In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) Read online

  “Bitch, you’d better not be lying,” he snarled, his hand tightening around my throat.

  He tossed me aside like a rag doll, and I fell hard against the bars of the cage and then to the floor, the keys flying from my hand. My vision was blurry and edged in black. I blinked rapidly to clear it. I was shaking like a leaf and gulping down air as I got unsteadily back to my feet. Both men were watching me, identical sneers on their faces.

  “How do we get in the box?” the leader asked.

  “Th-the high-security boxes have passcodes that change every hour,” I explained. “The owner of the box has a fob that has the passcode, then the bank manager has a corresponding code where they unlock the box together.”

  “Show me.”

  I bent and picked up the keys just as a gunshot sounded from the lobby. Both the guys jerked toward the sound. The leader turned to his partner.

  “Stay with her and get that cage open,” he ordered. “We’ll blow the box.” He ran up the stairs.

  “You heard what he said. Get the cage open.”

  I fumbled with the keys, finally shoving the right one into the lock and twisting it open. The man with me got on the mini walkie-talkie attached to his belt, pushing the button and talking into it.

  “What’s going on out there?” he asked. He released the button in a hiss of static, but there was only silence. After a moment, he repeated the question.

  Suddenly, a body flew through the air from the stairwell, crashing to the floor at our feet. It was the leader and he looked extremely dead, his sightless eyes staring and his neck at an odd angle.

  Both the robber and I were frozen in shock for a moment, then he lunged at me. I screamed and fell back, trying to get away, but he caught my sleeve. The fragile silk tore, then he had me. His arm wrapped around my neck and he yanked my body in front of his as a shield just as someone appeared at the foot of the stairs.

  Devon.

  He held a gun with both hands and had discarded his coat. I could see a thin trickle of blood trailing from his mouth, but his hands were rock steady.

  “Trying to be a hero, buddy?” the man said to Devon. “You’re just going to end up dead.”

  “Like your mates, you mean?” Devon replied. “Not bloody likely.”

  The guy pressed the barrel of his gun to my temple. “Take one more step and I’ll—”

  A shot rang out and suddenly, I was free. Warm blood spattered and the body of the man slowly slid down the cage bars to the floor. Looking down, I saw the entry hole for the bullet in the center of his forehead, the exit wound much larger in the back.

  I couldn’t breathe. I raised a shaking hand to my face, swiping my cheek. My hand came away bloody. His blood was on me.

  “Ivy, are you all right?”

  Devon’s hand was on my arm. I looked at him and slowly blinked.

  “There’s blood on me,” I said through lips gone numb.

  Reaching into his suit, Devon produced his pocket square and began to gently clean my face. I stared at him, my mind slow to process what had happened. Assiduously, he wiped my cheek, forehead, and neck, slowly removing the blood. Finally, he finished and looked me in the eye.

  “There,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s better?”

  I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded. Reaching down, Devon took my hand and led me past the dead bodies, up the stairs into the lobby.

  Things were chaotic and a blur as the cops came in and the customers began giving their statements. Devon led me to one of the leather chairs in the waiting area and sat me down. I stared at my hands folded in my lap. They were still shaking.

  Devon took off his jacket and slung it over my shoulders. An EMT took my blood pressure and shined a light in my eyes.

  “She’s in shock,” he said to Devon, “but she’ll be all right.” He stood and moved on to someone else. The police were everywhere, questioning everyone, and Devon had to leave my side to talk with them. Before long, I heard someone say my name. Looking up, I saw Special Agent Lane.

  “Miss Mason,” he said, sitting down beside me. “It’s rare for a coincidence like this. First you’re at Galler’s residence the night he was murdered. Today you’re at an attempted robbery.” He didn’t say it in a mean or suspicious way. It was more like an observation, so I didn’t bother trying to scrounge up a reply.

  Someone brought me a cup of water before disappearing back into the crowd. I felt Lane’s eyes on my shaking hand as I took a careful sip. I watched as two men carried a black body bag up the stairs to the lobby and out the door.

  The last time I’d seen a body bag flashed through my mind. Tears stung my eyes and I had to set aside my water before I spilled it. I braced my elbows on my knees, covering my face with my hands as tears leaked from my eyes. I felt too close to coming apart.

  “Miss Mason, are you—”

  “Ivy!”

  Logan’s voice cut through the cacophony around me, interrupting whatever Lane had been about to say, and a moment later, he was there.

  “Ivy, thank God you’re okay,” he said, crouching down in front of me. Gently grasping my arms, he pulled them away from my tear-streaked face. He took one look at me and knew.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.” He helped me to my feet and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, grateful he was there. Logan knew me. He understood.

  Logan replaced Devon’s suit jacket with his own, handing the garment to Lane, who automatically took it. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, barely glancing at Lane before leading me away. I didn’t bother correcting him on exactly who the jacket belonged to.

  Logan drove me home, sitting me on my bed before removing my shoes and torn dress. He put me into the shower where I finished getting the blood off me, then he dressed me as carefully as one would a child, dragging a T-shirt over my head and helping me into a pair of soft, flannel pants.

  When I was finally clean and comfortable, Logan sat with me on the couch, holding me in his arms and tucking a blanket around me. I settled against his chest with a sigh.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. I didn’t know what I’d do without Logan. He was my rock and always had been.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  Haltingly, I told him about the robbers. How they’d come in and shot Phil, then made everyone get down. Then how they’d singled me out to unlock the safe deposit boxes. When I got to the part about Devon, I hesitated.

  “One of the customers must’ve been some kind of cop or something,” I said, not quite lying. Devon wasn’t a cop, but he was . . . something. “He somehow took out the guy in the lobby, then the other one went to find his partner and he got him, too. The last one he shot while I was there. The robber . . . he’d been using me as a shield . . . but the guy . . . he didn’t even hesitate. He just . . . shot him. Right in the head.”

  “Holy shit,” Logan breathed. I looked up at him and his eyes were wide. “He shot the guy while he was using you as a shield? Fucking moron! What if he’d missed by an inch? You could be dead right now.” Logan’s expression had shifted from shocked to pissed. His arms tightened around me and I felt him press his lips to the top of my head.

  “I guess he was sure he wouldn’t miss,” I said, though inwardly I wondered if Devon had even cared if he hit me or not. The thought made me shiver. Logan felt it and squeezed me. “Then I saw the body bags and remembered when they pulled my mom out of the fire . . . and I just lost it.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you,” he said after a moment, “but all this excitement has made me hungry. What do you say to ordering a pizza? I’ll even spring for the cheesy breadsticks you like. And after that, I’ll pump you full of Xanax and put you to bed.”

  I smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

  Two hours later, belly pleasantly full, I was crawling into bed. I sighed wh
en my head hit the pillow, and thanks to the Xanax, was asleep faster than I would have believed possible after the day I’d had.

  It was a hot and sunny July Sunday afternoon. I could feel the warm breeze against my face as I rode my bike, cooling the sweat on my brow. It was late afternoon and Mom had said not to come home until dark, but the traveling carnival was packing to leave and there had been nothing left to do in town.

  Not that I really wanted to go home. As a matter of fact, I dreaded it. But the longer I was gone, the longer Mom was home alone with him.

  He’d been drunk last night and things had been bad. The sounds through the thin walls of the house had made me cower underneath the covers in my bed, despite the oppressive heat of the house. I’d been afraid he’d come into my room, too, but he hadn’t for a change. Then I’d felt guilty for feeling relieved. I should help my mom, but I didn’t know how.

  This morning there had been bruises on Mom’s face and her hands shook as she made breakfast, but her smile was as steady as ever for her only child. Then she’d calmly handed me some money and told me to go have fun in town for the afternoon.

  “Don’t come home until dark, sweetie,” Mom had said. Then she’d kissed my cheek and hugged me long and hard.

  The carnival had been fun. I’d bought a corndog and snow cone, and wandered around watching people play the games. At five, they’d started packing up to move on to the next town, so I’d gotten back on my bike and started the trek home.

  I thought about going to see Logan, but remembered that he was out fishing with his dad today. His home was a refuge to which I often retreated. Logan was always ready with a joke and a smile. Maybe I could sneak over there tonight and we could lie on our backs in the field and watch the stars. We did that a lot. Staring up at the expansive Kansas sky had a way of making a person feel small, irrelevant, but in a good way.

  Parking the bike in the yard, I hopped off and headed to the back door. When I was a few steps away, I stopped and sniffed. Something smelled. A sour odor that grew stronger with each step I took toward the house. Alarmed, I hurried to the door.

  Placing my hand on the doorknob, I turned it, and then there was nothing at all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I woke with a start, drenched in sweat, and sat straight up in bed. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe, as though I’d really been trapped in the fire of my nightmare.

  I hadn’t dreamt about that day in a long while, though I knew what had brought it on. It had been seeing the body bags. They’d carried my mom’s body from our burned-out house, while telling me how lucky it was that I hadn’t been home.

  No one seemed to know how my mom and stepdad had missed the smell of gas, but one spark had set the house ablaze, killing them both. I’d been blown clear with such force that it had knocked me out. When I’d woken, it was to see that flames had engulfed the place I’d called home, but in reality had been far from it.

  Logan was the only one I told about how my mom had sent me away, how I was sure she’d done it on purpose, to save herself the only way she knew how.

  And to save me.

  Some days the guilt was enough to paralyze me.

  Normally, I’d go crawl into bed with Logan when nightmares from my past visited me in the dead of night, but he’d already dealt with one crisis of mine today and he had to be up early for work in the morning.

  Knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. A long, steaming shower would relax me, and maybe temporarily wash away the terrors of the past.

  I piled my hair on top of my head and stepped under the hot spray, just this side of scalding. A sigh escaped me. I tried to clear my mind. I didn’t want to think about the past or remember the look on my mom’s face as she watched me from the porch as I pedaled away that fateful morning.

  The next day, I’d gone to live with my grandparents.

  I was crying without even realizing it, the water mixing with the tears sliding down my cheeks. So many memories and remembered horrors streamed through my mind, and overwhelming it all was a nearly crippling grief for my mother and guilt that she’d done what she had for me.

  Hands on my shoulders made me gasp in fear. I spun around, terrified, only to be stunned into immobility. Devon was there with me, naked in the shower. Relief washed over me so fast, I thought I might pass out.

  “Didn’t mean to give you a fright, luv.” His brows were creased as he studied me, his hands lifting to cradle my face, then he was kissing me. The long, hard length of his body pressed against mine and thoughts of the past fled.

  I lifted my hands, resting them on his arms as his mouth moved to trail down my neck. The suits Devon wore hadn’t done justice to his body. His biceps were massive under my fingers, his shoulders wide and layered with muscle. Now that I could see him in the light, he took my breath away.

  “Don’t think,” he murmured against the skin of my shoulder. “Just feel.”

  I don’t know why it was easier to do this time, maybe because after what I’d been through today, his touch felt more like comfort than a threat, and I did as he said. His hand moved to slide between my thighs and my eyes drifted shut. His fingers slipped between my folds, his touch gentle but sure. I clutched at his shoulders as he stroked me, my eyes flying open when a thick finger pushed inside me.

  Devon was watching me, the icy blue of his eyes penetrating my soul the way he was penetrating my body. His arm had moved to curve around my waist, supporting my weight as my suddenly weak knees threatened to collapse.

  My heart raced, the steam from the water feeling almost cool against my overheated skin. I could feel the hard press of his erection against my hip, an answering flush of heat between my legs coating his fingers. Each thrust of his finger stroked my clit until I was panting with desire. My eyes slid shut as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.

  “Open your eyes,” he said roughly. “Look at me.”

  I obeyed, though it took effort, my nails digging into his skin. His eyes were darker now, the pupils wide.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said, careful to enunciate each word.

  I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but all I could feel was what he was doing to me. His hand moved faster, the pressure building inside me until I was moaning.

  I felt helpless to do anything but let him touch me, and I knew by the look in his eyes that there was nothing I could have said or done to stop him.

  “Come for me, sweet Ivy,” he rasped.

  Devon’s finger pressed hard and my whole body seemed to explode into a pulsing wave of pleasure. His mouth covered mine and I greedily opened my lips to kiss him. His tongue stroked mine, his hand still touching me in a way that made my legs tremble.

  Lifting me, Devon shifted my legs around his waist and I clung to him. He turned off the water and carried me to my bed, still kissing me. His cock was hard as a rock and I whimpered, his size and length making me want him inside me, a feeling that was unknown to me before this moment. I didn’t give a thought to our wet skin dampening my sheets, my every sense locked on to him.

  I felt his arm reach for the table next to my bed and he shifted slightly. Then he was settling between my legs and pushed inside me in one hard thrust. I gasped at the slight pain, jerking my mouth from his. Devon must have sensed my discomfort because, although he was settled deep inside me, he didn’t move.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing light kisses to my cheek and brow. “Just relax. Trust me.”

  The words penetrated the panic that had begun to creep over me and I opened my eyes. He lifted his head to look at me, a hand brushing the hair back from my face.

  “Better?” he asked softly.

  I nodded, unable to speak. It was . . . overwhelming. The feel of him inside me—I’d expected to be afraid, panic-stricken, desperate to get away. But instead, I
felt marked. Possessed. And it felt good. It felt . . . right.

  Devon began to move, slowly pulling out of me, then pushing back in. I felt every inch of him. He watched my face closely, as though trying to detect any hint of fear or discomfort. I reached to twine my arms around his neck, my fingers sliding into his hair, and tugged him down to kiss me.

  That must have sent the right signal because he groaned into my mouth, the sound making pleasure curl low in my belly. I locked my legs around him and his hands moved to my hips, his fingers digging in as he thrust harder. I held on, closing my eyes and losing myself in him.

  It was Devon, taking me hard and fast, the strength of his body surrounding mine. He was big, his cock filling and stretching me, the head brushing against my womb with each thrust. But I didn’t mind the twinge of discomfort. The slight pain set fire to my senses, as though this was what my body was meant for—for Devon to possess.

  The repeated slide of his cock against my clit pushed me over the edge again. Cries and gasps fell from my lips as my body intimately gripped the hard length of him, as if to hold him to me. But he didn’t stop. If anything, he moved harder and faster, pounding into me until he ground hard against my overly sensitive flesh, his cock emptying its load deep inside. He was quiet when he came, though his whole body shuddered in my arms and his breathing was labored. The feel of him pulsing inside me made me moan in response, tipping my hips upward as though to take him deeper than he already was.

  His body was slick with water and sweat underneath my hands, the muscles bunched tightly as he held me to him. My heels dragged the backs of his thighs as I relaxed. Devon was breathing hard, his face buried in the crook between my neck and shoulder. His lips moved, caressing my shoulder before gently sucking on the tender skin under my jaw.

  I was sorry to feel him move away from me, which he did too soon. The intimacy of the moment, Devon sliding out of me and turning away, struck me. I’d never liked being that intimate with anyone before. Not to where it was a good thing, something that made me feel warm inside.