Mister Black: A Billionaire SEAL Story Part 1 (In the Shadows) Read online

  Mister Black: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 1 (In the Shadows)

  P.T. Michelle

  (2014)

  * * *

  Tags: romance

  romancettt

  ** This is a NEW ADULT contemporary mystery/thriller romance meant for readers 18+ **

  We all have someone who crossed our path and fundamentally changed us. That one person who blew through our lives, their presence forever stamped on our psyche. They linger in our thoughts, in our hearts, and in the decisions we make. A soul crusher or a dream maker, depending on the perspective.

  My person is MISTER BLACK.

  I didn’t know him by that name when I first met him.

  I didn’t know him at all, but the impression he left behind was just as powerful as the name I call him today.

  He is Black: a deadly enforcer and masterful seducer.

  I am Red: a justice bleeder and willing participant.

  Together we are passion. Colors colliding through each other’s lives.

  When our secrets converge in a passionate encounter,

  stepping out of the shadows just might be worth the risk

  We all have someone who crossed our path and fundamentally changed us. That one person who blew through our lives, their presence forever stamped on our psyche. They linger in our thoughts, in our hearts, and in the decisions we make. A soul crusher or a dream maker, depending on the perspective.

  My person is Mister Black.

  I didn’t know him by that name when I first met him.

  I didn’t know him at all, but the impression he left behind was just as powerful as the name I call him today.

  He is Black: a deadly enforcer and masterful seducer.

  I am Red: a justice bleeder and willing participant.

  Together we are passion. Colors colliding through each other’s lives.

  When our secrets converge in a passionate encounter, stepping out of the shadows just might be worth the risk

  2014 by P.T. Michelle

  All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook cannot be re-sold or given away to others. No parts of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Interior formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs

  To stay informed when the next IN THE SHADOWS book will be released, join P.T. Michelle’s free newsletter

  “I hate him. I hate him, I hate both of them.” The words seethe from my mouth in a hiss as I barrel through the unforgiving, frigid downpour. Water sloshes inside my holey tennis shoes with each pounding slap against the trash-strewn sidewalk. I have no idea how far I’ve run. A couple miles? Ten? It feels like forever. A car drives past, its wheels splashing up a spray of water. I barely give it a glance. I breathe in short, rampant pants, my chest folding inward, crushing my heart. Images of little Amelia’s chubby cheeks, pale blonde hair, and chocolate brown eyes flicker through my mind in a torturous, endless loop.

  She was so very still. She’s gone now. All because of innocence and curiosity.

  No—because of spineless weakness and indifference.

  I’ll never hear her say “Talia” again or feel her sweet arms clutching me tight as I lift her into a hug. I choke up again.

  Nausea churns in my belly.

  I stumble as my thighs begin to shake.

  Before my legs give out completely, I slow to a brisk walk-run and wrap my arms around my quaking body. The light from the car’s taillights fades, while the cold rain mats the hair that has unraveled from my braid to the sides of my face. Welcoming the harsh pelting, I rip at the elastic on the end of my hair, then tear my fingers through the thick braid, yanking the long red locks free.

  An hour ago, I’d rushed straight to my personal sanctuary like I always did when I needed to calm down or think. The fire escape outside my window couldn’t soothe my shredded emotions this time, but it did give me an exit from my life. I couldn’t climb down fast enough. And now I’m standing here in the freezing rain without a coat. Not a very smart move for someone who never plans to return.

  When I see a man lying on a tattered couch butted against the curb up ahead, my insides tense. I glance around, trying to make sense of the neighborhood I’ve stumbled into. It’s in the same rundown state as my neighborhood on the Lower East Side, but nothing looks familiar.

  I straighten my spine and keep up my brisk pace. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see that you’re afraid. All I want to do is call my aunt, but I don’t know what to say. How to begin? At this point she’s already home from her shift. Little Amelia. Oh, God. I squeeze my eyes closed briefly and whimper. Aunt Vanessa could’ve done better than her stuck-in-a-rut boyfriend, since all Walt had going for him when they first met was steady work as a carpenter. But becoming Amelia’s “mother”—whose real mother skipped out on Walt when Amelia was just four months old—seemed to help my aunt finally find some contentment. With Amelia in our lives, she’d been much more laidback and less intense.

  Somewhere in the distance a police siren goes off, making me jump. I immediately want to run, but force myself to stay calm and keep up my steady pace. I have no idea where I’m going. Just away from the siren.

  As I pass the bum, even in the rain I smell his stench. I wrinkle my nose and hold my breath while I keep moving forward. Suddenly a hand grabs my shoulder, tugging me around.

  “Hey, you got any change?”

  While he stares at me, I throw my hands wide, partly to shrug off his hold, but also to look aggressive and confident as pent-up rage and anxiety spikes. “Do I look like I have any change on me?” He might have a scraggly beard and need a bath, but he’s the one wearing a freaking coat and knit cap, while I’m in skinny jeans and a thin sweatshirt in a forty-degree downpour.

  His watery green eyes slide to the thin gold chain with two floating heart charms around my neck. “You could give me that.”

  “Yeah, right.” When I turn to walk away, he grabs my arm.

  “Come on, kid. I know you could get another one.”

  “Let go of me!” I try to sound tough, tugging hard against the man’s tight hold.

  When he starts to reach for the delicate chain, I wrench out of his grasp and take off in the direction I’d come from. He’ll have to rip it off me. My aunt worked two jobs to buy me the necklace for my eleventh birthday. She gave it to me two years ago, not long after we moved in with Walt and Amelia. “The second charm is for Amelia,” she’d said. “When she’s old enough, I’ll buy her a necklace and you can give her one of the hearts. Then, the two girls in my life will have a matching pair.”

  Ill-fitted boots clomp,clomp on the pavement not far behind me, knotting my stomach. He’s surprisingly fast for a guy who loafs around all day. Just when he catches up to me, someone calls out in a strong voice, “Leave her alone, Harry.” We both stop on the sidewalk.

  The rain slows to a lighter shower as the guy chasing me swivels around. He snorts at the older teen, who’s staring at him across the roof of an idling black Beamer.

  “Well lookee who’s come a slummin’. It’s been a while, Blackie.” He lifts his bearded chin toward the car. “Why don’t you give me some money instead?”

  The guy snorts and slams his car do
or, then comes around the front of the car. “So you can go buy some liquor with it? I don’t think so.” He fishes his hand in his front jean pocket, pulls out a receipt and hands it to the guy. “Take this up to Jake’s Diner. I’ve paid for you to have ten meals. If you hurry, you can grab your first one tonight before they close.”

  Harry grunts, then snatches the receipt, tucking it in his pocket. He doesn’t even look twice at me as he passes, apparently taking the guy up on his offer without so much as a thank you.

  Once the homeless man turns up another street, the guy looks at me. “I’ve never seen you around here before. Did you just move into the neighborhood or something?”

  While the drizzle plasters his black bangs to his scalp and makes the ends of his hair brush his coat collar, I skim my gaze past his shadowed face to his fancy car, then back to his nice leather jacket. He doesn’t belong here. “I don’t live in this neighborhood,” I say.

  “Where do you live? You shouldn’t be out here alone.” He pushes his hands in his pockets and looks up as the rain finally stops, his breath pluming in the crisp air. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

  His gaze returns to me as he steps into the lone lamppost’s light. He’s nice looking with sharp cheekbones, but his eyes snag my attention. They’re so unusual, I’m mesmerized; one is dark brown and the other is a striking brilliant blue. He edges a bit closer.

  Wary, I take a step back and quickly look down at my hands. Red stains every crease and crevice, caking my knuckles and along the lifelines in my palms. A moment of panic sets in that he’ll see it. I curl my fingers inward, blinking rapidly, then glance down once more. My hands are clean. It must’ve washed away in the downpour.

  Wishing I could pop my skull open for an equally thorough cleanse, I clench my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering. Now that I’m no longer running and amped up on pure adrenaline, the cold is creeping over my body. “You—you’re not from this side of town.”

  He glances over his shoulder toward the street he’d driven to earlier and says in a low tone, “I used to be.” Facing me, he shrugs out of his coat. “It’ll always be a part of me.”

  Before I can move, he steps forward and drops it around my shoulders. “Here, I can tell you’re freezing.”

  Instant warmth and the smell of rich leather envelop me. I can’t resist pulling the coat tighter. “Thanks,” I mumble, hiding my face behind my wet hair.

  My guess is he’s around seventeen or so, but he’s much taller than most boys his age. I feel like a dwarf beside him.

  “Where do you live?” he asks while lifting a strand of my hair over my shoulder so he can see my face.

  I glance around, anxious realization cramping my stomach. Where am I going to sleep tonight? How will I eat? What I wouldn’t give to have the security of ten meals in my pocket right now. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  Concern creases his brow. “You don’t know where you live?”

  I shake my head and look away, afraid he’ll see too much in my eyes. “I can’t go back.”

  “Do you have someone who loves you at home? Some family?”

  My gaze shifts to his steady one. “Yeah.”

  “Then that’s all that matters.” He turns and walks to his car, opening the passenger door. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  I shake my head in fast jerks. “I can’t.”

  He steps toward me, his voice suddenly tight. “Has someone hurt you?”

  Clamping my mouth shut, I bow my head. “I’ve done something horrible.”

  Wet, cold fingers touch my chin, but I pull away, tension building inside.

  “No matter what you’ve done, family forgives,” he says softly. “It’s like the tide every morning and evening, sunrise and sunset, and a rainbow after the rain stops and the sun shines.”

  A raw edge of hope laces his comment—as if he needs to believe in his own words. Instead of putting me off, it fuels my courage purely because he used to live here. He knows it’s not easy. I glance up, then frown, worried. “Rainbows don’t always come out.”

  He smiles broadly, a dimple appearing on his right cheek. “The brilliant colors are always there. You just have to know where to look.”

  The confidence in his answer gives me courage. I follow him to his car, then quickly slide into the passenger seat.

  As soon as he settles behind the steering wheel, I ask, “Do you have a towel or a blanket? I’m dripping all over your leather seat.”

  He takes in the water pooling under my butt, dripping off my jeans onto the supple black leather. Smirking, he starts the engine. “I know.”

  “This isn’t your car, is it?”

  The look he gives me is both defiant and amused. “Nope.”

  Oh God, am I in a stolen BMW? I start to reach for the door handle when he presses on the gas and the car zooms forward.

  “I didn’t steal it. I’m just borrowing it.”

  Uh huh. And I didn’t just commit a crime. Two liars sitting side-by-side.

  “Where do you want me to take you?” he asks while I chew the tip of my thumb in indecision. The last thing I need is to draw police attention. If we get stopped, I’m not confident my black sweatshirt will hold up under the indoor lighting at the police station. Does blood glow under florescent lights? Or is that black light? I wrack my brain trying to remember from TV shows. Either way, I don’t want to find out. “I should just probably walk.”

  He turns right onto a main road. “Or I can just drive for a while if you want.”

  The car smells like leather and “new car” scent, and its warmth feels so good. For a second I consider trying to fall asleep. Maybe then I’ll wake up to discover all of this has been one big nightmare. I shrug off the fantasy. The last thing I want is to get out and have to walk around in the cold night air with sopping wet clothes, so I nod.

  We drive for about twenty minutes when he finally breaks the silence. “What’s your name?”

  I shake my head.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek and stay quiet.

  Sighing, he pinches the top of his nose, then rubs his thumb along the curve of his eyebrow. “I used to live in that neighborhood back there, remember?” he says softly.

  Something about the sympathy in his voice cracks through, creating a knot in my throat. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with emotion. No matter how I try to justify my actions, I’m a terrible person. Panic sets in and I start to breathe hard. Clutching my chest, I pant out, “Stop the car. Just stop. I can walk. I need to go.”

  He quickly maneuvers through traffic and pulls off to a side road. I bend over and wheeze, trying to catch my breath.

  A warm hand kneads my shoulder. “It’s okay. Breathe. Just breathe.”

  “I. Can’t,” I choke out, fingers clawing at my throat. It’s closing up. I’m smothering.

  He pulls my hand from my throat and gently cups the back of my head. “Hey, I’ll breathe with you, okay? Take deep breaths. Like this. Through your nose, then out of your mouth. In and out. In and out.”

  As he rubs his thumb along my wrist, I take a breath and follow his lead, trying to slow my racing heart.

  Several seconds pass with us just breathing quietly.

  “That’s it, Red.” He gives an encouraging smile. “You’ll be okay.”

  Usually I would totally hate being called Red—second only to Freckles—but right now his teasing in the middle of my dark, spiraling reality is so crazy and absurd, it’s exactly what I need.

  Once I’m breathing normally, I pull away from his hold and press my shoulder into the door. “I’m fine,” I say in a low voice.

  He leans back against his seat, resting an arm on the steering wheel. “You get those attacks often?”

  I start to shake my head when my gaze zeros on the watch he’s wearing. I don’t know the brand, but by the look, it’s probably worth more than a year’s salary to most people in my neighborhood. I nod to his watch, eyebr
ow hiked. “You’re from around here, huh?”

  He follows my line of sight, then raises his arm to look at the watch. Taking it off, he holds it out to me. “Here, take it. I don’t want it. The price I paid for it was too high.”

  The pain in his voice is real, as real as the one raging inside me. “What happened?”

  He sets the watch down on the seat between us, his gaze locked on the clock face. “I lost my mom.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

  Glancing up at me, his unusual eyes hold heartfelt sincerity. “You’ll never know how much family means until they’re gone. I didn’t have a choice, but you do.”

  I wish I’d known my mom. She committed suicide when I was a baby. My dad was never in the picture, apparently. I didn’t have a choice either, but I stay silent.

  He gently tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t run away. Go back and tell them you love them. Whatever you’ve done, they’ll eventually forgive.”

  My body stops shaking while he talks. What he says makes sense, but all I can do is hope “family bonds” will be enough. Thinking about it churns my stomach, so I tilt my head and focus on him. “Why did that guy call you Blackie?”

  Amusement glittering in his gaze, he shuts his blue eye and stares at me with his brown one. “Because of this. He says the dark one makes me Black Irish.”

  “Why do you have different colored eyes?”

  “It’s not entirely unheard of.”

  I shake my head at his offended tone. “I’ve seen a person with one green and one blue eye, and another with a hazel and a green eye, but never eyes like yours. They’re—”

  “—Odd, disturbing, distracting. Let me guess…you don’t know which one to focus on, right?” he supplies, a smartass smile on his face. “I’ve heard it all before.”

  I smirk. “I was going to say, ‘Like night and day. They’re unique.’”

  “Most people don’t ask about my eyes so quickly. They usually dance around it a bit first.”