by L. S. Scott
His lips brushed mine softly. His tongue outlined the inside of them before pushing its way in to find mine, and if felt right. It tasted right.
Chapter Ninteen
I convinced Jaron to let me take my semester tests. He agreed with the condition that he drove me and picked me up.
On Friday evening, my last test completed, my college career over, we drove to the Dairy Bar for dinner. They had the best burgers and milkshakes around and it was nice to be able to dine in public now that I was of age.
I tried to hide my disappointment about school and decided that at a later date, I would try and talk him into letting me take online courses for the next couple of semesters. Maybe in a year he would be over the incident and I could earn some trust back.
The bell above the door jingled as we left. Jaron put his arm around me and hugged me close, chuckling about some airheaded comment I made about a flyer that hung on the door. It was for the ‘Chuck Wagon Races’, and I thought it was “Chuck’s Wagon Races’. He proceeded to try and explain the whole thing to me as we walked through the dirt parking lot to the truck. I stared at the ground, frowning in concentration. My train of thought was derailed when he stopped talking abruptly and I felt his body go rigid.
“I love you,” he said close to my ear, his voice laced with a serious urgency.
“What’s wrong,” I pulled back far enough to look at him. He pulled me back to him.
“I love you,” he insisted.
“Jaron Blake,” an unfamiliar voice said.
I looked up to see a black four door car parked in front of Jaron’s truck and two men approaching us.
“I love you,” he repeated a third time.
“Jaron, what’s going on,” my heart started racing in panic.
“Jaron Blake,” the man repeated. “We need you to come with us.”
“Natalie, I love you.”
“I love you too. But, what’s going on?”
He released his death grip on me and held his hands open to his sides.
“Mr. Blake you are wanted for questioning in the murders of Billy Brannen and Jack Trigg,” the man explained, taking Jaron by the arm and leaning him over the hood of the unmarked car.
“Jaron,” I gasped.
“Ma’am, you need to stand back please,” Detective Bryant warned.
Jaron laid his cheek against the car and looked at me with no emotion except a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. The detective cuffed and searched him before pulling him up from the hood. I stood, stunned and confused, unable to move or think.
“Call Janna,” he said before the door closed him in the back seat.
Detective Bryant looked at me sympathetically as he rounded the hood of his car and got in to drive away. Shaking I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Janna’s number.
“Hello.”
“Janna,” the tears began to fall.
“Natalie? What’s the matter?”
“Jaron. They took him,” I said vaguely.
“Who, Natalie, who took him.” Confusion and panic was heavy in her voice.
“Um, Detective Bryant and some other guy. They, uh,” I stuttered, unable to fathom the words I had just heard. “They took him in for questioning.”
“Questioning for what?”
“M,m,m, murder,” the sobs took over my body. The line fell silent.
“Where are you,” she asked.
“I’m at the Dairy Bar, they just drove away. He said to call you.”
“Stay there. We will come get you,” she instructed, as authoritative as her brother.
Twenty minutes later Greg’s black Navigator was pulling into the parking lot. Janna got out and opened the truck door. I was sitting behind the steering wheel, crying uncontrollably.
“Come here sweetie,” she said, wrapping her arm around me, pulling my head to her shoulder. Greg pulled away in a hurry. “It’s going to be ok, scoot over and let me drive.”
“Where are we going?”
“We are going to your house to wait. Greg is going to the jail for Jaron.”
“I want to go there,” I whined. “I want to see him.”
“No,” she shook her head as she started the truck.
“He wouldn’t want you to see him there. They won’t let you see him right now anyway. Greg will take care of it. He’ll be home soon I promise.” She patted my knee reassuringly.
I stood at the bathroom sink splashing my face with cold water. I examined my reflection. My eyes were rimmed in red with dark, heavy circles beneath them. I hadn’t slept any, images of Jaron bloody and shaking in the shower haunted me. The realization of what happened on, that night that we never talked about, hitting me hard. “You don’t know anything about anything.” Jaron’s words repeated in my mind.
It had been close to eighteen hours since they had taken Jaron and I hadn’t got to talk to him. Greg updated us, saying they could keep him for up to twenty-four hours before they had to release him if there was no evidence. I wondered around the house, lost. It was getting close to six, so I started digging in the refrigerator looking for something to cook for dinner. If Jaron made it home in time, I wanted to have dinner ready for him.
My brow etched with stress and frustration, I stared at the shelves with no clue what to reach for. Just before I burst into tears, the front door opened. I snapped my head up to see him coming through the door. He strode toward me with purpose, intense longing on his face.
He shut the fridge and wrapped me up. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his neck as he lifted my feet off the ground. Reflexively, my legs wrapped around his waist, my body jerking with relieved sobs.
“Ssshh, it’s okay baby,” he soothed. “I’m home.”
He set me on the counter and pulled back to look at me. He rubbed the wrinkles away from my forehead with his thumb before kissing me. I didn’t question him. I only wanted him to be there, with me, in our little world.
“You made it home for dinner,” I said in a whiny, pitiful voice.
“Yeah,” he smiled and pressed his forehead to mine.
I stood at the sink washing dishes, the weight of the horrible bloody memory crushing me, the question heavy on my heart.
“Did you do it,” I asked.
My voice was low as if I didn’t want anyone else to hear, even though we were alone, and I kept my eyes trained on the bubbles in the sink.
Jaron moved to stand behind me. He placed a hand on either side of me and trapped me between his hips and the counter. He was making sure I couldn’t flee before he answered and I knew before he said a word what the answer was going to be.
His chest heaved against my back and his cheek was warm as it pressed against the side of my head.
“Yes,” he answered in a low hoarse voice.
Deep, silent, sobs wracked my body as my heart shattered and my soul was crushed.
“I’m sorry baby. I had to; it was the only way to be sure you were safe.”
“So this is my fault?” My heart dropped into my stomach.
“No! No, this is my fault for dragging you into my screwed up life.”
He turned me in his arms and pressed me to his chest, stroking my hair to try and soothe me.
“What are we going to do?”
He took a deep calming breath, cupped my face in his hands and turned it up to look at him.
“Right now, we are going to lock the door and turn out the lights and go to bed and forget about everything and everyone outside of it. Tonight, it’s just you and me.”
He struggled to speak as tears filled the corners of his eyes.
He led me to our bedroom, our sanctuary. In the soft glow of candle light, we stood at the end of the bed and he slowly undressed me. I watched his beautiful eyes closely as he drank in all of me. His hands traced every curve, every contour of my body. When he was finished, I did the same before melting against him.
Every movement was in slow motion, as we lay down together. Our kisses
were deep and lingering, our caresses slow and profound. He painstakingly tasted every inch of me. Taking slow deep breaths, breathing in my lavender scent.
We made love for hours, slow and deep, climaxing over and over without ever breaking our connection and slept pressed together, him still inside me.
“Natalie, if you could just tell us what you remember about that night?”
I stared emotionless at the wall.
“We already know the victims came to the house. We have a witness that saw the SUV in the drive.” Still I stared.
The pale gray room was dank and the air was stale. My head ached and the pounding was exacerbated by the incessant humming of the fluorescent light. Greg had talked to us about the inevitability of me being questioned and advised that it was best I was as cooperative as possible, while telling them zip, of course.
“I don’t know anything about anything,” I repeated my rehearsed line.
Detective Bryant regarded me sympathetically.
“I’ve been dealing with guys like Jaron Blake for nearly twenty years. Jealous, abusive,” he paused noting the light yellow of the fading bruise that highlighted my cheek.
I knew he was trying to win me over, turn me against Jaron, talking as if he knew something about our lives. I turned my eyes to him for the first time.
“It’s not like that.”
“Of course not,” he said sarcastically. “I’m sure you’re just a very clumsy girl.”
I took a deep frustrated breath and turned my attention back to the concrete wall. He reached across the table and covered my shaky hand with his warm clammy palm. A gesture meant to calm and reassure me, but made me recoil instead.
“Jaron is a ticking time bomb Natalie. What do you think’s going to happen when we issue the warrant, which is inevitable. He’s going to explode.”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest.
“You’re a good kid Natalie. You deserve better than this. I just hope when he goes away, possibly for the rest of his life, you will move on with yours.”
Detective Bryant sat with me quietly, giving me the time he knew I needed, time to breath, to consider what my life was and what it could be.
“Here, take my card. If you think of anything, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”
He rose from his seat and held the door open for me. After a brief stare down, I got up and left.
Jaron was in the barn unloading horse feed, when I returned home and wound tighter than ever. He couldn’t sit still and did anything he could to stay busy. More than once over the weeks following his questioning, he came from the barn with blood shot, half opened eyes. He was stoned and I knew it, but didn’t question. He had a ton of crap just waiting to fall on his head, on top of all the other crap that already troubled him.
“Knock, knock,” I said softly, stepping into the tack room where he stacked the feed bags.
He jumped and turned at the sound of my voice. His chest was bare, his shirt tucked in his back pocket, hanging down his legs his dirty, faded jeans, ripped above the knee.
“Hey babe,” he said relieved when he saw it was me.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” I smiled and leaned against the door frame.
He took a deep breath and smirked.
“Everything go okay,” he asked.
His eyes narrowed as he watched me closely. I nodded.
“They weren’t too hard on you were they, didn’t try the whole good cop bad cop bullshit.”
“No,” I shook my head.
He tilted his head. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. You’re in short answer mode Natalie. Tell me exactly what was said.”
I took a deep breath.
“They have a witness that the SUV was in the drive way,” I paused and waited his reaction. There was none. “Bryant thinks I’m abused and scared of you, he’s trying to be my friend, make me trust him.”
He huffed, put a hand on his hip and cocked his leg to the side.
“Are you,” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“Am I what?”
“Scared of me?”
I searched his eyes. They were piercing and emotive, slightly stormy but controlled.
“A little,” I said honestly and moved toward him. “But you know that already.” I stepped deliberately slow. “Danger is part of the whole bad boy sex appeal you got going on,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
He smirked and grabbed me as soon as I came within reach. With one hand on my waist and one around my throat, he pressed me against the rough wood of the stall. He crushed my lips and my body with his. I pulled his cap off and tangled my hands in his sweat dampened hair. He pulled his lips away and pressed his forehead to mine.
“I told him I didn’t know anything about anything and that is what I will tell them every time they talk to me. I would never…”
He kissed me again to shut me up. “Come on, I need to clean up and get ready for dinner.”
In the days that followed, we spent every waking minute together. My brother called several times, about to blow a gasket, and Tiffany was just as bad. My story remained the same no matter who I was talking to.
On a Thursday afternoon, almost two weeks after he was taken in for questioning, Jaron paced on the deck engaged in an intense phone conversation. When he was done, I watched him through the kitchen window. He leaned on the railing, all his weight on his palms, his head hanging between his broad shoulders.
I could see the stress almost crushing him and couldn’t help but think that Detective Bryant was right. Jaron was a ticking time bomb, he had been since the day I met him. The only thing that kept him from having a complete melt down some days was this house, his fortress of solitude. Anytime he was mad, upset or stressed, he just wanted to be home, where he felt safe, where he could lock the world outside. The quiet, the daily routine, it was all his way of coping, controlling his rage, his own form of therapy.
The sound of the door snapped me from my psychoanalytical musing.
“Get some stuff together, I need you to stay with Tiffany for a few days,” he said in a low grumble, passing through the kitchen without stopping.
“But, why? What’s going on,” I asked following him into the bedroom.
“Its work Natalie,” code for don’t ask, “just hurry up. I need to leave in thirty minutes tops.”
I looked at him confused, my mouth open. He shot me a side-ways glance.
“Please,” he barked.
I bit my lip and looked at the floor for a second then proceeded to pack an overnight bag.
“How long,” I asked.
“Just a couple days as usual,” he answered, but usually it’s planned, not spur of the moment and he’s not usually so irritated.
“Is everything ok Jaron?”
He stopped for a second and inhaled sharply. He turned to me with a look that said, no everything is not ok, then said, “Everything’s fine. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty
I paced beside the pool. “Would you please sit down, you’re making nervous,” Tiffany whined.
I plopped on the lounge chair beside her, wringing my hands, my knee bouncing erratically.
“It’s been four days and he hasn’t called. He was only supposed to be gone two. He would never just, not call me.” I bit my lip to stop the trembling.
“If something had happened someone would’ve called you,” she tried to reassure.
Then, as if he knew I was at my wits end, my cell rang. Jaron’s name lit up the display.
“Jaron,” I answered immediately, moving to the other side of the pool.
“Natalie,” he answered back, his voice low and strained.
“You’ve been gone four days and not one phone call. I’ve been freaking out.”
“Natalie? I love you.”
I froze. The lump in my throat grew until it ached.
“What’s wrong Jaron?” S
haky breathing is all I heard on the line. “Jaron!? What’s wrong? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” My voice began to crack.
“They’ve got Dave,” he said cryptically.
“Who’s got Dave?” Visions of heavily armed drug dealers in black SUV’s filled my head.
“Cops, he’s been arrested.”
“What for?”
It was really just a reflex question that I didn’t expect to get an answer to. I was surprised when Jaron continued almost as if he didn’t hear me.
“With the shit storm going on, the buyers, they wouldn’t pick up as usual. They wanted it delivered. I don’t know if it was a set-up, or what, but,” he paused to breath and steady his self. “Dave was busted, with a lot of weed. I mean a lot.”
I covered my mouth; stunned by all the details I was just given. I didn’t know how to respond, what to say.
“Natalie? Are you there?”
I swallowed hard and wiped a tear off my face.
“Yeah baby, I’m here.”
“He knows Natalie. He knows everything.”
“Jaron,” a sob broke free from my chest.
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t think. I, I just need to go home. I need you.”
I could hear the tears crackling in his voice as well.
“Have you called Greg? He’ll know what the best thing is, right?”
The line was silent for a beat.
“If they issue a warrant for my arrest, he wants me to turn myself in.”
“Does he know? I mean everything?”
“Yes.” His voice was almost a whisper.
“I think you should come home Jaron. I mean Dave’s your friend right? He wouldn’t…”
“He’ll do whatever it takes to stay out of jail Natalie, the same as me. But you’re right, I have to come home.” His voice became flat, filled with a sense of finality that sent a chill up my spine. “Stay put, I’ll be there sometime tonight.”
“Ok. Jaron, be careful. I love you.”
“I love you too. See you soon baby girl.”
The line went dead.
Tiffany had worn me out with her questions and worrying, until I finally snapped at her and told her it was none of her business. I felt awful when the hurt look crossed her face, but there was just nothing I could tell her. I was too freaked out to come up with some good cover story.