I can’t help but chuckle. “He and my daughter were dating, I guess. I wasn’t really keen on it. She’s younger. But he and I talked, and he promised that until she was older their relationship wouldn’t be a physical one. Then he told me he loved her and well, I figured it couldn’t hurt anything.”
“How old is she?”
“She’ll be fifteen next week, ma’am,” I say running my hand through my hair.
Tears roll down her cheeks and she swipes them away quickly. “That is young. Samuel should’ve known better.”
“You don’t choose who you fall in love with, Ms. Morris. And Sorina is anything but an average fifteen-year-old, and she loved him very much.”
“Samuel was no average boy. Sorina. That’s a beautiful name.” She leans down and pulls something silver out of her bag. “I was going to have him buried with this, but I think it’d be better with your daughter.”
She takes my hand and presses a long silver chain into it. The plain silver cross hanging from it has his name engraved down the center. Tears spill from my eyes as I slide it into my pocket. Sorina will be thankful to have something of his. Nothing is going to ease the hurt in her. Only time can do that, and even then, it’ll never fully go away.
“How did Samuel die, Agent Williams?”
“Lily. My name’s Lily. A group of . . . men ambushed the safe house we are in while one of our team members was on patrol. Samuel, myself, and another team member ran out to help.”
“And he was shot?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did the other team member survive? The one you went to help?”
I choke back a sob, the words sticking in my throat. “No, ma’am. When I leave here, I’ll be taking him home to his parents as well.”
She nods, picking up her purse and standing. I do the same. She extends her hand, squeezing mine gently.
“Tell your daughter, thank you, for loving my son. At least he got to know some happiness before the end.”
Frozen in my spot, my heart pounding, Samuel’s mother walks from the room, and after a few moments, I force myself to head to the car. If I’d known Samuel longer than a couple of months, this would’ve been worse.
Starting the SUV, dread fills me. I knew Jameson for eleven years . . . what the fuck am I going to tell his parents?
†††
The funeral home Jameson’s family picked is much more upscale than any I’ve ever seen. Then again, that isn’t many. I’ve never been to an actual funeral that I remember. This one is all deep walls with plush carpets and Tiffany lamps.
A white sheet covers his chest, so his family won’t see the bullet holes. Once Dr. Monroe examined him and Samuel, I’d gone into the room, ignoring Blake’s protests against torturing myself further. The bullets hit left of the center of his chest, right side of his stomach, and bottom of his left ribcage. He’d never had a chance of making it, no matter how hard we tried.
I’d applied some foundation before coming in to try and look like an Interpol agent, but a miracle couldn’t cover up the redness of my eyes right now. The tears should’ve subsided by now, but staring at his face, they sting my eyes again.
“Damn it.” I swipe them from my face as they trickle over.
All the missions we’ve been on. Eleven fucking years and Jameson dies patrolling a goddamned safe house. This isn’t how he should’ve gone out. He deserved better. Jax never would’ve let something like this happen.
Jax . . .
By the time I get back to the safe house, Sammi should have something on him. She’s hell-bent on finding the connection and as much as I don’t want to be right about this, something in my gut tells me otherwise. It’s too big a coincidence that the gunmen speak the language native to Jax’s home.
Human trafficking is huge in Nigeria. That’s why Jax is so against it. He’s tired of seeing the women and children from the villages disappear, tired of watching their parents sell one child to get enough money to feed the others. Romania is the same way, especially in the smaller, mountain villages like my birth home. Pungesti is nothing but poor families dying from starvation.
“Agent Williams?”
The funeral director ushers in three adults, a small blue-eyed little girl following them. She can’t be more than three or four.
“This is the Scott family. John and Dawn are his parents. Jessica is his longtime girlfriend.”
The younger woman is my height, slender build, with long blonde hair and deep green eyes. She extends her hand and we shake. Mrs. Scott moves past me to her son, gently running her fingers through his hair.
My eyes drift down to the little girl clutching Jessica’s leg. She glances up and my breath stops.
She has his eyes.
“Hi,” I whisper to her, squatting down.
“Hi,” she replies, her voice soft and musical.
“What’s your name?”
“Cassie.”
“Nice to meet you, Cassie. I’m Lily.”
She glances over my shoulder at Jameson’s body, fear shining in her doe-like eyes as she clutches her mother’s leg tighter.
“Why don’t we go out in the hall, Cassie?” Jessica takes her hand and leads her out of the room.
Tears stream down my face, all the pain and anguish flowing through me. I never knew he had a daughter. His ass would’ve been sent home if I had. I sink down to my knees and a sob chokes me. Covering my face with my hands, my body shakes, and I know I’ve lost it.
Strong hands grip my arms and pull me to my feet. My vision is blurry, my nose running, and I try to turn away. Delicate hands replace the firm ones and pull me into a hug, a quiet sob mixing with mine.
“Thank you, for bringing him home,” his mother whispers against my shoulder.
I sob harder, wishing this were a dream. His mother and I stand there, for what feels like forever. Straightening myself, my chest heaves with the effort to gain composure.
“Do you have a moment, Agent?”
“Of course.”
They lead me into the hallway to join Jessica and Cassie. I sit on a bench with his mother, his father standing next to her.
“Jameson used to talk about you and your team every time he came home.”
“I’m so sorry. If I’d known he had a family, he never would’ve stayed. He’d have been here, behind a desk.”
His mother laughs. “That would’ve been priceless. Jameson was never the sit still type. Interpol was natural for him after four years in the Marines.”
“How long did you know him?” Jessica asks, scooting to the edge of the bench across from us.
“Eleven years.”
“So, you knew him well?”
“Well enough. We didn’t talk about our families, but with what we do, you become close.”
His mother places her hand over mine, gently stroking my skin with her thumb. “He spoke very highly of you, Lily.”
The tears threaten to start again, and I tilt my head back, willing them to stay put.
“Do you know who killed my son?”
“I think so, ma’am.”
“What will you do now?”
My insides harden— hate replacing everything else. Cassie takes off down the hallway, singing as she skips out of earshot.
“What I do best, ma’am. I’ll find them and I’ll kill every last one of them.”
She grins. “Good.”
Standing, I pull a check from my back pocket. We each keep emergency bank accounts with Interpol. Sammi cleared Jameson’s and had the check made out to his parents. Each of us transferred funds to it as well, and we’ll be sending Samuel’s family one later. Knowing Jameson for as long as I have, this was something I wanted to give them in person.
“We each have bank accounts with Interpol. This is the balance of Jameson’s, made out to you.”
His mother slips the check from my hand, reads it, and gasps. Her eyes dart to mine as she hands the check to Jessica.
“Oh, god,” she says, sinking back o
nto the bench.
“Lily, we can’t— “
“Yes, you can. Jameson was one of the bravest and kindest men I’ve ever known. Take care of that little girl, and please tell her every day what an amazing man he was. Let her know he gave his life to save ours.”
They nod, tears forming in their eyes again. Sammi must’ve known he had a daughter. It struck me the night we did the transfer that fifteen million dollars was a lot to give a grieving family. Now, it seems like too little.
“Thank you, Lily.”
“No, thank you.”
Turning on my heel, I glide down the hallway and out the doors, the tears spilling over as I shut the door of the SUV. Screaming, my fist connects several times with the steering wheel, a loud pop echoing on the last hit as pain radiates up my arm.
Fuck!
Starting the engine, my hand protests as I floor it out of the parking lot, heading toward the airport. Elaine can check out my damn hand when I get home. Blake isn’t going to be happy when I get there. Our wedding will have to wait. Right now, the only thing that matters is finding these fuckers and making sure they pay for Samuel and Jameson.
If it turns out Jax is involved, well, he’ll have to pay too.
19
~Lily~
By the time I get back to the safe house, it’s four in the morning. No lights shimmer from the windows and no one is on patrol. They’re safer inside anyway. It’s been a week since the attack, and five days since I’ve seen Blake.
My eyes scan the tree line as I move to the house, double-checking to lock the door once inside. Music filters lightly through Sorina’s door. I doubt she’s sleeping, but she and I can talk tomorrow.
Inside my bedroom, I pull my boots off and yank my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I take a moment to wrap my wrist in an ace bandage. It feels a little better, but I’m sure it’s at least sprained. Blake lies on his back, hands behind his head, sound asleep. He stretches as I climb up the bed and straddle him.
His eyes flutter open, a smile spreading across his face. “Welcome back, baby. How’d everything go?”
I lean down, kissing him, pouring all the emotion weighing me down into it. He stills for a second, but when I don’t move, he tilts his head to deepen the embrace— sliding his hands up my thighs, and around to grip my ass.
Devouring his mouth with mine, I dig my nails into his skin, running them down his chest. He gasps and arches his back, his erection pressing through his sweats into the crotch of my jeans. Rocking my hips to grind against him, the pleasure from the friction laces through my sex, pushing my desire higher.
We’re all hands and tongues, and Blake’s skin is silk under my touch. He sits up, wrapping his arms around me, tugging my head back by my hair. His lips leave a heated trail down my neck.
“Lily,” he breathes against my skin.
Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I yank his head backward and he groans, his eyes closing. His skin tastes sweet and my tongue lashes out, down his neck and across his collarbones.
“Baby, what has gotten into you?”
I grind against him again.
He grips my ass and twists, locking me underneath him. Without bothering with the button or zipper, he yanks my jeans off and kisses my stomach, moving south toward my pulsing sex. I lift my hips as he trails his tongue between my folds.
The pleasure is unbearable, and I buck into him, moaning, letting him wipe away the pain and sadness gripping my heart. He squeezes my hips, holding me down on the bed. The pressure builds so quickly that before I can stop him, I’m coming hard, screaming his name. He kisses the inside of my thigh, letting my body come down from the aftershocks.
“Blake, ple— “
He begins devouring me again, my desire building, barely over the last orgasm. I grab his hair, trying to pull him up my body, but he uses one hand to lock both my wrists, holding them against my stomach.
I whimper as another orgasm builds— his tongue relentless in its assault on my body. He hums in appreciation, his head bobbing steadily between my legs. My body arches, throwing my head back against the pillows, letting go. Losing all sense of place and time, I’m vaguely aware of Blake kneeling on the bed, shifting back and forth.
The last bit of darkness stirring inside me is gone, and I’m spent, sated and exhausted.
“I’m not done yet, baby. Get on your knees.”
His hands roam over my body, helping me into position. He enters me, quick and hard, and I call out a muffled version of his name into the pillow as he moans, stilling for a moment. This is what I need. Making love with Blake is heaven, pure bliss. But soft and gentle isn’t going to push back the pain of the events we’ve endured the last few weeks. The primal, carnal, almost painful sex he’s giving me right now is exactly what I want.
“Come on, Lily. One more time, baby,” he growls, thrusting into me so hard I see stars.
Everything aches, pulsing with the need for release. After this, I may sleep for a week.
God, damn he’s good. “Blake, I can’t,” I whimper, my body shaking.
I’ve never been afraid of an orgasm with him, but I’m pretty sure this one is going to rip me in half. My insides shake harder with each thrust of his hips.
“Yes, you can, baby. Come on,” he says through gritted teeth, swiveling his hips to hit my sweet spot.
He knows my body better than I do and within a few more seconds, I’m spiraling, my chest heaving as I try to breathe. He stills for a moment, finding his own release, growling my name as he reaches around and pulls me back against him into a sitting position. He stays inside me, my head lolled back onto his shoulder. His breathing is out of control, the air from it warm on my neck as he gently kisses my shoulder, trying to calm us both.
I fight to open my eyes, but they won’t. Kissing my temple, he shifts, and I wince as he pulls out of me, laying me on the bed. His steps echo into the bathroom, followed by the faucet pouring out water. Sleep yanks at the edges of my mind, tempting me to pass out.
Just as I start to dose, the bed shifts and he snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. He nuzzles my neck, lacing his fingers with mine.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“Yes. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Okay. I love you.”
I twist my head, meeting his lips with mine. The kiss is sweet and gentle. His hand cups my cheek, his tongue massaging mine, slow and deep.
“I love you, too.”
He sighs, nestling behind me. For the first time in days, everything inside me is calm and I drift— the sound of his heart, music to my ears.
†††
Blake isn’t in bed, but voices echo from the kitchen. Sitting up, my lower body aches, protesting the movement. Sliding out of bed, the pain in my hips and privates stop me from taking any steps.
Jesus Christ. What the fuck did he do to me last night?
I practically waddle to the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and glance in the mirror. Doing a double-take, my eyes bore into the reflection of my hips. On both sides, there are bruises in the shape of Blake’s hands. Running my fingers over the deepening purple, a cry of pain escapes my throat.
Fuck that hurts.
He’s going to freak out. Best not to show him at all for right now. Pushing through the throbbing pain, I wash up and shrug into a pair of sweatpants. There’s no way jeans are going over these bruises right now. Pain doesn’t usually bother me. I’ve had worse than this, and part of me wonders if it bothers me because Blake’s the one that put them there.
Not that I think he did it on purpose. How I didn’t feel his grip that tight last night, I have no idea.
Everyone sits in the kitchen and with measured steps, I walk as normal as possible. Teresa hands me coffee and I take a sip watching Sorina. Her eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed. Her skin’s paler than usual and she’s lost weight in the last week.
“Sorina, come with me please,” I say, sitting my coffee down and wal
king back to the bedroom.
Digging through my jean pockets, I pull out the necklace Samuel’s mother gave me. Sorina stands in the doorway, her eyes downcast and shoulders slumped forward. She’s so broken.
“Close the door, sweetheart, and sit down.”
She pushes it shut and plops on the bed. I wince, sitting down next to her. Keeping the necklace hidden in one hand, I cover hers with my other.
“I talked to Samuel’s mother when I took him home.”
She looks up, tears pooling in her eyes.
“I told her that he loved you and you loved him. She was happy to know he’d found happiness with someone. Did you know he’d never dated before?”
The tears fall over, spilling down her cheeks, her eyes going wide as she shakes her head.
“Here.” I put the necklace in her hands. She fingers the cross, running her thumb over his name. “His mother was going to bury him with it, but she thought you should have it instead.”
Sorina clutches the necklace to her chest and sobs. I pull her into a hug and rock gently, kissing her hair. I’ve no idea how long we sit like this, but a rap on the door startles us. Sorina sniffles and wipes her eyes as the door opens and she slips the necklace on.
Blake stares at us, his eyes tight at the corners.
“Hi, Dad,” she whispers, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“Hey, baby. You okay?”
She huffs, pushing the air forcefully from her lungs. “Not really.”
Twisting off the bed, I gasp in pain, kneeling in front of her.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say brushing off her concern. “Listen to me, Sorina. I’m going to find the men that did this. For Samuel and Jameson. You know what I’ll do when I find them.”
She nods with a sinister glint in her eyes. “I’m going to go lie down. Thank you, Mom.”
Blake closes the door behind her and pulls me into his arms as I stand. I nuzzle against his chest, inhaling his scent as he runs his hands down my body. Everything tenses, a sob gripping my throat when he squeezes my hips. He lifts his hands and looks down at me with wide, fear-filled eyes.
The Gallows at Midnight Page 13