Swept Away: Resolution Part 1

Swept Away.

Resolution.

J.S. Cooper.

To Grandma Flo and Granddad Fred, may you always be with me!.

acknowledgments.

The Swept Away series is full of mystery, intrigue, s.e.x, and romance, and somehow it all makes sense. That wouldn't have been possible without the guidance and help of my wonderful editor, Abby Zidle; my diligent agent, Rebecca Friedman; and my great friends and beta readers, Katrina Jaekley, Tanya Kay Skaggs, Stacy Hahn, Cilicia Ann Sturgill-White, Kathy Shreve, Tianna Croy, Kanae Eddings, and Carla Short. Also, a huge thanks to all the bloggers, readers, and street team members who have supported this series. It really does mean the world to me.

prologue.

"Hush little baby, don't say a f.u.c.king word," he sang in an ominous voice, twisting the lyrics to the old nursery rhyme. His voice was the only sound in the small damp s.p.a.ce aside from a low rattling in the corner; I didn't want to know what or who was making that noise.

I kept my expression blank and my eyes downward as I sat there uncomfortably. The room was cold and dark and smelled of mold. I coughed as the mildew filled my lungs, and my body shivered on the old rickety chair I was tied to. I didn't even bother trying to scream; no one would hear me. No one would be coming to my rescue now. It was just the two of us. After everything, it had come to this. My head dropped forward with fatigue. I just wanted to sleep, but I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to give him the opportunity to do something when I wasn't watching. My heart ached for the situation we were in. And I was scared. Really and truly scared, possibly more scared than I'd ever been in my life. This was different from the unknown of the island-the island had been bright and sunny, while this room was dark and dreary. This room screamed of danger, and every nerve in my body was on edge waiting to see what would happen next.

"I didn't want everything to go like this." He held the gun to my head. "You understand that, right? I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want it to come to this."

I nodded my understanding, my throat too constricted to speak. My body was frozen in fear as an image of a black stallion running down a white sandy beach flashed into my mind. A strong, beautiful stallion with mesmerizing blue eyes. The beach reminded me of our island and the stallion reminded me of Jakob: strong, powerful, and wild. Somehow the image made me smile and calmed my nerves for a few seconds.

"A life for a life, right?" His voice sounded broken and raw. "That's what they say, right?" His voice echoed his sorrow. He didn't want to do this, but I knew he thought he had no other option. I couldn't allow myself to look up at him. All I could think was, Is this how it's all going to end for me? Is this how my story's going to end?

"He shouldn't have done that to my parents, Bianca." His voice was pained. "He ruined my life."

"I understand," I said softly, my voice cracking as I spoke. I did understand. I didn't know if I could blame him. "It's not your fault."

"You're making this hard for me, Bianca." He sighed and kneeled next to me, moving the gun away from my head. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. His eyes bored into mine, and I could see the regret shining at me. Regret and another emotion I recognized. My heart thudded as I stared back at him. I still had a shot at changing my story. The emotion in his eyes was one I knew well-adoration. He had feelings for me. That was the opening I needed to try to change his mind.

"You don't have to do this," I said softly. "You don't have to go through with it."

"I do," he said, but his voice was unsure as he gazed at me, his eyes scrutinizing my face.

"No. If you do, we can't be together." I nearly choked on the words, but I knew I had to say them. It was my only chance.

"You would want to be with me?" He froze. "After all this?"

"Yes." I nodded and made myself smile. "We're meant to be together, don't you see that?"

"It was always you, you know." His fingers touched my leg. "From the first time I saw you, I knew."

"So then don't do this," I pleaded with him. "This doesn't have to be the end for us. This can be the beginning."

"A new beginning?" He spoke softly, his eyes glazing over as he considered what I'd said.

"Maybe this is why everything happened," I said, my voice shaky. "Maybe we're meant to be together. Maybe this was fate's cruel joke on us. Maybe this was the only way."

"Maybe." He nodded and stepped back. My body was trembling as I waited for him to decide what he was going to do next. "You really think we're soul mates?" He stared at my lips, and it took everything in me not to shudder at his gaze. And then suddenly there was a loud bang. I screamed. He fell forward, his head hitting my lap hard, and I screamed again.

"No!" Tears fell from my eyes as a pool of red blood filled my lap. "No!" I screamed, and looked into his face. What had just happened? I wasn't even sure. Had he shot himself? He gazed at me with a weak smile, the life draining from his face.

"Your father did this to us," he mumbled. "He did this to me."

"No," I whispered, my stomach churning as I felt a wave of arctic coldness fill me. "I'm sorry," I said honestly. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

"Hush, my little baby, don't say a f.u.c.king word," he said again, though this time his voice was but a whisper in the coldness. "This is how it should be."

"No!" I screamed this time, my voice no longer restrained by fear. I stared at his body and at the gun on the ground, just inches from my feet, the red of his blood trickling into a pool beside it.

"Please don't die," I whimpered, feeling woozy as I took a deep breath. "You didn't have to do this." Then I froze. The rattling in the corner of the room was back.

The fact that I still had company didn't make me feel better.

part 1.

one.

Nicholas London.

Decades Ago.

"Jeremiah, Larry, this is Oliver." I nodded at my new friend to enter the room. Oliver looked uncomfortable as he walked into Jeremiah's apartment. His thin frame looked particularly scrawny today, and the timid look on his face showed that he was out of his depth. Not that it mattered to me. I looked at Oliver as a kindred spirit. We were both outsiders at Harvard University, both of us having grown up in lower-cla.s.s families and neighborhoods. Neither one of us was accustomed to the wealth of someone like Jeremiah Bradley. I'd been shocked when Jeremiah had approached me during freshman year and asked if I wanted to be a part of his English study group. Not that I'd known then what being a Bradley really meant, but I knew from his crisp white Oxford shirt, khaki pants, and Docksiders that he was a step up from my Bushwick roots. He'd had a self-a.s.sured grin on his face, his perfectly even, shining white teeth beaming at me as he waited for the answer he knew was coming. His golden-blond hair hung casually in his face, and his bright blue eyes glittered as he'd told me that he had his own apartment, so it would make studying easier. I hadn't known how to respond. I'd been so impressed that he could afford to own a Boston apartment.

"h.e.l.lo, Oliver." Jeremiah looked Oliver up and down with an imperious stare. I noticed that he'd lost the open, engaging expression he had when we were freshmen. I could still remember the day he'd welcomed me with a huge grin. It saddened me to see how much he'd changed in such a short span of time-though a part of me wondered if he'd changed, or if he was simply revealing his true colors.

"h.e.l.lo. It's nice to meet you." Oliver extended his right hand to shake Jeremiah's, and Jeremiah laughed.

"This isn't a business deal. We don't need to shake hands."

"Sorry." Oliver looked down, and I frowned. Did he have to be so shy and submissive? "My sister always told me to shake hands when I met new people."

"What's your name?" Larry jumped up from the couch and walked over to Oliver. Peering into Oliver's face, he looked at me and raised an eyebrow as if to say, Who is this? Larry Maxwell was Jeremiah's best friend. They had gone to boarding school together, and while Larry was also from a more modest background, he gave off a similar air of privilege.

"Oliver."

"Oliver what?" Larry rolled his eyes. All that mattered to Larry was status. Sometimes I wondered if he was friends with Jeremiah because he liked him or because of who his parents were.

"Oliver Case." Oliver looked confused, and I felt slightly sorry for him. Maybe I shouldn't have brought him over. Maybe Oliver wasn't right for our group. Maybe I should have just left him sitting alone in the chemistry lab we shared and just pretended that I didn't notice how lonely he looked. Though, I knew I couldn't have just left him there week after week. Not when he reminded me so much of myself. Not when I knew what it was like to be the odd man out. Plus, I liked him. Not just because he was poor like me, but because he was smart. He was interested in science and being innovative. He was interested in creating, and that was my life. It was also something Larry and Jeremiah cared nothing about. Larry wanted to go to law school, and Jeremiah was going to take over his family business. They were just at Harvard because it was expected of them. They weren't here for the academics. Not like me and Oliver. We were both here on scholarships, and we both enjoyed the rigorous academic standards to which we were held.

"Case, as in the Cases from the Midwest?" Larry looked impressed. "The tractor people?"

"No." Oliver laughed out loud. "The Cases from Maryland, by way of several Eastern European countries."

"Your last name isn't Eastern European," Larry said with a frown.

"My mother married an Englishman," Oliver stated simply.

"So your dad is English, then?" Larry continued his questioning as if he were already a lawyer.

"No." Oliver shook his head. "I don't have a dad."

"He died?" Larry looked surprised, and even Jeremiah looked curious.

"No," Oliver said again, without explaining further. I could see from Larry's face that he was getting frustrated, so I changed the subject.

"Oliver is in some of my science cla.s.ses, and we're in the same chemistry lab. He's working on a self-painter."

"Self-painter?" Larry scoffed. "As if." He turned to Jeremiah and yawned. "Do you want to go and get milk shakes? We can see if Angelina and Brigitta are available."

My heart thudded as he mentioned Angelina Walker. Angelina Walker was the prettiest girl at Harvard-at least I thought so. She was beautiful and intelligent and sweet . . . and she was also dating Jeremiah. That meant she was off-limits to me, which was one of the hardest parts of my life, because I believed myself to be in love with Angelina Walker. Unfortunately for me, she only seemed to have eyes for Jeremiah.

"Maybe later." Jeremiah dismissed Larry, and looked at Oliver with more interest. "So what's this self-painter you're talking about, then?"

"It's a machine that will be able to paint a room in minutes, without leaving splotches or white spots," Oliver said simply. "It also contains a primer, so it will look as if a professional has painted several coats of paint."

"Wow, a machine can do that?" Jeremiah said, impressed.

"Well, I'm still working on the prototype," Oliver said excitedly. He completely changed when he talked about science and his inventions-he stood straighter, his voice no longer shook, and suddenly you couldn't help but listen to him. "But yes, I think it will work." He looked pleased with himself. "It will completely revolutionize the painting industry."

"What size room will the machine be able to paint?" Jeremiah said casually, his eyes glued to Oliver.

"I'll have different machines." Oliver shrugged. "So basically, I should be able to paint any size room in minutes, with the right equipment."

"That would be amazing for construction and contractors." Jeremiah nodded.

"I guess." Oliver shrugged. "I haven't thought that far."

"Well, that's why I'm here." Jeremiah smiled. "It helps to have friends with business minds."

"I don't have any friends with . . . ," Oliver started, and then stopped as he looked at Jeremiah's grinning face. "I guess not until now."

"Not until now." Jeremiah grinned and then put his left arm around my shoulder and his right arm around Oliver's shoulder. "Now you have us." He laughed. "Thanks to Nick for introducing us. Now we can be the Musketeers."

"There are only three musketeers," Larry said with a sour face.

"Well, there are four of us now," Jeremiah said sharply, and gave Larry a look.

"Well, there should be only three." Larry walked toward the kitchen. "I'm going to get a beer."

"We'll all have one," Jeremiah stated, and followed Larry. "We need to celebrate our new friendship." He nodded to himself as we walked, and I heard him mumbling something about "million-dollar ideas." As I stared at Oliver, looking pleased and anxious at the same time, I wondered if I had made a mistake bringing him here. I studied how his eyes widened as we walked into the opulent kitchen, with the Carrera marble counters, stainless steel appliances, and hanging copper pots and pans. The kitchen belonged in a Better Homes magazine, not in the apartment of a college junior who never studied-or cooked.

"Bud Light okay?" Jeremiah handed a can of beer to Oliver.

"It's great, thanks," Oliver said, nodding enthusiastically, and it struck me that this might be the first beer he'd ever had. "Thanks." He turned to me and gave me a small smile. "I'm glad we're friends, Nicholas. Thank you for introducing me."

"You're welcome." I smiled, though I still wasn't sure I'd made the right decision.

"And if the offer still stands, I'd be happy for you to help with the self-painter," he said magnanimously. "I want to test the cohesive bonds of some of the chemicals I'm using, so maybe we can go in the lab tomorrow and work on them."

"Sounds good." I nodded, and I saw Jeremiah staring at me with a determined look. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but the uneasy feeling that filled me was getting a little too familiar.

two.

Bianca London Present Day "Wake up, Bianca." His voice was rough as he shook my shoulder, and I opened my eyes slowly as I sat up.

"Ouch." I rubbed my head where it had hit the floor and tried to stand.

"You fainted," he said stiffly as he offered me a hand to help me up. I ignored his hand and glared at him.

"What are you doing here, Steve? Are you following me?" I snapped at him, anger overtaking any fear that I had at his presence.

"Really, Bianca? That's what you're asking me?" He looked annoyed, and I stared at his thin face in distaste. What was Steve doing here? And why was he texting me and following me around? I hadn't seen him since I'd been on the deserted island with him and Jakob, and we hadn't exactly ended our time there with kisses and hugs. "I'd have thought you'd be a bit more-"

"Enough, Steve." Rosie's voice appeared to come from out of thin air, but then I peered behind Steve and saw my best friend standing in the shadows. A best friend whom I didn't know at all, apparently.

"Rosie," I said stiffly as I stared at her face, so familiar and yet so distant. "I thought it was you I saw."

"You fainted on us." She didn't smile as she walked closer, and my head started pounding. I moved toward her, and she held her hand up.

"Stop." She shook her head. "Don't move any closer."