“Oh, get a fucking room, you two,” Elliot says, but when I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, he’s practically beaming. He’s happy.
We’re all happy.
We’re free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JULIETTE
One week later
“Jesus,” Tommy groans. “This thing weighs a fucking ton.”
He’s struggling to carry the large framed painting I asked him to grab from Dornan’s office—my fathers old office—in Va Va Voom. I couldn’t bear to go back, after every thing that happened there. It was where they attacked me. And, six years later, it was the place where I went back to find my revenge.
“It’s just canvas and wood,” I say, coming over to inspect it. I smile, pressing my palm against the thin layer of glass that protects the painting inside. It’s something my father brought home when I was a little girl. A painting of a beach in Maui that he used to talk about all the time.
It was the place he was going to take me, and Jase, and Mariana.
I try to lift the painting, and Tommy’s right—it’s much heavier than it should be. I turn it over, puzzled, running my fingers along the thick brown paper that covers the back of it. There’s a small tear in the back, about the size of a five-cent piece, and I peer inside.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” Tommy says. “I dropped it on the desk. Can we tape it up or something?”
I tilt my head, a strange feeling washing over me as I realize what I’m seeing through that tiny tear in the paper.
“We could tape it up,” I reply, ripping the paper to expose what’s stacked underneath. “Don’t think we should, though.”
Elliot, who’s rocking on a dining chair and eating an apple, stops mid-chew and stands up so fast, his chair crashes to the floor. “What the—” he says around his mouth full of fruit.
Jase and Luis look over from the heated game they’re fighting over on the PlayStation. “What is it?” Jase says.
I rip the rest of the paper off and grab the first stack of bills, holding it up.
“Cash money.”
Jase and Luis drop their game controllers and come over, one on each side of me as we stare down at the obscene amount of cash.
“This is what they were looking for,” Jase says. “What they were all looking for, this whole time.”
“Christ, how much is here?” Tommy asks. Elliot picks up a stack and thumbs through it. “A hundred grand in each bundle,” he says.
I try to count all of the stacks of bills and I get to twenty before I lose track and have to start again.
“Fifty-three,” Jase says.
“Five hundred thousand?” Tommy asks.
Jase looks at him like he’s an idiot. “No,” he says slowly, “Five million dollars.”
Five million dollars. Dornan and his family looked for this money for years, and all along it was right in front of them. Dornan looked this money every single day, and he didn’t even know.
I laugh. I pick up handfuls of the money and I laugh and laugh and laugh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JULIETTE
One month later
I woke because I could hear thunder off the coast, and I wanted to see if there was lightning. Jase and I fell asleep early, and now I’m wide awake. I guess my body is accustomed to having scarce sleep, and it keeps waking me up at weird hours. Or maybe it’s because we’re in a different time zone again. Its three a.m. here in Montauk, a small coastal town a couple hours drive from New York City. We’ve been here for a few weeks now, in Elliot’s old beach shack, which sits directly on the water. It’s so different to the beaches in Los Angeles, but it still feels familiar. Safe. I feel safe here.
I have gained five pounds, and I already look healthier.
I am eating. I am sleeping. I am smiling.
I am in love.
I stare out of the window at the ocean, shivering. I’m barefoot, wearing a white sleeveless dress that falls to my ankles and makes my red hair look like blood against the crisp fabric. Since we’ve been here, I’ve bought myself a whole new wardrobe online and had it shipped here. It’s not that I don’t want to go outside, but Jase and I have been busy getting to know each other again. We’ve spent a lot of time on the beach, and the rest of it in bed. We’ve learned quickly to be quiet, because we’re staying with Elliot and his little family, and the last thing I need is Elliot’s three year old to ask me why I was screaming during the night.
I hear movement behind me and turn to see Jase is awake, leaning on one elbow as he watches me from our bed.
“Did I wake you?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I was just thinking.”
I smile, crawling back into bed beside him. “About what?”
“About you,” he says, grabbing my hips and pulling me on top of him.
“That’s what you always say,” I reply, shifting as he pulls my panties to the side and presses two fingers inside me.
I tip my head back, moaning softly as he adds a third finger.
“You’re so tight,” he says, sliding his fingers in and out of my wet heat. I can feel his erection growing underneath me, and I reach down to pull his boxers down and grab his thick shaft.
“Jesus,” he says, as I start to stroke him. “I think you’ve already taken everything. My balls are empty.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I highly doubt that.” A few more stokes and a bead of premium appears on the tip, glistening and ready. “See?” I smirk. I push his hand away from my pussy, immediately feeling the empty space his fingers left, throbbing with need. I smile as I wrap my hand around his hard length and guide him to my entrance.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jase says, his eyes glazed.
“Yes you do,” I murmur as I sink down on top of him, so I’m filled with him. Flames of desire lick across my belly, reaching all the way down to my clit, where I’ve got one finger, circling myself as I stay still on Jase.
“You want to hurt me, and I want you to hurt me. And that’s okay.”
His fingers dig into my arms. He still struggles at the start. He doesn’t know how to let go very easily.
“I want to fuck you so hard,” he says, his fingers bruising me. “I want to tie you to the bedhead and fuck you until you scream.”
I smile wickedly. Just the thought of him doing that—tying me up so I’m completely at his mercy— it’s got me wetter than I’ve ever been. I feel like I could come without moving, just sitting here, impaled on his thick shaft as he promises me all the darkness in his soul.
“What else,” I murmur, as I start to move my hips ever-so-slightly, creating the most delicious heat between us. The most unbearable anticipation of what he might do to me.
He leans over and pulls my dress down so my breasts pop out, my nipples already hard in the cool night air.
“I’ll have to gag you,” he says, tracing a line down my chin. “We can’t wake the others.”
I smile wider, biting my lip. This is hot. It’s so fucking hot.
“What else?” I press.
He takes one nipple into his mouth and bites down on it, making me shudder. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt.
“I want to tie your hands behind your back and fuck your mouth until you choke on me,” he says.
I imagine being on my knees, my throat full of him, wanting to rub my clit while I suck his cock, the thrill of not having my hands to touch myself. The powerlessness. I can’t wait. For all of it, I can’t wait. I’m so wet, I can feel my pussy leaking over his cock.
“Anything else?”
He pulls away from my tits and grips the back of my neck with one hand. Clutches the front with the other.
“I want to choke you until you come,” he says, sounding unsure this time, his expression anguished.
“Good,” I say. “Let’s start with that. Because I’m about to come, and then I’m going to suck your cock until you come in my mouth.”
“Fuck,” he groans, jutting his hips
up to create friction between us. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you sound right now?”
And then doubt crosses his face and he stops, his hand at the front of my neck loosening.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, his voice full of doubt and lust.
“I trust you,” I whisper. “I love you. Do it.”
And that’s all it takes to break his doubt. Love, trust, and the knowledge that I want this.
His hand tightens around my neck, and that’s all it takes. His thumbs pressing into the base of my throat, his thrusts harder and faster, and I break, tightening around his cock as I orgasm. As I see nothing but his dark eyes and a burst of white stars.
As he takes my breath away.
As I let him.
I don’t have time to catch my breath before Jase has me on my knees, my dress torn off and hands tied behind my back with a pair of panties. I’m still seeing white, still cresting down the aftermath of the orgasm he just ripped from me, when I feel the fat tip of his cock press against my lips. I open my mouth; greedy to taste the bead of pre-cum I can see glistening on the tip. It’s salty, making my mouth come alive, saliva rushing in to lubricate my tongue. My pussy clenches when he fists my hair and pushes himself against the back of my throat, making me gag.
He doesn’t stop fucking my mouth. He knows I’ll bite down ever-so-gently if I need him to stop. And right now, I do not want him to stop. I’m so turned on by the way he’s thrusting over my tongue, I can hardly bear it.
“Jesus,” Jase says. “Your mouth is so good. So good. I want to wrap your dress around your neck while I come in your mouth.”
I blink once for yes, and the dress materializes in his hand. He stops moving for a moment, letting me catch my breath. I take several deep breaths, my pussy vibrating with desire, my clit screaming for some kind of attention.
The dress goes around my throat.
He starts moving again, hitting the back of my throat and pulling the material around my neck tight at the same time. I can only get tiny sips of air, and only when he pulls back, and only for a moment before his cock slides into my mouth again.
Just when I think he’s going to come, he pulls out of my mouth abruptly and yanks on the dress, forcing me to my feet. He drags me to the bed, throwing me down on my back and forcing my knees apart so wide, my hips scream in protest. He slams into me so hard I scream. A silent scream, because his tongue is already in my mouth, kissing me greedily.
He’s fucking me so hard I’m moving up the bed with each stroke. I’ll be hurting tomorrow, but I don’t care. All I care about is this moment, this very second, with the boy I love.
We lost each other once.
We almost lost each other twice.
We’ll never lose each other again.
Afterwards, I shower and put pajamas on. It gets cold here at night, so I’ve got long pants and a tank top to sleep in. They might survive the night if Jase doesn’t rip them off. Depends how tired he is.
I don’t care. We’ve got plenty of money to buy new pajamas, and nowhere to be in the morning.
Tears fill my eyes as I watch Mother Nature’s light show from the deck. I’m not scared. I’m just… happy.
Jase sees my glassy eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing my hand.
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say, almost in wonderment. “Not one thing.”
A smile lights up his face, going all the way to his dark eyes. There he is. The boy I love. He was always there, underneath the shame and the weight of his own past, but now he’s here, with me, and finally, we don’t have to run anymore.
“Can you believe we made it?” I ask, a tear dripping onto my cheek. “Can you believe we made it out of there alive?”
Jase pulls me towards him, kissing me, and behind us the sky lights up the darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ELLIOT
There’s an old fishing shack in the Hamptons that my parents used to take me to before they died. It’s one of those bare bones places; raw timber walls, four tin plates, a cupboard full of old newspapers to light up and kindle the open fire.
You can see the beach from every room in the house, which means the bare bunk beds don’t feel quite so hard; the old Adirondack chairs don’t feel so splintered.
My mother would pack our old Mustang with cold-cut sandwiches and Cokes and cushions. That’s all she took. We’d each live in our bathing suits, me and my sister and our parents.
Then they died, and we got the shack in their will, but I’ve never been back since.
I didn’t want to come back. Didn’t want to see the goddamn place. Because it was so innocent, and so good, and I was afraid that if I came back it’d be less than perfect.
It was Ames who urged me to come back. To bring Kayla and make some memories of our own. So I did. And she was right. It’s perfect for us.
It’s perfect, but it’s time for us to move on, for now at least. The Gypsy Brothers are gone, the Cartel is in ruins and our DEA contact has mysteriously vanished without a trace. When Luis told me he’d handled Fitz, I didn’t quite know how, but I didn’t think I should ask.
I imagine he’s taking a nice, long swim in the Atlantic somewhere.
Tommy’s back in San Francisco, and that’s where we’re headed, too. Amy has family there, a new job opportunity with the SFPD, and it’s my turn to follow her somewhere and help her out with Kayla while she does something for her career. I mean, she’s spent long enough following me around the country while a bloodthirsty drug cartel tried to kill us all, so I figure I owe her that much. Amy and I, we’re not together—but we’re a family, and we still get along, and we’re sticking tight while Kayla’s young and she needs two parents.
Plus, I’ll admit—I don’t want to let either of them out of my sight for the rest of my life.
The car is packed. Amy has already carried a sleeping Kayla into the garage and settled her in her car seat. Now, it’s time to lock the door, start the car, and begin our road trip. For once, we’re not running. It’s our choice to move to San Francisco, and something about it feels so exciting, so different, that I’m wide awake and chipper at the ass-crack of dawn.
I walk past Jase and Juliette’s room, noticing the door’s slightly ajar. I wonder if we’ve woken them with our noise. But when I poke my head into the room, the moonlight slicing through the curtains shows me two bodies curled tightly together under the duvet, fast asleep.
I watch for a moment, the steady rise and fall of their chests, the way her arm is thrown over his, and I smile.
They’re sleeping. Actually sleeping. Both of them.
I grin, shaking my head in wonder as I close and lock the front. In the garage, Amy is waiting for me, holding out a thermos of coffee. She’s the only one who’s ever been able to make it just the way I like. Fuck, if it weren’t for the fact that we start fighting whenever we start screwing each other, I’d say I should marry this girl. For now, I’ll take having her as my best friend and the mother of my daughter.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the coffee and tipping it down my throat. It’s boiling hot and I’m freezing cold, so it works extremely well to warm me up.
“You excited?” Amy asks, glancing back at Kayla before settling her attention on me. I smile, setting the thermos in the cup holder that sits in between us.
“To move to Vegas and gamble every day? Hell yeah.” I gun the engine and press the button on the garage remote, waiting as the door lifts up.
“You wish, buddy,” Amy says, hitting me playfully.
“Ow!” I say, pushing her hand away. “Stop trying to touch my junk.”
“You wish I would touch your junk,” she replies. I laugh as I back out of the garage and onto the road.
“The important thing is that the invitation is always open, Ames,” I say, putting the car into gear and driving away.
“Are we going to talk about your junk for the entire trip?” Amy asks, sipping her coffee.
&nbs
p; “That depends,” I reply. “You want to play I spy?”
Amy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Is it something beginning with D?”
I feign surprise. “How’d you guess?”
She just snort-laughs, shaking her head at me. I smile, glancing at our beautiful daughter in the rearview mirror.
It is so fucking good to be driving somewhere when you’re not being chased.
As I’m getting onto the expressway, I think about Juliette. I think about the girl who almost died in front of me all those years ago, and the girl I just saw sleeping in my family’s beach shack ten minutes ago, and my chest floods with pride. All those years I tried to make her better, and she’s finally, finally okay.
Better than okay. She’s… shining. Yeah. She’s the girl I saw glimpses of underneath all the hurt and the fear and the bullshit. I knew she’d be like that. Funny. Beautiful. Smart. She’s finally found herself after all these years.
She’s finally found her peace.
And, in some strange way, she’s helped me find mine.
EPILOGUE
Eight years ago
The girl was afraid at first, but her curiosity won out over her fear. She’d seen her uncle drag the boy in, unconscious and covered in blood, and she’d listened from the next room as they held him down and tattooed something across his back.
She crept into the room he’d been thrown into, seeing his back first. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door with his head in his hands. His back was covered in blood and black ink, swollen and red from where they’d just dragged needles through his flesh. And he was crying.
He must have seen her out of the corner of his eye, jumping suddenly and turning on her. He looked angry. Enraged. Terrified.
She didn’t move. She’d never met him before, but she knew who he was as soon as she saw his dark, anguished eyes. He had to be Dornan’s son. He looked a couple years older than her, and he was completely and utterly broken.
Zero Hour (Gypsy Brothers #8) Page 10