Aiden: Stone Security Volume One, #4

By Glenna Sinclair

This is the fourth book of Stone Security Volume One, with over 50,000 words of romantic suspense. 

 

We both had dark secrets we kept closely hidden. Maybe that was what drew us to each other and made me forget my rule to never engage with the neighbors, to talk to him and build this little rapport that had the potential to lead to something bigger. Or maybe it was just this loneliness I sensed from him, that I felt intently inside myself.

 

Humans were never meant to be solitary creatures. And he clearly needed someone as much as I did. But wasn't it just inviting trouble to bring someone into my life, someone who wanted to go out and be social, when I was hiding from dangers that could be lurking around the corner or hundreds of miles away?

 

He was hot, a former Navy SEAL, the kind of man who could clearly take care of himself. And I needed a little of that in my life. Was it really wrong to crave the safety of a man's arms?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glenna Sinclair
• Release date: May 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9798223931812

Glenna Sinclair

Experience the heart-racing novels of Glenna Sinclair, the master of romantic suspense. Sinclair's books feature strong male protagonists, many with a military background, who face real-world challenges that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Books2read.com/GlennaSinclair Facebook.com/AuthorGlennaSinclair GlennaSinclairAuthor at Gmail dot com

Book preview

Prologue

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Eighteen Months Ago ...

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Beep, beep, beep...

I hated the sound of the register, the stupid tone that sounded every time I scanned a barcode. Eight hours a day, day after day, week after week. And I was supposed to be content to put up with this for how long? Five to ten years? Longer, maybe?

That wasn’t going to happen.

I don’t think they truly understood who I was. But, again, it was better than sitting in that dingy apartment staring at the walls twenty-four hours a day. Or in the hotel before that...

I shivered.

You okay?

I smiled politely at the housewife whose groceries I was currently scanning. Just a little chill.

It’s hot outside today.

I glanced at the glass walls of the store, out into the bright sunlight of the clear Florida morning, and nodded. It is. But the air conditioner... I gestured to the vent right above my station. They tend to keep it a little cold because of the heat from the refrigeration motors, you know?

She nodded. I always wondered why it was so cold in a grocery store.

I bit my lip to keep the sarcastic words that touched the tip of my tongue. There were so many amazing things about the modern world and she wondered about that? Must be why she was content to be a housewife and I was going insane in this dead-end job.

I watched her take her change from her purchase and leave the store. It was early, so there was no one else in line. I slipped out a novel I’d hidden under the cash drawer and leaned back against the flimsy wall of my little station to read. If the manager came in and caught me again, I’d probably lose this job. That would be a disaster. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Another customer came through with a pile of junk food—Twinkies and high-sodium lunch meat and canned soups—that I scanned without comment. The last time I’d told someone they should make adjustments to their diet, they’d complained to management and they’d threatened to put me on stocking duty. The only thing worse than listening to that infernal beep all day long was the monotony of setting boxes of tampons on a low shelf all day.

It was a long, boring day. I was used to being busy all the time, running from one crisis to the next. This...I was pretty sure if it went on much longer, I wouldn’t make it. It would almost be worth taking a chance with my life than staying here like this.

I walked home. They wouldn’t allow me a car or a driver’s license even though I’d been driving since I was fourteen. A neighbor waved as I came around the corner of the building, a slight woman who was all belly at the moment. Her thin body was almost too fragile for the baby she was carrying. If she didn’t eat a little more, that baby would have a lifetime of problems. But, again, living in this world with a father who dealt drugs and a mother who took them, the kid didn’t have much of a chance anyway.

I let myself into my apartment, trying not to look at the threadbare carpets and the stains on the walls. They told me they’d arrange something better soon enough, but this was safe for now. Their interpretation of safe was amusing to me.

I warmed up leftover chicken from last night and threw together a little salad, settling on the creaky couch to watch some mindless reality show. I thought about going to bed when I was finished eating, but the only thing sleep did was bring me closer to another day in that damn grocery store.

I wasn’t supposed to, but I slipped outside, walked down the block to the little convenience store on the corner. It was something to do. I bought a pint of vanilla ice cream, a rare indulgence that gave this little trip a purpose. If they asked I could always say it was a woman thing...most men wouldn’t argue with anything that hinted at that time of the month.

The night was cooler than the day had been with a cool breeze blowing nicely through the trees. I paused before turning the corner that would take me to my apartment building and the overwhelming smells of frying onions and sweaty bodies overwhelmed the fresh scent of the evening air. Warm evenings like this were a rarity back where I came from, especially this time of the year. But when they came, it was always such a pleasure to sit out on my back porch and enjoy them.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend I was there again.

But closing my eyes in this neighborhood was a mistake.

Hello, Carson, a deep voice whispered near my ear.

I stiffened, tried to turn, but hands grabbed my arms and dragging me into the alley behind a row of houses that were little more than shacks. I tripped and stumbled, the person behind me holding me up with just the power of his grip on my arms. I screamed, but people were always screaming in this area. No one noticed.

He shoved me to the ground. I barely hit the dirt when the first blow came, a foot in my ribs. A foot encased in a steel toed boot. I cried out, curling onto my side to protect my ribs, but that didn’t stop the blows. My back, my ass...he didn’t seem to care where he made contact. I got up on my hands and knees, tried to crawl away, but he just grabbing my foot and pulled me back.

Fucking bitch! Did you really think you could get away with it?

I glanced back at him, recognized his dark features, the scar that ran along the left side of his face. The mark of a knife; poorly repaired. And it hadn’t been a doctor who did it because he hadn’t bothered to minimize nerve damage. The man’s eyelid drooped from the bad repair.

He lifted his foot to kick me again. I was pretty sure my chin was his next target, but a car turned into the alley at that moment, flooding it with light. He turned to look at it, guarding his eyes from the bright light with a curved hand. I took advantage of his momentary distraction to crawl toward the open gate in someone’s backyard. The moment I was out of sight, I climbed to my feet and ran. I heard him cursing, heard the pounding of his feet as he came after me. But it was dark here and he was partially blinded from the car headlights. I even heard him fall once or twice.

I got to the street and hesitated just a second. If he’d known where to find me, he knew where I lived. If he knew where I lived, he’d expect me to go there. That was the last place I should go.

I turned the other direction and ran, coming up behind a city bus just as it pulled to a stop at the corner. I climbed on board and took a seat toward the back, watching out the window for any sign of my pursuer. There was nothing.

Excuse me, a soft voice said, shoving a tissue toward me.

I looked at the tissue, then at the source of the voice, an older woman with exhaustion written all over her face.

Your head. It’s bleeding.

I reached up and touched my forehead, surprised when my fingers came away with fresh blood on the tips. I took the tissue and nodded in thanks, turning away in what might have been considered a rude gesture. But I couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t leave behind potential witnesses who would remember details about me. He’d found me once. He could find me again.

I couldn’t believe he’d found me. All the work, all the rules, everything I’d done, everything they’d done...how did he find me?

And why didn’t he just kill me?

I shuddered, the adrenaline wearing off and the emotion setting in. My hands were shaking and my body was beginning to throb in so many places I couldn’t keep track of them all. I had to get out of here, had to get out of Florida. And I had to do it on my own. There was no other choice.

I got off the bus at the next stop and searched my pockets, taking an assessment of my situation. I had enough cash on me to get a bus ticket out of town. After that...I was a resourceful girl. I’d have to be resourceful.

Chapter 1

The toast popped. I slipped it out and lay it on a napkin, smearing a thin layer of softened butter on it. I took a bite before setting it down to finish making my tea. When it was all ready, I gathered it up and took it out onto the back deck, settling in the lovely cushion on the big wicker chair that sat alone out there.

It was a beautiful day. I lifted my face to the sun, sighing as it warmed my cool skin. This deck was part of the reason I’d settled on this house. Its location was good, a nondescript neighborhood that was neither on the poor side of town nor the more affluent side of town. It was one of those neighborhoods where hard working people raised their families. People kept to themselves here. And the houses on either side of mine were empty—a bonus. I didn’t have to worry about anyone putting their noses in my business.

And I liked the mild Tennessee weather. It was nice to have my breakfast on the back deck this way and not have to worry about the summer heat cooking my fair skin.

I sat back and sipped my tea between bites of toast, thinking of the work I had to do today. There was the five-page essay on symbolism in Romeo and Juliet, and the bio-chem paper, but I’d finished that last night. A chemistry paper on the periodic table was due tomorrow. I could get a head start on that. And another English paper.

It was unethical to do someone’s homework for them, but I’d discovered you could make a crazy amount of money doing it. And when a person is trying to fly under the radar, making easy money over the internet is a must. And I figured anyone who could afford to pay my prices was never going to graduate with a legitimate diploma anyway. They’d just find someone else to do the work for them and what good would that do me?

A couple of hours of work and then I could settle down with that new novel that arrived in the mail yesterday. Sounded like a perfect day to me.

I was nearly finished with my breakfast when I heard a door slam. I jumped, always on edge whenever I heard a noise I wasn’t expecting. A dark head appeared over the low fence between my backyard and the one on the left, the house that was supposed to be empty for the foreseeable future. The real estate woman had said it was owned by a local man who was in the military.

I guessed he’d gotten out.

I could only see his head over the five-foot, cedar-plank fence. He was pacing, it seemed, moving up and down the length of the yard. But then his head bobbed up and down and I realized he was doing some sort of exercise. I watched, fascinated for reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain. He was a good-looking man, his jaw slender, his nose narrow, his eyes an intense blue that was almost the same depth as the morning sky. His hair was cut in a military style, a buzz cut that was almost gone on the sides, but slightly longer on the top. It fit the shape of his face, his high cheekbones.

But it wasn’t just that he was handsome. There was something about the expression on his face, the intensity with which he seemed to be looking at absolutely nothing. And his eyes were...I don’t know how to describe it. Gone, somehow.

There was pain in that expression. Pain that spoke to me somehow.

And then I shook myself.

Wild imagination. Too much time alone.

I gathered my things, shoving my napkin in the tea mug. I paused at the back door and looked back over my shoulder, telling myself I was just checking to make sure I had all I needed. He was watching me, something new flitting across his face as our gazes met. We stared at each other for a long second, something passing between us in that unspoken way that sometimes happens. Then he turned away, returning to whatever it was he’d been doing.

A shiver ran down my spine as I turned and let myself into the house.

It was just a look. Nothing more.

But it felt like so much more.

***

You have to balance the equation, William, I muttered to myself as I looked over a paper one of my clients had sent me in hopes that I could correct it for him. At least he was doing his own work, to some degree.

An email notification popped up on my screen as I worked out the problem on a piece of paper that I would scan into an email when I was finished. I clicked the link and read through the note, grimacing at the wrong use of ‘your’ in several places. What must these teachers think when these hopeless C-average students suddenly turned in an A paper? But students getting caught was not my problem. It was spelled out very carefully in the contract I made them sign.

My eyes were starting to feel sticky. I took off my glasses and rubbed them, deciding I’d had enough for the day. I’d written four papers and corrected five math papers. That was enough.

I turned off the computer and pushed away from the desk, picking up my glass to take to the kitchen. There wasn’t enough in the dishwasher to run it, so I simply set the glass inside and turned off the lights, crossing to the stairs that led up to the loft where my bedroom lay. I listened to my eighties playlist on Spotify while I worked out on the treadmill. And then I hopped in the shower—the hot water felt so incredible against my sore muscles.

My days were basically the same every day; the same routine. Now it was time to pull on my thin bathrobe and go stand on the balcony that overlooked the backyard for a few minutes, to lift my face to the stars and allow the slight breeze cool my skin. But when I opened the French