by Jo Raven
“But you can search his house, right?” Megan leans forward, pinning the officer with her dark gaze. “Maybe you will find something.”
“Not sure we can get a search warrant for this. We can’t search a house based on childhood memories. We need some compelling evidence. I am sorry.” She gives Zane a sympathetic look, while he gazes back blankly. “What I can do meanwhile is refer you to one of my colleagues who works with rape victims. He can help—”
Zane pushes to his feet, turns around and opens the door. I jump after him as he strides out, but Dakota is there before me, taking his arm, talking to him.
I turn back toward the officer. “That’s it? You’re gonna just ignore this? You have no fucking clue what it took for him to come here, answer all your questions. It’s a fucking circus!”
And okay, I’m vaguely aware that I’ve been angry with the police all along, that it’s not only this case that has me yelling at the poor nice officer but my own past as well. The failure of the law to protect me and to give me answers and justice back when I needed it.
I know all that, all right?
Doesn’t help one fucking bit with how I’m feeling right now.
***
Dakota is sitting with Zane on a bench right outside the small office. I’ve checked on them, and I’m giving them some space until he feels ready to talk to the officer again or walk out.
Up to him. As far as I’m concerned, he’s done more than enough by making this report in the mental state he’s in.
I close the door and turn toward the officer.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” I force my anger down so that I can speak without yelling. Megan’s presence at my side helps. “This is all very good. But that man, that criminal is out there. You can’t let him walk, not after knowing what he did to a kid, or more kids, for that matter.”
“More kids?” She shoots me a sharp glance. “Mr. Madden didn’t mention that.”
“Well, let me tell you about it. Kenneth Shaw was his foster father, and Zane wasn’t the only kid in that house. If he did this to Zane, what do you think happened to those other kids, huh? ”
The officer pales and sits down, her hands writhing in her lap. “Oh my God. He was the foster father? I need to add this information to the report. I will… I will check with social services, see if any of the kids he fostered have come forth with similar accusations. If they have, we could build a case—”
“You’re not getting me.” I put my hands on the table, stare down at her. “The piece of shit who did this to Zane, and possibly to more kids, is out there. He’s in this city, right now. Zane has seen him a couple of times, and we found him. We know where he lives and what car he drives.”
“Dear God.” The woman looks from me to Megan, her face reddening like she’s about to have a heart attack. “You looked for him on your own? Has he seen you? Have you talked to him? Has he recognized Mr. Madden?”
“That’s a good question.” I shoot Megan a worried glance. “We don’t know if he recognized Zane.”
The last time Zane said the guy ran after him, but he was confused, and in full flashback mode, so…
“You shouldn’t have done this,” the officer says.
“We saved you time,” I tell her. “By the time you found out where he is, he’d have the time to hurt more kids.”
“Are you telling me, Mr.….?”
“Vestri. Rafaele Vestri.”
“Mr. Vestri, are you telling me that this man still fosters children?”
Megan taps a hand on her knee, brows drawn together. “We don’t know for sure. One of the neighbors thought she heard a scream.”
“She also thought she saw a kid at one of the windows,” I add.
“Thought? She isn’t sure?”
Goddammit. “Will you check on this man?”
“I will, Mr. Vestri, you have my word.” She pushes the laptop aside. “If he is fostering children, we need to make sure he isn’t abusing them. We will definitely look into that. Why don’t you leave me your contact information, you and Mr. Madden, and I will let you know as soon as I find something out? I promise you I will do my best to shed light on this case.”
Yeah, I’ve heard all this before. We thank her, and I tug Megan to her feet so we can go.
Despite the officer’s assurances, I feel as if we’ve accomplished nothing today other than cause Zane more distress.
“If he has foster kids now,” Megan tells me quietly, “they’ll hunt him down to make sure they’re okay. It’s going to be fine.”
But deep inside I know that answers never come to you the easy way. You have to go after them, battle for them—and it seems this time is no different.
Chapter Twenty Three
Megan
Rafe is upset, and I understand why. Still, the officer was nice, and she promised to do her best. Dylan had warned us that without evidence the law couldn’t do much. We gave it our best shot. Now the report is there and it’s a start.
I also know it’s not enough. That the presence of that man in the city has Zane on edge and fighting to preserve his sanity. It looks like it’s becoming a thin line.
Rafe doesn’t believe that the police will help. Truth be told, I don’t either. Back when I was afraid for my life, when I had a killer at my back, and I’d prepared to run away, Rafe dealt with it on his own. Well, with the help of our friends, but still. The police were informed after the fact. After Rafe took the killer down, saving me from his hands, and almost dying in the process.
On most days, I try not to remember that terrible night when I thought I might not see Rafe again. When I thought he’d die, and that I’d die, too.
How could I have foreseen this day, with him and with our son—being so happy and unafraid?
Unafraid for us. But Zane is another matter altogether. I don’t like the way he’s been since we left the police station, quiet and closed off. Like his hope went out once more. Can’t blame him, not after what the officer said.
This isn’t right. Everything is so wrong, I don’t know where to start to make it right again.
But all I can do today is hold my baby son, stroke his hair and kiss his cheeks, and remember that there is goodness in this life.
That things which terrified me proved not to be the monsters I expected. That fighting for the ones you love is rewarding, and Zay is proof of that. A little fussy, chubby proof squirming in my arms.
God, I love my two boys. I love them and want to keep them close to my chest, close to my heart—safe in my arms forever.
And the same goes for my friends.
I buckle Zay in his car seat and we drive home in silence. I sense Rafe would rather do anything but go back to work today. He wants to take action, but doesn’t know what to do, except wait for the police to tell us what they find out.
Also, he’s not the only one who has work and chores and babies to take care of. Life goes on.
We enter our apartment and I stand inside the living room, the baby in my arms, thinking.
Holding Zay soothes me, but I’m going back to work in a few days, and we still haven’t figured out who will look over him while I’m gone.
Then again… my new job is holding the desk in the new shop next to the original Damage Control. Rafe has agreed I could keep the baby there with me some of the time, if he’s not too noisy. I’m reluctant to let him out of my sight for long.
That was before we found out about Zane’s past and the bastard who abused him being loose in our town, but I assume this plan hasn’t changed.
And the wedding is coming up, soon. Since Dylan proposed to Tessa, I’ve been dying to ask her whether that means we’ll have a triple wedding. Us, Tyler and Erin, then her and Dylan. It would be fun.
The baby gurgles, and I make little squeaky noises at him. I imagine this is how mom cats communicate with their kittens. Zay wags his arms and gurgles again.
At least this little guy is happy, and healthy, and loved, and the thought of kids b
eing hurt when I could prevent it from happening is a sick twist in my stomach.
“What are we going to do?” I finally ask Rafe who hasn’t spoken a word since we left the station. “I can hear you thinking, you know.”
He turns to me, flashes me a half smile that barely reveals one of his sexy dimples. “How to pleasure you tonight.”
A rush of heat floods my face. That’s not what I expected to hear.
And the excitement I feel is a new thing. After giving birth, I didn’t want to even think about sex for the next ten years. During this past week, though, I got some of my interest back, especially when Rafe kissed me and touched me until I came apart in his hands.
It was so good. I’d forgotten how good it can be between us.
“And how will you do that?” I decide to go with the flow. If this is meant as a distraction, if he doesn’t want to talk about Zane right now, that’s fine with me.
“I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve, future Mrs. Vestri. I’ve been dying to taste you for the past two months.”
I duck my head, cheeks burning. “Have you?”
“Yeah.” He leans in, nuzzles my neck. “Just wait and see.”
***
Zay is playing with the milk bottle, trying to grab it with his tiny hands. Early on it was decided I don’t have enough milk. The doctor said that’s quite common. Formula is okay, she explained to me. Maybe it’s not as good as mother’s milk, but the main thing is that the baby is growing strong and healthy.
And he sure is.
Milk is dribbling out the side of his mouth. I reach for the Kleenex, and Rafe passes one to me.
“Let me hold him,” he says, and wordlessly I pass him the bundle and the milk bottle.
I love watching him with the baby. Rafe is a natural, and he always looks so much calmer and happier when he’s holding Zay.
Like now. “How’s my boy?” he whispers and gives Zay a full-megawatt grin, both dimples making an appearance. “Did you have a good day? Did you miss us?”
God, he’s gorgeous.
Zay is, too, of course. But Zay is rather cute and chubby. My baby daddy, though…
God. With his golden mane tucked behind his ears, the silver hoops in them glinting, the complex tattoos covering the muscular arm that’s gently cradling our baby… He’s the sexiest boy in the world.
Not for the first time I wonder how I won the lottery in the men department—because he’s not only the sexiest, but also the kindest and best of guys—when my life before him seemed more like a cosmic joke.
Done in very bad humor. I mean, I’d grown up with an alcoholic mom who chose abusive lover after abusive lover, so that I’d felt unsafe all my life living with her. And then I’d had a killer on my tail.
Until Rafe. He changed everything for me.
“When will I see your wedding dress?” He hasn’t looked up from the baby, but the twinkle in his eye tells me he knows I’ve been ogling him.
“On our wedding day. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see it before that?”
“I don’t believe in rules. I mean, I’ve kissed you.” He smirks. “Kissed you so thoroughly we had a baby.”
I snicker even as arousal slams through me. “Someone needs to explain biology to you, Mr. Vestri. Kissing doesn’t work that way.”
“Oh, I know my biology.” He finally looks up, his golden eyes heated. “I’ve mapped your body and branded it in my mind. And I know where babies come from.”
“Do you, now?” I shiver, because I remember him by my side as I pushed Zay into the world, and where I’d been aroused, now I’m not so sure anymore I want him touching me at all.
As if reading my mind, he flashes me that sexy grin of his, and says, “You’ll see, babe. I won’t hurt you. I swear.”
I trust him. Have trusted him from the start, and he has never let me down.
“If Zay falls asleep, and if he doesn’t wake up after half an hour crying,” I say, because it has happened before.
“Zay and I, we have an understanding. Don’t we, buddy?” Rafe takes away the empty milk bottle and lifts the baby to make him burp. “You sleep, and I will go down on my beautiful girlfriend until she screams my name.”
“That will wake him up,” I point out, feeling flushed and warm all over again, my pussy clenching.
“And it will be worth it,” Rafe says and winks.
***
“What are you reading?” He’s standing at the foot of our bed, dressed only in black pants and his golden mane.
Shirtless.
The book falls from my hand as I stare at him, helpless. “I don’t know.”
He chuckles, a deep sound that runs under my skin and resonates in my center. He comes around the bed to sit beside me. “How’s my girl?”
I want to lie, but I can’t. “Worried about Zane and Dakota.”
“Maybe I can distract you.” He runs a hand over my bare arm. “We could distract each other.”
Goosebumps cover my skin. I want it, so much, and yet I’m afraid. He is distracting all right, the ink covering his impressive chest and arms drawing my eyes like always to his taut pecs, his chiseled abs, his thick biceps.
He leans over me, kissing my shoulder, his hair tickling and cool, his mouth hot, his tongue a rough-raspy counterpoint to the softness of his lips.
My breath hitches. “Rafe…”
“Love you, Meg.” And with that, he presses me back into the mattress and kisses me.
He does know how to kiss me thoroughly, I think fuzzily as he uses his teeth and tongue and lips to light a fire in my blood. The throb between my legs is maddening. I haven’t come since he touched me last week, and that was the only time since giving birth.
I try to press my legs together, to relieve some of the pressure, but his knee finds its way between them. His hand strokes my shoulder, then pulls down the thin strap of my nightie. His palm presses over my breast and I moan in his mouth.
He lifts his head, grins down at me. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.”
And before I can even think of an answer to that, he drags up my nightie to bare me. Instinctively I try to cover myself, though the only visible change to my body is a small belly that’s left from the pregnancy—but I somehow feel embarrassed.
Don’t ask. It makes no sense. This is the guy who knocked me up, after all, and saw me with a bump so big I could barely walk.
His eyes darken. He tugs my hands away from my body, and he closes his mouth over one nipple, shooting electric pleasure through my core.
“Oh God, Rafe…”
By the time he moves to my other breast, I’m arching my back off the bed, begging for release. He has one hand braced on the mattress, but he uses the other one to stroke me over my panties, and I’m so close to coming already, it’s crazy.
He finally looks up and releases my aching nipple, giving it a last lick, like a cat licking the last drop of cream. “Put your thumb in your mouth,” he says, and I blink at him, confused. “I wanna see you do it.”
Rafe has a few kinks. Nothing big, but he’s surprised me once or twice with his requests. For instance, he likes me tugging on his cock piercings sometimes. The pain makes his pleasure more intense. And he likes coming all over me.
I slip my thumb into my mouth and suck lightly.
My skin is salty. For some reason, my body responds to this action by arching off the bed a little bit more, my pussy clenching on nothing. I moan, unable to help myself and wonder if my body has been fooled into thinking I’m sucking Rafe’s cock off.
Though, size difference, brain. Come on. Seriously now.
Rafe is watching me, his mouth slightly agape. The gold of his eyes has turned almost black, his pupils dilated. He shifts on the bed, on his knees, the bulge between his legs spectacular.
See, brain? Size matters.
He bares his teeth like he’s in pain, and boy if I had that hard-on trapped so snuggly in my pants I’d be in pain, too.
But instead of taking
care of it—and I’d pay good money to watch right now—he snaps my panties down and goes to town between my legs.
I try to keep quiet, I really do. I suck on my thumb, trying to stifle my moans as he sucks on my clit, then swipes his tongue lower, thrusting it into my pussy, fucking me with it.
It’s a lost battle. My thumb falls away, and I cry out as I start coming against his mouth, my whole body tightening and then releasing, until the pleasure rushes through me like a tidal wave, wiping my mind clean. Leaving me shaky and breathless and boneless on the bed.
He gives my pussy one last lick and I shudder, moaning. “You taste so good.” He sits back, wipes his hand over his mouth and gazes at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Like my favorite candy.”
“And what’s that?” I whisper, unable to think. God, I should know that, right?
“It’s called Sexy Girl,” he says, and I laugh. “And you’re the only one I want.”
Aww shucks. He says things like that and melts my heart. He’s so considerate, and sweet, and gorgeous, and… aroused. Very aroused.
I’m staring at his hard-on and it looks like it’s about to burst through his pants.
He glances down, following my gaze, and gives a sheepish half-shrug. “What can I say? We’re both damn excited to see you.”
“Come here.” I sit up, letting my nightie cover my body again, and reach for his zipper.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think?” Though he has a right to look so confused. I haven’t touched him in the past two months. Not even last week when he touched me. I had felt… weird. A weird aversion to the body of the man I love.
When I pull out his hard-on, he hisses between his teeth. I stare down at it. Haven’t seen it in a while, and it sure is big, bigger than my memory pictured it. With the piercings across the crown it’s even more impressive.
No way am I letting that monster cock inside me in the foreseeable future. Not after pushing out a ten-pound baby. It’s… scary. I’m afraid to put anything in there again.
