1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020

by Fiona Archer

  And I’d finally escaped him. I’d do anything to stay free.

  “Evie?”

  How long had Joseph been standing in front of me, steaming mug in hand? “Sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse. I reached for the coffee. “Thank—”

  I barely held back the you. My gaze met Joseph’s, and there was that half grin, the one that melted all my resistance. “You’re learning,” he said, obviously amused.

  I brought the cup to my lips. “Gratitude is not a bad emotion,” I mumbled before I sipped.

  “No.” A finger rose to stroke the heat in my cheek. “But it’s not the one I’m interested in.”

  He pivoted, returning to the kitchen for his drink, leaving me flustered and confused. A minute later he was back. This time I chose the stiff armchair with the broken springs poking my ass, not the sunken couch.

  “We should call your family.”

  My throat closed tight. Joseph’s dark eyes narrowed on me.

  “Evie?”

  “There’s no family to call.”

  The words were strangled, but I managed to hold his gaze. It was the truth, after all. Stone had never been family.

  “A friend, then? Someone you can stay with until we get your car taken care of.”

  It was a rental, so I didn’t intend to take care of it. I glanced toward the front window and the rain continuing to pour. “If you’re okay with me staying tonight, I’ll get things situated tomorrow and be out of your hair.”

  Since it was well past midnight, I figured he’d say yes. I was wearing the man’s T-shirt and a pair of his boxers, for goodness’ sake. And trying not to think about how hot that was.

  Joseph stared a second longer, seeming to pry deep inside me, down to where all my secrets were kept. I willed myself to stillness, waiting, waiting, until finally he nodded. Took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll make up the bed.”

  The bed rang in my ears as I walked toward the kitchen. One bed. I couldn’t have hidden the blush that burned my cheeks if my life depended on it. The thought of being in a bed, the only bed, beside Joseph had things tightening in my belly that hadn’t tightened in a long time. Stone had been my first, my only, and though I’d never been in love with him, I’d respected him as my father’s friend, given myself willingly into his hands. Hands that were tender at first. Careful. It was only as time passed that I realized how much my husband hid—and how thorough his control over me had become.

  Sex had been a duty, not an anticipated pleasure. I had the feeling Joseph’s touch would feel far more like the latter.

  He made quick work of setting up the foldout couch. I sipped my coffee, gaze locked on his body as he moved with calm efficiency through what was obviously a routine. When he feathered out a single blanket over the mattress, then turned to me, a flutter started in my chest.

  “Come on.” He held out a hand. “You look dead on your feet.”

  Flattering. I dumped my coffee in the sink and walked toward him.

  “I’d offer to take the chair, but since you’ve sat in the damn thing, I know you understand why I don’t.” His fingers wrapped around mine, tightened, tugged me closer. “Don’t worry; you’re safe with me.”

  I’d thought my instincts were faulty before, but now I knew—they were definitely defective. They weren’t screaming Danger! No Remember the last man you trusted!

  I believed him.

  I wanted him. Maybe that was the problem. Except Joseph had saved my life; why would he hurt me now?

  I pulled back the covers and crawled onto the thin mattress, something feminine flowering open at the sharp intake of his breath as he caught a glimpse of my ass in his boxers. I didn’t look back as he stood at the edge of the bed, silent, unmoving, until I’d tucked myself beneath the sheet. Only then did he turn out the lights and join me.

  Heavy muscles pressed the mattress down. Heat swamped my side. I stared at the blackness of the ceiling and willed my breath to slow, willed myself to relax.

  With my body still, my mind started spinning. The remembered feel of rising water shook me.

  I almost died tonight. Minutes, inches between me and death. That’s all. Inches.

  I hadn’t been that afraid when I walked in on a murder, maybe because it happened too fast. But today…

  Joseph shifted beside me, his arm nudging mine. Tension knotted my stomach.

  Yeah, relaxing wasn’t going to happen.

  This time I shifted restlessly. Reached to rub the knot in my belly away. My elbow slid along the crisp hairs on Joseph’s arm. His muscles twitched against mine.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Held my breath. Made my decision.

  I’d almost died. I needed to forget, to find peace. And lying beside me was the only person I trusted right now.

  “Joseph?”

  * * * *

  Joseph —

  My eyes had adjusted to the dark. Rolling onto my side, I could see the curves of Evie’s body beneath the white sheet, the glint of moonlight in her open eyes staring up at me, but I couldn’t read them.

  Her voice was another matter. My cock firmed, and I fisted my hand where it lay at my hip. “Yeah?”

  She reached for me, drew back, reached again. Where the light hit, I saw her hand shake. “Can I… Would you…”

  The moment was here, and I wouldn’t have to make the first move. Didn’t have to be the dick. I shouldn’t be relieved about that. Pushing up on my elbow, I cupped her cheek, felt her blush, slid my fingers into those thick coffee-colored locks.

  And held her still for my kiss.

  Fuck. She was lightning in a bottle, a kick to the chest that stopped my breath. For a man like me, in the places I went, women were plentiful, and yet I couldn’t replace Evie with any one of them and not know the difference. Her taste, her touch, her scent… Unique. Soft, full lips parted beneath mine, allowing me into sacred places I wasn’t fit to enter. Coffee and sweetness met my tongue, and when she pushed shyly into my mouth, I started to sweat.

  This is not how it’s supposed to be. You’re in command. You take control. You aren’t affected—

  Even my conscience knew that idea had been fucked over with the first taste of her lips. It shut up and let me focus.

  Tentative hands met my pecs. My cock sat up and begged as they traveled down, down, down…but not far enough. Evie found the edge of my shirt and lifted, splaying her fingers across my bare skin. The touch shocked me out of my stupor, reminded me this was a job, nothing else. I ignored the whisper of denial and moved my hand to her waist.

  Her belly was soft, flat, the perfect cushion for a hard-as-steel erection. I trailed down to the waistband of my boxers, traced along the edge, feeling for a ridge that would indicate the presence of a flash drive.

  Nothing there.

  Scooping her against me, I tried again along her lower back.

  Nothing.

  The seams of the shirt held no lumps. I felt up her side, the nearness of her round breast and straining nipple threatening my concentration. Evie touched my hip, my back, before dipping beneath the waistband of my sweatpants.

  I growled into her mouth.

  Her T-shirt collar was clear. I gripped her nape, swallowed her moan, and rolled on top of her, freeing my other hand. Searched her other side as I nipped and licked and sucked at her lips.

  Nothing.

  Another growl, this one of frustration, escaped. I wanted to let go, wanted to focus on Evie beneath me, on her generous body, her sweet breath, the heat rising from between her legs. But not until I knew for sure. Tightening my grip, I tilted her head and bit down on the muscle along her neck, dug my hand beneath her pillow as her body arched, her core notching against my cock.

  A curse tore from my lips. My control shredded in an instant.

  Kneeling back, I yanked my shirt off. Evie’s got pushed up to her neck—no time for more. I zeroed in on the pale mounds and hard tips barely visible in the dark, then bent and took one into my mouth.

  Evie’s cry of
pleasure satisfied something inside me I hadn’t known was empty.

  I devoured her. I didn’t care if this was a job or if the job wasn’t finished. I didn’t care that she was married to a dangerous motherfucker who’d hired me to steal from her. I didn’t care about anything but the tight nipple throbbing against the roof of my mouth as I sucked her hard, the writhing of her body as she fought to get closer, the hot, slick feel of her pussy as it yielded to my fingers. All I cared about was her, beneath me, enveloping me, coming for me like she’d never come before.

  Tearing my mouth away was hell, but I knew heaven waited just beyond. I stared down into her eyes and pushed down my sweats, pulled aside her boxers. Nudged her wet core with my rock-hard cock.

  And froze.

  Moonlight glinted in her gaze, just like before. The same light glittered on tears tracking down her cheeks. “Evie?”

  “More, please.” She pushed into my hand. “More.”

  But her tears… I sucked in a breath, eased my hips back. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Please, Joseph…” Her nails dug into my biceps. “I want to feel good again. Just once, before tomorrow comes and all this disappears.”

  “All this?”

  She lifted her hips, stroked her mound along my cock, making me hiss. “Safety. Peace. Life.” Another stroke. “Please.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the yearning in her gaze. The innocence. Because she was innocent, and her husband…

  Holy shit, what had I done?

  “It’s all right.” I pushed to my elbows. “Evie—”

  With the suddenness of a gunshot, the door slammed open to slap against the wall. I dropped and rolled, taking Evie with me off the opposite side of the bed.

  The overhead light blinked on.

  “Evelyn!” Stone Maklyn roared.

  Evie lay, stunned, beneath my weight. I was already reaching for the gun I’d hidden beneath the couch.

  “Stand up, bastard,” Maklyn barked. “I hired you to find my wife, not fuck her.”

  I ignored the accusation and stood, adjusting my sweats as I went. Sliding my gun hand behind my back. “I found her.”

  Evie’s gasp drove a knife through my sternum.

  Maklyn stood over six feet, leanly muscular and coolly capable. Behind him, two goons in dark coats filled the entry. Three against one.

  “Up, Evelyn.”

  Evie moved slowly to her feet, smoothing her shirt down. Resignation flitted across her face, but it was the hurt in her eyes that killed me. I couldn’t explain, not now. It would have to wait—I needed to play along.

  “She doesn’t have the evidence on her,” I assured Maklyn.

  A bitter laugh came from Evie. “You thought this was about evidence?”

  Not anymore. “The flash drive—”

  Another laugh. Evie rubbed her eyes, and even though I had an idea what she was about to say, sick dread filled my stomach. She dropped her hand but refused to look at me. “There’s no evidence except what’s in my damn head. I’m a witness to a mob hit, the murder of the chief of police and one of his lieutenants. The only way to get rid of that evidence is to get rid of me.”

  Motherfucker.

  Maklyn’s smile was mean. “I told you, head down and legs open, Evelyn. Then this never would have happened.” He stepped closer, his goons following. The door closed. “As for you, Zamora”—the smile widened—“you deserve whatever you have coming. Always assume you’re being followed; you should know that. Always have backup.” His arm rose, the Beretta in his hand pointed at me.

  I let my own smile escape. “I do, Maklyn. Always plan for a double cross.”

  I definitely had, which was why when I raised a hand, the front window shattered, a dark figure breaking through. A million pieces of glass sprayed through the air. Maklyn jerked his head around—and that was the mistake I needed. I fired before my backup landed inside the room.

  Maklyn grunted, eyes dropping to the neat hole in his chest. His gaze came up, focused on me.

  I took my second shot. Double tap: chest, head.

  The dark figure turned on Maklyn’s goons. I rushed Evie, scooping her up and into the kitchen, forcing her down behind the cover of the fridge, then hurried to help. Rhys didn’t need me. Three bodies littered the floor, and my friend was wiping his knife on his pants leg, a scowl on his face.

  “Thanks for the backup.”

  He grunted, and I knew we’d have a convo about this later. First he jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “She all right?”

  “Evie.”

  She peeked out tentatively, eyeing Rhys from the top of his red hair to the bottom of his muddy boots.

  “Evie, this is a friend, Rhys Bryant. Don’t worry; he’s a good guy.” Would she ever think the same about me? “Rhys, Evie.”

  “Ma’am.”

  Evie moved closer.

  Rhys glanced at the bodies. “We’ll have some explaining to do, but not before we get our stories straight.” He nodded toward the door. “It’s the middle of the night and water’s rising. If we hurry, the bridge near our compound won’t be gone before we get there. What d’ya say?”

  I frowned. “Give us a sec?”

  Rhys left the cabin.

  Evie was staring at her dead husband, arms wrapped tight around herself. “You knew he was following me.”

  Not for certain, but… “I always assume the worst.”

  Her gaze locked on mine. “You planned for this, to stop him.”

  “I plan for everything, Evie. Finding the target I was paid to find. Retrieving evidence I wasn’t sure existed. Stopping a client intent on murder.” I stared into that deep blue gaze and peeled back a layer I’d never shown anyone else. “But I didn’t plan on you.”

  “Me?”

  “You.” I held out my hand, surprised to see she wasn’t the only one trembling. Everything I never thought I’d want depended on the next few moments. “Come with me, Evie. You’ll be safe at Rhys’s. Safe with me.” I swallowed hard. “Give me a chance to show you.”

  She stared at my hand for the longest time, and every last shred of hope that had risen in me died away. Then, “I thought I was supposed to die tonight.”

  I waited, unmoving.

  “Maybe death wasn’t what fate had in mind.”

  “Fuck that,” I growled. “Fate brought me to you, and it wasn’t a mistake. Come with me and I’ll prove it.”

  Another minute, another sixty slams of my desperate heart. Evie took one step, two. She grasped my hand, searched my face, then nodded. “I’ll come, Joseph. And I expect you to.”

  The kiss was a must before we walked into the night together.

  Copyright 2020 Ella Sheridan

  About Ella Sheridan

  Thank you for reading ASSASSIN’S FATE! Evie and Joseph are part of Ella Sheridan’s dark suspense ASSASSINS series:

  ASSASSIN’S MARK

  ASSASSIN’S PREY

  ASSASSIN’S HEART

  ASSASSIN’S GAME

  You can also check out Ella’s romantic suspense series, SOUTHERN NIGHTS and SOUTHERN NIGHTS: ENIGMA, as well as contemporary romance series, on her Bookshelf page here.

  * * * *

  Ella Sheridan never fails to take her readers to the dark edges of love and back again. Strong heroines are her signature, and her heroes span the gamut from hot rock stars to alpha bodyguards and everywhere in between. Ella never pulls her punches, and her unique combination of raw emotion, hot sex, and action leave her readers panting for the next release.

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  Prince of Seattle

  by

  Fiona Archer

  Chapter One

  Kayla Stewart’s lungs burned, the air trapped too long as dread and excitement waged war inside her for first place. She was here with him. Gabriel Prince. Seated opposite her in his living room. Sitting in a solid oak and tan leather armchair, she tried not to fidget under the long, measured stare of his brilliant blue gaze.

  To escape Gabriel’s scrutiny, Kayla glanced to her left at Adam Justice, her boss at Justice Security. He’d insisted she attend this morning’s meeting at Gabriel’s house. The big ex-commando was finishing an urgent call.

  Kayla gave in to the overwhelming compulsion and returned her gaze to the man who was Justice Security’s latest client.

  The two endless years since she’d last seen Gabriel evaporated in seconds.

  He hadn’t changed a bit since the day they’d stood silent beside each other and buried Max, her beloved brother and Gabriel’s best friend since childhood.

  The short waves of Gabriel’s black hair were roughly finger-combed back, as if any wayward strands of hair falling on his forehead annoyed him. The strong, angular jaw and firm line of his mouth suited his broad features. Tall and athletic, his muscled frame was well-matched for the overly large chunky wooden furniture of Gabriel’s open-plan living area. And that snug fit of his gray Henley? Lord, it emphasized his wonderfully broad chest to perfection. How often in her teenage years had she longed to feel the bunching muscles of his shoulders? Or ached for the thrill of having his powerful arms wrapped around her?

  Max, four years older and uber protective, had been her idol. Gabriel, the same age as Max, charming and confident, her crush. No, her…first love. The man she’d fantasized about marrying when she graduated college.