Deceptions: A Collection (10 page)

“It’s a promise,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And a fact. It’s been a fact pretty much from that first day when you refused to let me chase you off.”

Stunned, she just stared at the tattoo.

You own me.

His hand curled into a fist and he slowly lowered it to his side and now, with nothing between them, she found herself staring into his eyes. Her heart thudded so hard, it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it.

“Lizzie.”

Shaking her head, she backed away.

He caught her, his hands closing around her upper arms. “Don’t,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. “You ran away from me once—twice. I get it, I understand it. But don’t run away from me now.”

“You
lied
to me. You made a fool of me,” she said, her voice thick. “What…what is this? Am I too stupid to take care of myself on that site and you thought it would go better if you were on there, too?”

“No.” He kissed her, brushing his lips over her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. She went to bite him—hard—and he let her. “No,” he said again, sliding one arm around her. “I did it for the same reason I came to your house that night when you saw me with Jeannette. I did it because I love you. I always have…I told you hundreds, thousands of times.”

She stiffened in his arms.

“You’ve never told me,” she said, shaking her head.

He let her arms go, then. It was, he realized, now or never.

“I did.” He slid the backpack of his shoulder and went to his knees on the long, rambling deck that wrapped around most of Rush. People were looking at them oddly, but he didn’t care. Unzipping the backpack, he emptied it and envelopes spilled out around her feet.

He grabbed one at random. It didn’t matter which one it was because they all told the same story.

He held it out to her.

For the longest time she didn’t move—she barely even seemed to breathe. Then she reached out and closed her fingers around the letter.

As she started to read, he just stayed where he was.

She hadn’t realized it, but he would have gone to his knees for her at any time in the past twelve years. It didn’t faze him at all to be there now.

Her eyes raced over the sheet of paper and it seemed that tears gleamed in the depths of that warm brown gaze.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“The letters,” he said. “Every week, you wrote. I always wrote back. The letters you got were the ones that had what you needed to hear…you wanted a friend, so I said what a friend would say.” He lifted a letter, eyed the date on the envelope. He’d dated each one, on the back. This one was just a few weeks before he was released. Without opening it, he held it out.

She took it with no hesitation this time.

Dear Lizzie

I have a parole meeting coming up. If they listen, I could see you soon. If not, well, we both know what that means. I’m just here another year.

A part of me hopes I’ll just stay here. As much as I need to see you, as much as I want to walk around someplace besides these walls, everything I was hoping for is just gone.

I held on to one thing.

You never really dated anybody the whole time I was here. I put too much stock in that, because part of me let myself believe that you were waiting for me.

Just like I’ve been waiting for you.

I guess it would have helped to tell you. I should have sent these letters, even just one. Could have tried to tell you the truth, tell you that I love you.

But I didn’t.

If I get out, it’s going to be to find you with this Noel guy.

If he makes you happy, I’ll be happy for you.

That’s a promise.

Here’s another.

You own me.

Love, Decker

Clutching that letter in her hand, along with the first one, Elizabeth bent down, grabbed another, half tore the envelope to get it out. She saw the date, four years ago, before she met Noel. When they were still just watching the calendar, because he still had so much time to go.

Dear Lizzie… Christmas…snowing outside… I miss you. Next time…don’t cry.

No regrets, Lizzie. Not for me.

I’d do it all over again if it kept you safe.

You own me.

Love, Decker.

She grabbed another.

You own me

Love, Decker

Another.

You own me.

Trembling, hands full of letters, she went to her knees and looked up, met those blue eyes she’d thought she knew. And she
did
know them. There were just…truths, she realized.

Truths he’d hidden. The same way she had.

“Why?” she whispered.

“I couldn’t keep quiet anymore,” he said, not understanding. He reached out.

She cringed away. “No.
Why
do you love me? How
can
you? It’s my fault you went to jail. It’s
my
fault you were there that night—that I even ended up in trouble with Hamilton.”

His eyes narrowed and fire flashed in them.

But just like that, the look faded and he reached out.

Close by, somebody said something and Decker shot a look over her shoulder—it was that deadly, dangerous look that would make so many stumble over their feet to get away—and then, eyes softening, he looked back at her.

“No.” He rubbed his lips over hers. “Lizzie, what happened to Hamilton wasn’t your fault. It happened because he tried to rape you—he
hurt
you and that’s the one thing I would do anything to stop. You know that. He hurt you…he was hurting you when I came in there and I lost it. It’s
my
fault I lost control and killed him. But it’s
his
fault he ever put his hands on you like that. None of it is your fault.”

“I only went out with him because I was mad at you. I saw you with Jeanette and I
hated
it.”

“And I had sex with Jeannette because you were out of my league, but every time I saw you, I died a little inside because I wanted you so much. I couldn’t touch anybody without seeing you.” He brushed the tears away from her cheeks.

And then he stole her breath as he brushed her mouth with his. “Lizzie, we were kids. I was a stupid fool who couldn’t control his temper…or other things. You trusted the wrong guy. But nobody is to blame for what Hamilton did except him.”

His hand came up to grip her hip, one thumb rubbing up and down. She felt it through the thin layer of the dress she’d pulled on, felt the heat of his body reaching out to touch hers. “And all of that is in the past. It’s done. What matters is now. Lizzie, I love you. You’ve owned me, heart and soul, from the beginning.”

Now he pulled back and blue eyes caught her, held her captive.

She reached down, caught his hand—his right one—and tugged it from her hip.

Lifting it up, she studied the tattoo there. It was faded, probably from all the work he did with his hands.

“Chuck Oleander,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Why did you go with that name?”

His hand remained passive in hers. “It’s mine…sort of. Decker Calhoun, all mixed up. An anagram. Besides, you don’t mind oleander…dangerous things don’t bother you much.”

If she’d let herself think about it, would she have guessed?

She really didn’t know.

“You told me you’d tell me what this was for,” she murmured.

Now his hand closed into a fist. “I already did. It’s for you. You own me.”

She swallowed and then tapped on his fingers until slowly, he uncurled them. She leaned in, pressed a soft, open kiss to his palm.

“Do you know why I came over that day?”

A hood fell over his eyes. “No. But we need to—”

Reaching down, she picked up another letter, studied the date. She’d read these, every single one.

He’d given her these secrets. It was time she give him the other one she’d kept tucked deep inside. “I came over there because I had something I wanted to tell you.”

Now she looked up at him. “I was nervous. Scared. I really didn’t know how I was going to tell you, but you…you were leaving soon, and I didn’t want you to leave for Alabama without me telling you.”

Her eyes were intent. Locked on his.

His heart thudded in his chest, hard and fast, and Decker couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever had this much trouble breathing. His tongue felt too thick inside his mouth and he had a hard time asking, but he finally managed to get the words out.

“Tell me what?”

He didn’t remember when he’d done it, but at some point, he’d buried a fist in her hair. And he’d pulled her closer, too. So close that when she spoke again, her lips were pressed to his.

“My secret,” she said. “I hid it, ignored it, tried to pretend it didn’t exist for a long time.”

Her tongue flicked out, stroked his lip.

Heat exploded through him, but he grabbed a hold of it, lashed it down.

Because this mattered—in that very moment—this mattered more than the need that threatened to eat him alive any time he was near her.

“What secret?”

Now a smile bloomed over her lips. “That I love you. I loved you then…I loved you when you held me while I was crying and shaking on the floor, and I loved you when you stood in that courtroom and then told me that you didn’t have any regrets. I loved you every day you were gone and I love you now.”

“That’s…” He blew out a ragged breath. His head was spinning. Wow. “That’s a big secret.”

“Yeah. Feels kind of good to let it out.” She slid her hand inside his, teased the faded tattoo there. She’d wasted years with somebody who hadn’t really loved her…all because she’d needed to belong with somebody.

But somebody had been there all along.

“I should have figured it out, you know. When I saw this. I should have known,” she murmured. “You own me, too. We belong together.”

“Hmmm. Lizzie?” His mouth caught hers, a hard, deep, drugging kiss.

“What?” She was panting when he lifted his head.

“I’ll take you back inside now, if you really want to go. But I’d rather take you home.”

“You can take me anywhere you want.”
Absolutely anywhere…
she thought. Then she looked down at the letters. “As soon as you help me get all these letters. I’ve got years of reading to catch up on.”

A Novella of the Hunters

Standalone

Published by Shiloh Walker

Cover Art by Croco Designs

Editorial Work by
d.y.m.k. productions

&
Sara Reinke

“Hello, gorgeous.”

The low, rich purr of her voice was enough to have Drew Quentin shifting in the miserable, busted chair. He also had to fight the urge to smile as he reminded himself he’d decided to end things with Dakota Coulter.

He wanted her, he was halfway in love with her…and she refused to so much as give him her damn phone number.

He could have handled that.

But the cop in him was a little bit disturbed by the fact that Dakota Coulter had a past that was just a little
too
mysterious. Oh, her background check held up—too well, actually. Something about her had his instincts quivering.

She wouldn’t open up for him.

“Drew?”

He closed his eyes. “I’m here, Dakota.”

“Having a rough night, sugar?”

The compassion in her voice all but gutted him.
Damn it
. This would be so much easier if she didn’t care—so much easier if he wasn’t in love with her.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He rubbed his temple. He shouldn’t have answered the damn phone. But shit, it wasn’t like he could avoid this forever. He looked up and saw Nicole staring at him. Nicole Halloway, the local DA with the pretty blue eyes, sweet smile and dynamite body.

She was there, she was steady. She was the reason he needed to break things off with Dakota. He liked Nic. Cared for her—a lot. There was an attraction there, too, one that could maybe become more. But not if he was obsessed with a woman who wouldn’t ever hang around for longer than a night or two.

“I guess you’re not up for meeting me after work, huh?” Dakota sighed. “That’s cool, sugar. I understand. I’ll look you up—”

“No.” He continued to stare at Nic. He had to get this done. “We can meet. I…I’ve been needing to talk to you anyway, Dakota.”

Now Nic’s brows arched up over big blue eyes. So far their ‘dates’ hadn’t been much more than a cup of coffee, a quick lunch. She knew he’d been seeing another woman, knew he wasn’t going to get serious until he’d been able to break things off. It was time he did that.

Even if it did feel a little like he was ripping out his own kidney with his teeth. Or even his heart.

Sighing, Dakota ended the call.

Something in Drew’s voice had her heart aching.

“We need to talk, huh, lover? Yeah. I’ve heard that line before.” Then she tipped her head back, staring up at the nighttime sky. Granted, she hadn’t heard it much in recent years. Not since she’d slid into a crazy little world where vampires, werewolves and other things went bump in the night. Sometime back in the 70’s, she thought.

Yeah. She smiled absently, some echo of fondness trying to lift the melancholy settling over her heart. But it wouldn’t budge. She’d been kind of happy about coming to Asheville. Now? Not so much.

She was a Hunter without a territory or Master. Her random circuit had her rambling all over the east coast. She often ended up in this area, and she’d been just fine with that. Because this area held a lot of appeal for her, namely in the fine form of one Asheville city detective…Andrew Michael Quentin…Drew.

Drew—the cop who was getting ready to dump her.

She glanced down at her clothes, remembered she’d planned to change before she saw him. “Screw changing.”

She was going shopping.

If he was going to dump her, she was going to show him in vivid, glorious detail what he was missing.

Maybe it would make her feel better.

Although she wasn’t particularly counting on it.

The splash of murderous red on her nails didn’t do much to lift her spirits, but Dakota was pleased with how she looked, at least. The dress might have been a bit overdone, but red looked good on her. It clung to her curves, stopped just a bit short of her knees. And she could still move.

She’d passed on the really cute Jimmy Choos with the ankle straps, settling on a simpler pair of heels. She could run barefoot without falling. Even though falling wasn’t likely, running flat out in heels wasn’t as easy as people might make it seem in books or movies.

On the job, Dakota was practical, and even if she was taking some time to get dumped, she was still working. The only time she wasn’t working was when she crashed in her cabin up in Maine or when she got pulled into Excelsior for one thing or another.

The life of a Hunter.

Sighing, she made one last study of her reflection, pulling the brush through her dark brown hair. It curled around her mostly naked shoulders, the ends coming down to drape around her breasts. She looked good. She was honest enough to admit that. She looked good…like a woman who wanted a man to
know
it, too.

“Damn it.” She swallowed and turned away from her reflection, determined not to spend the next hour thinking about this. Next hour, minimum, because even though she wasn’t meeting Drew until midnight, she’d be circling around the city. Circling around, watching things. Making sure she wasn’t being watched. There were paranormal creatures aplenty here.

Every damn time she came through, she had to settle trouble. None of it was
bad
. If it had been
bad
in the
major
category, a bigger bad-ass would be here.

Dakota had yet to grow into full bad-ass potential.

But she was good enough to play cop and if things got bad, call in the big guns. Part of playing cop meant being careful.

The life of a Hunter.

A damn lonely life.

“So. You’re breaking things off.” Nic stared at him with a thoughtful frown. “Look, you know, you don’t have to do this. I…I can tell you’ve got feelings for her. And it’s not like we’re ready to move in together or anything. All we’ve got so far is a couple of casual dates and…”

He caught her around the back of the neck and pulled her close. When this woman started babbling, as adorable as it was, this was the only way to stem the flow of words. She gasped against his mouth and then sighed, moving closer. Her lips parted for him and she slid her hands inside his coat.

“Hmmm.” She hummed under her breath as he lifted his head. “What was that for?”

“To make you be quiet a minute.” Pressing his brow to hers, he stroked his thumb across her damp lower lip. “I know I don’t have to do this. But things with me and her aren’t ever going to change, and I don’t like where they are. I
like
where things are with us. We
can’t
change while she’s in the picture. Those casual dates won’t go any further until things change, right? So we change them.”

I
change them
, he thought.

She wrinkled her nose at him. “That shouldn’t sound so sweet. But it does.” Nic rested her head against his chest. “Call me when you wake up?”

“Yeah.” He stroked his fingers through her hair, the silken blonde strands glinting in the harsh, fluorescent lighting. “You want me to follow you home?”

“No. I’m good. I’ve got paperwork to finish up. I’ll have somebody walk me out.” She stroked a hand down his cheek. “You need to shave, baby.”

Then she pecked him on the lips and turned around, her heels clicking on the floor. Just before she disappeared around the hall, her phone rang. He could hear her voice drifting down the hall. When she suddenly snapped, “Son of a
bitch
!” it made him grin.

He was still shaking as his head as he turned to grab his stuff. But the grin had faded by the time he hit the door. He had thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes to figure out how in the hell to tell Dakota Coulter good-bye.

How did he tell this woman he loved that he was leaving her because she wouldn’t hang around for longer than a day? Hell, he hadn’t even told her
loved
her.

If she asked why he was ending it, did he tell her he didn’t entirely trust her? And that he’d rather have the sweeter, quieter woman who was
there
…even if he didn’t want her
quite
as much as he wanted Dakota?

Rage vibrated inside her. She hid in the darkness, clinging to the shadows she’d just learned to call, because she had to get control. Yeah. Dakota was being dumped. For another woman. She could smell the other woman, even above the smoke, the alcohol, the food…and that lovely, male scent that was uniquely Drew’s.

Now it was for another woman to enjoy.

Mine.

Everything inside her screamed it. But she pushed it aside. Yeah, she had feelings for the guy. She’d had them for a while, but Drew was human.

Dakota was a vampire. Her heart might still very well be human, but she’d stopped being human forty years ago. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away. Nothing like leaking blood-tinged tears to really freak him out. She waited until she knew her eyes would be normal. Even though she knew they hadn’t slid from their sheaths, she checked her fangs with her tongue.

He didn’t know. Oh, he knew she had secrets. She could see it in his eyes. She had no doubt that was part of the problem between them. But what could she say?
Honey, I’m a vampire. I’ll be around as often as I can, but…

He was a mortal who wouldn’t even believe in her world. She’d always known it would have to end. Now it was time. As she slid from the booth, she released the shadows. She saw the way he stiffened when he saw her, caught off guard. She allowed herself a small, pleased smile. She’d seen him looking for her, and he was a cop—he’d have looked
well
.

But nobody could hide like a vampire.

She came to a stop in front of him, smiled at him lazily, careful to keep her mouth closed. Now that she was closer, she could smell the other woman more clearly and she wasn’t going to risk losing that oh-so-precious control.

“Hey there.” He bent down to kiss her, not that he had to bend much with the four-inch heels she wore.

Dakota turned her head to the side so that his lips brushed against her cheek. Her heart shuddered in her chest and she eased backward, avoiding his gaze as she headed toward the bar. “I need a drink,” she said over her shoulder. Not that she expected it would do her much good, except maybe the familiarity of it. She’d have to down a vat of it before she could really get tanked.

She slid onto the stool and called out to the bartender. “Hendrix and tonic with a cucumber slice! Make it a double.”

“Sure thing, beautiful.” His smile flashed white in his dark face. White…with rather sharp teeth. She rolled her eyes. Bo was a shifter. It was one of the reasons she liked this pub. He was a decent sort. If she had to slip out sudden-like, he’d help cover her retreat. As he brought the drink down to her, he focused on her face, his nostrils flaring a bit.

“You’re unhappy, Hunter.” he said, his voice too low for Drew to hear. That didn’t keep him from trying. He slid onto the stool next to her, gaze narrowed on Bo. The shifter ignored him, stroking a finger down Dakota’s cheek. “I don’t like to see a pretty Hunter unhappy.”

“Can’t be helped.” She smiled brightly. Then she reached out and patted his hand. In a voice just as low as his, she said, “Now stop trying to piss him off. This is going to be hard enough, ’kay?”

Bo stared at her, then, with a sigh, he walked off. She took a sip of her drink. Distracted, she glanced around and saw a business card somebody had left on the bar. It had a phone number on it. For some reason, it made her even sadder to see it. Somebody else had struck out tonight.

Taking the business card, she absently started to fold it up, turning it into a neat triangle. She kept fiddling with it until Bo slid a Guinness in front of Drew.

Dropping the business card, she took a healthy drink from her glass and then turned, crossing her legs as she studied Drew’s face. His gaze dropped, quick as a wish, to her legs and then shot right back up to her face. Oh, yes. It was over.

He reached for the business card, unfolding and it smoothing out the creases. “You did that the first time I gave you my number.”

“Habit. You know that by now.” She shoved her hair back, staring at the familiar lines of his face, memorizing them. Over, it really was over. Damn it, she had to get out of here before she started to cry. “Look, let’s just get it over with, baby. I’d rather not listen to whatever pretty speech you put together.”

The thick fringe of his lashes drooped over his eyes. “What exactly do you do for a living, Dakota, read minds?” he asked, his voice conversational. Or it would have been, if he hadn’t been raising it to be heard over the noise in the bar. One hand, long-fingered and callused in just the right way, closed around his glass.

Dakota sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked, although she knew he wasn’t really asking, this time. “Baby, you know what I do for a living. Security consulting. We’ve had this discussion before.”

“Yeah. And I sell bridges in Arizona.” He took a deep drink from his Guinness. “Do I even need to spell this out or did you already piece it together?”