by Amelia Autin
“After Mom and Dad died, I was so afraid the state would try to separate us,” she explained in a low voice. “Fortunately, Mom and Dad’s will made sure that didn’t happen. Naming Dad’s attorney as our guardian until I was old enough to assume guardianship of you was a smart move, and the money we inherited made it possible for us to stay together. But I was always afraid the state would step in if I wasn’t the perfect guardian...which meant I couldn’t let anything happen to you—one mistake on my part could have been all the excuse they were looking for. I honestly didn’t realize how overprotective and bossy I was being.”
“Not bossy. But yes, overprotective. I didn’t realize it, either, until a little while ago, until I saw Marek doing the same thing.”
Carly sighed softly. “Then when Jack...died...it was even worse. I couldn’t lose someone else I loved, especially after losing Mom and Dad. I just couldn’t.”
“I know you only wanted what was best for me,” Tahra began, but Carly shook her head decisively.
“I didn’t see I was hurting you, not helping you. It wasn’t until I met Shane...and fell in love with him, that I realized you can’t live someone else’s life for them. You can’t stop them from making choices and taking risks they need to take...because of who they are. Even if it means you end up with a broken heart. You have to let them be the person they are and let them grow into the person they want to be. Not the person you want them to be.”
She leaned over and kissed Tahra’s check. “I’m so glad I didn’t...well...cause any damage you couldn’t overcome.”
“You didn’t,” Tahra rushed to assure her, squeezing her sister’s hands. “Part of it was my fault—you were so good at it that it was always easier to let you make the decisions and fight my battles for me. Until I finally had to grow up and fight my own battles. Until I had to make my own difficult decisions about what I wanted for my life.” After a moment she said diffidently, “So it’s okay if I don’t want a career after all? If I want to be just a wife and mother like Mom was?”
“Oh, honey, you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know the answer...in your heart. And besides, there’s nothing ‘just’ about being a wife...or a mother.” Carly laughed a little self-consciously. “In fact, Shane and I have already discussed it, and...”
“Children? You and Shane?” Tahra couldn’t keep the eagerness out of her voice.
Carly scrunched her face. “I’m a little old for a first-time mother, but...we’re going to be trying...starting with our honeymoon.”
“Oh, Carly, really?”
Unusually for her sister, warm color touched Carly’s cheeks. “Really.”
“You’ll be a terrific mom,” Tahra stated with assurance. “I know from experience.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence...but I’m far from perfect. I hope to do better this time around, though, not be such a ‘helicopter’ mom.” The sisters shared a soft laugh. “And I’ll have Shane to remind me if I forget.”
Tahra blinked back sudden tears. “You really love him, don’t you?” Her sister nodded. “I’m so glad for you. All these years you sacrificed for me. No, don’t pretend you didn’t,” Tahra said when her sister started to protest. “I know how much you gave up to be there for me, always, and I can never repay you. So you deserve to be happy. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”
“I can—you. You deserve it, honey. You’re so good, through and through. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. You deserve a happily-ever-after ending.” Carly touched Tahra’s cheek. “Are you sure he’s the one you want? Are you sure he’s the one who’ll make you happy?”
Tahra shook her head. “You have it all wrong. Marek doesn’t make me happy—I have to make my own happiness. But that’s the thing, Carly. I’m happy when I’m with him. He makes me smile. He makes me laugh, even when I don’t feel like laughing sometimes. I’m even happy when he’s not there—although a little ache begins the minute he leaves that doesn’t go away until he returns—because I know he loves me.” She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And he tries so hard to love me the way I need to be loved. It sounds so simple, but it’s really not. Especially for him, because he wasn’t raised that way. But he tries so hard. And that’s how I know he’s The One.”
A knock on the closed bedroom door made Tahra quickly knuckle the tears from the corners of her eyes, so as not to mar her makeup. “Come in.”
The door cracked open, and Carly’s future sister-in-law—Keira Jones Walker—stuck her head in. “I hate to intrude, but Shane is going to have a nervous breakdown, Carly, if you don’t come out soon.”
She smiled in a conspiratorial manner. “Cody, of course, is getting a huge kick out of this,” she said, referring to her husband. “You would not believe the grief Shane gave him at our wedding. Well,” she amended, “not just Shane. All my brothers, actually. But you don’t have to worry. Alec and Liam wouldn’t dare do anything to Shane, not with their wives here to keep them in line, not to mention the babies they have to set a good example for. And besides, my mother laid down the law this time around—even best man Niall is trembling in his boots.”
“We’ll be right there,” Carly assured her.
When Keira closed the door, Tahra said, “You’re marrying into such a large family. Does it scare you...even a little?” She couldn’t help thinking about Marek’s family. Parents, grandmother, four younger brothers and two younger sisters—not to mention aunts, uncles and cousins galore, including those royal second cousins. She’d finally met his immediate family two weeks ago. All of whom—especially Marek’s parents—had given the happy couple their wholehearted blessings. Kind of old-fashioned, but Tahra liked it...a lot. Because a woman didn’t just marry a man, she married his family, too. And anyone who thought differently was fooling herself.
Carly shook her head. “No, it doesn’t scare me, but then I don’t scare easily. And besides, all the Joneses have welcomed me into the family, including Shane’s mother. She and I have a lot in common, and I already love her. She reminds me of Mom...and that’s the highest compliment I can pay her.”
Another knock on the door had Tahra calling, “Come in,” again.
This time the door opened all the way to admit Marek. “Alec sent me to tell you, Carly, that if you do not wish to find your future husband a...” He searched for the exact wording. “Oh, yes, a basket case—” He gave them a puzzled look when the two women laughed. “I am not quite sure what that means, but apparently you know.”
Carly leaned over and kissed Tahra’s cheek one last time. “I’d better go settle Shane down,” she murmured, standing up and straightening the off-white cocktail-length lace sheath she’d chosen for her wedding dress. Her gaze slid to Marek, then back to Tahra, and only Tahra could see the wicked light in her sister’s blue eyes. “Don’t be long—the wedding starts in fifteen minutes. And don’t let him muss your hair...much. You don’t want everyone knowing what you’ve been up to.”
Marek held the door for Carly and closed it behind her. Then he leaned back against the door and just stared at Tahra, who’d scrambled off the bed, smoothed down the skirt of her tea-length dress and slipped her shoes on.
“Your sister is wrong,” he said softly, his gaze sliding over her like a caress. “I dare not touch you the way you look now...for I could never stop.”
She laughed a little at that, but the heat in his eyes scorched her, kindling a corresponding flame. She could feel warmth steadily rising in her cheeks, but she tried to ignore it. “Do you like my dress?” she asked, twirling around, then glancing at his face. Her breath fluttered in her throat at the suddenly hungry expression she saw there.
“You are beautiful in anything, mariskya. But no dress—not even one that makes you look like a rose, as this one does—is as beautiful on you as it is off.” He moved so swiftly Tahra was taken by surpris
e. His arms were iron bands as they pulled her into a crushing embrace, and his lips devoured hers. When he finally raised his head, there was a satisfied light in his eyes and his voice was very deep when he said, “I could not resist, but you are not immune, either. That is good. Very good.”
“You already knew I wasn’t...immune.”
“Yes, but if I must behave, it is good to know it is no easier for you than it is for me.” She laughed again—the laughter she’d told her sister he could always evoke. “Let us be married soon, Tahra,” he said, pressing his body all along the length of hers, emphasizing—as if she needed the emphasis—exactly what he meant. “Very soon.”
“Yes.” She smiled up at him, an invitation in her eyes. An invitation that shy Tahra would never have dared to extend. “But we don’t have to wait for that, you know.”
“Yes, we do. I have sworn not to touch you that way again until we are man and wife—and a Zale never breaks a vow.”
“Hmm.” She considered this for a moment. “What if I’m doing all the touching? And what if I say ‘please’?”
A wolfish smile slashed across his face, the kind of smile that promised everything her heart desired. Not to mention her body. Multiple times. “Now, that is a different situation entirely.” His expression morphed into what she called his über-alpha, intently male look—a man with only one thing on his mind. “Exactly how long will your sister’s wedding take?”
Tahra laughed softly, then sighed with happiness, her heart full to bursting. She loved that Marek was a man of his word...but she also loved that he wasn’t too inflexible. That he would find a way to compromise, because that was a must in any long-term relationship. And they had a lot of years ahead of them between now and forever.
No, wait, what was the phrase from that movie King’s Ransom? The phrase referring to the love shared by the first king and queen of Zakhar...the phrase that meant so much to all Zakharians? Not just forever, but “forever and a day.” That was it. That was the bond they shared. Forever and a day.
“‘Two hearts as one,’” she began, barely above a whisper. Marek was such a romantic, would he...?
She caught her breath at the naked look of love that flashed into his eyes. Then his smile softened, and his voice was deep and low as he murmured, “Yes, mariskya. ‘Two hearts as one, forever and a day.’” He drew her left hand up and pressed three slow kisses into her palm, melting her insides and making her shiver with longing. Then he held her palm against his chest so she could feel his heart pounding in unison with hers. “Oh, yes. Your heart and mine, mariskya. Together. Always.”
* * * * *
Don’t miss the previous titles in the
MAN ON A MISSION miniseries:
KILLER COUNTDOWN
A FATHER’S DESPERATE RESCUE
LIAM’S WITNESS PROTECTION
ALEC’S ROYAL ASSIGNMENT
KING’S RANSOM
MCKINNON’S ROYAL MISSION
CODY WALKER’S WOMAN
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More Than a Lawman
by Anna J. Stewart
Chapter 1
Icy air shot through Eden’s lungs.
She choked and dragged in breaths as fast as she could and moaned against the pain blazing across her shoulders. She lifted heavy lids and stared down at the yellowed laminate floor, nausea swirling as she swayed in the air.
Her face had gone numb with cold, freezing the terrified tears on her cheeks. Not just cold air. Arctic air.
Stale air.
A whimper escaped her throat as she twisted back and forth and kicked out, but the movement sent new waves of pain slicing through her, especially her arms. She’d never hung like a slab of meat in a freezer before, but she figured there had to be a first time for everything.
She licked her cracked, dry lips and forced her chin up and back. A solitary bulb blazed bright enough for her to look up and see the raw bruises forming around her chained wrists.
Panic set in, stealing what little breath she had. Her head pounded like a freight train had rumbled through her skull. She could hear the thudding of her heart in the tomb-like silence.
Hysteria clawed its way at her, but she ignored the terror as the image of the rusted metal hook that suspended her from the ceiling burrowed into her brain. Fear was useless. Fear wouldn’t do any good. Fear wouldn’t get her out alive.
She kicked harder this time, but only spun herself in a dizzying circle. She took advantage of the miscalculation and scanned her prison. And the bodies surrounding her in what could be her tomb.
No windows, only one door...
She whirled again as her mind caught up with her and questioned how she’d gotten here. The last thing she remembered was heading to Monroe’s to meet Cole...
Cole. Oh, God. Cole.
Wait. Eden squeezed her eyes shut. She recalled getting out of the car. She’d heard footsteps, heavy shoes, quick steps, alarming enough for her to reach into her bag for her stun gun, but an arm had locked around her throat before she could grasp it. And then she was...here.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She’d let down her guard, fallen into a routine. Predictability was as much an enemy to her as the criminals she stalked. What had she been thinking?
Eden dropped her head back, let out a long breath and blinked her eyes open. No use dwelling on mistakes she couldn’t change. Not when she had to figure out a means to escape. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, even as she wished she could block out the sight in front of her.
Men and women, various ages, sizes and ethnicities, hung in similar fashion, only their arms were stiff at their sides, hooks pierced through what she hoped were their clothes. Every one of the eight bodies had the same horrified death mask. Icicles had formed on their extremities. Sheer, sharp blades of ice dangled from fingertips and noses.
Eden swallowed. How long had it taken them to die?
She wiggled tingling fingers. How long did she have?
Stop. Detach. Work it out. What do you see? What can help you?
Eden grasped at the calm she’d spent years honing as an investigati
ve reporter. She couldn’t think about these people—people who had once led full lives, had friends and families who cared about them, were missing them. If...when, when she got out, she would do something for them.
Starting with bringing the Iceman to justice.
Even though she was already so cold, Eden’s blood chilled at the thought of the serial killer who had been preying in the Central Valley on and off for the past three years. They—the authorities—had believed he’d disappeared after leaving three frozen, mutilated corpses hanging in abandoned food storage facilities within the Sacramento region, but Eden always suspected otherwise. Her frigid companions proved her right. The Iceman had been stocking up; storing his victims for this one big reveal.
The killer probably thought of Eden as the candle on the cake.
“Okay...whatever God is up there...if I get out of this, I’ll tell Cole he was right.” He’d been saying for years that she’d go too far one day; push someone over the edge. The detective and longtime family friend might be a pain in the neck, but he was the only cop willing to give her the time of day when it came to her theories. She knew what it was like to live without answers, without justice. She was not giving up. Not when she still had to have answers herself.
Her arms strained as she tried to pull on the chains and haul herself up. No go. The air was thinning. Breathing actually hurt.
In hindsight, perhaps she shouldn’t have spouted off about the Iceman. On her blog, she’d called him every name she could think of. Her boss at the paper had accused her of becoming a liability and a danger to both herself and the reputation of the publication. Clearly, he’d been onto something. Karma may be paying her back—given the name of her blog, Eden on Ice, was currently more than just a play on words.