She stares up at me, nothing but concern in her pretty eyes.
“I’m doing it, Kass. It’s the only way,” I snap. “Let’s talk about this more later. We have dinner reservations.” She gives a firm shove against my chest, her temper sparking, and I take her wrist and tighten my hold.
“To hell with your dinner reservations. Answer one question, Rhett.” Her plea blazes with distrust and disappointment, which is everything I do not want and plan to end sooner than later. “Are you still so deeply in love with Lindy that you plan on threatening your life … as well as my sanity and happiness? Because know this, damn it.” She shoves her dainty free arm at me, and I grab her second wrist. “Rest assured, Rhett, that if something happens to you, that it’s me that gets hurt. Me that suffers. And you know better than anyone just how awful that feels. You promised me,” she says with a tremble in her tone that tugs at my heart.
A full-on minute ticks by, heavy and loaded with thick tension. I lean in and kiss her. “Kass. Baby, this isn’t about Lindy. This is for me. And us. I need to be whole again. I need to know in here,” I point to my chest, “that I’ve done everything in my power to find the men who killed an innocent woman. I need to forgive myself.”
“Then see the damn therapist again, Rhett! Give her a chance to do her freaking job. At least consider what would happen to me if you got hurt … or worse.” She chokes on her words, and I drop my grip on her wrists, forcing her against me, her little body shaking like a leaf.
“Kass, don’t you understand? This therapist is one of Reese’s fuck toys. She wasn’t able to help me. I need to put an end to this shit show so I can move on. I don’t want to look over my fucking shoulder every time we step out of the house together. A therapist can’t help me.”
“That’s where we disagree, Rhett.” Her eyes watering, she brushes her hands down my back, stopping at my ass. “I don’t care if she’s a fuck toy, or a marathon runner. Your brother loves you, and this therapist is good or Reese wouldn’t recommend her. Besides, what makes you think you would recognize these guys even if you saw them?”
“It’s a gamble,” I answer. “I know this, but it’s what I need to do, Kass.”
She steps on the tips of her toes, dragging her lips over mine. “It’s everything you don’t need to do, Rhett. Please … see the therapist again, baby. Try one more time—for me. I love you. And I love us. Don’t rip us apart.”
Her eyes flood with tears, and I bend over and kiss her slowly. Our bodies mold together, the air between us suddenly electric as the thick hardening of my erection surpasses me without warning.
“Love me, Rhett. Show me you care enough about me, and us, to reconsider. Otherwise, I don’t think I can keep doing this. Please.” She stares up at me with her beautiful blue gaze swimming in tears that pulls something behind my chest. That’s all it takes. I’m right back to where I want and need to be. Touching her face. Breathing her air. Needing her in a way so profoundly deep that I know I’ll do anything it takes to keep her. She reaches for the snap to my jeans and slides them, along with my boxers, down my legs, backing me into the sofa and quickly undressing before crawling onto my lap and sliding every hard inch of me inside her. In less than sixty seconds, we’re losing ourselves, proclaiming our love, kissing and feeling every touchable place on each other’s body. All too soon, we’re on the edge, plummeting into the sweet ecstasy of climax.
After our breathing slows, I lift her, carrying her to bed, where once she sees I haven’t forgotten what she said about the mattress and bedding, we do everything we just did one more time, never making it to dinner.
“After we sleep,” I kiss the tip of her nose, “I’ll call Dr. McKnight.”
Her head nestles against my shoulder, and I feel her body soften at my words as she closes her eyes. For long minutes, I watch her sleep while I lie awake. Later, I hear the ding of my cell phone and wonder who would call me this late at night. Kass is tangled between my body so soft and sweet, and I decide to ignore the call until morning.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rhett
The past … is so close.
Dr. McKnight is silent as she scans over her notes from what I assume is our last, and only session. She looks up and gives me a small smile. “Anything new since your last visit, Rhett?”
“No. Just more of the same,” I grumble.
Thoughts of the call from Detective McKee that came in late last night cross my mind. Since he’s probably just checking in or having new photos to look at, I didn’t call him back.
“Reese tells me he really likes Kass. He thinks the two of you are good together.”
Bingo! They’re definitely fucking again.
“We’re very good together. Things are well.” I sigh. “Other than the fact she still thinks I’m in love with Lindy. I can’t make her understand that I’m seeking closure. So I can move on. It’s not that I’m still in love with her.” I tug at my hair, my head beginning to pound.
“Rhett, let me ask you something.”
I nod.
“Are you still blaming yourself for Lindy’s death? Because, you need to realize this is not your fault. It never was. There was absolutely nothing you could have done. No way to know these guys were lurking somewhere around that building. It’s vital that you try and come to terms.”
Her comments make sense but don’t lessen the guilt. “I guess. It’s just… Jesus, I just need to remember, Doc. That night plays over and over in my head. Some days, it’s almost too much. Makes me borderline crazy.”
“You need closure, Rhett. To move on with Kass.”
Finally, she says something that makes motherfucking sense.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m back.”
“I’m glad you came back, Rhett. Something came to mind this morning about all these gold and black flashes. Are you absolutely sure one of the perpetrators wasn’t wearing a shirt with these colors? Or maybe a hair color? Highlights perhaps? Maybe even a tattoo?”
My jaw clenches tight and I grip the arms of the chair, seconds from walking out of here a second time. I’ve thought of all those things a hundred fucking times over. “I’m not sure of a damn thing,” I respond, biting my tongue to keep from saying fuck it all and get the hell out of here.
Dr. McKnight gets up and goes to her small refrigerator, reaching for two bottles of water. My phone dings with a text from Detective McKee. I switch the phone to silent and take a long deep breath like Doc tells me to before she sends me into another state of hypnosis.
“Dig deep, Rhett. Look around you. Look at both of the men. Are there any birthmarks? Scars? Tattoos? Dig deeper. Look hard for the gold.”
Only two, maybe three minutes pass before they’re getting in my car and speeding off. I don’t give a goddamn about the car. I only care about keeping pressure on Lindy’s wound. Making sure she’s breathing. Praying like fuck she stays alive.
“Where are they now, Rhett? What do you see?”
“They’re already gone,” I mumble. “Nothing left to see.”
“Go back, Rhett. They’re still in the parking lot. Digging through Lindy’s purse. Search for the gold. Lindy’s been telling you. She wants you to look harder. She wants an end to this. She needs you to be free so she can do the same. Let her be free, Rhett. Let her rest in peace. It’s there somewhere. Dig for it.”
They’re both so thin, almost skin and bone. Emaciated. Malnourished. I look up again, just for a split second. The taller one, maybe the elder, makes eye contact with me almost like he’s remorseful. He lifts his hand, pulls that toboggan down low over his ears. There’s something there, right between his elbow and wrist. An injury? A bruise? A scar? There’s black … gold.
There’s a tattoo.
I sit straight up.
“The skinnier one has ink on him, Doc.”
Today, I’ve made a substantial breakthrough.
****
With no practice or game, I dial Detective McKee and get his voicemail, so
I leave a message. Afterwards, I call Patrik Dybnyk’s wife, Holly, and give her the go-ahead to list my house.
A cold sweat still covering my forehead, after a quick stop at home to shower, change, and feed the damn cat, I head over to Kass’s place for another home-cooked meal. After I stop and pick up a bottle of Chardonnay only because she likes it, I dial Tack and shoot the shit with him until I get to Kass’s apartment.
An hour after I’ve arrived, we’re sitting on her couch with her legs in my lap, talking about the day, sipping on crisp Chardonnay that if I had my way would be replaced with a nice cold beer. My stomach is pleasantly full from a roasted chicken and rice casserole, and she blinks up at me.
“Have you ever had a hat trick? Wayne Gretzky made fifty in his career.” She’s chewing on her bottom lip, her pretty eyes glowing. Just the fact that she’s interested in what I do gives me a massive boner and brings a mile-wide smile over my lips.
“I’ve had a few triples, but I’m nowhere close to Gretzky.”
Her head drops against my chest, her fingers teasing my nipple. “Better get busy then, big guy. I think I need to see my man make a hat trick.” Now she’s licking my neck. Teasing my ear. Her hand drops down my chest and stops right above my belt.
“You keep that up, doll, and I’ll be busy giving you your own version of a hat trick. Leaving you to contend with a little limp in the morning when you’re trying to make people beautiful.”
“What do you think about me getting a tattoo?”
Grimacing at the odd question, I pull her onto my lap and rub a hand over her neck. “A tattoo? On this pretty soft skin?” I kiss her delicate neck and move toward her ear. “I think no,” I whisper, sliding my tongue inside.
“Rhett.” She pulls away from my probing tongue and looks in my eyes before dropping them, an act so beautifully compliant that I wonder for a quick second if she could actually be a true submissive.
“I was thinking something small. Nothing severe like you have. On my ankle or shoulder. Maybe something like a sunflower. Something bright and cheerful.” She reaches for her phone and brings up a series of yellow tattoos she’s obviously spent some time researching. As much as I want to demand she leave her flawless skin the way it is, I look through the various tats, all girly and feminine, but still everything I don’t want her doing.
“Keep going. There’s a cool one of a cat. It reminds me of Polar, even though he’s not white.” She blinks up at me, and I lean over, kissing her lips before doing as she asked, my mind still made up. I don’t want ink on her porcelain skin, and I’ll put my foot down. I scan through the photos and reach the picture of a cat that doesn’t resemble the damn stray in the least bit. Black and white, his eyes are bright … and golden.
Something sets off behind my chest at the photo. My skin tightens, and I blink and blow out a breath as something hits me hard, even though I don’t know what it is.
“Rhett? Are you okay, baby?” Kass takes my hand and I set the phone down, pulling her against me.
My heart is racing. Christ, am I having a damn heart attack? It sure the hell feels like it. I hold her tighter, brushing my lips against her forehead and willing this shit to go away, whatever it is. Motherfucking hell! What’s wrong with me?
“I’m better than okay,” I explain, my eyes suddenly stinging with bittersweet memories that I will out of my head. “I just want to hold you, baby.” Streaks of emotion shoot through my chest, this desperation one that only Kass can satisfy. I need this woman like I need the air around me. I need to touch her. Feel her. Kiss her. Love her.
I reach for her mouth, my hand moving around to cup her neck while the other slides down the curve of her back. I moan into her soft lips, letting her taste the fierceness of my greed, which is so deep that I don’t quite identify with it.
We’re kissing. Walking toward her bedroom. Once inside, I’m reaching for her clothes as she moves against my lips, thickening my cock to the point of desperate agony. With her top off, her bra on the ground, I reach for her thin leggings, sliding them down her legs, along with the purple thong that’s damp to my touch.
Then, we’re kissing again, hard and far from gentle. Both of us are frantic for each other’s touch. I ease her on the bed, spreading her legs as she whimpers my name. I raise her pelvis, gliding my lips through her folds with long licks and sucking with a persistent wildness, her eyes like the softest blue daytime sky.
“You taste so damn sweet.”
She reaches for my shoulders, urging her hips against me, and I push her legs apart further, spearing into her with pleasured groans to match every one of her sweet sighs while I reach for her clit and rub with the ball of my finger. She’s wrenching underneath me, exploding into climax.
I move up her body while she’s still quivering and press my cock insider her, my weight falling against her panting breasts. I thrust hard. Fast. Desperate. We’re both clenching and grinding. It’s so damn good. I love her so fucking much. In seconds that come way too fast, she’s shuddering again and my body tenses one last time before I release inside her until I’m dry.
Less than a year ago, I was ready to live the life of a celibate man. Ready to consider myself asexual. I didn’t care. Didn’t want to feel again. Misery was my name. Pain pills and alcohol my salvation. But today, right now, I’m close to being whole again. I’m beginning to think that saying about light being found at the end of a tunnel has some real truth to it.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rhett
At some point in a man’s life, he has to come to terms that a person can live forever in his heart, just not in his life.
I wake the next morning to the sound of my ringing cell phone. Untangling my legs from a protesting Kass, I ease out of bed.
“Rhett!” The detective sounds like he’s out of breath. “Got a few minutes? I’ve got something I want you to take a look at.”
Hazarding a guess, I assume he has new mugshot photos. “New photos come in?”
“Not only that, but I think we may actually have something here. I need you to come down to the station and see if my hunch is correct.”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
I dress and tell Kass I love her because I think she needs to hear the words. And because none truer have ever been spoken.
****
“Colors can be absolutely instrumental when one has experienced a traumatic experience.”
My mind is flip-flopping back and forth between Dr. McKnight’s words, tension literally launching through my body. Red toboggan, young, skinny, that damn gold and black that I’ve seen a million times. The ink on the skinny kid that I can’t quite yet comprehend but know it’s there. My jaw hangs open at what I’m seeing. What I might be remembering after close to a motherfucking year of pure hell.
Just like that, I’m seeing that night in February again. Looking at wavy dark hair and never-ending smiles as Lindy grabs the keys from my hand and sprints across the empty street. Not a worry in the world. Smiling, she’s happy. Full of life. Beautiful.
There’s two people behind her. Where the fuck did they come from? They’re armed, reaching for the purse on her shoulder. She turns and tries fighting them off her.
I’m screaming at her to give them the damn purse and then there’s a fucking fire in my shoulder, knocking me to the hard ground as I hear Lindy’s scream.
And a second gunshot.
This can’t be happening.
They’re behind her. The younger kid looks terrified. Kids! They’re motherfucking kids! Wearing matching red toboggans. I hear the older kid reach out to the other, speaking in a slight English accent. His forearm is covered in black and gold. A lion tattoo. Gold. Black. The eyes are bright. So damn bright.
Detective McKee takes a drink of the horrific coffee I’m unable to swallow. “These boys are only kids, Rhett. One’s seventeen now and his brother fifteen.” I’m staring down at the blurred photos, my head in a fog. “They’re living in a rundown apart
ment complex two blocks over. Their mother is a drughead, and no father seems to be in the picture. They’ve shoplifted from two convenience stores in the area. Generally food items. Surveillance caught these images.” He hands me the rest of the photos. “Look at these closely.” He slides the five additional photos in front of me. “These were taken three days ago in a Save-A-Lot a block over.”
My breathing turns heavy with emotion, my blood to ice water. Two Caucasian males. Skinny. Young. Wearing red toboggans.
“Motherfucking hell!” The kid’s damn forearm is covered with a lion tattoo. Predominantly black, there’s big bright gold eyes and streaks of the same blinding gold color highlighting the entire sketch. Oddly, a composed calm fills my chest, and there’s that feeling against my shoulder again. The one that feels like a hand brushing me. I shake off the peculiar sensation. A goddamn lion tattoo! All this time! All the dreams! Visions! Hours of wondering … trying to remember.
“They’re just fucking kids.” My voice hoarse and raspy, I reach for the lukewarm coffee to soothe my throat, studying the picture of these kids, their future nothing but a shithole.
“How long will they be locked up?”
McKee’s stocky fingers tap his desk. “Hard to say, Rhett. After lengthy psychological evaluations, the seventeen-year-old will be tried as an adult, unfortunately. Sentence will be mandatory ten years and up to twenty-five. As for the younger kid, the maximum detention for youths twelve to fifteen is a year. Sometimes two. The judge will make that call since there won’t be any kind of a trial.”
“A fucking year?”
Detective McKee nods. “The juvenile correctional system in Texas emphasizes rehabilitation, guiding these kids toward becoming productive citizens once they’re let out.”
“Jesus,” I mumble. “Drughead for a mother and no father-figure, these kids never had a fighting chance. They were probably fucking hungry.”
Waking the Lion Page 18