Chapter
1
“I
will not hire a bodyguard!” Jayla Ralston stormed across the room. She righted
a small bookshelf and started picking up the books from the floor. “You’re
overreacting once again.” Jayla couldn’t believe her sister would even suggest such a thing.
“How
can you say that?” Jenna’s eyes moved over the mess as she racked her fingers
through her hair. “Your apartment has been broken into and trashed. You’re
being impossible. What do you think Mom and Dad would want you to do if they
were here?”
“That’s
a completely unfair question.” Jayla closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Jenna had a way of hitting below the belt using their parents to create guilt,
knowing only too well it worked every time.
Jayla
grabbed the broom from the closet off the living room to sweep up the broken
shards of glass from pictures that had been scattered about the room. “I will
think about it, okay?” she whispered, only wanting to make peace with her twin.
“You
know I love you, Jayla. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Jenna’s
voice softened. “I worry about you.”
“I
know, but you really don’t have to. I don’t think he will bother me again.” Jayla’s
voice broke. She wished she could show more confidence. Looking at the two of
them was like looking in a mirror. They were identical, and yet very different.
“I’ve
got to go, sis. Will you be okay?”
“Of
course, Jen. I’m fine. I’ll just clean up.” Jayla walked her to the door and
hugged her close. “I love you. Please don’t worry.”
As
she shut the door and turned to survey the damage: the overturned chair and
knick-knacks scattered about the living room, Jayla choked back the tears. How
could he have done this to her? Her pictures of her family were broken and
strewn about the floor. A bodyguard wasn’t needed. What was needed to get away from it all.
She
turned and headed to the bedroom. Dragging a couple of suitcases out of the
closet, Jayla started throwing clothes into them. She debated whether to call
Jenna and decided against it. She wanted to disappear and give herself a chance
to think. Jenna would only be telling her she couldn’t run from her problems,
but to meet them head on.
She
needed more than this. Jayla slammed the suitcases, grabbed her laptop and
headed outdoors. She threw the bags in the trunk and gave a good look around
the parking lot. Convinced no one was around, she jumped in and started the car.
She pulled her hair back in an elastic band and pulled from the parking lot.
With no destination in mind, Jayla aimed for the coast.
For
the first few miles, Jayla kept a watchful eye out for anyone following. After
an hour it became clear she was the only one on the road. Her grip loosened on
the steering wheel, the tension leaving her shoulders. As she rolled the
windows down to smell the cool ocean breeze, Jayla’s mind wandered. She wanted
her life back -- yet, she wanted a different life. She was filled with many
regrets of late.
Driving
the coastal route, she paid no mind to the time until her stomach grumbled
reminding her she’d missed dinner, and she became very aware of the time. Dark
shadows had crept across the landscape. She clicked on the headlights,
realizing the gas gauge read empty. How could she take off on a whim without
thinking of fueling up? She could hear levelheaded Jenna
now -- “never thinking”.
At
a bend in the road, the headlights illuminated a sign for a bed and breakfast,
The Cliffhouse. There was a sign below for vacancies. Jayla perked up a bit. At
least it wasn’t far ahead and it would do for
the night.
She turned into the entrance and
drove up the winding, cobblestone driveway. Around the last turn, a large Victorian house came into view. The
place was dark. Not surprising since it was ten o’clock. Hopefully someone was
still up.
Jayla
sat there for a moment and wondered if they were open. The needle on the gas
gauge hovered just at empty; she had no choice but see if they had a room for
the night.
She grabbed her small overnight bag
and left the rest of the luggage in the car. After locking
the car doors, she walked briskly up the steps
of the veranda, past the wicker furniture.
In the dark, Jayla rang the bell and waited. She shivered, straining to
see beyond the porch. She wrapped her arms around her middle and paced in front
of the door. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled with the sense of being
watched. But that could be. This place was out in nowhere. Jayla shook off the
sensation—just remnants of the god awful day.
Jayla rapped on the door with
impatience.
“Yes, I’m coming,” responded a male
voice from inside.
The door swung open. Finally.
She was about to speak, but when she
got her first look at him, words couldn't get past her lips.
The man filling the door leaned
nonchalantly against the doorjamb and studied her. His tousled dark hair looked
as if he'd just got out of bed. His tanned, bare chest had her pulse racing.
“Yes?"
Just that single word brought a sizzle
of awareness coursing through her body. “I'm...er...sorry. I didn't realize the
time and I was running out of gas."
He glanced over her shoulder, to the car and
back. Perfectly shaped eyebrows rose while sensuous brown eyes surveyed her
from head to toe. Okay, she probably didn’t look too presentable after the long
road trip. The salty air had given her skin that needs-to-be washed feel.
Forget about the lipstick, which had undoubtedly been gone for hours.
His scrutiny made her uneasy. Surely he
could say more than one word?
"Do you have a room
available?" Jayla shoved a lock of hair behind her ear.
He stood upright away from the door
without a word. Jayla couldn't help but notice how his well-worn jeans looked
like they'd been hastily zipped up, the tab partially undone.
"Come in." He stepped aside.
She
followed. The foyer was small, but well kept. He stopped at a desk and turned.
"How long are you staying?"
"Tonight, maybe longer." Jayla
tried to read him. He didn't invite small talk. "I'm Jayla, Jayla
Ralston."
"Okay, Jayla." He said her
name slowly, almost seductively. "Sign here. Name's Tristan."
She nodded and leaned down to complete
the paperwork. She looked up and met his dark brown eyes. Her pulse ratcheted
up another beat. There was something in his sharp look that held her gaze.
He finally broke the spell and gestured
for Jayla to follow him to her room. "If you need anything, I'll be around
in the morning."
Jayla let out a deep breath. This place
might do after all. No one would look for her here. Alone at last. She dug out
her laptop and started to write.
The change was just beginning.
***
He watched until after midnight when
the house had finally gotten dark. Only one guest had checked in tonight. The
only light left on was the one on the veranda.
He slipped around to the west side
of the building, treading carefully on the pebbled walkway, not wanting to
leave any footprints. He had watched the house for months and knew the west
side wing was empty and that there didn’t appear to be plans to fill the rooms
even in the busy months of the summer. At the side door that once was the
servant’s entrance, he ran his hand along the top of the doorframe, and found
the key put there years ago -- sixteen years.
He chuckled. The poor fool probably
forgot it was there, or forgot anyone else knew it was there. The key slid
easily into the lock. It still worked. He let himself in and shut the door,
waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, though it didn’t matter, this place
was as familiar as the back of his hand. Pocketing the key, he
started for the back stairs carrying one bag—that held all his belongings.
He had come back to claim what was
rightfully his and claim it he would. It might take some time to get. Halfway
up the stairs, he stopped and listened. There were no sounds, only the sound of
his breathing. He shook his head and continued up to the first bedroom. Trenton
laid on the bed fully clothed, eyes closed. He couldn’t let his memory play
tricks on him. They were gone. He had survived. He was back - and would make sure
certain people paid for what he had been through.
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