He closed his eyes as his guilt and fear collided and threatened to knock him from his feet.
"Jayden,” he whispered as he moved behind her.
Her small frame instantly collapsed against him. The sob that tore from her body ripped through his heart with a jolt enough to topple a few buildings. He wrapped his arms around her waist, held her tight—he knew she'd fall to the ground if he didn't—and prayed she wouldn't lose it because of him.
His heart stopped for a beat when he glimpsed her hands, cut and bloody. He checked them over silently while she wept. He had no idea what had happened to her three years ago when she had the meltdown, but if he'd pushed her into another, he'd never be able to forgive himself.
She cried and cried as her body shook against his. At times Mica worried about her getting the air the sobs stole from her back into her lungs. He'd never seen a person so destroyed in all his life. Mica went to press a kiss to the curve of her neck when he saw the blood there and a cold chill swept him. He wasn't at all gentle when he jerked her body away from his, turning her.
"Jesus Christ, Jayden! What have you done?"
Of course, there was no answer, and he knew if he let her go to check her wounds, she'd fall to the floor. Urgency fueled him as he pulled her up into his arms. He held her body close to his and wondered if he should scream for James Bond to call 911.
"Oh, God, baby.” He ran his fingers over the delicate skin of her neck. “What have you done? What have you done?” Knowing it didn't help didn't stop him from repeating the question over and over like a mantra. He left her laying on his bed like a giant rag doll while he ran to the bathroom, wet a cloth, and returned to her.
Mica realized right away that most of the blood seemed to be transferred to her neck from the wounds on her hands, not additional ones inflicted to her neck. Though there were a few deep scratches, they didn't really amount to much, and there were no words to describe the depth of his relief.
After he cleaned and bandaged her, he climbed in the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. Pressing kisses into her head, he hoped the soothing words he muttered would go into her mind and bring her some kind of peace, even if it was only temporary.
As day turned to night and the room grew dark, she wriggled beside him and sat up, her blue eyes filled with fear like the night he found her. His stomach roiled at both her pain and his inadequacies that didn't allow him to ease that pain.
"Feeling better, love?"
She raised one shoulder and let it back down, pressed her hand against her neck, and closed her eyes. When they opened again, they were watery, filled with unshed tears. She patted her neck, making a motion with her hand that Mica realized was meant to indicate she'd spoken, but she didn't look happy about it.
"Yeah, honey. You spoke."
One tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped at it with restrained fury, but Mica still wondered if she'd hurt herself. Hopping off the bed, she began to pace back and forth in a small, debris free area, clearly agitated. Mica stopped her and gave her the handheld, but she shoved it away. He tried hard to stem his rising panic. Never in his life had anyone made him feel so inept, and never in his life had it seemed so important to do exactly the right thing. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.
"You spoke today, honey. One word. Maybe tomorrow there'll be two.” She growled at him, looking so much like the feisty little hellcat he'd come to know that he nearly laughed or wept with relief, but he did neither. “Or maybe there won't. Maybe tomorrow or six years from now you'll just wake up and speak, or maybe you'll never utter another word as long as you live.
"Jayden, I don't know what's wrong with you. You told me the doctors couldn't give you a reason, and that that bastard husband of yours thinks you're faking it. I can't imagine how frustrating it must be to have your thoughts locked down, not be able to share opinions, your fears, dreams, hopes. Christ, even just a stupid joke you heard."
He brushed short, dark red bangs from her brow, bent lower to meet her at eye level, and bared his soul.
"Jayden, the emotions I'm having for you are ... well, I've never felt them before. Never even close to this powerful. I'm awed by it, overwhelmed by it, in general knocked on my ass by it, but this is new territory for me, and I feel as if I'm fucking it all up.
"You are the only woman I have ever felt this way about. And, Jayden, I died inside today seeing you so hurt. So broken. I will move heaven and earth to help you speak again, but if it doesn't happen, then you and I will learn to speak to one another anyway. Somehow, someway, I'll hear you. Without having to write it down or punch in keys, just between us, I'll hear you.” He placed his mouth right above her ear and whispered, “Heart to heart, I'll hear you. Every word."
She leaned against him, pressed her cheek against his chest and hugged him so hard. It felt incredible, but he couldn't quite release his fears about what happened earlier. Was she stable? Or not? Would she lose it again? He wanted to help her, but knew if he even mentioned the word doctor, she'd bolt, and he'd probably never see her again. So for now, he'd just have to keep her close, and keep her safe, and there was only one place he knew of to accomplish both.
"Jayden, can James Bond down there really help with this mess?"
She pulled back and stared up into his eyes with a solemn nod.
"Then we'll let him. Meanwhile, I want to take you home.” She tensed and he immediately set out to reassure her. “Not your home. Never there, love. Never.” He hugged her again before continuing. “My home, be it ever so humble.” He exhaled loudly. “Harley's Bog."
She threw her arms around him and kissed him long and deep. He had his answer and despite the way his stomach churned, his misgivings, and an oath he'd taken never to return ... Sweet home Mississippi, here we come.
* * * *
"Okay, still not clear why Columbo's going with us.” Mica was very aware that this argument on the curb outside his apartment building was a bad idea, but the guy made his neck itch. “And buddy, if you think to blend in Harley's Bog dressed like that...” Mica pointed and wiggled his finger the length of Zane's leather clad body. “...with a car like that...” He then pointed to the tricked out silver Porsche 930 Slantnose Turbo parked behind his vintage Mustang. “.... you're fuckin’ nuts."
He dropped the rest of his and Jayden's bags in the back seat, then turned to find Jayden glowering at him, handheld out. He took the damn thing with a grunt.
We agreed Zane's the only one to help us. He has to depose me while plans get put in motion. Why can't he just ride with us?
Through gritted teeth he offered, “Ride with us?"
"No, mate. Speed. It's the dog's bollocks, you know.” He slid his mirrored glasses over his nose and snapped his bubble gum.
Mica narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I thought you said mate was Australian."
Zane shrugged. Mica silently counted to ten. He would not upset Jayden again. He led her carefully by the elbow to the passenger side and helped her slide in. With her new short cut and hair color, she wouldn't be easily recognizable, but with the added floppy hat and sun glasses, she looked like anyone else on the street. Except to Mica, who could smell her scent, feel her heat. He swallowed back the wave of lust, kissed the top of her head, and closed the door, then went back around to where Zane stood like an arrogant jackass.
"I reiterate. You cannot take that car or dress that way in my hometown. I thought you spy guys were up on going undercover."
"I took out most of my piercings."
Mica closed his hands into tight fists by his thighs and slowly drew the morning air deep into his lungs. “Suit yourself."
He started to get into his car when Zane commandeered him, pulling him to the side. All of a sudden, the man was all business.
"Look, Devane, my people checked you out. Though you may appear squeaky clean, I don't like you. I'm in this for Jayden, and only Jayden. I know my shit, so don't make any fucking attempts to corral me. By the time we a
rrive in Hicksville, I'll be blended. Meanwhile, try and get around all that American arrogance long enough to keep Jayden safe. You've got such a big fucking chip on your shoulder, I'm not sure how you expect to even see Lloyd coming."
Mica started to count to ten again, and was only at about six when the Porsche sped off, the purr of the expensive engine wrapping around him and calling to his baser instincts. Cars and women.
I don't care what kind of car the man drives, I don't like him.
He slipped into the seat beside Jayden and gave her a smile he was nowhere near feeling. “Great guy, that. I see why you trust him."
She smiled, seemed to relax, and sat back in her seat. Mica shoved in an Aerosmith CD, cranked it full blast, and put the ‘Stang in gear. Driving away from the metropolis he'd come to know as home the same way more than eight million others had, he headed back to Harley's Bog, population eight hundred and fifty. In tow, he had the woman he was falling in love with, and a big pain in the ass Brit.
Un-fucking believable.
* * * *
Jayden couldn't believe how good it felt to fly down the open highway, top down, sun on her face, wind in her hair, a Nickelback CD cranked so loud her ears almost hurt, and a gorgeous hunk of a man beside her. It was so normal she almost laughed as she rejoiced at feeling the darkness slip further and further away..
Still not entirely certain what had happened yesterday, she refused to grind herself into a worried stump over it. It had just been such a shock to have a word come out, to hear her own voice, after all this time. At first she'd been in shock, then thrilled. But when more words refused to follow, three years of frustration—doctors who gave up on her, Lorenzo torturing her to make her admit she had faked it all along, and his men taking advantage of her because they knew she couldn't rat them out—all came crashing down on her in a violent rage that had scared her. She'd been helpless to do anything other than surrender to it.
Inhaling deeply of jasmine and honeysuckle growing wild along the roadside, she had to admit that she felt stronger and more confident than she ever had. The fact that Mica had stood beside her last night, hadn't made judgments, hadn't hauled her off to the nearest funny farm or abandoned her to her fate, made her want to fight for him, for what they had now, and what they could have in the future if she made it. She needed to win this, for them.
No one had ever stood beside her like that before. Last night when he made love to her, she felt his trust, his protection, his love. It scared her, but she would not turn her back on what she'd wanted all her life and assumed she'd never have. She couldn't let fear make her abandon every dream she never knew could still come true. She was stronger than that. In many ways, she supposed she had Lorenzo to thank for her strength. He'd made her strong or, more to the point, his imprisonment of her made her strong.
The sunlight flickered as they went under and overpass. Jayden felt positively giddy. Zane had come through for her; they weren't alone in this. With him, he brought all the power and authority of two governments, and this time it had to work. This time she was free, she could give them anything they wanted. She held her breath for a long minute and imagined a future where she was free, then looked at Mica, eyes shaded behind dark glasses, wind blowing his thick hair all around his head.
A future with you.
She laid her hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. His head turned in her direction and, even through the darkened glasses, she could somehow see the passion that was always there between them, just under the surface, flare to life. “You got panties on under that skirt, baby?"
Jayden's breath stuttered then stalled.
"Take ‘em off."
She had them halfway down her legs before he finished growling the words. With his lips hitched up on one side, he grinned at her, pure wolf. “Spread your legs for me, Jayden."
She pulled one foot up onto the seat, pushed her heel into her butt, and maneuvered herself so she was angled toward him. Her scent heavy with anticipation rose up to her. She knew she hadn't been wet before the mention of her under garments, but she was soaked. He slid his fingers between the slick lips of her labia, wrenching a low moan from deep within.
"Feel good, baby?"
His words caressed her over the hard bite of a guitar solo. Her lower lip went between her teeth, and she reached across and tore off his glasses. His eyes were dark and intense and watched her when she knew they should be on the road. She arched up almost without realizing, and Mica slid two fingers inside her.
Good lord!
The wind whipped her hair as she shimmied to give him better access while they raced down the interstate. Mica built the tension with an expert touch. As cars passed them, she half-wondered if they could see her—and was shocked to find out the thought turned her on. She liked the idea of people watching Mica finger-fuck her. Half-crazed, she writhed in a rhythm to match those fingers. How he managed to find a consistent rhythm and drive at the same time, she'd never know. She couldn't even free up enough brain cells to worry about it.
More, Mica. More.
She moaned, whined, and met his eyes, and felt his gaze touch her soul.
"Show me your tits, honey."
Without a second thought, she pulled one side of the tank over her right breast and sprung it from the bra. The car veered then straightened again. A horn blasted and the next thing she knew, they were parked at the side of the rode and Mica was on top of her, her nipple in his mouth. He ripped open his own jeans and rubbed his hard cock against her clit, despite the awkward position and the fact that they were in full view of anyone who cared to look.
"Come for me, Jayden, I don't know how much longer I can hold back."
The words—half whisper, half growl—slithered into her ear, through her brain, and then seemed to resonate in her pussy. Her inner muscles clenched. She reached between them, grabbed him, squeezed tight, loving it when he growled and she felt the pre-cum slide over her fingers. She led him right to where she wanted him, and he plunged deep.
The feel of that hard invasion sent her over the edge. Her pussy clamped down on him, milked him, took all that she wanted from him. He sucked her nipple back into his mouth while he pumped hard, flesh against flesh. But the sounds of sex were almost unnoticeable over all the other sounds all around them. Her head banged against the car door, her neck was definitely tweaked, but as her orgasm continued, she couldn't find any reason to complain.
Another couple of brutal pumps later and Mica came hard. Just as her orgasm was waning, he reached between their bodies, ran his fingers over her sensitive clit, and sucked hard on her nipple and...
Oh fuck!
Jayden came again, harder than she ever had. She bucked and screamed out into the warm afternoon air, but thankfully most of it was drowned out by the heavy guitars of post-grunge music and traffic sounds. Mica captured her mouth and slid his tongue into her until her mouth was as full with it as her pussy was with his cock. She sucked it in desperation as spasms and shockwaves still rolled over her until her vision blurred and she swore she was just this side of conscious.
"Good God, Jayden."
Mica covered her body with his; he was heavy, the position uncomfortable, but she drifted in a place so very, very near heaven she didn't care. He reached into the glove box and pulled out some napkins. After he wiped himself off, he carefully caressed her with the material, and Jayden was much too tired to protest.
She figured he must have refastened his jeans and put her back in her bra and top before he kissed her one more time, because she sure as hell hadn't done it. He used his strength to straighten her in the seat and re-buckle her seat belt.
When had that come off?
"We've still got seven hours ‘til we stop for the night, and baby ... don't even think of putting those panties back on."
As he put the car in gear and shifted back into traffic, Jayden didn't even have the strength to look for them.
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sp; Chapter Ten
Their journey from New York to Mississippi turned into the adventure of a lifetime. Much to Zane's disapproval and Jayden's childlike enthusiasm, Mica made stops, took side roads, and in general went wherever the wind blew them and then stayed for as long as they wished. For what felt like the first time in her life, Jayden was living. She saw and experienced things she'd never even dared dream. For the first fifteen years of her life, all she ever saw was her own city and the little retirement community Gramma Rose lived in. For the past seven years all she'd seen was Lorenzo's prison.
Now she saw people, activities, geese! They sat in cafés and simply watched people go about their business, stopped at parks and fed the ducks. She shopped in a Piggly Wiggly, and saw the largest ball of twine in America. Things that people took for granted every day, Jayden had never done, and Mica wanted to give her the opportunity. Jayden knew she'd remember this trip the rest of her life and would never be able to give Mica in return half of what he gave her.
Jayden drank in the sights: the countryside, rolling hills, valleys, rivers, mountains, trees in varying form from bare to leafed out. In addition to the feast for their eyes, they were greeted by scents from wondrous to ... well, whatever you'd call the stench of a polecat or two. Wind rushing through her hair, sunlight on her face, and Mica beside her, Jayden doubted even heaven was better.
They stayed on the road the better part of a month, the days spent in activities. The nights were spent working with Zane, firming a plan and making a written record of her testimony in case—as they both knew was a distinct possibility—she didn't make it to a courtroom alive. After hours spent reliving the nightmare that had become her life, she returned to the room she shared with Mica sullen and emotionally worn out. He seemed to understand; he always welcomed her into his arms and loved her without words, then held her close while she slept.
In the Still of the Night Page 9