by Imogen Wells
My father, not content with his lot as a Crown Court Judge, has set his sights on becoming a Justice of the Supreme Court. He’s currently bribing, blackmailing and buying his way to the top.
My father has always been rigid, stuffy and willing do anything to get what he wants. As a kid, I never really took too much notice, but that changed as I got older. He was never loving, and I certainly wasn’t the apple of my father’s eye, but my mother more than made up for his lack of affection. For a while at least.
I make my way through the crowd, sipping my champagne and ignoring all the scornful looks cast my way. I hear several gasps too, and it brings a satisfied smirk to my lips. My dress is obviously having the desired effect. The sheer white rhinestone adorned dress is cinched at the waist with a silver chain belt before flaring out over my hips and hangs seductively off one shoulder, like a toga, whilst the right sleeve drapes down to cuff my wrist with a slit all the way down my arm, matching the one up my left leg. It’s beautiful, but in a room full of black tuxes and dresses in an array of colours, none of which are white or showing as much skin as I am, I stand out like a sore thumb. I deliberately chose white as another fuck you to my father. He’s not going to be impressed.
Stepping past a couple, I finally catch a glimpse of my parents talking with one of my father’s acquaintances.
My mother sees me first, and her eyes light as a smile spreads across her face. As she gets a full view of me, the smile falls, and her eyes widen. Excusing herself, she hastily walks toward me, planting a hard, forced smile on her face.
“Jessica,” she greets between tightly gritted teeth. Leaning in to kiss my cheek, she hisses, “What the hell are you doing?” Gripping my shoulders, she pulls back to take in my features.
“Mother. Such a lovely welcome as always,” I sneer, all the while keeping the appearance of an adoring daughter greeting her mother, when really I feel conflicted.
I’ve always loved my mother, and as a child I couldn’t have wished for a better mother. As I got older, I began to see the differences between how my father treated me compared to my brother. My brother hated it, and I would often hear them arguing about it. But my mother, the one person who should have always had my back, never said a word. Not that I ever saw or heard anyway.
After Christian’s death, the final thread holding the mother-daughter relationship together fractured, and whilst we do talk and meet when possible, the truth and bitterness is all carefully masked with happy smiles and small talk.
“Your father is going to be very displeased, Jessica.”
“When isn’t he, Mother?” I retort. My eyes catch on movement to the left, and I see my father striding towards us, eyes narrowed on me and displeasure flashing like a neon sign across his face.
“As if you haven’t caused enough drama, you have to do this on such an important evening for him,” she mutters the last part just before my father reaches us.
Gigi steps aside as Archie Collins moves in front of me, dominating the space. He grasps my arms, tighter than is comfortable, and leans in to kiss my cheek as my mother did. Only he misses his mark, and instead whispers in my ear.
“Is your sole purpose in life to embarrass and shame this family, Jessica?” Stepping back, his face is alight with a wide smile, but his grip on my arms tightens further, and I’m sure there’ll be bruises there tomorrow. However, his deceptively happy smile can’t hide the disgust in his eyes.
The biggest part of me leaps excitedly at having done what I set out to do; piss my father off. But there’s a small part, the young girl desperate for her father’s approval, that silently weeps in the corner of my mind.
“You know I’m always happy to please you, Father,” I say with a mocking smile and attempt to step out of his grasp. He releases me, not wanting to make scene.
“I have important people to meet, but you and I shall continue this conversation later, Jessica.” I keep my face neutral at his cutting remark as he and my mother turn and walk away arm in arm.
As a waitress passes, I snatch another glass of champagne, drinking it down in one mouthful. My nose turns up at the bitter fizz on my tongue, and I decide that if I’m going to make it through this evening, I’m going to need something with more of a kick than the pretentious piss water my father is dishing out.
I can almost taste the under the table backhands my father hopes to buy with this evening’s festivities, and I swallow down the disgust bubbling back up at the thought.
At the bar, I take a seat and order a large whiskey.
Twenty
Rick
I tug at the collar of my shirt. For someone that is usually comfortable wearing a shirt, I can’t get past this uncomfortable feeling working its way beneath my skin this evening. That’s a total lie. I’ve had this feeling since we left King’s Dyke early Wednesday morning. Since I drove away from that site, passing the cabins on the way, I’ve struggled to keep my mind focused on anything other than thoughts of a dangerously insatiable desire to see Jessica again, to check on her, to touch her.
So much so, that when we returned, I called every garage within 5 miles of the cabins searching for the one where Jess’ car was. I found it, of course. Gaz, the owner, practically tripped over himself to spill every detail of what was wrong with Jess’ car. Telling him I was a cop probably helped somewhat.
I almost crushed the phone in my hand when he told me that Jess’ brakes had failed. In fact, as he continued to talk, telling me he thought someone had tampered with them, I may have launched my coffee mug across the kitchen.
When I’d cleared up and finally calmed down, I made some calls and had a former road traffic investigator take a look at Jess’ car. Waiting for his report is playing on my mind and being here is doing nothing to distract me.
It hasn’t helped that Scott called me today to let me know that Jessica is at her flat, and he had to step in when she was harassed by a journalist. Whilst I’ve not asked him to watch her place all the time, I did ask that he stop by when he could. It seems as though it was a good call. I couldn’t help but laugh when he told me what she did.
Scanning the crowd, I watch a waiter as he carries a tray of appetisers around the room before disappearing down a corridor. He looks just like any other waiter here, but there’s something off about him. Getting up, I make my way through the crowd, but just before I reach the corridor, a figure steps in front of me, blocking my way.
“Rick. How good to see you again. I wasn’t aware you would be here this evening.”
“Mr Harris. I wasn’t aware that I needed to report my every move to you.” I challenge, attempting to move past him. He moves with me, continuing to block my path. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr Harris?” I ask, trying to keep my temper in check.
Whilst this man has my sympathy for the loss of his daughter, his arrogant and misogynistic attitude is something I don’t have time for. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact he’s suing Jess for negligence.
“Ah, well, actually there is something I wanted to talk to you about. Perhaps we can discuss it over a drink?”
“Look, Mr Harris, I’m sorry about Charlotte, but I don’t think there is anything further we need to discuss here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.” This time when I try to step around him, he lets me, but not without having the final word.
“Of course, Rick. Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’re a very busy man. However, be sure to make some time in that very busy schedule of yours for the court date, won’t you. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lieutenant Sullivan,” he finishes, my name draped in disdain.
“Son of a fucking bitch!” I seethe, spinning round to give the bastard a piece of my damn mind, when a hand on my shoulder stops me.
“He’s not worth it, Rick.” My shoulders sag at Ryder’s words. “You’re better than that. Don’t let the cunt get to you.”
“Such colourful language this evening, dear,” Cam mocks, as she joins
us.
“Trust me, if we were anywhere else, preferably a dark alley, I’d make him as colourful as my fucking words. All the colours of the rainbow.”
Cam and I laugh at Ryder, who is now frowning after Tobias and mentally throwing knives at the man’s back. How do I know that? Because I’m doing the exact same thing.
Ryder tells me that we need to take our seats. I usher him and Cam off, telling them that I need to use the bathroom and will be there in a minute.
Once they leave for the main hall, I hurry down the corridor. It’s hardly a surprise I can’t see the waiter anywhere, but I do hear voices coming from one of the rooms a little way down the hallway. The door is ajar, but I can’t see who’s speaking only that the room appears to be some sort of games room given the full-size pool table I can see one half of.
“All this shit in the press is making me and your father look bad, and then you turn up here dressed like that knowing full well it would draw more attention.”
“In case you’d forgotten, we’re no longer married, and I don’t give two flying fucks how bad you and my father look, Alistair. Now get the fuck out of my way.”
I don’t recognise the male voice, but I sure as hell recognise the woman’s. It’s Jess. She was married, and to this arsehole!
“Just because we aren’t married anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to you or—”
“Go on, say it. How it reflects on you and my father.” Jess’ words are full of derision, and she lets out a mocking laugh to boot. “You’ve never given a shit about me. That was made clear by your whoring ways and marrying for a leg up with my father.”
I stand here listening to Jess giving her ex hell, and I’m not ashamed to admit it makes me fucking hard. But Alistair’s next words wash away any arousal and replace it with rage.
“My whoring ways? Says the bitch that let three guys tag team her in college,” he scoffs. “You turn up here dressed in white like a fucking virgin—”
His words are cut short as the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes from the room, and I shove through the door. I’m not sure what I expected to find, but Jess’ ex pinned against the wall and gasping for breath couldn’t have been further from my mind.
Jess’ head inclines, having heard someone enter the room, but she keeps her focus fully on the man in front of her. As I get closer, her words become audible.
“…not what happened, and you fucking know it. You’re a disgrace to the male population and the law you swore an oath to uphold. I hope like hell I’m there to see karma when she finally comes for her vengeance on you.”
Alistair’s eyes are blown, and his lips have a hint of blue tinging the edges as he tries desperately to draw oxygen into his starved lungs. His hands grip her wrist as he continues to struggle.
With one last death-inducing squeeze, Jess releases him, and he collapses to the floor.
“Y-y-you cra-crazy fucking b-bitch,” he manages to stammer out between coughs and gasps of much needed air.
Jess spins away from Alistair, coming face to face with me. If she’s shocked to see me, her face doesn’t show it.
She opens her mouth, and though I’m not sure what she was going to say, I give her the slightest shake of my head, eyes narrowing in warning.
“You ready to go?” I ask. My careful and controlled tone belies the anger simmering beneath my skin. I step forward, taking her hand in mine. She tenses initially, but after a split second, she relaxes, threading her fingers through mine.
We leave Alistair sitting on the floor spitting vitriol like it’s an Olympic sport. His colourful language and threats follow us down the hall. Only becoming muted once we turn the corner, where I open the first door we come across and pull Jess inside.
Dropping my hand as soon as the door closes behind us, Jess begins pacing the small room. The moonlight slashes across her face on every pass of the window, highlighting her deep frown and pursed lips.
I try to give her time, to tell me herself, but I don’t think she has any intention of telling me what went on back there. So, I give her a little prod.
“You want to tell me what the fuck I just walked in on back there?” Unfortunately, my restraint seems to have been left out in the hall, and my words fire at her demanding and full of unreleased rage.
“No, I don’t. It’s none of your damn business,” she fires back, continuing her pacing. “What the hell are you even doing here, Rick?”
“It’s my business when the woman I’ve been screwing is married, and I find her in a room squeezing the life out of her husband. So, yeah, it is my fucking business.”
“Ex-husband,” she spits, like just saying the word husband burns. “And as you said yourself, we were just screwing, so…”
She leaves the question to hang in the air, and I know it’s what I said, but I think we both know it was more than just sex. However, neither of us are ready to admit that out loud yet.
“He’s a cop, right?” I ask, even though I already know the answer given what I just heard and her reaction to the mention of cops the night we first met.
“If you mean a power-hungry shark playing at being a cop, then I guess you’re right, yeah.” She stops pacing and turns to me. “How much did you hear, Rick?”
“Enough. Too much. More than I should have.” I step toward her, desperately wanting to ask the question I know neither of us want me to ask. “Jess—”
She holds her hands up. “Don’t.” It’s the same word I said to her the last time I saw her. “You have your demons and I have mine. Ones I’m not ready to talk about.”
“Fair enough,” I say, taking another step toward her. Her hands lower as she realises that I’m not going to press the matter. Jess may not be prepared to let me close emotionally and trust me with her secrets, but she’s more than willing to let me in physically. She’s right, I do have my own demons, but I can’t stay away from her either. I raise my own hand, brushing back a strand of hair from her face. As I tuck it behind her ear, my fingers ghost over the pulse point in her neck before running along her jaw and causing her breath to hitch.
Catching her waist as my other hand grips her jaw, I pull her to me. My dick stands to attention at the little gasp-moan that slips from her, and I tilt her head back giving me free access to explore her neck with my lips.
“Rick.” The word falls from her lips in a breathy exhale, and I’m not sure if it was a plea for more or a warning. Regardless, I continue my ministrations, nipping and kissing her neck fully aware that she’ll soon let me know if I misread her. The image of her pinning that wanker Alistair up against the wall speaks to some dark part of me, a part I don’t normally indulge in.
Right now, I let my body rule my mind and damn the consequences. With her chin still gripped in my fingers, I drag my lips over hers, licking at the seam and slaking my thirst for a taste of her. It only takes a second before her control snaps, and with a nip to my bottom lip, she grips the lapels of my jacket and slams her mouth to mine.
Releasing her chin, I slide my hand up her thigh through the slit in her dress, gripping her thong-clad arse, just as my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket. Ignoring it, I flick my fingers beneath the scrap of lace, skimming a finger through her slick folds and eliciting a groan as I dip inside. Jess widens her stance giving me better access, and I take full advantage, slamming two fingers into her and growling as her pussy grips them like a vice.
Breaking the kiss, she pants out, “We shouldn’t be doing th… ahh.” Her words cut off on a cry as I curl my fingers inside her, and despite what her mouth wanted to say, her body is saying the opposite. Her hands move to my belt, pausing as my phone begins vibrating in my pocket again.
“Fuck,” I curse, resting my forehead against hers. It cuts off before starting up again, telling me it’s important.
“Sex toys already? How presumptuous of you,” she says with a laugh, but the sparkle in her eyes, tells me she wouldn’t be complaining if it was.
My
response is scissoring my fingers inside her, causing the smirk to drop from her lips and become a parted sigh before letting them slip from her heat and pulling my phone free.
The glare she gives me has a laugh breaking free, but it’s stopped short when the fire alarm blares out through the hotel.
“For now, we need to get out of here, but we’ll continue this later.” I take a quick look at my phone to see three missed calls from Ryder and two email notifications. With no time to do anything about them, I shove the phone back in my pocket and grab Jess’ hand, pulling her behind me.
“Presumptuous bastard just got added to the list of your flaws,” she mutters as we step from the corridor into the foyer, which is packed with people hurrying to get outside.
Scanning the crowd, I don’t see Cam or Ryder anywhere, so with a grip on Jess’ hand, we head for the exit.
Twenty-One
Jess
Rick tows me along behind him as we squeeze through the crowd.
“There is no need to panic. Please make your way to the exit calmly and safely,” shouts a member of hotel staff.
However, when smoke begins to pour into the foyer, calmly and safely is replaced with panic and chaos as people surge forward, desperate to escape.
Rick’s grip tightens as I stumble in my heels, but a second later, his hand is ripped away from mine when a man barges his way between us. Caught in a surge of people, I’m carried away from Rick as I watch him pushing against the flow of the crowd to get back to me.
“Jess. Jess.” I hear him calling as I’m pulled further away.
I spot a gap in the crowd and quickly duck down and slip through, coming out to the left of the main doors.
Visibility becomes poor as smoke continues to billow into the foyer, and even from up the stairs now. Using an arm to protect my mouth and nose from the smoke, I remain where I am as the crowd thins out, waiting for the last minute before slipping through the doors.
