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Redemption - Anna Edwards
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Valor - Measha Stone
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Sorrow's Queen - Ashleigh Giannoccaro & Murphy Wallace
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Inexorable - Jo-Anne Joseph
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A Sneak Peek at Sorrow’s Queen
Sorrow
I hate New York, every part of it, the entire state can fuck right off the damn map. I cannot believe the little bitch has been hiding in Queens if her and her mother thought they’d be able to hide forever they’re fools. I’m like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out the fox I’m hunting. She’s running about town like there’s no one nipping at her heels, going to school and having her nails done. Naive. She’s being hunted, and I am sick of the chase. I hate being here, the minute I have her we are leaving this hell hole.
For the life of me, I can’t wrap my head around this job, what this girl has that Marcus King could possibly want. Other than probably her baby teeth and virginity I just don’t get it. He’s in his fifties, she turns eighteen in six weeks. There are other, much easier ways of catching a young wife — it’s not like he doesn’t have women throwing themselves at his feet already. Why make me chase the one that wants nothing to do with him halfway across the country? Ever heard of mail-order brides? You can get a real hottie from Russia that can’t talk back because she doesn’t know English. That would be easier than this.
My burner phone buzzes in the center console of the car, it can only be Arthur or one of my brothers.
Check on Gareth.
I’m in Queens trying to catch King’s future wife. Ask Lance to stop by. I type a quick reply.
The school bell just rang, signaling the end of the school day and I am not missing my chance to grab the little Queenie from Queens and get the fuck out of town.
The phone vibrates in my hand before I can put it down.
There’s a wedding in six weeks — she better be there. Do not let me down, Tristan.
There it is, the unspoken truth. Arthur is just waiting for me to fail him. One mistake and you’re on his list, his eyes on your every move. No room to mess up, I won’t do it again. Letting him down isn’t an option, I am going to prove myself to him.
I watch Queen Sophie as she exits the school gates, she turns left and heads right towards where I am parked just far enough away that no one will notice me. I have been watching her for two weeks, I know she will walk alone. Reading a book. She has no friends here — she’s not like these kids. Her plaid skirt is two inches too short, and the matching headband that keeps her raven locks off her pretty face makes her look like jailbait. She is jail bait. That Catholic school girl look might be what Marcus is after — bet your life if she wasn’t a kid or my mark, I’d push her up against a wall and have my way with her. Standing against my car now, the afternoon sun broiling me, I wait until she is two steps away, then I open the back door of my rented BMW. I made sure the child lock is on, so once she’s in she can’t get out again.
“Sophie,” I say stepping right in front of her, she crashes into me. I grab her wrist and before she can scream or kick up a fuss she’s in the car, and I’m slamming the door closed. People are so slow to realize when they’re in danger — when the predator is right beside them they still can’t smell it.
Her book falls into the dirty gutter water running beside my car, I don’t bother trying to save it. I need to move quickly before anyone sees us, or hears her. I get into the driver’s side of the car, and start it, quickly merging into the after school traffic. Sophie is screaming and banging on the glass partition between us. I chose a chauffeur car, for this exact reason. I don’t want to get all scratched up, those talons on her fingers would do some damage. She’s kicking the glass now like a maniac. It’s a long drive all the way across the country. We don’t fly with people we’ve kidnapped — it’s risky. We’re in for a twenty-one-hour drive without stopping, so the next two days will give her enough time cool off, or pass out. I turn up the music to drown out her wailing and get on the freeway. As soon as I know we’re not being followed, I pick up the burner phone and call Arthur.
“Tristan.” He greets me, in his usual flat tone. Not a hint of emotion in his voice. There’s no way to tell if he’s murderous or happy.
“I have the girl. She’s a bit feral, but it’s long drive she’ll have time to calm down.” I look in the mirror at her. “Should I expect trouble from the cops?”
“No, her family won’t report her missing. You should have clean sailing all the way here.”
“See you in two or three days.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He answers before cutting the call. She is no longer screaming like a banshee, instead, she is trying to murder me with her eyes. Her death glare is so cute it’s almost funny. I laugh at her in the mirror. The penny has obviously dropped, I watch her digging in her backpack for her phone. She can call anyone she wants, no one is coming to save her. This arrangement was made between her father and Marcus. She doesn’t get a choice, her parents will not step in and stop it, that would be suicide.
“Daddy.” I hear her cry into the phone. I turn the music down, listening to her side of the exchange.
“What’s going on? You told me that you’d fix this.” She sobs.
“He’s a sick old pervert.” Her voice rises an octave.
“I’ll kill myself. I’m telling you now. I will slit my wrists before I marry that wrinkly old bastard.” She listens for a few moments, her breaths heavy and ragged.
“I hate you! I fucking hate you!” She screams before hurling her phone against the glass that separates us. She cries now, the tantrum replaced with emotional sobs. They get under my thick skin, as I listen to her breaking. The problem with being born into the underworld is you have no choice, your family is a part of this. Her birthright was always to be promised to a powerful man to strengthen family ties. Her father just picked a really shitty one for her. The way her eyes beg me to save her plays into the small soft part of me that isn’t completely lost to what I do for a living. For a second I consider letting her get away, but that would be like signing my own death certificate. Not delivering is not an option.
Eventually, she lies down on the backseat, I can still hear her sniffling, but I can’t see her face. I take the chance, turn the music up again, and work on putting up the tall barriers around my emotions. There’s no room for feelings in this job, because if you have empathy for one person, how can you turn around and kill the next one. The afternoon turns into the haziness of dusk and soon the sun is gone completely. The streetlights and black sky calling me home, downing two energy drinks and shifting around in my seat. I settle myself to drive until we get to a designated motel for a quick rest.
* * *
My eyelids have been heavy for the last hundred miles, and the shitty pink motel sign is the most welcome sight in the early hours of the morning. We’ll stop here for a few hours of sleep, a shower and a hot breakfast. I park the car and flash my lights three times. After a few minutes, the desk clerk Larry comes out and hands me the key to room nine through the window.
“Sorrow. Haven’t seen you in these parts for years. I was surprised when they said it was you coming.” He says, smiling at me with his one missing front tooth and saggy eyelids.
“Good to see you, Larry,” I say taking the key. “You busy tonight? This one might make noise.”
“Only one room full and it's upstairs at the other end of the corridor. You should be good. If anyone complains I’ll deal with it.”
“Thanks, man,” I say.
“See you for breakfast then?” He asks me, shoving his hands in the pockets of his grubby jeans.
“Sure thing.” He nods and disappears back into his offic
e. I move the car so it’s parked right in front of room nine, out of sight of the road and passers-by. I know she’s awake, but she’s still laying down. I open the glass that separates us, just enough that I can talk to her.
“We’re stopping for the night. I’d really like if this wasn’t a fucking ordeal, so let’s go inside like civilized adults, please. No one will hear you scream and if you run I will shoot you. The caretaker is paid very well to turn a blind eye, so you’re not getting saved here. Think you can be a big girl and walk the three feet to the door?” She’s sitting up now, looking at me with tired, swollen eyes.
“If I say no?”
“Then I grab you, put you over my shoulder and drag you inside anyway.” She swallows, then licks her dry lips. “There’s no option where you win, there’s just an easy way and a hard way to do what I want.”
“I’m not going to do anything you want, so I guess there’ll be a lot of hard-way going on.”
Jesus, really? I would rather be doing anything than this job I swear.
“Fine.” I sigh.
About Measha Stone
USA Today Bestselling Author Measha Stone is a lover of all things erotic and fun who writes kinky romantic suspense and dark romance novels. She won the 2018 Golden Flogger award in two categories, Best Advanced BDSM and Best Anthology. She's hit #1 on Amazon in multiple categories in the U.S. and the U.K. When she's not typing away on her computer, she can be found nestled up with a cup of tea and her kindle.
Also By Measha Stone
EVER AFTER
Beast
Tower
Red
GIRLS OF THE ANNEX
Daddy Ever After
BLAIRE’S WORLD
Kristoff
OWNED AND PROTECTED
Protecting His Pet
Protecting His Runaway
His Captive Pet
His Captive Kitten
Becoming His Pet
BLACK LIGHT SERIES
Black Light Valentine Roulette
Black Light Cuffed
Black Light Roulette Redux
Black Light Suspicion
Black Light Celebrity Roulette
UNTIL SERIES
Until You a novella
Until Daddy
WINDY CITY
Hidden Heart
Secured Heart
Indebted Heart
Liberated Heart
Valor: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 16