Breath Of Life Read online

  Copyright

  Text copyright © 2017 Shyla Colt

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews are permitted.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editing: There for you Editing

  Cover: Dreams2Media

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Blurb

  Playlist

  Dedication | For my Colts.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Our existence is an unpredictable patchwork quilt made up of moments that shape and mold us. Some change us for the better, and others devastate and threaten to shatter our souls. I learned the hard way, one event can change your life forever.

  The blood spilled on the street will be etched in my brain and on my hands until I die, because, Oliver Hemingway, risked his life to save mine. Together we try to piece together the fragments and make a new start as we heal. Life has others plans. The evil that stalked us resurfaces and the downward spiral begins.

  Breath of Life

  Shyla Colt

  Playlist

  I’ve Just Seen a Face: Jim Sturgess

  Breath of Life: Florence + The Machine

  Swing Life Away: Rise Against

  Scars: Papa Roach

  She Loves Me Not: Papa Roach

  Soldier of Love: Sade

  Space: Something Corporate

  Run: Snow Patrol

  I Will Never Die: Delta Rae

  Heavy in Your Arms: Florence + The Machine

  Never Say Never: The Fray

  Maps: Yeah Yeah Yeahs

  You’ve Got the Love: Florence + The Machine

  Stand by Me: Ben E. King

  Happiness: The Fray

  Who We Are: Imagine Dragons

  Castle: Halsey

  Don’t Let Me Down: The Beatles

  Let it Be: The Beatles

  Ride: Twenty-One Pilots

  Look After You: The Fray

  Get Playlist

  Dedication

  For my Colts.

  Chapter One

  Quinn

  “There’s no denying you’re hot, sweetheart, but all the pretty in the world isn’t going to make up for the fact that you’re over an hour late for your call time.”

  Arching an eyebrow, I cross my arms beneath my breast. “Sweetheart?” I spit the words out like sour milk, and wrinkle my nose.

  “Baby? Doll?” He shrugs and wiggles the toothpick dangling from the side of his mouth. He’s hot in a rugged way—long, brown hair is slicked back from an angular face, and his tan makes his deep set lapis-colored eyes pop. The dark fringe of eyelashes surrounding those blue orbs makes me want to pluck the curly hairs out with tweezers. Why is it men who get all the beautiful eyebrows and lashes? A long, Roman nose is almost disguised by a neatly kept mustache that curls up slightly, and sharp, angular cheekbones are lessened by the dark scruff on his chin.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve paid this much attention to a man. I want to kick myself in the ass for allowing it to be this one in particular. In a short-sleeved black T-shirt that shows off brightly colored ink and a muscular arms, he’s got a masculine appeal that makes my body tingle. This is what happens when I go too long without getting laid. My libido kicks on for the first attractive male I banter with.

  “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else, my friend,” I say.

  He rakes his gaze over me slowly and shakes his head. “No. A looker like you would be impossible to mistake.”

  Warmth spreads in my belly, and I turn up the ice to combat it. “That’s cute. You think I’m a model who’ll giggle and eat your compliments up like chocolate cake?”

  “Never said that. We’re not interested in having you work for us.”

  I snort. After I haul my ass down here on my only day off in God knows how long he’s ready to fire me? “Good thing you’re not my boss then, huh?” I ask.

  When his mouth drops open, I laugh and extend my hand. “I’m a makeup artist. I’ll be the assistant extraordinaire to Efia Bello for the day.” I hold out my arms and give a quick curtsy as I grip the handle of my bright pink three tier case.

  “I’m guessing that’s not clothing then,” he mumbles more to himself than me. “I’m sorry about that. We have a model who went M.I.A. today and you fit her description.”

  “Mmmm. If that’s the way you charm women, maybe I’m not shocked she didn’t show up.” I pat his chest; he’s firm without being the rock solid that only comes from hours in the gym.

  He smirks. “I wasn’t even trying just then, darling.” Pursing my lips, I shake my head no. “That one doesn’t do it for you, either?” he asks.

  “Observant, aren’t you? I’m not really the nickname type.”

  His eyes sparkle, and he stands a little straighter, like a predator who caught the scent of its next meal. “That’s because you haven’t gotten one from me,” he drawls.

  “Hmm. There’s a thin line between confident and cocky.” I exaggerate my eye roll.

  “I’ve heard that,” he says with a nod.

  I bet you have. “Right. Can you show me where Efia is? I’m her relief.”

  “I can.” He pauses. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

  “That’s because I didn’t throw it at you,” I retort.

  He studies me, and I can tell he’s not used to being shot down. It’s adorable. After giving me a small nod, he starts to walk toward the graffiti-covered wall they’ll be using as the background for the shots with the cars that make me drool. I don’t know much more than how to change a tire and oil, but I can tell from the make and models these babies are vintage.

  “You’d rather I guess?”

  I give a quick laugh. “I’d love to watch you try.” My name is not usual in the least.

  “Oh, I like a good challenge.”

  “I’m sure you do,” I say, forcing myself to play nice. I usually eat men like him for breakfast, but he’s my boss by proxy, and I’m not as unaffected by his charisma as I pretend to be. There’s something more to him than the laid back, cocksure front he puts up.

  “I brought you a present,” the man whose name I realize I don’t know either says.

  Efia glances up. “Oh, thank God.”

  “No Rachel yet? Can you go see if you can rustle her up?” a bearded man asks.

  “So I can tell her not to bother?” the man beside me asks.

  “No, she was held up in a freak accident that happened on the highway. A carrot truck jackknifed and overturned. It was on the news and everything, so it’s legit.”

  “Wait. A what?”

  “Yeah, man. Apparently, there were carrots everywhere.” The bearded man’s lips twitch upward as his body shakes.

  “Houston, that’s ridiculous as hell.”

  “I know, Ollie,” he replies, grinning.

  Ollie. It fits him. I tune out their conversation as I hug Efia. “Tell me what to do, and don’t let tall, tan, and cocky know my name,�
� I mumble.

  She laughs. “You pick up an admirer?”

  I roll my eyes. “No.”

  “Ohhh ho ... It’s mutual, is it?”

  “No,” I reply lamely. She can read me like a book, but I’m not ready to admit I’m feeling him.

  “Right. I have three girls ready to go, and one girl started. We had them booked for two days, but then the timetable got shifted around and I got caught trying to play Wonder Woman.”

  “Girl, you are Superwoman. I’m just your sidekick for the day,” I say with a wink.

  “Thanks for coming through for me, Quinn,” Efia says quietly.

  “Anytime. You know us makeup artists have to stick together.” I bump her hip. “Hello, ladies, I’m Q. I’ll be helping you out today.” They’re gorgeous in vintage dresses, peep toe heels, and extravagant hairstyles full of volume, curls, and plenty of bobby pins. Around their necks are bibs that are par for the course with makeup and expensive clothing.

  “We’re doing the fifties style look?” I ask.

  “Think the sixties as a base, only a little heavier and edgier for their time, while remaining clean by today’s standards.”

  I mentally rifle through my Rolodex of looks until I mash one together that fits the requested profile. “I got you.”

  I introduce myself to the petite brunette with coal black hair, brilliant green eyes, and full lips. Sandra and I are fast friends by the time her look is done. The deep red pops against her pale skin and adds a much-needed splash of color to the black peasant top and matching circle skirt. Proud, I move on to the next girl in line and find a steady rhythm.

  “YOU STILL GOING TO make me guess your name?”

  I glance over my shoulder at Ollie and snicker. “Seriously? I figured you’d have forgotten about me by now. It’s been a busy day.” The shot had gone on for a grueling four hours with retouches, powders, and new looks as they changed outfits. The sun had set thirty minutes prior, and we’d all packed it in swiftly. This wasn’t the best place to be at night, but the gritty background made for amazing shots.

  He nods. “It has, but the photos—especially the ones I got to see taken during the sunset—were spectacular.”

  “Will this go up on your website?” I ask as I snap my case shut.

  “Yeah. It was time to update our look and get some new faces in. We like to have the same girls on the site and in our calendars on hand to attend out car shows. It gives them exposure and brings people in.”

  “I bet. They’re gorgeous.”

  “The girls or the cars?” he asks.

  “Both,” I say as I grab the handle and move to walk toward my car.

  “Please, let me go with you.”

  I glance around and realize everyone is pairing up and pulling out. Efia had run off to meet her boo just minutes earlier. It was adorable. A year after the wedding they were still in the honeymoon stage. Between the trips to exotic locations and their busy schedules, they enjoyed hosting friends and family at their home. She’d moved in with him, and they rented out her home for the income. I love her savvy decision making skills. It seemed to me she and Edgar were the epitome of meeting in the middle.

  Their wedding had been a massive, bright, and eclectic affair tailor-made for them. I admired their compromises. Some people didn’t know how to give—they only took. My mood sinks as the memories threaten to break through the barrier I keep them shoved behind. Nothing like a failed marriage to turn you off love and relationships. I’d poured everything into my marriage, and it almost stole my sanity, identity, and damn near killed my hope.

  After all the years I lost sight of who I was and how to operate by myself. It’s a mistake I vowed never to make again. Love doesn’t mean unyielding sacrifice. That’s a one-way ticket to heartbreak and co-dependency. Co-dependency, a word I wish I’d known the definition of back then. When Bryan and I got together. Looking back, we were babies playing at being in love.

  “You still with me?” Ollie waves his hand in front of my face.

  I blink. “Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

  “Where are you parked?”

  “Just around the corner on Kings Road.”

  “Good, I’m on the same street.”

  Really, universe? We lapse into silence as we walk side by side. The sound of the wheels of my case over the sidewalk interrupts the quiet.

  “So you’re a makeup artist like Efia?”

  “I am, but my focus is special effects makeup.”

  “Like monster movies?”

  “Yes, whenever I can get a gig for it. Glamor makeup pays the bills, but my passion is blood, guts, and gore.”

  He laughs. “For real?”

  I nod my head. “I love it. I blame my dad. He raised me on the classics.”

  “Classics?” Ollie asked.

  “You know ... The Wolfman, Dracula, all the Vincent Price gems, and Hitchcock movies he grew up with. Then the eighties hit with their advances, and I knew it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I used to do my friends’ and family’s getups for Halloween. It was the only time my big brother wanted to be bothered with me.”

  He laughs. “You have siblings?”

  “An older brother and sister. I think I was a surprise, though my parents would never admit it.”

  “I have a baby cousin. It’s a tough job being an older brother type.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please. I was the one covering for them and doing their math homework. I think I got the raw end of the deal.”

  “Well, my cousin, Ronnie, was always hell on wheels. Still is, but now I’m not responsible for her. There are drawbacks to living next door to your family.”

  I laugh out loud.

  “I’m serious.”

  We round the corner, and I spot my black SUV. “That’s me up ahead.” I parked beneath a street light. The rectangle sputters and dies, plunging the street into shadows as the sun gives up its control and night emerges. I’m suddenly glad he insisted on walking me back to my car. The scuff off shoes on concrete make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “Did you hear that?” I whisper. I glance at Ollie who steps in front of me.

  “Yeah, I did.” He turns to face the alley a few feet away from where we stand. Three men emerge from the alleyway dressed from head-to-toe in all black with hoods that partially obscure their faces. With my height, I’m peering up and have a ringside view. I pray to God they don’t realize that. I grip the handle of my case. The street is deserted, and my car offers no shelter, despite its proximity. They’d catch us before we could clamber inside and drive off.

  I grip the pepper spray on my keychain. Doesn’t fucking help when there’s a group.

  “Hey, man. We don’t want any trouble,” Ollie says.

  “Give us your wallets, and we won’t have any,” the large, bulky figure in the middle growls.

  “All right, man, just take it easy,” Ollie says, holding up his hands. He reaches into his back pocket and slowly pulls out a wallet.

  “And hers, too.”

  I fumble with the messenger bag looped across my body and dig out my black wallet. Ollie takes it from me and hands it to the thief with his fingertips.

  “Keep your asses here until we’re gone, and no one will be hurt. Try to play hero, and we’ll take ourselves a prize.” His lecherous gaze turns my stomach.

  Over my dead body. I’ll take a bullet to the head before I go anywhere with them.

  “You won’t have any problems for us.” Ollie steps back until my front brushes his back. He reaches his hand around and grabs my hip.

  Leaning into him, I clutch his plaid shirt like a lifeline as I rub the tip of my nose over the soft material, filling my nostrils with his crisp, clean scent. Right now this cologne is my favorite smell in the world.

  The thugs begin to blend back into the blackness one by one. The ring leader keeps the barrel of the gun aimed at Ollie as he retreats into the alley. He stops. My knees shake and nearly give as I suc
k air into my desperate lungs. When did I hold my breath?

  “I changed my mind. I think we’ll take a little something for the road.”

  My blood pressure sky rockets as my vision blackens around the edges and my heart tries to burst from my chest. Adrenaline begins pumping through my veins. My muscles tense. Fight or flight slams into me like a two-ton wild beast.

  “We don’t have anything else to give,” Ollie says coolly.

  “But you do,” he replies, fixing me with a lewd gaze as he licks his chapped lips.

  I scan the area, seeking out a place to run. I’d never make it into my car and get inside before they caught up to me. I clutch my pepper spray and lift it, ready to fight.

  “Like I said, we have nothing else.” Ollie stands to his full height, and I brace myself.

  “Take her,” the man sneers.

  Ollie surges forward, wrestling for the gun, and I let the pepper spray fly. Time blurs as my brain is overloaded with fear, cries of pain, and movement. I fight against the hands grabbing at me, keeping my eyes sealed shut as I spray blindly and pray I don’t hit Ollie who I try to keep in front of me. My throat is on fire. I cough as the spray penetrates my nostrils by force. A loud pop stills all movement as if someone screamed, “Red,” in a game of red light, yellow light. The meaty sound of a bullet ripping through flesh that follows pries my eyelids open. Water obscures my vision, and it’s like looking through frosted glass.

  Feet pound over the pavement. They’re leaving. I swipe at my eyes, desperate to restore more of my vision. My stomach roils as I recognize Ollie’s prone figure. A dark stain blossoms on his plaid shirt. I kneel beside him.

  “O-Ollie?” My voice and my hands shake as I reach for my cell phone. His skin is pale, and an ominous hiss like a slow leaking bike tire hits my ear.

  He grimaces. “I’m here. It’s hard to breathe.”

  Red flags wave as I punch in 911and place a hand on his shoulder.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “Yes, I-I need help. W-we were just robbed, and my friend was sh-shot in the chest.”