by JA Lafrance
“What? But Penny—and my arm is…”
“Just fucking do as I say!” Her tone was harsh and cold; the demeanor of callous leader slipping into place.
“O—okay, Shea—” She cut him off by hanging up, not having any more time to waste. She quickly dialed Fabrizio’s number, not caring that Atticus was now standing in front of her in a pair of low slung jeans he’d tugged on hastily.
“It’s me. Gather a small group of men and get to my place now. They’ve taken Penny. No harm is to come to Henry,” she ordered.
“Fuck,” Fab burst out, already shouting orders to whoever was in the room with him.
“Got it?”
“Got it. Be there in ten.”
She ended the call and met Atticus’s bewildered eyes. Not wanting to deal with him, she spun on her heel, hurrying towards the front door. She snagged her purse off the main hall floor where she’d clearly dropped it in her sexual haze. She came up short, suddenly remembering that she didn’t drive to his house.
“Goddamn it!” she shouted, fear starting to cause her to become unhinged. If they harmed one hair on Penny’s head…
Atticus caught up with her and gripped her by the shoulders, spinning her to face him. “What the hell is going on? Someone has your daughter?”
“Yes. I need your car.”
“Where’s my phone? I’ll call the Captain and get him over there now.” He moved away from her, scanning the living room.
She grabbed his arm. “No. I don’t need cops, I need your car.”
“Shea, you’re in shock. We’ll call the police and they’ll help us,” he said carefully, as though he was speaking to a child himself.
Shea’s threadbare hold on her control snapped. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do. I don’t need your help with this and I definitely don’t need the goddamn cops sniffing around my business. I’ll take care of this,” she barked.
Atticus was shocked. She was almost unrecognizable to him now; gone was the innocent, charming woman he was used to and in her place was a cold, almost brutal new version. Somehow, he found her basically savage state sexy as hell. He gave his head a shake, now was not the time for such thoughts.
“Let’s go. I’ll drive you home; you shouldn’t be driving right now.”
She stared hard at him, chest heaving, eyes wild. He could tell she had more fight in her, that she was barely keeping her rage in check. He was half convinced she was about to take a swing at him, when she finally relaxed slightly.
“Fine.”
Once in the car, Shea kept her nose in her phone, texting furiously. He noticed a tear escape from one eye and his heart broke. She was barely hanging on, not even realizing she was crying.
“Tell me what’s going on. I can help. You just have to trust me,” he pleaded.
Maybe it was his tone of voice, maybe it was her emotions getting the best of her, or just the damn fear clouding her judgement. However, against her better judgement, she did want to trust him, to let him in on her deception; her double life. At this point, what could it hurt?
“My father was Joe Benza.”
Atticus sucked in a breath. He’d thought maybe she was the survivor of some sort of abusive relationship, maybe owed someone money, something along those lines. But to learn her father was the most notorious crime lord their province had ever seen? There’s no way he could have possibly guessed that truth.
“Wow. Um, well that must have been an interesting childhood,” he said lamely, unsure of how to proceed.
She rolled her eyes. Clearly she was going to have to spell it out for him. “My father protected me, no one knew I was his daughter. A fact that has been crucial for me now dealing with his death.” They rolled to a stop at a red light and she looked him dead in the eye; not showing even a slight amount of cowardice. “Atticus, I took over my father’s business.”
The silence that filled the space between them after her admission could have stretched on for miles. “You…” he trailed off. “You’re…” he swallowed audibly. What the fuck? She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d admitted she liked to dress up as a chicken and do the moonwalk after sex.
Her phone rang before he could formulate any type of response. “Yeah?” she answered, rubbing a hand over her face. Worry was evident in her movement and he had to remind himself that a child’s life was at stake. “Got it. On my way.” Hanging up the phone she ordered him to turn the car around.
“They reached out to my men. They’ve got her at my club,” she told him, her vulnerability now non-existent. She was clearly pissed.
“Look, Shea, I really think we need to bring in the authorities. If anything was to happen to Penny…”
“Bite your fucking tongue,” she snapped. “You think I can’t take care of my own daughter? You think I can’t handle this situation? You need a wake up call as to just who the hell I am. I’m Joe Benza’s daughter. He might have left behind a legacy, but I assure you, I am the goddamn legend in this scenario. I’m the one to fear. These fuckers will regret crossing me.”
She had no idea how much she sounded like her father in that moment; but Atticus did. He’d had a few run-ins with Joe in his time and always had to admire the way he handled his business.
Arriving at the club, Shea was out of the car before he could try to talk some sense into her. Catching up with her at the door, he grabbed her hand. “Get off me!” she cried.
“Just wait. Wait just a fucking minute, would you? You have no idea what you’re walking into.” He stiffened as cold, hard steel was suddenly pressed at the back of his neck.
“I suggest you take your hands off my boss before she’s wearing your brains as a hat,” a man’s voice warned him.
“Fab. Stand down, I got this.”
The man kept the gun on him for several seconds longer than necessary, finally obeying her order with a grumble. Facing him, they two regarded each other with open contempt. Fab passed a menacing looking piece to Shea, and Atticus’s eyes widened when she expertly checked the clip, took the safety off and tucked it into the back of her jeans.
“Stay here,” she told him and he thought she’d lost her mind.
“Like fuck I’m waiting here while you go in there,” he said. She ignored his outburst and instead nodded to another man that was built like a tank. When he approached, obviously intending to physically restrain him from entering the building, he gave up. “Fine, I’ll wait here for five minutes. But no longer.” He only gave in as he wanted to make sure she had as much backup as possible. He grabbed her again and tugged her to his side, planting a hard kiss on her lips. “Be careful.”
Leaving him behind to stew in his male ego ridiculousness while ignoring the looks of shock from her men, Shea entered the club cautiously. She spotted Penny right away, playing quietly in the center of the stage with a few of her dolls. Heart racing, she rushed forward, ignoring the pleas from her men to wait.
“Penny!” Reaching her side, she snatched her daughter in her arms and let the tears fall. Relief washed over her as she sent a quick prayer of thanks up that she wasn’t harmed. “Are you okay?” She looked her over from head to toe, searching for any apparent injuries.
“Mommy, I’m fine, but you wrecked my game!” Penny accused, frowning spectacularly. “Maybe that man will let me play with his toy now,” she wondered. Shea glanced in the direction she was looking, spotting the three men surrounding them with guns trained on her daughter.
Oh, how they were going to pay.
“Maybe later. Right now, I want you to go with Fab in the back. He brought you something special.”
Fab obeyed without argument, though she imagined it was difficult for him to leave her side. Once they were out of sight, she drew her own weapon and took aim.
“I don’t know who the fuck you degenerates are, but what I do know is you’ve made a grave error. If you think I’ll be merciful because I’m a female, you’re dreaming. I’ll be dancing on your remains when this is over,” s
he promised darkly.
The shorter of the three men, shifted uncomfortably. “You take us out and you’ll be bringing a shitstorm down on yourself,” he warned.
Shea laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, that shitstorm is already here.”
“You’re right, it is,” a familiar voice called out from behind her.
Turning in a slow circle, she came face to face with Atticus, less than a foot away. She had a moment to be furious he’d disobeyed her until she noticed he had a gun trained on her.
“What?” she spat out, not comprehending what was going on.
“Boss! What’s your orders?” the short man asked.
“Boss?” she repeated. Slowly, the pieces started to fall into place. He’d been shocked by her admission in the car, but not disgusted in the way she’d expected. He was on scene at every crime scene; and as mayor he had access to information that no one else did.
“You aren’t the only one deceiving people, it appears. I guess that’s why we’re so drawn to each other,” he told her. “We’re a lot more alike than we thought.”
“Motherfucker,” she swore, training her gun on him. “So, now what? You’re going to kill my daughter? Take me out?”
He frowned. “Your daughter never should have been taken. That was a mistake.” He moved his gun over her left shoulder and fired once, hitting the short man square between the eyes. He dropped to the floor in a heap. “I offer my apologies for that insult,” he said, gesturing to the dead man behind her. “We got intel that Joe had a granddaughter. I had no idea it was Penny. I was in the process of digging deeper to find what I thought was his secret son, when my men got the harebrained idea to take matters into their own hands. I didn’t want any of this, Shea.”
As much as he was a liar, so was she. And for some stupid reason, she believed his words. However, believing him didn’t solve the problem in front of them. Their identities had been exposed, their secrets spilled out into the open. In their line of work, discretion was key and learning who they both were was a fuck up neither of them could afford.
Simultaneously, they raised their weapons once more, taking aim at each other. Shea breathed heavy, ignoring the shouts of the men around them as each of their crews fought with each other.
“I don’t want this, Shea. Just drop your gun. Fuck, please just drop it.” His handsome face was twisted in pain, as he struggled. He truly did care for her and hated the situation they were both in.
“I can’t do that,” she whispered. Her own heart constricted in her chest. She’d been ready to fall for this man, and now...well now their fate was destined to have a different ending.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes, sweat broke out on her brow and the room started to spin. This was it, the moment she was going to die. At least, in her final moments, she was proud of how far she’d come. Of how she’d honoured her father and raised her daughter with love. Her cover might have been blown, but at least she’d die as her true self and not as the person she pretended to be.
“Shea…”
The loud bang of gunfire interrupted whatever Atticus was going to say and then everything went black. A fitting end to the legacy she’d fought so hard to maintain. If nothing else, she’d managed to ensure hers and her father’s name would never be forgotten.
Epilogue
Several small birds chirped as they flew over the cemetery, a lovely tribute on a day of sorrow. Penny tugged on her braids, trying to pull the binds free. The minister had a sour look on his face as he spoke, and she wanted to ask him if he needed a hug to cheer up. Hugs always cheered her up, or maybe he needed a new dolly to play with.
All around her adults were crying, passing tissues back and forth. Penny didn’t know why everyone was so sad. She had a new dress and shoes on and Henry told her after they would be having cake.
“Penny, stop fussing,” her mommy scolded her. Frowning, she obeyed, leaving her braids be.
Shea stood still as a stone at the site that would be Atticus’s final burial spot. The funeral itself was surreal; she was torn between heartbreak and satisfaction that her business was in tact.
“And so...it is with great sadness we say our final goodbye to Atticus Ellison, here, in his final resting place. Mr. Ellison, as is evident by the turnout today; you were very loved and respected. Truly a great man taken from us too soon.”
Shea felt a twinge of guilt at the minister’s words, but shoved it aside. She’d done what needed to be done. It was either kill or be killed in her line of work, and she’d been raised to be a survivor. Her daughter needed her, dying prematurely wasn’t a fate she would allow to happen.
Placing a rose on Atticus’s casket, she closed her eyes and pictured him as she always wanted to remember him; running his hands over her body, driving them both towards ecstasy. Their story was epic; legendary and one that would live on in her memory even though he couldn’t. His death had secured her place of power in their industry and for that, she’d always be grateful.
“Goodbye, Atticus.”
Across the green field, concealed in the shelter of an unmarked van, the man loaded his sniper rifle. He sighted his mark, a beautiful brunette, took aim and waited for the perfect moment to make the kill. They’d never expect the hit; making revenge all the more sweet.
After all, what’s the fun when you can see the ending coming?
About Cassia Brightmore
Cassia Brightmore is a Canadian dark romance author. She loves writing dark stories with twisted characters that she hopes will thrill the reader as well as make them fall in love.
She loves hockey, video games and online shopping. If she's not writing or editing, you can usually find her doing one of these things. Writing is her passion and publishing her first book as an indie author was truly a dream come true.
http://www.cassiabrightmoreauthor.com
[email protected]
Handcuffs & Stethoscopes: Beat of My Heart
Crystal St. Clair, Edits donated by Maria Vickers
Handcuffs & Stethoscopes: Beat of My Heart
Prologue
A woman walked by Jessa, lightly tugging her child’s sleeve so he’d stop picking his nose and finish his blue lollipop. Jessa laughed and looked away from the scene to her radio just in time to answer a call. The dispatcher announced that a call had come in from a grocery store nearby. She slipped a letter into a mailbox then raced to her patrol car.
Turning on the sirens, she sped to the location directed on her monitor. The store wasn’t too far from where Jessa delivered her letter, but the situation required her to sound her sirens due to traffic. She needed people out to stay out of her way.
She pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, and the cars in the exit lanes yielded to her, allowing her to park in the nearest space available. Everyone seemed more concerned with where Jessa was going rather than where they were going. She shut off her sirens, then stepped out of her vehicle and noticed an unusual silence. A line-up of people waited outside to get into the grocery store, but it didn’t look full inside. After Jessa and her partner secured the scene and made sure no one was in danger, she returned to the queue of customers.
Jessa figured the civilians couldn’t wait to gossip about the incident, so she took their statements. Someone who was standing in the outdoor line-up answered their phone and swiped their call on speaker—someone ready to jump to conclusions and gossip, of course. Jessa had to be careful about what she said when she asked them to get off of their phones; she could not state any evidence that may or may not be useful to the case and filing charges. Bystanders were almost as bad as the press with their news spreading, reporting half of the story, telling others they want to hear rather than the full truth.
Back inside the store, there was one male standing on the other side of the counter from the clerk. He looked to be in his late twenties to mid-thirties, short black hair and brown eyes, six foot one, built, and clean-shaven. Inspecting everything more closely, Jessa searched
around the small storefront and into the staff room behind the sliding door that was left half-way open. He and the clerk were the only two in the store while others remained outside.
The female clerk, who wasn’t much shorter than Jessa, had short blonde hair a few tints darker than Jessa’s and bright blue eyes. The woman couldn’t stop fidgeting with her hands, and she shook from probably shock and nerves, which were caused by the situation. Still, she attempted to remain calm from behind the counter. Her black uniform appeared tidy, but her chest didn’t display a name tag like it should. Chrissy, she stated when Jessa questioned her. Unfortunately, Chrissy didn’t have much information beyond that, she just kept repeating that there was a disturbance. No items were broken on the floor. The glass from the freezers was so clean that Jessa could see herself and the handsome gentleman’s reflections through them. Jessa had encountered her fair share of sexy criminals in her police career, so she knew how not to get distracted by falling into their dreamy eyes, perfect lips, and muscles that were smooth and pulled his t-shirt taut.
Nobody was harmed, but apparently, a strange man ran into the store while claiming to have a bloody nose due to an altercation with a friend, who had threatened to steal his credit cards after he treated his friend to lunch and a few beers. After Chrissy ran to retrieve a Kleenex for him, she then watched the stranger wipe his blood from a scab on the side of his nose. The situation felt off for her when she realized blood wasn’t coming from the inside of his nose like she thought. For the customers’ sake, the clerk cleaned up a few drops of blood from the floor and convinced the stranger he was safe. She then called him a taxi. Customers continued to shop during the incident, and from the interviews, it seemed to Jessa that the clerk kept calm during the entire situation.