by Jennifer Ann
Liam chuckles quietly, squeezing me against him. Then he falls quiet as we make our way back to the sidewalk.
“You know the guy in the fedora?” I assume, stopping him.
His brow wrinkles. “Yeah. That’s Terrance—King Marty’s muscle. He’s the one who came by the school the morning Trask was arrested, asked where Sasha went to school.”
“And he went to visit those missing girls with Trask.” I take his hand in mine, squeezing it lightly. “Seems to me you’re one step closer to discovering a reason why King Marty would want Trask behind bars.”
“But what business would they have with those girls?”
I shake my head and wrap him in my arms, wishing I had all the answers.
Deep down, I’m terrified Trask isn’t as innocent as Liam would like to believe.
BACK AT MY APARTMENT, we kick around a few ideas behind the girls’ disappearance. Any scenario we can think of still doesn’t explain Trask’s involvement.
When we run out of ideas, I throw in a frozen pizza. Liam wraps his around me from behind as I’m closing the oven door. “Thank you,” he says, his voice rough against my ear.
I lean back against him, realizing his arms are the first place in my entire life that I’ve felt I truly belong. “For dinner?” I tease, although I sense he means something more.
“For helping me…believing in me. You’re the first person to tell me how it is, no bullshit. I mean, fuck. You’re the first person to make me think I’m worth the air I breathe.”
Heart twisting, I turn to take his face in my hands. “You’re worth so much more than that, Liam. So goddamn much more.”
He kisses me hard and soft all at once, his lips and tongue conveying gratitude and adoration. We strip out of our clothes in record time before he sets me on the edge of the counter top. We join together like it’s the most natural thing in the world, our hips rocking together to the beat of a silent ballad.
At some point in the past few days, our bodies became synced, making each of our orgasms come faster and with more intensity. He’s able to read me like a map, knowing when and where to add the right amount of pressure, how to suck on my nipple until I crumble. We’re no longer two lost souls, but rather one strong entity that can take on the shit life throws our way.
As I’m floating back down from a toe-curling climax, his hand slides up and down my throat with a commanding amount of pressure. The powerful intensity in his gaze takes my breath away, due in large part to the fact that I’m finally able to see his other eye. With only a slight discoloration remaining, my waning sympathy makes it easier to be turned on by his sexy smile.
“Damn, baby,” he growls in a throaty whisper. “Nothing better than watching you come.”
Then he finishes inside me with a strained grunt and a violent shudder, resting his sweaty face on my shoulder. I stroke his jaw and pepper his face with kisses until he’s sweeping me off my feet, carrying me over to the couch.
We make out like we’re fighting, wrestling with brutal mouths and angry tongues. Every moment we’re together is one more opportunity to be with him than I dreamed we’d have. I long for the kind of future we’ll never get the chance to experience: lazy mornings of laying in bed together and making love for endless hours.
At one point I’m on top of him, staring into his beautiful eyes as I run my fingertips along his swollen lips, wondering how I became the lucky one to win Liam Rooker’s devoted affection.
“What are you doing with me?” I whisper. “It’s your senior year. You should be off wooing cheerleaders and girls like that blonde at Slick Willie’s.”
“You fuckin’ kidding me? I wouldn’t be caught dead with her type.” His fingers loop with mine as he continues. “I prefer my woman to have a backbone. I want someone who’s real and isn’t afraid to fight for what’s right. I love that you’re stubborn and know how to put assholes like Stone in their place. I fucking love that you don’t sweat the small stuff, and recognize what’s important in life. I love that you don’t take a thousand selfies a day, although I wish you’d send me a few.” His eyebrows wiggle as the dimple I adore pops into place. “I also love the fact that you have great tits and a tight ass. You’re the total package, baby.”
I try swallowing several times before the lump in my throat disappears. Every time his lips spill the word “love,” my chest fills with butterflies. Am I really all those things?
His thumb taps the charm dangling between our wrists. “What’s with this anyway?”
The sudden question sends a quiver through my stomach. “It was a present. To remind me of…someone.”
“An old boyfriend?”
For an unpleasant moment, Matthew’s face flickers before me. I cringe, hating myself for all the times I’ve thought of him lately. Until Liam came along, I was able to block the bastard out for years.
Liam must take my reaction as admission because a flash of anger passes through his green eyes. “Tell me some prick isn’t gonna swoop in and take you away from me.”
I suck in a breath and hold it until my chest burns and tears sting my eyes. He’s scared of losing me. As much as I care about him, we can't have any kind of future together. Too many obstacles remain. I slide my fingers through his soft hair and release a soft laugh. “God, no. It’s nothing like that.”
He shakes his head, clearly unconvinced. Red splotches begin to fill his cheeks, running down his neck. “Are you sure, because if it was a grandma or someone innocent, you would’ve come flat out and told me to my fucking face.”
I pinch my lips together before letting out a quiet sigh. The truth could ruin everything, but I have to tell him eventually. “I have a daughter, Liam, okay?”
He blinks wide-eyed back at me. “What?”
Holding my stomach, I crawl off him, arranging to sit with my legs hanging over the side of the couch. Even with what he went through with his babysitter, he’s too young to understand the kind of sacrifice I was forced to make. I wouldn’t be surprised if this scared him away.
“I was young…too young to offer her anything, so I gave her up. Brylee’s adoptive parents gave me this bracelet the day she was born. They wanted to give me something to show their appreciation, and something to remind me of her.”
He sits up beside me, running a hand over his messy hair. “Holy shit. How old is she?”
“She’ll be nine in June.”
“Jesus Christ, Brooke.” He drops his head into his hands, shaking it. “You would’ve been so fucking young.” He pauses, peering at me between his fingers. “Please don’t tell me your old man—”
“Oh my god, no.” My stomach folds over itself with the mere idea. “It was an older kid who lived in the foster home where I was placed. It wasn’t all that different from what happened to you. He was a crafty asshole…convinced me over time that touching me in that way would prove that I was loved. I was naive, but I still should’ve known better. I think I just liked the idea of someone being nice to me for a change…like it canceled out all the times my dad whipped me with his belt.”
Liam shoots to his feet, releasing a guttural roar. “Motherfucker!” Rage washes over him like a tidal wave as he begins to pace the living room, hands balled into fists, neck chorded. He’s suddenly too big for my little apartment, too scary. “Where can I find this asshole?”
“My social worker tried to find him when it came out that I was pregnant, but he ran away. Last I heard he was living somewhere out East.”
With a violent shake of his head, he drops down at my side, wiping his hands over his face. “I don’t know how to process this shit without wanting to tear someone’s head clean off. The fact that he got you pregnant, then ran off like a coward…it’s too damn much. I’d do anything to protect you, but I’m helpless here.”
“That was a long time ago…an entirely different chapter in my life.” I pull his hands away from his face and crawl into his lap, brushing my lips over his. “I’m happy now, because of you. You ma
ke everything better. No man has ever wanted to keep me safe the way you do. No one has ever made me feel this desired.”
His fingers brush my hair over my shoulders as his eyes rake over my sad expression. In this moment he’s so gentle and caring that I want to collapse in his arms and cry until I’m out of tears. I’ve never really allowed myself to mourn the loss of my daughter because I knew it may be more than I could handle.
“If you ever wanted to try to find her, I’d help you,” he offers gently.
My heart clenches with the amorous way he’s regarding me. This beautiful man has next to nothing…I should be offering to help him. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but if I ever want to meet Brylee, the adoptive parents gave me their numbers. I considered arranging something a couple years back when they reached out with a new address in Connecticut.” I wrap my arms around his neck, cherishing the intimacy of the moment. There’s no doubt in my mind he’d do anything for me, and that’s almost as scary as it is comforting. “I’m not sure I’m ready to take that step. She’s old enough to understand that she was abandoned. I know that feeling too well…I don’t think I could do that to her.”
“You might be surprised. She may understand if you told her the whole story. The fact that you gave her up because you wanted a better life for her says a lot. You think our parents ever would’ve done that for us? Hell no.” He kisses me long and hard, letting his lips linger for a minute before touching our foreheads together. “You’re a good person, Brooke. Your heart’s even bigger than your beautiful tits. It makes you easy as shit to fall in love with.”
There’s that word again.
The truth clicks into place, bringing a rush of tears to my eyes.
I’m head-over-heels in love with him.
THE NEXT MORNING I’m called into my supervisor’s office. Entering the small, stuffy room with dozens of files covering the outdated desk never fails to give me hives, and that’s without Tara sitting behind the desk. Today the sides of her pale blond hair are pulled back with bobby pins, and she’s wearing a black jacket over a plain white shirt. Closely set gray eyes, sharp cheekbones, thin lips always pressed into a hard line, she’s intimidating as hell in looks alone. Our relationship has always been formal and cold, so I really can’t say much about her personality other than the fact that she takes everything with dire seriousness. I once overheard two male attorneys joking over whether or not she’s human. I think they may be onto something.
“Have a seat,” she barks out in her usual brass tone. She holds up one of the standard green client files. “I’m going over Trask Green’s file, trying to piece everything together.”
I almost miss the edge of the armchair as I lower down, stomach churning. “Trask Green has a file with us?”
“He was temporarily removed from the home when he was four. His mother was found passed out in a parking lot after she’d shot up with heroine. Trask and an infant were found in the backseat.” The moment her sharp, beady eyes move up to meet mine, my bowels clench. “I’m assuming you know all about his recent charges as he’s a close friend of Liam Rooker’s. Were you aware he has a little sister?”
The room tilts a little when I nod. “Yeah, her name came up. Why?”
“Last contact we had with the family was ten years ago. Mom had successfully completed treatment and was holding down a steady job. But we received a heads up a couple weeks ago that the kids were living alone. I’ve been unable to reach her by either phone or the address on file. The middle school where Sasha is enrolled says she’s being homeschooled. Something doesn’t add up.” The way her dark eyes lock on me, I swear she can see the guilt written all over my face. “In the time you worked with Liam, did he mention anything about the sister? When I asked him about her, he claimed she went to live in Colorado with a relative, but there wasn’t any mention of extended family in the file. To be perfectly honest, I don’t trust that kid. I get the feeling he’s lying about everything.”
The instinct to lash out and tell her it’s because he doesn’t trust someone like her sticks to my throat. “What reason would he have to lie about something like that?”
“I’m not sure, but we received a tip on the hotline from a man that claimed Sasha is unaccounted for. He thinks someone is hiding her from child services.”
Fissions of fear ripple down my back.
Trask and Liam are right. King Marty is looking for Sasha.
9
LIAM
Throughout the month of April, we bring Sasha to band sessions less frequently. We’re leery after Brooke’s meeting with her supervisor, convinced King Marty’s actively on the prowl. The sessions when Brooke brings her by aren’t worth a shit anyway. By the time I catch Brooke’s big eyes on me, lips slightly parted like her panties are soaking wet, I miss chords and fuck up the beat. She can hardly contain herself from jumping my bones afterwards. One night she ambushes me with a blowjob in Jordan’s bathroom while everyone’s in the garage. It leads to the hottest quickie to date.
It’s the only time I ever see the guys outside of school, or when dropping Sasha with Grandma Miriam. Ryker’s still living in denialville, making it difficult as hell not to bring his uncle into the conversation when he mentions Trask, or asks how he’s doing. If he actually gave a shit, he would’ve visited him in jail by now.
I visit Trask at least every other day to assure him Sasha’s okay without telling him in those exact words, or giving up her location. He’s lost a considerable amount of weight, and any sign of hope has disappeared in his hollow expression, no matter what words of encouragement his attorney or I can throw at him.
On days when Brooke doesn’t have meetings or court hearings to attend, we meet for nooners at her place or Jordan’s, depending on his schedule. After Sasha’s asleep for the night we’ll often fool around behind Brooke’s closed bedroom door. After we clean out the shit that remains at my old apartment on the South Side, we go at it for hours in my bed and later fall asleep, barely waking in time to meet Jordan’s curfew.
We can’t get enough of each other. With every chance I get to sink into her, we’re already planning the next opportunity. What started out as a good time became a relationship more significant than anything I’ve ever known. I’ve come to need her in my life just as much as I need her hot little body. Her belief in me and words of encouragement are all that’s kept me going since Trask’s arrest. Scares me shitless to think of all the ways this thing with her could come to an abrupt end, and she could be torn from my life. I’ve never had anything this consistent, this meaningful.
Once Bender’s started serving out the 6 month sentence for lighting his foster parents’ car on fire, I stop by juvie. In sharp contrast to Trask, he’s all smiles when he comes around the corner of the visitor’s room, and there’s a skip in his step. Then again, he isn’t facing a life-sentence for murder.
Like his older brother, the fifteen-year-old has their mother’s thick eyebrows and model-like features. They’re both relatively tall, fit, and carry themselves with confidence. But looking into their eyes, their biggest differences are immediately clear. While Ryker’s blue eyes are always filled with brooding and indifference, Bender’s muddy brown orbs are overflowing with an odd blend of confidence and warmth that makes most people trust him on first sight. It’s part of the reason he’s become a highly skilled criminal.
“How’re they treating you?” I ask as we’re bumping fists.
The cocky little shit grins while lifting his chin. “This ain’t my first rodeo. Half the kids in here know not to mess with me. The others are learning.” I chuckle when his teeth flash with a smile, having no doubt he’s already in control here. He probably has the guards eating from the palm of his hand too. As we’re sitting across the table from each other, his smile drops. “How’s Trask?”
“Every time I see him, he’s slipping away a little more.” I inhale on a deep breath while running my fingers through my hair. “I’m not so sure he’ll make it until the t
rial without flipping his shit.”
After taking a thorough look around, he bends forward. “Stone tells me you think King Marty set him up.” The words ooze with the same excitement as his wide-eyed expression.
“I’d bet my fuckin’ life on it,” I snarl. “Trask was ready to confess to the murder after he saw him in the courtroom.”
His thick eyebrows shoot up. “Maybe Trask was skimmin’ off the supply of weed he was supposed to be dealing.”
“I already thought of that. As much as he likes to smoke, he’s well aware King Marty runs a tight ship. He wouldn’t do something that stupid when Sasha is counting on him. Besides, he gets enough free shit as part of his payment that he sometimes sells part of it off when money’s tight.” I stop to glance around, insuring no one’s listening in. “Some college girls went missing from Slick Willie’s awhile back. Maybe you could ask around here, see if anyone heard anything.”
Another confident lift of his chin accompanies a wide smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He’s just as eager to nail King Marty’s balls to the wall.
THE NIGHT before Trask’s trial, I can’t sleep for shit. After meeting with the friends of the missing girls, we haven’t uncovered any more clues. I remain watchful of King Marty’s operation from afar, still paying Candy to keep an eye out for anything unusual, but nothing turns up. The fact that we’re no closer to getting Trask freed fills me with a darkness that I doubt I could control.
Around the time I start planning ways to slit King Marty’s throat, I text Brooke from bed. She’s constantly reminding me that we have to remain cautious in what we say, although I understand what’s at risk. No way in hell I’m going to do anything to lose the chance to be with her.
ME: I failed him
Brooke: You’ve done everything you could.
