“Get the light out of her eyes, for fuck’s sake,” the man barked and with a gentle touch, brushed hair from my eyes. Where his voice had been commanding before, the sound was now exactly what I needed to hear to know I would survive. “Maria.”
“Yes,” I managed.
His voice. So soft. So compelling. Blinking, I locked eyes with his. So kind.
He nodded, touching my face with utter care and kindness.
“You’re safe now. Nothing is going to happen to you ever again.”
CHAPTER 1
Thirteen years later…
Alexia
“Keys. Keys!” Where the fuck did I put my goddamn keys?
They’d disappeared. Again. They were always found in the last place I looked. A quick roll of my eyes reminded me of my mother’s singsong voice every time I used the phrase when still living at home.
Of course they were in the last place I looked. Duh.
I was running late, something that rarely happened. I jerked on my second high heel, almost falling over the couch when I yanked one of two sexy decorative pillows from the cushion.
No keys.
As I hopped around, finally the heel fell into position just as I glanced at my watch. Thank God, I didn’t have court this morning. Worse than losing my keys were Tuesdays, which I’daffectionately started calling the new Monday since it seemed I always had an arduous court day on every single Monday. Not only had court run long the day before, but my sweet client had cried on my shoulder for almost two hours after.
There was no way I could be an indecent human being and send her packing after the ridiculously light fine the two-time loser of a human being had received.
Maybe my mood was partially based on the fact I wasn’t used to losing, competition running through my veins. Unfortunately, over the last few months, judges had been prickly bastards, refusing to charge the bastards even with the clear and present volume of evidence I’d provided.
A seriously evil growl replaced my groan.
Tuesdays were especially horrible dark, gloomy days. No matter the severity of the storm, they were almost malevolent in my mind.
At least I no longer needed to curl up under thick blankets, hiding from the rest of the world until the ominous weather event passed. Maybe I was making headway.
But I’d lose all my momentum if I couldn’t find my goddamn keys.
Groaning, I had a mini tantrum, tossing both decorative pillows over the back of the sofa then attacking the cushions themselves. As I held up a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill into the shadowed light, I wondered just how long the chunk of change had been hiding from me. It could have come in very handy the night before when I decided to purchase the five-dollar bottle of wine.
That’s why I was in this predicament with a dull ache surrounding my eyes, fracturing my last nerve. The cheap red wine hangover was a living and breathing entity threatening to ruin my day. So was losing my goddamn keys.
A hard thump hit the floor at the same time a rumble of thunder was followed by a loud crack. I jumped two feet, immediately placing my hand over my heart. “Jesus fucking Christ.” I was jumpier than usual and not only because of the storm.
Sighing, I glared down at the book I’d read well into the late night. Or I should say very early morning. I’d been hooked, so much so I’d almost skipped going to bed altogether. No wine haze had befuddled me either.
With a slight toss of my head, I bent over, grabbing the thick hardback into my fingers. When I pulled it in front of my face, another flash of lightning provided a perfect and very colorful backdrop for the gloriously graphic cover.
I guessed thriller authors didn’t heed the discreet cover cry that had blanketed the romance industry.
Gone Before Dawn.
The perfect title for a terrifying serial killer book. Gory. Bloody. Violent.
Everything I adored in my late-night reads.
The keys momentarily forgotten, I turned the book over, staring at the photograph of the author on the back. As had happened the first, the second, hell, the tenth time I’d glanced at it, a trickle of desire shot warmth between my legs.
