Hooked & Accidental Books 3--4

by C. C. Piper

  “The rest?” Chrissy inquired. She, Richard and I all stared at Emma as if she held the secrets of the universe.

  “I didn’t plan to fall in love with him, but I did,” my wife peered at me as she said the words.

  My breath hitched. For some reason, my vision blurred, but I couldn’t look away. I had declared my love for her more than once, but she’d had yet to say it back to me.

  Until this precise moment.

  “You forgave me. You listened to me. Other than wanting to spend time together, you never ask for anything from me. You’ve been so kind and generous, even though it was the last thing I deserved. So yeah. I love you,” Emma said, one hand caressing my face. Only when a tear splashed against that hand did I realize it’d come from me. I kissed her palm.

  “Awwww,” Chrissy sighed, but I couldn’t focus on anyone but the woman I loved. The woman who also loved me.

  The server reappeared then, passing out our drinks. Richard cleared his throat. “This is the reason I go to this place, they always have perfect timing. A toast,” he said as he lifted his glass. “To James and Emma. Cheers.”

  The remainder of the evening flew by with some of the best food I’d ever tasted. There was rockfish, wagyu, and black cod. A presentation of Maine lobster appeared on a bed of seashells and the sides and desserts were to die for. Later, when I glanced at my watch, I was bowled over to see that we’d been sitting there eating morsels of exquisite fine dining for three solid hours.

  And while the experience was worth it, what made it so special to me was Emma. Any coldness or uncertainty Richard might’ve exhibited towards her had vanished. She and I spent the entire evening bumping our knees together and exchanging affectionate touches under the table.

  Once we’d said our goodbyes to Richard and Chrissy, Emma and I headed back to the hotel in the limo I’d rented. Providence had paired every course of our meal with a different local wine from Napa Valley, so between the pleasant aftereffects of the alcohol and food so extraordinary it had basically put me in a coma along with the acceptance of our relationship by my old college buddy, I’d taken up residence on cloud nine.

  Yet, the biggest reason for my feelings of serenity and goodwill was Emma. Something fundamental had shifted within me when she said she loved me. And it wasn’t merely me that she’d said the words to either.

  It was the way she’d been willing to say them in front of an audience. It was the earnestness in her voice and the emotion in her eyes as she’d looked at me. On the way to the restaurant, she’d kept to her side of the backseat, but now, she’d pressed herself to my side and tucked her face into my shoulder. Like she yearned to be close to me. Like she couldn’t let me go.

  This was everything I’d ever wanted. And having it at last felt damn good.

  Back in the room I started up the two-person jacuzzi and sat inside it with my wife, luxuriating in the heated jets of water. As steam rose around us, I took in Emma’s form. The hot water had made her skin slightly pink and, even though she’d put her hair up, little tendrils of it kept slipping away from the tie she’d used, creating delicate ringlets around her oval face.

  Again, I was struck by the vision of her. She was a goddess. We sat on opposite sides of the tub facing one another, our limbs tangled between us we rubbed each other’s feet, ankles and calves. We couldn’t seem to stop touching one another, and eventually, our dual foot massages escalated into something much more erotic.

  I used the buoyancy of the bubbling water to reposition her on my lap. As I kissed her, she lifted herself up and onto my erection. We both moaned as I slid home, the sensation of her tight body cocooned over me was so fantastically intimate. Our bodies rose and fell in perfect sync, just like the tides crashing on the shore outside. As everything edged closer and closer towards our crescendo, Emma broke our kiss, her hazel gaze capturing mine.

  “I love you, James. So much.” Right after she spoke, her climax rippled through her core, sending jolts of pleasure like miniature lightning bolts all the way through me. She keened, long and loud, rocking almost clumsily against me as she lost herself to our lovemaking.

  It was inevitable that it would do me in. I felt myself shooting inside of her, calling out words of love to her just as she had to me.

  Afterward, we lay there together, the jets continuing to gently pummel us as our breaths returned to something approaching normal. I traced the swirling designs of ink running down her arms, bending to kiss the hibiscus petals near her shoulder. She touched me, too, trailing her fingers across the planes of my pectoral muscles as she lazily nibbled on my throat.

  I knew if something happened and I died right now, I wouldn’t even mind. Because I couldn’t imagine that life ever got any better than this.

  20

  Emma

  I’d never been as content as I’d been over the past thirty-six hours.

  James and I had folded ourselves up together in the bed, my back to his front as he spooned me from behind. We were drowsy and relaxed from our dinner and all the rapturous sex.

  As I drifted off with him, I let myself believe that as long as he remained at my side, everything would be okay. That was my last coherent thought as sleep took me.

  Looking back, I should have known better. That’s not how my life worked, so I should’ve been better prepared for shit to hit the fan.

  But I wasn’t.

  The call came in at 3:33 that morning. I’ll always remember that, those repetitious numbers emblazoned in my memory for the rest of eternity.

  Blissed out and tired, it took me a moment to wake up enough to answer my phone. My screen said the call was coming from Evan, which was odd. I nearly always had to be the one to contact him.

  Still, I was out of it enough that I didn’t panic. I was so groggy my voice came out slurred. Turns out screaming your new husband’s name in exaltation multiple times over was hell on the vocal cords. “Evan?”

  “No, my name is Candide. Am I speaking with Emma Morris?” came not my brother’s voice but a rough female one, the type of voice people who’ve smoked cigarettes for decades have.

  It took a moment for me to recognize the name. Candide Wilson lived in the apartment next door to us. She was an obese middle-aged busybody who liked to spread gossip. We spoke on occasion in passing, though, and knew each other’s names. Why did she have Evan’s cell?

  “Yes. Where’s my brother?”

  “He’s here in your apartment. Something’s uh… happened to him. You need to get back home right away.”

  “What happened to him?” I screeched, and though James had been out cold next to me, he bolted up as if shot.

  “Emma?” my husband asked, sounding confused, but I couldn’t focus on him. I’d already jumped out from under the covers so I could jerk on some jeans and a tank top.

  “These two big dudes busted into your place and beat him,” Candide explained. “I’m here with him now, but he’s not doing so well.”

  I fought to maintain enough rational thought to find our more. “They beat him?”

  “Yeah. When I first got here, it looked like they’d killed him, but he’s alive, I think.”

  She thought?

  “Is he conscious?”

  “No.”

  “Is he breathing?” I demanded, my horror choking me.

  “Must be ‘cuz he’s groaning a lot. He’s in a pretty bad way. Want me to call an ambulance?”

  The woman hadn’t contacted emergency services yet? What was she thinking? “Yes, please. And I’m on my way.”

  Throwing garments and toiletries into my suitcase, I barely noticed that James was doing the same. Only once I heard his voice did I even remember he was still in the room.

  “Fuel up the jet, Dougal. There’s an emergency and we’ll need to leave ASAP.”

  My motions were jerky. It took me three times to get my sandals on my feet, even though they were slip-on.

  “We need a taxi at the Shutters Hotel,” James ordered much
more curtly than usual.

  I spun in a circle looking for my cell. My God, what had I done with it? How was I going to get updates on Evan if I had no means of communication? “Where the fuck is my phone?”

  James came up to me, lifting my wrist so it was in front of my face. “It’s in your hand, baby.”

  It was. I was losing my goddamn mind.

  Throwing a few items I’d missed into my bag, he slung the strap over his shoulder. Then, he tugged on the handle of his own luggage and wheeled it behind him as he brushed a hand along my elbow. “Ready?”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I whipped out the door toward the elevator. He stayed by my side.

  When Kevin drove us up to the emergency entrance of the hospital after we’d arrived back in Henderson, I was beside myself. It’d been two hours since I’d received my neighbor’s call. I probably should’ve appreciated the fact that James had been able to fast track us through airport security and into his jet bound for Vegas.

  But I didn’t say thank you. I was too upset. I didn’t even remember the journey except for how it felt to be chomping at the bit as we transferred from the taxi to the plane then to James’ car once back in Nevada.

  I did have a vague memory of James apologizing to someone on his cell. Something about negotiations needing to be rescheduled. Some part of my subconscious felt guilt over interrupting his business trip, but I couldn’t spare the bandwidth right then. The only thing I could think about was seeing my brother again.

  The only way I’d survived the excursion was by maintaining a constant prayer vigil for Evan. I’d basically shut out everything else, closed my eyes, and prayed nonstop. I didn't know what else to do.

  James kept murmuring words meant to encourage me. Things like, “We’ll be there soon.” And, “I’m right here if you need me.” He would touch my arm and rub my neck and shoulders as if to console me. While I didn’t resist him, I didn’t speak to him either.

  What was there that I could possibly say?

  At the main information desk, I discovered that my little brother had been taken to the Intensive Care Unit. James walked with me to the nurses’ station. “Evan Morris, please?” I asked, my voice raspy from disuse.

  “I’m afraid we can only admit family,” said a rather crusty nurse, her wiry gray hair glinting in the fluorescent lighting overhead.

  “We are family,” James put in, and I cocked my head at him in surprise. How could he consider himself family when he hadn’t even met him? Still, I said nothing.

  “One of you will have to stay in the waiting room then, because we only allow one visitor at a time. Mr. Morris is at the end of the hall.”

  When we reached the waiting room, James automatically peeled off, but not before he kissed the top of my hair. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  I didn’t acknowledge his words.

  I found my brother in the last room, but since all the walls were made of glass, I saw him before entering. And I’m glad his door was closed because I couldn’t hold back my gasp. He looked terrible. Both of his eyes had been blackened and swollen shut with some kind of rigid brace and bandage placed along the bridge of his nose.

  His chest was bare and swathed in gauze with his left arm in a cast. There were these weird gashes and bruises all over his torso and face all in the same shape of four rounded ridges. He seemed to be holding his mouth in a funny way too. The concept of such a trouncing terrified me. But what terrified me even more was why.

  This had all the earmarks of a warning. The type of warning issued by loan sharks or nefarious asshole bookies who hadn’t received their payment. I prayed that I was wrong, that this had simply been a random act of violence, even as horrific at that would be.

  Because if it hadn’t been random, that meant Evan had been gambling again.

  “Are you here to see Evan Morris?” a redheaded woman in a white coat asked me.

  “Yes. I’m his sister Emma.”

  “Well, he’s awfully banged up, I’m afraid.” She proceeded to rattle off a series of diagnoses. Compound fracture of his left arm. Broken jaw and nose. Trauma to both eye sockets. Four cracked ribs. Mild concussion. Multiple contusions and abrasions. “He’s not under sedation, but he hasn’t woken up yet. We’ve had to wire his jaw shut to set it, so his speech may be impossible to understand for a while.”

  “You think he’ll be okay?”

  “Staying out after this sort of trauma is to be expected. We’ll continue to monitor him though, just in case. We’re definitely keeping an eye on his head injuries.” The doctor lowered her voice. “We’re concerned because his tests came back positive for both cocaine and oxycontin. When he begins to go through withdrawal, that will negatively impact his recovery. Do you know if he’s taken drugs before now?”

  Inwardly, I sighed. “He told me he’d gotten off of them.”

  “After he said that, did you ever see him sweating profusely, vomiting, and experiencing a high level of pain?”

  Whoa.

  “No.”

  “Then that means he never really quit.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “How long before he wakes up?” I asked, hearing my voice quiver noticeably.

  “If he doesn’t regain consciousness in the next twenty-four hours, we’ll run another battery of tests and scans. You can stay here with him if you like. There are restrooms and vending machines down the corridor.”

  With that, she bustled off to take care of another patient.

  I took my place in a plastic chair by Evan’s bedside. As worried as I was, I also felt absolutely enraged at my brother. He’d sworn to me that he was drug-free more than once. And since he’d seemed to be doing better lately, I’d fallen for his lies. If he hadn’t been so laid up, I might’ve strangled him myself.

  Would he ever get his life back on track?

  And though he’d been in trouble before, things had never escalated to such a dangerous extent. I knew these injuries were tied directly to his gambling debts and drug addiction. After all I’d done for him, after ripping off James for fifty fucking thousand dollars, Evan had still gone back and repeated the same old mistakes. He could’ve died. He still could. Even if he woke up, those bastards hadn’t beaten him for no reason. He must owe them money again.

  God.

  Frustrated and exhausted, I put my head in my hands and finally allowed my thoughts to go to James. I loved him, I truly did. I wanted to be with him as his wife. But that was impossible now. Evan would never get his crap together unless I made him, which meant I would have to stay and keep an eye on him more vigilantly than ever. I had to hold my brother accountable for his actions.

  We might lose everything in the meantime. I didn’t have any more money. I might have to go hustle whatever was required from someone else to bail him out. Again. And even if I managed that, they wouldn’t mean I’d have enough for our rent or utilities. It was almost like my brother was bound and determined to bankrupt us and leave us homeless.

  Damn him.

  I dozed off and on. My phone kept chiming with text notifications and once it vibrated with a call since I’d silenced the ringer. But I didn’t answer. I knew who it’d be, but I just couldn’t face James yet. It was going to hurt to have to tell him I couldn’t live with him, that we couldn’t be together. And I wasn’t about to ask him for anything. Even if he said he’d forgiven my debts, I would always owe him. And now, I knew I’d never be able to make this right.

  Maybe his lawyers could draw up a separation agreement. I’d sign it without question. I knew couples could be separated for years. That should be easier than trying to work through the legal entanglements of a divorce. The last thing I wanted to do was cause the man I loved any additional distress or heartache.

  I’d hurt him enough as it was.

  “Hey, you okay?” James stood in the doorway.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. I must’ve nodded off. I needed to have an unpleasant conversation with him, but I couldn’t bear
to. Not yet.

  So I said, “I’m okay.” I wasn’t, though. Not by a longshot.

  “Has he shown any signs of waking up yet?”

  Rather than speak, I shook my head.

  “I brought you something to eat. You need to keep up your strength, baby. It’s from their cafeteria so it probably tastes like ass, but it’s better than nothing.” He tossed me a solicitous smile as he handed over a sub sandwich and a bottle of water.

  God, why did he always have to be so nice to me?

  I made the miscalculation of inspecting him. He looked almost as haggard as I felt. We’d been here for ten hours, and due to our extracurricular activities, neither of us had gotten much sleep the night before. It was clearly catching up to both of us. Despite this, he was as handsome as ever.

  Cue the dread with a side dish of shame. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. I was such a shitty person.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. “Did you eat?”

  “I had some brown sludgy concoction an orderly declared was coffee, but I have to vehemently disagree with his assessment. I’ll have a sandwich or something later.”

  “You could go home.”

  “I’m not going back to the villa and leaving you here alone,” he said, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow.

  Figured.

  “Well, at least get a room at a hotel or something. There’s a Best Western across the street.”

  “I might do that at some point,” he said, but I could tell by his demeanor that he was only attempting to placate me. “Do you want me to go by your place? I could get a change of clothes for Evan or whatever else either of you might need.”

  Since having him here made me feel abysmal, I jumped at the chance for more distance. I handed over my keys. “Could you? Maybe get his pajamas? His room is the first one on the right.”

  “Of course.” He pecked me on the forehead. “I love you. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hmmm,” was my only response. And then, he was gone.