhan took a deep breath. He was right. She knew he was. She’d gone back to her apartment after their fight, packed up her things, given notice at her jobs, and left New York within a few days. Her transition to her new city had been swift and uncomplicated, despite the deep well of pain she’d refused to acknowledge, and she chose to bury her feelings beneath the foundation of a fresh start.
But talking about Derick, thinking about him, seeing him, caused all of that hurt to quake to the surface. She knew that if she didn’t deal with it now, her fresh start would crumble around her. “There’s a coffeehouse a block away. We can talk there.”
Derick’s shoulders dropped in what Siobhan could only guess was relief. He backed away from the door and motioned down the hall with his hand. “After you.”
Chapter 5
Holding the tea she’d ordered, Siobhan slid into the seat across from Derick. She glanced out the window, squinting at the afternoon sun. “So what is it you need to say?”