by T. K. Leigh
“Jessie?”
He nods, coming to a stop less than a foot away. I focus on his dark eyes, a myriad of emotions swirling within. “An apology for lying to you.”
“About what?”
“Today.” He briefly looks away, shrugging, the confident man who dismissed me so easily last night nowhere to be found. “I asked him to set this up.”
“Why? I thought—”
He holds up his hand, cutting me off. “I need to ask you something. And I need you to be completely honest.”
“Okay…,” I answer in a drawn-out voice.
“Did you do it?”
My brows scrunch together. “Do what?”
“What you said you would last night?” On a hard swallow, he closes the final bit of space between us, his eyes softening as they skate over my features. “Did you let me go?” he chokes out.
Hearing the pain in his voice causes the dam to break, tears spilling over my eyelids. I bite my lower lip to stop my chin from quivering. “I could no sooner let go of you than I could breathe without lungs or live without a heart.”
He hangs his head, processing my response for a moment, probably assessing whether any of it holds even a hint of truth. I can’t make him believe it. All I can do is hope he does.
When he lifts his gaze, it’s fiery, impassioned, wild. Before I can react, he clutches my cheeks in his hands and crushes his lips to mine, his tongue firm and demanding as it slides against mine, leaving no doubt in my mind that this is real, that Asher’s here, that he’s finally kissing me.
Grabbing the back of his head, I deepen the kiss, tugging his body even closer to mine. I need more of him, all of him. I can’t let him go, refuse to let him go. Never again. Our kiss is passionate, yet reserved. Lust-filled, yet serene. Reckless, yet unhurried.
“Goddamn, darlin’,” he groans after he tears his lips from mine. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve thirsted for your kiss?” His hands continue to frame my face as he touches his forehead to mine, both of us struggling to get our breathing under control, our shaky inhales echoing around us.
“Then why didn’t you come to me last night?” I sob. “Why did you make me think you didn’t care, that you’d already let me go?”
He brings his thumbs underneath my cheeks, swiping away the tears that fall. “Like I could ever let you go. Your soul is permanently etched on mine. It always will be.”
“But—”
“I was fucking scared, Iz.” He steps back and paces, digging his hands through his hair as he attempts to find the words he needs. “And upset. And irrational. And insecure. And ignorant. And probably a thousand other things.” He stops, facing me. “I messed up. This is on me,” he declares passionately. “All of it. I just…” He licks his lips, then draws in a breath. The intensity in his expression dissipates. “I just hope you’ll accept this as a token of how sorry I am.”
He reaches into the front pocket of his shorts and pulls out a small, black velvet box. My eyes widen, probably bordering on horror at what it could contain.
“Don’t worry.” His chuckles hit me deep in my core. God, I’ve missed this man’s laugh. His smile. His everything. “It’s not that. I figure we’ll cross one bridge at a time.”
I blow out a breath as I take the velvet box and slowly open it, gasping when I see the contents. “Asher, I…” I shake my head as I admire the stunning platinum necklace. But it’s not just any necklace. At the end is an origami dove pendant, tiny diamonds sparkling under the sunlight.
“May I?” He arches a brow, eyes pleading with me to allow him to do this, to accept this gift, to accept this apology. If my time with Asher has taught me anything, it’s to finally take a risk. And I’m willing to bet it all on him.
“Yes.”
His shoulders relax as he takes the necklace from me, shoving the box into his pocket. When he steps behind me to secure it, his hands smooth my hair over my shoulder, the gentle brush of his flesh on mine sending electricity coursing through my veins.
Once the necklace is secure around my neck, he spins me so he can admire the pendant sitting just above my cleavage.
“Look at the inside of the wing,” he instructs.
Curious, I do as he says, squinting when I notice an inscription. “My…Favorite…”
“Always,” he finishes.
“Not almost?”
“Never again. I’m a complete fool, Izzy. I lost sight of the most important thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“That regardless of what brought you up here this winter in the first place, you said those three little words to me outside our bubble.” He cups my cheeks once more. “So, let me ask you.” He licks his lips. “Do you still love me?”
I cover his hands with mine as he holds my face, my eyes locking with his. “Boomerang.” Between us, no other word is needed.
Tension vanishes from his body as he expels a long breath. “Boomerang.” His grip on me tightens as he seals his devotion with a kiss — consuming, captivating, hypnotizing.
When Jessie called to ask if I’d pay Grams a visit before I went home, I never could have imagined this would be the result. What if I hadn’t agreed to come with him?
“So this was your plan all along? Bringing me up here?” I ask once our kiss comes to an end.
He shrugs. “More or less.”
“What if I refused to come when Jessie asked?” Stepping away, I cross my arms over my chest, giving him a playful look. “I very well could have.”
“That’s true.” He palms my back and tugs me against him. “But I know you, Iz. You’d do anything for Grams.”
“And how would Grams like it if she found out you used her to get back together with me?”
“She’d endorse it one hundred percent,” a familiar voice calls out.
I pull away from Asher, looking at where the dock meets the grass, Grams and Jessie standing together.
“Grams,” I exhale, walking into her outstretched arms.
“Glad you three worked things out,” she whispers, kissing my cheek.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her, then drop my hold, glancing nervously between Asher and Jessie. But any apprehension disappears the instant Jessie beams, giving Asher a heartfelt hug.
“Glad you finally got the girl,” he says.
“Thanks, man,” Asher responds. “For everything.”
“Anything for you. You know that.”
Asher steps back, draping his arm around my shoulders. “I do now.”
“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Grams announces, then turns to Jessie. “Come on. There’s a church a few towns over I’d like to check out.”
We all erupt in laughter at the memory of how Asher and I finally reconnected. It was all because of Grams…and her Sunday morning booty call.
“You don’t have to make up some elaborate scheme to get me out of the house anymore,” Jessie remarks, taking Grams’ hand and leading her back toward the house, Asher and I following close behind. “Plus, it’s after three in the afternoon. Isn’t church more a Sunday morning kind of thing?”
“How would I know?” Grams shoots back. “The only time I’ve felt close to God has been when I’ve screamed out—”
“And that’s enough!” Jessie exclaims, the tips of his ears turning red. “No more.”
“Oh, there will be plenty more,” Grams reminds him as we step into the house, navigating toward the living room. “You’re stuck with me for three hours while you drive me back to your parents’ house. The best thing about being my age is when I speak my mind, people just think I’m some crazy old coot.”
Jessie gives Asher a look of feigned annoyance as we approach the front door. “You owe me for this.”
“Oh, I know.” Asher pulls my body tighter against his. “More than you realize.”
We all say our goodbyes. But unlike before, this isn’t actually goodbye. I’ll see them again, probably very soon. And surprisingly, it doesn’t feel awkward to
hug Jessie. I can honestly say he doesn’t hold a grudge. Not anymore.
Once we’re alone, I turn to Asher, biting my lower lip. For years, I’ve masked my love for this man. I’m not sure what to do now that I no longer have to hide it.
“Do you think it’s strange, too?” he asks, looking down at me in awe.
“A little, but it’s a good strange.”
“Yes, it is.” He loops an arm around me, pulling my body into his.
“So, what should we do?”
“I have a few ideas.”
“Oh really?”
His pupils dilate as he gradually lowers his mouth back to mine. “Really,” he murmurs, a spark shooting through me when his lips feather against mine.
“And what would that be?” I ask in a husky voice.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. We’ve got forever to find out.”
I melt into his kiss. “I like the sound of that…darlin’.”
Chapter Forty-Two
I peer out the window of the hotel room, the Washington Monument visible in the distance, the bright white of it stark against the blackness of night. Soft lips feather along my shoulder blades, and I moan.
“Are you seriously ready to go again?” I murmur, peeking one eye at my cell on the nightstand. “You do have twenty-two minutes and thirteen seconds.”
Asher’s raspy chuckles surround me. “I need to make sure I keep my woman satisfied.” He kisses my neck, then pushes me onto my back, hovering over me. I reach up, pushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. “How did you like the show tonight?”
After getting out of work earlier, I hopped on a flight and came down to catch Asher’s concert. It’s the first one I’ve been to since we reconnected a few weeks ago. And the first one that he’s publicly announced me as his girlfriend. He offered to keep it quiet for my own privacy, but after being forced to love each other in secret for so long, I want the world to know, regardless of the scathing comments I’m sure will be left all over social media by the time we wake up in the morning. Hell, they’re probably already there.
“You were as sexy as ever.” I rake my fingers down his back, my lips seeking his. “I didn’t realize my pass came with preferential treatment by the star of the show himself.”
“Oh, but it does.”
He lowers his mouth to my neck, and I tilt my head, surrendering to his addictive touch. I don’t know how I survived as long as I did without the warmth of his lips on me. It’s something I don’t wish to endure again.
“I needed to give you the full Asher York treatment.”
“Is that what you’re calling it these days?” I exhale as he slithers down my body, his tongue flicking my nipple. “The Asher York treatment?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he moans. “I hear it’s quite the experience.”
I moan, digging my fingers into his scalp as he bares his teeth, tugging slightly on my sensitive bud. “Oh god, it is.”
My eyes flutter closed, the world disappearing as I succumb to his talented mouth. Suddenly, the jarring sound of his phone ringing cuts through, breaking the moment.
He pauses, not moving, his tongue pressed against my chest.
“You should get that,” I whisper. “Pretty sure any phone call around midnight is probably an emergency.”
“Jessie thinks everything’s an emergency.”
“He’s getting better.” I push against him, forcing him off me. “How about this? You talk to Jessie. I’ll order a ridiculously expensive bottle of Champagne and we can drink it off each other’s bodies.” I go to stand, but he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me back onto the bed.
“I like how your mind works.” He covers my mouth, his kiss brief, yet still toe-curling. “But see if they can send up an ice cream sundae, too. With all the fixings on the side.”
I arch a brow. “On the side?”
He nods slowly, eyes darkening. “Because I’m going to create my own dessert out of you.”
A quiver trickles through me, moisture pooling between my thighs. I almost want to tell him to forget about Jessie’s phone call, but as I’ve learned, sometimes delayed gratification is worth it.
“Be right back.” He presses his lips to mine once more, then rolls off the bed, grabbing his phone and padding into the living area of the suite. I pull my legs into my body, unable to stop myself from admiring Asher’s naked physique as he stands by the window, focused intently on his conversation with Jessie. But as beautiful as he is on the outside, he’s even more gorgeous on the inside.
Sighing, I look away, grabbing the room phone to put in our order, hoping they’ll still be able to cater to our…unique request this late at night. Just as I’m about to press the button for room service, Asher dashes back into the room, eyes wide, expression panicked as he makes a beeline for the remote, turning the TV to a news station.
“What’s going on?” I ask, returning the phone to the cradle, staring at the screen that displays what appears to be aerial footage of a warehouse-sized building set on a large expanse of land. When I read the caption on the banner, it sucks the air from my lungs.
Dozens Arrested In Human Trafficking Ring.
“Did they…,” I begin, cut off when a reporter’s voice comes over the footage.
“Earlier today, the FBI arrested David Jordan, renowned televangelist, founder of the Faithful Living Church, and president of Faithful Living Christian Charities.”
I blink, raising myself from the bed and stepping toward the TV, my heart hammering in my chest.
“This is an ongoing investigation, but the FBI has confirmed Jordan was arrested in connection with what they’re calling one of the largest human trafficking rings in the history of this country. A raid late tonight led to the discovery of multiple properties where women were imprisoned, at the direction of Mr. Jordan. These women were forced to get pregnant, the product of these pregnancies then sold to unsuspecting couples who had reached out to his charity’s adoption agency. The FBI states it could take months or years to fully understand the scope of how massive this so-called baby mill operation was, but early guesses estimate thousands of adoptions could be affected.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe just as my cell rings, startling me. I whirl around, dashing toward it. When I see Chloe’s name on the screen, I quickly answer.
“Are you watching the news?” she asks breathlessly.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it magnificent? You were right!”
“I don’t… I can’t believe it. How… I thought the FBI moved on to other cases.”
“They did. But Oliver refused to give up. He started looking at areas that had an above average birth ratio.”
“Didn’t the FBI already investigate that?”
“They did. Based on the areas in question, they explained the variance as being those associated with the Amish or Mennonites.”
“Which would make sense.”
“Or it would be a great cover.”
“What are you saying?”
“Oliver narrowed it down to about a dozen areas, mostly in Maryland, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. He went to each of these locations himself. Looked for anything suspicious. Asked locals if they knew of any out-of-the-way properties, most likely fenced in, where they didn’t see a lot of activity. It took about a month, but he was able to provide the FBI a list of addresses.”
“What did they find?”
“They pulled property transfer records. They discovered that every property in question was actually owned by a member of one of the many branches of Faithful Living Church. That’s a bit suspicious, but still not a smoking gun, right?”
“Right…”
“What would you say if I told you each of these so-called property owners was actually deceased?”
My eyes widen. “Deceased?”
“Looks like they used private information belonging to a variety of their church members to buy property in the hopes of not raising any suspicion or connecting the dots back to Jordan. If
Oliver hadn’t gone that extra step to look into the background of who owned each property and realized they were actually dead when the property was transferred to them, he probably would have gotten away with it.”
“Didn’t anyone in the recorder’s office question it?”
“If they did, I’m sure they were paid to look the other way.”
“Wow…” I shake my head as I lower myself onto the mattress, staring at the TV, seeing an overhead shot of an enormous house, blue and red lights flashing as police swarm the property.
An arm drapes along my shoulders, and I lift my eyes to Asher. He smiles down at me, the pride in his gaze making my heart swell. If it weren’t for him, I never would have taken the first step to find out the truth about my birth mother. I owe it all to him. All the girls who no longer have to live in fear owe it all to him.
“The girls,” I say excitedly, mind racing. “What about them? Any names?”
Chloe blows out a long breath. “They aren’t releasing any information until family members are notified. There were several dozen girls at each property. You can imagine the amount of paperwork this number of missing people is going to cause.”
I rest my hand on Asher’s arm when he hangs his head. I can finally find comfort in my past, knowing I did something to bring those responsible for my mother’s disappearance to justice. But what about Asher and Jessie? Will they ever get answers about Emilia? Will they ever find closure?
“Hey, listen, I’ve got to go,” Chloe’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “This is causing quite the stir at Lincoln’s paper. Not to mention, some chick showed up as Asher York’s girlfriend at his concert tonight, so the entire single female population of this country is up in arms, causing the gossip mills to work on overdrive. I’m trying to track down who this person is, since the new gossip columnist at the magazine still leaves a bit to be desired.”
I laugh slightly, a welcome break in the tension. “No one will ever be as good at getting them to talk as you were.”
“Don’t I know it,” she groans. “But I’m happy for you. You deserve this.”