Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5)

BOOK: Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5)
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Dawson’s Fall

 

Welcome to Covendale: Book 5

 

Morgan Blaze

 

Thank you for picking up
Dawson’s Fall.
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Copyright © 2015 by Morgan Blaze

All rights reserved.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

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Books in the
Welcome to Covendale
series:

COWBOY’S PRIDE
(Cam & Sydney)

SOLDIER’S CHOICE
(Reese & Luka)

DEPUTY’S SECRET
(Nick & Emma)

DAWSON’S STAND
(Gage & Kyla)

DAWSON’S FALL (Mark & Aubrey)

** All Welcome to Covendale books can be read as standalones!**

 

 

It’s not easy falling for the enemy…

Anger drove Aubrey straight after him. She grabbed the knob, ready to rattle it until he opened up, but it turned in her hand. So she yanked the door open and banged it against the outside wall as she walked in. “Let’s get something straight,” she said. “No matter what you do, I’m not quitting.”

“You already said that.” Mark stood at the little kitchenette with his back to her, filling the coffee pot with water. “Got anything new you want to bitch at me about?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Well, save it until nine. That’s when work starts.”

She crossed her arms. “What’s your problem, anyway?” she said. “You’re not screaming as loud as you were on Saturday. Are you saving that until nine, too?”

“My problem?” He turned the water off and stood there a moment, rigid and tense. Finally, he turned a blistering gaze on her. “Aside from the obvious, my
problem
is that some rich girl with a fancy degree and zero experience just waltzed into my town, onto my job site, and turned my life inside out. My problem is that I haven’t slept all weekend. My problem is
you
, sweetheart.”

She shivered. “I have experience.”

“Oh, really. Well, that just makes it all better, then. Problem solved. Thank you so much.” He moved toward her slowly. “Get out of my office.”

“What if I don’t?”

He grinned without warmth, and she decided she shouldn’t have said that. “Sweetheart, you really don’t want to find out.”

“This is ridiculous.” She tried to sound firm, despite her quivering insides and the fact that she was backing away from him. “Like it or not, we’re stuck working together. Why are you making it harder for both of us?”

“You think this is hard for me?” he said. “Believe me, I’ve got no problems making your life miserable. I’m only returning the favor.”

“But I’m not trying to make you miserable.” She gasped a little as her back hit the wall.

“So you’re doing it without even trying. What a talent you have.”

“Mark, please,” she half-whispered. “Can’t you just be civil?”

His palms slammed the wall on either side of her. “Is this civil enough for you?”

He kissed her.

* * * *

Read on for more!

 

Prologue

Covendale – senior year

 

It had to be the biggest graduation party this town had ever seen.

Aubrey Monroe sat at a crowded table in the kitchen of the Lysander place, doing her level best to get excited about looking through the yearbook. It wasn’t easy. She was pretty sure Beth had put way more rum in the second drink than the first one, and the room might have been spinning a little bit.

“Oh my God, Bree!” Beth Springer, her soon-to-be-ex best friend if she didn’t stop nudging her so hard, jabbed a finger at a picture on the Activities page she’d just turned to. “That’s got to be the fakest smile ever. Didn’t you win first place in this thing?”

Aubrey looked. She had to blink a few times to focus on the picture. It was the senior physics competition, and she had won first place—but the project hadn’t been her idea. It was her lab partner’s. Unfortunately, he was in the picture too.

He hadn’t bothered trying to look happy.

“Can you blame her?” Aubrey’s twin brother, Jason, managed to detach himself from Jillian Lysander for a minute. He scowled down at the open yearbook. “I mean, look who she’s sitting next to,” he said. “I still can’t believe Mr. Sanders made you partner with that scumbag.”

“Oh. Right.” Beth made a face and turned the page fast. “Sorry, Bree.”

She sighed. “It’s fine.” Physics had been the single blemish on an otherwise perfect senior year. They were assigned lab partners the first week—and the teacher had stuck her with Mark Dawson. Of course, no one wanted to partner with the biggest thug in school. It seemed like Mark was in a fight every other day, and suspended half the time. But that wasn’t even the real problem.

The Monroes and the Dawsons didn’t mix. Period.

“You should’ve told the guy you wouldn’t work with him,” Jason said. “Or at the least, you shouldn’t have carried his stupid ass all year. He probably wouldn’t even be graduating without you.”

“He’s not stupid, Jason.” She really hated admitting that. Despite his reputation, Mark had turned out to be quiet, thoughtful, and crazy smart—at least in physics class. He also happened to be gorgeous. If she didn’t despise him and the rest of his family…well, she wasn’t going there. “I’m pretty sure he’s in the top ten of the class for grades.”

Jason snorted. “Well, he must’ve cheated, then. Because that chair you’re sitting on is smarter than a Dawson.”

Everyone around them laughed. The sound made her dizzy, and she closed her eyes for a minute, hoping her head would stop spinning. She probably shouldn’t have polished off that second drink so fast.

“Hey, Jillian,” her brother said. “You didn’t invite him, did you?”

She gave a slow shrug. “I invited the entire senior class,” she said. “I suppose that includes Mark.”

“Did he actually show up?”

“I doubt it,” Jillian said with a smirk. “Like Bree said, he’s not stupid. I’m sure he knows when he’s not wanted.”

“Which is always.” Jason leaned down and slung an arm around Aubrey’s shoulders. “Everyone hates them,” he said. “The Dawsons should really just leave town. Or, you know, die or something. We’d all be better off.”

The jostling made her nauseous. She straightened and pushed her brother’s arm off—and happened to spot a figure standing beside the kitchen door, glaring at them all. She could feel the burn of his expression from here.

Her heart leapt into her throat as Mark Dawson wrenched the door open and slipped outside.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. He must’ve heard everything—Jason was sloppy drunk, and he’d lost his volume control completely. Her conscious pricked her hard, and no amount of reminding herself how much she was supposed to hate the Dawsons could soothe the sting.

Jason patted her hand. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he said. “You look awful.”

“Nothing. I just…need some air,” she murmured. “I’m gonna go outside for a minute.”

“I’ll go with you,” Beth said.

Aubrey shook her head, pushed the chair back and stood slowly. “No, you stay,” she said. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

“Whatever.” Beth shrugged and went back to the yearbook.

Hoping she hadn’t aroused her brother’s suspicion, Aubrey made her way across the crowded room and out the back door. The Lysanders had an inground pool, and it was currently filled to the brim with shrieking, splashing teenagers. More of the senior class and their friends hung around on the deck, mostly in couples or groups. She only spent a minute looking around before she walked past the pool scene and deeper into the back yard—she doubted Mark would’ve joined this crowd.

She couldn’t believe she was actively looking for Mark Dawson. But someone really should apologize to him, and it wasn’t going to be Jason. Her brother’s fury burned just as bright as their father’s over what happened so many years ago.

There wasn’t much going on beyond the pool. Just as she was about to give up and have a closer look at the crowds, she spotted a solitary dark-haired figure sitting on a swing that overlooked Mrs. Lysander’s flower garden, and knew it was Mark.

Aubrey took her time approaching. She still wasn’t sure what to say, especially since it wasn’t like they were friends. He’d been polite enough whenever they worked together, but he always had a cold, distant edge. That didn’t matter, though. She had no interest in getting to know him.

Or did she?

She was a few feet away, still trying to gather her thoughts, when Mark stiffened. “Don’t even think about it,” he said without turning around. “I will put you in the hospital.”

Aubrey froze. She’d never heard so much bitterness in a voice. It was pure rage, shaped into words. “Um. Well…I…” she stammered, trying to make her feet move, to turn around and leave. They wouldn’t budge.

When she spoke, he flinched and turned slowly. She could see his face in the wash of the garden spotlights—jaw set, green eyes filled with shock. “You’re not the Monroe I expected,” he said slowly.

Her tongue finally loosened, and she started to get angry herself. “So you were going to put my brother in the hospital?” she said.

“Maybe. If he started on me.”

She forced herself not to scream at him by remembering how pissed she’d be if the tables were turned. She hadn’t come out here for a fight. “Look, uh, Mark,” she said, taking a few steps closer. “I just wanted to…well, apologize. For what Jason said.”

“Oh.” The light faded from his eyes, and he turned away.

She should’ve just left him there. But she wanted to make him understand, take away some of the hurt…and maybe stop feeling so bad herself. So she circled the swing to stop in front of him, and waited until he looked up. “Jason is really drunk,” she said. “He didn’t—”

“Mean it?” Even though she’d cut the sentence off, he knew what she’d been about to say. “Of course he did. He wants me dead.”

“Yes, well, he can’t help it. Your father killed our mother.”

Oh, God. She’d actually said that out loud.

He shot to his feet, and she took an involuntary step back. Her heart was beating so fast it practically vibrated. She’d never mentioned the accident to Mark. His father had died too, but Charlie Dawson had been the one driving drunk. And her mother had been eight months pregnant, with a baby sister she’d never get to meet.

But Mark didn’t come after her. He just stood there staring into the distance, his fists clenched at his sides. Finally, he spoke in rasping tones.

“Well, I guess we’re about to be even. Because my mother is dying.”

“What?” Aubrey whispered.

He was silent for another long moment. “She has cancer,” he said. “Not that anyone in this town gives a shit. Last visit, the doc gave her a few weeks at most.” He looked at her with burning eyes. “So you can tell your brother he’s getting his wish,” he spat. “Soon there’ll be one less Dawson to hate.”

She couldn’t help shivering. “Oh, Mark, that’s awful,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t act like you care.” His eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward her. “You hate me just as much as he does. You’re just better at hiding it.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Another step. He was close enough to touch now. “Bullshit.”

“Fine.” She raised her chin and stared into his eyes. “I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

“Good, because I—”

His mouth stopped her words. Oh, God, he was kissing her.

And she was kissing him right back.

It had to be the rum. She’d lost control of her senses, and that was why this felt so good. So
right.
He was all heat and hard muscle, and she had to touch him, even as his hands slid around her waist and sent shivers up her spine. He tasted like the best kind of sin, and felt like heaven.

She really had to stop this. But absolutely no part of her wanted to.

“Hey! Get your
fucking
hands off my sister!”

The enraged shout tore through her brain, shorting out everything else. She gasped and pulled away—just as Jason reached them and grabbed a fistful of Mark’s hair.

“Don’t!” Aubrey wasn’t sure who she was shouting at. She staggered toward the pair of them as they went down, dimly aware of the others rushing toward the fight. Jillian, Beth, a bunch of guys Jason hung around with. Everyone was yelling at once.

But all she could see was Jason’s life flashing before her eyes. No matter how furious her brother got, he was no match for Mark Dawson.

“Get off him!” She tried to reach into the melee, but someone pulled her back. She fought against it instinctively. “Mark, stop!”

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