Keagan (This is Our Life Book 2)

by F. G. Adams

  “Did you get pictures?” Lukas glances up from where he and Gunner are working.

  “Yeah, here you go.” He hands over what looks like a man’s sports watch. It must be another one of Lukas’s homemade camera toys.

  “Gimme a sec to upload the data and we’ll have a visual for your report.”

  “Sure.” Ollie continues his rant over his newest interest. “I’m seriously considering when this is over, finding this woman and asking her on a date. Bet she’s a hellion in bed, especially with that swing. She’s the whole package, boys: brains, beauty, and boobs.”

  We all chuckle at Ollie’s comments and hand motions. He constantly tries to keep everyone relaxed and off kilter with his crazy ass comments. He’s the unofficial jokester of the group. When we returned from overseas, he was there, wounded, keeping me and Lukas in a good frame of mind, never a negative word, only encouraging us to get our shit together. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him blow up. Don’t get me wrong, he can kill someone as efficient as any of us, but he prefers diplomacy first. His danger comes from his brain.

  Lukas glances up and I focus on the screen in front of me. What I see releases years of pent-up fury. Seconds later, I’m exploding from my chair, grabbing Ollie by the front of his shirt, and yanking him to his feet.

  “When and where the fuck did you take this?”

  “What the fuck, Keagan?” he says, pushing me away from him. “Palm Wood Manor. About an hour or so ago.”

  The room is silent. You can hear a pin drop. I’ve never reacted that way before, especially with my brothers, but something snapped inside of me seeing Desmond Payne with his hands on Jocelyn. Her being so close to someone that dangerous sent tremors of fear to my heart.

  I take a deep breath and right the chair I had been sitting in only a few seconds before.

  “That’s Jocelyn Blackwood,” I state more calmly.

  No other words are necessary. Lukas and Ollie know who she is to me. You share a lot of shit when you’re in the trenches on the front line waiting for the next explosion or ambush to occur. We all had. They both share glances back and forth. I sit back down and rub my hand over my head trying to shake the anger away.

  “Hey, that’s the girl from the Pit-Stop,” Gunner says. “What’s she doing with Dez?”

  “You know the man in the photo, kid?”

  “Yeah, Crash. He and Buzz are business associates. I’ve been with Buzz a few times when he had to meet up with him for new orders from the big boss. Some bar outside of Daytona.” He shrugs.

  “Fan-fucking-tastic. Luc.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Ollie, report.”

  “He seemed to know her well. Addressed her by name. She was uncomfortable. I stayed close by until he left. I only overheard bits and pieces of the conversation, but he was definitely threatening her. Why? I’m not sure. I checked on her after he was gone and she was jumpy. I caught up with our boy here about thirty minutes later and followed him to his office.”

  “I’m going to find out why the fuck Desmond Payne is talking to her.”

  “Keagan, you need to calm down before you go charging over there,” Ollie, the voice of reason, quietly says. “You don’t want to scare her.”

  I send a look his way and don’t reply. Wasn’t he just talking shit about how fine my angel is only minutes ago? He shakes his head in defeat. He knows me, and my mind is made up: I’m going to see Jo now.

  “Here’s an access badge into the property.” Lukas hands me a white card that looks almost like a credit card I have in my wallet. “You’ll need it to gain entrance or you would have to get permission from her. The guard at the entrance is a nuisance.”

  “I’ll be back later. Keep looking, Luc. Use the kid. He knows his shit. He’s a little MacGyver like you. Find the missing link.”

  Thirty minutes later, I park my bike in her driveway, impressed at the massive home before me, and jog up the steps, ringing the doorbell. Several minutes pass by. Finally, she opens the front door and promptly slams it in my face before I can stop her.

  “What the fuck, Jocelyn? Open the fucking door. Now.”

  “No. Go away, Keagan. I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Angel, I need to talk to you. I’m … uh, fuck. This ain’t easy, Jocelyn! I’m fucking sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up, but I had good reason. It was work. I had to take care of some things, and when I came back in to tell you goodbye, you were sleeping so peacefully that I couldn’t wake you up.” Leaning against the door, I sigh, “Come on, Jo. Open up.”

  Seconds pass and I bang my head on the door. Nothing. I’m about to leave when I hear the knob turn and the door opens.

  “You have thirty seconds and then I’m slamming the door again.”

  “You look so good, angel, standing there in your sexy little pajamas. Let me in, baby. I need to talk to you without the chance of someone else hearing what I have to say.”

  She briefly stares at me and the indecisiveness is written all over her expression.

  “You know you want to let me in.” I wink.

  “You are a menace to society, Keagan Fontneau! I can’t believe in good conscience that I’m allowing you into my house, but holy guacamole, I am!”

  “Oh, cher, you know your body craves what only I can deliver.”

  “Oh, you! You, you, you …”

  “Now, now, pretty thing. Come on over here.”

  I lunge forward, wrapping my hand around her waist and yank her into my arms. Her arms fly to my biceps and push away, trying to dislodge the firm hold.

  “Sweetness, when are you going to realize you can’t get away from me?”

  “Keagan, you are crazy! Let me go right this minute!”

  My lips lock onto hers, stopping her tirade. I move inside the doorway, slamming it shut with my foot. Leaning back, my hips push between her thighs and find home when her legs circle my waist and lock behind my back. I press her back closer to me, and her unrestrained nipples flatten on my chest. My tongue manipulates hers as she matches me stroke for stroke, nip for nip. She’s made for me. When passion ignites, her body seeks relief and her traitorous body responds to mine as my hips thrust back and forth, rubbing against her aroused body.

  “Angel.”

  She relaxes and fists my shirt, pulling it up. We stop kissing to discard the unwanted shirt. I slowly lower to the floor and she straddles me, my rigid cock straining against the zipper of my jeans. She rocks her hips, rubbing her clit and grinding into my erection.

  My hands flex and massage her ass, easily lifting her to move her against my pounding cock. Her nails rake across my shoulders and I’m dying to feel her sweet cunt again. I nip her bottom lip and devour her mouth. She’s my heaven. Grabbing my jeans, I move my hips until my restrained cock is freed. Moving her flimsy pajama bottoms to the side, I lift her hips and sink balls-deep into her tight hot body. She’s so turned on, my thick long dick needs no lubrication.

  I rip my lips from hers before I bite her. “Fuck, Jo! Ah, fuck!”

  She doesn’t respond as she comes up on her knees and slowly rocks, swaying her hips side to side and grinding down. She’s out for revenge. I’m so close to losing my shit. I flip her to the hard tile, grab her rounded ass, and thrust deep.

  “Keagan!”

  She twists and turns, searching, begging for release.

  My palm flattens by her face and I watch as my cock drives home into her warm, tight pussy. I keep a steady rhythm, pounding harder and harder into her. Her fingers dig into my ass for something to hold on to. I’m sure I’ll have marks tomorrow. Adjusting my hips slightly, I find her spot and hammer home.

  She throws her head back, screaming my name. It echoes off the walls in the large foyer. I thrust deeply into her again one last time and groan when her pussy grips my dick so hard, I’m yelling her name.

  “You’re mine, Jocelyn. You may not want me as fucked up as I am, I may not be ready … but damn it, woman, you belong with me.”
<
br />   The last time I felt this safe was … never. Keagan has always had a take-charge quality about him. I always trusted him completely when we were younger even during my extreme state of loss and darkness, hence this afternoon surprise. Just when I thought I may never see him again, Keagan shows up out of nowhere and rocks my world. Deep trouble.

  My body betrayed me. It was delicious!

  Keagan is sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch with one hand propped up behind his head, all his beautiful, intricately-painted tattoos on display for my greedy eyes. I’m curled up and around his big frame, smelling the delicious fragrance that’s only his and following the patterns with my fingers. I garner a shudder or laugh once or twice. Keagan is ticklish. Caught in the moment of bliss, my heart melts into a puddle. Looking back over our time as youngsters, the warmth and emotions filled us both to the point of bursting, simultaneously adding fuel to the flame that has burned brightly over the years and brought us both to this point in time.

  “You okay, Boo?” His deep voice is like liquid velvet, enclosing me up in a bubble of pleasure and yearning.

  “I am. I feel pretty good right now. Even though I’m still mad at you, ya big lug.”

  Play-swatting at his chest, he mocks me by pretending it hurts. A deep chuckle fills the room. I can’t stop the smile that falls across my own face.

  “A psychologist, huh? That’s huge, Jo. So damn proud of you, baby.”

  “It just seemed right, ya know? You played a big part in that decision, too. I wanted to help people, the same way you helped me a long time ago. Anyhow, it’s what I do.”

  “Really somethin’, Boo. I’m sure Fallyn would be proud of you.”

  “I kinda like to think so.” My body language turns into sorrow and I’m grateful when Keagan changes the subject.

  “I came over here to make sure you were okay, Jo. There’s somethin’ else. How do you know Desmond Payne?”

  The look on my face must give off the confusion from the out-of-left-field comment he’s thrown at me. I squint my eyes in his direction with a rebuttal because this line of questioning is getting me all kinds of pissed off again.

  “Better question is, how do you know Desmond Payne, Mr. Fontneau?”

  He shakes his head, rubbing his large palm over his face. “Can’t talk about it, Jocelyn. But he’s a motherfucker. Someone you need to steer clear of.”

  “Ha! That’s nothing I don’t already know, Keagan. And I can’t talk about it either, it being my job and all.”

  “You’re not involved with him are you? Or have been?”

  He appears a little worried. Interesting.

  “In his dreams maybe.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously? Do you honestly believe I’d stoop to the likes of that slimy, no-good snake? He’s nappy. With a capital N. Think that little of me, huh?” I question, the fire beginning to boil my blood. “Nope. Strictly professional. Again, I can’t talk about it with you.” I turn my head because I don’t want him to see the hurt he’s caused.

  “Jocelyn, Boo. I just worry about ya. He’s a snake in the grass, lying in wait. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

  I swivel my head back in his direction, studying his worry lines and determination, trying to figure out how he knows Desmond Payne.

  “Stalemate, huh?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.” I mimic a salute.

  “The storm’s lettin’ up, Boo. How ‘bout we go for a ride?”

  Keagan changes directions again. My brain commences in a pirouette from his back and forth.

  “A ride? A ride on what? I thought we already did that.” Blushing under his continuous stare, I’m not sure what he’s talking about or what he wants to ride. My mind still reels from the warning he just gave me.

  “My bike, baby. Just got her back and I want you on the back. Grease the wheels, Boo.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Keagan. I’ve never been on a motorcycle and I’m pretty sure I’d be scared to death. I’ve had enough of that here lately, thank you very much.”

  “C’mon, Jocelyn. It’s not real scary. I’ll go slow.” He smirks, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Besides, you’ve got to meet Black Beauty. She’s almost as perfect as you are.”

  And there you have it. His way with words always traps me deeply and yanks at me hard, convincing me to forget everything else.

  “Well, I don’t know. It’s really wet out there. The roads are still bad. I don’t know.”

  “Come, let me show you. Take a chance, Jo. You never know how perfect somethin’ might turn out to be. If you try. And … I’m not takin’ no for an answer. You’re gonna love her.”

  He’s like a kid on his birthday, so excited to show off his new toy. I score a glimpse of the old Keagan, the boy I knew long ago.

  “Alrighty, I’ll take a look. But no promises, ya hear?”

  Not sure why I made the last remark because honestly, I’d follow him anywhere.

  Keagan pulls up off the floor and takes me with him. I go into my bedroom closet to put on some clothes. I opt for my skinny jeans and favorite pink boots. I’m pulling my hair back into a hair tie and stop short as I come out of the closet, my eyes landing on the behemoth taking up space in my bedroom. Keagan had followed me into my room. I do a double take. He’s yummy and delicious, and I eat him up with my eyes. He’s dressed again in his ass-hugging jeans and biker boots, followed by a black t-shirt with “FUBAR” in red letters ironed on the front. How did I not see that shirt before? He’s leaning against my bedpost … right where he belongs.

  “I love those boots, Jocelyn.” My name on his tongue generates flip-flops in my belly.

  “Thanks. I love your boots, too.” Shoot! I just said that. I’m losing my mind. Get it together, girl.

  “Ya do, huh?” Keagan glances down at his black leather boots. He grins, shaking his head. “C’mon, cher. Let’s go stretch out our legs.”

  He circles me in his brawny arms and laps me up like he’s trying to get to the center of the Tootsie Pop. I’m lost. Once more, he licks and nips on my bottom lip, then grabs my hand and tugs me out the door.

  “Whaddya think, Boo? Beautiful, yeah?”

  Sitting on my red brick driveway is the biggest, menacing-looking two-wheeled machine I’ve ever seen in person.

  “Holy mackerel, Keagan. That thing is a beast!”

  “Yeah. Grady fixed her up right. She rides smooth as silk and takes the corners with ease. Zero to sixty in less than ten seconds.”

  “Grady, as in Pit-Stop Grady?”

  Keagan chuckles again. It’s an all-familiar sound from our childhood dipped in manly spice. I love it and can’t get enough of it—or him. I want more.

  “The one and the same. We go way back. My pop and his were buddies in the service. Served together. Brought her to him right before my last deployment. Wanted the bike to match the man.”

  I smile at the sparkle I see. Boys and their toys. I was right.

  “You’re full of surprises, Mr. Fontneau. Hmph. Makes sense, the funny eyes they were giving me. I got the feeling Kendall and Grady knew what was going on when I left there.”

  “Yeah. Gonna explain more. But right now, I want you on my bike. Get to it, Jo. Let me see what you look like on her.”

  Timidly, I walk forward and run my fingertips across the tank, down the black stitched leather seat, and to the back fender. The motorcycle is painted a sparkling black with red and gold glimmers of lightning scattered all over. Nothing over the top; it’s a perfect storm. It’s chromed out from top to bottom. On the tip of the tail right above the fat boy tire, written in a cryptic script are the words: “De Oppresso Liber. Defectum Est Non Bene.”

  “It’s magnificent, Keagan. What does this mean?” I softly touch the Latin phrase.

  “‘To free the oppressed. Failure is not an option.’ It’s a military thing.” He half-smiles and I see his dimple peeking out to say hello.

  A beautiful tribute. Enough said. My mind skips to the bullet ho
les I witnessed, scattered on his stomach. I’m curious to know more. What happened to this strong man standing in front of me? Keagan walks over during my musings, placing a large black half shell helmet on my head, obviously belonging to him, judging from its bulkiness. He buckles and snaps it into place. The weight is heavy on my head as I lift my chin up to his.

  “Just in case, cher.” He places a kiss on the top of my nose.

  He walks to the side and slings his powerful leg across the top of the seat, settling onto the leather, both feet planted firmly on the ground. He pulls the machine upright.

  “Hop on, Jo.”

  I grip the bulky helmet in my hands, heart beating erratically as I bite the inside of my lip. The anticipation of his handsome mug is my undoing as I walk over to the side of the bike.

  “Where am I supposed to sit?” Looking down at the seat, I notice there’s not much room left since he got on.

  “The fender. Half on, half off. You’ll fit. Stop stalling, Jocelyn.”

  “Oh, well alrighty then. That’s going to be peachy,” I say in a smarty-pants voice.

  “Put your foot right here.” He guides me to get on. “It’s a lot like mounting a horse and you’ve done that plenty. Just use me as the harness.”

  Firmly placing my foot on the ribbed rubber floor pad, I swing up and come to rest right up against Keagan’s hard back. My girly parts whisper a delightfully sultry tune being this close to him. He grabs my arms and anchors them around his waist.

  “Hold on tight, Jo. Don’t let go. I’ll take care of you.”

  The deep rumble of the motor cranking up rips me wide open with excitement. I’ve never done anything like this before. Cheek situated on his back, I begin to grin as I clutch Keagan hard. Before I realize it, the majestic machine lurches forward and we’re off.

  My senses are on overload as we travel down the neighborhood street. Good to his word, Keagan takes it nice and slow, getting me used to the way the bike sways from side to side in its movements and maneuvers. As we pass by the guard shack, Chester steps out and I wave with one hand, the other gripping hold of Keagan’s bunched-up shirt. The loud roar of the monstrous motor causes the passersby in cars to rubber-neck. The security guard eyes me questioningly at first, but when I shoot him a big smile, he shrugs and goes back into the security booth.