Fall (Roam Series, Book Two)

by Kimberly Adams

  “Can I just… take a drive? Alone?”

  She froze with her keys in her hand. “Roam…”

  “I want to get some fresh air and clear my mind. I’ll have my phone on me and answer it every time your text or call. Unless I’m driving. I promise not to text and drive.”

  “If you don’t answer me within ten minutes, I’ll send in reinforcements.” I knew that she meant Logan.

  “Deal.”

  “Don’t wreck my car.” She passed me the keys to her Malibu. “When are you coming home?”

  “No more than an hour. I just need to clear my mind, and then back to my map.”

  “Be careful.”

  I nodded. Backing the Malibu out of the driveway, I mentally checked myself.

  Do not do this. You are not ready.

  “Radio.” I tapped the buttons on Morgan’s dash and somehow settled on the nineties station.

  I recognized Stone Temple Pilots from West’s nineties playlist, “Interstate Love Song” helping me ignore the thoughts in my head.

  In less than fifteen minutes, I pulled into West’s driveway.

  Well, I almost made it to Wednesday.

  The front door brought back memories of the terrible night of Troy’s attack. I lifted my hand to knock, and then pulled it away.

  This will end badly.

  “Give it to him, leave,” I murmured, lifting my knuckles to the door and giving three sharp raps.

  The door opened.

  West, still in dress clothes from school, took a step back. Loud music filled the house as if he worked to drown his own thoughts out as I had.

  “Are you okay?” His voice was urgent as he reached for me. I backed out of his grasp, my feet firmly rooted on the front porch.

  “Hi West.” I shoved my fingers into my back pocket, pulling at the thin photo. “I didn’t want to… throw this out… without you seeing it, so…” I cursed the unforgiving tears that dripped down my face. “This was the first one. The… only one.”

  He accepted the photo, unfolding it. I wiped the sleeve of my blue and white, Madison Swim Team sweatshirt across my face. “The arrow points to the… dot, it’s hard to see. You can just throw it away. I didn’t want to bring it to school…”

  “Roam.” His voice interrupted my anxious words. “I’ve never seen this before. I’ve never seen our baby like this before.”

  He leaned against the frame of the door, as if for support. I watched his finger as he traced the image. Nirvana’s “All Apologies” began, and I remembered what his bedroom looked like.

  I remember what his bed feels like.

  A misty rain started to blow inside the porch, making me shiver. “That’s all,” I whispered, turning to walk back to the car.

  His voice stopped me. “I dreamed about Eva last night.”

  I reached for the railing of the porch for support, unable to move.

  “When I woke up, I could still feel her. In my arms.”

  Without turning, I let the wet wind soak my face as I stood perfectly still.

  His footsteps on the wooden deck sounded from behind me. I almost made the complete turn to face him as his mouth crashed to mine.

  The rain turned to icy pelts as he lifted me into his arms and tucked me up and against him. I cried out softly as his hands supported beneath my thighs with his muscular grasp.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, gripping his waist with my legs. He turned us both, pressing me against the wide, sustaining post of the porch.

  His mouth urged mine to open, and I bit my lip to resist succumbing to his teasing tongue. The moment my teeth clamped, he gripped my forearms from behind his neck, his thumb covering the numbers through my sleeve as he pinned my arms up and over my head. His mouth turned fierce, devouring, tormenting as he refused to let me touch him with my hands.

  Jolts of electricity rampaging through my veins left me gasping against his lips. He groaned and crushed me tighter to him, threading his fingers through mine against the rigid, wooden post. As he did, the ultrasound photo caught the wind, blowing across the yard like a dead, fallen leaf.

  His mouth tasted like rain. I licked at his lips, blinking away water in my eyes.

  “Christ,” he growled, releasing my arms to slide his hand under my thigh, beneath the back pocket of my jeans.

  “Let go of me.” I bucked beneath his torturing mouth, cringing as his tongue lowered to my bruised neck. The wind picked up in the darkness, tossing my hair in every direction. He caught a handful in his fist, tugging softly for better access to my neck.

  “I can’t.” He moved up to my ear and I lost control. “I told you that I never would the first time I was inside of you. When I made you mine, it was forever.”

  God, his words tore me apart.

  A primitive need for him sent my fingers to his soaking chest, and I scratched at the buttons, not caring that they tore beneath my grasp. Basking in the pain that the wooden post caused against my back, I dove for his chest, my lips touching the taut muscle beneath his searing skin.

  “Roam.” He released my hair and gripped my face in his hands, forcing me away from his chest.

  I stared at him through the darkness, panting, eyelids heavy.

  “Finish this,” I managed between clenched teeth.

  He drew me against him, carrying me inside the house. The music drowned out my ability to think. We made it as far as the stairs before he pulled my sweatshirt over my head as his mouth lowered to my chest. I gave into the confusion, the unbalanced feeling of him carrying me with my legs wrapped around his back.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he groaned against my ear.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I repeated his words, shoving my fingers into his hair and pulling so that his chin lifted to my mouth.

  He backed me against the wall in his bedroom, his fingers tearing at the button on my jeans. I wriggled out of them as he turned us and dropped me to the bed.

  Without the lamp, his silhouetted body was massive, towering over me in the moonlight that poured through his bedroom window. I heard him fumble with something, and I realized that he had a condom in his hand.

  “What…?” I met his eyes in the darkness as the music quieted enough for me to hear his words.

  “I just want you,” he hushed, pressing me back against the cool sheets. “Only you.”

  The room was filled with the music, my panting breaths, and the rain striking the roof. He eased over me, and I backed against the pillow, watching his shadowed face as he lowered himself against me.

  His body slowed, his mouth gentled, and languorously I writhed. As his kiss moved lower, lingering over my bare stomach, my back arched at the deliberate, perfect agony. My fingernails curled into his broad shoulders as his tongue traced my navel.

  The music ended.

  Silence took us both over.

  I tensed. It had been so very long. He sensed my resistance and lifted his face, his eyes piercing mine in the darkness. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this to you, Roam?”

  “West,” I swallowed, licking my lips as his mouth lowered again.

  “Since I saw your goddamn map.”

  His words registered, and I let a breathy laugh escape, shaking my head in protest. “Don’t curse,” I ordered, dragging his face to mine.

  Tenderly, he kissed me, guiding me through the storm raging inside. He thrust inside of me, and I opened to him, my body drawing him in and remembering his strength. He had barely pulled away to drive into me again and I was coming, the orgasm tearing me apart.

  “West,” I begged, raking my nails down his back as he dropped his forehead to mine.

  He made love to me like it was the end of the world, clinging to me in quiet anguish. “I love you,” he whispered against my lips, and I came apart again in his arms.

  The timeless bond between us left me grasping for reality. He held me as we mourned what we had lost and all that we stood to lose. My body wrenched beneath the weight of my tears,
but he held me in place, in the only place that I belonged.

  In his arms.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Don’t leave.”

  “Morgan texted me five times. I just texted her back, but she’s so mad.” I shoved my foot into my jeans, tugging them over my hips.

  “School is going to be… difficult… tomorrow.” He sprawled naked on the bed, and I turned to him, smirking.

  “The feeling will be mutual.”

  “Roam.” He sat up and looped his finger inside the waist of my jeans, tugging me toward him. “No more of this. You deserve to be respected. No more…” He struggled to articulate his words, and I lifted my eyes.

  “Booty calls?”

  “Goddamn it.”

  “West.” I straddled his legs on the edge of the bed, hugging him tightly. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I just have so much anger. And it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. I have to work this out.”

  “Taking you out is not possible while I’m teaching you. And I need to be at the school… with you, while you’re there. That’s about me.”

  “Being my hero. I know.”

  He glanced at the clock on his bedside table, sighing and reaching for sweatpants. “I have to go feed him.”

  I stared at him, confused, and the realization of his words left me staggering. “Troy… my God, how could I have forgotten that he was here?”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  I slipped my sweatshirt over my head. “I want to see him.”

  “What?” He shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely not-”

  “Stop me then.” I ran for the door. He crossed the room in seconds, catching me before I could make it to the stairs.

  “He is not tied up. He’s in a cell that I had built for him, and has a toilet and running water, and I feed him twice a day. It’s better than state prison.”

  I ducked out of his arms, running down the stairs. “Good, then he can’t touch me.”

  “You don’t have to worry about his condition, Roam.” He stepped in front of me again, stopping me before I could reach the kitchen.

  I stopped, lifting my face to his. “He can rot for all I care.”

  Confusion passed over West’s face, and finally, he realized. “He knew about Eva.”

  “I want to kill him.” I twisted my fingers together until my skin tore. “Show me how to break his neck.”

  “This isn’t you, Roam.”

  “Maybe it is!” I dodged past him, running to the door and throwing it open. I almost made it to the first step when he caught me around the waist.

  “No. I won’t let you become this-”

  “Let me go! Let me go now, West.”

  He stared me in the eyes, and I held his even gaze.

  Finally, he shook his head, releasing me. “Go.”

  I walked down the stairs quickly, turning to the movement that I caught from the corner of my eye. Troy sat on a rudimentary cot, his arms crossed over his broad chest. West followed me down.

  The basement, unfinished, was dimly lit by only a single, hanging bulb. The cement floor appeared to have been flooded in the past, and a bench with sawhorses and carpentry tools lined the wall to the right.

  There were no windows.

  “There she is,” he drawled with a slow grin. “My beautiful queen.”

  “Come closer.” My voice, throaty and harsh from the damage he’d caused, came out thick and heated.

  He was on his feet in a flash, slamming to the iron bars West had installed. I shivered involuntarily, glancing at West.

  “Madison Swim Team,” Troy read across my sweatshirt. “Well, that brings back some fun memories.”

  “You knew that Eva…” my voice shook on her name, “would disappear. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He scoffed. “Not sure if you’re aware, but we’re enemies.”

  “You gave me a warning… but you didn’t explain. Why would you even warn me?”

  His eyes bored into mine. “You gave me water. Weak moment.”

  The basement echoed with stillness.

  “Okay, Roam, come on.” West’s voice, over my shoulder, interrupted the reverie.

  Coldness settled in my very immortal soul.

  I took a step toward Troy, my eyes fixed with his. He watched me carefully.

  “I want to hurt you,” I breathed.

  He tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving mine. “Another couple weeks until her meds kick in?” he asked West.

  West moved to my side. “Roam.”

  “Wait.” I lowered my voice to a soothing lull, dying slowly in Troy’s icy stare. “I think he’ll let me.”

  Troy ran his finger down the bar in front of him, his eyes locked in mine. “Will you like it, my pretty little queen?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “What would you like to do to me?”

  West nearly grabbed me, but I shook my head. “I want to cut you, Troy. From throat to navel.”

  “Roam, we’re going upstairs. Now.” West grabbed my hand, but I shook him loose.

  “Go get me a knife,” I ordered him.

  “You can’t do it.” Troy held his arms out at his sides, challenging. “Tie me to the bars. You won’t do it. Not in this life. You’re a crying, pathetic little child in this life.”

  Fury took over, and I turned to West. “Get me a knife, or I’ll get it myself.”

  West shook his head. “He can’t die, Roam.”

  “He can feel pain.” I backed to the stairs. “Tie him up for me, or I’ll do it myself.”

  Troy grinned disgustingly. “I’ll let her tie me up. This is the most fun I’ve had in centuries.”

  “Roam, you’re losing it.” West followed me up the stairs and into the kitchen. I walked to the butcher block by the stove, pulling the largest knife from the top slat.

  “Tie him up!” I screamed, and he caught my wrist with his strong grip.

  “This isn’t you. You wanted him fed and cleaned, and now you want to cut him up?”

  “He took everything from me,” I hissed, gripping the knife in my hands until my palm was slippery. “From us.”

  West held my angry stare. “If I tie him to the bars, will you stop this?”

  I turned and went back down into the basement. West moved to the corner for rope, and Troy’s eyes lit with excitement.

  “Game on.” He stood against the bars, facing outward. West grabbed each arm with a brutal grip, one at a time, and secured him to the iron rods. “Wait, I need to be a little lower, judging by her height.” He laughed, sickening me, infuriating me. “Ah, Roam. You couldn’t kill a fly.”

  I walked toward him slowly and stopped, looking down at the knife in my hands. “This is too sharp.” I dropped it, jolting as it clanged the floor. “When you cut me up in France, the blade was dull.” Walking to the wall with the tool bench, I surveyed what I had to work with. “It was long, and dull.”

  Finally, I reached for a large, flathead screwdriver.

  “You’re about one hundred pounds, soaking wet. Do you know the force it’ll take to stab me with that?”

  Half running with adrenaline, I turned on him before I could think. Pulling my arm back over my shoulder, I thrust the screwdriver between the bars and into his neck.

  I backed up as blood spurted forth, drenching my face. His eyes bugged in pain and disbelief, and I screamed.

  I couldn’t stop screaming.

  My foot slipped in the blood and I fell backward, and West caught me in midair. “I can’t believe… Jesus fucking Christ,” he growled, reaching for the screwdriver and yanking it out of Troy’s throat. Blood pumped from his neck, and he fell, hanging from the ropes at his wrists.

  “Where’s your hero?!” I shrieked at him, slipping through the blood in my bare feet to claw at his face. I felt my fingernails bend backward as I dug at his skin. “Where is your hero? I hate you! I hate you! Just die!”

  “Roam!” West dragged me away from
him as I kicked. Finally, I went limp, falling on the concrete floor, covered in blood.

  I stared at my hands, watching blood seep under my broken fingernails. He scooped me into his arms, taking two stairs at once. By the time we made it to his bathroom, I leaned against his bare, bloodied chest, exhausted.

  “I didn’t think you’d do it.” He turned on the water, and then the shower, gently stripping my stained clothes away. I watched the blood mix with the water as it swirled down the drain. “Can you hear me? Baby, don’t do this…”

  “I’m not crazy.” I lifted my eyes to meet his. He soaked a washcloth, wiping Troy’s blood away from my face. “I’m not. I know who I am.” My voice was barely there.

  West stopped wiping, cupping my chin in his hand. “Maybe I didn’t know… what you were capable of.”

  He searched my eyes, and I winced, wrapping my arms around my body.

  “I hate what I did… I hate that I wanted to do it,” I sobbed. “Will I feel guilty?”

  “Oh, Roam.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe,” he said finally, lathering my hair with shampoo as he knelt next to the tub, fighting with each strand. “You’ve never done anything like this.”

  “How do I stop feeling like this?”

  “You have to forgive yourself.”

  “How do I stop hating him?”

  His hand stilled, and he looked down at me. “You have to forgive him.”

  “Do you? Forgive him?”

  West rinsed more blood from my hair. “I will never forgive him.”

  I leaned against the claw-footed tub as he cleaned the blood from my body. I thought of my mother, of Eva, and of heaven and hell. Good, Catholic girls like Morgan and I believed our mother went to heaven.

  But where was Eva?

  I sat in silence beneath the hot water, thinking about the tips of her tiny fingers. West pulled me to a standing position, wrapping me in a thick, white towel.

  “I’m going to try to clean the basement. Your bag, the one you packed before we left, is in the bedroom. Put some clothes on, and then I’m going to drive you home.”

  “I’ll help you clean-”