Without limits ssion and.., p.32
Without Limits: A BWWM Collection of Passion and Desire, page 32
Lotti stepped forward. “You twisted the relationship between me and my sister and between me and my daughter because you wanted my place within my family. My place at Belle’s side, until you could take over.” Lotti reached out and wrapped a hand around the woman’s throat. “If my sister didn’t plan to kill you, I would.” Then she released her.
The woman writhed, as she was held above the floor. "You. These women, they don't deserve their power. I did what I was supposed to do. I did everything right. Why do you rule and my family and I have nothing? Nothing!" she yelled.
“You are as your grandfather. You don’t understand that power doesn’t make you a god. It is a gift and as easily as it is bestowed upon you, you may lose it. My strength comes from my coven. My sister. My child. You separated us in hopes of destroying us. Killing me.” Belle closed the distance between them.
Ada walked onto the stage holding a stone. “We found my true stone veiled in your room. Your grandfather couldn’t tell you what he didn’t know. While we were apart, you could deceive us, but when we’re together, we are whole. The energy of our stones is connected to the powers the gods bestowed upon us.” She laughed at the confusion on the traitor’s face. “The more you attempted to use the stones, the more it weakened you. It led us to you.” Nodding at Belle, she added, “And my mother knew you were involved the moment you framed me.”
“It doesn’t matter when we knew,” Belle continued where Ada left off. “What matters is that we know some of your kind, are still walking this earth. Witch Smeller, you and your grandfather can go back to hell!” Belle raised the traitor higher into the air.
The woman glared at Belle. “In time, you and your family will pay for what you did to mine. You destroyed us. This will not end with me.”
“Perhaps.” Belle twisted her wrist in a circle, made a fist and then threw open her hand. "Goodbye, Jo Ann."
“No!” the woman screamed.
For all to see, the woman burst into flames and then dissipated into dust that softly flowed to the stage.
Crumpling to the stage, Belle rested. Then, she straightened her posture and as she stared into the crowd, she placed a hand on the stage to hold herself up. Extending her fingers to the people watching, she returned the power she’d been gifted. The power she had been permitted to use to fight Jo Ann flowed through the room. As it returned to those who had made their offers, she watched the room once again fill with the power of Nature. Good men and women who trusted her to save her family and return what they had willingly given.
Over the years, her family thought they had prepared for the possibility of a person such as Jo Ann returning to their lives. However, she had been among them for years and they hadn’t seen her for her true self.
As the music swelled and people danced, Belle watched her daughter dance with Thomas, and her sister as she avoided Victor. Sahji, Dora and Clotilde danced and laughed with their guests. More healing would need to be done between herself and her daughter, as well as between Lotti and hers, but they were all willing to work hard to once again become a family. She had failed at protecting her family. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t allow it to happen again. Maybe all in Jo Ann’s family were dead, but maybe there were more. If so, they would be prepared.
Epilogue
Vane lurched up in her bed. Pain coursed through her. Every part of her burned as if on fire. Tears singed her skin as they rolled down her face. Screaming, she raised her hands to her head in an attempt to stop the pain. Nothing worked. The images of her daughter wouldn’t stop, and the aching building inside of her intensified.
“No,” she yelled. “No!”
When the door of her small sterile room opened, it drew her attention. A man entered. The sound of her screams had captured the attention of a man dressed in a white coat in the facility where she was held. As the man crossed the room, she stared at him trying to remember something about him. Something about herself. How long have I been here?
“Are you okay, Vane?” he asked. “What’s wrong? We haven’t heard you speak since the day you joined us.”
How long had that been? “Where am I?” she asked as she looked around the room again. A medical facility? “Where is my daughter?” The pain in her head returned.
Searching through the papers he held in his hands, he said, “When you first came to us, there was a young woman with you.” He looked up at her. “She hasn’t been here since.”
Vane rose from the small bed, and walked toward him.
Taking a step back, he said, “What has made you scream?”
The clipboard held more answers, and she had no time for his questions. “I need to know about my daughter. What has happened to her?” Grabbing the clipboard from him, with a flip of her hand, she tossed him out of her way and walked out of the door to his protest.
“Vane, you can’t leave!”
Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “Why not?” Then, she turned and continued walking. To where she didn’t know, but the pain of the loss of her daughter would guide her. Belle. She needed to find Belle. The answers lie with Belle.
About the Author
About Angela Kay Austin
Angela Kay Austin has always loved expressing herself creatively. An infatuation with music led to years playing several instruments, some better than others. A love for acting put her in front of a camera or two for her thirty seconds of fame before giving way to a degree and career in communications. After completing a second degree in marketing, Angela found herself combining her love for all things creative and worked in promotions and events for many years.
Today, Angela lives in her hometown in Tennessee.
To learn more about Angela, visit her website: http://www.angelakayaustin.com/.
Books by Angela Kay Austin
Sojourner
Run For Freedom
Love’s Chance
Beale Street Blues
Rumer
Give Me Everything
Derailed
Sweet Victory
Scarlet’s Tears
One More Kiss
Coming Soon:
Redemption
Triumph
Fort Knox
Tiana Laveen
About the Story
Knox Wolfe is starting over on a new, crime-free path after a seven-year prison stint in northern Florida for a string of sophisticated bank robberies. After working as an underpaid but highly qualified mechanic, he purchases a small house and tries to keep his nose clean. Everything becomes routine until one day, his mysterious neighbor makes herself known...
Tina Rochelle enjoyed fame once as an adorable child star who appeared in everything from commercials to big movie roles. Struggling to keep a hold of the dream, she has hit several road blocks as an adult, and the reality of her lot in life is setting in. The movie offers have dried up and no one seems to remember her. She’s now something she’s always dreaded: a has-been. Her once sunny disposition is replaced by anger and a geyser of exploding negativity she can’t seem to control. Minding her own business one hot sunny day, she takes note of the new guy who moved next door in the previously foreclosed home. He looks up to positively no good...
After the two set off to a rocky start, a strange interest in one another blossoms...
This is a tale of opposites attract, self-realization, and steamy connections that cannot be denied...
Chapter One
Knox stared at the dirt on the tips of his fingers and caked under his short, jagged nails. He could still feel his body vibrating from the movement of the old truck with the fucked-up ignition—the vehicle he used to haul ass over to his probation officer. The bed of the truck was filled with tools waiting to be warmed up by his big hands once again. A few projects waited for him at home, such as painting his living room, unpacking some bathroom supplies, and tinkering around with the classic Mustang he’d snagged during an auction.
The last thing he wanted to do was shoot the breeze with the fucker sitting before him. Mr. Norris sat there in his wrinkled light purple shirt, the collar buttoned all the way up to his Adam’s apple. The man glared at an old computer screen as if he were reading the answers to all the mysteries of life.
Knox rocked back and forth in the rickety plastic white chair in the stuffy office, a stream of sweat meandering down the sides of his face, reaching along his jawbone and soaking into his dingy light blue shirt with his name crudely sewn across the pocket.
“Seems you’re doin’ quite well at the auto shop,” Mr. Norris finally said before reaching for his coffee, the white mug covered in drip marks all the way around the rim. “Your boss, Mr. Carleton, hasn’t given any complaints whatsoever. You’re lucky to have that job... but he likes to give ex-cons a chance.” His facial expression hadn’t changed much, but he sounded a bit surprised at such a notion. With his eyes still on the screen, he kept on speaking in that annoying monotone voice of his. “Haven’t come in late... pleasant with the customers... no tools or nothin’ came up missing... doing your job it seems.”
“Of course I’m doing my job.” Knox huffed. “What the hell else would I be doing? Sellin’ Girl Scout Cookies?” He tossed up his hands in annoyance. “And let it be known right here, right now that I don’t steal tools, Mr. Norris. That was never my thing... that’s petty, small time shit. That’s a druggie move, somethin’ meth heads do, like stealin’ sheet metal and copper, runnin’ off with tires from a car, breakin’ into little old ladies’ houses and haulin’ ass with their precious World War II memorabilia, Irish coin collections, and favorite diamond ring for a couple crack rocks. I robbed banks, Norris. Big banks. Big difference.”
He smirked, sick and tired of the bastard’s side winder, passive aggressive insults.
This fucker coulda never done what I did. He doesn’t have the heart or the guts...
“Doesn’t really matter what kind of stealing it was, Mr. Wolfe.” He cleared his throat as if what he’d said was profound, perhaps even bore repeating. “It’s all the same at the end of the day.” The man didn’t make eye contact with him, just sat there looking smug, his nose in the air like an upper echelon cartoon turtle with a vicious overbite.
Funny lookin’ son of uh bitch... What are ya? A snappin’ turtle, box or softshell?
“Can I go now? I mean, I’ve answered all of your questions.” Knox’s stomach grumbled as he leaned forward and took a glance at the clock on the wall. It didn’t help that the man’s office smelled of delicious pasta and bread. He figured the bastard had just wolfed down some Italian carry-out before his arrival. It was way past dinner time and he hadn’t had lunch due to a Camaro with a coolant leak that had rolled in late morning and kept him busy for a while.
“Are you in a hurry?” Mr. Norris crossed his hands over one another and peered at him through tiny dark brown eyes, a stark contrast with his snow-white skin that was peppered with cinnamon colored freckles.
“Well, since you’re askin’, yeah, I am. I’m on probation, Norris. You’re my probation officer, not my babysitter. I do have a life, ya know? I don’t go home and lie down in a fetal position, reminiscing about Big Bubba tryna get my commissary. I gotta house I need to clean up as you know. It was a wreck when I moved into it. Not only that, I have other chores ‘nd shit I’d like to tend to so on that note, I’d like to leave it if you don’t mind.”
The man stared at him for a good spell, as if fighting the urge to say something slick to poke the grizzly bear within him. In the end, he just waved him off, as if disgusted.
“All right, go on. I want to see you back here next month, Knox.”
Knox nodded and got to his feet. As he went towards the door, Mr. Norris called out, “And stay outta trouble... would hate for you to end back up in the Florida Department of Corrections. Guys like you don’t usually get on the right side of the law. It’s a revolving door.”
“Isn’t that what you depend on?” The man’s brow rose to his hairline. “And why would you hate that, Norris? Seems like it would make your day. You don’t want guys like me to stop messin’ up, to leave that all behind us. You need that revolving door. It pays your bills. Without it, you’d be out of uh job.”
With that, he slammed the door behind him and made his way back to his truck...
Banging the frozen steak on the counter, he grabbed a big plastic bowl and filled it with warm water from the kitchen faucet before submerging the Saran-Wrap covered meat in it. Snatching the refrigerator door open, he perused his few available selections and opted for a large bottle of ice cold beer that was shoved way in the back behind a bag of apples and a half-eaten loaf of bread. After twisting the top, he leaned back against the counter and gulped it fast and hard. Condensation dripped down the smooth glass bottle, making the hold slippery, so he held on for dear life, not wanting to accidently waste one damn drop due to an unfortunate slip and fall.
His mind floated in a fog as spasmodic memories stabbed his brain, forcing themselves into the forefront. The adrenaline rush of his robberies was a high he’d never have again. Nothing even came close. He dreamt about it night after night; the feeling was orgasmic, the kind of shit one couldn’t explain easily to a follow-the-rules, law-abiding citizen. You’d had to have been there. There was something about getting ready for a heist — the planning, the mindset of not giving a damn, the confidence, the brazen nature of a motherfucker that bursts through the doors with two guns drawn, face covered, and a smile budding beneath the dark mask.
His chest heaved as his mind played the old memory tapes over and over, showing the frayed images of a heart pumping good time. The feel of the crisp money in his hands, the look of horror on the tellers’ faces, the race to the exit, and the speed needed to get the fuck out of dodge before a cop was even within a block radius...
He’d managed four bank robberies without being apprehended. He was a sneaky son of a bitch who’d get home and watch his scam played out on the evening news. No one had known who he really was. Not his friends, not his neighbors, not whoever he was fucking at the time, either. He kept his secrets close and his lips shut. That was code. Period.
Knox sat in that kitchen, feeling pain, shame, joy and anguish all at once.
Maybe I was born bad?
Perhaps. That was a question he’d asked himself more than a time or two.
How else would he explain to himself that he hated the fact he missed his old lifestyle?... He hated he’d been caught... hated that he’d ever done it in the first damn place. There was a lot of hating going on, including a newfound hatred for himself at times, too.
My life could’ve been different. But shit, I was one of the best...
And then he reflected on that last raid. He played the scene over and over in his mind. Things had gone wrong, terribly wrong...
Shaking himself out of his deliberations, he opened the refrigerator once more, placed the almost empty beer bottle back inside, and reached for a bag of precut and washed lettuce in the crisper. He tossed it on the counter then opened his pantry door.
Shit. I’m outta potatoes. Guess it’s just steak ‘nd salad then...
After checking on the defrosting meat, he made his way to the front of his house for a cigarette break and a breather. As he approached the front door, he looked around his new digs. Small but nice... well made. He was in a good part of town and often stood on the porch or looked outside and people watched when time permitted. He’d witness parents teaching their children how to ride their bikes, teenagers walking about with big smiles on their faces as they horsed around with their peers, people jogging with earphones plugged in. And he liked to look at nature too, such as the palm trees that swayed in the Jacksonville, Florida winds.
I like it over here. This is home now. Gotta make the most of it, and that’s what I plan to do.
He was determined to start anew. He had a bit of money he’d saved up after staying with a friend for a few months after getting out of prison. His money had run dry at that time, what with attorney fees and penalties he had to pay for his crimes, there wasn’t much left unless all he desired was a Coca Cola and pack of cigarettes. But he hated being broke, and he needed a way to make money, even if it was only enough to keep a roof over his head and the bills paid.
Much to his surprise, working as a mechanic was more lucrative than he ever imagined, especially with all the side hustles he raked in. Most of his life, he’d been good at fixing cars; it just came naturally. It was a dirty job, a far cry from his designer suits and expensive shoes, the fancy parties he’d attend with big boss businessmen, and fellas that looked straight and narrow but kept the underbelly of the nasty world he’d been born from thriving. After all, he was a crook, but he’d sworn to take the particulars to his grave. After opening the front door, he lit a cigarette and stood there leaning against the frame. A nice breeze wafted on past, and he instinctually smiled.
Look at that... sun is setting now...
Peering up into the sky with squinted eyes, he admired the shades of red and orange that blended together like love and lust. And then, he heard a noise...
Knox jerked to his left and took note of a gorgeous woman tugging and pulling at an old metal trashcan until she lined it up just right against the curb.
