Enemy From The Past (Unseen Enemy Book 4) Read online

  Enemy From The Past

  (Unseen Enemy #4)

  By Marysol James

  © 2014 by Marysol James.

  All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design: www.doc2mobi.com

  Cover photo: © ASjack/Fotolia

  Dedication

  For my Mom,

  who actually thinks it’s pretty great having a daughter who writes about love.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the author

  By the same author

  Chapter One

  The soft sound of buzzing woke Jim Alden up from a deep sleep. He turned over in his bed, blinked over his shoulder at the cell phone vibrating on the bedside table.

  What the hell? It’s two o’clock in the goddamn morning.

  He stretched out one heavily-muscled arm, picked up the phone. When he saw who was calling, he sat straight up in bed, wide awake and already angry.

  “Kat?” His voice was full of fury. “Where the fuck are you, girl?”

  There was a pause at the other end. Jim heard loud music in the background.

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me, Kat.”

  “Ummm. Is that J. Alden?”

  Jim’s heart stopped, then started up again at double-time. It was a man’s voice.

  “Yeah. Who the fuck’s this? And why do you have Kat’s phone?”

  “I’m Jax Hamill. I own Dangerous Curves… the bar out on I-36.”

  “Yeah, OK. I know it.”

  “Your friend is here, and she’s not in great shape, man. Can you come and get her?”

  “What’s going on?” Jim got to his feet now and yanked his dresser drawer open to find a t-shirt. “Why’s she out there?”

  “I honestly don’t know. She’s been here for four days now, and she’s been on her own the whole time, just drinking and passing out in one of the back rooms, then getting up and drinking some more. I was just heading out for the night, but I didn’t feel right leaving her here. She seems to be pretty upset about something.”

  “Dammit.” Jim pulled on his jeans. “Have you called anybody else?”

  “No. Her phone book’s in alphabetical order by last name, and you came up first. Is there somebody else I should be calling instead?”

  “No. No, it’s fine. I’m on my way.” Jim glanced at the clock. “Gimme fifteen minutes. I’ll be right there.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll stay until you arrive.”

  “Thanks, man. I’ll see you soon.”

  Jim got dressed at warp speed, then hurried out to his pickup. He slammed the door and gunned the engine before suddenly remembering that people were probably sleeping at this hour. He took a deep, calming breath, tried to slow down his thundering heartbeat. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, since he had the overwhelming urge to strangle Kat. He also wanted to kiss her until her knees gave out under her.

  Katherine Lawrence was the only woman who had this effect on him, and he didn’t like it. Not that she was always off getting drunk and passing out in biker bars; no, this was something totally new. But she was a fucking riddle wrapped in a mystery dipped in a bottle of hair dye.

  She’d just up and disappeared four days earlier, and nobody had heard from her for about three days before that. According to her boss, Kat had taken some time off from her job at the hair salon, and according to her closest friends, they’d had no idea. Calls to her phone went straight to voice mail, and no calls had been returned. Jim had dropped by her place two days before and spoken to her neighbor. The woman said she hadn’t seen Kat for days.

  Most worrying, when Jim had called his friend Dallas Foreman and told him about Kat seeming to just vanish off the face of the planet, Dallas hadn’t been even remotely surprised. Jim knew that Dallas had investigated Kat when his security firm had been protecting Olivia Jameson from a stalker, so Dallas had undoubtedly found some dirt on Kat. Jim was itching to know what the other man knew – but Foreman was nothing if not strictly moral and ethically professional, so Jim was certain he’d never spill any details.

  Well, Dallas won’t… but Kat sure as hell will.

  Jim drove out of Denver proper, headed to the bar on the side of the highway. Dangerous Curves was one hell of a scary choice for a woman out drinking on her own, and he hoped that the boys there had behaved themselves.

  Jim liked Curves just fine – hot women looking for nothing but a good time were most definitely his speed – and since his friends hated the place, he’d just go on his own and look for some woman to pick up. But Jim was big and mean enough to handle himself if trouble started… and at Curves, it usually did. Kat was less than half his size and although she had one hell of a smart mouth and a death glare, not many men at Curves would be intimidated by that.

  Fuck, Kat. What’s going on with you, baby?

  He made it to the bar in less than ten minutes and crossed the parking lot in seconds. Jim hauled the heavy door open and was assaulted by the smell of alcohol and the sound of music even before setting foot in the place. Several women gave him a once-over but he ignored them. He was well aware of the effect that his face and body had on the average female, and now was not anything like the time to enjoy that.

  He spotted a large, dark-haired man sitting at the bar and they made eye contact. Jim recognized him from some of his past visits to Curves, and from the look on the guy’s face, Jim was no perfect stranger to him either. The man stood up and Jim approached him.

  “Jax?” he said.

  “Yeah.” The man extended a massive hand and Jim shook it. “I didn’t get your name over the phone, man.”

  “Jim.”

  “You been here before, right?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Thought so. Anyway, thanks for coming. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  “No, it’s OK. I’m glad you did.” Jim looked around. “Where is she?”

  Jax pointed his chin behind Jim. “Passed out again. I put her in one of the back rooms. Come on, this way.”

  Jim followed Jax down the hallway, past several closed doors. Jim knew what went on in these back rooms, or crash rooms, as they were fondly called. Each one had a bed, a sofa, some tables.

  They were open to any bar patron who wanted to use them, and when he’d first moved to Denver three years earlier, so full of rage and hatred about his time in Afghanistan, Jim had taken advantage of these rooms. More than once, with more than one woman. He didn’t do
that now – though he sure as hell hadn’t stopped the one-nighters. He just had them at his place now. Somehow, that felt like progress to him.

  “You said she’s been staying here?” Jim said.

  Jax shrugged his huge shoulders. “Yeah. The past four days.”

  “Shit.” Jim shook his head. “She say anything?”

  “Not really. She’s just been drinking.” Jax stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the hall, then hesitated. “Crying too, today.”

  Jim’s gut twisted. “Crying?”

  “Uh-huh. Wouldn’t say why, wouldn’t talk about it, but I kept an eye on her. So did my bartender and security guys, but there are a few ex-cons out there tonight and I don’t trust ‘em. They were watching your friend and I didn’t like it.”

  “Thanks, man.” Jim shook Jax’s hand again. “I appreciate it. Anything to settle with the bar?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get her tab.” Jax grinned, his dark green eyes dancing. “Brace yourself, Jim. The woman threw the shots back like water.”

  Despite himself, Jim grinned back. “Awesome. Well, I didn’t need groceries this week, huh?”

  They laughed, then Jax headed back to the main room, and Jim stood outside the door for another few seconds, reining in his temper.

  OK, stay calm. If she’s as drunk as Jax says, yelling at her now makes no earthly sense, though it would feel amazing, no fucking doubt. Best to haul her ass home and let loose tomorrow when she’s hungover. Yeah, that’s the plan.

  Jim opened the door and looked in to the dimly-lit room. He saw Kat lying on the bed, and he stepped in, shut the door behind him. He approached her quietly, and stood over her for a few seconds, just taking her in.

  The last time he’d seen Kat, her hair had been blonde and long, almost to her pert ass. She’d obviously removed the extensions, though, and now her hair was almost aggressively short and dark brown. It was his preferred color on her, as it brought out her porcelain skin and clear, moss-green eyes. But seeing as the woman changed her hair length and color every two weeks or so, he could never be sure that he’d see it.

  She was sleeping heavily, her breathing slow and deep, and his heart ached when he saw tearstains on her cheeks. Gently, he reached out and touched them, then froze when she moaned and turned away from his fingers. The sound hit him in some deep, dark place, made him want to comfort her and hold her, and that made him angry again.

  “Kat.” He knew his voice was harsh, but he couldn’t help it. “Kat. Wake up.”

  She moaned again.

  “Kat.” He shook her. “It’s Jim.”

  Her eyes cracked open a tiny bit and he stared in to them, taken aback at the dazed, almost bewildered, pain he saw there. Right away, his anger disappeared and he became gentle. It had completely escaped him until this exact second that Kat was actually safe – that he’d found her in one piece. Seeing as anything at all could have happened to her, he supposed he should take a minute and be grateful for that.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, ran his rough fingers through her hair. “Can you hear me, baby?”

  “Jim?”

  He flinched. Her voice was weak and full of something… sorrow? Fear? Memory?

  “Yeah.” He raised her chin to meet his golden eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m going to get you home, OK?”

  Kat groaned. “How’d you find me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’m going to take care of you. Just relax, Kat. Let me help you, alright?”

  She nodded, and closed her eyes again. In seconds, she was asleep.

  **

  Jim carried Kat off the elevator in her building, down the dark hallway to her apartment. She had briefly come to in his truck, and she’d stared at him in total confusion. He’d soothed her as best he could when he wasn’t able to touch her, and she had passed out again.

  Now her head lolled against his muscular chest, and she lay in his arms, totally helpless. He held her tighter as her breathing hitched and her body tensed up a bit.

  Jim lowered his lips to her ear. “It’s OK, Kat, I’ve got you. It’s me, honey.”

  Kat muttered something unintelligible, but she relaxed again. He took her key from his jeans pocket and unlocked her door, kicking it open with his booted foot. He flicked on the lights and stood for a minute, blinking, letting his eyes adjust.

  He carried her to her bedroom, set her down on the bed carefully. He stared down at her for a few seconds, waiting to see if she’d wake up. When she remained out cold, he sighed, then took off her shoes. He bit his lip, considering, then pulled off her jeans, keeping his eyes averted. He knew she had no idea what was happening, and somehow that made it even more important for him to respect her modesty.

  Wow. Am I a gentleman or what, huh?

  He covered her with the blanket, then he went back to the living room, stripping off his own clothing as he went, and settled on to the sofa. It was way too small for his long, bulky frame, and he thought about pulling it out to a bed, but he was so tired he thought he’d be able to sleep standing up. He grabbed the knit blanket from the back of the chair and burrowed under it in his boxers and a t-shirt.

  That was when he saw the suitcase next to the door. Wide awake again, he sat up and glared at it. He hesitated for precisely four seconds before bounding to his feet, setting the case on the table, and opening it up.

  Uh-huh. She’s ready to run.

  Feeling no guilt whatsoever at his snooping, Jim went through every single item packed there. A few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts and warmer tops, changes of socks and underwear, basic toiletries. Enough for a week and a change of climate, he figured. The two glaringly missing things were any kind of ID or money, he was interested to notice, but he guessed a runner like Kat would have those stashed away separately. Probably sewn in to the lining of a coat, or a backpack.

  That’s how I’d do it if I were her.

  He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night, and repacked the suitcase. He set it back where he found it, then returned to the sofa not tired any more, but still feeling like he should be horizontal.

  Jim lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. He was surprised when he started to feel drowsy, and he shut his eyes, let himself drift away to sleep.

  Where are you going, Kat? And just what the hell are you running and hiding from?

  Chapter Two

  Olivia Jameson stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her bathrobe open, gazing at her chest and stomach. She ran her slim hand over her scars, trying not to flinch. She hated touching them, but her therapist Francine was encouraging her to do so. It was supposed to be healing and empowering – assuming that Olivia could start to accept them.

  Not yet. Not yet, I can’t. Living with them and tolerating them… that’s not accepting them.

  It was funny, how she didn’t mind much when Dallas touched the angry red lines, but she dreaded touching them herself. Olivia knew that when he looked at her, all he saw was a strong, smart, beautiful woman, ugly scars and all. Since the attack six months earlier, Dallas had kissed and run his tongue over every inch of her flesh, and she’d loved every second of him doing it.

  I don’t think I’ll ever stop being grateful and disbelieving that he can still see beyond this scar tissue. He loves me, I know that.

  She heard a noise behind her and she looked in the mirror to meet Dallas’ blue eyes. He was in the doorway, watching her steadily. He knew how much she hated doing this before her shower every morning, and he always stayed close by, just in case it got to be too much. In case she needed him.

  “How you doing, darlin’?” he said.

  Olivia took a shuddering breath. “OK, today.”

  Dallas nodded, didn’t move any closer. He watched her intently, looking out for any sign that she was back in that conference room, down on the flo
or and being cut up by her stalker. He knew her so well now; he could read her every thought and feeling in those gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes. Sometimes he knew what was happening inside of her even before she’d given the emotion a name.

  “Is it getting better?” His rough voice was as soft as it ever got. “Touching them?”

  “No.” She tried to smile. “I’m still doing it, though.”

  “Do you need me?”

  His words brought tears to her eyes. “Always, Dallas. I always need you.”

  He pushed himself off the doorframe and came over to her, took her in his huge arms, stroked her long red hair. She leaned in to him, pressed herself against his muscled chest. It still astounded her how safe she felt right there. How completely he protected her, loved her.

  She tipped her head back now, gazed up in to his face. The man was nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous, with that cropped dark hair and those blazing hard eyes and full lips. Throw in his incredible physique, razor-sharp brain and wicked sense of humor, and he was nothing short of sex on legs.

  Dallas saw her desire flare, and it sparked his own. Slowly, he lowered his head, watching her face to make sure she was totally OK with this. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. He took her mouth gently, sensing that she was still troubled.

  Olivia pulled back a bit. “I love you.”

  He smoothed her hair back from her face with both large hands. “And I love you, baby.”

  She nodded, silent.

  “What’s going on, Olivia?”

  “I – I’m afraid it’s not going to get any easier.”

  Dallas stared down at his fiancée, his heart physically hurting for her. He thought she was the most breathtakingly gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and truth be told, he didn’t even see the scar across her perfect cheekbone anymore. But Olivia saw it; she saw them all.

  She just can’t look past them yet. She looks in the mirror, her eyes go to the red and purple lines right away. She sees the scars first, her face and body under them second and third. God, what I wouldn’t give for her to see herself the way that I do…