Inseparable Bond
The Bonded Series, Volume 3
Reese Spenser
Published by Amarie Publishing, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
INSEPARABLE BOND
First edition. July 3, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Reese Spenser.
ISBN: 978-1540186638
Written by Reese Spenser.
Also by Reese Spenser
Confessions
Confessions Of A Bastard (Coming Soon)
The Bonded Series
Tainted Bond
Undeniable Bond
Inseparable Bond
Sacred Bond (Coming Soon)
The Wicked Ones Series
Wicked Wolff (Coming Soon)
Wicked Frost (Coming Soon)
Wicked Steele (Coming Soon)
Wicked Pryce (Coming Soon)
Wicked Deed (Coming Soon)
Wicked Hart (Coming Soon)
Wicked Rush (Coming Soon)
Wicked Good (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Reese Spenser’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Reese Spenser
Chapter 1 | Avery
Chapter 2 | Lucian
Chapter 3 | Avery
Chapter 4 | Lucian
Chapter 5 | Avery
Chapter 6 | Lucian
Chapter 7 | Avery
Chapter 8 | Lucian
Chapter 9 | Avery
Chapter 10 | Lucian
Chapter 11 | Avery
Chapter 12 | Lucian
Chapter 13 | Avery
Chapter 14 | Lucian
Chapter 15 | Avery
Chapter 16 | Lucian
Chapter 17 | Avery
Chapter 18 | Lucian
Chapter 19 | Avery
Chapter 20 | Lucian
Wicked Wolff
Thank You
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Also By Reese Spenser
About the Author
Chapter 1
Avery
I’m a woman, driven by passion, seized by obsession, and consumed with love. And that makes me slightly crazy. The love of my life will do whatever it takes to keep me safe. And I will do the same for him in a heartbeat.
My feet pound the pavement of Central Park, jogging while listening to Jay Z’s Bonnie and Clyde. The song resonates with me and I begin to sing along.
She do anything necessary for him. And I do anything necessary for her. So, don't let the necessary occur, yep!
Lucian is still overly cautious when it comes to my security. This is also the reason why I have an entourage with me for my morning jog. William follows close behind me, and Reagan takes the lead ahead of me. Reagan Danvers is the newest member of Thorne Security. A British import and a friend of Carter’s. She is one of only three females at Thorne Security. The fact that she’s a former MI6 operative makes her a real badass. But it’s her hand-to-hand combat skills that has made us fast friends. Unlike the men Lucian employs, she’s not afraid to knock me on my ass during training.
However, today it’s not about me or my kickass new training partner. It’s about the man I love more than anything; the man I would do anything for. Lucian plans to visit Samantha in jail, where she’s being held until her trial. My concern is that he’s giving her precisely what she wants: his attention. Three weeks ago, I received an anonymous text message after Lucian and I returned home from Katelyn’s art gallery opening. It was vague and had Samantha’s MO written all over it. The message was typical of Samantha, ‘We will be together again,’ hanging on to her delusion that she will be with Lucian someday. We decided to ignore it. But then I received another. The second message, ‘Our time is coming,’ came exactly one week later. Lucian is concerned that this may be a pattern and he intends to put a stop to it.
The song comes to an end and so does my five-mile jog. Bringing my heartrate back to normal, I cool down and stretch my overworked muscles. When I’m done, I climb into the back of the newly restored BMW 760i sedan. William and Reagan are in the front seats, with William behind the wheel. And I settle in for the ride back to the penthouse.
Lucian offered to buy me a new car after a white delivery van crashed into the BMW, which led to my kidnapping. He said he didn’t want me reliving the abduction every time I get in the BMW. I will admit the first time was a struggle. But I refuse to let anyone else alter the course of my life. So, I assured him that a new car was not necessary. Because only time will lessen the trauma. Time and Lucian are all I need. I know this from experience.
Resting my head on the back of the seat, I close my eyes. And a memory from that day nearly a month ago comes rushing back. When Lucian and I arrived home, we were mentally and physically exhausted after our ordeal with Samantha and Clayton. And what I wanted most was to shut everything and everyone out. For one night I wanted to pretend the world did not exist.
I remember being led to the shower. I remember Lucian undressing me and the tender care he gave me. I also remember tossing and turning and crying out as I slept. And being held tight in Lucian’s arms. I suspect that was in part to keep me from sleepwalking. I heard him whispering words of love in my ear. His soothing voice and warm embrace gave me the comfort and safety I needed. Eventually it settled me. And my last thoughts before I fell into a deep and restful sleep were of Lucian, my lighthouse. My everything.
The car comes to a stop and I open my eyes, leaving behind the bad memories. William has stepped out of the car, securing the perimeter. Reagan follows, opening the back-passenger door. Again, Reagan takes the lead and William follows, flanking me. We ride the elevator to the penthouse in silence. When the elevator door opens to the foyer, William steps out first, speaking briefly to the guard Lucian insists we keep at least until after Samantha’s trial. Her parents have tried approaching me several times, begging for leniency for their daughter. I don’t have it in me to show mercy for the woman who murdered Lucian’s child and killed her own sister. Not to mention all the shit she has done to me in her demented attempt to win a man she will never have. No, she will never be forgiven for all the pain and suffering she has caused. Never.
Reagan follows me past the foyer into the spacious living area.
“Would you like a bottle of water?” I ask, retrieving one for myself.
Her sharp eyes scan the room quickly before she declines. “No, thanks.”
I take a sip of water and the cool drink sliding down my throat is refreshing. However, seconds later it nearly chokes the life out of me when Reagan says, “I’m your sister.”
I cough and splutter trying to catch my breath. Reagan rushes to my side, attempting to help me. Holding my hand up and shaking my head, I stop her.
“Are you alright?” she asks, and I hear the concern etched in her voice. “I didn’t mean to spring this on you so suddenly. But you need to know that you have family if you want it.”
That’s when I notice the folder in her hand. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk,” she says, placing the folder on the breakfast bar before walking away.
I don’t know how long I stand there looking at the folder before the shock wore off. Or how long it took for Reagan’s words to stop chanting in my head.
“I’m your sister.”
The possibility of having a sister has my heart racing as I grab the folder and head to the privacy of my home office. Taking the seat behind my desk, I open the folder. Flipping through the contents, I search feverously for the truth. Page after page after page, until I come to a photo of a young couple. T
he girl looks to be about sixteen years old. But it’s the young man in the photo that stops my heart. It’s the face of the man I’ve stared at for years. It’s my father’s face.
I continue my search, reviewing everything from birth certificates to death certificates. There are also several entries from the diary of Regina Danvers, Reagan’s mother, DNA test results, and a letter from Reagan.
Avery, I know all this may come as a shock to you. But what I’ve learned of you over the past few weeks tells me that you can handle it. That being said, I want to share a little more with you. My mum died shortly after giving birth to me and my brother. We were raised by our grandparents in England. A few months ago, my grandmother became ill. And when she recovered, she told my brother Reade and I about our father and his family. She also told us that he died when we were seven years old. And how over the years she has stayed in touch with his family. She doesn’t know about you. And I don’t think our father’s family does either. When our father moved to the US to become a doctor, my mum and her parents moved to the UK shortly after. My mum hid her pregnancy from my grandparents until the day she went into labor prematurely. She also never told our father. My grandparents were devastated by the loss of their daughter. And it was that heartbreak that made them keep my mum’s secret. They never reached out to our father or his family to build a connection. When my grandmother was well enough to travel, my grandparents, Reade and I went to visit our father’s family in Haiti. While there, Reade and I had DNA tests done. DNA samples from our paternal grandparents and our father’s twin sister was used to determine paternity. Our brother Reade is a doctor and knew that the best result would come from our father’s parent’s DNA. But Khadean volunteered, and who better than his twin sister? If you haven’t guessed by now, twins are heredity on our father’s side of the family. Our father was a twin and Reade and I are twins. I know this is a lot to take in. As I said earlier, I know you can handle it and I’m here when you’re ready to talk.
Your sister, Reagan
I read the letter several times, as if deciphering some hidden message. And the more I read, the clearer the facts become. I have a sister. I have a brother. Reagan and Reade are twins. Placing the letter on the desk, I gather all the photos Reagan has included in the folder. There are a few photos of the same two children, whom I assume are Reade and Reagan. Moments later, when one of the photos fall to the floor, my assumption is proven incorrect. Printed on the back are the names and age of the children. Malcolm and Khadean, age five. Flipping the photo over I stare at the image. I quickly check the backs of the other photos. Sure enough, they all have a similar inscription. The photos capture images of my father and his twin sister from age five to eighteen. The last photo is a copy of the same photo my mom gave to me before she died. The only photo I have of my parents together. The inscription on the back reads, Khadean, I can’t wait for you to meet Caroline, the love of my life. My heart swells and tears roll down my cheeks. I don’t realize I’m crying until my vision blurs, obstructing my view.
The revelation that my father thought of my mother as the love of his life has me sobbing uncontrollably. According to her journal, although she had confessed her love to him, he never reciprocated. When my father died from a brain aneurysm a week later, it was too late. In the following months, she wrote in her journal how she struggled with loneliness and depression after discovering she was pregnant. How she reached out to her parents only to be rejected. And how everything changed when she heard my heartbeat for the first time. I have memorized the last thing my mother wrote in her journal. I realize now that I’m not alone. Malcolm will always be with me. He will live in my heart and in our child.
“He loved you too, Mama,” I say out loud, holding the photo over my heart. I feel my mother’s love surrounding me. And I realize that I’m not alone. I have Lucian and I have the Prestons. When Reagan’s words repeat on a loop in my head. I’m your sister, you have family if you want it. I know that despite my earlier proclamation, the course of my life has just been altered again.
Chapter 2
Lucian
Driving out to Rikers Island is not how I want to start the weekend, especially when it involves paying a visit to Samantha Davies. The anger I thought was under control resurfaces as I approach the prison. The last thing I want to do is give the woman who murdered my family what she wants. But it’s a necessary evil to protect the love woman I love more than anything. In the past few weeks Avery has received two anonymous text with a cryptic message that points to Samantha’s brand of delusion.
I make my way through security, grateful that Judge Preston has arranged for the proper clearance. A face-to-face with Samantha in the privacy of an interview room, generally reserved for a lawyer’s visit. Unfortunately, the waiting has me second guessing my decision. Especially when Avery’s words fill my head. She wants your attention, and by giving her what she wants you’re only feeding her delusion.
I know that I’ve made a fucking mistake when Samantha walks in wearing handcuffs and a smile as big as a Cheshire cat that makes my skin crawl. Clenching my fists at my side, I fight the urge to leap over the table and squeeze the life out of her with my bare hands. I don’t know why I thought I could handle seeing her and not want to kill her. Once again, I hear Avery’s words. I love you. You are mine.
Unclenching my fists, I remember who I am, what I’ve lost, and what I have to lose. Steeling my resolve, I start my interrogation.
“Ms. Davies, I won’t take up too much of your time, as I only have a few questions.” I’m purposely impersonal and I can tell it’s not what she’s expecting.
“I’m always happy to see you, Lucian,” she practically purrs. “You can ask anything of me, and I’ll do it.”
I try not to cringe when her eyes roam up and down my body. And I thank the gods that I do not remember having sex with her the night she drugged me.
“Tell me why you’re still sending messages? You’ve been caught and you’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison.”
She laughs, then smiles as if she has a secret. A secret that she plans to use to her advantage. “It seemed like a good idea. You were so angry the last time we saw each other. I had to do something to get you here.”
“This needs to stop.” I glare at her.
“But we’re having so much fun. It’s almost as good as a conjugal visit. I’m totally down for that by the way, when you’re ready to forgive me. I’ll be waiting for you.”
I practically lose my shit when I shout, “If you think there’s a chance in hell that I’ll ever fucking forgive you for killing my son and his mother you need to have your goddamn head examined!”
The guard standing nearby clears his throat and I pace back and forth calming myself. I finally realize that Samantha will never give me the answers I’m seeking. Avery was right. The best way to punish her is to deny her what she wants most. I take a deep cleansing breath and let it go.
“This visit has been a waste of my time, yet very enlightening. And now it’s over,” I say to the guard.
“Don’t you want to know why I really sent you the messages?”
Samantha’s words stop me in my tracks. “What did you say?”
“Don’t you want to know why I really sent you the messages?” she repeats. And it’s clear to me that Samantha is not sending Avery the messages.
“No,” I say, turning my back and walking away.
Before I’m out the door she shouts, “See you next time or see you in hell.”
The ride back to the city is longer than expected due to rush hour traffic. When I arrive home sometime after four, the penthouse is eerily quiet. I head to Avery’s home office, since she’s likely still working. The door is open when I approach. Avery is sitting, staring at the papers covering the entire surface of her desk. She doesn’t seem to notice me. When I get closer, she lifts her head and red puffy eyes stare back at me.
“What the fuck?” I round the desk, lift her from the
seat, and pull her into my arms. “Sweetness tell me what happened. Why have you been crying?”
She sniffles and starts sobbing against my chest. Sensing that she’s not in any immediate danger, I scoop her up into my arms and take a seat on the chair she just vacated. Cradling her on my lap, I hold her close and wait for her tears to stop.
After a few minutes, she reaches into the breast pocket of my suit jacket and pulls out the handkerchief. I smile against her hair at the memory of the lesson my father taught me growing up. ‘Always carry two handkerchiefs,’ he said. ‘One in your back pocket for you and one in your breast pocket for her.’
“It smells like you,” she says, drying her tear-stained face. Her eyes are puffy and red, her lips are swollen, and her voice is hoarse from too much crying, but she has never looked more beautiful.
“Are you ready to tell me why you’ve been crying?”
Avery takes a deep breath, then blurts out, “Reagan Danvers is my sister.”
Her words knock the wind out of me and it takes me a moment to compose myself. And before I can respond she’s speaking again.
“After my jog this morning, Reagan told me that she’s my sister. She gave me all these documents and photos.” Avery points to her desk. “I’ve been going over them since she left. And it’s true. She’s my sister. Malcom Avery is her father and there’s a DNA test to prove it.”
“How was she able to get DNA from a dead man?” My words are harsher than I intended. Thankfully, Avery ignores my tone and proceeds to explain.
“Apparently, my father has a twin sister. The testing was done using her DNA to establish paternity. The documents are all there. Reagan’s mom died after giving birth and she was raised by her grandparents. But she wasn’t told about her father or his family until a few months ago.”
“If she has known for a few months, why did she wait to tell you?”
Inseparable Bond Page 1