Coming Undone Part 1

COMING UNDONE.

by LAUREN DANE.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

As always, I'm thankful for the support and love of my wonderful husband and best friend, Ray. Thank you so much for being you.

Laura Bradford, my friend and my agent, thank you for never giving up on me!

Leis Pederson, editor most wonderful, thank you thank you for the work you do to make my books the best they can be.

I love ballet, and this book gave me the chance to watch countless hours of dance with my daughter tucked into my lap. My daughter who knows the difference between a fouette fouette and a and a pirouette pirouette, LOL. The obsession seems to have infected the next generation-dancers, ch.o.r.eographers, orchestra, all: thank you for providing me with so many hours of enjoyment. I refer to the National Ballet Theater, but I mean the American Ballet Theater and their many years of beautiful, well executed, always amazing programs, as well as all the local companies nationwide, like the Pacific NW Ballet and the Anaheim Ballet.

A huge shout-out to those authors who've become my friends, my mentors, my advisors and my sounding boards: Megan Hart, Anya Bast, Ann Aguirre, Jaci Burton, Maya Banks, Sylvia Day-you all rock my world like whoa whoa. Bradford Babes-what a fabulously talented group of authors Laura has brought together. Thank you all for your friends.h.i.+p.

x ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Last but most certainly not not least, my readers! Thank you for all your kindness and support, thank you for the feedback-much of my success is due to you all. Renee and Mary, thank you for all you do at my message board and for all the beta you've done for me. I appreciate you more than you can ever know. least, my readers! Thank you for all your kindness and support, thank you for the feedback-much of my success is due to you all. Renee and Mary, thank you for all you do at my message board and for all the beta you've done for me. I appreciate you more than you can ever know.

COMING UNDONE.

1.

Even at the close of the day, the sun was enough to make the ride home from work totally perfect. He took the scenic route, settled onto the seat of the Harley he'd splurged on the summer before at Ben's urging. Best impulse buy ever ever.

The joy of it was enough to bring him the long way home, down surface streets, a bit south and then back north again. He leaned back, the weight of his body balanced just so. The warmth on his thighs, against his back, eased him away from work and into leisure. The light of the often absent sun after the darkness of winter gave him an easy mood. Happy. Satisfied. The thrum of the engine vibrated, humming into his bones.

Late spring in Seattle and people began to emerge from their squall jackets and endless layers. The city came alive with color as flowers burst from ground that had been barren for months; the trees exploded with leaves and blossoms.

Other than early autumn, this was his favorite time of the year. He loved the glimpses of feminine skin as women started going bare-legged again when they wore skirts; loved the emergence of cleavage. He liked winter for all the vibrant, tight sweaters. But in spring and summer, women went softer, showed skin, wore dresses and floated around in his vision. All these things made every day a fine day in his life.

He'd go home, drink a few beers and sit on his back deck to watch the sunset. Maybe he'd even order a pizza if he could be bothered to get up and deal with the front door. Having made his mind up, he stopped in at the grocery store to pick up some hard lemonade for his sister, Erin, in case she showed up. Knowing his siblings, he expected one or both to roll in and demand food, so he liked to have the things they enjoyed on hand.

The slow ride down his street enabled him to catch all the activity on that early evening. People did yard work and washed cars and boats. He hoped they were all using that special soap to do their was.h.i.+ng, or Mrs. Cardini, accompanied by her dog, would storm over and yell at them for being irresponsible with the environment.

The woman was in her nineties, and she ruled the entire block- both sides. She and her dog-one of the ugliest things he'd ever seen and always decked out in some special dog outfit-would make their way up one side of the street and down the other, her doling out advice and lectures as she saw fit.

He grinned when he pulled into the driveway and keyed the bike off, only to hear her lecturing his immediate neighbor to the right about the shabby state of his trash cans. Grabbing the groceries from his side bag, he waved quickly and headed to his door before she got to him. G.o.d knew he had to be responsible for some kind of violation or other.

Once inside, he kicked off his boots, hung up his jacket, put the groceries away and turned the stereo on. It was fully time to get his leisure on, and his deck and the sunset beckoned. He cracked open a beer and shuffled out toward his favorite spot to unwind.

Brody arched his back, stretching himself as he reclined in the big, comfy Adirondack chair. He'd had a lot of clients that day in his tattoo shop, and he was getting old. Old enough and been tattooing long enough that his body reminded him at the end of each day.

The sky burned soft and bright in shades of blue, purple and bright, nearly neon orange as the sun set. He relaxed into his chair and tipped his bottle back, letting the cold beer ease his day and his back strain. His eyes drifted closed as he simply let the twilight settle in.

"Thought we'd find you back here."

Raven. A friend who used to be more way back when. While there'd been times on and off since they'd ended up in bed during her visits, they'd kept their relations.h.i.+p to just friends. Despite her quirks, she'd become a part of his extended family. He knew her in ways she'd never allow others. He wished she would soften a bit, let someone in. But it was her way and he respected that.

"Got enough for me?"

And his sister, Erin.

He smiled, his eyes still closed; for a few moments he held in his mind the vision of the cotton candy clouds bathed in an explosion of color. He'd known not to expect solace for very long. It was rare when he didn't see one of his siblings at least once a day. He liked that he was a touchstone for them both. They certainly were for him.

"You know where the fridge is."

He listened to the happy sound of his sister and Raven chattering away in his kitchen and making their way back out to his deck.

"Why are you here?" he asked, opening his eyes and looking to his sister.

Erin dropped a kiss on his forehead. "Thanks for the lemonade. Am I so transparent?"

"I knew I'd be seeing you one night this week, so I wanted to be sure you had lemonade to drink."

Her teasing smile softened. "You're a big, huge marshmallow. I won't tell anyone, but just know that I know. As for why I'm here, I wanted to see you. Duh. Todd says hey. Ben may be over in a while. I ordered pizza. Meatball, green pepper and mushroom, so don't get that face."

All that without an extra breath. Brody had always been amazed by his baby sister's boldness, the way she took life on. Still, a man had standards when it came to pizza. "Pagliacci?"

She snorted. "Where else?"

He nodded, approving her choice. "Don't tell anyone I said so, but you're made of awesome." Today her hair was fire-engine red with yellow streaks. On any other woman it would have looked ridiculous, but on Erin it worked.

She laughed and kissed him again before sitting next to him, squeezing into the s.p.a.ce he gladly shared.

Totally and utterly content. His life was good. His business was solid, profits were up, enough that he could take fewer clients himself and actually have a day off every week. His house was finally where he wanted it. His sister was happy with her unconventional life and two totally devoted men, and his brother was on tour and had just celebrated yet another record going triple platinum.

"Your garden is nicer than mine." Erin began to prattle on about her day, and he thought about smoking a cigarette, just half even, but then reconsidered. Raven would complain and Erin would give him that sigh of hers. Yeah, it was bad for him, but a man needed a few vices.

Instead, he listened to two of his favorite women talk and occasionally grunted or responded. All the while, he drank his beer and half-listened to Kings of Leon as they floated through the air from the stereo in the house. Not a bad way to spend the evening.

Forty-five minutes later, the pizza arrived, so Brody let himself be lured inside by the scent and his growling belly.

He stood for a moment, looking around. His dining room table was large enough for twelve-more if he put the leaf in. Even though his siblings were out on their own, Brody enjoyed that his was the place they sought when they needed to reconnect. His couches were comfortable and worn. The media center was state-of-the-art, because while his brother and sister made the music, they weren't the only ones who loved listening to it. A big flat-screen plasma hung in his television room downstairs, where he could play on the Wii or the Xbox, and he'd recently picked up a very fine pool table at a garage sale.

In truth, his wilder days had pa.s.sed and he found he'd rather hang at home in comfort than at a club. If he needed a woman, he could find several with a few calls. If he needed company, the same applied.

Brody enjoyed that most people saw the broad shoulders, the tattoos and the wary eyes, and thought him a rough-and-tumble bad boy. In reality, he liked to watch movies and eat popcorn with his baby sister. One of these days he'd bounce nieces and nephews on his knee and teach them bad habits.

"You're pretty mellow tonight," Erin said as she slid a plate laden with pie toward him.

"I have it good. Why not be mellow? Pretty women to my left and right, good music, good beer and good friends." He tipped his beer toward Ben, who'd wandered in a few minutes before, not so miraculously, when the pizza had shown.

She smiled. "Good. By the way, I thought of a new tat I want you to do."

"Whatever you say, baby girl." He shrugged, happy to do it. He'd done all her inkwork and trusted it would continue that way. Raven handled the piercings and that was fine by him. But Erin's tats were special, like she was, and Brody wanted to be sure no one he considered inferior ever did work on her.

The predictable argument broke out between Erin and Raven about why Brody should do it instead of Raven, while Ben and Brody looked on before returning to their dinner.

Ben rolled his eyes at the exchange and looked back to Brody. "We need to go for a ride on Sunday. You up for it? The weather should be good. I thought a trip out to the Olympics? We can stop and eat some crab before we turn around."

Brody respected the man who cared so much about his sister. The guy was good people, and he'd come along at a time in Erin's life when it would have been a h.e.l.l of a lot easier to run in the other direction. That went a long way in Brody's book.

Sunny weekend with bikes and friends? "Yeah, that sounds d.a.m.ned good."

2.

Pain sliced through her as his fist connected with her jaw, sent her flying back against the table they'd bought years before at a flea market. Wood splinters rained on her as she slid to her knees, bright points of light painting her vision as breath tore through her lungs.

He hauled her to her feet, but her right leg buckled and she fell again. He'd used a baseball bat on it. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was broken. Knew she'd never dance professionally again. But her mounting fear had nothing to do with that.

Blood marked the pale tile in the entry, and had smeared where he'd hit her and dragged her while she screamed and fought. And then he'd hit her until she couldn't fight much anymore. Handprints, spatters, smears-all ominous portents of just how far the situation had deteriorated over the past nearly three hours.

In the midst of the beating, of the verbal abuse, of being sick from the pain and of watching him tie off and be unable to find a vein for long minutes at a time, she'd tried to focus on a plan. Time had pa.s.sed; he'd dragged her from room to room, becoming increasingly agitated. He broke things, like he wanted to break her. He wouldn't.

The clock on the living room mantel chimed four times. Her baby was due home soon. She knew he'd harm her daughter. Knew he had to be stopped before he could get his hands on Rennie. She only had herself to count on, but no one was going to hurt her child. Not while she still had breath.

Elise pulled to a stop in her driveway and looked into the backseat. Rennie was asleep, her well-loved blankie curled against her side, pillowing her head, pale blonde hair spread around her face.

An ache, both sharp and sweet, spread through Elise's chest at the sight of the unlined forehead, the trouble-free face of sleep. Seattle had been very good for the both of them. Hard, yes. A long way from the life Rennie had known and Elise had been supported by. There'd been no choice; there was nothing left but pain for them in New York. But, wonderfully, they'd begun to place roots there in the Northwest. Rennie was settling in, making friends. Rennie even expressed an interest in sports. Her baby girl-oh h.e.l.l, not a baby anymore; the kid was nearly seven, going on forty-was coming out of that dark place they'd both been in.

More than that, Elise felt safe safe for the first time in a decade. That was more precious than she cared to even contemplate for very long. The price had been higher than she'd ever imagined. But, she thought as she bent to ease Rennie from the seat and carry her into the house, there was no way but forward, no direction but up. for the first time in a decade. That was more precious than she cared to even contemplate for very long. The price had been higher than she'd ever imagined. But, she thought as she bent to ease Rennie from the seat and carry her into the house, there was no way but forward, no direction but up.

As she made herself a late dinner, she took in the s.p.a.ce they now called home. Over the weekend she'd hung up the art she'd stuffed into the van they'd driven out from New York. The couch, on sale at a local store, had come a few days prior. Red Red. Red with white cus.h.i.+ons. Just looking at it made her happy.

The area rugs she'd collected over the years as she'd traveled the world covered the s.h.i.+ny wood floors. The house was earthy, colorful and warm. A big change from her silver and pale blue Manhattan condo.

A needed needed change. Warm and earthy suited her, d.a.m.n it, and it would keep on that way. Rennie's recent artwork splashed the refrigerator doors with color and lent that extra bit of home. One positive she got from her father. change. Warm and earthy suited her, d.a.m.n it, and it would keep on that way. Rennie's recent artwork splashed the refrigerator doors with color and lent that extra bit of home. One positive she got from her father.

Shaking her head, Elise moved back to pleasant things. She made a mental note to thank her friend from the NBT who'd hooked her up with some local people and gotten the word out about her school. That word had given her enrollment numbers a huge boost. The bills would be paid, and in a year or so they might even be turning a profit.

Rennie appeared to be making friends in her summer camp program, which kept her busy during the day and worked most of her energy out, much to Elise's relief at bedtime. They'd gone furniture shopping and gotten new beds for each of them. Their nightly routine included grabbing some groceries and heading home.

Glorious and totally, utterly normal.

The fact that she lived without fear occurred to her in the same way you notice when crickets suddenly start up in the summer. Life springs around you and you realize it's going to be okay.

Her left left leg was fine. Elise could still dance better than 95 percent of the population, but she'd never be a primary dancer again. She'd never dance with any major company, because her body would not hold up under the stresses of that life. Age was a factor now, but mostly it was the damage to her right leg and the multiple dislocations of her shoulder. Her balance wasn't as precise, her strength not quite enough. leg was fine. Elise could still dance better than 95 percent of the population, but she'd never be a primary dancer again. She'd never dance with any major company, because her body would not hold up under the stresses of that life. Age was a factor now, but mostly it was the damage to her right leg and the multiple dislocations of her shoulder. Her balance wasn't as precise, her strength not quite enough.

In that, Ken had won. He'd taken that dream from her.

But simply by standing there, happily enjoying a rage-free home and a gla.s.s of wine, Elise had won. And she had absolutely no intention of feeling guilt for surviving. Rennie needed her. Moreover, Rennie needed to see her mother as a woman who stood tall instead of wincing in fear. Who took what life had to offer with both hands and forged a place for herself instead of waiting for someone to provide it for her.

Through it, Elise knew she'd be a better person for herself too.

Elise worked in her front yard, cleaning out the flower beds and getting some new plants in. As she did, it wasn't like she couldn't take a look from time to time as a new, hot-looking bad boy rode up on a big motorcycle. For someone so big and sort of scary-looking, that guy who lived across the street was pretty hot. His friends too. Apparently Elise had a thing for bad boys. Hmm. Well okay, so that wasn't so much of a surprise, but hopefully the bad on those boys was the good kind.

And since this was just a conversation going on in her head and all, it was nice to know that after two years of having s.e.x with no one but her hand or her toys, her libido could still rev up at the sight of something so spectacularly male. She could look, store up some fantasy fodder for her dates with her hand and also know men like her neighbor were totally out of her league.

But holy s.h.i.+t holy s.h.i.+t, all the hard thighs encased in faded denim, the tight a.s.ses, the tattoos and general bad-boy air going on was more than enough to overcome any discomfort at being on her knees in the dirt. She had on sungla.s.ses and a ball cap, so it wasn't like they could see her ogling them or anything. She could objectify and fantasize to her heart's content. Mmm.

The earth was warm, the scent dark and rich as she dug and planted, tore out and worked. It felt good to make a physical change with her hands. To create a difference in her environment.

"Momma, we need more pink flowers. We don't have enough pink." Grinning, she looked up the filthy legs of her monkey of a child and into a face dirtier than her clothes. "I'd be challenged to find a spot on your body not covered in dirt. Honey, have you been eating eating dirt?" dirt?"

"Ew! As if! But a girl has to get her hands dirty when she's working in the garden. That's what Gran says."

Elise laughed, thinking of her mother saying exactly that, though usually as she ordered someone else around to do the gardening for her while she watched.

"We can go to the garden center later today, if you like. Then you can pick out the flowers you'd like to plant. Maybe after we get some lunch. What do you say? A girls' lunch date and then some shopping?"

Rennie's big blue eyes lit. "Awesome."

"First, you need to be cleaned up and changed. Good Lord, I should just hose you off out here."

Rennie squealed as Elise grabbed the nearby hose and gave her daughter a squirt. The squealing rose in volume and pitch as Rennie grabbed the watering can, tossing the contents at her mother.

"Oh, I'm gonna get even with you for that!"

Rennie hooted some smack-talk her way as she streaked through the freshly painted arbor over the opened backyard gate, her mother in hot pursuit.

Ben looked up from his bike and toward the noise across the way and then back over to Brody. "Dude, when did you get a new neighbor? I thought an elderly couple lived over there."

Brody caught the sight of two females, one grown chasing a smaller one, laughing, water spraying from the hose. He smiled briefly at the idyllic scene and the flash of pale blonde hair as they rounded a corner. "Dunno. I noticed a new car in the driveway, but whoever they are I haven't met them yet. Maybe a young family or something."

"Maybe a hot single mom," Cope, Ben's younger brother, added. "That would be nice."