by C. Hoover
“Let’s do this,” I say to Paul. “Piece of fucking cake.”
Paul nods quickly and stands. I can tell he doesn’t like my confidence. He hasn’t liked it since the moment we met. I’m also not sure that he likes me, but I couldn’t give two fucks what he thinks of me. As long as he clears me of these charges, he’ll be my favorite person in the world.
Well...second favorite. So far, Sloan is still in the top spot.
Sure, she’s done a lot of fucking shit to piss me off, but I know it was all thanks to Luke and the lies he told her. I’m sure she’s spent enough time with him now and enough time apart from me to be coming to her senses.
I follow Paul out of the room, quickly flanked by four guards. Two in front and two behind me. A fifth guard opens the door to the courtroom, and as soon as we file through the door, I scan the crowd for her.
I see him first. The cocky fucking bastard, sitting second row, next to his little bitch-friend Dalton. Or Ryan. Whatever the fuck his name is.
Sloan isn’t sitting next to him, though. She’s sitting in the far corner on the back row by herself. I smile at her, but she glances away as soon as her eyes land on mine.
There’s one of two reasons why she isn’t sitting with Luke. She either figured out his bullshit by now and wants nothing to do with him. Or they were advised not to sit together in the courtroom, thanks to their little indiscretion behind my fucking back.
I’ll go with the former.
I take my seat, but I keep my eyes on Sloan. Doing so means I’m turned sideways in my chair, not facing where the judge will sit. But that’s fine. I’m not looking away from her until she makes eye contact with me again.
“All rise for the honorable Judge Isaac,” a guard says.
I rise, but I don’t stop staring at Sloan. I can hear doors open and steps being taken, but I’m not going to fucking look at that man until she makes eye contact with me. She’s wearing a new dress. A black one. It looks like she’s going to a fucking funeral. Her hair is pulled back and up in a twist. She looks sophisticated. Fucking sexy as hell. My dick twitches in my pants and I wish I could ask for a bathroom break and take her to a hallway and pull her dress up around her waist and press my fucking face between her legs.
I miss the way she smells. I miss how soft her thighs are against my cheeks. I miss the way her whole body tightens up when I shove my dick inside her.
“You may be seated.”
I sit.
Fucking hell, it’s hot in here.
I hear the judge start talking at the same time Paul slides me a piece of paper. I glance down at it long enough to read it.
“You need to face forward out of respect for the judge.”
I laugh under my breath and grab the pen.
“Fuck the judge and fuck you, Paul,” I write. I slide the note back to him and return my eyes to Sloan.
She’s looking at me now. Her eyes are locked with mine and her lips are pressed together real tight like she’s nervous. I like that. I love it, actually. She’s feeling something while she looks at me and I can tell she isn’t thinking about Luke at all right now.
“I love you,” I mouth.
Sloan’s eyes drop to my mouth and I smile at her. Then that stupid fuck—that ridiculous fuckface motherfucking stupid fuck—stands up and walks to the back of the courtroom, right to where she’s seated. He makes his way down the aisle until he plants himself right next to her. He wraps his arm around my fucking fiancée and she squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face against his shoulder, like she’s relieved he moved to be next to her. My eyes meet his—the fucking motherfucking fuckface brainwashing fuck—and he leans forward, blocking my view of her. He stares at me, hard, like he’s threatening me to turn around.
I want to kill him. For a few seconds, I try to think of ways I can do that.
Grab the security guard’s gun and shoot him.
Run to the back of the courtroom and break his fucking neck.
Grab the pen that I just wrote Paul the note with and shove it right in his carotid artery.
But I don’t. I refrain, because I’m pretty sure this case is going to go in my favor and I’ll be out on bail until the next hearing.
His murder can wait.
It needs to be planned out with more precision and preferably without the eyes of a judge on me.
I decide to turn around. Not because Luke threatens me to do so with that fucking look in his eyes—but because I need to convince this judge that he’s making the right decision when he throws this case out due to self-defense.
I try to follow along as both lawyers stand up and speak. I try to follow along as the judge responds to each of them. I smile when the judge looks at me. But inside, my blood is boiling. Knowing Luke is back there, sitting next to her, holding her. That means she’s probably been with him at night while I’m forced to fuck my own hand, alone in my jail cell. It also means he’s probably been inside her. His fingers, his dick, his fucking tongue. Tasting and taking what’s mine. What was supposed to be only mine.
My pulse is raging when the judge’s gavel comes down. “This court session is adjourned.”
I breathe in slowly through my nose. I release it when I look at Paul. “What the fuck just happened?”
He makes a face like I’m supposed to keep my voice low. My eyes flick to the back of the room when I hear Sloan’s cry. Luke is helping her stand, but her arms are around him and she’s crying. Sobbing.
She’s upset. That can’t be good news for me. She’s upset for me.
“Is this going to trial?” I ask Paul. “You said this wasn’t going to fucking trial!”
Paul shakes his skinny little head. “The judge decided not to take it to trail,” Paul says. “Which means your claims of self-defense were upheld. You’ll have to go back to your cell, but only until I can bail you out on the other charges pending against you. It may be four or five hours, but I’ll come get you once your bail is posted.”
I glance back at Sloan, watching as Luke helps her out of the courtroom. Why is she crying, then? If the charges against me were dismissed, why is she crying?
“How long do you think it takes someone to recover from being completely fucking brainwashed?”
Paul looks at me. “What are you talking about, Asa?”
“Like how much therapy do you think a person will need in order to get over being brainwashed? A few weeks? Months? More than a year?”
Paul stares at me a moment and then shakes his head. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Asa.”
He stands, so I stand. The same four guards escort me out of the courtroom.
I should probably be fucking ecstatic that this case just got thrown out. The next one should be even easier, because Paul says Luke’s department isn’t pressing charges. So as long as I cut a plea deal, undergo some psychiatric treatment, and give them the information they want on Jon and Kevin, I more than likely won’t be charged with shooting Luke in the fucking chest.
That says a lot about our court system. I fucking come within six centimeters of killing a guy in cold blood, and I walk free because I tattle and claim a mental illness?
I fucking love the USA.
It almost feels like all my efforts have gone to waste, though. Since the moment I started growing suspicious that someone was brainwashing Sloan, I’ve been concocting this elaborate scheme and I’m not even really getting credit for it. I had to deny having anything to do with the fake raid, which was really hard for my ego. I’m fucking proud of that and I want to brag to the world that I pulled it off flawlessly.
Not to mention the fucking schizophrenia shit. Shower with your clothes on, check the lock on a door a few times, and people think you’re losing your fucking mind. I had to do it, though. I know myself and I knew if I found out my suspicions were true and Sloan was fucking someone else, that I would more than likely lose my shit and murder the guy. I can’t very well murder someone and run the risk of being tried as a mentally competent
adult. I had to have a back-up plan so I wouldn’t rot in fucking prison like my father did most of his life.
Maybe it wasn’t a complete waste. I at least have the “schizophrenia” to fall back on if I ever need it. Which I probably will eventually, because Luke is still breathing.
When I make it back to my cell, I fall down onto the bed as the bars clank shut behind me. I can’t help but smile.
This whole thing is turning out so beautiful. Sloan will take some time to come around again, but I know she will. Especially once Luke is out of the picture for good. I’ll have to somehow look past the fact that Luke has been inside her. I can fuck him out of her, though. I’ll just have to fuck her a whole goddamn bunch and in every position until I no longer think about him when I look at her.
“What are you so fucking happy about?” a voice says.
I turn my head and look at my cellmate. I can’t remember his name. He’s asked me about a million questions since I was thrown in this cell with him, but this is the first time I actually answer him.
“I’m about to be a free man,” I tell him, staring up at the ceiling with a huge goddamn fucking smile on my face. “Which means I finally get to marry my fiancée. In a real wedding. With a three-tier coconut cake.”
I can’t help but laugh, just thinking about it.
I’m coming for you, Sloan. Whether you think you want me to or not.
You promised to love me.
Forever.
And you fucking will.
I bring the cup of coffee to my mouth. My hands are shaking so bad, it makes tiny little black waves of coffee crash against the sides of my cup.
I glance over at the clock on the far wall. Three in the morning.
It’s been two days since Asa’s case was thrown out. He was bailed out that afternoon. Luke and I were sent to this apartment in the city for protection until the next hearing.
It’s a nice apartment, but when I’m too scared to step outside or even look out the window, it feels more like a prison. Luke has assured me over and over that there’s no way Asa will find us here. But what Luke probably doesn’t understand is that even if Asa is locked up in prison the rest of his life, I’ll still constantly be looking over my shoulder. If it isn’t Asa himself who could hurt me or Luke, I wouldn’t put it past him to hire someone else to do it.
I turn my head when I hear the bedroom door open. Luke walks out, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He’s wearing black jogging pants that hang off his hips and no shirt. The bandages from his wound cover part of his chest. He’s barefoot, shuffling across the hardwood floor toward me.
He reaches the back of the couch and I lean my head back and look up at him. He leans forward and kisses my forehead upside down. “You okay?”
I shrug. “I can’t sleep. Again.”
His eyes are sympathetic and he lifts a hand, brushing my hair off my forehead. “Sloan,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to worry here. He can’t find us. We’re safe until his next trial, I promise.”
I nod again, but his words do little to comfort me. I’ll never trust Asa, no matter how safe I should feel.
He walks around the couch and sits down, pulling me onto his lap until I’m straddling him. He wraps his hands around my lower back and says, “What can I do to help you sleep?”
I smile. I like his distraction methods. “It’s only been two weeks since you were released. You have two more to go.”
His hands cup my ass beneath his oversized T-shirt I’m wearing. He slides his fingers beneath the edges of my panties, sending chills over me and forcing Asa out of my head for a few seconds. “I wasn’t thinking about sex with you,” he says. “I was thinking more along the lines of what I could do for you.”
One of his hands slides around to my stomach and then up to my breast. His thumb brushes my nipple at the same time his tongue slides across my lips. He kisses me, deep, then pulls back just as I start to grow dizzy.
“I’ll be careful,” he says. “My hands and mouth will do all the work, but I’ll make sure the rest of me takes it easy. Okay?”
I know I should encourage his recovery, but every time he touches me, it calms me down. Makes me less nervous.
I need that right now.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He smiles as he pulls off my shirt. Then he pushes me until my back is against the couch and he’s hovering over me. His lips drag across my mouth, my neck, my breasts. His breath warms up every part of me while his hand works its way inside my panties. I open my eyes, just as his fingers slip inside me. I moan, struggling to keep my eyes open, but he likes the eye contact.
I like it, too. It’s new for me.
In the past, with Asa, I’ve always kept my eyes shut tight because I never wanted to look at him.
With Luke, I’m scared I’ll miss something. I don’t want to miss the way he looks at me, the way he responds to my noises. I love the eye contact.
We only have to keep eye contact for two minutes, because that’s all it takes for his touch to completely send me over the edge. As soon as I start shaking beneath him, he claims my mouth with his, swallowing his name as it flows from my lips. He kisses me until it’s over and then lowers himself until he’s pressed against me. I can feel him bulging through his sweatpants and it creates another need in me.
“I think I’m better,” he says, moving his hips against me. “I’m pretty sure it’s safe to be inside you now.”
His voice is gravelly—needy—and it would be so easy just to push down his sweatpants and let him fill me. But I would feel terrible if something bad happened because we were too impatient to wait the recommended time. His heart may not be strong enough for that yet.
“How about we compromise? One more week and then we’ll take it really slow.”
Luke groans against my neck, but pulls back. “One more week,” he agrees. “But then be prepared for multiple times a day. I have a lot of catching up to do.” I laugh as he sidles up to my side, pulling me against him. I’m facing him, my hands on his chest. I trace my fingers around his bandage.
“I wonder what your scar will look like,” I whisper.
His hand meets my hair and he runs his fingers through it, down my back, over my arm. “I don’t know. I just hope you kiss it a lot.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry, once we’re in the clear, you’re gonna have a hard time keeping my mouth off you. I like your body too much.” I look up at him. “Is that shallow? That I like looking at you with your shirt off?”
He shakes his head with a grin. “Nah. The first thing that attracted me to you was your ass.”
“I thought it was the drool on my chin when you woke me up in class that first day.”
He nods. “Yeah. You’re right. It was definitely the slobber.”
I laugh. I love that he’s able to make me laugh at a time like this. Our lips meet and we kiss for a solid five minutes. Until he starts to press into me again. I feel terrible that he’s being tortured so much, but there’s no way I’m allowing him to go against doctor’s orders. I need him to be as healthy as he can as soon as he can. I push him away and try to change the subject to something that will help him recover.
“Do you think you’ll get to see your mother soon?”
He talks about his mother a lot. I hate that we’re in hiding right now, because that means he can’t see her until the next hearing is over and Asa is hopefully behind bars again. Of course, there’s a chance he’ll walk free again. But we don’t talk about that possibility.
“We’ll see her when this is all over. She’s going to love you for me.”
I smile, wondering what that’s like to have a mother who loves you. I start to think about my only family—Stephen—and then my smile fades.
Luke notices, because he runs the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
I try to shake away his concern. “Just thinking about Stephen. Hoping he’s safe during all this. I hate not being able to visit him.”
Luke’s hand finds mine and he slides his fingers through it. “He’s safe, Sloan. He has twenty-four-hour security. You don’t have to worry about him, I made sure of it.”
I hate that Asa has put us in this situation. A situation where I can’t even see my brother. Luke can’t even see his mother. We can’t leave this apartment. And we have to have security for anyone we love.
It isn’t right.
I hate Asa Jackson. I hate that I ever met him.
“I want him to pay for everything he’s ever done, Luke.” I can’t look him in the eyes when I’m full of this much hatred. “I want him to suffer in the worst possible way. And that makes me feel like such a terrible person.”
His lips meet my forehead, soft and gentle. “He deserves to go to prison for the rest of his life, Sloan. You shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting that.”
I pull back and make eye contact with him. “No, not that kind of revenge. Prison wouldn’t affect him like it would most people. I want him to really hurt. To know that I don’t return his psychotic, obsessive feelings in any way whatsoever. I want him to see how much I love you just so he’ll hurt as much as he’s made everyone else in his life hurt. I want him to be forced to realize that I love you and would pick you over him. It would cut him to his core.”
Contemplation flashes in Luke’s eyes as he stares down at me. “If that makes you a bad person, then we’re both evil. Because I would give anything for him to have to suffer like that.”
It’s twisted, but his words make me smile. I guess when you’re pushed far enough, revenge becomes the only thing that could help you move on. That’s not healthy. I know that and I’m sure Luke knows that. But knowing the difference between right and wrong doesn’t change the way you feel. It just makes you feel guiltier that you feel that way.
I tuck myself into him and press my head against his chest. “Sometimes,” I whisper. “I have these terrible thoughts...”