“Belle,” I called, scared I would startle her, scared she would walk farther onto the ice. “Beautiful!”
Penny’s screams carried through the air, and fear seized me. I’d never known fear until that moment, watching my world on that thin sheet of ice. Belle finally turned and I beckoned her closer. “Beautiful, come to me.”
Her eyes were hollow again—a ghost’s eyes—then she blinked, startling with confusion.
“Careful,” I warned. “Just walk towards me.”
Her eyes flickered in fear to the ice below her and she tightened her grip on Penny. “Smith? Where…?”
I couldn’t risk stepping on to the ice to bring her back to safety. She had to come to me, but she didn’t move. Behind us, there were distant shouts. Our eyes locked on each other and everything else faded away.
“Forever, beautiful,” I reminded her, my promise becoming entreaty.
Please God, don’t take my forever. Don’t take my heart. Don’t take my world.
“Please,” I begged her, holding out my hand. “Please come back to me.”
There was no command in my voice. I wasn’t ordering her. I was begging for my life out there on that barely frozen pond.
Belle slid her foot forward, her chest heaving as the next followed. Her eyes stayed trained on me, and I urged her forward with my hand extended. Time slowed until there was only her and me and our heartbeats. Her fingers closed over mine and time shot forward. Penny’s cries flooded the air along with shouts and a terrible splintering pop below our feet. I grasped her wrist, wrenching her off the ice, away from danger, back to me. She crashed into my arms, a thunderclap booming behind us as the ice gave way where she’d just stood.
“Smith,” she sobbed my name, clutching me, Penny pressed between us wailing. “Smith…”
I looked into her wide eyes and found the fear pounding inside me there.
“Help me,” she pleaded. “I don’t know...why…”
The ice collapsed behind us, sending the water trapped below cresting over the splintered pieces until there was hardly any of it left. I pressed her closer, whispering promises as I kissed the top of her head followed by Penny’s. They were safe, and nothing like this would have again. I wouldn’t allow it. I never thought it would come to this.
But I would protect her from anything—even herself.
Smith and Belle fight for answers and each other in the stunning conclusion to this duet, Break Me, book twelve in the Royals Saga.
Available January 11, 2021.
Break Me
We thought our lives were starting, but our nightmare is just beginning.
Belle changed me. She made me a better man. But I’ll have to accept the monster I once was if I’m going to protect our future.
Because we’ve let something dark into our home, but it won’t break us. Nothing—and no one—will come between us. No matter what sins I have to commit.
If you enjoyed this passionate, emotional romance, you’ll love my new book, Blacklist. Sterling Ford never had a home. Adair MacLaine spent her whole life wanting to run from hers. Five years ago, one night sparked a wildfire that ravaged both their lives and turned love to hate.
Sterling didn’t stay. Adair didn’t leave. Now he’s back for what he abandoned: her.
One-click BLACKLIST Now>
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Rain splatters the succession of black Mercedes-Benzes and Bentleys arriving at the cemetery. Everyone in attendance pulled their most somber sedans out of the garage this morning. There are no flashy red coupes or ostentatious sport utility vehicles today. Rich people know how to put on a show, and today is all about show. But despite the dark clothes and the umbrellas, not a single tear rolls down a single face as attendees climb out of their cars and make their way toward his grave site. The rain cares more than anyone present, myself included.
A woman stumbles, her heel catching in the mud, and my arm shoots out to break her fall. She glances up, murmuring thanks. Everything is gray around us—the sky, the rain, the headstones. Even her copper hair looks almost silver in the clouded light. The world is a hundred muted shades of nothing, except her eyes. They are bright glittering emeralds against the day’s gloom. Even after five years, I’d know them anywhere. A lot has changed. I’ve changed. Maybe she has, too. But those eyes are the same.
Nothing registers on her face as she turns to accept the hand of her companion. He leads her to the front of the crowd, where she belongs. With them.
I skipped the service and the viewing. I’m not here to pay my respects. I came to see him put in the ground. I came to smell the dirt as it hits his coffin and seals the fate of the MacLaine family. Business can be attended to later. I want the pleasure of watching a man fade to nothing but a legacy—a legacy I intend to destroy. But that’s not the real reason I’m here. It’s a perk that I made it back to town in time for the funeral.
A priest says a few words. The rain continues to fall. When the ceremonial dirt hits the coffin, I’m watching the redhead. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t look away. I guess she didn’t change after all.
Adair MacLaine.
The only woman I’ve ever loved.
That bitch? She’s the real reason I came back.
An hour later, I pull into the paved, circular drive of Windfall, the MacLaine family estate, and hand the keys of my Aston Martin to a parking attendant. Judging by the slight bulge protruding from the left side of his cheap blazer, he’s doubling as security. He scopes out the Vanquish appreciatively before his eyes skim over my Italian wool suit, pausing at the Breitling on my wrist and sweeping to the black Berlutis on my feet. Nodding toward the house, he steps to the side. It seems the only identification they’re checking is material status.
That’s a mistake.
Mourners are distracted. Some by grief. Some by a preoccupation with social responsibility. The MacLaines suffer from the latter.
People hosting a funeral have blind spots. Ever wanted to see inside someone’s house? A funeral is a perfect opportunity. Thieves, paparazzi, and assassins all know it’s an in. Need to get to a high value target? Kill someone close, but easier to reach, and wait for their funeral.