Текст книги "Middle of Knight"

Автор книги: Jewel E. Ann

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Day

Luke pulled into his parents’ drive after taking the slower, nothing over thirty-five, less driven roads to ensure his precious cargo had a safe trip—in the trunk. To his surprise, she stayed quiet for the entire ride. Even when he got out, she didn’t make a single noise. He considered opening the trunk to check on her, but his instincts told him to just stay away. It was nothing more than the silence before the storm.

“Hey, Luke. You two have a nice drive?” Tom asked, helping Felicity fold sheets in the living room.

“We did. It was a perfect day.”

“Did you find a nice little place to buy and settle into when you move back here to get married and have lots of grandbabies for me?”

Tom rolled his eyes at his wife’s question.

“We did not.”

Felicity frowned.

“While I fully intend to marry Jessica and have a manageable number of children with her, I want it to be when the time is right.”

“Not everyone can be like your mother and I were. Perfect timing on everything.” Tom winked at Felicity.

“I’m in your wedding photos, sitting in the front row next to Aunt Beth. Brilliant timing, folks.”

His parents shared their usual we-wouldn’t-change-a-thing grins. If Luke were honest, he admired their decision to wait until they were ready to get married. They conceived him on their first date.

“Speaking of fate … where is Jessica? Did she go upstairs?”

Luke smiled at his mom. “I think she’s still in the car going through a few things she picked up on our outing.”

“Oh, that reminds me. Did you remember my printer ink?”

“We did.” He handed her the car keys. “They’re in the trunk.”

Felicity frowned as she snatched the keys while shaking her head. “Was it just too much for you to haul them inside?”

“Something like that.”

As she brushed past him, Tom gave Luke a suspicious look.

Luke grimaced. “There’s a pretty good chance I won’t live to see the sunrise.”

“You forgot her ink?”

“No. It’s in the trunk—with Jessica.”

*

It broke Jessica’s heart that her beloved would die soon, but there were certain acts of complete disrespect that were punishable only by death. Locking someone in a trunk was one of them. They’d had some good times together and for that, she was not only grateful but sympathetic enough to make sure his death would be quick with minimal suffering.

Had she been able to predict such an act of sheer evilness, she would have purchased batteries for her electric pillar candles. Instead, she waited in the dark, knees bent to one side, hands laced behind her head. She wore a dragonfly shower cap, blue nitrile gloves, and a mustache molded from Sticky Tac. On the inside of the trunk lid was a sticky note with sloppy I-wrote-it-in-the-dark handwriting that read:

I’m going to let Jones hump your $300 pillow and play tug of war w your socks when U R DEAD!

“Ahhh! Oh my gosh!” A woman’s voice screeched.

Jessica felt like a vampire with the bright light frying her cornea—a deaf vampire thanks to the shrill pierce of Felicity’s scream. Everything came into focus a little at a time. The note still stuck to the inside of the lid, the horrified, yet confused look on Felicity’s face as she seemed to be reading it, and then the Holy Grail.

Jessica smiled as she sat up, pulling the mustache from her lip. “Hel-lo, Thelma.” She snatched the dangling keys from Felicity’s hand and hopped out. “Get in.” She slammed the trunk and slid in the driver’s seat. Yep. Just as she imagined: better than sex.

“Thelma?” Felicity questioned as she hesitantly got in the other side.

“Thelma and Louise. But don’t worry, we won’t drive it off a cliff or anything … at least not today.” Jessica tossed the gloves and shower cap in the backseat. “Buckle up. Once I start the engine we’ll need to be spinning the tires out of here. Oh … and keep an eye out the back window to say goodbye to Luke. In less than ten seconds he’ll be on your porch having a heart attack or possibly a stroke.”

“What’s going on?”

Jessica loved that without knowing a single detail, Felicity buckled up. Of course the skinny-dipping mom would be all in. It was wrong for Jessica to have doubted her for a single moment. She moved the seat up, stomped on the clutch, and turned the key. The seductive rumble of the engine, finally under her control, made it hard to focus, but she needed to get out of there because the timer had started.

She backed out of the drive, shoved it into first, and waited, one hand white knuckled on the steering wheel, the other fisting the round black ball of the gear shift.

“There they are. Blow your boys a kiss, Felicity.”

And she did because Felicity Jones was one. Cool. Chick.

Jessica tattooed the concrete with the back tires as she squealed out of the drive. She took a mental picture of Luke’s reflection in the rearview mirror: slumped shoulders, hand over his chest, slightly bent at the waist, mouth agape.

Priceless.

“I think the joke is supposed to be on Luke, but then again, he sent me out to get the ink, knowing you were in the trunk. And you were wearing a shower cap, gloves, and a mustache so … I’m confused.”

“Let’s just say your son would rather me ride in the trunk than sit in the driver’s seat. No offense to you of course, but he may have control issues, and I’m usually not all judgmental that way because I like control too but—”

“So you didn’t voluntarily get in the trunk? He drove home with you in there?”

“Correct. I’m not going to lie and when I say this I’m speaking to my partner in crime, Thelma, not Luke’s mom.” Jessica grinned. “When he first shoved me in the trunk I didn’t try to fight him. It caught me off guard, but I honestly thought he was trying to do something kinky with me.”

Felicity laughed to the point of a girlish giggle. “So what did you do when you realized he was locking you inside?”

“Started plotting his death.”

“Oh my goodness, he’s his father through and through.”

“Tom? No way.” She shook her head.

Felicity nodded. “Yes, he is. Tom used to be a control freak when we first started dating. It didn’t help that I was pregnant.”

“Wait, you were pregnant when you started dating.”

“Basically. Has Luke not told you that we conceived him on our first date?”

Jessica’s jaw dropped then closed into a grin, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes. And now what I’m going to say is being said to Louise, not Luke’s girlfriend.”

“God, I love you. Go on.” Louise laughed.

“Luke doesn’t know this and I’m quite certain he wouldn’t be treating this car like his most prized possession if he knew that his conception took place in this very back seat.”

“Oh my God … Oh my God … Oh. My. God. Do you have any idea what you have given me?”

“No.” Felicity shook her head. “I’ve given you nothing. Thelma told her partner in crime, Louise, about the first time she had sex.”

“Aahh!” Jessica veered off the road onto the shoulder, coming to a stop. She couldn’t focus on driving anymore. “Don’t you dare try to silence me with some secrecy oath, especially since you just added the crème de la crème to the juiciest little secret I’ve ever known—you didn’t just conceive Luke. You. Lost. Your. Virginity … in this very car. Luke’s baby.”

Dying. Jessica died a little inside. It would be the most painful secret ever to keep, and as much as she’d come to love his mom … she just couldn’t guarantee that the day wouldn’t come that she would need that ammunition to win a war.

“Seriously, we should like … bronze the back seat and never allow anyone to sit back there again.”

Felicity looked over her shoulder and smiled as if she were replaying the memories in her mind. Jessica found it sweet and romantic. Luke would have had his head out the door hurling his last meal.

“Do you think about having children someday?”

The conversation took a whiplash turn.

Jillian pulled back onto the road. Running the GTO through the gears made her feel in control and eased her nerves.

“Sometimes. I didn’t used to so much before I met Luke. And when I did, it was more like mourning something I would never have.”

“You were his patient?”

Of course she didn’t know for sure. Luke would never break that confidentiality … except with her parents. Traitor.

“I was. I’m not now. Well…” she shrugged “…not officially. He’s brilliant, he really is, but I’m an extra special, pardon my French, fucked-up case. I’m not sure anyone could ‘cure’ me. I want to believe I’m better, but I’m afraid I’m better with Luke, not necessarily because of him. He’s even said it himself. If tomorrow he were to just disappear from my life, I wonder if the woman I’ve become with him would still exist, or if I would slip back to the woman I was before him.”

“Can I ask who you were before him?”

Jessica huffed a small laugh. “I’d tell Thelma I was a monster, but I think that might frighten Luke’s mom so I will tell her that I was simply a woman afraid of herself. A woman who longed for this exact moment in time, but never felt worthy of a future beyond work and physical exhaustion.”

They continued to drive. Jessica knew Felicity needed to get back for the guests who were staying at their bed and breakfast, but Felicity never said a word. She let Jessica have her drive, her moment of quietude with the comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone. Jessica loved the same thing about Luke. They could be together and feel the closeness without the need to fill the space with words. They could spend hours in bed or on the couch at night with her on her laptop studying and him reading or working on a crossword puzzle. Sometimes they’d share a flirty smile, but it was never awkward or boring.

Only in complete silence can the whisper of true love be heard.

Felicity rested her hand on Jessica’s arm as they pulled into the drive over an hour after leaving Luke in a world of dismay. “My son is a smart boy.”

Jessica stared at Felicity’s hand on her arm. “I don’t think his brain is responsible for us being together.”

“That’s why I said he’s a smart boy. He’s following his heart.”

Jessica looked up at Felicity’s loving smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

*

Luke and Tom were out back chopping wood. Jessica gazed out the window to determine if Luke was mad or if the pained expression on his face was from physical exertion.

“Tom’s always smiling.”

Felicity started cleaning potatoes for dinner. “Most of the time, yes.”

“Chopping wood is not easy work, but Tom is sweating with a smile on his face.”

“He loves working. If he ever stops that’s how we’ll know he’s dead.”

“Can I help you with dinner?”

“You could go ask Tom if he’s grilling or if I’m broiling tonight.”

Jessica could do that. It didn’t require any preparation or actual cooking. “No problem. Of course I risk getting the ax for the grand theft auto.”

“Send them my way. I’ve got your back, Louise.”

Jillian walked around the side of the house. “Hey, baby boy,” she rubbed Jones’s ears after he ran to her, alerting the father-son-lumberjack duo of her arrival.

“Hey, Mario.” Tom smiled or continued smiling.

“Tom Jones.” She grinned, not yet risking a glance at Luke. “Felicity wants to know if it’s grilling or broiling tonight.”

He nodded and handed her his ax. “Here. I’ll go talk with her. Don’t kill each other.”

She watched Tom walk toward the house then turned to face Luke. It was an eerily weird stare off. She wasn’t mad at him anymore, but she also didn’t feel remorseful for what she had done. His face seemed expressionless as well.

“I was going to let you drive her.”

Jessica nodded. “I know … that’s the vibe I got from the trunk earlier.”

“You know I just put new tires on her.”

Another somber nod. “I know … that’s why I was a little surprised she didn’t grip the driveway better.”

“Did you let my mom drive too?”

“No, she didn’t ask, and I didn’t know when I’d get to drive her again so I was a little selfish.” She pulled the insulated flannel shirt she’d grabbed from the garage around her body tighter as a cool gust of wind made her shiver.

Luke nodded with a slow inhale. “Smell that?”

She rolled her eyes up, nose scrunched. “Smoke?”

“My dad’s up front grilling.”

“O-kay …”

Luke motioned toward the shed with his head. “We’ve got time for a quickie in the shed before dinner.”

Both of their grins grew as they dropped their axes on the ground. Bodies and mouths crashed together while attempting to hobble as one to the shed without stumbling.

Once inside, they wrestled with each other’s pants, not caring that they both were in flannel tops. The immediate need was for him to be inside her.

“Oh dear God …” Her head fell back against the wall as he lifted her against it and thrust into her with one desperate move. He felt warm, and hard, and deliciously filling inside her. She made claim to his hair, using it for support as his hands dug into the muscled flesh of her ass moving her up and down.

“I adore you,” he moaned into her neck as she closed her eyes.

Jessica rested her cheek on his head. “My God … you give me life.”

Chapter Thirty

Knight

If Mrs. Baker didn’t die soon, Ryn would leave Jackson. He felt certain of it. There was only so much nervous energy he could release in the form of sex before possibly scaring her off completely. She nearly died when he implied the intention of putting his dick in her mouth instead of her pussy—vagina—because she made the assumption he meant her ass, not her mouth.

When he told her to get on her knees, he saw relief wash over her face. He watched her mouth “thank God” to herself before happily accepting his cock. Although she sucked him like a champ, even swallowing every last drop, she expressed her preference to that over having it shot on her face or breasts. Jackson couldn’t help but feel a jab of disappointment that her ass was off limits—in her words “forever.” Nothing ruins a good blowjob quite like an anal sex ban.

Jackson: Where are you?

Jillian: Texas

Jackson: I have to remove someone.

Jillian: I’m on my way home. DON’T DO ANYTHING!

Jackson: Don’t come home. It might not be safe for you here.

Jillian: Who? Why?

Jackson: One of my students.

Jillian: God you’re sensitive about that damn piano.

Jackson: She knows your name. I never told her your name.

Jillian: Maybe one of your other students did.

Jackson: I always refer to you as my “sister.” Period.

Jillian: It’s not enough.

Jackson: I followed her. She wears a wig and dresses in expensive clothes, but lives in a shack and she lied about her husband being dead or maybe ever having one.

Jillian: Still not enough. I’m coming home.

Jackson: It will be too late.

His phone vibrated with a call. Sliding the mother of his unborn children from his chest, he slipped out of her bed. He’d taken her to dinner as an apology for his recent neurotic behavior. Ryn had thought it was a reward for the blowjob. That worked too.

Afterward he’d insisted on staying the night with her, which earned him the hairy eyeball. She couldn’t imagine why he’d want to stay if they weren’t going to have sex. The tears in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed when he told her how lonely his body felt at night when it wasn’t wrapped in hers.

As he stepped into the hall, Gunner greeted him with a stern look and low growl that said he’d be having his conversation with Jillian right there and not an inch farther.

“Yes?”

“McGraw’s been supplying all of AJ’s pharmaceutical needs. Do you need me to have him send you a mild sedative or maybe an antipsychotic?”

“I’m not paranoid.” He was, but not all paranoid people were crazy. “Meredith Baker is not who she says she is. She’s a puppet, she has to be. I can’t believe I didn’t catch it sooner. She slips up all the time. I followed her to her house, practically riding her fucking bumper and she didn’t notice me. Whoever hired her can’t be much smarter, but if it’s the same person who’s been texting you, then they’re managing to stay one step ahead and that makes me—”

“Nervous? Paranoid?”

“I’m not wrong about this.”

“And if you are then you’ve committed murder without just cause. What if you didn’t have G.A.I.L behind you, ready to swoop in and clean up your mess? Would you risk life in prison on her knowing my name and wearing a wig? For Christ’s sake, do you know how many women would rather wear Gucci and look the part than have food on the table or a roof over their heads?”

Gunner stared at Jackson as if he had the same questions as Jillian.

“I can’t just do nothing.”

“For now you can. Besides if you kill her you’ll never know who she’s working for.”

“I’d get it out of her first.”

“How?”

Jackson clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes at Gunner, who would not give him an inch of space past Ryn’s bedroom door.

“I have my ways.”

Jillian didn’t have to say anything. He could feel her anger. It was thick in the painful silence between them.

“I’m coming home.”

“I can handle this.”

“With a fucking knife?”

“Jill?” Jackson heard AJ call her name in the background.

“It works.” He winced as he said it. Just because Claire had died after being tortured with a knife didn’t mean it still wasn’t a very persuasive tactic.

“Where’s Ryn?”

“In the bedroom.”

“Go look at her perfect skin and imagine some heartless, soulless heathen making forty-four slashes into it based on some fucked-up assumption. Goodnight, Jack-ass.”

“Jill—” He sighed. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Women are stubborn.”

Gunner tilted his head.

“Stick to humping pillows, buddy.”

“Jackson?”

He turned just as Ryn cracked open the bedroom door, eyes squinted, blond hair matted, large white T-shirt barely covering her sexy legs.

“Are you … talking to Gunner?”

“I, uh, am.”

“It’s after midnight.”

“Yes. We never get to talk—man to … man’s best friend.”

She nodded toward his phone fisted in his hand. “Gunner doesn’t text.”

He stepped back in the room, forcing her retreat to the bed. “I was talking to Jillian.”

Ryn slid under the covers. Jackson followed, spooning her back to his chest.

“How’s AJ?”

“Alive.”

She grunted. “Thanks for that elaborate answer.”

“They’re in Texas.”

“Texas?” Ryn turned in his arms as if he would have a different answer if she faced him.

“Yes. He wants her to help him die.”

“He said that?”

Jackson smirked then rolled onto his back, tucking Ryn under his arm. “No. But that’s what he’s doing. She’s too blind and kind to see it. And even if she suspects it, she’s too stubborn to give up on him. Surrendering has never been easy for her.”

“Are they coming home?”

He pursed his lips to the side and nodded. “Something tells me we’ll be seeing her or them sooner rather than later.”

“Jackson?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I tell you something and will you promise not to get mad or make me feel bad or irresponsible or reckless?”

“You’re pregnant?”

“What?” She sat up resting on her elbow, giving him a scrunched-face expression. “I’m having my period.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t convinced if that’s what it was for sure since a few days ago you accused me of trying to ‘break your vagina.’”

She jabbed him in the side with her fist. He chuckled.

“It’s not funny. A few times I wondered if you were going to rip me straight up the middle in two. You’ve been weird … even kind of angry. That’s it … it’s felt like angry sex. Not even sex at times, more like just effing.”

“Effing?”

“Yes, fucking,” she whispered.

He roared a big laugh that only turned her face true crimson. “Why…” he tried to catch his breath through his laughter “…are you whispering? Are you worried about Gunner hearing you or God? Because I’m quite certain that dog has already told me to back the fuck away from you in more than one language, and I know you haven’t been to church in a while, but as far as I know, God can still read minds.”

“Well excuse me, Mr. Vulgar, I didn’t grow up using explicit language, and I had a baby before I had a chance to sow any wild oats and making a habit of using the F-word as an adjective and adverb to every single word in the English language. Don’t people realize it starts to lose its effect after a while? It’s like putting an explanation point at the end of every sentence.

‘I’m going to wake the F up tomorrow and roll the F out of my effing bed, and take an effing hot shower before I effing eat an effing bowl of cereal. Then I’m going to get the F going to my first effing job, then meet my effing amazing boyfriend for an effing good lunch, and then if I’m done with my effing period we might F a few times until we’re effing exhausted.’”

Jackson’s body vibrated with laughter. “Am I the ‘effing amazing boyfriend’ in your little story?”

Ryn kissed along his chest, following the lines of ink. “Maybe.”

“Maybe, huh? I can work with that. So before you went off on your effing tangent, what were you going to tell me?”

Ryn paused, resting her chin on his chest, looking up at him. “I miss my daughter. She’s so stubborn, and naive, and some days even cruel. I see that, I really do. But she’s this huge part of my heart and I can’t be on the other side of this wall that she’s built between us. Maddie’s my child, I love her unconditionally. I would give my life for her, that will never change. So … I’m dropping the restraining order. And if that puts me in danger, then so be it.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she never stopped looking at him.

“I’m sorry if you think that makes me a bad mom, or a terrible role model, or just a pathetically weak person in general. The day I chose not to get the abortion Preston wanted me to get was the day I chose my daughter. It was my unspoken vow that I would always choose her no matter what. That is the example I want to set for Maddie.”

He brushed his thumb along her freckled cheek, catching her tears. She sniffled with a sad smile tugging at her mouth.

“If we’re over. I get it. I’ll always think of our time as a really long birthday celebration.” Ryn shrugged. “You’ve always felt like a dream anyway.”

He brought his other thumb up, brushing both of her tear-drenched cheeks at the same time. Ryn closed her eyes, biting her quivering lips together.

“Ryn Middleton … do you love me?”

She swallowed through a small sob, squeezing her eyes tighter, setting more tears free. “Don’t do this … please.”

“I’m sorry. I have to do this. I know Maddie owns so much of your heart, so much of your life. But the only way I can know if we’re over is to ask you if you love me. Do you have enough of your heart left to give to me? Will you love our babies with as much of your heart and as fiercely as you love Maddie?”

Another sob.

“If you can answer yes, then we’re never over. I’ve only loved three women in my life. The first gave me life, the second crowded me in the womb, and the third is a hot mess mere inches from my heart right now. And I hope … I might even be praying right now that she says yes because I love her … I love you, Ryn, so effing much.”

Her sobs filled the room as her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in it as he held her to him.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.”

Jackson smiled with her confession.

“But you just wouldn’t leave my heart alone.”

He chuckled. “I’ll never leave your heart alone.”

She drew in a shaky breath, bringing her head up to look at him. “I’m so scared.”

His brows furrowed. “What are you scared of?”

“That I won’t be able to give you everything you want.”

“I just want everything you can give me.”

“What if it’s not enough?”

He smiled, bringing her mouth slowly to his. “It already is.”

*

Relentless thoughts robbed Ryn of all sleep, so she eased off Jackson’s chest and slipped out of bed.

She nodded her head to Gunner, who seemed more interested in standing guard at her bedroom door than having an early breakfast. She couldn’t complain. He did exactly what he was trained to do.

“Come.”

He rose to all fours and followed her downstairs. The sun wasn’t even up yet, so she brewed her coffee and fed Gunner a few treats before wrapping up in a blanket on her favorite overstuffed chair with her laptop. Her social media was limited to Pinterest. Facebook and Twitter made Preston’s unscrupulous lurking too easy so she stuck to pinning her dreams on boards.

She had a board for all the renovations she dreamed about doing to her house, none of which she could afford while helping Maddie with her college tuition. Her foodie board had tons of recipes she never made because cooking for one wasn’t worth the time. Vacation boards, book boards, movies, music, poetry, quotes … the only board missing was a Jackson board.

With an evil smile, she clicked the add board button.

Knight, she typed.

Over the next hour she proceeded to add pictures to her new board: Vera Wang wedding dresses, Ed Sheeran song lyrics, tattoos, and eventually she gathered the nerve to add a few photos of baby carriers and stylish pregnancy clothes.

Marriage? Babies? Is that what she said yes to?

Gunner jumped up and took his post at the bottom of the stairs like a security guard as Jackson made his way down. Ryn quickly closed her computer.

“I didn’t know you were a morning person.”

She smiled. “I’m not. I just couldn’t sleep … a lot on my mind.” Her smile faded at him fully dressed. “You don’t have to go. I made coffee and I’ll make you breakfast.”

He stopped a few feet in front of her chair with his thumbs hooked into his back pockets. “I need a run and a shower.”

She nodded. “Can I make you dinner tonight?” Maybe something on her foodie board would actually come to fruition in her kitchen.

His lack of an immediate answer opened the door for doubt to creep into the mind of a woman who struggled to stay afloat in the pool of insanity. Perhaps he regretted something or everything. Setting her computer on the ottoman, she stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her.

“If you think my cooking sucks maybe you should just tell me now so I can yell at you, nurse my wounded ego for the day, and then we can make up later over takeout.”

He inched his head slowly side to side, a dark look filled his eyes. Ryn recognized it. It was the same look that had led to the roughest sex of her life on several occasions the previous week. It made her heart race like chased prey.

He sucked in his bottom lip and dragged it through his teeth, closing the distance between them. With one firm tug he ripped the blanket from her body. Palming the back of her head he kissed her. Just as she suspected, it was hard, demanding, and bruising her lips as his tongue filled her mouth. His other hand grabbed her ass so hard she whimpered from the pain, but she was too turned on by his kiss to make any further objection.

The moan from deep in his throat coupled with the bruises forming on her ass beneath his fingers led her to believe she could end up on the sofa with his dick shoving her tampon a mile up her vagina. It’s like he had an evil spirit possessing his body, and she wasn’t sure what triggered its presence.

She whimpered into his mouth again and he released her.

He nodded, resting his forehead on hers, completely breathless. “Yes. Dinner. Tonight.”

Ryn blinked, and blinked, and blinked some more as he walked out the door and to his car with a stiff gait, fists clenched.

Grimacing with a hiss of a breath, she rubbed her butt cheek. The wedding and babies were officially on a serious wait-and-see list.