by Shyla Colt
“You got everything, sassy?”
She blinks. “I do. Thank you.”
I kiss her temple.
Officer Carter, the blond one, clears his throat. Yes, she’s pretty, but she’s taken as hell. “If you’re ready, we can escort you to check out. If you have to make any phone calls, I suggest you do it now. It’ll be the last time you’re allowed to contact anyone until after the trial, and your phones will be turned off, and confiscated. Once we leave this hotel, you’ll be taken to a safe house with a secure location. That safety hinges on your complete cooperation.” The words feel directed toward me.
I raise an eyebrow. “I understand.”
“We understand how important it is to follow the rules, Carter,” Quinn says.
“I understand that stress and isolation can make you forget that we’re only here to keep you safe.”
Is this asshole referring to the death of my son as something as simple as stress? A knot forms in my stomach. Rage creeps up, and I force it back down.
“Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Yes, I’m a grieving father, but no I’m not going to allow that to jeopardize the woman I love or the one chance I have at making the monsters who did this to him pay. I can tell by your comment you don’t have children, do you?”
“No, Mr. Hemngway, I don’t.”
“Then don’t pretend to have a clue what it feels like or how it might affect me because it’s insulting. This is a pain I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. We’re not meant to bury our children. It’s against the natural order of things. My boy was four, with his entire life ahead of him. Show some respect for that.”
His jaw ticks as I stare him down.
“We’re sorry if it felt like we were making light of your son’s death in any way, Mr. Hemnway. We’ve just had our positions compromised too many times to not try to pound the rules into everyone’s skull we protect. It’s not personal,” Officer Johnson says.
So he’s the good cop, at least when it comes to me.
“And I get that. I know you’re here to do a job. I’m not trying to make it any more difficult for you than it already is.”
“And we appreciate that,” Officer Johnson adds.
Quinn rests her head on my shoulder, silently lending me support.
“We should get going. The sooner we get you guys settled, the better,” Carter says.
It doesn’t escape me that he didn’t apologize. I’m not a man who holds a grudge, but I have a lengthy memory.
Chapter Twelve
Quinn
“What’s up with you and him?”
I glance up from my mug of coffee not quite present. “Huh?” Taking a sip, I try to focus my blurry vision on Officer Carter. The blond with the fit body, easy smile, and charm might be some people’s cup of tea, but he’s not mine. He has an arrogance that rubs me the wrong way when he’s trying to lay it on thick. I know officers are supposed to remain vigilant and professional, so I’m chalking his flirting up to boredom or being a part of his persona.
“You and Hemnway. I mean you are together, right?” He arches his brow and peers at me over the rim of his coffee.
“I figured that was pretty obvious considering we share a room.”
I have no clue where the hell we are in Texas, but we drove for a good three hours and ended up at a cabin removed from civilization as we know it. The four-bedroom dwelling is done up like the ultimate bachelor’s pad with its navy and green colors, leather couches, and bare walls. The stark setting makes it feel like an extended stay in a hotel with overly attentive workers. Carter and Johnson are always around. The only peace to be found is in our room, and that gets old fast.
“I mean yes, I get it, but you seem very different.”
“Haven’t you heard opposites attract? Besides, he’s not really himself right now.” I take another sip to keep my tongue from getting ahead of my brain. The man just lost the most precious thing in his life a few short weeks ago. So what if he’s not outgoing now?
“Yeah, I have. Most of the time it doesn’t work out in the long run.” He shrugs.
“Let me guess ... you don’t do long term relationships?” I use my free hand to air quote to add that extra punch of obnoxiousness.
“Not with this job. Women can’t handle me going off the grid for cases, you know?”
“Sounds like you haven’t met the right one then.”
“Are you one of those people?”
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head as he frowns and wrinkles his nose.
“You know, the type that believes there’s a person out there for everyone?”
I take a few more sips and frown as I really think about the question. “I’m not sure. I used to be like you, skeptical and guarded.”
“Then what, Hemnway showed up and changed everything?” He bats his eyelashes, and I scowl.
“Yes, and not in the silly way you’re presenting. That man literally took a bullet for me because it was the right thing to do. You save someone’s life and literally have their blood on your hands, it bonds you. The romance that happened afterward came naturally. I will always be there for him and by his side defending him from any and every thing.”
I lean against the counter and continue to meet his gaze head on, hoping he’ll get the message. The last thing I want is to agitate Ollie. He’s dealing with enough. I think the lack of contact with his family is starting to take its toll. He’s close to his mother. Right now she’d be a source of comfort and guidance from him. I’ve never been a parent, and as much as I want to help him, I feel most of the time my words are ineffectual and fall on deaf ears.
Carter’s wide-eyed expression would be amusing if I wasn’t so over being contained in a small space with the three men. Life in a safe house is strange. The only familiar thing I have with me is clothing, a few books, and Ollie, and half the time he’s a stranger. He goes from being okay to dark and brooding in the span of a heartbeat. I try to pull him out of it, but I swear he feels guilty for that.
“Got it,” Carter says.
“Good,” I mumble. Pushing away from the counter, I retrace my footsteps back toward the bedroom. The cabin is midsized with a deck, but they don’t want us wandering about much. So every day the space seems to shrink. I’m tired of Cards against Humanity, Uno, and Spades. I’ve read the books I brought with me, plus the twenty or more that I’ve gotten offline. We have the internet, but I know they monitor it. Essentially, I’m a teenager on an extended punishment for my own good. I open the door and quietly enter the room where Ollie is still sleeping. The rest is probably the best thing for him at this point. I’ve often heard the death of a child brings parents together or drives them apart. At this stage, I’m not sure which way we’re headed.
It takes two to make things work. The thought brings tears to my eyes. Closing my lids, I fight them as I cup the mug and absorb the warmth. I sink down on the side of the bed and take a deep breath. Just a few more weeks and the trial will begin.
Ollie rolls toward me. He smacks his lips, and his eyelids flutter open. He grunts. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight o’clock. You got somewhere to be?”
He snickers. “I wish.” He rolls onto his back and sighs. “I never knew how boring nothing could be. It’s driving me crazy not knowing how things are going at work, or what everyone is up to. It’s insane being kept in this bubble.”
“I know. I’m crawling out of my skin. I haven’t had this much downtime since I caught the chicken pox in second grade,” I say.
He pushes himself up, and I offer him my cup. “I know you love me because you share your coffee.”
Smiling, I kiss his cheek. “I do.”
“I know. Thank you for being here with me. I know I’m not always pleasant to be around.”
I run my hand over his hair, smoothing down the duck tail that’s popped up. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
This is a good morning.
“
Kind of feel like I do. Some days I’m on autopilot. I walk around here like a zombie, and it’s not fair to you.”
“Hey, you feel how you feel. Don’t feel bad for that. If you step out of line, you know I have no problem speaking up.”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
I nudge him with my elbow. It’s a glimpse at the man I originally fell in love with. Encouraged, I snuggle up beside him and rest my head on his shoulder. Closing my eyes, I soak up the normalcy we’ve been sorely lacking.
“Anyone else up yet?”
“Carter.”
“Of course he is,” he says dryly. I note the friction between them, but do my best to stay purposely blind to it.
“Dude definitely seems like a morning person. Me, I’m fumbling in there trying to get caffeine down my gullet so I can people.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you be mean to someone.”
“And you don’t want to. When I finally get upset, it’s ugly.” I’m not proud of my mean streak, but I know myself, and my flaws.
“I’ve been on the receiving end of your stubbornness, so I think I can imagine.”
“You’re a funny guy today, huh?”
He smirks. “I like to think I am every day.”
“You’re something all right.”
“What do you want to do today, sassy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve catered to me.”
I glance down and shrug. “I mean I’d kill for ice cream, but we know that’s not going to happen.”
“Ha, it might if you ask nicely enough. We’re getting low on supplies. I’m sure they’re thinking of re-upping on groceries soon.”
“Is it horrible that the thought of them gone is exciting?”
“Hell no. This wouldn’t be bad at all if it was just the two of us.”
I needed those words more than he can know. He’s still in this with me. There are days when it’s hard to be the strong one. I need to be put first, comforted, and supported, too. I crave his sweet words, gentle touch, and attention. It seems so petty to mention when I know the depths of despair he’s swimming through.
“Come here.” Setting the mug on the nightstand, he tucks me under his arm and massages my scalp with his fingertips.
“That feels so good,” I say softly as I moan and lean into him. When he nips my bottom lip, my belly quivers. His tongue darts out and traces my lips. I lean into him, starved for the intimacy he’s initiating for the first time in weeks. Cupping my face, he slants his lips over mine, taking control. I’m a malleable clay, ready to be shaped and molded by his hands. He lowers me to the bed onto my back, and I open my legs, welcoming his weight. His bulge brushes up against my crotch, and I whimper at the friction he causes through our pajama bottoms and my panties.
“They’ll hear us,” I whisper.
“Let them.”
The fire in his eyes makes me want him more. He grinds into me, and I bury my fingers in his long hair. He’s rocking facial hair, and I’m feeling it. I tug it slightly and he moans as he smashes his lips against mine and our body finds a rhythm while he ravages my mouth. His tongue and teeth own me. My legs are shaking, and my panties are wet. He strips me down with a soft touch that makes goose bumps break out over my flesh. He pins my hand above my head, cuffing my wrists with one hand as he caresses his way down my body. I’m burning from the inside out.
“Oh, Ollie.”
“You feel so good. I can’t get over how soft your skin is.” He cups my right breast, kneading and pulling my nipple. I wiggle as he continues to build the pressure. His lips move from my mouth down my neck, where he focuses on the spot behind my ear that makes my toes curl.
“You’re so pretty when you make those sounds for me,” he rumbles.
The muscles in my stomach jump as he skims them with his fingertips and stops at my bikini line to stroke a line back and forth. My breath comes in small pants of anticipation. He chuckles.
“You want more? You’ll have to ask me, sassy.”
“Please touch me.”
He drags his fingers to caress the tops of my thighs. I open my legs, and he moves inside, stopping shy of my throbbing molten core where I need him most. I whimper.
“Is this not where you want me?”
“Ollie,” I whine. Saying the words aloud always feels so intimate. Even more than the act itself.
“Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you want, but I want to hear it.”
“Touch my pussy, Ollie. Make me feel good.”
He strokes down my cleft, and my brain nearly explodes. I shudder as the pleasure winds up through my body. It’s been too long.
“Like that?” he asks, whispering in my ear as he circles my clit with his thumb.
“Oh yes.”
“Or like this?” He rolls my clit between two fingers, and I arch off the bed.
“Both.”
He bites my bottom lip and circles my entrance. Whimpers and whines spill from my throat as I break free from his teeth and thrust my tongue into his mouth, groaning as he presses two fingers inside of me, filling and stretching as he crooks his digits and pumps. I rotate my hips, and he hits the spot that makes me see colors. Clamping my thighs around his hand, I trap him in place.
“Right there.” My body quakes, and I come, hard. His satisfied hum rings out in my ears as I slowly drift back to the ground. He runs his swollen cock between my slippery lips and taps the head against my sensitive bundle of nerves. I flex and find myself empty.
“Ollie, I need you.”
He peers up and meets my gaze as he gives me every inch he has to offer in one smooth stroke. I grip his biceps, and he pulls out. We find a steady rhythm that renders me speechless as he fills me over and over again. I wrap my legs around his hips, and he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. Straddling his legs, I wrap my arms around his neck. I like it this way when we’re as close as two people can get.
We’re reconnecting, and my soul is singing. Synchronized, we work our way up to a blinding crescendo I feel from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. This man is my heart living outside of my body. I rest my head on his shoulders and breathe in his scent. Having him present with me in this moment is everything I’ve been missing.
“Now that’s how to start the morning,” Ollie says.
I giggle. “I agree.”
He kisses my collarbone and lifts me off his limp member. “We should shower.”
“We should, but that would require moving.” I flop onto my back.
“Maybe a little more sleep, then.” We snuggle together in the center of the bed. Our bodies cool down, and the afterglow tucks around us like a snuggly blanket. I live for these moments between the stress of our existence and the grief over losing Rolly where things are okay.
OLLIE
The only time we’re allowed to step outside is at night. Who they’re worried about seeing us, I can’t guess, because we’re out in the middle of nowhere. We’d see anyone else coming a mile away. I lean down against the railing. It’s quiet out here. The sky seems endless, the stars shine brighter and larger, and if I wasn’t stuck with Carter and Johnson, I could find beauty in the tranquility. Right now I hate the silence and the inactivity. Being trapped here gives me nothing to do but think. My brain replays the happy times with Rolly. He was a brilliant, happy kid with wild hair, bright eyes, and an adventurous spirit.
He would’ve loved being here now. There’s a lake not far away from the cabin where I would’ve taught him how to fish. My vision blurs. I’m never going to do that now. He’ll never graduate from high school, go to college, or start a family. I feel robbed of all those occasions and a legacy. He was the best of me embodied. What do I leave behind now, to who? Allie is making it clear to anyone with working eardrums this is not just my fault, but Quinn’s, too.
As if we asked to be robbed, shot, and stalked. I can’t be anywhere near her. I’m afraid I’d snap, and things would get violent. Roland was our son, n
ot just hers. She doesn’t get to be the only one who’s affected. Her selfishness and drama make me want to strangle her. Bowing my head, I wonder where he is right now. I always liked the idea of heaven, but I’m not sure if I’m a true believer.
It’s hard to believe in God when I live in a world where such horrible events occur regularly. The days of not locking your home are long gone, and now you can’t even walk down the street or do the right thing without suffering the wrath of pure evil. I’ve never seen anyone look as inhuman as Santiago did that night with eyes full of death and no remorse. The image will haunt me until the day I die. My spine stiffens. I sniff. The familiar scent of bubble gum bubble bath hits me, and I turn slowly. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m not sure what I expect to see, but there’s nothing there.
Rolly? The smell increases and a warmth fills me. I close my eyes and it’s like he’s beside me. I can almost feel his tiny hand in mind. My shoulders shake with silent sobs I can’t hold back. I open my eyes and peer up just in time to see a spark of light shot across the sky. A falling star. I feel a ghostly hand brush against mine. He’s here. Peace settles over me. He’s here, and right now he’s somewhere safer than any place I could imagine. The words in my head are foreign to me, but solid—in a way facts I’ve known all my life to be true are.
I’ve heard of people having spiritual experiences before, but I never imagined one would happen to me. Turn around. I slowly rotate my body, and the door opens to reveal an uncertain looking Quinn dressed in black pajama bottoms and one of my old Metallica T-shirts. Swathed in the light of the room, she looks like an angelic being. I blink and rub my eyes.
“Ollie, you okay?”
