Sinful Relations (Sinful Series Book 2)

By K.A. Standen

When Blood Kills...

Liz, having changed her name to Sarah Elizabeth Fischer, fled Chicago to the sanctuary of the West Coast. Struggling to make peace with her past, Liz, now Sarah, is tormented by flashbacks. The haunting memories never fade, and she grieves for the life she thought was hers. By battling her “pleaser” tendencies, she learns to live for herself. Settling into her life as a bookstore clerk, and friend to roller derby girl Erin, she starts to break out of her scarred childhood. Just turning twenty, “Sarah” is ready to grab on to life with both hands. She creates a whole new persona, leaving her past behind. That is until a stranger visits.

Learning the key to unlocking her family’s origins lies across the ocean, Liz embarks on a trip that will change the course of her life forever. Joined by Caleb, Liz starts unearthing secrets that were best left buried. Threatened by multiple foes, her past and present collide, leaving the fate of her future uncertain. Will Caleb be able to save her again?

Sinful Relations takes Liz’s story to the next level. Her desperate desire for answers will have irrevocable repercussions for all who assist her in her quest. Your tension and fear grow as each new character risks themselves to help one very lost girl.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.A. Standen
• Release date: Oct 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310470707

K.A. Standen

Firmly ensconced in the business world, I have a Masters in Business Administration, and SPHR certification. The business world has been good to me, although my passions lie with the written word. I wrote poetry from a small age and dabbled with short stories. I always dreamed of writing a novel. With the idea for Sinful Purity thatdream became a reality.A native of Southern California I enjoy sunny days, and palm trees year around. I live with my husband and teenage son along with a very friendly Bloodhound and two mini Dachshund brothers. My son who has tried everything from the drums and guitar to football and drag racing can frequently be found written in to my books.I am an avid reader, sometimes reading several books a week. My kindle acts as my security blanket as I have been known to sleep with it. It goes everywhere with me just in case I can sneak in a quick read. When I'm writing my purse is usually crammed withnotebooks and scraps of paper with ideas and dialogue written all over them. Post-it notes overtake my house. I have been known to run out in the middle of a conversation when the muse strikes.I appreciate all your support and love hearing from fans. A fan myself I try to reply to all your comments and questions. Thanks for reading.

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Table of Contents

Prologue          Moving On

One                   Picking Up the Pieces

Two                  The Golden State

Three                Rainy Days and Mondays

Four                  California Dreaming

Five                   Rink Rash

Six                     Double Vision

Seven                Going through the Motions

Eight                  Coming Clean

Nine                   Fancy Meeting You Here

Ten                    Broken Record

Eleven               Should Have Known Better

Twelve              All the Wrong Places

Thirteen           Surfing Safari

Fourteen           Going Home Again

Fifteen               Shredded

Sixteen              Bonjour!

Seventeen         Thicker Than Water

Eighteen            Under Pressure

Nineteen            Pretty Little Lies

Twenty               Rescue Me

Twenty-One       Ties That Bind

Twenty-Two       Bonds That Break

Epilogue              From the Top

Moving On

It’s been eighteen months since I left Chicago and all the lies. At first I sought refuge in California with my best friend, Kelly, and her brother, Brett. But after about a year, it was obvious to all that we were never going to have the same carefree relationship we had before. We weren’t children anymore.

So with a heavy heart and a lifetime of memories, I packed up and moved to Washington. In a small town outside of Seattle, I have made my home—no longer running, just living. I have a quiet life. But then I always have. Haven’t I?

In the beginning, I felt like I was merely surviving, still looking over my shoulder all the time. So sure they were going to find me, sometimes I could barely breathe. The doctors have helped me some. Post-traumatic stress disorder, they say. They tell me it’ll get easier. I should journal, keep a diary, write down my thoughts—work through my fear. But they don’t know everything that happened. No one else really does.

So here it goes, my thoughts…

Journal: 1               March 5

I went on a date a couple weeks ago. His name was Larry, or Lawrence. I met him at the bookstore I work at. He was nice, intelligent…safe. But that’s what you expect from a Larry, right? No one has a great romance with a Larry. We went out for coffee and talked. He seemed genuinely interested in me, even a little nervous. A circumstance I found really quite ironic considering my less-than-vast dating experience and nervous tendencies. His fumbling did make me smile, something I don’t do all that often anymore. In the end, all it really comes down to is, he is nothing like Zack. And Zack is still dead.

Picking Up the Pieces

The bookstore was really humming today. The new releases came out, and it seemed like everyone in town had stopped in to take a peek. It was a day I would normally look forward to. Setting up the new displays, chatting with the townies, I loved my job. But after another night of not sleeping, I was merely going through the motions. I’d spent most of the day in a daze, and my manager, Erin, had not been pleased.

Erin was great. She really was. Erin Mahoney, manager of A Crack in Time bookstore, was edgy, smart, and very alternative. With all her tattoos, piercings, and quick wit, she reminded me of Caleb, my friend from Chicago. Erin was on the local roller derby team and didn’t put up with anything. Her loud, irreverent personality was reminiscent of Kelly. God help us all, was a reoccurring thought I had when I thought of Erin. Kelly and Caleb in one small, brash, and very Irish package was like dynamite on a roller coaster. The explosion was inevitable. Yet, in an odd way, she made me feel secure. She had a way about her that made the unfamiliar, familiar.

Sarah. Sarah. Sarah! Wake up. We have customers! Erin yelled in her raspy I’m-only-twenty-five-but-I’ve-been-a-chain-smoker-since-sixth-grade voice. Man, I have no idea what’s wrong with her today, she grumbled under her breath as she walked off, leaving me to the job I was supposed to be doing.

After playing the friendly, helpful bookstore associate, I was once again lost in my thoughts. I needed to remember to answer to my name. But it was kind of hard when I’d been Sarah for only the last year or so. As far back as I could remember, I’d been Liz. To my friends, I still was. Just thinking of my friends made me miss them so much. I never realized starting over in a new town would be this difficult. I guess I never gave it much thought. I just did what I had to do. It wasn’t like I was ever an integral part of many people’s lives. I’d had only a handful of friends my entire life. But as Caleb often reminded me, a handful of truly good friends is all you need. The thought of Caleb put a smile on my face.

Well, it’s about time you smile and join the rest of the living. What the hell is going on with you today?

Sorry, Erin. I just haven’t slept well lately. I guess it’s catching up with me. I promise I’ll get my act together.

Sarah, relax. Why don’t you go down the street and get us some coffee? Erin smiled warmly and grabbed five dollars from the register. A little java makes everything better. She chuckled handing me the money. I couldn’t help but notice the concerned glance she gave me as I turned to walk off.

I really need to get my shit together. The thought made me laugh. A couple years ago, a swear word never would have crossed my lips. Not perfect little Liz. A lot can change in a couple years. Hell, a lot can change in a split second.

I forgot my purse back at the table. I’m just going to run back in and get it.

Okay, Liz. I’ll go get the truck and meet you out front.

The squeal of tires and screams were deafening. Running through the diner, shoving open the door, the bloody scene on the street, the crowd of onlookers staring at Zack’s lifeless body. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

The scene played on a loop through my mind, over and over again. It all seemed so real, the honking horns, the tires squealing, people screaming.

Hey, lady! Watch out! What the hell? Get out of the road!

In the next second, I felt a shove, and I was kissing concrete. I looked around stunned.

What the…Why did you do that! You…you… Before I could think of anything nasty to say, I looked up into the most beautiful and pissed-off green eyes I’d ever seen.

What were you trying to do, get yourself killed? The green eyes screamed at me. If you want to off yourself, fine. But do it where no one else can get hurt. You almost caused an accident!

What? I wasn’t. I’m sorry. My thoughts were fragmented, jumbled. Why is this guy so angry with me? Coffee. I was just going to get coffee. I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion. My knees and the palms of my hands felt like they were on fire. My chest ached with the effort to breathe. Still dazed, I asked Mr. Angry Guy, What happened?

What do you mean, what happened? He glared at me with so much hatred. I couldn’t help but wonder.

Do I know you?

Great. I got a crazy one, he mumbled. Look, honey, one minute you were crossing the street. The next, you just stop. But here’s the thing, just because you stop doesn’t mean the cars do! He huffed out a breath. I could tell it was in complete aggravation.

I hated the patronizing way he called me honey. Like I was some dumb girl just here to screw up his day. But I guess I kind of did. I felt like I should try to be nice, apologize for my traumatized psyche trouncing his perfect life. But the still very real image of Zack’s dead body was too fresh in my mind. All I could manage was an I’m sorry, sir as I picked myself up and brushed the embedded gravel from my hands and knees. Even that response was forced.

Look, I didn’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just that I really despise bloodshed before lunch.

The humor in the previously angry man’s voice caught me by surprise. I looked up. His green eyes were now sparkling. With what, I wasn’t sure. I wondered what I’d missed. His anger seemed to have vanished. The abrupt change made me extremely nervous. I quickly made my apologies again so I could leave. Plus, I was sure Erin would be back at the store wondering where I was.

I’m sorry again. I really am. Thank you for helping me? It felt weird to thank someone for knocking me down and bloodying my knees. The statement came out more of a question because I wasn’t really sure I should be thanking this guy. I wasn’t really sure what had even happened. But from what I could gather, he may have just saved me from being run over. So I guessed some appreciation was due.

Thank you? Mr. Green Eyes asked with a bit of amusement lacing his voice.

No, I mean it. Thank you. I’m pretty sure I should say thank you. I felt awkward in the moment. I was still trying to piece together what had happened. My mind was tormented between past and present, and neither was clear. The sorrow of Zack’s death was once again fresh and painful after my little trek down memory lane. I was shaky from the adrenaline pumping through me at the thought of being run down. And an inexplicable embarrassment swamped me over having angered and disturbed this man. I felt like a naughty child, and I hated that feeling. It was a feeling that I’d felt way too often growing up. I have to go. I’m sorry. Feeling the need to escape, I muttered the barely audible apology and hustled off at a very brisk pace.

Great, I’m fleeing the scene. Why does everything in my life lead to fleeing? Just once I would like to confidently strut away. As irritated as I was that my day had turned to utter crap, all I could think about was that I had almost been killed. And it would’ve been all my fault. Maybe I should call my doctor. I knew he said occasional flashbacks were normal. Many times they were a vital part of the healing process. Although, I was pretty sure spacing out in the middle of a busy street was not good for my health.

Limping back into work, I realized that in all my fleeing, I had forgotten the coffee. Damn!

What the hell happened to you? Erin asked, stopping her work to take in my less-than-pristine appearance and my quickly swelling knee.

I had a small accident. I tripped. I’m sorry, but I forgot your coffee. I handed her back the five dollars. It was my hope that my brief explanation would be enough, allowing a timely escape to the back office, where I could nurse my wounds in private—not to mention my wounded pride. But with the way Erin was eyeing me, I doubted I’d get off that easy.

Forget the coffee! My God, you look like something the dog vomited up. What’d you do, trip down a flight of stairs? Erin grabbed my hand and with great haste hauled me over to one of the comfy oversized chairs that made up the store’s reading nook. Acting like a mother hen, she carefully checked over all my boo-boos, one at a time.

I’m okay, Erin. I promise. I’m just a klutz sometimes.

Girl, you must not have seen yourself yet. You look worse than I do after a derby match. And you know how much we love to throw elbows. Erin laughed and went for the first aid kit from under the front counter. Medical supplies in hand, she began to clean my wounds. She continued to fuss even though I assured her I was a big girl and could do it myself. After Erin repeatedly slapped my hand away from the antiseptic, I relented and let her act the mama bear.

Erin was only four years older than I was, but a more fiercely protective lady you would not find. I had to admit it was nice to have someone take care of me. It wasn’t something I’d had a lot of experience with, especially growing up an orphan.

Erin left me to convalesce. Snuggling deeper, I was immensely appreciative of the big, comfy chair. I felt a weariness creep over me and began to doze off, refusing to fight it. When was the last time I had been able to just rest, close my eyes, and sleep without the nocturnal warfare? That question was the last thing that ran through my head before it went blank.

I woke with a startle. In my sleep-hazed mind, I swore it felt like someone was jostling me awake. Realizing I had fallen asleep in the middle of the bookstore, where anyone could see me, I became immediately alert with a gasp and jerk. The same brilliantly green eyes stared down at me. Thinking that I was having another flashback—this time a more recent one—I stiffened. I could feel the panic building when the man attached to the green eyes spoke.

I didn’t mean to startle you. I guess this time I should apologize. Mr. Green Eyes gave me a warm smile. I imagined that those eyes coupled with that smile had reassured many a woman.

The smile did not put me at ease, however, and the panic continued to build. How did you find me? My voice was weak and my breathing rapid. Are you following me? Past memories surfaced. Not again. Not again. I can’t do it all again.

He placed a hand on my arm in what seemed like an attempt to comfort me. Please, calm down. Breathe. I’m not following you. His manner was calm and nonthreatening, as if he was talking to a small child or a frightened animal.

I let out a deep and shaky breath. It’s all in your head, Liz. Relax. Act normal.

Well, I guess I am sort of following you.

There goes normal.

I think we got off to the wrong start, he continued. My name is Derek Baxter. I just came to check on you, see if you were okay.

I’m fine, I replied, trying to get up from the comfy chair. While it may have been comfy, it did not make for a quick getaway. Stupid comfy chair. I inched forward across the immense cushion until my feet finally reached the floor. Gripping the oversized arms, I began to push my aching body up from the massive seat.

Wait! Derek exclaimed, gently pushing me back down in the chair. Aren’t you going to give me your name? I mean, I did follow you all this way. He laughed, and it was a deep, warm sound that rippled through me. But I was still uneasy, and he was still a stranger.

Sarah. Sarah Fischer, I answered with an abruptness I totally felt. I should be getting back to work. Excuse me, please.

I wrestled myself out of the comfy chair and once again took up fleeing. Rushing to the back of the store, into the employee-only area, I chanced a quick glance back at Mr. Green Eyes, aka Derek Baxter. He wore a perplexed look. I could only surmise that with looks like his, he didn’t get run away from very often.

After biding my time in the back, unpacking boxes of new releases and packing up boxes of vendor returns, I finally decided that I couldn’t hide out any longer. With a deep breath, I exited the storeroom and headed up front. I scanned the aisles as I went, looking for one very unwanted Mr. Baxter. After careful maneuvering, I arrived at the front register, taking my place next to Erin. A deep puff of air escaped my aching lungs, my shoulders sagged, and my tension finally began to recede. Normal. Act normal.

Hey, sweetie. That hottie that was all worried about you came by and dropped this off for you, Erin remarked, handing me a cup of coffee.

Tension once again rushed through me. You can have it, I said wondering why all my embarrassing moments had to follow me.

Journal: 2              March 20

It’s been exactly six months since I started working at A Crack in Time. I never would have realized it has been that long since I moved here except Erin reminded me. She said that she’d be giving me my performance review in a few days. I hate the idea of someone judging me. I’ve been judged my whole life. But Erin’s cool. She says I don’t have anything to worry about.

I’m still having trouble sleeping. The nightmares never go away. Instead of shadowy figures and fire, my nightmares have been focused on Zack’s death. I think the close call I had a couple weeks ago has something to do with that. I guess nearly getting killed will mess with your mind. Somehow, I think it would have been a fitting end for me to die the same way Zack did. Since it’s my fault he’s dead and all, a part of me feels I should share his fate.

I know that if anyone I knew read this, they would think I’m suicidal. I’m not. It’s just that the guilt is overwhelming at times. And every time I close my eyes, I see his dead, lifeless eyes. Zack.

What makes it worse is Derek Baxter has been into the store three times since that day. Three times in two weeks! In the whole time I’ve worked there, I’d never seen him once before. Now, he’s there all the time. I feel like he’s following me. I know it’s probably just paranoia. I’m not the sanest person these days. (Insert maniacal laugh here.) Yeah, yeah, mental disorders aren’t funny. But if I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry. My life is not what I pictured.

Journaling, what a load of crap. All it ever did was make me sad. I got lost in my thoughts enough as it was. Why did I need to write them down? It wasn’t like I could forget what was in my head. I lived with it every day.

The phone ringing jarred me back to the present. My roommate, Simone, was out. She was always out. So, I just let the phone ring. The machine would pick it up. It was never for me anyway. Simone was the social butterfly. I was just the quiet roommate who liked to read, worked in a bookstore, and occasionally had posttraumatic panic attacks. I was loads of fun.

I know you’re there. Pick up the phone, and stop screening your damn calls! Kelly’s voice echoed through the house. She was sure giving the small tinny speakers on the answering machine a workout. Liz! Pick up the phone, Liz! she screamed, making my eye twitch at the squeal, and my heart went out to the poor answering machine. I knew exactly how it felt to have Kelly yell at me.

We didn’t part on the best of terms. At least she still called. Brett didn’t even speak to me anymore.

Fine. But know this, Liz, you can’t run forever. I’m gonna keep calling.

I took a deep breath and waited for her to hang up.

The Golden State

Sitting out on the beach, watching all the beautiful people enjoy the sunny California day, I knew the time had come. I couldn’t be what they wanted. I was leaving tomorrow. I heard footsteps coming down the walkway from the house. I turned and saw Kelly walking my way. It was such a beautiful place, the beach, the sun, the gorgeous house, and my amazing friends. But I didn’t belong there.

Kelly plopped down next to me. She faced the ocean and just sat there watching the waves like I did. This is going to be bad. A quiet Kelly was never good.

You’re leaving, huh?

Yeah, I am. I’m sorry, Kell. I just can’t do it. I’m just hurting everyone by staying here. I love you guys so much. I don’t know what I would have done without you two. You saved me, gave me a place to live, everything. I know you think enough time has passed, that I should move on. But I can’t, and he’s not giving me any more time. I’m sorry. Tears welled up in my eyes. My heart physically hurt at the thought of leaving the two people I’d known most of my life. But I knew it was for the best.

He loves you, Lizzy. He always has.

I know, Kell. There was a time when that was all I wanted. But I’m a different person now.

Don’t run away. Talk to him. Explain. I know my brother, and he would never push you. He would die before he hurt you.

Oh God, Kell. I know that. And I have tried to talk to him. It’s just me being here, living here, being in each other’s space every day. It’s hurting him, and I can’t bear that. I laid my head on my knees as the pain of it all swamped me. I had to give up the two most important people in my life because I was destroying them. I’m so sorry, Kell. You know I have to do this. I see Brett hurting. You see him hurting. We both know I’m the cause. You can’t tell me that doesn’t piss you off. I know it does. We’ve fought more in the last few months than all the years we spent at the orphanage. I can’t stay here. It’ll just get worse.

Kelly sat still and gazed out at the water. Okay, Liz. I can see I’m not going to win. But just know you are going to be the one to tell him you’re leaving. I’m not cleaning up your messes anymore. And if you think you’re hurting him now, this is going to kill him! Kelly smacked her hands down in the sand beside her, ready to push herself up.

That’s what I’m afraid of, I muttered more to myself than her. Apparently, Kelly still heard me. She spun around, spraying sand in every direction, and threw her hands on her hips. She loomed over me, radiating her disgust.

Cut the crap. It’s been a year! An entire effing year! No one is coming after you. Kelly’s anger was palpable. Looking back over her shoulder at the ocean, she continued. "I know you lost a lot, Liz. But you didn’t die. You’re still alive. So start acting like it."

Lost a lot? Lost a lot? I lost my boyfriend whom I loved. I lost my baby. I lost everything I once believed in. How can you say that? On the verge of hysteria, I watched Kelly, demanding an answer.

"I know what you lost, Liz. Brett knows what you lost. He saw you at your worst. And he still loved you. I still love you. God, you’re my best friend. But it rips me up seeing you like this. You’re dead inside. None of this is your fault. There are horrible people in this world. It’s not your fault. What happened is not your fault. When are you ever going to see that?"

Deep inside I knew Kelly was trying to help me. I knew that no one blamed me. They just wanted what was best for me. They just wanted to see me happy again. But what they didn’t realize was that it was all my fault. In the end, everyone I loved died. I was terrified that Kelly and Brett were next. I had to leave. It was time to move on, find a place in this world where I could start over.

I knew my leaving would rip Brett’s heart out. He loved me and only wanted to be with me. But I couldn’t do that, couldn’t love him. I loved Zack, and I had killed him. It didn’t matter if I loved Brett my entire life growing up or that I’d only grown to love him more over the year he and Kelly took care of me. If we were together, he would die. I knew it, soul deep.

So it was that Caleb’s words came back to me: When I was younger, we lived in Washington State, far from St. Matthew’s reach.

Washington, far from St. Matthew’s reach. Far from everything that could hurt me.

The next day I had all my things packed, bus ticket in hand. Only one thing was left—I had to talk to Brett. I knew I’d left talking to him until the last minute. I just couldn’t make myself hurry up, knowing that what I had to say would hurt him. Minutes before my taxi was due to pull up, I went searching for him.

Walking through the house was surreal. Memories of the day Brett brought me home from the hospital flooded my mind. He was so sweet, so gentle, almost like he was afraid that any sudden move or loud noise would have made me crumble. Maybe it would have. I didn’t remember a lot from those first days. But I remembered Brett. He laid me down on the couch, and he sat with me, day and night. He brought me water when my throat was dry and hoarse from crying. He made me PB&J sandwiches with the crust cut off to try to get me to eat. Most of all, he held me when the nightmares came.

I walked down the hallway and glanced into what used to be my room. I remembered the day I came home from my first therapy session. It was the first time I had left the house, and I was terrified. Brett drove me and stayed with me. When we came home, Kelly was waiting for us in the spare bedroom. She had completely redecorated it in greens and blues. Calming colors, she said. The room was beautiful, serene, and reminded me of the beach outside. I’d never had a room of my own that I could decorate before. First living at the orphanage and then my dorm room, this was all new. She had even called Lucy and Caleb. They packed up my stuff from my college in Chicago and shipped everything here. Kelly and Brett were giving me my own permanent place, a home. Home. For the last year, this had been my home. Now I was leaving.

Stopping in front of Brett’s door, I took a deep breath and gathered my courage. I lifted my hand to knock, but the door swung open before my knuckles even had a chance to make contact. Stunned as I was at the serious expression and withdrawn eyes, my hand still hovered motionless. This was not the Brett I knew and adored. But this was the only Brett I saw as of late. He was hurting. I was hurting him.

Liz. Did you need something? he asked with a cool formality I had been unable to become accustomed to.

I’d known Brett since I was fourteen. He had always been mature beyond his years, especially with his parents dying and him taking custody of Kelly. But this went beyond that. This was a distance we could not breach—not unless I was his girlfriend. That was the ultimatum he gave me. Love him or leave him. That’s what this all boiled down to. I couldn’t love him like he wanted, needed. Hell, I couldn’t even live with myself, let alone love someone else. How could I be what he needed? He had asked me to have faith, faith that everything would work out. I laughed in his face. Not maliciously, mind you. But if you fully understood the irony behind those words, you would have laughed too. Faith…that’s what this was all about. I used to be the one with enough faith for all of us. Now I had none.

No, I don’t need anything. Well, maybe just to talk to you, I stammered, dreading the conversation I was about to have.

So, let’s talk. Brett put his arm around my shoulders and led me out to the kitchen.

For just a second, I wanted to melt into him, let him make everything better. Forget all the heartache. Forget the past.

Brett let go of me and turned to open the fridge. Popping open a soda, he turned to face me. What’s up?

I’m leaving. The declaration slammed down like an anvil, followed by complete silence. I swear even the clock stopped ticking.