Hundred to One Read online

  HUNDRED TO ONE

  (Cedar Tree, Book Two)

  Copyright©2014 Margreet Asselbergs as Freya Barker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or by other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in used critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses as permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, mentioning in the subject line:

  "Reproduction Request”at the address below:

  [email protected]

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, any event, occurrence, or incident is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created and thought up from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ISBN: 978-0-9938883-1-1

  Cover Design:

  Rebel Edit & Design

  Cover Model:

  Steve Gehrke

  Photographer:

  Ivan Avila

  DEDICATION

  To the three most important women in my life.

  The heroes of my existence:

  My mother, my sister Maaike, and my amazing daughter Sanne.

  Each in their own way, they have taught me that within each of us lies an endless supply of strength;

  a bottomless resource that helps us endure, overcome, and face the world with an open mind and heart.

  I love you all so much.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This time I have to start with my Mark. The man is a virtual Saint, I swear. He puts up with mood and lack of communication for days… No, weeks on end, because I constantly have my eyes glued to one or other screen, my fingers whipping across a keyboard. Admonishing fingers sticking up in the air, warning him not to interrupt my train of thought. A lesser man would have long tossed my behind to the curb. And even if he can’t remember the names of my books, let alone know their content, his silent evidence of support shows in the way he makes sure the house is taken care of; the fridge is filled and the occasional meal is cooked. You are exactly what I need.

  The unbelievably generous women who have volunteered their time to read and critique my writings; my beta-readers, are an invaluable group. In no specific order: Linda, Deb, Catherine, Bonnie, Sam, Pam, Lena and Sarah.

  They make sure that by the time I send a manuscript to my editor, it is as clean as nine people with varied levels of experience can get it! I ask that they are brutally honest with their feedback, and they honor me with their trust when they do nothing less than that. These women also make up part of Freya’s Barks & Bites, a group that works hard to help me brainstorm, vent, decide, laugh, ogle, and most of all support. Nancy, Deb, Linda, Pam, Catherine, Kerry-Ann, Aimee, Tracy – you are always ready to pimp and promote whenever an opportunity comes along and I am so very grateful for that.

  Then there are many author friends who have taken time out of their own busy writing schedules to help me along; DM Earl, Mel Stringer, Brook Greene, Ava Manello, Elle Raven, Jaci J. and there are many more who should be on this list, which would make it a virtual ‘Who’s Who’ of what is right and beautiful in the world of the Indie writer!!

  Deb Blake and Pam Buchanan who have worked very hard behind the scenes to keep my blog, Ripe For Reader going strong, while I have been busy focusing my energies on writing, and all that comes with it. Without these girls I would have had to make choices I am not ready to make at this point.

  Linda Funk, my muse for Arlene and my ‘twin’. A character so colorful and special, it was impossible not to write a character with her in mind. Besides, she is better than any spellcheck software on offer.

  Steve Gehrke and Ivan Avila, whose joint artistry brought my vision for Seb alive, long before his story was completely written down.

  And once again I have kept my editor, my partner, and my close friend Dana Hook for last. I have no choice. By the time I get here in my dedication and acknowledgements, I am a blubbering puddle.

  Anyone who has had the privilege of working with Dana knows that she doesn’t only put all her knowledge and care into her work, but more importantly… her entire heart and soul.

  By the time she is done with my books, I know they mean as much to her as they do to me. She digs herself in that deep. There simply isn’t any way I could leave my stories in anyone else’s hands. Dana, from the bottom of my heart… if you ever leave me, I will hunt you down!!

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  HUNDRED TO ONE

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  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

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  I feel strong hands massaging my back, slowly working on the knots in my sore muscles. Thumbs are pressing down right beside my spine, easing their way up to my neck until I can feel myself slowly begin to relax.

  I know it’s him because I can smell him; a combination of yeast from the bread he insists on baking himself. Bacon fat from this morning’s breakfast and always that hint of cloves that hangs around him, which is something I’ve never quite been able to figure out. I have to fight not to lean back into his body.

  Those skillful hands I’ve observed many times with the colorful tattoos that come down all the way from his shoulders to where they almost reach his fingertips, have made their way to my neck. I can’t really help the deep groan that escapes me. It feels so good.

  “How’s that?”

  “Mmmmm. Don’t stop.”

  He chuckles and I can feel him moving closer as the heat from his body spreads over my back. I have no idea why I let him touch me like this; why I let him slide his hands in my hair and move my head forward while he licks and bites at my neck. I just don’t have it in me to fight this attraction − this draw − between us anymore. It’s been building for months and now I just want his hands and mouth everywhere.

  His body is pressing into me and I can feel the hard ridge of his cock against my back when suddenly he grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head back. My heart stops dead in my chest and I can’t make a sound.

  I am back in that dirty old bungalow with the dead man on the kitchen floor… All I can see is blood – his blood and mine. Someone is holding me by the hair and my head is being slammed into the floor. Each time my head hits, my eyes close and I can remember another time – another man – before I’m pulled up and slammed down again.

  The next thing that I remember is waking up with his body on top of mine as moves and grunt
s in pleasure. I thank God when as I gratefully pass out again.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I’m cold and shaking on the floor, but this time it’s different. I am in a different place and something feels off. My stomach hurts so bad… Wait! Who is laughing? Oh no, it’s him. It’s my miserable ex…

  “No. Fuck, no. Not again.”

  “It’s ok. Calm down, you’re alright.” The voice is deceptively calm but it doesn’t fit the sight of my ex-husband so I continue to fight with everything I have.

  “Arlene! Stop fighting me. Wake up!”

  Damn if that woman isn’t scraping layers of skin off my arms. I can barely keep my face out of her reach. That must have been one hell of a dream for her to go wild like this.

  I was preoccupied with the early dinner prep in the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed her slipping into her office but when those soft whimpers and cries started coming out of the little space beside the large industrial fridge Arlene likes to call her ‘domain’, I knew it was her. Damn. She hasn’t been sleeping again. Being stubborn as hell, she won’t take anything to help her and she falls all over herself during the day trying to stay awake, sneaking off at times trying to catch a few. Every time I try to say something she bites my head off.

  “Wha – Seb? What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Sounded like you were having a nightmare, Arlene. Heard you yelling so I came to check on you.”

  She looks at me through squinted eyes as if I’m making this shit up so I throw my hands up in surrender and head back into the kitchen; My domain.

  “Suit yourself, Arlene. I was just trying to help, and for the record, you’re a mess. You don’t sleep. You’re even crankier than usual, and yesterday you had the new girl, Julie, in tears. You won’t allow anyone close enough to help, but dammit… start helping yourself!”

  It’s probably the most I’ve ever said in to anyone but I’ve had it. I care for the woman.

  Probably more than I should.

  I drop my head on my desk when Seb backs out. Jesus. I know I’m a mess but I sure as hell don’t need him to point it out. I’ve been taking care of myself for a good few years now and the fact that I’m still here shows I can’t be too bad at it, or at least that’s what I tell myself. I just wish I could get a good night’s sleep then maybe these damn nightmares would stop. I’m just so tired.

  Deep down I know there is more to it than that, but I’m working hard to convince myself otherwise. I’m just not ready to go there yet. I hate that Seb makes me feel vulnerable, something I particularly do not enjoy given how that has worked for me in the past. Vulnerability gets you hurt.

  “Arlene, you in there?” I push myself up to go out there and see what’s up. On the other side of the counter is Caleb, a fantastically beautiful and large Native American man who has won a permanent spot in my heart since he and the rest of the GFI team managed to prevent me from being mangled in a car compressor a few months back.

  “Hey gorgeous. How’ve you been?” His bold and stern features soften when he breaks out into a smile.

  “I’m alive. How about you? Decided yet whether you are joining GFI permanently and move here?”

  “Not yet. Still rounding off some jobs and checking in on Katie. She’s been moved into a rehabilitation center.

  “Yeah, I heard that. I understand she has to relearn a whole bunch of stuff?”

  “Her large motor skills are coming along but the fine muscle control is still a challenge. She still struggles with cognitive functioning, but she’s determined to resume her job. She’ll have to retake a lot of her certifications after having suffered a brain injury that severe, especially with the loss of function she’s had, but she’s a hard-headed woman.” His eyes are as animated as I’ve ever seen them when he talks about Katie. Pretty sure there is something brewing under that stone surface somewhere, but I know it’s a complicated history.

  “Let me get you something to eat and you can tell me what brought you to town this time.” When I turn around to pour him a coffee, I can see Seb right by the kitchen island, glaring at me. His normally lush lips are a tight line. What the crap have I done now? With a curt shake of his head he turns around and focuses on the grill. Whatever.

  I look over my shoulder at Caleb to get his order and catch him looking pointedly back and forth between Seb and myself. He has a tiny smirk on his face and has obviously noticed the odd exchange but I just shrug my shoulders. I don’t have the time or the patience to figure out what everyone else has their panties in a bunch over… I’m having a hard enough time untangling my own.

  “What’s Seb making for the early dinner menu?” Caleb asks.

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” I have no interest in wading into the storm I saw brewing in Seb’s eyes just now. I have enough shit of my own to muddle through and not enough energy to deal with it all.

  “No problem. I’ll check in with the chef.” Caleb says and slips around the counter into the kitchen.

  I busy myself wiping down the counters, refilling condiments and seasonings so Julie can put them back out onto the tables for the dinner crowd as soon as she gets here, which should be shortly… hopefully. She’s been late a few times already and I really don’t want to have to start looking for help again. There are pretty slim pickings these days and when she is here, she works hard but I have to be able to rely on her.

  Every so often I glance into the kitchen where Caleb is comfortably leaning against the workstation next to the grill where Seb is focused on cooking. Caleb appears to be doing all the talking ‘cause all I can see from Seb is the odd shake or nod of his head. Finally after ten minutes or so, Caleb comes sauntering back around the counter and sits down on the stool where I’d set his coffee.

  “Probably cold now.” I tell him, “Let me warm it up for you. I just made a fresh pot.”

  “Thanks.” He says as I freshen it up and watch him add cream and stir it in.

  “So you never told me why you’re back in Cedar Tree?”

  “Finalizing some details on the case against Will Flemming.” I can feel his eyes observing me at his mention of that name. I instantly feel bile rise from my stomach and me knees almost buckle. Caleb’s hand shoots out and grabs me firmly by the arm.

  “Need to sit down there, Arlene?”

  Pressing my lips together tightly I shake my head no. Not wanting to let on how much that bastard’s name affects me, I pull myself from his grasp, grab the dishcloth and go over the counters again, just to keep my shaking hands busy. Fuck. I thought I was over this.

  It has been months since Kara, Emma’s daughter, and I were kidnapped as a way to get to Emma. My head injury had healed but the rest of me I wasn’t too sure about. I couldn’t remember a lot of what happened the night we were held captive. The man who held us turned out to be the brother of Emma’s boyfriend Gus, the owner of GFI, the investigative company that was after the crime lord that was hounding Emma.

  Will Flemming, Gus’ deranged brother was a man hell-bent on getting revenge on his brother for the pivotal role he played in getting Will locked up for years. By taking Kara and I, he lured Gus and Emma into a trap, but he hadn’t counted on the shit storm that hit him when Gus’ friends showed up to the party, just in time to haul Kara and I out of the already partially flattened vehicle. Caleb had been the one to lead that charge and managed to prevent Will from killing my friends. Of course, the bastard had already done his damage to me.

  Caleb was already on a short fuse because he had just spent time in the hospital with Katie, another of GFI’s investigators who had sustained a serious head injury in a previous attack − an attack aimed at Emma who Katie was assigned to protect. Luckily, Emma was spared serious injury, but the same couldn’t be said for Katie who is still rehabilitating, needing to relearn everything from talking to walking. Caleb is extremely protective of the women around him, but with Katie in particular whom he tries to spend as much time as possible with.

  Will Flemming�
��s name still raises goose bumps all over my skin and causes my stomach to heave. Me, who doesn’t cower for anything… not anymore, but that one night where he had Kara and me separated, he managed to tear away all my carefully constructed layers of protection and left me bleeding out; physically and mentally. Even without remembering all of the precise details, I remember enough to know I don’t ever want to explore those hours spent in semi-conscious awareness again.

  The next morning in the hospital when they did a rape kit on me and found evidence of sexual assault, I wanted to scream for letting it happen to me. I’m still upset that the doctor insisted the police had to be notified. That was my business and no one else’s. No one should know until the trial because that’s when all this shit is going to come out and I’m not ready for it. I’ll never be ready for it.

  Caleb doesn’t say much. He simply sits there sipping his coffee and looking at me calmly.

  “Have you talked to anyone yet?”

  The dishcloth slips from my hands and I grab onto the counter. “T-talk to someone? What’s there to talk about?” But I’m not looking at him. As perceptive as Caleb is, he would likely pick up on my attempt to feign ignorance, but I’ve obviously underestimated his ability to read people’s minds too.

  “Arlene.” He says firmly. “No shame, do you understand? If not, then it’s time you did. There will be more questions and at some point there will most certainly be a trial, and with that comes depositions, questions, witness accounts… It won’t get easier.”

  “I know.” It comes out in a whisper, thank God because just then Seb walks up beside me and slides a plate on the counter in front of Caleb.

  “Beef Bourguignon, the dinner special.” He grumbles before placing a hand on my shoulder. “Ok, Arlene?” His eyes are turned to me, filled with concern and the heat from his hand sears through my shirt onto the skin of my shoulder. All I want to do is curl up in his arms and bawl, but I don’t do shit like that. The only thing it would do is give me a headache, and get snot and slobber all over his shirt. That’ll teach him to be nice because I can’t handle Seb being nice so I muster up a little smile, “I’m alright.”