Blind Her With Bliss

by Nina Pierce

  “Stop!” Elvis stepped back out of her reach. “Shut up, you bitch! Shut up! He. Loved. Me.” Elvis shook the tape at them. “This is the proof.”

  “He used you.” Maura yelled and lunged again.

  Faster than Julie could assimilate, a gun blast rattled the windows. Maura fell back against her desk, blood materializing between the fingers she clutched at her chest, the shocked horror of reality registering in her expression.

  Damon lunged for Elvis, pushing the gun high in the air. Another shot shattered the glass shelves against the wall. Splinters of glass rained down on the men tangled in a battle for their lives.

  Julie grabbed the vase off the coffee table, running at the men. Damon’s arm swung hard, bringing his fist into Elvis’ jaw, spinning the man so Elvis’ back was to Julie. She lifted the urn above her head, intent on breaking it on the struggling killer. A gunshot rang again and echoed in Julie’s ears. The air in her lungs superheated, and she couldn’t seem to draw a breath. The vase, now the weight of a sledgehammer, slipped from her fingers.

  Time warbled and warped her perceptions. She watched Elvis’ body crumble to the floor in front of her. Too tired from the emotional roller coaster, she slumped to the floor beside him. Darkness crept along the edges of her vision.

  Then Damon was there. The lines on his face were deep with love—and concern. She wanted to smooth it from his features, but her arm wouldn’t move. His mouth formed words, but there was only an eerie silence echoing in her head. She tried to ask if Maura was all right, if Elvis still had the gun, but her mind couldn’t wrap around any of it.

  She was tired. So very tired.

  Julie closed her eyes and slipped into the black hole of emptiness, letting it lull the pain from her body.

  Chapter 11

  Six Weeks Later

  Damon walked slowly through the cemetery. He hadn’t even been back to visit his parents’ graves after their funerals, but this felt different. It was right for him to be here walking among the stones. He’d learned so much from the Tilling clan about love and family ties.

  He’d be forever grateful to Julie for that lesson—and so much more.

  The gentle breeze lifted his hair, and he raked his fingers through the short crop of black, liking the clean image of this new Damon Corey. He’d quit his job at the radio station a month ago and would begin playing for the Bangor Symphony next week. His dream job. In light of all he’d been through, it felt right shucking the false persona of Demon and letting people come to know the real Damon.

  When he met Julie, she also had been struggling to find her own identity. They’d both been so blind when it came to their own needs, but love had opened their eyes. Now he stood in the summer sun, no longer afraid of being himself, no longer worried about letting people into his heart.

  Something else he learned from Julie.

  The rain of the past few days had cleared the heavy humidity from the air, and there was only the clean aroma of pines and wildflowers scenting the breeze—and her intoxicating perfume. Damon stared at the curve of Julie’s neck as she bent over Jason’s grave, tears streaming down her cheeks. He’d nearly lost her, and the thought still knotted his stomach.

  She’d wanted to be alone, and he’d given her time to say a proper good-bye to her friend. This was her first visit to Jason’s grave since getting out of the hospital. Her body might be healed, but he wasn’t sure she’d ever get over her friend’s senseless death.

  Sadness curved her shoulders into her chest, her obvious pain drawing him toward her. She would never have to carry the burden of emotion alone.

  “How are you doing?” His hand settled in the small of her back, his mouth nuzzling the soft skin below her ear.

  “Elvis may be burning in hell, but it won’t bring back Jason or Maura, will it, Damon?” Julie turned into him, her arms winding around his neck, seeking support. He would be here for her until his last breath. She fit her body against his, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. He would never tire of holding her.

  “Julie, nothing can change the past. We just have to move forward.” He lifted her chin and stared into the face of the woman who had agreed to become his wife. “But you single handedly shut down Starry Knights and made sure Jason’s death didn’t go unpunished. You did something the police couldn’t.”

  “It just doesn’t seem like enough.”

  Damon’s hand slid gently down Julie’s side, tenderly caressing the wounds made when the bullet that had killed Elvis ripped through her body. Julie had been in the hospital fighting for her life for nearly two weeks, and he’d never left her side. Damon had asked her to marry him the moment she came off the respirator.

  “Nearly losing your life wasn’t enough of a sacrifice?”

  “Maura ended up losing everything for the man she loved.” Julie choked on the words.

  Damon pulled her tight to his chest once again, their hearts finding a synchronized rhythm. He now understood what it was like to love someone with all your heart and soul. He would gladly have given up everything to trade places with Julie over the last month. “I’m sure whatever happens after this life, Maura and Jason are together now.”

  Julie looked up at him, tears still glistening on her lashes. “But what about Doc McCarty? My heart aches for him. He has no one left in this world.”

  “Julie, don’t go there.” Damon slanted his mouth over hers, the heat of her lips scorching his blood. He didn’t want to think about death; he wanted to rejoice in their new life. He broke from their kiss, pressing his forehead to hers, his heart swelling with love. “I think I owe you a celebratory lunch for getting that CPA job.”

  “Why, Mr. Corey, I’d have thought you could come up with a more inventive way to celebrate.” Desire shimmered in her eyes and flushed her cheeks.

  He smiled down at her. “And I always thought love was blind.”

  The End

  Also Available

  by Nina Pierce

  Please Enjoy this excerpt from

  Deceive Her With Desire

  Tilling Passions Series Book 2

  Chapter 1

  Deirdre Tilling slammed the spade into the soil. Her booted foot thumped down on its metal edge, driving it deeper and transferring her frustration to the wounded earth. She’d been working the flowerbeds around her farmhouse since noon. And though the sun stretched the shadows of the maples long across her lawn, painting their leaves a deeper crimson, the hours of heavy labor hadn’t helped ease the pain of loneliness. Puffy clouds skittered over the tree line, reminding her of cotton candy and hometown fairs. Brianna’s favorite autumn activity.

  Deirdre swiped the back of her hand across fresh tears and turned the dust on her arm to streaks of mud. Christ. And wasn’t she just a pathetic mess? The spade bit into the ground, collecting another load of wilted petunias. Without ceremony, Deirdre added them to the growing pile of detritus in the wheelbarrow. She wished she could purge her heart of her ex as easily as clearing the summer gardens.

  Exhaustion made her back and arms ache. But it was anguish that pinched her heart and made it difficult to breathe. It had been almost eight weeks since her live-in lover had announced she’d found someone else. Deirdre missed her with a physical need that made her ill with want.

  Loneliness had become an all too familiar companion.

  Deirdre threw the spade over the mess in the wheelbarrow and pushed the load to the mulch pile in the back corner of her property, under the white pines. A bitter sigh pushed past her lips. Love had not been kind to her. Over the years she’d struck out with both sexes. Three serious relationships in her twenty-five years and all of them had ended with a quiet fizzle. She hadn’t even had the satisfaction of huge explosive conclusions that would guarantee her a little time in Delmont’s rumor mill.

  Nope, all she netted were whispered condolences and pity glances from a few close friends.

  It hardly seemed fair her older sisters had both found someone. They were obnoxio
usly happy and engaged to the men of their dreams. Not that Julie or Meghan meant to flaunt it, but contentment surrounded them like a sickly sweet cloud that threatened to suffocate Deirdre at every family function. And with the Tilling clan, dinners, barbeques and random celebrations were a weekly occurrence Deirdre had come to dread.

  Of course she’d never not go, she loved her parents too much to hurt them that way. John and Alice Tilling were coming up on their fortieth wedding anniversary and nothing meant more to them than their three daughters. Settling in her hometown and opening Tilling Gardens and Plants, a floral and landscaping business, with her sisters had seemed as natural as breathing.

  But Bri had thought Delmont, Maine just wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The pace was too slow, the neighbors too nosey, and Deirdre’s family too cloying. There wasn’t much Deirdre could do to change any of that, so she’d just watched the woman pack up and drive away with all of her belongings and Deirdre’s heart.

  Deirdre dumped the flower refuse on the compost heap. It had all gone to seed. Rotting away to a pile of crap, just like her love life. Damn she felt morose tonight. She threw the shovel on top of the dirt and tipped the gray wheelbarrow on its side. She didn’t even have the energy to take care of her tools. Not a good sign for a landscaper.

  Truth was, sometimes life just sucked and then went downhill from there.

  She bit her lip, staunching the flow of tears burning in her eyes. When would the pain in her chest go away?

  Her feet pounded up the backstairs of the white clapboard house where she’d spent her youth. Too large for her parents, they’d downsized over a year ago, moving across town and into the same neighborhood as her sisters. Deirdre had been the only one of the three Tilling daughters willing to spend the time and energy needed to gut and update the old farmhouse.

  She’d proudly signed the papers and made it hers last fall, just before meeting Bri. Four months later, right after the holidays, the beautiful blonde had moved in. Willing to spend weekends pulling down walls, running new wiring and fixing leaking plumbing, Bri had worked tirelessly next to Deirdre. Now silence echoed through the rooms. The shiny remodel had turned into a lackluster project that took more energy than Deirdre was willing to expend. Though they had the roof, windows and siding replaced to update the outside, only the kitchen and the master suite had been finished inside.

  Unable to bear the pain of an empty double bed, Deirdre had moved back into her old room on the second floor.

  She stalked through the kitchen and living room, taking the stairs two at a time to the old fashioned bathroom, trying to outrun her sadness. Wallowing in it all afternoon had gotten her nothing but puffy eyes, blotchy skin and indigestion. Deirdre’s friend, Emilio, had invited her to some fancy shindig out on the coast. She had every intention of repairing the damage hours of self-pity had caused, slipping into some slinky black number and heels and heading out to join the world of the living. Enough feeling sorry for herself. Sometimes being without a significant other had its advantages in social situations.

  Because if this party was like most of Emilio’s invitations, it practically guaranteed some good old-fashioned, no-strings-attached sex. And tonight, that suited Deirdre just fine.

  * * * *

  Ayden Scott stood at the mirror adjusting the collar of the white button-down oxford. Tucking the tails into the faded Levis, he wondered if it was too casual for the party. Shooting a glance over his shoulder, he studied the two other shirts heaped with the chinos and Dockers on his bed. He’d never had problems dressing before he went undercover for the Drug Enforcement Agency.

  It was a simple party, nothing to worry about…yeah, except blending in. He finger-combed his wet hair away from his face. This was a new look for him. The clean-shaven face and his blond locks dyed black made him a different man. Even his mother, God rest her soul, wouldn’t recognize him.

  He’d been in Maine almost two months now. They were getting close to a big bust. He could feel it. This was the second time the DEA had given him the privilege of lead on an investigation, and he’d be damned if he’d frig this one up.

  Too many times the supplier fell through their hands, and they were left prosecuting the street dealers, thugs who did their bosses’ bidding. None of them rolled over on the head honcho. Not when their only punishment was a couple of years in the slammer, some probation time, or worse, a simple slap on the wrist. Anything beat ratting out your employer. But man, wouldn’t that just piss him off if this case ended that way?

  This one was promising to be huge. And Ayden wanted it. He could feel it like an addict could feel the urgency for another fix. It caused a physical ache in his gut. He wanted to bring down the guy he was chasing like nothing he’d ever wanted in the eight years since joining the DEA.

  The heroin was coming in from Canada. They knew that much to be fact. They just couldn’t figure out who or where. This party at the mansion tonight promised some prime contacts. Ayden had two other teams scouting out similar locations along a thirty-mile stretch of the Maine coast. They’d bring the guy running the operation down—or die trying.

  No, he couldn’t think like that. No one was dying on his watch. Not this time.

  “Don’t go there, Ayden, ol’ boy.” He shoved the frustration into the back corner of his brain, encapsulating it with all the other painful memories he didn’t dredge up. Ayden had grown accustomed to his own voice in the last few years. He’d given up trying to psychoanalyze the reason he talked to himself. He’d come to accept it was simply a part of his personality. He was a loner.

  “Focus. You have a job to do.” He gave himself one more glance before heading into the bedroom of the rented condo to straighten up. One never knew what kind of informants might be falling into his bed this night.

  Ayden had been working hard to get the little fish to believe he had a big enough operation to deal directly with the supplier. He had bogus contacts in Portland, Boston, and Philly, supposedly ready to distribute the goods. That ought to lure them in. Everyone wanted a share of the drug market in those cities. If those places weren’t big enough, he’d also come up with business contacts in New York, but that alias was flimsy at best, and he hoped it didn’t come to that.

  Others, more experienced, were afraid he wasn’t ready to take on a job this big. Not after the snafu in Miami. But that had been nearly three years ago. He’d taken the transfer to the Northeast and clawed his way back into the good graces of the DEA. He deserved to be lead investigator. He needed to bring this guy down, if for no other reason than to prove something to himself.

  There were so many similarities in the two operations.

  Ayden was sure this cartel was somehow affiliated with the Miami outfit as well. That ill-fated mission no one talked about. The one that had pressed him over the edge and into the bottle. Luckily he hadn’t drowned. Instead he’d gotten help, cleaned himself up and now was stronger and more focused. All the more reason for him to be deep undercover. He needed to bring down the fucking bastard who had stolen everything from him and screwed up his life in the process.

  But perhaps that was all just wishful thinking on his part.

  Monday, he planned a meeting with his teams to go over everything they’d uncovered in the last week. He hoped by then they would have zeroed in on the guy running the show, and he’d have something solid to tell his superiors in Boston. He’d had no contact with them for a couple of days. Ayden knew, given his track record, they’d be getting antsy.