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  Black Out Copyright © 2014 by Lila Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook or book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or

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  or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct

  infringement of the author's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work

  of this author.

  Black Out is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found in this book are either from the author's

  imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons live or dead is entirely

  coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-9925170-3-8

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design: Louisa at LM Creations

  Front Cover Picture: Sara Eirew

  Back Cover Picture: MHPhotography Stock and Custom Photos

  Formatting: Angel’s Indie Formatting

  Table of content:

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  To my readers, thank you for your support.

  YOU ROCK!

  Acknowledgements

  Hot Tree Editing, Becky, Kayla and Justine. You ladies mean so much to me. Thank you for not thinking my work is too crazy, and also for your support and help through this all xx

  Kristin, Jill, Sue, Margreet, Neringa and Amanda for beta reading it for me!

  Justine Littleton. You know I love you, woman. I love our messages of just plain crazy shit, and I really can’t wait to work alongside you for our next five paranormal novels.

  To Mary Manfield, thank you for some awesome, laughable moments in this novel and for all the messages.

  To Lindsey Lawson and Natasha Liggett. You both mean a heap to me. You ladies do so much for me, and I appreciate that I have you both as a friend and PA on my author page every day.

  Louisa at LM Creations. I know I say this all the time, but you are a star! Thank you for being you xx

  BJ Harvey, thank you for the late-night talks and encouragements.

  To my street team. Ladies and the one gentleman (though, that’s debatable -- kidding). You all help me so much whenever I ask or I don’t even have to ask. Thank you all for being there!

  Neringa, Elizabeth and Colleen. The three of you go above and beyond in the pimping world. There isn’t a day that goes by I haven’t seen you’ve shared something of mine. You ladies ARE the best pimpers (with Natasha, of course) Thank you!

  To my family, who have supported me through everything.

  And a special mention for my monsters. For putting up with a busy mum.

  Also Craig…I mention you all the time, so I must love your arse. Thank you for your support, for when I tell you I’m busy and that I have to get this done, ‘cause I do.

  Three weeks of hearing his voice and I was addicted. While my sister was busy doing whatever she had to do every Saturday for the past three weeks for her realty work, she dropped me off at a café so I wouldn’t get in her way and annoy her. So for those three Saturdays, I had my ears glued to the door of that café, waiting for him to walk in and order his tall cappuccino. His voice was deep, rough and warming. His scent filled the room and made me want to wear leather and drink the men’s cologne Joop, just so I could have it surrounding me all the time.

  Sex.

  That word never really crossed my mind. Mainly because my first and only time was not worth remembering. I had been eighteen when I met the unnameable and he had swooned his way into my life. I thought he was the one. He showered me with gifts and sweet words. Until I gave him my virginity. As soon as he’d donned the condom, stuck it in me—and Jesus, it had hurt so much, I was ready to punch the uncaring idiot in the throat— he’d thrust three times and grunted in my ear. The next day when I rang him, he said he didn’t want to hang, that I was a lousy lay.

  So anyone could understand why sex, lust or making love never crossed my mind.

  Until him, the stranger in the café.

  It sounded strange; I knew it did. I wasn’t usually a stalker type of person, but it was a small enjoyment in my troubled life, and it wasn’t harming anyone in return.

  So yet another Saturday, and I found myself sitting in that café drinking a coffee and nibbling on a blueberry muffin, while I waited to get my pleasure for the day of hearing his voice.

  The bell over the café door rang, heavy footsteps coming in and walking toward the front counter. I knew this with relative ease because every time I walked in, I’d counted the amount of steps it took me to get to the counter to make my order. I’d also counted them to my usual table, the table my sister had shown me to on the very first time I had come here. She knew my counting game, so at least she knew from then on, I could make it in and to my seat without embarrassing myself.

  I was sitting off to the left of the front counter, taking in a deep breath, and his manly scent soon filled my senses once again. I had to take my fill before he walked out, like he always did.

  What was funny was I’d never felt the need to do it with any other customer. I hadn’t cared to. Still, when he walked in that first time, there was something about the way he walked, the way he talked and the way the room had quieted and people took notice of him.

  It left me wanting to know him.

  However, that was something I’d never have a chance in obtaining, especially when no one took notice of me these days.

  My appearance was less than to be desired. My clothes were baggy and big, while my red hair was a mess, and I wore no makeup, and sunglasses sat on my nose.

  His order was called. I heard him say a rumble of a ‘Thank you’ and then I waited for his retreating footsteps, back to the front door.

  Only, for the first time, he didn’t.

  He wasn’t walking out of the café; he was staying. I could tell when I heard his pounding footsteps coming my way. I smiled a little, because I knew I’d appreciate taking in his wonderful masculine scent a little longer.

  “Hey, sugar, mind if I sit here?” he asked.

  My lips pulled between my teeth. Was he talking to me? Was the place that full we’d have to share a table?

  I tipped my head in his direction and said quietly, in case he wasn’t talking to me and I was about to make a fool out of myself, “I don’t mind.”

  It’s days like this I wish I could see. But I couldn’t. My eyesight had been perfect until five years before, four days after my nineteenth birthday. After one tragic night—the night my older sister and I lost our parents.

  On that horrid night, I ended up in a coma for a month and when I woke, I could no longer see properly. My sister explained to me, once released from hospital, that my visual
impairment was caused by carbon monoxide poisoning from being in the fire. That and the loss was a result of emotional trauma from witnessing my parents burn to death. They’d been stuck behind a locked door and couldn’t escape.

  The pain from the loss of my parents hurt more than any side effect or injury. Five years, and I was still feeling that loss deep inside.

  It was lucky my sister hadn’t been there that dreadful night, or she also would be waking every night from the same nightmares still haunting me.

  The chair opposite me grated across the floor as he pulled it out and set something on the table in front of him.

  Sounds were my best friend these days.

  “Three weeks,” he stated.

  “I’m sorry?” I uttered.

  “Three weeks, baby. Three weeks I’ve been coming here every Saturday, waiting for you to come to me to make a move. But you never have, so I thought I would.”

  My eyes widened behind my glasses, my mouth ajar. He had shocked me to silence as my heart went haywire behind my loose tee.

  “I s’pose I should be the one to introduce myself, now that I’m finally fuckin’ here in front of you.”

  Quickly closing my gaping mouth, I brought my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down once again. I couldn’t answer; so instead, I nodded.

  “Name’s Blue Skies.”

  A small smile tugged at my lips as I held back the inappropriate giggle. What were his parents thinking at the time they named him? I cleared my throat and whispered like it was a secret, “I’m Clarinda.”

  “Clarinda…Clary. I like it.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason, it had me blushing. “Seems it’s our first date, so I guess we should tell each other about us.”

  My head went back a little, again, shocked at his statement. So shocked, in fact, I laughed. “Are you sure you have the right person?” I asked after I controlled my laughter.

  “Yes.”

  Puzzled, I asked, “How?”

  “Because I have had my eyes on you for three damn Saturdays, waiting to catch your eye, waiting for you to get the courage to come talk to me, but you haven’t. So now, we do this my way.”

  “Your way?” I asked on a whisper.

  “Yeah, sugar,” he said softly, “my way.”

  Licking my suddenly dry lips, I then said, “You sure are…”

  “Cocky? Great with words? Smart? Handsome?”

  Smiling, I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t see,” I told him and removed my sunglasses, blinking in his direction.

  He hissed, “Your eyes are damn beautiful like that.”

  My eyes widened, yet again. This man in front of me sure knew how to make an impression. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. All right, I did. I guess I was more confused over why the man was saying those words to me.

  Three weeks. His words rippled through my mind again.

  Three weeks I’ve been coming here every Saturday, waiting for you to come to me to make your move. How was it…he possible? Was I dreaming?

  Light footsteps approached our table, and a woman cleared her throat. “Hey, handsome.”

  Blue interrupted her to say to me, “See? I told you.” I giggled. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

  I snorted. Oh, God, he was a charmer to every lady.

  “I have to go, but I just wanted to give you this,” the woman said.

  This was embarrassing; I just knew she was passing him her number. Even a strange woman could see it was weird Blue was sitting with me.

  Actually, that was reality, and it just smacked me in the face.

  I stood and said, “I’m leaving, as well. Why don’t you take my seat?”

  “No,” Blue growled. “Sugar, sit your arse down. We’re talking. And woman, you need to go. I don’t want your number…ever.” He actually sounded disgusted; I was surprised.

  Quietly feeling my way back into my seat, I sat across from him. The woman huffed and puffed, and then I listened to her retreating footsteps.

  I wondered if he got that a lot. If many women picked him up wherever he went. It also made me want to know what he looked like, especially if that sort of thing did happen a lot.

  “Stupid woman,” Blue grumbled.

  “I’m sure you could still chase her,” I giggled.

  “You, shut it,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Now, tell me about Clary.”

  I shrugged; it was the weirdest situation I had ever been in. No man had ever approached me before. “There isn’t much to say, really.”

  “What do you like to do?” he asked.

  “Read—I mean, listen to audio books.” I smiled. “What do you like to do, Blue?”

  “I’d fuckin’ love to know—” His phone rang, cutting him off. “Christ,” he swore and answered it with a gruff, “What? Shit. Yeah, all right, I’m comin’.” I heard him shut his phone and slam it to the table. “I have to go.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “No, it ain’t.”

  Without thinking, I uttered, “You’re right. It isn’t.”

  He groaned. “Shit, now I don’t wanna leave, but if I don’t, we won’t get this car out, and the dick fucked it up even more.” His chair was shifted back, meaning he stood. A finger trailed down my cheek. “Will you be here next Saturday?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll see you then, sugar.”

  The following Saturday, my sister dropped me off. When I walked to the counter, the guy behind it said, “I have a message for you. Blue’s sorry he can’t make it, but he hopes you’ll try to come back Monday and he’ll be here.” I smiled wide and nodded my thanks. Since I was at the café, I still had to sit and wait for my sister, so I ordered an iced coffee and blueberry muffin.

  Even though I knew he wasn’t coming, my heart still thumped hard every time the front door opened. Once my sister turned up, I was relieved; my poor heart needed the break. She led me out to the car and told me to get in.

  “How was your day?” I asked Amy.

  “Fine. Look, I’m not in the mood to chit-chat, just…zip it, okay?”

  Sighing quietly so she wouldn’t get upset by it, I nodded. I sat back in my seat, thought of a certain man and contemplated how I was going to make it there on Monday.

  I waited until the next day before I spoke to my sister. Amy was sitting in the living room. I made my way from my room down the hall, with my hands on the walls to guide me. In the living room, I counted the five steps to the couch; only I didn’t get there. Instead, I tripped and fell to the carpeted floor on my hands and knees.

  “What are you doing?” Amy yelled.

  “Sorry, I um…tripped.” I felt around on the floor to see what had been laying there to trip me, but my hands ran over nothing but the carpet.

  “There’s nothing there. Get up,” Amy snapped. I did, and I reached out to the couch and climbed from my knees to sit on it. “Was there something you wanted? Usually, you stay in your room.”

  Nodding, I asked, “I was hoping you could take me to the café on Monday.”

  “Why?” she huffed.

  “I…um, I have to meet someone there.”

  “I’ll see, okay? I have a lot to do to keep us fed and a roof over our heads.”

  She’d said that to me many times. I’d questioned her about it on a few occasions, because I was sure our parents would have helped provide for us after their deaths. Not that I would want it, but since I was disabled, we needed it even more. Our parents were well off, so every time Amy would hiss back, ‘They never left enough for all your hospital bills,’ I never could understand that.

  I knew I was a burden to her, so I nodded and said, “Okay, Amy,” even though everything inside me told me to fight with her, to demand she take me, because God knew I didn’t ask for much. Still, I said no more, knowing one day, I would have to get out from under my sister and learn to live again.

  Monday came and went. Amy said she was too busy to take me, and when I suggest
ed a taxi, she yelled at me for wanting to waste our money on something so unnecessary. I felt terrible that I couldn’t inform Blue I wouldn’t be there, like he had me. We didn’t have a home phone; the only phone we had was Amy’s mobile, and she had taken that with her. If I had a friend, I would have called one, but they all soon disappeared after the accident.

  I could only hope he would be there on Saturday and would understand my situation.

  Wednesday night, Amy came home from work and told me to get on a warmer coat because she needed to go food shopping. She only liked me to come so I could push the trolley. She hated doing it and laughed if I crashed into anything.

  At the supermarket, I trolled along slowly while Amy took off ahead. Thankfully, the place was lit bright enough for me to see her shadowed, blurred form in front of me.

  “Rinda, stay there. I’m just going to grab some stuff. You’re going too slowly. I’ll be quicker on my own.” There was no point saying anything; her footsteps were already departing the aisle.

  I felt awkward just standing there, so I turned to the shelves and pretended to look at what was in front of me. I didn’t know how long I had been standing there but suddenly, there was a heat at my back and a whisper in my ear, “Why are you searching the condoms, sugar?”

  No, God no. Blue was right behind me, and apparently, I was looking at condoms.

  “Um,” was all I could say.

  “Were you thinkin’ of buying them for me?”

  Oh, my God!

  Again, my reply was, “Um,”

  He chuckled deeply. “I’m only teasin’, baby,” he uttered against my neck, and I swear he drew in a deep breath. With his hands on my hips, he turned me. I looked up his blurred form toward his head and smiled shyly, knowing there was heat in my cheeks. “Where were you Monday, Clary?” he asked, his hands still on my hips, making it hard for me to concentrate.

  “Um, I-I’m sorry, Blue. I couldn’t make it, and I had no way of telling you.”

  “Sugar, I’m gonna tell you straight up. I wanna see more of you. You willin’ for that to happen?”

  “Yes,” I responded immediately. Hell, did that sound too keen?