My Dusk My Dawn Read online

  Henrietta Georgia

  My Dusk, My Dawn

  Brotherhood of El Book One

  First published by Lyrical Poetry Co. Publishing in 2017

  Copyright © Henrietta Georgia, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  Second Edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Contents

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PROLOGUE

  SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

  DOWN SOUTH

  THE RETURN

  BEAUTY AND PERFECTION

  BEST LAID PLANS

  KNOTS AND CROSSES

  HEAT ON

  JUSTICE SERVED

  DEUCES

  BROKEN

  THREATS AND PROMISES

  THE CORINTHIAN

  THE HEALER

  ISLANDS

  SOMEONE ELSE

  A NEW DAY

  CALLING IT IN

  PATHS COLLIDING

  AFTER FOREVER

  THE PACT

  SILVER RAIN

  FOREVER LOST

  THE WAKE

  WITH HIM

  A COURTING

  VIOLETS ARE BLUE

  FOREVER AFTER

  PLEADINGS

  IN HIS NAME

  THE FIRE

  LINE RIDER

  WUTHERING STORMS

  SCHADENFREUDE

  SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL THIS WAY COMES

  EPILOGUE

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this book to everyone that has loved and lost, everyone that has wanted to start over but could not, and everyone that has fought a battle and lost, but survived to tell the tale.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank you Jesus for going before me and for looking out for me always.

  Thank you to my family and friends.

  Thank you to the very talented and exceptional cover designer Stefanie Fontecha at Beetiful Book Covers for bringing my creative vision to life.

  Thank you to all my fans, who love and feel the characters I’ve created as though they were real. They are as much a part of me as a part of you.

  A very special thank you to T.S. who encouraged me to put pen to paper and write again.

  Thank you to all The Beautiful Ones. You know who you are.

  PROLOGUE

  Nothing could stop us the way we were. Ours was not the great love story written in the stars. Our story was greater. It was fated, he for I and I for him. When we first met, I did not know this. I did not know all this. I did not know that we would end up like this. Nothing could stop us the way we were, except life itself. Only love had other plans at the time. At that time.

  1

  SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

  Duayne drove for what seemed like hours. The silence was deafening. I knew better than to further aggravate him, so I said nothing. It was cold. The pickup truck’s leather interior against my bare skin felt cold. I pressed the heater on. He switched it off. I sat with my hands folded across my chest, my knees crossed. My feet bare. I closed my eyes and prayed. I felt a sense of foreboding. That this was the end. I prayed.

  At moments, he sped, and the view outside the truck’s tinted windows was a blur. The dream relocation to Austin, Texas was a nightmare. I had hoped for so much, but this was it. He would never change. He could never change. I had come to that realization too late.

  He pulled into a filling station. Gas was running low and he’d figured it was time to refuel. Eyeballing me as he locked me in the car, I knew better than to try to escape. But I needed to escape. I had to escape.

  He kept his .45 in the glove compartment. All I had to do was get it. As he refueled, I faked sleep. When his head was turned, I opened the glove compartment. It was empty. He suddenly unlocked the door from the outside, startling me. My nightdress got caught on the edge of the compartment’s door as I rushed to slam it shut.

  “Looking for something?” he asked, lifting his shirt to reveal his handgun, tucked neatly in a holster beneath an untucked shirt. “This isn’t the only thing I’ve got.” Sliding in closer to me, he flicked open a penknife. Waving the blade in front of my face, he stated, “If I wanted this to be over, it would be over. Don’t ruin this for me. You don’t get to choose how this plays out. This isn’t over by a long shot.” The blade shone silver in the moonlight.

  My heart leapt. I fought for words but none came.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asked. Suddenly, he held the blade beneath my chin. “Don’t fucking try anything else with me.”

  I held back tears.

  He held the blade there for a moment, before dropping it and putting it away. Tears rolled down my face and I turned away from him to face the window.

  He started the car and drove. The black sky, peppered with stars, a blanket of calm in the chaos of my predicament. I found reassurance in the fact that the day would eventually break. This darkness would not last forever. I held back tears, wishing I could drift into an endless sleep, or a sleep with end that would see me waken from this nightmare.

  No such luck. Somewhere between that thought and the car coming to a screeching holt, I jolted up from sleep. Duayne hopped out of the driver’s seat, came over to my side, yanked the door open and gruffly grabbed me by the wrist. I tried fighting him, but this was no use. He tightened his grip on my wrist and dragged me forward. “What are you doing Duayne, enough is enough!”

  “Yes, enough is enough!” he yelled, his emerald green eyes glistening with disdain and contempt. Despite the hostility and anger reflected in his face, his mocha skin and beautiful face was as perfect as it was when we first met. Back then, I saw him as a protector. Now, he embodied all that I feared and loathed. “Enough is enough, and that’s why I’m leaving you here,” he explained.

  I didn’t recognize where I was. My heart skipped a beat. He was leaving me in the middle of nowhere. The only thing in sight was a local dive bar. I desperately tried to get out of his grip. The scuffle angered him further and in response, he shoved me against a nearby brick wall.

  Towering over me, he stated, “Let’s see you get out of this one you bitch.” He spat on the ground in front of me, turned, walked away then drove off.

  I froze, motionless and helpless to do or say anything. I had no fight left in me so I let him walk away and leave me there. For many years, I had hoped to get away from him. This was the moment he let me go and walked away from me.

  It was cold and dark. I didn’t know where I was. I dropped to my knees, in tears, as I glanced around me and at the dark skies above. For a moment I prayed. Prayed that where I was would lead me to a better place than where I’d been.

  I don’t know how I got here.

  Country music played softly in the background. The saloon bar looked dingy but busy. One of those places where one could get all you can drink Lone Star beers, I figured. I was alone. Me myself and I in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. No shoes on, dressed in a barely-there night dress. Heart in my throat, I tried not to panic.

  I don’t know how I got here.

  All the smarts that got me through law school couldn’t help me now. All the foresight in the world could not have seen me here. Or maybe it could have. If only I had been more aware.

  A man stumbled out of the saloon heading my direction. He’d clearly had too much to drink. Hoping he hadn’t seen me was unrealistic. He had.<
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  “Well look at what we have here!” he exclaimed loudly, slurring his words. “Dark berry, sweet juice!”

  I got to my feet and stood there, waiting for the right moment to bolt. Drunkenly staggering towards me, he lunged at me. A wisp of air graced my face as I ducked from his grasp and bolted towards the door of the saloon.

  The bar fell silent. “Well look at what the cat dragged in,” said a man in the crowd. Other patrons chimed in, mumbling and casting dirty looks my way.

  I tried to gain my composure. Lifted my head to appear confident though I didn’t feel it. I resolved to ask the bartender for a glass of water and walked over to the bar counter.

  Surely being inside here was better than being outside there, I reasoned. A lone man in a black and white checkered shirt, blue denim jeans and cowboy hat sat on a barstool at the counter, to my left. He tipped his hat at me, acknowledging my presence. I nodded in response. Hands trembling and pressed out in front of me on the countertop, I stood there, waiting to catch the attention of the bartender.

  “A glass of water please,” I requested, when I caught his eye.

  “That’ll cost you,” the bartender said, leaning back in a stance that indicated he was unwilling to serve me.

  “Don’t worry about it then,” I replied, having no way to pay. A glass of water was supposed to be free anyhow.

  The man at the bar who’d tipped his hat at me stated, “If the lady wants her a glass of water, give her that glass of water.” He stood up, cool and collected. His wavy hair was a tawny brown hue, his eyes a deep ocean blue. The hat he wore shaded his ruggedly handsome face. A prominent longhorn belt buckle and cowboy boots with spurs completed the look. Standing there firmly, he didn’t seem inebriated. Though my instinct had been off being with Duayne, oddly, I felt a sense of calm and peace in this man’s presence.

  “What can I get you lady, apart from that glass of water?” he asked, the kindness in his eyes apparent. “Daniel,” he said, stretching a hand out to greet me.

  I felt nothing like a lady, as I took his hand, and shook it. “Just a glass of water,” I stated. I didn’t offer my name in response, though it would have been the polite thing to do at the time. Then again, I hardly knew him, so being secretive and wary of him was the way to go.

  “Gaitor Bait,” the bartender retorted abruptly.

  “Excuse me?” Daniel questioned, with disbelief, facing the bartender directly.

  “Gaitor Bait. I see you’re into it,” the bartender stated, slamming a glass down on the countertop.

  “Enough of that,” Daniel responded. “That’s no way to talk to me and there’s no need for you to get all bent out of shape. All the lady’s asking for is a glass of water. All I’m asking is for you to give it to her.”

  Another man sought to throw his two cents in. “Lady? She ain’t no lady. See what she’s a wearin’!”

  Daniel turned to me, gave me a quick once over, then said slightly above a whisper, “I know there’s gotta be some perfectly logical explanation as to why you’re here, dressed like this. But we’re not going to worry about explaining that to anyone. I’m fixin’ ta get you out of this here mess. Trust me.”

  “Trust is a loaded word,“ I whispered back.

  “Trust me,” he said again, this time untucking then lifting his shirt and flashing a police badge which was hanging off his belt holster. “Here. 20 dollars,” he said coolly, handing the money over to the bartender. “A bottle of mineral water, and a Coke. An ice cold Dr. Pepper.” The bartender raised a brow at him and took the money. “Keep the change,” Daniel added.

  Clearly not amused, the bartender slammed another glass on the bar top, motioned towards me and stated, “Get this jungle bunny out of here.” By this time, a few patrons had made their way to the bar, surrounding us.

  “Chevy Monte Carlo ‘79. Black. To the left of the bar’s entrance. Can’t miss her. Find her, get in. Lock yourself in. Wait for me,” he instructed, handing me the keys.

  I took the keys, and for a moment, thought about how easy it would be to get into his car and drive without looking back.

  “I’m trusting you,” he said, in a deep and knowing voice, as though he’d read my thoughts. “I need you to trust me. When I say go, go.”

  Someone broke a bottle on the edge of the countertop. Another patron lunged for him. Daniel ducked. “Go!” he commanded.

  I darted past the crowd and ran outside, my bare feet cold against the tar road. It wasn’t long before I found his car. I did as he said. I got in, locked the door and waited. There was a blanket in the back seat. I wrapped it around me, comforted by that little bit of modesty. Moments later he was there, and rapped hard on the window. The fight had spread to the car park.

  I unlocked the car, he quickly got in, assessed the surrounds before revving the motor, ready to go. “How’s that for an exhilarating night,” he joked, flashing me a dimpled smile. “Fancy meeting a beautiful lady like you in a place like this!” he exclaimed, taking off his hat and tossing it onto the back seat.

  I sighed in response. “I don’t feel like much like a lady at the moment,” I replied.

  “The situation you’re in doesn’t determine whether or not you’re a lady. You just are,” he stated as he drove swiftly away from the parking lot.

  Silence ensued before he spoke again. Sensing my unease, he changed subject. “Dr. Pepper? Mineral water?” he asked, two bottles in hand. He’d managed to get our drinks in spite of the drama. I chose the mineral water.

  As I sat there next to him in the car, I felt heavy inside and sad, but smiled all the same to be polite, and to avoid getting on the wrong side of this man who’d come to my aid. “Where are you taking me?” I asked as he manoeuvered the car out of the parking lot.

  “The question should be, where am I not taking you,” he replied, wincing slightly as he quickly glanced at his face in the rearview mirror. He’d copped a hit on his chin from the bar fight. He caught me staring. “Part and parcel of the work I do,” he explained before changing topic. “You must be cold,” he assumed, turning the car heater on. “There’s another blanket in the back.”

  His kindness, after everything I had been through was overwhelming. I couldn’t hold back tears any longer.

  “Hey, hey, hey. Come now. Don’t cry,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry for whatever’s got you down. I understand you might not want to talk, and you might not want to trust me. But trust me, please make sure you do. I’m not taking you anywhere near where you’ve been tonight,” he promised. “I’m heading South tonight. Whatever it is you’re going through, I can help make it better. Lie low with me for a few days,” he insisted.

  I knew him but a minute, and yet I took comfort in his words. Maybe this was a prayer answered after all, a hero sent to rescue me at the most inopportune of times. Or maybe this was a further descent into darkness, a new story with an anti-hero at the helm. I shuddered at the thought, not wanting a repeat of Duayne or the situation that came with him. I prayed that where he was taking me was better than where Duayne had left me.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” he stated.

  “Temwani,” I said. “Teme for short,” I added.

  He nodded in acknowledgement. “Pleasure to meet you Temwani,” he said, not struggling with my name at all, as was the case with most people. “Did I say that right?”

  “Yes, you did,” I replied.

  “Temwani, I’m sorry you had to hear that nonsensical talk back there at the bar. The attitude around some parts is if you don’t understand it, it must be bad. Ignorance is all it is. Don’t let it get to you,” he suggested.

  I nodded in reply, feeling too tired and overwhelmed to say anything. I’d heard enough racial slurs and insults to last me a lifetime. The man before me, helping me out was clearly above all that and was kind and compassionate.

  “You got somewhere to be right now?” he asked.

  “No… I should be at home but I won’t be safe there now.”


  “Any friends you can call on?”

  “No,” I said firmly, shaking my head in response. The thought of calling Shania crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to burden or worry her. I couldn’t call my family, nor could I call anyone at the office. No one knew about the dynamics between Duayne and I. Besides, who knew what he’d be telling everyone right now. It would be his word against mine.

  “Someone’ll be missing you I’m sure,” he stated, as though it were a given. “You’ll be safe with me, ‘til then,” he promised.

  I was grateful for his kindness but felt there’d be strings attached.

  “I’m a former defence attorney,” he suddenly announced. I immediately felt a sinking feeling in my stomach at the mention of the word former. Sensing my unease, he clarified, “I’m on a leave of absence, working part time as a P.I. right now.”

  My earlier anxiety dissipated. “Why did you show me a badge then?”

  “Would you have come with me if I hadn’t?” he asked.

  “Probably not,” I replied. “So you’re not a cop?”

  “I used to be, before I became a lawyer,” he replied.

  “Once a cop, always a cop some say.”

  “So they say,” he said in response. “What about you. I don’t know anything about you?”

  I wanted to tell him more about me, about the fact that I was a lawyer, star prosecution attorney for the Department of Justice, but I felt embarrassed about the situation I was in. He’d find out in due course, if at all. I was horrified that my position would bring the profession into disrepute. Duayne had held so many threats over my head as it was, the mere possibility of any of them coming to light would’ve killed my career right then and there.