by Meg Ripley
“You’re right. It only starts with you,” he said, pulling a gun from his jacket pocket.
“Oh, right. The girl and the detective,” Jason spat. “You think Mary won’t be missed? You think a detective who mysteriously disappears during a high-profile case won’t be noticed? It’s a vicious cycle, Vincent, and it won’t end well for you. Think about it. You’re a loose end, too.”
His impassive mask flickered, and Jason realized he was getting through to the other man for the first time. Of course. He should have appealed to Vincent’s immediate self-interest from the start.
“The ultimate loose end,” Jason continued. “Not only the man guilty of the original crime, but the one who very nearly allowed a human to destroy my father’s entire empire. You let Simmons get that close to you, revealed our secrets, and left an actual scale at the scene of the crime. Hell, compared to you, I’m a fucking hero. And knowing my father, he’s already figured this out.”
“I guess you’re not such an idiot after all,” Damian said, stepping into the room, the gun in his hand pointed at Vincent’s head. “Put down your gun, Vincent.”
“What are you talking about?” Vincent shouted, his eyes darting around the room, his face flushing with anger. “We had a deal.”
“We had a deal for my son’s life? You must be delusional.” As Damian spoke, Jason slipped past him and into the hallway. “Stay here, Vincent. Think about your future.”
“If you think I’m going to let you hand me over to that cop—”
“No one is going to hand you over. You’ll be subject to the Ancient Law.”
Maybe Vincent was too enraged to hear Damian’s promise. Maybe he didn’t believe him or didn’t care to be subject to the primal court. Maybe he’d already made up his mind before Damian said a word. Jason sensed his intention to move before he saw it and shouted his warning, darting forward in an unconscious effort to put his body between his father and the inevitable bullet.
Both guns fired, the reports instantaneous. It was the last thing Jason heard before everything went black.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As Jason awoke, he was surprised to discover that he felt good. Not just good. Great. Really great. Somewhere between warm and floating, his head far away from the pain saturating his right side. The pain didn’t even feel real. It was just heat and heat wasn’t so bad. Not when things felt this good.
“Jason? Are you awake?”
He lolled his head to the left and smiled at the pretty lady. The prettiest lady he’s ever seen. Mary, his groggy mind provided. But that couldn’t be because she thought he was a lying piece of trash. The memory obliterated the morphine high and he suddenly crashed back into his body, where the pain in his ribs was real, and the memory of her anger was still very raw.
“Hey, are you okay? Are you in pain? I’ll call the nurse.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Mary? What are you doing here?”
“Tandy brought me while you were in surgery. They let me sit with you, in case you woke up.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m so, so sorry Jason. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry for what I said and I’m sorry you got shot.”
“No, you’re fine,” Jason said, so relieved that he was alive and that Mary was with him that nothing else mattered.
“No, that wasn’t fine. That wasn’t fine at all.”
“Mary, you had your reasons. I accept your apology but really, you’re fine.”
“I was...so scared when we realized your own father was holding you and how much danger you were in.”
“My father...where is he?”
“Tandy has him.”
“Tandy?” Jason sat up. “Call him. Get him on the phone right now.”
“Jason, you need to rest. You can talk to him in the morning.”
“No, if he has my father in custody, I want to talk to him now. I was never in any danger from my father. He was just trying to get Vincent cornered.”
“But he shot you!” Mary protested.
“If the bullet that hit me came from his gun, it was my own fault. I saw Vincent shoot and I was trying to protect him.”
“You jumped in front of your father?”
“Yes. He didn’t do anything wrong. Please, get Tandy on the phone.”
Jason was already feeling woozy and tired, but he held himself up until Mary pressed the phone to his ear.
“Is he awake yet?” Tandy asked, cutting straight to the chase.
“I am. Is my father with you?”
“He’s cooling his heels in an interrogation room.”
“Let him go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let him go,” Jason repeated. “He’s not guilty of any crimes. Release him, apologize for wasting his time, and let him go home.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, Mr. Cross, but that’s not how it works. We’re looking at charges of kidnapping, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit two more counts of murder, and god knows what else.”
“No, you’re not. He didn’t kidnap me, or try to murder me, and there was no conspiracy. He was trying to out the actual guilty party. Bring him to the hospital and I’ll tell you everything.” He disconnected the call and fell back against the pillows, the world wavering around him. “I’m going to pass out now. Thank you for waiting. You’re the best thing I ever saw.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jason was allowed to go home three days after he woke up, his nurses and attending physician shocked by the speed of his recovery. His scar was barely visible, and there had been no infection or complication. He was ready to get right back to work, but Damian insisted he take a small vacation, no doubt so he could continue to manage the damage control. There would be no trial due to Vincent’s death, but that was a mess within the Darkblood Society. One Jason was happy to avoid.
He thought about Mary often, and in hindsight, her hospital visit felt like a dream. It probably was a dream. What were the chances she’d be there so conveniently to tell him everything he ever wanted to hear? It was unlikely, at best. At any rate, she never returned, and since his phone was broken, he didn’t have her number. He considered driving to her bar, but if his vision of her had been nothing more than that, then he wanted to respect her wishes and not contact her.
But he really missed the sound of her voice.
He missed it so much that he thought he was hearing things when he heard it outside his office door a week after he returned to work.
“No, I don’t have an appointment. I didn’t realize one was necessary. Is he really that busy in there?”
Jason shot up from his desk and hurried to the door. “It’s fine, thanks, Frankie. Come on in, Ms. Simmons.” He shut the door and added, “It’s great to see you.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You weren’t answering any of my calls and I couldn’t get a hold of you here.”
“Your calls? My phone got busted that night. I got a new one and I didn’t have your number.”
“Oh. Oh, is that all? I thought...I thought I really blew it.”
Jason swallowed. “No. I wanted to come and see you, but I wasn’t sure if it was just a dream. It seemed like it.”
“They released my father’s body since the case was closed. I had the funeral and—”
Jason cut her explanation off with a gentle kiss. She moaned and parted her lips, the tip of her tongue glancing over his. The delicate touch sent a shock through him, and his arms tightened around her, his chest and groin both throbbing. She returned his embrace, her body fitting so wonderfully against his. Their tongues became more bold, their hands exploratory, each of them searching for skin, absorbing heat, raising goosebumps. They both came to the same conclusion at the same time, working together to tear away the barrier of their clothes.
He fell backward into the nearest chair, pulling her onto his lap. The position was perfect, giving him the best v
iew of her gorgeous body as she positioned his hard cock between her thighs. He sought out her sweet, velvet heat, thrusting his hips forward, and she shifted to meet him, guiding him deeper and deeper.
With her hands on his shoulders, she met his gaze and began rotating her hips, grinding down on his dick, her juices making him slick, coating him from the tip to his balls. She groaned with each rotation, her muscles clenching around him, pulsing and fluttering, driving him crazy. His hands slid over her hips and up the curve of her back, then over her breasts. He cupped them with gentle pressure, teasing the nipples until they were hard and throbbing. With a moan, she cupped the back of his head, guiding his mouth to one pebbled peak. His tongue darted out, rolling over her skin before tugging the nub between his teeth. She keened her approval, arching her back and driving her hips down.
The more pressure he put on her nipple, the harder she fucked him, her nails raking over his shoulders and down his arms, her shouts getting louder and louder. He was sure everybody on the floor knew exactly what they were doing, but he really didn’t care. Nothing sounded as good as her shouts of pleasure, nothing felt as good as her body clenching around him, holding him down, taking and giving everything she could, everything she had.
His other hand slid between their bodies, finding her engorged clit. He pressed his finger to the throbbing flesh, moaning her name as he felt the first constriction of her impending orgasm. Lights flashed behind his eyes, and he pulled his tongue from her nipple, lifting his head to find her mouth. He kissed her hungrily, with the full force of his desire, his hunger, and his love. He did love her. From the moment he saw her outside his door, he knew it for a fact.
She broke apart, shouting his name as she shattered in his arms, and that obliterated the last of his self-control. His cock jerked deep inside of her, and all he could do was hold her as he shuddered through the waves of pleasure.
“Oh, I missed you,” he sighed.
“I missed you, too. And I have something for you.”
“Something else?”
“Yes. I really can’t wait to show you.”
“Do I have to let you go?”
“I need my briefcase. I’ll be right back.”
With a sigh, he reluctantly released her. She crossed the room to where she’d discarded her brief case, pulled out a folio and returned to his lap, exactly as she promised.
“I had a friend of mine draw these up. They’re just suggestions. I’m not saying we have to go with any of them but I thought you might be interested, and well, here.”
At first, he didn’t quite understand what he was seeing. And then he didn’t quite believe it. It was Adventure Isle—now Dragon Isle—and each page held a new design; all taken from his original ideas, but expanded and perfected. The new rides, the Reptile House, the concert venue and park were all brightly, beautifully illustrated.
“What do you think?” she asked once he reached the last page.
“I think that’s a damn fine park. But I thought you weren’t interested in that market?”
“I want to honor my father’s memory and build the amusement park of his dreams. Will you help me?”
“It would be my honor. In the meantime, can I take you out to dinner?”
“What about round two?”
“Let’s eat and then we can have rounds two through eight.”
Mary grinned. “That’s what I like about you. You always have really good ideas.”
He kissed a line down her neck. “Is that all you like about me?”
She sighed, her head dropping back. “Among other things.”
“I could spend hours telling you about what I love about you.”
“Oh good. We’ll have something to talk about during dinner.”
Jason laughed and pulled her closer. During dinner, and then, for the rest of their lives.
THE END
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North
Hard Rock Star Series, Book 1
Story Description
I was a rock star in one of the most successful bands in the Miami area.
I had a new woman (or two.. or three… or four) every night…until I met HER.
Ain’t life a motherf*cker.
Can you f*cking believe it? I had to go to rehab “for my own safety.” Pffft!
F*ck it. I’ll spend a few weeks doing some bullsh*t art projects and waste some time listening to a bunch of idiot addicts bitch about how their parents never loved them.
Just my luck, while I was just chillin’, waiting for my dealer to find someone else to blame for his stolen stash, I met my hottest wet dream in the form of a counselor who wouldn’t just let me slide.
Just when I thought I couldn’t be in a worse situation, one little f*ck-up—a little fun in the art room with this counselor, the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever laid eyes on—and we were both on our asses in the street.
To make things worse, the chick that I thought was my “hottest wet dream” became my angel. And I’m not about to let anyone—not even Big J and not even my own stupid f*cked-up self—ruin the little taste of heaven she gives me.
My head was throbbing; my mouth tasted as though I’d licked a sewer grate. As I woke up for the third morning of my detox, I realized I was actually sweating because the air conditioning in the building had frozen up—instead of the reasons I’d awakened sweating the two mornings before, which had been due to withdrawals and the hulking, slinking presence of nightmares dancing through my head.
“Fuck,” I muttered into my pillow, throwing the sheets away from my body. I scrubbed at my face, closing my eyes to the fact that it was daylight; that one of the counselors would almost certainly show up in the next two minutes to tell me and my roommate that we’d better go ahead and eat breakfast because we had a "busy, busy day" ahead of us.
“Fuck, man,” the guy in the other bed said to me. “Ever think this was a huge mistake?” I laughed.
“Every damn morning I’ve been here,” I replied, flopping over onto my back.
“Clean and healthy, right?”
I looked over at Gerard, my roommate, and held up a fist in solidarity.
A few minutes later, as I had expected, one of the counselors knocked at the door and then opened it. “Up and at ‘em, guys,” she said, smiling brightly. “Breakfast is served and if you hang around in bed you won’t get any before group.” I sat up and fought down the wave of nausea that rose with my body.
“Yeah, we’re coming,” Gerard said. I raised a hand silently to acknowledge the counselor’s message and heard the door close as I stared at the floor, trying to get up the energy to move.
I shuffled into the cafeteria behind Gerard and a few other people in the program, barely keeping my eyes open. “At least the food is fucking decent, even if I can’t keep it down,” one of the women in front of me said. I snorted to myself, as quietly as possible; in a group of addicts and head cases, there was no telling what might set someone off.
I scooped eggs onto my plate with some sausage and bacon, and a couple of slices of toast. I grabbed coffee and a carton of juice and found a table.
“How was your night, Alex?” I looked up blearily from my breakfast and found another one of the counselors
standing a few feet away. I bit back the urge to glare at her; of all the counselors at Recovery Now, Mary K. was the only one I could stand.
“Shitty,” I said, bringing a forkful of eggs to my mouth and reaching out for my coffee. “The air conditioning’s out again on my hall.”
Mary cringed. “Sorry, I know maintenance is on it, but that’s probably not much help to you right now.” She sat down, glancing around the room at the other inmates. “How are you otherwise?” I smiled slightly.
“Same as before,” I said, looking down at my hands.
“Ready for another thrilling discussion of ‘how we all got here’?” I looked up at Mary again and saw she was grinning.
“I can’t even tell you how ready I am,” I told her. “So thrilling. So fascinating. Gerard’s losing custody of his kids, Mabel lost her entire retirement paying for pills, Jessie’s parents won’t contribute to her trust fund unless she gets clean…” I pointed out the different inmates scattered around the room.
“And you? I don’t think we’ve ever actually gotten you to speak up about it,” Mary said, raising an eyebrow. The coffee was starting to work its magic in my system and I took a moment to actually take her in. Unlike the other counselors, who tried to look official by wearing scrubs, Mary had—for the three days I’d been in detox so far, at least—made the decision to blend in as much as possible. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun, and she’d had time to put on a little makeup, but she was wearing jeans that fit her like a glove and a plain tee shirt. Her thick-framed glasses framed big, dark, sharp-looking eyes. I tried not to let my eyes wander but they went on their way against my will, taking in the swell of her tits just barely pushing at the fabric of her shirt, the neat waist that I thought I could wrap one arm around easily. The table obscured the rest of her, but I knew that below that waist was a flare of hip and long, toned legs that you wouldn’t expect from her short stature.