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Authors: Faith S Lynn

RANSOM

 

 

 

Faith S Lynn

 

Copyright
© 2014 by Tiffany A. Hilley

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Editing by Drew Elliot

Cover by
K23 Designs

Formatting by
Max Effect

 

 

 

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Playlist

Sneak Peek

Also by Faith

About the Author

 

 

6 Months Ago

Lynkin

Mr. Carl Donovan.

The man that took me under his wing after my first year of college. I was his intern, until I got my Bachelor’s Degree in Business Management. After that, I became a full-time, paid employee. Carl was the man that taught me everything that I know about business in the real world, as opposed to a classroom. He was my ticket up the corporate ladder in the South.

Growing up
, I didn’t “have a pot to piss in,” as the old saying goes. I graduated high school with a scholarship for college. What that scholarship didn’t cover, I paid for myself. They always tell you that if something sounds too good to be true, then it probably is. Turns out, that’s right.

So here I am,
living in this nasty-as-hell hotel room that I pay for weekly with what little money I have left. I have been shunned from the business world, but I refuse to suffer and struggle my way through the rest of my life. Carl Donovan took everything I worked so hard to gain. I plan on repaying the favor.

 

Present Time

Sage

“Amanda, where are you going?” I ask as I try to keep up with her long strides. It’s really hard considering I am wearing
four inch heels while trying to navigate these damned cobblestone roads here in Savannah. It’s still fairly early for all the partiers out, and River Street is crawling with them. She doesn’t bother answering me, just keeps moving through the crowd until she turns down an alley. She stops at the bottom of a brick staircase that climbs the side of one of the buildings. The iron railing on the side is twisted, and doesn’t look like it would be much help if you started falling.

  
“Now do you want to tell me what you are doing?” I ask, again.

  
I watch as her lips thin into a smile that screams wicked thoughts. I look to the top of the stairs and the red door that needs a new paint job, when the sign above the door catches my eye.

  
“No, you have got to be kidding me. There is no way in hell I am going in there.” A chill runs down my spine just thinking about it. Somewhere down the alley, I hear a cat hiss. Fuck this shit. I turn to take a step back down the stairs to leave when Amanda stops me.

   
You know, for someone who doesn’t believe in this stuff, you sure are acting a lot like a pussy over it,” she sneers. Ugh, she royally pisses me off sometimes. Still, she has been my best friend for ten years, and is the only other person in the world that it doesn’t annoy me to be around for more than a few hours.

   “
I don’t believe in it, but that doesn’t mean I want to chance taking some freaky ass ghost or something home to haunt me forever. Nope,” I say shaking my head dramatically.

  
She pokes one of her neon pink nails at my face and says, “Look here, Sage. You owe me one. I went with you on that stupid double date so you could make your shithead fiancé happy. I had to put up with that guy’s incessant babbling about how he was God’s gift to women, when really, he was just disgusting. That goodnight kiss he laid on me was enough for you to owe me forever!” She finally draws in a breath.

  
“Ugh. Fine! I swear to God, Manda, if I end up cursed or something, I will beat the shit out of you.” She laughs in response as I storm past her and push through the door. A bell above the door sounds off with a sinister ding, and a chill runs down my spine.

  
It’s dark except for the illumination of a few candles around the room. The shelf beside me is lined with old jars and leather bound books that look as though, if you were to touch them, they would turn to dust. Manda walks up beside me examining some of the items. One of her hands rises to skim over a tiny jewel, and I smack it down before she can.

   “What the hell?” s
he asks.

  
“Are you completely insane? That crap could be hexed or whatever!” I say.

  
We both jump when a cackle like laugh comes from behind us. With Amanda’s hand in mine, we turn to see a tiny old lady sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t there when we walked in.

  
“Those are just some trinkets I keep around. I am no fool, the items that hold a hex are kept in the back,” she assures us. Her voice is scratchy as if she has smoked one too many cigarettes in her lifetime. Her silver hair is so long that the ends are touching her hands folded on her lap.

  
“Come and sit.” She extends her hand and points a finger to a small wicker couch across from her. A small table sits between it and her. Amanda tugs on my hand signaling that she intends to go through with this. We take a seat and I find my gaze going back to the old lady, whom I can only guess to be Roth, the name that was on the sign. She is so small. I bet she barely reaches five feet tall.

  
“What would you like to know, young lady?” she questions towards Amanda.

  
“I want to know how my life turns out. You know, the basics,” Amanda explains to her.

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