Slaying the Dragon (Deception Duet #2)
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Authors: T. K. Leigh
SLAYING THE DRAGON
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Published by Carpe Per Diem, Inc / Tracy Kellam, 25852 McBean Parkway # 806, Santa Clarita, CA 91355
Edited by Kim Young, Kim’s Editing Services
Cover Design: Cat Head Biscuit, Inc., Santa Clarita, CA
Front Cover Image Copyright 2015 Denis Mirinov
Back Cover Image Copyright 2015 Wallenrock
Used under license from Shutterstock.com
Copyright © 2015 T.K. Leigh / Tracy Kellam
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0990739945
ISBN-13: 978-0-9907399-4-4
Chapter Eleven - Full Disclosure
Chapter Thirteen - Love Happens
Chapter Fifteen - About A Girl
Chapter Sixteen - One More Time
Chapter Seventeen - Start Again
Chapter Eighteen - Worth The Wait
Chapter Twenty-Three - A Decision
Chapter Twenty-Four - Tripwire
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Apologies
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Forever
Chapter Twenty-Nine - No Guarantee
Chapter Thirty-Three - Giving Up
Chapter Thirty-Five - Puzzle Pieces
Chapter Thirty-Six - Vindication
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Every Time We Say Goodbye
Chapter Thirty-Nine - New Orders
To Stan and little #Tinkerbump… The irony is not lost on me.
Slaying The Dragon: /slang/ A common literary motif used in fairytales whereby a dragon held a young princess hostage. Many would try to slay the beast, but none would prevail…until a handsome young knight came on the scene and defied the odds, rescuing the princess from her prison. Today, the phrase has been broadened to mean overcoming a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, either internal or external.
We all have dragons that need slaying…
What’s yours?
Mackenzie
B
REATHE
, I
TOLD
MYSELF
, using my trembling hands to lift the parking brake on my Mercedes convertible. I stared at the two-story cream-colored stucco house, ghosts of what was for a brief period of time dancing in my mind. It had been a week since I ordered Tyler to let me go, leaving him alone and heartbroken on the streets of Boston.
But not as heartbroken as I was.
I had so many questions…questions I desperately needed answers to. Despite his lies, I still woke up each morning with an emptiness in my heart because another day had passed that I didn’t get to feel his skin on mine, his lips brushing mine, his heart beating in time with mine.
I didn’t want to feel this way anymore.
I needed to wash my life of his existence so I could return to the old Mackenzie, the one who maintained complete control over her feelings, but I knew I couldn’t do that until I finally confronted him and said the things I needed to say. Only then could I finally move on and forget about Tyler Burnham.
Walking up the cobblestone driveway on unsteady legs, I tried to focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other. If I thought of anything else – why Tyler lied to me, why he used me, why he didn’t come after me even when I told him to let me go – I would lose the small amount of nerve I finally had. I had driven to this same house every day since I had gotten back to South Padre. Each time, I sat in my car, never having the courage to walk those fifty steps up to the front door. I had walked fifty steps countless times, but nothing seemed as daunting and insurmountable as the path that lay before me today.
I didn’t know what I hoped to get out of finally confronting Tyler. Closure? Answers?
The truth
? Maybe I just wanted to look into his eyes and see that it was real for him, like he had begged me to believe. My brain never wanted to see him again, but my heart wanted it to be real because, for that brief moment in time, it was so real for me.
Step one
, I thought to myself, my hands growing clammy as I timidly began the short journey that seemed akin to mounting the tallest peak. My eyes fell on Tyler’s Bronco parked beside his Jaguar and the memories began to pour in. Memories I had tried to suppress. Even though our two-week romance was short in the grand scheme of things, it felt as if it lasted so much longer, our connection stronger than any I’d ever had with another human.
A breeze blew my dark hair in front of my face as I ran my finger against the metal of the Bronco, dust settling on my skin. I stopped in my tracks, recalling the first time I sat in this very car. I had been shocked he would drive a Bronco, throwing all my preconceived notions of the ridiculously wealthy and handsome Tyler Burnham out the window. He was worth more than the operating budget of several small countries, yet he drove around in a vintage Bronco with an engine that made an obnoxious amount of noise. That was one of the things that had attracted me to him, and it was one of the things I missed. I missed never knowing what each day would bring with him in my life. I actually missed the unexpected, even though it had brought me nothing but grief and regret.
My hand resting on the hood of the Bronco, I closed my eyes, wishing I could turn back the clock and return to that first lunch date, every little detail still ingrained in my memory. It had been unseasonably hot and humid for the middle of March, and I was a bundle of nerves as Tyler led me to his car. His hand had lingered on the small of my back, sending an electrifying tingle through me. I had done everything I could to remain the poised woman I wanted him to think I was. In reality, I couldn’t remember ever being as nervous in the presence of a member of the opposite sex as I was around Tyler.
He had done everything right, making it impossible for me to imagine my life without him. He had become my lightning strike, just as he had sworn I was his. But lightning burns, and with each day that had passed since I learned the truth, I welcomed back another piece of my heart. Soon, it would be whole again, the wall around it rebuilt, and my life would go back to the way it was.
Soon, I would forget the sound of his voice, his musky scent, his dominating presence.
Soon, I would no longer be haunted with the memory of his arms wrapped around me, shielding me from the demons of my past.
Soon, he would just be another reminder of why life was better when planned.
Approaching the front door, I lost the few nerves I had and spun around quickly, ready to bolt. My chest heaved, a sick feeling settling in my stomach. Swallowing hard, I took a moment and leaned on the railing. I had no idea why I was as terrified as I was. I had been through much more challenging situations – losing my first love to what I thought was mental illness, burying my mother, losing my father – but I was petrified of what awaited me on the other side of that door.
Maybe I was scared to learn the truth. Maybe I was scared to learn I had put my faith and trust in another human and my instincts had faltered…again. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to be faced with the reminder that life was better if I kept my heart guarded. Maybe it was because Tyler had done what no man had ever done before… He made me
feel.
Maybe it was because once he opened that door and I finally got the closure I needed, this chapter in my life would come to an end. Maybe it was because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, despite what my brain was telling me.
Turning back around, I composed myself, drawing in a deep breath. My arm seemed to weigh a ton as I raised it and rang the doorbell. The sound of a dog barking echoed, followed by approaching footsteps. Shifting from foot to foot, I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, tugging at it. My jaw tightened as I braced myself for the impending conversation.
Everything seemed to play in slow motion as the door opened and a built man with short dark hair stared back at me. He wore a black t-shirt and cargo pants, his breathtaking smile able to light up a room. But instead of striking green eyes, the eyes that gazed back at me were blue and foreign.
“Mackenzie,” he said in a way that gave off the impression we had met before, although I couldn’t place him for the life of me. I combed through my memory for how we could have known each other. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-five, his jaw square and distinguished. His cheekbones were defined, his brow strong. Months ago, he was exactly the type of guy I’d spend a week with before he returned home to wherever he came, but I’d remember him. There was only one explanation that made sense, and my blood began to boil once again.
