Cherish me forever a har.., p.1
Cherish Me Forever: A Hartley Brothers Romance Suspense Novel, page 1
CONTENTS
1. Isabelli Luna Martins
Present Time
2. Clayton Faber Hartley
3. Isabelle
4. Clayton
5. Isabelle
6. Clayton
7. Isabelle
8. Clayton
9. Isabelle
10. Clayton
11. Isabelle
12. Clayton
13. Isabelle
14. Clayton
15. Isabelle
16. Clayton
17. Isabelle
18. Isabelle
19. Clayton
20. Isabelle
21. Clayton
22. Isabelle
23. Isabelle
24. Isabelle
25. Clayton
26. Isabelle
27. Clayton
28. Isabelle
29. Clayton
30. Isabelle
31. Clayton
32. Isabelle
33. Clayton
34. Isabelle
35. Clayton
36. Clayton
37. Isabelle
38. Epilogue: Clayton
Also by Alessa Kelly
“I have seen your dark nights and your brightest days and I will be here with you forever waiting in your dusk.” ~ Atticus
1
ISABELLI LUNA MARTINS
New York - three years ago
A chance or a risk?
Right now, it makes no difference to me. I’ve planned this for weeks, and there’s no time for a last-minute ‘let’s think about it, Iz’ jitters. I’ve got to get myself and my son away from Nando—far enough for us to lay low for a couple of months. Then, once I’ve given birth, I’ll be able to move again.
“Raffi, come on, baby. It’s time.” I wake my seven-year-old son.
“I’m still tired!” He slithers under the covers until I can only see his crown.
“We’ve got to go now.” I tug the comforter off him, mother’s guilt swarming me.
On my phone, a notification shows Nando’s flight has just departed. So for sure, he won’t be back until tomorrow night.
Raffi complains some more, but he eventually drags himself out of bed.
“You’ve got Mr. Oreo?” The fluffy toy is tucked under his arm. I’m just reminding him to hold on to it. Raffi won’t go anywhere without his beloved toy black lab. He’s hugged it, taken it for a walk (his version), slept with it—and on it—since I gave it to him for his third birthday.
We make our way down to the garage. Raffi settles himself in the back seat of my packed SUV, mumbling, “If Dad finds out, we’ll be in trouble.”
That man said he was going to marry me. Sweet, innocent Nando. But I never wish to get near that nightmarishly-ever-after milestone. I met him when I was seventeen and had Raffi when I was nineteen. He said finding me, a Latina with blue eyes, was like witnessing a rare flower that only bloomed one night a year. It should’ve been perfect. Until Nando turned my dream into hell. But I kept going, clinging to the hope that I could change him back to the man I fell in love with.
“He’s not here, baby, and he won’t know where we’re going.” I cover Raffi with a blanket and put on his seatbelt. My finger stiffens as I press the garage remote like I’m launching a bomb.
There might not be such a thing as a safe haven against Nando, but a temporary refuge is all I need until I can get help. In what form or from whom, I don’t know. But there’s got to be something or someone on this earth that can help me free myself from his clutch.
“Mom! Wait! Mr. Oreo!”
I sigh. “He’s not with you?”
“No.”
“Raffi! Where is it?” I rummage around him and through the car. “It’s not here,” I huff.
“Mom, find him. Please…”
He must’ve dropped the toy somewhere in the house. “You stay here, okay? I’ll get Mr. Oreo.”
A faint sound of a vehicle halts me.
Our house is perched on a cliff, facing the Atlantic Ocean. Our closest neighbor is a mile away. Whoever I hear is driving the cliff road and can’t know we’re leaving.
“Wait here, Raffi. Stay quiet.” I scramble to close the garage door before I return to the house.
I peep out the window. “Shit! Fuck!”
This isn’t happening. That man is supposed to be up there somewhere in the atmosphere, and he seems to be in a hurry to get home.
Too late to do anything else, I head to the kitchen.
I don’t need him to announce I’m home. The clinking sound of him tossing his keys into the bowl has primed me to heighten my alertness—and fear.
“Honey! You’re back early.” I throw him a surprised smile, a drink in my hand.
Nando strides to me, playing with the waves of my honey-brown hair, then circling his arms around my chest.
“Flight got canceled?” I ask, casually stopping him from kneading my breasts. His fondling hurts—an unwelcome kind of hurt because of my pregnancy. He knows it, but he doesn’t give a damn.
“The whole thing tomorrow got canceled, so there’s no point in me flying to San Fran.” He observes the glass in my hand.
“Want some? Mock margarita.”
“I don’t do fakes, honey. But I’m glad you’re into them.” He sits down, staring at me. “Something wrong with the heater?” He questions my choice of clothes.
“No. I had to go to the shop, and I haven’t had a chance to change.”
“Huh.” He throws a cold, scrutinizing gaze before leaving the kitchen.
His steps get heavy.
“Where’s Raffi?” he yells as he stands at the bottom of the stairs.
“He’s asleep. Why?”
“What’s Mr. Oreo doing here?” The fluffy toy is next to his feet.
Shit…
“Iz, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Nando seizes my hand, dragging me as he shoots up to the second floor. My feet can hardly keep up with him. I almost trip on every tread. He clutches my neck from behind as we stare at Raffi’s empty bed.
“You’re trying to run away?” He scans our son’s bare closet. “Huh?”
“Nando, listen.” I caress his hand despite his tightening grip. He lets me go, only to spin me around. “Nando… please.” I plant my hand on his chest, trying to soothe him.
I don’t have to wait to realize that nothing will ever calm his ire.
He snatches Raffi’s rocket ship bedside lamp and swings it at my belly. It breaks in two. It’s kids’ plastic decoration—it’ll hardly bruise me—but the impact is enough to push me back and stir an ache behind my belly button.
Seeing me still standing, he turns me around and presses my thirty-week bump against the wall.
“Nando! Stop!” I cry despite my hampered breathing.
“One child is bad enough. I’ve got no time to deal with another!” he yells when he finally relents.
I turn my head to him, but I don’t dare move. He’s not a big man, and unlike how he treats Raffi, he knows not to leave a mark on me. But seeing his rage-pumped fist and viperous stare, I know I’m facing an aberrant Nando. A blow to my stomach and both my baby and I will die.
He grabs the collar of my shirt. “I would’ve gotten rid of the first one if I’d known you’d be so difficult.”
“Let me go, please,” I beg when he drags me back downstairs.
“Where’s that fucking rascal?”
“He’s not here!”
“We both know he won’t go anywhere without Mr. Oreo!”
Nando kicks the soft toy away and then shoves me to the floor. My tailbone gets the brunt of the impact this time, and the pain travels fast to my abs.
“Raffi!” he shouts, heading to the garage.
I push myself up. I’ve got to stop him, or Raffi will get more than just cuts and bruises.
“No! You leave him alone!” I hang on to his neck however I can, getting my bulging belly out of the way.
As I gouge whatever part of him I can lay my fingers on, he spins around like prey trying to free itself from a predator. Only this predator isn’t his match. He hurls me against a mirror like I’m a useless sack. My back hits the cracked glass and then lands on the floor. Facing the hallway, I realize I’ve been leaving a trail of blood.
Pulsing pain turns to sharp pinches behind my stomach wall. Still, I can’t let that man get to Raffi—whatever the cost. “No, you won’t ever touch him again!” I crawl.
“Raffi!” Nando takes off his belt.
I gather the last bit of my energy to grab his arm. He sets himself free, then turns to me, peering down. My attempt to stop him is jeer-worthy, but I’ve got something else for him.
“You leave him alone!” I lunge at him.
My palm gets bloody, but the piece of broken mirror isn’t in my grip anymore.
Red spreads on Nando’s chest like it’s been dipped in a sink full of dye.
“Fucking bitch…” The curse comes out as a huff.
I meet his eyes—a deep brown I used to admire. He was kind, he was sweet. Until he wasn’t. Was he acting when we first met? How could he have sustained his pretending for years? He always blamed Raffi for his rage, but I think it had always been in him. I was just too late in recognizing it.
Perhaps realizing that I’m simply watching him, Nando reaches out his
I step back, shaking my head. I keep moving away from him until a mighty thump assaults my belly, this time from the inside. Unable to bear my own weight, I sit down, helplessly crying over the blood pooling on the floor between my legs.
I clutch my belly, hollering for Raffi to call an ambulance for me. But the front door bursts open faster than my voice can travel out of the room.
“Iz!”
I turn my head. “Thomas? Thomas!”
“Iz!” My best friend—my only friend, Thomas Matheson—runs to me. His youthful eyes freeze in horror as he stares at the blood pool I’m sitting on. Then he glances at my dead boyfriend.
“Get Raffi and then take me to the hospital,” I tremble.
“Where’s he?” asks Thomas.
“In the car. Did he call you?”
“Yes. Wait here—”
Another voice arrives at the door.
“You brought him with you?” I cry in dismay.
“Iz, no! He must’ve followed me.”
“Jesus, what a mess!” Donovan Fletcher’s lanky form appears at my feet, observing the floor that has turned from red wood to blood red. He stares at Nando’s dead body as his curiosity turns into satisfaction.
His eyes stir with intent as they settle on me. I’ve seen that look before. It’s Don when he’s delighted—when something has happened, and he can’t wait to clean it up.
“Don… take me to the hospital. Please. Or I’m gonna lose my baby!”
Don kneels next to me. “You know how it looks, don’t you?”
His statement compels me to take a second look at the corpse in front of me. Only now do I realize that Nando’s stab wound isn’t the only damage I inflicted on him. Whatever I did when I hung on to his neck, the skin around his Adam’s apple is marred with lacerations.
“Please. We can talk about what happened later,” I beg, then turn to Thomas. “Stay with Raffi. Don’t let him see me like this.”
Don gestures to Thomas to get to my son.
“Don, take me to the hospital. Now!”
“I should thank you. I’d wanted to do this for a long time.” Don kicks Nando’s body.
“We can sort out that asshole later.”
“Oh, believe me, you’ll want me to sort him out sooner than you’re prepared to wait.”
Thomas returns. “Sir, let me take her.”
“Thomas, stay with Raffi!” I command.
“I’ll make all this disappear,” Don claims, giving Nando another glance. He then gets up as if he has to speak his next statement while looking down at me. “I’ll save you, and perhaps your unborn child too. But you must promise me something.”
“You’ll get Nando’s business. That’s a promise.”
“Well, that’s not a promise. That’s a given. What I mean, Iz. You murdered your boyfriend and the father of your child, or children, in cold blood. It’ll take a lot more for me to clean it up—from this place, to the morgue, to the police. You know the drill.” He pops a mint gum into his mouth. “Not to mention keeping Social Services at bay.”
Terror pours into my pain-wracked body. He can take anything from me, but not Raffi!
“What do you want from me?”
“Just promise me.”
“Promise you what?”
“You just have to promise, my darling.”
My cramping escalates. It feels like a rake is scraping the wall of my belly. I can hardly breathe.
Don grips my jaw tightly in his fingers. “Say you promise.”
My lips quiver. “Yes… I pro…mise.”
The filthy man kisses me. “Good.” Then he yells toward the porch. “Thomas!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Take her to the hospital,” Don instructs as he saunters out of the house. His black-clothed frame moves like a shadow, so skinny it might as well be a skeleton in a robe. But I know his power. The weight of his presence is more than just a shadow in my life.
“Come on, Iz,” Thomas covers me with a throw blanket to hide my stained clothes. He’s about to pull me up. “Jesus, your hand… your hand!”
“Just take me to the car!” I shout at him, snapping him out of panic. The kid is only eighteen. He shouldn’t have seen so much blood, but he’s my only hope right now.
Thomas drags me up by the armpits. I’m standing, but my God…
I wail in agony. I can hear it trail across the hallway.
“You can do it. Come on, babe,” Thomas encourages as we navigate the front porch steps.
Raffi is waiting for me in Thomas’s car. “Mom! Are you okay?”
Seeing my son’s face, I leave the trail of my agony at the door. I grin at him. Despite the tragedy and the unknown ahead, I have done something for him. He doesn’t have to be afraid of that ‘monster man’ anymore. “Yes, baby, I’m okay.”
“Thomas found Mr. Oreo.” Raffi innocently shows off the toy he’s cuddling.
“Good. Good.” I caress him with my uninjured hand.
Thomas reverses the car wildly, as if it’s his first time driving.
“Is baby Caili gonna be okay?” Raffi asks as we speed along the cliff road.
“Yes, she is.” I maintain my smile despite the world spinning around me. “When we get to the hospital, you stay with Thomas, okay?”
The boy nods.
“Hug Mr. Oreo.” I move the fluffy toy so it kisses Raffi, fishing out a chuckle from him.
So I’ve freed myself from the hell called Nando, only to fall into the arms of my own Grim Reaper, who will soon drag me into his lair. I’ve made a deal with Donovan Fletcher to save my daughter. I hope, somehow, I’ll be able to free myself again—although this time, I’m up against a man who’s wielding a scythe and not afraid to use it.
As the hospital ‘Emergency’ sign looms, my vision blurs.
“God!” I release a restrained wail, refusing to succumb as the night dips into total darkness. I swear, I will fight to the end for the precious life I’m carrying.
“Iz, hang on!” Even Thomas’s voice is no more than a faint whisper now.
My body contorts, signaling the inevitable.
No…
I… will… fight…
2
CLAYTON FABER HARTLEY
US Air Force facility, undisclosed location – present time
After years of bearing the title of ‘former’ fighter jet pilot, I’m back wearing the freedom green uniform, flying through contested airspace once again.
Better still, I’m getting my feet wet. Well, metaphorically, anyway. I’m taking the Snow Leopard 100 over the water. The silver beauty is a seventh-generation stealth fighter with the lowest heat signature yet—so it’s literally the coolest aircraft on the planet.
After opening my comms with our sea assets, I start sharing ops pictures with them.
“Snow Leopard 100, N.E.O data received.”
The confirmation comes loud and clear over the headset, but it’s no time for me to release a victory grin.
First mission accomplished. One to go.
With three minutes left in my allocated time, I’ve got to make the best of this mighty kitty’s electronic warfare system.
“Damn, you sucker. Show yourself!” I mumble to myself, focusing on my radar. They’re surely making it harder than what I was used to.
Ninety seconds to go, and—
“Tally-ho.”
I lock in my target and jam their radar.
“Good work, Snow Leopard.”
I grin at the announcement.
Fuck yeah!
“Thank you, sir. Snow Leopard 100 is RTB.”
RTB, or return to base—I’d uttered it countless times during my military days. Today those three letters still give me the homecoming feeling only a combat pilot can appreciate.
I leave the contested airspace and land the jet with ten seconds to spare.
