Violets Are Blue

by Velvet Vaughn

  When the doctors reported to Loretta that Daisy had been brutally and repeatedly raped and Violet assaulted, she made a show of being shocked and she fainted. Violet knew it was all an act, strictly for the benefit of the medical personnel. Her "faint" didn’t even look real. Not many people passed out onto a couch without messing up their hair or clothes. Once she regained consciousness, Loretta made a public scene of denouncing Willie Jack and called a lawyer the next day.

  From her bedroom the next morning, Violet could hear her mother whistling a happy tune. Loretta’s mood quickly soured when her lawyer called back, informing her that she'd signed a pre-nuptial agreement and would be getting nothing from the marriage. Loretta went ballistic, calling her lawyer and Willie Jack liars and cheats. She never realized that Willie Jack tricked her, telling her she was signing for a joint checking account. She never bothered to read the fine print. She was back to where she was before she met him: broke with two kids.

  The cops seized numerous boxes from the house and found an extensive collection of child pornography. Willie Jack had everything from videos to magazines to photos that he took himself, including several of Daisy in various stages of undress. He even had snapshots of Violet.

  Once Daisy was released from the hospital, Loretta packed up their meager belongings and fled town in shame, returning only for the trial a few months later. Prosecutors painted the picture of a sick man, consumed with child porn, unable to distinguish between right and wrong. He was found guilty and sentenced to forty-two years in prison. He should've died an old man behind bars, but as Violet got older, she realized he probably wouldn’t serve half of that.

  Daisy continued to diminish. She rarely got out of bed and had not spoken once since that fateful night. Soon, Loretta had her committed to a mental institution against Violet’s tearful protests. Daisy withdrew into herself, not letting anyone else in, not even Violet. Her once long, shiny brown hair hung dull and limp. It was cut short when she was committed.

  Suddenly Violet was stuck by herself with a mother who didn’t love her and never had. It was obvious Loretta blamed Violet for what happened with Willie Jack. In Loretta’s eyes, she had everything—money, status, a beautiful home—and Violet took it all away from her.

  Violet stopped pacing and faced Jake. "She went through three more husbands by the time I turned eighteen," she told him after spilling the sordid details of her life story.

  "I’m sorry, honey," Jake said sincerely.

  She shrugged. "I accepted the fact a long time ago that my mother didn’t love me. But one good thing came of the ordeal." She told him of her relationship with Mrs. Stansfield and how the woman had practically adopted her, supported her and offered unconditional love. They kept in touch through phone calls, letters and summer visits.

  "I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to meet her," Jake said.

  Violet smiled sadly. "Me too. She would have loved you."

  "I think the feeling would've been mutual."

  She sat on the sofa next to Jake. "It’s important that you know that after what happened that night, first with Keith and then Willie Jack, I’ve had a hard time trusting men."

  "That’s understandable," he murmured, picking up her hand and stroking his thumb along her palm.

  "And I don’t like for people to touch me."

  "Sorry," he started to release her but she clung tight.

  "You don’t understand," she said. "My other relationships with men were…unfulfilling. And then I met you. You changed how I see myself, how I feel about myself. For the first time in my life, I want a man to hold me, kiss me, make love to me."

  His voice was low and husky when he scooped her into his arms. "It would be my pleasure."

  #

  Jake carried Violet upstairs and managed to close the bedroom door before Zeus could wiggle his way inside. What he had in mind, he didn’t want an audience.

  Lowering her to the mattress, he kissed her, all his need and passion reflected in the kiss. Dragging his mouth away, he touched foreheads. "Are you sure you want this?"

  "Very."

  "I’ll try like hell to be gentle but I want you so much."

  "I want you, too and I’m not made of porcelain."

  He took her lips in a fierce kiss and rolled her to her back. She writhed beneath him.

  "Patience," he chuckled against her lips. He gently removed her clothes before ripping off his own shirt and tossing it over his shoulder. Softly glowing moonlight filtered through the window, emphasizing her ethereal beauty. He lowered his bare chest to hers and they both moaned. Her nails scraped the planes of his torso.

  "Jake," she breathed, rubbing the tips of her sensitive breasts against his hair-roughened chest. He crushed her lips again, plunging his tongue inside to mate with hers. He broke the kiss to taste her nipple. He laved the pink areola before sucking the tip into his mouth. She gasped. He switched sides, giving the same attention to her other breast.

  "Jake, I can’t…I can’t wait. Now. Please."

  The ragged cry was all he needed. Unzipping his pants, he shoved them down his hips, removing a small foil packet from his pocket before he kicked them off. Quickly sheathing himself, he rolled on top of her, his knee nudging her thighs wider.

  "I’ll try not to hurt you, sweetheart," he whispered as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. He entered her slowly. God, she was tight and so damn hot. He forced himself to go slow when he really wanted to ram himself as far as he could into her warm, silky body. Inch by inch he stretched her until he was buried to the hilt. He stilled, giving her time to adjust to his size. She gasped.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Oh, yes."

  Jake moaned and withdrew, entering a little faster this time. She clutched his biceps, her ragged breathing spurring him on. He gripped her legs and guided them high on his hips. He began thrusting rapidly, melding their loins, until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He felt her release as he pumped into her, erupting in a savage burst, a harsh moan escaping as her inner walls squeezed his pulsing flesh.

  He collapsed on top of her. Once he could control his ragged breathing, he shifted his weight to his forearms. Stroking her face, he kissed her gently. "Are you okay?"

  With a dreamy smile, she whispered, "Mmm, marvelous."

  He smiled and kissed the upturned corner of her mouth. He started to pull out but she grabbed his hips. "No. I like having you inside me."

  He groaned and swelled again. "I’m crushing you."

  She responded by locking her legs around his quadriceps.

  He had no idea how she did it to him. He was at full force again, aching to move inside her. "Honey, I have to get another condom." He chuckled at her sulking and brushed a kiss on those sweet pouty lips. "I’ll be right back."

  #

  Violet reluctantly unclenched her legs so Jake could move. The overwhelming sense of loss was startling. He rolled away and perched on the edge of the bed, peeling off the condom. She reached out and trailed a finger down his strong back. He had such a magnificent body. His arms were bulging bands of steel. Gripping his biceps was like trying to clutch a marble column. Even when he wasn’t flexing, she couldn’t begin to wrap both hands around the massive muscle.

  He turned and smiled over his shoulder, holding up a foil packet between his fingers. "Good thing that motel was stocked." He sheathed himself with practiced ease and reached for her. She went willingly into his arms.

  He rolled to his back so she was on top. She had never had sex this way and she couldn’t stop the rush of excitement. Looking into his eyes, she kept his gaze as she rose to her knees, grasped him and slowly lowered herself onto him. They both groaned at the incredible friction.

  Violet thought Willie Jack had damaged her permanently, that she would never be able to relax enough to enjoy the touch of a man. And she hadn’t—until Jake. With him, she wasn’t scared. Instead, she felt alive for the first time in her life.

  When he was buried deep, she thr
ew back her head, her hands stroking his powerful chest. She couldn’t move. It felt too good. She wanted to stay this way forever.

  "Honey," he said between clenched teeth, "I need to move."

  She nodded.

  "Hold on."

  He gripped her hips and bucked against her violently. The climax hit instantly with earth-shattering intensity. Air backed up in her lungs, a rainbow of colors bursting behind her lids. She was vaguely aware of his raw, broken groans.

  The world as she knew it tilted. Nothing would ever be the same—she would never be the same. She loved this man.

  She collapsed against his sculpted chest, their sweat-slicked bodies fusing together as one.

  CHAPTER 23

  January 20

  Violet felt as if a huge burden had lifted from her shoulders after telling Jake about her childhood. He hadn’t run screaming, so that was a good sign. He'd carried her upstairs and made love to her so passionately, tenderly. The intensity of the feelings he awakened in her were borderline frightening, but also enormously exciting. Too soon he had to leave, which meant Officer Grim was back.

  She padded to the kitchen. She still couldn’t believe someone had tapped her phone. Why? The thought that a stranger had been in her home terrified her. Her whole house was swept and except for the bug on the phone, they found nothing. Jake changed all the locks himself. With the security system he installed earlier, her house was as secure as Fort Knox. Unfortunately, the comparison went both ways. She was just as trapped inside as any stranger was outside.

  She was in the midst of throwing herself a nice little pity party when her own voice broke the silence of the room. A loud beep, followed by, "Violet, honey, where are you?" a voice called out worriedly from the answering machine. "I’ve been concerned about you and then you didn’t come in today. Are you okay?"

  She picked up the handset. "Chris?"

  "Violet, where are you? You have a class in ten minutes."

  "I am taking a few days off. Phyllis found a sub for me."

  "Is everything all right?"

  She didn’t want to get into the whole story and worry her friend. "The police are just being vigilant."

  "Because they still think the killer might come after you?"

  "Uh, yeah."

  "I’m stopping by tonight. Do you want me to bring dinner?"

  "As much as I’d love to see you, I think it would be better if you didn’t come." She glanced at the uniformed man in the next room. "My house is being guarded."

  "Why? Tell me the truth, Violet. I’m seriously worried now. A-are you in danger?"

  "Probably not." If she repeated it enough, maybe she would start to believe it herself. "They’re just being cautious."

  "Well, I’m coming anyway. You can tell them who I am so they will let me in. I must see you to assuage my nerves. Don’t eat dinner. I’ve got to run…it's time for my morning lecture."

  Violet gaped at the bleating phone in her hand, the dial tone obnoxiously loud. Chris could be a steamroller. She couldn’t talk her out of coming over. Well, the cops couldn’t get too mad. She was one of her best friends, of course she would be worried. She felt guilty for not wanting to see her.

  #

  "Hi honey, I’m home," Jake called out as he let himself in the house. It'd been another grueling day of false leads and frustrating dead-ends. The only thing that got him through was knowing he would see Violet soon, hold her, make love to her. He was half-hard already.

  He planned on keeping her busy so she didn’t think about the killer. His jovial mood quickly soured when he entered the living room. Violet and Chris Stark sat on opposite ends of the sofa facing each other, flames dancing in the fireplace, an opened bottle of wine on the coffee table between them. They looked to be settled in for a long evening of girl talk.

  Hell.

  Violet popped off the couch when she heard him approach. "Jake. I didn’t expect you back until late."

  "Obviously," he muttered. There was no way he could sit at the station and twiddle his thumbs when another girl…possibly the last before the killer targeted Violet…could be murdered. All available cops were heavily patrolling the Lawrence Monroe campus, both in vehicle and on foot. Agents from the nearest FBI office had also been called in to assist. He needed to protect Violet in case the killer had tried to throw them off-course with the number eight.

  "Do you want to join us?"

  He glanced over her shoulder at her friend, who watched them with open curiosity. Yeah, he wanted to join them about as bad as he wanted to have his chest waxed or his nails buffed. In other words, hell no. The thought of sitting down and discussing women things ranked right up there with spilling salt in an open wound and having a tooth pulled, sans Novocain. "I’m beat. I’ll just grab a drink and head upstairs to watch TV." What he really wanted to do was toss Violet over his shoulder like a caveman and carry her to bed.

  "Oh, okay, I’ll get your drink."

  "I know where the kitchen is," he said harshly. It had been a long, exasperating day and he looked forward to coming home and cuddling with Violet on the sofa. He rolled his eyes. Get a grip, Kincaid. Cuddling? Shit, next thing he knew, he’d be right there on the couch discussing flower patterns or something. He ripped the fridge door open and whisked out a Coke. He was getting too soft. Time to go upstairs and turn on a game. He’d like to knock back a few brews but couldn’t afford to be the least bit impaired if Turner called. He’d just stepped onto the first riser when he heard Chris ask, "So, is Columbo sleeping in the same room?"

  Who the hell was she calling Columbo? Jake waited for Violet to defend him but she didn’t. Instead, she laughed with her friend, albeit hers sounded nervous.

  He spun around and thudded up the stairs. Knowing he was being petty, but pissed because he wanted to come home and lose himself inside her, he stomped into her room and pushed open the door. He was greeted with a soulful whine. "What’s wrong, fella, she banish you to the bedroom, too?"

  Reaching down to pet the dog with one hand, he closed the door with the other. With a sigh, he plopped on the bed, trying to avoid the lashes of a happy tail. Turning on the game, he adjusted the sound and toed off each boot before yanking off his socks. He had to wrestle one away from the playful Zeus when it fell to the floor. "Sorry, buddy, these puppies are one of the few that don’t already have holes," he explained to the happily panting pooch. He stripped off his suit jacket and draped it across the back of a chair. His tie hung in a loose knot around his neck, so he widened the hole and tugged it over his head and tossed it next to the jacket. After pulling his gun from the shoulder holster, he gingerly placed it on the nightstand.

  Emptying his pockets, he dropped his trousers across the chair seat. Clad in only boxer-briefs, he placed the Coke on the nightstand, eased back the covers and climbed into bed. The mattress felt like down feathers and all he could think about was Violet beneath him, open to him.

  Zeus leapt to the foot of the bed, scratched at the covers, circled a couple of times and plopped down. Amused by the dog’s antics, he asked sarcastically, "Comfy?" Propping a pillow against the headboard, he settled in for a long, lonely evening.

  #

  "The headaches are worse?"

  Chris nodded. "I haven’t had one in a couple of days, but they're getting stronger."

  "What are you going to do?" she asked, fearing the answer.

  "I honestly don’t know," Chris admitted. "I really like it here. I thought I’d finally found a place to call home."

  "What about a specialist?"

  "I’ve tried them. They can’t find anything wrong and just give me medication." She paused, uncertain, apprehensive. "Can I share something with you?" she asked, her tone pensive.

  Violet grasped Chris’s hand. "Absolutely."

  "When the headaches first started, they were so painful." She slipped off the cluster of gold bands that always decorated her arm and exposed her wrist for Violet’s inspection. Dozens of slashes, some faded, som
e more recent, marked her skin.

  Violet gasped. "You tried to kill yourself?"

  Chris exhaled and shook her head slowly. "Not really. None were deep enough for that," she said, stroking one of the faded white lines. "It was therapy. When I cut myself, the ache in my head faded. It became a way to deal with the pain."

  "But you stopped."

  "I finally went to the doctor and he prescribed medication," she admitted. With a subtle shift, she put distance between them. "There’s something else."

  "What?"

  Chris reached for her purse, pulled out a plastic bag and handed it to Violet. "I found this wedged under the seat in my car and I don’t even remember buying it."

  Violet turned the bag over and a green canvas pouch fell out. "What is it?"

  "Some kind of knife," Chris said. "The receipt is there."

  Violet scanned the paper. "It was paid for with cash," she said. "A few days ago."

  Chris nodded. "You would think I’d remember purchasing something like that…what would I ever need it for, anyway? I hate weapons of any kind. Heck, I don’t even like having a steak knife in the house."

  "Maybe someone else left it in your car."

  Chris shook her head. "No one has been in my car the last couple of days except for Todd, and he swore he knew nothing about it, though he said he’d take it off my hands. Frankly I had reservations turning it over to him. Can you imagine him with a deadly weapon?" She shuddered. "Anyway, I lock the doors the rest of the time so how could someone get in?"

  Violet unsnapped the case and slid the knife out. It was the kind where you pushed a button and the blade snapped into place with a deadly click. "What are you going to do with it?"

  Chris hitched a shoulder. "I certainly don’t want it. Why don’t you give it to your boyfriend?"

  "Jake’s not my boyfriend," she said. Even though she wanted him to be more than anything in the world.