“You have twenty-four hours to decide before I tell Ethan he’s a bastard.”
“You’re just like your father. You fell for that whore like he did his. You let your Willow Girl come between your family, just like he did. I’ll smile when they carve out the name on your stone, right next to his. Next to your dead brother.”
“You’re a pathetic old woman,” I say, walking out.
“Don’t you dare walk out on me!”
I slam the door shut behind me, her words clawing at me, stalking me. Lucinda is a force to be reckoned with. This isn’t over. I know that. It’s not over by a long shot.
I go to Helena’s room, knock once. It’s more of a banging with my fist. “Helena. You in there?”
Nothing. I open the door, but the room’s empty. I try the bathroom, knocking again, but finding it, too, empty. Using the connecting door, I go to my room. Maybe she went there. But she isn’t here either.
“Helena?”
I hear the engine of the boat and rush to the window and I see Helena run toward it, watch her board. See the two figures on the boat.
“Helena!”
I turn, run for the door, but see the discarded letter on the floor. I bend to pick up the familiar note from her sister with her aunt’s obituary inside.
Lucinda did this. Lucinda gave it to her.
I crush it in my hand and am about to get up when Lucinda reappears in the doorway.
“I told you not to fucking walk away from me.” She stalks to me as I stand, and I hear the clicking before I see the gun she raises in her hand. Aims.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I see the rage on her face, and I charge toward her, almost reaching her before she pulls the trigger.
Almost.
A flash of light and a burning pain stuns me. I stumble once, twice, but somehow, I’ve got hold of her wrist and when I fall, she’s falling too, and the gun goes off again and my shoulder burns.
I topple on top of her but a minute later, she shoves me off. I watch her rise to her feet, look down at me, and when I reach to touch my shoulder, warm liquid covers my hand.
“Lucinda,” I start, trying to raise myself up through the pain, but something hits me on the back of my head. It feels like someone’s slammed a brick against it.
I blink, try to force my eyes to stay open, but fall backward and all I feel is pain and all I see is black and all I hear is the sound of Lucinda’s footsteps running out of the room and I’m left with my thoughts and they’re churning, circling, exploding until they, too are fading.
Fading.
Gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Helena
My Aunt Helena died the night I left.
She died while I was still on that plane.
She was dead when I asked him to let me call her over and over again, and he knew it and he didn’t say a goddamned word.
Not one.
I didn’t bother to pack anything. Nothing here is mine. I changed into a pair of jeans and grabbed a sweater, put on a pair of shoes, and picked up my passport. I walked out the door, and when I heard arguing coming from Lucinda’s room, I ran. I scrambled down the stairs, out the front door, and outside, the night calm around me, the quiet sounds of crickets and soft waves same as the other nights. Like nothing outside has changed. Like everything is just the same.
Tonight, the lights guiding the path to the docks are off. I guess Lucinda took care of that. Of course, she did. She wants me off this island.
I stop for a moment, hesitate. Why? Why would she help me?
No, she’s not helping me. She’s helping herself. I have to give her one thing. She’s been up front with me from day one. She’s been awful, but honest. She hates me, but she doesn’t play games with me. Not like Sebastian.
Does she see how close Sebastian is with me? Is that what it is? Am I threat to her? How? Why?
In my rush, I stumble over a stone raised a little higher than the others and fall down, scraping my knees. I look down at my hand, at the ring Aunt Helena gave me.
Aunt Helena is dead.
She died weeks ago, and Sebastian has known all this time.
Christ. I’m a fool. All that time in the car, me spilling my guts out about her. Telling him about that night, that secret I’d kept even from my sisters, I told him.
And when he told me to trust him, I did.
She said she found the letter in his trash can. Was he ever going to tell me? Or just avoid having to answer every time I asked him to let me make a call? Maybe work something out with my parents that they keep this a secret too.
If he’s lied about this, what else is he lying about?
I didn’t know about his twin brother. Never knew Sebastian isn’t technically firstborn. That his place isn’t cast in stone.
He told me about Lucinda being his stepmother, and I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for him that his mother had died. If he’d told me she’d died on his birthday, he would have gotten even more sympathy out of me.
What else isn’t he telling me? What else is there he’s lying about?
Is it true what she said? That he didn’t have to do this? That he could stop it at any time?
“And it all just comes down to one thing. Money. He releases you from your obligation, and he forfeits his place as head of the Scafoni family. He loses everything. Sad little world we live in, isn’t it, when money is worth more than a human life?”
I get up, wince at the pain the tiny stones cut into my knees. The boat engine starts when I take my next step, and I wipe my face. I’m not crying over him. I’m not. My aunt is dead. These tears are for her.
I climb the steps up to the dock and go to the idling boat. Remy is at the steering wheel. He doesn’t come to help me on. I climb on myself, but it’s easy enough.
As soon as I’m on board, before I’m even seated, we pull away from the island.
I look back once, look back at the big, beautiful house with all its lights. With all its lies. All the liars inside it.
I hug my sweater to myself and move to step into the enclosed space of the boat, and I don’t expect there to be anyone on the boat but me and Remy, but someone’s inside the cabin. He stands as I enter. He’s tall and big, but he’s wearing a hoodie and I can’t see his face.
Something tells me to turn, to get off the boat, but we’re too far. When I try to run, a powerful hand closes around my arm, hurting me, bruising me.
I open my mouth to scream, but he smashes a cold, wet cloth over my face and just then, Remy turns around. But it’s not Remy. It’s Ethan. Ethan with a leering grin, watching me struggle, kick, and claw. And I realize my mistake too late.
Ethan’s face is the last thing I see as the chloroform does its work, and I feel myself weaken, feel my body slump against the powerful chest of the man behind me, feel him let up a little as my arms drop to my sides and my knees give out.
I hit the hard deck of the boat, feel the engine vibrate as a boot shoves me rudely aside. The man makes his way out of the enclosed space, and I hear the muffled sound of speech, smell the smoke of a cigarette as I lose consciousness and we speed toward whatever destination Lucinda has planned for me.
I knew she wasn’t doing this to help me.
But her intention wasn’t ever to let me go.
It was only ever to take me from Sebastian.
* * *
Thank you for reading TAKEN! I hope you love Sebastian and Helena.
You can read the conclusion of their story in TORN, which is available in all stores.
ONE CLICK TORN NOW >
ULTIMATE SURRENDER
KAYE BLUE
CEO and mercenary Lucian Silver is desperate to keep his defense company afloat. Taking on meddling investors was his last resort. But the mere presence of Cassandra Portersen and her watchful eye makes his blood boil—and his temperature rise. As much as he wants to hate her, he can’t deny their irresistible attraction. And when Lucian
discovers that Cassandra is far from the enemy he thought, he finally begins to let down his guard.
Then tragedy strikes, and Cassandra is more in danger than he could have imagined. It’s up to Lucian to save the woman he didn’t want around—and now cannot live without. But can Lucian fight for love when terror is knocking down his door?
Chapter One
“Thirty-six thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight.”
Cassandra Portersen tapped a high-heel-clad foot against the concrete floor as she scribbled on the notepad she held against her curved hip. When she finished speaking, she didn’t bother to look up. And although she spoke in that particular voice, one he’d come to recognize as one of displeasure even though it was barely above a whisper, Lucian Silver still heard her loud and clear.
As much as he wished it otherwise, he reacted to her voice, the wispy, soft sound sexy and soothing, which created an interesting dichotomy because the actual words she spoke instantly ignited Lucian’s anger.
He took a deep breath, trying to end the coming conflict before it began. When Cassandra had strolled into his office this morning, he’d promised himself that no matter what she said, he wouldn’t react, wouldn’t give in to the seemingly effortless way she could shake his control. He’d also sworn he would not respond to that damn nagging attraction she always inspired even when she was in the process of giving him shit as she was now.
“Is there some significance to that number, Cassandra, or was this excursion simply designed to waste my time?” Lucian asked, his own voice light, although he couldn’t quite manage the calm nonchalance that had been threaded through Cassandra’s.
She looked up when he spoke, and when he glanced at her, he felt that little kick in his gut, one that went deep and settled into a pulsing warmth that would turn into full-on arousal if the past was anything to go by. Lucian couldn’t make sense of Cassandra’s effect on him, but he knew his reaction to her was more or less an inevitability.
Right now, Cassandra was shrouded in darkness, the heavy armored door of the gun safe throwing shadows that obscured her face, the relatively dim lights in the subbasement making it difficult to really see her.
It made no difference at all.
Even in the shadows, even with her thick hair obscuring one side of her face, Lucian still responded.
At this point, he halfway suspected his reaction would be the same were they in pitch darkness. He shook his head quickly to clear the thought. Him and Cassandra in pitch darkness…that was a road he had no intention of going down.
He locked eyes with her, refocusing on the matter at hand despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure what that was.
“Well?” he asked, not having to fake the impatience that lit his tone.
“There is some significance to it,” she said, seemingly in no hurry to clue him in.
Lucian took yet another deep breath, counted to three, then kept going to five before he responded.
“Plan to share what that is?” he finally asked.
“Thirty-six thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight would be the number of bullets removed from the armory in the last three months,” she said, her tone taking on that lilt she always got when she was surprised or annoyed or disappointed in something Lucian and his team had done.
He let an easy smile, one totally at odds with the tumult that twisted inside him, cross his face. “That’s all?” he asked. “I’d thought it was a lot more.”
As he’d known she would, Cassandra frowned, her full lips pulling into a straight line and then down. As far as frowns went, this one was subtle, just enough of the downturn of her lips for him to see her displeasure. But her eyes flashed hot with anger. She recovered quickly, though, and then set her face in a much more neutral expression, one that spoke of disappointment and displeasure, but not the outright anger he’d seen a moment ago.
This conversation wasn’t over yet, but seeing that expression on Cassandra’s face might make the whole exercise worth it. Watching her, and watching her react, was always fascinating. Cassandra tended to be contained, controlled, or at least that was the front she put up. Lucian, though, could always see the range of emotions she fought to control and took satisfaction in those moments when he saw he had the power to shake her much like she did him.
Not that she’d ever admit it. In fact, Lucian would bet Cassandra would vehemently deny it, say his arrogance was getting the better of him and then give him one of those patented disapproving schoolmarm looks.
But Lucian knew the truth: he did get to her, at least sometimes. And there was another aspect of that Lucian always considered. What Cassandra didn’t know was that her disapproving schoolmarm expressions were some of the sexiest ones he’d ever seen. Twisted, he knew, but just one of those looks from Cassandra could keep him hard for days.
Best not to linger on that, though, or the amusement threatening to make itself known. He’d spoken with the express purpose of getting that very reaction out of her, and Cassandra hadn’t disappointed. Lucian was determined to enjoy the moment, one he knew wouldn’t last long. Cassandra could be teased, but so far, he’d never found her to be deterred.
As if to prove his point, she quickly closed the heavy armory door and keyed in the combination, the mechanical click of the lock ringing loud in the deserted subbasement that also served as storage for Silver Industries. Then, she turned to face him, moving quite gracefully on three-inch heels Lucian had steadfastly determined he would ignore. He’d failed as he always did, had also not been able to avoid taking a peek at her stocking-clad calves or the rest of the generous expanse of leg revealed by her short skirt. But at least he’d made the effort. That had to count for something.
As did the fact he’d indulged Cassandra enough to take this little trip in the first place, he thought to himself, again trying to return back to the matter at hand, and again reminded that he still didn’t know what that actually was.
He started to ask again. However, Cassandra didn’t look to be in an especially charitable mood as she turned and surveyed him, clearly having recovered from her earlier upset.
“Are you trying to turn this into a joke?” she asked.
Ahh, so she was going for the superior tack. He should have anticipated that, been ready to fend it off, but she’d caught him flat-footed. Before he could think, he was on the defensive, a place he ended up far more often than he liked with Cassandra.
“Is it something else?” he asked, his voice nearly thundering, not that she batted an eyelash.
“I view the survival of Silver Industries as anything but a joke,” she tossed back quickly.
“And how does the number of bullets my team uses influence Silver’s survival?” he asked, walking a step closer to her.
She still didn’t flinch. “It matters because I have to give a report to the shareholders, your shareholders. You remember them, right?” she asked, squeezing her fists though her arms still hung loose at her sides.
“How could I possibly forget about the shareholders? You’re shoving them into my face every time I turn around,” he said through clenched teeth, his nearly hissed-out words not at all reflecting the annoyance that was increasing by the moment.
Cassandra narrowed her eyes and stood a little taller, the movement making her look every bit as formidable as he knew she was. “Is that what you call it? Shoving them in your face?” she asked, daring him without words to contradict her.
Lucian had never passed up a dare.
“That’s exactly what I call it. I turn around and there you are, telling me that the shareholders want this or that, telling me my team is too much trouble,” he said, giving voice to the frustration that was now at full force.
“Maybe that’s what you hear because you’re too damn pigheaded to listen to me, but that’s not what I say. Not at all,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger but her voice still wispy, still barely more than a whisper.
“Then since there’s been such an oversight, wh
y don’t you explain again?” Lucian said.
The slight flare of her nostrils was her only reaction, and a breath later, she started. “Lucian, I have to send quarterly reports to the shareholders so they feel comfortable with the state of the company and comfortable continuing to fund this business. Now I have to explain a two-hundred-percent increase in ammo costs. Not to mention that thing in Vietnam.”
“Don’t start, Cassie,” he said, his voice edged with warning.
That got more of a reaction out of her than anything else, her posture going ramrod straight and her eyes locking with his at his use of the hated nickname. “My name is Cassandra,” she said icily.
“Well, then, ‘Cassandra,’ just for the record, I don’t give a shit what some shareholder thinks. I’m going to lead my team and my company the way I see fit, even if doing so involves thirty-six thousand bullets,” he said, his eyes locked on hers the entire time.
“Not yours,” she said even more quietly than usual.
“What?” he asked impatiently.
“The company’s not yours,” she said, her voice a little louder this time.
“Oh, so that’s not my name on the side of the building?” he replied, looking at her incredulously.
“It’s your name, but this is not your company, as you seem to always forget. The Silver family owns a third,” she said, her gaze still locked with his, her stance still unyielding. “The rest is owned by shareholders, shareholders who want me to account for every dime and who have no stomach for your…antics.” She trailed off toward the end of her sentence but he still got the message.
Lucian’s chest burned, both at the reminder of what he tried so hard to forget and at the fact that he was powerless to deny what she said.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He turned to face her fully, his eyes on hers.
“If those shareholders understood anything about our business, they wouldn’t raise an eyebrow about a couple thousand bullets.”
Mafia Romance Page 77