Just One More Chance: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  Leaning up, she straddled his hips, his erection pressing against her heat. He gazed up, the moonlight caressing her beautifully. Her long, blonde hair hanging about her shoulders, teasing her breasts. He gripped her hips before sliding his hands up her sides to just the underside of them. Leaning backward she panted in anticipation.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Please what?” he teased.

  “I need you. I need all of you,” she said, her head falling forward, pinning him with her gaze.

  “Take what you need,” he answered, his hands moving up to cup both breasts, his rough thumbs rubbing over her nipples.

  “What about what you need?”

  His eyes moved from her pert breasts up to her face and a slow, easy smile curved his lips. “Baby, you are what I need.”

  Determined to chase away his nightmares, Jillian lifted upward until the tip of his cock was nuzzling her entrance. Sliding down an inch at a time, she groaned at the fullness as his girth stretched her tight walls.

  Grant wanted to throw his head back against the pillow with his eyes tightly shut to amplify the sense of his shaft entering her, but he fought the urge, keeping his eyes trained on the beautiful woman giving herself to him. Her hands grasped his shoulders and the memory of her loving that particular part of his anatomy came to the forefront of his mind as her fingers dug into his flesh. Her blue eyes, shining with understanding and acceptance humbled him. Her breasts, fitting so perfectly in his hands, molded themselves to his every touch, bouncing as she moved up and down. Her normally sun-kissed skin glowed pale in the moonlight. But it was her ripe-berry lips, as the groan of pleasure slid between them, which undid him.

  Grasping her hips once more, he lifted her slightly, affording his hips the room to move—and move they did.

  Pumping up and down, he controlled the pace—slow at first, and then faster and faster as the little noises she made grew louder.

  The friction built between them as his cock drove against her inner sex and her core wound tighter. Biting her bottom lip, she panted in rhythm to his thrusts. She knew her fingers would leave marks on his shoulders but she was unable to loosen her hold for fear she would not be able to support herself on her own. He was not tiring, but she had no doubt his mind was there with her as his gaze roamed over her face continually. Whether making sure she was still alive and well or just lost in lust, she did not know…I don’t care. As long as he’s making love to me.

  Grant felt her slick channel cradle his aching cock and as his balls began to pull up tightly, he watched as her head dropped back exposing the long column of her neck. Sliding one hand from her hip to her clit, he pressed his thumb on the engorged bud, moving it around in a circle before giving it a slight pinch.

  Her body shivered on top of his as her orgasm crashed into her, washing over her like the roaring surf. Crying out her name, he roared into her with one heavy thrust upward as his balls emptied and he filled her with his cum. With several smaller thrusts, his ass landed back onto the bed, taking her with him as she flopped on top of his chest.

  Sweat-slick bodies, hearts pounding erratically, ragged breaths panting into the cool night air…they lay unable to move or talk for several long minutes.

  Jillian finally placed her hands on the mattress beside his head and pushed up off his chest while he still remained semi-erect inside her. Grinning down, she said, “Feel better?”

  “Hell, yeah!” he chuckled, his nightmare now replaced with the beauty that was all of her, lying on top of him. As his mirth dissipated, he cupped both of her cheeks reverently, his thumbs gently caressing her petal-soft skin. “Baby, the idea of you being taken from me is my worst nightmare.”

  “I’m here,” she whispered, leaning down to touch his lips with hers. “And I’m here to stay. There’s no danger here…nothing to fear. I love you…I never stopped loving you.”

  Closing his eyes against the pain, he grimaced for a few seconds, the realization that he had wasted so many years fighting the love of this woman hitting him in the gut once more. But he had to let that go. Sucking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes and felt the warmth of her forgiveness flowing through him. “I love you too, Jillian. With all my heart. And with everything I have to give, I vow to protect you and love you for the rest of my life.”

  With a flip, he rolled her over, holding his weight on his forearms as his lips plundered everything she was willing to give. Ready for round two, the sound of a vibrating phone on the night stand barely crept into his consciousness.

  “Bab fo,” she mumbled against the onslaught of his kiss.

  “Mmmm?” It can wait! Not willing to slow the passion, he moved his hips as his erection came back to life, conveniently still inside her warmth.

  “Baby,” she said, out of breath as he kissed his way down her jaw. “Phone.”

  The phone vibrated again, seemingly more insistent as he allowed its intrusion to interrupt his kiss. Reaching over he answered curtly. “Yeah?” A pause. “Shit, Mitch.”

  Jillian watched as his face morphed from passion-interrupted irritation to shock.

  “Right, be there in fifteen.” Hanging up, he looked down, his eyes full of regret. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “You’ve got to go,” she finished for him, a rueful smile on her lips. Touching his mouth with hers, she said, “It’s okay, honey.” Pulling back slightly, she reminded, “Just remember…I’ll always be here when you get back.”

  Rolling off her body, he stalked into the bathroom and came back out a few minutes later, quickly throwing on his khakis and BPD polo. Jillian turned to the side, her head propped up on her hand, watching him get ready. As he fastened his gun holster, she was reminded of what he faced on the job.

  “Will you be all right?” she asked. A reminder of the prisoner that had been gunned down on the courthouse steps of Easton a week earlier bolted through her. The realization that the sleepy little Eastern Shore was not immune to the ills of the world made her stare at him, wide-eyed with fear.

  Bending over, he kissed her once more, this time ending with a smile. “No worries, babe. Now that I have you to come home to, I’ll be fine.”

  *

  Fifteen minutes later, Grant pulled his SUV off a long drive on the north side of town, close to the county line. The drive wound around toward the beach where he pulled into a clearing next to the dunes and parked beside of a number of other law enforcement vehicles. Mitch and Burt were already there and Ginny pulled in right behind him.

  Observing as Zac exited the back of the ambulance, he hustled over to the group standing at the top of the dune. Hearing a noise from behind, he saw Ginny and Sam approaching as well as Colt’s Sheriff SUV driving up.

  Stalking over to where Mitch stood with Burt, he looked over the dune, his gaze immediately latching on to the body lying on the beach. Male, dark suit, hands tied behind his back, obviously shot in the head. But who the fuck is it?

  Chapter 20

  Before Grant could ask the identity of the body, Mitch turned, his mouth set in a firm line, eyes hidden behind the same reflective sunglasses they all sported.

  “It seems our intrepid attorney, Stanley Martino, has met an untimely demise…and was left here on our turf.”

  “Executed,” Ginny huffed as she reached the group and scanned the carnage.

  “Yeah,” Grant acknowledged. “Left here as a warning to us?”

  “More likely a warning to anyone around working for this gang not to mess with them.”

  “But why him?” Burt asked, hands on his hips, his stance matching the others’.

  Colt interjected, “Just got a call from the FBI in Baltimore. Seems Mr. Martino was attempting to leave the country. His condo is packed up and movers were inside loading the furniture according to Martino’s instructions. His secretary has been located and she indicated he had tickets to the Caribbean, leaving last night from Baltimore Airport. When questioned, she admitted it had not been a planned trip as far as sh
e knew, but he called her two days ago with instructions for his practice merging with Simons Law Firm…at least his legitimate clients. She wired money to his Cayman account, got the tickets, and was in charge of forwarding some of his belongings that were going to be in storage.”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” Grant cursed, his words echoed among the others standing around, watching the crime scene being processed.

  “From what we can see,” Mitch continued, “it looks like he was killed somewhere else and brought here, taken over the dune, and dumped.” He looked at the deputies from North Heron as they began to work the scene, before turning to his group. “Help where you can, but just know that when the FBI come, they’ll take over.”

  As the others began to investigate, Grant could not drag his eyes from the body on the beach. The gender was different…the clothes were different…but as the body was rolled over, all he focused on was the destruction. His back hit the nearest tree as he closed his eyes tightly, praying the image of his nightmare with Jillian as the victim would flee from his mind. Hoping the tree held him up while protecting him from the probing eyes of any around, he felt a body near his as a quiet voice asked, “You okay?”

  Knowing it was Ginny, he sucked in a cleansing breath before opening his eyes. “Yeah.”

  She nodded, no more questions forthcoming, giving him a moment to compose himself. Continuing to observe the crime scene processing, she noted, “Weird, isn’t it? Like dumping something right at our back door.”

  Grant, his head cleared and his fingers itching to search the area, nodded. “Mitch and Colt will find out everything ’cause, while the Feds are stepping in, I’ve got a feeling that whatever’s happening, it’s been brought to our back door for a reason. And I’ll bet that last runner we arrested won’t open his mouth for a deal now.” With one last glance toward Stanley’s body, Grant turned away and noticed two all-black SUVs driving up as he stalked back to Mitch. “Now that the Feds have shown up, I’m going on patrol. We’ve got a game later and I’ve got some investigating to finish on the possible suspect in the trailer park.”

  *

  “Oliver, these are amazing!” Jillian called out as the artist brought one more box upstairs to her. She hefted a large bowl, the various blues fired into the pottery capturing the sunlight streaming through the window. Junior sat cross-legged on the floor, making a rudimentary list of each piece she unwrapped, while Bobby stared up in awe at Oliver, who ruffled his hair as he walked by.

  “Here is the last box to be mailed,” he said. “This one is to California and the others are to a dealer in Texas.”

  “I’ll take care of them this week,” Jillian promised. “What do you have in them?”

  He looked up quizzically, his eyes wide. “In them?”

  “Yeah, silly. The boxes? Are you shipping more pieces like this bowl?”

  “Oh, oh. Sorry…my mind was somewhere else. Um…yeah, there are a couple of vases and bowls… all mine. Sometimes I sell pieces that my interns make, but only locally.”

  “Do those dealers not mind getting the pieces from the interns instead of you?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “I thought they would only want your work.”

  “There’s only so much I can produce myself, so if the intern is working under me and their techniques are the same, I consider them as coming from my shop and sell them as such. Each artist is given fair credit, of course, but they are listed as being under my tutelage. I thought I’d keep them local for the time being, branch out later on maybe—if the artists are interested in that. Don’t worry, the buyers know what they’re getting and pay accordingly, on a scale.”

  Shrugging, Jillian smiled. “Well, good! More for both of us then!”

  Oliver met her smile, his gaze holding on her face before sliding over to the boys. “Who are your helpers?”

  “Boys, come over here and meet Mr. Dobson, our potter. Oliver, these are two young men who work for me after school some days. This is Junior and he’s a whiz at helping me catalog the items coming in.” She stood behind Junior, her hands on his shoulders as he stood with straight posture, his hand coming out to shake Oliver’s.

  “And this,” she continued, moving behind his star-struck brother, “is Bobby, who is a budding artist himself and a true fan of your work.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet a fellow artist,” Oliver said, bending down to Bobby’s level.

  The boys moved to carry Oliver’s boxes to the desk while Jillian watched them, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “You seem to get along with them really well,” Oliver commented, turning back to her.

  “They’re good kids and love helping. Junior is great with your packages to be sent off. He makes sure the labels are attached correctly and that we have them going to the right place.”

  “He keeps track of where they’re going?” Oliver asked, his eyebrows raised. “I mean, I’m not trying to be a problem, but—”

  “Don’t worry,” she assured, smiling up at him. “I oversee everything and just allow them to help.”

  Placated, Oliver sighed in relief. “Good, good. I just wouldn’t want the artwork to go missing.”

  “No worries. Listen, Oliver,” she said, stepping closer to him. “I was wondering if you would like to come to one of the American Legion games. There’re lots of town people there and I have some friends that you could meet. We often go to Finn’s Pub afterwards and you would be able to…uh…well, you know? Meet some more people.” Jillian realized she was stammering, but did not now how to set him up with one of her girlfriends if he was never in town.

  “I…don’t know,” he replied, his brow furrowed as he shifted his eyes from her face to the window behind her. “Meeting other people would be nice, but I’ve got no idea how long I might be in the area.”

  “Oh…I thought you were here to stay?” Searching his face, she found no answers as he continued to avoid looking directly at her.

  About to question him further, they were interrupted by a shout from downstairs.

  “Boys! You ready to go?” Grant yelled, instantly lighting a fire under Junior and Bobby who jumped up and ran to the top of the stairs. Within a few seconds, Grant rounded the corner, grinning widely at the two youngsters with enthusiastic greetings of their own.

  He twisted around, his eyes searching for Jillian but landing on Oliver first. Hiding his scowl, his boots clomped loudly on the wooden floor as he made his way to Jillian, his heart lightened by the welcoming smile on her face. She stood on her toes offering him a light kiss, one that he was more than eager to accept, before he turned back toward Oliver, keeping his hand on her waist.

  The two men nodded their greetings, but sized each other up in the way men do—barely disguised testosterone behind firm handshakes.

  Sucking in a breath, Oliver glanced over at Jillian, saying, “Um…I guess I’ll head on out now. I’ll have a few more boxes to send to you by the end of the week.”

  “Remember, the invitation is always open,” she said. “Children’s games are on Saturdays, but if you’re working you can come by later to Finn’s Pub.” Wiggling her eyebrows, she smirked, “And I’ll be sure to introduce you to some of my friends.”

  Chuckling, Oliver waved at her before heading down the stairs, pointedly avoiding Grant’s stare.

  “What was that all about?” Grant asked, pulling her in closer.

  Nodding toward the boys, she shook her head slightly, offering him another light kiss only. “I was just being neighborly.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  “Grant, stop acting jealous,” she fussed, keeping her voice down, but noticed the boys were oblivious to their discussion. “I feel bad, that’s all. I’m actually trying to set him up with some of my single friends.”

  Grinning at her explanation, he bent down to whisper, “Okay, no more jealousy, I promise. And if you can play matchmaker so he won’t feel like competition, that’d be fine with me.”

  Her f
orehead scrunched as she turned her face up toward his. “Competition? You are so silly sometimes! He’s not competition. There is no competition. Only you,” she finished, her hands planted on her hips, her foot stamping a staccato on the floor.

  “Boys? Don’t look,” he ordered loudly before grabbing her around the waist, pulling her even closer.

  “What are you—mmphh!”

  Shutting her up with a deep, wet kiss, albeit one regretfully without tongue, he still heard the boys giggling in the background and knew it was the right decision. Leaning back, he peered down, pleased to see her half-lidded eyes, rosy lips, and dreamy expression.

  He kissed the end of her nose and said, “See you at the ballfield, babe. Boys? Let’s go.” With that, he, Junior, and Bobby tromped down the stairs, leaving Jillian ready to find her girlfriends. Well, I need a testosterone-free zone for a bit!

  *

  Cheers from the stands interrupted their conversations in intervals, but the girls did not mind. Seeing the smiling faces of the kids as they rounded the bases, some sliding into homeplate, was worth the interruptions. As they took their seats on the bleachers once more, Katelyn asked, “So this Stanley guy was shot on the beach? Our beach?”

  Tori and Jillian both shrugged. “Mitch won’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” Tori explained, “so I don’t know any more than what you read in the paper.”

  “What good is it to have my two best friends dating policemen, if you can’t keep me up on all the info?” Katelyn huffed, only half joking.

  “Well, I do know that Grant was in a pissy mood for a couple of days. It seems like the FBI hasn’t been real forthcoming with their investigation.”

  Tori nodded grimly. “Mitch tried calling in some markers from his days in the FBI, but wasn’t getting anywhere. It seems the FBI and DEA don’t always share all the info, especially when both are investigating.”

  “Well, at least Grant is happy with the kids here,” Jillian added. “He’s got a new one under his wing. See that little girl over by Ginny? Her name is Karly. He’s been doing some investigating in the trailer park and met her mom. That’s how he got them to come today.”