Finding Fate: An Intense, Fast-Paced Romantic Suspense Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  I'm so close when he swivels his hips and increases the pace, shoving me over the edge and stealing all the breath from my lungs. But still he keeps moving faster and faster.

  "Again," he grits out. "I want to feel you, hear you again. Fuck. This, you, it's better than my dreams."

  The tips of his fingers graze across my hip and dip between us, the pressure and movement pulling a begging whimper from me.

  "Do you know how many times I fantasized about this, us, while you were missing?" he whispers into my ear, keeping his rhythmic pace. "When I'd get drunk enough to forget where you were, I'd get lost in picturing you naked beneath me, screaming at me for more, these full lips wrapped around me while I slid in and you loving every damn inch I gave you."

  "Nash—" My voice quivers, mirroring the rest of my body.

  "You're mine now. Mine to fuck." I let out a throaty groan to urge him harder and faster. "Mine to protect and mine to love."

  And that does it, all control lost as my body quakes beneath him. Nails biting into his shoulders, I scream his name. Through the thundering in my ears, a loud curse roars when he finds his release.

  Panting, sweating, his tight grip on my ass doesn’t waver. Between my fingers, I twirl a rogue lock of dark hair, smiling.

  His eyes flutter open and then narrow at my satisfied grin. "I didn't do my job right if you still have the energy to smile."

  With a giggle I kiss up his neck. "You did all the work."

  He leans in for a quick, deep kiss. "I'll take this workout over running any damn day of the week." His content grin mirrors mine. "Let's get you cleaned up.”

  I don’t know why a sense of loss washes over me as he lowers me to the ground and guides me to the small bed. I keep my focus on anything other than him while he gently, lovingly, wipes between my legs.

  "After that, you're still self-conscious around me?" he asks, now standing over me. "Your mood just shifted."

  I shrug and stare at my hands. How do I explain what I don't even know? "I'm fine. You go ahead. Let me know when it's safe to come out."

  He narrows his eyes and turns for the door, then looks back. "Sure you're okay, Pops?"

  Drumming up my best fake smile, I nod. "Fine, just reeling. Go, I'll get dressed and wait."

  With an unconvincing nod, he turns, punches a few numbers in the keypad beside the door, making the bolts snap open, and then he's gone, the door shutting behind him.

  As I pull on the discarded clothes, I try to shake the building unease, but its twisting hold on my stomach won't release. Which means whatever is coming next can’t be good.

  Chapter 31

  Fate

  Today

  Even with zero evidence of someone being in the woods, Drake and Raider demand they stick around for the night to help keep watch. Not sure who they’re more worried about, me or Nash.

  "How did you find Drake and the team?" I ask, tossing the fifth book I've attempted to focus on in the past ten minutes to the table.

  Nash glances from where he lounges on the couch with Dobby beside him on the floor. "He found me." He shuts his eyes like he's done with the story, but the corner of his lips twitching upward tells me he’s holding more back on purpose.

  Ass.

  "And?" I fling a pillow at his head but miss completely and nail Dobby, who shoots an annoyed look my direction before trotting away.

  "Remember the female officer I helped out?" His eyes flick open once again and focus on me. I nod and lean forward in my chair. "Drake's her dad. She told him what happened, what really happened, and he invited me to the team."

  "You still had to prove yourself," Drake says sternly, walking back into the room. "My place is a damn sty. And what in the hell made you bring that thing?" I don’t hide my frown as Drake points to Dobby.

  "Told you," Raider says with a smile, which I return. "At least he smells better. He was a big part of the odor problem. And I think that’s his therapy dog, boss."

  From the couch, Nash's arm shoots up, middle finger proudly on display to the two men standing behind the couch out of his line of sight.

  "Everything looks secure, but we’ll take another walk around the perimeter just in case. You two stay put. Wouldn’t want to shoot you by accident."

  Watching them file out the front door, I shake my head in disbelief. "He wouldn't shoot us." I turn to Nash, who's smiling. "Would he?"

  "Drake? Probably, just to prove a point."

  "What point would shooting me prove?"

  "To listen and obey orders. It's one of my weaknesses."

  With a giggle, the earlier cloud on my mood having lifted after dinner—which Raider made, so I didn't have to stomach another round of breakfast food—I push off the soft leather armchair and stretch. "Mine too, per you. I'm going to log on and get started. Toss me your phone for when Mac calls."

  "You know, during those few months we worked together to find you, he never mentioned how you two met. Every time I asked, he said it was your story to tell."

  "I guess it is." Turning the game on him, I shrug and act like I'm heading up the stairs.

  "And...?" The same pillow I threw at his head soars across the room, but his aim is better than mine. I let out a yelp and lunge to the side as the pillow whizzes past my head.

  "You won’t like it, the story. The whole story. Sure you want to hear it?"

  Now I have his full attention. Sitting up, he turns to face me straight on. Can't avoid this conversation forever, I guess. Dropping to a stair, I tuck my knees close and sigh, staring at the front door.

  "In high school, I was a loner and had a mom who worked three jobs most of the time."

  "Okay, I don't get—"

  "I learned a lot about the type of person predators target the first few months of working with the FBI." I shrug and lean back on the stairs to stare at the dark beams lining the ceiling. "Anyway, I didn't realize what was going on at first. It started with my English teacher offering to help me after school. ‘Free tutoring’ was how he phrased it. And again, I learned more about the stages of luring victims while in the FBI, which helped, I think, because it wasn't just me it worked on, you know." Nash's eyes are fixed on me, unblinking. "After a while, he told me I needed to start thanking him for all the extra work he was putting in, and I believed him. It was never forced, just reciprocal, or that's the way he made me feel about it.

  "After that year, he transferred to a different school, so it ended and I moved on, until one day Destiny came home claiming one of her teachers offered to tutor her after school. The next day I took my laptop to school, sat in a bathroom stall and... I've always been good at computers, but this was my first time really hacking into anything, so it took me a while. But finally I got into his laptop through the school’s shitty 'secure' Wi-Fi and the pathetic firewalls this teacher had set up. I was really hoping I was wrong, but as I dug through the various files, I found a hidden chat room."

  Swallowing against my dry throat, I open my eyes and gasp. Sometime during the story, he moved from the couch and now leans against the wooden railing, gazing down at me. "What was in the chat room?" he asks.

  "I didn't know what to do with all the information. It was way beyond anything I expected to find. It was a bunch of names talking about different ruses they used to play their students, like it was a fucking game. I still remember feeling helpless, having all the information and nothing I could do with it, but I had to do something. So I looked up the Dallas FBI division, found the cyber team, chose the hottest guy and sent every piece of evidence I could siphon out of this guy’s laptop. Two weeks later, it was breaking news in Fort Worth that fourteen teachers were arrested for various charges.

  "About a month after that, I came home from school and found the hot FBI guy I’d sent the information to sitting on my mom's couch. And from there it's history, I guess."

  Not daring to look at him, I watch Raider and Drake file back into the living room, shooting questioning looks in our direction. I'm sure t
hey’re wondering what they interrupted.

  "Is that when you quit school?"

  "No, that was when I was a senior and Mom got sick." I shrug and push off the stairs. "We do what we have to for family, right? I'm going to log on. Come get me when he or Matt calls, okay?"

  Without waiting for an answer, I jog up the stairs. The door clicks closed at my back, and I slide down the dark wood until my ass hits the floor. Shit, what does he think of me now? I know what I did those first few years, what I still do some days. I'm the girl who didn't say anything, who didn't help future victims by speaking up when it was happening to me. Even if by my waiting, I interrupted the entire predator ring, I’m not sure I'll ever not think of those girls who became their victims in between.

  A cautious voice calls out from the other side of the door. "Pops? You okay?"

  "I'm fine, Nash. It was a long time ago."

  "I have a question."

  I purse my lips together as they spread in a tight grin. "Now?"

  "Yeah. Can I ask it?"

  "Sure."

  "Is he dead?"

  "I don't know, Nash. After he went to prison, I never looked him up again. I think Mac keeps tabs on him, so you should ask him that question."

  "Can I tell you something?"

  My cheeks ache from my wide smile. "Sure."

  "If he's not, he will be soon."

  Reaching up and back, I twist the knob and open the door wide enough for him to slip through.

  A frown dips the corners of his lips when he finds me on the floor. "Thought you said you were okay. This doesn't look okay."

  I grasp his extended hand to help me off the floor. "I am okay. Just lots of thoughts is all. Want to hang out with me while I work?"

  "Thought you'd never ask," A few quick steps and he falls on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. "What are you doing again?"

  "The information I have on this guy, Jace, is now five months old, so I need to locate him again, then help Matt and Mac get the evidence they need for an arrest. It might take all night, so you know what that means?"

  "No sex?"

  "Snacks. Can you get me a glass of milk, please?"

  Acting put out, Nash stomps out of the room and down the stairs.

  Hell, that guy. My guy.

  I press the power button, bringing all the screens to life. Within a few seconds, I'm logged in and scrolling through some old files when all the screens go black.

  Odd. I duck below the desk to inspect the power cords but everything looks connected. Brows furrowed, I lean back up and freeze. The far-right screen flicks awake, showing a video I've prayed every night for over a year to forget. The screen beside it flicks on, playing another, and then the next plays another and another.

  All Destiny's training.

  The chair clatters to the floor. Hands over my mouth, I retreat until the wall presses against my back. Just when I don’t think it can get worse, the volume spikes on all the videos, assaulting my eardrums with a blaring chorus of her pain-laced screams. Sliding down the wall, I press my eyes against my knees and my hands over my ears.

  Strong hands grip my wrists, shaking my entire body. No, no, no, I can't hear it again. Not again. My jeans turn damp beneath my eyes. The pressure on my wrists tightens and I’m unable to stop him this time as he presses my hands to the wall behind me.

  "What the fuck was that?" Nash screams through deep, labored breaths. "I thought it was you!"

  It's only now that I notice there's no more screaming, no more horrid videos playing out my sister’s torture. The wall rattles at my back and my knuckles knock against the wall. "He knows I'm here. How does he know I'm here?" I run through everything I've touched online, trying to discover how he tracked me, but I was careful. He's good but I'm better.

  "The screens... videos... Destiny," I ramble, wide-eyed yet staring unfocused at Nash's chest, my face cradled between his hands. "How did he find—"

  Behind him, the screens once again flicker to life. I slam my eyes shut to protect myself from another visual attack.

  "What the...?"

  The second his hands leave my face, I desperately want them back. Forcing my eyes to open, I find him standing at the computers, watching. Pictures float across the various screens. First pictures of fake Faith, the one the general wanted, bounce from one screen to another before fading to pictures of me—the real me. Next, one of me and Mac on the back steps, then one of me and Nash outside this house, talking and holding each other.

  "That's... that's from today. This afternoon," I stammer from the floor, still not believing what I'm seeing. The pictures of me, my location. How did he get it all? There's no way he could’ve gotten this far without inside help, especially pulling my prints from the passport database, but help from where, and who?

  More pictures of Nash dragging me back to the house pop up on the screen, but it's not those that cause tears to build.

  Mya.

  Different pictures flash across of Mya in a hot pink T-shirt, black leggings, and purple tennis shoes sitting on a picnic table reading a hardback book while other children play in the background.

  "Shit," Nash yells. Seconds later, Drake and Raider bang through the door, weapons drawn. Nash paces the room, phone at his ear, begging for Liza to pick up. When she does, he flips it over to speakerphone.

  "What did Mya wear to school today?" Nash demands. The three of us stay as silent as possible as we stare at the phone waiting for her response.

  "Nash, what the—" Liza responds sounding frustrated and cautious.

  "Just tell me, dammit. It's important."

  To our horror, Liza ticks off the exact outfit Mya wore in the pictures still on the screens.

  Nash glances to Raider, who's already halfway out the door. They communicate silently before Raider storms the rest of the way out and pounds down the stairs.

  "Liza, listen to me,” Nash says. “Raider's on his way to get you and Mya. Do not leave the house, and do not let anyone in except him. Do you understand me?"

  The shake in her voice rips at my heart. This is all my fault. "Nash, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

  "The guy after Fate knows my weak spot. You and Mya are in danger," he yells, making me flinch and press harder against the wall, trying to put more space between us, unlike Drake who takes a step toward the furious man I think I love. "Get the gun I gave you, pack up both of you and wait for Raider. If anyone besides him steps up your front porch, don't question it, just shoot. Understand?"

  "Okay, okay. I'm getting her now." In the background, drawers open and slam shut alongside Mya's questioning voice asking what’s going on. "How... how bad is it?"

  "Bad. Go and... I love you, Liza."

  With that, he hangs up and turns to face me. "How does he know you're here?" he demands. "And how in the hell does he know who I am and my family?"

  "It's not her fault, Snowflake," Drake says calmly, taking another step so he’s between us. "We'll get your sister and niece safe, but we need to figure shit out, so calm the fuck down so we can." He crouches to where I still sit on the floor, looking up to Nash's back, silently begging him to turn around. "Any ideas on how this guy found you here?"

  "I don't know, that's what I'm trying to figure out too," I whisper, shifting my gaze from Nash to Drake’s attempt at a comforting stare. "And it doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. How in the hell did he have access to the passport system in the first place to get my prints? That shit’s near impenetrable. He's not that good. And now this, finding me here...."

  "You think he has someone on the inside," Drake finishes for me.

  "He has to," I breathe. "It's the only thing that makes sense. For him to have gotten this far, to have my prints, to find me here. But who knew I had the information on Jace—" My wide eyes shift to Nash just as he turns, locking with his. "You don't think...?"

  "Fuck yes I think. That bastard did everything he could to keep us over in Africa, maybe because he knew what you'd do
to his guy if you came home. Knew you had something that would incriminate them both. He had to be the third person scanning the system for your prints, and that’s why we couldn't pinpoint him. Fuck!" he yells and makes for the door, but Drake cuts him off.

  It does make sense for it to be him, I guess, but something still doesn't add up.

  "He didn't ask me about Jace today," I muse, but the two men are too busy fighting, one trying to leave and the other doing his best to not let him, to pay me any attention.

  Words flash on the black screens, making everything in the room stop.

  You'll never be able to hide.

  This ends with you.

  2 am. Back room.

  Come alone, or I'll find and sell the girl.

  Terror snakes down my spine at the last words that scroll across.

  You know I can and will.

  Through the silence, I process the last ten overwhelming minutes. I do know he’ll get his hands on Mya and sell her; he does it every day, and would probably find enjoyment in causing me more pain. So this is personal now. He knows exactly who I am and that we've met before; guess the slip of my wig that night was more damning than I realized at the time. But who would’ve thought it would get this far? That he would be able to get this far? The more I think about it, the more him having an inside guy makes sense.

  One thing’s for certain, no one else will be hurt because of me.

  This started with me and it’ll end with me.

  Only me.

  Chapter 32

  Nash

  Today

  "I’M GOING. THIS ENDS with me."

  Knew that was coming. As soon as those words flashed on the screen, there was no doubt she would want to take this on alone.

  Shooting Drake a scowl, I stop fighting him and turn to Fate, who's still on floor, staring at nothing. "You're not doing this alone. This time around, you have me, us. We need a plan, but you're not going in there alone like you did before."

  Not even a single look acknowledging my response, which I have to say came out way better than the “hell no” that was my first thought.