by Jax Garren
The words were a punch. He shoved her back into the glass and thrust, releasing his anger and pain into her. She took it and screamed for more, clenching him with her thighs as her hips kept his rhythm. With a howl of pain and joy, he emptied himself into her body.
He needed to rest, to ease himself against her softness, but she continued to move, demanding more than he had, pushing him further. “I-I can’t. Jolie. I...”
She kissed him, her hot mouth insistent as she teased his tongue with her own. Like a spark to a blaze, his body roared back to life.
“Yes, yes,” she encouraged, tangling her hands into his hair.
He kissed her breasts, suckling and teasing as he fed his own fire alongside hers. Her cries escalated until he knew she was near to orgasm. He thrust again, pushed his face against her neck, breathing in her scent and nipping at her collarbone.
“You’re mine,” she said.
“Mine,” he answered back.
“Then keep me.” She clenched around him, her whole body stiffening as she came.
Her back arched. The sunlight touched her lips, her eyes, her flame-bright hair and the pale dust of freckles that he loved so much. He found himself coming again at the sight and feel of her. He shook, and she trembled with him.
Fearing his ability to stand, he hugged her close and dropped to his knees then onto the floor. She wiggled, trying to get closer to him still. The writhing comfort of her closeness—physically and emotionally—sent aftershocks through his system.
They held each other and breathed as their heartbeats slowed to something resembling normal life. She kissed his neck and nipped his jawline in a move that was more contentment than drive. Her eyes were dead serious as she said, “Let’s do this again tomorrow.”
“Just tomorrow?”
She touched his necklace, sticking the tip of her finger through the ring. “And every day after that. I want to marry you, Hauk.” A smile, simple and a little sad, turned her expression hopeful. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll get a dress. I know it’s cliché, but I want a big, poufy white one. With sparkles.”
The idea of his tough girl in a glittering princess dress brought an unexpected smile to his face. A smile that left quickly. “We can’t get married as long as I’m a fugitive. You deserve a real wedding. Legitimate in the eyes of the law. And the right to live up here as well as down in the Underlight. You should have that choice.”
“That’s not important to me.” But the touch of sorrow in her eyes said he was right. That was what she wanted.
He stroked his fingers up her spine and made a decision he hadn’t realized was still up in the air. “So if your friend can get me that reversal, I’ll propose.”
He could tell the moment his words registered because she went absolutely still. “Do you mean it?”
A scarred future stretched before him, terrifying and sometimes brutal. But he had a home in the Underlight that wanted him and a job that mattered. Most of all, he had a woman he loved with all his soul who loved him back just as fiercely. Regardless of what the future had in store, they could hold on to each other. And that would be enough.
He nodded slowly. “Let’s get to that cup before I change my mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jolie stepped off the plane at Sherman Army Airfield, clutching hot coffee in her hands, just like she had each Saturday for two months. The morning in Kansas was still chilly, despite Texas hitting its first hundred degrees yesterday. She zipped up her leather jacket and took another sip with a futile hope that the warm liquid would soothe the shiver she felt deep in her bones.
But she’d felt that chill even back in the Texas heat. Today was not Saturday. It was Wednesday afternoon, and for better or for worse, today everything changed.
After turning himself in, Hauk had been transferred to the U.S. Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth just outside Kansas City with the rest of the high security military prisoners. They’d added AWOL to his charges and set in motion a new court martial for some unknown date in the interminable future. Jolie hadn’t realized—probably because Hauk hadn’t told her until her first visit to the prison—that the death penalty was now on the line.
Since that day, she’d booked a regular charter that dropped her off on the base airfield each Saturday and took her home on Sunday. A few hours each day with Hauk and one night alone at a B&B in Kansas every week. The fact that Hauk had only once grumbled about the expense or her time spoke of exactly how much he needed those few hours they were allowed. On her end, the ability to hold his hand in a crowded room and talk about trivial things kept her going through the week, even as the inability to do more drove her crazy.
Things had been quiet in the Underlight, but she feared whatever rebuilding Ananke had needed to do since their failed invasion would be complete soon, leaving the priests and their Hands back up to no good. Travis was still missing, and nobody knew what to do about it.
They all needed their warrior back. If things went south, either at home or at the trial, she and Brayden had a last-ditch plan that she hoped to whatever Powers May Be they didn’t have to try.
Eddie had finished going through the material, made a few phone calls and miraculously the date for Hauk’s Article 32, the pre-trial hearing, had been set for as soon as a bunch of mucky-mucks could get their polished asses into town. Unlike most, Hauk’s Article 32 was closed to the public for “reasons of national security.” Eddie hadn’t gone into detail, also for reasons of national security, but according to him, Hauk was a free man or a dead man, and what happened today would most likely determine which.
Jolie rounded the corner into a visitor’s waiting area she knew too well, stocked with its bitter coffee and two vending machines sporting an assortment of food she couldn’t eat. Although if things went poorly, she might just indulge herself in a few donuts and a whisky chaser, hospital visit be damned after the wheat hit her system.
As she got a clear view of the room, her eyes were drawn to a light gray Kiton suit jacket draped in perfectly tailored lines across her father’s knees. She froze.
He held out a bag from her favorite gluten-free bakery in Houston. “A peace offering.”
She set her jaw as she strode across the room, wondering what strings her father might’ve pulled to influence the outcome. When she stood in front of him, she didn’t take the offering but crossed her arms and shot him a stern glare. “What are you doing here?”
“Not interfering, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He patted the seat next to him, completely at ease despite her anger. “Stroke of genius, bringing in Reyes to defend him. How did you know he wasn’t in the loop, so to speak?”
She took the bag and sat down. Without looking, she knew inside would be two cinnamon rolls and an apple fritter, her favorite order on a really bad day. Back in high school, when she’d first gotten sick, her father had taken her to the best doctors in the city until they found what was wrong. Then he’d scoured Houston for the best restaurants that could accommodate her needs and forced out of business a few that didn’t scrupulously adhere to their claims. It was the one aspect of her life where she felt like he cared for her.
She opened the bag and pulled out a cinnamon roll. By some method she couldn’t fathom, it was still hot. Miracles like that always occurred around her father. People were too afraid to disappoint him.
“Prejudice,” she answered before taking a bite. “Eddie’s gay.”
Her father huffed. “We couldn’t care in the least whom someone is screwing, Jolie. Not our concern. But image is everything in this world. If he’d kept it quiet, married, had a couple of kids—no one would care if they’re his or not—everything would’ve been fine. But his insistence on living out loud has hurt his career. Many high-profile clients won’t touch him for fear of how it will affect the outcome of their cases with more conservative judges and jurors. He’s not watching out for them with his selfish insistence on living openly.”
She shook her head around a mouthful. “That’s not how the world should work.”
“Your personal opinion on what should be doesn’t change the way reality works.”
“But nothing will ever change if we keep playing pretend. People ‘live out loud,’ as you say, not merely for themselves but for a more honest future.”
Her father made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh before issuing one of his highest insults. “Idealist.”
She would laugh if she wasn’t so up in knots over the trial. What he meant as censure was a trait she was proud of. She changed the subject. “If you’re not interfering, why are you here?”
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “If you weren’t serious about Haukon, you wouldn’t be here. I have a deep-seated fear that he wouldn’t either.”
The dryness in his tone gave away his meaning. She held up her empty left hand. “But he’s proposing, should the trial go our way.”
Her father’s perfect countenance paled.
She couldn’t help adding a jab. “We’ll come to family events if you promise nobody will kill him.”
To her surprise, his color returned. “You have a deal. Don’t think I won’t hold you to it.”
She leaned back against the seat. Hauk was going to kill her. “Well played.”
He shrugged one shoulder and scanned the room casually. By this point in the conversation, the curious stares had ceased, and they were as private as they could be in public. He faced her squarely. “If you get out now, I can guarantee immunity. There will be no retribution, and you can live safely in your bohemian bliss. You have enough resources to provide a more than comfortable life for the two of you. If he’s freed today, he won’t need the protection your group can provide, and I can sleep at night knowing you aren’t getting your head blown off in some illegal and damn foolish attempt to live up to your idealism.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Surely this has nothing to do with getting the best fighter in central Texas out of the game?”
“Call it a small recompense for my gorgeous, Ivy League-educated daughter hitching herself to an enlisted soldier who lacks a leg and a face when she could have had a Crawford. Or a Dyson.”
“Dyson can’t keep his pants on around hookers, and Crawford likes to give women black eyes.”
Her father’s spine stiffened. “Crawford? He never—”
She cut him off instead of answering. “He sure looks good on the outside, though, doesn’t he? And that’s all that really matters.” Unable to contain herself, she stood and paced. “You already know my answer. Hauk and I are in. Even if the worst happens today, I’m still in because I believe in what we do. I am more proud of myself than I’ve ever been. I love my work. And I love him.” She lifted the pastry bag. “I appreciate the gesture. I don’t know how much was you caring and how much was you putting on a good show of it to get him out of your hair. But I’m not going to tell you want you want to hear because it would be a lie, and I’m tired of living that way. I’m living out loud, too. Hopefully with Hauk.”
Her father’s face went from vaguely annoyed to impassive as she spoke, robbing her of any reaction. Of course he shut down when she was honest. It was what he did.
He surprised her by standing up. “As intensely as I dislike what you’re doing with your life, you’re wrong if you think I have no concern for you.”
She searched his face, and somewhere in the depths of those green eyes that matched her own, she saw feelings. She hated how much she still craved her father’s affection, but there it was, the small joy at being told he cared.
With a longsuffering sigh, he pushed a stray curl back into the pins that held her barely fixed hair. “I will expect the two of you at Whitney’s birthday party on Sunday. The jet will be in Austin at four. There is no machination behind that, other than your niece’s disappointment should her adored Aunt Jolie not be there to celebrate her entrance into her teens.”
He nodded a goodbye and strode past her, his expression shifting to a threatening glare the instant it left her. She turned to see what caused such a face and her heart stopped.
Hauk stood in the doorway.
When she’d helped him dress back into his old uniform, it held no decorations. Now he wore a crisp new suit with badges, pins and flare neatly filling his chest and sleeve and decorating a patch on his tan beret. The pride in his eyes as he stood soldier-straight told her everything she needed to know.
Jolie dropped the pastry bag and ran. Hauk lifted her up and crushed her against him. After a kiss that was far too short, he turned to the doorway.
“I’ll do my best to take care of her, sir. But you know how hard she is to handle.”
Jolie could swear a trace of amusement entered her father’s expression. “I don’t envy you that.” A brief incline of his head and he was gone.
“What was that about?” Hauk asked.
“A promise to leave us in peace if we quit the Underlight. You heard my answer?”
His smile widened. “Yeah.”
“You agree?”
“Hell, yeah.”
* * *
The Underlight common room was packed and waiting with festive glee. Hauk stepped back in with the uncanny feeling of returning to a dream.
When he’d left, the air had been tense but hopeful, the Underlight returning to life as his body withered back to its scars and crippling loss. He’d ensured Brayden, Mercy and Catrina were safe then slipped away to meet Jolie’s lawyer and face his past.
Two months of military prison, and the boisterous chaos was a welcome homecoming. He was proud of his uniform, proud of his service. But now that the choice was his, he knew he belonged here, fighting with the Underlight.
A homemade cider was stuffed into his hand—after two months, they still remembered—and he was guided into the center of the crowd. Even in the Underlight, he’d always felt on the fringes, the burned guy who did violence so they didn’t have to. But the cheer on every face as they slapped him on the back and jostled for a chance to greet him didn’t faze him anymore.
He liked it. His closest friends were all here, Catrina in a skunk-striped wig and sapphire blue dress. He shook his head. Jolie had told him she’d gone back to her old self—but now with wigs. Her recovery was even more entertaining firsthand.
“They give you a rough time in the big house?” somebody yelled.
“Eh, knock a few guys around with your metal leg, and the rest of them leave you alone.”
Laughter surrounded him.
Jolie hugged him tightly. The hour and a half plane ride in her rented jet hadn’t been nearly enough time after two months of dreaming about her. Her mussed curls and bright eyes said he’d done all right, though.
He was going to do all right by her for the rest of his hopefully long life.
Brayden tugged his arm and surreptitiously handed him a small box. “Right where you left it, buddy. If it smells like a hippie shop, it’s because your girlfriend drowned your altar in incense every day, sternly telling your ancestors what to do. If that had anything to do with the verdict, I say bravo.”
Hauk popped open the box to see the rose ring he’d made. He smiled. It was time. If she wanted him—and she clearly did, thank all holy powers—then it made no sense for them to be apart. He set his cider down on the table and motioned for some room with his hands.
Despite believing he knew the answer, his palms grew damp and his heart picked up speed as he turned Jolie to face him. She smiled up at him with a wicked sexy twist to her pink mouth, and he almost lost the ability to think. The crowd vanished in his mind as he licked his lips and dropped down to one knee.
Her smile changed to surprise as her fingers clutched his tightly.
She’d known, right? He thought she’d known he would do this. His breath stuttered as he sucked in air to say the words he’d been planning every night for two months. “Jolie Benoit, I love you. I love your bravery and your smile. Your wit and your talent. Yo
ur work ethic and your goodness. I want every night of my life to be with you. I want to go out into every day knowing I belong to you. And you to me. Marry me?”
She kneeled on the floor before him, crying. He thought they were happy tears, but he was too nervous to know. She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his, then her lips. He kissed her back, still waiting for her to say something.
She stopped the kiss long enough to say, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Kissed him again.
The crowd came back into focus, hooting their approval. She laughed through her tears as he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. Her smile beamed as she showed it around to the crowd. More cheers, and she kissed him again, deeper this time, her hands encasing his head and her body pressed against him.
He felt lighter than air as he kissed her back. A new man. A whole man. Nothing had to matter but their love and his mission. That was a good life and all he needed to be happy.
A crack of metal on tile. Somebody yelled. Jolie jerked back, shock on her face.
He shot up to standing and pressed her behind him, scanning for the danger.
But his circle of friends wasn’t facing outward. They faced him. Brayden’s jaw dropped as he studied Hauk up and down.
“What?” Hauk asked, suddenly self-conscious.
He sensed Jolie stand up behind him and turned to see if there was something the other way. More gasps from the crowd. Jolie stared at him in wonder as she reached up and tugged at the side of his head.
Without touching him.
He reached a hand up and found hair. His hair.
Jolie made noises of surprise as she smoothed her fingers across his face.
The adrenaline wore off and he realized he was standing with easy balance, not the cumbersome tilt of his ill-fitting, prison-issue leg. He wiggled the toes of his left foot. Gawked at the sudden appearance of an entire limb. “What the...?”
Jolie’s eyes moved from his face to her hand. Slowly she slipped the ring off until the metal was no longer touching skin.
Pain shot down his left leg as he felt himself wasting back. “Stop.”