If I Fall (New Castle Book 2) Read online

  If I Fall

  New Castle 2

  Romantic Suspense

  www.LydiaMichaelsBooks.com

  Romantic Suspense

  IF I FALL

  Copyright © 2017 Lydia Michaels Books, LLC

  First E-book Publication: ALL 4 YOU September 2012

  Second Edition: IF I FALL © Lydia Michaels 2017

  All Art & Cover Design copyrighted © 2017 by Lydia Michaels

  ISBN-13: 978-1978473508

  ISBN-10: 1978473508

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer. WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  www.LydiaMichaelsBook.com

  Content Warning

  This romantic suspense novel contains graphic scenes of violence, which may not be suitable for sensitive audiences.

  Dedication

  For Schultz.

  IF I FALL

  Lydia Michaels

  Copyright © 2017

  Prologue

  Jade awoke in her apartment, immediately realizing something was terribly wrong. First, she was in her bed. She usually crashed on the couch. Second, she was completely nude. And third, her abdominal muscles were sore and her thighs, sticky. She frantically tried to piece together the events of the previous night but remembered nothing subsequent to saying goodbye to Jeremy.

  The scent of sex lingered on her flesh. Her tender insides churned as wooziness had her stomach rising and falling with strange cramping. An excruciating ache resonated between her temples, threatening enough that she had to focus on not vomiting. Had she been in a car accident?

  After staggering out of bed, she scanned her surroundings for any explanation as to how she got there. Had Jeremy come home with her? No, she specifically remembered him leaving the bar. And sleeping with Jeremy was something she’d never forget. Right?

  They’d eaten dinner at Paprika’s after the wedding rehearsal. Jeremy sat with her the majority of the evening and when the dinner ended, they met at The Pink Lounge for another drink. Subtly flirting, she made every attempt to let Jeremy know it could be his lucky night. But, always the gentleman, he politely ignored the implication of an open invitation to her bed.

  Jade frowned. They definitely didn’t do anything last night. Why was she so disoriented? Last night was too fuzzy after only a few drinks. Gaping holes cut apart her memory, telling her something wasn’t right.

  Kat had texted her, reminding Jade to pick up the rings from the jeweler. It was around that time that Jeremy said goodnight and things got fuzzy. But why? She’d been fine.

  So fine that when he asked if she was okay to drive she laughed. After only three drinks over the course of five hours, she was barely buzzed—or so she thought.

  The fringed edge of her memories showed glimpses of her straw twirling in her empty cocktail. Then … nothing.

  No blur of time passing. No memory of paying her tab, nothing of the ride home, or talking to anyone else at the bar. Nothing—until morning.

  “What the hell happened last night?” She rubbed her head, her fingers tangling in a massive knot of blonde hair.

  The muffled chirping of her cell phone played. Ignoring the pain in her skull, so intense it caused her vision to momentarily blur, she searched for her cell. Her foot connected with something sharp and she stumbled. Squinting down at the jagged object, she frowned.

  Why were her car keys on the floor? A few inches to the right sat her lip gloss.

  The ringing continued as she frowned at the objects scattered across her bedroom floor. Her purse was flipped inside out, gutted, and lying on the carpet next to her wallet. “What the fuck?”

  Taking a shaky step forward, she toed her wallet, flipping it over. It was completely empty. Even her library card was gone.

  On buckling knees, she dropped to the carpet. Limbs weak, she briefly considered if there had been a car accident. Perhaps she was suffering a sort of delayed amnesia from bumping her head? Sweeping aside the dust ruffle, she spotted her phone next to a dirty sock, a hanger, some dust bunnies, and more items that belonged in her purse.

  Using the hanger, she fished her phone within reach. It spun across the dusty hardwood floor toward the carpet as the incessant bleating suddenly ceased. She zoned out, staring at it in her palm.

  Her phone wasn’t where it belonged—more evidence that something was horribly wrong. Cell phone, keys, purse… It seemed silly, but all those belongings had a home. Fear crawled up her spine like little spiders.

  Her cell chirped and she released it, dropping it onto the carpet. Bleak emptiness settled over her. Her thoughts teased like distant whispers. A million suspicions came to fruition as she sat, paralyzed, and naked on her floor. Her fingers closed over the swollen folds between her legs and it hit her like slow sifting sand eventually strong enough to bury her alive.

  Rape.

  I. Was. Raped.

  A scream built in her mind, pounding to break free, but only a whimper slipped past her lips. Suddenly freezing, her arms protectively curled around her belly as her body trembled. An impotent fury gripped her so tightly, her limbs vibrated in an attempt to contain it.

  Rocking and gasping, she whimpered in the silence.

  A wave of nausea dragged up from the pit of her stomach and she dry heaved hard enough to draw the flesh covering her back muscles painfully taut. Chills prickled her skin as she sobbed in the silence.

  Her jerky gaze dropped to her body, appraising the parts she could see. A bruise marred her thigh in an ugly shade of yellow. What the fuck happened to me?

  What should she do? She was a medical professional. Trained in emergency situations. But she couldn’t find a single logical thought in her head because this was not about a patient. This happened to her.

  “Hello?” she cried, but no one answered. “Hello!”

  Pushing her legs to stand, she leaned against the wall and shuffled toward the bathroom with the grace of a newborn calf. Nothing looked out of place, yet everything seemed off. Oddly, her laptop sat on the breakfast bar completely untouched. Wouldn’t a thief be interested in that?

  She turned and froze, the blood rushing from her limbs and her grip slipping on the wall. The front door was not just unlocked, but standing open.

  Without consciously taking a step, she flung forward and threw both hands at the hard surface, slamming it shut. Hands violently shaking, she locked the knob and jerked the deadbolt home.

  Panic sent a spasm of tremors racing up her spine. Every bit of her world was violated—her home, her body, and unquestionably, her mind.

  Her face pressed into the cool door as she sobbed and gasped, but no matter how many times she asked why, no explanation followed. The best she could do was wash away the filth.

  The shower faucet squealed as scalding water rushed down the drain. Stepping under the steaming spray, she winced. A million hot, welcome, prickling needles burned her skin.

  Blotchy, red hives rose to the surface
as she scrubbed her body. As she washed her shoulders, her fingers nicked a tender spot of raised, raw flesh and she vomited. That flick of her fingers over tender skin syphoned the last of her strength and she crumbled to the floor in a sobbing heap. She hissed as her fingers abraded a cut. Tilting her chin at an awkward angle, she studied the angry welt on her shoulder, trying to figure out how it got there. It hurt, hot like scalding poker, tender like a fresh scrape, and deep enough to send another sweep of nausea through her.

  “Oh, fuck.” Another sob forced its way past her ragged throat and aimed for the drain.

  The force of retching brought her to her hands and knees. As her tender stomach emptied its contents, she stared dispassionately as bile made its way down the drain. Unable to form one coherent thought, she leaned her arms and cheek against the cool tile and caught her breath.

  The water cooled as she continued to weep. Her fingers and toes pruned, discoloring as ice formed in her veins. This wasn’t happening.

  Chapter One

  “Now, Momma?” Young Mia’s whisper echoed over the guests’ hushed chatter and the organ music.

  “Not yet, babe,” Kat, Mia’s mother, repeated for the thirteenth time while flattening a trembling palm over the ivory satin of her wedding gown. “Kiki has to go first.”

  Mia turned her anxious grin on Jade, who she adoringly referred to as Kiki since she was able to first talk. The stuffy air in the back of the chapel took crinoline to a new level of unpleasant. In the small, stuffy space the itchy material grated over Jade’s already sweaty skin. Sunlight filtered through the glass, adding another layer of heat to the sultry air. Jade fiddled with her flowers and dabbed the perspiration beading at her brow before it melted her makeup. God, she was a wreck.

  “Okay, Jade, it’s your turn.” The uppity wedding planner offered a tight lipped smile.

  Jade wanted nothing more than to jam that clipboard right up her haughty ass. Thank God all this planning would be over tomorrow. Although, if there was nothing to plan things might get a little too real for her to handle.

  “Take it slow and smile,” the woman added.

  Fluffing her chocolate taffeta gown, Jade took a deep breath, anxious to exit the compact foyer and breathe something other than recycled air. The tall, wooden doors parted and a gust of welcome central air chilled her clammy face. August in Pennsylvania, as usual, meant highs near the hundreds and humidity thick enough to kill a bridesmaid. Really, what was wrong with an autumn wedding?

  Nerves thinner than a spider web, she slowly stepped out of the sweltering vestibule, onto the burgundy runner and froze. A sea of cheery faces stared as she choked on the scent of her Casablanca lilies. As her grip tightened on the bouquet a pin stabbed her finger through the floral tape and she clenched her teeth, hissing in a breath.

  The organ music faded into a white noise, suffocating her in deafening silence. At the pulpit, Tyson, Kat’s groom, tilted his head to the side, his dark brow creased with a look of concern.

  Focus, Jade! Focus! Just breathe.

  The creak of timeworn wooden pews echoed in the woozy blur of sounds and she swayed, her hollow smile wilting as the expectant organ cords thrummed, urging her forward. Exposed and yet somehow claustrophobic, she broke into a full body sweat, a trickle of perspiration racing down her spine.

  Too many people. Is he here?

  Jeremy stepped into the aisle, his worried gaze locking with hers. His brow creased as his palm uncurled in a silent plea for her hand. Across the distance separating them, Jade mentally clung to his invitation like the last lifeline she had left.

  Jeremy.

  He was so strong. A week ago he was her highest priority. That towering, muscular body, all bronzed sinew, and well-sculpted muscle, had consumed her thoughts, depleted her battery supply, and fed countless fantasies. But looking at him now, she only recognized security. Jeremy was safety.

  Taking a wobbly step, she moved sluggishly toward that outstretched hand. The reverberation of music bloomed with each careful stride as she neared the front of the chapel. So long as his gaze held hers she didn’t need to acknowledge all the strangers watching them.

  This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some weak little woman who needed a man to guide her every step of the way. She was strong, damn it. She was smart and independent and knew how to make shit happen—until…

  Oh, fuck, was she lost forever? She hated the paranoia that set in after…

  She just hated it. This wasn’t her. But, regardless of her denial and what she knew of the woman she had always been, right now, in this moment with a hundred strangers staring her down with expectation, she did not feel strong. She felt terrified. And the urge to run and hide under the bulk of Jeremy’s protective body was swallowing her whole.

  With quickened breaths, she loosened her fists strangling the bouquet and reached for him. His steady fingers trapped her trembling ones as he offered her a comforting squeeze. Sweet relief stole a good deal of her tension as he led her the rest of the way to the altar.

  His hold loosened and she was once again on unsteady ground. Jerking her gaze to his, panic pierced her lungs and her throat constricted around a plea begging him not to let go. His secure touch fell away as her stomach dipped, bile rising in her gut.

  Do not get sick! Do not get sick!

  The lump of unwelcome emotion clogging her throat grew like a gigantic pill she couldn’t gulp down. Her stare followed Jeremy as he took his seat and she winced as her neck twisted, chafing raw flesh of her shoulder. The newly acquired wound reintroduced itself with a sharp hiss of shame and her composure faltered, tears welling in her eyes.

  They’ll think they’re happy tears. No one knows. Deep breath… Deep breath…

  She was trapped in a steady attempt to piece back the events of the last few days in order to make sense of her unwanted reality. But there was no making sense of anything. The only thing she knew about the other night, the unwanted brutality her body had unconsciously endured, was that the brand burned into her shoulder would never match the pain forever scored into her heart.

  A tear slipped past her lashes and she quickly brushed it away. Why? How many were there? Who did this to me?

  Blinking through tears of panic, she focused on Mia making her way down the aisle. Prettier than an Anne Geddes portrait, her best friend’s four-year-old sprinkled the runner with rose petals as guests hummed at the majestic promenade.

  The music shifted as pews creaked and guests stood to watch the processional. The double doors opened, painting a white silhouette around Kat and her father. Her simple, ivory gown sparkled in the sunlight as they took their first steps.

  Emotion swept through Jade with the force of a brush fire. This was Kat’s moment, which was why her best friend knew nothing of Jade’s inner turmoil.

  “Please be seated,” the reverend announced as Kat reached the front.

  Aged wood groaned under the heft of guests taking their pews and Jade’s attention zeroed in on the unrecognizable faces, looking for any familiar detail that might trigger a memory from the other night.

  Nothing.

  She recognized almost everyone, aside from a few of Tyson’s much older relatives. But none of the faces satisfied her memory. This wasn’t normal. Something from that night had to come back to her.

  “And now a reading from the Gospel of Luke.”

  Jade blinked at Kat who sent her a wide-eyed, expectant look. Her mind scrambled to interpret what the look meant—Oh, the reading.

  Passing her flowers to Tyson’s sister, Gloria, she stepped up to the podium. Glancing at the scripture, she took a deep breath and tried to still her fingers from shaking.

  Her heart pounded in her chest like caged lightning. Licking her suddenly dry lips she dabbed her damp hairline with the back of her hand as her vision rippled. A wave of dizziness had her gripping the podium for balance.

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes drifted to each man, tall, short, dark, light, blon
d, bald, and brown hair. Is he here? Is he watching me now?

  She looked back at the reading. The words scrambled across the page, lacking sense and clarity, nothing more than faded hieroglyphics. She tried to swallow, but her throat couldn’t force the motion. Saliva gathered in her mouth.

  Her knees shook as everyone stared at her expectantly. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stand there in front of all those strangers—

  A hand closed over hers and squeezed, jerking her out of her frantic thoughts and ripping her stare away from the guests. Her gaze flung from the jumbled reading to dark green eyes. Jeremy.

  His skin was warm, his hold firm and strong. A familiar sense of security allowed oxygen into her lungs.

  “A reading from the Gospel of Luke,” he announced, tone unshakably strong.

  She stared at his hand, still holding hers. Soothed by the deep baritone cadence of his voice, she concentrated on the rhythmic thrum of each word as it wove past his lips.

  When he finished the reading, he angled the microphone away and whispered, “I think you need to sit down.”

  Holding onto her hand, he led her to his pew. Kat’s brow creased with concern, but the bride’s attention was quickly pulled back to the ceremony as the reverend announced it was time for the vows.

  Chapter Two

  Jeremy nodded to Gloria, who was now holding two bouquets, and ushered Jade to a pew. Her delicate perfume softened the stale, paper-scented air of the chapel as she stiffly sat. Her hands were clammy and cold as ice. Did she have a fever? The temptation to trace his fingers over her brow and check was strong, but he resisted, seeing as how many people were currently watching them.

  The ceremony was almost over. Once the guests were distracted he’d get her some water and find out what the hell was going on. They sat in forced silence, the minutes ticking by at the speed of centuries. And then it happened. The mother of his child became Mrs. Tyson Adams.