Overview
Can one wrong make it right?
Robert's mother pushes him into stealing a painting. He is in over his head when the homeowner catches him in the act. It leaves him wondering what to do now?
Michael's life turns in a new direction when a stranger enters his home and the urge to protect the thief overcomes his common sense. He knows he should be angry but who can resist a thief that looks like an angel?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857153913 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 10/01/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 36 |
| File size: | 298 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Robert Mitchell scurried across the leaves littering the cold fall ground behind Thomas Eli's house. The moon hung bright in the sky making it hard for the pale man to hide. He made himself as small as possible and scooped up some dirt, using it to darken his complexion.
It wouldn't do for me to be seen.
His objective was to sneak into the author's house and steal a painting. His mom had seen a spread in a magazine and said the painting was worth a fortune, that it would keep her in her medicine for months.
Robert shivered in the cold. He'd left his coat at home, it wasn't on Mom's list of things to carry. A sound reached his ears and he perked up, tilting his head to the side.
Shit, he isn't supposed to be home. What should I do?
Robert held his breath and concentrated on the sound of shoes clicking on the cement walk. He let the air trapped in his lungs seep out like a tire deflated with a knife.
Thomas' footsteps sounded closer — it had to be Thomas — and then they passed. Robert waited a few minutes before leaving his hiding place. He slithered across the yard until he reached the stairs at Thomas' front door. He stayed close to the ground on the way up. He couldn't give himself away. Maybe he should wait to see if the author would leave the house again. It was a bad idea to go in with Thomas home. His Mom had given him some chloroform she'd swiped, from where he had no idea. Robert knew it was best not to ask questions.
He paused as light flared to life inside, but the door stayed closed. Continuing to the entrance, he patted the bulge in his front pocket for reassurance. The chemical would help him knock Thomas out so he could take the painting. Hopefully the guy wouldn't linger in the front room; the drug was a last ditch effort. He pulled the zip-locked bag from his pocket and opened it, preparing himself for the worst case scenario.
The door beckoned him, the handle mocking him.
He shook his head.
Open the door, Robert.
Mom's voice gave him the courage he needed. Robert closed his eyes, grasped the knob and turned. He pushed the door open and crept into the room.
"Who the fuck are you?"
He shouldn't have seen me. What do I do now?
"I asked you a question. Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"
Robert's mind whirled in confusion at the confrontation. Thomas was not what he pictured, he loomed over Robert. Bigger than he'd expected.
"Uh ... I —"
"You need to leave or I'm calling the police."
"I'm sorry, Thomas. I have to do this."
"Who is Thomas?"
That confused Robert further. He couldn't be wrong. This had to be Thomas Eli's house. The bewilderment must have shown because the man lowered his voice as if placating a wild animal.
"Are you in the wrong house?"
He jerked out of his trance. "It'll be okay, Thomas. I don't want to hurt you. I just need the painting."
Robert lunged, holding the chloroform drenched rag by his side. He jumped on Thomas and wrapped his legs around the man's waist.
"Wh — what are you doing?" Thomas stumbled backwards. "I'm not Thomas. Michael, my name is Mic —"
Robert shoved the cloth against the author's mouth, holding on as he struggled to throw him off. Screams echoed in his head, but he didn't know if they were his or Thomas'.
Robert pulled away as Thomas fought to retain his footing. When Thomas' back hit the wall and he slid to the ground, Robert jumped, startled at the sound.
Why did the man keep denying who he was? Robert's head started to pound.
What have I done? Robert crumpled to the floor and threw the chloroformed rag away from him. He clutched his head, rocking back and forth.
Pull yourself together!
The sound of his mom's voice in his head sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Robert stopped rocking and crawled over to the body sprawled on the floor. Tentatively, he stretched his arm out and brushed a finger along the man's lips. His cock twitched at the thought of those lips wrapped around it. He was unbelievably sexy. Not at all what Robert had been expecting.
Could he really do this? He wasn't a criminal. Maybe his mom didn't need the money as much as she thought. He could get another job to help out. Robert could leave now and no one would be the wiser.
Mom wouldn't ask if she wasn't needing. And she would be very angry if he came home without the artwork.
He had to think. Robert didn't know when his unexpected captive would awaken and now he feared he didn't have the right house. His plan needed to be altered. He couldn't leave Thomas sitting there while he searched for the painting. What was mom thinking? What had he been thinking? Panic raced through his body. His stomach rolled, but he had to do something.
Determined, Robert went to the front door, locked it and started a search. Whoever the guy turned out to be, he would need to be secured before he awakened. He remembered a shed out back from when he'd cased the place. There should be rope or something he could use. At home, he had all the supplies he could want. Not that his mom used them on him anymore.
He walked to the back of the house hoping to find a door to the backyard. After he had the author secure, he'd check for identification. He didn't know what he would do if the unconscious man turned out not to be the author. Did his mom send him here on purpose? To punish him for something? It was time to find out.
* * *
His head hurt and his mouth was so dry he could drink a lake and it might not help. What the hell had happened? Michael kept his eyes closed so he could focus his thoughts. He remembered pulling up to the house. He'd walked in and — and — something happened, the thought just out of his reach.
A noise to his left made his eyes open. What he saw startled him. A dirty angel. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the young man still stood there. Michael's memory came rushing back. The little fucker had knocked him out with something.
Anger flooded his body. He tried to move, but he couldn't. He managed to glance down, only now noticing the rope tying him to the chair. He struggled with his bonds.
"You won't be able to get free," the angel stated.
"What the fuck is going on?" His voice sounded rough to his own ears. He still couldn't get the taste out of his mouth.
"I'm sorry, Thomas. Mom wants your painting and what she wants, she gets."
"For the last time, who the hell is Thomas?"
Confusion flittered across the angel's face before a calm mask replaced it.
"You're Thomas Eli, the author of my mom's favourite books. She saw the magazine article on you and made a plan. She needs the money or I wouldn't be here."
"Listen, I'm not this Thomas fellow. My name is Michael Barrett, I own a bar. I'm not a writer. You've got the wrong house. Now let me go and leave and I'll forget this ever happened." He made his tone sound confident and authoritative.
Puzzlement reappeared on the young man's face, and then it morphed into fear before shutting down again. Good, maybe he could get out of this in one piece. It would be okay if he wasn't tied down, he out-muscled the angel.
"You have to be him. I — I can't go back if ..."
"If what? Where can't you go? Talk to me. Let's start with something easy. What's your name?" If he kept his captor calm and reasoned with him, maybe he could get untied.
For the first time he stared into the face of his intruder. He could drown in those crystal blue orbs. A man stood before him, not a kid. He seemed unsure, but older than Michael had first thought.
"Robert M — just Robert."
"That's a good start. Now, how old are you?" Michael knew there were more important questions he should be asking, but he needed to know how old this man-child was.
"I — why does that matter?"
I have no idea, but it does.
"Just trying to figure some things out here, like how I can help you. Talk to me."
"I don't know. This isn't in the plan. Mom was very specific about what I had to do." Fear leaked back in the thief's voice. "Now, I don't know. I saw your driver's licence. I know you're Michael, but, you see, you can't be."
The voice teetered on panic, Michael had to bring him back down.
"Don't worry about that right now. Take a deep breath and tell me how old you are."
"I'm twenty-three. Why are you being so nice to me?"
That was the question of the day and he didn't have the answer.
"I want to help, Robert. I don't want you to get into any trouble. Why were you trying to find Thomas?" That's it, keep him talking.
"I shouldn't be talking to you. If you can help — I, well, Mom said it would be easy to take it and he didn't need it. She has to have that money. She needs it." Robert sighed.
"Do you always do what Mom says?" Michael needed to know more about this woman's control of the man in front of him.
Robert hesitated and Michael wasn't sure if he would answer the question. He waited for a minute trying to think up a new tactic when Robert spoke.
"I have to. I'm all she has," Robert mumbled.
"What did you use to knock me out?" He switched topics in hopes of an honest answer.
"Chloroform." His eyes widened when the answer slipped from his lips. And what beautiful lips they were. So red and ripe, like cherries waiting to be picked.
I've got to stop this. I'm tied to a fucking chair. He is bad news, not someone I can kiss. Can I?
He stopped his internal struggle when Robert spoke again.
"Mom said I should take it in case someone was home." He paused again. "I — I didn't want to hurt anyone, but she wanted that painting. What am I going to do?" The words come out as a whisper.
Robert dropped to the floor, demeanor so forlorn.
"I can help you, if you let me." He wanted to wipe that look off Robert's face, to protect him from this 'mom'. To comfort him somehow.
Fuck, what is wrong with me.
"You'll help me find Thomas' house?" Hope laced with fear tinged Robert's words as he glanced up at him.
"Robert, I think we have more important things to do right now. Let's forget about Thomas and the painting, at least for now."
"I can't. I have to bring it to Mom, but I don't know what to do." Robert sounded stubborn for the first time, but he clutched his knees and started rocking back and forth.
He should be thinking of calling the police, but he only wanted to wrap his arms around Robert. He needed to get rid of these thoughts and feelings. This thief, for that's what he was, had broken into his home.
"Robert, stop rocking and listen to me." He waited until he had Robert's attention. "Good. Come a little closer, that's it. Stealing something is wrong. You know that, right?"
"Stop! Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, I can't think straight and I'm not a fucking child."
Robert scooted away from him and slammed his fist against a wall. Shit.
"Sorry. You have me at a disadvantage here. I'm tied up and you're the boss.Got it. So, what do we do now, Boss Man?"
"I need to talk to my mom."
"Wait! No. Um ... I mean, talk to me a little more. You can come closer you know. It's not like I can hurt you." Michael wiggled his fingers at Robert.
"I don't know. Maybe —"
"Your mom put you up to this, right? Does she have something over you? How is she controlling you? I have a friend who can help you. Talk to me."
He sounded desperate, but he didn't want Robert talking to the person whose idea this was in the first place. He was afraid of what she might say. So far Robert had stayed pretty calm with the exception of his small outburst and he didn't have any weapon that Michael could see. He wanted to keep it that way.
"You're talking too much and I can't think. I need to get out of here."
Robert jumped up from the floor, turned and left the room.
Shit, this can't be good.
"Robert!"
* * *
The man — Michael — yelled his name, but he ignored it. Robert could barely breathe much less think. Mom always told him what to do. He knew stealing was all kinds of wrong but he hated what happened when he didn't listen to her. His gut clenched just thinking about it. It had been years since the last time she'd beat him and locked him in his room. Once he'd outgrown her, all of that had stopped. But the words she flung at him hurt just as much. And he was all she had left. He couldn't leave her on her own. She was sick. What kind of man would that make him? He wasn't his father.
Michael's voice did something to his insides. Something he'd never felt before. He closed his eyes and Michael's face appeared. He was too handsome for words with his salt and pepper hair and dark brown eyes. Even the scruff on the man's face made his cock ache. The urge to kiss Michael overwhelmed him.
Robert opened his eyes. He couldn't call his mom. Not yet. He had to figure out these thoughts first. To do that, he'd have to talk to Michael. He had no idea where this independent streak was coming from, he'd never stood up to the woman who gave birth to him. Why now? Would Michael really help him or did he say those things just to get Robert to untie him?
Indecision caused him to bite down on his lip. When he tasted blood, he released it and reached up to wipe off his mouth.
He walked back to the room where he'd tied Michael up. "Will you really help me?"
"First you need to untie me."
"I think we should talk a little more first. I can't have you jump me after I untie you. My mom needs me and you could overpower me and turn me in."
"Just who is this woman? Is she really your mom?"
"Yes, she is."
He peeked at Michael and bit his lip again. He hissed at the pain.
"What about your dad?"
"I don't want to talk about him, he isn't part of this equation. You said you could help me, were you lying?"
"I'm just trying to understand why a grown man would be at home and listening when his mom tells him to break into someone's house. Is she blackmailing you? Help me out here."
"No." He didn't know what he should tell Michael. He ran a hand through his hair.
"You're the one who wanted to talk. Tell me more."
"I don't want you to think badly of Mom. She did what she had to do."
"How does she treat you now?"
"Why is this important?"
"I need information, the more the better."
"We get along fine as long as I mind her. I'm all she has."
"I'm sure she tells you that," Michael whispered.
Robert didn't know how to respond. His whole word revolved around his mom. It always had. Was there more to life than what he knew?
"She's going to be upset if I'm not home soon."
"Do you think she'll come searching for you?" Michael sounded worried.
"I was told to call her if I had any problems. I think this is a big problem."
Michael snorted. "I would say so, Boss Man."
"Are you making fun of me?" He couldn't tell.
"No, I'm not, but we have a problem here and until you let me go, I don't think we can fix it. Calling your mom will not help this situation. I think it could make it worse, for you."
"Why do you say that?"
Robert had a hard time glancing away from Michael's mouth when he spoke. He liked talking to him. Robert moved closer and sat down next to the chair, just out of reach.
"What do you think she'll tell you to do with me now that we've been talking?"
Robert shrugged. "Tell me to let you go and to find the real Thomas I guess."
"Do you really think she'll let you leave me here when I know what you look like? Think hard, Robert. What will she tell you to do?"
"Shit. I don't want to believe it, but she'd probably tell me to ... hurt you," Robert whispered the last two words.
"Yes, Robert, she'll probably tell you to hurt me."
"I don't want to hurt you. Hell, I don't want to be here at all, but she told me she needs the drugs."
"I don't want that either. It would make things tough on you because I have friends who would come to see if I was okay, and if you hurt me, they will find you. Do you understand?"
"I think I've already told you to stop talking to me like I'm a child. I still haven't untied you yet." Robert had to do something he wasn't comfortable with, make his own decision. He was letting his lust, because he couldn't deny it — he wanted to kiss Michael — interfere with what he needed to do. He didn't know this man. He could be saying anything to get away.
"It's your show, Boss Man."
"I should just leave. You said someone would know you're missing, right?"
What would he do about his mom? He couldn't go back to the house without the painting. Fear coursed through his body. Disappointing her was not an option. He always failed her one way or another and this would be one more strike against him.
"Are you okay?"
Michael sounded concerned, but Robert couldn't trust that. Mom did the same thing — sounded like she cared, and then turned on him, spewing forth all kinds of vile words. He would do anything for her. He had to. He had to prove he wouldn't be like his dad. That he would stay. She needed him.
"No, I'm not."
Why did he have this compulsion to pour his soul out to a stranger? Could it be because in his twenty-three years he'd never been as attracted to someone like he was Michael? He made Robert want things he couldn't name.
"Let me help."
Robert gazed into Michael's eyes and made up his mind. He sat up so he could reach the ropes.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Stealing Michael"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Jambrea Jo Jones.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.