Justice Mine: a Base Branch Novel

by Megan Mitcham

  His callused hands and rough fingers fondled her breasts tentatively. After a few easy strokes, he molded and tugged them with avid appreciation. Magdalena’s hips rocked against his cock. She braced her hands on the chilled tile for leverage and worked her clit along the thick column as he teased her distended nipples. The breath rushed through her lips and foreign electricity sparked deep in her core. Its current pulsed with each roll of her hips and flick of his finger, expanding and consuming her restraint.

  “Oh, Law,” she moaned. Her head fell back. One of his hands coaxed up the span of her neck while the other wrapped around her back, anchoring her to his cloth-covered penis. Law drove his hips forward and the energy boomed, reverberating through her pussy walls. “Fuck. Yes.”

  “Magdalena.” His hot groan coursed over her neck. “I want to fuck you so damn hard.”

  “Aaaaah.” Her broken moan was the closest she could come to consent this close to release.

  “I want to make love to you. And never stop.”

  She didn’t know how, but she formed one complete word in answer. “Yes.” Then the current of her orgasm obliterated coherent thought. It strangled every muscle and nerve ending in her entire body until she died. The sweetest death. It allowed her breaths to rush in and out of her chest in gasps and his touch to remain ever potent to her flesh.

  “Exquisite,” he whispered at her ear. His grip tightened as she sagged in repletion. “I’ve got you.”

  Law’s mouth burned a trail of steaming kisses along her neck to her breasts. He blew humid air across the sensitive flesh then licked a slow spiraling circle to the point, regenerating the electricity that already fried her once. Magdalena swallowed a moan as he sucked her nipple into his wet mouth and flicked the live tip with his tongue.

  She levered her head from its backward loll and watched his mouth adore her. His gaze traveled over her heaping breast, locking with her own. He released the engorged flesh then tormented both buds with his tongue. The veins in his neck bulged as he studied her reaction to his loving, which fed her excitement all the more.

  “Law, you have to stop. I’m going to come again.”

  His lips sealed over her mouth and drank her deep, pulling her tongue and fucking her mouth. When he broke the kiss they both gulped air. Firm, confident hands glided over her shoulders and across her breasts. The corner of his mouth quirked as he moved over the soft flesh of her belly. “Magdalena, you’re going to come a lot.” Law charmed her bellybutton with his index finger and Mags sucked in her stomach. “Found another one. God you’re going to kill me.” He ground his penis against her core.

  Magdalena clutched his hot lats, rolling along his ridge and angling for the perfect contact. She moaned as his thumbs plunged beneath the waistband on her boxers. Her entire body prepared for his touch, but it didn’t come. And neither did she.

  24

  Three raised bumps on Magdalena’s hip that would hide easily behind the smallest bikini bottoms stopped Law cold. His entire body seized like an old machine prone to malfunction. Her lusty half-lidded gaze popped wide. And probably looked about as confused as his.

  Law stepped back enough to relieve the pressure from his swollen cock and flipped back the band of her shorts. As he had suspected, three horizontal scars marred her skin. The puffed tissue contrasted with the creamy background in hues of pink. The top line stretched only an inch of her flesh while the other two lashed beneath it in decreasing length. The final one looked more like a small circle than a line.

  “Where did they come from?”

  Magdalena stared at him for a moment longer then her gaze sank to the spot in question. “A family I stayed with for a couple of months in DRC honored me with a tribal mark.”

  “This was burned, not cut.”

  “All a part of the ritual.” Her gaze narrowed as she deliberated. “It hurt, but not terribly, and it was the greatest praise I’d ever received. They don’t include many outsiders in their traditions.”

  “What do the markings mean?”

  Her swollen lips thinned and she gave him a lopsided smile that made him want to bar the doors and windows and never leave this place. She cleared her throat. “They’re for fertility.”

  The words hit him like a dead body dropped from way the fuck above his head. But his response shocked him all the more. Every muscle in his body tensed as it always did right before he came. The blood flowing through his carnal tool doubled, as damn near did its size, along with the need rushing through his veins. An urge, desperate and primal, demanded he spread Magdalena’s legs before him and give her his seed. His child. Their child.

  Starbursts flashed behind his lids as the earth shattered apart beneath his feet. He’d never thought about kids with Clara. They’d been career driven. And after, the possibility never occurred to him. But Magdalena. The woman corrupted his mind so completely that he wanted to have a child with her and never let either of them go. But sometimes, the decision to stay or go was not his to make. Life hung in the balance every day. And that rocked him to the core.

  “Do you want children, Magdalena?”

  Her smile evened and brightened, if it were possible for the sun to burn brighter. “Only about five or six.”

  “What about your career? Baine told me you have big plans for a world-wide media empire.”

  She winked at him. “I like to have dessert. And I like to eat it too.”

  Lord save him from those long lashes and open eyes. “What about all the horrors in the world? All the things you saw first hand in the Congo? I saw your pictures. And that’s not even the worst of it.”

  Magdalena straightened, unabashed in her nudity. She placed a hand over his heart and her fingers caressed him. “Children are the light in the darkness. The purity of humanity. Hope for the future. I absolutely want them, because of what I’ve seen. Their smiles wash away all the hurt and heartache.”

  “What if something happens to them?” he whispered.

  “Life gives you no guarantees. So, you love with all you have. And enjoy the time you’re given. If not, what’s it all for anyway?”

  The world shrank in on his shoulders and though he struggled to pull a breath, no air came. He stumbled back. Magdalena’s hand fell away. Law watched, unable to move, as he dashed the heat and hope from her face. He turned away from everything in the world he wanted and ran to the door. His hand flew to the knob. Uncaring about his state of undress, he turned the lock.

  His own words played over in his head. I’ll never abandon you again.

  Law rested his head on the door with a thunk and gripped the handle so forcefully he thought he might leave indentions of each of his fingers. His teeth ground together and he wondered what the fuck was wrong with him. Why couldn’t he breathe? Why could he stare his own death in the face time and again without blinking, but ran like a sissy in pink panties when the life of someone he loved was on the metaphorical line?

  He hated the weakness crippling him. Hated himself for hurting Magdalena. By the time he could actually inhale a decent lungful of air, she had disappeared behind the bathroom door. He couldn’t blame her for running. She’d do well to continue in the same direction for a thousand miles. She deserved someone who could give her all the things she wanted, which was no less than she deserved.

  25

  Well, fuck it all, she couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day. She’d already managed nearly two hours with a shower and cry, shaving, tweezing, make-up, hair drying, a re-apply of the make-up she cried off while blow-drying, and finally, some nail filing. God, she twitched for a cigarette and thanked the lucky stars there were none readily available. On the bright side, there were two bad habits she couldn’t fall back into.

  Her stomach roared for the fifth time in a minute and she caved. The room had been silent for a long while, and she wondered if perhaps he did break his word and leave. Not that he owed her anything at all. They were nothing to each other. Just victims of circumstance.

  If
only you could convince your stupid heart, ole girl.

  Magdalena reached for the knob, dragged a fortifying breath, and exited her closet sized sanctuary. Law sat in the same chair he had for dinner the previous night, but the similarities to that magical time ended there. The connection they’d experienced only hours before seemed a dream her subconscious weaved. His locked jaw and vacant eyes acted as a force field, discounting everything without the decency of acknowledging it ever existed.

  “Are you hungry?”

  His voice held none of the playfulness or blatant irritation she’d come to expect. The pain radiated so loudly through her body she couldn’t think to speak. Her nod answered his question. Law snagged the menu from the nightstand, and suddenly being stuck in a room with him was more than she could bear.

  “I need to go out. I can’t be locked in here with you, if you’re not going to fuck me.” Well, that certainly got a reaction.

  Law launched to his feet and scrubbed his hands over the lengthening stubble on his head like he wanted to rub it bald. He laughed an empty bark. “So, you’re one of those girls. Just want to get some, huh?”

  “Screw you. I’m a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”

  “You want sex. That’s fine. I’m certain a million guys would happily give it to you.”

  Magdalena bit her tongue to stave off her tears. “After my mother died, I was alone. Yeah, I had my dad, but a girl needs her mum. As soon as I came of age, I figured out a way to keep my fear at bay. Not with guns or explosions, but with men.”

  Law’s jaw tightened and the tiny movement gave her hope that he cared. “You ran away from people, afraid you would care for them. I ran headlong toward people, afraid to feel alone in the world. For a long time, I mistook sex for intimacy. A really good friend helped me see how I was hurting myself. I chose to leave behind every security escape I knew. I chose to be alone with myself. I chose to face my fear.

  “I don’t want sex, Law. I want you.”

  His chin lifted. “I’m not for sale.”

  Magdalena had never hit anything in her life. Not even her pillow in a fit of rage. But the slap of her palm meeting his face echoed in the room before she realized what she’d done. “I’m not buying.”

  26

  Magdalena drank heavily from the glass then returned it to the patio table. She scrawled an F and U in the dew droplets and lifted her face to the sun, wishing it could radiate the past week from her memory. Africa had been so great. Maybe her mistake was coming back. If she hadn’t come back, she wouldn’t have seen Willow getting the shit beat out of her and none of this would have happened.

  She jumped up from her slouch and cut her gaze at Law, who’d been stubbornly quiet since their spat. “I’ll be back. I need to make a phone call.”

  Before she shoved her chair back, Law laid his phone on the wood next to her plate. “You may want to be rid of me, but you’re not leaving my sight. Unless you want to lock yourself in the bathroom again.”

  Nope. She wasn’t one bit sorry she slapped him. “Fine.” She added the eye roll for effect. Childish, yes, but so what.

  The screen lit as she typed in Willow’s cell number. After the second try and subsequent voicemail she gave up and slid Law his phone.

  “Tell me about the phone call earlier.” As an afterthought she added, “Please.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Tell me about your—"

  “I heard what you said,” he interrupted.

  “Oh,” she said before everything clicked into place. He’d apologized. What exactly for, she wondered. Calling her a whore? Fleeing the best sexual experience of her life? Withdrawing from their non-relationship more times than a porn star did a vagina? Unequipped to hear the answer, she ignored the question, for now. “Please, just tell me about the call.”

  “No links were found between you and any faction in Africa. They went through every picture you had access to and every story you worked on, as well as those of your colleague, Owen Vos.”

  “How’d they get his stories?”

  When he didn’t answer she moved on to more important things. “Okay, I think we’ve been looking in the wrong direction. All this started after I saw Willow getting knocked around by the mystery man. I’ve tried to call her, twice, without any response, and she lives with her phone attached to her hand.”

  Law went palms-up in surrender. “Is it possible she doesn’t want to talk to you?”

  “Obviously, I’ve thought about it. And, so have you, since it’s something you can relate to. But Willow saw me through my bad times. I won’t sit by and let her destroy her life just because she doesn’t want to let me in. The same goes for you.

  “I gave you Africa because, as crazy as it sounded, it fit better than a domestic disturbance blown out of proportion. But now, I’m not so sure. I’m going to pack my tiny bag of mostly dirty clothes then I’m going to my flat, or at least, what was my flat, to try and get some answers.”

  “Magdalena, the guys who attacked us yesterday were professional hit men.”

  Mags sank into her chair at that heavy dose of reality. “Hit men?”

  “Ex-royal military with some covert ops experience is my best guess. My people should have some information on them by this evening. Tomorrow at the latest. Then we can see what connections we can draw from there.”

  “By your people, you mean…?” Again he didn’t bite. “Fine, but I’d like to check on Willow and try to help figure out this whole mess.”

  Law’s cheek wrinkled with a smile. “I know you want to help, but you’ll do that by staying safe and tucked away.”

  Magdalena pulled her spine straight and leaned into his space. “Do you really want to be locked in a room with me, all day and all night?”

  His gaze lowered to her mouth then lower still. When his green eyes returned to hers, a glower surrounded them.

  She flashed a smile at their waiter and the young bloke walked over. “We need the check, please.”

  27

  Good judgment passed Law on the highway, speeding in the opposite direction of Cardiff. With two hours motoring toward the first place Magdalena had been attacked, he had every opportunity to clutch the brakes or slide off an exit and turn the fuck around. But he barreled into the trim port city, Magdalena clutching his sides, because her instincts were correct in all likelihood. Other than the missing files at her father’s house and her trip to the DRC, nothing tied the incident to Africa. A harder look at the inciting drama rocking his ordered world seemed the wisest course of action. A shit ton better than sitting in a hotel room wallowing in the mire of his own hell.

  He was a first rate prick who deserved every smack or scowl Magdalena wanted to dole. If only she’d popped him hard enough to jar the fear from his skull. He’d thought the near miss at his flat had cured him. That’s what you get for thinking, chump.

  Three little scars had changed the game while he ran down field. He’d come to terms, lumpy and uncomfortable as they were, about the possibility of losing Magdalena. But a helpless child, with her wild hair and spray of freckles? He couldn’t explain the aloofness of the reaper or the finality of death to a puerile mind, nor could he survive their untimely end. He wanted to be as brave as Magdalena, to love free and wide regardless of the potential fallout. For now, he’d have to settle for figuring the one solvable mystery at hand.

  He circled the block twice, looking for potential threats, before parking the Harley between two dumpsters off the back alley and sliding off. Flipping open the saddlebag, Law retrieved a small forensics kit and extra magazine and shoved them into the pockets of his jacket. The thing kept him toasty on winter days and cooked him alive on summer ones, like today, but it was the best way to carry both his Sauers without notice.

  “This way.” Magdalena moved through the heavy metal rear access door of a newer glass, brick, and stucco building.

  Hand on his sidearm, Law followed close behind, scanning th
e deserted corridors for any sign of trouble. The teenage girl with shorts as obscenely short as Magdalena’s didn’t count as a threat. At least, not to him. The stare his fiery little woman gave the gawking youth said otherwise. He smiled at Magdalena’s back then kicked himself for branding her as his when he couldn’t be the man she needed.

  But Lord, he wanted to mark her. To make her his and never let her go.

  “It’s that one.” She pointed at a neatly painted white door on the other side of the balustrade.

  “Once we get in, stay behind me.”

  Magdalena slid the key into the door and regarded him with those soft green eyes. Fear and determination swam in their depths, along with a little sadness and something else. Love. He’d seen the look in a woman’s gaze once before. Then, it made him invincible. Now, it humbled him like a puddle at her feet.

  Why were the women he loved so damn fearless? Clara took on death with a straight chin. Magdalena saw the ugliest side of him and fought the skeletons away with her sassy mouth, tenacious spirit, and bare hands while he sat on the sidelines. It was in his nature to confront and battle the injustices in the world. Yet, he’d allowed his own fears the latitude to corrupt his life.

  Determined to combat his weakness and face his fear, no matter the result, Law placed his hand over her delicate fingers. “Magdalena, I don’t know how to love you.” Her lips spread as though she were about to light into him. “But—”

  Both their heads snapped at noise from beyond the apartment’s door. Like the squeak of a chair dragged or a heavy piece of furniture being shoved across a wooden floor, wood groaned against wood in an unmistakable sound of human presence. Law scooped Magdalena behind him and twisted the key. He pulled his Sig from its holster, flipped the safety, and grabbed the knob.