White Collared Part One: Mercy (12 page)
Read White Collared Part One: Mercy Online
Authors: Shelly Bell
Then again, Kate had perpetuated Hannah’s self-centeredness throughout the years by failing to set limits with her friend, and, like a child, Hannah had continued to test her until she’d finally crossed the line of no return. “Hannah, this isn’t like the time you borrowed my favorite sweater without permission and ruined it, or the time you forgot to pick me up after class and I had to walk home in a blizzard. Those were innocent mistakes. There was nothing innocent about you and Tom.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I love you. You’re the best friend I ever had. If I could explain—”
It was as if for good measure Hannah was squeezing lemon juice on Kate’s wound. “Do me a favor. Save your breath. From now on, you and I are nothing but co-workers. I hope Tom was worth our friendship. Good-bye, Hannah.” She pressed
end
before her ex-friend could say another word.
Carrying her candle, she went to the kitchen and poured herself a tumbler of gin on ice, foregoing any mixer. Probably not wise to mix pills and alcohol, but since in one night she’d lost her best friend, boyfriend, and lover
and
had managed to ruin her career before it had even begun, she figured she deserved heavy sedation.
The cool liquid slid down her throat, erasing the taste of Jaxon, which lingered on her palate like the finest Belgian chocolate. With her glass in one hand and candle in the other, she flopped herself on the couch and took another sip, the gravity of tonight’s actions hitting her full force.
Sex with a client.
Was she obligated to tell Nick?
Although she technically hadn’t violated the rules of ethics, sleeping with Jaxon certainly wouldn’t gain her a spot as an associate. Her first big case and she’d already placed the firm at risk of a lawsuit. Nick couldn’t sweep this under the rug. Hadn’t he warned her he’d look out for himself first? If she told him the truth, he’d have to fire her, and once word got out why she was let go from her internship, no reputable firm would ever hire her.
Even worse, she’d disappoint him. He expected more from her. Pushed her to be the best. There was no losing in Nick Trenton’s world. No coming in second.
She covered her face with her hands. Jaxon wasn’t only his client. He was his best friend. What if the kiss with Nick could have led to something more after graduation? She’d ruined any chance of it.
In the morning, she’d have to come clean and beg for his forgiveness. Maybe he’d take her off the case but consider keeping her on as his intern. She gulped down the last shot of gin and rolled an ice cube in her mouth. If she were in Nick’s position, she’d fire her ass.
It was hopeless.
Spinning, she rested her head on the back of the couch and shut her eyes. Her arms felt as though she’d attached fifty-pound weights to them, and her breathing slowed.
Just as she slipped into unconsciousness, the trill of her phone jarred her awake. She gritted her teeth.
What would it take for Hannah to get the message?
She lifted her phone, but her fingers barely worked, making it difficult to press the green button. After several tries, she managed to connect with it. "Hannah, I mean it, don’t call me—”
“Jaxon Deveroux is dangerous. You need to drop his case.”
Despite the alcohol and pills suppressing her adrenaline, she jolted awake. “Who is this?”
“I can’t tell you.”
The caller’s voice was computerized, making it impossible to identify its owner. She sat up and tried to gather her wits. Who knew her cell number? “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t accuse him of being dangerous without proof.”
“You don’t want proof. You want to believe he’s innocent. Tell me, Katerina, did you fuck him yet?”
Bile burned her throat. Other than those she’d left behind in the Upper Peninsula, no one knew her as Katerina.
No one except Jaxon.
She coughed back her fear. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what he does. He’ll protect you. Convince you he’ll keep you safe. Make you think you’re the center of his universe and that the sun rises and sets in your cunt. But he’s a sociopath. A sadist. You should know Alyssa wasn’t his first.”
“His first what? His first wife? Submissive?”
“His first kill. You understand what it’s like to take a life, don’t you, Katerina Martini? The rush. The power.”
It was as if carbon monoxide replaced all the oxygen in her lungs. A stabbing pain unfurled in her chest, and she gasped for air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Kate Martin.”
The caller laughed. “Fine, Kate. We’ll play it your way for now. It’s up to you whether you choose to listen to me or not. Maybe you want to die. Maybe you think you deserve it.”
A knock pounded through the door of the temporary holding cell, and a pretty female officer entered. “Katie, your mom is here.”
What had taken so long? They’d locked her in here hours ago with nothing but a cup of water and some crackers. Her father’s blood had dried on her clothes, and she had to pee. No way could she use the disgusting aluminum toilet in the corner.
She followed the cop upstairs to the lobby. As soon as she saw her mama, she started to cry and rushed toward her. Her head whipped back as Mama slapped her cheek.
“I never wanted a child, but I did it for him. You were a mistake. It should’ve been you who died in the woods.”
She shook away the memory. “Don’t call me again or I’ll contact the police.”
The caller laughed. “And tell them what? Someone warned you about your guilty client? Somehow, I don’t think you’ll make that call. Watch your back. Or you’ll end up like Alyssa.”
The call disconnected.
Spasms rocked her abdomen. Throwing her hand over her mouth, she stumbled into the bathroom, making it just in time to empty the contents of her stomach.
Her head pounded in time with her speeding heart. She rinsed out her mouth, and, as she spit into the sink, she caught sight of her weary face in the mirror. Only her swollen lips showed any evidence of her earlier bliss. Mascara circled her eyes and a line of black streaked down one cheek. Her hair stuck to her sweat-soaked head.
She could be staring at her mother’s reflection.
No, she would not turn into her.
Every day people came to a crossroad and were forced to make a choice. You could give in to the darkness, admit defeat, and give up or you could travel the harder path and fight against the abyss. For a couple of years, she’d wallowed in the shadows until she’d forged a window and escaped, vowing never to return.
With the alcohol purged from her system, she dialed the only person she could trust, hoping she wouldn’t live to regret it.
Don’t miss the next thrilling installment of
WHITE COLLARED
By Shelly Bell
PART TWO: GREED
coming June 10 from Avon Red Impulse!
SHELLY BELL
writes sensual romance and erotic thrillers with high emotional stakes for her alpha heroes and kiss-ass heroines. She began writing upon the insistence of her husband, who dragged her to the store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not practicing corporate law, taking care of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.
Shelly is a member of Romance Writers of America and International Thriller Writers.
Visit her website at ShellyBellBooks.com.
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White Collared series
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OVEL
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T
HE
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EDDING
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ERIES
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VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: CAROLINA
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An Excerpt from
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by Julie Brannagh
Sexy football player Zach Anderson and sports reporter Cameron Ondine find that their past has come back to haunt them—and maybe even ignite a few sparks—in the third installment of Julie Brannagh’s irresistible new series.
Z
ACH ANDERSON WAS
in New York City again, and he wasn’t happy about it. He wasn’t big on crowds as a rule, except for the ones that spent Sunday afternoons six months a year cheering for him while he flattened yet another offensive lineman on his way to the guy’s quarterback. He also wasn’t big on having four people fussing over his hair, spraying him down with whatever it was that simulated sweat, and trying to convince him that nobody would ever know he was wearing bronzer in the resulting photos.
Then again, he was making eight figures for a national Under Armour campaign with two days’ work; maybe he shouldn’t bitch. The worst injury he might sustain here would be some kind of muscle pull while running away from the multiple women hanging out at the photo shoot who had already made it clear they’d be interested in spending more time with him.
He was all dolled up in UA’s latest. Of course, he typically didn’t wear workout clothes that were tailored and/or ironed before he pulled them on. The photo shoot was now in its second hour, and he was wondering how many damn pictures of him they actually needed. But there were worse things than being a pro football player who looked like the cover model on a workout magazine, was followed around by large numbers of hot young women, and got paid for it all.
“Gorgeous,” the photographer shouted to him. “Okay, Zach. I need pensive. Thoughtful. Sensitive.”
Zach shook his head briefly. “You’re shitting me.”
Zach’s agent, Jason, shoved himself off the back wall of the room and moved into Zach’s line of vision. Jason had been with him since Zach signed his first NFL contract. He was also a few years older than Zach, which came in handy. He took the long view in his professional and personal life, and encouraged Zach to do so as well.
“Come on, man. Think about the poor polar bears starving to death because they can’t find enough food at the North Pole. How about the NFL jumping up to eighteen games in the regular season? If that’s not enough,
Sports Illustrated
’s discontinuing the swimsuit issue could make a grown man cry.” Even the photographer snorted at that last one. “You can do it.”
Eighteen games a season would piss Zach off more than anything else, but he gazed in the direction the photographer’s assistant indicated, thought about how long it would take him to get across town to his appointment when this was over, and listened to the camera’s rapid clicking once more.
“Are you sure you want to keep playing football?” the photographer called out. “The camera loves you.”
“Thanks,” Zach muttered. Shit. How embarrassing. If any of his four younger sisters were here right now, they’d be in hysterics.
C
AMERON SMILED INTO
the camera for the last time today. “Thanks for watching. I’m Cameron Ondine, and I’ll see you next week on
NFL Confidential
.” She waited until the floor director gave her the signal that the camera was off and stood up to stretch. Today’s guest had been a twenty-five-year-old quarterback who’d just signed a five-year contract with Baltimore’s team for seventy-five million dollars. Fifty million of it was guaranteed. His agent hovered just off-camera, but not close enough to prevent the guy in question from asking Cameron to accompany him to his hotel suite and “hook up.”
Cameron wished she were surprised about such invitations, but they happened with depressing frequency. The network wanted her to play up what she had to offer—fresh-faced, wholesome beauty, a body she worked ninety minutes a day to maintain, and a personality that proved she wasn’t just another dumb blonde. She loved her job, but she didn’t love the fact that some of these guys thought sleeping with her was part of the deal her employers offered when she interviewed them.
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Oliver Goswick, Viscount Rathburn, needs money, but only marriage to a proper miss will release his inheritance. There’s just one solution: a mock courtship with a trusted friend.
Miss Emma Danvers knows nothing good can come of Rathburn’s scheme. Still, entranced by the inexplicable hammering he causes in her heart, she agrees to play his betrothed despite her heart’s warning. It’s all fun and games . . . until someone falls in love!
“S
HALL WE SHAKE
hands to seal our bargain?”
Not wanting to appear as if she lacked confidence, Emma thrust out her hand and straightened her shoulders.
Rathburn chuckled, the sound low enough and near enough that she could feel it vibrating in her ears more than she could hear it. His amused gaze teased her before it traveled down her neck, over the curve of her shoulder and down the length of her arm. He took her gloveless hand. His flesh was warm and callused in places that made it impossible to ignore the unapologetic maleness of him.
She should have known this couldn’t be a simple handshake, not with him. He wasn’t like anyone else. So, why should this be any different?
