by R. J. Lewis
“I can’t believe it was you all this time,” I muttered with a shake of my head. “You always hate on the Scorpions.”
He shrugged, focusing on the road with a lot more sobriety than I’d taken him for. “Gotta find a way to remove all suspicions, right?”
“Why are you helping him?”
He hesitated. “I got my reasons. I’m not impulsive like you, dumb one.”
“Dumb one? Look at what I just did!”
“What you did was dumb.”
“What about you? You drugged Barge, planted the gun in front of everyone, pretended to be drunk and asleep–”
“And no one’s going to know a thing because I’m awesome like that. Now what you did on the other hand took massive balls. I’m talking meteorite balls. People are going to get paid trying to kill you for this kind of stunt. You showed your face, showed your cards, showed the world of the Jackals that you’re a snake and a liar. There isn’t anything worse than that. You did it all for the price of a man.”
Well, shit, when he put it that way… I went quiet. Wow. Did I really just do that? Me, Sara Nolan?
What.
The.
Fuck.
Talk about risking it all.
“So where are you taking me?” I asked, determinedly steering the conversation away from my apparent stupidity.
“Jaxon didn’t tell me. Didn’t want the information in the wrong hands. He said to meet him ‘in the grass.’ Whatever the fuck that means. Said you’d know.”
I looked perplexedly out of the window. In the grass. Well, might as well turn this car back around because I had absolutely no clue. Biting my nail, I searched through the recesses of my mind, digging up any grass references.
“You have no fucking clue, huh?”
I didn’t answer him. I concentrated on our every encounter. Why would Jaxon give me such a vague clue? He couldn’t be referencing a vague memory. This had to be central to a time–
My eyes widened and my cheeks went crimson in realization. I knew exactly where to go.
*****
The car stopped in the emergency lane, head lights still on. I stepped out and looked around the deserted road. The cool wind swept my hair back and a chill ran down my spine. Clearly unprepared but in too much haste to care, I’d left in only a plain white shirt and jeans.
I waded into the knee length grass, staring fondly at the vineyard beyond. Interesting choice of destination for Jaxon, bringing me back to our horny days. I stopped in the spot we made love and looked back at the nearby road. I cringed remembering the honks and the men that bellowed their appreciation for what they’d obviously witnessed in vivid detail.
Fritz stepped out of the car and rested against the door, crossing his arms. I continued looking around, waiting expectantly for the face I’d been longing for. I mean, this was the place he meant, right? In the grass. Had to be. Yet everywhere I turned, I couldn’t see him. Shouldn’t he have been here waiting?
Panic swarmed my chest. What if something went wrong on his end? What if he was unable to make it? What then? I knew I shouldn’t jump to the worst conclusions just yet. Besides, Fritz looked calm. Surely he’d be pacing restlessly like I was doing right now if there was something to worry about.
The sound of an engine in the air drawing nearer pulled me away from my thoughts. It was a motorcycle. Now I was really panicking. What if it was Remy catching me in the act? Fuck. Fuck. I stood my ground and waited until I made out the headlight of the black bike coming at us. It slowed down just beside the truck. To my relief, it was not Remy’s bike.
When the bike went off, so did the helmet. My heart leaped at the sight of Jaxon jumping off of his bike, donning a black leather jacket and jeans. Always the same apparel from this one.
I watched him approach Fritz.
“Where is she?” he asked cautiously.
Fritz cocked his head in my direction and Jaxon followed. When his eyes landed on me, he gave Fritz a stern nod. I’d expected him to be happy seeing me, but he looked… blank.
“So there were no problems?”
Fritz shook his head. “No. She did a damn good job. If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here ten minutes ago. Place will be crawling come morning. Every inch of Gosnells will be in the hands of the Jackals.”
“Yeah.” Jaxon stood still for a moment, thoughts passing through him at lightning speed. “Anyway, thanks, man. I’ll keep in touch with you, Dean.” Dean?
“Send me some alcohol as thanks,” Fritz mumbled. He walked through the grass and stopped right in front of me. He regarded me sweetly. “What I said in the car–”
“About me being dumb?”
“Yeah, I still think you’re dumb.” He smirked at my frown and added, “But… I admire what you did. If I had a heart, I’d cry. Maybe even write you a fuckin’ sonnet. Keep yourself hidden. I’d hate for you to be in the hands of Remy after this.” His demeanour switched to discomfort. “He’s a ruthless fucker when it comes to enemies. You’ve just made yourself one.”
I gulped hard. “Yeah.”
“Take care, Sara.”
“You too.”
He walked back to the car and, while climbing in, nodded one last time at Jaxon. Seconds later he was gone, driving back in the direction we’d come from, his engine fading in the distance.
Shrouded in the darkness of night, I waited for Jaxon to signal me over. He stood still, his face turned away from me with his hands in his pockets. The air was thick with tension, the kind that stiffened me with anxiety. I slowly made my way over to him and stopped when I was four feet away. Maybe he needed some distance.
Did he hate me? Did he regret doing this? Why was he so damn hard to read?
“Come on,” he finally said.
I followed him to his bike and watched him open the top box. He withdrew a helmet and turned to me.
“Come here.” When I did, he placed the helmet over my head and buckled it. Then he took his jacket off. “Put this on. It’s going to be cold.”
I put it on and zipped it up and looked back at him for more directions. He eyed the jacket, then my helmet and then turned to the bike, securing his own helmet back over his head.
“Where are we going?” I asked him as he climbed over his bike.
“Far, far away,” he answered. “Climb on.”
I was a pro when it came to bikes now. Having ridden behind Remy the last – Fuck, stop thinking about him!
I took my seat behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I felt his muscles tense at my contact. I didn’t like his uncertainty. I may as well have been hugging a log.
“Hold on tight,” he said. “As I ride, move along with my body. With every turn, lean with me.”
He didn’t have to tell me all this. I already knew. “Okay,” I said anyway.
He started the bike and off we went, to the unknown place he called far, far away.
Nineteen
We’d been on the road for hours. He stopped at one point at a gas station to fill up. That was the one and only pit stop.
At first I thought he was just riding for the sake of getting as far away from Gosnells as possible. But I thought this was very unlike Jaxon. Just as he masterfully put together the plan for my escape, I’m sure he had an escape destination in mind.
I was right.
About ten minutes outside of Maddington, a popular tourist town three and half hours from Gosnells, he turned off the road and onto a dirt path into the bush. At this point I was exhausted, my ass was numb, and my legs felt like deadweight. I just wanted off the damn bike, even if it meant sleeping on the ground for the rest of the night.
When he finally stopped the bike, I hurriedly threw my helmet off and took in the log cabin he parked us in front of. In the darkness I couldn’t make out much except that it looked to be a decent size with a wraparound wooden porch.
He climbed up a set of steps and withdrew a key from his pocket. I followed him up and by then the door was opened.
Two steps in and the lights went on. He was standing beside the light switch, glancing back at me for half a second before disappearing down the hallway and into another room, leaving me standing in the middle of a decent sized living room.
I shut the door behind me and observed my surroundings. It was very well set up: white couches, pine wood coffee table with a mountain of magazines on top, a shaggy cream coloured rug, log walls, rustic fireplace and decorative nature pictures hung from every wall… It seemed like a neutral, impersonal space that didn’t belong to an owner, but a place reserved for guests.
I walked down the hallway and turned to the room Jaxon had gone in. It was a small kitchen and, judging by the stainless steel appliances and marble countertops, was surprisingly modern. I hated that my previous perception of cabins were of insipid, old school, run down looking shanties. This certainly was not the case at all.
He was at the fridge unloading a carton of orange juice and cold meats on a plate. He set them on the counter before turning to me.
“Thought I’d have some food for us. You must be hungry.” The flat, disinterested line rubbed me the wrong way. Why couldn’t he be a little happier? Look at what we just did, for crying out loud!
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry. Just want to sleep.”
I followed his eyes at a round clock on the wall. It was one in the morning, holy hell.
“I’ll show you to your room then,” he said, walking out of the kitchen.
Your room. I pursed my lips and scrunched my eyebrows in distaste. Your room? I followed him down the hall and to the only bedroom in the cabin. The only one, dammit, which meant this was our room!
He turned the light on and pointed at the door in the corner. “There’s the bathroom. There are some clothes in the dresser I asked… a friend to put in for you.” The way he said friend didn’t escape me at all. I darted his back some evil eyes. This shit stunk.
“Where will you be sleeping?” I asked pointedly.
“I’m taking the couch,” he answered, without batting me an eye as he turned back around and walked out. Then he added, “If you need anything, let me know.”
I stood in the middle of the room, barely caring for the beautiful four poster bed, even though it screamed for me to lay my sweet ass down for some relaxation. I heard him placing the plates back into the fridge and then slamming the door shut before his footsteps faded into the living room. I stood in the silence for a while, and I hated it. Back to being alone when my other half was on the couch, deliberately keeping me at a distance. Why?
I eventually threw off my shoes and ambled to the dresser, eyeing my reflection with a shudder.
“The look of a traitor,” I whispered at myself. “That’s what you are.”
Hmm. Not what I expected a traitor to look like: baggy eyes, messy hair, pouty sad lips, pale face… I expected something a little more sinister.
Still, I detested what I saw. Would time make it better? Would I be able to look at my reflection and see something kindred staring back at me? Or would I forever feel like a treacherous snake?
I opened the drawers of the dresser and shuffled through an assortment of clothes. There wasn’t a lot, and many of it consisted of baggy shirts with faded logos on the front. It was a half-assed choice of clothes from his friend, but anything was better than what I had on now.
I found a plain white night gown and set it aside. I then took off his leather jacket and set it neatly on the dresser. I stripped my clothes off, squinting at my reflection. It’d been a while since I’d seen my naked ass in front of a big mirror. I twisted my body around, noticing that my curves had grown smaller. I’d lost weight the last few months, at least a size judging by how comfortable some of those weird gypsy clothes from Remy had gotten. Even my bra looked spacious.
I put the night gown on and then walked into the large ensuite bathroom. This cabin was beautiful. Even the bathroom was modern with a beautiful stone basin, large round tub and a shower stall that looked heavenly clean and fresh. I washed my hands and face, scrutinized myself some more and stepped back into the bedroom.
Loneliness gripped at me. And dread. I thought of Remy returning to the clubhouse to find what I’d done. I wondered how heartbroken he was feeling right that very second. I breathed unsteadily, remembering the way he held me the last time. I’d hugged him so hard knowing it would be the last hug I’d ever give him.
My knees weakened at my sadness, and I wiped furiously away at my tears. I reminded myself I had made the right choice. Even if that choice had barely said a word to me and was sleeping on the couch. Maybe I was being too harsh on him. Maybe he was just tired.
It took everything in me not to go and seek him out. I kept thinking maybe he really needed some alone time. If he truly wanted to be with me right now, he’d have come in already.
On my way to the bed, I grabbed my switchblade and propped it under my pillow. Then I fell into the soft bedding and stared at nothing until my eyelids could bear it no more. Sleep took me, and for several hours I was stuck in a black void, conscious enough to feel the pain, but too trapped from exhaustion to wake up.
*****
The sound of pots and pans woke me up. My head ached from the light streaming through the one large window in the bedroom. I turned over and opened my eyes immediately, aware of what we’d done, of what I’d walked away from. Sleep had dulled my sense of reality, and for a long while I’d completely forgotten what had happened, expecting to wake up to Remy’s scent and the darkness of our room.
I moved off the bed and walked out of the room, feeling the cool hardwood floors under my feet as I stopped just outside the kitchen. I peered in through cloudy eyes and regarded the shirtless, tall man in front of the stove. God, he was huge. Maybe even bigger than Remy. He certainly was more ripped than him. His back displayed every muscle – some I didn’t even think existed – as he moved around on a mission to cook.
His jeans were low, revealing his black briefs that hugged the areas I would have given anything to see. My eyebrows rose in delight that he, too, was barefoot. Why did that stir my chest so much? Maybe it was that he was homely and comfortable here. Or maybe I just liked his fucking feet.
“Morning,” he greeted without glancing back at me.
I wondered how long he knew I’d been standing there. Man had stalker senses.
“Morning,” I replied. “What are you cooking?”
“Pancakes.”
“Do you need help making the mix?” He’d always sucked at it back when we’d lived together…which was about a century ago now.
“Already had it mixed.”
He pulled out a large jug of the thick pancake mix. I frowned, wondering if his friend had made it for him too.
I settled myself into a seat around a small round table on the side of the kitchen. I could see his complete profile from my view. The determined look on his face would have been laughable if I was comfortable enough to do just that. The weird buzz of tension was still thick around us. He told me to come away with him. That I would be his. So why wasn’t he showing me how much of his I was?
I drummed my fingers along the table, searching hard in my empty mind for something to talk about. Talk about his mom! Yes. Perfect.
“How’s your mom doing? I tried calling her a few times a while back but only got her voicemail.”
“I told her not to answer your calls in case anyone found out. She’s out of Gosnells,” he quietly explained. “I told her to pack her shit for a while until the heat died down.”
“Where did she go?”
“After she got over her hissy fit, she said she wanted to go traveling. Apparently she’s always wanted to see the world.”
“Oh.” Well, that would have been extremely exciting for her. I couldn’t recall a time she’d ever left the town. Worse than that, I couldn’t ever recall her ever telling me she wanted to travel the world.
Drumming away still, I leaned against the chair and ogled the entire kitche
n. I mean, there was nothing else to do. He wasn’t talking, and all the things I wanted to discuss were heavy shit. I figured it was way too early to delve into that heavy shit. We needed to do some reconnecting first.
I was surprised when he finally set the plate of pancakes in front of me. They were cooked to perfection; a golden brown without any burnt bits and smelled delicious. He placed maple syrup in the centre of the table and sat on the opposite end with his own mountain of pancakes on a gigantic plate of his own.
While they looked amazing, I wasn’t really that hungry. I had a few bites, but as I swallowed, they sat fitfully in my stomach. I was unable to process this complete change of my scenery and a part of me felt haunted for abandoning Remy the way I did. I ended up kicking the pancakes around, imagining how hurt he was.
When I finally finished my pitiable reveries, I looked up. Jaxon was staring holes into my head, and he didn’t look happy. I blinked down at his plate, surprised that it was empty. How long had I sat there staring at my food thinking about Remy and how horrible of a human being I was? I felt his accusing eyes dart down to my plate and back at me. I swear he knew where my thoughts had slid away to.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked, and it came out dangerously low. I’d forgotten how intimidating he’d gotten.
“I’m not very hungry,” I muttered.
“You need to eat.”
I shrugged. “What do you want me to do, Jaxon? Force it down when all I want to do is throw up?”
“Why do you want to throw up?”
“I feel nauseous.”
“In the morning? What, are you fucking pregnant?” Disbelief emerged in those blue eyes, as he stared accusingly down at my stomach and then my face.
My eyes bulged out of my head. “Um, no!”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty darn!”
“Then eat!”
I pushed the plate away from me, scowling at him. Now that he was demanding me to eat, suddenly I didn’t want to. “I don’t want to eat, Jaxon.”
He pushed the plate back to where it was. “You’ve lost a ridiculous amount of weight. It’s disgusting.”