Captured in Surrender

by Liliana Hart

  Captured in Surrender

  A MacKenzie Family Novella

  By Liliana Hart

  1001 Dark Nights

  Captured in Surrender

  A MacKenzie Family Novella

  By Liliana Hart

  1001 Dark Nights

  Copyright 2014 Liliana Hart

  ISBN: 978-1-940887-24-1

  Forward: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose

  Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

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  1001 Dark Nights story on 1/1/15.

  The First Night

  by Shayla Black, Lexi Blake & M.J. Rose

  Table of Contents

  Forward

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Also From 1001 Dark Nights

  Author Acknowledgements

  About Liliana Hart

  An excerpt from Sizzle by Liliana Hart

  Also by Liliana Hart

  Special Thanks

  One Thousand and One Dark Nights

  Once upon a time, in the future…

  I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

  I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

  the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

  library at my father’s home and collected thousands

  of volumes of fantastic tales.

  I learned all about ancient races and bygone

  times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

  people through the millennium. And the more I read

  the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

  that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

  become part of them.

  I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

  and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

  would not be telling you this tale now.

  But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

  with bravery.

  One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

  Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

  see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

  (Persian: شهریار, "king") married a new virgin, and then

  sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written

  and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,

  the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand

  women.

  Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

  in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

  places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

  never occurred before and that still to this day, I

  cannot explain.

  Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

  taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can

  protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

  protect herself and stay alive.

  Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

  And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

  point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

  And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

  he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

  As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

  one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

  you now.

  Chapter One

  She was taking a risk. A big one.

  Naya Blade parked between two rusted pickup trucks and hit the kickstand of her bike with a booted heel. She turned off the engine and pulled the black helmet from her head, releasing long black hair that cascaded to the middle of her back.

  The last dregs of an Indian summer lingered—the air like hot breath slapping against the face—the vegetation wilted and gasping for moisture. If the weatherman was right, there’d be storms rolling in sometime after nightfall, and the farmers whose livelihoods depended on their crops could breathe a little easier.

  The rain would only make her job harder.

  She dismounted the bike and hooked her sunglasses into the front of her black tank top, then ripped at the Velcro of the black leather fingerless gloves she wore and shoved them in her pack.

  Her boots sent up plumes of dust as she made her way up the wooden steps to a row of identical shops, and her footsteps creaked across the clapboard sidewalk. She stopped in front of the glass doors of the diner, gave a quick wink to the two men playing checkers on the porch, and then opened the door to a jingle of bells.

  The smell of grease and Pine-Sol rolled over and around her, and she felt like she’d walked back in time a few decades. The long Formica counter had pastries sitting under a glass dome, and a hand crank cash register sat at the other end. Red vinyl barstools with cracked seats lined in front of the counter, and booths with matching vinyl seats edged the perimeter. A television mounted in the corner crackled with static during a soap opera, and a single ceiling fan whirred lazily overhead.

  “Good afternoon,” the woman behind the counter said. “Just take a seat anywhere. It’s only me working the counter today, so service might be a little slow.”

  “I’m not in a hurry.” Naya headed to the far corner booth.

  She moved with a sensual grace that had the two men at the counter following the sway of her hips and wishing they were forty years younger, and she tossed her pack into the seat before sliding in beside it, her back to the wall.

  The trip into Surrender, Montana, hadn’t been in her plans, but Jackson Coltraine had had other ideas. Some idiot judge in New York had released Coltraine on a million dollar bond after he’d gunned down his wife and her lover in cold blood. But Coltraine’s family had money, and the judge didn’t think he’d be a flight risk. Moron.

  She’d been two steps behind him all the way across the country, until she’d caught a lucky break just on the border between South Dakota and Montana. Coltraine had come down with some kind of virus that had slowed him down. It was hard to run when you were bent over puking every five minutes. She’d been inching her way closer ever since.

  When her skip crossed into Surrender, Naya could only shake her head at the irony. She’d sworn she’d never step foot in Surrender again. It didn’t matter that it was a place that called to her—that she felt at peace here like she had nowhere else. What mattered was the man she’d left behind—the man who’d made her forget that she was nothing more than a woman—a woman who had the capability to love and deserved love in return.

  Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous for someone with her independence, and she hadn’t looked back since she’d walked away the year before. Though she’d wanted to. And Surrender never strayed far from her mind.

  But fate had stepped in and kicked her
right in the ass. Coltraine was in Surrender now. She could feel him. All she had to do was find him and then get as far away as possible.

  “You’re a little past the lunch rush,” the waitress said, making her way to the table.

  Faded red hair bushed from the top of her head and her rouge seeped into the deep creases of her skin. Her eyebrows were drawn on and her lipstick was fresh and cherry red, so it feathered out into the fine lines around her mouth. She wore jeans and a stained apron that wrapped around her bony body a couple of times.

  She had a voice like a two pack a day smoker, and she looked like she didn’t take shit from anyone. “We’re about out of everything except for cold sandwiches and what’s left of the vegetable stew. My name’s Gladys.”

  Naya’s lips twitched as the woman slapped down a plastic menu on the table. “A sandwich will be fine. And some coffee.”

  “Tourist season is over,” she said, arching a brow. “Last of the vacationers headed out couple weeks back. It’s still warm enough, but the weather’s about to turn. You’ll need a jacket by morning. You’d be smart to vacation somewhere else.”

  “I’m here on business.”

  “Never seen no businesswoman riding into town on a motorcycle. You a drug dealer?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Gladys harrumphed and fisted a hand on her hip. “It’s a good thing too. Our sheriff helped the DEA shut down a drug ring not too long ago.”

  “Is that right?” Naya had briefly met Cooper MacKenzie on her last visit to Surrender. Her first impression of him was that he looked more like a criminal than a sheriff, but it hadn’t taken her long to see he believed in justice—though she wondered if his brand of justice always lined up with the law. She’d liked him. He had a quick wit and a sarcastic sense of humor she could appreciate, but she was almost positive he wasn’t going to be happy to see her again.

  “Don’t think because we’re small that we let any trouble get past us. I got a sawed-off big as Leroy’s arm over there behind the counter.”

  “I’m sure that makes your customers feel very safe,” Naya said deadpan.

  “And the deputies are just as qualified as the sheriff.”

  “Is it a big department then?” The last time Naya had been in Surrender, there’d been Sheriff MacKenzie, Deputy Lane Greyson, and the little busybody who worked in the office and knew everyone’s business. They’d been woefully understaffed.

  “We’ve got two deputies now, and he’s got feelers out to hire more, though I don’t think the city council is going to vote ‘yes’ on that. Cheap bastards. One of the deputies is ex-military. Doesn’t say much. Looks like he’d be a good knife thrower—silent and deadly. But Lord, that man has a nice behind.”

  Yeah, that was a pretty accurate description of Greyson. “What about the other?”

  “You sure do ask a lot of questions. I don’t got time to stand around and blab all day. Let me get your sandwich and coffee.”

  Gladys went back to the kitchen with a swish of bony hips and a chip on her shoulder that probably weighed as much as she did. Naya had always found Surrender to be an interesting little town. Especially the mix of people who lived there. It was certainly different from her Brooklyn neighborhood and the one-bedroom apartment she rented. No one cared there what time she came or went, and no one sure as hell would stop to ask her personal questions. Small-town living and the slow pace was completely foreign to her.

  Naya checked her e-mail and sent her boss an update on her progress, and a few minutes later, Gladys hustled back out with her food. The sandwich was thick as a brick and made her mouth water at the sight of it. Homemade potato chips were piled high beside it.

  “Here you go,” Gladys said. “And here’s the check. The total is five, but I suggest you leave a ten.”

  “Seems reasonable enough to me.” Naya slipped the photograph out of her bag along with a twenty-dollar bill. “Do you recognize this man? He would’ve gotten into town sometime this morning.”

  Gladys’s penciled eyebrows raised almost to her hairline and she slipped the twenty into her apron pocket. “Don’t recognize him. But if he’s in town he won’t be able to keep it secret long. I did see a dark-colored SUV driving past during the breakfast rush, but they didn’t stop, and I didn’t recognize the vehicle as belonging to anyone around here. We’ve only got the one main road in and out of town, and the bed and breakfast at the end of the strip is the only place for tourists to stay. Though if he’s a good camper, there’s plenty of places he could set up if he’s got the supplies. Rawley Beamis owns the wilderness store and sells camping equipment and other gear. You might check there too. Is this guy your ex or something?”

  “He’s a fugitive. And he’s dangerous. If you see him, give me a call.” Naya passed her card over, and Gladys didn’t even glance at it as she tucked it away with the twenty.

  “I thought I recognized you.” Gladys pinched her lips in a tight line. “You were here once before, and damned if old Duffey doesn’t still talk about you every chance he gets. Your hair is longer now or I would’ve recognized you sooner. Girl, you are trouble with a capital T.”

  Naya winked and picked up her sandwich. “You bet. Being good is no fun at all.”

  Gladys cackled and headed back behind the counter. “Don’t I know it. Take your time with your lunch.”

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t linger if storms were coming, so Naya ate quickly and nodded to Gladys as she went back outside. The men who’d been playing checkers were still there, though it looked like neither of them had made a move since she’d gone inside.

  Gladys had been right. There were a lot of places a lone man could hide in the area. Surrender sat nestled in a valley with only one road leading in and out of town. Businesses with matching black awnings and clapboard wooden sidewalks lined each side of the street in a neat row. The only anomaly was the large metal building that said Charlie’s Automotive at the opposite end of the street.

  The people of Surrender were ranchers and farmers for the most part. There were no subdivisions with tract-style housing. Neighbors were spread far and wide and there was no such thing as a quick trip into town. She had her work cut out for her. And if she could do it without running into the one person she was hoping to avoid, all the better.

  She decided to take Gladys’s advice and head over to the bed and breakfast and the wilderness store and show Coltraine’s picture around. After that, her only choice would be to buy the supplies she needed and head out into the great unknown after him.

  Naya looked up and down the street both ways and then moved back toward her bike. Her hands ran beneath the undercarriage out of habit to make sure no one had tampered with it while she was inside.

  She felt him before she heard him—the energy spiking around her body increased the temperature by several degrees. The pull between them had always been electric—chemistry in its most basic form. But it was too late to run.

  The handcuff snapped around her wrist and her helmet fell to the ground. Her arms were pulled behind her back as the other cuff snapped onto the other wrist. She gritted her teeth as the metal bit into her skin and she turned her head so she could look her captor in the eyes—green eyes with impossibly long lashes she’d always envied—and they were narrowed in suspicion.

  “Hello, Naya.”

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Deputy Greyson in the flesh.”

  Chapter Two

  Lane knew the moment Naya had stepped back into his town. There was something about her that called to him, like she was a siren song and he couldn’t help but answer.

  It had been just over a year since he’d seen her last. Since she’d ridden into town on that wicked bike looking for her brother. Colton Blade had been in the military with Cooper MacKenzie, and he’d always told his sister that if he ever got into trouble, then Cooper was who he’d go to for help.

  But Colt turned out to be a bad seed—alcohol, drugs, assault charges, bar fights…and
attempted murder. Colt Blade was more trouble than he was worth in Lane’s opinion—someone who’d been given too many second chances and pissed them all away. Naya knew it too. But she’d still come after him, hoping he’d listen to her when she asked him to go back and face trial.

  Naya had found Cooper, hoping he’d seen or heard from her brother, but Cooper hadn’t been in touch with Colt for more than a decade. Lane had just come in from lunch to see her standing there in the office, and despite her brave front, he’d seen the despair etched on her face.

  The sight of her had been like a punch to the solar plexus. Her face was a study. It shouldn’t have been beautiful—not if you looked at her features individually. Her face was angular and her cheekbones flat, attributing her Native American heritage. Her nose was long and straight and her chin slightly pointed. But her eyes were what made a man lose his mind—exotic in shape and the color of dark chocolate, fringed with full black lashes. Thick brows winged above them, giving her a perpetual look of challenge.

  She was tall—close to six feet—and her jeans had hugged her curves in all the right places. The belly-baring top she’d worn had shown a pierced navel, and the muscles in her arms were sinewy and lean.

  He’d been struck speechless at the sight of her, his cock going rock hard in an instant and the wild lust of need surging through his body like it never had before. He’d have done anything to keep her around longer, just to satisfy his curiosity and see if her lips were as soft as he imagined they were. To see if she felt the connection the same as he did. He’d seen the way her nipples had hardened when she turned her dark gaze on him.

  It had been a no-brainer to volunteer to help her search for her brother. He’d done it as much for himself as for her.

  He’d never believed in love at first sight, but the moment he’d met Naya, those beliefs had been reevaluated. Their chemistry had been palpable—a living, breathing thing. And the heat that sizzled between them was hot enough to singe anyone who got too close. He’d had no control over his body in that instant, and that’s something that had never happened to him before.