Love's Last Kiss, page 1
LOVE'S LAST KISS
A DEADLY FORCE NOVEL
SHARON WRAY
Copyright © 2022 by Sharon Wray
Cover design by Eileen Carey
Cover images of Fallen Angel by alfonsodetomas/ Depositphotos & monastery by Fo_De /Shutterstock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names/product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Toban Books Publishing Company LLC and Sharon Wray are not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Toban Books Publishing Company LLC, Fairfax, VA, 22033
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022906249
Print ISBN: 978-1-958197-00-4
E-Book ISBN: 978-1-958197-01-1
For my husband Patrick …
Who taught me that Happily Ever Afters do exist.
ALSO BY SHARON WRAY
THE DEADLY FORCE ROMANTIC SUSPENSE SERIES
Every Deep Desire (Book 1)
One Dark Wish (Book 2)
In Search of Truth (Book 3)
Love’s Last Kiss (a standalone novel in the Deadly Force world) takes place after Every Deep Desire (Book 1) and before One Dark Wish (Book 2).
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Also by Sharon Wray
Acknowledgments
About the Author
PROLOGUE
Rose Guthrie sat on the edge of her brother’s hospital bed, not sure she believed his story.
She didn’t trust fairy tales or favors or freebies. She knew the truth of the world. No one gave away anything for nothing. No one could be trusted. Ever.
“Timmy.” She handed her eleven-year-old brother a wet washcloth. “Tell me again why you have chocolate all over your face?”
“The man brought me ice cream.” Timmy used the washcloth to wipe his mouth, missing most of the sticky sauce around his lips. “This man brought all the kids on the floor ice cream. He also wore a white eye patch. And he bowed.”
“He bowed?” She took the cloth and placed it on the table next to his hospital bed. “Like a butler?”
“Like a pirate! He had an eye patch and brought ice cream and bowed.” Timmy used two fingers to cross his heart. “I swear.”
“I believe you.” Rose took his hand and squeezed. “It’s just that a bowing pirate with ice cream in a pediatric unit seems weird.”
Timmy withdrew his hand and sank against the thin pillow. “I didn’t mind.”
She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. She knew better than to hover. “How did this bowing man get in? Did the nurses see this man giving away ice cream to kids?”
Timmy shrugged. “Dunno.”
Although he didn’t smile, she noticed he’d lost another tooth. He was only eleven, but she always thought of him as older.
“Hmmm.” She nodded toward the empty Leopold’s Ice Cream cup on the rolling bedside table. “You know you shouldn’t take food from strangers.”
“The man said he was visiting all the sick kids, handing out ice cream.” Timmy wiped his mouth with his arm, transferring the sticky chocolate onto his pajamas. The same superhero PJs she’d fought the pediatric nurses over. But the jammies had been worth the fight. They’d been a gift from Harry, a family friend, and made Timmy feel more at home. More comfortable. More like a normal kid.
She nodded, not wanting to push the free ice cream issue. She’d take it up with the nurses before she left. “At least this bowing man brought you chocolate.”
“Chocolate fudge. My favorite.” Timmy grabbed Teddy Hawkins—his mangy brown bear with one ear almost torn off—and held it to his chest. “I wonder how the bowing man knew?”
She rubbed Timmy’s head. “Maybe the same way Santa always knows what you want.”
He frowned until she withdrew her hand. “I don’t believe in Santa.”
The way he said it, so definite and decisive, made her angry. Not at him. Never at him. Just furious with her parents. Her uncle. Her cousin. Everyone in general. But she’d never let Timmy see her bitterness. He could never know how hard she fought for their daily survival.
“I know you don’t believe in Santa. I’m sorry if I treated you like a baby.”
“Rose.” Timmy tilted his head, his hazel eyes appearing more green in the room lit by fluorescent bulbs. “I’m eleven.”
She nodded, and it was her turn to cross her heart with two fingers. “I promise to remember that.”
What he didn’t realize was that she’d remember everything. The fact he was born during a hurricane. The way he cried for weeks with colic. The night he turned blue, and her parents rushed him to the emergency room. The oh-so-many times she’d almost lost him to cardiac failure. The horrible truth that he could die before receiving the heart transplant he needed.
Her eyes welled, and she turned away. I will not cry in front of him. Not again.
The room lights dimmed, and she was grateful for the cover to wipe away a tear. Lately, the city’s power had been fluctuating on and off with no explanation from anyone in charge. When the lights returned to normal, a nurse appeared to check all the machines hooked up to her brother.
Grateful for the reprieve, Rose went to the window overlooking Savannah’s darkening sky. She didn’t want him to see her so emotional. He needed her to be confident and courageous. Not a trembling mess who’d no idea how to either save him or go on without him.
The nurse took his temperature, and Rose focused on the world outside. The setting sun gave her enough light to see Timmy’s view: an adjoining rooftop covered in humming HVAC units and rusty water towers. A nearby helicopter pad outlined in flashing red and white bulbs. Old, battered antennas that probably didn’t work. She sighed, wishing she had the money to pay for a private room with a better view.
Condensation had formed on the window’s edges, caused by the too-hot outside air in conflict with the too-cold room. While the nurse spoke softly to Timmy, Rose used one finger to inscribe their combined initials. Then she wiped it away with her fist. The irony was that Timmy probably liked the view. He enjoyed taking old things apart and rebuilding them. He loved steel and concrete and glass. And bell towers. Especially bell towers.
If she were being honest, right now she’d rather take in the industrial ugliness than acknowledge the newly stripped bed next to her.
She rubbed her forehead. The low-grade throbbing couldn’t block out the images of what the previous patient had left behind on the bedside table: a worn stuffed lamb with one eye, a superhero water bottle, two comic books, and a blue brush with dark hair within the bristles.
The one-eyed lamb studied her, forcing her to acknowledge the truth. Kids who went home didn’t leave behind personal items.
“Miss Guthrie.” The nurse came up next to her. “Timmy’s temperature is still elevated.”
“I don’t feel hot,” Timmy said from the bed. “I want to go home.”
The nurse touched Rose’s arm. “The doctor won’t release him—”
“I know.” She knew the game. They’d been playing the same one since Timmy was four months old. “He can’t be released until he goes twenty-four hours without a fever.”
“The doctor will be in tomorrow morning. You can talk to him then.”
“Thank you.” When the nurse left, Rose faced Timmy, making sure to keep her shoulders up and her gaze on his. “It’s just one more night.”
He frowned at her. “You always say that.”
She held out both hands, palms up. “What can I do to make this better?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Bring King George.”
Is he daring me?
“You know I can’t do that. Not after the last time. We got into tons of trouble.” They’d both learned the hard way that nurses didn’t approve of smuggling white, semi-feral cats into hospitals.
Timmy shrugged, but she could tell from his crossed arms that he was disappointed.
Her sinuses felt tender, and the low throb in her head became a steady drumbeat that made her eyes hurt. Hell, even her teeth ached enough to fill her mouth with a bitter, metallic taste.
“Do you want some water?” She poured a drink using a spare glass and the pitcher from a nearby rolling cart. Except her hands shook, and she dripped water on the table.
“No,” Timmy said. “I want King George. He helps me sleep.”
She grabbed some tissues to clean up the spill. “Maybe I’ll sneak King George in next time.”
“You always say that too.” He clutched Teddy Hawkins and closed his eyes. “Can you tell me an Iria story?”
“Of course.” She sat on his bed again and clasped her hands in her lap. “Eleven years ago, an alien pod landed in Savannah, Georgia. It was a dark night, so no one heard the crash, except for me. After running outside in my nightgown and bare feet and prying open the pod, I found a baby boy. But when I removed him and his teddy”—she looked at Teddy Hawkins, which Timmy now used as a pillow—“the pod disappeared.
“Luckily, the instructions hidden within Teddy Hawkins were clear. Whoever found the baby was to take him into their family and raise him until he became a man. Except he’d be no ordinary man. You see, this baby was really a rogue alien warrior from the planet Iria. He’d been sent to Earth to hide from his enemies. Before I could take the baby inside, I had to swear an oath that I’d keep him safe, help heal his heart, which had been damaged during the trip, and promise to give him a family of his own.”
Timmy smiled, his eyes still closed. “That promise is my favorite part.”
The tightness in her chest eased. All because of that ridiculous story she’d made up after he’d been born, when she’d been twelve. She’d originally invented the tale to make him feel unwelcome. Because, seriously, what middle schooler wanted a pregnant mother and a baby brother? But over the years, it’d become their history.
Their canon.
“That’s why my heart is bad and no one can fix it.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “I’m a dangerous rogue alien waiting for my real family to send me an Irian cure.”
She fought to keep from grabbing his hand. How she wished that story were true. An Irian cure was far more accessible than a pediatric heart transplant for a congenital ventricular septal defect.
Especially when she couldn’t afford the legally-required private health insurance to cover the million-dollar-plus procedure, and the extra two million dollars needed for a lifetime of anti-rejection drugs. Especially when she had less than five hundred dollars in the bank. Especially when she wasn’t even sure of her rights as Timmy’s guardian. “I just wish we had a way to contact the Irians.”
“Contact who?” The male voice came from the open doorway.
“Hey, Mr. Dolan!” Timmy waved in Kade Dolan, a six-foot-four man with a shorn head, scruffy facial hair, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
She stood and smoothed down her white blouse.
“We’re talking about my secret alien family,” Timmy added. “If I can contact them, maybe they can fix me.”
She met Kade’s concerned gaze.
“That sounds like a plan.” Laughter tinged Kade’s voice as he beelined for the bed. Tonight he wore his standard work uniform of black jeans and T-shirt. As usual, his clothes outlined a perfect masculine form that turned heads everywhere he went. And she had to admit she wasn’t immune to his blue eyes, easy-going smile, and sexy scent.
She wiped her palms on her jeans. At least she’d put on lip gloss and brushed her long hair into a high ponytail. “What are you doing here?”
Kade held up a brown bag in one hand and a can of lemonade in the other. “Samantha told me Timmy was in the hospital…”
He paused, and Rose heard his unspoken again.
“That was nice of Miss Samantha.” Timmy sat up, tucked Teddy Hawkins next to him, and tightened his blanket. “I like it when she visits. She makes me laugh.”
Rose frowned. She’d told her friend Samantha, in confidence, about Timmy’s readmittance. Rose had good reasons for not sharing her life with the others she worked with, mostly because Timmy didn’t know what she had to do to support them.
“Samantha makes me laugh too. But not like your sister.” Kade sent Rose an exaggerated wink and handed Timmy the lemonade can. The condensation dripped onto the blanket. “I also brought you these.”
Timmy put the can on the table, accepted the bag, and dumped its contents onto his lap. Small action figures fell out. “Whoa! Attacktix battle figures! These are awesome!!”
There were at least twenty brightly painted and heavily armed sci-fi soldiers.
“Thank you, Mr. Dolan!” Timmy smiled at Kade. “Are you and Rose working tonight at the hotel? Can you take her? I don’t like it when she walks alone.”
Kade’s eyes narrowed, and Rose took his wrist. “We’ll be right back, Timmy.”
“Okay.” Timmy was already setting the figures on the rolling table and making battle sounds that drowned out the beeps of the blinking machines hooked up to his small body.
Once in the hallway, and after making sure Timmy couldn’t see them through the door’s small window, she released Kade. “How did you get onto this floor? It’s restricted.”
“I spoke with a nurse downstairs, and she let me up.” He nodded toward the narrow hallway behind her. “This is the tiniest hospital I’ve ever seen. I didn’t even know it was here in the city.”
“It’s a specialized pediatric unit. Years ago, the Prioleau family chose this location in the historic district, hoping it would feel less institutional.” She squinted at him. Considering he could win a Greek-god competition, she wasn’t surprised the nurse relented. He’d probably left the woman speechless. And for some reason, that annoyed Rose. “That present was generous, but—”
“Don’t worry. Samantha hasn’t told Deke or anyone else at the club where you’ve been for the past few days.” He glanced at Timmy before meeting her gaze again. Only now his blue eyes had darkened. “You haven’t told your brother the truth about where you work?”
She shook her head. “He knows I work as a waitress at the Mansion on Forsyth Park.”
“What will you do if Timmy finds out you’re also working at Rage of Angels club as a—”
She touched Kade’s lips with her fingers. “I can’t worry about that now.”
He nodded, and she said, “Thank you, Kade.”
Kade took her hand, and she inhaled sharply. Yet she didn’t fight him. His grip was firm, although not painful. With his gaze fixed on hers, he lowered his head until his warm breath tickled the inside of her wrist.
It was the first time he’d initiated any kind of intimate contact, and the sensation of his lips so close to her skin flooded her with heat. Her lower stomach clenched. Every breath she’d ever breathe again stalled in her chest, and the world around her dimmed until all she could perceive was the man, and the heat he released, towering over her.
“Kade?”
He squeezed her wrist, and the action made his massive bicep flex beneath his T-shirt. She exhaled in short bursts. The blue depths of his eyes, filled with so many emotions, sent a pain into the center of her heart.
He dropped her hand and began to pace the hallway, taking his heat with him. The air around her felt cooler, and she took a few more deep breaths.
He ran his hand over his head and continued moving as if on a private mission. As if he couldn’t stop himself. As if afraid of what would happen if he did stop. “Deke is asking questions about the time you’ve been taking off. You’re the best the club has, even Deke knows that, but there is a line of women who’d love to take your place.”
Because the money was so good. Yes. She knew. She leaned her shoulder against the cold, concrete wall, grateful for the reprieve from Kade’s body temp. She was glad he’d pulled away. The last thing she needed was another complication.
