Here's your first exclusive look at Chapter One of Wicked Obsession, the latest release in the New Orleans Connections series, which releases today. This is book #8 in the series, although it can be read as a stand-alone, and you don't have to have read the other books to read and enjoy Wicked Obsession.
CHAPTER ONE
The incessant ringing of the phone
finally broke through Nate Blackwell's intense concentration, and he paused the
streaming video, wiping the sweat from his brow. A few drops still dripped into his eyes, the
salt sting irritating him further. Who
in the hell would interrupt him at…he looked at the clock on the DVR…five
thirty in the morning? Any rational
person would still be buried under the covers, wrapped in the arms of Morpheus,
dreaming pleasant dreams. Not him
though. He rarely slept these days,
getting by on about four hours a night, if he was lucky.
“What?”
At this hour, whoever it was didn’t deserve the courtesy of a polite
greeting. He picked up the towel he’d
tossed onto the back of one of the bar stools lined up with military precision
like little soldiers awaiting their orders, and wiped the sweat from his face,
before running it across his bare chest.
“Nate?”
Every motion ceased at the sound of that
voice. Her voice. One he hadn’t
heard in over three years, right after she’d dashed every hope, every promise
of the future he’d dreamed of and planned for—when she’d handed back his
engagement ring.
“Sheri?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Something was definitely off. Her voice sounded strained. The woman he knew always had a happy-go-lucky
brightness in her words. Rarely unhappy,
she’d been the bright spot in his life from the day he’d met her, yet this
morning she sounded—wrong.
“What do you need?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking the
question, knowing deep in his gut she wouldn’t have called him if it wasn’t
important. She’d sworn never to speak to
him again on that rain-soaked afternoon in that Dallas high-rise where her
father’s corporate offices resided, and where his life had come to a screeching
halt.
“I need to talk to you. Can we meet?”
“Didn’t you hear? I’m not in Dallas anymore. When my company relocated, I went with it.” How had she missed the news? He’d have thought her meddlesome mother would
have made a beeline straight to her before the trail of dust had settled behind
his U-Haul trailer.
“I know, that’s why I’m calling. I’m in New Orleans. Can we meet…please?” He heard the imploring tone in her voice. Bet that grated, having to come crawling to
him when she’d been the one to walk out on their engagement.
“Where are you staying?”
When she rattled off the name of one of
the higher-end hotels, he realized it wasn’t far from his place. It might be vain, but he needed her to see
how far he’d come up in the world since she’d discarded their engagement like
yesterday’s garbage. When they’d met,
she’d been the pampered princess, born to one of Dallas’ finest families, with
a silver spoon wedged tightly between her perfect lips. He, on the other hand, had been a kid from
the wrong side of Mesquite, Texas, whose single mother was raising four
rambunctious boys while working two full time jobs, and squeezing her pennies
so tight they screamed.
“You’ll have to meet me at my
place.” He tossed it out like a
challenge, waiting to see if she’d pick up the gauntlet. He didn’t have to wait long.
“That’s fine, what’s the address?”
He rattled it off, along with the time
to come over and hung up, wondering what kind of trouble she'd gotten herself into. Not that she courted trouble—it just seemed
to find her anyway.
Heading toward the shower, he tossed
his workout shorts into the hamper, turned the water on scalding hot, and
stepped under its needle-sharp spray, hoping the shower would help wash away
the impending feeling of doom seeping into his pores. Because it was a sure thing—where Sheri went,
trouble followed.
# # # # #
Sheri paid the cab driver, and stepped
out into the summer heat. It was still
early, yet the temperature was already in the high eighties and steadily
climbing. It reminded her of Dallas,
where it could easily reach a hundred degrees by lunchtime in July and
August.
The address Nate gave her belonged to a
large brick-fronted building on Canal Street, which appeared to have undergone remodeling. The changes still managed to preserve its
historic charm. Definitely nothing like
the small apartment he’d maintained in North Dallas when they’d first gotten engaged,
a tiny one bedroom apartment that was little bigger than a studio, and she’d
loved everything about it. Looking at Nate’s
new digs, apparently he’d come up in the world.
The glass front door opened before
she’d reached it, and Nate stood silhouetted in the opening. Damn, he looked good. If anything, he’d filled out, with sleek
muscles rippling beneath the T-shirt and jeans he wore. His dark hair was longer, with soft waves
around his ears and neckline she suspected would curl if he didn’t keep it
under rigid control. He’d never worn it
this long when they’d been together.
“It’s good to see you again, Nate.”
“Is it?” She winced at his tone. Looks
like he hasn’t forgiven me. Not that
she blamed him—she’d been the one who’d broken his trust, and tossed away
everything they had without giving him any explanation.
“Let’s go inside, where we can have
some privacy. The rest of the crew will
start showing up soon, and it can get a bit rowdy.”
She followed him inside, taking note of
the sophisticated reception area. He
must have some high-end clientele to afford a place like this. “This is nice.”
“Whole place belongs to my boss, Samuel
Carpenter. Carpenter Security Services
has clients around the world.”
Her brow rose at the mention of
Carpenter’s name. He was one of the movers and shakers in her parents’ social
circle. Although, truth be told, he was
so far out of their league, he left them in the dust. Though her parents would never admit it—they
had too high an opinion of themselves, and their worth.
“How long have you worked with Mr.
Carpenter?”
“Three years, since right after our breakup.” Ouch—direct
hit.
She bit her lip at the feel of his hand
against the small of her back. The touch
of his hand, even through the cloth, sent a little frisson of excitement
through her—just like always. There
hadn’t been a single time it didn’t elicit a response, and she was afraid it
always would.
They rode the elevator up to the fourth
floor, and walked down a hallway until they reached a door at the end. Nate pushed it open without unlocking
it. Obviously he trusted the people
living around him, if he kept his door unlocked.
“Nobody here’s going to steal anything,
plus we’ve got the best security money can buy.” He answered her unasked question, as if he’d
read her mind. But then again, he’d
always been good at that, as she recalled.
“This place is gorgeous.” It truly was, with its open floor plan, the
exposed brickwork, and hardwood floors gleaming in the morning sunlight. Huge windows along two walls allowed sunlight
to flood the east-facing apartment, meaning he got a lot of the early morning sunshine.
“Want some coffee?”
“Please.” She hadn’t even stopped to make any this
morning, too anxious to meet with Nate.
The nerves had assaulted her right after she’d hung up, and she’d been
afraid if she took even the tiniest swallow, she’d have tossed it right back
up. And she loved her coffee.
He walked into the kitchen, right off
the huge living space, and she followed along silently, noting the high-end
appliances, the dark cherry cabinets.
The light-colored granite was cool beneath her fingertips.
“This is nothing like where we used to
live, is it?” She couldn’t hide the
wistful tone in her voice, hoping he’d ignore it. Now wasn’t the time to be taking a stroll
down memory lane—she was here to ask for his help, not to reconcile, although it
would be nice if they could at least be civil.
She watched him pop a coffee pod into
the maker, and place a mug beneath it, smelled the fragrant brew as it filled
the cup. Within no time, she had a fresh
piping hot cup before her, and watched him pull a carton of milk from the fridge. She felt a stinging warmth in her chest when
she realized he’d remembered she always took a ton of milk in her coffee,
though no sugar.
She took a sip, waiting while he made
his own cup, watching every movement.
Each was effortless and smooth, like everything else he did. He’d always reminded her of a combination of
two different people, one the happy and playful man she’d fallen in love with,
and one a deadly predator, willing to lay down his life in defense of someone
in need. She prayed that was still the
case—because she needed him.
“Why are you here, Sheri?” Nate peered at her over the rim of his cup,
his brown-eyed gaze intense. She knew
better than to beat around the bush or try evasive tactics with him. He didn’t tolerate it. He might joke and tease, and sometimes flirt,
but when it was time to get to business—he was all business.
Gently placing her cup on the granite
peninsula, she drew in a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the cup,
feeling the warmth sink into her cold fingers.
It was time to open up and tell him what was going on, tell him the
whole truth, even if it hurt. Because
she knew he would be hurt—devastated that she’d hidden the truth from him for
so long—even if it had been to keep him safe.
“We need to talk about what happened
three years ago, Nate. It’s time you know
the whole truth.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His words held a finality that chilled her to
the bone, and she knew it was going to be an uphill battle to get him to
understand, even if he didn’t agree with the choices she’d made.
“We have to talk about our engagement, and
what led up to me breaking it.” She
lowered her gaze, unwilling to see the hurt in his eyes. Watching him walk away had nearly killed her,
and she couldn’t bear to see the hatred she knew would reflect back at
her.
“If that’s what you came for, you might
as well leave now.”
“That’s part of it, but not the whole
story. I need you.”
The laugh that erupted from him was
ugly and bitter, and she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry at the level of
hurt he tried to hide. But she’d come too
far to back out now. She was damned if
she’d be a coward—never again.
“You never needed me, sweetheart. Go back to your parents and their money. Hopefully it’ll keep you warm at night.”
“I can’t go home.” The finality in her tone must have finally
gotten through to him, because he straightened from his lounging position
against the sink.
“What do you mean, you can’t go
home?”
“It’s not safe anymore.”
The way he placed his cup on the
counter, so precise and gentle, should have clued her in, but she wasn’t firing
on all cylinders. She’d barely slept,
and when she did it was barely enough to get her through the day. Before she could blink, he’d grasped both her
forearms, his grip solid, though not hurting.
He’d never hurt her—she’d bet her life on it. She was—otherwise she wouldn’t be here
now.
“What the hell is going on,
Sheri?”
“Somebody’s trying to kill me.”
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