In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) (36 page)

Acknowledgments

This book would not have been possible if not for the loving encouragement of Kele Moon and Paige Weaver. Thank you both for your advice and your friendship. I treasure both.

Thank you and much love to my wonderful betas—Nicole, Leslie, and Tiffany—whose love and enthusiasm for my writing keeps me going on the tough days. I love you all and am blessed to call you friends.

Thank you to my wonderful editor, Maria Gomez. I treasure your steadfast cheerfulness and the way you persist in pushing me just a little bit more, which makes the manuscript so much better. You’re going to be an awesome mom.

Thank you to Melody Guy for pointing out those plot holes to be filled.

Thank you to Marina Adair for making sure I was on the right track.

Thank you to Jennifer Armentrout for telling me the single best piece of advice upon finishing one series and starting another. I wrote it down and look at it every day before I begin writing. You’re awesome and I love you.

To my agent, Kevan Lyon, you’re a rock star and I thank you.

To my amazing husband, my best friend, Tim, for your support and belief in me. Thank you for being you, which makes me a better me.

And, as always, my thanks and appreciation to all those at Montlake Romance for their continued support in creating a wonderful platform and an amazing team to sell my books. You are all fantastic and it’s a privilege to work with you.

C
ONTINUE READING FOR
AN EXCITING PREVIEW OF
S
HADOW OF A
D
OUBT,
B
OOK 2 IN THE
T
ANGLED
I
VY
SERIES

P
ROLOGUE

H
e came in the dead of night.

I was accustomed to his unannounced arrivals, so when I woke to the feel of a man sliding under the sheets with me, I wasn’t afraid.

He was already naked and it only took a moment for him to slip my nightgown over my head and toss it aside. He kissed me and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his.

His skin was warm, his body hard. His taste and touch were addictions I craved more fiercely than the most avid heroin addict.

We didn’t speak. I didn’t welcome him home or ask about his day. He couldn’t tell me about his job even if he wanted to, though I suspect that fact didn’t bother him. It was the nature of spies to be secretive, though since I’d known only one, I supposed I wasn’t an expert on the subject.

These thoughts were driven from my mind as his hands skated down my body. He shifted my legs apart, moving to lie between my spread thighs. I focused on him, memorizing the feel of him pressing against me, inside me.

The night passed in a blur of whispered sighs and moans, sweat and skin beneath tangled sheets, until the pleasure he’d wrung from me forced me into an exhausted and sated slumber.

When I woke to sunlight streaming through my window, he was gone.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

I
was hard-pressed to keep a stupid grin off my face as I got ready for work.

Devon had come last night.

It had been weeks since I’d seen him, each night going to bed hopeful, each morning waking up disappointed. My cell phone hadn’t rung with a call in the middle of the night, the number blocked. Its silence mocked me.

But I hadn’t been disappointed last night.

My body still tingled when I thought about what had passed in the early hours of the morning, a shiver running down my spine.

I finished running a brush though my hair—long, straight, and pure white-blonde. My makeup was minimal. Blessed with beauty, I was glad for my looks for the first time in my life. Without it, I doubted I’d ever have caught Devon’s eye.

Some men were attracted to lush figures, which I didn’t have. Tall and on the too-skinny side of thin, I had the perfect shape to wear the designer clothes I couldn’t afford that filled my closet. That shape was not one men usually drooled over.

Other men were all about the face. Devon was one of those men. He didn’t seem to mind my angles and planes where there should be soft curves. He liked my face. He liked it a lot. And he’d once told me he liked the way I moved, the way I walked.

Maybe influenced by one too many runway shows, I tried to do justice to the clothes I wore. So I stood tall, shoulders back, chin up, and sashayed my ass down the street, usually in four-inch heels. It made me feel good about myself and gave me a confidence it had taken me years to acquire.

Glancing at my watch, I saw I was going to be late for work if I didn’t hurry. Worcester Bank opened early and I had to be there even earlier for my job as teller. I’d been daydreaming of last night, putting me behind schedule.

Hurrying into the kitchen, I grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. I needed a quick fix before I left. That’s when I saw it.

A stack of money on the kitchen counter.

I stared in confusion for a moment, then set aside my mug and reached for the money. Next to it was a note.

For anything you might need, luv.

-D

Absently, I counted the stack. It was about a half-inch tall and only contained hundreds. When I was through counting, I just stood in amazement.

Ten thousand dollars. Devon had left ten thousand dollars just . . . sitting on the kitchen counter.

My happiness abruptly deflated like a popped balloon. Last night had seemed special—a wonderful reunion after too many weeks apart. But now it was sordid, tainted by money left figuratively on the bedside table, as though Devon were compensating me for having sex with him.

I didn’t know what to do with the money. It wasn’t like I felt like I could leave it sitting out. Going back into the bedroom, I hesitated, then put it in the top drawer of the nightstand. That was probably the most appropriate place for it anyway, I thought somewhat bitterly.

Now I was really late for work. I drove my own car although I had the keys for Devon’s Porsche. He’d left them when he’d left the keys to his apartment and a directive to move out of my best friend Logan’s place and into his. But driving such an expensive car made me nervous, so my old sedan was preferable.

Marcia, another teller at the bank and one of my few close friends, was pouring herself a cup of coffee in the break room by the time I hurriedly clocked in and tossed my lunch into the communal refrigerator.

“Oh, pour me a cup, too, please,” I said, somewhat breathless from my dash into the building after I’d parked my car.

She obliged, pouring a second cup and eyeing me. “You look a little tired today,” she said. “Everything okay?”

“Devon came last night,” I said, taking the cup from her. We fell into step together as we walked to the front of the bank and our teller booths.

“That’s, what, the sixth time he’s been back since New Year’s?” she asked. “That should make you happy.” Her voice was carefully even. She didn’t really “get” my relationship with Devon, but wanted to support my decisions, which was more than I could say for Logan.

“I was,” I said, pausing outside my booth, “but then this morning, I saw he’d left money on the kitchen counter.”

Marcia raised her eyebrows. “Money?” I nodded. She frowned. “How much?”

I glanced around before answering, then lowered my voice. “Ten thousand dollars.”

Her eyes flew open wide. “Ten thousand—”

“Shh!” I shushed her, glancing around again, but no one had paid attention.

“Ten thousand dollars,” she said again, this time much more quietly, but no less astounded. “Are you kidding me right now?”

I shook my head. “I counted it.”

“Did he talk to you about it?”

“No. He just left a note.”

“And it said?” she prompted.

Pulling the scrap of paper from my pocket, I handed it to her and she read it, then handed it back.

“What do you think it means?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I have no idea, but you know I don’t understand how this relationship works anyway. Maybe it’s just what he says. Some money in case you need it.”

“But I’m already living in his apartment. He pays all the bills. Why would I need money?”

“Girl, if you think you’re going to get sympathy from me because your boyfriend gave you ten grand to spend on whatever you want, you’re looking in the wrong place.” Her dry comment prodded a grin out of me.

We had to stop there because customers had entered the building. I was busy all day and when I did stop to eat lunch and chat with Marcia, we didn’t talk about Devon or dissect the events of last night. Not that it stopped me from dwelling on it all day.

Was I making a big deal out of nothing? Ten thousand dollars was a lot of money. Maybe it was a goodbye gift? Maybe I wouldn’t see him again?

The thought made my stomach clench as anxiety struck. Surely he’d tell me if he wasn’t coming back? He wouldn’t just leave and not say a word?

But I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t do just that.

I had no way of reaching him. When he called, his number was always blocked, and he didn’t call that often anyway. There was no predictable pattern to it and he rarely stayed on the line for long.

Warm spring air greeted me when I stepped out of the building a little after six o’clock. I was tired. The lack of sleep last night and a long day at work had taken their toll and I couldn’t wait to get home and relax.

Home.

Was that how I thought of Devon’s apartment? Home?

It was the closest thing I’d had to a home since moving to St. Louis from Dodge City, Kansas last summer. I’d stayed with Logan for a while, but then Devon had swept into my life and one of his conditions for
remaining
in my life was that I move out of Logan’s place and into his. Since he was hardly ever home, I had the place to myself. A perk I’d gladly give up if it meant I’d get to see him more often. Six times over the past four months wasn’t enough, especially when the longest visit had been only ten hours.

I unlocked and climbed into my car, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat. I pulled my door shut with a slam just as the rear door opened and a man slid into the backseat.

Alarmed, I reached for my door handle. “Hey! What’re you—” But I was cut off when he reached over the seat and took a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. I gasped in pain, and with my next breath, I felt the cold slide of a blade against my throat.

“Hallo, luv. Been a while, eh?”

I caught sight of the man in my rearview mirror.

Clive.

He used to work with Devon, if I used the term
work
loosely. The details were sketchy. What I did know was that he’d once betrayed Devon and left him for dead, and that Clive’s brand-new wife had been murdered by a poison that had also infected me. I, however, had survived.

I swallowed. “What do you want?” I asked, proud of my steady voice.

“I want Anna back, but that’s never going to happen,” he said, speaking of his dead wife. “So I’ll settle for the next best thing.”

He stopped and I thought he wanted me to ask. His fingers pulled harder at my hair and tears of pain burned at the corners of my eyes. My fingernails dug into my seat as I scrambled to think what to do.

“What’s that?” I managed.

“Revenge.”