Bound to Me (The Harbour Series Book 1) Read online

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  Warning: Please note this novel contains explicit sexual content and crude language and is intended for mature audiences. Parental/reader discretion is advised.

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  Cover photographed and designed by Sara Eirew of Sara Eirew Photography

  www.saraeirew.com

  Editing provided by Missy Borucki

  missyborucki.com

  Proofreading provided by Robin Bateman of Robin’s Red Pen

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  Book formatting provided by Stacey Blake of Champagne Formats

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  Publication Date: January 24th, 2017

  ISBN: 978-0-9907099-6-1

  Bound to Me (The Harbour Series, #1)

  Copyright ©Christy Pastore 2017

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Synopsis

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  What’s Next?

  Books by Christy Pastore

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  We set the rules. . .

  Well, I set the rules. . . he agreed.

  I left before we could break them, or so I thought I had. . .

  Ella Connolly is looking forward to starting a new adventure in her life. After putting her party girl, headline-grabbing tabloid exploits behind her, she has become a responsible and successful entrepreneur. Moving across the pond to Manhattan, she’s determined to make the dream for her boutique to become an international retail brand come true.

  While in the States, her overprotective brother insists she have a full-time security detail. This complicates Ella’s plans in more ways than one.

  Alex Robertsen’s life is in shambles. After losing the woman he loves to his brother, he’s been on a steady diet of booze and easy women in an effort to make himself numb. Things needed to change.

  Change is good.

  Good, that is, until Alex finds himself thrust into an all too familiar situation.

  He’s obligated by a professional oath to protect Ella at all costs.

  She’s vowed to not let distractions, even the ruggedly handsome ones, keep her from her goals.

  But old habits die hard. . .

  We’d broken the rules. . . more than once.

  We were bound to. . . and we agreed it was worth the risk.

  He left before it shattered us both. . . or so we thought.

  For my girl, Jennifer Smith Vaughn, a long time ago you asked me a very important question.

  The answer was yes, I did have the courage to leave the shore.

  Thank you for the push and encouragement to try new adventures.

  “Be brave and fearless. Know that even if you do make a wrong decision, you’re making it for a good reason.”

  —Adele

  Year—Classified

  Location—Also Classified

  Final Mission for Elite Eight—Covert American Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit.

  Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Alex Robertsen.

  BLOOD WAS EVERYWHERE AND I felt it seeping into my mouth as I lay face down on the cold concrete floor. Two feet from me, a man lay with his throat slashed and two holes to the chest. No doubt that was Rebecca’s handy work. Fucker probably mouthed off about her female assets.

  “Horton, get back, get back!”

  My ears registered the sound of Sully’s voice echoing through the gunfire.

  “Coming up on your six, Sully! Watch out!”

  Shots continued to strike out from automatic assault rifles, by my count two people were shooting while the others reloaded their guns. Good, thank fucking God. Seems as if we’re all alive.

  “Rebecca, cover us back there!”

  I rolled onto my side, pulled my bandana from my pocket and wiped the blood from my face. The hairs on my arms stood straight up at the sound of a hailstorm of pops and flashes. Vibrations from the explosion rang in my ears like metal dragging across glass. Lifting my head, my eyes flicked to the ceiling and to the walls, faint light poured in through the west wall window. Dust and debris clouded my vision, but I could see the outline of three figures at various points along the wall of the warehouse. Sully, Horton and Rebecca all accounted for. Where was Sasha?

  “Zero, this is Delta team, do you read me?” The message rang loud and clear through my earpiece.

  Aside from twinges of pain in my arm and chest, I felt fine, probably just a cracked rib or two. I’d been shot before, but there was no physical sign of trauma. I eased up and there it was, a burning ache. I felt my shoulder and sure enough my shirt was soaked with blood. Shit! I had been cut, but definitely not shot. I don’t know how I did it, but I
managed to use my bandana as a makeshift compress.

  Still no answer from Zero. Rebecca, Elite Eight’s Chief Communication Officer and field operative, tried three more attempts to get command on the line. Through squinted eyes, I identified three large barrels in front of me and to my left. Aware of the bullets whizzing above, I managed to stay low and crouch behind them.

  Seconds later, glass popped and shattered. The explosion rocked me back about four feet, slamming me into an iron bar. Bits of debris rained down from the ceiling, and I narrowly escaped getting knocked the fuck out by a goddamn two by four. I shook it off, and then pulled my handgun from my vest. Plaster fell, giving way to live wires sparking each time they hit the ground. Black smoke billowed outside, dancing with a raging fireball. Fucking terrorist scumbags.

  “Everybody okay?” Horton called out.

  I took this as my opportunity to let them know I was alive. “Robo here,” I shouted back. My eyes fully focused once more, allowed me to survey our surroundings.

  “Nice to see you’re awake, Sleeping Beauty! We missed you.”

  “Fuck you, Sully! I’m touched by your concern. You good?”

  “Yeah, just another day in paradise,” he yelled, before firing off four rounds. “Whoo! Take that mother-fuckers!”

  I craned my neck, and in the dusty light not more than five feet away lay Sasha Bloom, Elite Eight’s Intelligence Analyst. Without concern for my own life or the pain in my chest, I ran to her. Dark liquid oozed across the floor in a stream, and that is when I saw the jagged metal lodged in her leg. My heart crumbled, under a hammer of pain. I knew this wasn’t good. I ripped the bottom of her right pant leg and made a tourniquet and used the remaining cloth to apply pressure to the wound.

  Kneeling beside her, I grabbed her hand. “Sasha, hey, baby. Can you hear me?”

  “Alex,” she whispered weakly. “One leg hurts and the other is now cold.”

  I chuckled. “Sorry about that, but I needed it.” I pointed to my injury to keep her mind off her own pain.

  “It’s okay, but I thought tough guys like you didn’t get hurt?”

  “Oh that’s just a scratch, baby,” I joked, and got a clearer look at her wound. It was gushing blood, the metal sliced right through her femoral artery.

  Fuck! If we didn’t get out of here soon, she would die on the floor in this dirty warehouse. And I couldn’t allow that to happen. I loved her too much. Plus, we had plans after this mission, a date on the rooftop bar at the The Hilton Molino Stucky. Her choice. She called Venice the most romantic place in the world. The view of the lagoon from the terrace was something Sasha loved, and she had told me all about it on more than one occasion.

  “Rebecca,” I yelled, over my shoulder. “Get command on the line! Tell them Bloom is hurt and we need an extraction plan, now!”

  “Fire, fire, fire.”

  The window above us shattered. Instinctively, I covered Sasha’s body with my own. I wouldn’t let it end this way.

  Not here.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  “It’s okay.” Her breathing was shallow, and she swallowed a few times before speaking again. “I love you.” Her head lolled from side to side, as her eyes rolled back in her head.

  I cupped her face in my hands. “Look at me, Sasha. Stay with me,” I begged. My throat was dry and tight. “You’re going to be fine. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “It’s okay, Alex.” Her words came out soft and comforting. As if I was the mortally injured one and hanging on for my life. Her pulse was weak, and I knew the blood coming from her nose was a sign of internal bleeding. I was losing her. Fuck!

  “Baby, please don’t leave me,” I pleaded, aware of the desperation in my voice. “Trust me. I’ll get us out of here.”

  An explosion rocked the building sending more glass and metal down from the ceiling. I held Sasha in my arms, protecting us both from the flying debris. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but I heard machine gun fire followed by another explosion. Through the haze of smoky fog, the chopper came into view.

  “Babe, the cavalry’s here,” I said relieved, looking down at Sasha. Her eyes were glassy, wet from tears that never came. “Sasha, no . . . no,” I whispered, pulling her closer and burying my face in her hair.

  Numbness settled around me. I’d failed her and it was my fault that she was dead.

  Eight Years Later

  WHAT IN THE HELL was I doing? Sitting at a bar downing my fourth scotch and soda was certainly not what I should be doing. I should have stayed on that beach, by myself. This place was infiltrated by one Millennial too many for my taste. Listening to the girl next to me jump from talking about politics in Greece to animal testing in the cosmetics industry then segueing into a debate about whether or not her flat iron was causing global warming was making my ears bleed. I’m pretty sure I just bumped into “the girl you wished you never started a conversation with at a party” from those Saturday Night Live skits.

  Part of me wanted to join in the conversation and poke holes in all her insane theories, the other part of me wanted to take her to the bathroom and shove my dick in her mouth to shut her up. Or maybe shove her panties in her mouth, while I fucked the silly out of her.

  After tossing back the last drop of my drink, I stared down at the picture on my phone of my brother, his girlfriend, and their new baby girl, Leandra Evelynn Parsons Everett. One big beautiful family and at one point I thought it would be mine. I didn’t need another goddamn reason to have this date permanently etched in my brain. Now I had two: the anniversary of a death and now the anniversary of a birth. Both tied to my own life with significant meaning. Reminders of what I once had, and lost. Of course, I was thrilled for Vince and Amanda on the birth of their baby, but that baby could have been mine.

  Fuck it, I need another drink.

  Fucking and drinking the pain away, this was what my life had become over the last few months. The ache never went away, not completely anyway. It wasn’t the booze I needed, no it was the dulling sensation the alcohol provided. Numbness was like a long lost friend, and I welcomed it with open arms. Tapping my empty glass, the bartender poured me another and then slid it in front of me.

  I’d been down this road before. Things weren’t all bad, this time around.

  On the upside, I was getting laid on a regular basis. I did enjoy the blowjob from the coat check girl at the restaurant last night. If she fucked as well as she sucked dick, I should take it upon myself to find her.

  No matter how many women warmed my bed, or the number of scotches or beers I consumed nightly, I still hurt the following morning. A combination of guilt and remorse, but mostly the physical effects from the alcohol and the havoc it wreaked on my body. I needed a better evening activity, one that didn’t make me feel like I’d been hit by a tank.

  Silly girl gave me a small smile eyeing me up and down, as I stood leaning on the bar. For a split second I entertained the idea of taking her back to my hotel suite, but then she turned to her friend and opened her mouth again and that was enough to send me, my dick and my ears on our merry way. I tossed back my drink, and signaled for the bill.

  As I slapped my second fifty of the night on the bar, the bartender said he’d bring my change.

  “Keep it,” I called after him.

  “Thanks, man,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Come back anytime.”

  Nodding, I dropped my money clip back into my jacket pocket and headed for the door. The bouncer asked if I needed a cab, I told him my hotel was just a few blocks away.

  “Have a nice evening,” he said after taking a long drag off his cigarette.

  A friendly bartender, a considerate bouncer—this was definitely not your mother’s Manhattan. Where were all the “Hey, I’m walking here” New Yorkers? Four days in the city and I had yet to be accosted by a man selling fake Rolex watches or even cursed at by an overworked cab driver. Pissed off or friendly, either way I’d take Manhattan any day. />
  As I walked more briskly, trying to keep in pace with other pedestrians, the scent of burning rubber and various spices from food carts whipped around me. Nothing smelled this bad, not even in Detroit, okay maybe Detroit, but definitely not Grand Rapids.

  “There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night.”

  I craned my neck to find myself coming face to face with a model-esque, leggy blonde. When I say leggy, I mean she was all legs because her dress was a good eight inches from the top of her knees and she stood at least five-foot-ten. And because I was a red-blooded man, I thought about how much I’d love having those killer stems tangled around my body. Damn, she was insanely beautiful and her light flowery scent curled around me masking the unpleasantness that hung in the night air. Her golden blonde hair, that looked like perfectly spun silk, hung down to her waist. Then my eyes moved to her lips—cherry red. The kind of red that suggested she was a little bit of a badass underneath that girly pink dress, and probably wouldn’t mind getting her lipstick smeared. Or maybe that was my wishful thinking.

  She tugged on my jacket, and whispered, “Play along, okay?” Her eyes shifted left and I followed her gaze. That is when I saw a guy who looked like he might be sick any moment leaning against a heavy green wooden door.

  “Is your friend okay?”

  “He is not my friend.”

  “He looks like a zombie.”

  “Will you help me put him in a cab?”

  I studied her, fixated on that sexy pout, and those long lashes fluttering innocently around her penetrating blue eyes. She flashed a smile at me and I knew I was a goner.

  “I’ve been missing you all night too, baby.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as we walked towards the guy that was not her friend.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  After we put zombie boy in a cab, my new blonde friend pulled me into the bar next door.