by Marie Wathen
“So, what’s next on your secret agenda?”
“We’ll have lunch at the house, and then I am taking you somewhere very special tonight. You’ll need to pack your bag for this adventure. I have my private plane on standby.”
She gasps. “You’re taking me away?”
“Yes,” I reply, glimpsing over and seeing an alarming look wash over her features. “We don’t have to go if you’re uncomfortable.” She doesn’t reply.
After everything that we’ve been through, her distrust in me forms a black hollowness deep within my chest. I feel like a failure. I sense her eyes on me as I take the road leading up to my house, but I can’t risk seeing the fear that I know she feels being with me, so I keep my eyes focused on the gravel driveway ahead. She remains silent even after I park and kill the engine. I exit the car, crossing the back to meet her on the passenger side, but she doesn’t wait for me. At the door, she stands with her arms folded around her waist, waiting for me to unlock it. Once inside, she slips into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. I return back to the car to unload my bag and cooler, feeling like the biggest jackass on the planet. The golf bag, I place in the front closet. Then I empty the contents of the cooler into the refrigerator, uncapping the top off of a bottle of beer before stepping out onto the back patio.
The afternoon wind rolling off of the Atlantic grows wilder as the day progresses. Watching the sun shift to the west and begin it’s decent toward the evening I dismiss the plans that I had for us, all of them. I won’t be taking her away to a romantic dinner in Manhattan. Instead, I locate my cell phone and make other arrangements.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sloane.” Max answers on the first ring. “How is Sam?”
“That’s why I’m calling you. I am making preparations to send her home. Once I have everything in place, I will text the details. Please make sure that she arrives back in Canton safely. Until you have her moved into a safer location, Shane can keep an eye on her, discretely of course.”
“Yes, of course, and what about you? When can I expect you back in Georgia?”
“After I make a trip down to the Gulf,” I reply, closing my eyes to the lowering sun. “I need to check on my family and speak with my partner.”
“Yes, Mrs. Kingsley said she spoke with you about that. I assume you understand the necessity in keeping you in the dark.”
“I do,” I growl, “But, I won’t tolerate your deceit again. From this moment on, you don’t hide shit from me. I’m either in this with you or you can get Dr. A without my help.”
“Fair enough,” he agrees, but I doubt he is being truthful. Switching topics, he says, “Young Mr. Kennedy has been traveling quite a bit since your disappearing act. I need to know if you or Sam can reach him and convince him to work with us. Our futures, the future of everyone we care about, and all who are affected by this disgusting drug, depend on his acquiescence. It is pertinent that you gain his allegiance to our cause.”
“I will handle Decks.”
“Very well. Message me with Sam’s travel itinerary. If you need me…” his voice trails off.
“Got it.” I disconnect, dropping my phone onto the lounge chair. I lean against the porch railing, clasping my hands together and dropping my head.
The future, I repeat Max’s focal point silently. Everything hangs on Decks? I’ve accepted Max’s mission as my duty, but it isn’t for me. Even if I can’t make it out alive, I must ensure that my brothers and sisters, friends, and Angel are all out of harm's way. After successfully, discharging that bastard, Dr. A, from his tyranny, I will not be joining everyone on Willow Island as I had hoped to do. Instead, the tomorrows that I longed to share with my love will now be for me alone.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I fall back into the empty lounger, pulling my knees up and draping my arms over them. I tug a cigarette from the unopened pack lying on the patio table, light it and curse the nasty habit. I haven’t had a smoke in nearly a week. I haven’t needed or wanted one, because Angel has been my source of serenity that the feeling smoking used to give me. Exhaling loudly, I push fingers through my hair while closing my eyes. Then I drop my hand, pressing my head back against the headrest.
Looks like I fail at quitting.
Failure, the word runs through my head repeatedly. I fail everyone and everything. Beginning with the reasons that I’m even here in the first place, I was unsuccessful at getting Nelson to confess to murder. My obsession with Angel distracted me, but I can’t blame her for the decisions that I made. I couldn’t keep my head in the game, leaving me solely responsible for the horrible events that followed the police seizing the drug shipment from Juan. I let down the people who matter most. Now, because of me, Jude and my family are all in eminent danger. Until the leader of the Hijos is captured, they must continue relinquishing their freedom. Also, my attempts at earning Angel’s trust were futile, because I am completely unworthy of her love. This fact should not surprise me. I am the son of Oscar Attacus Sloane, IV, and his life is the epitome of failures. Except for my career with the Atlanta Police Department, I have nothing to be proud of in my life.
A shadow moves across my face and my eyes flutter open, finding Angel hovering above me. “Hi,” she greets, her lips pressing into a fine line as she flicks her gaze from my cigarette up to meeting my eyes.
Tilting my head, I use my interrogation skills, studying her expression. It’s all to no avail. I am still unable to interpret the meaning behind all of her looks. There have been many times over the past week that I thought I was reading her correctly. Her avoidance when I asked about her past led me to believe that she has trust issues, and I wasn’t about to press her. During sex, she refused to make eye contact with me, and as much as I hated it, I gave her free rein to control every act. I was beginning to believe that we had made progress, especially after she whispered that she loved me while she was asleep. Clearly, I misunderstood. The sentiment could have been meant for anyone in her dreams. My name just happened to precede those three words. At this moment, her eyes are locked with mine and she’s looking at me like she has a heavy burden resting on her shoulders.
Glancing, away, I take a long drag from my cigarette and reply, “Hi.”
Shaking slightly, she asks, “Mind if I sit?”
“Of course not,” I reply, and she pushes my hip so that she can sit closely. Crushing my smoke out, I scoot and then turn to look at her.
“There is something that I need to tell you.” I nod, holding her gaze, and she sighs softly. “Earlier, I freaked a little.”
“Because I wanted to take you on my plane?”
“No,” she licks her lips, “because I want you to take me on your plane.”
“And that means what exactly?”
“I am enjoying being with you, Blues. Every second of our time together has been…amazing.” The thawing in my chest begins while watching the slow curl of her lips. “Something that you need to know about me is that I don’t need fancy things. I don’t want you buying me stuff, because you think that you need to save me. Trips on private planes, elegant dinners in other states or out of the country, and expensive gifts don’t impress me. I am fully independent and have been for a very long time. You call me stubborn, and I see it more as liberated. I am free to go and do whenever I want. I enjoy my lifestyle just the way it is, and I like things simple. Like, breakfast at midnight, jogs on the beach, bubble baths, and even golf lessons, especially when I’m with you.” Her haunting eyes pierce me when she adds, “But…”
Before she has a chance to complete her confession, I reach forward and kiss her hard. My mouth forms over her warm lips perfectly, and I feel a sigh releasing from deep within me, savoring her sweet taste. I don’t know what compels me to interrupt her confession, but something primal and instinctive roars within my blood and soul, urging me to stop her from finishing that thought. I have no idea what words were going to pass over her sultry lips, but I loved all of the ones prior to that last ‘but,’
and I can’t let her erase everything good between us with whatever would follow that tiny little conjunction. Our time together is the best time of my life, and I won’t allow anything to diminish that fact.
Her long fingers thread tenderly through the hair at my nape, and then her body arches, begging for contact. I pull her onto my lap, her knees pressing against the outside of my thighs. She angles my head, delving deep and branding me with this kiss. Why does she confuse me so much? How can I believe one minute that we are perfect for each other, and then the next, I’m looking for any excuse to not be worthy of her? The truth, my heart reminds me. Without a clean slate we will always come back here, lost in a chaotic melee of emotions. She withholds major parts of her life, and I am made doubtful by the tiniest occurrences. Of course, our carnal needs are what drove us together, but I have to believe we are more than just incredible sex. Time is what we need.
Slowing down our kissing and groping, I bite her bottom lip and suck it into my mouth. She moans a low, “God, yes, Blues.” With my eyes searching her face, I press a tender kiss to her lips, move up to her forehead and copy the gesture. Her lashes flutter a few seconds before she looks at me.
“Are we stopping?”
Tapping a kiss to the tip of her nose, I nod. “We’re postponing.”
“Really?” she questions, leaning away and angling her head, observing. “You’ve always come across as an instant gratification type.”
“I can see how you believe that to be true, given the way that we met.” She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes darken with lust remembering our first time together. “But, I like indulgence in all forms; instant and delayed. Tonight, I want our pleasure all night long in my bed. Call me old-fashioned or jealous, but I don’t want anyone out here seeing what is meant for my eyes only.” I jut out my chin, indicating a group of guys running along the beach only thirty feet away from us.
She nods agreeably, “As you wish.” That was almost too easy. I smile inwardly at that small win. “We can resume it later.”
Assisting her with turning around, I slide over and make more room for her on the lounger beside me, wrapping my arm around her lower back. She curls into my side, sliding a hand over my chest, the other sneaking under the hem of my shirt, stroking my back. Her head rests on my shoulder. Instantly, a memory from the last time that I was here, when I was jealous of how Attacus was holding Bobbie in a similar manner flashes in my mind. I have the dream right here in my arms. I squeeze her to me.
Our conversation moves into memories of the past week. Several times we laugh. A few times we argue, discovering that our memories of certain besting incidents are skewed, and proving that we are both extremely stubborn on conceding. The days have gone by too fast. I’m not ready to go back, and yet, I know that in order for us to make this work, we must return so that the final step of Max’s plans can commence. Before we do head back to Georgia, I plan on bringing up the issue with Decks. I can trust her, and I know that she cares for the dumb shit, but how will she feel when she knows that I am working with Max on a plan to bring his family down?
For the past fifteen minutes, Angel has been eerily silent. Her gaze has remained fixed out where the ocean meets the sky, appearing deep in thought. Not wanting to pry, I give her space and just enjoy the way her body feels lying next to mine. I hate to break her somber moment, but my arm fell asleep about five minutes ago. If I bitch about it now, I will come off as an insensitive jackass. Luckily, I don’t have to wait long before she breaks out of her hypnotic state.
Sitting up, she says, “I’ll be back.”
Relieved, I smile. “Hurry back, love.”
Once she steps through the back door, I shake my arm and wince at the prickling nerves, reawakening. The sun will set in a few minutes. Even though I was really looking forward to flying her up to New York for an elegant dinner, I am much happier with the way the evening is turning out, and I am grateful that she isn’t pulling away from me, like I thought. Spending time with her in any capacity is all that matters to me.
With my good hand, I text Max, letting him know that my plans to send Angel back early are cancelled and that we’ll return in a couple of days to speak with Decks. Lighting up a cigarette, I slip into my own thoughts of future days like today, only we’re on a tropical island, enjoying time with the people that we love, and I lose track of time. When I glance toward the doorway, I spot Angel staring over, but not really seeing me. I stand in front of her for a solid minute and it’s like she is looking right through me.
She blinks, and I say, “There you are. I was about to hunt you down.”
Something darkens her grey eyes when they make contact with mine. “I’m here.” Her words are an affirmation of more than just her returning. It is a declaration that she is with me, and I pray that there is no other place that she would rather be. I know there isn’t another for me.
My body heats and the beat of my heart drums so loudly that I know she can hear it. We move in sync, our mouths and bodies connecting ferociously. I want her, and obviously her desires match mine. She leaps into my arms, removing all space and air between us. I growl against her lips, “God you taste so damn good.”
I carry her over to the sofa where she points a finger and wiggles out of my embrace. Following her silent instructions, I sit and watch as she peels off her clothes and then gestures for me to do the same. I roll on a condom and then once we are both naked, she surprises me by straddling my lap–facing me. Finally. Both hands come up to frame my face, she kisses me deeply while keeping her eyes latched onto mine for the first time since our first sexual encounter nearly a year ago. My mind zings, feeling like a razor dicing through old heartaches, removing all doubts that I had about her not falling in love with me. I see it all, our love, all of the tomorrows and her desires. She feels my cock twitch when she wraps her cool hand around the girth moments before she inches her slick heat down. Fuck, she is so wet and tight, molding perfect around the width of me and taking every inch of my dick. I am so turned on seeing the lust and love swirling and battling through the deep grey, making them glow in the darkening room.
The rhythm of our joined bodies and intense eye contact is a restoration of a sad cacophony. It matches the muted ocean sounds coming through the partially open door, combining with the sounds of our pleasure in the silent room. The ebb and flow is intoxicating. I am in awe watching her hunger slowly being conquered by the more powerful emotion–love. This is us, loving and needing, proving that being with each other is more important than all the other bullshit in our lives. A fissure within my lost soul melds with the power of her love.
Her perfect body rises and falls, stroking me with her hot channel and not once does she break away from our gaze. My hands move reverently over her creamy flesh, encouraged by the sexy moans coming from deep down in her chest. Telling her I love you at this moment feels so natural and the words are practically demanding their escape. The power of those three words must not be spoken hastily, and I have never uttered them to another, outside of my siblings. At this precise moment, my heart is urging me to confess how deep my feeling run for her while I bring her to orgasm. And just as desperately, I want to hear her saying them back while she shatters.
“Oh, Blues…” her voice is thick with yearning. She calls to me with the clenching of her walls and grinding of her hard clit against me too. She’s there, caught up in our wild passion and love. I could say the words, I want her to know. I guide my hand between us, pressing my fingers against her pulsing bundle. Her eyes widen and her velvety lips part. The warmth of her minty breath flutters against my mouth. I grip her tightly against me. This is it. Tell her, tell her now, my heart cries. Holding my gaze, she explodes, growling and writhing, and it is the most beautiful sight that I’ve even seen. My balls tighten and the tingle in my spine magnifies to a sharp pulse, and I come hard inside her. So fucking perfect.
Weakened from our intense mating, she collapses against my chest. She pants while holding
my shoulders, with a grip so tight that I think it would shatter her to let go of me now. The air in my chest whooshes out repeatedly, trying to regulate back to normal, back to before our love mingled and two became one. The room is completely blanketed by darkness now. I feel strength and hope in us, and then peace, calming the storms and shrouding our still joined bodies. Could anything be better? After a few silent moments of just holding each other, the words fall from my lips without a single regret, “I love you.”
Upon hearing them, she doesn’t respond. There is no reaction at all, good or bad. Another couple of minutes later, I rouse her. “Let’s go to bed, Angel.” I run my hands through her long strands of hair. Slowly, her eyes meet mine, and I see it–the truth. She definitely heard me, but just like everything else, she holds back. She may not have said it, but she feels it just as strongly as I do. Angel loves me, and what we have is everything.
In bed, we kiss and touch for hours, starting with soft petting and ending sometime around midnight, with another euphoric high. This time we don’t have sex, but still with everything in us, we make love, or at least make this love real. Angel has imprinted herself all over and within every part of me. I only hope that she feels a fraction of what I know is real and inescapable. I draw her into my arms, her ear pressing on the spot above my blissful, beating heart. If she listens closely enough she can probably hear it confessing that every piece belongs to her now and for always. I am a romantic fool. But, I am her romantic fool. More than content with that knowledge, slumber draws me under, and I fall into a deep dream, filled with a perfect angel, who is finally mine.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Did you hear what I said, Mr. Sloane?” the flight attendant asks, standing several feet away from me. My gaze lifts lazily from the invisible focal point on the floor in front of my seat. Intently fixed on me, dark brown eyes, framed with white rimmed glasses on a wrinkled, pale face watches me cautiously. Her silver hair is pulled into a tight bun resting on top of her head, looking professional and motherly, unlike the last one. She smiles sweetly, standing over me, and repeats, “Did you hear what I said, sir?” Not really wanting to speak, I shake my head and she tilts her face slightly, tightening her smile. “My name is Sonya. The pilot advises that we will be in the air in about fifteen minutes, and should arrive in Tampa around five this evening. Is there anything that I can get you once we’re in the air, sir?”
