Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four

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Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four Page 17

by Myers, Shannon


  Air conditioning blasted my drenched skin, sending goosebumps across my arms. The inside of his house wasn’t what I expected. I’d imagined it looking like a bachelor pad, with folding chairs and card tables, but he had actual furniture.

  Several black and white pictures hung on the wall behind the couch, and I moved closer to study them. A woman with blonde hair that trailed down to her waist stood in front of the house I now lived in, with a baby propped up on her hip. “Is this—”

  “My ma.” He watched intently, waiting for me to say something else.

  “She was gorgeous, Jamie. And look at how little you were…” Images of the child we’d lost entered my mind, and I clenched my jaw before turning back to the photographs.

  His boots moved across the hardwood floor away from me. “Just gonna throw these in the fridge. Make yourself at home.”

  “Oh.” I followed him. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to dry my hair.”

  He kept his back to me. “End of the hall. Take a left.”

  The rain battered the windows and lightning streaked across the dark sky as I walked through the living room. I took my time meandering down the hall, stopping to look at pictures of my husband before life had made him hard.

  I closed the bathroom door behind me with a soft click and studied my reflection in the mirror. Mascara trailed down over my cheeks from the sudden shower, and I hastily swiped it away before leaning closer.

  Why was he pulling away from me?

  Was it because he blamed me for his relapse? Or had he only found me desirable when he was intoxicated?

  I snagged a peach-colored towel and ran it through my damp hair with a frustrated sigh. If either were true, then he wouldn’t have shown up on my doorstep in a suit.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  He was still banging around in the kitchen when I came out, so I chose to explore the bedrooms. The first one had sunshine yellow walls and a small wooden desk but was otherwise empty. I decided the second one was the master, with its king-sized bed and dark wood nightstands. The faint smell of cigarettes and leather lingered in the air, confirming my suspicions.

  I ran my hand over the faded white quilt, wondering if he’d brought anyone over. Listening for the sound of his boots, I quietly slid open the dresser drawers one by one, looking for signs that there was someone else.

  There had to be a reason he was keeping his distance, and I wasn’t leaving this room until I found it. I pushed the bottom drawer closed and stood up, surveying the rest of the room.

  A quick glance under the bed yielded nothing out of the ordinary, as did a check of one of the nightstands. I blew out a frustrated breath and tiptoed over the other, gently tugging the top drawer open.

  Books.

  The drawer was packed with books. I Can’t Get Over It: A Trauma Survivor’s Workbook. Love and PTSD. Rape Recovery Handbook. Born Silent: Healing After the Loss of a Child. The titles jumped out at me, one after one, and I clutched my stomach in pain before backing away slowly.

  He knew.

  A choking sound had me whipping around in horror before I realized it was coming from me.

  Without thinking, I kicked off my shoes and bolted. The screen door slammed shut behind me with a loud crack, but I didn’t turn around to see if I was being followed.

  Rain pelted my body, weighing my dress down with every step, yet I put one foot in front of the other, forcing myself forward. My feet kicked up mud before tangling in my skirt, sending me sprawling into a puddle with a grunt.

  “Celia!”

  I clawed at the soft earth, fighting to get back to my feet, before being lifted by strong arms.

  “What the fuck are you doin’?” He brushed the rain from his forehead with a frown.

  “You—” I raised a shaking hand. “You have those books!”

  He mashed his lips together and nodded, and the weight in my chest grew heavier.

  “No.” I shook my head, ignoring the tingling in my limbs. “Why would you have those?”

  Jamie crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

  “Goddammit!” I slapped at his arms, sending sprays of water up toward our faces. “Tell me why you have them!”

  I’d sworn Angel and Comedian to secrecy. I remembered that much. There was no way he could’ve known.

  “You tell me why I have them!” he roared over the thunder; eyes wild with rage. “You. Tell. Me!”

  I dropped my palms and stepped back. “What do you want from me, Jamie?”

  “We lost a child, for Chrissakes, Celia!” He ran the back of his hand over his eyes, his tears mixing with the rain. “What do I want? I want you to react, goddammit!”

  “Stop!” I held my palms up weakly. “Please stop!”

  “No! You wanna pretend it never happened, but I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here!”

  “You think I’m pretending it never happened?” I let out a guttural roar. “July fourteenth, Jamie! Our baby would be turning four on July fourteenth. So, don’t you accuse me of acting like it never happened!”

  The cords in his neck strained as he mashed his lips together to stop them from trembling. “You said you never cry,” he forced out through clenched teeth, angrily brushing more tears away with the back of his hand.

  “I can’t.” I tried swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat. “If I do, then I’ll never stop. I did this to us!”

  “How?” he demanded. “How in the fuck is any of this your fault?”

  It wasn’t fair. He’d been reading books on how to help me, and I was the one responsible for all of it. I wasn’t worthy of any of his sympathy. “I pushed you away—”

  “And you had every fuckin’ right to. I was strung out, and you deserved better than that!”

  I shook my head, dragging my hands through my soaking wet hair in frustration. “No, Jamie! You deserved better! They all know you’re alive because of me… because of the things I did!”

  “Whatever you did was because I left you and the girls on your own. Ain’t gonna hold any of it against you—”

  When he tried reaching for me, I backed away. “Money started going missing, and the electricity got shut off. I didn’t know what else to do!”

  His eyebrows drew together in confusion, but I continued before he could say another word. “At first, it was small amounts, and I assumed that I’d gotten careless and misplaced it. Then, it was enough that I couldn’t pay the bills. Hawk said he’d tried reaching you—”

  “I never heard a word from him. Trust me, if I had, I would’ve—”

  I nodded. “I know that now. I should’ve told you, but I was naïve and stupid. I turned to gambling; thought that I could win the money back, and it’d be like it never happened. Someone broke in not long after you brought money the last time and took all of it. Hawk got me into a high-stakes blackjack game…”

  A sour taste filled my mouth at the memory, and I dug my fingernails into my arm to keep from getting sick.

  “What happened?” he asked quietly.

  “I won.” My voice cracked. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I had a plan too. I was going to open multiple accounts and spread it out. I didn’t know then that two of the men at the table were working with Hawk. They waited until my father left and…”

  A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I stumbled back, righting myself just before I went down in the mud again.

  The muscle in his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth and I lowered my head in shame.

  “I’m sorry.”

  My head jerked up at the apology.

  “I am. None of this shit would’ve happened had I not left. It’s been on your shoulders too long, princess. Time to let it go.”

  I pursed my lips together. “Don’t do that. Don’t minimize what I did.”

  He moved closer and reached for me again. This time, I didn’t pull away. His arms tightened around my waist and my palms clenched into fists. “You did the best you could, and you’ve been so brave for
so fuckin’ long. It’s time for me to be brave for you. Let me take care of you.”

  “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” I whispered, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

  “Ain’t nothin’ to forgive, darlin’. Just let go.”

  “I—I can’t,” I weakly admitted, resting my chin against his chest.

  He ignored the raindrops running rivers down his face and nodded forcefully. “You can.” He shifted until I was at arm’s length in front of him. “Forgive yourself.”

  I broke away with a pant. “The girl you loved before is gone, and I don’t know how to get her back…”

  “And I ain’t the same man that you left on a porch almost five years ago.”

  He dropped down into the mud, staining the knees of his slacks brown. “So, we’ll start over. Together. I’ve known the truth of that night, and it didn’t change jack shit for me. You’re all I want… you’re all I’ll ever want. Can you say the same?”

  I nodded immediately, and his shoulders relaxed. “Celia… cry.”

  At his command, something opened up inside my chest. The grief I’d felt over losing our baby had been locked away for five long years, but Jamie had been the key. Instead of running from it, I let my head fall back in an anguished scream as the first tear fell onto my cheeks.

  The numbness faded away, and I forced myself to feel every memory as it bubbled to the surface until I was on my knees in the muck beside him, gasping for air. “It hurts.” I clutched at my aching throat. “God, it hurts so much, Jamie. I can’t—”

  He nodded and pulled me into his arms, rubbing small circles across my back. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” I wept for the secrets we’d kept, and the life we’d never had. Fighting against the pain in my throat, I let my body release all of the pain the only way it could.

  “Shhhh…” He cradled my body, gently rocking us back and forth as the storm raged all around us. “That’s my brave girl.”

  The feelings of security that I’d been searching for since the night our lives changed, returned under his touch. He tightened his hold with each strangled exhale, holding me together.

  When the sobs turned to hiccups, Jamie lifted me in his arms and carried me back to the house. He kicked off the motorcycle boots I hadn’t noticed under his slacks, never once loosening his grip.

  As we passed the pictures on the wall in the hallway, I realized the dreams we’d started out with had become nightmares.

  But we were still here.

  We were still fighting.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Celia: 2005

  “So much for a nice afternoon picnic,” I noted, from the couch. The storm hadn’t let up, and I watched in fascination as the porch light illuminated the droplets of water as they trickled down over the gingerbread trim.

  The shirt he’d let me borrow while our muddy clothes were being washed fell almost to my knees, yet I continued tugging it down over my chilled skin.

  Jamie retrieved another blanket from the hall closet and brought it back to wrap around my shoulders before going over to mess with the record player. His suit had been replaced with a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and as my eyes trailed down his body, I wondered if he still went without underwear.

  I should’ve been exhausted.

  My head ached, and my eyes were swollen from my tears, but I was oddly refreshed. I’d thought that relief would only happen with the deaths of the men who hurt me, but it had come in the form of forgiveness.

  A second chance.

  “You warmin’ up now?”

  I nodded, feeling the heat of a flush work its way up my chest. Purging my pent-up emotions had also succeeded in leaving me open for new ones; namely lust. “Are you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m good now.” He padded back over to the couch with a grin, and I tried to recall the last time I’d seen him with bare feet; the last time I’d seen him completely relaxed.

  Organ music filled the room, and I frowned in confusion before realizing what he’d put on. I brought my hands up over my mouth, muffling my giggle before exclaiming, “No! Really?”

  Jamie’s lips twitched as he leaned toward me, waggling his eyebrows suggestively before crooning, “Well, I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has got a body like you…”

  We were no longer sitting in his living room, but perusing stacks of records, searching for our favorites. This time around, though, I knew exactly what I wanted. There’d be no mistaking it for Stockholm syndrome or living in fear of someone finding out.

  Jamie Quinn was it for me.

  Always.

  I shrugged the blanket off my shoulders and launched myself at him, knocking him back against the couch as I straddled his lap.

  “Kiss me.”

  His hands came up around my backside, and I took pleasure in watching as his eyes widened when he realized I wasn’t wearing panties.

  “Celia—”

  I silenced his objections with my lips, relishing in the feel of his hands digging into my soft flesh as he pulled me closer with a rough growl. His body was hard beneath mine, and I rocked against him with a groan before tangling my fists in his hair.

  When I nipped his lower lip, sucking it between my teeth, his hand came down hard against my backside with a reverberating smack. I let my head fall back with a loud exhale, knowing without a doubt that I had just soaked the front of his jeans.

  As if I hadn’t already been wet.

  His thumbs pressed into my skin, and I realized he wasn’t drawing me in, he was pushing me away.

  “I’ll be right back.” He shifted me over to the middle couch cushion and disappeared down the hall, leaving me painfully aroused and thoroughly confused.

  “Jamie?”

  The bathroom door slammed shut in response, and I ran my fingers over my puffy lips, trying to determine where I’d gone wrong.

  I hadn’t been intimate with him in five years, but I was reasonably certain that I hadn’t lost my touch. Lightning arced across the sky, and I drummed my fingers idly against the back of the couch, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass.

  We were together in the middle of nowhere for the entire weekend, and I didn’t want to waste another second apart. I stood up and stripped the t-shirt over my head before stalking down the hall, the sounds of running water growing louder the closer I got to the bathroom.

  Praying he hadn’t decided to lock the door; I turned the handle and breathed a small sigh of relief when it opened. Steam billowed out from the top of the small glass shower, and I leaned against the vanity, watching as the hot water cascaded over his muscles. Muscles that hadn’t come from a gym, but from breaking down men like Manny.

  I’d seen a small preview of his strength in the motel, and it had left me with a fluttering in my chest and a strong desire to run my hands over him in reverence.

  He slapped a palm against the tile while the other moved furiously up and down his shaft. “Celia,” he whispered, letting his forehead drop down. “Fuck.”

  I kept my eyes on him as my own hand moved in between my legs. The feelings of disgust that would’ve welled up normally, leaving me nauseated, were gone. My teeth sank down onto my lower lip as I circled my clit, wishing it was his fingers touching me.

  With a deep breath for courage, I pushed off the counter and stepped into the shower with him.

  “Celia.” His hand fell away, and he backed into the corner, trapped. “I can’t.”

  Water ran into my eyes, and I blinked against it before gesturing toward him. “It looks like you can. Why are you running from me?”

  “I can’t be soft with you, princess. And that’s what you need—”

  I lowered myself to my knees and looked up from beneath my lashes before reaching for him. “What I need is you.”

  He shook his head and tried to step around me, but I moved, wrapping my hand around his shaft with a gentle squeeze.

  “Fuck, y
ou gotta stop.”

  My tongue darted out to lick the moisture beading along the tip. I knew he’d never force me; maybe that was what had my body in flames with desire. “Please.”

  “Stop—I can’t.”

  I pulled back and let him help me to my feet. He tried reaching around me to shut off the water, but I stopped him with my arm. “Wait. Just hear me out, please.”

  I fought against my own fears to admit, “My body healed physically, but I still have the memories of what they did to me that night, Jamie. I still feel them inside me, and those scars don’t fade. Please don’t push me away.”

  He swallowed and nodded. “I ain’t been with any woman since you. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked myself to thoughts of your body, only to feel sick after? I read the books and as much as I fuckin’ wish it was, it ain’t me that you need.”

  I brushed the water from his beard and moved until my breasts were up against his chest, pushing my body for a reaction.

  Safe.

  Every fiber of my being radiated with the thought. I would never feel safer in anyone’s arms but his. I lifted up onto my tiptoes and whispered against his lips, “A book doesn’t know me. I need my husband. No one else but you.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Celia,” he growled, letting his fingers skim along my ribs. “You want me to stop, tell me now.”

  I shook my head. “Please don’t stop.”

  His hand came up to lightly rest against the base of my throat before he guided my back up against the tile. Teeth scraped against the sensitive flesh of my neck and moved down my chest as he lowered himself to his knees in front of me.

  I brushed the wet hair off my forehead, looking down to watch as he moved to one of my breasts, teasing the nipple with his tongue before pinching it between his thumb and forefinger and guiding it into his mouth.

  Pleasure flooded my body, and I arched my back with a moan, giving my body up to him in offering.

  His free hand moved down to cup between my legs, and he released my nipple to ask, “Who’s in charge here, Celia?”

 

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