The Word of a Liar

by Beauchamp, Sally

  Mad Dog stood. “I better get the hell out of here.”

  He put on his jacket and cuts.

  “Where you goin’?”

  “I’m goin’ to the Ritz to see if that little angel I met at the Halloween party is there.”

  “And if she is?”

  “Use your imagination. Do I have to spell out everything to you, Rambo?”

  Mad Dog stopped and stood by the door, hand resting on the doorknob. “If I were you, I’d be making tracks down to Ellen’s. Tonight may be your only chance to make things right. I’ll be in touch.”

  He opened the door. Cold air blasted the room.

  “I hate this weather,” Mad Dog grumbled, disappearing into the night.

  Mason listened to the sound of Mad Dog’s truck as it drove away. The envelope glared at him. Money to kill his best friend. He’d worked hard to get to this place, yet now it didn’t seem worth the effort. To think a person’s life could be summed up in dollars was pathetic. There was only one Mad Dog… one Ellen… one Mason Hackett. He remembered the president of The Highway Men telling him he was a righteous brother. Joe had drunk with him and said Mason could ride next to him anytime.

  “When the dust settles Sunday morning,” Mason asked the empty room, “will I be a righteous brother?”

  Guilt caught in his throat. Tears stung his eyes.

  “The poor bastard wants me to take care of his daughters.”

  Dropping his head into his hands, Mason smothered a desperate cry.

  Every time he rode his motorcycle, the Grim Reaper rode on his shoulder, yet he had no fear.

  “Why now?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  Ellen made him afraid.

  Before she had come into his life, there had been no reason to be anxious about dying. Young, strong and committed to no one, death didn’t apply to him. But now that he’d found Ellen, she’d ignited his soul. Parts of him begged to be shared, and there were things about her he yearned to discover. He wanted to be part of Ellen and JD’s lives. Time couldn’t run out on him now. Like Mad Dog who feared for his children, so Mason feared for them.

  Getting up from the sofa, he walked into the kitchen. Running cold water over his face, he attempted to gain control over the battle waging inside. The whiskey hadn’t offered any relief. Knowing Ellen had cried over him, Mason realized she was as hungry and needy for their love as he. The stark possibility of not seeing her again slammed his heart like a wrecking ball.

  He looked up at the clock: nearly midnight. Mason retrieved his jacket and then acted upon his desire.

  ***

  The only sound the cold winter night elicited was the crunch of snow under Mason’s feet as he hurried towards Ellen’s house. He glanced upward. A spattering of stars flickered like metallic threads of light in the sky’s black veil. The cold air made his face tingle. As he came upon Ellen’s house, he spotted her standing on the porch as if she was expecting him. Did she know in her heart I’d be coming back tonight? he asked himself.

  The cast-iron light fixture shown down on Ellen, making her look like a white apparition. With her arms folded across her chest, she hopped from one foot to the other to ward off the cold.

  Mason quickened his pace to a jog. He turned into her driveway and then climbed the steps two at a time. His chest heaved like he’d been running for hours. Their breaths collided in icy crystals. Ellen stood motionless. Tears rolled down her red, swollen face. She looked as if she’d been crying for hours. Emotions strangled Mason’s words. He drew near and touched her cheek with his frozen hand.

  “Don’t turn me away,” he pleaded in a hoarse whisper.

  Ellen shook her head. Her lips trembled. “I’ve missed you, Mason Hackett. I’ve missed you like crazy.”

  Mason pulled her into his arms and brought his lips down on her soft, warm mouth. The taste of her tears caused him to squeeze her tighter. His tongue danced with hers in a swirling, sensual rhythm. Reveling in the sweet warmth of her kiss, he begrudgingly pulled away when the chilled air made her shiver in his arms. He gripped her shoulders and studied her. She was wearing that lovely silk nightgown he’d bought her last summer.

  “What are you doing out here with only that nightgown on? Don’t you know how cold it is?” he scolded her.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I came down to watch a movie and was going to go get my robe and slippers, but then I saw—’’ Ellen stopped short.

  Mason grinned.

  “I talk too fast when I get nervous, you know,” she said and then flashed a feeble smile.

  Mason nodded.

  “I know,” he replied and then scooped her up in his arms. He carried her into the house, kicked the door closed, and then set her down in the foyer. He whipped off his coat and flung it on a nearby chair never taking his eyes off her.

  Ellen reached out and took his hand. She began to pull him up the stairs as if leading him to an extraordinary surprise. At the top landing, he tugged on her arm to stop her.

  She faced him with eyes that questioned his sudden hesitation.

  “Ellen,” Mason said in a ruptured voice. “Promise me you’ll never walk out on me again. I don’t think I could bear it if you do.”

  Ellen bit her bottom lip as she squeezed his hand. “I promise. And I promise I’ll try not to ever misjudge you again.” She tugged his arm. “Come on… it’s late…. Let’s go to bed now.”

  He followed her into the bedroom. A brilliant winter moon shone through the beveled glass windows and draped its white light over the room’s vintage interior. Mason locked the door and then faced Ellen, who sat at the edge of the bed. A rush of deep sensual longing washed over him.

  “Take off your nightgown,” he whispered.

  Ellen slipped the garment over her head, exposing her nakedness to his scrutiny. He went to her. His hand roved along the curve of her neck. He lifted her chin. He outlined her parted lips with his fingertips. Ellen licked each one with the tip of her tongue, amplifying Mason’s need.

  Mason whisked off his shirt.

  Ellen stood.

  Like a blind woman wanting to see, she ran her palms along the hard curves of Mason’s shoulders and then traced the outline of the angel wings tattooed to his chest as if to confirm he was real. She read the braille of fine dark hair that ran down the smooth plane of his stomach with her fingertips until she reached his belt buckle.

  Ellen slipped the leather strap from the metal enclosure and then undid the tab of his jeans to unzip his fly. Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of his undershorts, she rubbed her palm along the length of his hard, throbbing sex and then stooped to strip him naked. Straightening, Ellen brought her face to his and they kissed. The bottomless depths of her hunger roared to life.

  “Love me,” she commanded in a hoarse whisper.

  Mason spun her around. He pressed into the soft curve of her lower back. Reaching around, he clasped a breast in each hand. The warmth of his body against her chilled skin electrified his embrace. Mason’s lips fell upon the side of her neck. She rolled her head to the opposite shoulder, reveling in the sensuality of his mouth tenderly pulling… aggressively biting. Ellen pushed her hips against him.

  Bending her over the foot of the bed, Mason’s fingertips traveled over her shoulders, down both sides of her spine and rounded the curves of her hips. Hands splayed-out over her buttocks as he massaged its lush softness. When he traced its vale with his finger, Ellen moaned. He kissed her there over and over until her knees weakened.

  Mason’s hand roamed between her thighs, parting her legs. He played her body with an expertise she no longer could live without. The new notes of passion he’d created had set her soul free, and now his love-making had become her glorious addiction. He delved into her soft folds with an urgency Ellen could recognize. She drew in a sharp breath as his hard sex stroked her silky wetness. She lost herself in the sensuousness of his touch and moved restlessly in anticipation of the wondrous release he promised.

 
Mason stopped.

  Tense with anticipation and every nerve ending prickling with a sensual sensitivity, Ellen pushed against him, but he left her.

  “Turn around,” he called out to her in a gentle voice. “I want to look at you.”

  Ellen straightened and then faced him. The moonlight caught in Mason’s hair and his blue hypnotic eyes sparkled with desire. At that moment, Ellen wondered if she could ever love him more than she already did.

  Mason captured her face in his hands and kissed her swollen lips. He took a step back and then moved to the side of the bed. Whipping back the blankets, he motioned for Ellen to get in. He waited for her to settle herself before he crawled in beside her. Pulling her into his arms, he held her like a thirsty flower holding on to the rain.

  Mason inhaled her scent, tasted the salt on her skin, and stroked the silky softness of her hair. Ellen completed him. He knew that now. True happiness was being in her arms. He couldn’t lose her. Cradling her body, he entered her again as that pulse of undefinable emotion beat so loud and fast in his chest it nearly suffocated him.

  Ellen held on to Mason with her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs hugging his hips. Forging their bodies in the fire of their passion, they linked themselves together and then raced to the pinnacle of their desire. There, at the zenith of their hunger and need, they fell into a free fall of exquisite surrender. Their moans of gratification were as beautiful and complex as any symphony crafted by a master musician.

  Mason rolled on his side and stretched his arm around Ellen’s waist. Submerged in the drowsy aftermath of their love making, she listened to the subtle change in his breathing as his body cooled. His hand moved to her belly and rubbed in a circular motion. Mason kissed her temple. “Ellen,” he whispered, “what were you going to tell me this afternoon?”

  Ellen closed her eyes. She didn’t want to shatter the lovely peace settling around them. Mason tenderly stroked her chin. Turning to look at him, she swept his hair off his face. She studied the perfect symmetry of his features. The nagging sense of familiarity once again surfaced.

  “Where do I know you from, Mason?” she asked.

  “The road.” He smiled. “Somewhere in time, we met each other on the road.”

  “Was I riding a motorcycle?”

  “Yes.” His eyes widened. “And you were topless.”

  He laughed softly.

  The familiar timbre of his deep male laughter brought tears to Ellen’s eyes. She’d missed the sound of it, and now, once again, she feared the loss of it. “This afternoon I was--”

  She stopped and looked up at the pink prisms on the chandelier that hung over them.

  Mason raised himself up on his elbow as if sensing her discomfort.

  She glanced at him. The concern in his eyes was unbearable. She looked back up at the chandelier and forced herself to tell him the truth.

  “I’m pregnant, Mason. I’m pregnant with your child.”

  CHAPTER twenty-nine

  Feeling like a musket ball had slammed into his chest, Mason rolled over unto his back. Pregnant! Now what the hell am I going to do? I might be dead in couple of days. Mason’s frantic thoughts made him incapable of speech. He watched the moonlight tangle itself in the crystal prisms overhead as he tried to absorb the shock of Ellen’s startling revelation.

  “I thought...,” Mason began then had to stop and take a deep breath. “I thought you were on the pill?”

  “I was,” Ellen replied.

  The room filled with a heavy silence. Mason’s heartbeat throbbed in his ears. Nausea twisted in his belly. He felt cold and desperately weary.

  Ellen sat up and rested her head against the headboard. She twisted the hem of the sheet into a rope as tears dripped down her cheeks.

  “I’m not going to make excuses for my carelessness, Mason. I have no one to blame but myself. It was irresponsible! Stupid!” Ellen’s voice hissed with bitter self-loathing.

  She looked down at him.

  “In three days, I have an appointment for an abortion.” She took a shaky breath and then continued in a voice so small Mason could barely hear. “I thought maybe you could come with me. But if I need to, I can do it alone.”

  Mason sat up and wrapped his arm around her shoulders which shook with each of her sobs. He wanted to reassure her that she wouldn’t have to face it all alone but knew it would be an empty promise. Fighting back his own tears of frustration, Mason kissed the top of Ellen’s head.

  “We’ll figure this out, Ellen. I just need time to think. That’s all,” he said as his inner voice pleaded, Please, God, give me some more time!

  They snuggled back down beneath the blankets, and Mason held Ellen until she stopped crying and fell asleep. Restless, Mason got up and went downstairs to find some whiskey. He rummaged through cabinets in the kitchen to find the bottle he’d left there.

  “So it’s you.”

  The voice from behind him made Mason jump. He spun around. JD stood in the doorway dressed in his pajamas and brandishing his wooden sword.

  “Shit, JD! You scared me.” Mason exhaled.

  “I heard a noise. I thought you were a stranger,” JD said, not dropping his weapon. “You said a swear.”

  The boy’s bravery and mild scolding made Mason smile. He’d missed the little tyke and all of his idiosyncrasies. Uncertain of how JD would react, Mason refrained from hugging the boy.

  “You can put your sword down now,” Mason said.

  JD lowered the weapon.

  “Are you and Mommy having a sleepover?” JD asked.

  Mason walked over to the boy and squatted to eye level. “Yeah.”

  “Are you and Mommy better now?”

  Mason nodded.

  “You aren’t going to go away again, are you?” JD asked with eyes full of worry.

  Mason bit his bottom lip. His chest constricted. “I hope not, bud,” he replied, rubbing his face to conceal the tears blurring his vision.

  “Is your autism too big, Mason?” JD asked as he put his hand on Mason’s shoulder.

  “No.” Mason shook his head. “I’m just a little sad.”

  “I think we need Mommy.”

  Mason sighed. “I think you’re right. Let’s go back to bed.”

  Mason turned off the light and then the two of them walked up the stairs.

  “JD,” Mason asked when they got to the top landing, “do you think you’d like having me for a dad?”

  “Yeah,” JD answered in his flat, emotionless voice.

  At the door of Ellen’s bedroom, Mason cautioned JD to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake her. JD went in, walked over to Ellen’s side of the bed, dropped his sword, and then climbed in.

  “Mason’s sad, Mommy,” he said, dismissing Mason’s warning.

  “Is he?” Ellen muttered, taking JD in her arms.

  Mason crawled in on the other side and put his arm around them both.

  “I thought you’d left me,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said, pulling her close. “God willing, I’m here to stay.”

  ***

  A finger traced the tattoos on Mad Dog’s back. He blinked, trying to place where he was. Sunlight flooded the room even though green gingham curtains covered a long, narrow window that ran the length of the bed.

  “Mad Dog, are you awake?” a female voice whispered from behind.

  Mad Dog remembered. He’d gone to the Ritz and had found the little blonde angel, Linda. She’d driven him home. Only they hadn’t gone to his house, she’d taken him to her place. He remembered getting up the stairs had been quite a feat. She’d helped him into the bedroom and then... after that… he had no recollection. He didn’t know if they had had sex or if he had passed out. He rolled on his back.

  Resting her head on a folded arm, Linda’s long blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and breasts like silky fringe. Lush brown eyelashes adorned radiant blue eyes. Her petite mouth curved into a sultry grin as she watched.

  “What time is it?�
� Mad Dog groaned as a hammer beat inside his brain. He closed his eyes to lessen the pain.

  “It’s around noon. Why? You have to be some place?”

  “No. Just wondering. Do you have any whiskey?”

  “Don’t you think you’ve had quite enough of that?”

  “A fucking jack hammer is knocking my brain loose right now. I need something to put me out of my misery.” He lay back on the pillow, rubbing his forehead.

  “I’ll get you water and some aspirin. You’re dehydrated from the alcohol. I’ll be right back.”

  Linda rose and then bent down to kiss his lips. She turned. Her hair swished across the small of her naked back. Mad Dog rose up on his elbow, admiring the seductive sway of her nicely rounded ass as she left the room until the pounding in his head sent him back down onto the pillow. He tried to remember what had happened after they’d gotten into bed, but it hurt too much to think. All he remembered was a black spinning cave swallowing him alive.

  The little angel returned. Mad Dog took his medicine eagerly as she crawled back into bed.

  Mad Dog sighed. “I’m a little foggy on what took place between us last night. I don’t suppose you’d like to clue me in.”

  Mad Dog grimaced.

  Linda laughed. “Do you remember anything about last night?”

  “I remember being happy to have run into you again. And you telling me you were a biologist—no, sociologist. That’s what it was. You’re researching bikers to write some damn thing.”

  “My doctorate.”

  “Yeah.” Mad Dog grinned. “I have no idea what a sociologist does. And I can’t imagine why anyone would want to write about the sons-of-bitches I ride with.”

  He turned sideways, looking into her face. “Does that mean when you get your doctorate I can come to you for a physical?”

  “No. It’s not a doctorate in medicine, but I’m impressed you remember some of last night.”

  “I remember everything right up to when I landed in your bed.” Mad Dog covered his face to ward off any blows. “Don’t hit me, okay? I’m older than you and I bruise easily.”