False Start

By Meli Raine

This isn't how my life is supposed to end.

Then again, a case of mistaken identity got me here. No one is ever who we think they are. Especially my kidnapper, a man whose entire life is designed to deceive.

Powerful people want my rescuer to die. I'm just a lure. A pawn. An object.

But objects hold meaning. Emotions attach themselves without logic.

Like love.

I now know that Duff will do everything to protect me.

If he gets here in time. And if I can hold on long enough.

Because my body can only handle so much. Pushed to the limits, it's finally giving out. Giving way.

Giving up.

I know Duff, though.

He never will.

Blink.


Read the stunning conclusion to USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine’s False series, told from both Lily and Duff’s points of view.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prosaic Press
• Release date: Nov 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781950172481

Meli Raine

USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents, bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes -- and the women who love them. Meli rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

LILY

Ijust wanted a glass of water.

Fifteen minutes ago, I was drinking a glass of water in Duff's kitchen.

Now I'm in a limo with my fifteen-year-old sister, who has no idea she's just been kidnapped by Romeo. She thinks he's doing her a favor.

Not that she's being manipulated so he can kill me.

I run through the past fifteen minutes in five-second loops, all of it crammed together.

I went to Duff's kitchen to get a drink.

Romeo appeared behind me.

Told me the president wanted to see me.

When I objected, he held out his phone.

Gwennie's voice nearly made me faint. Lily? Can you hurry up? Romeo's taking me to school 'cause I missed the bus. I'm downstairs in his SUV. You're going to make me late!

Romeo handed me a piece of paper. Told me to write the words The president wants to see me.

Put that cute little heart you use to dot your i’s, he said with a smile, the other security guy behind us, oblivious. "It's so you."

He sent me back into Duff's bedroom with the note. I shook Duff, hard. So, so hard. But he never woke up.

I pinched him.

I even slapped his face. Nothing.

And then I realized what had happened.

Romeo had drugged him. Duff was breathing, but for how long?

After I put the note on the bed, Romeo came into the room. Did something I couldn't see. While every cell in my body screamed, the security guy–Luke–gave me a blank look. Did he work with Romeo? Was this how I was finally going to die?

And Duff?

But Romeo had Gwennie. If I said a word, what would he do to her?

So I left.

I did what Romeo said.

I followed orders.

And here we are, pulling up to my old high school. The driver is some dark-haired guy wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a look that says he doesn't give a shit about anyone. Gwennie's in the passenger seat. I'm in the back seat behind the driver, my body leaning instinctively away from Romeo, who reaches out to pat Gwennie's shoulder as she pulls the door handle.

She opens it. She steps out.

Relief floods me. At least Romeo's letting my sister live.

I know I won't.

Have a nice day, Gwennie, Romeo says in a voice that is so friendly. Casual. Paternal, even. You'd never guess he's stolen me away, poisoned Duff, and is about to–

What?

What, exactly, is he about to do to me? Aside from kill me?

Because I know that's not all he's going to do.

I have a chem test. No way is today going to be good, she grouses, shoving her backpack onto her arm, looking down. The magenta eyeglass frames cover half her face, the stylish look complemented by her thick eyebrows. Gwennie hates her braces, can't wait to get them off in three months.

My stomach twists.

I'll never see her without the braces, will I?

Hey! Gwennie? I call out as she exits the vehicle. Romeo gives me a sharp look of warning.

I swallow, my throat clicking.

Tell Dad I really want to see the new orchid shipment. I'm really excited.

Oh. She frowns a little. Okay. Her smile is uneven.

You'll be fine with chem. You're really good at figuring out solutions, I assure her.

Run away, I will her. Please, please run, Gwennie. Tell Dad. Tell Silas. Tell someone.

Help.

I watch her walk into the high school, the same one I attended not too long ago. It's like I'm watching a foreign film. It's surreal yet familiar. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until the double doors close behind her.

She is safe.

I did it.

I got my sister out alive.

Thank you, I say, hating myself the minute the words come out of my mouth. It’s a reflex. An involuntary response driven by years of pleasing people. Being kind and good and friendly has its own intrinsic reward, but that only applies to normal society.

Why did I just thank someone who’s about to kill me?

Romeo makes a noise, a sound of derision and surprise. Stoic men don’t do that. The skin around his eyes folds. His neck tightens as his head moves back a few inches to turn and look at me with mocking wonder.

You are a piece of work, Lily.

A laugh rushes out of his nose, air rumbling up from deep underneath his diaphragm.

Why? I venture, trying to keep him talking.

All that movement and yet he remains still as a statue. "Why would you thank me?" he asks, his voice dripping with disgust.

For letting Gwennie go. My voice is softer than I want it to be. It begs, as if it’s separated itself from me.

My voice wants to run in the wind, to fly swiftly, to seek rescue from the inevitable.

My voice wants to take great, leaping jumps, as if it’s on the moon and can defy gravity.

My voice wants to go back in time, two years back, to shout as Romeo came into the store to kill me.

My voice wants to warn me.

But my voice can’t save me now.

Where are you taking me? I ask, starting to tremble, the anticipation of what’s next sinking in.

You’ll see, is all he says. That’s all I get. He doesn’t think I deserve more.

Raindrops begin to fall in erratic patterns. A cluster covers the windshield on the SUV. One plunks directly where my eyes are looking straight ahead, staring so hard at the stopped car in front of us. I wish the intensity of my gaze could get someone’s attention. My eyes drift to look at the door handle. It’s locked. Everything’s auto-locked.

I could scream. I could make a scene. I could try to get another driver’s attention. But the windows of this car are tinted for security purposes, and anyway, they’d kill me.

What protects us can be used as a tool in our deaths, too.

My only hope is that Gwennie gets the message. She knows I hate orchids. If she texts or calls Dad, maybe Dad will reach out to Silas and Drew and Duff. It's thin hope. False hope, really.

But it's the only hope I've got.

I close my eyes and take a slow, shallow breath. I’m not capable of inhaling more.

Duff.

What did Romeo do to him? Leaving him back there in his bed, unconscious, stripped me of any hope that Romeo won’t win. My only solace is that Duff was breathing, but with Romeo behind me in that bedroom, maybe he isn’t now. Maybe Romeo killed him, right under my nose, and I was too helpless to save him.

A deep shaking takes over all the nerves in my body. My hands and feet feel like bees are crawling all over them. The sensation climbs from my ankles and wrists up to my elbows and knees. I’m shaking, but my body is still.

How can I shake so hard on the inside and no one can see?

The driver turns on the radio, which is set on a soothing jazz station. The music is a mockery. Nothing about what is happening here is soothing. The conflict between the emotion this music is designed to evoke and the horror I'm actually experiencing creates a visceral madness in me.

How can I think?

How can I plan?

How can this be?

He begins to hum along to the tune. Hum! Terror washes over me, swift and cruel.

It takes everything in me not to faint.

Time is my worst enemy. This was the problem when I was trapped in a hospital bed for all those months. The full life I live inside my own head can be too much when all I can do is anticipate.

Yes, I can move my arms and legs now. I have full possession of my body now. It’s not back to one hundred percent of what it was before I was shot in the head, but it’s close enough that I can move, walk, even run.

Volition only matters when you can act on it. Otherwise, it'll just drive you insane.

I can’t open this car door. I can’t open the window or break it. I can’t injure or kill both Romeo and the other guy. Wanting to escape, no matter how desperately, isn’t enough to override what they have:

Control.

Romeo found a way to fool everyone and control Duff. He found a way to fool my mother and my little sister, and use Gwennie as bait to get me. He found a way to become the head of private security for the highest office in the country.

He has the president's ear.

He has all the control.

In the face of knowing there is nothing I can do to save myself, I should go into helpless mode. Isn’t that my only choice? Isn’t that the sane response to an insane situation? Give up, give in, zone out?

The car makes a sharp left. The driver’s hands deftly move the wheel, as if he’s trained to drive at much faster speeds.

Hold on, Lily, Romeo says, turning his head in a tilting motion to the left and the right, watching me as seconds roll between the two of us.

He’s enjoying this.

The thought hits me with a new wave of hot terror that ripples across my skin. This isn’t just a mission for him. This isn’t just about duty. I’ve been kidnapped by a man who is more than a murderer. More than a hit man. More than some mole who weaseled his way into high levels of the security industry.

All of that is true, but here’s the part that’s worse: He likes what he’s been doing to me.

He enjoys what he’s about to do to me.

As I come to understand that, his gaze lingering on me as time both sharpens and diffuses, the world beginning to spin, I suddenly get it.

I get why people become hopeless.

Because I am one of them now.

DUFF

I don’t feel the needle go in me. My veins are easy to find. They’re bulging right now. Stress, anger, rage–whatever you want to call it–does that to my body. It’ll do it to any body.

And if you’re gonna have a blood draw done, might as well capitalize on it.

Silas and Drew called in a toxicology expert. I get it. If I’m lying, a blood draw proves me wrong. If I’ve been drugged, an expert can figure out what I’ve been given.

Two shots of espresso and what feels like a gallon of water aren’t doing much for the shit someone put in my body. I can't believe I was drugged in my own home.

It had to be the milk.

Lily wasn’t drugged, I insist. Silas looks at me intently.

She didn’t drink it? he asks. You’re sure?

No. Lactose intolerant. I didn’t have any almond milk for her. I’m the only one who drank it.

We’re having the milk tested right now, Silas assures me.

That’s not gonna do anybody a damn lick of good if she’s dead before the toxicology results come back.

Duff… He gives me a sharp look. We’re on the same side.

I don’t know whose side anybody is on anymore. I know someone just poisoned me to the point of almost dying. I can’t imagine Lily went out of here without a fight. Either that, or unconscious. Every muscle in me goes rigid at the thought.

Luke, get in here, Silas calls. One of the suits from last night comes in, looking grim. Blond guy, thinning hair, face like putty. You said she left of her own accord?

Yes, sir. Went with Czaky. He said the president wanted to see her. He was following full protocol, sir.

What exactly does that mean? I snap.

"I’m former Secret Service. The guy had the president on the line." Luke’s voice drops to a growl.

"And you went with that rather than calling me?" Silas challenges.

Incredulous eyes look at Silas with something close to contempt. I had no reason to suspect Czaky. He used to work on this team, Luke says, his voice suddenly hesitant. Silas now has him rattled. And he had a secured line direct to the White House.

I rub my hand through my short hair, head pounding, vision still swimming. Every point of contact–tendon to bone, skin to skin, organ to organ–hurts like hell.

She walked out of here with him willingly? I ask, voice breaking at the end in spite of myself.

Luke shrugs. Yes. He had her leave a note for you.

"He did that?" I ask, mulling over the implications.

He did. She wrote it, put it on the bed, and walked out of the bedroom. Czaky went in, seconds later he came back out, closed the door. Done.

I look down at the floor where the spider is still trapped under the glass.

Done, all right, I say with a sigh.

Trying to stand is impossible. The second I do it, my knees buckle. Whatever they put in that milk has rendered me useless. I can’t be useless right now.

Useless means Lily dies. The only thing worse than being useless right now is being hopeless.

Silas reads my mind. I know he does, because he’s been in the same place, when Jane was trapped in that room at the club. Eyes filled with empathy meet mine. He motions for Luke to leave. The guy practically sprints out.

He pulled it off, Silas says, making sure Luke’s out of hearing range. "He did something."

Lily's gone, I answer, cutting myself off. My words feel too final. I can’t let them be that final.

We’re treading very carefully here, Duff, Silas says, as if I don’t know that. "Harry trusts Czaky implicitly. We can’t let anyone know that we don’t."

How the hell are we gonna find Lily if that’s the case?

Silas looks around the