Golden Trail (93 page)

His eyes kept scanning and he saw Lissa and
Ryker who, after what went down, made their way in with this crowd
then went about fixing themselves to it permanently. Immediately
after it was over, Ryker had moved in with Lissa and her daughter.
Not too long after that, Ryker had also officially adopted Alexis.
Therefore Ryker’s life was a living hell as new father to a
spitfire and he bitched about it incessantly but Layne knew he was
full of shit. With the way Ryker did it, Layne knew he was loving
every minute of it.

Ryker still partnered with Layne on
occasion, sometimes it was when Layne needed him, most of the time
it was when Ryker was bored and needed something to do. All other
times, Ryker was just Ryker. Layne had long ago searched and found
Ryker had been paroled two years after going down for grand theft
auto. Once released, he’d stayed clean but he’d done this by
staying off the grid and therefore Layne had no clue what he did to
keep his Harley in fuel and his woman and daughter happy. Except
for the fact he made it his business to be in everyone else’s and
information didn’t come cheap. Layne had no problem with that
either since, often in Layne’s line of work, he needed information
and Ryker gave him a discount.

His eyes continued scanning and he saw Devin
chatting with Feb’s father Jack and brother Morrie, Vera not too
far away gabbing with Feb’s mother Jackie. Devin and Vera had
officially hooked up and, six months ago in a small, private
ceremony with Layne at Devin’s side, his Aunt Flo at Vera’s, and a
single pew filled only with Rocky, a nearly newborn CeeCee in her
arms, Jasper and Tripp, they’d taken vows. Layne was no longer
uncertain how he felt about this. Vera had her own life and liked
living it so she did and let Dev go his own way. This left Dev free
to go his own way without headache or constant nagging for an
explanation but with a good meal every night and a woman who put up
with his bad attitude and more often than not gave as good as she
got. Therefore, it worked for Devin in a way he’d never found
before, the same for Layne’s Ma. They were happy – Dev,
cantankerously so, Vera deliriously so. And this worked for
Layne.

He felt Rocky’s hand leave his abs and he
watched her take a pull on her beer as she listened to Keira
gabbing about something. She took the bottle from her mouth and
smiled at Keira then laughed softly as Keira kept talking.

It was then it came to Layne that the sun
was shining, the beer was cold, there were friends and family all
around, Vi’s backyard was beautiful, Layne’s boys were close, his
daughter was babbling happily at her brother and his woman was
pressed to his side, laughing softly.

Nothing.

He was lying in the grass with his boys, his
girl and his woman doing nothing.

Which meant everything.

Layne felt that golden trail glide through
him.

All this time, he’d never lost it. It was no
longer as strong but it didn’t need to be. It moved through him
often, every day, sometimes more than once. He’d learned to savor
it, not to take anything for granted, not even normal.

No, especially not normal.

Therefore, determined not to take anything
for granted, his eyes glued to Raquel’s profile, he lifted up, her
head turned, he twisted and locked an arm around her waist, pulling
her up his chest.

“Layne –” she started but his head came down
and he kissed his wife.

Hard.

He tasted her, smelled her, felt her soft
body pressed to his and he loved all of that.

But what he heard was his daughter’s
giggle.

And he loved that too.

* * * * *

Layne laid the sleeping Cecilia on her belly
in her crib in Tripp’s old room.

He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders
and let his hand rest on her bottom a second while he made certain
she settled. Then he moved out of the room, ignoring the excess
decoration of pinks and purples and shooting stars. His wife could
shop and she was thrilled beyond reason when she’d had a daughter,
something Layne knew before she’d had her because Doc had told him,
information Rocky had unusually not wanted to know until the day
came. Since her birth, Layne wasn’t certain his daughter wore the
same thing twice and he rarely went into CeeCee’s room and not
found some new decoration or toy. Vera advised that he should
curtail Rocky’s tendency to spoil their daughter rotten. His mother
had advised this but Layne had no intention of taking that advice.
Layne intended to let Roc be whatever kind of mother she wanted to
be and as the months slid passed, he knew this was the right
decision. This was mainly because Rocky was Rocky and it was also
because she’d had two good teachers.

He heard his family downstairs and headed
that way but stopped when his phone rang. He pulled it out, checked
the display, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“What’s up, Sully?” Layne greeted.

“Got news, Tanner,” Sully replied and this
could mean anything.

Since it all went down, Layne’s caseload
hadn’t lightened. Now that his mother did his books and he had a
receptionist, his caseload had doubled. Thus, his daughter’s room
could be filled with girlie shit, his wife’s closet filled with
clingy dresses, his credit card statement filled with expensive
dinners so he could eat while sitting across from his wife while
she was wearing clingy dresses, his youngest son had a Camaro and
his family had an underground pool.

Therefore, with a heavy caseload that often
involved work with the ‘burg’s PD, Sully’s news could mean
anything.

“What?” Layne asked.

“Harrison Rutledge is dead, man. Happened
yesterday. Shiv to the jugular. He bled out before the guards got
to his body.”

Well, that took longer than expected.

“World’s not exactly a poorer place,” Layne
muttered.

“Yeah,” Sully agreed. “But thought you’d
wanna know.”

“Thanks, Sul,” Layne replied.

“One other thing,” Sully stated.

“Yeah?”

“Stew Baranski’s parole was denied.”

Layne grinned.

“Not a model prisoner?” Layne asked.

“Guy’s not only an asshole, apparently he’s
an asshole magnet. He and his crew aren’t real popular with their
fellow inmates
or
the guards. Dick’s seen a lotta solitary.
Why they even put him before the parole board is anyone’s
guess.”

“Probably were hopin’ to get rid of him. Not
a good fix, turning him loose on an unsuspecting public, but at
least he’d be outta their hair.”

“Yeah,” Sully muttered and Layne knew he was
smiling, “that would be why.”

Layne chuckled.

“That’s all the news that’s fit to print,”
Sully said then finished, “for now.”

“Right, later,” Layne returned

“Later.”

Layne flipped his phone closed and wiped his
mind clean of Harrison Rutledge and Stewart Baranski. Those
assholes had had enough of his time, his life and Rutledge had been
responsible for taking Layne’s blood. They didn’t deserve to be in
Layne’s house, not ever but especially not now, not when it was
filled with the beautiful life, a place Harrison Rutledge, dead or
alive, and Stew Baranski didn’t deserve to be.

Layne walked down the stairs and saw through
the sliding glass door that Devin was outside with a stoagie. Then
he saw his boys and their girls were in the living room, Blondie
sitting beside Jasper with her head in his lap, his fingers
scratching behind her ears, her eyes closed in apparent dog
ecstasy. Vera was in the kitchen looking like she was going to cook
something even though they’d all just left the barbeque and they’d
all eaten enough for a week. And Roc was sitting at the island,
opening mail.

Layne went to Rocky, fitted his front to her
back, swept her hair from her shoulder and dropped his head to kiss
her neck.

“You could save a move if you let me wear my
hair in a ponytail,” she pointed out as she slit open an
envelope.

“We’ll leave that ‘til I’m ninety and
decrepit,” Layne replied.

“Right,” she whispered but he could tell she
did it through a smile. “Like you’re
ever
going to be
decrepit.” Layne straightened and Rocky asked softly, “She
down?”

“And out,” Layne answered.

“Good,” Rocky whispered.

He started to move away when Rocky pulled
something out of the envelope, studied it, twisted and asked him,
“Do you know a Farrah Gerald or an Andre Washington?”

Layne’s body went still and he looked down
at the thick, embossed card in her hand.

“What?” he asked.

She flipped the card back and forth. “A
Farrah Gerald or Andre Washington,” she repeated. “This is their
wedding announcement. I have no clue who they are but…” her head
turned, she flipped the thick, cream envelope over and studied the
address then looked back at Layne, “it’s addressed to us.” She went
back to the card, flipped it over too and then twisted again to
look at Layne. “And there’s a note, sweetheart. It says,” her eyes
dropped to the card, “‘Don’t worry, he reminds me of you. He’s a
badass but he’s got a soft spot too.’”

Layne stared at the card. Then he looked at
Rocky who’d tipped her head back to look at him.

Then he grinned.

Three blasts from the past in five minutes,
one expected, one inconsequential, one unexpected, none
unwelcome.

Layne got close and locked eyes with Rocky
then he slid his hand up her back, under her hair, his fingers
curling around her neck.

“Marissa Gibbons, baby,” he whispered,
watched her eyes grow wide then her head dropped and she stared
down at the announcement.

Then he watched the dimple hit her
cheek.

* * * * *

“Layne.”

Breathy, beautiful. Fuck.

Layne kept driving his cock into his
wife.

“Baby,” she whispered into his ear through
her pants.

“Don’t hold back,” Layne grunted into her
ear, one of his forearms in the sectional, the other hand between
them, finger at her clit.

“God, oh my God. Don’t stop,” she begged,
lifting her hips for him, all her limbs wrapped around him, her
wrists under her ankles, her fingers curled into his ass.

“Stop holding back, baby,” Layne ordered,
she did as she was told, her hips surged up, her neck arched and a
low moan slid from her throat as her pussy pulsed around his
cock.

His finger left her clit, his hand went to
her hip, he pulled her up to keep taking him as she kept coming
underneath him and he thrust into her, hard, deep, fast and then
his mouth found hers and he groaned down her throat as he
exploded.

He came down and Rocky kept him trapped in
her limbs as he kept stroking, slowly, through their combined
wetness inside her. As he did this, his mouth explored her neck and
hers returned the favor.

Then he rolled to his back, keeping their
connection. He did an ab curl, grabbed the throw then laid back
pulling it over his wife and his naked bodies.

“It’s summer, Jas is home,” Rocky said in
his ear.

“Yep,” Layne replied, not knowing where she
was going with this.

She lifted her head and told him. “That
means we have to stop fucking on the sectional, Layne,”

Layne fucked Rocky on the sectional a lot.
It was comfortable, it was cozy and there was room to move. It
wasn’t as big as their bed but it felt like it was.

“They’re all at a late movie, sweetcheeks,”
he reminded her.

“Yes, but –”

“They come home, we’d hear them.”

“I wouldn’t,” she told him and he
grinned.

“Well, I would.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, her nose wrinkling and
her eyes narrowing, “I thought I had your undivided attention when
you’re inside me.”

“Yeah, well, they came home when I was
inside you, that would be very bad timing,” Layne remarked, her
eyes got big then she burst out laughing.

Layne grinned but he didn’t laugh with her.
He savored the golden trail her laughter sent gliding through him,
lifted his hands to pull her hair away from her face and he held it
back as he watched.

She sobered but kept grinning at him. Then
she caught the look on his face and, still grinning, she asked,
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

He pulled her down to him, touched his mouth
to hers then pushed her back an inch.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered.

“For what?” she whispered back.

“A beautiful life.”

Her mouth got soft, her eyes went half-mast
and her gaze grew intense.

Then she lifted a hand, laid it against his
jaw, her thumb sweeping across his lips as her eyes watched it
move.

Then they lifted to his and she gave him the
dimple.

####

About the Author

Kristen Ashley lives in the beautiful West
Country of England with her husband and her cat. She came to
England by way of Denver, where she lived for twelve years, but she
grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana. Her family and friends are loopy
(to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write.

Kristen’s Mom moved her and her brother and
sister in with their grandparents when she was six. Her
grandparents had a daughter much younger than her Mom so they all
lived together on a very small farm in a small farm town in the
heartland. She grew up with Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO
Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched).
Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and
love was a good way to grow up.

And as she keeps growing up, it keeps
getting better.

Discover other Titles by Kristen Ashley
at
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Rock Chick Series:

Rock Chick

Rock Chick Rescue

Rock Chick Redemption