Bet On Me Read online

  Table of Contents

  BET ON ME

  DEDICATION

  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

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS

  SNEAK PEEKS

  CHAMELEON SOUL

  NOT ENOUGH

  BET ON ME

  MIA HODDELL

  Copyright

  This ebook is not transferable. It cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the creation of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organisations is entirely coincidental.

  Bet On Me © 2016 by Mia Hoddell

  Edited by Melissa Ringsted

  Edition: 1

  Cover Design: Mia Hoddell @ M Designs

  Cover Stock © DepositPhotos

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  It’s all a game until they’re betting with their lives.

  Alaya Matthews is in search of freedom. Tired of her mundane life, she packs everything she owns into two bags and heads for Europe. Her plan is simple: see the world and be adventurous, don’t get tied down, don’t settle for less than her heart’s desires, and never fall in love.

  However, Alaya didn’t plan for Cole Ashford.

  Drawn to her love of life, Cole wants to know how to live again. For seven years he’s been dead inside, and the numerous threats hanging over his head have finally caught up with him. What Cole doesn’t realise is accepting Alaya’s help will mean confronting every part of his tainted past. Alaya is desperate to know what haunts him, and she’s so certain he’ll reveal it she invents a bet he can’t refuse.

  One is never enough though, and as they grow closer together, the more daring their wagers become. Neither of them will back down from a challenge, but the stakes are being raised. Gambling on Cole may cost Alaya her heart, or even worse, her life.

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  DEDICATION

  For all of the dreamers and adventure seekers out there.

  BET ON ME

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alaya

  August 1st, 8:00 a.m., England

  My foot twitched and my leg bounced up and down impatiently. With every second ticking by the more frantic my movements became. It was lucky so much noise surrounded me as I sat on the rusted metal bench. The bustle of workers moving around in swarms, talking on phones, and going about their daily rituals before work drowned out the incessant tapping of my foot against the dirt-crusted tiles.

  My gaze fixed on the single line in front of me. The thick, waxy paint would have once been a vibrant buttercup yellow. However, due to the constant movement of shoes, it had become chipped and sullied.

  Not that it lessened its symbolism.

  I couldn’t wait to cross the line. It represented my freedom. On the other side lay my dreams, which were about to become a reality, and my chance to begin afresh.

  Glancing up at the clock, I puffed the air from my cheeks.

  Only fifteen minutes to go.

  I forced myself to lean back against the cool bench, which had yet to be heated in the summer sun. My leg still bounced with anticipation as I tried to focus on the people around me and not the clock.

  Fifteen minutes and no one would be able to stop me. I didn’t expect anyone to, but there was always a possibility until I safely boarded the train.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  The voice of the middle-aged, blond man next to me startled me from my thoughts. I swivelled in my seat to regard him with a polite, but questioning, smile.

  “You’re vibrating.”

  I furrowed my brow and he raised a hand to point at my bag.

  “Your bag, it’s vibrating. I wouldn’t normally say something, only this is the fourth time in a row. I thought it might be important.”

  Shit. Icy dread seeped into my veins and worked its way throughout my body. Automatically, I glanced up at the clock, only to find I still had thirteen minutes until I could cross the line. My pulse started to increase and my mouth became dry. Forcing myself to swallow the cannonball of emotions rising in my throat, I lowered my gaze to the man regarding me with curiosity.

  “Sorry, I was miles away. Thanks for letting me know.” I rummaged in my bag—one of the two I had with me—with shaky hands, and tucked a strand of hair that kept falling in my eyes back behind my ear. A part of me didn’t want to confirm who I knew was on the other end of the phone. I didn’t want to deal with them until a good hundred miles separated us.

  I withdrew the device from my bag and my heart sank at the word “home” lighting up my screen. Moving my finger over to ignore the call, I went to put the phone down, though as soon as it disconnected it began ringing again. Buzzing in my hand, it sounded like it was laughing at me … taunting me with the only word it knew in that moment.

  I ignored the call again then switched off the mobile with a frustrated breath. Dropping it back into my bag with slightly more force than necessary, I fought with the zip to seal it in. It couldn’t bother me if I locked it away.

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  I hadn’t noticed, since I’d been distracted by my phone, but the man still watched me.

  “Fine, it’s nothing.”

  “Are you sure? You seem a little agitated.”

  “Family can do that to a person.” I chuckled, only the sound came out humourless.

  “You’re not in any trouble, are you? Because running away isn’t the answer if you are.”

  I tightened my hands into fists on my lap. My nails dug into my palms and my jaw locked in annoyance. Why did random strangers think they had a right to interfere?

  “I’m not running away. Why would you think that?”

  “Anxiously glancing at the clock every second, looking up and down the platform in hope. You hav
e minimal baggage and you’re refusing to take calls from home. Whatever’s going on, facing it is always the best option.”

  I shrugged, attempting to keep my expression respectful. “Like I said, I’m not running away.”

  Thankfully, a train pulling up to the platform halted the unwanted conversation. The screech of brakes and rumble of the engine cut off any response as it drew to a stop in front of me and I exhaled loudly. I bent to grab the handles of my luggage and stood. Throwing both bags over my shoulder, I pulled my tickets out of my pocket and gripped them between my teeth so I could adjust the straps. When I started towards the doors of the train, the man’s voice stopped me.

  “I know I don’t know anything about you or your situation. However, if they’re ringing you so much there’s got to be a reason. If I wanted to get hold of one of my kids and they didn’t pick up I’d be fraught with worry, so think about taking their call at some point.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. He didn’t know anything about my situation and he couldn’t be further from the truth. My lips formed a tight line and with a curt nod I turned my back on him. I already knew the reason for their constant calls, which was why I refused to answer them.

  Stepping on to the train, I knew I’d only feel comfortable once I left the country. At that point I’d consider answering my phone even though everything I needed to tell them had been in the note I left. I’d posted it through their letterbox, hoping to be on the train before they had a chance to read it since their post didn’t usually arrive until ten a.m. Still, the nonstop phone calls led me to believe they’d found it earlier than I intended.

  I kicked one of my bags in front of me, lugging it into the baggage rack. Giving it a final frustrated punch to make sure it stayed in place, I picked up my other one and went to find my seat.

  I knew I shouldn’t have left a note.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alaya

  France

  The miles of greenery flew past the window and the clear, blue sky stretched as far as the eye could see. Every now and then clouds would drift in and out of view, yet they were rapidly left behind as the train out raced them. With each mile the train ate up the looser the rope around my chest became. The constricting pressure restricting my breathing slackened, like my chains were falling from my body and my shackles were being removed.

  Despite what the man on the platform said, and all of the facts pointing to me being a run-away, I truly wasn’t. First of all, to be a run-away I had to be a child … and at twenty-three I could hardly be classed as that. Secondly, there needed to be something to run away from and there wasn’t. I’d been considering my decision to leave for years. It wasn’t a rash thought brought on by a single event, but rather a gradual realisation I wanted—and could have more than—the norm.

  There were stages people expected me to follow: high school, Sixth Form College, university, job, marriage, mortgage, and children. And I was giving the finger to everyone who wanted that life for me. Instead of going to university, I’d worked hard for five years solid—the first step of my plan. People called me crazy, but my decision was now paying off.

  I was free from debt.

  Free from the restraints a degree would put upon my life. And free from a horrendous nine-to-five job that would make me want to kill myself because there was no other work out there.

  I was also free of relationship drama. Two of my friends got married earlier in the year and already they were facing the pressure of people demanding grandchildren.

  I had nothing against the lifestyle, but it didn’t work for me.

  I wanted more from my life because I never looked at a baby with anything other than antipathy, and marriage had never appealed to me either. When my friends cooed over babies, I dreamed of sandy beaches. When they fawned over men and wedding dresses, I created adventures in my head. Settling down wasn’t something that would make me happy.

  I didn’t want to be tied to any place or person.

  I wanted to live and experience everything possible before I even considered it.

  A life free of drama—free of hassle—was my one and only goal. I needed to live as simply as possible and move on whenever I desired without worry. The less ties the better. I didn’t require a materialistic lifestyle.

  It was why I packed my whole life into two bags. Everything I deemed unnecessary had been sold or given away. Except for the belongings with me and the money in my bank account, I had nothing left to my name.

  It felt fucking perfect.

  To be free of all the demands and following my dream was a joy. I imagined it felt somewhat similar to a bird being able to spread their wings and soar wherever they wanted.

  The sun caressing my face through the window was the first symbol I was heading in the right direction. I had an eighteen-hour train journey ahead of me to the southeast corner of France, where my boss, and good friend, owned a hotel in Roya Valley. In fact, he had a chain of hotels up and down Europe, and when I told him about my dreams he offered to turn them into a reality. Dalton opened all of his hotels to me. In exchange for working a few hours most days, he agreed to give me room and board wherever I wanted for as long as I wanted.

  Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back. The warm rays were never going to get old, I could already tell.

  I heaved a contented sigh and my lips tilted up at the corners.

  I had done it.

  I really left it all behind.

  The happiness pouring over me proved short-lived. As soon as my phone began to vibrate in my bag once more, my heart missed a beat. I’d switched it back on when I changed trains in Calais and I couldn’t help but regret my decision.

  With a grumble, I reached into my bag and pulled out the device. I gazed down at it like the devil himself sat in my hand. Deciding it was better to get the conversation over with before I reached my new home, reluctantly, I slid my thumb over the answer button.

  “Hello.”

  “Alaya Bethany Matthews, you will come back home and discuss this fantasy this instant.”

  Did she really just full name me? I moved out of my parents’ house three years ago.

  “Listen to your mother, Alaya. This is barbaric and you need to come home.”

  Great, they were on speakerphone … both parents. Oh well, two birds, one stone and all that.

  “I’m not coming back, Mum. I’ve explained it to you numerous times. This is something I have to do.” I tried to sound reasonable, I really did. Nonetheless, it was impossible to keep every ounce of frustration from my voice when it happened to be the hundredth time I explained the situation to them.

  “How are you going to live? You have no money, no job, and you don’t speak anything except English and a small amount of broken German.”

  In hindsight I should have taken the time to write a better note.

  Mum, Dad, I’m catching a train to France and I’m going to be travelling around Europe. I’ve sold everything here, and apart from the one box in your attic everything else is with me.

  I know you don’t understand, but I need more from my life. I’m going to have as many adventures as possible.

  I love you both,

  Alaya

  I would hold my hands up and admit it wasn’t my best piece of work. Though, in my defence I’d been in a rush to get to the station.

  “I have my savings and Dalton is allowing me to stay in his hotels for free if I help out around the places.” I knew what they were going to say as soon as I mentioned Dalton. They’d always disliked him because he made everything possible. He gave me a job when I finished college, he enabled me to rent my flat, and now he allowed me to make my dreams a reality.

  “You will do no such thing. Get in a taxi this second and come home.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stifle a laugh at the thought of all the reasons I couldn’t listen to him. Luckily, he couldn’t see the enormous grin lighting up my face.

  If they wanted to talk to
me, I wanted to at least make it fun on my end.

  “That’s not really possible right now, Dad.”

  “Why not?” he barked into the phone and I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, I guess I could jump off a moving train and hail one down somewhere … that’s if I survived the fall because we’re on a bridge right now.”

  “Don’t be smart with me, Alaya. Get off at the next stop and catch one from the station.”

  I pulled the mobile away from my ear as a bubble of laughter escaped my lips. Biting down hard on my finger, I returned the device to my ear when I had myself back under control. “That’s not possible either, I’m afraid.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I’m already in France, Dad. Unless you want to pay the fare … wait, do taxis even go across countries?” I wasn’t quick enough to remove the phone. My laughter rang out and once it started I couldn’t stop it.

  “This is not funny, Alaya.”

  “No, I’m sorry. It isn’t,” I deadpanned. “Let me press the emergency stop button. I’ve always wanted to go all James Bond and dive from a train. It won’t be the real thing because the train isn’t moving, but it’s good enough.”

  The train started to slow when we pulled into a station. A shadow washed over me as an old, cream-coloured building—I assumed used to belong to the station master—blocked the sun from the carriage. Swept head windows lined the side, and wooden frames with white paint flaking from them held the glass in place. Slate tiles covered the roof, and in front of the building, a platform separated it from the tracks. A fine layer of grit coated the white-washed stone to finish off the pre-war look.

  I slid round on my seat to stare out of the opposite window, wondering where all of the passengers were. Instead of finding a window, though, my eyes met with a warm set of hazel irises. There were so many varying shades in them; flecks of deep brown, golden brown, and even a hint of pale green swirled as they sparkled with humour. They rendered me unable to tear my gaze away from the dark-haired man in front of me. A fine layer of stubble coated his jaw like a shadow, and his hair was swept back off his forehead. He watched me with intrigue, his head tilted slightly to the side as if listening to my conversation.