No Fair Lady

by Snow, Nicole

  No Fair Lady

  Nicole Snow

  Ice Lips Press

  Content copyright © Nicole Snow. All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  First published in March, 2020.

  Disclaimer: The following book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

  Please respect this author’s hard work! No section of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission. Exception for brief quotations used in reviews or promotions. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thanks!

  Cover Design – CoverLuv. Photo by Wander Aguiar Photography.

  Contents

  About the Book

  1. No Introduction (Fuchsia)

  2. No Sugarcoating It (Oliver)

  3. Sweeter Than Candy (Fuchsia)

  4. Pour Some Sugar on Me (Fuchsia)

  5. Bitter Like Chocolate (Oliver)

  6. The Sweetest Thing (Fuchsia)

  7. A Spoonful of Sugar (Oliver)

  8. Like Taking Candy from a Baby (Fuchsia)

  9. My Candy Girl (Oliver)

  10. Sweet Dreams (Fuchsia)

  Epilogue: Big Day (Oliver)

  More From Heart's Edge

  About Nicole Snow

  More Books by Nicole

  About the Book

  Unbreakable. Lethal. Rip-your-heart-out fine.

  Now let me tell you about him...

  Oliver Major was the only lunk brave enough to tame me.

  Strict. Rich. Deliciously handsome. The right kind of scary.

  And the scary kind of right.

  He was my rugged oasis in high-stakes corporate hell.

  The day he disappeared without a trace sheared my soul.

  Years later, I'm on a date with destiny.

  A risky mission seeking answers to my train wreck of a life.

  Then a little tip from Heart's Edge blows open the shocking truth.

  What Galentron Inc took from me isn't gone.

  Maybe I didn't sign myself over to the devil for nothing.

  Think this is my big redemption?

  Think again.

  Behind every villainess, there's a story.

  Beneath every ice princess, an old flame.

  And once, there was a man who stole my heart.

  The same big bad protector who's come back to haunt me.

  Oh, the things I'd give to taste Oliver one more time...

  ...but how can I ever forgive him?

  1

  No Introduction (Fuchsia)

  Let’s get one thing straight.

  This may be my story, but I’m no hero.

  I’ve never been anyone’s hero, savior, personal shrink, bestie, or...the list could fill a phone book.

  But you can be damned sure, if there’s something that needs to be done?

  I’m your girl.

  Maybe that’s how I wound up here.

  Staring down the barrel of a gold-plated gun, the taste of adrenaline in the back of my throat, my knuckles throbbing from impact, while I stare down something worse than a hot date with death.

  Leland Durham’s smug smile pointed at me. Right over the glaring black eye of a muzzle.

  “Really?” I whisper, disdain dripping off my tongue. “Are the bullets at least twenty-four karat too?”

  “Breathe another word and I’ll show you, witch,” Durham barks back.

  I wonder how many people the once-illustrious CEO of Galentron has actually killed with his own filthy hands. His manicure says none recently. Still, he’s got me locked in a clear shot a drunken cowboy blinded in both eyes couldn’t miss, so...

  So, I guess this is the part where I should probably put my hands up and beg for a few more years in paradise. This is where I should know the next roll of the dice won’t be kind when the pampered, vicious pig of a man leering with his little popgun has already deconstructed my life piece by piece.

  That’s what any normal human being with a functional sense of self-preservation would do.

  If you think that’s what I’ll do, you don’t know me very well.

  My name is Fuchsia Delaney.

  Before I was Fuchsia, I was Patty Brin.

  Patty Brin never would’ve survived this. Poor, miserable thing.

  But me?

  Well.

  Let me tell you how I got to be here.

  Let me regale you because I think I deserve my clichéd 1980s flick record scratch opening scene.

  Let me tell you why I’m smiling right now, even though old Leland’s got me cornered.

  Alone, without a prayer.

  Just me and him in the cabin of his sleek private jet, and a gun trained right between my eyes, my heart racing fast, the scent of hot metal over my shoulder from the shot he already fired, the slug still lodged in the wall and smoking from the force of impact.

  And then let me tell you how I’ll walk out of here alive with this piece of scum dead at my feet.

  Like I said...

  This is my story.

  And I may be nobody’s hero.

  But I always, always win.

  2

  No Sugarcoating It (Oliver)

  I shake my head at the stack of newspapers propped up in front of my snowy window at a small cabin outside Alberta.

  Even after all these months, I cannot fucking believe what I’m reading.

  Galentron, kaput.

  Everything I helped put in motion.

  By now, it’s the biggest, most scandalous international corporate downfall since infamous names like Enron and Lehman Brothers. Technically worse because the guys who were “too big to fail” yesterday were never responsible for the kind of atrocities Galentron had lined up.

  My reflection in the frosty glass catches my single good eye, a tortured brown orb staring back. A brutal reminder of just how well I know what Galentron was capable of.

  And what one conspicuously missing agent, Miss Fuchsia Delaney, tried so hard to prevent.

  I still can’t believe no one’s seen her.

  Hell, I still can’t believe my own intel, the best of the best, can’t find a hint of that wily, lethal, achingly beautiful slip of a woman I was once lucky enough to call mine.

  Would she even recognize you now? a dark voice whispers in the back of my mind.

  My leg tenses, the prosthetic spring below my right knee turning weirdly cold, even though it’s only a few feet from the roaring fireplace.

  Would she forgive you after all these years?

  After you left her in their clutches?

  Could she ever find it in her cold, dead void of a heart to love anyone—much less you—again?

  I’m snarling, tearing the cap off a half-drained whiskey bottle with my teeth. I take a burning swig for strength. It’s hardly my beloved Riesling, but for a heart shattered by the fist of an angry god, it’ll do.

  “Enough, damn you!” I whisper to the empty room.

  It’s a strewn mess of case files and contacts related to the grand fall of Galentron Incorporated. Everything I can barely keep up with that’s been rolling in since late last year, ever since she heroically paired up with those country boys in Heart’s Edge to bring down hell on a pack of demons.

  Even as I slump against the wall, there’s a bitter, dagger-like ache in my heart that has nothing to do with the throat-scorching burn of booze.

  It has everything to do with the tattered photo I sweep off the ottoman, knocking several folders over in the process.

  It’s a special kind of torture staring into the luscious, pearl-eyed, porcelain-perfect face of the woman I wanted to call my wife fifteen fucking years ago.

  I’d have done it, too, if Durham hadn’t made his
move first.

  If he hadn’t struck like a wolf, tearing me to pieces, and knowing he’d do worse to Fuchsia if I showed up on his doorstep again. If I let him know he hadn’t succeeded in taking me out.

  This picture, it’s all I have left of her.

  Everything except for that haunting folder buried under too many others to count, full of grainy pictures from Bainbridge Island, marked only by one word. MANDOLIN.

  And it’s still more than she has left of me, considering the entire world believes I’m a dead man.

  It’s times like this when I wonder if I am.

  I’ve lived more like an anguished wraith, conducting my own hit-and-run raids on Galentron assets when I could, blocking them from more mayhem, always trying to dig up that one crucial piece of intel that would finish them once and for all...

  Only to be beaten to it by the insane leak Clarissa Bell made to the world with the help of former Nighthawk Leo Regis, the beast once known as Nine. I may have had a hand in the data, but hell.

  What am I doing now?

  Still trying to pick up the pieces?

  Still trying to find her, so I can finally show myself, so I can hand her that haunting folder stamped MANDOLIN along with my own dripping heart.

  I’m in such a fucked up funk I barely hear my phone vibrate. One of the burners, I realize, which makes me drag my heavy weight off the floor and go flying across the room.

  “Yeah?” I snap, scratching at my chin.

  “Major? You’re never gonna believe this. We’ve just had a very interesting tip from the prison network. You know how they picked up Leland Durham a few months ago? Big scene in downtown Seattle, throwing him in handcuffs and everything—”

  “Like I could’ve missed it. Everybody and their damn brother only saw it played a thousand times on CNN, Fox, MSNBC...” I don’t know where my guy’s going.

  “Well, turns out, there’s a little more to that Durham than meets the eye...”

  I wait for him to go on.

  I listen to him talk.

  I feel my fist flex like the head of a sledgehammer.

  By the time he’s finished, I need to fucking hit something. It’s a good thing fifteen years of total hell have trained me in the art of patience.

  Because there’s only one man who deserves to feel every savage, bone-splitting bit of this.

  Because the instant Fuchsia finds out the same thing I just did, it means she’s in danger again, courtesy of the same sniveling, dirty hell-fuck I gave my life—as far as everyone knows—to stop years ago.

  Because Leland goddamn Durham just made what would’ve been a heart-wrenching reunion under the best circumstances into something far darker, more serious, and higher stakes than ever.

  My eyes flick to the clock. I estimate I’ve got less than twenty-four hours before I need to be in Bellingham, Washington.

  That’s all the time remaining to stop Durham from getting away with the unspeakable.

  That’s all I have left to save my wildcat before she does something reckless.

  That’s the countdown on my last chance to save my own soul.

  3

  Sweeter Than Candy (Fuchsia)

  I never thought I’d be waiting on these two lunks again.

  Gray and Leo are late. As usual. My lips twitch for a fraction of a second when I wonder if it has something to do with both of them competing for a gold medal in big bad family man of the year.

  Sigh.

  If I’m being honest, I never thought I’d see little old Heart’s Edge, Montana, again with its rolling hills covered in trees, its cliffs, its deep valley, and the sleepy little town skyline that barely makes a scenic blot on the dusty horizon.

  Honestly, I’m not sure if Heart’s Edge—or said lunks—are jumping up and down to see me either.

  I have a bit of a bad luck history with this town.

  And if I’m being extra honest?

  That bad luck is me.

  I’ve been a black cat in the shape of a human being since the day I stepped foot here.

  Every time I wander through, people die. Rampant killer viruses, explosives that ignite the whole damn night, the works—oh, but at least that last massive fire at their winter carnival wasn’t my fault.

  I saw that insanity on the news. Who knew big daddy fire chief Blake Silverton had it in him to douse a crisis without my helping hand?

  At least I didn’t have anything to do with starting the crisis.

  For once.

  You could say I’m an agent of chaos.

  I prefer to think of myself as a refreshing change of pace.

  Right now, though, I’m here on business, and still wanted by the local bumbling Mayberry police who handle the drunk tank in this one-horse town. So I’m as far on the outskirts of Heart’s Edge as I can possibly get, the town itself just a dark smudge on the horizon, where the highway runs along the edge of the valley’s rise.

  I’m almost back where everything began for Gray and Leo, the same place where my story took an unexpected plot twist.

  The Paradise Hotel—or what’s left of it, when it’s nothing but rubble at the foot of the mountain, burnt-black cinderblocks and the remains of thick wood beams that have crumbled into charcoal dust over...

  Almost a decade, right?

  Where does the time go?

  Nearly ten freaking years since this hotel became home, for a time, and a bit of a front for the atrocities I helped commit deep inside the catacombs of the mountain facility buried underground in the old silver mine.

  I don’t think time can erase my sins.

  Some things you can’t take back.

  Sometimes all you can do is move forward, one numb step at a time, and try to not look back...

  And let the years ease the raw edges into something smoother.

  Something manageable.

  I don’t want to feel my age.

  But I can’t help it when I look at Gray and Leo as they come flumping out of their vehicle, two big men forever made bigger by the hell they went through.

  They were practically babies when I first ensnared them in the mess of Galentron’s illicit biological weapons program.

  Now, here they are, grown and married with children of their own, but still so young and vital, a fire in their eyes that actually burns brighter than our last few encounters. I think they’re finally happy with their lives.

  God.

  Me? I’m just tired.

  I’m here for a reason, though, not just to socialize.

  And I wait while Leo digs into the inner pocket of that thick, bulky jacket the lunk still favors sometimes even though no one even blinks at his scars and wild mess of ink anymore.

  He’s become everyone’s favorite monster man in Heart’s Edge.

  The redeemed beast with a heart of gold, and that precocious little boy always clinging to his ankle. Being superdad to his son really adds to the gentle giant vibe, I guess.

  At least one of us came out of this with his name squeaky clean.

  Leo produces a slim thing that looks like a credit card—the latest in ultra-portable solid-state data storage, courtesy of none other than Galentron themselves.

  “Finally. I thought we’d be here all night,” I snap.

  He flicks the drive at me between two blunt fingertips, arching a ridged brow. “Here. This is everything we could find from the encrypted drives.”

  “And this will lead me to Rook?” I ask, plucking the drive from his fingers and tucking it inside my coat.

  Leo nods.

  Yep, I’m sweating. I don’t know why I decided suede was a good fabric for this weather. Early spring in the Pacific Northwest may be mild, but a true lady is never fond of sweating even in the lightest weather.

  Though I have to say, my black suede coat cuts a fabulous profile against my figure.

  Sweating or not, I’m doing it in style.

  I think my friends agree, considering the way their heads tilt in wonder and just a delicious
smidge of fear. After all we’ve been through saving their hometown, they still think the only reason I’d visit is to mess up their world. Again.

  Well, boys, not tonight.

  “You’re certain he hasn’t flown the coop?” I fold my arms, leveling my gaze on Leo. “So many of those chickenshit cowards tried fleeing the country as soon as the court orders hit. The company’s fall was so swift you’d think Enron happened in slow motion.”

  Leo nods. “Not yet. Tim Rook’s the only Galentron C-level exec they haven’t been able to track down, but Deanna Bell’s data had a ton of information on their escape paths, coded ways to contact each other in a crisis, what to do with their own core data backups. Turns out, all the C-level suits had a bug-out plan involving countries with no extradition treaties. They planned on staying mobile via yachts with long-term capacity to set sail.”

  I can’t hide a yawn. “So predictable. I should’ve known; it would’ve saved me a trip here.”

  “The part where it isn’t is the fact that Rook’s still out there. He wasn’t supposed to be a lone wolf when things went tits up for his buddies.” Leo smirks, shrugging, rolling his thick shoulders. “With the others in jail, Tim Rook’s best bet was to stay on one of those yachts. Lay low. Nothing that could leave a credit card trail or get him spotted, like on airport security or with chartered paths for a private jet. Don’t come back to shore unless it’s vital, till it’s either safe to surface or he can buy himself a new identity. Even on the black market, a wanted man as high profile as him will be radioactive for a while. Shouldn’t be any trouble for you to track him down.”

  “Yes, finding one untraceable yacht in the middle of the Pacific Ocean will be quite the walk in the park,” I bite off.