Read Blood Kiss (Savage Security Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Karen Tjebben
Blood Kiss (Savage Security Series Book 1)
Blood Kiss
Karen Tjebben
Blood Kiss
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Karen Tjebben
This book, of parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form
without permission from the author. For information regarding
permission visit: https://www.facebook.com/karentjebbenauthor.
First Published Edition: June 2016
ISBN
Cover art designed by Christine Taylor MacLellan
Printed in the United States of America
Blood Kiss
is dedicated to my wonderful husband and precious daughters. Thank you for filling my life with love and joy.
I love you.
A special thanks to my daughter, Christiana, who came up with the title BLOOD KISS one day while she was home sick.
I also want to thank Emily for her help and input. Her support and encouragement are invaluable and greatly appreciated. And a special thank you to Steve B. and John B. for their input and guidance on guns and gun safety.
Alisha Woods stared at the building. There was nothing special about it. It was just a typical strip mall with the typical stores: a nail salon, a Chinese restaurant, a postal store, a yogurt shop, and then one that seemed out of place in this neighborhood. She’d walked past the store countless times on her way to the Chinese restaurant, but she’d never bothered to go in. She’d never needed to.
She gripped the steering wheel, rested her head against her forearms, and exhaled loudly. She didn’t know why she was so hesitant to go in there. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to face the reality of her situation, but living in denial wouldn’t make her any safer. Denial only compounded the problem that was being denied.
She’d done her research. She’d even filled out the appropriate paperwork while she weighed the pros and cons. But as time ticked on and the situation seemed to progress, she couldn’t deny the fact that she wanted to feel safe. And now, staring at the store, she hoped that Young Guns would do that. Make her feel safe.
Alisha turned off the car and dragged her purse across the seat as she got out. She shut the car door with more force than necessary, squeezing her eyes tight as the door slammed. She really needed to stop doing that. She dropped her key fob into her oversized purse and slipped it casually over her shoulder. She could do this.
Alisha took a quick look around. Nothing seemed unusual. A father held the door open for his family as they entered the restaurant. A mom with a troupe of kids came out of the yogurt shop, and an older lady entered the nail salon.
Alisha was tired of this paranoia, constantly looking over her shoulder. She hated feeling like she was being watched, but she couldn’t deny it. She
was
being watched.
She walked to the entrance of Young Guns, took a deep breath, and pulled open the door. As she stepped inside, she realized the store was larger than it seemed from the outside. It was deeper than it was wide. She was immediately impressed by how organized the store was. Everything was meticulously in place. Fluorescent lights brightened the space, and she noticed surveillance cameras nestled high in the corners of the walls. Every inch of the store was on display somewhere in a back office. She chuckled to herself. Apparently the store owner was even more paranoid than she was. At least she hadn’t resorted to cameras yet, not that the idea hadn’t crossed her mind. She did rely on the security system in her home. If it was triggered, it would actually call someone for help.
She walked along the metal shelves and was surprised to find that a gun store would have such a wide variety of goods. The typical gun stuff was to be expected, but bagged food, flashlights, and various accessories any hunter or camper would ever need were organized neatly on the shelves. She felt like she was in an outdoor recreational store, only the focus was on guns rather than sports or biking. Along three perimeter walls lay glass display cases full of guns.
Scott looked up when the door chime buzzed. Although it would be quitting time soon, he never hurried customers out the door, not even on Saturday nights. His curiosity was piqued when she entered the store. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as he glanced at Mike, who in return shot him a smirk and a subtle head nod. Scott knew what that smirk meant. Mike thought she was cute too. Scott checked her out again, trying to read her. He was good at that, reading people, and her body language screamed at him from across the room.
She was not his usual customer. The majority of his customers were male, although he did see plenty of women. But when he looked at this woman, he noted the concern that marred her appearance. Her mouth was stretched tight in neither a grin nor a frown. She looked around nervously and dug her nails along the ridge of her thumb, picking at her skin. It was obvious that she didn’t hang out in gun stores. Her eyes flit nervously around the store. She looked like she wanted to bolt. Whatever the catalyst for her entering Young Guns, he knew fear was her great motivator. Her type only showed up in his store if they were in trouble, and by then it was usually too late for them. The damage had already been done.
Alisha wandered to the nearest gun case and stared down at the big weapon that looked like it was made to shred elephants or fight insurgents in foreign countries. Leaning forward, she read the tag – Bushmaster M4 A3 Patrolman Carbine. It was a serious weapon, something G.I. Jane would use.
Scott strolled towards her, noting her appearance. She was average height. He’d guess about 5’4”. She had pretty honey-blond hair that had a little wave to it and swept below her shoulders. He appreciated the way her jeans hugged her form. The dark denim clung to her in all the right places and her blouse highlighted her curves.
He assumed she was a professional, but not one who had to dress up for work. He liked the soft, feminine glow about her that still shone through despite the anxiety that obviously weighed on her. He’d guess she was a nurse or a teacher, some profession that required compassion, empathy, and patience. She definitely fell under the nurturer category. There was a wholesomeness and look of honesty in her eyes. From her clothes and the way that she carried herself, she clearly had a good life and had been spared the burdens and trauma that plagued so many, but something had changed that.
Scott was surprised that her focus on the gun in the case had prevented her from looking up as he approached. He came to a stop across the case from her and tapped the glass above the semi-automatic weapon.
Alisha startled, her body jerking at his sudden presence. She looked up, and then up some more until she got to his face. She hadn’t noticed him approaching her, which didn’t seem possible considering his size. He was huge. Not just taller than average, but tall as in giant sized. The man had to be about 6’5”. Alisha gave the blond hulk a nervous smile, and then shook the image of the hulk away. This man was not green or in the middle of a temper tantrum.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you,” she mumbled. She felt stupid even as the words left her mouth. He probably didn’t hear that very often. One would have to be nearly blind to not notice the man.
Scott hadn’t meant to scare her, but her reaction confirmed his suspicion. She was scared. She wasn’t in his store for recreation like most of his customers. She was here for her safety.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said softly, giving her a casual smile. “I try not to scare my customers.” He leaned against the counter behind him. He didn’t want to crowd her space.
Alisha nodded and looked around the room again. Another big guy sat behind the gun case by the back wall. Maybe she should have told someone she was coming in here. They had the look of men who knew how to make someone disappear.
“Um, one minute,” she said with a shaky smile. “I just got a text.” She dug her phone out of her purse and texted Cara the name of the store. She knew she was being paranoid, but if something happened to her, Cara could at least point the police in the right direction.
Scott watched her pretend to reply to a text. He knew what she was doing. Yeah, this woman was definitely scared, terrified perhaps. He wasn’t sure how to help her with that. He’d try to get some information out of her in order to give her some advice. But for now, he’d do his best not to scowl or crowd her.
When she shoved her cell back into her purse, Scott said, “That’s a of lot gun.” He leaned forward and tapped the glass over the Bushmaster. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter again. He smiled, hoping to relax her. Women usually responded to his smile. He’d been told that he had sexy dimples.
When she inhaled and raked her eyes over his body, he didn’t see lust in her eyes. He saw trepidation. Relaxing this woman would be a challenge. “Why don’t we start with names? I’m Scott Hansen. This is my store,” he said with a sweep of his hands.
She cracked a smile. She recognized him from the photo on the Young Guns website. “I’m… I’m Alisha.”
Ugh, she sounded like an idiot struggling to say her own name.
She tapped the glass above the Bushmaster semi-automatic. “I don’t think this is the one for me,” she said with a forced chuckle. She needed to get it together. She was behaving like a freak, which frustrated her.
This fearful person invading her body was unwelcomed. She was strong and independent. She took care of herself and a horde of spirited children every day. She typically rolled with the punches and tried to be an optimist, but this problem that plagued her cast a wide shadow of fear over her life. She was determined to expose it and deal with it head on. She wanted her life back.
Maybe she did need that giant gun to kick the ass of the dark shadow that lurked around her.
Scott tilted his head to the side and said, “You tell me why you want to buy a gun, and I’ll help you find the right one for you.”
She didn’t like verbalizing this problem.
Was she blowing the situation out of proportion? Was she overreacting?
She’d feel real stupid if that was the case. She hesitated and then announced, “I want a gun for self-defense.” She said the words with as much confidence and bravado that she could muster.
He’d already assumed that. He wanted to know the details. He knew of great programs for victims of abuse or trauma. He intended to give her all the help he could. “Why do you think you need a gun for self-defense?” he asked, his eyebrows pulling together. “Is there a problem?”
Anger boiled in her chest. She didn’t want to explain herself to this man. He wasn’t a psychologist. He was a gun seller, or whatever you call them, and she needed him to do his job. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to sell me a gun or not?” she asked sharply. “I can take my business elsewhere?” There were several other gun stores in the area. She had options.
Scott waved his hand back and forth in a gesture of submission and said, “Please don’t, Alisha. I have every intention of selling you a gun. I’m just trying to understand the situation so I can match you to the right gun.” He waved with his arm as he headed towards the back wall lined with gun cases. “Follow me. I think the guns over here will be more appropriate for your needs.”
Her emotions were all over the place. He’d done nothing wrong, but she felt so edgy. “Sorry. I’m not myself right now,” she sputtered. She hated being this person, stressed and scared. She wanted her life back, so she plastered on a smile and followed him. It didn’t escape her notice that he was leading her towards the big man behind the counter.
Gosh, was she going to turn every man into Ted Bundy?
That wasn’t how she wanted to live her life. She just needed to trust this Scott guy a little. He wasn’t her problem, but she hoped he could offer her a solution.
They came to a stop at the back of the store. The other man sat on a stool reading a gun magazine. He glanced up at her. She gave him a weak smile, acknowledging his presence.
“No worries,” Scott replied, fiddling with a key ring. “It sounds like you’re under a lot of stress.” He’d get her to open up. Sometimes you just had to take your time and be patient.
“Yeah, you could say that.” She rolled her eyes and laughed, trying to be friendlier.
The man on the stool cleared his throat but kept his eyes on the magazine.
Scott looked over his shoulder at the man and tossed a thumb in his direction, “That’s Mike.”
“Hi,” she replied with a smile.
He stood and extended his hand for a shake. “Mike Lewis. Nice to meet you,” he said. When she grasped his hand, he noted the firm grip she gave. That was a good sign. Handshakes tell a lot about a person. She was strong and determined.
His hand was rough, unlike most of the men’s hands that she knew. His thumb nail was badly bruised. He’d eventually lose it. She released Mike’s hand and took in a deep breath. On her exhalation, she let her story spill. “I have a stalker. It seems to be progressing. I’m scared.”
“Okay,” Scott said. He nodded his head, relieved that she was trying to take control of the situation before it was too late. “How do you
know
you have a stalker?”
Mike settled himself on the stool and went back to faux reading the magazine. The pages crinkled under his tightening grip. Stalkers were serious trouble. He gave her a quick look and then stared at the magazine again. The words blurred before his eyes as his thoughts were on her and the danger threatening her.
“About a month ago, I received a flower delivery at school. I’m a teacher,” she added with a slight shrug. “The flowers were beautiful. I don’t know who sent them. The card only read
Secret Admirer
.” Alisha laughed cynically. “I was actually flattered. I have a few guy friends that I flirt with,” she said, not sure why she gave them that information. It seemed insignificant, but she needed to tell them. She wanted them to know her thought process, to understand that she wasn’t a complete moron for thinking that it wasn’t strange from the beginning. Normal men don’t go around doing the ‘secret admirer’ thing. “The guys flirt back, but there’s nothing serious. I figured one of them wanted to take our friendship to the next level.” She shrugged. She felt like such an idiot. “I thought he’d reveal himself after I got the flowers, but that didn’t happen. He just sent more stuff with cryptic notes. Some of the notes talked about things I’d done, so I know he’s watching me, but I have no idea who he is.”
A coil of tension worked through Mike’s gut. She was in serious trouble, but thankfully the damage wasn’t irreparable yet. These situations slowly escalate until the shit finally hits the fan. He absently turned the page of his magazine even though he hadn’t read a word.