by A. M. Myers
* * * *
“What is it that you wanted to show me?” I ask Streak, the bottle of Jack firmly in my grasp as he walks past me. He stops and looks at me with a grimace on his face.
“You look like shit.”
I take a swig of alcohol and grit my teeth. “You got something to show me or not?”
He holds his hands up in surrender and points to the little office where he works most of the time. “Follow me.”
I follow him back to his office and he shuts the door, sitting down in his office chair, and I throw my body down on the couch we put in here since he’ll go days without sleeping sometimes. He powers up the computers and turns to me.
“So, the guy you told me to keep an eye on,” he starts, and I nod. “He’s been a model prisoner, and I can’t find a single thing on him no matter how hard I dig.”
“You already told me this shit,” I snap, irritated that he can’t find the proof to back up what I already know.
“Well, then I got to thinking that if he was smart, he would stay far away from all of this so I looked into his family. Did you know he’s got a twin brother?”
I sit up and blink at him, trying to figure out if I heard him right. A twin brother? I search my memory but I can’t ever recall Fi telling me about a twin. “No, I didn’t.”
“Not surprising. It seems he’s a bit of a black sheep. The family keeps him out of the limelight and that means, he doesn’t get to share in the family money.”
“Where the fuck are you going with this, Streak?”
“Recently, withdrawals of two thousand dollars have been coming out of Ian’s account every week and going into the brother’s account. And I can’t find a record of the brother working anywhere.”
I run my hand over my face, trying to process what he’s telling me. “So, you think the brother is being paid to follow me? For what reason?”
Streak shrugs. “Just to mess with you. I mean, based on everything I’ve found out about this son of a bitch, that’s his MO, right?”
“Yeah, that sounds like him.”
“Look, man, I could be wrong but the brother barely has a criminal past. A couple of drug charges for weed and an assault charge for a bar fight, but he certainly doesn’t seem like a criminal mastermind.”
I take another swig of Jack and stand, stumbling a little. “Yeah, I hear you. I’m goin’ home.”
He nods and turns back to the computers. “Get a ride.”
“I will, Mom,” I sneer, and he laughs.
“Asshole.”
Chapter Seventeen
Chris
It’s cold out tonight. My breath fogs up the window as I lean in, unable to stop myself from trying to get closer to her. I hate that there’s anything between us. Pulling my glove off, I press my hand to the window, imagining that it’s her warm soft skin against my palm instead of this cold hard glass. If I close my eyes right now, I could imagine what it feels like to run my hand down her body, let it graze over the curve of her hips as I pour my love into her. The noises she would make as I pull pleasure from her body fill my ears, and I groan softly, the wind masking my sound of torment. She could have absolutely anything her heart desired. All she would have to do is ask, and I would do whatever it took to give it to her. Someday, I will build heaven for my angel and count my blessings everyday that she lets me stay there with her.
Weekends are so hard. Our schedules don’t match up, and I don’t get to see her as much as I would like, but tomorrow she’ll be back to work, and I’ll be able to steal glances at her throughout the day. It’s the only thing that keeps me going through the long days when she’s absent from my life. I just keep pushing forward until I can see her gorgeous face again. God, she is perfect. Even lying in bed, sound asleep with her hair all over the place, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and my heart belongs to her.
Rubbing my finger over the glass, I pretend it’s her face I’m stroking, and my body aches to be near her again. A pang hits my chest, and I know just standing at this window won’t be enough tonight. It’s been too long, and I need her – even if it’s just a few stolen moments in the night. Leaning in, I press my lips to the glass, keeping my eyes open so I don’t lose even a second of my time with her, and my breath clouds my view.
Pulling away, I drop my hand and take one last look at her before creeping along the back of the house, my heart pounding with the knowledge that she’ll be back within reach in only a few moments. Butterflies fill my stomach, and an excited smile stretches across my face as I reach the French doors that lead into the kitchen and jiggle the handle. They’re locked but I’ve done this enough times that it’s not a problem. After a couple of seconds, it pops open, and I gently swing the door open, making sure to stop it before it gets to the part that squeaks. Stepping into the house hesitantly, I do my best not to wake her. She’s got work tomorrow, and I don’t want to make her too tired during the day.
Gently closing the door behind me, I walk into the kitchen and run my hand along the granite countertop of the island. Her wine glass from dinner is sitting by the sink, unwashed, and I pick it up, licking along the rim, dying to get just a quick taste of her. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, just breathing in her mango scent. She’s all over this house, in every place I look, and I can’t wait for the day when this is our home. I pull one of the barstools out and sit down, imagining our kids running down the hall, laughing as they play. Two little girls that look just like their radiant mother giggling as they whisper secrets back and forth in the living room and my sweet Ali in the kitchen making us Christmas dinner. I can see it all with her here, and I’m eager to see all my dreams come to life.
Sighing, I stand and tuck the stool back in before going to her. I stop at the doorway to her bedroom and just look down at her as she sleeps. She’s turned toward the window and the urge to crawl in behind her is just too strong to ignore. I have to feel her. Slipping off my boots, I climb into bed, staying above the covers so I don’t disturb her and I wrap my arm around her waist and bury my nose in her hair. The smell of mangoes fills my nose, and I sigh, everything in my world righting itself now that she’s in my arms. She wiggles in my grasp, cuddling closer to me, and a wide grin stretches across my face.
“Hey, Baby,” I whisper, still doing my best not to wake her but unable to keep quiet. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She hums in her sleep, and my heart swells. Her body recognizes me even when she’s not conscious. That’s how strong our connection is, and I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on her. The very second her blue eyes met mine, she belonged to me. Reaching up, I brush the hair out of her face, losing myself a little as I watch her sleep. Her eyelids flutter, and I hope that she’s dreaming about me. No, I hope she’s dreaming about us – about everything we’re going to have together. So very soon.
“It’s torture to stay away from you, Sweet Girl,” I whisper, lightly trailing the back of my finger down her cheek. “I hate that you’re making me do this.”
She shifts in my grasp, and her lips part slightly. I freeze, squeezing my eyes shut because I’ll be so angry with myself if I keep her from sleep, and when I open them again, she’s peaceful. Sighing, I know I have to go but leaving her is getting harder and harder each time. Climbing out of bed, I leave my boots by the door as I walk across her room so I don’t wake her. Her jewelry catches my eye, and I run my hand over the neat line of necklaces, picturing them hanging around the curve of her neck. Peeking back at her, my cock aches inside my jeans, and I let out a quiet groan and readjust it.
Goddamn it, I don’t have time for this.
I fight with myself for a few moments before pulling out my phone and snapping a couple of pictures of her that I can take with me. A smile forms on my face, and I sit down on the floor next to her bed, moving into the picture with her. I snap a couple before hopping up and looking through them. God, she’s fucking gorgeous. Too gorgeous for a guy like me but not like I’m ever going t
o complain. The time in the corner of the screen catches my eye, and I curse. I hate to leave her but I really do have to go soon.
Staring down at her, my cock springs to life, pressing against my zipper and I hiss. I’m never going to be able to leave without dealing with this. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and unbuckle my belt. After shoving my pants down enough to free my dick, I sit in the chair in the corner of her room and watch her as I slowly stroke it. Closing my eyes, I imagine her on her knees in front of me, peeking up at me as she wraps her lips around my length.
Groaning softly, I imagine her sinking down, peeking up at me again when it hits the back of her throat and my strokes get harder and faster. Her hands splay out on my thighs, and she bobs on my cock, massaging it with her tongue, and my hips buck in the chair. She stands, smiling down at me as she strips, her perfect body coming into view and making my mouth water. Climbing on top of me, her hot little cunt hovers over my cock, and she sinks down, sighing in satisfaction.
A choked groan spills out of my mouth as I reach down next to me and grab a towel from the shelf next to the chair and come into it, breathing hard. I open my eyes, and Ali shifts under the covers, sighing in her sleep, and I know my time is up. After cleaning myself up, I stand and tuck my cock back into my jeans. As I pass by the bathroom, I notice a pair of pink lace panties that missed the hamper, and I can’t stop myself from grabbing them and bringing them to my nose. Her scent assaults me, and I barely hold in the groan threatening to burst free. Tucking the panties into my pocket, I grab my boots and pause at the door, taking one last look at my gorgeous girl. I blow her a kiss and promise her that I’ll be back soon.
I won’t be able to go long without needing to see her again.
Chapter Eighteen
Alison
Sighing, I toss the letters down on my desk and spread them out with my fingers, trying to decide which one I should respond to this week. I’ve been replying to two letters in each article and most of the letters we get in are about the sender’s love life so I like to find something different to accompany it. But I’m just not finding much this week that isn’t about love. I could also be distracted by the fact that I haven’t seen Logan since the night we had sex. He stayed the night with me, and then in the morning, left saying he had work to do with the club. He’s been texting occasionally but I can’t help but wonder if he just uses the club as an excuse to avoid this connection we have.
It’s not something that I’m all that comfortable with but maybe I should just trust him until he gives me a reason not to. I compare him to Adam and I know that’s not fair but I’m not sure that I can help it. Before Adam hurt me, I was naïve. I trusted blindly and I loved recklessly, with no reservations, and no matter how much I heal from what he did, I think there will always be a little voice in my head saying “what if”. I’m not sure that I’m even capable of that blind trust anymore. Not when someone who was entrusted with its care has shattered my heart.
I don’t want to be like this. If I could go back and never meet Adam, I would. Even if it was just to erase this fear that runs through me when I think about letting Logan in. My phone rings, his name popping up on the screen, and I smile at the photo I took of him the other night as we laid in bed. His dark hair is falling in his face, and he has a relaxed smile as he stares back at me, and my heart warms.
“Hey, you,” I answer, unable to wipe the smile from my face. I hope he’s free tonight. I’m dying to see him.
“Thought you weren’t into playing games,” he responds, his voice tight, and the smile drains off my face as I stare out the window behind my desk.
“What are you talking about?”
“The other night when I said I was yours, was there something unclear about that? Because I assumed that you understood that this is exclusive but if you’d rather go fuck around, please just let me know right now so I don’t waste anymore of my goddamn time.”
I spin around to my desk and flatten my palm against it as I take a deep breath. “Logan, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the other guy or guys that you’re opening your legs for,” he snaps, and I suck in a breath, my chest aching at the tone of his voice. He sounds so angry, hateful almost.
“I’m not sleeping with anyone else. You’re the first guy I’ve been with in two years. And if you want our relationship or whatever this is to be clear, maybe you should have a fucking conversation with me.”
Carly walks in at the end of my rant, her brows raised, and I shake my head as I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying like hell to not overreact.
“We did have a conversation. Remember, I said you were mine and I was yours right before I fucked you for an hour straight.”
“Yeah and then you disappeared for two days with barely any contact. So excuse me if I’m a little confused about how into this you really are.”
The phone call has gotten way off track, and I don’t even really know what started it anymore. Everything that I’ve been keeping inside for the past two weeks is just bubbling out of me. Has it really only been that long since I met Logan? It feels like forever.
“Oh, I see, so that’s your excuse for you going out and banging the first guy you could get your hands on? You thought you’d show me?”
I suck in a breath, and the line falls silent. I seriously consider just hanging up on his stupid ass and writing this whole thing off but then I think about how it feels when I’m with him, and I can’t bring myself to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Why would you say that to me?” I ask, my voice a whisper, thick with hurt.
“Because of the guy I just saw strolling out of your fucking house like he just had the best night of his life.”
Everything moves in slow motion. I stare at Carly with wide eyes, and the only thing I can hear is my heartbeat, pounding relentlessly in my ears as what he says sinks in.
“Logan,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Call the police, please.”
He’s quiet for a moment before asking, “Why?”
I lock eyes with Carly, and I can only imagine what my face must look like right now. It feels like my whole world is falling down around me. “I’m not sleeping with anyone else so there shouldn’t be anyone in my house.”
My statement is met with silence for a moment before he mutters a curse. “Shit. Ali, I’m so sorry…”
“I’m hanging up now, and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I don’t want to hear his apology right now. There is too much for my mind to process and what he said is on the very bottom of the list.
“Sure, Sweetheart. I’ll be here.”
I hang up the phone and drop my head to my desk, panic washing over me as I imagine someone in my home, my little oasis.
“Ali, what’s going on?” Carly asks, and I look up at her, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Logan saw someone leaving my house just now. They… they broke in.”
She gasps quietly and just watches me for a moment before nodding and walking around behind my desk. Grabbing my bag off the floor, she urges me to stand and starts leading me out of the office, where we run into Mercedes. I can hear Carly explaining the situation to her but it’s muffled, almost like I’m underwater, then we’re moving again.
I don’t really remember the walk to the parking garage or getting in Carly’s car but the next thing I know, we’re almost to my house, and my heart kicks in my chest. A slimy feeling washes over me as I think about someone going through all my things. Why would someone even break into my house? It’s not like I have anything super valuable. It just doesn’t make sense to me.
By the time we pull up in front of my house and see the line of bikes out front, my whole body is shaking and I’m on the verge of tears. My stomach rolls and my heart pounds as I walk up the front steps with Carly’s arm guiding me, a million different scenarios running through my mind about what’s waiting for me on the other side of the d
oor.
“You think it’s got something to do with the pictures?” a gruff voice asks just as we step through the door, and everyone turns to look at us. My house is full of large men decked out in leather vests and tattoos. I freeze, eyeing each one of them up until Logan steps through the crowd. I let out a sigh of relief, and he marches over to me with determination on his face along with a few fresh bruises. Where the hell did those come from? He slides his hand into my hair and presses his forehead to mine as my eyes drift closed.
“You okay?” he asks, and I shake my head. My house looks exactly the way I left it this morning, except it’s tainted now. Almost like the man who broke in here is still lurking in the corner waiting to strike.
“I’m sorry for that call, Baby,” he whispers, so low only I can hear, and I shake my head again.
“Not now,” I whisper back. I’m not ready to talk about all that. I need to compartmentalize and deal with one thing at a time. First up is my house.
“I fucked up, okay? I didn’t mean what I said.”
Okay, apparently, we’re talking about this now. I peek out of the corner of my eye to see if they are all watching us but they’ve all backed away, giving us a little privacy, and Carly is nowhere in sight.
“Please say something,” he pleads, and I sigh, looking back into his gray eyes. I don’t want to tell him that there is a part of me that kind of liked his possessive side. At the very least, it lets me know that he’s feeling this, too.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”