Dos

By Violet L Ryan

Sarah Collins is forced to call her ex because their daughter needs his rare blood for an operation. Thing is, he doesn't know he's a father. Dawson Collins, nick-named Dos for his computer expertise, married Sarah for revenge against her father. Goal achieved, he kicked her out on their wedding night. Realizing he'd made a grave error he searched, but couldn't find her. Now, four years later, the only thing that matters to Sarah is her daughter, so Dos must use her mother's love to keep Sarah close. Sarah is a strong, sensible woman caught in a vortex of destiny and a battle with unknown forces, but amid confusion and fear, she catches glimpses of a changed man. In spite of impossible odds, will she fall in love with her imprudent husband all over again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781611609967

Book preview

DOS

by

VIOLET L. RYAN

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright Ó 2013 by Violet L. Ryan

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-61160-696-6

Cover Artist: Gemini Judson

Editor: Tricia Isham

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

Thanks…

…to Debra and Steven Womack, publishers

…to ladies at Writers Ink of Central Indiana

…to my supportive family

Chapter 1

Sarah stood in the air-conditioned waiting room and stared out a window into the shimmering heat waves of a Midwestern afternoon. Her thoughts were far from either the comfortable temperature inside or the heat outside. Focused on the difficult decision facing her, she didn’t notice the doctor enter.

Doctor Lucas Gordon paused to observe the young woman with sandy blonde curls. A mere scrap of humanity, he estimated she stood barely five foot three with just enough meat on her bones to give her a womanly shape. Her light brown eyes were dulled with worry. A frown marred her smooth, translucent skin. He moved into the room, watching as she turned and offered a wan smile, exposing straight, white teeth but no joy.

Tell me, she demanded.

The condition has deteriorated. We need to perform surgery right away, but I can’t advise that without a matching donor. Sarah’s tortured expression grieved the young doctor. He rushed to offer hope. It’s possible the treatments may alleviate the symptoms, could even produce a reversal, but I don’t have much confidence in that happening, at least not before too much damage is done.

Wearing a desolate expression, Sarah turned back to the window. I need to think, she said. Her words obviously dismissed the doctor.

Once he walked out, Sarah refocused her mind. She had no choice but to call Dos, the one person in the world she least wanted to contact. Simply thinking his name brought the past roaring back, the heartache of deceit, cruelty, and utter betrayal. To speak with him again, after four years, to beg for his assistance, could she do it? Could she move past the manipulation, treachery, desertion? After he’d evicted her from his house, his life, could she swallow her pride and ask for a favor? Would he even agree? That was the big question.

Sarah stared at the pay phone and sighed. She didn’t have a choice. She had nowhere else to turn. Of course she didn’t want to ask him. Of course she had no reason to believe he would help. She would, nevertheless, humiliate herself by making the request and hope some tiny speck of civility lived inside the man. She wasn’t fool enough to believe he’d do anything for her sake alone. Maybe she could convince him the good deed would be to his advantage. She must try. She must succeed.

With a sigh of resignation, Sarah lifted the receiver and punched the buttons that would connect her to his office.

Thirty-five miles away, Jasmine Fowler, executive secretary to Dawson Randall Collins, answered on the second ring. Collins Electronics, the well-modulated voice purred. Jasmine Fowler speaking. How can I help you?

I’d like to speak with Mr. Collins, please. Sarah drew a deep breath, knowing what came next.

May I have your name? The politely worded request sounded more like a command.

Just tell him it’s Sarah.

I’m sorry. Jasmine paused for effect. He’s in a meeting at present. If you’ll leave your full name and a number, I’ll have him return your call.

Sarah ascertained two facts from Jasmine’s pithy statement. She wouldn’t interrupt the boss without all the essential information and she would be the one to decide who spoke to Mr. Collins. So be it.

Sarah Ruthann Cunningham, Sarah stated, doing her best born-to-the-manor imitation. She rattled off the pay-phone number and hung up without waiting for Jasmine’s reply.

She’d met the snooty woman only once, an unpleasant experience she hoped never to repeat. Jasmine Fowler’s almond-shaped, jade-green eyes had surveyed Sarah with apparent disdain. She stood five inches taller than Sarah. Her long, raven-black hair trailed down to a tiny waist. She had smoothly muscled flesh, tanned skin, and voluptuous curves. Her obvious attentions to Mr. Collins showed a remarkable attachment. Sarah didn’t know if Jasmine would even remember her name. The instant ringing of the phone beside Sarah seemed to indicate she had. Sarah lifted the receiver.

Yes?

Please, don’t hang up! I’ll put you right through.

Had Sarah caught the edge of panic in Jasmine’s plea, she might have wondered what could rattle the secretary’s cool composure to such an extent. Sarah’s mind, however, remained occupied with her internal turmoil over what words would move an unmovable object like Dos. Barely had she drawn a breath when a roar crashed through the wires into her ear.

Sarah?

The growl sounded more like an animal than her ex-husband. She tried to speak, but words were beyond her. Deciding to make the call had been the easy part after all. Asking this superior being for a favor seemed the most impertinent idea she’d ever entertained. She couldn’t do it. She’d already taken the receiver from her ear when another roar blasted from the ear piece.

Don’t hang up! Where are you?

The harsh growl sounded desperate. Must be a bad connection, Sarah mused. Seconds later, proving her false impression, the growl sounded dictatorial, exactly what she’d expected.

Tell me where you are—now!

Habit, more than willingness to comply, forced Sarah’s submission. I’m in Anderson.

Anderson, Indiana?

Yes. His question puzzled Sarah until she realized he could have thought her out of state.

Where, exactly, in Anderson?

St. John’s Hospital.

Oh, God. What’s happened? Before she could respond, he continued. Never mind. Stay where you are. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

In the background, Sarah heard arguments break out.

You can’t leave now, a male voice ordered. Simmons is on the way.

You can’t travel to Anderson in twenty minutes. That female voice belonged to Jasmine. That’s at least thirty-five miles, maybe more.

Quiet, Dos barked—and quiet descended. Jazzy, call Bob. Tell him I need the copter, immediately. Ron, you’ll meet with Simmons. Tell him an emergency came up. I’ll speak with him personally tomorrow. Sarah?

I’m here, she whispered. There was a pause on his end.

Stay right where you are, he murmured, sounding a bit more like the man she’d married instead of a snarling beast. I’m coming after you.

The threat, and threat it was, resounded inside Sarah’s head long after she dropped the receiver in its cradle. His reaction had been unexpected. She’d believed she would have to plead, scrape, and bow to secure his compliance. She never dreamed he’d be willing to come without extracting promises of eternal obedience. She never dreamed he’d come at all.

Twenty minutes. So little time to plan such an important strategy. So little time to prepare her heart, mind, and soul for the force of his presence.

He’d always overwhelmed her emotions. From their first meeting, she felt the power of his personality.

* * * *

Barely nineteen, she’d gone to a charity function with her father, something they’d done for years. As he had for the previous three years, Father—he never allowed her to call him anything else—had dictated her dress, a fluffy, pink confection nipped in at the middle, making her waist appear smaller than it actually was. Next to her tall debonair parent, she looked like a tiny round ball of voile and taffeta. Beside him, in his black tux, white ruffled shirt and black bow tie, she felt slightly ridiculous.

Upon entering the enormous ballroom cum banquet hall, she felt a quiver along her nerve endings. She surveyed the room, barely noting thirty foot ceilings, gleaming tiled floors, or the velvet-draped stage where an orchestra played elevator music. Searching for the source of that peculiar molestation of her senses, her gaze connected with eyes so dark they might have been black. Peripheral vision revealed a frown line pleating the skin between his brows and pointing to a straight, narrow nose. Locked onto his impertinent stare, she didn’t notice his other attributes until sometime later.

Eager to meet the person who made an impression before she even saw him, Sarah turned to excuse herself from her father. When she looked again the intriguing man had disappeared.

An ache settled in the region of Sarah’s heart. She didn’t know why, but it seemed imperative that she find the elusive man before he vanished, never to be seen again. Sarah couldn’t bear the thought.

Rushing to the area where she’d spotted him, she searched, but didn’t find him. Heart pumping frantically, she felt panic edge over her control. Though it made no sense, even to her logical mind, nothing had ever been as important as finding that man.

* * * *

With a sigh Sarah closed off the memories. Reminiscing wouldn’t produce a proposal that Dos might accept. She probably should have worked that out before she called, but her state of mind made intelligent planning impossible.

A now familiar quiver raced through Sarah’s body. Dos had arrived. Her head jerked upright, nerves on alert. Her peculiar Dos radar told her he’d entered the building, and her time had run out.

For several minutes, her mind and body froze. Just outside the waiting room the nurse’s station started to buzz. A deep male voice murmured an undecipherable question and a female voice twittered an answer. Seconds later he appeared and stood in the doorway.

Sarah. Not a question. Not a greeting. Just a statement.

He stared at her face, thinner than four years ago, noting the pale complexion and darkly smudged brown eyes. His gaze dropped to the thin body, once much rounder, and observed the loose fit of her threadbare tee shirt, navy zip-up hooded sweatshirt, and unintentionally ripped jeans.

Hello, Dos. Sarah’s whispered acknowledgement reached across the room as she studied him in return. Her heart stumbled, halted, then started to gallop. The old attraction hadn’t lost a gram of its ability to immobilize. She simply stared at Dos, drinking with her eyes the image he projected. His five feet eleven inches stood straight and lean. Dressed for work, his summer-weight navy suit molded every tense muscle. A sky blue shirt contrasted perfectly with dark, moody eyes. Even with his mouth pressed into a grim line, she couldn’t help noticing the sensual lower lip.

With tremendous effort, she tried to pull her wayward thoughts from that dangerous abyss, but her mind darted back to that long ago ballroom and the moment when, during her frantic search, a hand whirled her around. Face to face with the object of her pursuit, she’d found his eyes were not black after all, but dark, dark blue.

Those sapphire orbs now held a strange intensity she’d never noticed during their brief courtship. Then his mouth had looked sexy, delectable. Now a grim line separated his thin upper lip from the full lower one. Deep creases on either side didn’t indicate happy smiles, but rather showed charitable genes. Moving downward, she realized his already honed body had thinned since she last saw him. Shoulders still spread wide enough to block the doorway. Muscles still filled his suit perfectly. But the black hair she’d loved to run her fingers through now appeared unusually messy and sported a few silver threads.

I expected to find you wasting away in the emergency room. Dos allowed a menacing quality to coat each word. Imagine my surprise when one of those cute nurses directed me to a waiting room instead. He narrowed his eyes, openly speculating on her motive. All right, Sarah. After four years without a word, you called. What could have induced you to contact me at this particular time?

Sarah’s nerves twanged with apprehension. Somehow she had to get this right. Too much depended on her ability to reach inside Dos and find a soft spot—if he had one. From her dry-as-cotton mouth she struggled to find enough moisture to wet her lips. She watched Dos shift his attention as her tongue swiped across her mouth, but she couldn’t read his expression.

I…I hardly know where to begin, she stammered.

How about the beginning? he suggested, tongue in cheek. Just start with the facts. We’ll get around to the details later.

She barely held on to her rapidly shrinking courage. The facts. He made it sound so easy. Anything but. Now that she stood facing him, her tongue wouldn’t cooperate with her brain. Logic said she needed to get on with the explanation. The sooner he heard her request, the sooner he could either annihilate her hopes or relieve her anxiety.

That was logic. Fear told her he could annihilate more than her hopes. He could destroy her life. She knew from past experience he wouldn’t hesitate to do just that. Unbidden, her mind flashed back to that first meeting.

* * * *

His sapphire eyes had plunged straight to her soul. Her pounding heart had blocked every sound except him. The hand gripping her arm had tightened, pulling her closer. She felt each atom in her body explode with joy as her dress touched his tux. She hadn’t realized her silly nineteen-year-old emotions radiated from her shining eyes, smiling mouth, and glowing expression. She hadn’t recognized the satisfied triumph spreading over his face. The only sensations she could identify were the awe and wonder of being held in this divine man’s arms.

Let’s dance, he’d ordered, and she hadn’t thought to object. She allowed him to whirl her onto the floor without a single question. She didn’t even ask his name.

Not that knowing his title would have meant a thing to her. Although her father, Abel Robard Cunningham, owned his own computer company, he never let her become a part of his business. She knew only enough to turn on her PC, type letters and print them out. She had no idea that Dawson Randall Collins had, at an early age, become a force to be reckoned with in the world of electronics. So great was his genius that he’d become known by everyone in that exalted sphere as Dos. Later, he gave her that information and suggested she use his nickname.

Enthralled, she never questioned his interest in her. She should have. Her short body still carried a lot of baby fat, her complexion still marred by a few teen spots. Her self-image had always been one of a mousy, brown-eyed, sandy-haired blimp, an image reinforced by her father’s disdainful attitude.

Swept away by a handsome, virile man, that unflattering image had melted. Dos made her feel beautiful, interesting and sexy. Why would she question the first bit of affection she’d ever known? With her head so far in the clouds that stars filled her eyes and fairy dust enveloped her brain, she didn’t heed the warning her logical mind shouted. In fact, she never heard it.

* * * *

Coming back to the present, Sarah blinked. She focused on Dos’s eyes and found them full of mockery, almost as if he had looked inside and observed her memories. Embarrassed at the thought of having exposed her private feelings, she gathered her drifting attention. Lost in the past, she’d forgotten his question. Now she struggled to recall his words. Oh, yes. The facts. She cleared her throat, still unsure what to say.

Maybe it would be best if I just show you, she murmured. She noted the deliberate relaxation of that lean body, and wondered if he truly possessed the casual air he presented. It didn’t matter anymore. What he did or didn’t have made no difference to her now. The chubby, starry-eyed teenager had died four years ago. The woman she had grown into since his banishment had a mission. The time had come to meet the challenge.

Follow me, she said and moved past him, into the corridor. A few feet away, at the nurse’s station, she saw a man dressed in a pair of knee length tan shorts with pockets on every inch of their surface. A pair of battered Reeboks protected his feet, and a brown tee shirt stretched across his muscled chest. Longish brown hair crowned his head and a brown mustache hid his upper lip. Definitely not hospital staff. Could he have come with Dos?

The woman stepping from behind him wore a snowy white blouse and a teal suit with an above-the-knees skirt that displayed long curvy legs. She wore white heels and carried a matching white purse. Black hair reached to her tiny waist. Jade-green eyes flashed insolence. Jasmine.

Sarah glanced toward Dos and found him watching her, his intense concentration disturbing. Unable to read the situation, she continued along the hall with Dos trailing behind. She stopped outside a door and turned to him. Her eyes begged for his patience, his charity. Little did she know, they also telegraphed her doubt that he possessed either quality.

Dos wanted to shake her. Seeing her distrust brought forth a cauldron of emotions. Anger, mixed with regret, started to boil. Depression cooked right along with his iron-willed determination. Cold calculation slowed the bubble to a simmer. Desire to once again taste her passion sweetened the pot. Confused with all these emotions, he firmed his resolve. The line of his mouth became harder, grimmer.

Misunderstanding his reaction to her intended plea, Sarah sighed and opened the door.

Mommy!

The sweetest voice in all the world called to her, and she hurried to her angel’s bedside.

Hello, sweet pea. How’s my girl?

Okaaaay.

The sigh from rosy bow-tie lips hiccupped Sarah’s heartbeat. She searched her precious daughter’s face for signs of the dangerous illness. Shadows lay beneath her thick-lashed sapphire eyes. Lifting a hand, Sarah smoothed black curls from the little girl’s hot, dry forehead. A tired smile made a dimple of sorts in her chubby baby-cheeks, dimples that on a man might be no more than deep creases.

A slight movement reminded Sarah of the unpleasant task awaiting her and she turned to Dos. A look of pure rage shot toward her, and she understood the old saying, ‘if looks could kill’. Frightened, not only for her sake, but for her daughter’s as well, Sarah straightened. In spite of trembling legs, she knew she must appear strong. One scent of the terror she felt would engage this ruthless man’s killer instinct. She put on the bravest face she could manage.

Dos, come meet my daughter, Libby.

In a flash, his large hand wrapped around her upper arm and he dragged her out the door. In seconds, he had Sarah pinned against the corridor wall. Eyes blazing, mouth shooting fire, ears surely spewing smoke, he stared into her face.

You bitch! You asked me to come and pay your love-child’s medical bills? He pulled her forward and slammed her against the wall again. I could kill you!

Sarah’s fear escalated. Not that she thought he would harm her physically. He would have to lose control for that, and Dos never lost control. He exercised formidable power over his emotional and physical responses. No. Her fright lay in his ability to refuse her daughter’s need.

You don’t understand…. She didn’t get any farther.

No, you don’t understand. What kind of fool do you take me for? Dos tightened his grip, fighting to ignore his body’s shout of welcome at standing so close to Sarah. He had to hang on to the anger. Anger that she’d found another man as soon as she left him. Anger that she’d had someone else’s child. Newsflash, baby. I don’t play patsy for anybody, especially you.

Please, listen. I need your help…

Dos cut her off again. Need my money, you mean. He loosened his hold and lifted his hands away from her arms. Find yourself another sucker. I’m outta here. He whirled and started away. Before Sarah’s terrified mind could form a reply, he whirled back. You obviously landed on your feet four years ago. I did wonder where you went. Did you have someone waiting, someone to take up your basic instructions where I left off? His face had been red seconds ago. Now all color drained, leaving his tanned skin pale. Is that how you disappeared so fast?

Sarah watched the increased rise and fall of Dos’ chest. She began to worry that he might drop dead before he’d served his purpose. She stepped toward him and grabbed his wrist, intent on giving him the important information quickly.

That sick little girl in there is our daughter. She has my blood in her veins. She also has yours.

The priceless look on Dos’ face gave her hope. At first his expression hadn’t registered any change. Then a vague awareness appeared in his eyes. They widened as her words sank into his emotional hurricane. His gaze whipped to Libby’s door then back to Sarah. Disbelief warred with something else, something she couldn’t define. Then Dos narrowed his eyes.

Not possible. She’s too small, probably no more than two, maybe two and a half.

She is small for her age—three years, three months.

I don’t believe you, he muttered, but she heard the uncertainty.

It’s true. You fathered my child. I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.

Hmm. He nodded his head thoughtfully. But if what you say is true, why did you wait four years to call? Eyes still narrowed, Dos stared at Sarah’s earnest face, seeking some sign that would indicate her goal. He found only sincerity. Still, he didn’t intend to drop his guard. Sarah had a legitimate ax to grind. In her place, he would exact revenge if she had done to him what he did to her. He couldn’t blame her, but he would protect his back anyway.

There was no need until I found out how very sick Libby is.

What’s wrong with her?

She has a heart condition. Sarah turned away. Stating the details out loud distressed her so, she couldn’t face Dos as she spoke.

Still distrustful, Dos turned her back toward him. Don’t hide from me, he ordered. I want to see your face when you speak. I haven’t decided yet whether or not to believe you. He noticed then the wet sheen in her eyes. Feeling all kinds of a brute, he released her. Go on. Tell me the rest.

Sarah labored to bring her despair under control. As she started the painful explanation, she watched Dos’ face for any reaction. She has ventricular septum defect, more commonly known as VSD.

What’s that?

In simple terms, a hole in the heart.

Dos felt a heavy pressure in his chest. He struggled to draw breath. When did you find out?

Eight days ago. For Sarah, eight days of torture.

Why did you wait to call me? Dos’ voice had become gritty, as if rusted. Fear more powerful than he’d ever known bit chunks out of his courage. The two seconds he waited for her answer seemed like two hours.

Certain tests had to be completed. Sarah stared as she spoke, still trying to read his response. Her world hinged on reaching that fabled soft spot.

What tests? What did they do to her?

They’ve tried a couple of treatments. The drugs haven’t worked yet. Sarah managed to create a tiny drop of saliva to coat her dry mouth. "Libby needs surgery. She

Reviews for Dos

[Debbie DiFiore · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The hero was almost Un-redeemable. the things he said and did were awful. And Jasmine was pure evil. His celibacy is unclear but with her in the picture and basically living with him probably put a damper on it. Just didn't like the guy.

[Lovely Arnaez · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Emotional roller-coaster, still a very good read. Thanks for that! ❤️