True Love Lost (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 3)) Read online

  True Love Lost

  By Morgan Kelley

  ©Copyright 2013 by Morgan Kelley LLC All rights

  reserved. No parts of this publication may be

  reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

  means, electronic or mechanical, including

  photocopy, recording, or in an information

  storage or retrieval system without written

  consent from the author. All characters are fictional

  and any similarity to real life or individuals is

  coincidental.

  Second edition©Copyright 2013 by Morgan Kelley

  LLC

  Third Edition ©Copyright 2013 by Morgan Kelley

  LLC

  “They that love beyond the world cannot be

  separated by it Death cannot kill what does not die.”

  ~ William Penn

  “You live on earth only for a few short years

  which you call an incarnation, and then you leave

  your body as an outworn dress and go for

  refreshment to your true home in the spirit.”

  ~ White Eagle

  And so begins Desdemona’s story and the new journey of Callen Whitefox…

  Dedication:

  To all those that believe in love at first sight.

  To all those that have loved and lost.

  To all those that were driven mad by love.

  To all those that have yet to risk their hearts for their

  ‘one true love’.

  And to all those who never gave up and searched for

  that true love despite the odds.

  To my mom and dad; a shining example of love never

  getting lost.

  To my girlfriends who let me bounce ideas off them at all

  Times of the day, and put up with my craziness in the

  Pursuit of writing this book.

  Wine is on me!

  ~ Prologue ~

  Six Months Earlier

  The mirror didn’t lie, as beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Indeed she was a lovely woman, taking pride in her appearance. The main reason was her true love. He always enjoyed that she took time to make herself look just right. As she brushed her long blonde hair, she ran her fingers over the long silkiness, a smile crossing her lips.

  “Tonight will be so special,” she said, to no one in particular. “I can’t wait until we start our evening together, lover.”

  It would be a night they’d never forget.

  There was nothing like spending a quiet evening in with the love of her life. It made her giddy with excitement at the prospects of what was to come. “I wonder what color lipstick I should wear for you tonight,” she said, as she picked through the various colors in her makeup kit. “Perhaps a red would be perfect,” she whispered giddily, as she puckered up and smeared it on her lips and then inspected the outcome.

  It should have taken little thought, but yet there was that doubt and fear pushing into her mind. Finally, she made the decision.

  “No, I think not. My lover is right. I look too trashy. I know how you don’t like me to look like a whore. I guess I’ll pick a new color, lover,” she stated to the empty room. Gently she picked up a tissue and began blotting the color from her lips. When it left a red stain behind, she felt herself becoming angry, rubbing harder and with more force. “No! This won’t do,” she snapped, desperately trying to remove the offensive color from her lips. Red was for whores and sluts. Not women in a committed relationship, and she knew that!

  The love of her life was very particular. There were a few things that she’d learned to avoid when he was around. The first being, he liked his woman to be a lady. Not some crass, vile, trash bag that had no manners. Women you brought home to marry weren’t gutter whores who acted like perverse tramps.

  Once before she tried to play the sexy vixen and crossed the line, only to discover her lover’s temper. That was a night she wouldn’t ever forget, as it played back in her mind like a horrible nightmare. The anger from him was incredible and the strike to her face left a mark that took days to fade.

  That mistake wouldn’t ever be made again.

  She thought about that night not long ago, and her heart pounded furiously in her chest. So much effort went into that evening to impress him. The perfect dinner had been planned, as he came home from a demanding day at work. Making his favorite food was tricky, because if it was too hot or too cold then there would be anger. He liked to eat promptly at six p.m. and not a second later. As he walked into the house he wanted a cold beer, his woman looking perfect, a clean house, and a hot meal. After all it wasn’t too much for him to ask of her.

  Rubbing her cheek, she remembered the moment it started to unravel. When she placed their dinner, a pan of lasagna in the oven, she inadvertently forgot to turn it on and the well timed dinner was going to be late. Maybe he’d forgive her and be in a good mood, or maybe he’d punish her and make her night hell.

  Either way it was a craps shoot. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

  As she waited for him to arrive home, she had a brilliant idea. She would dress in something sexy, possibly distracting him with her body for thirty minutes before dinner. Then he wouldn’t even notice that the food was late coming to the table.

  Men loved sex and food, and she was praying that the art of seduction would save her from getting hurt. If there was one thing she disliked, it was the quick snap of his temper when she did something horribly wrong.

  It scared her.

  NO! It terrified her.

  Running around the house, cognizant of the clock on the wall and the alarm in her phone, she knew she only had so much time remaining before he’d arrive. Checking the details, she rushed into the living room just to assure herself that she wouldn’t screw anything else up.

  The remote was on the arm of his chair ready for his use.

  There were three cold beers in the fridge, ready for his consumption through the night.

  Even the pillows were in just the right spots on the couch, fluffed and ready to impress him with their perfection.

  Lastly, she checked off the final item. The mail was in a pile ready to be read and on the little table beside his chair.

  If any of these things weren’t exact, there’d be anger and hell to pay. She knew that from experience, but that was her fault. He had rules and she needed to be obedient and observe them, because he was the man.

  Now that the little details were handled, she could now manage the big issue at hand. The late dinner and why she’d screwed it up this badly. This would be her third warning, and the first one had been scary enough. Yet she didn’t learn her lesson. The screaming frightened her, but still she made the error again. The second time, punishment was she’d been struck. If he got to the final warning, she was unsure what would happen. There was a part of her that dreaded knowing what he would do to her on the third mistake when he found out.

  Shaking her head, she pushed it out of her mind, praying her plan would work. As she checked the clock again she took a seat at her vanity. It had been a present from her true love, and he expected it to be used. No slovenly women were allowed in his house. Women were to be arm candy, making their men look good. It was her job in life. She was his concubine and his representation out in the world. Because he had chosen her there were benefits. He paid her bills, gave her a roof over her head, and loved her.

  He really loved her…

  As she hastily picked makeup out to impress him, she had that sinking feeling that the plan wasn’t going to work. A silent prayer was said, and a promise that this wouldn’t ever
happen again, if she just survived this one mistake.

  “Please God let me pull this off,” she whispered.

  Just one more chance and she’d be the perfect woman for him. After all she was still learning.

  Digging through her dresser drawer, she found the one slutty outfit she owned. It wasn’t one she ever wore with him before. Part of her was afraid of how he would react. There were times when they had sex, and he wanted her to be a filthy whore, making her do the vilest things, and other times where he couldn’t perform unless she appeared chaste and pretended to not enjoy it. Either way, he loved her and that’s all that mattered.

  Crossing her fingers, she hoped she could distract him enough with her womanly wiles, and that he’d be in the mood for raunchy sex.

  As she finished dressing, she slipped into a pair of heels that she owned before moving in with him. It was one of the rare pieces of her past that she’d kept. He didn’t like her remembering anything before him. The men, the fun, the sex…But she couldn’t resist the red shiny patent leather pumps. They were her secret happiness, and she just couldn’t leave them behind. Checking the garters and looking in the mirror she heard his truck pull up to the outside of the house.

  It was now or never! The show was about to begin.

  Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, she leaned sexily against the counter, waiting for him to enter. The only thing she could hope was her face didn’t show the fear and terror that she was feeling inside if this didn’t work.

  The lock clicked.

  Her heart pounded.

  “I’m home, baby,” he hollered, his back to her as he closed the door.

  In her head she counted the steps through the mud room to the kitchen. Five, four, three, and she popped the beer tab and it made the hiss.

  “I see you have my…” He stopped short and his mouth hung open at what was waiting for him in his kitchen. Surely he was in the wrong house.

  “I thought we could have some fun before dinner,” she said sweetly, hoping the act was believable.

  Silence.

  “I’ll be the appetizer.” She tried again, hoping and praying it worked.

  Then she knew that the line had been crossed. The handsome features twisted into a sick rage, as the keys to his truck were slammed viciously onto the kitchen counter. The ‘thunk’ made her jump in her heels, and she knew then it was going to be bad. “Baby, wait! I can explain,” she begged, holding out the beer in hopes it might calm him down. It wasn’t like she forgot everything he liked.

  “Explain?” he roared. “You can explain why you’re dressed like some piece of trash and standing in my kitchen like this?” He motioned up and down her body with his hand.

  She stuttered, “Ba-baby, I forgot to turn on the oven and dinner is going to be late tonight, and I didn’t want you to…”

  There was no time given to explain. The beer went flying, as he knocked it out of her hand and stepped dangerously close to her body.

  “You didn’t want me to be angry?” he hissed. “Well you have a funny way of avoiding that,” he snapped at her viciously. “I warned you about trashy women in my home. It’s forbidden!”

  When he moved at her, she braced for the hit and fully expected it. It spun her head and knocked her off balance. The heels that she loved so much didn’t help her, as they twisted making her fall backwards. Everything stopped, as she felt her legs going out from under her, and it was all broken as her head hit the corner of the counter.

  Shaking her head to pull out of the memory, she refused to think about it anymore. That was then, and this is now. Her lover was waiting for her out there, and she was going to give him the best night of his life. One he’d remember until he died. One last check in the mirror, a spritz of perfume, and she was ready to go and face him.

  “Here I come, baby,” she called, as she exited their room they shared and crossed through the house. Looking around, everything was perfect. It was a job well done, and she congratulated herself on perfecting the task.

  Entering the attached garage, she felt her breath catch in her throat. There he was, and he was magnificent. There was no doubt that she was indeed the luckiest woman in the world. As she approached him, she could tell he wasn’t feeling well. His skin was gray and his breathing shallow.

  “Lover, are you not feeling well?” she asked, as she looked down at him lying on the table in the middle of their garage. Her fingers traced down his body, avoiding the manacles and the chains lying across him to restrain him. “Don’t worry love, after our evening together you’ll find that you’ll feel vastly better,” she grinned, coyly.

  Unbuttoning his shirt, she noticed his eyes were open.

  “Where am I?” he slurred. “I don’t feel well.”

  “You’re at home with me, lover,” she smiled lovingly at him. “We are about to have a nice romantic night together.”

  “Who are you?” he asked, as his eyes suddenly began to focus on the person standing above him. “Wait, that’s not right. Oh my God!”

  “Oh, you know who I am, lover, but I think you’ve asked enough questions,” she said, as she ripped off a piece of duct tape.

  “Wait, get away from me!” He began struggling to get free.

  “Now, now lover. It’s time for our date to begin,” she whispered, grinning seductively, and then slapped the duct tape over his mouth. When she placed a kiss over the tape covered lips, he began screaming muffled words. “I promise, tonight will be a night to remember for you.” she winked and moved to his feet.

  The restrained man felt violently ill, like he was about to vomit. There wasn’t any alcohol involved. Only a cup of coffee. Then it started coming back to him, and he fought harder to escape.

  “Now lay still while I take off your shoes and socks, lover. I need to get your handsome feet ready for the evening’s festivities.”

  Removing his dress shoes and his socks, she seductively she ran her fingers over the arch of his strong feet. She knew when she saw him, and he’d be the perfect donation. “I’m impressed, lover. You have such strong bone structure.”

  He fought hard to get through the chains, and when he saw the hacksaw being pulled from the tool chest he started begging into the duct tape. Next to come were the tears, as they began to fill his eyes while the cold metal touched his skin.

  “Lover, fret not my pet. I swear that this is all necessary. It’s for us, my love. Trust me. I know what’s best for us now.”

  There was more screaming as he struggled violently to pull his restrained legs from the hacksaw.

  “Don’t worry lover, it will only hurt for a little while, and then the pain will all go away, and there will be peace. I promise.” She batted her eyelashes and patted his leg reassuringly, right before she began humming to herself. “Here we go.”

  The first slice was vicious. It cut through tendon and nerve and the teeth of the hacksaw scraped against the bone and made a sickening sound. He screamed, and howled from behind the duct tape, struggling nonstop, as each slice of the hacksaw was punctuated by the sound of bone being sliced at the ankle.

  The room swam sickly, as he felt his heart pounding. The pain was so acute, that he knew he’d be passing out from the intensity of it all. The gray was now white, and the edges were slowly going black. As the next wave of pain hit, he prayed to go unconscious.

  With his last scream, he fell into the darkness.

  Willingly.

  She flinched as the blood squirted from the artery onto her face and neck. “Damn it lover! You got blood in my hair,” she said horrified, as she looked over at his prone body. “Just one more slice.” With those words, she made the final cut and completely severed the first foot.

  “Don’t worry my love. I forgot about that artery. I won’t get sprayed with the next one,” she said, patting his unmoving leg.

  The man screamed no more, as the blood in his body spurted from the severed limb with every pump of his heart. Soon there’d be little to no life left in his
body, as all of his precious fluid ran into the drain in the garage floor.

  Even when she began sawing at the second leg, there were still no screams. Life leached from him like the blood, and there were no thoughts but one, as he left his existence and became one of the dead.

  Thank God the pain is over.

  Three months later

  She struggled to remove him from the truck and into the abandoned building. He was heavier than he looked, and now he was nothing more than dead weight. There was going to have to be a diet in her lover’s future- that was for sure. The love of her life seemed to put on weight since three months ago, when she carried him to their secret spot. It was time to stop baking him cakes and cookies, or he’d be as big as a house. Not that it’d matter. She’d still adore him unconditionally.

  After all, you loved who you loved.

  Dragging him seemed so cold and impersonal, but honestly he was heavier than she could manage on her own. If only he’d stayed awake and walked on his own, it would have been so much easier and quicker. Sadly, he couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and once it flowed, he was gone to the world.

  Down into the dilapidated building she pulled him, carefully avoiding him, slamming his head off the door jam. After all, she didn’t want to hurt him, and give him a wicked headache in the morning. Then he might be cranky and not enjoy their evening that she had planned for them.

  “Oh look lover,” she said, looking around at his company. “It looks like you have some friends to keep you busy while I go home and clean the house.”

  Placing him against the one wall, she patted his cheek. “Now, I promise to have dinner ready for you, after I clean the house and go pick up some beer. I do know how you like your beer cold and your dinner hot.”