Beyond Revenge (The Ransom Series) (24 page)

He doesn’t hold back, and neither do
I.  We’ve been physically close since arriving at Jack’s house
yesterday
, but not intimate like this, and the built
-
up desires pour out of us now to take us away from all the fear and
uncertainty, at least temporarily.  Our lips and tongues connect rapidly and with
such force that I can feel my lips swelling already.  I shift my body so that
I’m
straddling
Leo
on his
lap
as he continues to feel me and squeeze me and rub me in all the perfect ways.

The excitement that we’re doing this
out in the open and could be caught at any moment becomes too much for me, and
I can’t hold back any longer.  My head falls back and my mouth opens in a
silent cry as my body is thrown into a state of untouchable pleasure.

It takes me some time to come down from
it and be back in Leo’s arms.  When I’m finally there, I look back at him and
note the pleased grin on his face.  He removes his hands from my bra and
underwear leaving wetness behind in both places.

“Take me to the bedroom,” I whisper.

Leo doesn’t question or argue as he
scoops me up in his arms.
 
I bite my lip as he carries
me past the closed door to Jack’s office
where w
e can
still hear him talking inside.  Leo peeks through the crack in the door to the
spare bedroom where Dante is sleeping before continuing to our bedroom. 
He
sets me down on the center of the bed and closes and locks the
door.

The passion in the room is so palpable
between us that if my body wasn’t still recovering from
child
birth, I know he’d be inside me within seconds.  He lifts his shirt
over his head, letting me appreciate the beautiful spread of tattoos that
covers his
arms and chest
while he sheds the rest of
his clothes.

Leo approaches me naked from the bottom
of the bed to pull my shorts and underwear down my legs.  Once they’re
discarded to the floor, he positions himself over me, straddling my waist with
his hardened cock pressed up against me as he removes my shirt and bra.

His eyes narrow in on the breast he was
massaging minutes ago.  He lowers himself to it and licks up the traces of milk
that still remain on and around my nipple before he seems overwhelmed by
temptation.  He secures my nipple between his lips and sucks forcefully,
drawing the milk out with a moan of ecstasy from deep inside him unlike I have
ever heard.  He sucks again and again, cupping my breast between his hands like
it’s the most
coveted
object in the world.

He pulls back from it with a thoroughly
satisfied sigh and looks me straight in the eyes.  “You have no idea how
much
I’ve wanted to do that.  God, you taste amazing.”

My lips turn into a grin and my face
flush
es with heat
, but I don’t know why.  Leo has
sucked on me like th
at
countless times before, but the
fact that he’s actually getting some part of me out of it makes it different in
some strangely embarrassing way.

It also makes me intensely hot for him.

I grasp Leo’s hips and pull him closer
to me.  “I wish you could be inside me right now.”

He lowers himself to his arms on e
ach
side of me so that our chests are touching and slowly begins to
grind against me.
 
“Six weeks
of recovery
.  Doctor’s orders,” he whispers.

He starts a long line of kisses from my
forehead down to my lips, then down my neck and rapidly breathing chest.  I
catch only a glimpse of his hand tightening around his cock as he slinks back
on the bed, continuing the kisses to my belly and lower abdomen until his mouth
is between my legs.

He spreads me open with his tongue to
get at my throbbing clit.  Each time he licks it the shivers run up and down my
body.  His movements are the perfect chaos against it, touching it gently with the
tip of his tongue then
licking
it with full force and
trying
everything in between.

It’s impossible to be quiet now as his
lips and tongue find every way to make me burn even more for him, and then I’m
gasping out, brought to the brink of insanity and pleasure by his mouth and
kept there by his touch as he sits up on his knees and empties himself all over
my
stomach
.

We’re both still gasping and writhing
as Leo slows the movements of his hands on each of us.  When he finally stops,
I see the look of utter satisfaction and pleasure on his face.  I’m sure my
face shares a similar expression.

He leans down to kiss me, whispering,
“I love you
. 
I can’t wait to make love to you again.”

His face is still close to
mine
, so I grasp the side of his cheek and kiss him back.  “Don’t tempt
me.  You know I’m stubborn about sticking to the rules.”

A knowing grin crosses Leo’s face
before he
climbs off the bed.  He
grab
s
some tissues to clean me up
before taking me to the shower.

By the time we’re
cleaned up,
Jack is still on the phone and Dante is still sleeping.  Leo and I
find ourselves back in bed together, his arm wrapped tightly around me,
providing me comfort instead of pleasure this time.  His presence and warmth
are too soothing, and it doesn’t take long before I’m taken away to the depths
of sleep.

It feels like I’ve just closed my eyes
when they suddenly open at a familiar sound from the next room over, a singular
cry that
could
be the precursor to a lot of upset baby
time if I don’t get to Dante quickly.  The lamp on the nightstand is on and
Leo’s arm is still around me, but the
sluggish
haze in
my brain tells me I’ve been sleeping for some time.

I
slink
out of
bed, causing Leo to stir slightly with my movement, but he remains asleep by
the time I’m sneaking out the door.

It’s dark in the hallway
, so m
y hands feel along the wall until they reach the doorframe and then
the door to the temporary nursery.  My hand sweeps the door open all the way
as I step into the room
, and in the faint
moon
light coming through the sheer curtains over the windows, I see a
figure standing above the bed where Dante’s makeshift bassinet rests.

“Jack?  Is something wrong?”

The figure turns around, and something
is definitely wrong.  My insides instantly hollow.  My heart shrivels into
dust.  The air is swept so quickly from my lungs
,
I
wonder if I’ll ever breathe again.

Mark stands before me with Dante in his
arms.

He’s nothing more than a shadowed
outline, but I know it’s him.  I’ve seen him lurk through the darkness to find
me.  I know every sickening inch of him in shadow and flesh.

Nightmares are meant to stay in dreams,
visions of the past that the brain tries but fails to forget.

My nightmare is very real, fully
present before me
,
holding my future in his grasp.

He lunges at me. 
My throat erupts into
a piercing scream.

I
fight
back with
everything I have left.

Her Fire

∞

There is nothing like
the fire in a mother’s eyes

when her child is
in danger.

The rest of the world
turns gray.

There is but one
focus.

She is driven,
determined, perhaps insane.

God help those who
stand in her way.

On one side, utter
joy.

The other,
absolute devastation.

She will carve a
path of destruction.

Conflagration
fueled by unconditional love.

She must try.

She must succeed.

Because there is
no other way.

∞

The moment I hear Morgan scream, I’m
awake and grabbing for the gun in the nightstand.  I don’t know where I’m going
or what I’m doing or what’s going on, but my body and mind are trained on one
thing.

I
need
to get
to her.  Now.

I’m out the bedroom door
looking
around frantically
in nothing but a pair of shorts.  The
hallway is dark and quiet for only a second before Morgan’s cries call me to
Dante’s room.

In th
e
brief
moment that the sound registers in my brain, I contemplate whether I want to
turn that corner and look in the room.  If she
’
s
standing there with a lifeless child in her arms, I know I will crumble.  My
heart will
shatter
in my chest and I will be no more. 
There will be nothing left of me.

The door is wide open, and though it’s
dark, I can make out some kind of struggle taking place on the other side of
the room.  There’s a second figure there, and my mind instantly turns to it
being Jack, but why would Jack be fighting with Morgan in the baby’s room?

I raise my gun and feel along the wall
for the light switch.

The light above turns on, and my life
is turned upside down.

“Mark.”  The word is a vile whisper
from my mouth, and for a moment everything stops.

“So glad you could join us, son,” he
replies calmly.

I can feel every ounce of blood seeping
out of my veins and into oblivion as I absorb the scene in front of me.  Mark
holds my child in the crook of one arm while his other hand is held tightly in
a
vise-
grip pinch at Morgan’s neck, somehow holding
her steady just above the
floor
as she kicks her legs
and tries to
claw
at
him
. 
She is powerless against the absurdly large muscles bulging in his arms.  I’ve
never seen Mark i
n
such good physical shape.

In an instant he drops Morgan to the
floor
and draws a knife from his side.  He wraps his arm around her and
pulls her back against his chest with the blade close enough to her throat to
draw the tiniest drip of blood.  She coughs to catch her breath then stills at
the realization of the danger at her neck.  She looks from Dante to me, and
instead of fear and terror I see unstoppable maternal determination burning in
her eyes.  There is no doubt in my mind that she will sacrifice herself for
our
child.

I have to act quickly.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”  My voice
is low but as unwavering as the gun in my hand.  “I left you bleeding out in a
burning house in the mountains.  How the fuck are you standing here threatening
my family?”

Mark’s face turns into a
disappointed
scowl.  “I thought I taught you better than that, Leo.  You should
always finish what you start.”

I won’t let him see it in my face, but
I know
what
he’s saying is true.  I had the chance to
end Mark myself at the cabin
.  When
I was standing
over him and he was too injured and weak to fight back
,
I had the perfect opportunity to put a bullet in his brain, but I
couldn’t do it.

I’d like to think it was because he
didn’t deserve a quick death, but if I’m truthful with myself, I know it was because
in some fucked-up way
I couldn’t kill my abusive, psychotic father
figure in the same way that my actual father was killed.  In my mind I was the
eight-year-old version of myself watching my real father bleed out on the floor
in front of me just before the final bullet struck his skull, and in that
moment I panicked.  I couldn’t be the one pulling that trigger, even if it was
Mark on the receiving end of the bullet he so greatly deserved.

If I had just taken that damn shot
,
though
, we wouldn’t be here right now.  We’d never be here
again.

My disturbing train of thought throws me
off
,
and suddenly I don’t feel as
confident in the gun in my hands.  I glance behind me waiting for the cavalry
to
come in
that doesn’t exist.  Where is Jack?

“Looking for someone?  An old, decrepit
doctor, perhaps?  Sorry to say he won’t be around to deliver Morgan’s next
child.”

My hand starts to shake, and I wish I
could will it to stop, but it won’t.  “You killed him?”

“It had to be done.  At least he was
smoking a cigar when he met his end.”  Mark tightens his grip around Morgan’s
torso.  “Ironic, isn’t it?  The thing that
helped
save
her before was the weakness that let me into this fortress of a house.”

I can barely wrap my mind around the
scene in front of me, let alone begin to process the thought of Jack’s death.  All
I can think of is how he always felt like family to me.  From the gunshot to my
arm the day my parents were killed, to the broken bones and gashes I received
from Mark and his business, Jack was always there to treat my wounds and
give
me support
.  When he realized the love that Morgan and I
shared, he even took her under his wing, warning us of Mark’s ultimate plans
back at headquarters and planning an escape for us.  He played a part in her
rescue.  He gave us a home to live in.  He delivered our child into this crazy,
fucked
-
up world.

The man who did all those things is
dead.

“Are you angry with me, son?”

“Don’t call me
that
,” I warn through gritted teeth, and then I lose it, truth finding
perfect clarity in my mind, washing away all the self-doubt that Mark’s comment
instilled in me just moments before.  “I’m not your fucking son, and you’ve
never been my father.  You never should have had the privilege of being a
father.  You beat your own daughter, you fucking vile human being.”

Mark bursts into a short fit of
maniacal laughter.  “You have the nerve to admonish me about Stella?  You’re
the one who killed her.”

“I did not kill her,” I shoot back
defiantly
.

“I saw the look on your face at the
graveyard.  You feel all the weight of that guilt.  You know you put her in the
ground.  She was your responsibility.”

“She was everything to me!” I yell with
an exasperated breath
before m
y thoughts come to a
screeching halt. 
As
Mark’s words
absorb into
my brain, I experience a painful moment of realization.
 
“The graveyard.  You were there.”  It isn’t a question.

Mark nods with a growing smile on his
face.

“You followed me.”

He nods again.

“You found the house.”

The corners of Mark’s lips could not
possibly
smile any broader.  “I could have done this all there
months ago
, but I wanted revenge on every last one of you.
 
I wanted Robert in prison.  I wanted Morgan to have her life back so that I
could steal it away again.  And you
…
” he snarls, narrowing
his hateful eyes at me, “I wanted you to experience what it’s like to have your
child ripped away from you.”

I feel like my entire world is
crumbling down around me.  I was sloppy.  I let myself be followed.  I led
Mark
to us and ruined the perfection that Morgan and I found at that
house.  Our little sanctuary from the world was shattered all because I
couldn’t push past my guilt over Stella’s death.

I ruined us.

Mark’s vindictive glare morphs into a satisfied smile.  “
An anonymous tip to the
FBI
about the
Whitfords’ involvement with criminals and their visits to the house
was
all it took, and I knew you’d end up here. 
I knew you’d
come
groveling back to
Jack,
because you’re
incapable of taking care of this shit on your own.”

Anger
suddenly overpowers the
devastation with me
, and I take a forceful step toward Mark,
tightening my grip on the gun still trained at him even though he holds my
family.

“Don’t.”  The warning in Mark’s voice
accompanies a repositioning of the knife at Morgan’s throat.  She winces as
more blood drips down her neck.

I stop my advance
,
and
for a moment
we stare at each other
in silence.

My heart clenches as Mark looks down
proudly at the only slightly stirring bundle in his arms.  “My handsome baby
boy.”

I wish Dante would start screaming and
flailing and doing all the things he does to get attention so he can keep Mark
distracted, anything to give me or Morgan a chance to attack, but the baby
looks generally happy resting in the arms of a monster.

“I will not let you take my family
again,” I warn, my voice a low growl.

Mark pulls Morgan and Dante closer to
him as his face turns into a
victorious
smile.  “I’m
just taking back what’s mine.”

“I was never yours,” Morgan spits at
him.

“You were most definitely mine.  Or
have you forgotten those days at the cabin when you stopped fighting?  The days
I fucked you senseless without a single struggle from you?”

Her eyes narrow with determination as
she looks behind her to meet Mark’s gaze.  “Everything you did was hopeless
anyway.  No matter how many times you fucked me, you were never going to put a
child in me.”

“And yet I hold my son in my arms.”

“He’s not your son
!
” Morgan fires back, and her face instantly whitens.

Everything inside me hollows out at
once as I immediately share the sentiment on Morgan’s face that she wishes she
could take back those words.  If Mark thinks for even a second that
Dante
is mine and not his, he’ll have no reason to keep him.  He’ll use
him against us
, or he’ll
kill the baby and then he’ll
start over, getting everything he could have possibly wanted
and leaving
us even more devastated than before
.

Mark looks from Morgan to me to the
child in his arms.  He seems to contemplate Dante’s face before his eyes grow
wide with rage.
 
“You fucking bitch.”  He pulls the
knife up higher, and
Morgan
gasps as it cuts deeper
into her skin.  “You preempted me.  You ruined everything!”

“I chose Leo,” she retorts, her voice
as strong as I’ve ever heard it despite the knife at her throat and the tears
running down her face.

“You chose death for his son.”

In one quick movement, Mark
throws
Morgan out of his grasp and against the wall. 
I bolt toward
him as
he pulls the knife to within inches of Dante’s tiny
throat, but something beats me
there
.  Explosive
gunshots pierce through the air behind me
,
and I watch
as
each bullet hit its target.

My full weight collides with Mark’s
chest, knocking the knife out of his hand.  I
pull
the
now crying baby
to my chest
as we all go crashing down
to the
floor
.

I hear Morgan’s strangled cries behind
me as she pulls at my shoulder to
separate me from
Mark.  When she takes Dante from my arms and steps away, I feel instant relief,
but I have something left to finish.

I won’t do this from a crumpled
position on the floor where Mark put me so many times after my childhood
beatings.  I won’t do this from my knees where he forced me to beg for food and
water after locking me in dark rooms for days on end.

I’ll do this standing with my feet
firmly planted on the floor that will be his deathbed, my aim steady and my
will strong despite everything he’s done to put me down and destroy me
and the people I love
.

I raise my arm, the gun a perfect
extension of my hand as it has been since the day Mark had my parents killed
and changed the course of my life.  A million thoughts and emotions and
possibilities race through my
mind
, but only one thing
comes out.

A bullet.

It strikes Mark between the eyes, and
his body instantly stills.

It’s finally finished.