Braving His Past: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone Read online

  “I was going to meet up with him to break things off. To tell him I never wanted to see him again. But he texted me at the last minute and gave me an address I’d never been to before. I thought neutral ground would be better. That I’d be stronger there. So I agreed. Turns out, he’d signed a lease on an apartment for us. Exactly the type of place he knew I’d love.”

  “Fucker,” Graham mutters.

  I offer him a weak smile. “Connor won’t use his name. Just calls him Asshole.”

  “Your brother and I would probably get along just fine.”

  They would. Or…will. I hope.

  “What happened when you got there?” Graham prods gently, shifting close enough our thighs touch.

  “I told him we were through. That I was leaving him. But he was so sure we were meant to be…” The lump in my throat makes it hard to get the words out, but with Graham so close I can smell him—all woodsy and strong—I swallow hard and close my eyes. “He tried to kiss me, then he was undoing my pants…”

  Graham makes a sound I can only describe as a growl. Low. Threatening. Deadly.

  “I tried to get away, but I didn’t want to turn my back on him. He’d scared me. Really scared me. I didn’t even see the stairs. The whole building was industrial. Concrete and glass. Didn’t realize I was so close.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s how you got hurt? You could have died.” He sets the plate down and wraps his arms around me.

  “There’s more,” I whisper.

  “I want to tell you to stop. Right now.” We’re both shaking, and Graham presses a hard kiss to my neck before drawing back just enough to hold my gaze. “But that’s not going to help either of us.”

  “I was in the hospital for ten days, I think. Surgeries, pain meds…I was a mess. But Alec…he took care of everything. Never left my side. I was so doped up, and I thought…” Swallowing the nausea crawling up the back of my throat, I focus on Clementine’s purr and the warmth of the man sitting next to me. “The two months after the accident…they’re fuzzy. But Alec convinced me to sign over power of attorney to him. He moved me into that apartment. Right next to where I’d fallen. He told me the doctors didn’t think I’d ever walk again. That I was confused all the time because I’d suffered permanent brain damage.”

  I know the moment Graham figures it out. His hands ball into fists, knuckles cracking, and a vein at his temple starts to throb.

  “I’m pretty sure he started drugging me before I even left the hospital.” Tears well in my eyes and I shrug, because what else can I do? “Alec took over my entire life. He responded to every email, every text message I got, pretending to be me, and eventually Connor caught on. Started trying to find me. He went to my old apartment, picked up a box of things my landlord had kept—including my journal. My brother hunted down the 911 report from the night I fell to get the address where Alec had me. He showed up one morning, punched Alec in the face, and carried me out of there.”

  I’m crying now, silent tears that land on Clementine’s fur, and she pops her head up with an inquisitive little mrrp. Graham rises and stalks into the downstairs bathroom, and I hope to God I haven’t lost him admitting how incredibly weak and stupid I was for so long.

  But a minute later, armed with a handful of tissues, he sinks back down and folds me—and Clementine—into his arms. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever met, Q. And I work with honest-to-God heroes every day.”

  “You’re not…mad?” I swipe at my cheeks, unwilling to look at him.

  “Oh, I’m fucking pissed. At Asshole. If he ever threatens you again, if he sends you another email, messes with your groceries, calls you, or God-forbid, shows up here, I will make him regret the day he was born. But shit, baby. You thought I’d be mad at you?”

  “I’m mad at me. For not seeing who he was sooner. For falling down those stairs. For not fighting harder.”

  “You survived. Escaped. You built yourself a new life all on your own, and every single day you work to make it the life you want. I could never be mad at you for that.” Graham cups my cheek, skating his thumb just under my eye to catch another tear. “You’re a fucking miracle, Quinton.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Graham

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay if Asshole tries anything?” I ask, my arms wrapped around Q’s waist as we stand on his porch a little before 10:00 a.m. the next morning.

  The sun bathes us in warmth and lightens a few wisps of hair that fall over his forehead. “He’s two thousand miles away, darlin’. He can email or call or send me cases of cider, and the worst thing that’s going to happen to me is a panic attack. Or several.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Cupping the back of his neck, I press soft kisses along his jaw and up to his ear. “Cam and Royce can come by and check on you. They’re both army vets, and I trust them with my life. Plus, Cam built that security system you have.”

  Q shakes his head and stands up a little straighter. Despite his wince, he says today’s a good day, with his pain only three out of ten, and the hours we spent the previous night talking seem to have lightened the burden of shame he carried since the accident. “For a year now, my therapist has been telling me that my worst enemy isn’t Alec. It’s my fear of Alec. I always thought she was full of shit, but I understand now. I’ve come too far to even think of going back to him, so all his antics? The worst they can do is trigger memories.”

  “That’s not nothing.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hearing the taunts of the men who attacked me all those years ago, and my stomach twists into a knot.

  And then he’s rubbing my back. Comforting me when all I want to do is protect him. “No, it’s not nothing. But I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been.” His firm mouth presses to mine, and with a bold stroke of his tongue against the seam of my lips, he begs for more, and I let him in, tasting the coffee we shared, a hint of his toothpaste, and…home. “As much as I love y—err, having you here, being with you…I need to know I can be alone too. Go be a badass in the jungle, and by the time you come back, maybe I’ll be able to meet you at the corner.”

  “I’d like that.” Sliding my hands under his shirt, I graze two of the longer scars that run along his spine. He survived injuries and abuse that could have easily killed him, and I need to remember that. I want the possibility for a life with this man, and that means not treating him like he’s broken. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “Anything.” His breathy reply makes my heart beat a little faster, and fuck. I’m so far gone over him, I ache to tell him, but when I do, I’m going to do it right.

  “Memorize that code I gave you. If you need me—or need anyone—that code guarantees your message goes straight to Wren. And she can reach us over comms any time.”

  Q’s smile lights up his brown eyes. Leaning in, his lips brushing my ear, he rattles off the code and adds, “Be safe, darlin’. And come back to me.”

  Transport planes are one of the worst ways to travel. Loud, cold, and uncomfortable. Canvas bench seats with a mesh backing. Our rucks are strapped in next to us, easily fifty pounds each. The engine noise makes it impossible to talk without headsets, and even then, the urge to shout is hard to resist.

  Raelynn looks a little green, and Inara elbows her in the side. “When was the last time you jumped out of a plane?”

  “Five years ago. Promised myself I’d never do it again.”

  West hands each of us a tablet. “Updated scans of the compound. The target was moved overnight. He’s now underground, dead center, with six hostiles guarding him. It’s a four-hour hike from the safest drop point. We’ll set up eight kilometers from the compound, then split up into two teams. Romeo and Indigo take first watch while Golf, Lima, and I catch some shuteye.”

  “No more Jimmy Olsen and Steve Rogers?” I joke.

  Ryker—Romeo for this mission—shoots me a look that could knock this plane right out of the sky. “Those are only in play when we’re in public. The alphabet’s sim
pler. Get over it.” He waits a beat, then adds, “Jimmy.”

  The pilot breaks in. “Fifteen minutes to drop site.”

  “Gear up,” Ryker orders, and we stow the tablets inside specially made pockets in our rucks, then spend the next ten minutes checking and double checking every hook, clip, carabiner, and strap on our own gear and each other’s before West opens the side cargo door.

  Six hours on this fucking plane, eight hiking, another six spent on recon and rest, up to four hours for the actual mission—if we’re lucky—and another six hour flight home. At best, it’ll be twenty-four hours before I talk to Q, and it’s eating me up inside.

  Ryker hasn’t said a word about being away from Wren, but I know Ripper and Cara are checking on her often. She refused to stay with them overnight—saying she had to be close to her equipment if we needed her.

  But after West, Raelynn, and Inara jump and it’s just me and Ry left, he meets my gaze. Even through his goggles, I can see the strain in his eyes. He doesn’t like this any more than I do.

  With a nod, I follow the rest of my team, a canopy of dark green trees below us and nothing but the early evening sky above.

  Quinton

  After Graham left, I stretched out in my massage chair and tried to figure out why he would want me. Why he kept coming back every time I pushed him away.

  The answer hit me like a punch to the gut. We fit. I pushed him away time and time again because I expected him to suddenly turn into Alec. But he won’t. Because he’s more than just a good man. So much more.

  Graham gives me hope. That maybe I can be more too. More than a victim. More than an agoraphobic, weak, terrified shell of a man. That maybe…I can be as brave as he is.

  I spend most of the day making minor tweaks to Zen Oasis, but now, my back is telling me I need to move. Clementine’s been pestering me for more food, so I fill her bowl with kibble and head for the treadmill.

  Less than five minutes into my workout, I stop the belt and grab my phone. This is ridiculous. I made it all the way down the ramp this morning with Graham. I can do it again. It’s still light outside.

  As brave as I think I am, my balance is still shit, so I fish a cane out of the closet.

  Just in case.

  I hate the damn thing, but it’s a hell of a lot easier than the walker. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, sweetie,” I say when the kitten parks herself in the middle of the hallway and stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’ll be fine.”

  Despite my assurances, she gives me a long, plaintive meow as I flip the locks then start laughing before I get the door open. I’ve never needed my house keys before. I’m surprised I even know where they are, but after a few minutes, I find them in the junk drawer in the kitchen.

  The sun’s starting to go down, and the townhouse casts a shadow halfway across the street. Everything’s quiet. It’s way too early for the spillover from the bars to be anywhere around.

  I’m safe. And for once…almost steady. Last night changed me in ways I never imagined possible. Alec doesn’t control my life anymore, and while I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself completely for not seeing through his lies from the beginning, I know exactly who he is now.

  At the bottom of the ramp, I look up and down the street. It’s quieter to the right. There’s even a little community park on the corner. Only a single bench with one tall oak tree behind it, but that tiny oasis represents everything I’ve missed since the accident.

  Freedom. Peace. The simple joy of sitting outside in early fall enjoying the fresh air.

  One step at a time. Past the vague greenish outline of mint chip on the flagstones. To the fence. Through the gate.

  Anxiety twists in my gut, but I take a deep breath and will it away. I can do this. With my phone in one hand and the cane in the other, I reach the end of my little yard. It’s all of ten feet from the house, but it feels like ten miles for how big of an accomplishment this is.

  My left leg wobbles, sending my heart rate shooting skyward, but I don’t fall. “You’re almost there, Q. Twenty, thirty more steps.”

  I’m going to text Graham from that bench and tell him what I should have told him this morning. What I almost told him. That I’m falling in love with him.

  Alec used to tell me he loved me ten times a day or more. So often and with such fervor, I started to say it back even though every time, the words took another piece of my soul with them.

  With Graham…they don’t. My little slip up this morning? As soon as I caught myself, I felt the difference. Loving Graham? It won’t take anything from me. It’ll give me back the one thing I didn’t realize I’d lost. Hope.

  Ten more steps. A bird perched on the back of the bench takes flight when it sees me, and for a moment, my eyes burn at how much life I’ve missed this past year. One of the local tech companies offers an app that changes my phone screen to a different Seattle photo every day, and I’ve seen how beautiful this city is. But this is the first time I’ve experienced it for myself.

  When I reach the bench and ease myself down, my legs are shaking. So are my hands. But I unlock my phone and spend a full two minutes finding the right angle to capture my legs, the bench, and the grass all at the same time.

  “I’m slow as fuck. But when you get back, give me ten minutes’ notice, and I’ll meet you on this bench. I have something important to tell you, and I want to do it right here.”

  I end the message with a heart emoji, then add a second and a third for good measure before I hit send. It’s sappy and geeky and probably overkill, but I’m just so damn happy I’m floating.

  The snap of a twig startles me, and my cane falls to the ground. Before I can pick it up, a shadow falls across my legs. “He’s a scrawny one,” a voice I don’t know says with a heavy Texas drawl.

  Snapping my head up, I frown. I know this guy. Blond hair. Beard. He saw me the other day. Was watching me.

  Something cold and sticky presses to my neck, and a hand covers my mouth. Alec’s stale breath ghosts over my cheek from behind me. “I’ve missed you, Quint. It’s time to go home.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Quinton

  Move. Do something.

  But I can’t. I can’t even breathe.

  Alec drops his hand from my mouth, but I only manage a weak, ”Help,” before he skirts the bench, and the blond guy sits next to me and wraps his arm tightly around my shoulders.

  “Not a smart idea, Quint.” Pulling his jacket open, Alec nods at the gun in a holster on his hip.

  Oh, fuck. He’s going to kill me.

  “This is Dennis, by the way. You remember, him, don’t you? From the cactus delivery? The one you refused?”

  I turn my head just enough to give Dennis a sideways glance, and the look in his eyes terrifies me. Unlike Alec, whose eyes have always been dead and unfeeling, Dennis is enjoying this.

  My skin tingles where Alec slapped my neck, and when I realize why, my entire body goes cold. Scopolamine. The patch is only an inch on each side, but when Connor brought me to the ER after saving me, they tested the one I was wearing and found out it was five times stronger than a normal patch. If I don’t get it off in the next few minutes, I won’t be able to think straight.

  Alec bends down so we’re face to face. “You ruined me, Quint. So now, I’m going to return the favor. I hope you enjoyed kissing that tattooed body builder this morning. Because you’ll never see him again.” He holds out his hand, and three white pills rest in his palm. “It’s time for your meds. Take these so we can go. Dennis and I have a whole new life planned out, and it’s time we got to it.”

  “I’m nnnot going anywhere with yyouu.” Fuck. If I’m slurring my words after just a minute or two, I’m in deep shit. I jerk my hand up to try to peel off the patch, but Alec grabs my wrist and twists my arm, hard. The shock makes me cry out until Dennis punches me in the stomach.

  I double over, struggling to draw in a breath, and that’s when Alec’s fist slams into my spine. It�
��s like an electric shock from my neck all the way down my legs, and my vision tunnels. Someone yanks me to my feet—Dennis, I think—and then Alec’s arm snakes around my waist like he’s supporting a friend who’s had one too many.

  Flashes of the sidewalk pass by. A sliding door opens with a metallic sound, and then I’m falling. When I hit the floor, I roll over in a vain attempt to get up, but the door slams shut and then Dennis straddles me, grabbing my hands and forcing them over my head.

  Metal clicks, cold around my wrists, and I can’t lower my arms. “What arrre you doingggg?”

  Alec chuckles. “Like I said, Quint. We’re taking you with us. But we can’t trust you. Not anymore. So you’re going to ride back here. And you’re going to take your meds. We have a long drive ahead of us. By the time we’ve reached our destination, maybe you’ll be in a better mood.”

  Tangling his fingers in my hair, Alec lifts my head, shoves the pills into my mouth, and presses a bottle of water to my lips.

  “Swallow. Now,” he snarls.

  Choking and kicking my legs weakly, I try to spit out the drugs, but Dennis pinches my nose, and I don’t have a choice. The pills go down, and I’m screwed. I’ll never get away from them, and if they’re taking me out of state…

  We really are the best at what we do, and we don’t give up. On anyone.

  Graham might not give up on me, but he’ll have to find me first. My entire world is spinning now, and it’s hard to focus. Where are they taking me? Texas? Or Utah? Alec grew up there. I think.

  Twisting my head sends shooting pains down my back, but I catch a brief glimpse of my hands. There’s a hasp on the floor of the van, and a padlock secures the handcuffs in place.

  Dennis binds my ankles with duct tape, and Alec pats my thigh. “That should hold you for a while.” He flashes me a smile. “If you’re good and stay quiet, I won’t have to gag you. But if you try to scream, you won’t like the consequences.”