by Kelly Myers
The place is charming. All wood paneling, large windows and a stone fireplace. I pull back the curtains and open windows to let some air inside and Jax starts to check things out.
“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” I ask.
He ambles over and slides his arms around my waist. “Whatever you want, baby.” Then, he leans down and kisses me senseless.
When Jax kisses me, the rest of the world ceases to exist. It’s like everything else disappears and it’s just him and me. I feel at peace, but most of all, I feel home.
And, a home is a luxury I never had before so it’s a really nice, new feeling.
“Can we explore?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says and reaches for my hand.
The afternoon passes by in a blur. We wander all over through wooded trails and down by the lake where we sit by the water’s edge and watch ducks and geese splash around. Jax tells me a little more about the time he spent here with his family, but I still feel like there’s something important he’s leaving out.
I figure when he’s ready, he’ll open up to me.
In the meantime, we just enjoy each other’s company and being surrounded by nature. It’s quite a change of pace from the hustle and bustle and four million people back in L.A. Honestly, though, as long as Jax is with me, I think I can go just about anywhere and be happy.
When I first called Jaxon Wilder and heard his raspy voice, I had no idea what to expect. Then, when he came to my house and I saw his obvious bad boy good looks and the motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, I knew he was trouble. Since that first impression, I’ve realized that there’s so much more to this man and the more I get to know him, the more he opens up and shares with me, the more I feel myself falling.
My stomach drops and it hits me hard. I’m falling in love with him.
I feel a little panicky at the thought because can this even end well? The moment they find the person after me and put him behind bars, then what? Jax finishes the job I hired him to do and it’s over.
We’re over. And life goes back to normal, the way it was before.
That’s the last thing I want, though. I don’t ever want to go back to that big, lonely house on Blue Jay Way. Unless Jax is with me.
I wish I knew what he was thinking, where his heart was when it came to all this.
When it came to me.
I figure we have about three days here to figure things out. Hopefully the time we spend together will help clarify the situation and strengthen our bond.
Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I’m not going to be able to just walk away from Jax after this is all over.
At least not without getting my heart broken.
24
Jax
I watch Easton from the corner of my eye and a thought hits me hard from out of the blue. Like a sucker punch to the gut.
This woman could break my heart.
If I’m smart, I should pull away and stay behind my walls. But, somehow she keeps pulling more and more information out of me. And, I find myself slowly opening up and revealing things that I’ve never shared with another woman.
Apparently, I’m not very smart.
Easton, however, has an intelligent mind and I can tell she knows there’s more to the story that I’m not telling her. But, she’s patient and not pushy which I appreciate because talking about Maddy and what happened last year isn’t easy for me.
It’s fucking hard as hell.
The only one who knows the whole story is Griff. He was there for me when my world fell apart and I’d do anything to repay him. Logan and Ryker know bits and pieces, but I don’t talk about it.
Strangely enough, a part of me considers opening up to Easton and spilling those dark secrets that I try so hard to keep locked up tight.
But, what if it’s more than she wants to hear? What if she can’t accept the bad things I’ve done? There’s a reason I spend a lot of time in the shadows, succumbing to guilt and closing myself off to other people, especially women and relationships.
I can’t forgive myself.
How can I ever expect anyone else to understand?
As the dark thoughts swirl through my head, Easton and I walk back to the cabin. The air is much cooler as the sun begins to set and a chill permeates the air. I open the door and see Easton shiver.
“How’s a fire sound?” I ask her.
“Great! It’s getting cold.”
“Yeah, it does at night.” I kneel down on the outer hearth and open the damper. The fireplace hasn’t been used in ages and I look forward to getting it going again. It appears pretty clean and ready to go so I crumple up some newspaper, stack some kindling and position a few logs above. There’s a box of matches up on the mantel and Easton hands them to me.
I scrape a matchstick along the side of the box and a flame ignites. I lower it to the paper and, in moments, a fire roars to life.
Easton lays a blanket on the floor and lifts her hands, warming them. I scoot back and move beside her. “How’s your arm?” I ask. “Probably could use a bandage change.”
“It feels better,” she says and reaches over to touch the dressing.
“C’mere,” I say. I reach over and slowly begin to unravel the bandage, gauze and then carefully lift the pad off. “It looks good,” I say, checking it out. “Healing nicely.”
“Never thought I’d be able to say I have a scar from a gunshot wound.”
“Oh, baby,” I commiserate and place a kiss on the top of her shoulder. “It’ll fade.”
The fire crackles, driving the chill out of the living room, and Easton moves up on her knees, leans forward and begins kissing my neck. My eyes slid shut and I let out a low breath. Those delicious red lips of hers make my pulse pound and my dick rock-hard.
Suddenly, she’s all over me and I’m loving it. The sweet taste of her mouth, the intoxicating smell of her jasmine, the soft curves of her lush body. She yanks my shirt up, over my head and tosses it.
“Lay down,” she orders me.
I lounge back on the blanket, propped up on my elbows, and decide to let her have her way with me. I find this bossy side of her quite a turn-on and I’m curious to see what she does next.
Her hands slide across my bare chest, nails scraping, and my breathing increases. When her dark head dips, I dig my fingers into the blanket and squeeze my hands into fists. I feel her soft mouth move up my abs, hot tongue flicking, hair tickling along my bare stomach and chest.
I’m not sure how much of this I can take and when I try to pull her down on top of me, she places a hand against my chest and pushes me all the way down. “Uh-uh,” she says and straddles my waist. “I’m in control now and, after last night, I plan to go very, very slow. Torturously slow.”
She flicks my nipple and I groan, gripping her hips. Payback is a bitch, I think, but I’ll take this kind of sweet revenge any day.
Next thing I know, she stands up and takes a step back. I want her closer not further away from me and I frown. “What are you-”
Easton lifts a finger to her lips. “Shh.” Then, she slowly pulls her t-shirt up and off. It drops on the floor next to me and I swallow hard. She wears a crimson red bra that matches her lipstick color perfectly. And, it’s lacy and sheer enough to make my mouth water.
As she slides out of her leggings and kicks them aside, the matching red panties make my nostrils flare. I want to rip them off, but when I sit up, she takes another step back. “Lay down,” she says. “All the way.”
“Tease,” I say and fall back on the blanket. The fire crackles and glows behind her, highlighting each curve and my hands itch to pull her down. But, right now, she’s in control and is making it clear that I better follow her rules.
I’m used to being the one in charge and on top so this will be a change of pace. I tuck a hand behind my head and decide to hand her the reins.
When she sees me relax, she saunters over and smiles. “You’re used to doing th
ings your way, aren’t you? Being in control?” She lowers down, straddling my middle again, and her emerald green eyes radiate heat.
I nod, watching as she spreads her hands over my stomach, moving them up to trace the ink designs. With a smoldering look, she glides her body up mine, skimming her full breasts against my chest, and I grab her hips, digging my fingers into her curves.
Easton captures my mouth, her lips soft and warm, and her tongue dips to meet mine. I respond with lazy slowness, enjoying how the kiss deepens and how her lush breasts crush against my chest.
It’s sweet, blessed torture like I’ve never experienced before.
A moment later, she pulls away and lowers her dark head, kissing downward, along the slope of my rough jaw to the curve of my neck and shoulder. I arch up to give her better access as her mouth leaves a trail of moist kisses down the center of my chest and then swirls around my navel.
When I feel her tug at my jeans, I’m ready to go. Raring to finally get out of this denim and ram into her. I forced her to take it slow last night and now I’m beginning to understand how she felt.
I shove my jeans and boxer briefs off. Finally, I think, and reach to lift her hips and lower her onto my throbbing erection.
But, instead, Easton settles herself just a bit lower and wraps her hand around my hard, pulsating length. “Easton,” I gasp and my hips jerk up of their own accord.
“Slow down, baby,” she says, echoing my words from last night, and running her hands up, down and around. “We’ve got all night and you feel so good.”
“Fuuuck,” I groan. When her dark head drops and those bright red lips take my hardness into her mouth, I can’t look away, only thread my fingers through her raven hair and moan. The pleasure is too intense and with the way that luscious mouth is sliding and sucking, I don’t think I can hold out for long. “Get on me. Now,” I grind out between clenched teeth, ripping a condom open.
Easton lifts her head, licks those luscious red lips and slips out of her lace panties before I can tear them off again. While I roll the protection on with shaky hands, she unhooks the red bra and lets it slide down her arms. Then, she guides herself down, pulling me inside her, inch by tantalizing inch. I surge up, thrusting into her, overcome by such intense feelings that I can’t even think clearly.
I can only feel.
Highlighted by the fire, Easton rocks above me, hands splayed on my chest, head back, lips parted, and the sight of her in the throes of flaming ecstasy is enough to push me over the edge. I buck my hips and feel the most intense orgasm of my life rip through me.
After the shuddering, quaking and trembling stops, a delicious tingling sensation flows through my body and I lay there beneath her in complete awe.
Jesus fucking Christ that was intense, I think. I don’t know if I want to cry or check to see if my dick is still attached.
Right on the heels of my orgasm, Easton arches her back and cries out before dropping down over me. God, she’s so beautiful. Beyond lovely, I think, as she presses a kiss to my chest. I run my hands down her back, over that perfect ass and squeeze.
“I almost just died from that little game of yours,” I whisper in a ragged breath.
She turns to look up at me with a dazed, yet very wicked, smile. “Poor baby,” she says.
Exhausted and completely sated, I grab some pillows and a blanket. Then, I hold Easton in my arms and we curl up together before the crackling fire. The room is toasty warm now and we both fall asleep within a few minutes.
But, unlike last night’s peaceful sleep, I find myself caught in the jaws of another nightmare.
Once again, I’m down on the bathroom floor, cradling my sister’s dead body.
Eight bullet holes.
I hate the number eight. Hate it with a fucking passion.
I look down and see her blood on my hands. It’s still warm. I didn’t get here in time. I failed her yet again. Overtaken by guilt and despair, my eyes slide shut.
When they open, I’m no longer in the apartment’s bathroom. Instead, I find myself in part two of my nightmare. I’m in a grimy warehouse, somewhere in downtown Los Angeles, and crouched behind a large crate, my Glock in hand. Perspiration slides down my forehead and temples and I swipe it away with the back of my hand.
The crate isn’t the greatest cover, but the only one I can find before the bullets start flying. They zing through the air, hit the wall behind me, and I feel a couple pieces of sharp, broken concrete sting my cheek.
Suddenly, a bullet takes out a chunk of the wooden crate. It tears loose near my face and I know I need to move now or get trapped in by gunfire.
I take off, low and fast, bending my tall frame over as much as possible, and moving toward the wall when shots ring out again. A bullet whizzes above my head, almost scalping me, and I dive down, skidding across the concrete floor. Heart in my throat, I roll behind a barrel, jump up and begin shooting.
Pop, pop, pop!
One of the gangbangers cries out in pain. Two more targets left, I tell myself, and slam another magazine up into the Glock. I rotate the gun back over and rack it. I punch out, hit the trigger once, twice, three times.
Suddenly, the warehouse is dead quiet. I got the fuckers, I think.
I move out from behind the barrel a moment too soon.
Not two.
Three.
Goddammit. I turn and shoot, hit the fucker sneaking up on my left, but it’s a moment too late. He shoots first and an ungodly fire rips through my side. I’m not sure how many times I’m hit, but I go down hard, face slamming into the ground.
I roll onto my back, in shock, my mouth open, but no sound comes out. I can’t summon the words. Can’t find my voice to call for help. As the worst pain I’ve ever felt turns into a dull, aching throb, I know I’m going to die. Bleed to death right here on this concrete floor, all alone.
Like Maddy.
At least I know that I took the assholes out responsible for her murder.
Darkness begins to close in, edging out my vision, and no matter how hard I fight to stay awake, to keep my eyes open and my finger on the trigger, it’s useless. I pass out.
The next time I open my eyes, I see Griff kneeling over me, applying pressure to my wounds, telling me to hang in there because help is on the way. The agony returns, every nerve ending in my body raw and screaming from the bullets lodged in my side.
I black out again.
Tonight in the nightmare, when I drag my eyes open again, it isn’t Griff who kneels above me.
It’s a fourth gangbanger. How did I miss him? my foggy mind wonders. And, then, he lifts his gun and empties it into me. I squeeze my eyes shut, hear the loud popping and-
I jerk awake, arms flailing and body jumping like I’m still being shot, not knowing where the hell I am. When my gaze finally focuses, it isn’t Griff’s voice I hear. It’s Easton’s and her voice is full of fear and panic, but I can’t make out her words.
I shake my head hard, trying to clear the dream cobwebs, trying to focus. My chest heaves, my breathing is hard and fast, and a sheen of sweat covers me. The room is too hot and I throw the blanket off. It takes me a minute to remember I’m at the cabin in Big Bear.
“Fuck,” I hiss and drop my head in my hands.
“Jax?” Her voice sounds unsure, timid. Not the Easton I know. When she lays a hand on my arm, I pull away.
I don’t want her to see me like this. Don’t want her sympathy. Fucking nightmares. I can’t shake them and, for the past year, I’ve had them nearly every night.
“Please, don’t pull away from me,” she says.
When I finally look up, I don’t see the sympathy I expect to see in those beautiful green eyes of hers.
I see love.
Maybe I’m still dreaming, I think and let out a ragged breath.
“You can talk to me.” She reaches out again, stroking my inked forearm, and this time I don’t pull away. “It’s okay.”
Her soothing voice comforts me
and I’m not sure why, but suddenly I want to unload everything. All the guilt and pain I’ve been holding on to this past year. It’s become so heavy and the burden so taxing that I don’t think I can carry it much longer.
Easton cups my face in her hands, leans in and places a kiss on my lips. My arms instantly lift and wrap around her. I kiss her back, feeling unsure and very lost.
“We’re safe,” she whispers.
I let out a sigh, pull her into my chest and bury my face in her hair. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just-”
My voice halts. She waits for me to continue, always patient, never pushing me.
“-just can’t shake the nightmares,” I finish, breathing her fragrance in deeply, relishing the way her jasmine scent calms me.
“I know it’s hard, but sometimes if you talk about things, it helps.”
Maybe she’s right. Because I sure as hell know that burying it deep down hasn’t helped. And, ignoring it hasn’t helped much, either. Nothing has let me forget or help alleviate the overwhelming guilt.
For the past year, the guilt and pain over Maddy’s death have festered.
I don’t even know where to begin, so I just start talking. “I used to be a cop. I don’t know if it’s because I’m the oldest or what, but I always thought it was my job to take care of Bastian and Maddy after my parents died. Joining the police force seemed like a natural extension of that.”
“It’s in your nature,” Easton says. “You’ve certainly done a good job taking care of me. In more ways than one,” she adds and I feel my mouth edge up against her temple.
“My sister was the sweetest person, but she made the mistake of falling in love with a really bad guy. His name was Tony Zerillo and he owed the wrong people a lot of money. Eventually, they came to collect. But, Zerillo was already in jail. So, when he wasn’t there, they decided to teach him a lesson. They murdered my sister.”
“Oh, my God.” She presses closer against me.
“She called me when they were breaking in and she was so scared. She was so fucking scared and I got there as fast as I could, but I was too late. I found her on the floor in the bathroom, shot to death.” My voice catches and my eyes burn. “There was so much blood and I couldn’t, I couldn’t handle it. I kind of lost my mind the day I lost her.”