Kingstons salvation king.., p.1
Kingston's Salvation (Kingston Security 5), page 1
CONTENTS
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
Newsletter and Social Media Links
About the Author
Other books by Carole Mortimer
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2023 Carole Mortimer
Cover Design Copyright © Glass Slipper WebDesign
Formatter: Glass Slipper WebDesign
ISBN: 978-1-914336-11-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
DEDICATION
Jo,
Because you ‘get’ me every time.
Thank you so much.
CHAPTER ONE
“Honey! Honey, please, please, don’t go into that elevator!”
Darius had just done exactly that. He had no idea why a woman whose voice he didn’t recognize should be shouting at him across the lobby of his apartment building, let alone addressing him with the familiarity of a sickeningly sweet endearment like honey.
Because he really wasn’t anyone’s honey.
Nor did he have a woman in his life. Not just currently, but not for years. Which left family, and they called him “a moody bugger” at best and “a grumpy bastard” at worst.
“Nooo!” The woman’s wail was accompanied by the ominous sound of clanking of metal on metal, which instantly put Darius on the defensive.
He turned quickly in the elevator, only to realize the metal sound was being caused by the metal tube containing the dog’s name, owner, address and telephone number hitting the buckle attached to the brown leather collar about the neck of a yellow Labrador as it hurtled straight toward him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t raise his hands quickly enough to stop himself feeling the full force of having a seventy-pound dog jumping up at him.
Darius doubled over, his breath leaving him in a whoosh, as the dog’s front paws made a direct—and hard!—hit, straight on his balls.
“I am so sorry,” the young woman hastened to apologize when Darius groaned at the unexpected pain—he dared any man not to do the same when his balls were under attack—and remained half doubled over. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” she continued as she reached the open elevator doors. “I took her off the lead when we entered the building, as I usually do, and she just ran straight for you. She’s usually so obedient,” she lamented.
Darius’s grimace began to fade as the worst of the pain stopped reverberating through his body. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure my balls will have descended again by tomorrow.”
“Ouch.” The woman—girl, because Darius had realized from her voice that she was young; he just hadn’t realized she would be in her late teens or early twenties—winced in sympathy.
He took the time to note her appearance now that he wasn’t taken by surprise at being called honey or bent over in agony.
She was maybe an inch over five feet tall, her slight build revealed in the fitted short-sleeved red T-shirt and low-rider jeans that fitted snugly to her slender legs. Her face was heart-shaped, with high cheekbones, and full and pouting lips. Her eyes were a vibrant green, with an outer ring of turquoise. Her jet-black hair was styled in short bangs above her eyes and cut at jaw length. The color seemed at odds with her peaches-and-cream complexion and the smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose.
Darius’s guess would be that the freckles didn’t go with the hair color because it was dyed rather than a natural black. But there was no denying that the color and gamine style made her bright and beautiful turquoise-green eyes pop.
Made her bright and beautiful turquoise-green eyes pop?
What the hell…! Damn it, he couldn’t remember ever waxing lyrical about a woman’s eyes before, whether they were a beautiful green and turquoise or otherwise.
He shouldn’t be doing it now either. Not just because she looked so much younger than his own age of thirty-six, but because he didn’t allow himself to get too close to anyone. For their sake, not his.
Spending eight years in the military as a sniper in Special Ops had affected him in ways he still couldn’t talk about. Ten years later and he was still too messed up in the head to dare let himself be with any woman.
Especially someone like this bright-eyed pixie.
Bright-eyed pixie?
What the fuck was he doing?
“How old are you?” He gave an inward wince at hearing the aggression in his tone.
If she was surprised by the question, or the tone, she didn’t show it. “Twenty.”
Too young for him. But at least she was legal by a couple of years.
Legal for what?
Damn it, this had to stop.
Now.
“Who are you?” he demanded impatiently.
Those gorgeous eyes widened slightly at his continued rudeness. “Mia Smith.” She thrust her hand toward him. “And you are?”
Darius ignored both the hand and the question. “I don’t— What the hell is your dog doing now?” He looked down to where the Golden Labrador had moved so that it was now sitting so close beside him, it was able to lean the warmth of its body against his thigh.
Mia redirected the hand she’d held out to him to instead place it soothingly on top of the dog’s head. “Honey’s previous owner had her trained to be aware of and help her to deal with stress, when or if it occurred.”
“Like a PTSD-relieving dog?”
“Exactly like that, yes.” She eyed him curiously. “Are you stressed right now?”
Was Darius stressed right now?
He was always fucking stressed!
Oh, most of the time he shielded it from everyone except his twin, Felix. The two of them were fraternal twins rather than identical, but they still had an emotional connection, probably acquired in the womb, which often alerted them to when the other one was in pain or emotionally upset.
He wouldn’t be at all surprised to get a phone call from Felix in the next ten minutes asking him how his balls were.
Hiding the turmoil of his thoughts and emotions from others happened so often, it had become second nature to him. It just didn’t work with Felix.
This dog just picked up on it too, no problem!
A dog named Honey.
It was a name, not a fucking endearment.
The name of a dog trained to deal with a human’s PTSD.
“Her previous owner?” he prompted.
“Hmm.” Mia sobered. “Mrs. Fletcher was apparently involved in a car accident several years ago, and it left her confined to a wheelchair. Honey was trained to help her deal with the stress she suffered because of that.”
“You used the past tense,” Darius probed.
“You’re very observant,” she admired.
“Part of my job,” he dismissed. “My family runs a security company. Kingston Security,” he added when she raised questioning brows.
“Wow.”
Darius waited for the usual questions people felt compelled to ask once they knew he part-owned and helped to run a security company with his brothers and cousin. His liking for Mia rose when she remained silent.
His liking for her?
He didn’t like anyone outside of his family and the four women who had recently married into it.
He liked Mia, he realized.
The way she looked.
The openness of her character.
The complete lack of guile in her expression.
And my cock has been as hard as a fucking baseball bat since I first looked at her.
An unprecedented physical reaction to any woman.
Any women before Mia, it seemed.
What the hell was going on with him right now? Admittedly, three of his five brothers, along with their cousin Adam, had all recently fallen in love with the women who were now their wives. But that wasn’t going to happen to Darius. Desiring a woman, as his cock had now decided he did Mia, did not equate to falling in love with her.
“Are you okay?” She frowned her concern.
No doubt because of the dark scowl currently creasing his brow. “Did something happen to Honey’s previous owner?”
Mia nodded. “She died last month.”
Obviously Mia had now adopted the animal as her own. “You do know this is a no-pets-allowed apartment building?” He frowned as he realized his hand was absently stroking the dog’s ears as she continued to lean against him.
Mia gave him conspiratorial smile. “What the owner doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him or her.”
“Him,” Darius corrected distractedly, having now realized the dark cloud that had been hanging over his head all day had lifted somewhat.
He didn’t exactly feel a sudden urge to cuddle fluffy bunnies and kittens, but the urge to strangle someone with his bare hands had certainly faded.
Had the dog done that?
Honey l
“Why are there no buttons for the floors inside this elevator?”
Darius refocused his attention on Mia as she looked around the walls of the confined space for the panel with the buttons to press for the lower nineteen floors of the apartment building. There wasn’t one. Instead, there was just a single small thumbprint recognition screen.
His thumbprint. “Because it’s a private elevator for the twentieth floor.” It also went straight down to the private underground car park.
Mia’s straight white teeth chewed briefly on her bottom lip. “I’m guessing that’s the penthouse apartment?”
“Yes.”
“I was told the owner lived on the whole of the top floor?”
“You were told correctly.”
“Are you visiting?”
“No.”
“Making a delivery?”
“No.”
“In the wrong building?”
“Definitely not.”
Mia gave a pained wince. “Which, by a process of elimination, means you must be the owner?”
“It looks that way, yeah.”
Mia instinctively knew it didn’t just look that way, it was exactly that way.
This overpoweringly alpha man—who, it seemed, owned the whole of this towering London apartment building—was at least four inches over six feet tall. Which meant he loomed over her one inch over five feet. His dark hair was styled short at the back and sides and kept longer on the top in an almost military style. His eyes were a piercing blue, nose long and straight between sharp cheekbones, with sensual lips above a hard and chiseled jaw. He was wearing a plaid shirt that stretched tautly across his muscular chest, with a black T-shirt beneath, and faded jeans molded to his long legs. He wore heavy black boots on his feet.
A casual appearance that didn’t look as if he belonged in this exclusive apartment building any more than she did.
Evidence—the fact he was standing in the private elevator for the owner’s apartment on the top floor—clearly said otherwise.
Oh God, he was waiting to ascend!
“I’m so sorry for delaying you.” She curled her fingers about Honey’s collar, intending to take the dog with her when she exited the elevator. Unfortunately, the stubborn dog refused to move from her sitting position pressed against the man’s thigh. “Honey, I really don’t know what’s wrong with you today.” Mia frowned her confusion with this strange behavior. The Labrador was usually so obedient.
It wasn’t the whole of today, Mia realized. Honey had been her usual self when she’d collected her from the apartment of her lawyer owner. The dog also had fun at the park with the other dogs. It was only since they’d entered this building that Honey had stopped listening to her commands.
Mia ran a dog-walking service, before and after her university classes and on weekends. Ten dogs in the morning and the same in the evening. She had to do it in five-dog tranches, so it meant an early start at seven o’clock. She’d then spend the day going to classes, before doing the same walk with the dogs again from four o’clock in the afternoon. She usually didn’t get home until after six in the evenings, which made it a long day.
But the money she earned was paying for the rent on her room in the house she shared with four other girls, with a little left over for bills and food. Well, not so much for food, but she was making money the only way she could right now.
She knew university wasn’t always an option for someone who’d been brought up in the system almost from birth, but she’d been determined, no matter what she had to do, that she was going to take a business course and then start her own business. She wasn’t sure what it was going to be yet, but her goal was to be able to support herself once she had the degree.
She’d needed to take out a student loan to pay the uni’s yearly fees, but had then managed to get through the first year by staying in the subsidized halls of residence at the university and walking six dogs, morning and night. Moving out of that subsidized accommodation this past summer, even into a single room in a barely furnished house in a less-than-salubrious part of London, meant she’d needed to increase the number of dogs she exercised this past month.
Honey was one of the new dogs she’d taken on. Her owner, Giles Fletcher, was a lawyer who worked in the city, which meant he left early for work and often didn’t come home again until late in the evening.
Why people kept dogs at all in a built-up area like London was beyond Mia’s understanding. It seemed a little selfish when the owner’s lifestyle often gave them little time to be with or walk their pets.
She was grateful that so many of them did have dogs and were busy, of course; otherwise, she wouldn’t have a job. But she still didn’t think a city was the appropriate place for them. Cats and other small fluffy pets, yes, but not dogs.
Giles Fletcher had the excuse of the dog having belonged to his recently deceased mother. Although Mia couldn’t help wondering how much longer he would continue to keep a dog he really didn’t want.
She glanced guiltily at the man standing beside her, obviously waiting for her to get the hell off his elevator so he could be on his way.
But who could blame her for lingering a little longer than necessary?
The man oozed sex appeal without even trying, and those wide shoulders and that powerfully muscular chest made her fingers itch to reach out and touch to see if his abs were as hard as they looked. He also had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Fiercely piercing eyes that would easily hold a woman captive as his large hands cupped either side of her face while he slowly lowered his head and his mouth claimed hers.
Mia’s heartbeat sped up at the thought of being kissed by this man.
Which was when she also became aware of how hungrily she was staring at his chiseled lips.
“Maybe she can smell your dog, if you have one?” Mia prompted at the same time as she finally managed to pull a reluctant Honey out of the elevator by that grip on her collar.
“I already told you, this is a no-pets-allowed apartment building,” the gorgeous man told her coldly as he pressed his thumb against the recognition pad. “I’m sorry for the circumstances of you needing to take on the dog, but if you intend keeping her, then you both need to find somewhere else to live.”
Mia straightened. “Oh, I don’t live here,” she assured him lightly as the elevator doors began to close. “And Honey isn’t my dog,” she managed to add before the doors closed fully and the elevator began its ascent.
CHAPTER TWO
“—which is when we’re all going to put on pretty pink tutus and dance around the garden— Fucking hell, Darius, have I been completely wasting my time discussing arrangements and strategy with you for the past ten minutes?” his brother Max complained impatiently.
Darius dragged his attention back to the here and now rather than thinking of the elfin young woman he had met in his private elevator yesterday. Not an easy task when he didn’t seem to be able to think of anything or anyone else since that initial meeting.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact his balls had continued to ache all evening, and not just from that kick from the Golden Labrador, as a reminder of their meeting.
Or that his aroused cock had taken its own sweet time in going down enough for him to be able to sit comfortably.
But he’d been right about his twin telephoning to check on him. Felix had made that call within the ten minutes Darius had thought he might.
He hadn’t mentioned the encounter in the elevator to his brother. What was the point when he would never see Mia again?
She was too young, too wide-eyed and unsullied by the horrors of the world, when he felt older than his actual years and had seen far too much of those horrors during his years of serving in the military.
Even if Mia felt in the least attracted to him, which she’d given no indication that she did during their brief conversation, he—
