Cruel Water (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 11) Page 8

  “I tried sir. She won’t budge. Every time I tried to get close, she stepped right to the edge. I was afraid she’d fall if I grabbed for her, and my reflexes aren’t what they once were.” The remorse in his voice is genuine. I can almost picture the old man’s frail grip faltering, and as much as I can’t forgive myself for putting her in that situation, I see no need to drag him into the mire with me.

  “Fuck!” Slamming my fist on the center of the steering wheel, the car horn screams out to no one. A few moment pass, and drawing in a steady breath, I am able to calm my thoughts enough to speak again.

  “Have you tried talking to her?”

  “I have, sir.”

  “You need to tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I’m on my way back. Tell her…” My throat closes up, choking the words to an inaudible whisper.

  “Yes?” Winston urges

  “Tell her not to fucking jump.”

  “I may have mentioned that bit already, sir. She just holds up three fingers and looks over the horizon at the fading sun. She did do that the first night, I just don’t know what she means.”

  “It means she dies, Winston. It means she dies in three days.” I hear him gasp. The blade that has been slicing into my chest since I learned of this cruel deception digs a little deeper.

  “It’s only been two. You still have a day, sir.”

  I scoff at his optimistic tone. “You think? Because funnily enough, Winston, I’m not getting that impression, what with her standing on a bridge staring down at the bottomless ocean.”

  “But she doesn’t know you’re coming back, I’ll go and tell her now.” I hear the positive conviction in his voice and allow myself a fraction of that hope to lift my spirits.

  “Yes, do that. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  “Do you want to speak to her?”

  “I want that more than anything, but you know there’s no signal outside of the courtyard. Just go to her, stay with her, and for fuck sake, don’t let her jump.” The call ends and I’m left with the silence in the car and the storm inside my head. It’s the last place on earth I want to be.

  10

  Pure fear and adrenaline are the only things keeping me functioning enough to drive this car. I’m thrumming with excess energy and undiluted terror coursing through my veins like a toxin. I haven’t had to stop for fuel; my usually thirsty car seems to be running on air. I’m not complaining. I’m grateful I haven’t had to waste time stopping. The endurance of driving such a distance pretty much nonstop should have me in tatters. My bloodstream should be crying out for an overdose of caffeine and sugar. Yet I’ve barely taken a sip of my bottled of water, and I can’t stomach the idea of food even though I know I should be famished.

  The car roars at the foot of the valley, and I swing the beast around the corners like it’s on rails, skidding on the lightly used winding country road that leads to my castle. One more mountain to traverse and I’ll be home, safe. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to crack my ribs. Sweat trickles at my temples and my hands feel like rigor has set in already; they haven’t shifted position in over eighty miles. The rear of the car fishtails as I swerve, and trying to right it, I miss the iron girder anchoring the bridge to the mainland.

  In the distance, I can see her. The white of my t-shirt flutters against her fragile frame. She sways slightly and as the last few rays of light cling to the horizon, there is a golden glow like a halo of light all around her. She looks like an angel, my angel. I floor the gas and cover the distance in no time. I leap from the car, and she’s in my arms before I’ve had the chance to let go of the breath I seem to have been holding since I left the city.

  “You, it’s you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I’m holding her face in my hands, tears fall like rivers from her aquamarine eyes. She sucks in gulps of air while holding my ardent gaze as she holds my once cold heart in her hands. I may be saving her from whatever the fuck she was about to do, but she’s saved me, twice. My lips crash to hers. My tongue dives in to her sweetness. Her tongue twines round mine, dances, duels, and leaves me breathless when we part.

  “Oh, Eric.” She gasps, the sweetest sound, only she looks so sad, desolate and heartbroken.

  “Am I too late?” I capture her face in my hands, pleading eyes searching her face for forgiveness. She has to forgive me. She smiles, a tender sweet carve of her lips. Her soft fingers trace the frown lines on my forehead and flutter down the side of my face, along my jawline. She presses her forefinger over my lips.

  “You were too late the moment you left the castle,” she says, her voice a hypnotic melody that belies the words she’s saying. No! I start to shake my head. She removes her finger, tips up on her toes and moves her face close to mine. Her eyes, filled with sorrow, shine with unshed tears, the sorrow masked momentarily by a flash of sweet pain making her pupils darken. Her breath washes over me, intoxicating. Her lips feel like nirvana pressed to mine. I’m suddenly light as air, floating high, entwined in her arms, enraptured by her spirit and enthralled by the soul shattering kiss.

  I’m flying, soaring, falling, plummeting, sinking into darkness.

  It’s so cold.

  I’m frozen, chilled ice for bones. Stricken with terror, my eyelids spring open. It takes a fraction of a second to orient myself. I wasn’t floating. I wasn’t even falling. I was crashing. The steering wheel has exploded into a white powdery bag. Cool blood trickles from my nose, and darkness surrounds the windows as the swell of water rushes to fill the space the car hitting the surface of the ocean has created. Like invisible hands, eddies and a strong current pull the vehicle down into the depths. I fight to release the seatbelt. It clicks free. The front of the car dips into a sharp dive, as if being dragged by an overly eager sea monster. I’ve seen the movies, I know how this works, I have to let the car fill with water before I can open the door and escape.

  The electrics fade as water begins to pour in through gaps and cracks in the car’s chassis. I kick my shoes off, and loosen anything that might hinder my escape. The rising water fills the footwells, quickly gaining ground until the icy ocean filling the car is making it hard to breathe. There’s a tightness in my lungs and panic tears through me as I realize I won’t have time to escape. The temperature is too severe. My basic motor functions will begin to shut down before the car fills enough to open the door. The temperature paralyzes my muscles. Even if my fingers do cooperate enough to grasp the door handle, I don’t have the strength to push the door open. The water is pressing like an anvil on my chest. The headlights fail and I’m plunged into complete darkness. I have no idea how deep the car has sunk. I know I won’t get out this time, and then it hits me, harder than a head-on collision and just as fatal. A revelation, the ultimate cruelty I will suffer for all eternity.

  My time at the castle with her felt like heaven, because it was heaven. There is no this time. I should never have left the castle, because I never made it out of the car, last time.

  THE END

  The Masked Prince - Sneak Peek

  A thief recruited by a malicious assistant to steal a valuable heirloom.

  An heir in disguise along with their bodyguard.

  And a man granting their wishes... with a twist.

  Nothing is what it seems in this retelling of a classic.

  Chapter 1

  Alek

  My stomach growls, and I swear I hear it echo off the bricks of this dark alley. The small piece of bread I scavenged from the dumpster behind the bakery earlier in the day has long since become calories burned. I don’t have time to scrounge for more food; I need to pick a mark and claim a bounty before the inn is full for the night.

  I scan and dismiss near a dozen possibilities before catching sight of the man in the elegant suit and tall top hat. Rings adorn his fingers and an expensive-looking pocket watch dangles carelessly from his coat. It’s the kind of job that will guarantee room and food for a week.

  I wait until the man passes the mouth of th
e alley, then I step right into him. I quickly snatch the watch, shoving it into the pocket of my loose slacks. Grabbing his arm, I pretend to steady myself and mutter apologies. My hand slides down his coat sleeve and along the fingers of his left hand, rolling two rings into my palm.

  “So sorry, sir,” I say and hurry away down another alley.

  I make it to Joe’s pawn with seconds to spare. I toss my new wares onto the counter and wait. Joe’s is filthy and under better circumstances I wouldn’t be caught dead here. But beggars can’t be choosers and all that. We all pay our dues at some point, I guess now is my time.

  The items Joe buys and sells are for the most part illegally obtained, and he doesn’t bother keeping up pretenses with cleaning and maintenance for the few honest citizens lucky enough to walk through his doors. Most items are repurchased by their owners for an exorbitant amount within a day or two anyway, so there’s no need for him to pretend he’s selling. The glass display cases showcase common pawn items: cheap rings and musical instruments. All covered in a layer of dirt and dust.

  “I’ll give you two fifty, kid.”

  “What? The rings are worth a lot more than two fifty themselves. Including the watch, it should be at least a thousand.”

  “Whatever, boy. Two fifty. Take it or leave it.”

  I consider the benefits of taking the low-ball offer versus convincing Joe to give me what they’re worth. Before I can tell Joe my decision, the bell at the front door rings a warning of an approaching customer. Most likely another thief come to collect his earnings for the night.

  “I’ll take it.”

  Joe hands me some crumpled bills, and I hurry back out to the streets. Two fifty won’t last as long as I planned. I’ll need to make some more cash soon, but for the night I’m well off, as long as I can make it to the inn before they’re full.

  I run down familiar alleys, taking every short cut I know. The Sultan’s Consort rents the cheapest rooms in town, by the night and by the hour. It’s almost midnight, which means if the street walkers haven’t already rented a room, they’ll be flocking to the inn to secure one for their next client, or clients.

  I reach the wooden doors to see them closed and locked. A sign declaring no vacancy hanging from a rusted hook above the frame.

  Upset at my circumstances, I kick at the door before slamming a fist into the hard wood of the door. The sound of laughter reaches my ears, deep and sultry. Spinning toward the sound, I see the shadow of a man at the corner of the building near the alleyway.

  “What’s so funny?” I snarl the words.

  “I’m sorry. But your tantrum was rather comical.” His voice is as rich as his laughter.

  “Well, I’m glad my misfortune can provide you some entertainment for the night.” The sarcasm in my words is unmistakable. The man takes a step forward into the streetlight before quickly stepping back.

  “I may have a solution to your problem. A long-term solution.”

  I’m not sure what he thinks my problem is, but anything that will get me off the streets tonight is something I’m willing to hear. “Go on.”

  “I’m in need of someone with your talents. I am looking to acquire a rather valuable artifact, and I’m willing to pay handsomely for your help.”

  He wants me to steal something for him? Sounds too easy.

  “You want me to steal something? That’s it?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow.”

  I knew it. “Yeah, well, I need something tonight. Catch me tomorrow and I may be interested.”

  I turn away, prepared to find an empty alley where I can rest for the night.

  “One thousand dollars.” He shouts at my back.

  “What?” I look back at him over my shoulders.

  “I’ll give you one thousand dollars for the night.”

  “And what would you want in return?”

  The man finally steps into the light. He is handsome in a dark and sinister way. His black hair is slicked back, and his brows arch in a villainous tableau. His body, which hints at being tone and fit, is covered in clothes much too elegant for the likes of the streets in front of The Sultan’s Consort. But it’s his smile that sends a shiver of warning through me. Whatever he wants from me tonight won’t be anything good.

  “Nothing much my dear boy, just the pleasure of your body.”

  “I’m not a whore.” I may be a thief, but I’ve never sold my body. I’ve had countless offers from both men and women, and I’ve considered a few, but sex is an intimate act, one I won’t sully with greed.

  “You mistake my words. The thousand is to secure your services in the morning. The pleasure of your body will be a bonus because we both want it.”

  I don’t trust he’s telling the truth, but the promise of a bed and money destroys my resolve. “Okay, but I don’t want you and I don’t think I’ll change my mind before the sun comes up.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  ONE CLICK NOW

  Acknowledgments

  Firstly I’d like to thank Murphy Wallace for inviting me to participate in this exciting project. I’ve loved it, stepping out of my comfort zone did me good and I really hope you’ve enjoyed it too.

  To all the other authors, thank you for sharing and all the support throughout. I may not have asked for a great deal but you were all there when I did.

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  Shannon…I have no words babe, you’re my little star and rock!! Love you sister.

  And you, my lovely readers, I’m thankful every day that I have you and

  am gobsmacked that you like what I do…

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  Prologue

  Sam

  Sixteen Months Ago

  “You still there, Sam?” I can hear the concern in his voice, but it fades into the mix of nerves and sickness threatening to escape my mouth. Saliva pools at the back of my throat and I swallow, the slight metallic taste an indication that I have scraped my teeth against some soft tissue. My jaw is clenched so tight I didn’t even feel the bite. “Sam!” His tone is urgent almost panicked.

  “I’m here…sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be that’s all.” I grip the phone a little tighter, angry that my hand is actually trembling.

  “Look, wait there. I can be there in an hour. You shouldn’t do this on your own. I told you this but you never bloody listen.” He lets out an angry breath, which makes me smile. All my life I never had someone care about me the way he does. I am so very grateful. I tell him often enough, but it’s never enough. He saved me.

  “No…no don’t come, Leon. I will be fine. It’s just a house.” I swallow that pooling water again. So loud this time I can hear him let out a sigh filled with only a fraction of the sadness welling in me.

  “Yeah…just a house. Like Manson was just a guy. Sam you don’t have to do this in person. The solicitor can deal with this shit. Come home. You can beat the crap out of me and make us both feel better.”

  I bark out a dirty laugh. I love that he can turn my mood on a dime. “God, I love you.” I feel some tension leave my frame when I push out a fortifying breath. “I will be fine. I am made of much stronger stuff…now.” I add before he reminds me of the empty, broken girl
he slowly helped transform ten years ago.

  “Call me when you’re done…and the offer still stands.” His silence is filled with hope.

  “Leon, I found you an excellent replacement and you need to start using her.” My tone is resolute if a little sharp.

  “I know…I know…It’s just when you’ve had the best—” His flattery will get him nowhere…absolutely nowhere.

  “You’re my best friend, Leon.” I add softly.

  “Which might be an issue if we were fucking.” He is pushing me and I feel all that tension back.

  “Leon!” I snap. “Enough…You can be such an arsehole!”

  “But you love me?” I can almost see the devilish grin creeping across his dark features. We share similar colouring, rich coffee skin, deep brown eyes and impossibly dark brown hair that falls just shy of jet black.

  “I do.” My tone is clipped.

  “Did it work?” He asks after a short silence and before I get to ask what, he adds. “Are you feeling all angry and distracted now?” I sniff out a laugh and shake my head though he can’t see that part.

  “Yes, Leon…Thank you.” A tentative smile tips the corners of my lips, sleek and shiny with my trademark red.

  “My work here is done. Now go and sort the house of horrors…and come home. Where you belong.” He hangs up and I chuckle. He never says goodbye.

  I straighten my shoulders and hold on to the false bravado trickling through my veins hoping it’s enough to get me through this next hour.