Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection

by Gianna Gabriela

  “That comment right there proves to me you don’t have anything to talk about.” He points a finger and angles his head in my direction. Stupid fuck.

  “What the fuck, Tyson. I thought I was the pretty boy. I worked hard for that title. This one here doesn’t have to do shit but flex his arms and the holes are all around him. He’s just more careful of the ones he steps in than we are.” I suppress a groan when I glance to see that Jude’s expression is deadly serious.

  “Brother, tie one of those baby boy condoms you use around your tongue and shut the fuck up,” Tyson bellows. I fucking snort, while Jude holds up both his middle fingers and thumb in a gun like position and aims them directly at Tyson.

  “How the fuck did we get on this stupid conversation?” I ask seriously.

  “You’re the one who compared a pussy to a hole,” Jude retorts.

  “Well, I’m going to put a hole through your head if we don’t get on with this shit,” I disclose teasingly. This only sparks the hole in Jude’s mouth to tally up one more smart remark. Dumb ass.

  “I agree. I need to find me a hole to get lost in tonight. Preferably one that’s dark and tight to crawl out of,” he rumbles on. Our resounding laughter at his comment hangs in the air long enough to ease my troubled mind.

  “Jesus Christ, I have an idiot, a fucking idiot for a friend. Seriously, Murdock, we’re happy for you. This couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. For Cora to be right next door and alive with your kid nonetheless. You’re one lucky son of a bitch.” Tyson’s words spear me in the chest. The only thing he got wrong in his statement is I’m not the most deserving person to find happiness. He’s there with me. Except, the only woman he’s ever loved left him the night before their wedding. Disappeared without a trace. That’s about all we know about her, except her name. Lynne. It gutted him, turned him into enlisting to get away from the not knowing where she was or what she was doing. He refused to talk too much about her. Jude and I never pried about it. That shit has to tear someone deeper than anything. I survived, because I thought Cora was dead, but Tyson… The love of his life is out there, more than likely living happily with someone else, while he sits here in my home telling me how lucky I am.

  “Right. Thanks.” That one word of gratitude has more meaning behind it, and we all know it.

  These two can hide behind their tattered-up masks all they want; there is no way they love being alone. Shit, I hated it. Hated the random women, hated that I couldn’t care about a single one of them I took to my bed, all because not one of them were Cora.

  Silence eats away at the bullshitting from a few moments ago. Tyson with his unclear eyes is staring out into nothing. Jude is more than likely remembering the hellish nightmares that would wake us up when Tyson would scream her name. God, those memories brought devastation to all our souls.

  “Let’s take this to the roof, have a beer, a cigar, and find Cutter, then plan this shit out.” I clear my throat, my mind, and pray that this snaps Tyson out of his funk. That woman does not deserve to take up an ounce of his thoughts. Not anymore. Not if I can help it.

  “I need something stronger than beer,” Tyson shouts.

  “You know where it is. You also know where the spare bedroom is, because if you dip into the hard shit, your ass is staying here.” I make it well known before I stand. Then I hit him with a hard, knowing glare and make my way outside. Tyson does some fucked-up shit when he hits the hard stuff. I’m talking two or three women at a time. There’s no damn way he’s taking one sip of that shit and leaving here. Not when he wants to try and fuck her out of his system. I have been there every time I fucked a woman. That shit doesn’t work. Nothing does but the real person. It wasn’t until I knew it was her I realized the only thing I’ve known to be a fact in my life is when you share a past with someone. Fall so deeply in love that dead or alive, your heart belongs to them, and your souls are destined to be together eternally. There isn’t any damn thing you can do to flood them out of your veins. Ink may cover over almost every part of my body, but there is no way to hide the monster that lived inside of me, or the woman who inked my soul. Permanently.

  I outwardly sigh when I hit the early evening humid air. It’s so fucking surreal, yet I’m so unexpectedly blessed that Cora and I found each other again. “I’m going to make this right for the three of us, Angel,” I whisper, tuck the laptop under my arm, and climb the stairs.

  I know they’re not home, but it doesn’t stop me from glancing over there once I reach the top, wondering if she’ll expect me to come over tonight. I’ll be there whether she wants me in her bed or not. There’s no way in hell I plan on sleeping another night without her next to me, where she belongs. Tonight, I’m tugging her sexy ass to me, holding her all goddamn night while I’m fucking sleeping. Not only am I exhausted, but the idea of waking up next to her is something I want to do for the rest of my life. It’s goddamn time we both live the lives we were destined to have. Together.

  “Man. I’m about to break my promise to his sorry ass and find that woman.” Jude’s statement fucking chills me to the bone.

  “Fuck. He’s going to be all kinds of fucked up. I should have seen this coming from a mile away. I’d be triggered by this, too, if I were him. I just don’t know if finding her is going to do him any good. If she wanted to be found, then she wouldn’t have vanished. Let it go.” I shrug, not wanting to discuss this anymore. If Tyson wants to bring it up, then he can. Me, I have my own shit to worry about, and it does not include finding some woman who fucked my friend up for life.

  “Have you searched for the little fucker?” I inquire as I grab a couple of beers out of the stocked fridge, a cigar out of humidor for the three of us, and take a seat on the couch. I told them both everything earlier on the phone. Their responses were exactly what I knew they would be. Pissed off and ready to slaughter Jesse. Jude especially. He has a thirteen-year-old half-brother who means everything to him. If someone were to threaten him in any way, we would all be sitting around doing everything we possibly could to track that fucker down. A sibling bond should be an indestructible one. Not some fucked-up version of Jesse Barrick’s idea of taking care of his baby sister by allowing her to fend for herself or to destroy her life.

  “Not yet. We thought you would want the honors.” Jude thumps his finger on the outer shell of my computer.

  “Yeah, well, don’t kill me if what I find in here causes me to pull out my gun and blow this fucker up.” I grin. Jude frowns. Fucking nerd.

  “I’m kidding, asshole.”

  “Whatever,” he replies dryly.

  “You guys want one?” Tyson pops into view at the top of the steps with my half empty six-hundred-dollar bottle of Glenfiddich scotch in his hand. He pours several fingers worth, takes a sip, and sits in the chair opposite of us.

  “Nah. It’s all yours, brother,” I say. Jude can’t stand the shit. Therefore, we don’t wait for him to answer.

  “Check all your resources, man. That weasel has to be somewhere. Can you also check the Department of Justice website, find out exactly how long Jesse has left on his sentence?” I urge Jude to work his magic while I type Ryan McNeal, AKA Cutter, in the Google search engine. I flick my eyes up toward Tyson while I wait for Google to work its magic to see him standing with his now empty glass in his hand, staring out across the water. I know where his mind is, and it isn’t on this. I’ve stood staring at the endless water many times wondering why me or why her, blaming myself and thinking the same thing he is. Always asking when the key that opens the chains around your heart will turn and unlock, allowing those rusty chains to clatter to the ground, to allow all the pain to go away. It never fucking does, because we’re so lost in our own head that we fail to realize the lock is fucking broken.

  “What the fuck?” Jude roars so loudly my body jerks, and Tyson spins around breaking out of his troubled thoughts. My insides coil tightly. The look on Jude’s face is fucking frightening. Something isn’t right. In act
uality, by the way his face falls ashen and his eyes search me out, whatever he’s found is going to change everything.

  “What?” I clench my teeth; my fists curl tightly around the computer.

  “Jesse’s out. Released a month ago.”

  “How?” I ask, confused as fuck. The blow of him being out sends a clear streak of madness down my spine. Bloodlust creeps into my veins. I want that motherfucker’s head.

  “It doesn’t say. With overcrowding and shit, my guess is good behavior. From what you’ve told us over the years about him, he’s a slime ball. I’m sure he kissed ass in there. Knowing good and well if the opportunity struck, he was jumping on it.”

  “Son of a bitch. We have to find that fucker. Not only to ease Cora’s mind, but because he could do some serious damage. He’ll be out for revenge on Slater. Fuck.” I jump to my feet, toss the computer on the table, and run my hands through my hair.

  “You best call your friends up there, so they’re prepared. Then you better tell her.” Tyson’s scrutiny on me is hard, demanding even. His brows are lifting in a perplexing way that makes me wonder if there isn’t a hidden meaning behind his phrase. He shifts his eyes away hurriedly, and that guilt I can practically see grinding its way into his slumped shoulders, shaky exhale of breath is when I know that either he or Lynne hid something from the other that cost them all these years together. He knows exactly why she left him. He’s too ashamed to admit it. Whatever secret or issue it was that tore them apart was too much for her to handle.

  “I’ll call, and I’ll tell her the minute I see her. Maybe you should do the same, brother.”

  Cora is a strong woman. A survivor, a victim, and she has suffered for years by words that were a lie. Lies so goddamn big they would have destroyed the weak, mulled over every way possible to destroy them until they caved. But not her, she fought the battle; and now I’m going to win the goddamn war.

  I really want to kill her brother, his asshole of a friend, and any other person who tries to stand in my way to make sure no one ever conflicts that type of conscience-eating poison on her again. All I’ll have to do is wait him out. He’s going to surface; he’s going to find her, and he’s going to come for her. I know he will.

  However, I can’t ask her to live with that. To climb into bed at night with a man who killed someone out of vengeance would be like her killing him herself. She may be strong, but in the end, something like that would destroy her.

  It’s me who has to tame the monster inside of my body, the man who wants to use every bit of training I have that so outrageously wants to come out and play to maim a man unlike any other. To protect what’s mine and to say fuck everything and everyone else. I want to rip his heart out of his chest while I’ll stand and beat on mine, knowing I’m the one who made him take his last breath, I’m the one who defeated him. It won’t give us back the time we’ve missed, and yet doing the right thing for her will give our future the peace of mind it deserves. Knowing that her and my son are safe, that they love me, and she can look me in the eye every day is enough for me to back off from making those two disappear without a trace.

  After finding the information about him, I call Slater, who just so happened to have heard about Jesse’s release. He convinces me they’re prepared to bury him alive if he shows his face up there. Then we take off, go to Jude’s instead of staying in a place where Ethan or Cora can hear us or decide to pop over when they get home. No fucking way am I prepared to tell her until I have all of my facts. Every damn thing I can dig up on that motherfucker. And boy, do we find it. We find enough evidence on both him and Cutter to send them to death row or life with no possibility of parole. Not to mention he faked her death. Technically, that isn’t a crime, because upon our search there are no records of a death certificate, no fraudulent insurance claims; she just disappeared. The entire town assumed she was dead. That’s all kinds of fucked up. It’s a good thing the sheriff up in Redding, who had his hands in helping this well-thought out plan of a fictional murder, is dead, or I’d want to kill him as well. I mean, no investigation at all, no questions asked. Only the word of some crazy money-hungry motherfucker.

  Regardless of my status with being on the right side of the law, life in prison for both of them won’t be punishment enough for me. I need to watch them suffer, to make them pay. If they can cover their tracks, hide behind the law, then so can I. It sure the hell won’t tear away at my rational mind if things were to go south during this investigation and his head was accidentally blown off. At least Cora would be able to sleep at night knowing I went through the proper channels to take him down.

  And Jude shoved a goddamn thorn the size of Texas in my side. That bastard is lucky I care about his stupid ass. He fucked up the chance of all of us getting together for a nice neighborly barbeque with the shit he pulled after he slept with Vivian. The guy can think quickly with his brain; it’s his dick and mouth that’re stupid as fuck. Which I have every intention of talking to Cora about. That can wait or never be brought up as far as I’m concerned. It's bullshit to be rude as hell to a woman just because she isn’t ready to jump right out of your bed as soon as you are done fucking her. That’s exactly what the asshole did. Jude needs to fix the problem; it sure as hell isn’t mine to get involved in; it’s the least of my worries.

  14

  RIDDICK

  The moon filters in enough for me to be able to watch her sleep. Her eyelids are pulled down over a pair of green eyes that steal my breath, that look at me with that intimate spark of stripping me naked in many ways. Not only intimately, but with the power to destroy me, the deep connection of trust, engaging in a deep penetrating bond that every speck, streak, and color of those green spheres of hers are the mouth that connects our souls.

  My girl, or should I clarify my way of thinking with my woman, is a vision right now. The muscles in her face and those sexy bare shoulders at peace, her chest rising and falling in that slow, deep freedom from strife. Her curled-up body is relaxed, her mind bracing itself for the day’s events. Another part is storing away the memories from today and days before. I hate to wake her when she needs her rest, so I wait. I soak up my own memory of this peaceful, beautiful woman, who I vow to protect, love, and worship until I finally do exhale that last breath. I fucking love her so much it physically hurts.

  “Riddick.” She stirs, her eyes blinking to adjust to the dark.

  “Hey, Angel,” I whisper from the chair in the corner, where I’ve been sitting for the past hour trying to decide between sliding in beside her and making love to her before I tell her everything or holding her tight and waiting until we wake. I’m beyond the realms of exhaustion. I’m mentally drained. Emotionally fucked up and unsure if I could shut my brain down without some damn alcohol to do it for me. The plans my dick has outweigh everything else right now. I need to love her, to show her in a slow sensual way that in spite of the difficulties that will flatten her heart, I’m going to be there to even it out. To make things right.

  “You know,” I say as I pull my t-shirt over my head before I hook my fingers in the waistband of my shorts and let them fall to the floor. My cock feels like granite and is so fucking ready. “You shouldn’t leave your bedroom doors open at night; you never know who might decide to slip into bed beside you.” A hungry moan escapes her lips. I hear her breathing pick up, rapid and sexy to my ears the closer I get to her bed. Two more steps, and I find myself slipping in beside her, pulling her warm, naked, waiting body to mine. Goddamn, she feels so good.

  “I knew you would come,” she whispers.

  “I’m going to come, all right, in you.” My voice is dark, my dick so damn hard it has my balls strung tight.

  “I’m serious, though, give me a key and keep those doors locked. This house is huge; you’re up here by yourself. We can open them back up when I get here, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” she says groggily. Her calling me ‘sir’ has my dick in a frenzy. If I didn’t want to love her right now, that
wild beast would be all over some major role-playing here. I’d torture the pleasure right out of her until her sirs turned into screams while I fucked her until she begged me to allow her to come.

  “Fuck. I missed you today.” I roll her over onto her back until I’m on top. Her long, shapely legs spread, her heat, her breasts, her entire body under me right where she belongs.

  “I missed you, too. How was your night?” I’m not ready to delve into my night or anything else but her right now. I silence her with a kiss. One so powerful I feel it hit me everywhere. The taste of her mouth, the tip of her tongue darting out to lap with mine.

  Our kiss intensifies when I graze my hand down the side of her smooth body. A moan deep in the confines of my throat surfaces as I take and give some more. I browse her hipbone, trail across the top of her thigh. By the time I plunge a finger into her preheated pussy, my cock is screaming he could stay inside of her forever and never thaw out. Christ Almighty, she is warm, inviting, and sweet. I tease her clit, sweeping my thumb around the sensitive nub. She gasps when I move it away. I chuckle into her mouth, nibble her bottom lip, and skim my mouth down her neck, planting kisses everywhere. She squirms, pants. Her body is coming alive, tuning to perfection.

  While my fingers push in and out of her pussy, my mouth latches on to a nipple, sucking, tugging from gentle to hard. The fragrance of her arousal fills my nose, driving my hand to power my fingers faster in her slick wet heat. She moans, arches her back, and I tug on her clit as she gives me her orgasm by coming undone on a smooth, soft sigh.

  “Shh,” I say into her mouth. Our lips close enough that I inhale her breath.

  “I love you,” she says.

  “I love you, too.” Then my mouth is on hers again. Crushing. Bruising. I lift my hips, line up my cock, and memorize the feel of her tightness expand around me as she adjusts to my size. It’s the second best part of sex, the first being when she lets go all around me.