Her safety is more important than her anger and hurt right now. She’ll forgive me after I fuck her a few times, after I show her just what she means to me.
Deciding to call my friend, I can’t wait for more information to come, I need to get it straight from the source and I don’t want it over fucking email.
“Jonas,” he barks into his phone. He always sounds pissed off and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Sorry to call so late,” I murmur.
I make my way out of my house, locking the front door behind me.
He chuckles. “I knew you would, especially after that email I sent you.”
“Brooklyn’s my woman. What do I have to worry about?” I ask, putting it all on the table. As far as he knows, she’s mine, even if she doesn’t want to believe it her damn self.
“Your woman? Damn. I saw her picture. You’re a lucky fuck. Though, haven’t you always been?” he states.
It takes everything inside of me not to scream at him, to force him to tell me just what in the fuck is going on. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, just waiting to jump, my body is nothing but adrenaline at this point, it sure as fuck isn’t even a semblance of rested.
Luckily, he doesn’t make me wait long. “In all actuality, you’re both probably fine. We’re going to wrap this up before the end of summer. Just sit tight, keep a vigilant eye. Nothing will probably happen, but I wanted to keep you informed, just in case.”
I grunt a thank you, and we shoot the shit for a few moments before we end the call. I take off on my run and think about his words, wondering if Curtis is really the one behind all of the notes and flowers. I shake my head. This started before she submitted the information to the Feds. It’s probably all a coincidence.
My stomach twists, knowing that it all has something to do with this fucking case. It isn’t completely random, even if it’s not Curtis, it’s Meredith or both of them together. I would not put it past the divorcing couple to be working together.
They’re both the epitome of self-centered. Money is all they care about, and if they think that one, or worst-case scenario, both of them won’t get sole custody of the boy, that affects them together. Bottom line is that Brooklyn isn’t safe, not really.
Seven days is long enough. This shit ends now. I push myself harder, running faster, until my lungs are burning. Tonight, it’s done. She won’t spend another night alone, not ever again. Whether I want to admit it aloud or not, this woman is something more than an easy fuck to me.
I don’t just fucking like her.
I think that I goddamn love her.
BROOKLYN
It’s been a long day. It actually feels like one of the longest ever. No, scratch that, this has been the absolute longest week of my life.
Every day I go to work, stay there until dark, then I come home to my empty house and eat ice cream as I stare at the television. I’m a damn mess. Lillie still hasn’t messaged me back, and even if she did, I’m not sure I could muster up the energy to reply. Just getting my ass out of bed in the morning is exhausting.
My house is also a mess. The absolute last thing I want to do is go home and clean all evening. I honestly don’t even care. There is nobody around to see it. My stalker has all but disappeared and so has Lucas. My eyes water at the last part, at the fact that Lucas is gone.
Tonight, I decide to head toward Starbucks and grab a coffee before I go home to my empty space. I need a special treat, a pick me up of some kind. Plus, I haven’t eaten all day and my stomach is making the most awful noise. I know that once I get home, that pint of ice cream awaits me.
The drive-thru line is nonexistent, it only takes me minutes to order, pay and drive away with my drink. With my coffee in hand, I head toward home.
I mentally tick through the things that I need to prepare before court in a few days. The deadline is closing in and I’m nervous as hell, not because of the case, but because I’ll be seeing Lucas again. I have everything pretty much handled, along with my recommendation for the judge.
The last thing I need to worry about is being examined by both counsels. I know Lucas won’t go easy on me. He’s professional and he has an image to uphold, he is a winner like he’s mentioned more than once.
I let out a sigh at the thought of Lucas. I miss him. I miss his embrace, his green eyes that dance when he watches me. I miss his arrogance and even his smirk. The fact is, I just miss him.
Maybe I was being too hasty when I left his house?
Maybe I was just being jealous?
Maybe he hasn’t come after me and that’s what hurts the most?
Turning down my block, I’m surprised to see fire trucks, an ambulance, and police cars littering my normally quiet street. Our community never has any major issues.
It isn’t until I inch forward, closer to my home, that I realize the reason they’re there. I slam on my brakes in the middle of the street, throw my car into park, and fling my driver’s side door open.
Scrambling out of my car, my knees almost buckle at the sight in front of me.
My entire condo is engulfed in flames.
My eyes scan the people standing around, and I recognize all of them. They’re my neighbors. They’re all standing across the street from my condo, watching it burn. I do the same, standing in shock as everything that I own burns to the ground in front of my eyes.
The fire hose does little to extinguish the flame, it’s roaring hot and burning a bright shade of rusty orangey-red. I shake my head as my phone rings from inside of my car.
I reach into the driver’s side, grabbing my ringing phone from my cup holder in the center console. Looking down, I start to unlock it with shaky fingers as it rings in my hand. I am under no illusion that the person on the other end of the unknown number isn’t connected to the fact that my house is burning to the ground.
“Next time his house burns. You and Lucas will both be inside,” a voice sneers before the call ends.
“Brooklyn, are you okay?” someone calls out.
I look over to see my neighbor, Mark, making his way toward me on a jog. Any other time, I would possibly put on my flirting face, maybe flick my hair to the side, but not today. Not when I’m standing here, hopeless and helpless, not when the only person I want next to me is Lucas.
“I’m not okay,” I admit.
“Can I call someone for you? Your roommate. What’s her name… Lillie?” he asks.
I shake my head explaining to him that Lillie moved to Paris a few months ago. I open and close my mouth a few times before I whisper Lucas’ name.
“Call Lucas,” I repeat.
My lips are trembling and my voice cracking as the gravity of the situation promptly lands on my chest, making me feel as though I can hardly breathe.
“Okay, babe. I’ll call Lucas. Can you come have a seat over here?”
He guides me to the curb and helps me sit down. I watch as he thumbs through my phone, standing next to me, his eyes glancing down at me every so often. He looks genuinely concerned and I realize that he’s a decently nice guy.
At least my attraction to men doesn’t mean that I’m only into assholes. I just so happen to fall in love with the assholes. Which sucks big time. My heart belongs to the biggest asshole of them all, Lucas fucking Black.
“This is Mark. I’m a neighbor of Brooklyn’s. Look, she needs you right now,” he pauses. “Her place is burning to the ground, man.”
He sounds frustrated, and I vaguely hear Lucas’ deep timbre through the phone, but it all sounds so far away. Then, the voices stop and he slowly slips my phone into my palm before he sits down next to me on the curb.
“Your boyfriend’s kind of a dick,” he murmurs.
I don’t stop myself from laughing softly. “He’s an asshole,” I admit, tipping my head back to look into his eyes.
I don’t correct him and say that Lucas is not my boyfriend. I don’t think the man could be a boyfriend anyway. I don’t think he has it in him
. He could be my man, maybe, if he would just let me in the tiniest bit. But a boyfriend he is not.
He grins down at me. “He really is.”
We sit in silence together on the curb for at least twenty minutes. I can feel the adrenaline, the shock and fear slowly draining from my body, the exhaustion I’ve been feeling for days somehow amplifies almost immediately.
I yawn, trying to keep my eyes open as I continue to watch the firefighters work and struggle to contain the blaze ahead of me. We sit in silence, conversation halted and I’m perfectly content with that. I don’t want to talk about anything anyway. I’m too lost inside of my own head.
The sound of Lucas’ Ferrari causes me to sit up a bit straighter, my spine stiffening as he speeds down the street, coming to a screeching halt in front of us. Mark’s eyes widen as he looks from the car to me. I grin.
“You have no idea,” I mutter.
I hear Lucas’ door slam, but keep my eyes focused on the ground in front of me. I don’t know that I can look into his green eyes right now without falling apart. It’s been seven days, but it may have been seven years, it’s felt like a lifetime without him. He dropped everything to come here to me, he’s here, and I can’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes.
“Kitten, you better get your ass over here,” Lucas calls out.
Finally, I slowly lift my gaze up and chance looking at his face. His eyes are narrowed and focusing on Mark who is chuckling next to me, obviously not scared of Lucas’ ire. I would be, I am.
“I can only guess. Damn, girl, you lucked out,” Mark mutters.
Deciding I’ve had enough of the distance between us. No matter how pissed off that I am with him, he’s here for me and this week has been a living nightmare without him.
I stand to my feet, giving Mark a small wave behind me as I begin to make my way toward Lucas. I can hear him laughing behind me, obviously enjoying the little show between Lucas and I.
When I’m close enough, shamefully, I throw myself in Lucas’ arms and inhale his scent as I shove my face in his neck. His arms hold me tightly against his body, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“Fuck, kitten,” he curses.
Chapter Two
BROOKLYN
I sit in Lucas’ Ferrari and watch him move my car to the side of the street. Parking it before slamming the door, then he walks over to a police officer and talks to him. I missed him. I missed everything about him. I got scared. He didn’t say what I wanted to hear and instead of trying to stay and get down to the root of it all—I left.
He places his hand on his chin as he nods a few times. His head tilts over to me, and the police officer looks in my direction and talks some more.
Lucas shakes his hand before he jogs back in my direction, stopping at my car and popping the trunk to grab my purse and briefcase. My only belongings at the moment.
I grip my phone tightly and have the urge to call Lillie and my mom. Lillie hasn’t even returned my call from the last time I reached out to her, or my email. It makes my heart ache. I try not to hold it against her, she’s starting a new life in a new country, I’m happy for her, I really am.
I know if I call my mom, she’ll drop everything and fly out to me immediately. She’ll baby me and honestly, I only want Lucas right now.
“I’m assuming you didn’t get the cookie bouquet, chocolates, margarita mix and tequila I sent over,” Lucas announces.
I look over at him, blinking in shock at his words bending over with the door open.
“No,” I whisper, turning my head again to stare out the window at my burning house. He doesn’t elaborate, which doesn’t surprise me, because that’s just not his style.
“They said you could go home, as long as you go to the station in the morning,” Lucas states as he sinks down in his seat and starts his engine.
I turn my head to face him as tears fill my eyes. “I don’t have a home anymore,” I whimper before I break down completely.
I cry.
I blubber and cry.
Lucas stares at me, a horrified expression on his face. For whatever reason, that look on his face makes me cry even harder. I bury my face in my hands.
“Fuck,” Lucas curses.
He doesn’t hold me or even touch me. He throws his car in reverse, whips around, and speeds off toward the highway.
I cry the entire drive to his place. There’s no way that I can stop myself. I know I probably look like a damn disaster, but I can’t help it. My entire condo burned to the ground.
Everything is gone.
I try not to think about everything that has been destroyed. The pictures, the clothes, the kitchenware—and God, the little trinkets that I’ve collected over the years. They’re all gone—everything. I don’t know if I’m more upset that they’re gone, or that they were stolen from me. Shit can be replaced. But they were taken.
The engine turns off, and I sniffle, opening my eyes as I look around Lucas’ garage. He doesn’t speak, and I sit in silence as he walks around the front of his car and then opens my door for me.
I don’t even get the opportunity to try and slip out of the car before he has me in his arms. He carries me into the house. It feels like I’ve been away a lifetime instead of just seven days. He bypasses the living area, walking straight toward the stairs.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he climbs the staircase and then makes a beeline for his bedroom. A thrill of excitement replaces the feel of anger and turmoil of the evening.
Expecting him to drop me on the bed, I tense my muscles. He doesn’t, though. He sits down and arranges me in his lap, pulling me against his chest. I bury my face in his neck and practically purr when I feel his fingers comb through my hair.
“Stop crying,” he almost demands.
I lift my head and look into his green eyes. He looks serious, and he looks…worried. I reach up and cup his cheek with my hand, my thumb tracing his bottom lip.
“I hate to see you upset. It’s just shit. I’ll buy you whatever you want, kitten.”
My breath hitches and my mouth falls open slightly at his words. This is the man I wanted a week ago, this version of my asshole. Lucas has so many faces, so many different aspects to his personality, but this caring man is who I wanted when that bitch was obviously trying to get into his jeans.
“Lucas,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You’ll take what I buy you with a fucking smile. You could have died. You could have been taken from me in a permanent way. I wouldn’t have survived that shit.”
“I need to tell you,” I rasp.
His arms tighten around me, and I inhale a shaky breath, my entire body trembling. I tell him about my visit from Curtis and his business partner, seven days ago. Then I tell him about the most recent threatening phone call this evening. I don’t know if they’re connected, but all of it combined has me on edge.
He growls. Realization that the meeting was the night that I left him, the night that I showed up unexpectedly. The reasoning being because he’s my safe place, he’s my person. Then we fought, that bitch was here, and I still don’t know if he fucked her or not, but I’m too scared to ask.
“We’re going into the police department tomorrow. You’re living here for the foreseeable future,” he states.
My eyes widen, and I feel like my jaw is about to become unhinged. I try to put together a thought, but I’m not fast enough.
“You’re living here. I want you here. You’re mine and this is where you belong.”
“This is crazy,” I murmur, looking into his fierce green eyes. “Jamie?” I chance asking, unable to control the words that tumble from my lips.
“Is no longer my client. I never touched her. It’s you, as much as I don’t want to fucking admit it to anyone, including myself,” he begins. “It’s fucking you, Brooklyn. You for me.” He shakes his head once and grips me tighter with his hand on my back.
“I’m thirty-six, kitten. I’ve n
ever wanted a woman the way I want you. I’m not wasting any fucking time dicking around anymore,” he states. He looks and sounds so sure of himself, and there is not one ounce of hesitation in his voice.
“Maybe I should stay in a hotel.”
Lucas jerks back as if I’ve slapped him. He growls, turning around and dropping me on the bed. He stands, and I watch him, afraid to move even a muscle.
I watch his head drop and his shoulders rise then fall. I expect him to storm out of the room, but he doesn’t. He wraps his hand around the back of his neck before he turns back around to face me.
“You’re staying here. You’re my woman and there is no way in fuck I’m going to leave you at a hotel, alone.”
I nod, unable to speak as he starts to angrily rip off his clothes. The buttons of his shirt go flying across the room, and he unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants down in one quick motion. I lick my dry lips as his body is completely exposed to me.
“Do you think it was Curtis and his partner?” I ask, trying to stall what is inevitable.
Lucas growls as he crawls up the bed, up my body, between my legs, and I feel his hands slip up my tight skirt.
He pushes the material up my legs to my hips and shreds my panties in one swift move.
“We aren’t talking about Curtis fucking Dunning right now,” he states.
I gasp, aware that I don’t have any underthings left, but uncaring at the moment. He could shred everything right now and I would welcome it, welcome him. I’ve missed his touch, his roughness, and his punishments.
I’ve missed him.
I’m pretty positive all of the things happening to me—the stalker, the fire, everything—have to do with Curtis. His visit to me in my parking garage just solidified my already growing suspicions. I don’t want to believe that he could do this, that he would do this. But I cannot deny that it is all is way too much of a coincidence.
Lucas guides his cock to my entrance and slides it through my center. All thoughts about the Dunnings and their case completely disappear. He groans when he feels how wet I am for him.
APPEAL: Esquire Black Duet #2 Page 2
