Middle of Knight (35 page)

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
.”

Knight

I
f 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.”