Candy is sitting at her padded bench in the dressing room. Her face is white as a sheet, and completely clear of makeup. She stares straight ahead at her mirror—which is scrawled across with a powder pink lipstick I recognize as hers.
John 10:16
Ivan stands behind her, looming, a dark thundercloud over a mysterious, smooth-surfaced sea. His eyes are bloodshot, his suit rumpled. I’ve only ever seen him crisp and in control. He seems wilder now, almost feral.
“Who the fuck is John?” he asks, and I know this isn’t the first time he’s said it.
He isn’t even asking anyone in particular. He’s asking Candy, or me, or Blue who’s followed me inside. He’s asking the very walls, as if pissed that the Grand itself didn’t defend us.
He turns on Blue. “This is your fucking fault.”
Blue’s eyes narrow. “Maybe if you would have taken my advice and installed cameras in the back rooms, like I told you to.”
Ivan glares but doesn’t reply. He’d been too worried about what they might catch on tape, I suppose. And now we won’t know who broke in. The Grand is heavily guarded while it’s open, when it’s dark outside. There are only a few hours, just after dawn, when no one is here.
“Install them,” Ivan says, voice low and growling. “And I want this place guarded around the clock.”
I’m shaking, shivering. Afraid because Candy hasn’t said a word, hasn’t even blinked.
“Candy?” I ask softly.
No answer. She’s like a statue. A doll.
“Who the fuck is John?” Ivan says again, snarling.
Blue studies the pink scrawl. “Maybe the numbers are a time of day. We can check the tapes from the floor, find out who came in. Especially anyone who interacted with…”
He trails off, and all of our attention goes to Candy.
Maybe the numbers are a time of day. Or hell, maybe they’re the ramblings of a crazy person, meaningless to anyone outside its vortex. The bouncers have always been strict here, but assholes still get in.
After all, they have to get caught to get thrown out.
I’m thinking the note means something else, though. Mrs. Owens would read every evening, silently, before bed. There was only one book in her house. And when she couldn’t see anymore, I read to her aloud. “The bible,” I murmur.
“What?” Ivan snaps.
“Oh fuck,” Blue breathes, staring at the note with new eyes. “It could be a passage from the bible. John 10:16. We can look it up.”
Candy jolts, as if someone slapped her. She scrambles back, off the stool, away from the offending mirror. It’s littered with her makeup, her glitter. Her space, violated. Defiled.
“Don’t bother,” she whispers.
My heart is breaking to see her this way, my strong, irreverent friend turned into a trembling little girl. That’s how she looks right now. Little. The lace and glitter that had made her look pretend-innocent now just look real.
“Never mind,” Ivan says, so low and tender I don’t even recognize him. He takes her into his arms, almost cradling her. There are two strangers in front of me—one giving comfort, one receiving it. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll never see this again. We’ll burn it. And whoever left this, he’ll never touch you.”
Candy’s wide eyes flash to mine, and I know the truth she cannot say. Whoever left this, she knows him. Whoever left this, he’s already touched her.
“And I have other sheep that are not of this fold,” she says, reciting. “I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”
One shepherd. I shiver.
Ivan lets out a low curse. He’s determined to wipe this away, and any other time, I’d believe he could. He’s the puppet master around here. All the girls dance while he pulls the strings.
Except for Candy.
There are other strings holding her. And other masters.
* * *
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading Blue and Lola’s story… You can read the book BETTER WHEN IT HURTS to find out how they got together.
A forbidden romance about pain that binds us together…
Five years ago we lived in the same house. He was the ultimate bad boy.
And my foster brother.
Now he’s back. Tougher, harder, meaner. All of it aimed at me, because I was the one who sent him away. It’s payback time. He wants his pound of flesh, and I am helpless to say no.
“Better When it Hurts is an intense and heartbreakingly beautiful story. I couldn’t read fast enough to see what would happen next with Blue and Lola. A definite 5 star read for sure!”
~ Jenika Snow, USA Today bestselling author
ONE CLICK BETTER WHEN IT HURTS >
Or read the next book in the Stripped series, PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY, about Ivan and Candy. That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.
“Dark, perverse, and unbearably erotic, Pretty When You Cry is Skye Warren at her gritty best.”
~ Anna Zaires, USA Today bestselling author of Twist Me
Click here to read PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY now!
About the Author
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance such as the Endgame trilogy. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.
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Theirs to Take
Laura Kaye
She’s the fantasy they’ve always wanted to share…
Best friends Jonathan Allen and Cruz Ramos share almost everything—a history in the Navy, their sailboat building and restoration business, and the desire to dominate a woman together, which they do at Baltimore’s exclusive club, Blasphemy. Now if they could find someone who wants to play for keeps…
All Hartley Farren has in the world is the charter sailing business she inherited from her beloved father. So when a storm damages her boat, she throws herself on the mercy of business acquaintances to do the repairs—stat. She never expected to find herself desiring the sexy, hard-bodied builders, but being around Jonathan and Cruz reminds Hartley of how much she longs for connection. If only she could decide which man she wants to pursue more…
As their attraction flashes hot, Jonathan and Cruz determine to have Hartley for their own. But the men’s sexy world is new and overwhelming, and Hartley’s unsure if she could really submit to being both of theirs to take…forever.
Hot Contemporary Romance
by Laura Kaye
Blasphemy Series
HARD TO SERVE
BOUND TO SUBMIT
MASTERING HER SENSES
EYES ON YOU
THEIRS TO TAKE
ON HIS KNEES
Warrior Fight Club Series
FIGHTING FOR EVERYTHING
FIGHTING FOR WHAT’S HIS
FIGHTING THE FIRE
WORTH FIGHTING FOR
Raven Riders Series
HARD AS STEEL
RIDE HARD
RIDE ROUGH
RIDE WILD
RIDE DIRTY
Hard Ink Series
HARD AS IT GETS
HARD AS YOU CAN
HARD TO HOLD ON TO
HARD TO COME BY
HARD TO BE GOOD
HARD TO LET GO
HARD AS STEEL
HARD EVER AFTER
HARD TO SERVE
Hearts
in Darkness Duet
HEARTS IN DARKNESS
LOVE IN THE LIGHT
Heroes Series
HER FORBIDDEN HERO
ONE NIGHT WITH A HERO
Stand Alone Titles
DARE TO RESIST
JUST GOTTA SAY
Dedication
To finding where you belong.
Chapter One
Hartley Farren stared at the wreck of her catamaran and tried not to cry. Or scream. Or punch something with her bare fist.
She’d done everything right to prepare for the hurricane that had come through two days before. Baltimore’s Lighthouse Point’s marina provided an excellent safe harbor with a fantastic track record of low storm damage, and she’d been sure to use long dock lines to allow the boat to rise and fall during the storm surge. But none of that mattered when someone else wasn’t as diligent in their preparations. And the consequence had been that another boat had lost its mooring and the wind had driven it into her Far ’n Away, damaging the port side.
“I’m really sorry,” the other owner said for the dozenth time. “I told Charlie we needed more lines, but he said the Chesapeake never gets hit that badly.” In her sixties and sweet as pie, the lady made it hard for Hartley to stay mad when she revealed that their own boat, a total loss, had been their only residence for the past eighteen months, leaving them essentially homeless. They stood and watched while the lady’s husband worked with the harbor master to have the wreck towed away.
“I know,” Hartley said. “It’ll all work out somehow. For both of us.”
Hartley had to believe that. Because that cat was her whole life.
Her father had left his charter business to her when he died three years before. Now, that business and that boat provided her whole income and allowed her to keep her grandmother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s, in a lovely assisted-living community.
But now Hartley was dead in the water. Or, at least, her charter business was. Until she dealt with the insurance claims and found someone to do the repairs. Both were sure to be a pain in the butt following a big storm.
Hartley sighed. Neither crying, screaming, nor punching something was going to make anything better. And she’d certainly fared better than some others—she had to be grateful for that. She slid the business card detailing the couple’s contact information into her pocket and said her good-byes, and then she made her way to the marina office.
“Hi Linda,” she said to the office manager she’d met for the first time when she was only eight or nine. Back then, Hartley had been her dad’s “first mate” as much as going to school and playing field hockey had allowed.
“How bad is it, hon?” Linda tucked the gray hair of her bob behind her ears as she came around her desk. The office was a big square with four desks, the back two partially hidden behind cubicle partitions. Normally, the room was bright and airy, as windows lined the two exterior walls, but boards currently covered the glass, making it feel like nighttime in the middle of the day.
“Fixable. That’s not the problem, though. The problem is whether it can be fixed fast. There’s no avoiding having to cancel several weeks of charters, but I’ll be sunk if I have to pull out of the sailboat show and the Sailing University courses I’m teaching.” Thank God she’d been smart enough to buy business interruption insurance, but that was only going to cover her so far. If she didn’t get the Far ’n Away repaired within three weeks, well, she wasn’t going to think about that. Not yet.
“What can I do to help?” Linda asked, giving her the same affectionate, grandmotherly look she’d been giving her for the past twenty-plus years. It was an affection born not only from their long-time friendship, but from the fact that Linda and her father had been close—close enough that Hartley suspected something romantic between them before her dad unexpectedly died of a heart attack. Since then, Linda had been one of the few people who seemed to understand the grief and loneliness Hartley had been working through.
“Can I borrow a desk and your Wi-Fi?” Hartley gestured to the messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop and I’d love to dive into finding a place that can do the work.”
“That’s easy. Of course. You know your way around. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks, Linda. What would I do without you?” she asked as she sat at the more private desk behind Linda’s.
The older lady peered around the corner at her and smirked. “Says the woman who spends days and days alone at sea. You’d get by just fine. You don’t need me, Hartley. I’m just your cheerleading section.”
Hartley chuckled. “Well, I appreciate that, too.” She set up and turned on her laptop. She’d just looked up the contact information for her insurance company when Linda placed a steaming mug on the desk.
“I’m also your deliverer of mint tea.” Linda winked.
“And clearly also a goddess,” Hartley said, taking the cup in hand. She adored the feeling of warm ceramic against her palms. “Can’t forget that one.”
“Naturally,” Linda said. “Hey, since you’re here, can you let anyone who comes in know I’ll be right back? I have to run over to the Harbor Master’s office for a short meeting.”
“You got it,” Hartley said, sipping at the sweet, minty tea. A moment later, the front door opened and closed, leaving Hartley alone to figure out who was going to be her savior.
Scheduling a time to meet with the insurance adjuster turned out to be easy enough. But, thirty minutes later, she’d called a dozen boat repair shops and only found two willing to consider the work—but neither could even come look at the cat for almost a week, nor commit to completing the repairs within the next three.
Hartley dropped her head into her hands and heaved a deep breath. In the quiet, the soft opening and closing of the outer door reached her ears. “Hey, Linda,” she called. Then, to herself, “What am I going to do?”
“Hey, are you okay?”
The voice was deep, male, and definitely not Linda’s. Hartley’s gaze whipped up. And up. To find a tall and incredibly sexy man standing in the doorway to her cubicle. Sun-kissed shoulder-length blond hair framed a ruggedly masculine face and intense gray eyes that were at once inquisitive and observing. Broad shoulders and defined muscles pulled taut a heather-gray T-shirt with a single word across the chest: NAVY. His forearms and legs beneath khaki cargo shorts were toned and tanned, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun.
“Uh, hi. Yes. Sorry. I’m kinda in my own world here. Did you need Linda?” Hartley managed as she pushed to her feet. At five-five, she wasn’t short, but his impressive height made her tilt her head back to meet his assessing gaze.
He shook his head. “I was coming by to see if she needed a hand with anything around the marina.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m sure she’d appreciate that. She stepped out to a meeting but she should be back soon if you’d like to wait.” Despite his selfless reason for being there, the man made Hartley nervous. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the intensity behind those odd, gray eyes. Or the way he towered over her. Or how freaking good-looking he was.
“I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“Sure,” she said. But he didn’t leave. “Um, anything else I can do for you?”
His gaze stayed glued to hers, but she had the oddest feeling that he was checking her out nonetheless. He smiled and shook his head. And, man, was his smile a stunner, highlighting the strong angles of his jaw and charming her with the way the right side of his mouth lifted higher than the left. He thumbed over his shoulder. “I’ll just grab a seat.”
And then he disappeared from her little doorway.
Hartley was half tempted to peer around the corner and watch him walk away. Just to see if the rear view was as impressive as the front.
On a sigh, she dropped back into her chair. And even though her thoughts should’ve returned to the huge problem of fixing her boat, they lingered on the Good Samaritan currently making small noises on the other side of the room. Who was he?
Hartley had essentially grown up around this marina. Even though she couldn’t say she knew everyone here, she still recognized most of the regulars. And she’d never seen Mr. Tall, Blond, and Ruggedly Handsome before.
Her cell phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Mrs. Farren, this is Ed Stark returning your call from Stark Restoration.”
Hope rushed through Hartley. “Hi, Mr. Stark. Thanks for calling back so quickly. And, please, call me Hartley.” Being called ‘missus’ was almost laughable when she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a date. With rebuilding the business after her father’s death and taking care of her grandmother, Hartley didn’t have time to date. Or, at least, she hadn’t made the time. Not that she’d had any prospects motivating her to do so. Shaking the thoughts away, she filled the man in on the damage and the challenge of her timeline.
“I might be able to get someone out to take a look at your boat by the end of the week, but you’re at least the tenth call I’ve had today. I wouldn’t be able to guarantee a completion date without assessing the damage, and I’ve got a number of other repair jobs ahead of yours.”
It was the same thing all the others had told her. And Hartley got it. She did. It wasn’t anyone else’s problem that she depended on the Far ’n Away for her livelihood. Or that she’d put most of what her father left her three years ago into her grandmother’s nursing home and a bigger boat that could carry more passengers. Or that July had been so rainy that her normal charter business had been halved. Or that she needed the extra income that the sailboat show and Sailing University courses would bring in to make it through the leaner winter months.
Just then, the front door opened again. “Hartley, I’m back. Sorry I was gone so long.” This time, it was definitely Linda. “Oh, Jonathan. How are you? How did you guys make out in the storm?”
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