Rectify (Return to Us Trilogy #2) (10 page)

She stares at me. "Don't lose him or push him away. Fuck your past. Fuck all the weirdo foster parents. Fuck 'em all. Claim him as your prize for making it out alive. Weld yourself to him and never come undone."

She releases my shoulders, and we sit quietly for a moment. Bryn's never been so direct with me about a man. Of course she's told me if she thought someone wasn't right for me, like Kevin. But this was different. She chose her words carefully. She wanted to make a strong impact on me, and she succeeded.

Her voice softens. "Promise me you'll do everything in your power to keep him in your life." We lock red and swollen eyes.

Can I promise her this? He hasn't told me how he's tied to Viktor. He has a shit ton of firearms and a temper like a starving panther. But I understand her. The blowtorch of devotion she saw in his eyes turns into an inferno when I'm in his presence.

"Bryn, I can't promise you all of it." I hold her hand in mine. "But I can promise I'll give him every reasonable chance to be in my life." I squeeze her hand. "I'm falling in love with him. I couldn't untangle my heart from his, even if my own life depended on it. By the way, he bought me a Dodge Challenger Hellcat." I nod and grin at her wide eyes. "Seven hundred horsepower."

"That's a hot car. My Tesla could kick your Hellcat's ass and gets better gas mileage, chica."

"Tesla? Did you get a new car?"

"Yep. My divorce gift to myself. Stella can't get her groove back in a Prius, so I upgraded."

***

Ivy

I avoid the cracks in the sidewalk as stride down my street. This way if I ever do meet my mother and she has a broken back, I'll know it wasn't my fault.

I shiver from the bone-chilling wind. The brutal monster of a Midwest winter lurks around the corner.

Despite the chill in the air, my body feels at peace. I've seen Bryn with my own eyes. Unharmed. Maybe not emotionally, but physically, unharmed.

I locate my keys in my pocket and walk up my front steps. An authoritative voice stops me in my tracks.

"Did you have a nice stroll?"

Jacade. I didn't even see him.

Shit.

I press my hand to my chest and turn. "Oh hey, I didn't see you there."

He stares at me while leaning, ankles crossed, hands in pockets, against the passenger-side door of his Ferrari.

How did I not see his car? He's got some crazy wicked ninja skills.

My spine tingles as I check him out. He looks like a commando in his army-green cargo pants and black T-shirt stretched taut across his rock solid pecs and biceps. Casual Jacade is as hot as dressed-to-the-nines Jacade.

He pulls his sunglasses from his face and slips them in his collar. The street traffic whooshes past us, the people in their cars having no idea what this man does to me. He takes a few steps in my direction and stops with one foot on the first step of the stairs. His piercing glare could slice through a shank of beef without a cleaver. His hold on the handrail is so solid, I'm surprised the wrought iron doesn't bend.

"Ivy, be honest with me. Where did you go?"

Gulp.

His rage fumes from him like a smoldering cremator. I would not be surprised to see ashes cascade from his nostrils and carbon monoxide gush from his ears.

Oh man.

"I went to the grocery store."

"Oh? And what did you buy?"

"Apples."

"Apples."

"Yeah. I'm going to make, uh, apple strudel."

"Strudel?"

"Yes. It's delicious."

"Mmm. And where are said apples?"

Wait. The dormant light bulb over my head flickers to life. Shane told Jacade I went by myself to see Bryn.

"Well, when I realized I didn't have my wallet, I decided to go check on Bryn." I guess the half-truth still counts.

"And how is she?" His fists squeak as he tightens his grip on the railing.

"Good."

"You wanted to verify what I'd already told you?" A line forms down the middle of his forehead. "By yourself."

"I—umm..." I have no way out of this. His lethal glare drowns out the noise of a distant car alarm sounding off. I'm trapped. My door is locked and his arms block my exit.

***

Jacade

"Ivy, it is imperative that you obey my command. Shane will contact me if you don't."

Vexation blankets her face once the words
obey my command
leave my lips.

I didn't stutter.

"Viktor is still a threat and—" I turn my gaze to the step to conceal the emotion coursing through me. I can't fathom him getting to her.

"I can handle Viktor." I look up at her determined face. I know she can hold her own, but I can't take the chance.

I climb the stairs and crowd her until she's pressed up against her front door. Her doe eyes gape up at me as I hover over her lips. My breath is her breath. Her eyelids flutter closed and create a feathered shadow of her lashes on her cheeks.

With my forearm above her head, I bend to press my lips against her ear, trying but failing, to control the anger in my voice. "I don't give a fuck if you can handle him. You do what I say. No exceptions." I nip at her earlobe and growl.

I slip my left hand under her jacket and shirt, digging my cold fingers into the warm skin of her hip. She gasps and sucks in her stomach. I unbutton her jeans and slide my hand down her abdomen. She freezes and holds her breath. I don't wait for approval before I nudge my fingers under the top of her lace panties.

I rest my middle finger on top of her clit.

"Jacade. What if someone sees us?" Her eyes dart around, but her voice is husky.

I ghost a slow, barely there circle on her little bundle of nerves.

"Say the word and I'll stop." I slip two fingers into her pussy and move my thumb to her clit.

"Don't stop." Her eyes roll back as I curl my fingers to massage her G-spot.

"Do you like when I finger fuck your wet cunt?" I return my teeth to her earlobe, not biting as hard this time and managing to withhold the growl in my throat. She twists her head and nuzzles my neck. Her ragged breath siphons against my ear like a vacuum sucking in a marble.

With the pad of my thumb, I make tiny, precise spirals on her clit, alternating the rhythm from quick to slow to drive her wild.

"Oh my god." Her faint words come out in a gasp of shocked awe. We're wrapped up close like a couple of love-struck giraffes with their necks tangled together. My dick is a raging beam of steel. She whimpers in my neck. She's close.

My lips caress her ear as I speak. "Do you want to come all over my hand?"

"Yes." Her hips arch, beseeching me to press harder.

With my other hand, I push her hip back against the door and pin her there with my cock. I tug on her hair to lift her face from my neck.

I look her in the eye and say, "Then follow directions."

I still my fingers and remove my thumb from her clit.

"And don't try to pull shit like this again."

I release my hold on her hair and force myself to extract my other hand from her pants. I return my hand to her hip to support her as she falls against the door. I lick her juices off my fingers and laugh at her wide eyes and indignant expression.

"You're an asshole." Her chest heaves. She's so fucking sexy when she's angry.

I squeeze her waist with my hand and suppress my smile as I lower my head to her ear again.

"Yeah, maybe. But I'm the asshole who could've made you come in less than a minute on your doorstep."

I swat her ass, and with a grin, I say, "Get inside." I chuckle as I guide one stunned and gorgeously petulant Ivy inside.

***

Ivy

What happened out there? In public. On my freakin' porch!

Slut Ivy remains pressed up against the front door with her eyes closed and lips raised for a kiss. Looks like that ain't happening, Slut Ivy.

He coughs and speaks with a scratchy voice. "Let's, uh, watch a movie." He releases me with a kiss on my cheek.

A movie? Huh? After that? He falls to the couch and adjusts his pants. He pats the seat next to him, but I stay planted and gawk at the alien in my living room. "Are you afraid to sit next me?" His sooty five o'clock shadow moves with his cheek as he grins. "Ivy, lessons must be taught to ensure the rules are followed."

Has Yoda has taken up residence on my couch?

He's such a pompous jerk. A beefcake iced with chocolate ganache kind of jerk, but still a prick for doing that to me. I take off my jacket and lay it over the couch. I plop down and turn to him. "What?" I try to process his words, but my body is still supercharged and confused, and all I can think of is jumping on his dick.

His Adam's apple bobs, and his throat muscles tighten. "You disobeyed my orders. Thus, my dear, you didn't get to come. The pressure and yearning you're feeling right now are your punishment."

My eyes narrow. "I don't need to be taught any lessons." I'm not some teenager he has to ground for missing curfew.

"You do. It's for your own good." He's impossible.

Whatever, Jacade. I disregard his Jedi warrior diatribe and let it evaporate into Ivy-la-la-land. My decisions will not be prescribed by his talented fingers.

He crosses his foot on his knee and stretches his arm over my jacket on the back of the couch. He analyzes my face, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Since it appears you are choosing to learn this one the hard way, I need to take some precautions."

"Precautions?" The gentle press of his hand on my knee halts all my thought processes, and my eyes close instinctively. Did Yoda have mind control powers? His thumb rubs an infinity sign on my thigh.

Over, under, over, under, meet in the middle.

Slut Ivy skates a figure eight on an ice rink singing to herself,
Over, under
,
over, under
,
meet in the middle
.

My eyelids flicker open. He was going to say something, wasn't he?

"Honest answer, Ivy." His solemn pitch distracts me from my hedonistic fog. He stares into my eyes until I focus on him. "Can you shoot a gun?"

Whoa, not what I expected at all.

"What?" I hope I don't sound as stunned as I am.

"Do you know how to operate a firearm?" So, I did hear him correctly.

"Yes." I answer in a matter-of-fact tone. "Actually, I'm good. When I was ten years old, one of my foster parents was a hunter, and he taught me basic gun safety. When I met Viktor, he continued my lessons." He cringes at the mention of Viktor. "I practiced for hours in the field behind his property. I would line up beer bottles on an old farm fence and move farther from my target each day." I have a feeling he already knows I can shoot a gun but wants to hear me say it. "Why? What's going on?"

"In a perfect world, you wouldn't need a gun because I'd be there to protect you." The back of his hand skims my cheek. "But I'm realistic and want you safe."

He draws back. "So, for my own sanity, I need to know how comfortable you are firing a weapon if necessary."

The image of the twenty-year-old man I killed when I was with Viktor flashes across the screen of my mind. He tackled me when I tried to steal his car. The memory of his shocked face as I pressed the gun to his belly and fired still haunts me.

Shame must show on my face because he raises my chin with his fingers. "Eyes on me."

Our gazes connect, and I dive into his shadowy cisterns.

"Yes, I can shoot a gun if I have to." I don't want to but I will.

He reaches behind his back and pulls out a handgun. He ejects the magazine and holds both pieces out for me.

I take them and measure their weight in my hand. I haven't held a gun since the night I left Viktor. The same night I shot him in the thigh and left him bleeding on his red-carpeted stairs.

"Do all plastic surgeons carry a piece in their waistband?"

He chuckles. "No, but maybe they should."

I check the magazine and glance up at him. Yoda must have been psychic too because he answers my nonverbal question.

"Dummy cartridges. I want to watch you go through the entire process, Ivy. What's the number one rule when handling a gun?"

I respond without wavering. "Always treat a gun like it's hot."

"Exactly. How many rounds does this magazine hold?"

"I'm not sure." Heck, I don't know. I haven't done this in a long time.

"This is a Ruger nine millimeter. It will be your gun from now on. I expect you to know how many bullets can be fired. Or, in a worst case scenario, how many shots can be fired at you." He taps the magazine in my left hand. "This one holds six rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber."

Okay, let's see what else I remember. I wrap the fingers of my right hand around the grip and insert the magazine with the heel of my left hand.