“Why would Jean do that?”
“I have a pretty good idea about it.”
“What, you know too much about Jean and his unsavory business that he's afraid you'll send him to jail?”
“You're too smart for a vermin catcher.”
“Thank you. I've been telling my siblings that I have a brain, but they won't believe me.”
“Trolls have brains, too. Like the Bridge Troll.”
“Ha, ha. About saving Jean, don't know how you plan on doing that. If it is your conscience that's telling you he needs saving, would a confession help?”
“Are you suggesting I confess to you?”
“If you feel like it. Unload to me. Besides, I'm interested in learning more about him.”
“Still trying, huh. I contacted your father to ask for his assistance, not you.”
“I know. But I might be able to help. Want me to knock some sense into your father? I bet you it's easily done.”
“I don't want to see him hurt.”
Fuck! I want to make him suffer. “It's sound advice.”
“All I want is for Judge Knight to help me make a deal with Jean.”
There is no dealing with that asshole. He should be sent straight to hell to burn for eternity. “Ah, a deal to help Jean. Let's hear it.”
“My silence in exchange for Jean's agreement that he would stop his unsavory business.”
Shit. This has just gotten better and better—not! Bors wondered if she understood that even if Jean stopped with his fucking business, he would still have to face time. He, being an agent, understood her though. Relatives often times were blinded by their love and found it difficult to accept the truth. Damn it, he didn't want her silence. “Jean will not agree to it.”
“Why”
“He knows you.”
“He treated me like a prisoner because he believes that I will tell on him.”
“You have a cell phone, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I am assuming it's the kind with an internet and all that apps crap.”
“Yes.”
“If you really wanted Jean to go to jail, you could have done so in many different ways, Taylor. Jean knew that. So to offer him a deal about your silence is crap. Jean has a totally different reason for jailing you.”
“You don't know that.”
“Oh, yes I do.”
“I would squeal on him if he didn't promise to stop running his business.”
“A bluff. You wouldn't squeal on your dad.”
“How do you know that?”
“You told me, baby. Evil, dirty, fucking son of a bitch. Those are just a few that we could attach to Jean's name. But you still love him. He is your father. You will not send him to jail.”
He knew when an opponent was defeated. And looking at Taylor, he knew he defeated her idea.
“You're right. I love Dad.”
“He will not buy your threat because he knows you. Do you have a plan B?”
“Yes.”
“Let's hear it.” He should take the opportunity and offer Taylor his own deal. Jean's confession in exchange of a life sentence with a possibility of parole. But he'd wait. For now, he'd let her speak her mind.
“I'll tell him that he won't see me again.”
“Sounds plausible, but it depends on how close you two are.”
“We don't play cards, or watch TV together, if that's what you mean by close. But we do have an invincible bond. Jean will do everything for me and I for him. His fatherly affection runs deep. I can feel it.”
“Then you might have a chance of stopping Jean.”
“I am hoping Judge Knight could help me. I need him to figure out how to better help Jean without him ending up in prison.”
Jesus Christ. He wondered if she would run away from him, too, if he told her he'd rather slit Jean's throat and toss him in the garbage bin for the rats to feast on. She'd probably clobber him in the head, then run back to Jean to warn him. Bors pinched the bridge of his nose. Of all the people, why did she have to be Jean's daughter?
Holy mother of shit! “You know, baby, he broke the law, hurt people, and stole innocence. But you still want to help him find a way to escape punishment? He needs to face the consequences of his actions.”
“If you suffer your people to be ill-educated and their manners corrupted from infancy, then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them. What else is to be concluded but that you first make thieves and then punish them? In Jean's case, a corrupt politician.”
“Wow man. You just quoted my best friend.”
“Your best friend?”
“Yeah. Sir Thomas Moore. He wrote Utopia. I had lunch with him, too, the other day. With Bach.”
“You're never serious, are you? I never read Utopia until the third chair violinist, Carrie, told me about the movie Ever After. She said it's good. So I watched it. After that, I ordered Utopia online and read it. The beginning bored me to death, but it's a good read. Well, how did your lunch with Moore go?”
“Boring. He's English and drinks tea instead of coffee.”
“You should be a comedian and not a vermin catcher.”
“Love the job.”
“Dad loves his job, too, I think.”
“Power and money. People are often blinded by those two. Obviously, Jean is one of them for him to enjoy his job. Babe, there is no excuse for your father's actions. Therefore, he must be punished. By the way, he is a thief. He stole girls’ innocence by exposing them to vultures and snakes and robbed them of a chance to enjoy life, the love of their parents. Oh, and the parents—imagine their suffering. You lost your mother. Imagine those parents losing their daughters.” What a low blow to use her mother, but Taylor must open her eyes.
“I know, Bors. That's why I want to make a deal with him. Before it's too late. I want to save the part of him that is still good.”
It is too late, Bors wanted to say. Jean's soul was as black as the nights on Orcas Island, but not as beautiful. But the pain he saw in Taylor's eyes stopped him from doing so. “What are you going to do if he agrees?” He couldn't believe he asked the question. As far as he was concerned, Jean would sit his dirty ass in jail. All he needed was evidence against him.
“Move on. Start my life that's been stalled for years. Maybe go to Italy and find my mother's family.”
“Leave the country?”
“Yeah. I've been wanting to travel. I could start with Italy.”
Somehow, the mention of her leaving the country sounded worse than her wish for Jean to just end his unsavory business and skip jail. He wanted her here, sitting in his kitchen, talking with him, quoting Thomas Moore. Hear her play her violin.
Since the builder applied the last finishing touch to this house, he'd never even spent an hour here. Too quiet, and no one to share it with. Now, Taylor appeared in his life, and all he could think about was to keep her. Why? Good God, he had no idea. How in the world could a woman unravel a man's mind in such a short time? He stared at Taylor and wondered what spell she cast on him.
“What would you do if you were in my position?” Taylor asked, clueless about the inner turmoil he was going through.
“Me? I won't make a deal with him. I'll use all kinds of chemicals to eradicate him. Beat the shit out of him, then toss him in jail. Squish him like a cockroach. Those are just a few off the top of my head.”
Taylor sighed. “That's why I am asking Judge Knight and not you.”
“Baby, I suggest you sit on your decision about talking to my dad. What you want to tell him and how far you would go. Dad is a good judge. The best of the best. Having said that, you might not like his idea of help. Are you going to tell him what kind of a man Jean is, and how many innocent victims suffered because of him? If you do, you will be putting my dad in a position. A bad one. And you might want to think about what I said. Your dad committed crimes, therefore he must face the consequences.”
“I thought abo
ut that.” Taylor sighed. “I'm glad we're having this discussion.”
Wish we weren't. “Baby, I may belong in a different quadrant, but we still roam in the same circle. I hear stuff. I know stuff, which means other people, too. Letting Jean go—”
“See? This is the reason why I must talk to your dad. It's only a matter of time before someone squeals on him. I'm trying to be proactive here. You catch vermin and yet you know about Dad. Imagine the police, FBI, politicians?”
I am FBI. Jesus. He'd been busting his butt trying to trap the man, and here he sat with the woman who knew everything about Jean, but wanted the opposite. I need a Tylenol or maybe a walk in the woods. Bors downed the rest of his coffee. Time to change the subject before he started interrogating Taylor and let her know that he'd been after her father for quite some time now.
“You know, I think you are right. I'll think about what to tell your dad.”
“Sit on your ideas for a week. We'll brainstorm and then we'll talk to Dad.”
“I like that idea.”
A week with you. Hell yeah. I love the idea. “Cool. Want another cup?”
“No, thank you.”
“I think we should talk about good stuff.”
“Like what?”
“How about breakfast? At least if you get nauseated listening to me talk about vermin, you'll have something to throw up.” Later, he would talk to his dad. Maybe he could suggest a way to handle his situation without blowing his mind off.
“Eewww! Okay, breakfast sounds good.”
“Eggs and toast, or pancakes and bacon.”
“Eggs and toast are fine. I'll help.”
“Sunny side up or scrambled?”
“Scrambled. I don't like it gooey. When it comes to food, I like mine cooked. Can't stand blood in my food. That's why I don't like going to Outback Steakhouse. They don't cook my steak the way I like it.”
“How do you like it?”
“Burned, baby!” Taylor laughed. “Sushi? God, don't know how people could eat raw fish.”
“Alright. Maybe you should cook your own eggs, huh? Show me how you like it. Up you go, princess.”
“Right on. We are cooking.”
Taylor was up in a hurry. When she walked past him, he hit her rump lightly. “Keep moving. I'm hungry.”
Bors placed the jug of milk and carton of eggs on the counter. Taylor stood beside him, watching. “You could get the bowls. In the cupboard on your left.”
“Okie dokie.” Taylor sounded like a child presented with dough to play with. He wouldn't be surprised if she started dancing. “What else?”
Take off your clothes so I can make love to you. “Beater. Drawer in front of you. How many eggs can you handle?”
“I can eat two.”
Good lord. Focus, Knight. Focus.
Cooking with Taylor reminded him of the time when Kirsten were just five and helping their mother bake cookies. The kitchen was a mess, but no one minded. It was the same with Taylor. He didn't care that she managed to drop two eggs on the floor, break another two into the bowl full of milk, but he had to throw it away because they'd be eating bits of eggshells. His pet peeve. If he were to guess, Taylor had never seen a kitchen or worked in the kitchen in her life.
He wanted his breakfast before lunchtime. Yet, the thing was watching Taylor laugh as the eggs splattered all over the floor was more satisfying than the best food in the world. He enjoyed hearing her laughter and the way she apologized with a smile, but with no sign of contrition at all.
“You never cooked before?”
“No.”
Bors leaned his hip against the counter and watched Taylor beat the eggs as if they had all the time in the world. “They said, don't know exactly who, that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach. How are you going to catch a man if you don't know how to cook?”
“I bet it was a man who quoted that. I don't think any woman would want a man to love her based on what she cooks. And why should she go through his stomach? If the man can't love me for who I am, accept my shortcomings, then the heck with him.”
“Good point. But what about kids. How are you going to feed your kids someday?”
With a satisfied sigh, Taylor faced him. “Well, I am hoping by the time I am a mother, I would have learned to cook a dish or two.”
“How are you going to learn?”
“Watch the chefs on You Tube. Or feed the babies Sara Lee's microwavable dishes. You like to cook?”
“Mom told us kids to learn at least the basics because we love to eat. So, yeah. I know a dish or two.”
“What's your favorite dish?”
“Pork Chop delight and white rice.”
“Sounds yummy. Will you show me how to cook it?”
“I don't work for free. You don't have any money. How are you going to pay me?”
“I'll play for you. You should take it. ‘Cause I'm good.”
He knew what she meant. Her violin. But again, her words took on a different meaning when he looked at her. Bors swallowed. The air around them felt charged with an invincible electricity, causing sparks of attraction to build between them. It made him hungrier, but he no longer craved food.
He wanted something more fulfilling, satisfying. A food made in heaven. He wanted another taste of Taylor.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter Nine
Pushing off the counter, he took a step closer to her. Damn, all he did was look in her eyes and he was hooked, dangling like a hapless fish. But nothing dangled about him right now. Everything was hard, throbbing.
Wrapping his hand on the back of Taylor's neck, he pulled her closer until their mouths were only inches away. He waited for her to say something, to push him away. Instead, Taylor closed her eyes. She wanted this, too.
Angling his head a bit, he kissed her partly opened mouth, his tongue touching her lips. Taylor responded with a kiss of her own that made his heart pound hard, sending blood down to his fully aroused dick. He tried to go easy and not give in to the fire of their kiss, but Taylor made it difficult. Her hands wrapped around his neck, moaning erotically while pressing her lush body against his.
“Taylor, you have to stop because I can't.”
“You do it,” Taylor answered quickly, then continued sucking his lower lip.
Fuck. How could he stop? “Baby?”
Taylor moaned her reply.
Ah, fuck it. There was nothing wrong with a morning make-out. He left her mouth to nibble at her earlobe. God, her skin was so smooth and smelled of a woman—sweet. “Leaving the ball in my court is never a good idea, love.” His lips brushed her ear lobe as he spoke before sucking it gently.
Tucking her curves against his contours, he slid his hand up inside her shirt to fondle one perfect breast. Her nipple pushed against his palm. Bors squeezed gently, then moved his hand around her back to unclasp her bra. Just one lick. All he wanted right now was to feel her hard nipple inside his mouth. The moment the bra loosened, he eased it aside.
“Bors...”
“Hmm?” He traced her neck with his mouth, hoping she didn't change her mind. Before she could, he lifted her top and trapped her nipple between his lips. His cock throbbed at the sweet feeling of suckling her.
“Oh, my God.” Taylor arched her body, thrusting the hard nipple into his mouth.
Bors tongued the swollen flesh before he began torturing the other. Taylor whimpered and gripped his hair hard. Yes, better than eggs and toast. But he was still hungry. With his mouth worshipping her breast, his hands busily lowered her thong and pants. Taylor's soft whimpers urged him on. He wondered if she realized she was already naked.
“Taylor, baby, you're beautiful.” With his lips, he traced the path between her breast and down her belly until his mouth was directly above her pubic bone. He looked up to meet Taylor's eyes.
She was breathing hard through her mouth. “Bors...”
“Yeah?”
“Y
ou shouldn't do this. It's just, oh God, this is—”
“What?” Without taking his gaze off her, he lifted her leg and anchored it on his shoulder. He rubbed the bare skin of her ass, then slowly moved to her front where his fingers traced her already wet slit.
“This is wicked, and wicked things only happens to—”
He spread her labia, then began licking her.
“Bors!”
Taylor gripped his hair as she screamed his name. He felt a tug and pull, but she didn't shy away, or stop him. Bors squeezed her warm and smooth ass as he concentrated on loving the very center of Taylor's untouched pussy. Her taste, her soft cry of ecstasy, and the grinding of her hips urged him on. With his flattened tongue, he licked her repeatedly until she was slick with her own juice. He dipped his thumb inside her tight passage, then pumped it slow.
“Bors, please. Oh, my God.”
“Come in my mouth, baby.”
“Bors...”
He sucked her engorged, slick clit and didn't stop until Taylor cried out her orgasm and her throbbing passage relaxed around his thumb. Bors was about to explode right there while on his knees. He nuzzled Taylor's sex and licked her clean. Once Taylor's foot touched the floor, he pressed his mouth to her mound before pulling her thong and pajama bottom up.
Kissing and nipping his way back up Taylor's body, Bors tried to control his heartbeat. Taylor's scent clung to his skin, her taste in his mouth driving him crazy.
Barely two days and he was already hot and panting for her. A feeling no other women had evoked from him before. He circled his arm around her and held her snugly against him. “Baby, what did you do to me?”
Taylor rubbed her face on his shirt. “I didn't do anything. You did.”
Bors grinned and kissed the top of her head. “Ah, Taylor. You don't have to do anything to make a man forget the world, except making love with you. You're a goddess that exudes sexiness, eroticism, and naiveté, which by the way, makes you more appealing. You, my love, are one powerful woman.” You even made me forget that you're Jean's daughter.
“You're just saying that so I won't be embarrassed for what ... what we did.”
Irresistible Knight Page 13