All This Time (28 page)

Chapter
Fifty-Three

The
drizzling rain on this cold January day emphasizes the sorrow of the mood. I
step out of the taxi with my small travel bag and cinch the wide belt around my
black trench coat before lifting the umbrella over me. The century-old Catholic
Church, ten miles north of Baltimore located in Mt Washington, with its dark
stones covered by dark, thick moss gives off an ominous vibe as I approach and
climb the front steps. My throat begins closing when I spot the hundreds of
uniformed officers standing guard, preparing for retaliation from the X’kapz,
and simply milling around in the entrance way. Everyone is speaking softly and
looking reflective as well as sad.

Dressing
in all black and wearing a small veiled hat allows me to blend in with the
other mourners. I can only pray that no one recognizes me, blowing my cover to
kingdom come. I’m not worried that anyone from the crew will show their faces
at a police officer’s funeral, but Natalie or her little ones may spot me.
Inside the large cathedral I slip around the perimeter and settle into a pew at
the back of the room away from prying eyes. Within a few minutes the soft music
grows louder and everyone takes a seat further cloaking me.

The
priest opens the service with the Lord’s Prayer. It’s at this time, with my
head tilted down, that my silent tears slip over my cheeks and drip off my
chin. With my lacy handkerchief I dab them away, but all too soon the voices of
Jude’s friends and family begin honoring his memory and telling stories of his
life. I can’t hold back another second, I am overwrought with grief. Keeping my
head down my shoulders begin to shake from the muted sobbing that I’m barely
containing. Alone, I sit and pray while the religious service moves along and
proceeds toward the more formal police officer service.

Barely
aware of my surroundings, I feel a slight movement along the edge of the
railing behind me followed by a soft hand draping on my shoulder. Astonished by
the comfort this kind gesture brings, my tears come faster and my breathing
becomes ragged. The warm hand moves down my arm and grips before pulling me
sideways. My face is drawn against a hard shoulder and another hand tenderly
holds my other cheek while a soft thumb caresses it. A whispered shushing sound
floats along the tip of my ear followed by lips pressing into my hairline. The
compassionate embrace quickly becomes a soothing balm to my heartbreak.

Slowly,
I dab away the wetness left behind from my crying. Suddenly the awkwardness of
knowing a stranger is holding me snaps me out of my sorrow and I begin to pull
away.

“Thank
you,” I sniff lifting my eyes up and seeing the person who’s comforting me.

The
hand on my cheek slides down to my neck and under my chin tilting my head back
before he says, “I’m here. Let me help you.”

My
heart trips a few beats before realization sinks into my mind. I reach up
clasping my hand around the hand that is affectionately pushing the hair away
from my face and try to draw it away. “No,” I whisper with absolutely no
conviction in my voice.

He
draws me against his chest and holds me tighter, “I’m not letting you go again,
Doll.” Blues holds me this way through the remainder of the service and I let
him. Being in his arms feels like the most natural thing and even though I
don’t want it Blues comforts me more in this demanding embrace than anyone ever
has before. How can he show his face here? Doesn’t he care that this family
wouldn’t want him or anyone from the damn gang that is directly responsible for
killing Wise at his funeral?

Thirty
minutes later I along with the other couple of hundred guests follow the family
out of the chapel. I watch Natalie being escorted toward a blacked out
limousine. A large man who looks like he could be Wise’s identical twin carries
Simone while Dean shuffles his feet behind them. My heart squeezes in agony for
this sweet little family. A strange feeling crushes over me as the tears slip
down my face. I will never see them again. They will mostly likely stay here in
Baltimore with their families. Part of me is happy about them being away from
Georgia, leaving behind all the bullshit and finding a way to live without him.
Before ducking into the backseat Natalie’s head lifts up, facing toward the
church, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. With all of the people congregating
outside the doors she wouldn’t be able to pick me out of this large
crowd.  From the top step I watch as six large men silently load Wise’s
casket into the hearse taking him to his final resting place.
Rest easy
brother, we’ll take it from here
. A sob escapes passed my lips and I
suck
in a ragged breath.

Blues
never leaves my side. He keeps me tucked under one arm while holding an
umbrella over us. “Do you want to go to the graveside service?” he asks looking
down at me.

I
look back at the long line of cars falling in the procession and pulling away
before I shake my head, “No.”

“Where
are you staying?”

“I,”
my voice catches, “I was getting a motel after the service.”

Pulling
my attention away from the single line of vehicles and tipping my chin upward,
he insists, “No, Love, you’re staying with me.” The determination set in his
eyes tells me that he refuses to let me argue. My shoulders sag in defeat and I
nod agreeably.

He
escorts me out to a black limousine and instructs the driver to take us to his
hotel. After sliding in he draws me into his lap, pressing my head against his
chest. He keeps one hand clutched tightly around my back while the other
strokes over my hip. We don’t speak during the ride to the hotel. Lacing our
fingers together, he then takes my bag, and guides me through the lobby and up
the elevator. We enter the grand accommodations of the Presidential suite and
he walks me back to the large master bedroom where he places my bag at the foot
of the bed. Then taking extra care with my arm, he removes my wet trench coat.

Blues
lifts his hands to my face, placing warm palms against the sides of my head
before pressing his lips to my forehead. He wraps his arms around my shoulders
holding me tightly against him. I bury my face into his chest breathing in his
warmth and then slide my hands under his suit coat snaking them around his
waist.

“I
was so scared,” he starts so softly that I almost didn’t hear him. “When I came
out of the bedroom and couldn’t find you in my apartment…,” he whispers over my
head while squeezing me harder. “Don’t….” his voice thick with emotion cracks,
“Please don’t do that again.” I nod my head against his chest and he sighs
heavily. Why am I making this promise to him? Why does it sound like he really
cares for me?

He
loosens his grip around me, sliding a hand down my arm and intertwining our
hands, “The bathroom is behind you,” he points, “I’ll wait in the living room
while you change.” I stare into the depths of his heavenly blue eyes and begin
to feel like I could easily get lost in them. My heart leaps seeing some strong
emotion veil over them moments before he lowers his lips to mine. He brushes
against them softly before placing a sweet kiss on the corner. “Get changed,”
he mumbles with his lips lingering on mine.

After
he walks out of the room, I glance down at my bag tilted on its side at my
feet. I know that I have a choice and the logical part hurting the most warns
me to leave, but there is another part of me that desperately wants to be here
with him. I change out of my black dress and slip into a fitted yellow
tee-shirt and soft white shorts. Besides a couple more tees, some blue jeans
and a pair of cargo pants these are the only comfortable clothes that I packed.

Walking
into the large open living room, I see Blues standing by the glass wall
overlooking the river below. His reflection reveals a stone mask while his
fists clutch tightly against his thighs, but his posture is completely defeated
with his shoulders slouching. He spots my reflection and turns around.
Tentatively, I cross the space between us stopping a few feet away.

“I
ordered some lunch,” he tells me running a hand through his hair while his eyes
slowly take in my appearance. “I hope you’re hungry.” He smirks uncomfortably
when his gaze finally connects with mine.

“Blues,”
I take a small step forward, gliding my hand over the back of the sofa angled
perpendicular in the center of the room. “I want to thank you again…for
earlier.” His eyebrows pinch together and he drops his hand to his side,
fisting them again. Unable to read his expression and body language, I shift
around and prop my backside against the sofa, trying to relax so that maybe
he’ll relax too. “What happened really, um,” I tuck my arms around my stomach
tightly, “it was fucked up…and I needed to get away…”

“Where
did you go?” he asks urgently, and I glance over at him, “Because I looked for
you at Decks’. He came home yesterday and said he hadn’t seen or talked with
you.” He continues to stare, watching me closely–almost too closely.

Pulling
my attention away from him, I focus on the large bowl of limes sitting on the
table in the dining area. Going back to my training, the words of my superior
echoes in my mind,
Lie if you must, but if the truth can save your ass, go
with that
. “I wasn’t ready to go back to Decks’ place so I rented a cheap
motel.” He stays silent and I feel compelled to continue with my explanation.
“I just needed to deal with it all…on my own.”

He
steps away from the window, crosses the room and walks into the kitchen. I
watch him stop and lean his hip against the counter staying there with his back
to me for several minutes. He folds his arms over his chest appearing tense all
over. I don’t understand what’s going on with him and the silent treatment
begins to make me feel uncomfortable. He could be testing me, gauging my
reactions to root out more undercover cops. Three rapid knocks on the door
breaks the building tension in the quiet room. Without looking at me, Blues
spins around and opens the door for the courier to bring in our food.

“Come
on. We’ll talk later,” he glances back at me before walking toward the dining
table.

Chapter
Fifty-Four

During
lunch the weather turns worse. The early afternoon sky is darker and releasing
heavy rain. The silence between us is palpable and Blues doesn’t make eye
contact with me once while we’re eating. After we finish lunch, he starts a
fire that instantly knocks the chill out the air. Still sitting in the dining
room, I watch as he leaves the room only to return a few moments later carrying
a thick blanket. Placing it on the sofa as he passes it, he continues walking
toward me and then stretches out a hand. I glance from it up to his eyes. They
are sad, but I see something else lying in the swirling sapphire that I can’t
understand. Blues look vulnerable, but that can’t be right. He’s too vile for
that emotion. I accept his hand and he leads us over to the sofa. Sitting down,
he reaches back for the blanket and unfolds it.

“Sit
with me,” he requests stretching the cover over his legs. I do as he asks, but
keep a safe distance between us. Being so close to him will fuck with my
reserve and if I’m going to get through the next twenty-four hours I need to
keep my head clear. “I won’t bite,” he smiles but his eyes are still sad.

“I
don’t believe you,” I proclaim pulling on the edge of the blanket to cover
myself. He shrugs and his smile grows wickedly.

“You’re
smart not to.”

“What’s
going on, Blues?” I ask clearly unable to process what’s happening between us
in addition to all the hell that is going on outside of this hotel room. His
smile drops instantly and he turns away from me. “Why are you doing this?”

He
crosses his arms defensively but his shoulders droop in defeat, “I hate what
happened,” his voice cracks slightly, “just as much as you do. Senseless
killing makes me sick.” He turns his head my way again, but doesn’t look at me.
Instead he focuses on the hallway behind me. “I think of Wise as a friend too
Doll and I grieve with Natalie over the loss of a good man.”

“Did
you know he was a cop?” I ask softly, completely curious since he once told me
that cops weren’t an issue for him. Without looking at me, he shakes his head,
and it doesn’t feel like the truth. Once he practically confessed to having
cops on his payroll. The overwhelming desire to release my inner detective is
strong, but this isn’t the time or place for it so I bite down hard on my lip
to suppress it.

After
a few more silent moments, he slides his eyes to meet mine, “Could I ask you a
question off the subject?” Still biting my lip, I nod yes. “What did Decks tell
you about his recent business out of town?”

“Nothing,”
I lie, “He wouldn’t tell me anything about his business,” He nods, but looks at
me like he knows I’m lying or maybe it’s my conscience telling me to trust him.
I don’t trust anyone.

“Angel,
do you know what’s caused his recent change in behavior?” I sigh and nod my
head. He scoots close to me, draping an arm behind me and turning my face
toward him. “I need to know.” His eyes are serious but not angry.

“He’s
using,” I say meekly still staring into his eyes. “He got really sick one night
and told me that he was experimenting with Ryske.”

Holding
my gaze, he nods. “That could be it.” He opens his mouth to say something else,
but shuts it again quickly.

“I
think it may be making him rage too,” I offer before I realize what I’ve done.

“What
do you mean?” his eyebrows draw in tightly creating deep crevasses. Something
deep inside me desperately wants to reach up and soothe the lines away, but I
keep my hands lying on my lap. “Has he hurt you?” His body vibrates with anger
now.

“No,”
I shake my head. “I don’t think he would hurt me.” I tell him, but the pulsing
blue vein in his forehead tells me that he isn’t satisfied so I add, “I think,
maybe it just irrational and misplaced jealousy more than anything.”

“How
many times has he lost his temper with you?”

“Not
many.”

From
the look in his eyes, he isn’t buying my fib, “Angel, tell me how many.”

“It
really isn’t that big of a deal, Blues.”

“Let
me decide that,” he slips a hand over mine offering more tenderness still
expecting me to answer him, but I don’t want his comfort and rage begins to
build in me.

“No,”
I snap and then growl, “What happens between me and Decks is none of your
business.”

He
releases my hand and tosses the blanket off standing quickly. He crosses the
few feet over to the fireplace, slamming a hand against the rock mantle. I hear
a low growl before he cusses, “Fuck.”

After
a few moments of staring into the flames, he spins around and paces back over.
Dropping down onto his knees, he reaches up, placing both hands on either side
of my face, and crushes my lips to his in a furious kiss. I gasp and hear a
deep satisfied rumble in his chest. He pushes against me, pressing me into the
back of the sofa. My fingers sink into his soft locks while my body arches into
his, like coming home, as he shifts me to lie down, and I whimper in the jagged
pleasure of his assault.

“Let
me love you,” he murmurs against my neck, placing hot kisses up my throat and
across my jaw line. Hearing that word causes my heart to seize with fear.
Love
?
That isn’t a possibility.

With
that thought my body stiffens in his arms and I drop my hands, “I…” the words
to make him stop lodge in my throat, “Blues, I…” he moves his mouth to capture
my protest. I remain impassive holding out for him to stop kissing, but he
doesn’t. His lips move harshly against mine while his hands grip into my hips
painfully. He nudges my thighs apart with his knee and moves his body between
them.

Pressing
his hard-on into my center, Blues groans, “Tell me to stop now and I will, but
I will hate it. I will
fucking
hate it because I need
you so much, Angel and I want to love you tonight.” His words sound like a plea
of a dying man begging for me to be his last request in his final moments.
Taking my hands in his, being extra careful of my injured hand, he interlaces
our fingers and lifts my arms above my head, confining me in place. He settles
over me bringing his face close to mine and staring deeply into my eyes. “Baby,
let me love you,” he says with hopeful eyes never leaving mine. That damn
squeezing pain in my chest, a déjà vu feeling from the first night we were
together, burst forth with something I am unfamiliar with. Tonight I don’t need
Blues, I want him and I
want
him to love me.

“Yes,
Blues,” I sob softly staring into his eyes while blinking back tears. “Love
me.”

His
kiss is feather light across the swell of my cheek moving down to my ear. My
body and heart are in agreement that this man is my other half and finding him
restores the gaping hole I feel without him. Unfortunately I also know that
this is going to hurt like hell. He raises up again, drops his mouth to mine
and I open my eyes to see him looking so lovingly at me.

One last night
.
A deal is made in the depths of my
soul. When this night is over so are we, but for tonight I will love Blues.

He
guides my legs around his waist, slides his arms behind me and wraps me in a tight
embrace. “Hold onto me tightly, Doll,” he growls lifting our bodies off the
sofa. I wrap my arms around his neck and he pulls me up with him as he stands.
Kissing me madly he stumbles down the hallway toward the bedroom. He carries me
over to the bed, but hesitates laying me down. Still looking deeply into my
eyes he pulls away from my lips and drops his face into the crook of my neck. I
squeeze him closer needing more. He inhales deeply before lowering me onto the
bed. I untangle my legs from around his body and he pauses towering over me.

“That’s
where you belong,” he whispers, a satisfied gleam flickers in his eyes.

Blues
moves his legs between mine, draping over the edge of the bed. His hands drift
up my thighs, a slow, gentle caress. He moves further up, fingers skimming over
the small space between my tee-shirt and shorts exposing my belly, and making
goose bumps blossom over every inch of my body. I moan when his large hands
slip under my shirt and tenderly cup my breast. His eyes latch onto mine and he
dips down capturing my mouth with a frantic kiss while his thick hands knead my
swelling boobs. I grip the back of his shirt and tug, needing it gone. He pulls
away and sheds it quickly before holding his hands out to me. I take them and
he brings me forward. Releasing me, he grabs the hem of my shirt and lifts it
over my head. He pushes loose strands of hair away from my face before tracing
a finger down my throat and slipping it into my deep cleavage. He pops the
clasp and slides the lacy material off my shoulders, dropping it at the foot of
the bed sufficiently removing the final barrier keeping me from feeling his hot
flesh.

Still
standing over me with his legs pressing against the mattress between my knees,
he bends down for a sweet kiss. The tips of his fingers barely graze over my
cheek moving away a stubborn hair, but the touch is enough to make my skin
prickle. “You are mine,” he whispers as he nibbles and sucks my lips while
roughly digging those amazing fingers into my thick hair.