Tag: romance

  • Week 132 – No second chances

    She wanted to kiss him.

    Lacey couldn’t take her eyes off the handsome stranger who had just saved her life.

    His eyes were honey coloured, his hair as black as night, and he had the most endearing dimples. He was like a dream, a mirage, something that was too good to be true, especially in her messed up life, and yet he was standing in front of her touching her. His fingers clasped her chin and he was staring into her eyes like . . . like . . . well she wasn’t sure, but his eyes were like magnets, holding her gaze.

    The man cleared his throat. “You need to sit down.”

    “Sit down?” she echoed, confused.

    “Your leg,” he said, releasing her chin and pointing to her leg where she could see a stain on her sweatpants.

    “My leg?” Her brain was mush right now and she couldn’t figure out why a stain on her pants was important.

    “You were shot,” he said gently.

    “Shot?” Lacey shook her head in denial, she hadn’t been shot, people who were shot were in pain and she felt . . . nothing, she was numb.

    “You should sit down,” he said again.

    Lacey was aware of people buzzing around them but it felt like she and the handsome stranger were alone in the universe.

    No second chances.

    That was what Callie had told her after her life had fallen apart six months ago. Now was the time to find what she wanted in life and go for it. No holding back, no hiding in the shadows, because if she didn’t embrace the possibilities that presented themselves she might not get another chance.

    Callie.

    Where was Callie?

    Her eyes scanned the area and settled on a body.

    Callie’s body.

    Her best friend was just lying there, drenched in blood.

    Dead.

    She was dead.

    Lacey heard screams, but it took her a moment to realise they were coming from her. She tried to get to Callie, but she was picked up and carried further away.

    “Those men were aiming for you,” her saviour told her as he cradled her in his arms. “Is there anyone you know who wants to hurt you?”

    There was only one answer to that question.

    And it chilled her to the core.

    Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she began to shake. Her eyes sought his because that was the only thing that could steady her in this moment. “My ex-husband,” Lacey replied on a sob. Then she buried her face in the man’s shoulder and wept.

  • Week 131 – The tension was so thick you’d need a machete to cut it

    Connor didn’t see a way where this ended well.

    The gun had misfired once but it wasn’t going to happen again, there were four men surrounding them, and he had to wonder why they would come back, and why they had zeroed into the woman he was currently holding in his arms.

    Who was she?

    And why did someone want her dead?

    The man who appeared to be in charge lifted his weapon, pointed it right at the woman’s head, but before he could fire the most wonderful sound in the world filled the air.

    Sirens.

    Finally back up was on the way, maybe his number wasn’t up quite yet.

    The four men exchanged glances, then turned and ran, jumping into a car then screeching off down the street.

    It took a second for him to accept that they were still alive, he had been so sure that they were about to meet their maker.

    Slowly he turned the woman around so he could see her face, she was still staring right through him, her blue eyes blank with shock. Connor gave her a shake, he needed to snap her out of the haze she was stuck in.

    “Hey,” he said gently, grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger he gave her another shake.

    The woman gave a slow motion blink and her eyes cleared. They looked deep into his and he felt something inside him shift. She felt it to, the woman sucked in a breath, and quickly looked away, then cautiously her gaze moved back to meet his. The tension was so thick you’d need a machete to cut it.

  • Week 130 – She heard the click of a hand gun, flinched as it misfired

    Pain.

    Someone slammed into her and she in turn slammed into the ground.

    A heavy weight pressed on top of her and it took Lacey a moment to realise that it was the man who had knocked her down still on top of her.

    What was he doing?

    Gunshots.

    She could hear gunshots again.

    Maybe the man was trying to protect her from the bullets flying about.

    Footsteps.

    Lacey could hear footsteps and they were coming closer.

    Her brain was struggling to process what was going on but one thing was crystal clear, the people with the guns were coming towards them.

    She said her prayers and prepared to die.

    “Get up,” someone growled, kicking her.

    The man who had knocked her down and protectively covered her body with his own, stood, dragging her up with him and supporting her weight when she would have crumpled back down to the ground.

    Lacey squeezed her eyes closed, she just wanted this to be over with.

    She heard the click of a hand gun, flinched as it misfired.

    A momentary reprieve only because she knew the bullet was coming.

    The man behind her held her tightly.

    Lacey waited for death.

  • Week 129 – What he saw couldn’t be real

    The scene before him was chaos. People were screaming and running about, there was broken glass, upturned tables, a car had crashed into the wall of a building partway down the block, and he saw blood.

    Detective Connor Zaal stepped into the street and tried to decide where he should go first. No doubt someone, or probably multiple someones, had called 911, and other cops would be showing up on the scene within minutes, but for now he was on his own.

    There was the body of a woman lying just across the street, that seemed as good a place as any to start.

    Connor ran over, dropped to his knees, touching his fingertips to the woman’s neck to check for a pulse even though he could tell by all the blood that she was already gone.

    When he confirmed that she was deceased he stood, his eyes falling on a woman standing just a couple of feet away. She stood out because she was the only person in the street who was standing still.

    The woman looked like an angel. Long golden blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders, large blue eyes framed by long dark lashes, pale skin that looked like porcelain, and a small, lean body. She was dressed in what looked like a black leotard and pink sweatpants, and there was a dark spot on pants.

    What he saw couldn’t be real.

    Blood.

    Had she been shot too?

    Connor stood and strode to the woman. “Ma’am, are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you get shot?”

    The woman just stared through him, she was clearly in shock, but they didn’t have time for that. There was no telling whether the person who had just shot up the street would return.

    As though his words brought it about more gunfire erupted.

    Without a second thought, Connor flung himself at the woman and knocked her to the ground, covering her body with his own and praying that back up arrived soon.

  • Week 128 – I’m done with this conversation

    Lacey Bentley took of her ballet slippers and put them away in her bag. It had been a long day and so far she wasn’t sure that it was even going to work out the way she wanted. She had been to so many auditions, making it right down to the last couple of dances, but she never got the part.

    It was starting to become a pattern.

    A pattern she didn’t want to keep repeating but didn’t know how to stop it. She danced her heart out every single time, just like she had been since she took her first dance class when she was three, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.

    “You ready to go?” her best friend and fellow dancer Callie asked.

    “Yep,” she replied, and tried to paste on a smile, she didn’t want to let her friend know that she was feeling depressed, she’d been at this ballet thing for two years now and she was getting close to the end of her rope. Maybe it was just time to give up on her dream, find a new one. A more achievable one.

    “Why are you so pouty today?” Callie asked as they took the stairs from the studio down to the street.

    “I’m not pouty.”

    “Oh yes you are, whats wrong?”

    “Nothing, I am not being pouty,” Lacey insisted, as they walked through the foyer and stepped out into the cold afternoon. It was the middle of winter and even though it was only four o’clock it was already starting to get dark.

    “Lace, you know you can tell me anything. What are you upset about?”

    “Nothing!” she exclaimed. “And I’m done with this conversation.” With that she turned and flounced off down the street. She didn’t get more than two steps before the sound of gunfire filled the air.

    Lacey spun around just in time to see Callie drop, blood blossoming on her chest.

    Tires squealed.

    People screamed.

    She stood there in shock.