Welcome Today's Featured Author
D.L. Raver!!!
Synopsis
Warning: Don't read this book if you hate f**ked up alpha males, strong female leads, hot sex, and a kismet love story six years in the making. Oh yeah and a plot twist that will leave you reeling.
NFL quarterback, Zolt Hamil was America’s heartthrob until a career ending injury changed his life. Years later, he’s picked up the pieces and carved out a new path for himself. But the mental and physical scars of that day have left him moody and reclusive, and his only relief is indulging in pleasure and pain with his many one night stands. Though many women have tried, Zolt refuses to care about any of them. Only one woman has his heart; a hallucination of a young, sable-eyed, blonde beauty whom he conjured that painful day on the football field.
On the first day at his new job at a law firm in Scottsdale, Arizona, Zolt comes face to face with his hallucination, Irelyn Wilkes. Their fateful connection, and explosive passion for each other pulls them together, and this time, Zolt refuses to let her slip from his life.
But Irelyn has her own demons to fight and her controlling boyfriend is one of them. He doesn't take kindly to other people playing with his toys, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep her by his side.
Can Irelyn and Zolt defy the odds and find a way to be together? Or, will the events set in motion years ago keep them apart forever?
NFL quarterback, Zolt Hamil was America’s heartthrob until a career ending injury changed his life. Years later, he’s picked up the pieces and carved out a new path for himself. But the mental and physical scars of that day have left him moody and reclusive, and his only relief is indulging in pleasure and pain with his many one night stands. Though many women have tried, Zolt refuses to care about any of them. Only one woman has his heart; a hallucination of a young, sable-eyed, blonde beauty whom he conjured that painful day on the football field.
On the first day at his new job at a law firm in Scottsdale, Arizona, Zolt comes face to face with his hallucination, Irelyn Wilkes. Their fateful connection, and explosive passion for each other pulls them together, and this time, Zolt refuses to let her slip from his life.
But Irelyn has her own demons to fight and her controlling boyfriend is one of them. He doesn't take kindly to other people playing with his toys, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep her by his side.
Can Irelyn and Zolt defy the odds and find a way to be together? Or, will the events set in motion years ago keep them apart forever?
Chapter #1
I ran my hand along her naked arm as I moved toward the bindings that had her securely fastened to my wrought iron, four-poster bed. She’d been tethered there for over thirty minutes, and now that the sex was over, I imagined her arms and legs were probably beginning to ache as the adrenaline left her body.
Miss No-Name Brunette rubbed her arms and legs after I released her. I didn’t need or want to know her name. I’d never see her again so what was the point.
She watched me gather my clothes; her eyes roaming appreciatively over my body.
“So, John, when can I see you again? You’re amazing.” She licked her plump lips as her eyes traveled over my naked body, stopping when she noticed the nasty scars on my left shin. Small gray eyes darted to mine, and I saw the pity setting in. Pity was a deal breaker for me.
“We can’t,” I said and threw her clothes on the bed.
“Why?” Her bottom lip jutted out in disappointment. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself? You seemed to be having a great time.”
“It was fine, uh—”
“Nancy. My name is Nancy.”
I shrugged. “Right. Nancy. I don’t do repeat performances. Ever.”
“But—”
“Don’t take it personally. It’s just the way things are.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she scowled at me. Then, she climbed off the bed and pulled on her clothes. “I don’t understand. Are you married or something?”
“Nope. Not married or anything else that concerns you. I’m just not interested. Tonight was great. Really. I enjoyed the shit out of myself. Fucking you was exactly what I needed. Thanks.”
“How am I supposed to get home? I left my car at the club,” she whined.
“There’s a cab waiting to take you anywhere you want. I’ve already paid the fare.” I shrugged again. This was the bothersome part of operating this way. They always wanted to see me again, and my answer was always no.
“I should have known when you wouldn’t kiss me there was something wrong with you. I bet your name isn’t even John. Do you even live here?” Whatever-her-name yanked on her shoes, and then stood with her arms crossed over her chest.
“No, I don’t live here. And, darlin’, my name is whatever you want it to be.”
“Asshole.”
“Come on, now. We both had fun.” I flashed her my megawatt smile. “I’m pretty sure you came at least three times. It’s all good, and now, it’s all over.”
I walked to her side and gently took her arm, guiding her to the door.
“But I let you restrain me!” She stamped her foot as I opened the front door.
“You did and wasn’t it fun? Maybe you can find a man that will be as adventurous. Now, off you go, Sally. Bye, bye.”
“Nancy!” she shouted as I closed the door on her. I could still hear grumbling as she walked away.
“Ugh.” Leaning against the door, I let out a long sigh. It would be a while before I could go back to that club. Too bad it ended the same every time. But I understood why. Women saw me as a catch. I knew I was attractive. It wasn’t conceit, either. It was a fact of life that all men of the Hamil family were hot.
My first year in the NFL, I was on the cover of Sports Illustrated as the Sexiest Man in Football. That cover, and the other endorsements I had, made me a nice amount of cash, so I was totally good with being an object of desire. Since they didn’t really know me, they didn’t know that I was nowhere as attractive on the inside.
I went back to the bedroom, washed and put the toys away, locking the drawer. Then, I stripped the bed, piling the sheets on the floor for the maid service to take care of.
I left, not knowing when I'd come back. Could be the following day. Could be two weeks from now. But tonight, I’d been out of fucking control—chomping at the bit to blow off some steam. In fact, I still hummed with energy.
Fuck!
My shadow-self pressed in on me for days. When I got like this, only one thing helped: acting out. So, I’d gone to the club in search of the first remotely available Nancy, Sally, or whoever, that didn’t revolt me. Nancy had been an easy mark. I hadn’t been there ten minutes before I’d bought her a drink, and we were out the door, heading to the apartment I kept specifically for this purpose. I was always happy when I found a woman willing to dabble in a little bondage. I wasn’t heavily into the BDSM scene, but knew how to wield pain for the ultimate pleasure.
If I stopped and thought about it, I’d be forced to acknowledged just how screwed up my life had become. So I didn't. I didn't think about all the nameless women I had fucked in the last six years, and how I hadn't been in a relationship since the injury. These exchanges served a purpose. Beyond that? Well, there was nothing beyond that.
But that didn’t mean I had become so jaded I’d forgotten how to get a woman off. I enjoyed women. Loved the soft curves of their body, and loved making them come. There was nothing hotter than watching a woman writhe and squirm as I fucked her closer to orgasm. The sound of her screaming what she thought was my name was music to my ears, but that was as far as it went.
The reality was, I was a mess, and I didn't want that advertised.
Actually, I was far worse than just a mess; I was fucking broken.
Sometimes, I wondered if I was even capable of having a normal relationship. Truth was, I waited for someone that didn't exist. A woman my pain-wracked brain conjured that day on the football field. To make matters worse, she wasn’t even of age. She was a young woman, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with the most beautiful sable-brown eyes and blonde hair I’d ever seen. Her face was sweet, kind, and compassion filled. I realized how creepy this sounds. I wasn't a sick fuck who preyed on young girls, and I had no idea why my mind created her. But all I knew was, if I ever discovered she was real, I’d do anything to have her.
I rubbed my aching leg, and then climbed into my Viper. God, I loved this car. She was all power and beauty, and driving her made me happy. I revved the engine and closed my eyes, loving the purr, and sometimes roar of her V10.
Once on route 101, I opened her up, pushing her past the century mark on the speedometer. It was crazy to be weaving in and out of traffic on the main freeway. I was asking to be pulled over, but again, I didn't care. In fact, I pressed her harder and watched as the needle climbed to 110. The concentration it took to control this machine exhilarated me. Still wound up and looking to banish my shadow-self the only way I knew how, I pushed her just a little more. Why fucking for over an hour didn’t do the trick, I had no idea. But if I didn’t burn this energy off before I got home, sleep would be out of reach. It wouldn’t do to start a new job at one of the country’s most prestigious law firms red-eyed and tired. Once home, I intended to take a long, hot shower, and then smoke a few bowls. Hopefully, I’d emerge tired enough to sleep. For a while, maybe I’d find peace until the nightmare returned that plunged me into my own personal hell.
A hell that I was used to. A hell that only she brought me out of.
The morning announced itself in its usual fashion. I jolted awake screaming, and drenched in sweat—the images as clear as the day they happened.
“Fuck!” I yelled to the empty room.
Pushing myself back against the headboard, I rubbed my leg, trying to make the pain go away. The image of her lovely face and those amazing sable-brown eyes chased the nightmare away, but my body still buzzed with the memories.
I looked over at the bong and lighter on my bedside table and sighed. Just once, I wished I didn’t have to numb myself to start the day.
Before giving in, I ran my hand over my damp collar-length hair, removing the waves sticking to my moist neck. I used to keep it short for this very reason, but I liked the way it looked longer.
As I always did, I picked up the bong and lit the bowl with the lighter. The glow of the burning weed, and the sound of the bong gurgling as I took a hit immediately calmed me. I inhaled deep and held the smoke in my burning lungs.
My long exhale sent a plume of smoke into the dawn-lit room. It floated for a second before dissipating, leaving behind the tangy smell of burning weed.
With my eyes closed, I slowed my heart rate and rapid breathing. The high kicked in, and I already felt the calm take over. I hated being so weak, and hated that what happened almost six years ago continued to affect and define my days. I used to be the epitome of discipline. Not anymore.
If I could let go of the self-blame, then maybe the dreams would abate. But night after night, I replayed the game and its never changing end.
At twenty-two, I had been one of the hottest quarterbacks in the NFL, playing for the Arizona Cardinals. The year prior, we’d made it to the NFC Championships, losing by a field goal.
The next year, we were back in the same position, with the golden ticket to the Super Bowl within our reach. The only thing standing in our way was the Philadelphia Eagles. I snarled as I thought about that team. I always snarled at the thought of them.
Two minutes remained on the clock, and we were on the ten-yard line on third down. I dropped into the pocket, searching the field for an open receiver. I danced this way and that as if my movements might slow the clock. With no receiver available, I sucked in a breath and decided to go for it. What I should have done was thrown it out of bounds and stopped the clock. That would have been the smart move—the safe move. We had one more chance. I had to make it happen. The year had to end in a run for the Super Bowl.
Running like a man on fire with the ball cradled against me as if I carried a newborn baby, I headed for the end zone. But I wasn't a running back, that wasn't what I had been trained for. Stupidly, I ran with my head down instead of up. As a result, I didn’t see the three-hundred pound linebacker heading my way. I was the man with the ball, and I had left the protection of my offensive line, which made me fair game.
The next thing I knew, I was laid out on the ground in extreme pain. When I looked down at my left leg, I was surprised—and not—to see it angled in an unnatural position. I knew then that I was well and truly fucked.
I tried to scream, but my voice failed me. Pain and the smell of the turf below me was all there was.
The hit was dirty, straight up. Later, I found out a bounty of $5,000 had been issued for any player that took out one of my knees. I hoped he got a bonus because he’d gone above and beyond his mandate. Not only did I miss a season, my football career was over. Instead of taking out my knee, his helmet, and the power behind it, he hit my shin and shattered my tibia and fibula.
I remembered lying on the ground as the trainers and medical staff attended me. Chaos had broken out around me. Players fought, and coaches and referees argued.
I needed to find peace from the commotion; needed to concentrate on something other than the excruciating pain coming from my leg. I turned my head and found a pair of big, sable-brown eyes, surrounded by golden-blonde hair, staring at me. She was beyond beautiful, and her eyes were mesmerizing. I had conjured an angel.
In my hallucination, we shared an instant connection. When all around I saw pity and remorse, in her eyes, I found solace and compassion—a kindred soul to my loss. The need to help, and her inability not to, showed in the tears falling down her face, and the trembling of her full red lips. My heart still clenched whenever I thought about it.
As conjurings go, I had created a whopper. When I thought back on it, I knew there was no way she could be real. The average person wouldn’t have been allowed to get so close to an injured player on the field. Hell, my girlfriend, who’d been sitting in the stands, wasn’t allowed on the field. It still baffled the shit out of me that my mind had created such a vivid image.
I could still see her brushing tears from her eyes in my hallucination, and I remember her taking a small step forward. I wanted her to come closer, to touch me. That was where the hallucination ended, stopped by a new streak of pain that had traveled through my leg, sending me into momentary blackness. When I opened my eyes, my blonde-haired beauty with soul-filled eyes had disappeared. All I had left was the image of her that pulled me from my terror every morning. I figured she’d probably be around twenty or twenty-one by now if she were real. I’d admit, that even today, I looked for those eyes in every blonde I encountered.
Pathetic. Yeah. Too fucking pathetic.
I sighed and took two more hits off the bong. Maybe one too many, but at least now I felt more balanced, controlled, and ready to start the day.
What the world saw now was a man who graduated from Harvard Law School, summa cum laude, and worked for almost three years at a top law firm in Boston. Some of the country's top law firms had courted me, and I had my pick of firms. But I decided to come back to Arizona, the place where my life changed forever.
Gingerly, I climbed out of the bed and headed for the pool. I didn’t bother putting on swim trunks; swimming naked was awesome. After a few stretches, I dove into the pool and swam laps for an hour. Swimming kept me in shape, though not the shape of an NFL football player. Those days were gone.
Finishing my laps, I headed for the shower, feeling excited, like something huge would happen today. The last time I had this feeling, something huge happened all right. I looked at my leg and scowled as sudsy water washed over my angry scars.
I dried off and walked into my closet, surveying the suits I had to choose from. I was somewhat of a clotheshorse—always had been. Today, I picked a black Hugo Boss suit, white shirt, and black, silk tie. In the mirror before me, I watched a professional, seemingly together man tie his tie. It was a lie of course, but one I was used to.
Once dressed, I went to the kitchen and packed up a brownie in a plastic bag to take with me. I'd gotten good at baking brownies. But these weren't just any chocolaty treats. These had a kick. Cliché I know, but hey, whatever got me through the day. Whether I’d partake in it depended on how the day went. Obviously, smoking at work wasn’t a good idea. But every now and then, the pain became unbearable. If a handful of ibuprofen didn’t do the trick, the brownie would. I refused to take pain meds. Those things did a number on my brain.
I put the brownies away, and all the paraphernalia of my coping mechanism, and locked them in a cabinet in the pantry. I didn't need Hannah, my housekeeper, finding them. She probably wouldn't care, but I did.
Thinking of Hannah made me laugh. I'd only met her twice, but we had developed an odd, sometimes hilarious, texting relationship. I really liked her. Her cooking was amazing, and she kept my home perfect.
Her work was about to increase, and I was thrilled. My brother was bringing my dog, Ben, home to me. He had been with Brody in Colorado for the last two months while I got settled. I couldn't wait to see both of them. Thinking about it made me giddy. I knew Ben would love it here. There was plenty of room for him to run. Bernese Mountain dogs needed lots of exercise. I almost didn’t get him because of that. Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He got my ass outside and stopped me from being such a hermit. If I thought about the fact that my best friend was a dog, I would get bummed. But then again, fuck it! I loved my dog, and I had missed him terribly.
I doled out my handful of vitamins and four ibuprofen into my hand, and then popped them into my mouth. From the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of OJ, taking large swigs from the bottle.
Let the day begin, I thought as I walked down the hall to the door. The sound of my designer shoes on the travertine floors reminded me of the sound of cleats on concrete. It made me smile, but the memory was bittersweet, and I pushed it aside. Behind bittersweet was pure malice, an emotion I couldn't allow myself. Not today.
Grabbing the keys to my Viper, I headed out the door.
Buy Now
AMAZON UK
Synopsis
Irelyn Wilkes was Zolt Hamil’s seraph. His angel. His hallucination suddenly real. But her abrupt departure from his life has sent him into a tailspin of nameless women, alcohol, and drugs. When Zolt realizes that Irelyn lied to him, he sobers up and sets into motion a public rescue, making an even greater enemy of Marcus Xavier.
Marcus doesn’t take kindly to people taking what is his, and he’s not about to let Zolt and Irelyn ride into the sunset without a fight. He’s already murdered her brother; taking out Zolt Hamil would make his day.
Can Zolt and Irelyn mend their broken relationship and find a way back to each other? Or will Marcus succeed with his plans to separate this fated pair forever?
Chapter One: Cold Light of Day
Zolt
“Open the door now, Zolt.” The incessant pounding on the door and the sound of my brother Brody’s pissed off voice pulled me out of my drunken haze. I peeled one eyelid open and groaned.
Where the hell am I?
The bed moved, and I turned my head and groaned again. The last twenty-four hours came back to me in all its ugly detail. Irelyn had left me for Marcus of all people because I had unleashed crazy Zolt on her. Now, I lay in bed with a woman I didn’t even know, in an apartment I hadn’t expected to ever see again. On top of all this, my head throbbed like a bass drum spurred on by the hangover from hell.
“Zolt! T-bone is going to break it down if you don’t fucking open it!”
“Who’s Zolt?” the woman next to me asked.
“Nobody,” I mumbled. Fucking nobody!
“Zolt! Last chance.” Brody’s voice boomed through the door.
I glanced over at the bong, wishing we hadn’t smoked it all. Hell, we’d even drained the several bottles of tequila we’d brought with us. Only a couple of enticing drops remained at the bottom of the bottle.
Though the action was fruitless, I reached down and picked up one of them, tipping back the very last drop into my mouth. I growled my irritation and threw the bottle to the floor.
Letting out a low grumble, I returned my head to the pillow. There would be no numbing myself until I got home.
What a fucking mess! I had indulged myself in an epic bender. The need to get lost and forget the shit of the last two days had trumped better judgment.
“John, who is that banging on the door?” A feminine hand stroked my chest and I cringed. Majorly hungover, the naked girl next to me wasn’t as appealing this morning as she’d been last night.
She didn’t smell like her. She didn’t look like her.
She simply wasn’t Irelyn.
With my eyes squeezed closed, I waited for the door to fly open. It would happen any minute. The cavalry had arrived to save my sorry ass. It didn’t matter that I didn’t care, nor deserve, to be saved.
“He asked me to marry him, Zolt, and I said yes.”
Those words tortured me worse than any physical pain I’d ever experienced. I’d ruined the one thing that meant everything to me. I’d fucked up so badly that being with Marcus seemed like a better alternative. In my chest, my heart was a shredded heap of sinew and muscle. No amount of no-name blondes, alcohol, and pot eased my pain.
Irelyn Wilkes had saved me that day on the football field. For six years, I’d thought her a hallucination. The best day of my life had been the day she became real. Until now, losing my football career had been the worst thing to happen to me. That paled in comparison; losing my angel, my seraph, hurt much worse.
The door slammed open and the sound of heavy footsteps approached the bedroom.
I stared at my naked self, knowing the polite thing would be to cover myself with a sheet, but I didn’t give a shit. Let my brother Brody and T-bone see me in all my glory. If I were a gentleman, I’d cover up Blondie next to me, but I didn’t care about her either.
Brody walked into the bedroom and assessed the situation. He picked up one of the empty bottles and shook his head. “Shit, Zolt. Are you insane?”
“John, who are these men? I didn’t agree to a foursome,” Blondie complained, pulling the sheet over herself.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, not interested,” Brody replied with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Get up and go. The party is over.”
“John, do you want me to leave?” she asked.
I nodded. The attraction of last night faded in the cold light of day, and I waited for Brody’s lecture to commence. Rolling over, I pulled the pillow over my head. I was in no mood to be scolded for acting out, even if I deserved it.
“Here’s ten bills, take it and leave,” T’s deep voice commanded. “Forget you ever met him. If you don’t have a ride, I’ll arrange for one.”
The mattress dipped as Blondie got off the bed. “I have my car. There was something wrong with him, anyway. He couldn’t get it up and he kept calling me Irelyn.”
“Just go.” Brody sighed.
After a few minutes of clothes rustling, the door opened and closed.
“Get up, Zolt. It’s time to come home. I can’t believe you. Seriously, do you really think smoking pot and binging on tequila with a strange woman is a good idea?”
“Shut up, Brody. I don’t need a lecture. Leave me alone.” I pulled the pillow tighter over my head.
“So help me, God, Zolt, get your ass out of bed or T and I will drag you out. Irelyn needs you.”
“What?” I threw the pillow aside. “She left me for Marcus. I’m certain she wants nothing to do with me.”
“Wrong. Irelyn is in trouble. If she left you of her own volition, then why did she leave her dog and her Mustang behind? Besides you, those were the two things she adored the most. Rachel says she’s not returning her calls either. I’m telling you, she’s in trouble.”
“She said she was wearing green, Brody. Green means good. She’s good. She’s happy,” I said, my voice breaking. “She has what she wants and it’s not me.”
“Irelyn lied to you,” T said. “We believe Marcus forced her into this. He’s holding something or someone over her, and we have to help her before he hurts her or worse. He had Sloan arrested on a trumped-up charge in front of the dress shop to get him out of the way.”
I sat up, suddenly terrified for her. Though we hadn’t been together very long, and there was so much we had yet to learn about each other, the one thing I knew with absolute certainty is Irelyn would not leave her dog, her car, or her friends behind. She and Rachel were like sisters. If I’d thought instead of reacted, I would have figured it out.
“I brought fresh clothes for you. I’ll give you a shot of B-12.” Brody sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed my wrist, taking my pulse. “How much did you drink?”
“I don’t remember.”
I had stopped at the first bar I had driven past, went inside, and found Blondie. Fucking, drinking, and smoking pot had been my goal. After we had gotten trashed, I tried to fuck her but I couldn’t. My cock had failed me, leaving me even more pissed off.
Maybe somewhere in my psyche, I must have known Irelyn hadn’t chosen Marcus, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Either way, screwing Blondie had seemed like a betrayal. I couldn’t go there yet. I wondered if I’d ever be ready to be with someone else.
“When did you eat last?” Brody asked as he continued his exam.
“I don’t remember.”
“You’re hurting, I get that, but you’ve got to find a better, healthier way of coping,” Brody said as he prepared the B-12 shot.
“I didn’t fuck her,” I said, wincing as the needle penetrated my skin. I was in love with Irelyn. Until I had my say with her, face-to-face, I needed to be by myself.
“Sleeping with her isn’t the issue. What I care about is you resorting to drinking and using with a woman you don’t even know.”
I glanced up at T, who stood with his massive arms crossed over his chest. His expression mirrored Brody’s tone, and I could see the disappointment in his eyes.
“You’re right,” I mumbled. “But it’s what I do.”
“Of course I am. Take a shower and let’s leave. I’ll drive the Viper home; I don’t want you driving.”
“Fine. Wait, how did you find me? I don’t remember telling you the address of this apartment.”
“There’s a GPS locator in your Viper. I couldn’t take any chances,” T-bone answered.
“Rachel, Cory, and Sloan will be at your house in two hours so we can talk about what’s going on,” Brody added, putting away his medical supplies.
I laid there and let what they said sink in. If they were right, Marcus must be holding something major over Irelyn’s head to make her do what she did. The thought of her in the hands of that monster made my stomach roil. I jumped off the bed and ran into the bathroom just in time to toss the contents of my last meal into the toilet.
How the fuck did I get here? I thought as I leaned against the cold tile of the bathtub. Just days ago, Irelyn was in my bed and in my life, and I was making love to her. Now, I sat on the floor of the bathroom puking my guts out.
“Get your shit together, Z-man,” T-bone said at the door. “We need to get you home so we can start planning how to get Irelyn away from him. You can lick your wounds later.”
I pulled myself to my feet and started the shower. Inside, I rinsed the vomit aftertaste from my mouth, but the sour taste of Irelyn’s rejection remained. Only bring her home would erase it.
Turning the water to scalding, I winced at the sting of the hot water on my skin, but I deserved it. After all, you shouldn’t be able to scrub away your own cocksuckerism behavior without it hurting.
***
Rachel, Cory, and Sloan sat on my couch in the great room when we got there. They stared at me with a mixture of pity and irritation. Irritation I could handle; pity just pissed me off.
“I’ve called her at least ten times or more,” Rachel said, her hand squeezing Cory’s.
“More,” Cory said. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“She hasn’t called me back. Nothing. This isn’t Irelyn. Is it true she told you Marcus proposed and she accepted?”
“That’s what she said,” I bit out coldly. I didn’t want to rehash this.
“Marcus must be forcing her. She wouldn’t marry him, Zolt.” Rachel glanced at Cory and they shared an unspoken conversation.
Cory gave a one-shoulder shrug.
“Zolt, before Irelyn went for her dress fitting, she said she planned to come here right after. She wanted to be here when you woke from being sedated. Staying away from you wasn’t her intention. Obviously, Marcus cornered her at the dress salon.”
“Which is where they arrested me,” Sloan said. His irritation made his Irish accent even more pronounced. “I should have guessed Marcus orchestrated it.”
“Whatever he said to her, or threatened her with, must have been major. She’s going to kill me for telling you, but here it goes: Irelyn is in love with you. I guarantee that didn’t change in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, staring at Rachel. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was so pissed at myself for losing control that day, and now the if onlys scrolled through my mind. If only I had my shit together. If only I had been there with her at the dress fitting. I scrubbed my face with my hands as my stomach roiled again. “This is my fault.”
“Yeah, you fucked up, Z-man.” T-bone squeezed my shoulder. “But we can’t dwell on who’s to blame. We need to figure out where Irelyn is and how to get her away from Marcus.”
Cory stared down at his phone and frowned.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Rachel asked.
“It’s Kenna. I’ve called her and messaged her. Nothing. You dropped her off, right Sloan?” Cory asked.
“I did.” Sloan shifted uncomfortably. He hid something, and it most likely had to do with the way he had eye-fucked Kenna the other night.
“Kenna can be flighty, Cory,” Rachel soothed. “She’s probably hanging out with her friends and lost her phone again. She can be kind of ditsy on occasion.”
“Yeah, maybe. But Mom said she didn’t show up for her dress fitting. The salon called and asked if she wanted to reschedule.”
Sloan growled at the same time dread turned my blood cold. We looked at each other.
“You don’t think… do you, Sloan?” I asked, knowing we were on the same wavelength.
“Think what?” Brody asked.
“Kenna. Marcus has Kenna,” Sloan answered. “Fuck!”
T-bone glanced at his phone and tapped out a message. “I’m contacting Jackson to see if he’s heard anything.”
“We have to find out,” Cory said, standing up. “If he has Kenna and he has harmed her, I’ll fucking kill him. I need to contact my dad.”
“Hold on, Cory,” T said, scrolling through his phone. “Jackson says he’s heard rumors about a new woman up for auction. Apparently, Marcus has two houses. Jackson’s trying to find out the location of the other house. Marcus isn’t stupid enough to keep them at his residence.”
“We’re forgetting about Friday night,” Rachel said, standing up to take Cory’s hand. “Marcus is on the board of the AZ Cardinals Charity Ball. He’ll be there, and he’ll bring Irelyn. It just makes sense if he’s going to perpetuate this farce about them getting married. Marcus’s pride will dictate that they be seen together in society.”
“Put me on the guest list, Rachel,” I said. “I’m going, and I’m not leaving without Irelyn.”
“Not a good idea, Z-man,” T said. He gave me a discerning look.
“I don’t care, T. I’m going,” I retorted. “If I knew the damn location of the house, I would go there now.”
“Me, too,” Cory agreed.
T-bone squeezed his eyes shut then opened them. “Fine. Maybe you’re right, Z. The best place to recover Irelyn will be in a public forum. Cory, we need to meet with your father. I need to brief him on what’s going on. I don’t want him to do anything stupid. I’ve laid the groundwork from the inside out. That’s our advantage and we need to keep it.”
“Done,” Cory agreed. “We’ll go home now and talk with Dad. You’ll follow behind us?”
“Let’s roll,” T said.
“Wait, I’ll go too. We should tell your father about Jacob’s involvement. It’s possible the firm may have some liability regarding the Aspen Holdings/Black Swan settlement.”
I glanced over at Sloan who quietly seethed; his gunmetal gray eyes were black with ire. I don’t know if anyone else felt the menace coming from him, but I did. His jaw muscle worked, clenching and unclenching. Something had happened between him and Kenna, and I empathized with him, I did.
Feeling powerless to help the woman you loved was fucking hell.
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About the Author
About
the Author
I love writing, reading, cooking. Adore
Harry Potter, Jim Butcher, Darynda Jones, and Chloe Neill and
anything erotic. Oh and watching NFL Football with my two dogs, Niles
and Morgan, and sometimes my husband too, but only when he brings
beer.
I write both romantic fantasy (Colour
Wielders Series) and erotic romance (The Indulging Series).
Dawna is an Amazon Bestselling Author!
Goodreads links:
Indulging in Irelyn - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20738998-indulging-in-irelyn
Colour Wielders - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17261634-colour-wielders-a-colour-wielders-novel
Severed Colours - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18584326-severed-colours
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