by SM West
Before I can object, I’m alone with him. The soft whir and subtle beep of the machines are the only sounds in the sterile room. Looking at my father, I barely recognize him. Death’s knocking on his door. He’s frail and small. It’s hard to believe he’s the same man I feared and despised.
Moving closer to the bed, I note his shallow, labored breathing despite the oxygen mask. It would be so easy to remove the mask and place the pillow over his face. It likely wouldn’t take long. He’s too weak to fight. The uncertainty and fear that he could get away with his crimes would no longer exist.
His freedom is a real possibility. He’s already out on bail. He’s well connected and has many powerful people in his pockets. He may well walk. That can’t happen. I’ll never be his prisoner again. His puppet. Death would be mercy, for both of us.
There is always the chance that Bobby and my father could kill each other. If only. But that’s unlikely. If they’ve turned on each other, there will be a victor. In my father’s current state, Bobby’s looking like the front runner. I don’t have it in me to go another round or two with either of them.
“For as much as I despise you, the sickening thing is, the little girl in me still loves her daddy,” my words are strangled, thick and heavy on my tongue.
I’m loathe to admit it. Despite everything, a small, innocent, stupid part of me can’t erase the tender moments of my childhood. Times when he adored, cherished and protected me. I can’t seem to kill those memories, those feelings and I’ve ruthlessly tried.
Staring at my nemesis, I wonder if I could have prevented all of this by choosing another path? Was there some decision I could have made differently? My thoughts are futile. What’s done, is done. We are here. And now is my time.
“You’re a worthless father. See you in hell,” I whisper vehemently into his ear.
If there is a heaven and hell, I’ve no illusions as to where I’ll end up. I’m not innocent. I played judge, jury and executioner. Blood covers my hands, yet I’ve no regrets. I’d do it all again.
Closing the door behind me, I spy my mother at the end of the hall. She’s talking to Ralph and Tiny, my father’s two top men. Something about what I’m witnessing doesn’t sit well. Like hair raising on the back of your neck, something prickles me. Instinctually, I rub my hands up and down my arms to chase away the unease.
Not wanting her to see me, I head in the opposite direction. As I wait for the elevator, I scan for Bobby’s men. So far, all clear.
The elevator is quick and while packed, I don’t recognize anyone. On the ground floor, a hand grabs my wrist as I exit the elevator.
“What are you doing here?” I ask startled.
With no response, Ry drags me away from the main entrance. I’m almost jogging to keep up with his long, brisk strides.
“Ry, tell me what’s going on?” He looks once more behind us before charging further ahead.
“Bobby’s men are everywhere. We got confirmation the accident was, in fact, Bobby. He wants your parents’ dead.”
“Ry, tell me where you’re taking me?” I demand, still trying to keep pace.
He’s most probably getting us out of here. I trust him, but I want to know where we’re going. Maybe I can help? I’ve had enough of men ordering me around and making decisions for me.
“Tate, we don’t have time for this,” he hisses.
“Tell me what you’re doing?” I ask, frustrated.
He glances back, his face tight, irritated. My gaze pleas with him, conveying my need.
My need to be part of this, not dragged along.
My need to have some sort of control.
My need to help.
My need to be an equal.
Even as part of the FBI operation, I’ve never had any control. Sure, I thought I did. The joke was on me. They were always one step ahead of me on most things. And yes, it all worked out, yet I’m also disappointed. This is my life. I want to have a say.
Not now, but later, I realize my thoughts are unfair or unfounded. Ry isn’t the FBI. Well, he is. But Rylan Wolfe, the man, with him, he’s only ever given me choice and control.
“I’m trying to get you out of here undetected. We’ve a decoy. A female agent is going to drive your car and hopefully, we’ll lose some of them, if not all, with their attention on your car out front, while we slip out the back. Come on, let’s go.”
“Lead the way,” I comply with a hand squeeze, expressing my gratitude.
Retaking the charge, he veers towards an upcoming corner. A man steps out in front of us. Anthony. Ry pauses, placing a hand behind him on my stomach. His touch stops and steadies me.
“Fuck,” he snarls. “Get out of my fucking way.”
Ry goes for his gun as Anthony locks eyes with me. Having known the man for years, I recognize his question and readily nod in agreement. This could escalate real fast and get real messy.
“Easy Wolfe,” he calmly says with his hands up. “Four of Thornton’s guys are back there.” He points in the direction we were headed. “And you can’t go back from where you came from. Conrad’s got men down the hall. You need to go through that operating room.” He motions to double doors down the hall. “Take the door on the other side of the room. Turn right and there will be an exit.”
“Like I’m going to believe you,” Ry retorts. “Move.”
“Ry,” I say, relaxed. Softly placing my hand on his bicep, he turns, confusion evident in his eyes. “Trust him. Anthony’s with me.”
His eyes widen, mouth gaping in shock. His reaction’s brief, quickly catching himself. His lips purse, brows pinch as he intently stares, briefly glancing to Anthony and then back again.
“What did you just say?” His tone choleric.
“Anthony’s my guy, not Bobby’s,” I state matter-of-factly.
Right then and there, all my missteps with Ry come crashing down. Like red bricks from a demolished building, with such velocity and devastation, I can’t catch my breath. His mournful and sober eyes chill me.
For all the planning and what ifs, I never dared to imagine Ry discovering all my betrayals. My numbness is again shattered by this man. Rylan Wolfe evokes extreme emotion in me: passion and fury; caring and tenderness; and sadness and shame.
“I didn’t know when to tell you,” I pitifully say, preparing to launch my defense, a lame explanation.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, when will I learn?” his acidic growl singes, deep, but well deserved. “We don’t have time for this shit.”
“Back down, Wolfe,” Anthony warns, stepping in between us.
Ry stands practically chest to chest with him. Each exuding pure dominance and control. Lightly touching Anthony’s arm, he looks at me with the soft brown eyes I’ve come to depend on.
“Thanks, Anthony. We’re going.”
He nods, stepping back. His eyes are still trained on Ry as he says, “Go. I’ll look out and redirect anyone that comes this way.”
Tugging on Ry’s hand, he finally backs down. With an acerbic glare at Anthony, he turns his back on both of us and marches through the double doors. I quickly follow.
Speaking into his lapel, he barks out our location. Like Anthony said, we end up by an exit with big, red letters warning if opened, alarms will sound. Without hesitation, he pushes the door. I tense, covering one ear in anticipation of a blaring bell. Nothing happens. I exhale in relief.
Telling me to stay, he scans outside as a black limo with tinted windows pulls up to the curb. A tall, lean man, with an earpiece, gets out. The two men have a silent conversation with head nods and intense stares. We get in the car and he gets in the driver’s seat.
“Dodd, drive toward the hotel. If we’re being tailed, let me know. And lose ‘em,” Ry orders, raising the partition, and then he pushes a button, “And Dodd, don’t interrupt. If you must, use the intercom.”
Turning brusquely to me, he squeezes his eyes shut, running his hand through his hair before speaking.
“We need to t
alk about Anthony. Give me a minute,” he states with clenched fists, turning to look out the window.
I silently respect his wishes. I dread what’s to come. Nevertheless, I will take it. I deserve his wrath. In minutes, he turns back to me.
“How’ve you been?” he asks with a sardonic grin, completely surprising me. His tense body belies his light words and smile.
“Just peachy,” I quip, deciding to follow his lead. “You talk about Coop and his spy shit, yet I felt like we were just in a Bond movie. Isn’t a limo a little too upscale for the FBI?”
Ry chuckles, “True. We wanted to be noticed and quickly discounted by Bobby’s guys. We figured this would do it.”
“It sure will. Are you okay?” I ask, unable to continue this charade. I’m guessing he’s trying to calm down before we talk.
His eyes carefully study me, like he’s seeing me for the first time, yet committing me to memory. My stomach clenches at his attention.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Anthony?” he coolly asks.
“I...” I flounder for a reasonable answer. The truth of the matter is there isn’t one. “I don’t know. I guess I saw him as mine. My ace in the hole. And I didn’t want to put him in more danger. Telling the FBI would have increased the chances of Bobby finding out.”
“We always come back to this, don’t we?”
“What?”
“Trust. Fuck, will you ever trust me? I know you’ve been on your own, living on the edge, for a long time but I’m here now. I won’t judge you. You can trust me to put you first. To keep you safe, and if need be, keep others safe like Anthony,” he earnestly says.
His words are beautiful. Exactly what I need to hear without even knowing I need them. A throng of butterflies somersaults in my belly at his unconditional trust and tenderness. If only it were enough.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you. I keep messing things up.”
“How long has Anthony been working with you?”
“Around the same time, Coop approached me. I was like a single lady suddenly finding herself a guy,” Ry’s puzzled look makes me smile. “Once you’re taken, other men start coming out of the woodwork. I agreed to work with Coop and the FBI, and almost a week later, Anthony came to me.
“He’d worked for my father, first. I recalled seeing him when I was younger. He then worked for Bobby around the same time we got married. He told me he requested to be my bodyguard and Bobby agreed.”
“Why did he want to help you?”
“He knew what Bobby was doing to me. He knew he couldn’t get me out. He also couldn’t take doing nothing. He wanted to help. Give me some breathing room and someone to watch my back. At first, I didn’t believe or trust him.” Ry scoffs, I ignore the well-aimed barb. “I thought it was a trap, but slowly over the years, he’s proved himself. He must play along with Bobby and the men, like restraining you in the office. When it’s just the two of us, he’s a completely different man.”
“You should’ve told us. We would have vetted him, helped you figure out if he could be trusted. We could have worked with him. It would’ve made things a lot easier,” he somberly says.
“I’m sorry. I was…” I hesitate in revealing the bare truth. “I was hedging my bets. I didn’t want to be played, so I withheld information. Trusting doesn’t come easily to me. I didn’t tell Anthony about the FBI until four months ago, around the same time you came on board.”
He nods, the hard lines and tightness in his body slowly diminishing. Moving closer, his hand caresses my knee. Wetness pools in my panties at his tender touch. None of this changes a thing. Our end is near. Being this close to him, I can’t deny myself one last moment with him.
“WHAT AM I GOING TO do with you, woman?” I jest.
“I can think of a few things,” she flirts.
“Bloody hell,” I chuckle, gently squeezing her bare thigh, and leaving my hand there. My thirst to touch her is unquenchable.
“You mentioned it was Bobby with the car. How?”
“It’s the same M.O. and signature as a couple of other jobs done for him over the last few years. This will mean war between Warren and Bobby.”
Tate remains quiet. I quickly check my phone. Noel’s behind us scoping out any potential tails and a team’s positioned at the hotel. So far it looks like we left the hospital undetected. Although It’s too soon to tell for sure. I instruct Dodd to keep driving.
“We’re going to the hotel?”
“Not right away. Once we know we’re not being followed, we’ll go to the hotel so you can grab your things. You’ll need to keep the room just in case Bobby’s checking hotels. I want him to find it.”
“I’m not staying at the hotel?”
“We’re going to a safe house. We’ll stay until we know more. I don’t want you getting caught in the middle of this war.”
“Do I get a say in this?”
“Sure, but it won’t change anything.”
She latches onto my forearm, using it to slide across the seat toward me. We’ve got walls and shit to work through, but the want in her eyes and her sweet smile makes all of that inconsequential at the moment. We fit even when we’re on opposite sides. She’s it for me. I’m it for her and there’s no denying it.
Leaning in, my lips capture hers. Tate’s hands press against my abdomen, her fingers tracing and trailing my abs through my shirt. Tangling my hand in her long hair, I cup the back of her neck, deepening our kiss. I could take her here and now.
Pulling away, my gaze shifts downward, mesmerized by her hands moving south, past my belt, teasingly over my hard crotch and onto my thighs. Hot like molten lava, her delicate hands leave a scorching trail in their wake.
Sliding onto her knees, her hands forcefully spread my legs. She shimmies between my thighs. Both hands flat on the tops of my legs. Her fingernails lightly dig into my flesh, scoring my thighs through my slacks as she rakes them down to my knees.
“What are you doing?” my voice is a low rumble rolling up the base of my spine.
My abs tighten as her nails dig a little deeper through the fabric, moving her hands closer to where I want them.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” her reply’s coy. Her tongue sweeping over her bottom lip.
“Tate…” Her name’s a prayer and a promise on my tongue.
Thoughts and words are incoherent, evaporating into thin air before I can process them.
My sole focus is on her touch, teasing my rock-hard erection through my pants. My zipper descends, her warm hand snakes into my boxer briefs, wrapping firmly around my cock. I emit an involuntary hiss, jerking my hips. My cock thrusts in her grip. She tightens, squeezing hard but not painful as my movements echo her strokes.
Clenching my fists, I jaggedly suck in air as her warm, wet tongue swirls and sucks my tip before the heat of her mouth seizes all of me. Jesus.
I’ve had countless fantasies of Tate kneeling before me, wrapping her small hands around my cock and taking all of me. Fuck nothing compares to the real thing. Those wide-eyed emeralds staring up at me, the heat of her mouth and her luscious lips wrapped around my cock. Nirvana.
Shifting my head back, I close my eyes, reveling in the magnificent sensations of her mouth and tongue. Just as quickly, I snap my eyes open again, on her. I don’t want to miss one second of seeing her before me. If I’m not mistaken, she’s almost having as much fun as I am with her little whimpers and sighs. Only for me.
One hand cups and squeezes my balls. I wrap my hand around her golden locks, slightly tugging, just hard enough to get her attention but not enough to cause pain. She moans in approval. My dick is hot, hard and heavy. Her tongue licks the underside of my shaft, her mouth sucking, taking me deep into her throat.
My balls tighten further with the tingling promise of an orgasm, intensely climbing up my spine. I’m real close. Hoping to prolong the bliss, slow this down, my mind grapples to think of something else. It’s then I notice the ringing of my phone.
I release my hold on her locks. Jesus Christ, what the fuck. “Tate.” The ringing now audible. “Tate, one sec. I gotta get this,” I say with a strangled growl.
Fuck, I’d give anything for her to keep going, but I can’t concentrate with her sweet mouth on me. A wet popping sound follows her release of my cock. Her cherry-red lips are wet and swollen.
Our eyes lock in silent understanding. We’re only pausing this. We’ll continue as soon as I take this call, mine convey. Then hurry up, her eyes demand. I pity the fucker on the line because they’ll pay for interrupting.
“Wolfe,” I bark.
She’s still firmly gripping me. Her hand moving painstakingly slow, up and down my shaft. The little tease. Her other hand disappears under her dress. Quickly and effortlessly, not missing one stroke of my cock, she removes her panties.
Dangling the bright pink scrap of lace in front of me, I foolishly release a growl, she giggles. She climbs onto my lap, straddling me, discarding her panties on the floor. All the while, she’s still pumping me with steady, hard strokes.
Shaking my head, I force myself to listen. At the same time, she lines up her wet, enticing entrance with the tip of my cock.
Suddenly, the droning male voice cuts through. All oxygen whooshes out of my lungs like a bat hitting me square in the chest. My chest painstakingly constricts. The ache spreads like wildfire through me, breathing becomes near impossible.
On instinct, my hand reaches for hers, which is still around my dick, wrenching it off. Her head snaps up, stunned, her eyes meet my severe glare.