Safe From the Dark
Read Safe From the Dark Online
Authors: Lily Rede
SAFE FROM THE DARK
By Lily Rede
SAFE FROM THE DARK
Copyright 2012 by Lily Rede
All Rights Reserved
First Kindle Edition, November
2012
WARNING: This work contains
explicit depictions of couples engaged in consensual sex and sexual situations.
If you’re under 18, read something else!
ADDITIONAL
WORKS AVAILABLE AS SINGLE TITLES
Hot
for Joe
Build
Me Up
My
Fair Hex
Passion
& Pumpkins
Pour
On the Heat
ANTHOLOGIES
Hot
& Sweet - Beginnings
Email
Lily at
[email protected]
Twitter:
@RedeLily
For my writing girls, who never
let me stop.
Contents
SAFE FROM THE
DARK
THE
SOUNDS OF PASSION were grating – soft murmurs and husky laughter muffled by the
partially demolished walls of the house on this side and the sheets of rain
pummeling the tarp overhead. It was a good hiding spot, the half-finished
addition to the structure – no one would think to look here, and one could
listen to every incriminating moment of seduction.
Sin.
She
had come over, despite the rain,
and Colin had met her at the door with surprise, exhaustion etched on his face.
The poor man needed sleep, but she had talked her way in, her bleached hair
artfully tousled, her overblown breasts brushing against him, her breathy voice
promising all manner of carnal delights. He was no match for her aggressive
overtures – how could he be? He was only a man, and men had needs that had to
be fulfilled.
It’s
not his fault. It’s hers, the slut, spreading her legs for any eager cock that
came along, luring good men into the muck.
Right
now he was probably taking off her tight clothes, filling his hands with her
bloated curves, listening to her lies while she gloried in his strength and
heat. He had ignored the little warning notes over the last few weeks, letting
himself be drawn into sin and decay. He didn’t understand. The rage that
followed the thought was hot and then icy cold.
Patience.
Love is patient. But maybe a stronger warning. Before it’s too late.
The
red SUV in the driveway glistened in the morning light, its wet lines mocking,
like red lips curved in a seductive smile. Like blood.
Above,
a sigh of pleasure and a rough male groan.
Wrath.
Mine.
"SON
OF A BITCH!"
Evie
Asher swerved to avoid the fallen tree, only to feel the sedan jerk as the
tires sank six inches into the mud off the side of what only the most
charitable of lunatics would call a road. It was only mid-afternoon, but the
thunderclouds and sheets of rain had darkened the October day to twilight and
turned the dirt road into sludge. Ten minutes of spinning wheels confirmed her
bad luck – stuck fast.
Fucking
perfect
, Evie
thought, and slammed her hand against the steering wheel, instantly regretting
it as splinters of pain shot up her aching arm to the partially-healed wounds
in her shoulder and side. She had ignored the sling for the trip from New York,
finding it awkward to drive one-handed, but after ten hours, even Evie's
legendary stamina was giving out and her whole left side was one big, burning
ache. She squinted through the rain-slicked windshield at the split road ahead
and considered her options. If memory served, her grandmother's cabin was about
a mile up the right fork. The nearest neighbors were the Daniels, a half mile
down the opposite fork.
Evie
had a vague recollection of her Gram taking her to visit Martha Daniels, who
smelled of lemon and clean linen, cooing over her and wishing she had a little
girl of her own. It was a nice memory, one of Evie's last good ones before her life
went to hell. She wondered if Mrs. Daniels would remember her fondly or if
disapproval would fill her eyes when she opened the door. If Evie were lucky,
she wouldn't remember her at all. Evie had changed, grown up miraculously in
one piece, and remade her life as a tough and capable member of the NYPD, until
a few weeks ago, when two bullets had knocked her out of commission and her
monumentally bad relationship decision had blown up in her face.
Apparently
the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
The
discovery that her grandmother had left her the property in Bright’s Ferry,
despite everything, had been a welcome surprise. There was a chance the gossip
hadn't spread this far. Bright’s Ferry was about as rural as you could get,
quietly tucked against a secluded New England bay, a good spot to start over. Unless,
of course, your parents were at the center of the biggest town scandal in
decades. Still, it had been twenty years, and Evie had nowhere else to go.
Maybe
this time it will stick,
she thought with a sigh.
At
the very least, Martha and Hank Daniels would let her use the phone to call the
town's lone garage. It was the good human thing to do, regardless of whatever
news about her might have made it back to them.
Evie
checked her cell phone, unsurprised by the lack of bars, and shoved it into her
backpack. There was no way around it, she was going to get soaked. She had
never waited around to be rescued, and she wasn't about to start now. Evie took
a quick glance around the car, reached for the door handle, and then paused.
You
don't need the gun,
she
reminded her inner cop, who grumbled.
A
brief inner struggle and Evie opened the glove compartment, grabbed her 9mm,
and awkwardly shrugged into her shoulder holster, gasping in pain. She
immediately felt better when the weight of the weapon settled into its
customary place, and cautiously eased her hoodie on over it.
One
more hour,
she
promised herself.
One more hour and you'll be lounging in front of a
fireplace, drinking a nice pinot and reading about the dark-eyed Sabatino doing
deliciously illicit things to his Contessa on the library floor.
She
hefted the backpack onto her good side and stepped out into the rain.
SHIVERING
AND COMPLETELY DRENCHED, Evie dropped her backpack on the Daniels' porch. It was
a beautiful hundred-year-old farmhouse that was obviously in the process of
being restored – scaffolding protected a new wing off the side of the two-story
structure. Evie spared only a quick glance around – her teeth were starting to
chatter.
Fingers
tight with cold, Evie raised a hand to knock.
Nothing.
Come
on, come on.
Someone
had to be home, judging from the sporty little SUV in the driveway sitting next
to a more utilitarian truck. The lights within blazed with beckoning warmth and
the smoky scent of a fireplace teased Evie with promises of heat and comfort.
She
knocked harder, kicking the door for good measure, stumbling back as it jerked
open.
"What
the hell, Tom? Can't a guy take one Sunday afternoon – ”
He
broke off abruptly, hazel eyes widening.
Evie
tried to form words, but her brain inconveniently chose that moment to shut
down, obviously overloaded by impending hypothermia and the sight of six plus
feet of bare, tanned muscle standing in the doorway, clutching a blanket around
his waist with lean, elegant hands. His skin had a light sheen of sweat and his
dark hair was ruffled over those bright hazel eyes.
Hot.
Even
the inner cop whimpered and she gave it a mental shove.
Pull
it together, Asher.
"I'm
so sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Mr. or Mrs. Daniels – ”
His
brows snapped together with a frown.
"They're
dead. Over a year now. Car accident."
"I’m
sorry, I didn't know. I was headed to the old Asher cabin down the road and my
car got stuck."
"You
were trying to get out there in this?"
Incredulous,
he gestured and the blanket slipped just a bit, exposing another inch of taut
waist and a narrow pelt of dark hair under his navel that arrowed downward in a
most interesting manner.
Evie
swallowed and kept her eyes on his.
"I
just need a phone to call the garage, if that's okay."
"Colin?"
The breathy voice drifting down the stairs had Evie's face heating in a blush,
despite her shivers, as her brain stuttered back into working order.
Two
cars in the driveway, panting sex god in the doorway. Way to go, Asher. You
just cock-blocked your new neighbor
.
Said
sex god muttered something that sounded suspiciously like,
"Fucking
hell,”
and stepped back to let her in.
"Give
me five minutes and I'll take you myself."
"You
really don't have to do that."
She
wavered slightly as she stepped into the warmth of the house, closing her eyes
for a moment as heat curled around her frozen limbs. Evie shuddered in
reaction.
“Colin!”
The
voice was less breathy and more annoyed, and Evie caught a glimpse of a buxom
blonde in a blue lace confection on the upstairs landing. It looked
uncomfortable, but Evie supposed it wasn't designed to be worn for long. The
woman's silicone breasts were clearly trying to make a strategic escape to
avoid chafing.
“Wait
here while I get some clothes on.” He pointed toward a living room, where a
fire crackled merrily in the fireplace and the remains of a romantic interlude
were strewn on the coffee table – half a bottle of wine, a couple of glasses.