by Freya Barker
“Also,” Dimas continues, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingertips ghosting along my jaw. “Bree warns the FBI will likely show on our doorstep tomorrow with questions. She suggests to get it over with.”
“Fine by me, but what about the shelter? Rosie’s gonna need me.”
“Jake is there, Brad is helping. Rosie’s calling in some of the weekend staff as necessary. They’ll survive.” I release a deep sigh. “Come on, sweetheart,” Dimas pleads, lying back on the couch and pulling me with him so I’m half draped over him, my head resting on his chest. “Let’s focus on getting these current crises resolved, so I can have a taste of a normal life with you before the next one hits.”
I prop my chin on his chest and catch his eyes looking down at me.
“A normal life with me?”
“Yeah.” He brushes his fingers over my cheek before cupping that side of my face in his big palm. “That’s what I want, Willa. When all the dust settles, that’s exactly what I want. I’m not trying to rush anything—heck, I figure you’ll want to go back to your place at least until your sister’s shit is sorted—but I wanna be clear where I stand. I’ll give you some time, and I don’t fucking care whose roof we’ll be under, as long as you and I end up under the same one.”
I take in a deep shaky breath. I’m so damn glad my upbringing had me shy away from any real relationships all these years, otherwise, I might’ve missed the promise of a future with this man.
“Here,” I whisper. “I want this roof over our heads. I feel at home here, with you. Even Twister likes it here.”
Both of us look at the dog sprawled out on the hardwood floor, not a care in the world. Then our eyes meet again.
“Yeah?” The smug smile reaches his eyes. “You’d risk giving up your house to be with me?”
I reach up and run my fingers over the bristly hair of his beard.
“Yeah. I love you, Dimas. I’ve never felt like this before, and I’d risk life and limb for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dimas
“Want another pancake?”
It’s clear Connie is used to taking care of everyone. She was up first, had coffee brewed, and batter ready to go by the time I sauntered into the kitchen, and that was at six. She’d even let the dog out, and I caught her petting Twister when she thought no one was looking.
Willa got up shortly after, mumbling a distracted, “Morning,” as she padded into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffeepot. Her sister insisted on cooking breakfast, despite our assurances there is plenty of cereal or toast.
“I’m full, Connie, thanks.”
“Willa?”
“Not for me either. Was really good though, thanks. Lucky Mom’s skills rubbed off on one of us,” she says, grinning at Connie. It’s amazing what a difference one cup of coffee makes on Willa’s mood.
“You didn’t even try,” Connie reacts with an edge to her tone.
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
Connie’s question hangs suspended and I can feel Willa tense up beside me. I guess this is sensitive territory. I put my hand on Willa’s knee in an offering of silent support, even though I don’t really have a clue what the tension is about.
“Seriously, Willa, I want to know.”
“What does it matter? I didn’t…I still don’t cook—as Dimas can attest to—and although there are times I regret it, it simply isn’t a priority for me and I’m okay with that.”
“What is a priority for you, Willa?”
The sharpness is gone from Connie’s voice, replaced by an almost desperate tone, a hint of tears. A genuine need to know—to understand. Willa seems to hear it too, I can feel the tension releasing from her body.
From what I understand so far, Connie has blown off any talk about why she’s here with only some toiletries and a single change of clothes in that large tote of hers. Not even Britt’s glares and pointed comments directed at her mom have elicited any explanation.
“Connie…” Willa starts, her voice soft and empathetic. “I’ve always just wanted to be happy, like most people. Make a good life for myself. Feel meaningful. Same thing everyone else is looking for. But I wanted that on my own terms. By my own definition. Not through the approval of others.”
“Not like me,” Connie says, sniffling.
“For the most part you wanted the same things, though, honey. We may have gone about it in different ways, but I believe at the core of it we were aiming for the same outcome.”
Her sister huffs before saying, bitterly, “Only one of us was successful.”
“That was luck. I’ve avoided relationships all my life, thinking that was the answer. It wasn’t. Sure, I had a life with no one to answer to, and I made myself believe that’s exactly how I wanted it. Then I met Dimas and he scared the shit out of me. He unbalanced me.” I give her leg a quick squeeze. “I fought it thinking I would have to conform to some kind of ideal if I wanted a relationship with him, but the only expectation he has is for me to be me. Nothing more, nothing less. What I do or don’t do doesn’t even hit on the radar, the only thing that matters to him is who I am.”
Connie’s eyes fill with tears. Almost annoyed, she pulls some paper towel off the roll and dabs at them.
“It wasn’t like this before,” she starts, staring at nothing. “I thought I had it all, you know? Handsome man who wanted me. Mom and Dad’s approval. I felt good in the role I took on. Then Britt came along and I honestly thought life couldn’t get any better, until it got worse. Small things at first. The baby weight didn’t come off as easily as he would’ve liked, so he’d comment on what I ate and got me a membership at a gym. Next he started comparing me to other women, pointing out how great his buddys’ wives looked after kids.”
“He’s a fucking idiot,” I can’t stop myself from saying. “I’m sorry, Connie, but every guy worth his salt should be worshiping you on his goddamn knees for making him a father. Every stretch mark, every added curve to your body after carrying his child should be treated with as much love as the child it produced.”
“He’s right,” Willa adds, sliding off her stool and rounding the island to take her sister in her arms.
I don’t know this guy but I already want to bash in his fucking brains. This broken woman is not who Willa portrayed when she described her sister. He did this.
It’s like a dam broke, and Willa can barely hold the sobbing woman up. Britt could be up any minute and I don’t want her to walk in on her mother breaking down, so I get up and move behind Willa.
“Our bedroom,” I whisper and she nods. Taking Connie between us, we get her into bed and Willa crawls in with her, wrapping her tight. I kiss the top of Willa’s head. “You worry about your sister, I’ve got Britt.”
A barely-there nod confirms she’s heard me and I back out of the room, closing the door on them. A sleepy-looking Britt is standing in the hallway when I turn.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is your mom and Aunt Willa are having a heart-to-heart, and you and I are going to kill off those pancakes your mother made earlier,” I announce, throwing an arm over her shoulders and firmly guiding her to the kitchen.
“Mom’s pancakes are the best.”
“They are. Maybe later you can tell her that.”
We’ve eaten, cleaned up, walked the dog, and are just putting groceries away from a quick run to the store when the bedroom door opens and Willa walks out, straight into my arms. Britt watches us curiously as her aunt buries her face against my chest.
“Thank you,” Willa mumbles, before tilting her head back and looking up at me. I can tell she’s been crying even though she isn’t anymore.
“What’s going on, Aunt Willa? Where’s Mom?”
She turns to Britt with a reassuring smile.
“Your mom is freshening up in our bathroom. She’s had a tough time of it, Britt. Maybe you can go give her some love? I bet she’d like th
at.”
The girl looks at me and then back at Willa, concern lining her face, before heading down the hallway.
“Are you sure Connie is ready for her?” I ask when Willa beams her smile at me.
“Positive. A reminder of the one good thing that bastard left her.”
“I gather you got the story?”
“Some of it. She has no identity left,” she says, stepping back from my hold to put the new cereal I bought in the cupboard. I guess she needs her hands busy. “The bastard eroded it. He made her feel small and inadequate, and then went out to fuck other women. Been doing it since Britt was born, apparently. That weekend when Brad was first in trouble, called me, and I tore out of my parents’ house to get back to Grand Junction was apparently a wake-up call for my sister. She finally stood up to him and told him she was done, which he didn’t take lightly. He’d never been physical with her before, it was something she never expected of him.”
“Fucking pussy, hitting a woman.”
If anything infuriates me it’s that. Hell, I almost messed things up with Willa because I’d inadvertently hit her.
“That’s what I told her; hurting someone is a sign of weakness, not strength.”
“How’d she get away?”
“From the hospital she went straight to a women’s shelter, healed up a little, talked to someone there, and got money for a bus ticket here.”
“And him?”
“She doesn’t know. She ditched her phone and never went back to the house. She just wanted to be close to Britt.”
“I’m guessing your parents don’t know?”
“You know what? I don’t know. I’m not even sure if knowing would’ve kept my father from his golf game, or my mother from following behind him without questioning anything. How sad is that?”
“Your parents may have limited vision, but I can’t see them being okay their daughter was used as a punching bag.”
“Maybe,” she cautiously concedes.
Willa
“Ms. Smith, we have a few questions for you.”
Of course.
Dimas just took Britt and my sister to my place. It had been his careful suggestion—first to me—perhaps it would be a good idea for those two to have some time on their own. When he suggested they stay at my place, my heart did a little leap. I know the plan was for me to end up here eventually, but to be honest, the thought of spending any time away from Dimas—waking up without him—wasn’t something I looked forward to.
Having Britt spend time with her mom without me as a distraction is probably better. Last thing Connie needs now is feeling even more unsure of her place in the world. There’s some work to be done on her relationship with Britt, which she does not need me around for. Besides, I’m not even ten minutes away if they need me for anything.
“Come in,” I tell FBI Agent Dave Williams and a colleague of his. “But you can call me Willa, like you did when you were just Dave to me. That is your real name?”
I can tell I made him uncomfortable, which gives me a bit of satisfaction. I get the man had a job to do, but I have a hard time getting over the fact he stood by when Brad and I were arrested for murders he knew we had nothing to do with.
“It is, Willa,” he says pointedly as he steps inside, the other man following. “This is my partner, Agent Ken Dryden.”
“Ma’am.”
“Please—Willa. You’re making me feel old,” I tell the tall lanky guy. “Have a seat.”
I don’t offer to get them coffee, call it petty, but the betrayal still stings. Trust is big with me.
“What can I do for you?” I finally ask when they take a seat and the silence stretches a bit too long to be comfortable.
“How do you know Ron Midwood?” Williams wants to know.
“I work with him. Well, worked with him, I guess.” I grimace at the memory of his blood all over me.
“Were you aware of his relationship with Brantley Parker?”
“I wasn’t even aware they knew each other,” I volunteer.
“I thought you took part in hiring him?”
I’m not sure why he’s pushing the issue and get a bit annoyed.
“I did. Rosie asked me to sit in for part of the interview. What is it you’re trying to say?”
“All I’m doing is trying to get any loose ends wrapped up, Willa.”
“Okay, so yes, I took part in his interview, and no, I did not know those two knew each other. Not that it surprises me in hindsight.”
“Why do you say that?”
I look at him incredulously. “Well, for one thing, neither of them were who I thought they were, and for another, both—at some point—tried to get me to go out with them.”
“Did you?” he persists.
“Never. I never much cared for Parker, so that was a nonissue, and although I like…I mean liked Ron, not in a way I’d risk dating a coworker. What is it you’re looking for?” I ask straight out.
He looks at his partner, who shrugs before turning back to me.
“Midwood and Parker were cousins. We were interviewing the doctor when he discovered Midwood was dead. He lost it and talked. A lot. He claims he got Ron the job at the shelter.”
“What? But how…” I let my voice trail off, trying to make sense of it. Brantley had been rather pissed when I left to work at the shelter, why would he have put forward his cousin to work there? I’m so confused. Was it because of me? “You should talk to Rosie, she must’ve spoken to Parker, because he didn’t speak to me about hiring Ron. I honestly didn’t know.”
“We plan to talk to Mrs. Hutchinson later this afternoon. Not that I don’t believe you,” he quickly adds. “Like I said, we’re just tying up loose ends. We already know Midwood and Parker operated Raw Vice here in Grand Junction. We also know they had a few local officers from the GJPD on their books.” I’m sure I know which ones he’s talking about. “What we weren’t sure of was whether there were others involved.”
“Like me?”
Williams shrugs. “It wouldn’t be all that unimaginable. You have the trust of the patients at the hospital and the residents at the shelter. You’d have made a great addition to their ranks. Midwood baiting and you setting the hook.”
“And here I thought I was irresistible,” I lamely joke, just as Dimas walks in the front door and walks right over to me, kissing me square on the lips despite our audience.
“You are incredibly irresistible,” he mumbles there before straightening up. “Gentlemen. Your timing sucks.”
To his credit, Dave Williams chuckles at Dimas.
“Mazur.”
“Williams. And?” Dimas prompts and introductions are made. “What did I miss?”
“Not much,” I volunteer before adding sarcastically, “You just missed the waterboarding part of the program.”
“Hardly,” Williams disagrees a tad self-consciously. “Like I mentioned; simply a few lingering questions we were looking to get answered.”
“Did you?” Dimas asks with an edge.
“I believe we have what we need for now,” Agent Dryden quickly answers, reading the sudden tension coming off my guy.
“Awesome.” Dimas then turns back to Williams. “You took a chance coming here to my house. I’m sure you can imagine how fucking much I want to plant a fist in your face. Not only for leaving my woman to dangle for something you knew she had nothing to do with, but for showing up at my door the day after she was brutally attacked. The only thing stopping me is—”
“He’s an FBI agent?” Dryden deadpans.
“Not even close, but your partner did shoot the fucker in the head, and although it doesn’t make me happy his brains were splattered all over Willa…” Okay, I was pretty cool so far, but I’m afraid I’m gonna lose my cookies now. “…He did manage to save me from landing in jail for murder, because I would’ve hunted him down and filleted him.”
“Alrighty then,” I mutter, sick to my stomach with all the visuals I’m getting. “Now
that we have that cleared up. Good talk.”
Now it’s Dryden’s turn to chuckle.
“We’ll get out of your hair. If there’s anything more we need we’ll be back.”
“Dave?”
Williams turns to look at me.
“What you said on your intake form and in group, were those all lies?”
He seems to be thinking for a moment.
“No lies. Not a single one,” he says, his conviction firm in his one functioning eye.
Wow. I did not expect that.
“Thank you for the trust.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dimas
“Did you hear that?”
Fuck no.
An explosion could go off in the room and I wouldn’t hear a damn thing with Willa’s hot and hungry mouth on my dick.
Best way to wake up, bar none. Best part of having the house to ourselves these past couple of days. Don’t get me wrong, I loved having Britt around, she’s a fun kid, smart as a whip too, but I like having the run of the house again.
Until now apparently.
With my wet dick catching a cold, it’s easier to hear rustling in the kitchen. I shoot upright, almost knocking Willa off the bed, when I hear footsteps coming down the hall.
“Ana!” I hear my dad’s voice calling out. “Don’t you dare go in there.”
“I gave birth to the boy, Max. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Hardly a boy anymore, Ana. Besides if he’s in bed at this hour, he’s probably not alone.”
I groan trying to pull the sheet up to cover my junk. Willa starts snickering, even as she steals it to cover herself and grabs my shirt off the ground to put on.
“Hey, what about me?” I complain when she leaves me buck naked in bed.
“What? Nothing she hasn’t seen before.”