Sloan drove through downtown Minneapolis, weaving from one interstate to the next until they reached Abbey’s favorite restaurant. The moment they stepped inside they were shown to a private room. Filled glasses of champagne perched next to the most perfect table setting of ivory white dishes. Candles softly flickered giving the tiny room an intimate glow. Sloan pulled her chair out for her to sit in then circled the table to his seat. Once he was settled, he took her hand and caressed it. “You look exquisite, Luv.”
“Thank you. You look pretty sexy yourself,” she breathed in response.
“Not nearly as incredible as you. You look good enough to eat. And I plan on taking a bite later on tonight.”
Abbey shuddered at his playful threat. She was distracted by the waiter delivering their salads. Sloan stabbed the greens with his fork and took a healthy bite. Abbey just stared at hers. The thought of sex with Sloan sent delicious shivers up her spine. She was ready to skip dinner and head right for dessert.
Sloan put his fork down. “Is everything all right, Abigail?”
“It’s just fine.” She sent him a weak smile. “How is everything at work?”
“Everything is how it should be. Don’t fret your beautiful head. You’ll be back next week and I’ll catch you up on everything.”
Abbey watched him eat in silence for several moments before she spoke again. “Have you heard from Agent Dunham recently?”
Sloan frowned at her. “Why would I hear from him?”
“To give you an update on Torelli.”
“Abigail, we’re done with the CIA and Torelli. Let it rest.”
“You might be done. I’m not.”
Sloan’s ice blue eyes were full of fire as they locked on her. “Yes, you are.”
“Who are you to tell me that I’m done?”
“Your husband,” Sloan snorted.
“Not good enough.”
“All right. I am your husband, your lover, your master, your god, your father, your very soul. Good enough now?”
Hey everyone! Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This week’s word prompt is “ring”. I am stepping away from Gideon and Emma this week. Instead, I am offering a sneak peek of the Fifth Book in the Black Irish Series, The Assassin.
Sloan’s eyes scanned the hills for where the shot had come from. His heart thundered in his chest. Pink paintball paint? Could it be?
He caught sight of a hooded figure in crème robes struggling up the crags in retreat, a sniper rifle firmly in their grip. Without thinking, he started in a sprint after the figure, leaping onto the rocky terrain without slowing down. The faint voices of Bartholomew and Robert echoed behind him as he ran. It was evident the shooter was extremely familiar with the terrain but it didn’t stop Sloan from gaining ground. He was stronger, his stride was longer and he was on a mission. He had to know where the pink paint came from.
When he reached the first ridge he was only yards from the shooter. He pushed himself a little harder to catch up. Once he was a little over an arm’s length away he grabbed the attacker’s robe and flung them to the ground. The rifle scuttled away from them.
The hooded figure slowly rose their hands in surrender. In the brilliant sunlight something glinted on a thin, delicate finger. Abbey’s wedding ring. The voice that came from beneath the cloak made Sloan’s heart slam in his chest. It was soft, barely audible and oh so feminine. “I know you’re going to kill me for what I’ve done. Go ahead. I don’t regret it and I’m not ashamed. But please grant me one act of mercy. I’m American and I know you can contact the United States. Please contact my husband. He is Sloan O’Riley, a billionaire. He lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He owns Sloan Enterprises. Don’t ask for ransom. Please, just tell him that I love him. I love him more than my life. And tell him I am so sorry for hurting him. I was so stupid. Please tell him I am so sor…” Abbey’s words were cut off by a sob.
Sloan started to shake as tears welled in his eyes. Kneeling before him was his precious wife. He thought she was dead. He mourned her. Now she was on her knees preparing to die at an insurgent’s hand and her last thought?
Sloan couldn’t wait any longer. He gripped Abbey’s hood and tore it back. She blinked against the blinding sunlight. Her face was gaunt and darkened from hours living in the sun. “S-s-sloan?”
He turned to find Bartholomew and Robert peaking the ridge breathlessly. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you realize some terrorist could just shoot you dead up here?” Robert scolded between pants.
“It’s Abbey!” Sloan near shouted. “I found her. She was the one…”
He turned back to Abbey so he could pull her to her feet and into his arms. Instead he found her lying on the ground unconscious.
Happy Tuesday everyone and welcome to Tuesday Tales! I am back with my Steampunk Romance. The last couple of weeks I stepped back to a spot I missed. Now I am back on track with Gideon and Emma hiding away in their cottage.
Moonlight reflecting on the snow outside filled the little cottage with a brilliant white light. Gideon slowly, carefully slid from the bed, gazing at Emma naked and deep asleep. He sighed deeply. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Without a noise he tugged on his trousers and shutter-stepped from the bedroom.
It had been two weeks without word from Edgar and they spent every moment they could making love. But in the depths of the night Gideon would sneak away from their bed. Tossing more wood on the dying fire, he dug into the chest in the sitting area for the projects he was tinkering with. He pulled free an object wrapped in a white cloth then searched for the rest of his tools. Once everything was gathered, he stood and shuffled to the table.
Gideon unwrapped the cloth, revealing the remains of the brass spider. Parts has already been reassembled, leaving a lopsided, five legged creature. He picked up his goggles, tugged them on, then began to work.
Diligently working on his task, Gideon was able to repair the damaged brass spider. It stared back at him lifeless. A soft whirl beneath his feet caught his attention. Glancing down, he found his other creatures at his feet waiting patiently for the rebirth of their friend. Gideon smiled at them.
“Do not worry, little ones,” he whispered. “He will be back with you soon. I need only one more ingredient to bring him back to life and I will get it tomorrow. I need it for this also.”
He stood and crossed back to the chest with the brass animals following. Kneeling at the wooden box he opened it. He reached in and pulled free a white rose made of silk and brass, just like the red one he created for Sophia. The hum of the creatures made him smile. “Yes, I think it’s beautiful too. Now, off to bed before you wake your mistress and ruin my surprises.”
The brass animals spun away in different directions as Gideon gathered his work and tucked it away. Softly padding into the bedroom, he slipped into the bed next to Emma and pulled her close. Her soft snore told his she was still fast asleep. With a content smile he joined her.
Gideon could tell something was wrong as he studied the front door of the townhouse. It was cracked open ever so slightly. He knew for certain he had closed and locked it. Emma had left through the back doors. He gently nudged Emma behind him. She clenched the items they had purchased to her as she peeked around his shoulder. “What is it?” she breathed.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered as he cautiously approached the building. Nudging the door open with the toe of his boot, he stepped inside.
Gideon’s breath caught in his throat. Everything in the place was in shambles. The sheets on the bed were slashed to shreds. Bookshelves were overturned, books and stacks of paper were lying everywhere. His workbench was lying on its side and his lone bottle of absinthe was shattered on the floor, the thick, emerald liquid in a puddle full of glass shards. He turned as he heard a sob.
Emma knelt on the floor, her small, delicate hands cupping the remains of Gideon’s brass spider. She pressed a careful kiss to the cold metal. Several of Gideon’s other brass creations scuttled around her knees, whirling a mournful sound at the loss of their friend.
“These men are ruthless,” she whimpered.
“These men knew you were here,” Gideon warned.
“I am sorry.”
“No apologies. But we need to go before they come back.” Gideon tugged her to her feet despite the creatures’ protest.
Emma glanced around her feet. “We cannot leave them.”
“Then box them up.” Gideon nodded to the parts in her hands. “That one too. But hurry. I will go and prepare our transportation. We need to hide until Edgar can bring us news.”
Hey everyone! It’s time for Tuesday Tales! This week’s word prompt is “gray”. Since I left last week in sort of a cliffhanger, I’m back with my small town MMA romance The Fighter.
Don’t forget to check out the other awesome authors of Tuesday Tales!
Buddy cracked a grin at Reese. “I don’t think the Sheriff will bother you.”
Reese frowned at him. “Why not?”
“Your dad would have to be dead to arrest you for murder.”
“He’s not dead?”
“Nope. You beat him within an inch of his life. But no. Howard Cooper is alive and well and living in Braden.”
“Yeah, well I can still be arrested for assault.”
Buddy shook his head, his thick hair rustling as he did. “Your dad’s neighbor told the Sheriff your dad took the first swing. The first half dozen actually. You only fought back because you had to.”
Reese slumped onto a bar stool as he stared into space. He never had to run. But it would have been nice if the nosy old neighbor Daryl Cox would have shot his mouth off when his dad broke his arm when he was twelve. “So, who’s still around?”
“Pretty much the whole gang. You’re the only one who left.”
Reese paused for a moment. “Even Lily Dixon?”
Buddy cocked a curious eyebrow. “The preacher’s daughter?”
“She left Braden to go to the University then came home. She’s the town librarian.”
A smile slipped across Reese’s face. It was the first one since he stepped foot in this cursed town. “Huh. Good to know.”
Buddy wiped his hands on his gray T-shirt. “Did you want to get settled?”
Buddy dug his hand into his pocket, retrieving his keys. He handed them to Reese. “Two-ten Pine. Two blocks that way.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder.
“I know where Pine is, Buddy. I was born here, remember.”
“It’s been awhile. You’ve taken a few shots to the head since. Go drop your stuff off and come back. First beer is on me.”
Reese stood then picked up his bags. “I appreciate it, man.”
With a final forced smile Reese shuffled out into the spring sunshine.