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    Coerced
    Coerced
    Coerced
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    Coerced

    By Celeste Anwar

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    As dull as it was, Alana's life was peaceful, and she liked it that way. At least it was until the day a small packet arrived on her desk with a nude picture taken by a man she'd vowed to forget--a man she'd sent away to prison years before.

    With Rafe back in town, he's determined to exact revenge against the woman who stole his life from him. And he knows exactly what punishment to mete out for her betrayal.

    Rating: Reissue. Expanded and revised for release. Short novel-25,000 words.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAndrea DePasture
    Release dateNov 3, 2014
    ISBN9781502296832
    Coerced

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      Book preview

      Coerced - Celeste Anwar

      Chapter One

      I KNOW WHAT YOU DID that summer. Does your daddy know?

      Sudden chills raced up her spine, prickling the back of her neck. Alana Laroche stared down at the note she’d received in an envelope unmarked by a return address, then at the Polaroid picture that had been included for emphasis.

      Had it not been for the picture, she’d have thought this some joke done up by the locals just to get under her skin. But she’d pushed the images out of her mind for years....

      Swaths of white belly and dimpled thighs swam into her view before she closed her eyes against the rising nausea. It was one of the tamer ones.

      How many were there? Who could have gotten them?

      A cold sweat beaded her brow. She swiped it with the back of her hand, sinking back in her office chair to stare at the note.

      It couldn’t be him. He’d gone to prison and would be there for a very long time. Daddy had made sure of that. Then who?

      There was nothing other than a taunt indicated on the note—no demand for money. She’d have to sit back and wait for them to contact her and agonize over who could want to torment her about her past.

      She picked up the items, shoving them back into the envelope and then into her desk, underneath the phonebook and some other papers. Hopefully, no one would snoop in her things if she happened to leave her desk.

      Alana shuddered as the air conditioner turned on and blew cold air over her damp skin. She was getting worked up over nothing. She was a grown woman now. She couldn’t give in to scare tactics, or expect anyone to deal with this for her.

      She thought over her options and decided it was best if she kept this to herself, though the temptation to get help from Daddy was there. She hated dragging him in to anything. He was predictable in that he was always unpredictable—but more often than not, would react with anger and disappointment for stupidity committed years ago in her youth.

      No, it would be best if no one found out about this. Her father, Alan Laroche, was up for reelection this year. Something like this could ruin his chances. No doubt that was the culprit’s intentions. To drag up the past and run her name through the mud just to get at her father. More than anything, she didn’t want to see something like that show up in the newspapers. She’d just have to wait and see what would happen. Maybe, just maybe, this time she’d get through without any lasting damage besides a dent in her savings.

      Alana logged online to her bank account, checking what money she had in the reserves. She’d been saving for a house of her own, instead of renting, but that might be a few more years in the future now. She hoped she wouldn’t be wiped out. The very idea was enough to send her into a depression, but she fought off the morose feelings. She wouldn’t know anything for sure until, or if, she was contacted again. Maybe nothing would happen at all.

      She knew wishful thinking like that was stupid. They wouldn’t have contacted her at all if they didn’t want some gain from her.

      Alana sighed, logging out and stretching her neck to each side to release some built up tension. It was lunch time, and as much as she hadn’t felt like eating before, her stomach had started grumbling and making its demands known.

      She grabbed her purse and headed out of her office. Daddy had rented office space downtown, which left everything she needed in short walking distance. She preferred walking, since it was often the only exercise she managed to fit in during the day. Long office hours kept her chained to her desk so much of the time that she was too exhausted to work out when she got home.

      Alana went to the mom and pop diner on the corner that she had lunch at nearly every day—except those times when she was really making an effort to get her weight under control.

      She should be eating tuna fish and fruit salad today—she’d brought her own lunch—but the diety stuff just held no appeal for her this time. She needed something akin to home cooking, and ordered a country fried steak dinner with mashed potatoes once she was seated at a booth.

      Alana watched the people rushing by outside the diner’s windows, sipping on her iced tea and trying to keep her mind off the note and the picture.

      It wouldn’t be so bad if the pictures were at least flattering. She’d always hated getting her picture taken. What insanity had possessed her to do something like that of all things? She knew what, or rather, who, but she didn’t want to think about that right now. It brought up too many painful memories that she’d worked hard at suppressing. Besides, she’d never been one to dwell on what if, or what might have been. Better to focus on the here and now, however shitty here and now might be....

      A phone rang in the background, barely audible above the din of customers talking and eating. Dinnerware tinkled, plates clacked—creating a general noise that she found oddly comforting in its everyday ordinariness.

      A waitress ran to the back to get the phone and answered, Racine’s Diner then listened for a minute. She looked right at Alana, nodded as if she was listening to someone give her instructions, then draped the phone above the cradle before coming to her table.

      The waitress propped her hand on her hip, looking down at her. You have a phone call.

      Alana stared at her blankly, setting her tea down and wiping the condensation from her drink onto a paper napkin. Who’d call her here? Everyone knew when she took lunch she didn’t want to be disturbed. It was the one thing she’d managed to drill into the staff’s heads. And if it was someone from work, why didn’t they just call her cell phone? She checked her phone quickly to see if she’d forgotten to turn on the ringer and missed a call. She hadn’t. Me? Are you sure?

      The waitress nodded. Described you to a T.

      Alana wrinkled her forehead and stood, following the waitress to the phone. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear, plugging the other with the tip of her index finger so she could hear the person on the other end of the line. Hello?

      She heard nothing but silence for a few seconds. Another joke then. She was right before hanging up when a deep, masculine voice spoke on the other end.

      Meet me at the old bridge on lover’s lane. Forty five minutes.

      Goosebumps rippled down her arms and legs, making her shudder. Wait, who is this? How do I know this isn’t some kind of joke? What do you want from me?

      A dial tone responded. He’d hung up before she could argue with him or try to back out.

      Alana hung up the phone and went back to her booth. Her food was waiting on her when she got back. She picked at it, merely curbing her appetite. For some reason, she was having a hard time swallowing anything. Her stomach was in knots. She pushed the food away, chasing it

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