by Jen Davis
She blinked back tears. “Let me try my brother.” She dialed Will’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. Afterward, she called the gym, looking for Eduardo, but it was his day off. Briefly, she considered calling Izzy, but in truth, there was only one person who could make her feel safe right now.
Jonathan answered the phone on the first ring. “Livie?”
“I need you to come,” she whispered. “He came to my school. Slashed my tires. Trashed my car. I can’t drive it.”
She imagined a rage building in the silence before he spoke. “Let me make sure he’s not watching you. Do you have somewhere safe to wait for me?”
“I’ll wait in the office. Jonathan?” She swallowed. “I’m scared.”
“Hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”
Though she stayed busy filling out a police report with Dave, the hour she waited for Jonathan seemed to last forever. He texted her when he arrived outside.
Brick: Stay where you are. I’m changing your tires.
A fresh wave of terror washed over her. What if Tre was still out there? What if he was watching Jonathan right now?
No. Her man was too careful. Still, the wait stretched in front of her like melted wax.
Another fifteen minutes passed before she heard from him again.
Brick: Have someone walk you out. I’m going to follow you home.
She spotted his truck a few parking spaces away as she got behind the wheel. For the first time in an hour, the panic began to subside. With Jonathan in her rearview mirror, she knew, at least today, she’d make it home safely.
Chapter 26
Brick
The minute Brick followed Olivia into her apartment, he had to touch her. To assure himself in the most basic way she was safe and unharmed. Snatching her into his arms, he molded her body against his.
When she’d called him, he’d known something was wrong. But he forced himself to take the time to track down Tre and make sure he was long gone before allowing himself to run to her rescue. It took even longer because he had to stop and buy four new tires for her car.
Now with her here in his arms, he couldn’t let her go. “Tell me you’re okay,” he gritted.
She’d buried her face in his T-shirt, and the fabric muffled her reply. “Now that you’re with me, I can finally breathe.”
He pulled back enough to scrutinize her face. Her freckles stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her lower lip trembled. He needed to make her forget—make himself forget—for just a little while, the threat wasn’t over yet.
Cupping her cheek, he captured her mouth in a kiss. Her lips met his hungrily; she slipped her tongue into his mouth. A hint of mint tickled his senses.
He could never get tired of kissing her. Everything about it felt right, from the firm press of her silken lips to the tiny sounds of pleasure escaping from her throat. He wanted to consume it, hold on to every perfect sensation so he could remember it all later and relive the moment again and again.
Without warning she broke away from the kiss. Grasping his hand, she led him wordlessly to her bedroom. “Unzip me.”
Fumbling with the tiny clasp, he pulled down the tab, revealing the creamy skin of her back. With a slight shimmy of her shoulders, the simple navy dress fell to the floor and pooled at her feet. She unhooked her white bra and dropped it on the pile of fabric before turning to face him, wearing only a tiny pair of white panties.
He ached to trace her beautiful breasts. They were full and firm and swept up to her small, pink nipples.
“I don’t want to wait any more,” she said huskily. “I want to feel you against me. Inside me. I need you.” Her plea took his breath away.
In a heartbeat, he kicked off his boots, stripped away his T-shirt and jeans. His boxer-briefs joined the growing mountain of clothes on the floor in seconds. His cock stood up against his stomach.
Inch by inch, his eyes tracked those tiny panties slipping down her legs, until his Olivia stood bare before him. And finally, there was no more waiting.
Sweeping her up into his arms, he reveled in the skin-to-skin contact. He kissed her like she was the air he breathed. They moved as one toward her unmade bed, and he lowered her to her back. She was a fucking feast laid out in front of him. Lying on top of her, he ran tender kisses along the column of her neck, then moved down to lave attention on her breasts.
“Touch me,” she groaned, her own hands sliding down his back, kneading his skin.
He traced over the hourglass of her figure, from the outside of her ribcage, to her slender waist, down the flare of her hip. Shifting the bulk of his body to the side, his right hand traversed her pelvic bone, ending its journey in the slick warmth between her legs.
“You’re so wet,” he groaned, his middle finger sliding in and out of her pussy, spreading her moisture across her slit.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long. More. Please.”
A second finger joined the first, and her hips rose to meet them. His thumb kept a steady slide over her clit as he fucked her with his fingers.
Without looking, she reached back awkwardly and felt for the drawer of her nightstand. She yanked it open and pulled out a handful of condoms she dropped beside her on the bed.
No words were necessary. He stopped touching her only long enough to slip on his protection, then plunged his aching cock into the heaven between her spread legs. Her wet heat enveloped him.
He should savor something this exquisite, but his body was greedy for the bounty laid out before him. He’d been starving for her too long.
Gripping her shoulder, he thrust with powerful strokes. Her gasping breaths matched his rhythm, and a thin sheen of sweat dotted her forehead. In his fantasies of making love to her, Olivia was always mindless with pleasure. The reality was even better, because her eyes locked on his with laser-like focus.
The magnitude of their connection turned him on even more. He was ready to explode, but one crucial thing had to happen first.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, slipping his thumb above the spot where their bodies connected. She cried out, and her body tightened around him. The muscles contracting around his cock pushed him beyond his control. Unable to hold back another second, he came with her, roaring her name. The intensity left him light-headed.
Rolling onto his back, he pulled her onto his chest, his dick still buried deep inside her. He felt her hot tears on his skin, and his stomach dropped. “Did I hurt you?” he asked hoarsely.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were still wet, but a soft smile teased her lips as she rubbed her chest. “Only in the very best way.”
Her words echoed his own from a week before. God, had it been only a week?
Smiling, he let himself relax into this perfect moment. Never in his life had he made such a deep connection to another person. He hadn’t thought he would ever know how it felt to be in love.
He knew now, without a shadow of a doubt.
He loved Olivia Turner, and there was no way he could ever live without her again.
***
Liv
Even though he played it cool, Liv couldn’t miss how Jonathan freaked out over her tears, but she couldn’t think of any words big enough to capture how she felt. Sex had never been like this before. She felt him in every muscle, every bone in her body; he was everywhere. Everything.
This is what it meant to feel alive. The high she got jumping out of a plane was a pale imitation.
The clock next to her bed said it was five-forty-three, though it felt much later. Her stomach rumbled in agreement. “What do you like on your pizza?” Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from his arms and broke the physical connection between them.
Just for now, she vowed. There would be more loving later.
Jonathan sat up with her, tying off the condom and dropping it in the small trash can near the nightstand. “Load it up. I like it all.” He paused. “Except anchovies.” His nose wrinkled. “Or green peppers.”<
br />
Whipping out her phone, she pulled up the app for the pizza place around the corner and placed an order. Jonathan disappeared into the bathroom and came out seconds later with a warm, wet washcloth. A tinge of pink stained his cheeks as he held it out awkwardly to her. She accepted the offering and cleaned up quickly.
As she went to drop it in the hamper, she noticed him slipping on his boxer briefs. Quickly, she snatched his T-shirt and pulled it over her head.
When he raised his eyebrow, she gave an exaggerated pout. “I’m not ready for you to get dressed.” She twirled, the extra fabric of his big shirt billowing around her. “If I’m wearing this, you can’t.”
Jonathan folded his arms and gave her a hard look, but he didn’t fool her for a second. He had laughter in his eyes. Satisfaction.
Her gaze strayed down to his torso. He was The Rock and Thor rolled into one. Stepping closer, she ran her fingers across his sculpted chest. “I love seeing you this way. Your body is—” She licked her lips and dragged her gaze up to meet his.
“My body is yours. My heart. My soul.” He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Dirty and broken as it is. It’s all yours. I love you.”
The tears came back with a vengeance. Like before, they were the happy kind. A mixture of joy and gratitude and…falling from a great height. Carol knew what she was doing when she added this to her list.
Fearful anticipation shadowed his face as he waited for her reply.
Cupping his face, she whispered fiercely. “I love you too. I have never felt this way about anyone. You say you’re mine?” He nodded. “Well, I am yours. I don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t know how we’re going to get you free, but we will. I won’t lose you. Do you understand? Whatever it takes.”
He kissed her, a gentle brushing of the lips. “Whatever it takes.”
The pizzaman disrupted the moment with two raps on the door. She grabbed the box with quick thanks, grateful she’d paid online.
Jonathan slapped her ass. “You always answer the door commando?”
Laughing, she set the box on the table and threw open the top. The rich scent of pizza sauce and freshly baked bread was heaven. “Your shirt is longer than some dresses I own.” She pulled out a slice of cheesy goodness and bit in to a small piece of nirvana.
He frowned. “Maybe I need to check out some of those dresses.”
“What you need to do is eat up. Because when we finish this pizza, the only thing you’re gonna see is my bare ass before I climb on top of you for round two.”
He finished his first slice in three bites.
Within five minutes, there was no more talk. The pizza was history, and Jonathan’s clothes were on the floor, where they belonged.
***
Sucre
“You’re sure you saw Brick?” Sucre glared at his nervous employee. Quinton was only sixteen, and Sucre used him for light surveillance work. The kid did a good job blending into the background.
Today, he’d sent Quinton to follow Tre. Even though Brick’s protégé tried to hide it, he knew Tre was losing his shit over his little brother rising in the ranks. Tre was already a loose cannon. Sucre needed an accounting of what he did every minute until he knew for sure the kid wasn’t a threat.
Tre trashing some school teacher’s car was of little interest. But Brick playing her knight in shining armor was another story. Perhaps this was the mystery person who had received his video clips.
Quinton shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Not a hundred percent sure, no. I was a ways down the street. After Tre left and I texted you, I stopped at McDonald’s for a burger. When I was coming out, I saw Brick–or a big guy who looked like Brick—changing the tires on the car Tre had trashed.”
“You didn’t try to get a closer look?”
Quinton shook his head emphatically. “No, sir. You texted me to come back.”
Irritation rose. “And you didn’t think to drive closer to the parking lot first?”
Another shake of the kid’s head. “No way. Not my job to think. It’s my job to do as I’m told.”
For fuck’s sake. Those were the words Brick made all of his new recruits memorize. Most of them were too stupid for him to give them leave to think on their own.
“Fine,” he growled. “Do some sniffing around. Find out who the teacher is. Then I’ll figure out if she’s of any use to me.”
As Quinton scampered off to do as instructed, Sucre leaned back on his throne. If the woman could be any kind of leverage over Brick, it would be a major boon. The man’s grandmother had died a week ago, and Sucre didn’t know how much longer he could keep the information quiet. He was almost out of photos to send. Thank fuck he’d thought far enough ahead to keep a few in reserve. With the old lady out of the picture, he needed a new way to control his best soldier.
He’d considered using Kane Hale once he learned Brick had befriended him at his construction job, but he knew better than most, only a fool would trifle with the guy’s motorcycle club. After some thought, he decided such a plan would be more trouble than it was worth.
But Brick had no other friends. No other entanglements. Hell, he wasn’t even sure the man had a sex drive. Brick never took advantage of all the free pussy roaming around. Most guys considered it one of the best perks of the job.
Maybe he needed to pay him more money. If he couldn’t force him to stay, maybe he could entice him.
He discarded the idea as quickly as it occurred to him. Brick had plenty of money. The bastard had been squirreling it away for years.
No. Force was the only way to go.
He grinned as a text from Quinton lit up his phone.
Olivia Turner.
At least now he had a place to start.
Chapter 27
Brick
Brick knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the receptionist’s face at the nursing home on Saturday. His heart sped up at the resigned look she flashed him. “What’s going on? Has she taken a turn?”
Mrs. Beckwith motioned him to follow her toward a private family room. She tried to get him to sit down, but his blood pumped too hard to let him relax.
“I’m sorry, Brick. Your grandma has passed.”
The words didn’t register. The woman’s mouth still moved, but her words didn’t matter. Besides, she couldn’t be right. He clutched his phone. Sucre had sent him a picture yesterday.
“I want to see her,” he said quietly.
“I’m not sure—”
“Now.” There was no room for argument in his tone.
She sighed. “Let me get the doctor.”
He paced as she left him alone in the room, his emotions a churning mess. On the one hand, it was a punch in the gut to lose the only family he had. His grandmother had been the single constant in his miserable life. She never baked him cookies or rocked him to sleep, but she cared for him in her own way. For a long time, she was all he’d had. Someone in the world who cared if he lived or died.
He’d done everything in his power to make sure she lived a comfortable life. She had a warm bed to sleep in and food in her belly. It was more than his piece-of-shit father had ever managed for her.
But despite the loss, her death also meant hope. She’d been the only thing keeping him under Sucre’s thumb all these years.
He was finally free.
The doctor walked into the room, Mrs. Beckwith nowhere in sight. “I understand you want to see Sylvie. Come this way.”
Together, they walked the sterile halls down to what was presumably the man’s office. The doctor gestured for him to sit, but he shook his head sharply. “What happened? Where’s my grandmother?”
“The renal failure finally got the best of her. She’s already been moved to the county morgue.”
He stilled. “Renal failure? My grandma didn’t have problems with her kidneys.”
The doctor shot him a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid she did, for about six months now.”
&nbs
p; Anger flared. “No one told me about this.”
“It’s almost over,” she’d told him. “I’m dying.”
Why didn’t he take her seriously? Ask more questions?
“It wasn’t our decision to make,” the man said calmly. “Your grandmother was mentally fit and did not give us permission to share the details of her condition or treatment with you. It was her choice, Mr. Barlow. She knew, even with the dialysis, it was only a matter of time, since she wasn’t a good candidate for transplant.”
He shook his head, flexed his hands. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you call me?”
The doctor grimaced. “It happened last week. I honestly don’t know why no one contacted you. A phone call is protocol. Believe me, I am going to make it my business to find out.”
“Don’t bother.” He already knew the answer. Whoever Sucre had in his pocket here had made sure to keep this a secret as long as possible. It was in Sucre’s best interest for Brick to think his boss had power over him. “Did she leave any instructions? What she wanted for her burial?”
“She left you a letter she dictated to one of her friends. There was a copy in her file, but it’s missing now. Fortunately, she also gave one to me for safekeeping.” He pulled an envelope out of a pocket in his white coat. “I’ll give you a moment alone. Come on out when you’re done.”
He ripped it open before the man made it out of the door.
Dear Brick,
I know you’re upset with me for not telling you the whole story about my kidneys. I knew you didn’t take me seriously when I told you I was dying, but there was nothing you could do about it anyway. You’ve already done enough. More than I deserved. You put yourself in that bastard’s hands, so I could live in peace. And I have. This place was exactly what I needed.