Best night? Mine, too, I thought to myself. Mine, too.
“The fuck you grinning at?” Tito parked his ass in the chair across from me, and looked over his shoulder, following my trajectory.
Moriah had disappeared behind an SUV.
“Not a damn thing.”
# # #
“You putting us in danger being here?” Tito slapped two envelopes side by side on the red Formica, then waited for my response, not a lick of emotion or judgement on his face.
“Wouldn’t be here, that were the case.”
He eyed my shake, shook his head, smirked. “Any Slayer’s gonna be rolling into town looking for you?”
“No.”
“Club making a play for Whisper Springs?”
“Not in the mood for an interrogation,” I warned. “Ain’t a damn thing you could do to stop them, that were their intention.” And because my bones were too damn weary for a fight, I threw in, “But no. No play for Whisper Springs.”
“Good to hear.” With two fingers, he slid one envelope my way.
“The fuck’s this?”
Tito rested his elbows on the table, crossing his forearms. “Hasn’t gone unnoticed you’re not wearing your cut.”
“Your point?”
“Could use your skills, if you’re in the market for a job.”
“Skills?” I pounded a finger into the manila casing, thick with what I assumed was a stack of Benjamins. “You mean of the criminal variety.”
“Maybe.”
“Enough with the games, Moretti.” I leaned over the table getting right up in that scarred mug, half-cocked for a fist to face.
To his credit, he didn’t bow.
“Sit down, you’re scaring the children.” Again with that dam smirk.
I fell back on my ass, glared, waited for further explanation.
He picked up the second envelope, rapped the edge against the table. “You no longer have a criminal record. These are yours, regardless you take the job or not. Consider it a thank you, for helping me out last year.”
“How’d you pull that off?”
Tito merely shrugged those huge fucking shoulders. “I know a guy.”
Bullshit. He was the guy. That smug mug told me so.
Shocked damn near speechless, I shoved that flimsy straw into the chocolate mess and sucked hard, my mouth watering something fierce before that first sickening sweet glob of chocolate hit my tongue.
A white-haired, angelic little thing bounced up to our table, planted a kiss on Moretti’s cheek, and tossed an overstuffed backpack on the table.
The guy fuckin’ melted right before my eyes, morphing from wild monster to docile pet.
“Bunny,” he rasped, sliding over, making room for her to sit. “You remember Dane?”
“Dane?” Her brows quirked, right before her eyes widened to the size of hub caps. “Dane. Right. Hi.” She shot a hand my direction.
I gave her a quick shake. “Tuuli, right?”
She responded with a nod, then said, “You look different.”
Not sure what she meant. Regardless, I said, “So do you.” Last time I’d seen Moretti’s lady, she was half-naked and bloody, holding a rifle to the racist, pedophile motherfucker I’d had the pleasure of dismembering, limb by limb.
Her beige sweater upped the wattage on those crystal clear, ice-blue peepers. The blonde beauty shifted in her seat, her gaze dropping to the table, then bouncing back to meet me head on. “You brought in that poor girl.” The look she gave me was pure adoration.
I only nodded, foreign feelings washing through me like acid. Was that little lady still sleeping? Was her aunt in town yet? Nerves jetted through me, agitation prickling my skin. Why did I care? Kid wasn’t mine. Wasn’t my responsibility. Fuck. I needed sleep.
“Listen, uh.” I hooked a finger on the first envelope, shoved it Moretti’s direction. “I don’t need a job. How much I owe you for the other thing?”
“Nothin’ man. Just consider my offer.” He grabbed the money, shoved it in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. Then handed me the other envelope. “Take this.”
I took his offering, waved it, testing its weight. “This being?”
“New name, new life. In case you ever find yourself in a jam.”
Fucking guy was doing me a solid. A way out in case any demons came back to haunt me. I hadn’t a clue why. He owed me nothing.
A thank you, or much appreciated would’ve been the proper response, but I was Dane fucking Reynolds, asshole extraordinaire, social misfit, deviant, criminal, and I was suffering one pisser of a hangover, so instead I grunted, “fuckin’ prick” while I slid from the table and made my exit before all the damn shit going on in my head erupted like a geyser.
“See ya ’round.” Tito laughed.
Not if I could help it. Whisper Springs and her fucking residents belonged in my rearview.
After I caught some shut eye.
Moriah
“You just need some shut-eye. A good night’s sleep.”
“I’m afraid it’s going to take more than that.” I slumped against the wall, afraid I’d crumple into a heap without the support.
“You’re right. It’s going to take time,” Dr. Slade consoled, wiping my cheek with a tissue. “But she’s warmed to me, and she’ll warm to you.”
“She’s terrified.” Raw scratches decorated my arm, red and angry, evidence of my failed attempt to connect with my niece.
“She needs more time. You did good today, talking to her, telling her stories about her mother and grandparents.” Leticia pulled me into a much-needed embrace, rescuing me from my reverie. “The man who rescued her is coming to help us with lunch. Why don’t you head back to the hotel for tonight? Get your bearings…and some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start fresh.”
God, how I wanted to stay, ached to assure that child I would die to protect her. But the doctor was right. Healing took time. I whispered a goodbye to my niece and followed Leticia down the back hallway, so the man who’d given me Mickey’s daughter could come to the rescue, his presence being the only shelter in her storm.
Disheartened, bearing the weight of failure, I retreated back to town and locked myself in the lonely room.
The mattress caught my weight, bouncing me twice then stilling, offering meager comfort in what was undoubtedly the most physically, mentally, and emotionally challenging hours of my life. I studied the welts on my arms, the angry grooves carved by a traumatized child—my own flesh and blood who couldn’t stand the sight of me. My vision blurred, and I briefly considered a revisit to the corner bar, to drown my sorrows and numb my spinning brain. Although, I doubted nothing short of a lobotomy would wipe the images from my head. Her tiny body, sunken cheek bones, the dark circles consuming her eyes. Eyes like her mother’s.
The tears I’d refused to acknowledge finally fell, sobs ripping loose. I cried. For my sister. My mother. My niece. I cried until I had nothing left.
A heavy knock yanked me from dead sleep to the upright position, fuzzy-headed, overheated, and for a few scary seconds, unsure of my whereabouts. Until the EXIT sign over the door came into focus.
My cell told me it was almost midnight.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
I padded toward the intrusion, heart racing, and peeked through the tiny hole, my body heating at the sight. Trailer’s face filled the space, eyes red and swollen, from drink or lack of sleep, I wondered, not that it mattered, because the raps in my chest propelled me to action, the barrier between us a horrible nuisance that needed to be removed.
I tore open the door without considering the consequences.
His perusal, deliberate and maybe a bit hesitant, lingered at my mouth before licking every inch of my skin, waking every nerve, all the way down to my bare feet, and back up before our eyes met. As if he couldn’t help himself, he leaned into me, stopped a hair’s breadth from my face, bracing himself with one hand on the doorjamb.
“Tell me you don’t want to be a
lone tonight,” he commanded. That voice. Thick and jagged. A promise. A warning.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“Good fucking thing I’m here then.” He shoved through the door, all whisky breath and sex eyes, scooped me up by my ass and kicked the door shut behind us.
The man vibrated, every muscle strung tight with raw power, need, but mostly want. God, what a heady feeling to be wanted. He didn’t kiss me. He didn’t need to kiss me. Our eyes locked, his burning through the darkness, searing me with their intensity. My back hit the mattress. Trailer crawled over me, then gripped my thighs, spreading me wide. He shoved a hand between my legs, and attacked, shoving my silk thong to the side, and diving deep with one finger, then two, his thumb brushing my clit with a nasty tease.
“Oh. Yes. Yes. Shit, shit, shit,” I groaned, meeting his intrusion with greedy thrusts.
With a sharp tug, my panties disappeared. A rough tongue replaced his fingers, shoving into me over and over, then retreating. A short pause, then he captured my clit between his teeth and sucked hard, shoving his hands under my hips, supporting me while I bucked off the bed, high off the pain and the dizzying pleasure.
With urgency, the man pleasured, nipping and licking, taking my assaults as I tossed, and writhed, and scratched at his head, reaching for something to ground me, desperately searching for an ounce of control.
I dug my heels into the mattress, trying to scoot away from the violent pleasure. He gripped me tighter, pulling me back against his mouth, like a ravenous beast fighting for his only meal, taking me like I was his to ruin.
“Wanna hear you, gorgeous. Fucking scream for me.”
Again, he forced his tongue between my folds. So dirty, so wild, so brazen. My body bowed, and I slammed my hands around his head, fingers digging deep as I pounded my hips into his face, that stranger’s face. That man who seemed to know my body better than even me. Lost in pleasure, I shed all inhibition, and I came, my body splitting in two, grinding against that dangerous mouth. I came so hard a white light exploded behind my eyes. Tears erupted. The mattress dampened beneath us.
Allowing no time to recover, Trailer flipped me to my stomach, shoved my skirt over my ass, and forced my legs together, his knees bracing my thighs. I panted through the long pause, impatient through his heavy breaths, wiggling beneath him while he readied. A handful of condoms landed on the pillow—a promise of what was to come—before he fell over me, his heavy chest on my back, hot breaths in my ear, and he shoved in, taking me from behind. Rapid, forceful thrusts, pounding me into the mattress, stealing my breath, stripping my sanity, overshadowing my worry.
The dark room filled with moans and dirty words, the rhythmic drum of bed frame beating wall while flesh pounded flesh.
He came, cursing into my hair, his weight crushing me, warm and possessive. We lay together, unspeaking but touching, panting, groping, working each other into another frenzy of lust. He took me against the wall, then again on the bed, and after I rode him on the hard floor, my knees ruined, my thighs burning, he ordered me to bed.
I crawled between the sheets, limbs heavy with exhaustion, and watched his shadow move through the room, dressing in the dark, my phantom lover.
“I’m checking out this morning,” I rasped, still catching my breath.
“Okay.” He grunted, tugging on a shoe.
A heavy air filled the space between us, silent torture.
I didn’t want our torrid affair to end on a negative note.
“So, don’t come-a-knockin’ again. You might scare the shit out of some elderly couple.”
He snorted, and the tension eased.
“Trailer?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?” He came closer, enough I could make out his features.
“I needed you tonight.”
His shoulders slumped, head falling back. “Fuck,” he yelled to the ceiling. “If circumstances were different.” He cussed again. Shook his head. “Never mind.”
More than anything, I wanted to know what he was thinking. I didn’t push. Wouldn’t matter. I would never see him again, that man who made me feel more alive than I’d ever thought possible.
“Moriah,” he rasped, snagging his keys from the counter. “Gorgeous fucking Moriah.”
With the soft click of the door, he was gone.
# # #
I couldn’t remember ever feeling so worked over, so sated, so relaxed. Multiple orgasms and hours of no-strings, dirty, sweaty sex with a tattooed stranger would do that to a girl apparently. Too bad I couldn’t have penciled Trailer in for a few more nights. I had a feeling I would need the release if my first meeting with my niece was any indicator of how the rest of the week would play out.
I checked out of the hotel early, then drove through the streets of Whisper Springs. The downtown area was quiet, the quaint little shops still closed but all the more charming in the splendor of morning. Floral baskets hung from every ornate street lamp, purple, pink, and red flowers spilling over. Brick buildings, mixed with newer construction, lined the street, leading toward a lake, diamond studded and blinding under the rising sun. A street sweeper whirred past, heading the opposite direction, and the man commanding the rig tipped his hat as he passed.
I found the city beach and parked, awestruck by the full view of the lake and the surrounding mountains. Early morning joggers passed, heading toward the park, and I decided to follow, not ready to face my impending future just yet.
I strolled the clean pathway that led to the public beach, and found a spot in the sand, ignoring the cold, wet bite on my tender underside. A shiver tore through me, tiny ripples of pleasure, aftershocks I supposed, from the man who’d made me quake in more ways than one.
I watched the water tickle the shoreline, a peaceful ebb and flow, and I thought of Mom. She would have loved the little gem that was Whisper Springs. She would have been overjoyed to meet her granddaughter, no matter the circumstances. She would’ve chastised me for being careless enough to allow a strange man into my hotel room, but she would’ve been so proud that I finally gave Matthew the boot.
Matthew. Ugh. Wasted years. Not once had he brought me to tears during orgasm. Not once had he gripped me with enough passion to leave bruises. Dear God. Two nights with a strange man, and my whole existence had been upheaved. Flipped. Smashed to bits, exposing corners of me long hidden. I was more than a daughter. More than a caretaker. More than just an administrative assistant, or a girlfriend.
I was beauty. I was passion. I was raw, uninhibited sex.
And thank God for that bar. Thank God for whiskey sours. Thank God for hotel rooms, and one-night stands, and for Trailer. God. Trailer. The man with the funny name who made me feel, for the first time, like a desirable woman. Thank God I’d met him before my world turned again, and I could never again be so reckless, my sole focus, from that moment forward, being that tiny, broken girl who needed me to be her world.
I rose to my feet, dusted my rear, and headed back to the car, then toward the mansion, leaving my past behind, and hell-bent on embracing the future.
# # #
My suitcase wheels rattled and squealed as I dragged the purple beast over the newly polished hardwood floor.
“We’ve made up the room next door to your niece.” Tucker pushed open the door, revealing a large furnished bedroom, with a huge bed, a lush couch, and a large screen television perched above a stone fireplace. Soothing powder blue coated the walls, while bright pinks and pale yellows made up most of the accents.
“Thank you, Tucker.” I moved past him, and stood center, taking in the large space, and the perfect view of the lake through the picture window. “This is perfect.”
“Good.” He nodded. “The bathroom’s fully stocked, but if you need anything at all, let us know.”
A lawnmower roared to life outside. I peeked through the sheer curtain to see a tall man riding a bright red Toro. “You have a groundskeeper?”
Tucker laughed, his smile full of pride. “That’s my dad. You’ll meet him soon enough.” He rapped on the door. “I’ll let you get settled. I’m heading down to make breakfast, so feel free to join us whenever you’re ready.”
“I’d like to see my niece. Is she sleeping?” I forced confidence into my question, hoping to hide my reluctance, my jumbled nerves.
Tucker shook his head. “Dane is in there. He got her to eat a little bit more this morning. Now he’s helping my mom with her exam.”
Faint voices traveled through the walls. A deep male voice, and Lettie’s, but no cries from a frightened child.
I hated that a stranger could soothe her when I couldn’t. Make her feel safe, when she shied away from me. “Oh, good. I’d like to meet our hero.” I headed for the door, anxious to get in that room, give the man a hug, or a kidney, or a lung perhaps. Pretty much whatever he needed.
Tucker slid to the left, casually blocking the door. “That can’t happen, I’m afraid. I have to protect his identity, as well as yours.”
“But he saved her life. I owe him so much. I would like to thank him.”
“It’s better for everyone this way.” His voice lowered, and he pushed the door closed behind him. “The guy doesn’t operate on our side of the law. You’re better off not seeing his face.”
“Is he a criminal or something?”
“Something.”
My insides seemed to shift, settling like cement in my gut. “But you’ve left him alone in a room with a little girl?”
“Yes.” He scratched above his eyebrows, glanced out the window, then back to me. “She’s safer with him than anyone.”
I rubbed my aching stomach. “How do you know?”
Tucker cleared his throat, and his words came strained. “Because I know what he sacrificed to save her.”
Then he hit me with those piercing blue eyes, and they were sad, but sincere, and I understood there was a story he couldn’t tell.
“Oh. That’s too bad. I really would love to give that guy a hug, ya know?”
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