Rendezvous Read online

  Having her here reminds me just how much I need Aggie. Although the idea that she is encouraging my need for vengeance is a bit scary. Aggie is not a woman whose bad side you want to encounter. Believe me when I say that woman can snap a switch like nobody’s business. The idea that she has such a disdain for a woman that she’s never even met speaks volumes. I can always count on Aggie to be in my corner, even if it means doing something unforgivable. Of course she knows all about Darla. I’ve never been able to keep a secret from Aggie. I wanted her to love Bentley as much as I do, so that meant Aggie had to know the hell Bentley has suffered and the small details that painted the picture of the woman she has become.

  2 Months Later

  Five months...it’s been five fucking months and not a damn thing. Our leads are fizzling, our tempers are on high, and I’m starting to feel like a hopeless bastard. Aggie has done her best to keep our spirits up. Three months ago, we had a five-man team working around the clock to find Darla. Now we’re down to three with just Aggie, Cage and me. Dante still comes now and again, but you can tell the lack of progress is taking its toll on him. He started pushing everyone away a few weeks after Bentley took off. He’s been blaming himself ever since the day she left because he thinks if he’d never let anyone know where she was in the first place, then she would still be here safe with him. The problem with that logic is she would have never been mine. That’s just not something I can accept.

  A week ago, we got another hit on Darla. We received intel that the bitch managed to leave the country. While we know she used a fake passport, the guy who she bought it from wasn’t very informative. He said he didn’t know where she was headed or if she was planning to return to the states. He lied though, not that it mattered. By the time I was done questioning him, the DEA was knocking on his door, and I was slipping out his bedroom window.

  Aggie and Cage insist I keep up appearances so that if something happens to her, the suspicion won’t be on me. I hate it though because I should be there strategizing with them and coming up with ideas to find her. Instead, I'm playing the part of a coveted cover model, being groped and ogled as I travel around with Electra. My only consolation is that when we find her, she’s mine. That cunt has a world of hurt coming, and she’s going to get every bit of it. I know it’s wrong to hit a woman. Aggie drilled it into my head at a very young age. Though Darla is no woman; she’s a fucking monster. She gets off on the pain and suffering of her daughter and it’s only fair she be treated the same.

  These are the thoughts I have as I get home after a two-week hiatus, and make my way to my bedroom. It’s some fucked up hour of the morning as I crawl into my bed hoping that for once sleep will just come easily. The Jack is a welcoming warmth, burning its way down my throat in an attempt to ease the dull aching in my chest. Rolling over to face the window, I swear I see a flash of light coming from Bentley’s bedroom. There is just a small flicker before it’s gone and I’m on my feet. I know it’s likely my imagination playing tricks, but if there’s even the smallest chance she’s there, I need to see. Hell, at this point, I’ll take anyone as long as it gives me an excuse to unleash some of this pain. Pulling a pair of jeans on, I slip down the stairs, grab my keys, and head for her front door.

  Bentley

  I know I shouldn’t be here. It sounds silly scolding myself, especially when I’m in my own house, but who the fuck knows who might be watching it. I was careful though. I parked the rental car a few blocks over and cut through the backyards so I could enter from the back. I don’t need any lights except for my bedroom and I just need the light long enough to click it and grab the shades and I’ll be good.

  Ever since I left, I have been beating myself up for being so reckless. I was in such a hurry to leave that I forgot something that would lead straight to me. It is a box of documents for an identity not really my own. Years ago, when I first started hiding, I created a persona out of my pen name. No one knows it because I never told anyone the books were mine. Though under the floorboard beneath my bed is everything someone would need to find me. I just hope it is all still there and untouched.

  After moving everything around and grabbing the box with my bank documents and property title, I slip my bed back into place. A creak in the hall sets my nerves off as I reach for my newly acquired taser. I figured since my mother wanted to make a scene of my disappearance, I’d at least have a fighting chance with this. But now that she’s on the run, who knows what she’s capable of. I turn to face the door, waiting for my assailant. Instead, I’m met with something much worse.

  I can smell him before he ever steps through the doorway. You’d think he bathed in the liquor rather than drank it. As he stumbles through, I am faced with the shell of the man I love more than anyone in this world. He looks broken. His eyes are darkened like he hasn’t been sleeping. The liquor makes him fumble around, and his voice is hollow as he speaks.

  “My angel, is it really you? Are you haunting me now while I’m awake, as your memory does while I’m asleep? Just once, why can’t you be real? I need to feel you Bentley. I need to know you’re still alive. God, I need to know you’re alive. I need to know there is something left worth fighting for.”

  I hold back the tears threatening to break free. His words are like a knife through my heart. I never meant for him to be hurt. I just figured he would move on like everyone else. I want him to move on; I need him to find some kind of happiness, even if it kills me inside to know it isn’t with me. So I lie, figuring he is drunk enough he won’t remember in the morning anyway. Taking his hand, I lead him over to my bed and tuck him in as I say the words that will haunt me forever.

  “Tryst, baby, I’m gone. I’m never coming back. I need you to promise me you’ll start living again. You need to stop looking for me. There’s a girl out there waiting for you to give your heart to her, but you can’t if you won’t let me go. I love you, Tryst. I want you to be happy again.”

  I give him a kiss on the lips, letting them linger there a moment as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He is out cold before I make it to the door. As I sneak out the backdoor, the tears come in a fury.

  I have one more stop in this little town and then I will be on my way. I drop the box in a safe place to grab on my way back, and beeline through a few more backyards until I’m standing on Dante’s back steps. As I slide the letter out of my back pocket, I come to the realization that this night is one of the worst I’ve endured. Using the key I’ve had for the past seven years, I unlock the door and slip through.

  His house is quiet. Normally, even in the middle of the night, there’s some kind of noise. His prissy little bitch boy could never sleep in the silence, which makes me wonder where he is. Opening Dante’s door, I’m struck by a daunting image. My Dante looks ill. He looks like he hasn’t slept in months, even though he’s sound asleep in front of me. Sitting on the edge of his bed, I run my fingers through his hair. It’s grown since I last saw him. Normally he keeps it short and neat, only now it isn’t.

  I knew my leaving would be hard on him. I couldn’t tell him where I was going though. When I left, I didn’t even know where I was headed for sure myself, and I knew he’d never keep it a secret.

  I love Dante, but he’s terrible at keeping secrets. He stirs and lets out a small sound, a cry of mourning that shakes me from my daydream of happier times. I lay the envelope on his pillow and give his forehead a kiss before tiptoeing my way back out of his house.

  By the time I reach the car again my eyes are blurry, and I feel like the weight of the world has settled on my chest. I toss the box into the passenger seat as I get back into the rental car and head north again.

  Chapter 2

  Tristan

  I wake up in Bentley’s bed with a raging headache and a severe sense of loss. I try replaying how I got here and what happened, but for the life of me I can’t remember. There is one thing I am certain of though: Bentley was here. I can taste the cinnamon that always lingers on her lip
s, now on my own, and my lungs are flooded with her scent. A scent that had vacated this room some time ago yet is permeating it now. She was here, and now she isn’t. I want so badly to go back to last night, to tell her to stay. I vaguely remember her telling me she’s gone. Can I really believe she doesn’t want to be found? That’s the thing, I can’t. Maybe it’s my own selfishness, but I can’t let her go. So there’s no way I can believe she would really want me to walk away. There is one thing I do know though: Sitting in a drunken stupor isn’t going to get my baby back in my arms. She’s right, I do need to start living again or more accurately, I need to start fighting for what I want again.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, isn’t that what people say? Well I guess I’m pretty fucking desperate then. I never thought I’d use this number, as it has been in my phone for the past three years and never once have I dialed it. I told myself that Cage and I could handle this on our own, but I’m beginning to think I was lying to myself.

  About three years ago, I took off after finding the girl I thought I wanted to be with at the foot of my bed on her knees playing a game of 'hide the cock' with her mouth. I couldn’t stay, not without causing physical harm to either her or Cage. I was fucking pissed off more than anything else, and decided to fuck it all and just go. It’s not like I had anything holding me there anyway.

  I can’t even remember the name of the Mexican town I was in when Jacob showed up. Hell, I didn’t even know he existed. My father never spoke of my mother’s family. I never got to meet them, let alone know them. So when some dude started pounding on my door at 5:00 A.M., I was less than pleased. Apparently my mom had an older brother I never knew about and Jacob is my cousin. Aggie sent him to retrieve me. How the hell Aggie knew about him was beyond me. Though it turned out he was a tracker, one of the best in the fucking world. Where Cage is pretty good, Jacob is unstoppable. I was fucking livid when this asshole showed up on my doorstep demanding I return home. I said some shitty things to him before taking the card he handed me and slamming the door in his face.

  I didn’t need family, especially not when I spent years with Aggie because I was told I had no one else. My Uncle was willing to let me go into the system rather than take me the fuck in. It wasn’t until I came back to the states and visited Aggie that I learned the truth. My father had a living will stating they were all dead. After he disappeared, they went by that document rather than actually checking.

  I’ll admit I’m a prick. I didn’t care one lick that I had someone other than Aggie out there. I never thought I’d need anyone else, but I can’t find Bentley and I can’t find Darla. Jacob is the best. I know because I did my damn homework on him. Calling him is definitely a hit to my pride but fuck if I’m not elated when he says he’ll come help. So now here I am helping Aggie make a bed up for another house guest.

  It isn’t but a couple hours before there is a knock on the door. I step out of the dining room to see Aggie answer and greet Jacob.

  “I won’t be staying long, I just want to take a peek through her things and talk to a few people to get some information and then I’ll be gone,” he states with certainty.

  Stepping forward, I shake his hand firmly, “There’s no real hurry to find Bentley...I mean...yeah...I want to know where she is and that she’s safe, but its Darla we need to find. I’m not sure what will help you locate her though, I didn’t find anything in Bentley’s belongings.”

  “While I get that Darla is your priority, I can find her once I know that girl of yours is safe. I’d sleep a lot better at night knowing she’s not already being stalked. The Marshals haven’t found much to go on for Darla’s whereabouts, but I have it on good authority she never left the country. That means your Bentley isn’t safe.”

  Jacob’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was so sure Darla had left the country, and even more certain she wouldn’t return to the states anytime soon. But now hearing that she’s here, finding her is imperative. I just need to finalize what I plan to do with her once I have her.

  Bentley

  It’s taken a little while, but I’ve finally settled in. I check in on Facebook every once in a while to see how everyone is. I don’t dare contact anyone, but it makes me feel closer to them, knowing what is happening in their lives. I’m happy to see that Dante and Tristan are doing better since my visit. Dante even left a shout out for me in case I saw it.

  I never liked it up North, but this place is kind of magical around the holidays, so at least I have that to look forward to. It’s also nice that the locals are pretty protective of their own. They were a bit weary of me when I first bought my cabin, but that changed pretty quickly. I know the locals all pretty well now and even help out here and there when I can.

  But it’s still hard to be away from the people I love. I didn’t know how difficult it would be to walk away from Tristan. I tell myself it will get easier every day, but that’s a fucking lie. It hasn’t gotten any easier at all, especially not when I know he’s out there, hopefully trying to find a way to live his life again...without me.

  I was able to finish a book I’ve been meaning to wrap up since last year. I haven’t written as Lena in a long time, but now that I had to effectively become her, it made it easier. The new novel gave me a way to reconnect with some of my social networking friends that don’t know I’m Bentley. It a small solace to able to keep up with some of the things happening in the world I left behind.

  I was asked by a blogger if I’d be interested in attending a book signing next month. I know I won’t be able to, but I still asked for the information anyway. It brightened my day a bit to learn that Tristan would be there with Ele, and that he had signed on with four new authors to be on their covers. I thought knowing that he was keeping busy would ease the pain in my chest, but the idea of him forgetting me isn’t something I am ready to face.

  I have only been to this town a handful times. I bought my cabin here years ago and usually come up around the holidays when Dante goes back home to visit his family. I know a few of the locals pretty well and have grown fairly close to Tony over the years. He is like the big brother I always wanted, but never had. Whenever he notices me getting unwanted attention, he puffs his chest out and pushes the fuckers away.

  He’s great like that.

  I don’t see Tony as I step into the bistro he owns. Instead, there is a preppy looking guy behind the counter trying his luck with a couple of college girls. I take my normal seat and look over the menu, not that I need to. I almost always order the same thing. When I deviate, it is only because Tony insists. Pretty boy must have gotten rejected because the girls are walking out the door and he is sauntering over to my table.

  “Hey there little lady,” He croons while sitting across from me. “I think my night just got lucky.”

  I look up from the folder, check him over once, and return to my menu. “I don’t know what you think is lucky about it. You just got shot down by two girls who are probably even hornier than you are, and you’re attempting to run your cheesy game on me. If anything, I’d say your luck is shit.”

  “Aww, come on now. Don’t be like that. No girl eats dinner alone unless she’s looking to hook up,” he replies, before taking inventory of our surroundings. “I don’t see anyone coming to join you, therefore you’re either hard up or you’re playing hard to get. So which one is it sweetheart? Because I can scratch any itch you might have.”

  I laugh at the idiocy of his statement. “I’m not hard up and as far as being hard to get, I’m damn near impossible. While we’re on that subject though…” I say leaning across the table. “I can probably get more satisfaction out of my pinky here than I could from the few measly inches your packing. I can tell from here you’re hard, yet you’re barely even making a dent in those 1950s style pleated pants you’re wearing. Where the fuck do you shop? You look like you borrowed your wardrobe from Mr. Rogers.”

  “Damn. You know, I like my women feisty. I bet you’re a kinky little v
ixen in the sack. You can sit there and say 'no' to me all you want, but I can have your body screaming 'yes' in minutes.”

  “The closest thing you’ve probably ever come to kinky is talking dirty to your hand as you’re using it to fuck yourself. Now if you don’t mind, why don’t you go waddle back behind that counter and daydream yourself up some girl who’d give you the time of day. Because the only way some pansy ass pipsqueak like you is getting a girl to scream is if you’re paying her to do it.”

  I want to say so much more, but Tony chose this as a good moment to grace us with his presence. The dipshit sitting across from me was trying to think up something witty to say as Tony cracked him upside the back of his head. It took all of three seconds for that horny little fucker to vacate his seat.

  “Wasn’t expecting to see you here for a few more weeks. Everything going okay?” he asks with concern in his voice.

  I assure him that everything is fine, and that I just decided to take an extended vacation. I know he doesn’t believe the bullshit story I feed him, but he doesn’t push me on it either. If there is one thing he understands, it’s that I value my privacy.

  Chapter 3

  Tristan

  An author signing is the last thing I would have planned, but Ele asked me to come with her and Aggie thinks it would be good for me. I don’t have the heart to disappoint the woman, so I hope going makes her happy. I smile as I think of the first time I met Bentley. It was at a signing all too much like this one. I know she won’t be here, but just maybe someone will let her know I’m trying to live again. I am surprised to see so many authors who I know she had been on friendly terms with, and I can’t help but ask if any of them had been in contact with her.