Meant for Me (A Second Chance standalone)

by L. P. Dover

  It just so happened that we were back in Vegas where everything began in the first place. However, this time we were at the MGM Grand Garden Arena, and instead of the audience being around five hundred people, it was about fifteen thousand.

  A knock came at the door and Matt Reynolds stuck his head out to the side, his boyish grin spreading from ear to ear when he spoke, “Hey, man, I’m sorry but I’m about to steal your woman so we can take our seats. You’re almost up and I don’t think you want your hot, pregnant wife walking out there by herself.”

  Mason rolled his eyes and made sure to flex his muscles. “You know if I win this fight my next one will be with you for the title. You do know that, right?”

  Matt chuckled and shrugged a shoulder. “Oh I know. I guess it’s a good thing I know how to kick your ass, isn’t it?” Quickly, he acknowledged me and said, “I’ll be right out here when you’re ready.”

  I nodded. “Give me one second and I’m yours.”

  He shut the door and I couldn’t help but laugh. Even little Mason thought it was funny because I could feel him dancing around in my belly. I was nineteen weeks pregnant and Mason and I had just found out it was a boy a few days ago when I went for my ultrasound. Madison came with us as well and I had never seen her so happy. She couldn’t wait for her little brother to come.

  “I can’t believe Matt’s still single,” I said, glancing at the door he just left out of. “You would think he’d have women fawning all over him.”

  Mason snorted, rolling his eyes. “Oh, he does, but he says he’s waiting for someone like you to come around. He said that if I can score a woman like you then he could. I seriously need to kick his ass, don’t I?”

  We both laughed, but then were interrupted when the phone rang.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Mommy, it’s me,” Madison squealed. While Mason and I were gone for the night, Melissa had volunteered to keep Madison while we were away. Madison loved spending time over there because of the twins so I didn’t feel too bad with leaving her.

  “Hey, Maddie, are you okay?”

  “Oh yes! Aidan threw up all over Uncle Brett and I laughed. It was really nasty,” she said, giggling. “Has daddy fought yet?”

  Mason was listening in and spoke into the phone, “No, baby, I haven’t yet. I’m about to though. Do you want to send me a good luck kiss?”

  She squealed. “Yes! Here I go!”

  Putting her lips to the phone, she made the loudest kissing noise I’d ever heard. “Did you get it?” she asked.

  Mason smiled. “Yes, baby, I got it. We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. “I love you.”

  “We love you, too, honey,” I murmured back. “Now get to bed it’s getting late.”

  We hung up the phone and it was time to let Mason have his moments of peace before the fight. Leaning down, Mason kissed my slightly swollen belly and whispered to our son while rubbing him gently, “Take care of your mother, little man. One of these days you’ll be a fighter just like me.”

  “You’ll do great tonight,” I uttered wholeheartedly. “Fight hard, and know that whether you win or lose, you will always be a winner in my eyes. You won my heart a long time ago.”

  Mason smiled and kissed me gently on the lips. “And you’ve won mine. That’s all that matters.”

  Matt waited for me outside the door just like he said and walked me through the arena where we had front row seats. The music began to play and the lights went wild. Mason’s opponent walked down the aisle and entered the octagon ring with his fists pumping to get the crowd riled up. They cheered and hollered for him, but then the music changed. It was Mason’s turn. When he walked out, the cheers got even louder and the whole floor felt like it rumbled. The second he got in the ring, he came over to the side I was at and kissed his fingers before placing them over his heart. It was his salute to me, and my stomach always fluttered each time I’d watch him do it.

  Once the announcer made the introductions and the bell rang, Mason was on fire. Over the past few months he’d gotten even better, unstoppable. Matt groaned beside me so I looked over at him, furrowing my brows.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Slumping in the seat, he chewed on his thumbnail and sighed. “He’s going to kick my ass next month, isn’t he?”

  Gazing back up at Mason, I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on my face. “Yes, he will,” I murmured to myself. “He’s a fighter.”

  He’s my fighter.

  The End

  Fighting for Love - Second Chances, #4

  (Matt’s Story)

  Coming Feb/March 2014

  L.P. Dover is the bestselling author of the Forever Fae series, as well as the Second Chances standalone series, and her NA romantic suspense standalone called Love, Lies, and Deception. She lives in the beautiful state of North Carolina with her husband, her two wild girls, and her rambunctious kitten called Katrina.

  Before she began her career in the literary world, L.P. Dover spent her years going to college and then graduated to cleaning teeth, which she loved doing. At least until the characters in her head called her away. She has never been the same since.

  You can find L.P. Dover at:

  Her website: www.authorlpdoverbooks.com

  Email: lpdover@authorlpdoverbooks.com

  Follow her on Twitter: @LPDover

  “Like” her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/LP-Dover/318455714919114

  Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/smiley317537/boards/

  OTHER BOOKS BY L.P. DOVER

  Forever Fae Series

  Second Chances Standalones

  Standalone (Romantic Suspense)

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  Tabatha Vargo ~ Playing Patience

  Alexia Purdy ~ Breathe Me

  Beth Balmanno ~ Set in Stone

  Lizzy Ford ~ Zoey Rogue

  Ella James ~ Selling Scarlett

  Tara West ~ Visions of the Witch

  Heidi McLaughlin ~ Forever Your Girl

  Melissa Andrea ~ Flutter

  Komal Kant ~ Falling for Hadie

  Melissa Pearl ~ Golden Blood

  Sarah M. Ross ~ Inhale, Exhale

  Brina Courtney ~ Reveal

  Amber Garza ~ Falling to Pieces

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  Read on for some really great sneak previews!

  Here’s a sneak peek of

  Pretty Little Dreams by Jennifer Miller

  Scheduled to be released on Jan. 13, 2014.

  I’M LYING IN bed with the man I hate. I wake up, and for a brief moment I am at peace. Then, as fast as fashion lovers rush to a sale at Bloomingdales, I remember. I'm painfully and vividly aware that the peace I momentarily feel is not real and that the man I’m lying next to is not the one my heart longs for.

  Another day in hell. I have no idea how many days it has now been. I don’t know how long I was out before I woke up and found myself bound and gagged lying on a bed. Deacon injected something in my body to knock me out initially, but I don’t know what. When I would arouse during our journey here, he would force me to drink a liquid – water, I think, laced with some kind of sedating drug. The drug would immediately impose a haze and then a deep fog would engulf me, until once again, I was oblivious to everything. Just as today, there was no rest or peace during that sleep, but rather a repeated, tormented struggle: at times a longing to find consciousness and formulate a plan for securing my freedom and, at other times, as fear suffocates me, a desire to sleep into eternity.

  I feel myself start to panic again, recalling those moments of pure hysteria when I finally woke up. I can’t go there. I can’t let
myself feel what I really want to feel right now. Instead, I lock the fear in a box. If I don’t, it will consume me. I can’t let myself think of the unknown, of the what-ifs. When the fear starts to drag me into its dark abyss, I defy its grip and force my thoughts to focus on the people I love. Pyper. My parents. And then, with my heart twisting painfully in my chest, Luke. I roll onto my side in a slow, deliberate and cautious manner, as close to the bed's edge as possible, careful not to wake the living, breathing, nightmare lying beside me. Putting my back to him provides me the illusion of placing even more distance between us than I actually can. I hate being in bed with him.

  My pulse starts racing as I give that too much thought, so I quickly lock my feelings and thoughts up in that box again, putting them away to pursue later. Effortlessly, Pyper again comes to my mind, and I could swear it’s like she’s standing before me waving her arms to get my attention. I smile at her image. I hope she’s okay. The last thing I remember before Deacon took me is my best friend tied up, helpless, echoing the wide-eyed fear I also felt. As our eyes met, I tried to convey to her how much I loved her. We both knew what was going to happen. I begged Deacon to leave her, to not hurt her. Whether he listened to me or not, I have no idea. I only know from asking him over and over again about Pyper that he left her tied up on the couch, but in what condition, I do not know, and he refuses to say. He only states that his major objective was to take me. And he was willing to do so at any cost. I can only hope he did not hurt her, that he merely left her as he said. But honesty is not one of his strengths. Regardless, I pray to God that someone found her quickly. I hope she’s alive and well and not worrying too much. I hope she was able to tell Luke what happened.

  Luke. During my darkest times when I’m most afraid, thoughts of him are constant. He’s my happy place. I daydream frequently about him holding me, whispering to me, kissing me. Sometimes, I even let my thoughts venture to the life I wish to have with him some day. My favorite is when I picture us in a home. Our home. Not an apartment or townhouse, but a house. I know without a doubt that it will have to be a house, because Luke will want something that is ours. In my daydream, our house looks like one of those old plantation estates in Georgia. It has a wraparound porch, with his and hers rocking chairs in front; our favorite spot. Luke and I sit in the chairs, sipping iced tea on a warm summer day. Our chairs face each other and my feet are in his lap. I smile, listening to him tell me about the new night club he is excited about opening, while he rubs my feet, his enthusiasm evident. His voice, combined with the breeze blowing through the trees brings me contentment. A dog, a golden retriever named Dakota, is lying next to our chairs. While we talk, I drop my hand down to scratch the top of his head. I think even the dog smiles with contentment. I don’t know if dogs actually smile or why we have one, I just know there is one in my perfect day dream; the daydream and the life I hope and wish to have with Luke. I miss him so much that the ache in my heart nearly crushes me, takes my breath away and I find myself gasping for air. The pain is incredible. It’s worse than a punch in the gut, the unfairness of it all. After seven long years, we have finally reconciled, and then Deacon comes and ruins our plans. Ruins our dreams.

  I still thank God that we found each other again. After hearing him tell his mom I meant nothing, when I took off and married Deacon, I really never thought I would see him again. Thoughts of Luke would venture into my mind often, but I always stubbornly pushed them away. While painful, the best thing that could have happened for me and Luke was the time I caught Deacon cheating and finally took a stand against him and his abusive ways by divorcing him. Moving back to Chicago was the right choice because eventually, surprisingly, and unexpectedly, it brought me back to Luke. And I was finally happy again.

  I confess that at some level, I am still in denial. I had no idea that Deacon would do something like this. I knew he was angry and has been obsessive and borderline crazy over my leaving him, but I never thought he would go this far. I never thought he would take me - kidnap me - from my own home. I’ve tried to reason with him, to ask him what he’s thinking, to make him feel guilty, and to try to scare him. I’ve begged him to just let me go. I’ve promised him that I won’t tell anyone, that it will be our secret. I’ve told him to just leave me here and save himself before it’s too late. He refuses. He shakes his head, laughs. Instead, he makes me do things I don’t want to do, and makes it clear that I am far from being in charge here.

  My thoughts are suddenly interrupted as I feel Deacon moving next to me, his fingers touch my back, and I stiffen, acutely aware that he’s awake. He asks me the same thing each morning, “Have you come to your senses yet? I’m tired of your refusal, no more games.”

  Jaw clenched so tight my teeth grind together, I roll over and bravely stare into his eyes, “Let me go, Deacon. Each day you keep me here, you’re only digging yourself deeper and deeper. There’s still time for you to do the right thing.” I respond the same each time too.

  “I have plans for us tonight.” Ignoring my comment, Deacon rises from the bed, completely naked. I avert my eyes from his body.

  “Plans? What kind of plans?”

  “We are going to have a nice dinner together, for starters.”

  I scoff, “I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

  “Too bad, you don’t have a choice.”

  The room I’m being kept in isn’t bad. We are in some house in the middle of nowhere, as far as I can tell. I’m in a room that has the bare necessities. A large bed and a dresser, there is also an attached bathroom, but it too has the bare minimum. There isn’t even a mirror. I can, however, see where the wall paint changes color, indicating that at one time, a large one had hung above the sink. I wonder if Deacon removed it, and if so, when that was. How long had he been planning this? Each time Deacon leaves me alone, which isn’t often, he locks me inside the bedroom. Sometimes I hear him talking to someone through the door. There was a time when I wasn’t sure if he had someone helping him or if he was talking on the phone. I think back to the time when I found out the answer to that question.

  Rolling out of bed, Deacon pulls on a pair of pants. “I will be back. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

  “Be back? What do you mean? Where are you going?”

  “Aw, isn’t that sweet? Are you concerned about me? Are you going to miss me, princess?” he asks, walking over to my side of the bed.

  “No. I don’t care where you go. I’m just surprised you would leave me alone.”

  An angry look flashes across his face and he leans over me, grasping my wrists hard, holding them up near my shoulders. I turn my face to the side trying to avoid him. “You better start caring, princess, or you aren’t going to like what happens.” Then he moves his hands to the side of my face, forcing me to face him again. He kisses me hard on the lips.

  As soon as he lets go of me, I wipe my face with the back of my hand. He laughs as he walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Throwing the covers back, I run to the door and press my ear against it – all I hear is murmuring on the other side. He must be on the phone again. It isn’t long before I hear a hard slam which I assume is a door closing. I think I’m alone; this could be my only chance for a while.

  I run to the sliding balcony doors and creep out onto the balcony. This is the first chance I’ve had to come out and take in my surroundings. Deacon told me when he locked me in this room that we are in the middle of nowhere and I could yell and scream as much as I want – no one will hear.

  Looking around, I see he was telling the truth. There doesn’t appear to be anything for miles. I’m too high up to jump down and tying my sheets together would be useless; I couldn't even reasonably reach the ground.

  Frantically, I start running around the room, looking for something, anything, to use as a weapon. I search the dresser, the top of the closet, under the bed, the bathroom cabinets. “Dammit.” I can't find anything.

  Running back to the
bed, I rip the sheet from it and wrap it around my hand. Heading to the balcony doors, I brace myself. If I can manage to shatter the door, I can use the glass as a weapon. Please let this work. I take my fist and slam it against the door as hard as I can. I scream. Not even a scratch and all I managed to do was hurt my hand. In anger, I beat against the door over and over until I’m a heap on the floor. I pull my hand out of the sheet and glance at it. It’s beginning to swell, but I hardly feel it.

  There’s nothing here. Nothing. Feeling defeated, I walk back out onto the balcony and decide it’s worth a try, no matter what Deacon said.

  “HELP! PLEASE SOMEONE! HELP ME!” What do I have to lose? Maybe I will luck out and someone is around.

  I wait a moment and then try again.

  “HELP! I’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED. SOMEONE HEL…”

  Suddenly, I am grabbed from behind and dragged into the bedroom and thrown on the bed like a rag doll. I try to roll onto my back but instead a weight settles on my back, and my face gets shoved into the mattress.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch.”

  The voice is not Deacon’s. I freeze as shock runs through my body from head to toe, paralyzing me in fear.

  “Lover boy isn’t here to save you. It might be worth facing his anger to shut you up permanently.”

  I don’t speak. I’m afraid to move. Who is this man? He moves off me so he can roughly flip me over. I stare up into his hard eyes. He’s not an attractive man. Light hair, pointy nose, and lips so thin they’re hardly there at all. He has a scar that runs from the tip of his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. “Leave me alone.”

  “I don’t think I will… what does he call you? Princess? I don’t think I will, princess.” He says mockingly. Then, to my horror he runs his hand down the front of my body, squeezing my breasts painfully and then gripping my hip. His breathing starts quickening.