by Nicole Snow
Fuck again.
I remember how her moans poured into me. How they choked down my own guttural pleasure. How hard I came, her clenched to every inch of me, pulling pure fire from my balls.
That was us, an eternity ago, before everything went hurling to hell.
Tonight, there's just me. She's gone.
“Amy?” Her name comes out in a harsh whisper.
A second later, the world goes blinding red. It's like my skull explodes from the inside out, motion and pain blurring together. Then everything spins and my knees give out.
I go down. Hit the floor, too messed up to even swear, or remember what a stupid desperate asshole I am for coming up here.
“Trent? Trent?! Oh my God.” There's an angel whispering my name.
I wonder if I'm dead or dreaming, staring up at her face, soft and pink and panicked. Also, suddenly looking at me like my presence isn't akin to finding dog crap in her slippers.
I think she's shaking me. Lightly. Somehow, it takes longer than it should for my arm to register the weight of her touch.
“What...” I stagger up in a sitting position, and instantly regret it. My temple throbs.
There's something hard and wrong on the side of my head. My senses work again. Reaching up, I touch my fingers against the tender lump rising on my skin and whistle softly. “Goddamn, Amy Kay. What'd you...oh.”
My eyes adjust to the darkness. I see her fall back against the bed, those green eyes so bright, fingers cupped around a dense ceramic mug.
“I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. Just wanted to scare you away, is all. I thought you'd leave after a good whack. Maybe you'd just jump back down the tree and beat it.”
“You thought a little bump on the noggin would make me think twice about bleeding the truth?” Pretty fucked up I'm smiling. Even worse I won't consider leaving. Not without releasing the words I've worked so hard to put in her ear.
She shakes her head. I can't tell if she's impressed or disgusted.
Both, maybe.
“You're insane. If there's no concussion, here's what'll happen: I'll help you up, lead you down the stairs, and send you out the front door before anybody else wakes up. Surely, you've got a car parked out there, or a driver or something? I'll call you a taxi if you don't. Or if that won't do, an ambulance.”
“You assaulted me, Presh, and now you're giving orders?” A vicious laugh sticks in my throat. “Who the hell are you? Sometimes I wonder if I'm looking at the same beautiful woman with big dreams and bigger sass I had years ago. Or if you're her evil twin.”
Her face sours. “Things change. After what you did to Jace, to dad, I ought to just keep you here until the police show up. Maybe you'd drop this crap you're pulling so we don't press charges.”
Dad? Frowning, I try to stand up, but it's too soon.
“What's wrong with Maxwell?” I ask. A split second later, my ass crashes back on the floor, winning a sympathetic look I'm not sure I want.
“The usual. He's worried to death. Sick to his stomach, finding out the truth about my stupid fucking brother.” She blinks. It lasts a little longer than it should, like she doesn't want to wake up and face the cold reality. “Don't fight me on this, Trent. Please. You've done enough damage. Knowing the why, hearing it from your lips, won't change a thing. It's too late.”
“Wrong.” Soon as I say the word, strength flows back in my body. I'm able to reach out, grab her hand, fish the mug away from her.
Once it's a safe distance away, I put my other hand on hers, grateful she isn't fighting. “Just hear me out, Precious. That's all I'll ever want. Hell, if I'm still the bad guy to you, then here's what I'll do: turn around, leave for Oregon, and call off my dogs. I'll let that bastard-prick stumble through his divorce a free man. His pride won't be the same, or his future. Still, if you'll just listen, I might think twice about bringing down the house. Throw me a damn bone.”
Her eyes go wide, and then narrow. “You're telling me there's more? Like you haven't already done enough?”
It sounds ludicrous. But Jace is the man who won't have his life completely ruined hemorrhaging money, a career, his woman. He can still slink away with a few million to his name, locked up in a trust nobody else can touch, plus a few toys, unless I set them on fire, too.
“I'm a total fool for not dumping it sooner, Amy Kay. Like when we were stuck that long, hellish night.” It seems like the elevator malfunction happened a hundred years ago rather than just last week. “I have to get this out. If I do, you'll finally understand. You'll know why I put my life on the line a second time to help mother karma find her target. You'll get why I want to skin him alive.”
She slumps against the bed, jerking her hand out of mine. “If I say no again, I know you'll never leave. Fine. Let's get this over with, asshole. Out with it.”
Six Years Ago
I wake up in Heaven.
Seeing my green-eyed sleeping beauty curled next to me, naked as the day she was born, is the best damn sight in the universe.
My dick goes hard, ready for a proper wake up call. Even after we fucked five times, late into the night, it's still not enough.
I haven't begun to own this woman, to make every inch of her mine.
Perfectly, completely, unforgettably mine.
There's a small mark from a hickey above her left breast. A vicious pride puts a smile on my face, remembering how hard, how deep, how good we went at it the night before.
So fucking good.
I've barely begun to have her all the ways I will. Still know I'll never get sick of her.
Not after years sharing the same bed.
Not after thousands of times ending in her screaming my name.
Not after walking through hell for one more piece of her.
I hold her close, loving how she sighs, still lost in hazy dreams. Pressing my lips to her ear, I let it come out. All of it and then some.
“You're so fucking beautiful, darling. And I was an idiot to run, even if I had a good reason. I'm never leaving you again. Not after seeing you naked and perfect and peaceful like this. You're the only woman I'll ever love, Presh. You were made for me. Only girl I'll stand to wear my name, my ring, my everything. Watch me wife the hell out of you.” My cheeks go red hot as the scalding words slip out.
Am I really doing this? Pouring my heart out? I am. While she's asleep.
Don't know if she hears a single word. Doesn't matter. I've made my confession and someday soon I'll say it to her face. After we're engaged, without another care in the world except how happy we'll be.
Now, it's time. I roll away with one more kiss on her neck. I stagger into the bathroom attached to her room.
My stomach growls while I take a leak. The thirst isn't far behind.
We've got this place to ourselves. What will it hurt to walk down there, brew some coffee, and then scrounge us up breakfast?
I march into the kitchen and start pawing through cabinets like a starving bear. Maxwell's stash of fancy coffee beans teases my nose through the bag.
No sooner than I'm reaching for the grinder, I see movement outside the huge window overlooking the Chenocott's slice of the Seattle shore.
A figure. He – at least I think it's a he – stoops down by the rocky crop of beach adjacent to the boathouse. There's a shovel in his hand, methodically smoothing a rough patch of dirt, patting it even. His boot kicks several more heavy black rocks over the top, head twisting side to side.
Weird is an understatement.
My stomach rolls. Adrenaline spikes my blood. My pulse quickens.
Something very wrong is happening here.
I briefly wonder if it's a servant, a gardener, some contractor doing late season landscaping before summer melts into autumn. But no one should be creeping around like this, suspicious as hell in that oversized black hoodie.
“Fuck,” I whisper, wondering if this is the price for such an incredible night.
I drop the bag of beans on the counter
and stomp to the wall, ready to grab the phone and call the police. Then the figure turns, showing me the back of his hoodie, and I see familiar white letters.
It's a local band, some post-grunge Nirvana throwback popular in the clubs downtown and on campus.
Jace.
Pursing my lips, I slam the phone back in its cradle, and open the door. Seems like it takes forever to cross the massive expanse of their three level deck, tethering the staircase to ground level. Then I'm off, bolting across the acres stretching to the coast.
I catch Jace mid-way while he's walking toward the house. He immediately looks startled, knowing I'm not supposed to be here.
Too bad. I don't intend to start on why, and I definitely don't want to disturb my beautiful, naked Presh upstairs, still dreaming sweetly in the sheets.
“Usher? What the fuck?” There's something else on his face.
Alarm. Suspicion. Worry.
“Took the words right out of my mouth, bro. What're you doing here? Dropping by while Maxwell's preoccupied in the woods?”
I don't like how his eyes shift around.
It's the look of a guilty man, pretending to make eye contact but actually avoiding it. “Yeah. Mom missed a few shirts I really like when she had Amy Kay bring my clothes out to your place a while back.”
Total lie. Ophelia's a meticulous woman. And there's nothing truthful in his weak-ass tone. “You lose your shirts out back then? Were they floating down the coast or something?” I nod toward the spot where I saw him digging.
Not sure what he's done with the shovel. It's gone, along with any sign he was out there digging, except for the sand stuck to his rubber boots. It's an oversized pair of fisherman's wear he must've borrowed from the boathouse.
“Well?” I press him through the silence.
Jace's eyes bug out. I've never seen anyone honestly lost for words before.
His head drops, but only for a second. When he looks up, there's an odd excitement in his eyes.
“Shit. Listen, man...what if I told you we don't have to spend the next year holding our dicks, begging angel investors or writing congressman for research grants?”
I cock my head, not saying a word.
“I've found an awesome way to give our company a huge shot in the arm by Christmas. I wasn't sure if you'd like it at first, but since you're out here...come on.”
“Jace!” I call after him, but there's no slowing him down.
Fuck. He turns, takes off, urging me to follow.
I expect him to lead us to the stretch of shore where I caught him digging. Instead, he turns into the boathouse, giving me a sly wink as he unlocks the door. “Need to shake these things off, anyway,” he says, stomping grey sand off his boots.
We step inside, stopping next to the hulking Wilkie. It's a little older, more worn than when we took it out years ago. Still brings a smile to my face, remembering my first kiss with Amy Kay at the controls. Plus last night's many hotter kisses.
“Give me a sec,” Jace says. Shaking his boots off and throwing them against the wall noisily reminds me why we're here, and I don't fucking like it.
There's a large chest in the corner, probably stuffed with life jackets and spare boating gear. He slips back into his shoes and then walks over, undoes the lock, and throws it open. Whatever I expected inside, it's not a briefcase.
My guts knot. He's coming toward me, the mystery briefcase slapping his thigh, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Just so you know, I was waiting for the right time to let the cat out of the bag. And this cat's a fucking tiger, bro. Check it out.”
I can't help but stiffen, standing over his shoulder, while he stoops down and undoes the clasp. The thing pops. My eyeballs almost burst from my head.
It's full of cash. More than I've seen in my life. Bright, crisp, forest green money.
Everywhere.
“This is...how much...Jace...what the fuck?” I clutch his shoulder, demanding answers as much as I need support so I don't fall over.
He turns, shooting me a devilish grin. “Four hundred thousand, or pretty damn close. Been scrounging it up since May. All those long nights where I'm sleeping till two or three in the evening? It's not just shaking off pussy and beer. Been working like a fiend.”
Working? It can't be a normal summer job.
Millionaire family with deep connections or not, no ordinary trade pays a hundred thousand a month in cash.
“Jace...” I want to nail him with a hundred questions.
I'm still speechless when he stands, and slaps me on the shoulder. “Impressed? I thought so. Bet you've got that big brain going, figuring out all the ways we'll turn this shit into millions. Our own empire, Usher. Rich as sin before we're twenty-five. Think of the world class ass hanging out limos that'll buy.”
My eyes jerk to his. Shaking my head, I finally growl it out, “Tell me what, and how. Right the fuck now, Jace. You're freaking me out.”
I desperately want him to say it's not something illegal, as unlikely as that seems.
His chin tilts, no doubt studying my horrified expression. I can't even hide it because wherever this money came from, I know I won't like the answer.
“Oh, yeah. That part. Kinda the reason I didn't tell you from the get-go. Look, before I say anything, you've got to know what would've happened if I hadn't decided to strike out on my own.”
My stare is pure ice.
“I'm not as stupid as you think,” he continues. “Let me spell it out for you: we'd have muddled through our last couple years in college, working our balls off, lucky to land more than a few measly thousand. Hardly enough. We'd take on huge fucking loans, or else we'd go to dad with our tails tucked between our legs. My old man might've given us the money, sure. Then we'd owe him every penny, but that's under normal circumstances.”
“Normal?” God help me, I can't stop growling.
“Yeah. Normal, that's what dad would do. I don't know how Senator Maxwell Chenocott would treat us. Hell, there might be a law or something stopping him from investing in our company.” His voice drips sarcasm, wrinkling his nose. “Hey, dude, quit looking at me like I've lost my mind. You know every word I'm saying is true.”
True or not, it changes nothing. “Where'd you get the money, Jace? Where?”
“Shit, Trent, give me some fucking credit,” he says, ignoring my question. “I'm looking out for us, our company, our future. Because as loaded as I am, politics changes everything. So does having a straight edge prick for a father who'd rather throw me under the bus than believe I'll ever claw my ass up to his level.”
“Jesus, dude. That's what this is about? Your ego?” There's no use hitting below the belt line, but my filter is off. “You still haven't answered my question. Jace, where?”
His dark green eyes look like pond scum in the dim light. “I'm getting there. You really want to know where this miracle came from, or are you just gonna execute me without a trial, too?”
Too. Just like his old man, or so he thinks. That stings, and it shouldn't, but god damn.
We're too close, him and I. Brothers in all but blood.
I don't like it, but how the hell can I judge? He went behind my back making money doing God knows what.
And I went behind his with Amy Kay – who might wake up any second, wondering if I've ghosted her after one unforgettable night. Not in a million years. I want this shit over and done.
“Show me,” I say coldly. “I'll try to hold my fire.”
I hope that's not a lie. Jace doesn't say another word. He turns, rips the boathouse door open, and holds it until I'm right behind him. Then it's the world's longest walk across the property, to the very end, not far from where the boat launches into the water.
“Shit, I forgot the shovel,” he mutters, stooping down. “Help me dig.”
I get down in the sandy dirt next to him, dreading what we're about to unearth. It's wet soil, waterlogged from the sea. Safe on high ground from all but the highest tides. Nobody wou
ld ever come digging around in this barren soil unless Maxwell and Ophelia decide to build something here, and they've got bigger worries.
We're several feet in, scraping the soft sand with our fingers, when I feel something heavy, cold, metal.
“Bingo,” Jace whispers, crowding in front of me to clear the rest.
He yanks another key from his pocket, sticks it in the padlock, and after a few choppy seconds, the big metal box pops open.
It takes several tense seconds to process what I'm looking at. There's several neat rows of a green leafy substance tucked in what almost looks like plastic wrap. When it hits me, I don't want to stand, but I bolt up anyway.
“You're dealing weed?” I choke out. I hold the last bit in, something along the lines of you fucking idiot.
He turns, still stooped over his cache, wearing a strained smile. “That's my stash, bro. Just a little extra kickback. We'd be at least 50K richer if I wanted all cash, but a man deserves a bonus, doesn't he?”
I have no words. Jace digs through the top layer, lifting a fatter bag stuffed to the brim with what looks like milky hard pebbles.
“Here's what's earning us a fortune. Catch,” he whispers, tossing it neatly over his shoulder.
My hand flies out, plucking it into my palm before it hits the ground. I swallow, wondering what kind of mess we'd have to clean up if this bag bursts.
The rocks, crystals, whatever the hell they are, feel sharp through the plastic. They stab at my fingers like little knives, nasty secrets begging to get out.
Whatever the hell I'm holding, it can't be good.
“Got a few more pounds stashed away. Met a guy at the club last spring who was in our chem lab. Snowball, remember him?” Jace stands in front of me now, staring at the bag clenched in my hands like it's his first born.
“Yeah. Stupid asshole flunked out completely last semester, I heard.” Can't hide the venom in my voice. He was a pudgy older kid in a leather jacket and devil tattoos. Too grungy to fit in with the clean, chic aesthetic on Bellingham's campus, but somehow, he always showed up at every frat party. “Didn't much like him.”