Resist (Resist #1)

by Missy Johnson

  Resist

  (Resist #1)

  By

  Missy Johnson

  Copyright© 2014 Missy Johnson

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Printing: December 2014

  Prologue

  Jaxon

  I can see her through the small crack in the door before I even enter my office. Hunched over my desk, she’s sits in my chair as she goes through my laptop, looking for what I already told her she would never find. My body stiffens as anger pulses through me. What the fuck does she think she’s doing? And what annoys me even more is her stupidity. Why do this when she knows I’m going to be home? And why not shut the door?

  Unless she wants to be caught.

  Unless she wants me to know what she’s doing.

  “Something I can help you with?”

  She jumps at the sound of my voice, her green eyes growing wide with fear. Only I don’t believe it’s really fear. This woman has proven herself cold and calculated...a female version of me. I struggle to believe that anything would upset her.

  “Jaxon,” she breathes. “I didn’t think you were home.”

  I laugh, my hands deep in my pockets as I stroll around the room toward her. Bullshit. As much as I love this woman, I don’t believe a word of what comes out of her mouth. She tenses as I near her, the fact that I still cause that kind of reaction thrilling me. She thinks I won’t hurt her because of our history?

  Big mistake, princess. I’ll destroy anyone who gets in my way. Even those I love.

  “You knew I was home, yet here you are in my office, doing the one thing I told you not to do.”

  I feel strangely calm as I stand behind the chair she sits in, slowly running my hand down the curve of her neck. She sighs as my fingers trail inside her low-cut shirt, cupping her bare breast in the palm of my hand. Her body responds to my touch, her nipple hardening as I squeeze it between my fingers. My mouth closes on her earlobe and I bite down. Hard.

  “You’re hurting me,” she gasps, trying to pull away.

  “You think you know pain, Brynne? Trust me when I say this: you know nothing. But if you keep this up, I guarantee you will regret it.” My voice is soft and controlled. I spin the chair so she faces me.

  Leaning down, I wrap my fingers around her neck as her wide eyes fill with surprise. She panics as I increase the pressure until I can feel her blood pumping against my thumb. How easy it would be to snap that pretty little neck. I smirk, a feeling of satisfaction rushing through me as something I’ve longed to see fills her eyes.

  Fear.

  She’s scared. And she should be.

  Because she has no idea how far I’ll go to protect my past.

  Chapter One

  Charlotte

  “Char!”

  I look up and see Jess madly waving at me from the middle of the crowded bar. Somehow, she and Dee managed to score a table on a night where it feels like all of LA is here. I laugh as she practically climbs on Dee’s shoulders, trying to get my attention as Dee laughs, shrugging her off. I put my hand up to let her know I’ve seen them, then head over to the bar to order a drink.

  After the day I’ve had, getting drunk seems like a damn good option.

  “What can I do for you, honey?” the barman drawls.

  The edges of his mouth curl up into a smile as his eyes roam over the low cut of my cream-colored shirt and back up to my face. He’s making it very obvious what he’s thinking and I shake my head. This guy’s cute—and probably the type I’d usually go for, with his dark hair and mysterious eyes—but the last thing I need in my life right now is a guy.

  It’s been exactly two weeks since Nick broke up with me—or, more accurately, since I walked in on him fucking our neighbor. Apparently they couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, opting for the kitchen counter instead. Three years gone, just like that. It’s only during the last few days that he’s finally gotten the message that I have no desire to try and salvage our relationship.

  “A dry white, thanks,” I say to the barman, giving him a tight smile. I turn my attention to the crowd in the bar, which is my subtle way of letting him know I’m not interested in small talk.

  “One dry white.” He smirks, pushing the glass across the counter. I hand him a bill and take my drink, not bothering to wait for my change.

  I move swiftly through the body of people and over to the girls, slumping into my chair. My body language immediately alerts them to my bad mood and they exchange a look. I roll my eyes, not wanting their pity.

  I’ve known Jess and Dee since we were fourteen years old. We attended West Meadows High School together, and somehow our friendship had survived the past ten years and was now stronger than ever. I’d do anything for them, and I know they’d do anything for me.

  “Bad day?” Jess asks sympathetically. “You had job interviews, right?”

  I nod with a sigh. “The usual. ‘We’ll call you.’ But they never do.”

  “They will. You just need to keep positive,” she encourages, reaching for my hand. “You’re going to make a damn good journalist when someone finally gives you a chance. What about the paper where you interned? That was a big one, right?”

  I snort at her terminology. The LA Times is more than just ‘a big one.’ It’s a dream for any up-and-coming journalist. Especially me. I’d do anything to work there. Hell, I’d do anything if it meant securing a job at any newspaper.

  “They’ve thrown me the odd story, but they don’t have any entry level work, and I’m not experienced enough for any of their senior roles.” I shrug, pretending it doesn’t bother me, when it does. It hurts to be constantly overlooked. I have to catch a break eventually, right?

  The worst part is the editor at the Times is actually a really nice guy, who I’m sure would throw me something if he could; but unfortunately for me, I can’t expect him to fabricate jobs out of thin air.

  It’s hard to stay positive when all you get are rejections. I foolishly thought that finishing top of the class in my journalism degree would pretty much guarantee me work at one of the top newspapers. Or any newspaper, for that matter. Apparently I was wrong.

  “Is Douchebag still calling you?” Dee asks, a frown on her face.

  “He’s cut down to one or two messages a day. And the flowers have stopped, thank God.” Every freaking day for the last two weeks I’ve put up with flowers being delivered to my new apartment. Huge arrangements that I know Nick would struggle to even afford. And every day they went straight into the trash, which is where his dignity is as far as I’m concerned.

  “How did he even get your new address anyway?” Jess asks, rolling her blue eyes. She tosses her long, blond mane over her shoulder and smiles at a sexy guy walking past.

  “Who knows?” I shrug, taking a sip of my wine. “He probably conned the landlord into giving it to him when I arranged my mail redirect.”

  I was lucky that an apartment opened up in the same building as Jess the day after Nick and I finished. ‘Lucky’ might be a loose term, considering the previous tenant slit her wrists in the bathtub, but still . . . timing is everything in LA. Thank God I had some savings and a mother who was more than willing to help me out if it meant getting me away from that “Twat Knuckle.” Her words.
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  “Well, I think the best thing you can do right now is pick up a hot piece of ass, take him home, and fuck the life out of him,” Jess declares, her eyes wide.

  I cringe, wishing her voice wasn’t so damn loud. Now I have at least four guys checking me out, no doubt thinking I’m an easy lay.

  “Thanks for the advice, but I’ll pass on guys for the moment,” I say dryly.

  “That’s fine.” She grins. “I’m sure there are plenty of fuckable chicks here, too.” She winks at me, and for a moment I wonder if she’s offering up herself. I laugh, because it wouldn’t shock me that much.

  “How’s Craig?” I ask brightly, changing the subject. Craig is always a safe bet when I want to redirect conversation.

  Dee catches my eye and smiles. I snort as Jess rambles on about her married boss, Craig—who she’s been pining over since she began working at Morgan and Associates five months ago. Of course, nothing had actually happened, but it didn’t stop her dreaming. Even regular pick-ups failed to distract her from the amazing Craig.

  “You should see the way he looks at me,” Jess whines, her pretty face forming a pout. “It’s obvious there’s something there. I mean, why else would he go on about how unhappy he is in his marriage, and always go out of his way to talk to me?”

  “Because you drop everything for him?” I suggest. “He strings you along because he likes the attention, Jess. You deserve more than that.”

  “Maybe,” she mutters. She narrows her eyes and downs the rest of her vodka. “I just wish he was that easy to get over.”

  I flash her a sympathetic smile. I understand, but at the same time I hate seeing her chasing after some married guy. Maybe it’s the aftermath of being cheated on myself, but I can’t help thinking of the guy’s poor wife. No matter how bad their relationship is, nobody deserves that.

  The rest of the night drags on. Not even the alcohol I’m consuming has the ability to make me forget the mess that is my life. Things were supposed to start going right for me this year, not get progressively worse.

  Nick had been the one thing I thought I’d always have. There was no hint that he wasn’t happy. Hell, I’d been half expecting him to pop the question coming up to my birthday, but it obviously wasn’t meant to be. As much as I try and pretend I’m over him and ready to move on, I know I’m not. It hurts, and it’s going to keep hurting for a long while yet.

  It’s nearly one in the morning when I stumble into my apartment. The night had turned out much longer than I had planned, and even then, I left before the others. Last I saw, Jess had dragged Dee out onto the dance floor where some random guy had begun hitting on Jess. I’d watched for a moment as they tag-teamed him, Jess rubbing her way down his front as Dee ground her ass into his back. It was almost painful to watch how drunk they were.

  Most nights out with those two ended up with me fighting a raging hangover the following morning. Unfortunately, it didn’t take much to make me regret the little amount I’d drunk.

  I kick off my heels and unzip my skirt, easing the smooth fabric down over my thighs. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I reach up and unclasp my hair, letting my long, dark curls fall over my bare shoulders. Looking at myself, I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me. I’m pretty cute. My body is in pretty good shape, considering the amount of crap I eat, and I like to think I have a good personality. So why did he cheat on me? I sigh, because I hate that he has me doubting myself. If there’s one thing I’ve never lacked, it’s confidence in myself. But I guess catching your boyfriend fucking someone hotter and younger will do that to you.

  I’m exhausted, but at the same time I’m too buzzed to sleep, so instead I run the bath. It takes me a second to remember that that’s where my predecessor killed herself, and my desire to bathe begins to diminish rapidly.

  Pulling on my robe, I turn off the taps and curl up on the sofa to watch the ending of an old movie. Why can’t life be as simple as these movies make it out to be? When is my knight in shining armor going to swoop in and rescue me from the hell that is fast becoming my life?

  I’m twenty-four, unemployed, and my boyfriend of three years cheated on me. I can’t imagine things getting any worse.

  Chapter Two

  Charlotte

  You’d think having a cousin in a top position at a big-name newspaper would be an advantage for me. Apparently, it’s not.

  “I’m sorry, Char. It just isn’t going to happen at the moment. I can’t even get you in here making coffee or doing the mail run.”

  Yeah, you’d love that too. There is a chuckle in her voice and I know she’s enjoying this. I swear she hates me. The fact that I’m struggling to find work would be making her freaking week. Nick cheating on me? Well, that would have made her year. All I need now is to suffer a life-threatening illness and all her wishes would’ve come true.

  Seven years older than me, Mara has always harbored this weird jealousy toward me, which I’m sure has to do with the fact that our grandmother always seemed more interested in what I was doing and where I was at, up until she died last year. I’d always had a close relationship with Nan, ever since I was a child spending weekends having sleepovers in her living room. As I grew older, I made sure I kept that bond going. Even when I moved interstate to go to college, I called her every week to chat, right up until her death.

  It probably didn’t help that Nan had left me a sizeable chunk of inheritance that I wasn’t allowed to touch until my twenty-fifth birthday. Oh how I could use that cash right now. Mara, on the other hand, was given a much smaller monetary amount, as were all the other grandchildren.

  “Okay. Thanks.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair.

  I hang up the phone and pick up the Jobs section of the paper, scouring through it again, but this time lowering my standards to work outside of journalism. I am beginning to get desperate. I need a job to at least tide me over until I find one I want.

  Even with my now basic requirements, there isn’t much listed that isn’t waitressing. Maybe I’m going to have to lower them to rock bottom because my savings aren’t going to help me for much longer.

  ***

  After another unsuccessful morning job-hunting through the newspapers, I’ve taken my search online. I shoot an email to Erren, the editor who I answered to at the LA Times, where I interned for a few weeks earlier this year. I’m not holding my breath that they’ll have anything for me, but if anyone will help me, it will be him.

  I’m soon distracted by Jess on instant messenger, who apparently just has to tell me about the guy she hooked up with after I left last night.

  Jess: He was so fucking hot, Char. Like you have no idea . . . And the things that man could do with his tongue would be illegal in some countries. Sigh.

  Me: Less interested in men with talented tongues and more interested in finding a job. Things are getting desperate.

  Jess: Fake a resume with marketing experience and I’ll get you a job here?

  Me: So I can watch you swoon over your boss? As tempting as that is . . . You know how bad I am at lying.

  Jess: Nope. I’ve moved on. I refuse to sit here wasting my life on a guy who isn’t interested. And isn’t lying all journalists do? :p Joke! Okay, so when you say you’re desperate, how desperate is desperate, exactly?

  Me: I don’t even know how to answer that.

  A link pops up in the chat window and I click on it. I have no idea what to expect when Jess is sending me job links, but I am nervous. My money is on porn or stripping, neither of which I’m willing to do.

  Jess: This is a legit job. I think you should apply.

  I groan and click on the link, preparing myself for whatever is going to pop up on my screen.

  Position Vacant.

  Successful, attractive male requires full-time live-in assistant. This is no ordinary position. If voyeurism and explicit fantasies are likely to offend, please do not apply. The successful applicant will be female, attractive and very self-confident.<
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  I am not looking for a slave, or a submissive. I’m after a challenge.

  Fight me. Resist me and you will be rewarded . . .

  I reread it again, convinced that it’s some kind of joke, but then I look at the website and recognize it as one of the larger job search engines in the country. I’d seen some pretty out there stuff on here before. Just last week I saw a position advertised for a Dog Psychic and the week before that someone was advertising for a porn fluffer. I’m embarrassed to admit that I even knew what that was.

  I pick up my phone and call Jess.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I laugh. “Can you really see me doing something like that?? No thanks. I’ll starve first. I mean, what kind of person puts an ad out like that anyway?

  “Hear me out before you go all high and mighty on me,” Jess insists.

  I sigh and wait for her to elaborate.

  “So, my friend Terra gets to this interview and she’s in shock when she meets this guy, because it’s Jaxon friggen Murphy.”

  “Jaxon Murphy, as in the guy whose girlfriend disappeared a few months ago? The same guy who was acquitted of her murder?” I gasp.

  I studied him in my Investigative Journalism class. Nobody other than the police could get near the guy to hear his side of the story. He had been acquitted after a poorly put together prosecution team all but ruined any chance of him facing justice. I’d heard nothing about him since.

  “Yup,” she replies gleefully. “But in his defense, they never actually found a body. And he was let off because the evidence against him sucked.”

  “Okay, and why would anyone in their right mind want to work for him? Especially as his personal sex slave or whatever the fuck it is that he wants?” I laugh. This whole thing is way too weird and definitely not something I was interested in.

  “Think about it, Char: nobody got the scoop on this guy. Imagine how in-demand you would be if you managed to dig up a story on him. Seriously, this is your big chance. Besides,” she giggles, “have you seen the guy? I’d totally fuck him.”