Covert
by
G K Moore
Genre:
New Adult Romantic Suspense
Release
Date: December 2nd, 2014
Hosted
by: Book Enthusiast Promotions (http://bookenthusiastpromotions.com)
Alessandro is the unwilling heir of a
Chicago crime family. Intent on leaving the life set out for him, he decides to
run as fast and as far away as possible. His plans crumble when one girl crash
lands in his life. He should hate the daughter of his father’s mistress, but
it’s near impossible when he finds that they are alike in more ways than one.
Olivia grew up watching men walk in and
out of her mother’s life. When one man finally decides to stay, she learns that
crime lords don’t leave until someone’s dead. Olivia’s salvation comes from the
person she least expects: his son.
Six years later, Olivia and Alessandro
are reunited when her life is threatened. If time has proven one thing, it’s
that repeating their parents’ mistakes seems inevitable.
In a world where friendship is a luxury
and love a death sentence, two unlikely lovers find each other only to be
separated by their cruel reality.
Covert is for readers 17+
G.K. Moore loves cake, romances with
alpha males and happily ever afters. When she’s not writing, she’s reading,
stalking friends on Facebook, watching bad reality TV, traveling, torturing her
hubby with ideas for new stories or doing all of the above at the same time.
Her debut novel, a romantic suspense, is coming out December 2nd and the
backdrop is one of her all time favorite cities, Chicago.
CHAPTER
ONE
OLIVIA
I stared at the lifeless body on the
floor, thinking about the blood seeping into the wood and staining it. It would
be impossible to clean. The wooden floorboards would have to be replaced.
The gun I had just fired fell from my
hand. The clattering noise it made as it hit the ground startled me out of my
skin. The sight of the gun, lying in a puddle of blood, and the metallic scent
invading my senses made me tremble. Maybe I was going into shock. My mind
raced, trying to figure out what I should do next, but I couldn’t think of
anything.
Other than calling him.
After six years, I had truly believed I
was free from my past. I had been sure he would never be a part of my life
again. After all, he had made that choice. But, with a bleeding body on my
floor, it seemed that facing him would be inevitable.
I took a slow step back, away from the
blood pooling near my feet, only to stumble over my purse that still lay where
I had left it when I entered my apartment. Keys, my chipped powder compact,
three nickels and a quarter, an uncapped pen I’d borrowed from the bank, and my
phone skidded out across the floor. Entranced, I watched as my pink lipstick
tube rolled over to the door. The sudden urge to cry and scream welled up in my
throat. I sank to my knees and reached for my phone—it had fallen near the
couch. I cringed at the sight of the dark blotches on the couch’s white fabric.
In the daylight, they would be splashes of deep, sticky red. I swallowed the
lump in my throat, picked up my phone, and scrolled down the contact list. My
thumb hovered over the word ‘HIM.’
I hesitated.
Swallowed again.
Then, I pressed the dial button. It rang
once.
“What’s wrong?” he answered.
I whimpered at the sound of his smoothly
calm voice—a voice that had haunted me for years. I briefly listened to his
breathing, wondering how he knew that I needed him. I shook my head and bit
back a dejected laugh. Of course, he knew. I wouldn’t be calling unless it was
a matter of life or death.
“Someone was here,” I whispered as if not
to startle the corpse. My voice sounded raspy and thick with unshed tears. For
the most part, up until this point, I had actually impressed myself by not
freaking out. Now, my well-crafted façade was cracking. I could hear his
breathing quicken slightly.
“Are you all right?”
I soaked in the alarm in his voice,
letting it wrap me up like a balm to a sting. I closed my eyes and willed my
voice to sound firm. “You need to send a crew,” I said.
“Fuck… cleaners?” he asked, letting out a
heavy breath.
I nodded. After a moment, I realized I
hadn’t actually answered. “Yes, I’m in Chicago… in my apartment on the corner
of—”
“I know where you live. Sit tight. Tiny
will be there in no time—”
I hung up, not strong enough to listen to
his voice any longer. Sitting on the floor, I dropped the phone in another loud
clatter and brought my knees to my chest. I wasn’t startled or even fully
conscious of the continuous vibrating of my phone. It just danced in the dark,
dangerously close to the pool of blood. I watched it, lost in thought of how
naïve I’d been. I should’ve known the past would catch up to me—he would always
catch up with me.
Closing my eyes, I let a sliver of
happiness creep up inside.
I would see Tiny again.
The happiness lasted just until I
remembered why I would see him again and was replaced by a sharp pain in my
chest. I looked over at the dead body once more and shivered, the sickeningly
sweet metallic scent of blood churned my stomach. It was unbearable. I started
dry heaving uncontrollably and leaned on my hands for support. I hadn’t eaten
all day so there was nothing my body could purge itself of, save for the acid
burning the back of my throat.
When the dry heaving stopped, I sat back
and wrapped my arms around my legs. Leaning my forehead on my arms, I made
myself breathe through my mouth. I didn’t want to smell it anymore. And, I was
pretty good at convincing myself if I couldn’t see or smell it, it didn’t
exist. So, I sat there, rocking myself in the dark, repeating four words like a
mantra.
He can fix this.
It might have been a few minutes, or
hours, before I heard the front door creak open. Although I was in plain sight,
I couldn’t make myself move from my position. The door opened, but I didn’t
raise my head. I heard several pairs of footsteps treading the floor almost
imperceptibly as they invaded my home.
“Clear,” several voices said at the same
time.
“Stand guard. We’re coming down in a
few,” Tiny’s deep voice called out from the door. The men moved around while
Tiny approached me. He took a couple of steps and came to an abrupt stop.
“You left the door unlocked.” His tone
was harsh, accusatory.
Truthfully, I hadn’t even considered the
possibility that someone else might come to finish the job.
I could sense Tiny’s stare on me. After a
moment, he spoke.
“Fuck,” he said.
I looked up to him now, but I knew he was
looking at the man beside me. I followed his gaze and then averted my eyes. I
sniffled, not realizing until then that I had been crying. Straining, I fixed
my eyes on Tiny’s perfectly polished patent leather shoes that shone even in
the dark.
“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling down
in front of me. His words had an almost affectionate undertone, something rare
for him.
I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.
Was I okay? Hardly. No. I raised my eyes to his. I unlocked my arms and wiped
my tear-stained face with my hands.
He frowned.
“I’m fine,” I said before nodding towards
the body. “But... that’s going to leave a stain.”
Tiny chuckled and shook his head lightly.
I couldn’t help the slight upward curling
of my lips, despite the horror I had just gone through. I had lived by so many
rules, for so many years that even now, as an adult, I couldn’t help the
impulse to follow them. Everything needed to be clean and in perfect order. I
shouldn’t be too loud. Speak too much. Attract any attention.
And, I certainly shouldn’t have a dead
body on my floor.
“Come on, Lou. Let’s get you out of
here,” he said as he took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
I frowned. No one had called me Lou in
years—these days I went by Livi.
I didn’t fight him; I needed to get out
of there. “My purse,” I said, looking down at the black leather bag whose
contents were still spilled all over the floor. It was truly absurd to worry
about something so trivial after all that had just happened, but old habits
died hard. Really hard. And, that was my favorite lipstick.
“I’ll take care of it,” Tiny said. He
placed his hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me gently towards the
door.
I suddenly panicked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“We need to go, now.” Tiny pushed again,
urging me to move, but my feet remained glued in place.
“I-I can’t leave like this, I have to
pick up my things,” I said turning around. My eyes watered at the sight of the
mess in front of us.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tiny said, now
grabbing my arm.
I shook my head again and tried to pull
out of his grasp, but he didn’t let go.
“I need to clean up, I’ll probably have
to bleach the—”
“Lou!” Tiny said, grasping my shoulders
and forcefully turning me to look at him. “Snap out of it.”
That’s when I freaked out.
My whole body started trembling
uncontrollably and my breathing hitched. I chewed the inside of my cheek to try
to stop myself from crying, but when I bit too hard and tasted the metallic
tang of blood, my tears spilled over. A sob escaped me. I covered my mouth with
my hands, startled by my reaction.
“Damn it,” Tiny said, shaking me
slightly. “You need to calm down.”
I closed my eyes, inhaling and exhaling
slowly, ignoring the taste in my mouth. When I felt in control again, I opened
my eyes.
“Are you good?” Tiny asked. I nodded. He
looked at me doubtfully, so I wiped my face and breathed in deeply again before
answering.
“I’m good,” I said.
“Okay, then let’s get you the fuck out of
here.”
This time when he guided me, I followed
his lead. A man stood guard at the door, but I hardly looked at him. I just saw
the bloody mess everywhere. Thankfully, Tiny helped me down the two flights of
stairs otherwise I would have crumbled. He stepped outside first, his body
tense, prepared to attack any other assassin. Then, he turned back to me and
waved me forward.
Slowly, I stepped into the cold night.
Another man in a black suit stood just
outside the entrance. There were four black SUVs with tinted windows parked in
front of us with men standing guard in front of them. They had come like an
army intent on making a statement—Don’t
fuck with us.
The sight of them brought back my most
painful memories. I hesitated, but Tiny pushed me forward. He walked with
purpose, hovering over me.
With Tiny, there was never time for
uncertainty. He opened the door and carefully, but firmly, helped me inside the
car. The driver stood beside his own door, intently scanning the surroundings,
and looked up at Tiny’s approach.
“I gotta go clean up. Liam will follow
you,” Tiny said to the driver. Turning to me, he added, “Tate will take care of
you.”
“Where is he taking me?” I asked before
he could shut the door. Noticing the panic in my own voice, my eyes glazed over
in shame; I didn’t want him to see how scared I was of his answer.
“Home.”
The way he said it left no room for
arguing. Still, I opened my mouth.
“But—”
“This is not up for discussion,” Tiny
said.
I nodded, resigned as he closed the door
behind me.
Tate started the car. I didn’t know him,
and his grave face was not reassuring. He glanced a final time at the rearview
mirror and drove off. I turned around and noticed that one of the other cars
was following us. That must have been Liam—whoever that was. I still couldn’t
believe Tiny had left me alone with a stranger. His size alone made me nervous
and the fact that he hadn’t spoken to me yet was unnerving. Tate was almost too
big for the interior of the car, even though he was still not as large a man as
Tiny. The driver’s seat was shoved all the way back, squeezing my legs
awkwardly into a twisted, painful position. When I decided to slide over to the
other side, Tate broke the silence.
“Keep your head down,” was all he said.
My head snapped up to look at him through
the rearview mirror. He didn’t meet my gaze.
“I will, but I need to move because
you’re crushing me,” I said through clenched teeth. Tate didn’t react.
I started pulling at the buckle of the
seat belt, trying to release it, but my hands trembled too much. I finally let
go, defeated by the device.
When I looked back up, I noticed Tate
smirking. He was a real charmer. I sighed and decided to stay put and suffer
through the numbness in my legs. We finally merged onto the almost deserted
I-94 highway. I didn’t want to think about what would happen next and tried to
distract myself from those thoughts by examining Tate. He had broad shoulders
and, beneath his suit, I knew he would be all hard muscle. I took in his blond
hair and brooding eyes, color unknown in the dark, and startled when I noticed
his gaze fixed on mine.
I was embarrassed to have been caught
staring at him and offered a small smile as an apology. His eyes narrowed
slightly. My heart sped up, though I couldn’t identify the emotion. My brain
seemed to freeze at that moment, unable to process any more information.
I closed my eyes and breathed in and out
several times, just like my therapist had told me to do when I felt a panic
attack coming. Slowly, I calmed myself enough to open them again.
Tate was no longer looking at me.
Relieved, I stared out the window as we
sped through the city. My thoughts traveled to the past.
This wasn’t the first time I had killed
someone.
Six years ago, I had watched a man bleed
out on a cold floor while I cried helplessly. The memory of that night was my
own private nightmare—a nightmare I thought would only ever repeat itself in my
dreams.
I was wrong.
It was six years ago all over again.
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