Dark Lessons Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Part II

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Part III

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Dark Lessons

  Julia Sykes

  Contents

  Prologue

  Training

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Breaking

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  After

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Reunion

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Also by Julia Sykes

  Connect with Julia!

  Copyright © 2017 by Julia Sykes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Rebecca Cartee

  Special thanks to LK Shaw for listening to me ramble!

  Prologue

  Jason

  It was back again: the choking, all-consuming fear. It tightened my chest, dark tendrils winding around my lungs. They crept up my throat to cut off my air supply. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, willing the rush of panic to abate.

  You’re safe. This isn’t rational.

  Despite my attempts to suppress the fear that gripped me, my stomach turned and sweat beaded on my brow. Gunfire popped through my head again and again, penetrating the protective gear that covered my ears. I sucked in a deep breath and set down my SIG as the shooting range began to blur around me. My fingers curled to fists to hide their trembling.

  Control, Harper. Get your shit together.

  “Hey, man. You okay?” Hopkins raised his voice so I could hear him.

  I jerked my head in a nod, unable to force words through my constricted throat.

  Get out. Get to somewhere private.

  It was time to dull my panic. Self-medicating was the closest I could come to control over my racing thoughts and pounding heart. I would handle this just fine on my own. No one could know I was struggling with PTSD, or my short career with the FBI would be over almost as soon as it began.

  I strode out of the shooting range and made my way to the men’s room, quickly locking myself in a stall so I wouldn’t be seen. The bathroom was empty, but that could change at any moment, and I didn’t intend to be caught. If I were found out, I’d lose my job as surely as I would if anyone knew about my PTSD.

  I unclenched my fist so I could fish my pain meds out of my pocket.

  I popped two pills in my mouth and dry-swallowed, closing my eyes to wait for the numbness to set in.

  “Harper? You okay?”

  I jumped at the sound of my surname, and the open bottle tipped slightly. Several pills spilled out to bounce against the tiled floor. The little popping sounds they made on impact ripped through me more viciously than the gunfire.

  Fresh fear formed a block of ice in my gut. For several agonizingly long seconds, Hopkins said nothing. Then I saw his hand beneath the stall door, plucking up one of the damning white pills. They were so small to pose a threat of such magnitude.

  A long, condemning sigh sounded through the bathroom, and my stomach twisted. Hopkins didn’t utter a word. His footsteps slapped against the tiles as he left. The door banged shut behind him.

  The walls began to close in, and the panic returned. Desperate, I popped another pill.

  In that moment, I recognized that this wasn’t control—the drugs controlled me. I didn’t know how to function without them. Shame burned through my veins, but after a few minutes of full-body trembling, everything faded. Fear became a background buzz, and a sense of hollow peace settled over me.

  It wasn’t courage that made me leave the false haven of the bathroom, but a lack of any emotion at all.

  My stomach churned, and my hands shook. I wasn’t queasy at the prospect of facing Franklin Dawes, my boss and the director of the Chicago FBI field office; I was going through withdrawals.

  Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. I was scared shitless at the highly likely possibility that I was about to be fired. I’d dreamed of being an agent for years, the need to protect and serve ingrained in me. If I thought about it, that was probably a result of my shitty childhood. But I preferred not to think about it. I preferred to think of myself as some kind of hero. I’d certainly been called that after my time serving as an Army Ranger.

  I’d been vain, thinking I was strong and untouchable. Now, my world was crashing down around me, my controlled façade crumbling in the face of the damning evidence that I’d become an addict.

  I took a deep breath and knocked on Dawes’ office door.

  “Come in,” came his clipped voice. It wasn’t unusual for him to sound so cold, but it still made ice crystalize in my veins.

  As soon as I opened the door, I stopped in my tracks.

  Fuck.

  My father sat in the chair across from my boss’ desk. His bright green eyes practically burned with disdain.

  “Shut the door,” he ordered, his voice even colder than Dawes’.

  Swallowing hard, I did as he commanded. I knew better than to defy my father. I hated it, but years of physical and emotional abuse made deference automatic. Especially when I knew I deserved his ire. I’d fucked up worse than ever, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the barely controlled rage in my father’s tightly coiled body burst out and he beat the shit out of me. I wouldn’t try to defend myself. Not this time. Ever since I’d matured into my full strength, he hadn’t challenged me physically, but I wasn’t certain if I’d ever be able to stand up to him if he did threaten me.

  Impossibly, the sense of weakness that crushed my chest magnified. I cut my gaze away from his.

  I wasn’t invited to sit. I was going be forced to stand here and be scolded by my father and my boss before they fired me. It wasn’t enough that they were going to end my career; they were going to humiliate me first.

  I drew in a shuddering breath and attempted to head them off before the reprimanding could begin.

  “I’ll go clean out my desk,” I said, struggling for a hard tone.

  “Yes, you will,” Dawes confirmed.

  My jaw tightened, and I nodded sharply. “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t,” my father said. “You’re not being fired. You’re being transferred.”

  I looked up at him, shocked. “What?”

  His eyes narrowed. “If you think I’m going to
let your fuck up ruin my reputation, you are sorely mistaken. This isn’t going public.”

  As the Deputy Director of the FBI, my father would be publicly shamed if my failure were made common knowledge. I hadn’t considered this. Perhaps his vanity would be my salvation. I should have resented his ruthless use of my image for his own ends, but I was too relieved to be angry with him.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, carefully deferential.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “I’m pulling you from the field. You’re going back to Quantico. You’ll teach the new recruits and undergo psychological treatment until you deal with whatever bullshit made you a pathetic addict.”

  Shame burned in my gut. That bullshit was the uncontrollable panic that seized my chest at random intervals. I’d seen some fucked up shit, and it had lodged in my brain, warping me and making me weak.

  I was pathetic.

  But I didn’t want to go to Quantico. To be assigned as an instructor to newbie agents was tantamount to the harshest possible demotion. I’d be professionally humiliated while my father’s reputation would remain untarnished.

  “Please.” I hated begging, but I had no other recourse. “Send me to another field office. I’ll go to therapy. I can kick this. I’ve already stopped taking pills.”

  My father sneered. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and you’re sweating and shaking. You’re not fit to be an active agent. You’ll go to Quantico, and you will thank me for it.”

  I lifted my chin and stared at him in defiance. He met my stare, his eyes glittering with malice.

  “You will thank me,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

  Rage and humiliation burned in my veins, but I knew I didn’t have a choice. If I wanted to have any hope of salvaging my career, I had to comply. If I could get my head straight and prove myself, I might be reassigned to another field office eventually.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said tightly, the words leaving a bitter tang on my tongue.

  My father nodded in cruel satisfaction.

  “You’re dismissed,” Dawes said, as cold as ever.

  I turned sharply on my heel and did my best not to flee from the man who was ruining my life. The man who had always ruined everything.

  No. I was fully responsible for my clusterfuck of a situation. Steeling myself, I resolved that I would make it through this. I’d find my control again and prove to my father and myself that I wasn’t weak.

  It was time to get my shit together.

  Part I

  Training

  Chapter 1

  Natalie

  I smiled when I stepped into the seedy dive bar. It was definitely my kind of place, and this would be my last night to let loose for a while. I would start training for my dream job at Quantico tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be able to party. I didn’t really drink much, but it would be nice to have a night to celebrate my accomplishments.

  I’d checked into a motel near Quantico for the night, and The Community Tap had beckoned from across the street. The bar might be a bit sketchy, but I wasn’t at all nervous entering by myself. I’d been taking mixed martial arts classes for two years, ever since I’d started my Master’s degree in Psychology. I’d known I was preparing to apply for a job with the FBI, and I wanted to be physically equipped as well as mentally sharp. I was determined to graduate the academy and join the Bureau.

  As I crossed the threshold, I registered several male gazes swinging my way. I ignored them and headed for the bar. I wasn’t here to hook up. I just wanted a beer and a little atmosphere. I’d intentionally selected a conservative sweater with jeans, and I’d applied minimal makeup. I definitely wasn’t dressed to impress, but I knew men found me attractive. It wasn’t a vain thing; I was physically fit from training, and years of male attention let me know I was pretty enough. I could find some company for the night if I wanted to, but that wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t do casual fucks, anyway.

  “What can I get you, sweetheart?” The bald, bulky bartender smiled at me.

  I didn’t care for the casual endearment, but I brushed it off. “What craft beers do you have on draft?” I asked.

  He handed me a list, and I quickly made my selection. A good IPA would hit the spot.

  Taking my beer with a smile and a tip, I turned to face the rest of the bar. I grinned when I saw people—mostly men—signing up for a darts tournament.

  I was so down for this. I had excellent aim, and it would be fun to compete with the heavily muscled, macho men who were putting their names on the chalkboard and paying the entry fee. Men like that often underestimated me, and I liked proving my worth. It would be a good confidence boost before facing the fierce competition at Quantico.

  I crossed the room to the sign up area and confidently wrote my name on the chalkboard, handing the bouncer the five dollars required to compete. He informed me that the tournament would start in fifteen minutes, so I decided I would people watch for a little while and size up my competition.

  As I settled back in at the bar, a cluster of hard-faced men in leather jackets caught me looking in their direction. The tallest, biggest one leered and winked at me. Keeping my expression impassive and disinterested, I broke from his gaze. I didn’t want to imply any sort of physical invitation.

  “You any good?” A deep, masculine voice rumbled through me. I jolted and turned to face the man who had approached me soundlessly. Even though the bar was fairly noisy, it wasn’t often that someone was able to encroach on my personal space without my realizing it.

  As soon as his stunning green eyes locked on mine, I became very aware of his nearness. My breath caught in my throat, and my body reacted with instant attraction, the pull toward the stranger more visceral and immediate than anything I’d ever experienced. He was easily the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

  No. Beautiful wasn’t the right word. He was far too ruggedly masculine for that term. With a strong, clean-shaven jaw and high cheekbones, he could have been a male model. His glossy black hair was meticulously styled, and his sharp black suit managed to convey an air of elegant power. The teasing tilt to his full lips was cocky and sexy as hell.

  “What?” I managed to release the air that had been trapped in my chest. I couldn’t remember what he’d just said to me. His nearness scrambled my brain and heated my insides. The sensation was utterly foreign and darkly delicious.

  “I saw you entered the tournament.” He gestured at the chalkboard, but his sparkling emerald eyes didn’t leave mine. “Are you any good?”

  I straightened my shoulders, struggling to collect myself. It wasn’t at all like me to fumble like this over an attractive man.

  “Yeah,” I asserted with most of my usual confidence.

  One corner of his lips ticked up farther, and my gaze riveted on his mouth.

  “I’ll enjoy the competition, then,” he said, his voice lilting with amusement. “I’m Jason.” He extended his hand.

  I shook it firmly, finally collecting myself. “Natalie,” I introduced.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Natalie.” His voice caressed my name, and I suppressed a shiver. Lust had never hit me so hard. The air seemed to crackle between us, and the way his eyes darkened with hunger as he held my hand told me that I wasn’t the only one who felt it. He squeezed gently, and my sex contracted in response.

  Slightly disconcerted, I extricated myself from his grip. He smirked. It should have irritated me, but his arrogant confidence was undeniably stoking my lust.

  “I’d buy you a drink, but you seem to have that covered,” he continued smoothly, flicking his long fingers toward where my beer sat mostly untouched on the bar top. “The next one’s on me.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t need to get tipsy. I plan on winning this tournament.”

  “Competitive,” he remarked. His sharp grin dazzled me. “I like that.” He tipped his head in the direction of the leather-clad men, but he still didn’t take his eyes off my face. “I don’t know
if your admirers will appreciate it if you beat them.”

  I shrugged. “That’s their problem.”

  His grin widened. “Then I look forward to watching you kick their asses.” He cocked his head at me. “Although I don’t intend to lose, I’ll warn you now.”

  I returned his smile, helplessly charmed by his cockiness. “I’ll try not to bruise your ego too badly, then,” I teased, slightly surprised at my husky, flirtatious tone. I hadn’t been planning on hooking up with anyone, but I certainly wouldn’t say no to a hot night with Jason. The physical chemistry between us was electric, and we’d barely touched.

  Images of his powerful, sweat-slicked body sliding against mine as he fucked me hard flitted across my mind, and my cheeks heated.

  His eyes flashed, and his lips curved in satisfaction. “Are you a betting woman, Natalie?” he asked.

  “I…” I fumbled again. I took a shaky breath and tried to gather my wits. “Not really.”

  “I like games,” he told me, his voice dropping to a deeper register. The words rolled through me, vibrating down to my core. My inner muscles fluttered, and my panties grew damp with the beginnings of arousal. “Play with me.” It wasn’t a question; it was a command.

  My tongue darted out to wet my lips. His gaze flicked to my mouth before finding my eyes again, keeping me captured in his steady stare.

  “If I win, you’re mine for the night.”

  My heart skipped a beat. The possessive declaration set my body on fire. Suddenly, I wanted very badly to lose to this man.

  “And if I win?” I managed to ask, but there was no challenge in the breathy words.

  He leaned in, almost as though he was going to kiss me. He stopped when he was close enough that I could feel the heat of his words teasing across my lips. “Then I’ll still make you come so hard you’ll scream my name and beg for mercy by the time I’m finished with you.”

  My mouth went dry, and I swallowed. His sexy smirk told me he had me exactly where he wanted me. His easy confidence and commanding aura were intoxicating.