A Date With Fate
Authors: Tracy Ellen
| A Date With Fate | |
| The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod [1] | |
| Tracy Ellen | |
| TracyEllen (2012) | |
| Rating: | ***** |
(Adult Content)
Meet Anabel Axelrod… She’s twenty eight, owns a bookstore, and is one determined, control freak of a woman. She’s decided to take the entire weekend off to have some fun.…
Except her unapologetically single and perfectly uncomplicated life is suddenly upside down with problems!
Her family is meddling in her personal business
The cheating love of her life is back in town
An adulterous wife of a good friend has gone missing
She’s been targeted for death by a homicidal serial rapist
An evil aunt has gone fanatic
Her sociopathic cousin has stolen her gun
The macho police chief is driving her nuts
and one not-too-tall, deliciously dark, and definitely not handsome stranger is enticing her to break all her ironclad rules on dating in the most intriguing of ways.
Strange things are happening in Northfield, Minnesota. But Anabel’s never met the challenge she won’t stare in the eye while daintily spitting sideways in the dirt.
Will Anabel begin to believe that life is never simple, some rules are meant to be broken, and a certain mesmerizing complication may be worth the trouble--even if it kills her?
A Date With Fate
The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod [1]
Tracy Ellen
TracyEllen (2012)
Rating: *****
(Adult Content)
Meet Anabel Axelrod… She’s twenty eight, owns a bookstore, and is one determined, control freak of a woman. She’s decided to take the entire weekend off to have some fun.…
Except her unapologetically single and perfectly uncomplicated life is suddenly upside down with problems!
Her family is meddling in her personal business
The cheating love of her life is back in town
An adulterous wife of a good friend has gone missing
She’s been targeted for death by a homicidal serial rapist
An evil aunt has gone fanatic
Her sociopathic cousin has stolen her gun
The macho police chief is driving her nuts
and one not-too-tall, deliciously dark, and definitely not handsome stranger is enticing her to break all her ironclad rules on dating in the most intriguing of ways.
Strange things are happening in Northfield, Minnesota. But Anabel’s never met the challenge she won’t stare in the eye while daintily spitting sideways in the dirt.
Will Anabel begin to believe that life is never simple, some rules are meant to be broken, and a certain mesmerizing complication may be worth the trouble--even if it kills her?
A
Date
with
Fate
The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod
by
Tracy Ellen
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, locations, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author is not a spokesperson or receiving endorsements for any products or titles mentioned in this book at the time of publication. Nothing written reflects any opinions or descriptions other than the author’s for fictitious use.
A Date with Fate
by
Tracy Ellen
Copyright © 2012
All rights reserved.
Dedication
This first book could only be for My Darling
Acknowledgments
To the family and friends providing my everyday reasons for existing--my eternal thanks for your endless support. You know who you are.
To the family and friends providing the fodder that fuels my evil imagination--my infernal thanks for your endless good humor. You know how I am.
To the lovely people giving me expert advice, reading my unfinished manuscript, sharing their thoughts with me, and writing reviews--please read the above starting with ‘To the family and friends…’
To Nana—wherever you are, can you feel the love?
Tracy Ellen
Table of Contents
Prologue
Monday, 11/19/12
9:00 AM
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: What I did last weekend
Dearest NanaBel,
I’m hoping this email finds my favorite camel jockey in her usual fighting form? My mind pictures you lingering over an exotic drink by an oasis wearing a pith helmet and jodhpurs while surrounded by exotic men in long, white robes.
Meanwhile, back here in the tundra, we’re finally getting the snow predicted for the last two days. It’s really coming down, so I’m expecting a slow day at the store.
I’ve finished customizing the last report on the new inventory system. Total pain, but it should pay for itself in the short run. I’m flooded with data to analyze and trying to not wet my pants in excitement. Also, YTD numbers are kicking major butt over last year.
Now, don’t fall off your hump when reading this, but I actually took this past weekend off to have fun. I know, right?
I’m sure my weekend fun didn’t come near to comparing to the splendors of exploring the deserts of Ancient Egypt, or the splendors of exploring the personal tent of a Bedouin Sheikh. (Woman, thy name is Jezebel!)
But since you’ve asked repeatedly what I’ve been up to, and since I am a most dutiful granddaughter, and since I know you’ll hear twenty different versions from twenty different people, and since we’re speaking of jezebels…
On Friday night, I stayed home and was minding my own business when I fell asleep reading…
Chapter I
“Free Your Mind” by En Vogue
Friday (technically Saturday morning), 11/17/12
2:30 AM
Before realizing I was even fully awake, I found myself sitting up at attention with my instincts screaming and adrenaline racing through my veins. My heart was beating so loud I couldn’t determine what roused me over the pressure of the blood pounding through my head.
I live alone. I had spent a quiet Friday night at home by myself to start my weekend off from work. The last I remembered was lying on my bed, surrounded by several fluffy pillows for protection, and reading a surprisingly good zombie book. I must have dozed off despite all the grisly excitement.
My room was pitch black. To get my bearings, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw the faint illumination of red numbers reading 2:31 AM. Okay, the power was working. I didn’t recall doing it, but before falling asleep earlier I must have set aside my book and turned off the lamp.
I concentrated on breathing to settle myself down. After a few seconds of breathing slowly I could hear again. I held perfectly still and listened intently.
My bed faces the open doorway. There are no windows in the hallway outside my second floor bedroom. It was a yawning darkness offering no clues as to what had catapulted me from sleep.
I was beginning to think it was a zombie-induced hallucination that had scared me awake. I was cussing myself out for reading a scary book right before bed when I heard it again. On the floor near my bed is a register vent that allows me to hear noises on the ground floor below me. Straining to listen, I recognized sounds of the hardwood floorboards squeaking below me in the main entrance lobby. The noise was distinctly audible as footsteps, if you knew what you were listening for. I have lived in this apartment since I was a kid and now own the entire old building. I know every squeak of every floorboard in the whole place--I know what to listen for.
‘What the hell…? Had someone really broken into my building?’
I quickly pictured the layout downstairs. The entrance lobby is a large, rectangular room situated in the northwest corner of the building. In the lobby are three doors. The first is a main set of double doors leading to the outside sidewalk at the corner of Division Street and Fourth Street in downtown Northfield, Minnesota. A second set of similar interior doors opens into my shop, Bel’s Books. The bookstore encompasses the entire ground floor of the building. The third door is the entrance to my place. This nondescript, steel door opens to the stairway leading up to my second story apartment over the book shop. All three of these doors are locked.
I sat frozen unable to move. I was still in denial over the sounds I’d identified and not yet reacting. The soft squealing noise I heard next meant the intruder had somehow unlocked the door leading up to my apartment. The acoustics of the high ceiling in the open staircase amplified every sound.
Now I was reacting. I was whispering out loud, “Oh my god, Oh my god!”
I had been meaning to get someone to fix the sticking door for the last week. Thanks to being a slacker, I knew someone was coming up the stairs.
When I’ve been in tight spots in my past, I’m perfectly willing to bargain my soul and convert right then and there. I vow fervently to be a good girl for the rest of my life. In my head, I recited my lifetime litany of these negotiations.
‘Oh, please, please! Get me out of this in one piece. I swear I’ll never do anything bad again...’
It seemed like I waited an eternity, but it was probably only another heartbeat before my brain took over my wimpy, codependent subconscious and shouted,
‘Get your butt up and do something yourself!’
Thinking weapons, my next immediate thought was to grab my gun from the nightstand drawer. A stellar idea except for the fact my Glock 9 mm was currently with my cousin on a gun safety and handling retreat up north in Duluth. I swore silently at the irony Candy was learning how to safely use my weapon while I had to handle a home invader with my good looks.
My mind racing a mile a minute, I pushed aside the chenille throw I had been dozing under and reached for my phone. In the dark, I patted all around the surface of the nightstand. I felt my book and my empty gelato bowl, but no cell.
Then I remembered what I’d done and it made me want to throw something in a frantic panic. I’d left my cell sitting in the bathroom down the hall on the vanity, plugged in and charging. The bathroom was located across the hall between my room and the stairs, but closer to the stairs. I couldn’t take the risk of trying to sneak over there without being heard and possibly intercepted. Also, my phone had been dying intermittently lately and I may need a new battery. It was possible even if I did make it there without being heard, I could end up being trapped in the bathroom with no cell signal or weapons.
With a heart beating a frenzied double time in my chest, I tried not to feel cursed.
I stood up and concentrated on listening. There’s a full flight of hardwood stairs, a landing, and then a switchback up another shorter flight to reach my foyer. It wasn’t long before I detected another stealthy sound. The creak I heard was near the landing.
‘Crap, crap, crap!’
I bit my lip, hurriedly thinking over my options. I desperately needed a plan right about now. The urge to freak out was not a plan. I suspected it was not a good idea to give in to the temptation to lie on the floor and play dead like I do in bad dreams when monsters are chasing me. I could hide, but probably would be easily found since my bedroom has no great hiding spots; like a secret panic room complete with a big, red button.