After the Storm
Authors: M. Stratton
Book One in the Storm Series
A NOVEL
By M. Stratton
Alexia “Lexi” Hanson moved across country and rebuilt her life after the attack that could have destroyed her. She enjoys her simple life in the beach cottage. Life was complete in her eyes.
Noah Matthews is Rock & Roll’s hottest star and on top of the world. After years without a break he finds the solitude he craves at his beach house. Enjoying his early morning coffee
Noah was surprised to watch his neighbor sneak into his garden and start crawling around.
They never saw what was coming that fateful morning. Someone else was watching them. Someone who thought she belonged to him and would stop at nothing to have her.
Lives are changed forever when they meet amongst the blooms in his garden. Even when things seem darkest, there is always light After the Storm
.
Copyright 2013 by M. Stratton
Cover by MG Book Covers (http://salon.io/mgbookcovers)
Edited by Angi Black and Amanda Gordon
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.
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After the Storm is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To my parents, who supported me and loved me more than I ever knew.
Once I became a parent myself I understood everything you did for me.
I can never thank you enough.
I love you.
gue
The hot summer air beat down on him as he walked out and breathed deeply. It’d been so long since he could breathe. His shoes crunched across the graveled parking lot as he thought of her. It was her fault he’d lost the past five years of his life. She had taken away his freedom.
His rage built with every step he took as he approached the waiting cab.
Carrying himself with the refined grace of the social elite, standing just over six-foot-two with broad shoulders, dark wavy hair, piercing blue eyes and chiseled features. A scar, about an inch long, ran from the outer edge of his left eyebrow to down below his eye, a souvenir he saw every time he looked in the mirror—courtesy of his father. But it didn’t detract from his beauty and, in fact, had the opposite effect. It gave him a dangerous flare that women found irresistible. He had his pick of any woman at any time and he loved that power. Or, at least, he had until he’d been stripped of all he knew because of her. Now he was a new creature.
Giving the driver his address he sat back and watched the city go by, trying to keep his mind off of her. Trying to focus on what had changed and what had remained the same, anything to distract from thoughts of her. He was thankful that he’d had enough money to ride out this whole unfortunate situation without losing everything and he chuckled to himself that she would never know what was coming. He smiled for the first time since walking out into the heat.
It had taken longer than he expected to arrive at his home, taking a deep breath he tried to keep his anger in check. He unlocked the front door and strode into his home, his castle. Everything was the same. There was limited time to do what he needed before heading to the east coast.
Climbing the stairs to the secret room that he’d built behind the master bedroom closet and held his breath before entering, wary someone might have found it. But if they had, things would be quite different now. It was a small room, only twenty-five square feet with walls covered in pictures of
his
women. One of the walls had miscellaneous “tools” he liked to use on his women. Another whole wall was dedicated floor-to-ceiling to women that he’d killed, ranging from images of them being out in public to inside their own homes. He paused for a moment as he remembered raping and killing each and every one of them. As always, it brought a calm over him. He lightly kissed each one before he turned his attention to the other wall. This wall belonged solely to her,
the one that got away
. It still angered him he’d been unable to finish what he’d started.
He crossed to his favorite pictures of her. One night, as she slept, he’d snuck into her home and taken her picture. A smile on her face; he liked to think she was dreaming of him. He’d hidden cameras and bugs in her home. It was daring, doing that while she was there, but he needed the extra thrill of possibly being caught. He closed his eyes, remembering going to her bedroom for one last look. It had taken everything he had to not have her then, but it was sometimes better to wait, and he had persevered.
There was one that was his absolute favorite of her, the one that made him hard every time. She was naked and tied to her bed just before waking, the moment before she figured out what was going on. The calm before the storm. A smile spreads across his face. He unzipped his pants, aching for the release, and started jerking off to the thought of doing it again without interruption. This time he would make sure he killed her while he was coming inside her. He threw back his head and screamed her name as he came.
ER ONE
Alexia “Lexi” Hanson lay peacefully in a dreamless sleep just before dawn. Her eyes popped open, her breath suspended as she listened. The rain had stopped. It had rained for days and it was finally over. Jumping out of bed she was excited to look for herself, and crossed to the French doors before stepping out onto the balcony. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the ocean air and did a little happy dance to the rail before looking over toward her neighbor's garden with a smile. It was still dark outside but she could just make out the blooms from the full moon peeking between the clouds. Perfect. Moving back inside she threw on a pair of old jeans and a long-sleeved pink t-shirt.
She didn't know anything about her next door neighbor—he was never there—but she’d become friends with Sam and Martha, the live-in caretakers who took care of his house. They were a wonderful middle-aged couple who didn’t have children of their own but treated her like she was a daughter, making sure that Lexi had sweet treats and help with any repairs she needed done. They never called the owner by name but she knew they’d known him since he was a boy.
Both hers and her neighbor's house were the only two along this mile stretch of cove near Ipswich, Massachusetts. Although his house and land took up most of it, she was quite content with her little portion of sand and three-bedroom beach cottage. It was more than she needed, but she loved it. There was an open concept kitchen, living room and dining room that faced the ocean at the back of the cottage, and two bedrooms downstairs; one she used as her office, the other as a guest room. The upstairs was her retreat, the master bedroom facing the ocean while the closet and master bath took up the rest of the floor.
This cottage meant so much to her. Growing up, she’d spent her summers here with her grandmother, Patsy, at this very beach cottage. Her grandmother had been full of life and, most of the time, had acted like a kid herself. Together, they’d had a lot of fun with the grandchildren of her grandmother’s friends. Her heart still ached and missed her since her passing four years prior.
She skipped down to her kitchen and pushed the button to start her morning coffee. As it brewed, she took out some raspberry muffins Martha had made for her and let her golden retriever, Pepper, out to do her morning business. Lexi had rescued Pepper from a shelter for abused dogs, had felt a kinship with her. They understood and comforted each other. When she had first adopted Pepper, they’d both been suffering from nightmares every night, but that had dissipated through the years.
After her coffee and muffin, Lexi grabbed her camera and made sure everything she might need was in her bag. The thought of what shots she might be able to get of the beach today after the rain excited her. It always amazed her what the violence of the waves washed up on the beach.
She checked the time. Only thirty minutes to get set up before the sun rose above the horizon and ruined her shot. Chugging the rest of her coffee, Lexi put her shoes on and jogged out the door, whistling for Pepper.
Laughing, Lexi handed Pepper a doggie biscuit. "Be a good girl and stay out of our neighbor's garden while I'm in there." She quickly walked into the garden, keeping an eye on the horizon where the sun would rise.
After crawling around and discounting numerous flowers, she finally found the perfect bloom—a peach-colored rose with a dew drop ready to fall off of one petal. She leaned into the beautiful flower and inhaled, careful not to disrupt the drop, then got into position and took a couple of test shots. The dim light was just enough to see what needed to be adjusted. She stayed still, waiting for the perfect moment when the sun would peek over the horizon and be partially hidden behind the bloom. Although the rose would be clear, one could still see all of the debris that had washed up on the beach, the ocean waves in the background. She took dozens, knowing one would be the perfect picture.
~*~
Noah sat in a chair with his feet up on the terrace rail, drinking coffee instead of sleeping. After the schedule he’d kept over the years he should be asleep, dead to the world, for at least the next week. But for some reason the ocean was pulling at him. The fresh air and coffee were doing more for him than a massage from Sven, the best deep tissue masseuse in Los Angeles, and a full night's sleep would ever do.
Just over six feet tall, he had broad shoulders and an eight-pack the women went crazy over but he had to work hard to keep his body in shape now, especially after all of the years he’d spent abusing it. He had black hair and green eyes with obnoxiously long eyelashes that were considered lethal weapons (all the gossip rags said so), a killer smile, and dimples that could melt the heart of the most hardened woman. His largest tattoo was tribal that went from his upper right arm and across his chest, continued down his belly and disappeared under his waistband. Speculation as to what was at the end of the tattoo had women always trying to find out. There was a time in his life when he would have let them. But those days were long gone.
He ran his hands over his face, noticing the stubble just starting to grow. Noah had decided to grow a beard on his long, overdue vacation but now that he finally had some time to think, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He’d never had much time to do whatever he wanted. For so long, he’d lived on a schedule set by someone else. He knew it was time to make a change, but had no idea what it should be.
The one thing he did know was that he didn’t feel done bringing his music to the masses.
Noah Matthews and Last Stand hit it big in the music business when he’d was twenty-one. But that
had been fifteen years ago.
Fifteen long, hard years
. He’d changed a lot from that naïve, hard-partying boy. They all had. The rest of the band were married with kids. The press called him, ‘Last Man Standing’, and it was true.
He didn’t have anything against marriage, he just couldn’t understand how it would work with his schedule. He’d had some long term relationships, if you wanted to call meeting-up-for–a-few-days-once–a-month a relationship. But nothing made the Earth stand still. Nothing that would make him
want
to change his lifestyle. The other guys in the band had found great women and made it work—proving it wasn’t impossible—but the band was slowing down. They wanted to spend more time with their wives and children, and he couldn’t blame them.
Noah’s bandmates were like brothers, and their wives his sister-in-laws. They’d been together since high school. It was nice having this extended family since his father had left when he was a baby and his mother had died from breast cancer when he was nineteen. Watching his band and their families meet up again, after months of being apart, made him long for something he wasn’t sure he even wanted. Or could ever find.
He looked over to his neighbor’s house when he saw an upstairs light.
I wonder if old lady Patsy still lives there
.
Noah had just purchased the home and was there, looking things over, when he’d met his neighbor, Patsy Hanson. She was a pistol. He smiled as he remembered her checking out his ass every time he turned around. It didn’t bother him, he was used to it. He’d had a great conversation with her and she’d given him chocolate chip cookies that had reminded him of what his mom used to make when he’d been a boy.
He watched someone jog out of Patsy’s house and into his garden and sat up straight in his chair.
Well, that can’t be Patsy. What’s she doing?
She never looked up at the house, completely focused. He almost called out to her but the vision of her tight, little ass wiggling around stopped him. Deciding to see what she was up to he kept a close eye on her, wondering if she might be a paparazzi.
Having lost sight of her, Noah started down the stairs toward where he had last seen her, curious to see more than the fleeting glance he’d gotten from above. And what a sight she was. Walking down the stairs he was able to get a better view of her. She wasn’t that tall from what he could tell and had a trim body with nice curves. Wavy dark brown hair with blonde highlights, tied back in a ponytail, came alive in the rising sunlight, some tendrils escaping around her neck and cheek, yet she didn't move a muscle, even though it had to tickle. His fingers itched to tuck the strands behind her ear, but her attention was completely on the viewfinder of her camera.
Noah lost track of time, watching her take picture after picture, as he sipped his cooling coffee, trying to memorize every line of her body, and wanting to know what she was doing near his home. He moved forward, trying to see what she was looking at, and watched her visibly relax, shaking the tension out of her shoulders and coming back to her surroundings. She even gave her pert little rump a shake in what he assumed was happiness.
It was time he let her know he was there.
"Sam didn't tell me he’d planted such a beautiful flower. If I’d known they had blooms like you at the Home Depot, I’d have had him stock up for the whole year." He spoke softly, hoping not to scare her.
The woman gasped and spun around to face him, one hand on her chest, the other holding her camera like a weapon. Staring wide-eyed, she looked up to meet his eyes. After a brief moment he watched as her eyes darted around looking around as if she had forgotten where she was.
Looking back at him she said, "Geez! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Her eyes grew larger and he knew she recognized who he was. Her mouth dropped open but she quickly closed it.
"No," he chuckled. Face-to-face, she looked even better than he’d thought. She had the whole girl-next-door look going for her. "Here I was enjoying the view of the ocean and having some coffee when someone steals into my garden and starts to crawl around. I figured the polite thing would be to meet her." He held his hand out.
She blushed and started to dust off the dirt and mud from her jeans, but looked up sheepishly and extended her hand "Hello, I'm your next-door neighbor Alexia Hanson.”
"Noah Matthews." He didn’t release her hand and made it a point to maintain eye contact. "Do you always crawl through other people’s gardens?”
He watched her blush again, enjoying the knowledge that he’d been the cause of the charming reaction.
"I do in yours.” Lifting her chin defiantly, she said, “Sam and Martha said it was okay if I took pictures on your property. Sam does such a wonderful job with it and the flowers are always changing.” She gestured with her free hand. “It’s calming to be surrounded by so much beauty and I love trying to capture that." She twisted her ponytail nervously while talking to him.
He could not resist as he lifted her hand, brushed some mud off it and kissed her knuckles. "Not as beautiful as watching you in my garden in the early morning light." His plan was two-fold, one to find out who she was and what she was doing in his garden and the other was he was enjoying teasing her and making her uncomfortable.
"Thanks, I think.” Lexi took a step back. “I'll get out of your way now. Sorry to disturb you."
He watched her hands shake. "Oh, don't worry about it. Would you like some coffee?” Noah winked and held his mug up in front of her face. “I was just about to get another cup. I'm sure Martha made something sweet to eat." He watched as she contemplated his offer, wanting her to say yes, unable to deny the pull to her. Maybe it was that she wasn’t falling all over him, or expecting him to bow to her like the high-maintenance models and actresses he was used to having on his arm. He cocked his head to the side and nodded toward his home. "Come on, we’re neighbors, let's get to know each other better. I promise not to bite." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Crossing his arms he stood and waited for her to make a decision, wondering what thoughts were going through her head.
"Sure, I only had one cup this morning, but I’m a little muddy."
He could tell by the way she fidgeted while she put her camera in her bag, she was uneasy.
“How did you make it so long without another?” he teased. “Come on neighbor, let me get you a cup. Don’t worry about the mud. We live on the ocean, there’s always sand in the house anyway.” Noah turned away and started walking toward the house, knowing she’d follow. His vacation was starting to look up. It might be fun to see if she would show him around. He could play tourist.
When she caught up to him she said, “I’ve lived here for a few years and haven’t seen you here before. If I remember correctly, the sale of the estate went through a couple years before I moved here, while my grandmother was still alive.” There was a sadness to her voice that touched Noah. He knew all too well what it was like to lose someone you cared for deeply.
“I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. I only met her once but she seemed like she knew how to have fun.” He laid his hand on her shoulder in sympathy. “I’ve been working hard the past few years in the hopes that I could take some serious time off to just relax. Not too many people know I own it, so it’s the perfect getaway. Now, I’m wishing I’d made trips sooner. The scenery here is lovely.” He made it a point to glance her way hoping to see her reaction.
“How much time off do you plan on taking?”
“I can only take a few of months off,” he sighed. “But I plan to think of nothing but myself, and now, maybe you.” Noah leaned in close to give her his trademark look, flashing his dimples unrepentantly.
She stood her ground and raised one eyebrow at him. “You’re a smooth talker aren’t you? How many women has that line worked on?”