Confessions After Dark
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Authors: Kahlen Aymes
CONFESSIONS AFTER DARK
By
Kahlen Aymes
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
CONFESSIONS AFTER DARK
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Copyright © 2014 Kahlen Aymes
. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
CoverArt:
Designed by: Kristen Karwan
Cover photo by: Scott Hoover Photography
Cover model: Colby Lefebvre
Published by Telemachus Press, LLC
http://www.telemachuspress.com
Visit the author website:
http://www.kahlen-aymes.blogspot.com
ISBN: 978-1-940745-83-1 (eBook)
ISBN: 978-1-940745-84-8 (Paperback)
Version 2014.03.26
Dedication
This is for my readers... I adore you and you are my inspiration.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Kendall Ryan and Kelly Elliott for their endorsement of this series. I fan-girl just a bit when you contact me and tell me that you love my books! I’m so grateful for your support! I’m in awe of you.
Thanks to my new friends Ilsa Madden-Mills, T.K. Rapp, Ella Fox, Julie Richman, Sandi Lynn, & Aleatha Romig. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you and I’m thankful for your support and friendship. Liv Morris… thanks for always being there. I love you all.
To Olivia, I love you. Thanks for being understanding of all of my time in front of the evil laptop.
Many thanks to the bloggers and the street team who toil endlessly to pimp me out, and to the many of you who sponsor and organize the signing events!
Kathryn Voskuil, Elizabeth Desmond, Sally Hopkinson (my editing team)… I couldn’t do this without you!! <3
Thank you to Elizabeth Winick-Rubinstein (my agent) & Shira Hoffman (my foreign rights agent) at McIntosh & Otis Literary. I sincerely appreciate all of your support and dedication to introducing me to the world. xo
Table Of Contents
CONFESSIONS AFTER DARK
Dr. Angel Hemming sat in the leather chair across from one of her regular patients, listening to her drone on about her abusive ex-husband. Impatience filled her despite the desperateness of the situation. Her mind was filled with other things; more important things. The rape case she was working on and her new relationship with Alexander Avery, the most fascinating man she’d ever met occupied her mind. It’d only been a few weeks since he’d bulldozed his way into her life, but he had taken a strong hold on her mind and body. She sighed, trying to concentrate on her patient’s words.
“Megan, we’ve gone over this.”
Over and over
this
, her mind complained. Her frustration welled up inside her chest until it ached. “You know what you need to do.”
“But—” Angel’s patient wiped at her face with an already soggy Kleenex. “He says he loves me, Dr. Hemming.”
Angel’s eyes wanted to roll toward the heavens. This woman didn’t want to hear what she had to say, and although Angel had done her damnedest to get Megan to take control of her life and get herself and her children out of the situation, she only had more excuses for the bastard who beat her. There was nothing to be done. If abuse of the woman’s two children had come to light in their conversations, Angel would have no choice but to contact child protective services. Megan was an adult and had to take action to protect herself.
“Megan, may I be frank?” Angel’s plum-colored Prada stiletto pump bounced along with the foot of her right leg, neatly crossed over her left knee. She pulled off her glasses, clicked off the recorder, and leaned forward in her chair.
The woman sniffled and pushed back her sleek black hair from her face. She was slightly plump, but pretty. Her husband had money, she didn’t have to work, and he justified his treatment of her with his bank account. On the other hand, Megan made the choice to remain where she was.
“Please. That’s what I’m paying you for.” She nodded and her thick hair brushed her chin as it bobbed with her head.
“I’d like you to stop paying me.”
“Wha-what?” Shock registered on her face.
Angel shrugged. “There’s nothing more I can do for you. We’ve rehashed the situation for over a year and nothing’s changed. You know what you need to do. So do it.” Her tone was authoritative. “You know he’s a bastard, so get the hell away from him or stop whining about a situation you refuse to change. Either that or convince him to come to your sessions with you. I’d like to talk to him.”
The other woman’s eyes widened in surprise.
“But—”
“No buts. If all you want to do is complain about him, you can do so with a friend. I’m here to validate your decisions, but when you refuse to do anything to help yourself, there is nothing here that I can affirm or condone. My time is far too valuable. I’m very sorry, but I have other patients and serious court matters to attend to, and my conscience demands that I devote the bulk of my time to those cases.” She glanced down at her sleek Gucci watch before she stood and moved from behind her desk to walk her out. The woman slowly rose and moved in stunned silence toward the door where Angel offered her a hand. “Good luck. Take care of yourself and your children.”
Megan left without a word, and a few minutes later Angel’s professional secretary, Elizabeth, entered briskly and placed a package on Angel’s desk. It was wrapped in white linen and had a beautiful organza ribbon in lavender tied around one of the dark purple lilies. Angel flushed as pleasure flooded through her and her mouth widened in a secret smile.
“Wow. You need to spill, missy.” Liz cocked her neatly waxed brow.
“Not
wow
. It’s just a cell phone charger.”
“How do you know?” Surprise laced Liz’s voice.
“I just know.” One shoulder lifted in a slight shrug as Angel moved the package to the credenza behind her desk, the grin still plastered on her face. Damned if she could stop smiling.
“Aren’t you gonna open it?” The woman demanded with a grin.
“Later.”
“Why?”
“I need to prepare the questions for tomorrow. The giver of this gift is
far
too distracting.”
Angel flushed guiltily at the memory of waking up in the tent with Alex after what felt like a minute and a half of sleep. Oh well, the punishment fit the crime.
“Wait. I thought all of the tests were standardized?”
“Um… sure. They are, but I’ve got a few extras on the Swanson case.”
“That’s not protocol, Angel. What’s going on?”
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with; this guy is a slimy bastard and warrants more, uh…
extraction
. It’s a gut feeling and I’m just being thorough.”
Thankfully, the phone rang before more inquisition, and the young woman reached out and picked up the receiver on Angel’s desk. Angel sighed in relief at the interruption. She had no intention of dragging someone else into this by saying more than she should.
“Dr. Angeline Hemming’s office. How may I help you?”
Angel sank down in her chair and opened her Outlook email account, scanning for a certain address. She cursed her trembling fingers as they stumbled around on the keyboard, scrambling to open the one from Alex, the subject line causing her heart to beat faster.
From: A. Avery, CFO, Avery Enterprises International, Inc.
To: Angeline Hemming, Ph. D.
Subject: Us
I hated leaving. Waking up with you was magical. Thank you for an amazing couple of days… Now, go charge your fucking phone!
-A
Angel laughed out loud and quickly hit reply.
Liz’s quizzical look said she wondered if the giggle was in any way connected to the beautifully wrapped gift on the desk. “Angel, there’s a woman on the line regarding some sort of benefit for the Leukemia Foundation. Wanna take it?”
Angel glanced up, her brow creasing. She nodded, though she couldn’t remember anything she’d committed to for that particular charity. Liz closed the door behind her as Angel picked up the phone.
“This is Dr. Hemming.”
“Thank you for taking my call. My name is Ally Franklin, chairman of this year’s fundraiser for the Chicagoland Chapter of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation.”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“Well, the event is in a month, a concert to be held at the Aragon Ballroom. It’s usually a huge bash.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with it. I attended two years ago, I believe. It was a very elegant affair.”
“This year we were going for a more rock-like theme. We’re recruiting a younger demographic of donors.” Her voice was pleasant and her diction perfect.
“Sounds marvelous. Are you requesting PSAs on my radio program?”
“Well, yes, that would be lovely, of course, but not the reason for my call. The band we reserved canceled and I’m scrambling to find a replacement. There is one that I want badly, but they have refused me on two attempts.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ms. Franklin, but surely, in a city this size, you should be able to find any number of bands that would want to help out.”
“Oh, call me Ally, please. The band in question is Archangel.”
Angel sat back in her chair in surprise. “Oh, I see. Have you been talking to Kyle, then?”
“Yes. Mr. Keith has been less than agreeable.”
Angel smiled.
Mr. Keith. Hardly that.
Kyle was moody and difficult. He liked things his way or the highway, which was part of the problem where Angel was concerned, and the one thing he shared in common with Alex. She shook herself…
Can you get through one conversation without thinking about him?
“Ah, yes, Kyle. There’s a possibility the band is already booked for that date.”
“No, I checked. I’ve been trying to book them for
weeks
.”
“There must be a reason, then. He’d never turn down a gig that offered that much exposure.”
“I think his words were:
it’s not our scene
; something about blue hairs not liking rock-n-roll.”
Angel chuckled quietly, wishing the call would end, anxious to reply to Alex’s email, though part of her knew she should make him cool his heels. Girl games were so fun sometimes. “Yes, it sounds like him. He’s very, um… direct.”
“Yes. He told me to take my skinny ass and get lost.” Amusement laced her tone and Angel burst out laughing, instantly taking a liking to this young woman. “If he wasn’t so hot, I would have been really put upon.”