Darkest Perception_A Dark and Mind-Blowing Steamy Romance Read online

  Darkest Perception

  Shari J. Ryan

  Copyright © 2018 by Shari J. Ryan

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  * * *

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Editing: Samantha Schafer

  Proofreading: Julie Gustafson-Monk & Lisa Brown

  Formatting and Cover Design: MadHat Books

  ISBN: 9781981097098

  About the Author

  Shari J. Ryan is an International Bestselling Author of heartbreakers and mind-benders. Shari was once told she tends to exaggerate often and sometimes talks too much, which would make a great foundation for fictional books. Five years later, Shari has written twenty novels that often leave readers in tears, either from laughing, or crying.

  With her loud Boston girl attitude, Shari isn’t shy about her love for writing or the publishing industry. Along with writing several International Bestsellers, Shari splits her time between writing and her longstanding passion for graphic design. In 2014, she started an indie-publishing resource company, MadHat Books, to help fellow authors with their book cover designs, as well as providing assistance with the self-publishing process.

  While Shari may not find many hours to sleep, she still manages to make time for her family. She is a devoted wife to a great guy, and a mother to two little boys who remind her daily why she was put on this earth.

  Make sure you join Shari’s Twisted Drifters Reader Group at: http://bit.ly/2e17FsX

  Also by Shari J. Ryan

  Man Handler

  Man Flu

  Last Words

  Manservant

  Raine’s Haven

  Spiked Lemonade

  Queen of the Throne

  A Heart of Time

  A Missing Heart

  A Change of Heart

  No Way Out

  Ravel

  House of Tinder

  TAG

  The Schasm Series

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1. Harley

  2. Axel

  3. Harley

  4. Axel

  5. Harley

  6. Axel

  7. Harley

  8. Axel

  9. Harley

  10. Axel

  11. Harley

  12. Axel

  13. Harley

  14. Axel

  15. Harley

  16. Axel

  17. Harley

  18. Axel

  19. Harley

  20. Axel

  21. Harley

  22. Axel

  23. Harley

  24. Axel

  25. Harley

  26. Axel

  27. Harley

  28. Axel

  29. Harley

  30. Axel

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Last Words

  Need More?

  To Josh.

  For giving me the fuel and ideas to jump down the rabbit hole with this story.

  Acknowledgments

  Linda - Thank you for keeping up with my crazy mind and taking 90-degree turns with me everything I get a new idea. I love working with you, and I treasure our friendship.

  Julie - I literally don’t think I could survive without you anymore. You pick up all my little breadcrumbs and remind me to breathe on a daily basis. I don’t know what I would do without you or our friendship.

  Samantha - Thank you for your blunt pointed finger and for jumping in to help me with this book. I feel like we need a fisheye pic for the after party I’m having in my head haha.

  Lisa - Thank you for giving me another pair of eyes and the time and attention to my words, as always <3.

  My betas - You knocked this one out of the park with me this time, and I’m so grateful for each one of you. Thank you for pushing me to finish this book after two years, and thank you for keeping me laughing and entertaining me daily. I love all of you!

  ARC Readers - Your support means everything to me and seeing the same names for each of my books makes my heart feel so full. Thank you for sticking with me!

  Readers - you are the fuel that keeps this fire growing. Thank you for finding me, following me down the strange roads I often take, and especially for sharing my books with others. I love you all!

  Friends - You know who you. We may be close in distance or on opposite sides of the world, but knowing you have my back through thick and thin carries me through the hard days, and has me twirling through the good days. I love you!

  My family - You make me feel like I could conquer the world and you have always given me the motivation to go further than I ever thought possible. I love you all! Mom, Dad, Mark, Ev,

  Lori, my sister—best friend, my first memory, the other half of my imagination, my reason for laughing out tears or snorting water out of my nose, life gets busy, but I feel like you’re always sitting next to me with your undying support.

  Boys—Bryce and Brayden, you’re a little bit devious and I don’t think you need any more crazy ideas, so please put this book back down. Thank you. I love you xoxoxo!

  Josh—the love of my life, my other half, and the one who puts up with my crazy brain—this is your fault. Love you !!! Xoxox

  Praise for Shari J. Ryan

  "5+ STARS FOR DARKEST PERCEPTION!! AMAZING is all I can say!!! OMG, this author can write any genre and turn it into a 5 star read. I absolutely loved this story, it kept me on the edge of my seat and turning pages. Harley and Axel's story was full of deceit, secrets, pasts and so many feels. If you love romantic suspense you will want to 1-click this book, it is so good. I voluntarily reviewed an advance reader copy of this book.”

  Rhonda, Top Goodreads Reviewer

  "Ryan has always wowed me as a reader. She has proven over and over again she can write the funny, witty rom com, the sweet tearjerker romance, the thought provoking heartfelt tale and now she’s delivered a mind blowing, twisted suspense with The Darkest Perception.”

  Emily, Southern Vixen’s Book Blog

  "WOW! I couldn’t put this book down. I was on the edge of my seat through the twists and turns. Lies, deceit, love and suspense are a few things going on in this story. I love the characters. This story keeps you guessing. I received an advanced reader copy for an honest review.”

  Jenny, Magic Beyond The Covers Book Blog

  Prologue

  After eight years of studying for my psychology degree, I was offered the opportunity to help suffering patients and work alongside the man I had idled throughout my education. It was a proposition I didn’t need long to consider. I was destined to help the mentally ill—it was my way of fostering my parents’ life accomplishments, and I would do what it took to make a difference in the lives of those who needed help.

  When I was asked to sign a paper, endorsing my commitment, I hardly let the ink dry before handing over my agreement.

  I signed my life away.

  That was less than a year ago and now my dreams look as if they’ve been shattered. I’m standing in the doorway of the lab I have spent countless hours at, researching, developing, and implementing. The tables are broken, the glass from the windows are in millions of shards, scattered across the ground. Our laptops are gone. The whiteboards have been torn from
the walls. Each filing cabinet has been broken into and emptied. Everything is gone.

  "Mason, what happened?" I ask, walking up behind him. The shock on his face mirrors what I feel, but he looks terrified at the same time.

  "I don’t know who would have done this," he says. "Listen to me." Mason grabs my shoulders firmly and stares me square in the eyes. "Run. Get the hell out of here as quickly as you can. Whatever you still have on you from our research, hold onto it—never let it out of your sight."

  I stare blankly at Mason, waiting for the punchline to this sick joke, but the sight of our lab being trashed is more indication than I need to know how serious this situation is. "What happened?" I ask, spinning around slowly, assessing every piece of damage I didn’t initially notice.

  "I made a mistake," he said. "I need to go now!"

  "What? No! What about me?" I plead with fear, needing an answer to what’s going on.

  "You don’t want to rot in prison with me. I have to take the fall, so just forget whatever you learned from me. Forget me altogether, as a matter of fact. Just get of here while you can."

  "How can I just forget you?" I ask, feeling a pain in my chest. I’ve looked up to this man since I started at Boston University. He understood the direction I wanted to take my life and has mentored me throughout my years here and now he’s telling me to forget everything, including him. "You’re not making any sense, Mason. This is ridiculous. I’m sure this is just a break-in and a misunderstanding."

  "I wish it were that simple," he says. "Please, just listen to me. Go find something else to do with your life and take care of yourself. As long as you stay out of trouble, you’ll be fine. I promise."

  "This isn’t over," I tell him as he shakes his head at me, disagreeing.

  "Good-bye." He runs out of the lab as if it were on fire and maybe I should be doing the same, but I feel frozen with shock. What am I missing here?

  1

  Harley

  A Year later

  With my key in hand, I slip the metal into the lock and twist, but there's no give. Shit. No. Please, no, no, no, no. Not today.

  "Hey." A man interrupts my failed attempt at unlocking my door. Familiar with his voice, I turn around with a defeated sigh. He's gawking at me like everyone else has been lately. Maybe it’s the weight loss, or the lackadaisical look pouring from my eyes "Harley, this is it. I feel bad for you, kid, I do, but I have applicants on a waiting list to get into this building, and you're not paying the rent. I wanted to do your old man a favor and help you out as long as possible, but … I'm sorry." The ever-so-convincing man he spoke to a year ago wasn’t my dad, but he can think that if he wants to.

  "No," I grunt, inhaling sharply through my nose to avoid the tears that would burn over my raw, ruddy skin. "You don’t understand. I have nowhere to go. I’ll be on the street, Marcus. Just give me a little longer. I’ll find something soon."

  "I'm sure you got a friend or sumthin’, Harley. Come on, don't make this harder than it has to be, okay?" I can see a touch of empathy within his sagging eyes, but the furrowed skin of his forehead tells me my luck has run out.

  I can’t just give up though. "You don't understand," I beg. "I'm trying my hardest to find a job, but no one will cut me a break."

  "You're a pretty girl. We all got options, even if they ain't always appealing. Ya know what I mean, doll?"

  "No," I snap. "No, Marcus, how the hell could you suggest something like that? You want me to go sell my fucking body on the street just so I can pay rent for some shithole without working heat or plumbing?"

  "Easy, kid. I’m sorry, okay? It just seems like your sorta desperate at the moment, and there ain’t a whole lot of options out there. You know what, though? I saw some rented space down the street. There was a big sign looking for help, and I think it included room and board. I don't know what it is, but maybe it's sumthin’. If not, there's a shelter down on Francis Street. They'll help you." An exasperated breath puffs out his unkempt, raggedy beard as he pinches his nose and clenches his eyes. "Harley, you gotta get out of here. Just go."

  I can't do much other than stare at Marcus—the landlord who has had more patience than I could ask for—and wonder how he pulled himself out of poverty. I thought if anyone would understand, he would. I know for a fact Marcus used to live on a bench in Boston Common, and someone obviously gave him a break at some point. Back then, before I became who I am now, I would see him while running in the mornings. I would give him spare change … food … anything I could offer because seeing someone at rock bottom is heartbreaking. At least, for me it was. It’s the reason I avoid looking in the mirror these days.

  "Can I get my stuff at least?" I ask, sniffling.

  He nudges me out of the way and opens the door, standing to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. "You got two minutes." How kind of him. I want to remind him of the days I used to help him, but I’m sure it wouldn’t matter.

  I grab my backpack from the closet and fill it with as much crap as I can stuff inside. The last thing I take is my cereal box with only a few crumbs left, but without a dime to my name, I’ll need to ration whatever I can.

  I don't need the full two minutes he gave me. "Thanks, Marcus." There is hostility in my voice, but it feels warranted.

  I walk past him, clutching the cereal box. "Chin up, kid, it can only get better." Yeah, unless starvation wins this battle.

  I amble down the stairs to the first floor and out into the early December air. The chill hits me like a backhanded slap, biting through every layer of my clothing—it's so cold, it hurts to breathe. My timing couldn’t be worse seeing as the sun is beginning to set, which means it'll only get colder from here.

  With my arms locked tightly around my torso, I walk down the block toward the shelter, feeling the empty cereal box shake against my side with every shiver running through me. I had everything for so long and never appreciated it. Mom and Dad gave me a comfortable life. Both were determined to offer me all opportunities in life after living through their own wars and battles. I was their princess and felt like I sat on a pedestal, but as Dad warned me, it takes one bad decision to ruin everything that had been worked for. While still assuming I was secure inside of my protected bubble, I chalked his lecture up to just another parentally required speech, but I know now that he was right and I should have listened. Though, I’m not sure I could have predicted my life taking the turn it did.

  Where is the building with the hiring sign? I don’t think Marcus would lie and make up a job posting. He wasn’t letting me stay anyway. Then again, I’m not sure I’ve ever met a person who knows how to be trustworthy. I glance at the front of each building for the sign, finally spotting it toward the corner at the end of the block. The sign reads as Marcus said, which is the surprising part because it isn’t often that a job offers free room and board. In any case, I’m desperate and I’ll try my failing luck again. I tap the back of my knuckles against the fogged-up glass door, but the more I try to look through the clear spots, I begin to accept that the space is empty since its completely dark in there. Still, refusing to give up hope, I use the back of my sleeve and rub another foggy spot off the glass to get a better look inside, but there’s still nothing to see. It looks like an abandoned store that has been trashed.

  So much for that idea. I’ll stop by again tomorrow, but someone is probably just offering the unemployed false hope, especially while advertising free room and board. It’s not like I wasn’t already aware that everything is a scam these days. It sucks that it’s so hard to find something legitimate. I slap the door with frustration and turn around to continue walking toward the shelter, but after only a couple of steps away from the door, I swear I hear the faint sound of footsteps coming from inside the building.

  Someone’s probably screwing around with me, but I knock once more, hoping to lure out whoever’s walking around an empty, dark space. Since I’m literally asking for trouble right now, I try and convince myself that this id
ea is way worse than going to a shelter for the night. I turn around to leave again, but this time I hear a lock unlatch. The door opens a couple inches but not wide enough for me to see inside. I should be going now, maybe even start a slow run because I was, in fact, born with a brain and a gut that speaks when danger is present. "What do you want?" a man asks. Each of his words sounds like it’s covered in rust and gravel as it echoes through the store.

  I should still be walking away, but as I’ve been good at doing lately, I tell my gut to shut the hell up and make a stupid decision anyway. My poor decisions are the exact reason I’m here at dusk, knocking on a random door looking for a job with housing. "Yes, I'm inquiring about the job you have posted on the window—the one with room and board," I say, squinting and cocking my head in every angle to see a hint of anything inside the dark opening.

  "What qualifications do you have?" the man asks without pausing. He sounds tired, and far too irritated to be bothered by my inquiry.

  "Well, I don't know what the job is for, but I'll tell you I'm desperate. I have nowhere to live, no food, and no money." That might have been too much information, but when I can give the truth, I’ll offer it to anyone who will listen. "Oh, but I do have a college degree, so that's gotta be something, right?" My college degree is a joke. It’s a piece of paper stating that I will forever be in debt, but that I’m also a certified psychologist, and the stupid memento was used as a wick to start a fire in my borrowed wood stove a month ago.