The Lover's Surrender (No Exceptions) (2 page)

The thought
of her all naked beneath her clothes aroused him. Oh, what he could do with
her. He couldn’t wait to get to that part.

She might
be his dead girlfriend’s sister, but he was certain they shared a connection,
and, as such, they had a lot in common.

He
chuckled.

Soon.

Very soon
he’d wrap his hands around her little throat.

Danny
smiled. “Tell him I got it. I’ll call when I’m done.”

And with
that, he hung up and leaned back in thought.

Yes, the
first part of his plan had been accomplished. He had separated her from Jett
Mayfield. The next step was following orders. To fulfill that, he was going to
replace Brooke’s belongings with those of her friend—the one he had
killed the day before—and then tip off the cops.

It was a
brilliant plan, one he had carefully prepared for weeks.

Once
Mayfield was out of the picture and Brooke was all alone, with no protection
and no one to take care of her, he’d find her, drug her again. Only then, when
Mayfield was finally accused of committing murder, could he do what he had
immediately wanted upon setting eyes on her.

Rape her. Kill her.

He liked
that. Sure, there were obstacles to be removed first. Her boyfriend Jett was
one of them, but he had a fucking plan so grand that no one would see it coming
before it hit them.

He liked
that ability—to plan ahead—about himself.

As a child,
he had wanted to be a magician, able to transfix people. What he could do today
was far greater. It wasn’t magic, but it was just as powerful.

To have the
power to scare someone, to make them doubt everything they’d ever believed
about themselves, and—the best of the best about his new life—to
frame someone else for a murder he committed…oh, how much he enjoyed being in
control.

He was a
genius.

Too bad the
world didn’t know of his brilliance.

“There’s no
way that motherfucker isn’t going down,” Danny whispered with a new sense of
pride.

As soon as
he got rid off Jett, he would focus on her. He would show her where she
belonged. He smiled, pleased with the thought.

He had
earned it.

So his boss
hadn’t said those exact words.

No big
deal.

But Danny
was sure Dante would want him to have fun. And even though his boss didn’t see
his brilliance yet, someday he would understand. Brooke was a temptation, his
reward. She belonged to him. She had escaped that one time. But this time, he’d
make sure she’d never leave. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to have her just yet, but
who was to say he couldn’t mess with her?

With a
smile, he grabbed a pen and began to write down the poem that had been running
through his head. He figured as soon as he returned from Jett’s apartment, he’d
pay the little bitch a visit.

Jett

New York City, 12 hours previously

I drew in a
thick breath. My head was buried in my arms, pounding from the pressure inside.
For the past thirty minutes, I had been sitting in the silence of the room,
trying hard not to think, not to feel, not to do anything. If I moved, I was
sure I’d give in to my anger. And once it broke free, I sure as hell wouldn’t
be able to contain it.

Brooke’s
words didn’t please me.

Scratch
that.

The phone conversation
with Brooke didn’t calm me…at all.

In fact, if
it weren’t for my last ounce of self-control, I would have driven off to find
the motherfucker who had dared to meet up with her.

The
motherfucker who had probably wanted to touch her.

Who might
not know that she was my woman.

Brooke
Stewart was a sexy woman with eyes the rich color of chestnuts and lips so
kissable that she never had to put on makeup to turn herself beautiful.

But fuck,
she was as stubborn and fierce as they came, and she was unlike any other woman
I’d dated before. Her endless need for answers and her unwillingness to accept
a simple explanation often pushed me to the brink of exasperation. Because
that’s how Brooke was: cautious, mistrusting, and now vengeful—all the
result of her difficult past.

Whatever
came her way, she questioned.

But now I
was dealing with a new set of problems, which included Brooke’s ridiculous
belief that I was having an affair.

Okay, she
hadn’t said those exact words, but accusing me of being a cheater and a liar
came close enough. However, she couldn’t be further from the truth.

She’d drawn
her incorrect conclusion after seeing me with Tiffany, one of my best friends,
who also happened to be a distant ex in my long list of lovers. It was the
beginning of my experience with Brooke turning sour, the lashing out at each
other, and there was nothing I could do except explain…and I would be damned if
I’d reveal my intentions.

If only my
plan hadn’t gone wrong in the first place.

If only I
hadn’t asked Tiffany to bring the engagement ring to the hotel where Brooke and
I were staying.

If only I
had known my ex still had feelings for me, had known she would kiss me in her
drunken state while Brooke was watching.

No idea
what she was doing at the bar, or how she found us, but she caught us in a
compromising situation and consequently drew her own conclusions.

It didn’t
matter now. All that mattered was that Brooke was hurting, and, as such, was
trying to get back at me. She hadn’t said it in those exact words, but there
had been no denying it either.

I knew for
sure she planned on seeing someone today.

I could
hear it in the tone of her voice that carried over the telephone line, the
undercurrents slightly shaking with anger and with something else.

Was it
revenge?

Was it fear
of being found out?

And if it
wasn’t for her tone betraying her, then definitely the way she said,
“It’s none of your business what I do. I can
do whatever I want,”
with so much anger, it spoke of hatred.

Good thing
I had installed a tracker in her phone, which is how I discovered that she had
met with a guy behind my back.

Without it,
I would never have known where she was spending the night, or with whom. I
would never have found out his address or the fact that he was the owner of
Grayson Photography.

Good thing,
too, that she was now back at her place. If she hadn’t been, I would have
stormed into his place and kicked him across the room. Picked her up, dragged
her back to my apartment—where she belonged—and locked her up until
she came to her senses, in case I didn’t find a way to tame that wild heart of
hers.

But I would
do none of those things.

Not now.

Not
tomorrow.

At least,
not yet.

I wasn’t
yet ready to show her how jealous and possessive I was, how the thought of
losing her to someone else was killing me slowly from the inside out, while
changing me into the kind of person I wasn’t.

Someday I
would make her mine—legally in black and white.

It was a
solemn promise I had made to myself. No matter the cost.

Money
didn’t matter; it was to own her, to make her irrevocably mine.

She had
captured my heart, and I wasn’t going to lose her.

There were
days when I didn’t recognize myself—like having the urge to protect her
from the smallest things just because she was pregnant. Or like the constant impulse
to check my cell phone in the hope she’d call. I had to hear her voice to
assure myself that it had been me she had been thinking of when she tried to
spend the night with a stranger she picked up at a bar—even though that
stranger had been me all along.

I
recognized it in my need to know she was okay, hoping I could do more than pay
off her loans, while ending her doubts about me once and for all.

Then there
were the days I could barely fight off the urge to find the ones who hurt her
and torture them as they had tried to torture her. To exact revenge and erase
the scars for good. It was a part of me that I tried hard to change, a part I
kept hidden from Brooke. A part I knew I couldn’t control.

It would
only be a matter of time until the unpreventable happened. I hoped Brooke
wouldn’t be there to witness it.

It was
almost midnight when faint footsteps echoed down the hall. I only raised my
head when a loud rap echoed from the door.

“Come in,”
I muttered.

The door
opened, and Kenny’s head popped in. “I came as soon as I could.” He stepped in
and closed the door behind him.

His hair
was dripping wet. No surprise. It had been either raining or snowing outside
for days. November had a tendency to be unpredictable—like my life.

Then again,
nothing ever stayed the same in New York. Except for Kenny and his recurrent
outbursts of frustration when things weren’t the way he expected them to be.
His current motive of frustration was his broken wrist and consequent inability
to do all the things he usually pursued. He couldn’t wait to get rid of the
cast he was wearing and resume his somewhat illegal activities as a hacker.

“Man, what
a long day. It’s been crazy,” he said as he carefully shrugged off his jacket,
wincing throughout the entire process, and walked over to me. Dark circles
dominated his face, overpowering the sky blue color of his eyes. He didn’t have
to tell me that he was exhausted. The way he slumped down on the couch and
sighed loudly told an entire story.

I nodded.
“Couldn’t agree more.”

The moment
I brushed off Tiffany’s advances, she had disappeared. Less than eight hours
ago, Kenny and I had driven to the hotel to look for her and found her comatose
on the floor, the countless small bottles around her reminding me of a macabre
shrine.

I had no doubt
that had we found her a few hours later, she would have been dead.

Her relapse
had been nagging at the back of my mind, but compared to my recent
confrontation with Brooke and her feelings of betrayal, it was nothing.

Thinking of
Tiffany always made me feel guilty.

In the
three hours since leaving the hospital, her near death experience hadn’t
entered my mind. All I could think about was Brooke, and the guy she might or
might not be seeing, and what she might do next.

I had
changed so much I barely recognized myself.

My friends
used to matter to me more than any woman. I had called them my home, my family.
Now Brooke consumed my life. As if she was part of my breath. She had become my
home, my world. Soon she would be my family.

The only
family I ever had.

“How is
she?” I asked quietly, more out of need to say something than true interest.

Tiffany was
a friend, but she was also a grown-up. I had saved her life. Now it was her
choice whether she wanted to turn that life around.

Kenny
shrugged. “As good as the circumstances allow.” He gave me a quick glance.
“They’re keeping her locked up for a few days. You know, for observation and
all.”

I nodded
grimly.

I had no
positive words left to say about Tiffany. Although she was my friend, I hadn’t
yet fully forgiven her for the trouble she had caused me.

“Don’t beat
yourself up,” Kenny continued, misinterpreting my silence. “You heard her. She
said she was fine.”

“Last time,
she said the same thing before she crashed,” I remarked dryly.

“Doesn’t
mean you’re to blame for her relapse.”

“I know
that, but…” I sighed. “I regret seeing her. It was a mistake to meet with her,
raising her hopes like that, then brushing her off. I should have cleared that
up with Brian, demanded that he accompany her when she brought the engagement
ring, rather than agree to seeing her at the same hotel where Brooke and I were
spending the weekend.”

Brian was
Tiffany’s boyfriend. We’d had an argument earlier when we brought Tiffany to
the hospital, right after I told him about the kissing incident and Tiffany’s
confession that she still loved me. I could see the anger etched in his face.
The reproach. The blame. But now I was glad he knew.

The truth
was: Tiffany had been the only one who could get me a customized diamond ring
in less than twenty-four hours without Brooke finding out. To my luck, Brian
had chosen to believe me. To my misfortune, he didn’t let it go easily.

I couldn’t
blame him.

While I
didn’t return her affection, Tiffany still felt inclined to love two men. I
couldn’t imagine the pain Brian was going through. Fuck, I couldn’t even
imagine why he held on to her. I could only assume that his Irish blood made
him loyal to her, like I was to Brooke.

If Brooke
loved two men, I had no idea how I’d react. I only knew that I sure as hell
would do more than just get into an argument with the guy.

My friends
used to call me fearless.

Now my lack
of fear had transcended into a lack of tolerance if anyone were to take away
what was mine.

“Forget
Brian. He’ll get over it, dude,” Kenny said, breaking through my train of
thoughts. “Just as Ti will get over you. It’s a matter of time. She already
admitted she made a mistake. Something good will come out of this. You’ll see.”

My brows
furrowed.

“Good?” I
stared him down. “Are you kidding me? She almost died. Brian blames me. And if
it weren’t for Tiffany, Brooke and I would be engaged by now, and she’d be in
my bed, keeping me warm, if you know what I mean. How can any of this be good?”

Kenny
shrugged. “Don’t know. But at least you had the guts to tell him.”

“I had no
choice, really. He would have found out eventually. He runs the gang.”

And a huge
chunk of NYC, seeing that he had so many connections.

My mood
plummeted. “I don’t care about his fucking anger. I’ve experienced it countless
times, and it doesn’t scare me. It’s his unpredictability that bothers me. I
wouldn’t want his people coming after Brooke,” I explained.

Sighing, I
raked my hand through my hair as annoyance poured through me fast and furious.
When Kenny remained silent, his way to tell me that he agreed with me, I
continued, “Frankly, I don’t care about Ti right now. I’m more worried about
what my girlfriend is up to, and how she got the information about Nate. I
don’t know what to do. She thinks I’m siding with my brother. Can you believe
that?”

I didn’t
even know why I was revealing my worries to Kenny—thoughts so intimate
that I didn’t expect my friend to understand.

“Did you at
least explain?” Kenny asked quietly, watching me. His voice had dropped to a
whisper.

“What?”