Lady Luck

by Kristen Ashley

  I watched, stunned, motionless, as Ty’s eyes sliced from me to Julius.

  “What fuckin’ play?” his voice rumbled, so deep, so low, it reverberated against my chest.

  Healthy.

  Alive.

  Standing.

  Gorgeous.

  In one piece.

  Breathing.

  Talking (or rumbling).

  Ty.

  “I told Lexie you got in a car wreck and were dyin’ and she needed to come home and say good-bye. She dropped everything, Walk, and here she is. I may be fucked in the head but, to me, that fuckin’ says it all.” Pause while I continued to stare at my husband then, “Oh yeah, brother, I see you’re pissed but it was the only play you two gave me.”

  I didn’t move, didn’t speak, just kept staring at Ty even after his angry eyes cut to me and changed from angry to something else altogether.

  “Lexie?” he called but I didn’t move, didn’t speak, just kept staring. “Lex,” he said.

  I stared at Ty and counted them down.

  Eleven.

  Eleven hours.

  Eleven hours I thought the man standing in front of me, the man I loved was as good as dead and then… then… he just would be.

  Dead.

  But he wasn’t.

  He started moving toward me and I came unstuck, backing up and he stopped and growled, “Julius, she’s headin’ toward the stairs.”

  I stopped.

  I stared.

  Healthy.

  Alive.

  Standing.

  Gorgeous.

  In one piece.

  Breathing.

  Ty.

  I crumbled to the floor at the same time I dissolved into tears.

  “Fuck,” I heard Ty clip then I was up, strong arms around me and I heard as well as felt the rumble of the words, “Get outta my fuckin’ house.”

  “Brother –”

  “Now!”

  That was barked.

  Then I was going down, ass in his lap, his arms around me, I shoved my face in his neck, my arms went tight around his shoulders, so tight, holding on, I was never, not ever, not fucking ever going to let go and I sobbed into his skin.

  His mouth at my ear, he whispered, “Baby, calm down.”

  I didn’t calm down.

  Eleven hours I lived with the knowledge of his loss.

  It was too much.

  I couldn’t calm down.

  One of his arms got tight and the other hand stroked my back.

  “Lexie, baby,” he murmured, lips still at my ear, “calm down.”

  “Ee… ee… eleven hours,” I gulped into his neck.

  “Come again?”

  “Thought you were lost for eleven hours.”

  His hand stopped stroking and both arms closed tight around me.

  “The la… la… last thing I told you wa… was that we were a nightmare.”

  “Mama, breathe,” he whispered.

  I sucked in breath and it hitched so many times, the sound was as painful as the hitches actually were, my body bucking violently with each and Ty growled in my ear.

  Then he snarled, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill Julius.”

  My body bucked again as my breath snagged audibly and I pressed closer.

  Ty fell to the side and I was holding so tight, I went with him. Then I was on my back on the couch and I felt Ty’s long body stretch out beside mine, his heavy leg tangling with mine the instant I straightened them and when I felt his torso press deep to my side and partially over mine, I loosened my arms enough for him to pull back. Then I let my head fall to the couch and I looked at him through watery eyes.

  Then my breath hitched and my body bucked again.

  “Fuck,” he bit off, his hand coming to my face, pulling hair away, wet hair that was sticking to my wet cheeks. “Lexie, baby, you got played. I’m right here.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  Hair gone from both sides of my face, his big, warm hand cupped the right side, his thumb moving over my cheek, sweeping through the wetness as his face got close and I looked into his eyes, still the most beautiful feature I’d seen on any face in my life.

  “So,” he whispered, “get a handle on it.”

  And I did.

  Two handles actually. Both hands went right to his head and pulled it down to me.

  Then I was kissing him.

  Then he was kissing me.

  Oh yes. That was better.

  Then I was pulling off his tee. Then he was tugging off mine.

  Then I was yanking at his belt. Then his hips knifed away but only so he could undo and haul off my jeans and my flip-flops went flying as he did. Then went my panties.

  Then he rolled over me, I opened my legs, his hips slid between, his hand was working between us to finish the job I started while his mouth was working mine, his tongue inside, I was tasting him again, God, God, brilliant, beautiful.

  Mine.

  Then his hips moved back then surged forward and he was inside me.

  My mouth tore from his as my neck arched.

  God, God. Brilliant. Beautiful.

  Mine.

  He rode me fast, hard and I welcomed him, circling his hips with my legs, my hands hungry, roaming, my mouth hungrier, latched to his, drinking then I couldn’t drink anymore and our lips brushed close as our heavy breath mingled and there it was, there it always was, so close, so huge, then he rolled his hips and hit the spot and all four of my limbs clutched him to me as I cried out when I came.

  It took Ty two minutes longer, one minute I was in no state to watch, the next one I did with avid, devoted concentration.

  After, his head dropped forward and his face disappeared in my neck.

  His cock was buried deep. My limbs were still holding him tight.

  Healthy.

  Alive.

  Gorgeous.

  Breathing.

  In one piece.

  Deep in me.

  Ty.

  I closed my eyes and sighed.

  “One way to get you to calm the fuck down and stop crying,” he said against the skin of my neck and my body went still. His head came up; he looked down at me and grinned. “Divorce papers are on the counter, mama. You want me to get up and go get ‘em so you can sign ‘em?”

  I decided I’d get pissed later at the belated but highly inappropriate show that he had a very good sense of humor.

  Instead I declared, “You get up and go anywhere, I’m tackling you.”

  His body shook as his grin spread to a smile. Then he asked, “You honestly think you can tackle me?”

  “I didn’t say it would be a successful tackle.”

  And then my husband burst out laughing.

  And I watched.

  He didn’t give this to me often but I always watched. This time it was way better because he was doing it while still inside me.

  Then his laughter died to a chuckle, he dropped his forehead to mine and his hand came up and curled around the side of my neck.

  And when he did the last, the laughter died, his eyes held mine and he whispered, “Is my mama home?”

  I swallowed but I still knew my eyes got bright and my voice was husky when I whispered back, “Yes.”

  He closed his eyes, shifted the lower half of his face and touched his mouth to mine. Then he lifted his head away, opened his eyes and I felt his thumb stroke my jaw.

  His gaze again locked with mine, he told me gently, “Missed you, baby.”

  I swallowed again and my arms and legs tightened around him. “Me too.”

  “Do not ever leave me like that again,” he ordered.

  I decided not to remind him he told me to.

  Instead, I said softly, “Okay.”

  He stared at me. Then he said softly back, “Okay.”

  Then he bent his head, touched his mouth to mine, pulled gently out and then he reached out a long arm, tagged my underwear, shifted his lower half and pulled my panties up my legs. Then he rolled o
ff me and got to his feet, righting his jeans as he moved. I lifted up, my torso turning and twisting to keep him in my sights as he walked to the kitchen. Then I watched, my chin on my arm resting on the back of the couch, as he tagged a manila envelope from the counter, walked to the junk drawer at the side, dug through it and found what he wanted. Then I watched him walk to the kitchen sink. He dug out a bunch of dishes and put them on the counter (at a glance, it was very clear Ty was not tidy, so I kept it solely at a glance).

  Then my breath stopped as I watched him strike a match and light the envelope on fire. He twisted and turned it until it was a sheet of flame in his hand.

  Then he dropped it in the sink and watched it burn out. He tossed the matches on the counter and started directly back to me.

  “Divorce papers,” he stated.

  I stared at him in shock.

  Then I watched my man and his big, beautiful body with its equally beautiful tats walking back to me.

  Then I grinned.

  He grinned back.

  Then I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.

  * * * * *

  Ty

  “All’s well that ends well, my man,” Julius said in his ear.

  “All’s well that ends well, my ass, Champ. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, are you insane?” Walker shot back and he felt his wife’s body shift.

  He looked down at her. He had a fuckload of her toss pillows shoved behind his back on the armrest of the couch so he was only partially reclined. She had one hip in the back of the couch, the rest of her soft body was on his, his arm curled around her back, hand up his tee she was wearing, his fingers trailing the bare skin of her rounded ass. He was talking on the phone. She was watching her finger tracing his tat and she was doing this like she was committing it to memory. She was wearing his tee and nothing else. He was wearing his jeans and nothing else; he hadn’t even bothered to button but two of the buttons mainly because he wasn’t done with her.

  “She there?” Julius asked in his ear.

  “Yeah,” Walker replied.

  “She stayin’?” Julius went on and Walker’s pulse spiked.

  “Yeah,” Walker repeated.

  “She naked?” Julius kept going and Walker clamped his mouth shut.

  Julius chuckled, assuming mostly wrongly. Lexie was in his tee but still, by no means was access hindered.

  Then Julius spoke again. “You give this time, you’ll stop bein’ pissed and thank me. Now, seein’ as you two are reuniting and I ain’t sleepin’ on no couch, Anana and me have checked into Carnal Hotel. My woman, for some fuckin’ reason, right now is sittin’ in reception playin’ fuckin’ Harry Potter fuckin’ Clue with the proprietors. I’m gonna leave her to that shit ‘cause, you know me, brother, I got no interest in fuckin’ Clue. Colonel Mustard did it, however the motherfucker did it, his ass is in the hole. Don’t need a reminder a’ that shit. So I’m gonna get my trunks on and take a dip. We’ll all go out and celebrate tomorrow ‘cause the next day, Anana and me gotta get our asses home. You’re buyin’. That Rooster place. And you’re buyin’ ‘cause, no matter how pissed you are right now, you know you owe me.”

  Before Walker could reply, Julius gave him dead air.

  He flipped his phone shut, tossed it on Lexie’s jeans on the floor and scowled at it.

  “We need a coffee table,” she noted quietly and his eyes moved from his phone to his woman.

  She’d stopped tracing his tat and her eyes were on him. They were still slightly swollen from crying but they were also still beautiful.

  The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  We need a coffee table.

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  His mama was home.

  She was home and those fucking divorce papers were ashes in his sink.

  That something inside him, that thing she gave him, that thing that had been gone since she was, making him feel hollow, empty, came back, filling him up. It shifted and again started settling.

  She’d been there now for hours. After he burned the papers, he went back to her and took his time welcoming her home and he didn’t do it with words. The first time was urgent, desperate, the same feelings for both of them but for different reasons.

  The second time was not.

  When he was done with her, she got on her phone. She got on her phone because, no matter he’d fucked up and hurt her, people who cared about him were worried.

  First up was Honey. The easy one. Walker listened to Lexie dealing with surprised relief and then tears.

  That done, next up was Ella. Same drill at first, surprised relief then tears. Then, this surprising Walker, guilt. Guilt that Ella didn’t give it up to Lexie that Ty had come looking for her. Guilt that she’d kept information from Ty about where Lexie was. Guilt that her protective instinct was less protective and more misguided and stubborn mingled with sadness that she’d cost them time that didn’t end in tragedy but she’d lived with that possibility for over eleven hours so the ghost of that was there all the same. Then more tears.

  Lexie handled that, next up was Bess. Again, surprising Walker because Bess could be one hard bitch and she’d taken on taking care of Lexie so he figured she’d hold one serious fucking grudge, it was the same drill at first, surprised relief then tears. Then what he expected came, but the angry emotion was not directed at him and he knew this because he listened to Lexie dealing with Bess threatening murderous intent to Julius.

  Lexie handled that, tossed her phone to the floor and turned to him.

  That was when he learned that Bess had rescued her from Shift. In fact, Bessie had called him while on her way to rescue Lexie from Shift.

  And Lex told him what Shift wanted, or, more accurately, intended to take but he blocked that shit out. He had to. He already took their future in his hands once, leaving the state in order to perpetrate a felony against that piece of shit, he didn’t need a real manslaughter charge on his hands.

  The minute Bess got her; they went to Ella, made plans and took off.

  The beach, where Lexie thought she could find some peace.

  Bess went because, another surprise to Walker because she might be a hard bitch but she also seemed one who had it going on, she didn’t have it going on. She was screwing her boss who was married, stringing her along and had been for years. She was also between apartments and staying with a friend who had a cat she did not like and a tendency to play whale song for relaxation purposes, something else Bessie did not like. And she was between apartments because she kept thinking her married boss was going to stop stringing her along. Watching Lexie’s drama, Bess got her head out of her ass and realized it was time to quit pissing away her life and make a change.

  So they took off to start new lives.

  And they had the money to take off because, a couple of days before, without anything else of value to get her what she needed, his wife sold her fucking Charger.

  He didn’t say it when she admitted it but he’d be rectifying that fucking situation the next fucking day. That ride was sweet and his wife loved it, doted on that fucking thing, called it “her baby”.

  So she’d be getting a new one.

  And, lastly, Walker learned that by the time Julius made his entirely fucked up but inarguably successful play, she was still in that fleabag motel, spending her days in her head at the beach and the proof of this was the very sweet, honeyed tan that kissed nearly every inch of her skin. Bess was working in a kid’s arcade in order that they didn’t piss away all their money while Lexie pulled herself together and they figured out their next move.

  After she got done giving, Walker had called Julius.

  And now she was there, eyes on him, body on him.

  “You gave, mama, now you take,” he whispered and felt her hand flatten on his chest.

  “What are you gonna give me?” she asked when he said no more.

  “Everything,” he answered immediately, watched her lips part and more fucking tears fill her eyes t
hen his arm tightened around her back and he slid her up his body so they were face to face. “But first,” he went on quietly, “you give me one more thing.”

  “What?” she whispered.

  “Tell me where your rings are so I can go get ‘em and put ‘em back on your fuckin’ finger.”

  She stared at him and he watched one tear slide over and glide down her cheek. He lifted a hand and, with his thumb, he swept it away. When he did, she got a handle on it.

  Then she said, “They’re in my purse.”

  “Where’s your purse?”

  She looked adorably confused for a moment, like she forgot what a purse was, then she focused and said, “In your Cruiser.”

  He nodded, slid out from under her and moved to the stairs to the garage, buttoning enough buttons on his jeans to keep them on his hips.

  Julius had played him too, saying he was in town to deal with something that came up with Walker’s shit, an angle Julius kept working even though Walker told him that angle was dead and he was working with Tate and hoping Peña was out there seeing to shit. That said, Walker didn’t try too hard to discourage his friend from this mission, mainly because Julius’s angle was giving them shit they could use.

  Julius brought Anana because Julius said Anana wanted to meet him. He’d given them the Cruiser to deal with their business because Julius had lied again and said they were having trouble with their car, a two-seater, when that was bullshit and they needed a backseat to put Lexie in.

  He didn’t like his brother’s tactics, Julius’s play was extreme and he could not imagine thinking for eleven hours that his wife was on the verge of dying, but when he went to the Cruiser and saw then grabbed her purse from the backseat then saw and grabbed her bag from the back, he couldn’t help but think that regardless of how extreme the play, Julius was right. All’s well that ends well. And Julius’s play had ended spectacularly well and Walker’s errand was conclusive evidence of that fact.

  He carried them both upstairs, left her bag by the railing, took her purse to the island, dug through and found she had all the boxes in her purse. She didn’t check them, had them close all the time. Definitely a smart decision. Probably also an emotional one.

  He found the one he was looking for, opened it, pulled out the jewelry box inside, flipped it open and saw both rings embedded there. He tagged them and moved directly back to his wife, resuming the exact same position but with her torso more on his so her left arm was not caught between his body and the couch.