Rundown (Curveball Book 2)

  Everett. Shit.

  Without my sight, I allowed myself to ignore my surroundings and forget that we weren’t alone.

  “Please don’t answer that now,” I beg Drew.

  “I’ll show you later, baby,” he whispers in my ear.

  A short ride later, the car not only comes to a stop, but Everett completely turns it off. As I’m left wondering where we are, the warmth of Drew’s body disappears and the car door slams. Seconds later, mine opens and I’m being led down what feels like a cobblestone walkway. Eighteen steps later and Drew brings us to a halt. He carefully unties the blindfold and tells me to open my eyes. When my eyes adjust, I’m speechless. We’re standing in front of the house we were shown last week and wanted. The real estate sign I’m standing in front of is clearly marked ‘sold’.

  “Oh my God, Drew. You bought it?”

  “Only if you’re sure this is the one.”

  I nod frantically and leap into his arms.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I say brushing my lips against his. “About the house and the man that comes with it. Can we go inside?”

  Smiling, he hands me a key and allows me to lead the way. I cannot believe that this five bedroom Victorian, with a spacious yard and a completely renovated kitchen is ours. Drew takes my hand and leads me from the entryway into the sitting room with the fireplace.

  “I picture this room filled with overstuffed couches and bookshelves; a place where you can read and the kids can do their homework,” he says before leading me back into the entryway.

  We walk down the hallway that leads to the kitchen. Drew grabs my elbow, causing me to stop, and flicks the light-switch behind my back. Returning my attention to the wall, I’m astonished. It’s beautiful; absolutely perfect.

  “When I was thirteen, I told my parents that pictures were meaningless to me. I must have seen a commercial or heard that the experience is really what mattered in making a memory. In reality, I was gangly, moody and awkward as all teenagers are and didn’t feel like posing every time someone else thought it was important,” Drew confesses, his eyes focused on the wall of photos he’s hung. I’ll have to appreciate them later; right now, Drew has my full attention.

  “Today, I’d give anything to have more pictures of my family all together. I’d kick my thirteen year-old ass if it were possible.” Drew’s eyes shift to mine. “These are my favorites so far,” he says gesturing to the display. “I plan to fill every square inch of this wall with memories—birthday parties, snowball fights, school plays and games. I don’t want any unused space.”

  “I love it,” I gush, my voice small.

  Drew smiles and drags me to the kitchen, backing me against the island. Looking deeply into my eyes he says, “This is where you’ll teach me to cook, and if I suck at it then this will be where I watch you cook for me in really sexy outfits that I rip from your body when the kids are asleep or at their friends’ houses.”

  “That,” Drew says, pointing to the corner of the living room not far from where we stand. “That’s where I picture our Christmas tree. I like the idea of being with my parents for Thanksgiving, but I always want to wake up in our home on Christmas morning.”

  At each room we walk through, Drew describes his vision of the memories each will hold. Once upstairs we stop in the rooms that will belong to the kids before making our way to the master suite. Stopping outside the door Drew takes both my hands.

  “I never appreciated the saying, ‘a home is where your heart is,’ until I met you. It’s cheesy as hell, but anywhere you are is where I want to be. We can be in this house for a year or sixty. As long as I’m with you, I’ll always be home.”

  Turning the doorknob, we step inside and I gasp with appreciation. “Drew…I love it!” I exclaim.

  Drew chuckles lightly and lets me explore our completely furnished bedroom. “Wow. Whoever did this, I hope you paid them well.”

  “I did this myself, but if it makes you happy I’ll accept any form of gratitude you deem appropriate,” he winks.

  “You…did all this?”

  Drew nods.

  “When did you have time?”

  “After I leave your place, I’ve been coming here.”

  “It’s perfect, Drew. You didn’t have to buy all new furniture.”

  “Other rooms can be a mixture of old and new. I needed our bedroom to be just ours. That’s the bed I’m going to make love to you in as often as you’ll let me. I’m going to fall asleep and wake up with you in my arms because you’re mine and I don’t want to be apart any longer.”

  I turn to look around the room that has been immaculately decorated and furnished. How did he plan this to perfection? I turn back to Drew and find him down on one knee.

  “The moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you. You shook my hand and I swear I felt it in my soul. God, I love everything about you, Breanne. From your feisty words and your eye rolls, to your giving heart and devotion. You challenge me and make me laugh. I’ve become a better version of me because I have you in my life…because you are my life.” Drew pauses taking a deep breath. “We’ve survived the unimaginable but I wouldn’t alter any memory that has to do with you. I’d change my last name to Keaton and disappear into the witness protection program to get you alone; get bitten by a snake to wake up with you straddling me. I’d go to hell and back if it meant spending the rest of my life with you, because that’s exactly what I want—you forever. Let me be the only man who gets your cookies and I promise to give you my nuts. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!” I exclaim without hesitation. “Yes!”

  I fall to my knees so that we’re on equal ground. He grabs both sides of my face and kisses me passionately. When he pulls back I’m disappointed, but not for long. Drew takes a black velvet box from his pocket and holds it in front of me. “Would you like your ring?”

  I nod and nearly faint when he opens the box. The cushion cut diamond is stunning, and it fits.

  “Breanne Scott,” I say as he slips the ring on my finger.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Me too,” I agree.

  For the next hour and forty-seven minutes Drew and I break in our new bed…and the bathroom. Not only are we sated to the point of paralysis, I’m completely parched and exhausted as well. Drew apparently thought ahead and brought glasses and a cooler with champagne and water, but unfortunately he left it downstairs. He’s done so much for me this evening, so I offer to get it as soon as I can find the energy to move.

  Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I turn on the flashlight and scour the floor for any piece of clothing. I spot the white undershirt he wore earlier, set my phone down and shimmy into it, taking a moment to inhale his scent, and then let the fabric cascade down to my thighs before I make my way out of the bedroom.

  My toes barely make contact with the bottom stair when the smell of a cigar and a shadow in the sitting room catch me off guard.

  “Drew! Drew!” I shriek, backing up the stairs. The silhouette of the intruder slowly stalks towards me. “Drew!”

  “Baby? What’s wrong?” he shouts. The harsh thuds of his feet hitting the hardwood as he’s descending the stairs matches the racing pace of my heart. His bare chest collides with my back and his arms quickly wrap around my waist protectively.

  “Get back upstairs,” he commands, attempting to move past me. “Everett!”

  There’s a commotion at the back of the house that I pray is Everett. Drew unclenches the phone from my hand and jumps over the banister, coming within a stride of the intruder as he shines the flashlight at the person’s face.

  I’ve just seen a ghost.

  FOURTEEN

  Ghosts

  Breanne gasps loudly from behind me before I have a chance to study the man’s face. Knowing Everett can’t be far away, I glance over my shoulder, turning the light on to her, and watch as she turns as white as the snow on the ground. Visually, I give her a once over. Her balance is off and her lower lip is
trembling. Her mouth is gaping open, like she wants to speak, but all the air seems to have left her lungs. Breanne’s eyes roll back so that only the whites are showing at the same time her knees give out.

  “Breanne!” I yell, dropping her phone and lunging forward just in time to catch her.

  The scuffling of fast approaching feet echo down the hallway. I’m lowering Breanne and me to the ground when Everett crashes into the room and forcefully shoves the intruder against the wall. The intruder groans as his fists swing towards Everett’s head. Everett ducks effortlessly as if the move was anticipated. He takes the stance of a boxer and throws a punch of his own, hooking the man in the jaw, but the intruder quickly recovers, delivering a roundhouse kick to the back of Everett’s head. Everett falls to the ground, yet manages to swing one of his legs outright in a sweeping motion that knocks the intruder’s feet out from under him.

  Scurrying to get the advantage, Everett tackles the intruder from the side and pushes his face into the ground. The darkness adds to the confusion and the sound of approaching footsteps indicates that this altercation is far from over. Everett reaches behind his back and removes his gun. The light of Breanne’s phone is too far from Everett and the man to clearly see what’s going on. Just as Everett positions his weapon at the man’s head he stops mid-motion, holding his hands up in surrender. Another figure slowly emerges from the shadows with his gun aimed at Everett.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I shout, retreating up a few stairs with Breanne cradled in my arms.

  “Give me your weapon,” a low voice grumbles. I instantly recognize it as Spencer’s, and I’m shocked when Everett complies. “Slowly stand up and walk over to the stairs.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Everett growls. “Who are you working with, you son-of-a-bitch?”

  “CIA.”

  A deafening silence permeates throughout the house.

  “Show me your badge,” Everett demands.

  With the gun still pointed at Everett, Spencer reaches in his back pocket with his other hand and produces what appears to be a wallet. He hands it Everett who scans it thoroughly.

  “What about him?” Everett asks about the intruder.

  “Same.”

  Everett looks over his shoulder and glares at Spencer with a mix of contempt and confusion. After several minutes of this heated stare down, Everett complies again, though on his way to the stairs he spits blood on the intruder.

  “Enough,” Spencer barks.

  Everett throws his arms out to the side and walks backwards towards Breanne and me, keeping his eyes on Spencer the entire time.

  Spencer bends down and picks up Breanne’s phone, setting it on the floor so that the light points at the ceiling. It illuminates the entire entryway and part of the sitting room—including the intruder.

  “What the hell’s going on?” I stammer, staring at the man for a long time, though I recognize him immediately. I’ve seen more than enough pictures. Clearly Everett has too.

  Mark Sullivan.

  Alive.

  Fuck. Me.

  “Start explaining,” Everett demands. “Now!”

  No one says a thing.

  “Goddamn it. Someone tell me what’s going on,” I shout.

  “Spencer?”

  “We’ll wait until Breanne comes around,” Mark states.

  What the hell?

  Instead of backing away and letting me tend to Breanne on my own, Mark has the gall to approach us. I wrap my arms around her, shielding her from Mark, though it doesn’t stop him.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I command.

  Mark ignores me and pushes past Everett. He leans down and gently brushes the back of his hand over her forehead.

  “Do you have dirt in your ears? Get your fucking hands off her. Now!”

  Mark stands, his jaw clenched. “You’ve got five minutes before I pry her from your hands. We’ll be in the kitchen.”

  As soon as they’re out of the room, Everett’s on his phone. “Patterson, it’s Everett. Call me back as soon as you get this.” He hangs up the phone and crouches down in front of Breanne and me. “Fuck man.”

  Breanne groans, shifting slightly. Her eyelids flutter and her lips part while she whimpers my name. A million things consume my thoughts. Mark Sullivan is alive. He’s in the CIA. Breanne’s husband is alive. She’s still married and we just got engaged. We got engaged…tonight. This has to be some kind of nightmare.

  “What the fuck do I say to her?” I whisper to Everett.

  He pats my shoulder and exhales loudly. He’s at as much of a loss as I am.

  Slowly, Breanne regains consciousness. Her gaze travels across my face, likely reading the anxiety smeared across it. This cannot be happening.

  Her eyes knit together in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Everett stands. “I’ll be in the other room.”

  Breanne’s eyes flicker to Everett as he walks away, and then back to me. “What’s going on? Did I fall down the stairs or something?” she asks.

  “Something like that. But I caught you.”

  “You always do,” she muses. I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.

  “And I always will,” I promise wearily.

  I cautiously help her sit up and position her so that she’s straddling my legs. When she tries to get up I tug her back down. “You need to sit for a minute, ok babe.”

  “Is something else wrong?” she asks.

  I swallow hard, nodding and refusing to make eye contact.

  “Hey, look at me please.”

  When I don’t, she lifts her hand until it’s in front of my face. “Do you see this?” she asks, flashing her engagement ring at me. My heart stops. “You do remember that I said yes, right? Because it was, without a doubt, one of the happiest moments of my life.”

  I finally make eye contact. “Promise me that you won’t forget that.”

  “How could I ever forget? Drew, what’s going on?”

  “Promise me first.”

  “I promise,” she asserts, forcefully holding my face with her hands. “Babe, nothing could make me forget how much I love you. Now talk.”

  I clear my throat. Here goes nothing.

  “What do you remember from before you passed out?” Drew asks.

  A huge smile lights up Breanne’s face. “I remember accepting to marry the man of my dreams and christening our master bedroom.”

  I smile, but it quickly fades. “After that.”

  She glances up at the ceiling, her eyes trailing down the wall, coming to rest on the floor. “I don’t know. Did I trip and hit my head?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t remember. You’re freaking me out. Just tell me.”

  “You screamed for me. There was someone in the house.”

  Her body tenses and she tries to scramble out of my lap. “The smoker. He’s here. Oh my god, Drew.” She fists my shirt, panicking to get up. “I want to leave. Take me to the kids, Drew. I want to get out of here.”

  “Do you remember who you saw? Think, Breanne. Who did you see?”

  “I couldn’t make out the face.” She pauses. “I thought of Mark. Not because of anything that happened between us,” she adds quickly. “I think it was the smell of the cigar.”

  I sigh, tightening my grip on her.

  “It’s not what you think. Drew, I’m sor—”

  “It wasn’t just the cigar.” She watches me curiously. “He’s here.”

  “Who’s here?”

  This is going to change everything.

  “Mark.”

  FIFTEEN

  In the Dark

  I must have hit my head.

  “Breanne, he’s―”

  “Stop. Just...stop.”

  Slightly disoriented, I rub my forehead in slow, circular motions. How do you wake yourself up when you’re not sure that you’re actually sleeping? What do you say when the person you love tells you something impossible or hurtful—something life
changing that you once prayed for? I wish I knew.

  “I heard you. I’m trying to figure out why you’d say that.”

  Drew looks in the direction of the kitchen where hushed voices resonate. Even though it’s too dark to see that far, and our view is obstructed by a wall, I follow his gaze.

  “Because it’s true.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “I wish,” he scoffs and then sighs. Drew runs his fingers though his hair and shakes his head. “I would never lie to you.”

  I have no idea what to say. He wouldn’t lie to me. I know that. Still, I continue trying to process what Drew’s told me and come up short of explanations. Despite the concern on his face, it can’t be true. He’s mistaken…that’s all there is to it.

  I push off Drew’s lap, going nowhere because he’s holding onto me for dear life. Needing answers, I try again and this time he lets me go without a fight. I rush down the dark hallway toward the kitchen where a dim light is glowing. Apprehensive about what awaits me on the other side of the threshold, I come to a halt just outside the room and brace myself against the doorframe. I sense Drew behind me, though he makes no move to touch me.

  Breathe, Breanne. Breathe.

  For being an automatic response, taking in air is suddenly requiring a great deal of effort. My heart’s racing and I’m slightly nauseous with anticipation. I force myself to release the air that I’ve been holding and step into the kitchen. The moment do, I become temporarily paralyzed as my eyes land on a man that I’d recognize anywhere.

  Oh my God.

  It can’t be…but it is.

  It’s him.

  My knees start to buckle. My hands fly to my face and I begin sobbing uncontrollably. Drew steadies me from behind before I run the short distance that separates Mark and me, and I launch myself into his arms.

  “Mark…Mark,” I cry over and over again.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, terrified that if I let go he’ll disappear. Though his body is flush against mine, I’m certain that this isn’t real. My fear is quickly dispelled when Mark returns my embrace. His tall, lean frame feels exactly the same as I remember. Sinking into his arms I sob loud and ugly for a long time, reliving two years of grief.