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  Forever My Knight

  Book One of the Warner Series

  A. R. Ford

  Forever My Knight

  Book One of the Warner Series

  A.R. Ford

  Copyright © 2019 A. R. Ford

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion

  thereof may not be reproduced or used in any

  manner whatsoever without the express written

  permission of the author except for the use of

  brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2019

  [email protected]

  https://arfordauthor.wix.com/mysite

  Dedication

  For my husband. Your unconditional love

  and support mean everything to me.

  For my fans. You give me the motivation to continue writing.

  Special Thanks

  Thank you to the Twitter #WritingCommunity

  and the Facebook writing community. Without

  your support and encouragement, this book

  would not have been possible.

  Warning:

  This book contains adult content and possible

  triggering content including sexual situations,

  language, violence, and stalking. It is intended

  only for readers 18+.

  Chapter 1

  Sarah

  Hands grab at my clothing. The smell of liquor overwhelms my senses. His strength easily overpowers me. Just before the nightmare morphs into the fear that haunts me randomly throughout the night hours, a scream wrenches me from sleep. Perspiration covers my body making my clothing damp. The garments cling to my body like a cloying second skin. My chest heaves as lungs struggle to take in air. An overwhelming sense of panic eases as I roll from the bed before moving to the window. The cool windowpane feels soothing against the flushed skin of my forehead.

  The streets are dark, save for golden circles of light falling from streetlights set at even intervals. A sky-blue sports car purrs down the road then pauses at a red light. It roars off into the night the instant the light turns green. A smile lifts my lips, and my mood improves at the car’s appearance. If only I dared to drive a car like that. The power of the engine would vibrate through the plush leather seats. Perhaps it would feel like flying while still yet being held fast to the ground by gravity’s grasp? If only I could fly away from the world and its baggage. Thoughts of escape are useless.

  A bedside clock reaffirms the time as the hope of a restful night’s sleep disappears. Three forty in the morning. The shower’s scalding needles beat down on my skin. Lingering there eases the knot of tension which seems permanently affixed to the muscles of my neck and shoulders. The heady scent of watermelon fills the steamy shower as I shampoo my hair. A robe donned after the shower brings some semblance of warmth and security. The coffee pot in the kitchen beckons as exhaustion overwhelms me. Intimate knowledge of the apartment leads to my ability to navigate the kitchen without light. The cozy two-bedroom apartment has served as my home for the past two years with my roommate.

  The last gurgling of the coffee pot alerts me that dark liquid courage and strength waits for my consumption. A mug filled to the brim warms the chilly fingers wrapped around it. My hands are always cold it seems—just as cold as the depths of my heart. The change occurred over the past six months since my fiancé left me standing at the altar. The sofa and a knitted throw beckon as my thoughts turn to the past once more. Why can I not let the events go? Why does it continue to eat away at my heart, intensifying feelings of worthlessness that live inside me? The question could linger for eternity, of that much I am certain. The low drone of the television eases the negativity for a few hours. CNN’s financial and news reports lull me into a state of suspended animation, at least that’s how it feels. Brittney finds me there at eight in the morning still staring at the television without seeing.

  “Hey, how long have you been up? Another nightmare?” Brittney sits beside me on the sofa, a hand rubbing at my shoulder. She smiles hesitantly, eyes filled with what I assume is concern. “Did you get any sleep last night, Sarah?”

  The last question snaps me fully from the trance. Eyes blink several times in rapid succession before finding Brittney’s smiling face. Brittney has cared for and supported me since this began. My life would be empty without the presence of my best friend in it.

  “A few hours maybe. Nightmare woke me up.” The coffee is cold in the mug, but I drink it anyway. The bitterness makes me grimace in disgust. I love hot coffee, not the cold acid liquid the mug now contains.

  “Please go see someone, Sarah. This isn’t you. And before you say no, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. I made an appointment for you with a counselor downtown. You may as well get up and get dressed.”

  “It won’t do any good to argue with you, will it?” A part of me wants to fight and run, resist the hope of change. Another part of me desperately wants the help, something, anything to be the person I once was.

  “Nope.” Brittney embraces me, holding on as I fight back tears. Brittney pulls away, threading a hand through her thick, dark hair. I envy Brittney’s hair. It is straight and shiny, behaving without the need for styling products or a diffuser. Her brown eyes twinkle with amusement when I stand up. “The appointment is at ten. The address is on a sticky note on the fridge. It’s right across the street from Bright Enterprises.”

  *******

  I hesitate briefly outside the building. It is not nearly as impressive as the glass and silver skyscraper across the street which houses Bright Enterprises. The elevator hums softly as it transports me to the fifth floor where the counselor’s office is located. The office is small and tastefully decorated. A receptionist provides a sheaf of papers on a clipboard that I complete while waiting. An older woman perhaps in her late fifties greets me from another doorway. I feel instantly at ease when we enter a private office decorated in soothing shades of blue and gray.

  “My name is Molly Henry. I’m a licensed clinical social worker. Were you able to find the office without any problem?” Her voice is soft, the expression on her face warm and inviting. She reminds me of my grandmother who died five years ago. Even the graying brown hair caught back in a bun on the back of her head acts as a comforting reminder.

  “I, um, yes. I found the building without any problems,” I finally stammer. Our conversation turns to casual topics for the first few minutes of the session. My tension eases after some time.

  “Could you tell me more about what brings you in?” Molly’s question brings unease rushing into my gut.

  The dam bursts not long after I begin sharing the events of the past six months with Molly.

  “Six months ago, I was supposed to marry the man I thought was my happily ever after. The night of the rehearsal dinner, the best man was drunk when he arrived. My ex-fiancé the rehearsal to take his parents to their hotel. The best man caught me in the bathroom. He tried to force me to have sex with him. He got rough, but I fought back. My best friend, his fiancée, was still there. She saved me from being raped. The best man told my ex-fiancé that I came on to him. The next day I was left standing at the altar when my ex-fiancé didn’t show up. He sent some nasty messages saying I was a slut.”

  “What made him think you were to blame for the things that happened?”

  Molly’s pointed question forces me to relive the months prior to the rehearsal dinner. There were times when Roman would wait until Brittney left the room before making crude comments. On two occasions I was forced to dodge him when he tried to corner me in one room or the other. Looking back at it now, I realize I should have told Brittney what was going on. Perhaps if I had, things
would not have spiraled out of control after the rehearsal dinner.

  “Roman called Simon and shared a completely different, twisted version of what happened that night. In his version I came onto him. That wasn’t what happened. He did things months before that night. Things I should have shared with Brittney. I should have called Simon that night. Maybe things would be different now.” My voice is strained. Tears loom. It is inevitable the floodgates will open.

  “I’m so sorry these horrible things happened to you. You can’t blame yourself for what happened,” Molly murmured.

  Divulging that Simon jilted me at the altar intensifies the emotional pain. I hold the box of tissues on my lap, grateful for the ability to wipe away the river of tears that appears. The tears remain for most of the hour-long session. A sense of relief fills me afterward. Molly shares symptoms of depression and PTSD. I could only wonder if this was the thing that traps me in the quagmire of darkness and despair.

  “Your depression is severe, Sarah. I want you to see one of our medical providers for antidepressants. We’ve hired a new nurse practitioner who has openings today. Take the medication daily at the same time. Here’s our crisis line number. I want to see you back in a week.” Molly’s words are comforting. At least something is going on, and there is hope.

  I glance at the card she hands me. “If you think it’s best,” I murmur.

  The nurse practitioner is just as compassionate as Molly. In less than four hours, definitive steps have been taken which could lift the fog. I swear to thank Brittney for encouraging the initial steps. I know the remaining work is up to me if I want to move forward instead of remaining stuck. It is time to get out of the apartment and live a little.

  By the time I arrive at the apartment, Brittney has taken further steps to drag me into the world. “You need to get out of this apartment. Come to work with me tonight, hang out. Maybe apply for a job if you like it?”

  Who could say no to the cute five feet six-inch tall Amazonian princess with rich brown eyes and hair? Saying no isn’t something I want to do. Brittney was here with me through everything. It is the least I can do to put on a black sheath dress and heels. I inspect my hair and decide it looks decent in a messy bun. I also apply lip gloss and mascara. It feels good to be in the car with Brittney, listening to the latest pop songs as we make our way toward the Flying Crown. A crowd has gathered at the bar by the time we arrive at six.

  The Flying Crown is one of the oldest bars in Warner. The front of the building is the original red brick exterior with a window gracing each side of the entryway. It looks warm and inviting from the street. The new owners remodeled the interior when they purchased the bar a few years ago. The Flying Crown is reminiscent of an old bar. Red leather covers the bar stools. The faint smell of orange oil lingers in the air. The bar is sleek and modern with strategic lighting illuminating expensive liquors. Two private party rooms sit near the back of the bar. The Flying Crown frequently hosts events for local businesses. In many ways, it is a centerpiece of our community.

  Brittney leads the way into the bar. She negotiates with an older bartender to keep an eye on me after I take a seat at the bar. I am left to my own devices as Brittney disappears into the employee’s only doorway. I take an instant liking to Robert who is an older man hovering between forty and fifty. He is friendly and attentive without bordering on creepy.

  “My name is Robert. If you need anything just let me know. How about a drink?”

  “Pina colada with extra coconut cream.”

  “Coming right up,” Robert quips before moving away to prepare the drink.

  Robert is as good as his word. A couple of minutes later, a pina colada decorated with an umbrella sits in front of me. The delicious sweetness disappears while I take in the activity in the bar. Robert brings another drink without asking when he notices the first has disappeared. I decide to remain at the bar and people watch as the heady heat of the rum makes me a bit woozy. Brittney does not have time to check in with me. The bar is packed with customers. Every server is busy tending to their customers. Robert and I continue a conversation on topics ranging from the weather to the state of the economy in Warner.

  A crowd of around twenty business professionals takes up most of Brittney’s section. I motion to them when Robert lingers nearby during a lull in orders. “Who are they?”

  “That’s the usual crowd from Bright Enterprises. They’re here at least three or four days a week after work. Good group of people. They don’t get out of hand and always tip the servers,” Robert replies while eyeing my nearly empty drink. “You ready for another?”

  “Sure am.” I grin at Robert but don’t dare hint at the warm fuzziness pervading my senses. It has been many months since I have consumed anything stronger than a glass of wine.

  “Hello,” a deep voice greets from my elbow.

  Holy crap! The devil on my shoulder winks and wiggles her bottom as one of the most handsome men I have seen in years smiles. He stands at least six feet tall, weighs around two hundred pounds, and is in impressive physical condition. The black bespoke suit looks as if it has been painted on his athletic body. Brown hair is cut neatly in a conservative style suitable for business. Then the most amazing midnight blue eyes rimmed in thick, dark lashes catch my gaze. A five o’clock shadow graces his face. This man is the antithesis of my ex-fiancé’s blonde, pale looks in so many ways. My heart beats faster when I inhale a hint of the citrusy cologne. Oh. My. He’s handsome and he smells good too.

  “Oh, um, hello.” Crap. Could I sound more infantile?

  “I’m Lukas,” he replies before extending a hand. He takes a seat on the empty stool at my side. Lukas moves with a grace belied by his physical stature.

  “Sarah. Good to meet you,” I murmur while doing my best not to get caught checking him out.

  “Mind if I join you?” The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He nods toward the group of people from Bright Enterprises. “The crowd was a bit overwhelming in our section.”

  “I don’t mind at all. You work at Bright Enterprises?” A gulp of pina colada brings the fiery heat of rum to a higher level in my veins. False bravado, that’s exactly what I need.

  “For the past few years. I enjoy the cybersecurity industry. There’s always a challenge.” His eyes examine my face intently while he takes a sip of beer. “What do you do, Sarah?”

  “I’m between jobs.” The pressing need to empty my bladder spares further explanation. I hop off the stool only to sway from the impact of the rum. Lukas places a steadying hand at my waist. “I’ll be right back. Ladies’ room.”

  The expectation that Lukas would be gone by the time I return is challenged when I find him patiently waiting. Confusion built as I wonder why he is there. I know no one could find me interesting or pretty. The angel on my shoulder wags a finger while chastising me for self-doubt. Lukas slides off the stool upon my arrival.

  “Welcome back,” he says in greeting while offering a hand of assistance when I clamber back onto the stool.

  “Thank you.” Robert appears with a fresh pina colada. A glance at my cell reveals that it is nearly eleven. “When does Brittney’s shift end, Robert?”

  “She’s closing tonight. We’re here usually an hour after last call which is at one,” Robert replies. “I can call a taxi for you.”

  “I’ll be fine. Could you close my tab? Thanks, Robert.” Robert nods before moving away to serve other customers. Liquid courage. Yes, I know there was a need for more of it. An urge to escape comes when Lukas leans closer and the citrusy cologne’s aroma filled my senses.

  “I’ll gladly give you a ride home,” Lukas volunteers. “I promise to behave like a gentleman. And before you ask, I’m not a vampire or ax murderer. Robert knows most of the crew from Bright Enterprises. I’m sure he would vouch for me.”

  A giggle bursts from my mouth at Lukas’s remark. “Those terms were not associated with your name in my mind. I do appreciate the offer, but I don’t want t
o inconvenience you.” No, not creepy—dark, brooding, sexy, and delicious though. Those words are associated with Lukas in my mind.

  “It would not be an inconvenience.” Lukas retrieves a driver’s license from a wallet secreted in a pocket. He motions to the iPhone lying on the bar in front of me. “Take a picture of my license and send it to your friend. Let her know I’m taking you home, Sarah.”

  I sip the pina colada, close my eyes then pick up the iPhone. “I don’t normally take rides from people I don’t know,” I murmur after tapping out a message to Brittney.

  “It was my hope we could get to know one another better, Sarah.”

  I wave Robert over before placing a credit card in his hand. “Brittney said she would take care of this for you,” Robert replies while examining the card.

  “I can’t let her do that, Robert.” I sign the receipt after adding a generous tip. “Tell Brittney I went home. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Take care, Sarah. Mr. Knight will make sure you get home safely,” Robert replies with a wave.

  Lukas takes my hand before tucking it in the bend of his elbow. He chuckles when I hesitate at the door of the car and look at him with one brow raised.

  “This is your car?”

  “All mine. I’ve always wanted a Mercedes AMG GTR. I bought it just before Thanksgiving last year,” he replies before opening the door of the sky-blue Mercedes.

  I wait until he sits in the driver’s seat before continuing. “I’ve admired this car from afar for months. I’ve always wondered if riding in it would set me free.”

  “What holds you captive, Sarah?” Lukas asks with a glance in my direction.

  “The past,” I whisper. The question brings the weight of the past six months, crashing down on me yet again. Tears well in my eyes. My hands lie folded in my lap.

  Lukas glances at me, a hand moving to brush away a tear as it threatens to fall down one cheek. “You seem so sad.”