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  SHARI J. RYAN

  Booktrope Editions

  Seattle, WA 2014

  COPYRIGHT 2014 SHARI J. RYAN

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions

  should be directed to: [email protected]

  Cover Design by Shari J. Ryan

  Edited by Katrina Mendolera

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  PRINT ISBN 978-1-62015-533-2

  EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-561-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014919080

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT PAGE

  DEDICATION

  A SPECIAL THANK YOU

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PROLOGUE

  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

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  PREVIEW OF RED NIGHTS

  MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE

  In dedication to my parents:

  Mom and Dad, I would not be who I am today without you. You’ve given me the tools to thrive and the support to feel successful in my goals.

  Mark and Evilee, I’m very lucky to have you in my life. You have gone above and beyond to make me feel cared about and make me a part of your lives, which I couldn’t be more grateful for.

  Love you all, always.

  A SPECIAL THANK YOU

  I’d like to thank our service men and women for the sacrifices given to protect and serve our country. For the blood, sweat and tears you shed, you are not thanked enough for what you have volunteered to do.

  I am lucky enough to be a part of a military family and to be a part of people’s lives who have served this country proudly. It is and always will be an honor for me to know you, and to call you my friends.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To my stellar book manager, proofreader and friend, Jennifer Gilbert, thank you for being my first reader and my biggest cheerleader. Your relentless efforts in helping my books succeed have never gone unnoticed. You go above and beyond and always outdo yourself. There aren’t enough ways to say thank you in the world to make myself clear on how much I appreciate what you do.

  Katrina Mendolera, an incredibly talented editor, my books would be nothing more than words on paper without the constant hard work and passion you bring to my stories. You have been a terrific friend and I can’t thank you enough for the amount of work you do to help make my books shine.

  Ken Shear and Katherine Sears, over the past year you have made many of my dreams come true and given me the opportunity to achieve more than I ever could have thought possible. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this remarkable publishing company.

  Marni Mann, who I now call my narrative consultant, thank you for your sage advice in crafting this story. Not only have you been a true friend, but you have also been a wonderful mentor.

  Randy Gilbert, thank you for offering to be my awesome cover model. We all know a cover sells a book . . . so I’m holding you responsible.

  To my beta readers: Kristina, I treasure our friendship and your honesty. Your honesty has helped me to grow this book into a better story, and for that, I couldn’t be more thankful. Gerrit and Jess, thank you for taking the time to offer your expertise in helping me smooth out some technical areas of the story. Lisa, as always, thank you for passionate feedback. It gives me the motivation to push myself a little harder. And last but not least, Tanya, I treasure the friendship we’ve grown to have and I thank you for taking the time to read this book and offer me your feedback.

  To my friends and family, I thank you for the constant love and support you have shown me over the past few years. Living out a dream doesn’t come without sacrifice and while I may seem as though I’ve fallen off the face of this earth, please know I love you all.

  Lori, thank you for always reading every excerpt, every quote and every new idea I send you, and thank you for giving me the motivation to keep writing. Love you.

  Josh—my dearest. You are the sweetest and most understanding husband in the world—I’ll get to those dishes in the sink tomorrow. I promise. Love you, always.

  Boys—Bryce and Brayden, as you get older, I cherish the moments when you look at my books and call them: mommy’s books. My heart warmed when you, Bryce, told me you want to write a book someday. Brayden, even though you don’t know what it means to write a book, you look awfully cute walking around the house holding one.

  PROLOGUE

  A SHADOW GROWS on the ground in front of me, and I know only one of us is walking out alive. It will be me. The echo of gravel crunching beneath his feet puts all my senses on alert. I hear the hollow short breaths wheezing from his weary lungs. The pursuit is up, and I dig my fingertips into the brick wall behind me, bracing myself to face this asshole once and for all.

  The shadow slinks into the light and a knot pinches in my stomach as a translucent red dot wobbles through the space in front of me, which seems to rest directly on my chest. My focus is pulled further into the conjoining street, and I’m able to draw an invisible line between the red glow and the hollow barrel held in his right hand. My throat swells around my tonsils. I can do this.

  But then there’s Krissy.

  Blood-stained fingers of his left hand are woven around a knife and splayed across my sister’s mouth, the blade pointed straight down into her collarbone. One wrong move and she’s done. I never would have thought her luck would be so poor.

  The corners of his lips curl upward into a sinful grin, revealing even more blood. He’s only holding the knife up to her throat for effect—so he can drag out every second of Krissy’s miserable death.

  Her dark cobalt eyes are large and appear silver from the reflecting street lights, which illuminates her fear even more. Her chest heaves in and out. In and out, faster and faster, fighting with the last breaths she will take. Time has stopped around us. The world is out-of-focus, and it’s just her and me—the little girl kneeling next to me at our dollhouse, the little girl sitting at the other side of our tea party table, the young woman whose shoulder has gathered so many of my fallen tears. The loss of her will make my life meaningless once gone. I will always protect you, I want to say. But it�
�s too late.

  His hand concealing the pistol lifts again, and the red dot moves up and down from my chest to my neck, swaying with each of his breaths.

  “Last chance to tell me where Daddy is,” he snarls in a gravelly shout.

  If I knew, I would have told him way before things ended up like this. My sister should not have to die in his place, and neither should I. I would happily take that bullet for my sister, except I assume he has more than one bullet.

  I slip my hand into the back waistband of my pants and curl my finger around the trigger. I have one chance. Please, God. Save her. My hands spring forward, and I pull the trigger without having time to focus on the target.

  The bullet grazes the side of his torso and a simultaneous bite of pain burns through my shoulder. I’ve been shot, as well. The right side of my body is immediately numb. My knees buckle and my body tumbles to the gravel as if pulled down by a magnetic force.

  His grin returns and it glows sinisterly in the dark. He takes one look at my sister and pulls the knife through her throat with one smooth glide. My heart hammers against my ribcage. I can’t feel anything, yet I’ve never felt so much.

  Krissy’s thick, wavy onyx-colored hair spills over her flushed cheeks as her head crashes to the pavement. Her eyes are still staring at me, but the girl inside will soon be gone.

  The asshole looks back at me. I’m next. And that’s fine. I don’t close my eyes. I will stare death in the face. I am braver than what stands between me and whatever exists on the other side of this life.

  Sirens scream in the distance and the glow of lights bounce off the surrounding walls. I had called the cops when I found his note on Krissy’s bed, and I told them where they supposedly were. I’m almost caught up to them, and I’ll do whatever it takes to save Krissy.

  While it only took them several minutes to find us, they were seconds too late. Krissy’s neck was already slashed.

  As I acknowledge the sirens, the asshole points his blood-covered finger at me, and the corner of his lip pulls up into a sneer as he shoves the knife into a holster on his leg. He darts around the corner, clutching his wounded area with both hands.

  I drag myself over to my sister’s lifeless body. I sweep the hair off of her pale flesh and place a kiss on her forehead. “I will kill him, Krissy, even if I die trying. And if I don’t die, I will live for both of us, and I will retaliate on everyone who has done you wrong. I won’t ever trust anyone again. I’m so sorry I let you down.”

  I lay my head on her chest, listening to the slow beats of her heart. I pray for the next thump until there is only silence within her.

  Now I pray for her peace, and I wish death upon her murderer.

  CHAPTER ONE

  CALI

  LOOK AT ME. You know you want to.

  I slide my pen in-between my teeth and arch my left brow slightly. Eye contact. Check.

  I love a good first day of college, even if I should have already graduated a year ago. The scent of floor cleaner, paper, and whiteboard markers waft through the air. Everyone is dressed neatly in back-to-school attire and brand new shoes. These are things students seem excited about; looking the new year head on with a fresh start. I look at it as a ticking time bomb. There’s no telling how long I’ll be able to stay at this school. Sometimes it’s a week; sometimes it’s a couple of months—usually not much longer. It’s been a couple weeks since I moved here, and I have a feeling I won’t be breaking any records in this location.

  The classroom is moderately sized, fit to seat thirty students at most. The seats are being filled in slowly, and the professor is playing with a pen at the podium, studying each student who enters the classroom. Most professors decorate their rooms with articles, pictures, and diagrams. Not this guy. The walls are all empty except for the whiteboard behind the podium. But even the whiteboard is blank.

  “Welcome to Cognitive Psychology,” the professor says. His voice is gruff and intentionally sultry—it sounds forced, like he’s reeling in his bait.

  I’ve gotten too good at this no blinking game. It works the fastest; large doll-like eyes are his weakness. Therefore, I earned his attention five minutes ago, and I can see a nervous twitch developing behind his creepy dirt-brown eyes. What an act. A teacher should be used to students staring at him.

  I glide the pen slowly out from between my teeth and curl my tongue around it before sliding it out from between my lips.

  He clears his throat. Check. “I’m going to be handing out the syllabus now. Why don’t you all take a few minutes to look it over, and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have.” He lifts the stack of papers from his desk and wets the tip of his thumb with the side of his tongue. I bite down on the bottom corner of my lip in response. I know he can see me.

  Lucky for him, I’m sitting in the front row. He stands before me with an unsteady hand and fumbles through the papers before handing one to me. A strand of his perfectly quaffed auburn hair falls over his forehead. Keeping my focus steady, I inventory every freckle on his face, noting the slight cleft in the center of his chin and memorizing the location of the slight bend in the middle of his nose. I can hear the fluctuation of his breaths. They quicken as his hand reaches out to mine.

  My fingertips sensually stroke over his tough ivory skin as I tug at the papers. “Thank you, professor.” I place the tip of my finger between my teeth. “Did you forget to introduce yourself? Or was I too . . . preoccupied to notice?” I look him up and down, playing into the game I already know he likes to win.

  He stumbles backwards until he knocks into the podium. “Class, I apologize. I seemed to have forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Professor Lance,” he says breathlessly as he scribbles his name out across the board. His handwriting looks as though it belongs to an eight-year-old boy, which confirms his sloppiness.

  “Ah, much better, professor . . . Lance.” I speak loud enough so my voice carries over the muffled whispers behind me, forcing him to shift his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. Check. I have this game in the bag.

  Might be the fastest one yet.

  When he passes by me to the next aisle, my hair is tugged and my head is pulled backward. I swivel my body around in my blue plastic seat and offer a guileful grin.

  “Cali, seriously?” Lex sighs, giving me an exaggerated eye-roll. “Leave him alone. He looks like a nice person.”

  “Those are the most fun, Lex.” I thrust my chest out and release an exaggerated sigh. “You wouldn’t believe me unless you tried it.” She won’t try it. So unknowing. So innocent.

  “You need help, lady,” she says with a sidelong smile.

  I waggle my eyebrows and turn back around. It isn’t me who needs help, I want to say out loud. Lex thinks this is a game I play, but she doesn’t realize I’m only here at this school for one reason. And it’s not to pick up random guys like she thinks I like to do. It’s all part of the act I’ve had to make believable. Even to her.

  “He’s married. And not interested,” she whispers in my ear with a hint of hostility. “You know, like that guy from last night? You’re becoming a home wrecker.” She thinks I took that guy home last night. Another part of the act.

  “Is that a challenge?” I whisper back. I love proving her wrong. She has yet to acknowledge my expertise on the male brain. I’ve only been in this town for a couple weeks, but Lex has followed me around like a lost child ever since we met at the administration office when I came to register for classes shortly after I moved here. She’s an intern there, helped me settle in, and then attached herself to me like glue. I guess my life is entertaining for her, or at least the life I’ve pretended to lead.

  I study his every word, his every move and his every blink over the course of the next hour. When the bell in the hallway chimes and the class filters out, excitement rushes through me. But Lex ruins that when she slaps my arm, nudging me out of my study. “Let’s go, Cali. Lunch.” I can sense she’s becoming bored with what she thinks is a gam
e.

  “Meet you there in five,” I say, pulling my arm out of her reach. She groans, ultimately giving up the fight, then turns and bustles out the door with the rest of the eager lunch-ravenous students.

  I drop my notebook into my bag and stand up slowly. Once again, I clinch my lip in-between my teeth. Then I sling my bag over my shoulder. Perfect. Last one to exit the room.

  Three. Two. One—

  “I’m sorry I didn’t hear your name?” he calls over.

  I shake my head, locking my most innocent looking gaze on his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” I say in a hushed voice. “I’m Cali Sullen.” A nervous smile tugs at his lips. Captured.

  It’s clear he doesn’t recognize me, which is surprising since Krissy and I looked so much alike. There was a three-year difference between us, but she looked a little older, and I look a little younger, making it easy for us to pass as twins if we wanted to pull it off. I twirl a strand of hair around my finger and widen my eyes. “You didn’t ask any of the other students their names. Why me? Do you . . . like what you see? Is that why?” I curl my lips into a slight smirk, knowing I likely twisted his fucked up mind into pretty little knots.

  “I. Ah. Ah. Have a nice day, Ms. Sullen.”

  I fidget with the buttons on my shirt and drop my gaze to the ground. “Um. You too, professor?” I spin on my heels and rush out the classroom. I’ve added the icing to this cake. I love fucking with men who I know are fuckers.

  I slump down into the warm leather driver’s seat of my car and pull down my mirror to reapply lip-gloss. When I look at my eyes, I feel ashamed. I feel like Mom would be disappointed in me. Then I wonder if she would be proud of me for protecting the innocent. Although, I’m not sure retaliation falls under protection. In any case, I try to avoid my reflection—the uncontrollable bitch who stares back at me. It’s hard to remember back to when I wasn’t like this—when I wasn’t on a constant revenge kick—when Mom and Krissy were still alive. I feel like when that life ended, this new shitty one was its replacement.