by L A Cotton
“Wait there.” Jackson pulled away leaving my body cold.
I heard him moving around in the darkness. The sound of his belt being pulled through the loops, the clunk as it dropped to the floor. Jersey material sliding over his defined torso. Floorboards creaking as he stepped closer to the bed. The squeak of the mattress springs as Jackson covered my body with his own, taking his weight on his elbows.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” I brushed my nose along his jaw while Jackson started to slide my blouse up until it bunched at my shoulders.
Dipping his head between us, Jackson’s lip traced the outline of my bra and I gasped as tingles broke out along my skin. Confident hands traced down my waist and found my zipper, sliding it down and tugging the material off my legs.
Crawling up my body, Jackson pressed into me, eliciting a moan from my lips. Needing more, I wriggled beneath him, trying to close the sliver of space between us. He kissed me like I was his salvation, deep and hungrily, anchoring our bodies together with his hands. Our skin fused together.
In one smooth movement, Jackson rolled us over so that I was on top of him, our bodies still entwined as one. His fingers walked around my rib cage to my back, and he unclasped my bra, dragging it from my arms.
“How did I get so lucky?” His voice was thick with emotion. It always was when we were like this.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, my hair collecting around my bare chest. Did he not realize that I owed him so much? That he had saved me, and now it was my time to save him?
“I love you, Ana.” Jackson shifted onto his elbows, leaning up to kiss me.
It was tender. Soft. Different from only moments earlier when we were kissing with raw need. This was a glimpse of the Jackson who had rescued me from myself.
Smiling against his mouth, I whispered, “I love you, too.”
Jackson shifted back against the headboard, pulling me with him until I was straddling his lap. Holding my gaze, his fingers inched their way down my stomach and swiped against my panties. I shuddered.
“More.” It came out breathy. A plea.
Jackson chuckled and my heart soared with the hope that I could still reach him. That no matter how hard the road ahead was, my Jackson would still find a way out.
Pressing his thumb against my core, I dropped my head back almost oblivious to him lifting me slightly to shimmy my panties down my legs. One finger curled into me and then another while Jackson’s mouth swallowed my moans. My stomach coiled tighter and tighter until I was panting his name, willing him to give me what I needed most.
As my orgasm took hold, Jackson hitched my legs up under the knees, knocking me onto my back, and rose up over my body. Waves of pleasure crashed over me but didn’t stop me from crying out into the darkness as Jackson nudged my center with his thick erection and rocked inside of me. We moved instinctually, two pieces of the same whole. My fingers gripped his shoulders as he loved me over and over. Until the familiar feeling in my stomach started to spread, and I clung to Jackson harder, crushing him to me.
“Shit, Ana. I’m close.”
I covered his lips with mine and swept my tongue into his mouth. He clamped his hand around my waist and slammed into me once before he stilled. A low groan formed in his throat and I let go.
We lay, our eyes locked together, our chests rising and falling between us, until Jackson rolled me onto my side and scooted behind me, drawing me into him. Everything was silent except for the sound of our hearts beating in sync. Until Jackson pressed his lips to my neck and said, “I have to go out of town next weekend.”
My heart stopped, free falling into my stomach.
“This could be the break I’ve been waiting for. Perkins was around back then. He must know something, or someone who does. If I can just-”
I clamped my eyes shut and replayed Jackson on top of me, inside of me, kissing me into oblivion. We could pretend, ignore the issue, love like we always did, but the shitstorm would always catch up with us.
Because it had never left in the first place.
“Chica, over here,” Elena called, waving her hands like a crazy person from across the courtyard.
“Geez, Elena, I think she saw you already,” Paul grunted, and everyone shot him a confused look. Since Mari, it was unlike him to lose his cool.
“Okay, Deputy Dad, what’s eating you?” Nate laughed at his own joke while Tyson and Jamie just smirked in Paul’s direction.
“Wait, it couldn’t be the first lover’s tiff, could it?” Tyson added for good measure, and I felt a little sorry for Paul. He’d really stuck by me over the last two years, and I owed him.
“Hey, back off, guys.” I dropped my lunch tray onto the table and slid in beside Paul.
Tyson held up his hands. “We’re just yanking his chain. You know that, right?” He tilted his head at Paul, who just shrugged and carried on picking at his tortilla.
When the group found something else to talk about, I twisted slightly toward Paul and said in a low voice, “Hey, are you okay?”
“We had our first argument. Mari’s been acting a little weird lately, and I called her out on it. Not the right move, apparently.”
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know; just little things, I guess. On edge. She said it’s just family stuff, but we spent time with her family over the summer and she never said a word. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”
I doubted that. Paul was as level headed as they came, and he wasn’t the only one who thought Mari seemed different. I had thought the exact same thing recently.
Laying a hand over his, I said, “Look, chicks are crazy. I’m sure she’ll come around. You guys are good together. You’ll see.”
“I guess. Thanks, Ana. How are things with you guys?”
Feeling the color drain from my face, I ducked my head and played with the salad on my plate. “Okay, I guess. Things are intense, with the house and the team, you know?”
“Yeah, I can see how that would be a change. But you’re okay, right?”
I felt Paul’s eyes burning holes in my head, and I heard his unspoken question. Was I going to start harming myself again?
“I’m okay.”
It wasn’t a total lie. I was in control of my urges now. In fact, I hadn’t had one in a while. But that didn’t mean something wouldn’t trigger it again.
“I’m always here. If you need anything, okay.”
“Thanks, Paul. I appreciate that.” I raised my head and met his eyes. “You’re a good friend.”
Chapter Eight
Jackson
“Jackson, good to see you.” Perkins extended his hand and smiled his toothy grin.
“Perkins.” I nodded, taking his hand and shaking firmly. “So, what’s the job?”
“Ahh, curiosity killed the cat. Get in. All will be revealed in good time.”
Biting down the urge to question him further, I climbed inside his beat down Chevette and belted up.
“About time you traded in this piece of junk, isn’t it?”
“Shirley? She’s a classic. They don’t build them like her anymore.” He tapped the wheel twice then gunned the engine and reversed out of the meet point taking the road straight out of Chastity Falls and onto the coastal road to Tillamook.
But we didn’t stop in Tillamook. Instead, Perkins kept driving until we picked up signs for Portland.
“Portland?” I asked with a cocked eyebrow.
Perkins grumbled something about the youth of today having no patience. “No, not Portland. Seattle. So get comfy because we have a long ride ahead.”
Perkins wasn’t wrong when he said it was going to be a long ride. Almost five hours later, we rolled into a run-down motel on the outskirts of the city. Bright lights illuminated the skyline, and the Space Needle marked it as Seattle and not just another city under the night's sky.
“We’ll catch some shut-eye tonight. We have to meet them first thing.”
“Them?”
>
“Patience, oh young one.”
I huffed at Perkins’ humor and followed him into the reception area. The place wasn’t going to feature in the latest edition of Home and Leisure anytime soon. An outdated television played the news from the corner of the small room, and a counter with a welcome sign filled most of the space.
“Welcome to City View Motel. I need to see ID and a card,” a short stocky woman with thick-rimmed glasses said from behind the desk.
“Pleasant fucker,” Perkins said under his breath as he pulled out his wallet and handed over his driver's card.
“Room’s fifty bucks a night.”
“Better give us two rooms for two nights. No offense, kid, but I don’t want to wake up next to your ugly mug in the morning.”
The receptionist stared at us blankly as if Perkins hadn’t just attempted to crack a joke.
“Rooms five b and c. Along the corridor, last two rooms. Enjoy your stay.” The words flowed out as if she’d said the same thing hundreds of time, which she probably had. But she made it sound freaky.
“Should we be concerned for our lives?” I flashed Perkins a grin as we exited the reception and went in search of our rooms.
Handing me my room key, I glanced at my watch. “It’s only seven thirty, man. What the hell are we going to do all night?”
The lanky man standing in front of me flashed me a toothy grin again and chuckled. “Didn’t think I’d bring you all the way to the city without a plan, did you?”
I didn’t like the undertone to his voice, and before I could stop myself, a scowl broke over my face.
“Whoa, easy. We have a little downtime, and I intend on getting down, if you catch my drift.”
I really didn’t.
And something told me I didn’t want to.
The music throbbed around us as the strobe lighting bounced off the walls and reflected off the chrome bar.
“Holy shit, check out that pussy.” Perkin’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as a tall slim blonde strutted up to the pole and started working it with ease. “So…” He grinned. “What do you think? Niiiice, right?”
“You brought me to a fucking strip club.”
“Lighten up. You’re what, twenty-one? You should be all up in this. What are you? Faggot?”
I shot him a warning glare. Business associate or not, he was starting to push my buttons.
“Easy, big guy.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, guiding me around to face the stage in the center of the room. “Just drink, watch, and get a fucking hard-on. If you’re lucky, then one of these little whores will service all of your needs for a little extra. If you get what I’m saying.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and I fought back the urge to punch him square in the jaw.
A fucking strip joint.
Ana would have me by the balls if she knew about this. It was bad enough that I was away for the weekend on business, but strippers? Fuck. I bet Marcus had this all planned out. He was intent on driving us apart. Conquer and divide. I saw it in his sickly sweet smile every time he asked about Ana or mentioned her name. Funny how knowledge changed everything.
Before Ana’s claims about his involvement in Dad’s death, I knew Marcus was a piece of work. He was head of the family; one of the most revered families in the area. But he was still like an uncle to me. He had comforted me when things went wrong, taught me to respect and appreciate my elders, and had even given me dating advice once or twice. He had a compassionate side; I’d seen it. Experienced it. He would never intentionally set out to hurt me. Or, at least, I thought. But now? Now I saw his acts of compassion as tainted; a means to an end. Marcus Donohue was cold, calculated, and most of all, dangerous. And I had to play a careful hand if I was going to make it out of this in one piece.
“Hey, kid. You in the land of the living?” Perkin’s voice cut through my anguish, and I tipped my bottle at him.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Perkins grinned and resumed getting kicks off watching the lithe girl spin around the pole. I leaned forward on my elbows, watching. Pretending to enjoy the show. It wasn’t that I had anything against strippers. It just wasn’t my scene, not when my heart belonged to Ana. But if I wanted to use my time with him to my advantage I had to play the game.
“She’s hot,” I said casually.
“Hot?” Perkins huffed, his eyes never leaving the stage. “She’s fucking perfect. I bet she rides dick just as well as she rides that pole. Look at her. If I was fifteen years younger, then I’d be all over that.”
“You’re not that old, old man,” I teased, trying my best to sound like we were just two guys enjoying the show.
“Nah, she wouldn’t look twice in my direction, not with you sitting next to me.” He didn’t sound bitter. Just stated it like it was matter of fact.
Although I’d worked with Perkins before, it was always in a get in, get out capacity. Braiden and I passed off money to him, and he handed it to Maconey. Like most people in this business, a person’s story was usually on a need to know basis unless you were personal friends or ran in the same circles. Lately, Marcus and Maconey had the two of us handling more drops and exchanges. I guess since I was Marcus’ number two and Perkins was Maconey’s, it made sense.
Over the last couple of years, I hadn’t learned much about the man sitting beside me. He had to be hitting forty like Marcus, but where Marcus exuded confidence, Perkins was the complete opposite. A lanky guy, he didn’t walk with head held high; he slouched into his shoulders wanting to remain unnoticed. An impossible task for a guy standing over six-feet tall. The long black leather jacket was as much a part of him as his toothy grin.
“Hey, Perkins. What’s your real name?”
He took a long swig of his beer and placed it down, rolling his fingers around the neck. “No one’s asked me that in a long time, kid.”
“Well, I’m asking.”
“Pete. The name’s Pete.”
Laughter bubbled up and spewed out, spraying my mouthful of beer into the air. “Peter Perkins. You’re shitting me?”
He smiled ruefully. “No, and my sister was Petunia. Petunia Perkins.” Perkins’ smile turned sad, and I wondered what the story was behind his change of mood.
Pushing off his stool, Perkins wiped his hands down his slacks and said, “I think it’s time for something harder. You want?”
Shaking my head, I replied, “Just a beer.”
The last thing I needed was to end up wasted in a place like this.
An hour and five bourbons later, Perkins was relaxed, happy, and sporting a raging hard-on. But he was talking and I was listening. We’d moved to one of the quieter booths. Perkins angled himself so that he could still see the stage, but if I leaned back against the grimy leather, I had no view. It could have been any old bar, not some seedy strip joint.
“You kids today, you have no idea,” Perkins slurred, sloshing his drink everywhere as he waved the glass in the air. “With your fancy cars, cell phones, and social media bullshit. Back then, we did things face to face and in person. And boy, did we know how to party…”
Realizing his glass was almost empty, Perkins jumped to his feet and waved a waitress over. A petite brunette approached us and Perkin’s dropped an arm over her shoulder and grazed the curve of her tits with his fingers. She just smiled up at him and giggled as if it was all part of the service.
“Double bourbon on the rocks and a beer for the kid.” He leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes lit up and she said, “Sure thing, I’ll bring those right over. Anything else I can get you?” Her eyes fell on me, and she licked her lips a little too suggestively.
“We’re good,” I answered.
The waitress’s smile faltered and her eyes narrowed on me. Just for a second. But then she was beaming again and walking away to collect our drinks.
Too wasted to notice, Perkins stumbled back into the booth and continued.
“Ah yes, the parties. Your uncle used to open up his house fo
r the whole weekend. Alcohol flowed freely. The girls, every drug you can think of, good times, kid. Good fucking times. He and your dad knew how to party hard, but they never let anything slip past them. This one time…”
Perkins' voice was a blur. I’d zeroed in on the word dad and heard nothing else.
Dad.
Dad.
“…and Marcus pulled a gun on him, pressed it right to his forehead and told him to get out of his house before he redecorated with the guy’s brains. Intense shit.” Perkins’ eyes drooped shut and he hunched over his glass. “Good man, Michael.”
He looked about to say something else, but the waitress reappeared with our drinks. Instead of just putting them down and leaving us with the tab, she placed down her tray and start moving seductively in front of us. Perkins shifted upright, getting comfy for the show, shooting me his trademark grin.
Bastard.
The last thing I wanted was to sit here and endure this, but I didn’t want to offend Perkins either. So I sat there, rigid, looking right through the waitress as she rolled her hips and popped her ass in our direction. Relieved I was positioned behind the table enough to avoid a lap dance, I nudged Perkins to the edge of the booth so he could get his money’s worth.
When the song finally ended, Perkins fumbled a bill out of his wallet and tucked it into her bra strap. The waitress smiled, flickering her eyes to me before sauntering away. Perkins dropped forward onto his elbows, clearly wasted, and mumbled, “I’m so fucking hard; do you think they do extras?”
Unprepared to let him make a fool of himself—or worse, end up roughed up by security—I left my side of the booth to go to him. Looping my arm around his waist, I hoisted him up. He was dead weight, but I’d beefed up since training with Dennis.
“Come on, old man. Let’s get you back.”
“No, the pussy, the pussy,” he groaned, flopping against me.
