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  Colt took in a deep breath. There was no point in sitting here making wild guesses. It was time to face Grace. He made his way back to the bedroom. They had better get dressed. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate otherwise. He entered the room.

  “Grace, we need to talk.”

  He averted his gaze. If he looked at her, he’d lose it. He’d either pounce on her and demand an explanation or fuck her senseless. Neither option seemed liked a good idea. He had to keep his cool. He threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt. When he finally faced her, she had also put on the t-shirt he’d given her the previous night.

  Colt headed for the kitchen and motioned for Grace to follow him. She did without a word, her bare feet slapping against the floor, a gentle reminder of the intimacy they’d shared. Colt pulled out a chair for her. Picking one for himself, he sat opposite her, straddling it. He drank in her appearance. She chewed on her bottom lip, but stared back at him without a hint of bashfulness. Her hair was mussed, her eyes heavy-lidded, and her cheek beginning to bruise from the ordeal with Misha. Her knees were red and chafed, no doubt worse off from their hard fuck of the previous night. His cock twitched at the memory. Colt fisted his hands. He yearned to just pull her into his lap and kiss her senseless until the world around him vanished and the sick feeling she’d tricked him, that something was wrong, vanished completely.

  Instead, he squared his shoulders, narrowed his eyes, and spoke.

  “I just made a very interesting call to my boss. Apparently, he knows you.”

  Grace dipped her head.

  “You don’t deny it.”

  “No, Colt. I don’t.”

  The invisible blade of a knife cut into his gut. He didn’t even have to tell her his name. She knew.

  “How?”

  “Colt, I—” She covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook.

  Colt shook his head. The memory of her doing the same thing the night before assaulted him. He racked his brain for more details. Had there been tears? When she’d uncovered her face, had it been wet?

  “Look at me, Grace.”

  She ignored him. Colt stood up. He gripped her wrist. Grace dropped her hands. Not a trace of tears.

  “What’s going on, ang—Grace.” He stopped himself from using her pet name just in time. This was not the moment to be sweet or understanding. His emotions had to take a backseat.

  Grace sighed.

  “Will you at least sit down again?”

  “Stop stalling, Grace, or I will kick you out of here and take you back to whoever is trying to kill you, right now.”

  Grace bit her lip.

  “No one is trying to kill me, Colt.”

  Colt froze. Blood rushed in his ears. Nausea rose to the back of his throat. He hadn't heard correctly, had he?

  “What do you mean no one is trying to kill you?

  “I faked it.”

  Colt grabbed a chair and settled on it. His angel had faked her attack? Why? What else was she hiding from him? His chest hurt as if someone was slicing through it with a blunt knife. How could he have been so stupid to trust anyone? The world he lived in was one of death, danger, and he’d made a rookie mistake by letting this woman enter it. His boss had been right, he’d let himself be deceived by a hot piece of ass.

  “You need to leave.”

  “Please, Colt. Hear me out. I beg you.”

  He clenched his teeth. Rationally, he should deny her request. Avoid being spun more into her web, but he couldn’t say no. Not when her blue eyes shone clear like the sky. When the bruise on her face was stark against her pale skin. He needed to know more, to understand.

  “Talk, woman,” he demanded.

  “It’s business, Colt.” She folded her hands in front of her. “As you know, my father had a successful freight business. I was the eldest child and was always interested in being a part of it, but my papa wouldn’t hear of it. I was a girl. Girls didn’t do business. I had to do something girly, feminine.”

  “Social work.”

  She shrugged. “For him, yes, that was girly enough. Although, it’s a hard job. It requires a strength of character few have. It also opens doors to meet people. People you otherwise wouldn’t meet.”

  “Like my boss.”

  “Precisely. He had some people in prison and well, it doesn’t matter.” Grace tapped her foot on the floor a few times. “We hit it off. We were from the same city. He knew about my dad’s business, had always wanted to have a share in it. I promised I’d help him if he helped me. He suggested I contact you, a hitman.”

  “Huh?”

  “For a hit on my father.”

  Colt’s jaw dropped.

  “But—”

  “You have to understand, Colt, I never had much love for the old man. He beat my mother and cheated on her repeatedly. He didn’t give a damn about me or my brother. ’Specially me. I saw him once or twice every few years, if at all. Every time, I begged him to let me in on the business, but he wouldn’t. He’d mock me. Insult me. One time, I even made a full-blown presentation on how to expand the business and what did I get? A big ‘no, thank you.’ But, check it out, next thing I know, he’s implementing my idea under his own name.”

  Grace slammed her hand on the table.

  “Instead of including his daughter, he steals from her.” She swallowed hard, her face a mask of pain and resentment. “I’d had enough, Colt. Your boss offered me a business deal. One I couldn’t refuse. It was perfect for the business, the people working there. It would help everyone. The only obstacle was my father.”

  “So you had him killed.”

  “Yes.” She paused. “I couldn’t do it myself, couldn’t call you, as it would have led the police back to me if anything went wrong, but your boss had the connections. He offered to call you himself.” Grace smiled. “You did a great job.”

  Colt nodded.

  “Thank you.” He sucked in his cheeks, giving himself a moment to compose his thoughts. Everything was happening so fast. Too fast. And then there was them. He thought he’d been seducing her. Had he been wrong all along? “I still don’t see how this happened.” He pointed to her and then back to him.

  Grace bit her lip.

  “You were an accident. Something unplanned.” She raised her hand. “Please, let me explain. Once my father died, Bruno was named sole proprietor. I had hoped it would be easy to convince my brother to pass the business on to me. The brat has never been interested in taking the lead, only in reaping the benefits. I offered him a monthly allowance, but he refused. He was spooked both by the murder and the memory of my father.” Grace leaned forward. “So, I thought of another plan. Something to push him over the edge. I figured if my brother got a little, um, scare, he might give in. I made him believe someone powerful wanted the business and that was why papa had been killed, because he had refused. He wouldn’t believe me, so to prove my point, we hired Misha.”

  “But Misha hurt you. How was that going to spur your brother into giving the business to you?”

  “Yes. I guess he got a little carried away.” She frowned. “Although my brother bears no great love for me. You saw how he hired some bodyguards for himself, but never once offered them to me.” Grace sighed. “In any case, it was the message of fear. First papa, then me, then him.”

  Anger slammed into Colt. He’d been fooled. He thought Grace was a victim, an innocent in all this. He’d been wrong.

  “You played me.”

  “No.” She reached for him, but Colt withdrew his hand. “No.” Her gaze softened. “Please, let me finish. When I arranged for your boss to organize things with Misha, he told me the attack on my person would come at an unexpected date or time to make everything more believable. It was a coincidence he did it during our date night.”

  Colt let out a long breath.

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes widened, pleadingly. “I didn’t know you, Colt.”

  “I introduced myself at the fu
neral.”

  “I didn’t make the connection between you and my father until much later, when you shot Misha.”

  Colt shook his head.

  “I promise.”

  “When we first met, I thought you were, um, very attractive.” She blushed. “But I also thought I’d never see you again. Then, you reappeared at the bookshop.”

  “You said you were looking for something to take your mind off things.”

  “And I was. Why else would I have been in the erotic romance shelf if not? When I said I wanted you to make me forget, I meant it. I wanted to get away from all these problems and sink into you, your presence, your arms. Everything about you calls to me to come closer. Probably more than I should, considering you killed my father, but there’s something about you—” She bit her lip. “It’s more than just the sex, even if that is really hot. It’s you.” She waved her hand in front of him. “You, Colt.”

  “Fuck.”

  Colt ran his fingers through his hair. He stood up and paced the room. What did he say to that? He felt the same way. He’d been obsessed with Grace from the instant he saw her. He’d trailed her, followed her around like a sick pervert. If he hadn’t shown up at the bookshop nothing would have happened between them. But he’d gone anyway. Why? He glanced at Grace. She hadn’t moved from her seat. Her face was drawn, mouth downcast, and eyes beseeching him. He clenched his fists. He ached to pull her into his arms and kiss away that sadness, those worries. Colt sat back down.

  “And what do you propose we do, angel?”

  The corner of her lips lifted. Hope shone through her. Grace inched closer.

  “Now we see where this takes us.” Her fingers brushed against his, seeking and finding. He grasped her hand, holding it firmly in his. Electricity seemed to travel across his limbs, sending his heart into a wild tattoo.

  “And your brother and the business?” Colt asked.

  “Well, he’s probably paranoid about where I am right now, but he couldn’t have called the police as you have to wait twenty-four hours before reporting a missing person.” She splayed her other palm on the table. “I’ll work it out with him.” She dipped her gaze. “I’m more concerned about us. I don’t want this to end, Colt.” Her voice cracked.

  “I don’t know what I can offer you, Grace.”

  “You, Colt. That’s all I’m asking. Let me know you better. Let me love you.”

  His heart jolted. Love. Who spoke of love in such a short time? People who didn’t know how long they were going to live. Whose life was an uncertainty day after day. That was who.

  Colt ran his fingers through his hair. His chest tightened. Love. He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. Maybe he’d be called for a new hit, or maybe someone would come kill him. He might even end up in prison. Worse, if Grace was doing business with his boss, then she, too, was getting into shady stuff. They couldn’t love each other, could they?

  “Grace, I can’t offer you a happily ever after. Hell, I don't know if I can offer you a tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. For the first time, he saw tears glistening in her eyes

  “What about a now?”

  He squeezed her hand. It was warm. Soft. A lifeline. Love sounded wonderful. It sounded like the kind of thing that would keep him alive. The reason that would make him want to come home. To his angel. To his Grace.

  When you find an angel you must cherish and love it with all your heart because you never know when they’ll go back to heaven.

  Colt reached for her. He drew her into his lap. She snuggled into his arms. It was natural. Perfect. The way it should always be. He kissed her, surprised to find wetness. With the pad of his thumb, he brushed the tear away.

  “I can give you a now, angel. I can give you a present and I can promise you every moment we spend together will be worthwhile. That I will love you, cherish you, every instant we share. Until death tears us apart.”

  The End

  www.evernightpublishing.com/elyzabeth-m-valey

  ELI LOGAN’S RETURN

  Lila Shaw

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Paige stared at the page, squinting harder this time. She couldn’t make out even a single letter. As if the degenerative blindness wasn’t bad enough, both of her corneas had been damaged in the explosion. Faces were nothing but flesh-colored blurs. Words on a page she could manage if the font was in the sixty to seventy-point range. There was little mystery in this particular text, however. Someone wanted money from her. The logo was large and bright enough for her to discern its sender: the hospital that had treated her.

  “Bloodsuckers!” She tossed the pages to the side and extracted the next piece of correspondence. Special magnifying glass in hand, she lowered her face until nearly making contact and began to read.

  “Lookee here, Daisy. This one is from Eli’s insurance company. Maybe we’ll have better news.” A yellow labrador stood from where she had been lying on the floor at Paige’s feet and growled. “Oh, hush, now. Maybe they’ll finally be paying up on his life insurance policy. Hmm? You think?”

  Daisy rested her head on Paige’s knee and whined but had nothing further to say on the topic. No need. Paige knew how Daisy felt about Eli. No love lost between the two of them. Paige was thankful that animosity had kept Daisy safe and alive. Eli, however, hadn’t been so fortunate. They hadn’t recovered his body yet, but he was presumed dead. Paige had cried when she learned he was missing, but that had been an isolated demonstration of grief. In its place had come an overwhelming sense of relief … and guilt. Guilt that she didn’t care as much as she should and even greater guilt that she was glad he was out of her life, even if he’d had to die for that to happen.

  Paige moved the magnifying glass over each word, reading them aloud as she did.

  “Dear Ms. Dancey, we have investigated your request, but, unfortunately, can find no evidence of an in-force policy on Mr. Eli Logan. Your policy remains in force until the end of this month, but payment to renew…” Paige sighed and continued. “If you wish to continue coverage, your immediate remittance of the overdue premium…”

  Paige wadded up the paper and tossed it in the direction of the trash bin. A soft thud told her she’d hit her mark. “Still got it, Daisy-girl.” She slumped in her chair, arms crossed at her chest, pondering her fire and frying pan situation.

  “Dammit!” She abruptly stood, causing Daisy to scramble out of her way, nails clicking and sliding on the hardwood flooring. “Damn you, Eli! Why was there no policy? You nearly drained our bank account, too. Were you having money problems I didn’t know about? Why were we on that boat? What were you running from, and why did you insist I join you, but leave Daisy home?”

  The questions came nightly and kept her awake for hours. In addition to Eli’s motives, what had happened on that boat two months ago? How had she survived and presumably Eli perished? The police told her the boat’s hull had been breached from the inside, not the outside. How had that happened? Had it been sabotage? By whom and why?

  After those questions came the more current, pressing ones. Where would she get the money to pay her rent and other expenses? If she was kicked out, where would she go? She had no close family. Eli had slowly scared off all of her friends. And she’d let him. Just like that. She’d let him bully her into isolation on the promise he’d always take care of her. And look where that got her.

  Once upon a time she’d loved him and made excuses for his behavior.

  Once upon a time.

  She should have left him before their relationship had deteriorated to the point it had, before the retinitis pigmentosa had stolen her peripheral vision and was marching inward to steal the rest, before she had been forced to rely on others, including Daisy, to help her with everyday activities.

  Now what? No insurance money from Eli’s policy. No money from Eli to support her. Her health insurance refused to cover laser surgery to fix the damage done by the explosion. They coldly informed her tha
t her pre-existing condition gave them an out. Why pay to fix something that was destined to fail, surgery or not? All she had was her disability check. She didn’t know Braille, could barely get around even with Daisy’s help. At least she had Daisy. Thank goodness she’d fought hard for that brief snippet of insight and backbone. If Eli had had his way, she’d be stuck at home with a cane she hadn’t yet learned to use.

  Daisy’s nails clicked against the floor as she joined her mistress, who paced in front of the coffee maker while it heated up.

  She had Medicaid, but if recent political currents prevailed, she might lose that, too. Then where would she be? She was only twenty-five with less than two thousand dollars in the bank, no other assets besides Daisy, mounting debts, no job prospects, and certainly no husband prospects. She had e-mailed her local Lighthouse and Low Vision support organizations, but who knew how long that would take or even how much help they might be able to provide. The only living relative she knew of was a cousin who lived three hours away in a different state. They hadn’t interacted since her childhood.

  Paige’s coffee maker stopped growling and vibrating, indicating its readiness. She reached into the drawer for a coffee pod. At first her fingers found nothing, until finally, in the far corner, she found one. Would it be one of her favorites or one of Eli’s?

  Daisy began to bark and whine. Paige grasped her harness as the unmistakable sound of a key entering the front door lock caught her ear. She froze. Daisy stopped barking, but began to pant and whine, her muscles coiled with anticipation. Who besides Eli had a key? Her landlord?

  The door lock clicked. Daisy moved to bolt forward, but Paige checked her.

  No sound but the panting of the dog, the slow turning of the doorknob and her own heart pounding in her chest.