Hostage Hearts Read online

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 Rose Wulf

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-809-6

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Kerry Genova

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to Barbara & Huston Gray.

  I love you both dearly. You are the best surrogate grandparents I could ever have asked for.

  Thank you for loving and supporting me all these years and all the years to come.

  HOSTAGE HEARTS

  Romance on the Go TM

  Rose Wulf

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  He had the worst fucking luck.

  How else could he explain, even to himself, why he was suddenly running from the police with a bag of stolen cash slung over his shoulder and an unregistered handgun tucked into the waistband of his jeans? Fuck Kyle and his fucking favors, anyway.

  Ace pressed his back to the cold brick wall of the alley, listening as the sirens grew closer. He’d never make it to the rendezvous point with the cops scouring downtown. He needed a place to hide out; somewhere he could lie low and wait things out. Maybe screw his head back on properly. But where the hell was he going to find a place like that? He couldn’t head home and he sure as hell couldn’t go to Kyle’s. Anyplace public was out. Hotels, even pay-by-the-hour motels, were too risky. Cops would look there.

  Moving as calmly as he dared toward the opposite end of the open alley, Ace lifted his gaze and looked around the area. He wasn’t overly familiar with the city, despite having grown up barely an hour away in a small town. But his eyes alighted on a cluster of two-story buildings a couple of blocks away. An apartment community. They looked like condos or townhomes from his angle.

  Ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest at what he was going to have to do, Ace double-checked to be sure no flashing lights were in sight and bolted across the street. If he had any good luck at all, he’d find a single woman at the first door he knocked on. The last thing he wanted to do—well, other than go to jail—was have to wave a gun at a family with a young kid.

  ****

  Lydia Caldwell clicked off the TV and arched her back in a long, lazy stretch. It was late and she needed to be getting ready for bed. She stole a glance at her Kindle and frowned. I’ve only got, what, maybe 30 percent left? She could read that pretty fast. It wouldn’t kill her to stay up a little longer. Decision made, she snatched the device from the side table and stretched her legs out on the couch. If she felt overly tired at work the next morning she’d have to use some of the office’s instant coffee. Totally worth it.

  She got about three sentences into what she assumed was the final sex scene, feeling her own arousal flare at the hero’s carnal intensity when someone knocked at her door.

  Lydia jumped, dropping the Kindle into her lap, and immediately looked at the clock on her entertainment piece. Who would be knocking at her door after midnight? Concern clenching her gut, Lydia set the e-reader down and rushed to her door, assuming it was a neighbor with a crisis.

  She had the door halfway open when the man on the other side shoved his way in, grabbed the door, shut and locked it with his free hand. Lydia had backed up until she was pressed against the door to the front closet, her eyes wide and her heart in her throat. This beast of a man would have been intimidating enough without the pistol in his other hand. She could barely breathe, let alone speak. Is he here to kill me?

  He narrowed his eyes at her in a firm, dangerous glare and Lydia swallowed heavily. There was something else in those chocolate eyes hiding behind the hard exterior. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it captivated her. Forcing herself to study the rest of him in the off-chance she ever got the opportunity to describe him to a policeman, Lydia took note of his short, thick, dark hair, faintly crooked nose, and strong jaw. A day’s stubble covered his jaw and, as her eyes moved to his massively broad, muscular shoulders, some part of her she would never admit to began to pay attention. Under different circumstances, this man would be amazingly sexy.

  He was ripped, that much was obvious at a glance. Strong, hard shoulders led to thick biceps and forearms sculpted so tightly his veins nearly protruded. Every single muscle of his torso was solidly defined and her fingers itched to trace those ridges in a slow caress. Damn him, anyway, for wearing such a tight tee. Even when her eyes alighted on the gun he still held, she couldn’t completely quell the desire in her blood. She’d clearly been single too long if this man who’d barged into her home at gunpoint was turning her on.

  Below the dark gray tee, he wore black denim jeans and black biker boots. The jeans were tight enough to assure her that his legs were as powerful-looking as the rest of him—most definitely including the bulging outline below his belt. The one she was not having trouble looking away from.

  “Move into the living room,” he demanded harshly, waving the gun in a gesture far too casual for her sensibilities. “And don’t even think of reaching for a phone.”

  Lydia swallowed again and managed a nod, carefully stepping toward her living room, being sure to keep her arms visibly still at her sides. When they were standing beside her sofa and the side table boasting her Kindle and smartphone he motioned to the couch.

  “Sit at the far corner.”

  Away from her phone. He paid attention.

  She didn’t hesitate to obey, in no rush to learn how much it hurt to be shot, let alone die.

  The man picked up her devices one by one and turned them off. Instead of looking around he pointed the gun at her and asked, “Any other phones? Laptop?”

  Please not the laptop. But he hadn’t destroyed her phone, so maybe he’d spare the computer. She inclined her head and pointed across the room, to the laptop plugged in and resting on the seat of the recliner. It took all her effort to keep her arm steady. “Just the computer. It’s off.” Not that she expected him to take her word for it.

  He flicked a glance at it and said, “If you want to keep it, leave it alone.”

  She bounced her head quickly but couldn’t stop herself from blurting, “What do you want with me? I don’t have a lot of money.”

  His chocolate eyes narrowed again and seconds passed before he replied, “Christ, Lydia, I’m not here to fucking rob you.”

  Her stomach plummeted and her surprise was surely plain on her face. “H-how do you … know my name?” Actually, come to think of it, it occurred to her that this irrationally gorgeous man did look a little familiar. Mostly in the face.

  He arched a brow at her. “You seriously don’t recognize me? I’m insulted.”

  Something about his barb raised her hackles. “You’re insulted? Really? You have me at gunpoint!”

  He glanced down at the weapon in his hand and as a flash of shame crossed his expression, it finally dawned on her. She did know him. Or she had, over fifteen years ago. Apparently it’s not just his body that’s changed. And, somehow, the knowledge that she had known him in high school—known him well, in certain ways—helped to ease her nerves.

  “Ace Bufford,” she murmured deliberately.

  His gaze snapped back up to hers, but the gun hung at his side. “Been a long time, Lydia,” he replied after a beat.

  Chapter Two

  Lydia
crossed her arms. “Not long enough if this is how the reunion has to go.” In truth, she’d been hurt by his sudden departure after high school. He’d never said a word to her about wanting to join the Army, but he certainly hadn’t wasted any time in doing so. “Why are you breaking into my apartment and pointing a gun at me after fifteen years?”

  Ace released a long breath, slid the duffel from his shoulder, and took a seat on the opposite arm of the couch. “I can’t explain that,” he said as if she’d accept that line. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” she repeated incredulously. She shot to her feet, her adrenaline spiking in equal measure with her temper. “For which part, Ace? For dumping me so you could join the Army? For never returning my letters? For taking my virginity in the dirt behind the bleachers, or for not even giving me an orgasm to show for it? Or are you sorry for taking me hostage with no explanation?”

  She thought for a moment she saw him cringe, but then it was gone and the hardened intruder he’d been when he’d bullied his way into her home returned. “Sit down, Lydia,” he said.

  “Why? Why does it matter if I sit?”

  Releasing a breath, Ace stood and lifted the gun. “Sit. Down.”

  Her fury left her in a rush, leaving her feeling deflated and on the brink of tears. But Lydia swallowed that and reclaimed her seat with a grumbled, “Guess it’s not the hostage part, then.”

  Running a hand through his hair, Ace replied, “I’m not that clumsy idiot boy you remember, okay? I’ve changed.”

  Refusing to look at his eyes again, Lydia said, “Obviously. That boy at least pretended to care about me. He’d never have pointed a gun in my face.”

  A soft thump drew her attention and Lydia glimpsed the discarded gun sitting on the farthest sofa cushion a moment before Ace hauled her up by the shoulders and crashed his lips over hers. He slid his tongue into her mouth remorselessly, burying one hand in her loose black hair as the other settled over her hip. He kissed her hard, bruising her lips and stroking his tongue over hers in a wicked rhythm. And, lord help her, she liked it.

  Lydia couldn’t help but moan a little at the power and intensity of his kiss. At the heat radiating from his touch, from his body, as he held her. It didn’t occur to her, not until he broke the kiss, that she shouldn’t have enjoyed that. But, really, she just wanted to do it again.

  ****

  What the hell was he thinking, kissing the woman he was supposed to be holding hostage?

  The problem was that woman wound up being Lydia Caldwell. The one woman who’d haunted him since the moment he’d left her behind. He’d had no clue she lived in this city, let alone in the complex he’d been looking to hide out in. Instinct had drawn him toward the apartment on the East side of the property with the one light on in a downstairs window. He’d passed a few other possibilities, trusting his gut to steer him straight.

  He should have ignored the blasted thing.

  Lydia Caldwell was a complication.

  He needed to be laying low. Hiding out for the night, maybe for two nights, until things settled down enough. He needed to stay sharp so that he could survive long enough to drop off the damned money and take his life back. But he had no goddamned clue how he was going to do those things now that he’d involved Lydia.

  Lydia stared at him, obviously surprised by his actions. She took a half-step backward, her beautiful hazel eyes wide and her delicious lips parted. He knew she would light into him as soon as she caught her breath, but he allowed himself the opportunity to take proper stock of her. She was several inches shorter than his six feet four, but most people were. He’d say she probably stood at about five-ten. Her hair seemed to have gotten darker—with or without the help of a bottle, he didn’t know—and was long and loose. She kept it a little curled, too, adding some bounce to each movement. Immediately he had visions of her wild, curled hair bouncing around her shoulders while she rode his cock.

  Fuck.

  He couldn’t say he was surprised to still be attracted to her. She’d been the most beautiful girl in high school—a prize he’d been proud to land for the whopping three whole months they were together before graduation. But now, over fifteen years later, that beautiful girl had grown into a sexy, curvy woman. Full breasts teased him beneath the untucked, button-down blouse she’d probably worn to work that day. Her billowy, knee-length black skirt promised a plump ass over long, toned legs.

  And a terrible, frighteningly tempting thought struck him.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Lydia demanded before he could explore his latest bad idea.

  Ace cocked an eyebrow at her, knowing full well what she was going to say.

  “What, do you get off kissing women you’ve pointed a gun at?”

  “No,” he assured her. “But I didn’t point the gun at you when I kissed you.”

  Her hands clenched at her sides but she refrained from striking him. He was impressed. “You’re an asshole, Ace. Taking advantage of me like this. Barging into my home and threatening me. You think you can get away with whatever you want because you have a gun?”

  The gun scares her. Of course it did. He knew he was an intimidating person and though she didn’t know how well trained he was, anyone his size with a gun in their hand would scare the people around them. She’d be terrified if she knew what he could do with the thing.

  Lydia didn’t give him time to respond before repeating her earlier question. “What do you want, Ace?”

  Knowing repeating his earlier answer would only make the situation worse, Ace switched tactics. “I need a place to lie low for a bit.” That much was true, and she’d figure it out on her own sooner or later. “Which means you and I are going to have some time to catch up.”

  She glared at him. “Why me?”

  He didn’t try to resist the misplaced grin. “Luck of the draw, princess. I had no idea you lived in this city.”

  Lydia sucked in a breath as if offended but remained silent, her eyes flicking to the gun as her glare faltered for a moment.

  The fear in those beautiful eyes pushed him over the edge.

  “I tell you what,” Ace said, drawing her attention again. “Let’s make a deal.” Here he paused and held the gun up, not pointed at her. “The gun will go away on two non-negotiable conditions. One: absolutely no contact with the outside world for forty-eight hours. If someone knocks on your door, tell them you’re sick but don’t open it.”

  “And when I’m supposed to be at work in the morning?” Lydia interrupted, looking at him as if he were crazy for suggesting such a thing.

  Ace paused. If she disappeared that would cause suspicion, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid. “In the morning you can turn your phone back on,” he said carefully. “Ignore all the messages you’ve missed. I’ll be watching over your shoulder. Put it on speaker phone, call whoever you’d usually call, and tell them the same story—you’re too sick to come in. Take tomorrow and the next day off. Then hang up and turn it off again.”

  He could see on her face she didn’t like that demand. But then again, she wasn’t all that fond of anything in this situation. “And the other condition?” she asked at length.

  Ace grinned and reached out with his free hand, trailing his fingertips across her shoulder and down her side. “Your body belongs to me for the next forty-eight hours.”

  Chapter Three

  Lydia tried valiantly not to flush or otherwise react to Ace’s bold declaration. Something in his voice spoke straight to a forbidden part of her—a part of her that was waking up. But there was no way she could agree to this. What he was doing was illegal, not to mention immoral. She pushed down that wild attraction feeling and narrowed her eyes at him. “So you intend to rape me?”

  Ace’s gaze hardened and he made a show of clicking the safety on and tucking the gun behind his shirt. Then he stepped into her personal space, backing her all the way into the wall until he’d braced his hands on either side of her he
ad. “Trust me, Lydia,” he said, his voice low and thick. Dangerous. Promising. “Everything that happens between us will be completely consensual. My dick won’t go near your pussy until you beg.”

  Heat flashed through her and she swallowed hard. This couldn’t be happening. “I would never beg for sex.”

  Leaning close and letting his lips graze her ear, Ace murmured, “Oh, you will, princess.”

  She believed him. Or, rather, she believed he was capable of making a woman that desperate for him. Of making her that desperate. But she couldn’t let on to that. She had to hold strong. “And if I refuse?”

  Ace straightened, arms falling to his sides, and replied, “We go back to me holding you at gunpoint. The police will probably do a welfare check when you don’t show for work and I’ll have to shoot someone.”

  He wouldn’t! Except she had to acknowledge that she didn’t know Ace very well anymore. No, she didn’t know Ace at all anymore. She had to consider that, yes, he just might shoot someone. And blame it on her.

  Tears stung her eyes but she held them in check. No way was she going to let him see her cry.

  “Okay, fine.” Her stomach clenched with dreadful anticipation. Something lower ached with irrational need. “I agree to your terms.” A thought popped into her head and she quickly added, “But I have one condition of my own. No one else touches me.”

  Something flashed in Ace’s eyes and the next thing she knew he’d wrapped a strong arm around her, hauling her up to his chest. With one hand tangled in her hair and his lips beside her ear, he growled, “No one will touch you, princess. You’re mine.”

  The need flared brighter and Lydia couldn’t stop herself from curling her hands in his tight shirt. She loved the way he talked so possessively. He’d never been that way before; none of her prior boyfriends had been that way. She felt as if some deeply buried part of her flickered to life, at least momentarily, when he claimed her. And she couldn’t help but wonder how alive she’d feel when he claimed her body the way he’d implied.