Alarm

  Digital Edition

  Copyright © 2014 Shay Savage

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Formatting by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editing : Chayasara

  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-except in the case of brief excerpts or quotations embodied in review or critical writings without the expressed permission of the author, Shay Savage.

  The characters and events 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.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  EPILOGUE

  OTHER SHAY SAVAGE TITLES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  I’m not stupid.

  Though I wasn’t a straight A student, I got good grades in college and not only did well on tests, but I actually understood the material. I finished on time, didn’t waste my parents’ money, made some good friends, and ended up with a decent job that paid the bills.

  I never considered myself a rash person. I was the exact opposite of spontaneous. I always thought things through before I did them. I rarely opened my mouth without thinking first. I thought about the impact of my actions on other people before I did anything.

  Then I met him.

  The alarm in my head went off immediately.

  I ignored it.

  “Stay here,” Aiden commanded. His fingers tensed around the grip of his weapon. “Don’t get out of this fucking car for any reason, you hear me?”

  I couldn’t answer. I still couldn’t breathe, much less speak. I’d never so much as seen a gun in real life unless it was holstered on a police officer’s belt, let alone been so close to one. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the gleaming black metal.

  Aiden opened the driver’s side door and started to get out, the gun clasped tightly in his hand.

  “Aiden?” I managed to croak as I tore my eyes away from his hand and back to his face.

  He paused, halfway out the door.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” he said again.

  “What are you doing with a gun?” I whispered. I felt like my body was trying to shut down, and I wondered what going into shock felt like. For a second, the phone call from my mother informing me of Dad’s heart attack filled my head. At this moment, the feeling of all my blood leaving my veins was similar to how I had felt when she had told me he was gone.

  I focused on Aiden again and couldn’t understand what I was seeing.

  Everything my subconscious had been warning me about Aiden Hunter began to fill my head. All this time, I’d been telling myself not to judge him. All this time, I’d been convincing myself that everything was fine, that he was fine. Since the moment I had met him, I’d been trying to convince myself that the only danger was in my head.

  But it wasn’t.

  The Aiden in front of me wasn’t the man I had known the past week. His face was barely recognizable. His eyes were dark and full of hatred. His jaw was locked, and his teeth were clenched. He had gripped his hands into fists, one of which held a deadly weapon. This man was not the one who cooked breakfast for me. This was a man consumed with raw fury.

  Echoed words from Lance’s girlfriend flowed through my head: “I have never seen him mad, personally, but I hear it’s not pretty.”

  No, it was not pretty. It was not pretty at all.

  And with that, my life was forever changed.

  ONE

  The alarm went off. I fumbled around for the snooze button, smacked it multiple times until the noise stopped, and then dozed until it went off again.

  I groaned, yawned, and stretched before shoving myself out of bed and starting my day. The normal routine began—pee, shower, wash my hair twice because that was what the bottle said to do, make coffee, eat oatmeal with blueberries in it, and drink a protein shake so I didn’t have to lie to my mother if she called and asked if I had. There was absolutely nothing unusual about my morning.

  There never was.

  I gathered up everything I needed to take with me to work and quickly surveyed my condo. Nothing was out of place. The throw pillows were at the proper angle against each of the arms of my neutral-colored couch, the remote control was right at the edge of the coffee table, and each of the coasters was properly stacked in their tray. From the bookshelf, a conglomerate of heroines surveyed the room as if their twelve-inch forms could protect the place from intruders. Princess Leia and Queen Amidala from Star Wars were joined by Wonder Woman, X-Men’s Storm, Spider Woman, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

  “So, what’s your plan for the day?” I asked Buffy. “Got some vampires to take out? Maybe a few demons?”

  She didn’t answer, not that I expected her to. Sometimes I liked to hear a voice in the empty room, even if it was my own.

  “I’m heading off into the oh-so-exciting world of corporate project management,” I informed the whole group. “I bet you wish your day was going to be as interesting as mine.”

  I had always had a thing for the superwomen of movies and comic books. They were the epitome of strength, valor, and living life on the edge. They protected the innocent with their cunning intelligence and dedication. They led exciting lives.

  Unlike me.

  I looked into their blank eyes and shook my head, wondering if I was losing my mind. It would just figure. Only I could drive myself into insanity just because I had nothing better to do.

  Sighing, I left the figures to their enthralling lives on the shelf and carefully locked the door to my condo. It wasn’t that I expected to be granted superpowers so I could go about ridding the world of nefarious criminals, but the whole idea was so far removed from project management, it was enough to leave me wondering if I was actually becoming clinically depressed. I’d refused all the usual anti-anxiety medications when Dad died, determined to cope with it all on my own though Dad’s clinic partner and friend kept telling me I didn’t need to do it by myself.

  It had been two years since a heart attack took his life, and though I missed him dearly, I was now able to rejoice in memories of my father and his impact on my life. Using anecdotes from the lives of his patients, he had taught me to always watch my actions and my words. I was careful both with myself and with those around me.

  Always.

  I considered giving Mom a call this weekend to see how San Francisco was treating her. Moving from my childhood home in Ohio to start a new life had been her coping mechanism after Dad was gone. As a result, our relationship had dwindled to the point where we only saw each other on major holidays instead of multiple times a week. Having her most of the way across the country made me miss her, and my father, more.

  I never told her that. I didn’t want to upset her or make her think she should move back. It wouldn’t be fair of me to put that kind of pressure on her. She needed to restart her life for her own sake, and I wasn’t going to do or say anything to get in the way of her goals.

  In my garage, my slightly-rusting Mazda was pretty far removed from an invisible plane, but it was the best form of transportation—the kind that was paid for and still ran pretty well as long as I remembered to g
et the oil changed on time. Instead of villains, I fought traffic on the highway and a co-worker for the last space in the parking garage.

  Lost that battle.

  I smiled and pleasantly greeted the security guard as I swiped my access badge and headed into the building, up the stairs, and to my cubicle space overlooking the parking area. I checked my calendar, grabbed my laptop, and hoped there wouldn’t be donuts at the first meeting of the day.

  I couldn’t win a conflict with myself any more than I could rush to take a parking spot from someone whose eyes I might have to meet later on in the day. It wasn’t that I had a problem standing up for myself—I didn’t—but when it came to the little things, it seemed easier to just give in.

  Some superheroine I would be.

  Meetings went on, project plans were updated, and I worked through my lunch to make sure everyone who needed continuous information regarding the financial impact of this and that were all informed. The day, though typical, went just fine until the last hour.

  The little hand on the clock overhead clicked toward the five. I blinked and took a deep breath. Under the table in the meeting room, I clenched my fists and tried not to visibly shake.

  Across from me sat Kevin Stump, the rat-bastard who had been hired as my new boss just a few weeks ago. As if his inane smile and ridiculous, over-styled hair weren’t enough to make me want to punch him, the crap that came out of his mouth was far, far worse.

  “I realize you’ve only been with us a few weeks,” I said through slightly gritted teeth, “but this upgrade is crucial. I know the business units aren’t going to see immediate results, but if you look at the long-term capacity of the servers-”

  “Miss Ellison,” Kevin sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes, “I’m well aware of how these things work. Everyone here seems to be under the impression that this company is somehow unique to others out there, but it’s not. I know when an upgrade is needed and when it isn’t. This one can wait.”

  “If you look at the data,” I started to say as I pulled out some of my charts, but he interrupted me before I could explain.

  “It’s irrelevant,” he stated. He ran his fingers over the top edge of his hair but not into the actual strands. One of them might get out of place if he did that. “I’ve seen it, and it doesn’t show anything conclusively.”

  I blinked a few times as I imagined Buffy stepping out from the giant whiteboard behind Kevin’s head and shoving a stake through his heart.

  “But these spikes here…” I pointed to one of the charts, but he dismissed me with a wave.

  “We’re done here,” he said. “Inform the team they can focus on projects that will actually earn this company some money.”

  I wanted to call him an idiot. I wanted to throw my laptop—or at least my pen—right at his Chia-head face. I wanted to invoke my most sarcastic side and spew forth commentary worthy of Scott Adams himself.

  I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  Aside from needing the job, I didn’t want to actually hurt his feelings.

  Kevin stood and left before I could say another word. I sat there for a few moments until I realized my mouth was open and I was sitting alone in a conference room. I slammed my laptop closed and headed out.

  I was still fuming when I got back to my desk. It was going to take me at least another hour to inform everyone on the team that all the work they’d been doing for the past month was now completely worthless, and it was already almost time to leave for the day.

  My phone rang, and I glanced down to see my best friend’s face on the screen.

  “I’m going to Thirsty’s after work,” Mare said in her usual chirpy tone. “Wanna join?”

  I took a deep breath and drummed my fingers on my desk. It had been a crap day in the corporate world, and Kevin was a big, fat jerk. Okay, so he wasn’t fat, but he was an ass, and he’d been hauling me into pointless meetings since the day he arrived in the building. All he needed was the pointy hair to become a walking Dilbert cartoon character, but it just wasn’t funny anymore. The last thing I wanted to do was work late in order to explain why the project was cut, and I wasn’t even sure what to say about it. I just knew that as soon as I hit send, a bunch of people would show up at my desk and keep me here even longer.

  A drink sounded pretty good.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said into the phone. “Anyone else going?”

  “The usual crowd,” Mare responded. “It is Friday after all.”

  “Count me in,” I said.

  “Cool! See you there about six, Clo.”

  I hung up and shook my head slightly at Mare’s constant need for shortening everyone’s name. She couldn’t seem to actually call me Chloe any more than she would allow others to call her Mary. It was always just Mare, like a female horse. She would even introduce herself that way—“My name is Mare, you know—like the horse!”

  I browsed through my email, decided there wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait until Monday, and gathered up my things to head home. Of course, I got stopped on my way out by three people in the hallway. News travels fast, apparently, and they all wanted to know why the project was being cut when it was an important upgrade and why I didn’t make that clear to Kevin.

  As tempting as it was to throw him under the bus, it just wasn’t in my nature. Aside from that, and unlike a lot of my coworkers, I was single and had to rely on myself for everything. I couldn’t risk pissing off the new executive without another job lined up, so I attempted to explain his faulty reasoning as best I could before escaping down the stairwell, out to the parking garage, and into rush-hour traffic.

  I drove cautiously and courteously. I didn’t cut anyone off. I paused to let others merge in front of me, even though it caused me to miss the light.

  My empty condo greeted me with its earth tones, clean lines, and superheroines. Though I told people cleanliness was important to me, it really looked so spotless because I didn’t have much else to do with myself in the evenings or on the weekends. I did have something that resembled a social life and often went to movies and dinner with friends, but ultimately I came back here to my solitary, sterile abode.

  I popped in a DVD just to hear Princess Leia’s voice as she confronted Darth Vader. Reciting the lines was better than talking to myself.

  My closet was full of outfits for evening get-togethers, but I decided on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt I’d bought in San Francisco when I went to visit my mom last year. Thirsty’s Oasis wasn’t a dressy kind of place—just a nice sports bar with lots of big screens, plenty of beer on tap, and friendly bartenders. There would be a few people coming from work and still dressed up a bit, but the majority of the crowd was casual.

  The television greeted me as I came back downstairs from the bedroom to the living room. The movie was nearly to my favorite part, and I was tempted to text Mare and tell her I wasn’t going to make it after all. An evening with the Original Trilogy at home was sounding pretty good.

  “Of course it does,” I mumbled to myself.

  Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, I sat down on the couch and put my head in my hands. I knew for a fact that I was just feeling sorry for myself, and that pissed me off. My mind wandered to Zach, my ex, but I refused to let myself dwell. It wasn’t the lack of a man in my life—I could cope with that—but between thinking about my dad, dwelling over my mother’s distance, and fuming over Kevin being a total ass, it seemed as if something in the universe was ganging up on me.

  “I need a little action in my life,” I informed Wonder Woman. “You need any help with some criminals? I bet your bracelets would fit me.”

  She stared down from her perch and didn’t accept my offer.

  I shoved myself off the couch with great mental effort and checked myself over in the mirror. Turning my head left, then right, I decided my curly brown hair wasn’t going to get any better, given the humidity, applied a little more liner around my blue eyes, and decided I was good to go. Even if Wonder Woman had needed a litt
le help, I would have come up with some excuse as to why I couldn’t be of assistance. Maybe I’d consider it later when I had thought about all the ramifications of leaving my job and friends to go on some grand adventure, but not now, not when I hadn’t prepared for it.

  Thirsty’s was packed, and at first, I couldn’t find my group. I meandered through the crowd saying hello to a few people I recognized until I saw Mare frantically waving her arms from a high-top table near the back of the bar.

  “I’ve had a shit day,” I said as I approached.

  Mare and Nate sat leaning closely against each other in that way people who haven’t quite admitted they were interested in each other often do. I thought they would be the perfect couple if they would just get on with it already. He turned his lively dark eyes from Mare to me.

  “Join the club!” Nate replied. He held up an empty shot glass with his meaty hand in salute. He was short with straight, blond hair and geeky black glasses that seemed to drive Mare absolutely wild.

  “Shots already?” I said with a raise eyebrow.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll be driving him home,” Mare said with a wink. She tossed thick auburn hair off her shoulder and threw her arm around the back of Nate’s stool.

  “It’s been that kind of week,” Gabe said from the other side of the table where he sat. He was the ever-present bachelor of our group and seemed perfectly content to be so. He handed me his shot. He didn’t drink anything but light beer.

  “What the hell,” I mumbled. I took the thankfully-sweet shot and dropped my glass to the table before ordering a vodka and orange juice, my standby drink.

  “My boss is a jerk,” I said.

  “The new guy?” Nate asked. Though he wasn’t on my team, we worked in the same office. I nodded, and he laughed, which made his hair shake around his ears. “Trying to make a name for himself already?”

  “If he wants his name to be mud, then yeah,” I mumbled. “He cancelled the server upgrade.”

  “Moron,” Nate mumbled. He was a hardware guy and used to getting the smelly end of the corporate budget. All of us worked in the information technology field except for Gabe, who Mare and I knew from high school. “I thought everyone was calling him Chia Head.”