by Roxie Wilde
Jet’s absence was a physical thing. After last night, waking to an empty bed felt as if something had been corporally torn from my chest.
The motel room carpet was stiff and unforgiving under my bare feet as I eased out of bed. The ache spread, muscles I didn’t remember using since I was a teenager reminding me of last night and the way Jet had so thoroughly devoured every inch of me as I made my way across the tiny room.
“Jet?”
My own voice echoed back at me in the hollow quiet. It was an act of futility. As small as the room was, there was no way I wouldn’t have heard Jet moving around in the shower or taking up all of the space in front of the sink. Visions of his perfect body filled my mind before I could stop them— the strong plane of his chest, the intricate story of his tattoos stitched across miles of back and bicep. Even now my chest tightened and my pussy clenched at the memory. It would take an entire lifetime, more lifetimes than I could count, to forget the way his black eyes burned into mine while Jet’s arms had flexed and tensed over me.
And now he was gone.
The early morning silence of the motel room pressed in around me.
I told myself he’d gone for coffee. Told myself he would be right back with breakfast. I told myself all the things I needed to hear as my feet urged me ever closer to the room’s single closet. I knew it would be empty. Knew the black duffle bag would be gone just as well as I’d known I wouldn’t find Jet in the bathroom when I’d pulled open the peeling door.
The empty closet stung, anyway.
He was gone, and the bag was gone, and the reasons why simply didn’t matter.
Hot, fresh tears blurred my vision as I swung the closet door closed. The child-friendly hinge didn’t even give me the satisfaction of a good, solid slam. I felt… stupid. Naive in a way I hadn’t since I’d put on a wedding ring for the first time. I was supposed to be passed this.
I’d believed him. Believed every word that came out of Jet Jones’ mouth, and that was the really hard pill to swallow. Not that he’d left. Not even that he’d abandoned me in the middle of fucking Juarez Mexico without a dime. After fucking me so well I’d never forget the way he felt.
No, the most damnable part of all of this was that after all was said and done, I had gone and just let him waltz right over the walls I’d spent so long carefully constructing.
Well, to hell with him.
I didn’t give myself time to stop and think. Didn’t even give myself time to stop and put a bra on. I couldn’t stay in this room— not where Jet and I had spent the night. Every inch of the tiny room reminded me of the man. It still smelled like him. Besides, there was no point to being here without him anyway, and I might as well start figuring out a way to get my ass home.
Alone.
It was already hot outside.
As soon as I stepped away from the tinny, artificially cold air of the window air conditioner, the stifling wave of late summer heat washed over me in the motel room doorway. It was enough to give me pause, my shoes and bra poised in my hand and my still-bare toes recoiling from the hot concrete just beyond.
The truck was gone.
The thought hit me like a fist to the sternum, and for the second time in one morning I found myself biting back a wave of nausea.
Mother fucker…
I supposed it made perfect sense for the gorgeous outlaw sex god asshole to steal my car while he was at it, but something about the added transgression simply brought a fresh wave of hot, angry tears to my eyes.
Defeated, I slid down the doorway. My battered Vans landed next to me with a quiet thump.
I’m not sure how long I sat there. Even after the tears dried up, I couldn’t quite seem to make myself move. I heard the muted sounds of people speaking in Spanish fading as they walked by. A while later, the rumble of a motorcycle drummed loud in the parking lot where my truck had sat last night. I didn’t bother looking up.
The slow shuffle-gait of a limping pair of boots came to a stop inches in front of where I sat in the doorway, head rested on my knees.
“‘Sorry I’m late. I owe you a new truck.”
Jet’s voice sounded a million miles away and distorted through my disbelief.
Even when I looked up, it took my muddled brain a moment to process the fact that it was really him standing in front of me. I rubbed the heel of my hand across the stinging mess of my gritty eyes, blinking away the remnants of the morning’s tears. When my vision and mind cleared enough for me to see, I realized why I hadn’t immediately recognized him.
Jet’s normally immaculate face was a mess. Blood and, even more unbelievably, tears, marred his chiseled complexion.
I was on my feet an instant later, arms out to steady his big frame as he swayed precariously. The massive duffle bag was still swung over his shoulder, held in a white-knuckled grip. I had no idea how he’d managed to ride in this condition, much less one-handed, and the thought of it froze everything inside of me to an icy ball.
“Jet! How— oh god, what happened?”
I nudged my shoulder into his side, trying to take some of the weight off while steering us back into the room. I did my best to assess him, fingers tracing across the front of his blood-soaked tee shirt even as my mind tripped all over itself to reassure me that yes, he really was here. The hiss of air and sharp wince he let out as my fingertips brushed his shoulder told me everything I needed to know.
More than I wanted to know.
The man had nearly gotten himself killed.
It took two tries, with him fighting me all the way, to get Jet laid out on the bed. I scrambled around, fingers already slippery with blood, in search of something, anything that would be helpful. I needed scissors, bandages, gauze. I needed a goddamned hospital, a priest, a whole team of mental health professionals to assess how the fuck we’d managed to get ourselves into this mess.
A surge of adrenaline hit me and I gripped the tear in his sticky tee shirt, tearing it open enough for me to see the wound in his shoulder.
Jet’s normally tanned complexion was pale. Even in the coolness of the motel room, I could tell he was sweaty and clammy after the dangerous ride back from god only knows where. I slid my hand around his shoulder and looked back up into his face, checking for signs of shock even as I tamped down the anger and hurt and confusion warring inside of me.
“Looks like it went all the way through.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if his nose was broken, too, judging by the swelling around his eyes.
“Ok, this is going to be tough without any supplies, but I— Jet. Jet.”
Fear hardened to ice in me as I watched his dark eyes close. His weight settled further into the mattress.
“Oh no you don’t, Jet Jones. You stay awake. You don’t get to die, not when I wasn’t the one who shot you.”
Whether it was the tremble in my voice or the threat of the words themselves, it was enough to get a half-lidded look back from him. Hope threatened to bloom somewhere inside of me.
The ice quivered when Jet’s thready grip reached up, wrapped around my wrist. It fractured into a million pieces when he tightened there. Even now, he was trying to reassure me.
More emotions than I knew what to do with welled up inside of me until the tears I thought were all dried up threatened again.
I turned my eyes back to the wound in his shoulder. The sick, greasy feeling returned as I looked around the sparse room. I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand away from his, but I tightened my own grip, forcing him to focus.
“Jet,” I kept my voice level. “My emergency kit was in the truck. You need help. It’s at least ten hours back home, and you’re in no condition to—”
As if hellbent on defying me, Jet attempted to sit up. I put my palm on his chest, nudging him flat again. But he took advantage of having me close, reaching out for the strap of the heavy duffle closer across the bed.
“Leave that, Jet—”
“No. Sam, listen.” He gritted his teeth. �
��There’s a reason we needed to bring this bag, personally. And why I couldn’t risk bringing you along this morning. I was right, too. I barely got away with the whole shipment. I just— ”
Frustrated, I tore back the heavy metal zipper on the canvas bag, wondering what could possibly be worth all of this. An avalanche of boxes, syringes, and vials poured out as I tugged. I scanned the labels as quickly as they tumbled out— antibiotics, pain medication, vaccines. Definitely not what I had assumed. At all.
All of it was labeled with the same destination:
Hospital Infantil Santa Barbara, Ciudad Juárez
“It’s medicine. For… a children’s hospital?”
My confusion mounted as I looked from Jet to the mountain of medicine and supplies spread out around us.
“The Freedom Fighters have been funding the hospital and providing supplies for a while now. We’ve been helping a lot of this town get back on its feet— out from under the grip of the cartels.”
I dug around, unearthed some gauze and a suture kit while Jet explained.
“Some people aren’t exactly thrilled about this. Pips was a warning like we thought.”
He grunted, the explanation halted as I cleared out his wound and began the painful process of stitching him up. Miraculously, I managed to keep my hands steady as Jet told me everything that had happened since he slipped out before dawn.
“ — But the cartels have a way of making the best of everything disappear before it ever reaches the people. So we bypass them, put it directly in the hands of the people who can use it to do some good. I’m sorry, I should have woken you before I left, but I couldn’t risk anything happening to you,” he finished.
My fingers tightened around the sterile bandage I was taping into place.
“It wasn’t your decision to make.”
It was quiet, but I was surprised at how deeply I felt the words. Jet’s grip came up to grip my wrist again.
“They’re the same guys who put a hole in Pips. They killed Carlos, and he was one of their own. You think I would have risked something happening to you, Sam?”
There was passion in his voice, pain that went far beyond the hole in his shoulder I was patching.
The anger flared in me again, my own emotions flaring at the fire in his dark eyes. It was worse because I understood. I loved him all the more fiercely for wanting to keep me from harm, even if I wanted to strangle him for not giving me the option to choose for myself.
Love? Who said anything about love, damn it?!
“Sam, I was just—”
I cut him off with a raised hand.
“Yeah, I know. You were worried about me. You wanted to keep me safe. But here’s the thing, Jet.”
I felt the emotion bubble up to the surface along with the hurt now.
“You don’t get to decide that. You can protect me, but you have to let me make my own decisions. What if something had happened to you out there? Was I supposed to just think you walked out on me and never know the truth? Leave you to bleed out in a Mexican alleyway when I might have been able to help? I won’t be anybody’s doormat ever again. Not even if it’s for my own good. If this is going to work then you’re gonna have to learn to— what are you grinning at?”
I narrowed my eyes at him mid tirade.
Jet’s sensual mouth was pulled up in a half-smile. Even with the bruising clouding his skin, his eyes shone. Something terrifying and beautiful blossomed inside me.
“You threatened to shoot me. I love you too, Sam.”
I rolled my eyes. The man was impossible. Incorrigible.
I was crazy about him.
Tears sprang to my eyes again, an amalgamation of emotions that I couldn’t untangle right now if I tried.
Jet tugged me down with his good arm, pulling me close in the mess of bloody sheets and scattered boxes. I wasn’t sure how long we laid there, Jet’s lips pressed against the top of my head and my hand on his chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart.
“I’m sorry.”
He said it so quietly that I wasn’t sure I’d heard him at first. His voice was thick, tongue dry with pain and groggy with the pain medication I’d given him.
“I should have talked to you. I promise— we’ll do better.”
We.
The man was still surprising me.
I sat up slowly, gathering bottles and organizing them into the huge bag again.
“Let’s figure out how to get these delivered and spend a few days playing doctor.”
Epilogue
Samantha
One week later
“Last call, ladies and gents!” I called out. There was a chorus of voices as the assembled patrons scrambled to get their last orders in for the night. I didn’t mind the work— bartending in a sleepy border town was hardly intensive— but I looked forward to getting back to nursing. Not that helping people drown their sorrows wasn’t rewarding in its own way, but there was a limit to how many times I could watch people run from their problems rather than face them head-on.
Also, there were no college kids slumming it in hospitals. I sighed as the table of frat boys chugged what they had and shuffled up to order one last round of Bud lite.
“You should come party with us after you get off work. We’ll make sure you keep getting off”
The leader of the bunch was all youthful swagger and bad pick-up lines. He wasn’t unattractive— if you liked the preppy look. Backward baseball cap and a polo that hugged his athletic build. It would have been flattering to me a year ago for someone like him to hit on me.
Now it was just annoying.
“You boys run along. You don’t want to stick around here after dark. There are monsters in these parts.”
Prince Charming laughed, giving me his biggest, best smile. It gleamed. “I’m not scared of anything.”
His boys cheered and hollered, urging him on. I finished pouring their drinks and pushed them across. “Alright, boys. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
On cue, the distinctive rumbling roar of a group of motorcycles filled the air. The bravado went out of some of the boys, worried glances exchanged nervously. They had come for the idea of the atmosphere, but the reality was a good bit more intimidating.
Jet strode into the place like he owned it. Admittedly, he did own the bar, but that was just how he was. He tore up the scenery. Everything didn’t so much fade into the background as he hogged the foreground. It was hard to focus on anything else with him around.
Maybe it was just me.
Then again, I was pretty sure it wasn’t. My pile of puppy-like suitors had all turned and were staring. He was followed by the majority of the gang. Pips was still on bed rest, of course. They were here to escort me over to check on him. Jet had insisted, and after what had happened in Juarez, I wasn’t about to say no.
I might have liked living dangerously, but I didn’t have a death wish.
“Alright, boys. Show’s over. Time to go home.”
Jet’s deep bass voice seemed to jar them from their daze. They all dug in pockets, producing varying amounts of clumped bills. I made a show of counting them all, smiling sweetly at my former Lothario. I blew him a kiss and gave him a wink as they slunk out of the bar with their tails between their legs.
“You’re awful, encouraging them like that.” Jet said, sliding into the spot they’d vacated leaning across the bar from me.
I laughed. “Well, they were asking for it. Coming in here dressed like that…” I stopped at his frown, waving away my words. “Okay, okay. But it is good for business to give them a reason to come back. I’d think you would like making more money?”
“I’d rather you be safe.”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I reached across to put my hand over his. “You’re a big teddy bear, Jet. Your guys are going to stop listening to you if you get all soft on them.”
“Don’t listen to her, Jet. We like you soft!” Derek called out.
I met his eye
s, a wicked grin curling in my eyes as he groaned, hiding his face in one big hand. A glint of white-gold glimmered there, same as on mine. We hadn’t bothered taking them off just yet. Maybe we never would.
I opened my mouth to pounce on the opening Derek had given me, but Jet cut me off with a kiss. That pushed all thoughts of witty banter right out of my head, sudden lust burning it clear from my mind.
“I love you, Sam. Even if you do drive me crazy.”
“I love you too Jet, especially because you drive me insane.”
I wasn’t whole yet. Not recovered, not back to being myself again. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like that was reachable. Jet made me feel like one day I would be okay again.
For now, that was enough.
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