by Marie Wathen
In a soft but firm voice, he insists, “She’s your kryptonite.”
“She is fucking perfect, Jude. She isn’t with Rad, she doesn’t appear interested in Decks, and I’m almost certain that there might be someone else, but even if there wasn’t, I can’t have her.”
“Are you going to let her slip away without even trying?”
The vein in my forehead throbs. Growling, I point a finger and narrow my eyes at him. “Aren’t you the one who said for me to stay the hell away from her?” He nods, and I lower my voice. “Then what difference does it make? I can’t have her,” I repeat, dropping back into my chair and tilting my head back to rest on the top of the seat. Looking up at the ceiling, I lower my voice and say, “This is pointless. Can we talk about why I came here?”
Leaning forward on the table, he lowers his voice too and suggests, “Get Decks, and you can have her.”
Closing my eyes, I whisper, “No. Now, drop it.”
He resigns, “All right, who’s the undercover?”
Lifting my head and opening my eyes, I say, “Brantley Jones…”
“Rad?” I nod. “Well that won’t help a damn thing.”
“He was undercover the whole time.” I should have listened to my instincts when I felt there was something more going on. “The only reason I know all this is because I had this damn nagging feeling in my head. So, I sent Zeke and Bales on a bogus meeting and then I showed up at the county jail requesting to speak with him. After being delayed for over an hour, I lost my temper and stormed out. Immediately, I called Cecena. She knows the arrangement that we have with the Marshall’s office, so she met me at the coffee shop across from the courthouse. She told me that her department was under strict confidence with the county drug task force and she wasn’t allowed to disclose his identity, but I convinced her otherwise. Lassiter confirmed everything right before I came over here.”
“Damn,” Jude whistles. “I wouldn’t have guessed that Rad was a cop. They train y’all well here.” He chuckles. “So…”
“She said they assure her that he was the only one that they sent in from the APD.” Glancing out the back window, he stays silent, but I know he’s thinking the same thing that I’m thinking. “My gut tells me that there is another one, maybe city cop, maybe county. I don’t know.”
“But, we can’t be certain.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I demand, standing up. “You are taking your wife and kids and going back to Baltimore. Nelson wants to make an example out of someone. It won’t be you.”
“Eth,” he calls as I start toward the front door. “Wait.”
Stopping in the doorway, I glance over my shoulder. “Jude, please take your family to a safe place.”
Exhaling loudly, he lowers his eyes and begrudgingly concedes, “Fine.”
Leaving the Kingsley residence, I drive home recalling everything that has happened over the past few months. Jude didn’t bring it up, but I’ve been tossing around the idea that perhaps Rad intentionally set up the bust. Except for the fact that his department gets credit for the seized drugs, it just doesn’t make any sense that he would make such a risky move, especially if he left another agent alone on the inside. No self-respecting cop would betray his partner. Nelson gets wind of this and heads will roll. As much as I want to intervene, there is no way in hell for me to stop it.
I don’t know how or when everything got flipped upside down, but I seriously feel like my self-contained world isn’t mine to control anymore. Honestly, I can’t put all the blame on this job either. I wonder if any of us are prepared for what’s coming.
Chapter Seventeen
This morning, I awake with a funny feeling running through my head. Settling a score has been my only objective for so long that I don’t know how to live any other way. However, after speaking with Jude, I can no longer say that is all I care about anymore. For nearly two years, I have been dead inside while focusing on Nelson with all that I am, dedicating my whole life to this case. While expecting at some point that he would confide in me and confess the truth, I’ve also prepared for death to hunt me down in this life of crime. The worst of the deadliest criminals thrive in my hidden world. Not once did I ever expect to fall for a woman during my time on the inside of the X’kapz. Angel has obliterated that assumption to hell. But, I can’t love her. Not now, not here. It isn’t safe. Unless…I can ask her to move away before the shit hits the fan. Maybe she can stay with Jude and Natalie until I can come for her.
Sitting in my office, my phone rings. “Hello.”
“E,” Lourdes purrs, and I roll my neck and then drop my face into my hand, pressing my fingers into my forehead. “I’ve decided that since it is Christmas I’m going to forgive you for the incident with that trashy whore who gave you that…disease,” she bitches, and I don’t’ respond. “So, we’ll start with riding over to Uncle Nelson’s together tonight for Christmas Eve dinner. Pick me up at six,” she orders.
“I don’t think that I’ll be joining the Kennedy’s this year, Lourdes.”
“Ridiculous!” she snaps, takes a deep breath, and then shifts into a sweeter tone, which grates on my nerves even more than her bitch tone. “Of course you will be there. Maybe we’ll have something special to announce to our families at dinner. I have forgiven you, so tonight you can surprise me with a makeup gift that will redeem all of your sins. Just make sure that it is at least five carats.”
Realizing that I can’t allow this bullshit to continue another day, I suggest, “Come over to my house at six.” She huffs annoyingly, but then agrees and we disconnect.
With the office closed because of the holiday, I sit staring out the window, the silence stretching while I debate how I will handle everything from this point forward. Nelson will be disappointed, and I could be cutting off my own balls by ending things with his niece, but I just can’t continue this façade one more day. At the end of all this time in purgatory, I want Angel with me, if she’ll have me.
After deciding to enlist Jude and Natalie in formulating a plan to convince Angel into moving to Baltimore with them, I shut down my computer and lock up my office. Fishing out the car keys from my pocket, I leave the office and head toward my house. Crossing through the property gate, I wave at the man working security inside the guard shack and then travel up the hill, leading toward my house. A block away, I notice a very pretty young woman walking, and decide to stop so I can check on her.
Rolling down the window, I ask, “Have you been down at the water again?”
The petite, young blonde with deep brown eyes, similar to my mother’s, smiles while nodding her head. “Yeah, Ethan, I really want to live on the beach, but I love the Black Lake, too.” Indie confesses.
Smiling, I ask, “Reading or painting this time?”
Her grin widens, and she corrects, “Writing.”
“Wow, you’re writing now. What’s the subject?” Her cheeks turn pink and she shifts her eyes away from me while shaking her head. “Not going to tell me, huh?”
“It isn’t something that I feel like discussing with my big brother.”
“Got it. Girls only,” I give in, chuckling. “Want a ride up to your house?”
“Will you come in? I have your Christmas Eve present in my room.” As kids, we always exchanged one gift on the night before Christmas between the five of us. Indie is the only one who kept the tradition alive after all these years.
“Of course, Indie.” She sits down and we travel to her house, located on the other side of mine. Having her close keeps me from going crazy, and she really does love living so close to the water. Perhaps, one day we’ll all live somewhere tropical together, as a family again. We enter her private suite, and I follow her toward the large Douglas fir positioned in front of the bay window in her living room.
She kneels down to the right side and begins moving gifts around. “I mailed off Oakley and Urban’s last week. I wish that we were all together again, like before.” I smile at her looking at the l
arge twinkling tree reflectively, hoping that my excitement will keep her from slipping into her usual Christmas depression. Sometimes when I see at her like this, I still sense the overwhelming chaos that she suffered when she lost her closest friend. She and mom were besties, completely inseparable and always appearing to have some special secrets. For Indie, that isn’t an easily earned position in her heart. She is close with me and our siblings, but the relationships are nothing compared to what she shared with mom. “I’m so happy that Attacus is coming here in the morning. He promised me that nothing will ever keep him away from Christmas breakfast with me.” Smiling sweetly, she points to a few packages propped on the wall behind the tree on the other side. “The ones on the left are his.”
“It looks like someone is getting a new TV,” I guess staring at a large box standing three feet tall and four feet wide.
Her eyes go wide and she replies like she is perturbed, “It’s a painting.”
Holding up my hands, I chuckle and state, “My bad.”
“Here’s one of yours, Merry Christmas.” She holds out a shirt box for me, and I take it.
“One of mine?”
“Yes, this year, I’m giving you two for Christmas Eve.” She reaches for a package similar in size to the one she is giving to Attacus. Pulling it out, she twists around and glances at the gift in my hand before instructing, “Open that one first.”
Doing as she orders, I pop the top and sift through the red tissue paper. “Cool tee-shirt.”
“You like it?”
Nodding, I hold it up and then place it over my chest. “It’s fucking awesome…” Frowning at my foul language she narrows her eyes. All cuss words usually set her off, and I don’t want her upset, so I quickly apologize, “Sorry, Indie. It’s vintage Def Leppard, so what’s not to like?”
“Don’t talk like that, Ethan,” she reprimands. “It makes you sound ignorant.” I nod, and she slides the other present toward me. “Here’s your other one. Please, don’t curse like a rap star when you open it.”
I laugh and she smiles. “You’re making jokes.” She nods. “I like it.” This time she rolls her eyes. “All right, let’s see what my little sister painted for me.”
“Oh, you don’t think this one is a television?” She smiles brighter, and I wink at her playfulness. It really is great seeing her loosening up.
Holding the top, I grab the edge of the silver paper, ripping straight down the middle, and then hold my breath when I see the painting. Shoving away the remainder of the paper, I cover my hand over my mouth and then look up at my sister. Dropping my hand, I stutter, “Indie, this is…beautiful.”
“Yeah, it is,” she agrees smiling at me and then glances down at the portrait. “That’s you.” She points to an exact likeness of me, and then moving her hand up a little, she says, “And that’s your angel.” I swallow hard, staring at the beautiful brunette wearing all white.
“What is she doing?” I whisper, narrowing my eyes on something dangling from her hands.
“See the gold pieces dropped at her feet.” I nod. “Your angel broke her halo.”
Shifting my eyes over to her, I ask, “Why did she do that?”
Not taking her eyes off the painting, she tells me seriously, “You’re not an easy person to watch over. I guess she’s stressing and over it, or she failed.” She shrugs casually.
“It is beautiful, Indie.”
She smiles. “You said that already.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Turning to look at me she nods. “Sure.”
“Who is she?” Her face shifts to confused, so I point to the angel. “The muse for your painting?”
“Just a woman that I met once down at Black Lake.” She strolls over to her desk and pulls out a spiral sketchbook from the top drawer. “It took a whole month to get her features right, and now I have all of these copies of the different parts of her face. The problem was her lips.” She shrugs, holding it out for me. “I did it from memory and worked it out until it was perfect. Once I got it…here,” She flips through several pages and then points at one, “I drew her and then just painted it on the canvas. You can have this book, too, if you want it.”
Bobbing my head repeatedly, I am seriously unable to form words. My sister, Indie, met Angel, the woman that I’m falling for, at the lake, and then Indie painted her as my guardian angel in this gorgeous portrait. Peeling my eyes off the gift, I whisper, “Thank you.” Then I hold open my arms. She stares at them hesitantly and winces.
“My sensory,” she reminds me sadly about how difficult it is for her when someone touches her, and then she sighs. “I will hug you quickly, but don’t move.” I nod, and she rushes in fast squeezing me lightly, and then steps backward, looking stressed. Things like people touching her, continuous loud sounds, and bright or rapid lights upsets her tremendously because of her high-functioning autism.
“I’ll leave these here until tomorrow when I bring your presents,” I tell her, crumpling up the shredded wrapping paper and tossing it into the wastebasket beside the desk.
“Great,” she says smiling, but then her face falls almost immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“That noise,” she growls, balling her fists tightly.
Pausing, I listen for a moment and then say, “I don’t hear anything.”
A moment later, the bass from a heavy metal song makes the window beside us shake. “There! It’s vibrating the whole house, Ethan. That is entirely too loud. And it happens all of the time now.” She huffs, growing more agitated.
“I’ll find out where it’s coming from and then ask them to shut it down.” She nods dramatically with wide eyes, looking at me like I should do it right this very minute. Smiling, I assure, “I’ll go ask now. See you in the morning?”
“Yes, breakfast will be at eight, and you’re making the gluten free pancakes. So don’t be late,” she tells me, following me toward the front door. “Have a great Christmas Eve, Ethan.”
Stepping outside, I narrow my eyes on the source of the booming music. After parking my car in my driveway, I jog over to Decks’ and ring the doorbell several times before someone finally shuts off the offensive hardcore tune. I know he listens to this type of music occasionally, but I have never heard him blasting it so loudly before.
Angel jerks open the door, blinks rapidly while scanning behind me briefly, and then she says warily, “Yes?” Intoxicating steel eyes hold me captive. They’re so clear and demanding, convincing me that there is no way this beautiful woman is on drugs. Seeing her now, I can’t process a damn thing except for an obnoxious voice calling me a jackass for staying away from her for so long.
“I came over to make sure you were okay,” I explain, finally remembering my purpose for being here. My eyes move over her skimpy outfit, seeing more of her bronze flesh up-close than ever before, and I am instantly turned on. Holy hell! What the fuck is she wearing? A light colored tank and shredded jean shorts barely cover her voluptuous figure, and for the first time I notice ink snaking around her upper thigh. Sweet Jesus. Trying to get my shit together, I joke, “The sounds coming from the house made me think Decks may have been killing an animal.”
She doesn’t think my brand of humor is the least bit funny and counters with a bored, “Nope, it’s just me, and I’m enjoying some heavy metal.”
She’s alone. “You really shouldn’t listen to music at that level.” I move toward her, and she shifts backward, retreating from me. “It could really do some damage to those cute little ears of yours.” Without instructing it to, my hand extends, like it is on a marionette wire, and I trace the edge of said ear. Her eyes close from the tender contact, goose bumps pop out all over her body, and then she kills me with the tiniest whimper. I can’t battle against the overpowering urges any longer. The only thing that I want for Christmas is my angel. Moving close, I lower my face to hers and call her, like I do every night before drifting into dark dreams overflowing with her. “Angel.”
When she opens her grey eyes, the lust is so captivating, so powerful, so reflective of exactly what I feel that I know it will take no effort at all to convince her that she can go through with this too. “You should go,” she suggests peeking through thick lashes, but the truth lies in those stellar eyes. She wants me. I wonder if she has been missing me like crazy and losing sleep too.
Too many months separated from her, too many nights of an all consuming desire to taste her, have her, ravage her, and too many lost opportunities have passed between us. My blood is heating just from being in her presence. Needing a release from my self-contained hell, I lean down, sink into her, and reply, “No.” Then on a groan, I kiss her, both hands going into her hair and her extraordinary mouth parts willingly for my tongue with a deep, needful moan. She closes her eyes right before I closed mine as she snakes her arms around me tightly and I kiss her hard. After several hot moments of tasting and touching, I ease the pressure, but refuse to break contact, and whisper a promise across her pouty lips that I absolutely plan on keeping, “I’m going to fuck you, Angel.” Thoroughly kissed, she smirks and nods her head up and down slowly and exaggeratingly, clearly needing this just as badly as I do. After locking the door, I sweep her into my arms, quickly climbing the stairs to her bedroom. Merry Christmas to me!
Chapter Eighteen
Inside Angel’s bedroom, I smile while locking the door and then turn to find her also staring at it and smiling. “You liked that, didn’t you, doll?” I ask, running my hands over her shoulders and tugging down the straps of her tank. Willfully refusing to tell me that our time together was mind-blowing, she only answers with a slight nod. I will have her begging for a replay of that amazing fuck again really soon.
Scanning over her, a growl breaks from deep within my chest and I barely keep my hands from ripping apart her tiny clothes. Roughly, I pull down the shirt, revealing a hot pink lacy bra. “Fuck, I like you in pink,” I confess, remembering the teeny pink bikini that she wore at the Kingsley’s. Without hesitation, I lift her large breasts out of the sexy constraint and my breath lodges in my chest. My heart hammers seeing perfect globes, light brown areolas and diamond-hard nipples all on display for me. I look up into darkening grey eyes, staring back at me. Her eyes move from mine to my mouth, and she licks her lips, begging for me to sample her. Right before I lean in to taste her, I mumble, “Fucking gorgeous.”
