Read Fixation (Magnetic Desires Book 3) Online
Authors: Misti Murphy
Fixation (Magnetic Desires Book 3)
Magnetic Desires
Copyright © 2015 by Misti Murphy
Edited by Tami Lund
Cover Design by Double J Graphics
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review. If you have not purchased this book from Amazon or received a copy from the author, you are reading a pirated book.
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Leo Barclay has lived with anger over the disappearance of his wife for the past six years. He can’t forget and can’t move on from the conniving woman who stole his heart and money. When she waltzes back into his life he’s determined to ignore her, but his fixation over her reappearance pushes him to make her pay for her betrayal.
Lola Barclay would move heaven and earth to find her husband. She’s fantasized about the moment she is face to face with him, but it isn't the fairytale she imagined. His hate of her is a living, breathing thing. With secrets that will change their lives, she’s determined to win him back. Even if he wants her gone for good.
To Jen Stewart for all the hours of therapy over the past year. Though I’m sure you wonder why we’re friends. You push me to want to do brilliant things.
To Sheri Williams, my sister over the sea, for all the late night and early morning procaffinating and pep talks.
Lola
I took a deep breath and struck a match to light the tiny yellow candle on top of Tia’s cupcake. It wasn’t much; a store bought cake in a foil wrapper with pink icing and tiny yellow sugar flowers, but it would have to do. Anything was better than last year, when I hadn’t even been able to get her a birthday cake at all. With shaking hands, I picked up the plate and carried it to the table where she sat staring at me with those pale blue eyes of hers.
"Happy birthday, princess." I placed the plate down in front of her and pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes. She needed a haircut, but I could barely steel my nerves enough to keep the wobble from my voice, let alone my hands.
I sang her happy birthday, and she joined in, her mouth lilting up in the corners as we finished our little duet. Then she sucked in air, her cheeks filling out as she held it in, leaned forward grasping the edge of the table, and blew out the candle.
"Can I have a party for my sixth birthday, Momma?" She gazed at me, her expression a mixture of doubt and anticipation she tried to hide.
Tears burned behind my eyes as my heart broke a little bit more, and I patted her arm as I got up from the table. "Yes, baby, I promise."
A sob ripped through my chest, but I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth so she wouldn't see how the idea of not being able to keep that promise broke me.
It had been five years since she'd come into my life. A downy butterball of a baby the first time I'd held her in my arms. She'd stared at me with the same blue eyes she gazed at me with now; her daddy's eyes.
"Have your cake, baby." I plucked the stubby candle from the cupcake. Five years felt like a second when it came to how quickly she grew, but in all other ways it had been a lifetime in purgatory. The idea of another year living like this made my gut churn. Taking the candle to the sink, I washed it under the tap, concentrating on calming the flutter in my chest that had me breathing faster. There was no room in our small apartment to let go of the emotions that surged through me. I put the candle back in the jar of odds and ends on top of the fridge. This could be the last time I celebrated my baby's birthday. "Stop it," I muttered under my breath. Everything depended on me being alert tonight. I couldn't let my emotions distract me.
"Mom, do you want to share?"
Picking up a cloth, I rubbed at the tarnished Formica countertop, although it was as clean as it would get. "No, it's your birthday cake. You have it."
She bit into the icing, and I turned my thoughts to Brady. Six years ago, I’d almost gotten out from under him. Never had I been so close to free and having everything I could possibly want. He might have let me live, but he'd destroyed me. His psychological warfare over the seven months where I'd hid my pregnancy had fallen away when I gave birth to Tia in the dressing room of the club.
His threats about taking her had become my cage instead, but I'd promised myself that as long as I was alive I would fight to get out from under his sick, twisted control.
They'd found another girl a couple of weeks back. She'd been new, and I'd barely gotten to know her before they pulled her broken body from a city dumpster. My heart had been a lead weight when the detective had shown the pictures, wanting answers, but all I'd been able to think was how glad I was it wasn't me. None of the girls had given the detective any information. To do so was a death wish, so we'd given Brady an irrefutable alibi as we always did when they tried to tie him to another victim.
The detective had stood up when he finished his questioning and scrubbed a hand over his jaw before he passed me his card in case I thought of anything. Maybe he'd known I was ready to crack, or maybe it was his honest eyes, but I'd called the man. Now all I could do was wait.
I leaned on the counter and exhaled, letting my mind wander back to when I'd been happy. It was a bittersweet thing. Thinking about Tia’s father brought a fresh ache to my heart. Time should have made it easier to forget him, but I didn’t. When I closed my eyes, I could almost feel him. His body up against mine as we stood at the ship’s railing, watching the ocean below, warmed me.
"Evening, Lola." Maggie dropped her coat over the back of a chair as she ambled into the kitchen, breaking me from my reverie.
"Hi, Maggie." I glanced at the clock. "Oh crap, I’m running late."
Maggie fussed at Tia while I went to get my things together. She was the closest thing my baby would ever have to a grandmother, and I was so grateful that she'd taken Tia under her wing, treating her the same way she treated her unruly grandsons upstairs.
I bent and kissed the top of Tia’s head. "Maggie, can I talk to you?"
Maggie followed me outside to the car, and I chewed my lip, fighting to keep my stomach from betraying my nerves. "If I don’t come home tonight—"
"What?" Maggie waited while I opened the door to my beat up car and climbed in behind the wheel.
"I need you to keep Tia safe. In case I don’t come home." A thick tear dripped down my cheek and I brushed it away. One was acceptable, but no more.
"Don’t be silly, Lola, of course you’re coming home." Maggie leaned down and patted my shoulder.
A sharp breath did little to dispel the anxiety creeping up my spine. "I might not, Maggie. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t put her through it any longer." I nodded toward the apartment. "One way or another we’re getting out."
She gaped and her hand fluttered to mine. "Oh, honey, what did you do?"
"I...I ratted him out." A quick wince was the only sign I gripped her wrist a little too tightly. "I need you to promise me, you'll take care of Tia no matter what. Promise me."
"I promise. I’ll take her straight to my apartment now."
"Good." Letting go of her, I pulled the door closed.
"Be careful, Lola."
With a terse nod, I shut the door and stared straight ahead as I drove out of the parking space. Later, if I didn’t end up in the river, I would let my emotions get the better of me, but tonight I could not afford them. The compulsion to run was overwhelming, and I fought against turning around to get my daughter and driving as far away as I could. But I knew any relief I would find in running would be short lived. No one ran away from Brady O'Brien. No one lived if they did. Except I had, not that he hadn't beaten me close to death. I hoped whatever had kept me and my unborn baby alive then would keep me safe now, and that it wouldn't take the detective long to put together a case. With the information I’d given him, they’d be able to lock the bastard up for the rest of his life.
I steeled my nerves as I arrived at Booty Trap. If anyone got suspicious, I wouldn't make it through the night. My life depended on acting like this was any other work night. Taking a seat in front of the large mirror where I had sat every night for the past decade, I put on my face. Layering on the mask, I kept a sharp eye on the door, waiting for Brady to seek me out. My hand shook as I applied foundation, and I muttered under my breath, "Get it together. You have to appear normal."
Somehow I got through my routine without smudging my mascara, and I stripped and changed into the costume hung at my station.
This could be my last night.
I didn’t know how long I would have to wait for the police to act on the information I'd given them, but it didn’t matter, because if Brady knew I’d gone to the cops, I was walking into my death. Beth’s mangled body when they’d pulled her from the river, and then Tempest's only six months later, were still vivid memories. Tempest had been so close to being free, but she’d helped me run. Her death sat like a stone on my heart. Brady might have pulled the trigger, but it was my fault she’d died.
The music pulsed through the club, and I sauntered out to my pole, doing a couple of easy spins before starting on the tricks the men wanted to see. Numbness settled over me when I danced, blocking out the ogling perverts. My focus was fully on figuring out if Brady knew. Each minute that passed, each song that ended with no sign of him, let me breathe a little easier. By the time I changed back into my street clothes, the fear that had clawed at me was only a buzz in the background.
Outside Booty Trap,
I pulled in my first full breath of the night. The sweet scent of the autumn breeze filled my senses and ebbed away the fear. For now I was safe. There was no telling how long it would last but I hadn't seen Brady the entire night. I should have known it was a false sense of security.
A fist struck my cheek as I opened the door of my car. The impact knocked my breath from me and spun me off balance, my head reverberating with pain. The metallic, coppery taste of blood slid over my tongue, making me want to gag, and I scrambled for a hold on the metal surface at my back. Brady hovered, his mouth curled up in a vicious snarl and his clenched fists were pale, the tattoos on his knuckles standing out in stark relief. His next punch connected with my nose, and I cried out, the crack of cartilage echoing as the sun tinted the pre-dawn darkness. I didn’t fight back. Why try to delay the inevitable? Tonight I'd become another body for the police to find, but Maggie would keep Tia safe. She’d promised me. Without me, my baby had a chance at the life she deserved, not the miserable existence Brady had forced on her.
Another fist to my solar plexus sent me to my knees, gasping for air I couldn’t pull into my lungs.
"You stupid bitch," Brady snarled. "Did you think you would get away with it?"
I didn’t get up. "I hope they put you behind bars and throw away the key."
He lashed out with his steel-capped boot, connecting with my ribs and sending me sprawling. The blacktop chilled me through. Knife sharp pain sliced through my side as he kicked me again. Loose rocks and pieces of glass laced my back with pain that barely dented the numbness crawling through me.
"You’re going to die tonight. You realize that?" He spat.
I didn’t react to him as I stared across the blacktop. From the other side of my car feet trod toward us. Shutting my eyes, I prayed to a god I wasn’t sure existed.
Brady hauled me to my feet, his hand wrapped around my throat, his fingers digging in to constrict my ability to breathe. "You’re well and truly fucked now. I hope it was worth it."
"Brady O’Brien?" The man's deep voice startled me as Brady shoved me up against the car.
Hope sparked in my chest, and I forced my body to relax.
"What’s it to you?" Brady growled at the intruder.
"I’m Detective Wicker. I’d like to have a few words with you down at the station."
I tried to peer over my shoulder so I could see the cop that might save my life tonight, but my face was swelling and dark spots rose in front of my eyes. A pain filled whimper escaped my swollen mouth, and Brady’s head whipped around. "Shut up."
I screamed with everything I had. Everything after that point moved so quickly I could barely be certain it happened. Brady had me in his arms with a knife slicing into my skin when the shot rang out. Only one, echoing through the still of the morning. That was all it took to change my life. I collapsed on the blacktop, and through vision that flickered like an old television set I stared at Brady, watching him bleed out from a hole in his chest.
Detective Wicker crouched beside me, putting pressure on the cut at my neck. "Ambulance is on its way. You’re going to be fine."
I fell into the darkness, and I didn’t stop falling.