Broken Dreams (5 page)

The phone was a similar smart phone to his, but an older model. The screen had a small crack in it.
Easy enough,
he thought. After he dragged the unlock key across the screen, he discovered there wasn’t a passcode needed to access it. If he could fist bump himself, he would.

And there it was…all of her information, contacts, and pictures. He even perused her Facebook page for a few minutes, letting out a chuckle or two over some of her posts.
She should have been more careful about her privacy,
he thought. He was almost as excited as a kid waiting for St. Nick on Christmas Eve. He noted that there wasn’t a boyfriend contact, or pictures with her and a guy. A big plus for him. Most of the pictures were of her with that mother hen ginger friend of hers. He smiled at some of the close ups. She was beautiful. Absolutely, fucking stunning.

Henry drove back to his apartment and devised a plan while he sat and ate at the breakfast bar in his kitchen. He looked through the pictures with a careful eye and noted a gold-colored, older model compact car, possibly a Honda, in a few of them. He would look for that car when he went back to the bookshop later that day to see if she was still working.

He cleaned up his lunch remnants, neatly folding up the wrappings, and tossed them in the trash can. Then he grabbed the spray cleaner and a single paper towel. He scrubbed down the entire counter top, even though he only used a small section of it.

Henry decided to shower again and shave. He felt dirty after eating his greasy meal, and he wanted his beard cut down so he was less recognizable to her. He performed his usual washing routine, which was quick but efficient. He jumped out of the shower and meticulously toweled off. He wrapped the white plush towel around his hips and stepped up to the mirror.

A frown crossed his face. The bruising was light, but not all that noticeable. In general, he didn’t like what he saw in the mirror. He learned to not like the way he looked through the years of being in the program. They cut him down so many times, in so many different ways, that he almost hated himself and how he looked. He never understood why women threw themselves at him all the damn time. He grabbed his beard trimmer and took his beard down to his usual five o’clock shadow.

Henry grabbed his toothbrush and gave his pearly whites a quick polishing. He pawed through his damp hair and looked at his stitches. They looked good. He opened the jar of hair wax and gave himself his usual messy hair.

He yanked the towel off his hips, hung it on the towel bar, and walked through his bedroom, naked as the day he was born. He went through his drawers and pulled out his D&G black micro-fitted boxers, Diesel dark wash jeans, and a plain charcoal-colored t-shirt. Standing in front of his closet, he selected a dark navy zip-up hoodie. There was always a method behind his madness.

He grabbed the fully loaded Sig and his weapons vest off of his dresser. Then he walked out to the living room. He opened the out-of-place antique trunk and exposed the modern metal trunk with a keypad within. He entered the code and opened the lid. His eyes danced around the interior and was careful to select the tools that he felt he may need: an extra magazine and his favorite long-bladed hunting knife. He tucked his weapons discretely away on his body. With the hoodie on top, no one would know a damn thing.

Henry pulled on his Nike’s, then headed out to get the show on the road.

***

Henry pulled his truck around the side of the building where the bookshop was located. He looked around, and there it was.

The gold Honda.

He smiled. Besides the fight at the gym that morning, he was having a stellar fucking day.

As he jumped out of his truck, Henry looked all around, ensuring that his stunt would go unwitnessed, and pulled the knife out from underneath his hoodie. With a grin, he slashed her tire. After that, he just had to sit and wait. It was just too easy.

He sat in his truck, making it look like he was waiting for someone which, technically, was true. He kept checking the ridiculous expensive Omega watch that was wrapped around his wrist, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music on his iPod, reorganized all the compartments around him, read a little, and played a few time sucking, mind numbing games on his phone.

About three-and-a-half hours later, his patience finally paid off.

There she was. Henry noticed that she looked really upset, and she hadn’t even made it to her car yet. He wondered what had happened. After pulling off his aviators, he set them on the dash and sat back in his seat, watching her.

The black-haired beauty threw her arms up when she saw her flat tire. She began ranting. Probably cussing a blue streak, which caused him to smirk. He loved a woman with some raw edges.

“Patience, Daniels. Patience,” Henry drawled to himself. He saw her digging through her purse. “And there’s my cue.” He jumped out of the truck just as she dumped out her purse on the sidewalk. He squatted down in front of her.

“Do you need any help?” He knew his smile was warm. Then he locked eyes with her. Holy shit. She had the most beautiful eyes that he had ever seen. Wet, but stoic. They were the color of the sky. He wished he had eyes that were like that. He wanted to be able to stare into them every day for the rest of his so-called life. Her lips parted as she stared into his eyes.

Her eyes made him feel things he had never felt before. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed them when she waited on him in the bookshop. Probably because he was trying to be inconspicuous. Plus, he was too busy looking at her meaty ass then. Besides, locking eyes with her in the bookshop would have been detrimental to his plan.

Henry knew, at that moment, that he didn’t want to do the job anymore. He wanted out of the program.

For good.

Chapter 1

-October 2014-

here I was, standing in the corridor of the church with my father, waiting for my cue to proceed down the aisle. My legs were shaking, my stupid shoes were causing me to have a slow and painful death, and I was sweating bullets.

I hate sweating. This girl does
not
do sweating. Oh, did I mention I hate weddings? I just hate the whole fucking process: picking the venue, the food, the cake, the napkins. Seriously, who gives a shit about what color and material the napkins are? You’re just going to wipe your grubby hands on them.

The only thing that I was excited about was marrying the man of my dreams…Henry Daniels. He was everything I could have hoped for. He was kind, proper, gentle, sweet and, well…wealthy. But that was just an added bonus.

He was in great shape. He wasn’t ripped, like a body builder, but he had some great tone and hard edges that I found most sexy. His hair was the perfect shade of brown with a tousled, “just fucked” look to it.

And his eyes…I could gaze into them forever. They mesmerized me because they were the color of sparkly emeralds. They always sucked me in with their captivating quality. I remember the first time that I locked eyes with him.

-October 2012-

I had just gotten fired from another job, my car had a flat tire, and I was downtown, which wasn’t exactly where I wanted to have car troubles. It wasn’t the seediest area, but there were always handfuls of freaks and weirdoes around. It looked like the typical man rescues the woman who had car troubles, but that was not the case for us.

I was standing on the sidewalk in complete frustration next to my ass-crap of a car. It was getting late, and it was getting nipplely outside. I was so not in the mood to take a cab, ride a bus, or hoof it home.

I was digging through my bag for my phone, cussing at myself the whole time because I just had to have that trendy, gargantuan hobo bag. I spent almost an entire paycheck on it. Sometimes I think a rhino would have gotten lost in that stupid bag.

I couldn’t find my phone so I stomped my foot like a two-year-old and grumbled. Then I had the brilliant idea to dump my purse out on the sidewalk and sift through its entire contents. Just as I dumped it, someone squatted down in front of me. I looked up and nearly drooled.

He had this amazing smile. So warm and sweet. Those eyes drew me in, like a moth to a flame.

My tongue was tied when he asked if I needed help. I had a few thoughts run through my head, but nothing that was appropriate to say to someone you have known for a mere two seconds. Instead, I said, “Well, yeah, Captain Obvious.” I thumbed toward my flat tire.

After I saw his startled look, I apologized. I was so flustered and so stressed out. This god-like man took my hand and we both stood up. I was taken aback because his hand was icy cold.

He said, “Shamefully, I have no idea how to change a tire.” I looked at his hand in a curious way. He let go of mine and tucked his hands in his pockets, looking away with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I just admitted that to someone, especially a woman.”

At first, I was a bit thunderstruck by his statement, but then I giggled. I mean, really, what man doesn’t know how to change a tire? Apparently, the Adonis that stood before me. He must have been far too busy looking sexy to learn silly car stuff.

Then it occurred to me that he made me giggle. There haven’t been too many guys that have made me do that. Definitely no one as divine as the man standing before me, who was admitting to an embarrassing fault. There was just something about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Then he offered his cell phone, for which I was grateful because mine was MIA. I couldn’t get ahold of my father, and my brother wasn’t any help, as usual. He was on yet another date with another girl, whom he insisted was “the one”. Phone or no phone, I was fucking screwed. After I hung up with my brother, I wanted to chuck the phone, but then I locked eyes with him again. I tentatively handed it back.

“Uh, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Henry. Henry Daniels.” He held out his hand. I took it and he still felt chilled, even though his hands had been in his pockets for the past several minutes. But the warmth of his smile made me smile back.

“Elaina. Elaina Cooper,” I said in a business-like manner. I didn’t want to let on that I was melting on the inside, and the “I want to fuck this man” light was flashing in my head with atomic power. However, the childish giggle may have said it all.

“Pleasure to meet you, Elaina. Ahh…” He jammed his hand in his hair. “Since you are having a hard time trying to find someone to help you, let’s go grab a cup of coffee, get warmed up, and we can call for some help…if you promise you won’t throw my phone.” He must have noticed that, but I wasn’t going to make any promises that I couldn’t keep.

“Umm, well, if it’s close, since driving this will be an issue.” I was jumping up and down on the inside, and I was working hard not to release my inner school girl giddy behavior. I was hoping the god-like man would sweep me off of my feet.

“Right. Yes. There’s a café, Gemelli’s, just down around the corner. We could walk there and I’ll grab you that cup of coffee. My treat. Then we can find a number for a tow truck.” At first, I tried to act skeptical. I narrowed my eyes at him. His beautiful face was still…and had some slight bruising. It wasn’t any of my business so I wasn’t going to ask.

“You wouldn’t be trying to take advantage of me, would you, Mr. Henry Daniels?” I said, even though I would have fallen for the trap in a split second. In my head, I was yelling, Yes! Please take advantage of me, Mr. Henry Daniels! I’m begging you!

“Of course, Ms. Elaina Cooper. Why wouldn’t I want to take advantage of a beautiful woman such as yourself?” Then he winked at me. It was official. I melted. My cold exterior was now in a puddle on the concrete sidewalk.

I decided that a cup of coffee with the seemingly interesting man wouldn’t be a big deal. Without a doubt, I wouldn’t mind getting to spend a little more time with my rescuer.

As we walked to the café, the streetlights began to turn on. He opened the door to the old-school Italian joint, and we grabbed a table by the window. The coffee was tasty, and I really wanted to get a slice of one of those cakes in the case, but I was too embarrassed. They looked amazing and were drool-worthy, much like the man that was sitting across from me.

In all honesty, I could have gone for some chocolate frosting right at that moment. Just a spoon and a bowl of frosting would have made this girl happy; maybe even licking chocolate frosting off of Captain Hotstuff’s abdomen. Now that would have made me
really
happy.

We chatted for a couple hours. It was an amazing night, ending with a grungy tow truck driver who smelled like a cross between body odor and leftover pizza that’s been lingering in your fridge for a few days. Once my tire was changed and I forked over half of my last check, Henry gave me his number and we said our goodbyes. He gave me a quick embrace and kissed me on the cheek. Goddamn, his lips were so soft that I was jealous. He smelled so damn good, too. I would have jumped him right there if I had any nerve.

I had to find my phone so I could call him. I skipped back to the bookshop the next morning, and the hag owner said some hot guy dropped it off. She said he found it on the street in front of the store. Whatever. I was glad to have it back so I could call him.

-October 2014-

Obviously, things worked out.

Henry was the complete opposite of me. I had a tendency to be loud, obnoxious, had a mouth like a truck driver, and sarcasm was my natural tone. He was proper and quiet.

I owned sarcasm. He always told me that he and I were the perfect pair. I had to agree. He smoothed out my raw edges, and I encouraged him to walk a little bit on the wild side. Or so I thought.

I wasn’t one hundred percent sold on what Henry said his job was. He said he ran the blood bank in town, and I did visit him at work a few times so I know that was his place of employment. Although, I wondered how it was possible for him to be so loaded when he only managed a blood bank.

When I asked him questions about his wealth, he would skirt around the subject or just ignore the question. He always had nice things, and bought me even
nicer
things. Money was no object and when we shopped, he would pull out that fancy, ‘invite-only’ black credit card and pay for everything with a brilliant smile.

My engagement ring alone must have set him back more than a swanky New York City apartment. It was six carats of pure Tiffany beauty, my favorite jewelry store. I was almost afraid to wear it in public, but he was my very own personal bodyguard.

I remember one night when the protector in him came out. We were at one of our usual boozy hangouts. Henry could drink anyone under the table. Lush doesn’t even describe it. He impressed every one of my friends with his uncanny ability.

I was taking a break from dancing when some creepy guy pinned me up against the wall. He tried to stick his hands in places I would only allow Henry or my gynecologist to touch.

It all happened so fast. Henry was across the bar and in a flash, had the douchebag by the throat against the wall. He lifted him off the floor on to his tip toes, choking the life out of him with one hand. It took me a little time to get him to let go of the pervert.

It was weird. It was like he changed into a totally different person in the snap of a finger. I figured it was the whiskey muscles taking over. That was the first time I saw him lose his cool, and I hoped it would be the last. On a serious level, it scared the shit out of me.

Anyway, about the whole job thing. Who was I to judge? I couldn’t hold down a job to save my life. Sadly, my parents had been paying my rent for quite some time. It was shameful, really, but I just couldn’t bite my tongue all the time. Every time I lost yet another job, I would get the “We aren’t going to be around forever to take care of you, Elaina” lecture.

A year after we met, Henry brought me back to Gemelli’s and proposed. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe a man of his caliber would even date me, let alone ask me to marry him. Once I croaked out the word yes, the crowded café erupted in applause.

The moment I mentioned the ring to my mom, the wedding planning started.

What a fucking epic nightmare that was! The flamboyant planner, a David Tutera want-to-be, had a vision which we weren’t seeing eye-to-eye with. Finally, I gave up. I let everyone do whatever the hell they wanted. I just smiled and nodded, all the while saying fuck you in my head.

The whole wedding wasn’t about what Henry and I wanted. It was more about everyone else, meaning my mother, getting what they wanted. I barely had a say in my dress!

I hate dresses. I’m
so
not a dress kind of girl. I would have been happy in a tank top and shorts with a pair of Jesus creepers on my feet. I may have even gone as far as a flowy skirt, if I was feeling a little wild.

Have I mentioned that I hate weddings? I mean, come on, people! Why spend tens of thousands of dollars when I could have picked out something from my closet, strolled down to the beach, and had the Justice of the Peace marry us. We were desperate for a simple wedding but, again, it wasn’t about what we wanted.

Poor Henry had to suffer right along with me. He tried to stay out of the drama, but he also wanted to see me get at least one thing that I wanted. I think I tore his head off more than a few times. He deserved a medal of highest order after dealing with me…and my mother.

I should have focused my anger on something more like a punching bag with my mother’s face on it, instead of going mental on him. He was a good sport, though, taking everything in stride. He even went to bat for me a few times, even though he knew it was a losing battle. Thankfully, he still loved me, with or without my drama.

Anyway, so there I was, counting down the minutes until I could take off those stupid shoes, when I heard several screams coming from the congregational seating area. I looked at my father, who shrugged.

What now,
I thought. Were the pews not quite the correct color wood, or were the flowers drooping? The bows? Maybe they were crushed some? I rolled my eyes, thinking about what a clusterfuck the wedding planning had turned out to be.

As my father started to pull open the door to check out what was going on, I heard more people screaming. Then I heard my brother, Nick, yelling “Run!” over and over again. It’s hard to believe that someone could possibly be more dramatic than me, but he was worse than a Lifetime movie. It was always zero to sixty with him. At least I gave it a few seconds before I acted like a complete psychotic nut job.

Nick was a couple years older than me but, at times, he acted like he was a decade younger. I wondered when, or if, he was going to grow up. An ironic statement coming from me, but whatever. Unfortunately, we looked like each other so I couldn’t deny that we were related.

I sighed. Then I realized people were going completely insane in there!

“Dad, what’s happening?” I said in an irritated tone while picking at my bouquet full of flowers, which I had a great dislike for. He closed the door in haste and looked at me. He was white. Not like the “old guy who stayed out of the sun” white, but white with fear.

My father was a strong man. I always counted on him to say the right things at the right times. At that moment, he was speechless, which filled me with some serious concern.

“Dad? Say something.”

“I…I, uh…” He couldn’t formulate a sentence so I pushed him out of the way. I needed to see for myself. I wasn’t always polite. Combine that with my slight impatience issues, and I could be a little obnoxious.

The screaming was turning panicky, and I could hear people scrambling. I burst through the door and all I saw was our family and friends running around like maniacs. I was looking for Henry when I locked eyes with my Maid of Honor/best friend, Claire James, who was running toward the corridor where my father and I were waiting.