by Amy Gamet
Jax swore under his breath and hauled her up, pushing her backwards onto the bed and climbing on top of her. She spread her legs, welcoming him between them as her breathing got heavier with need. He felt so good pressing her down, the weight of him alone enough to make her weep with joy, and she writhed against him, desperate for more.
He removed her bra and the newly developed fullness of her breasts made them fall to the side, heavy and tender.
He spoke just inches from her ear, his voice husky and rough. "I love the changes in your body. That I did this to you.”
She loved sharing herself with him, her body and every bit of what was taking place inside her. It was as if by allowing herself to be with this man, she was letting him into her pregnancy, into her life, and there was no going back.
He took one breast in his hand and measured its fullness with his palm, lightly squeezing her before taking her tip in his mouth and tasting her with his tongue. She bucked wildly beneath him. He opened wide and took more of her in his mouth, and she called out and pulled his head tightly against her.
"You're so sensitive," he said. His hand slipped between her legs and pressed against her swollen mound. "Are you sensitive here, too?"
She made a funny noise as she pressed back against his hand. "Yes.” The sound of her voice was breathy and desperate to her ears.
Then he was taking off her pants and pulling at her panties. She opened her legs for him again and he settled on top of her, naked. The feel of his erection pressed against her pushed her over the top. She wanted him inside of her, wanted to see if it was as good as she remembered, and she pressed her head back against the pillow.
Then he was kissing her, deep, desperate kisses, and she kissed him back with the urgency that was building between her legs. His cock was poised at her entrance, and she thought she might die if he didn’t get inside of her.
“Now, Jax. I need you.”
"Open your eyes."
She forced her heavy lids apart, Jax’s intense gaze fastening itself to her stare.
He eased inside of her, his girth forcing her wide open, and she called out in pleasure from the sensation. She'd forgotten what sex was like during pregnancy, the heightened sensitivity and the puffy feel of her womanly walls around him.
Ralph had loved it.
"Do you feel how swollen I am?” she asked Jax. “How tight?"
"God, yes."
“It's because of the baby. Your baby growing deep inside of me, Jax."
He groaned loudly, thrust into her deeper, harder. “God, you feel so good. Am I hurting you?"
"No.” She dug her nails into his back. “I want more."
His deep, torturous thrusts forced her body to accommodate his size and set off an avalanche of feeling inside her. She screamed softly. He reached under her arms and held her shoulders in his hands, holding her still while he thrust himself hard and fast into her body.
Her orgasm exploded like a thousand scattering pieces, then Jax was coming, too, his cock buried to the hilt inside her, emptying his seed at the entrance to her womb once more.
34
Jessa lay in the darkness, listening to Jax’s even breathing and stroking his head. Tonight had been everything she had hoped for, and everything she feared. She could feel herself warming to this man and knew she would be unable to confine the feeling to the bedroom.
Would that be so bad?
She closed her eyes. It felt good to be loved. Physically and emotionally.
Is that what you think this is?
She was such a fool.
Jax didn't love her. He had never even pretended to care for her. If anything, his feelings for her leaned more toward hatred and contempt, and she didn't blame him for that. She'd done him a terrible disservice.
She frowned, examining her guilt, and she did feel guilty. Somehow over the past few days, she had come to know that tricking him as she did was wrong, no matter what she’d lost or who was ultimately responsible. Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she thought of her lost husband and child.
Jax hadn't wanted those things to happen. He had loved Ralph, too, and he would have protected them if he could have.
It had been Ralph's decision to go after Steele. The tears welled up in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks, quickly disappearing into Jax’s pillow. As much as she wanted to have someone to blame, she knew in her heart Jax had made the best decision he could with the information available to him.
Of course he had. He was a good leader, and he wouldn't have let his friendship with Ralph get in the way of a good tactical decision.
She was weeping openly now, holding on to Jax and praying he didn't wake up. She didn't know what she could possibly say to him to make him understand she was sorry for what she had done. Not sorry for the child but for her duplicity.
Jax stirred, and lifted his head. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head quickly.
"You’re crying."
She cried harder, her quiet, shaking tears now loud, quaking sobs. "I shouldn't have done this. At the time, it seemed right, like the only thing that would serve up some kind of justice." She shook her head. "But it was wrong, and I'm so sorry for what that's done to you."
"Are we talking about tonight?" he asked.
She laughed through her tears. "No. Tonight was great. The first time." She met his eyes. "At the hotel. I was so lonely, Jax. I was so lonely, for so long. And then, there you were, and I blamed you, and I let myself forget you are human. That you had feelings, that you loved him, too." She rested her forehead against his. "It was so much easier to tell myself it was all your fault. I needed a villain, and you became my scapegoat.”
He touched her cheek. "I understand."
"Then you brought me here, and I could see you weren't a villain at all, which meant I’d done something terribly wrong.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. You’re going to be a father. Your life will be different forever because of what I did.”
“My life will be better.”
She looked up, not believing what she’d heard. “What?”
“I’m starving. Do you want some ice cream?” He grinned and rolled out of bed, looking for his clothes.
She sat up, pulling the blankets up to cover herself as she stared at his naked body. “How will your life be better, Jax?”
“I always wanted kids.”
“But like this?” She swallowed. “With me?”
He pulled on his briefs and jeans, his face unreadable. “It isn’t how I thought things would work out, if that’s what you mean.” He pulled on his shirt. “But I like you. I always have. Come on. I have chocolate and vanilla. There might even be some whipped cream.”
What about you and me, Jax?
Her mind was screaming the question, but she didn’t ask it. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Do you have any chocolate syrup?”
He smiled, and the transformation of his face was mesmerizing. “A woman after my own heart,” he said.
At that exact moment, the bedroom window shattered into hundreds of pieces. Jessa heard herself screaming, but Jax was already in action, pulling her to a stand and quickly out of the room. Then it was dark, and he said, "Sixteen steps. Ready?" And she was being led down a blackened staircase, counting the steps as she went, to a musty room beneath the main floor.
A basement?
He was talking to someone as he pulled her through the space. "Someone fired at the bedroom window. Jessa is unhurt. I'm putting her in the safe room now. You two come in through the back of the house."
There was the screeching sound of metal on metal, then a light came on inside a small room with a couch, table, and four chairs. He grabbed a blanket and thrust it at her, reminding her she was naked, and she pulled it around her shoulders.
"Stay here,” he said, placing the book she inherited on the table. She hadn’t even noticed he grabbed it. “Lock the door when I leave. This is a safe room
. No one will be able to get in unless you let them in."
"What about you?" she asked, surprised to hear her voice trembling.
"I have to help the others. There are clothes in the closet.” He walked to a corner and unlocked a gun cabinet, but it was the back of his shirt that got her attention.
"Jax, you're bleeding!"
"I'm fine."
"But there's so much blood…"
He turned around. “Remember to lock it. Don't let anyone in.”
She nodded her head vigorously, then watched in horror as he disappeared back into the blackness, and she locked herself inside the safe room with trembling hands.
35
Jax was wishing he had his night-vision monocular as he made his way up the steps and out of the basement.
Hawk’s voice sounded in his ear. “One tango, thirty yards outside the front door and approaching fast. I'm a hundred yards behind him. He has a semiautomatic and plenty of ammo. I can reach him from here, but it won’t be a kill shot.”
"Negative," snapped Cowboy. "I have a good line of sight to the front door from inside the house. I'll take him out."
Whoever was after Jessa needed to be stopped once and for all, and Jax knew damn well there were probably more tangos out there just waiting to come in after this one.
He reached the top of the basement stairs and hunkered down, crawling on his hands and knees. If their attacker was coming in the front door, he'd have plenty of time to cover Cowboy’s six.
He felt light-headed and knew his injury was more severe than he first suspected. He was losing blood quickly, which meant it was just a matter of time before he lost consciousness.
Thank God Jessa was in the safe room. Jax’s vision went dim, then returned again. He put his finger on the trigger of his weapon, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to kill the bastard.
He had to kill him for Jessa.
His mind was full of her, their night together, and the baby. A flash of Jessa as a mother, nursing their infant at her breast. His eyes closed and his head dipped, then he snapped it back up and opened his eyes, forcing his arms to hold up his weapon.
It was heavier than he could fathom.
"Cancel that!" yelled Hawk in his ear. “Tango is headed for the bedroom window. Copy that? Not for the front door, the same bedroom window he shot out. And we have another tango thirty yards out.”
Jax’s brain struggled to make sense of the words. His vision was now completely out of focus, and he couldn’t bring it back. He looked up just in time to see a figure jump through the window over his head, but the swift movement made everything go black. He heard the sound of the other man’s steps on the breaking glass and wondered how much time had passed.
He fought to open his eyes and failed. He had to stay awake, had to get Jessa out of danger once and for all. This time his eyes opened, the shadow of a man standing over him. Jax took the shot. A bright flash from the muzzle of the tango’s gun was the last thing Jax saw before losing consciousness.
36
Dear God, this book is boring.
Jessa laid The Manor open, facedown on her lap, and looked at Jax. He was sleeping as he had been for the last several hours since his surgery. He'd lost a lot of blood, but they'd managed to save his injured kidney.
He was going to be okay.
When Cowboy came and got her from the safe room, she instantly knew something was wrong. Jax should've been there. He wouldn't have sent anyone in his stead unless he wasn't able to come himself.
“Let me in, Jessa.”
“Where’s Jax?”
“He can’t come down here right now, sweetie. Open the door.”
She unlatched the lock and pulled open the heavy metal door. One look at Cowboy’s face, and she’d started to scream. "No! This isn't happening again. This is not happening again!”
He had grabbed her upper arms. "Listen to me, Jessa. He's hurt. Shot. The ambulance is on its way, but you’re a nurse. He needs your help."
She ran behind Cowboy up the stairs, the acrid smell of gunpowder polluting the air. "What happened to the other guy?"
“One tango down. That's the good news. But another one got away somewhere on the mountain.”
They rounded the corner to the bedroom, and Jessa was struck by how much had changed since the last time she walked down this hallway.
He's going to be okay.
But even as she told herself that, she was back in her little yellow house and her happy little life as a wife and soon-to-be mother, her mouth open wide in horror as Jax told her Ralph had been killed. Her tongue had tasted like metal and blood rushed in her ears. The two moments melded together in her mind.
They entered the bedroom, Jax on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Too much blood for anyone to survive.
She moved to kneel beside him, and Cowboy held out his hand to stop her. "Watch yourself, there's glass." He grabbed a pillow off the bed and handed it to her. She put it on the ground and kneeled on it.
Jax’s face was so pale, so unlike his normal complexion. She put her hand on his neck and felt for a pulse. Forty.
His pulse was fucking forty.
The sound of a siren in the distance made the moment more surreal, as if the ambulance would never actually get here but would always be too far away. Too late to save Ralph. Too late to save Jax. She took his arm and pulled him onto his side, lifting his shirt in the back. Blood oozed from his wound.
"I need a clean towel or shirt, something."
Cowboy handed her a towel, which she pressed to Jax’s back. "Press this here, firmly. Keep the blood from coming out," she said. She stood on shaking legs and ran to get a blanket to cover him with.
Jax was on the floor bleeding to death. Jax was standing in front of her, telling her Ralph was dead. If Jax was dead, then she was dead. The baby…
An alarm went off on the monitor next to the bed, snapping her attention back to the present. What the hell was the matter with her? Was that a panic attack?
She reached for Jax’s hand and stared at his too-still face while a nurse came in and replaced his IV. His color was better, but that wasn't saying much.
"Matteo and Trevor were here earlier," she said, letting her fingers trace the lines on Jax’s knuckles. "You were still in surgery. Trevor and Olivia are engaged. Did you know that already? She seems nice. I never thought I'd see him so taken with a woman. Figures she’s a movie star.” She let go of his hand and stood up. “That lawyer from Boston stopped by while they were here. Fred Bach. He said he needed to speak to you and would be back in an hour or so to see if you were awake."
Her eyes fell on the metal railing along the side of the bed, and she wished she could lie down beside him. She longed to put her arms around his body, to wrap him up with healing energy and be as close to him as she possibly could. But it wasn't just the hospital rules that kept her from doing so.
If he awoke, would he be happy she was here? Had she read too much into the few things he said at the end of their night together?
My life will be better.
Did he mean that? And was he happy only about the baby, or about her as well?
“I hope you meant me, too,” she whispered.
But did she?
Did she really?
Already she’d almost lost him. She knew she couldn’t handle being half of a HERO Force couple again, always wondering if he was okay, always praying for his safe return, being gone more than he was ever with her.
She needed stability, normalcy, both for herself and the baby.
No matter what happens, this child will always have a HERO Force member for a father.
She wouldn’t be able to protect her baby from that fate. Her hand went to her abdomen, lightly stroking her growing belly. Cowboy’s words ran through her mind. Your kid couldn’t do better. But what good was the world’s greatest father if he was never around, or managed to get himself killed protecting other people?
She s
ighed and sat back in her chair. She picked the book up off the table, forcing herself to read. She couldn’t even finish one page.
“I hate this book. The story is stupid, and I can't figure out why anybody would pay money for this thing. I mean, who wants to read a book about an old rich family with no problems, anyway?" She moved to fold the book back over and, in the process, fanned the pages ever so slightly.
A picture appeared, a tiny and perfectly detailed little painting she recognized immediately. It was the mansion overlooking the ocean she had seen in the conference room of the lawyer’s office in Boston. Her mind whirled, working to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, knowing the answer was just a single turn of a piece away.
This book was intrinsically tied to the law firm.
She turned the volume around in her hands, seeing it in a new light. “This isn’t a stupid book with no plot. It’s a history of the Bach family.”
As in Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore.
"Oh my God," she whispered, now frantically flipping through pages, knowing exactly what she was looking for — an obscure reference to the newborn child of the family housekeeper, Señora Cortez. She found it on page eighty-nine.
“The babe wasn’t as round as Cortez’s other children but paler in flesh and longer in limb. Reggie Moore noted no difference and went on to law school in the spring.”
She closed the book and squeezed it against her chest. "I know who's trying to kill me."
Her eyes flew to the clock on the wall. The lawyer would be back any minute. Taking one last look at Jax, she prayed he would stay asleep and quickly ran from the room.
37
Jessa walked briskly through the hospital cafeteria, her eyes scanning for Cowboy or Logan. Neither one of them was here.