by Gemma James
Military Dude took off running, and before I could aim, Jax got out a shot that sent him into the grass as well.
Instant death was better than they deserved, but I didn’t have the stomach, or the time, to make them suffer. I needed them dead, unable to come after us while I got my son to safety.
Meeting Jax’s gaze, I spanned the feet between us and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “I’ve never been more happy to see you, man.”
Clearing his throat, he stepped back. “I had some help.”
“You saved our asses,” I said, taking in the small group. “If you’re ever in a bind and need a guy…”
“We’ll let you know,” said the dude sporting two arm sleeves of ink. He slapped Jax’s back. “This fucker’s always had our backs.”
“Same here,” I said.
Of course, there was a time when Jax hadn’t had my back, and Alex and I had ended up enslaved in a sex ring nightmare, but he’d more than made up for it in the past year.
Jax nodded toward the line of trees on the other side of the field. “Go see to your kid. We’ve got this.”
“Did he see your faces?”
Jax gave a solemn nod. “Wasn’t about to traumatize him with a blindfold. Kid’s been through enough.”
I was grateful for his care in getting my son out of that place, but the question was on everyone’s minds, and it begged to be addressed.
What the fuck would we do if Will returned home to his grandparents and implicated us all in his kidnapping?
16. Reunion
Alex
Twenty minutes ago, I spied headlights on the north side of the field, but there’d been no movement since, no signs of life in the tall grass.
“Do you think the kid’s okay?” Angel asked, interrupting my obsession with the view on the other side of the glass.
“I hope so.” My attention veered to the SUV in front of me, where the guys had stowed Rafe’s son. I’d expected him to run for it the instant they left, but he hadn’t budged, so I figured the ponytail guy’s sharp order to stay put had gotten through to him.
I could have checked on him, could have made sure he was okay—that he wasn’t scared or cold or sick to his stomach from the trauma—but truth be told, I had no idea what to say to a kid who’d just been rescued from the type of harrowing situation he’d come from.
I was too traumatized myself, too much of an emotional wreck, and that made me question if I had what it took to be a mother. The negative thoughts arrowed straight to my belly, and I slid a hand over the life growing there, praying that I’d get it figured out by the time the baby arrived.
“Are you feeling sick again?” Angel asked.
I shook my head. “Just nervous. If Rafe doesn’t come back…”
“You can’t think like that. He has a reputation for winning, right?”
“He doesn’t lose very often.” It was my only comfort in this endless waiting game hell.
Grabbing my hand, she squeezed as her wide eyes zeroed in on something behind me. I turned in time to spot someone approach the vehicle, and it only took a split second to recognize those tattoos winding down toned biceps.
I was out the door and in his arms before I took my next breath. As I wound my legs around his waist, he gripped my ass and braced me against the side of the SUV.
“Jesus, baby,” he said through strangled vocal cords. “I’m so sorry…so fucking sorry.”
I clung to him, tears soaking his skin, failing to breathe in the strength of his tight embrace. He trembled as he held me, each breath a noisy shudder against my shoulder. And I couldn’t stand it anymore, the sound of his pain and regret flooding my ears. Inching back, I pressed my finger to his mouth, only now noticing the evidence of the fight he’d lived through on his beautiful face.
Thank God he’d come back to me.
“Shh,” I whispered, slowly dragging the pad of my finger across his busted lower lip.
There would be plenty of time later for apologies. For guilt and regret. I harbored so much of both I worried the emotions would explode from me. Not giving him a chance to say more, I pressed my mouth to his, heedless of the hint of metallic on his lip.
At the first lick of his tongue against mine, everything but him faded—the field, the SUVs and their occupants, the past six days of separation. I wanted to mount him right there and drive away the PTSD boiling inside me. But it sharpened its claws, and I sobbed into his kiss, unable to contain myself.
“I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” I said against his lips.
“I was terrified you wouldn’t.” Slowly, he let me slide to my feet, and we broke apart, putting a few inches of space between us as we fought for composure. That’s when the presence of his son caught our attention.
He stood a few feet away, watching our frenzied reunion with a mixture of curiosity and fear, and it struck me in the heart how much he looked like Rafe. I recalled setting eyes on him for the first time at the basketball game Rafe had taken me to last winter.
The day he told me about Will’s existence.
“It’s okay,” Rafe told the boy, lowering to his haunches. “You’re safe with us.”
“Can I go home now?” Will chewed on his lower lip, hesitant feet backing him up a step. He didn’t quite trust us, and he’d be smart not to. Not because we posed a threat to him, but we were virtual strangers, and any child his age should have a healthy dose of caution when it came to people.
Maybe that was a jaded outlook, but that was the world we lived in.
Rafe stood with a nod. “Yeah, buddy. You can go home now.” Gesturing to the SUV from which Will had just escaped, Rafe dug into the pocket of his jeans for a key. “Get in and buckle up. We’ll be there in a minute.” Something about Rafe’s tone had the boy scrambling to do his bidding.
“He listens to you,” I said, lacing our fingers together.
“I don’t know how, but I gained his trust in that place.”
“Maybe he senses the connection there.”
“I wondered the same thing.” Rafe opened the back passenger door of the second vehicle and gave Angel a grateful nod. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. You were here supporting her. Supporting us both. I don’t know what we would have done if you and Jax hadn’t stepped in.”
“That’s what friends do, right?”
“We’re more than friends. We’re family.”
Rafe’s declaration burrowed under her protective armor, and her mouth creeped up at the corners. “Go take your boy home.”
“I’m on it. I just wanted to check on you first. Jax and the others should be back soon. Will you be okay here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. A deserted field after dark isn’t the scariest situation I’ve faced.”
That was a gross understatement, and I wanted to reach out and hug her for all she’d been through, for all she’d forged through since Jax had broken her free of the sex slave trade.
We said our goodbyes then joined Will in the SUV. Rafe put an address into the GPS—Will’s grandparents’ house, I assumed—and I wondered if his son would question how he’d known where to go.
But on the ride over, about a forty-five minute trip, Will didn’t ask how Rafe had known where he lived. In fact, he said very little, choosing instead to keep his attention plastered on the scenery outside the window as it whizzed passed.
As soon as we turned onto Will’s street, windshield wipers swiping back and forth to ward off the light drizzle, Rafe killed the headlights. A block later, he slowed then came to a quiet stop outside a house the size of a small mansion that overlooked the ocean.
“Is this where he lives?” I raised a brow.
“Yeah, this is the place.”
“Isn’t this risky?” I lowered my voice. “Shouldn’t we drop him off down the road?”
“It’s risky, all right, but I need to make sure he gets hom
e.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I understood where he was coming from. He’d gone through so much to keep his son safe, and he wasn’t about to drop the ball now.
Rafe turned to face his son. “You can go on in. It’s over now.”
Will glanced between the massive front entrance cast in shadow and Rafe’s stoic expression, his jaw clenched in an effort to keep all emotion in check because this couldn’t be easy for him. “Will they…will those men come back for me?”
“No, buddy. You don’t have to worry about them. I promise you that.” Rafe gestured toward the house. “Go on in.”
The boy sized up Rafe for several long seconds, a plethora of questions cutting across his young face. He pushed the door open, jumping out of the vehicle, and it slammed in his wake as he took off toward his grandparents home in a full-on run. As small fists pounded on the front door, Rafe tightened his hands on the steering wheel, preparing to flee.
One, two, three, four…
“C’mon, answer the fucking door,” he muttered.
Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…
Someone inched the door open, and Will launched himself into the arms of an older woman.
Rafe shot off down the street, and we both prayed the cover of night would protect us from detection.
17. Unbridled
Alex
Rafe didn’t go above the speed limit until we were several miles down the highway, trees encasing us on either side as we made our getaway. He found a logging road about twenty minutes out and took the turnoff.
“Where are we going?”
“We need to get lost for a while.”
Disquiet ate away at my nerves as Rafe navigated the increasingly rough gravel road, taking random turns at the forks as they arrived. Apparently, he’d meant getting “lost” in the literal sense. But I was okay with it. The last thing I wanted was to return to the island. Unfortunately, we only had the clothes on our backs, so we couldn’t get lost for long.
We traveled the unpaved road for about fifteen miles before he pulled into a small clearing that overlooked the hilly terrain. Darkness existed as far as the eye could see. On the trip up the mountain, the clouds had opened again, and a steady barrage of rain pelted the windshield. He cut the engine, casting the space between us in comfortable solitude.
“C’mere,” he said, voice husky as he unbuckled and pushed the driver’s seat back as far as it would go.
I couldn’t get out of my seatbelt fast enough. Scrambling over the gearshift, I plopped onto his lap, thighs straddling his, and pressed against him. He wrapped his arms around me, one hand twisting in my curls, tilting my head back, and his mouth met mine.
And I was home.
Because home was with Rafe—whether at his side in a tunnel or chained to his bed in a safe house or on his lap in a vehicle in the middle of nowhere. The bittersweet reunion streaked down my cheeks in hot, salty tears, and he broke the kiss long enough to catch them on his tongue.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Not more than I love you.”
His hands came up to frame my damp cheeks. “You’re my hero, Alex. You harbor so much strength inside your heart.” His lips pressed against mine for a few brief seconds. “I’m in awe of you.”
“Why?”
“Because you were strong enough to put Zach where he fucking belongs. You got away, baby, and your tenacity saved my ass.”
“I’m crazy about your ass.”
He gripped my bottom, hips thrusting upward until his hard-on rubbed me through our clothing. “Everything about you drives me crazy.”
As I worked the button on his pants free, a keening whine escaped me. “I need you.”
His hand covered mine, stalling me as I moved to unzip him. “I’m covered in blood and dirt.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care. Let me get out of these clothes.”
Scooting my ass onto the center console, I waited while he removed his jeans and tank, then I attacked him, urgency simmering my blood. I needed to feel him inside me, his cock snug where it belonged, filling me with the reality of his presence.
With the reality that we’d made it, had found our way back to each other, and now I needed him to erase the horror of these past few days.
As if he heard my mental plea—shared in it, even—he pushed me against the steering wheel, and the horn blared, echoing off the deserted landscape. Our eyes locked and held, sparking with mutual desire as he tugged my pants down my thighs. I shrugged out of the muddy denim, and he reached for the hem of my tee, yanking it over my head until I sat on his lap in nothing but my undergarments.
Instead of clearing my arms of the shirt, he used it to restrain my hands above my head, and a furrow formed between his brows as his attention lowered to the space between my breasts. Keeping one hand on the shirt holding me hostage, he fisted the key dangling in my cleavage. “This belongs to me.”
“So do I.”
He frowned, knuckles going white as he clutched the key that meant so much between us. Uncertainty infused his eyes as he searched my face. “We don’t have to do this right now.”
The reasons for waiting were plentiful. I still felt Zach’s imprint on my soul, could fucking smell the memory of him on me, wafting off my skin in a phantom scent that made me nauseous. Rafe and I had things to talk about, and new scars that needed time to heal, but maybe the biggest reason lay in the secret I had yet to spill.
“I want you,” I whispered, pushing all the reasons to the back of my mind to be dealt with later. Right now, I needed him, thirsted for the anesthetic of his punishing love. “Fuck me…and don’t be gentle about it.”
Imparting a low, sexy growl, he let go of the key, and it dropped between my breasts again. He finished removing the shirt trapping my wrists, and I lowered my palms to his chest as he unhooked the back clasp on my bra. Inching the cups down, leaving the straps hanging off my shoulders, he took my sensitive nipples between thumb and forefinger and applied pressure until I squirmed on his lap.
“Are you wet for me?”
“God yes.”
He swiped my panties to the side, cock teasing my opening, and again, he gave me that look.
The one full of hesitation and apology.
“I want you inside me, Rafe.”
With a quick thrust, he pushed into me, and our chests came together, skin-to-skin. Foreheads touched, green eyes locked on green eyes. Deep moans rent the air between us, sparking the atmosphere with a union so sacrilegious, I wondered if we’d spontaneously combust. My heartbeat doubled, and I exhaled in shallow puffs with each drive of my hips. There was no better high than becoming one with Rafe.
Slowing the pace, he brushed his lips against mine in a kiss full of sweet longing. Of apologetic sorrow. “I’m so sorry I left you there.”
“Stop apologizing,” I said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want your sorrow. I want you to make it hurt.”
“Why, baby? You need to talk to me.”
“I can’t.”
His eyes shuttered, and even in the dimness of night, I detected the slashes of self-flagellation on his face. “What did that bastard do to you?”
I shook my head, firmly planted in the land of denial. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It fucking matters.”
“It doesn’t. Just fuck me.”
Pulling the lever on the side of the seat, he reclined, then he grabbed me by the hips and bounced me on his cock, each forceful downward angle designed to plunder and bruise. It was rough and animalistic, and I groaned with every thrust—a cross between pain and pleasure.
“Is this how you want it?” Frustration laced his tone, though I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or himself. We both knew that after the dust settled from this frenzy, and the real world coalesced with the bubble we’d created, we would be forced to confront the shit neither of us wanted to face.
Arching his hips, he made me take his entire lengt
h, hands holding me immobile as he stalled inside me. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes!” I cried. “Don’t stop.”
“Tell me what he did to you.”
Shaking my head, I tried crawling off of his lap, but he wouldn’t allow it, and his cock stayed right where it was, planted deep inside me.
So deep I couldn’t ignore the connection between us. Couldn’t avoid or escape it.
“Tell me,” he insisted.
“He fucked me.”
Rafe tugged me down by the hair, and my trembling mouth almost met his. “No, sweetheart. You’re using the wrong word.” Tone a soft caress on my lips, he framed my cheeks between warm hands. “Zach raped you.”
I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. Blinking rapidly, I did my damndest to stave off the threat of fresh tears, but my composure fissured, guilt sprouting from the cracks. Burying my face in the crook of his shoulder, I gave in to the sobs wracking my soul.
“He made me come,” I choked out, heart cracking at having to admit that to him.
His breath hitched. “Is that why you’re punishing yourself?”
“I deserve to be punished.”
“You survived.”
Barely. If not for Zach’s over-confidence, I might not have found an opportunity to take him down. The outcome would have been horribly different, and I would have been somewhere else right now, facing Zach and his sick obsession for the rest of my life.
A shiver traveled through me, and Rafe tightened his arms, banding his love and strength around me until I had no hope for escape.
Not that I wanted to.
Our bodies were still joined—still wet and hard despite the sorrow of our hearts—and we couldn’t help but respond to the desire floating under the surface, begging us to dive in and find comfort in each other.
To begin healing.
He guided my hips with sure hands, nudging me past the guilt, bringing me all the way home, and I moaned against the feverish skin on his neck as the pressure inside me built. But I wasn’t ready to take the next step into renewal.
