Alden Kotlc Novels & Stories

“Jim,” she moaned. “Please don’t go…” “No way, baby.” He held her face in both of his hands, his thumbs tracing the curve of her perfect lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” He spun her now, pushed her up against the wall next to the door. His arms were raised above her, his hands flat on the wall, and he lowered his head to kiss her, slow and hot. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he almost groaned to feel those hands on him. “Kat,” he said against her mouth, his voice hoarse with want. “I need you.” **** Katherine Lawrence has built her life around disappearing. No records. No roots. A packed suitcase by the door. New hair every two weeks. No past, no attachments, and no reason to stay. When she’s finally forced to spill her secrets to a group of ex–Rangers and an ex-sniper, Jim Alden is assigned one job: keep Kat alive… and keep her from running. Jim is as guarded and dangerous as she is infuriating. He wants to shake her for her distrust – and kiss her until she forgets how to flee. When Kat’s past finally claws into the light, Jim makes her a promise she doesn’t believe anyone can keep: safety, honesty, and a place to stand still. But the past never stops hunting. As old enemies close in and lives hang in the balance, Kat is ready to vanish again, alone, afraid, and free. Unless Jim can convince her that staying is worth the risk… and that this time, she won’t have to run.

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."