I beleive now, p.1

I Beleive Now, page 1

 

I Beleive Now
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I Beleive Now


  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Blurb

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  I Believe Now

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Titles by Hurri Cosmo

  BLURB

  Max Tyler and Asher Madden are back—and so is a very angry man from their past. A man who believes he has been extremely wronged by the great Max Tyler.

  Wyatt Jackson knows it was Max who made it impossible for him to be re-elected and that was all the politician had been after. Plus, due to the lies Max told, Jackson nearly ended up in prison.

  Jackson not only wants his life back, he wants Max Tyler dead.

  First step? Kidnap Max's precious Asher Madden.

  Max is well aware of his error in not taking care of Wyatt Jackson when he had the chance. He just didn't think the man had it in him to bite back. But Asher is now in the former Congressman's dirty hands and in order to rescue him, Max needs a plan. One that can't fail.

  But what happens when it does?

  FIREBORN PUBLISHING COPYRIGHT STATEMENT

  I Believe Now

  Copyright © 2015 by Hurri Cosmo

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-941984-73-4

  First eBook Publication: June 2015

  Cover Artist: Tracey Weston

  Editor: Jamie D. Rose

  Logo copyright © 2014 by Fireborn Publishing and Allison Cassatta

  Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND PAN-AMERICAN COPYRIGHT CONVENTIONS: Payment for this title grants the purchaser the right to download and read this file on any/all personal electronic devices personally owned by the purchaser, now or in the future, and to maintain backup copies of the file for the purchaser's personal use. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or electronic storage and retrieval, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. File sharing, with or without payment, is an international crime, prosecuted by the United States DoJ, Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by seizure of computers, up to five years in federal prison, and a fine of $250,000 per offense.

  Please remember that authors are paid per legal purchase. We thank you for your support of author's rights and their earnings. If you spot illegal cut-rate or free copies of this work being passed on peer-to-peer or other pirate sites, even those masquerading as legitimate retailers, please let us know at sales@firebornpublishing.com or via the author's personal email.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

  This book is written in US English.

  PUBLISHER

  PO Box 5216

  Haverhill, MA 01835

  DEDICATION

  To my sister, Debbie. She has been a rock in my life. Funny, crazy, smart and fierce, she is a force of unmeasurable strength.

  TRADEMARKS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Bluetooth: Bluetooth SIG, Inc.

  BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  Forbes: Forbes LLC

  Instagram: Instagram, LLC

  Luger: Stoeger, Inc.

  Twitter: Twitter, Inc.

  YouTube: Google Inc.

  I BELIEVE NOW

  The path I am on has not always been clear; the light oftentimes has been weak.

  Even though I struggle sometimes just to see, I believe now it's your darkness I seek.

  I've tried to pull back when I'm moving too fast, to figure out where this path leads.

  But I look in your eyes so strong and so sure, and I believe now it's your pace I need.

  I have stood up against very hard winds, and have fallen time after time.

  But your hand on my shoulder has given me faith,

  And I believe now that your strength is mine.

  I've been afraid of the dark but it's been in your shadow, where I have felt safe and secure.

  With your arms all around me, your presence surrounds me,

  I believe now that your way is sure.

  I sometimes wake up in the dead of the night, and reach out to where you should be.

  I grasp then at air, with a fear you're not there, and I believe now the need is with me.

  For this path I am on, though fear dogs my steps and panic seems but one breath away.

  You have only to whisper 'be strong' in my ear, and I believe in you more every day.

  Though I've bargained with fate and gambled with luck,

  Seeking redemption from all that I've done,

  I was alone on this ledge until you came along, because I believe now it's your heart I've won.

  —Asher Madden

  CHAPTER ONE

  "So Congressman Jackson beat the charges." Max sat back in his chair behind his large desk high above the city streets of Chicago as he closed the file he had been going through. He blinked back his frustration at the news.

  "Yes, sir, but not congressman anymore, thanks to you." Jasper took the file Max handed to him. "As you know, the actual evidence against him was fabricated and simply leveled in order to discredit him and take him out of office—which you've done. Even so, his lawyer was only able to get him acquitted by applying pressure on the jury and judge. We've obtained those particular facts through some pressure we've applied ourselves because no one is really talking—not officially, anyway. He was released today."

  "Who's his lawyer again?"

  "Rubio Montistelli. He's from the west side."

  "Oh yes, Montistelli. Old family, old money. Seems Mr Wyatt Jackson still has some influence. Do we know what group he's using?" Max continued his line of questioning.

  "No, sir. It's not yet clear he's even using a group. It'd be hard to miss what side you're playing on, so I highly doubt anyone—even an obscure group—would be stupid enough to help him."

  Max thought that could very well be true, but it didn't change the fact he should never have allowed the man to live. That alone could easily be misconstrued as weakness on his part which, of course, was intolerable.

  "Find out for sure. And tighten security on Asher. I don't want him getting involved in this."

  "Yes, sir."

  "By the way, where is he today?"

  "Asher Madden is at Grant Park on a photo shoot. He's shooting those Chicago Illusions books you financed to keep the brat out of trouble."

  Max's heart leaped at Jasper's words. "Asher doesn't know I financed them, does he?"

  "Of course not, sir. All he knows is he was chosen fairly among a number of photographer applicants."

  "Good. Good." Relief flooded him. His lover could not be trusted with information like that, not with his ability to slip the guards Max already made sure dogged the man's heels. Having nearly lost Asher before to the thugs Jackson had employed, put a fear so deep in Max's soul it made him sweat every time he thought about it, which was often because Max could not afford to become careless ever again—not where Asher was concerned. The fact he had never felt this way for another human being was reason enough to be overprotective, even if his lover objected. "Keep a close watch. This obviously isn't over yet."

  "Already underway, sir." Jasper nodded once and left Max's office.

  * * * *

  "See you tomorrow!" Asher yelled and waved his hand up in the air at two of the female models heading toward a waiting taxi. They turned and waved back as they slid into the back seat. One covered her mouth and giggled.

  Asher smiled, pushing back his once again too-long hair as he finished packing up his cameras and gear. He counted today as another successful session. There were going to be several more days before he'd call this first book done but only because he wanted to change locations again. He certainly had enough material, but he felt he didn't have that one perfect cover shot yet.

  Max Tyler, his filthy rich, club owning, political maneuvering, most likely gangster boss-ing, tall, dark, and deadly boyfriend had something to do with him landing this job. He knew simply because there was little-to-nothing in Asher's life not orchestrated by the man—not to mention the fact Asher had been climbing the walls with not enough to do thereby irritating the crap out of Max. So he had to have come up with this Chicago photo book project just to shut Asher up. Asher might call himself naive—certainly grateful—but not stupid. He saw the kind of money being spent and it bordered on a little beyond crazy. But, being a photographer by trade and by heart, having a seemingly endless supply of whatever he wanted, was just plain awesome.

  What was even better was the fact both he and the actual people in charge really liked the results so far. Not only did they provide a team of assistants, he had been allowed al

l decisions, from the theme of each book, to when the light was right, from sites and locations, to which models to use and when. He even approached and used consenting passersby on occasion, something of which his babysitter-guards disapproved. They made it painfully clear they didn't like the times he talked with people they didn't give him permission to talk to, so Asher made a point of doing it as often as he could.

  Today they were in Grant Park near the water and they had all become energized when a colorful, lazy sailboat suddenly appeared. As clichéd as it was, he had still taken tons of shots, using the beautiful water craft as his background and, because he was only be able to select one, he knew they'd be tough to choose from.

  This kind of stuff called to the artistic core in him. He still liked the thrill of the chase after a good story, although hunting down "the bad guys" was something he hadn't done in a long time. He also loved the challenge of bringing out passion and splendor in a shot, much like the ones he believed he had been doing with this assignment.

  Asher sighed. It felt good to be out. He had been cooped up for far too long, forced to endure long hours behind closed-in, albeit exquisitely decorated penthouse walls, hiding from fictional kidnappers. But here, in this atmosphere, he could almost believe his babysitters didn't even exist. Of course, they did. He had only to look a little harder and he could probably count four of them, which he felt somewhat concerned about since that was at least two more than he had yesterday, the number having obviously gone up this afternoon. There never seemed to be any rhyme or reason as to when the number of guards changed, and evidently Max never thought Asher needed to know why. Asher had argued the fact he was a grown man and could take care of himself, but it didn't seem to matter either.

  "You attract trouble, Ash, and I never want to risk you getting hurt again"

  Wow. But it was the closest the bastard ever got to saying he loved him.

  Never want to risk you getting hurt again.

  It was sweet, and it somewhat explained Max's desire that the guards shadow him. However, even though trouble did seem to follow him, it was an aspect of their relationship Asher truly disliked because he was constantly watched to the point of being restricted. He hated having to always answer to some massive guy with muscles about where he was going, what he was doing, how long he'd be doing it, having to wait for whether or not it was even going to be allowed. He despised the fact he seemed to need to ask permission to even get a fucking cup of coffee.

  Once, the previous week, Kira, his main personal mountain, acted as if he thought the guy making Asher's latte was going to drag him off if the bodyguard didn't watch his every move. Sure, the guy had been flirting. Asher did sometimes have the impression he exuded some kind of helpless "take care of me" aura, because he was hit on all the time by both women and men. His small stature only added to the illusion. The barista, at first, simply reached out and covered Asher's hand on the counter, giving a little squeeze and a wink, but Asher immediately pulled back. There was no problem.

  Okay, so the guy didn't exactly give up. He did continue to chat it up and Asher did kind of pay attention. He didn't want to be rude, plus he sure as hell didn't want the guy spitting in his cup or anything if he pissed him off. So what if the guy made a few suggestions that were slightly inappropriate? So what if his eyes wandered down to Asher's midsection and lower and stayed there way longer than they should have? It wasn't as if Asher was interested in the guy or anything.

  But in all reality, Asher should have known better, because he had begun to hear the low growl from Kira, who stood directly behind him witnessing the whole thing. Asher should have shut the guy down at that point, spit or no spit. Unfortunately he didn't. When the guy came around the counter with the coffee, got up close and personal and asked if Asher wanted to come back and "take a private tour of the backroom", Kira lost it. He crowded Asher away from the guy, pulling him to safety. Then Kira proceeded to stand with his arms folded across his massive chest and told the guy in his loud, take charge voice, to keep his eyes on his job and his hands and attitude to himself where they belonged. Not only did the whole coffee house go so quiet Asher could hear the music coming from the ear phones of the girl three people back in line, but the manager came out too. A large woman, she seemed hell bent on protecting her employee until she found out who it was she was dealing with. Then she couldn't do enough. She even offered to fire the barista on the spot. The scene embarrassed Asher so badly he never wanted to walk into another public place again. Instead, he ended up making his own swill in the morning and carting the nasty stuff with him. It wasn't barista awesome, it was Max-penthouse awful, but it was caffeine and it was safe, for both himself and baristas.

  However, today none of it mattered and he felt able to actually stretch and breathe, despite all the drama. He was relaxed and in a very good mood. He even planned on jumping the old man when he finally arrived home. Max seemed to enjoy it whenever he took the initiative, even though the pervert rarely gave him the opportunity.

  However, tonight was going to be different.

  Tonight Asher had a plan.

  Tonight he'd have a late dinner catered in, including all of Max's favorites. He planned a bubble bath and music, a little red wine, and candlelight. He even toyed with the idea of plying Max with a lot of red wine. A slightly drunk Max might suddenly find himself with his hands tied to the headboard for once, giving Max a taste of his own medicine. But that particular little daydream had to play itself out as the night progressed, since opportunity and timing would be everything. Although it was fun to fantasize. Restraining Max anytime at all was probably just that, a fantasy.

  The ride back to the penthouse passed uneventfully. The only reason of course? Max was not in the limo. Asher rode the elevator up to the penthouse floor, nodded at the guards in attendance in the hall, unlocked the door, and slipped inside the apartment. Suddenly extreme fatigue grabbed hold of him. Asher looked at his watch and noted the time—almost seven pm. He definitely had time for a nap. Although Max could be unpredictable, he'd not likely be home much before midnight, if even then. Asher made sure the dinner wouldn't show up before one am. Maybe he'd just lie down for a while.

  Since he was going to change into something a little more comfortable later on, he began stripping his clothes off, not bothering to even pick them up where he dropped them on his way to the bedroom. There'd be time to do all that stuff later, before Max arrived home. He smiled when he noticed the housekeeper had been in because the penthouse looked immaculate. Once in the bedroom, he didn't even remember his head hitting the pillow before sleep overtook him. Damn. He'd really meant to set the alarm.

  * * * *

  Max walked into a dark penthouse. He had been told when Asher arrived—at around seven—and decided to cut his night short and enjoy some rare time with the busy photographer. The time was now a little after ten and even though he had no reason to be alarmed—there were two guards on the door with no other way into the penthouse—he felt a little off balance with the place being so dark. Obviously Asher hadn't turned on any lights. He smirked, knowing he still never knew what to expect with the kid. He quickly kicked his shoes off while his hand reached for the light switch. He grinned the moment the light hit the floor. He saw a trail of Asher's clothes all the way to the bedroom. Asher's crumpled boxers lay in the open door. Was this an invitation? He shrugged out of his suit coat, pitching it to land on the edge of the couch as he walked quickly into the bedroom. He smiled when the light spilling in from the living room showed him his lover sprawled out on the bed, stark naked and sound asleep. This was definitely an invitation.

  He let his eyes roam over the flawless body of his boy as he shed the rest of his own clothes. They had been lucky, all of them. That dark day when he could have lost Asher in that ridiculous assassination attempt was a memory he'd take to his grave. Then, to give over Asher's protection to his most trusted staff only to have that slippery devil escape them, to end up in the completely bat shit crazy Brogan's grasp? Max admitted to nearly losing it.

 

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