Thunderstruck: Ramsey Security, #1

By Bijou Hunter

Escaping a madman...

My name is Darla, but he calls me Rose. I thought running would keep me safe. Instead, the monster hunts me, certain I will be his again.

Shattered and waiting for death...

Nine months in hell has left my mind ruined. My heart claims I'm no more than a burden. My soul only wants to embrace the darkness.

A retired assassin...

Troy brings the security skills of a former killer. I am his first legit job. He has no reason to make this assignment personal, but our connection can't be denied.

Thunderstruck...

Troy awakens the part of me that still feels... hopes... loves.

***Thunderstruck is a standalone romance with adult language, violence, and sexual situations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bijou Hunter
• Release date: Aug 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516348480

Bijou Hunter

Romance Author of Contemporary, Suspense, and New Adult ~ Find me at www.bijouhunterbooks.com ~ Join my mailing list: www.bijouhunterbooks.com/mailing-list

Book preview

Thunderstruck

Bijou Hunter

Copyright © 2015 Bijou Hunter

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmosphere purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

For more information about this series and author, please visit her website.

Cover Design

Photographer: korobkova

Source: Depositphotos.com

Cover Copyright © 2017 Bijou Hunter

Dedication

Freckles, Tigger, Pooh, and Roo for making me laugh

Mustang Sally for cracking her whip

Candy Girl Miranda for knowing me better than I know myself

Saucy Sarah and Salacious Stacie for kicking ass

Naughty Nicole for her endless energy and Darling Daphne for her silliness

Book Summary

Escaping a madman...

My name is Darla, but he calls me Rose. I thought running would keep me safe. Instead, the monster hunts me, certain I will be his again.

Shattered and waiting for death...

Nine months in hell has left my mind ruined. My heart claims I'm no more than a burden. My soul only wants to embrace the darkness.

A retired assassin...

Troy brings the security skills of a former killer. I am his first legit job. He has no reason to make this assignment personal, but our connection can't be denied.

Thunderstruck...

Troy awakens the part of me that still feels...hopes...loves.

Table of Contents

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Epilogue

Epilogue

About Bijou

1

Darla

Temptation Takes Me

I FORGET WHO I AM. Not at first or willingly. Yet over time, I lose my way. Too many nights in the dark. Too many lies whispered in my ear. Too much pain until I crave the lies, offering me freedom.

Locke says my name is Rose, and I belong to him. He pretends to love the original Rose, who embraced death as a way to free herself from the lies. One day I might do the same, but I can't give up just yet.

Days turn into weeks, and the lies feel more real than the truth. Weeks become months, and I don't remember the truth anymore. The memories of my life before Locke–when my name was Darla—are lies. My dreams of that time are only fantasies that I tell myself to deal with the pain. The reality is I never existed before becoming Rose. I always belonged to Locke, and I always will.

The lies are so strong that I walk into public places where I might escape, yet I never forget to be Rose. Restaurants, hotels, and stores might offer me a path away from him and towards freedom, yet I never run. I can't explain to anyone why I didn't, at least, try to escape before today. They will never understand what it feels like to be Rose.

Rose exists only to please Locke, and I saw no escape.

Until Beyonce.

The boutique smells like a garden, and I lift my nose to the scent pulsing from the vents. I hate the odor, but Rose spent her days walking through the garden at Locke's home. She even jumped to her death, landing in her precious flowers.

The women around me are very skinny, like walking hangers. I never consider speaking to them. I am here to try on clothes, but I won't choose what we buy. Locke will. Even without him in the store, he always chooses what he wants for his Rose.

The man at my left is Mister Pain. He never smiles for me. Once I saw him smile for a waitress, and he had razor-sharp teeth. The waitress gasped at the sight of his mouth and was fired immediately afterward. Locke refuses to allow anyone to shame Mister Pain. The people working for Locke reward his loyalty by crossing any moral line to serve him.

Does Locke truly care for Pain? Does he care for anyone? Yes, he loves Rose. She belongs to him, and now I'm her. Today, I can keep things straight in my head easier than before. The darkness I normally hide in fades, and I see the world as it truly is.

When Beyonce's Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It) begins to play, I feel strange. This song means something. Not to Rose. Or Locke. Or even Mister Pain. The song means something to Darla - the woman I am in my dreams.

A memory flashes in my mind of Darla's sister dancing with her daughter and son in a big kitchen in a massive house. They are such a happy family—dancing and singing. In the memory, Darla dances too.

I see the blonde woman in the mirror, and she is Darla.

Outside the dressing room, Mister Pain waits to take a picture of my outfit for Locke's approval. I think of his size and know I'll never get past him. Rose wouldn't even think to try.

I am not Rose, though.

My feet are bare, and I'm wearing a flowery dress with the store's alarm mechanism attached. Yet I shove open the door and run past Mister Pain. His fingers skim the fabric of my dress, yet he misses his chance to stop me.

I run out the front door, setting off the alarm. Behind me, the women gasp while Mister Pain gives chase. My escape takes him by surprise, but he recovers quickly. If he catches me, he'll return me to Locke, who will punish me until I am Rose again.

Running as fast as my weak body manages, I sing the words to the song and remember when I was Darla. Around me, the noise on the street is unbearably loud. After too long in the quiet, I'm overwhelmed by the world's chaos.

My feet tear open on the rocks and glass in the street as I rush through traffic and away from Mister Pain. Despite the pain, I can't slow down when he remains so close behind me.

I pass a pizzeria, inhaling the familiar scents of my life before I became Rose. Locke won't allow me to eat pizza. Rose has allergies and is on a special diet. Darla, though, eats whatever she wants.

Based on the expressions of the people I pass, Mister Pain is nearly on me. They're afraid. Not for me, but for themselves. He looks terrifying when angry. His face turns red, and veins pop out of his forehead. I have seen his angry face too many times in the last nine months.

Blinded to the danger behind me, I only see freedom ahead. I can't give up now. I refuse to be afraid. I have this one chance. If he catches me, I will never be free again.

Do you believe in God? Darla's niece Diana once asked.

Sure, Darla said, giving a blasé shrug.

The old Darla didn't think much about God. However, I'll forever believe after a dozen uniformed officers appear from a deli on the street ahead of me.

Only when I see them do I realize I'm screaming. The officers stop smiling at their earlier conversation and look at me running in their direction.

I am Darla! I scream.

Mister Pain's fingers brush my shoulder once. They also graze my hair, tearing a few strands from my scalp. He's nearly on top of me when the officers appear.

Refusing to look back, I don't see him fleeing. I only hear someone say he has a gun. I think officers chase after him. What I know is I barrel into one of the policemen and hold on for dear life.

Mayhem surrounds me, first on the street and then at the hospital. Officers and doctors ask questions, but I don't know the answers. I cry when they promise my sister is flying to Los Angeles to get me from the hospital. Even with freedom at my grasp, I can only say one thing.

I am Darla.

2

Darla

Never Let Me Go

FOOTSTEPS WEREN'T ALLOWED at Locke's home unless they belonged to him. He preferred silence most times. When I needed punishing, he insisted I be taken to a sound-proof room so my screams wouldn't upset him. Locke desires a silent, controlled world.

Five minutes in my sister's palatial Texas home would send him into a psychotic rage. Eight-year-old Diana wears her tap shoes everywhere. Six-year-old John wants to be a firefighter, so he makes the siren noises endlessly. The family's two Maltese dogs chase the boy around the house and bark at his pretend siren. Their cat sits next to me on the couch, meowing at the ceiling fan.

She sees ghosts, Shelley says to me.

I share my sister's smile, but the noise drives me mad. Living too long in silence has left me over-stimulated by this normal life. Shelley tries to help by reminding the kids that I'm sick and need quiet. They lower their volume for a while. As children, though, their favored form of communication is endless blaring noise.

Despite marrying for money and security, Shelley truly loves Vern. They're happy together but share no great passion. I once believed she shortchanged herself by marrying a rich weenie over a sexy stud. Now I understand. Passion is overrated. Locke's obsession with Rose is pure madness and born from passion. Vern will never love her in such a perverse, all-consuming way.

Two months after running to freedom, I remain at their new home in Houston. After I had disappeared from the cruise, Shelley believed I was dead. Yet she lies these days by claiming she always knew I'd return. I don't blame her for believing what she did or for lying now. Once Mistress Agony slipped me a spiked drink, I disappeared into a world Shelley couldn't fathom.

This isn't the home Shelley lived in when we took the cruise. She claims they were building the house when I disappeared, but I can't remember this fact anymore. I don't remember many things. Diana's middle name is Ethel. She's named after our grandmother, who raised us. I remember this but not that John's middle name is after our grandfather Edgar. Such small things to forget. Meaningless things stolen away by Locke's punishments.

What else have I forgotten? Are there other memories from my twenty-six years on this planet lost forever as a result of the electric shock treatments I suffered to become a better Rose? I can only guess what I don't know. Sitting on the couch, I count the blank spots in my mind. When Shelley mentions a friend from school, I nod at her story, but I don't remember our old friend. In the last few weeks, I've stopped mentioning how much I've forgotten. Shelley worries enough already when she thinks about my nine months away from her.

Vern is gone a lot for business. Shelley never seems to mind his absences, even if she's also happy when he's at home. My sister is a naturally happy person. I think I was too once. Now I stare at the TV all hours of the day and try to ignore all the noise in the world.

I should have married Louie Chan, I say to Shelley when she joins me on the couch one night.

You wouldn't have been happy with him.

If I married him, I'd have been a mom years ago. I'd be unworthy of Locke's interest when he saw me on the cruise. Even if I'd never been desperately in love with Louie, I'd be safe and comfortable.

Shelley opens her mouth to say something upbeat. When she can't think of anything to fix what's broken, my sister closes her mouth.

You're safe now, she finally says, scooting closer. You like it here, don't you?

Leaning my head on her shoulder, I sigh. It's a beautiful house.

Once they catch the bastard, you can rebuild your life and forget what happened.

I nod at her words, believing none of them. Outside on the patio, the two private security contractors speak quietly. Vern hired them after we noticed someone following us home from the store. Shelley said the stalker was likely someone from the press. My story interested people. The news ran stories about my abduction and escape. They played the videos taken by citizens when I ran down the streets to freedom. The tabloids weaved wild stories about where I'd been and how I'd truly gotten away. By refusing to tell my story, I'd allowed the media to tell it for me. As obnoxious as the attention could be, the media's stalking kept Locke from reclaiming his Rose. So far anyway.

Selfishly, I want to believe he'll find another Rose. After all, I'm not the first fake Rose or even the second. Locke refused to be careful with his Roses, leaving us broken and needing replacing.

I didn't dare think of the next Rose. Imagining another woman living her life, only to find herself enslaved, made me feel guilty for running. I had already been broken. Shouldn't I have lasted as long as possible to save the next Rose from my fate? Instead of being self-sacrificing, I allowed a single song from my past to inspire me to run.

The security men outside are retired police officers, and they always speak to me in hushed voices. I sometimes cry when they look at me. They scare me, but I creep them out too. The only time I've laughed this week was when Shelley teased me about scaring those big strong ex-cops. Tears terrify men, I told her. When Shelley gave me a knowing smile, I wonder how much she's gotten out of Vern by crying over the years.

I eat dinner at the table with the kids and Shelley. They talk about their day while I stare at my food. Able to eat whenever and whatever I want now, I often overeat. In fact, I plan to put on fifty pounds, maybe a hundred. If I'm fat enough, Locke won't want me any longer. Rose cared about her weight, Locke told me once. You care about your weight too, Rose.

I doubt he even remembered I wasn't the real Rose most days. For nine months, my sanity relied on a man who'd lost his decades earlier.

After dinner, I watch a Disney movie with the kids before bed. They sing along with the songs while I stare at the screen. I'm sweaty in my large gray sweats while Shelley looks healthy and comfortable in her blue shorts and a tank top. I feel disgusting next to her. Yet my ugliness relaxes me. An ugly woman has no value to Locke. Despite my guilt over his next victim, I refuse to be Rose again.

Sleeping in a bedroom upstairs, I leave the door open and TV on. Downstairs, the family's housekeeper, Mona, walks around, and her slippers slap against the wood floors. A few rooms away from mine, I hear John's TV playing quietly. In the other direction, Diana giggles while being silly with the cat. Even with everyone readying for bed, the house feels too loud.

Before crashing for the night, Shelley leans into my room and smiles at me. I smile back, but the dark scares me, and I can't pretend otherwise.

Everything is locked up tight, she says. Dan and Joe are keeping watch.

I took a sleeping pill. I'll be fine.

Watching me from the doorway, Shelley worries again. Her pretty face scowling in the darkness, she's thinking I take too many pills. Shelley wants me to be the way I was before Locke stole me from her, but she's clinging to a fantasy.

After she retires to bed, I stare at the TV and think of nothing. I doze off to the sound of the dogs' nails clicking on the floor as they play in the hallways.

The first gunshot yanks me from a bad dream, and I'm paralyzed in bed. Joe and Dan's yelling accompanies the second shot. I flinch at the sound of more gunshots along with the blare of the security alarm.

Tangled in the blankets, I roll out of bed and topple on the floor. Soon, I crawl into the hallway. Between the insanely loud alarm and the sleeping pill in my system, I can't concentrate.

Aunt Darla! Diana yells at me from down the hallway.

Diana waves me towards her mother's room, where Shelley appears with John. My sister's terrified eyes look huge in the darkness. Even panicking, I can barely move with all the medicine flowing through my veins.

Crawling towards them, I finally lose the sheet wrapped around my left leg. I reach the bedroom door as the dogs do. Diana is already in the closet's panic room with her brother. Shelley helps me to my feet and yanks me towards the doorway.

As Shelley shuts the door and locks it, I wrap my arms around my shaking body. Next to me, John and Diana cuddle with their dogs. I wonder about the cat and Mona. At the control panel, Shelley looks at monitors while speaking to someone on the emergency phone.

We're safe in the panic room, she says. Our housekeeper is in the downstairs panic room. We're safe, but I hear gunshots.

It'll be okay, Diana whispers to me.

John wraps me tightly in his little arms. Don't cry, Aunt Darla.

The medicines leave me numb and unable to feel my tears. Locke will never let me go. He'd rather destroy me than know I exist without him. In his desperation to destroy me, he'll hurt everyone I love.

I shouldn't have run, I whisper, but the children don't understand.

Shelley does, and I see the pain in her eyes. Unable to be negative, she focuses on the monitors and helps the arriving police. I hear her say Joe and Dan are on the ground. She tells the police where the gunman is in the house. She warns them when he's ready to fire on them. Her help gives the police the upper hand, and the gunman ends up dead.

Ex-policeman Joe is dead while an injured Dan goes to the hospital. I hear of their suffering and see the fear in the eyes of my family. Through it all, I wish I hadn't run.

3

Troy

Hunting the Soulless

THE RAMSEY SECURITY offices are located in a rough part of Houston, where the police are scarce, and the best form of protection is the local gang. Other firms want downtown high-rises, so they'll be seen. We have no interest in anyone knowing what we do inside the former factory turned expansive business center.

Rafael Ramsey is the face of the company. Like the rest of the staff, he's a retired assassin. Now we provide security to rich clients in need of professionals willing to get dirty.

I joined the company because my partner Minka wanted more in life than killing assholes. She was looking to retire, so I followed her to Houston. Three months after we arrive, the Ramsey offices are more secure than the local police station. In fact, we possess an arsenal that would make the National Guard envious.

So far, our jobs had been small fry crap like protecting weddings from jilted ex-lovers and playing referee during volatile divorce hearings. I'd gone from being a contractor known to hunt dangerous people all over the globe to the guy playing usher at a rich bitch's gaudy wedding.

Into the world of retired assassins and gangbanger guard dogs walks a man with a weak bladder. Vernon Young is a twitchy turd with a big bank account to make up for his tiny balls. He flinches when our receptionist Tia offers him