Read Twisted Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 6) Online

Authors: Breena Wilde

Tags: #romance, #erotica, #adult, #sex

Twisted Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 6)


Twisted Lines (Blurred Lines Vol. 6)

Copyright © 2013 Breena Wilde

Breena Wilde Books


Digital Edition

This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.


All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, Breena Wilde, P.O. Box 1408 Bountiful, UT 84011.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.


Cover design by:
Steven Novak

Interior design by:
Novel Ninjutsu

Edited by:
Clean Leaf Editing




This volume is dedicated to everyone who’s ever lost someone they love and to those who know that they’ll never really leave us. They’re forever in our hearts.

One John disappeared, shattering her already fragile heart. The other wants to pick up the pieces.

Will Cadence be able to find happiness, or is it back to hooking full time?








I watch her suffer from a distance. I can see the uncertainty on her face, the fear and sadness combined with a hint of anger. She’s pissed at me and I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips.

Cadence is an amazing woman.

I have no doubt she’ll be fine, but I can’t bring myself to leave her, knowing her brother is dead and she has no one to turn to for comfort. Well, except John fucking Cruze. But he won’t understand what’s really going on. If I’ve learned one thing about Cadence, it's that she won’t burden others with her problems. She’s tough. 

“We should go,” Lincoln says, walking up behind me.

“I know. I’m just…” I trail off. Weakness isn’t a trait I can show, even to my most trusted friend. Not in my line of work. “I want to make sure she’s okay,” I say harshly, demanding he leave it at that. “I’ll leave when I’m damned good and ready.”

“Yes, Mr. Zane.”

The worst part is that the police took everything but my letter and the phone, so she doesn’t even have the means to bury her brother. That knowledge tears at my heart. I can make a call to the institution where he died and ask them to hold him until the check is cleared. Or better yet…

I pull out my phone and dial the chief of police. “Chief Graham,” I say when he answers.

“Now isn’t a good time to be calling. You know that.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I hear him take a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“Your officers have just been to my house. They took a bunch of papers and a check I left for Cadence Norton into custody as evidence. I want that stuff released within forty-eight hours. No more.”

“Look, Mr. Zane. That’s imposs—”

“You want to know what’ll be impossible? You keeping your job after I’ve released evidence that points to our working together, photos of you killing an undercover police officer, and a tape of you fucking one of your officer's wives.”

“Fine. Forty-eight hours.” He hangs up and I smile. Lincoln chuckles.

“That tape should be on National Geographic, the sounds he makes.”

I laugh harder. “I know, right?”

There’s movement near the front of my house and I turn. Rita is walking through the front door.

Cadence will be fine. “Let’s go, Lincoln.”








After I give a minimal explanation to Cruze over the phone, he tells me he’s going to come and get me. I sit on the stairs and wait. Thick sadness pushes at my heart.

My brother. Travis. It’s weird that I’m sad, but in a way relieved, too. He isn’t in any more pain. Hopefully he’s gone somewhere good and can be happy.


Is it a place or just a made up word to make the mourners feel better? I hope it’s real and beautiful and that my brother is there having an amazing time.

And then Zane. What the fuck? He leaves just as I start to believe my feelings for him might be growing into something other than hate. I grab my hair and pull.

God, I miss him. Already. More than I thought I would. Probably more than I should. But my body aches for his touch and longs for his kisses.

And I suddenly don’t want to leave. This is Zane’s home, his secret place. He shared it with me. He left me money, this house, his business… everything. I can’t help but wonder why—where he is, what’s happened to him. “What the fuck did you do?” I put my face in my hands.

According to the police I’m not allowed to stay in Zane’s house until they say so. I told them about Rita, that I wasn’t sure what her relationship to Zane was. They asked for a way to contact her. I told them I didn’t know, but I guessed she’d come here. They told me to have her call them.

Even as I’m thinking about her, she walks in the door. When she sees me she closes the door and locks it behind her.

“What is it?”

I hand her the letter. “Zane,” I whisper.

Her eyes scan the page and her features harden. When she’s done she hands the letter back. I refold it.

“That boy.” Rita shakes her head and walks into the kitchen. She opens the pantry and takes an apron off a knob hanging on the door.  

I follow her into the kitchen. “The police have been here. They want you to call them.” I set the business card on the counter. “They want to ask you some questions.”

She pierces me with her stare, pulls the apron on and ties it around her waist. It’s light pink, ruffled, and covered in daisies. She looks sweet. “Well of course they do. But I have nothing to say. If they want to talk to me they’ll have to make an effort.” She opens the refrigerator and pulls out eggs. “Would you like an omelet, Cadence?”

I shake my head and quickly reply. “No. I can’t eat. Someone is coming to pick me up. The police say I’m not allowed to stay here.”

Rita clucks her tongue. “That’s ridiculous. Where will you go?” I’m curious if she’s glad I’m going, if she’s upset Zane left me so much.

“I-I’m not sure.” My eyes start to water but I blink back the tears. No fucking way I’m crying in front of her.

She gives me another of her looks and I can’t help but think she must be related to Zane. I have to ask. “Are you Zane’s mother?”

I notice a tint of color stain her cheeks before she turns away. The stove clicks as she turns on a unit. “I might as well be. I raised the boy from the time he was born.” She cracks two eggs and whips them in a bowl before pouring them into the heated pan. “Would you mind getting the cheese?”

I come around the island and open the refrigerator. There’s shredded cheddar on one of the shelves and I pull it out. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Cadence.” She sets it on the counter, then uses a spatula on the egg, pushing it to the middle so more can run toward the edges of the pan.

“So you were his nanny?” I cross my arms and lean against the counter.

Rita glances over. “Yes, I suppose. His mother was my sister.” She turns her attention back to the egg. “My sister didn't know how to take care of a child. She was too worried about John’s father, his needs, his wants to worry about a baby.” There’s sadness in her voice.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

“Don’t get me wrong. His mother loved him the only way she knew how: by giving him to me.”

I understand uncaring mothers. “What did Zane’s dad do?”

Rita sprinkles seasonings and cheese onto the egg, folds it in half, and slides it onto a plate. Then she sets it on the island. “Eat.”

I sit on a stool and pull the omelet toward me. Rita hands me a fork. “Thank you.” I cut off a piece and stuff it into my mouth. It’s fucking hot, but delicious. She pours me a glass of orange juice. After I drink, I look at her, wondering if she remembers my question. She busies herself, cleaning up.

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