My heart tells me that he won’t harm me. Not on purpose, not by accident. The way he holds me, the way he takes care of me, even the way he looks at me—all of that proves to me that with Jake, I am safe. No matter what. Maybe there was a time when I feared him more than anything else. At first, I saw only danger when I looked at him.
After all, he did rip me out of my quiet, unassuming little bubble and carry me into the flames. But when we are together and we trust one another, working like a team, those flames cannot burn us. We stand side by side, hand in hand in the fire, unburned and unscathed.
I don’t have any idea what the future holds, but in my booze-addled mind, right now and right here on this motorcycle with Jake, I feel strangely good. Almost euphoric. Not even the unnerving presence of the other man can shake the feelings still rolling over me from our time in the club.
His body pressed against mine, his face bright and smiling, happy to be with me, spinning and clinging to one another in the eye of the storm. No one and no thing has ever made me feel this way before, and even if it ends in tragedy, I feel lucky to be on this ride with him right now. For better or for worse; that’s what they say, isn’t it?
I’m with Jake until the end or until he sets me back down in my dull corner of the world, for better or for worse. And I don’t have to tell him this. He knows.
He reaches down to place his hand over both of mine where they’re clasped together over his taut abdominal muscles. He gives my hands a pat and a squeeze, and I smile against the fabric of his shirt, nuzzling into his shoulder as the cool wind whips around us. This town is going to sleep, the lights flickering out down every block as the hours creep quietly toward midnight.
I know I should be frightened, but I’m not.
I’m only excited and a little sleepy.
Because when we get back to the hotel, I know what I want to do.
I plan to crawl into bed beside Jake, cuddle up to his broad chest, feel his strong arms close around me. The two of us, cocooned in the hotel bed sheets while the neon light of the sign flashing bright and dark through the wide window. I want to feel every inch of his body pressed up to mine. I am tingling all over just thinking about it.
Maybe we’ll just fall asleep like that. I would be okay with sleeping. But perhaps there will be something more. Some new forbidden fruit to taste, some exciting mystery experience to unfold. Jake knows all the ways to make my body thrum and sing, and I have a feeling he has been holding back all this time.
He could do so much more to me, and while that might scare me if it was someone else, it’s not like that with Jake. I trust him. He’s proven to know what to do. I may be a novice to the ways of sex and love, but he seems to be an expert. I don’t care where or how or with whom he learned it all, as long as he keeps showing me new ways to feel so, so good. I can hardly wait.
I press a gentle kiss into his shoulder and he tilts his head back to rest against my forehead for a moment. Everything feels so smooth and breezy, so simple. It’s anything but simple, I know, but in this moment it’s hard to believe we’re caught up in a web of calculated risks and lies. My real life, the slow and empty existence I have carried out for twenty-one years, seems light-years away now. I’m a different woman now that Jake has plucked me out of the suburbs and dropped me into the thick of the battle.
I wonder what it will feel like when I go home. If I go home.
How will I ever fit back inside the narrow mold I left behind?
I’m interrupted from my thoughts by the sensation of Jake’s cell phone vibrating in his pocket. The vibration travels up to my thigh, and at first it almost gets lost in the tremble of the motorcycle itself, the engine loud enough to drown it out almost entirely. But Jake cautiously reaches into his pocket, pulls out the phone, and then I feel his body go rigid as he looks at the screen.
The motorcycle slows down and he gently pulls it to the side of the road, still sitting on the motorcycle but resting on one foot while he answers the call. I listen silently and nervously. It must be an important call for him to pull over during our getaway drive.
“Mom?” he answers softly. My heart does a somersault in my chest. I can just barely hear a panicked female voice on the other end of the line, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Still, the fear in her tone is evident even without the script.
“Okay. Calm down. It’s gonna be fine. I’m on my way. Hold tight,” Jake assures her. “Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can. No, don’t call the police. Keep the doors locked and the curtains drawn. I’m coming home. Love you, too.”
He hangs up the phone, slips it into his pocket, and revs the engine back to life, pulling a hairpin turn and jetting off in the direction we came without a word of explanation. I open my mouth to ask what’s going on, but then I remember that he probably won’t be able to hear me over the roar of the engine. So I just hold on, close my eyes, and settle in for the drive.
The two of us are on pins and needles over the hour and a half drive toward the outskirts of Philly where, presumably, his mother lives. All the while, we keep silent. Jake is fully ignoring the speed limit signs, but keeping to darkened back roads. My anxiety is mounting by the minute, and by the time we pull into a quiet neighborhood in Willow Grove, I feel like I might throw up from nerves. He slows down once we’re in a residential area, and I can feel every muscle in his body tensing up as he looks around, eyeing every yard and alley with suspicion.
Now that the engine is quieter, I lean in and whisper against the shell of his ear, “Jake, what’s going on? Why are we here?”
He’s silent for a long moment, clearly trying to scan the area closely. I feel bad for distracting him, but I’m on the verge of major panic here. I don’t know the severity of our situation or what to expect. I’m still exhausted, though by now my buzz has worn off. Now I’m just anxious to figure out what’s happening.
Finally, Jake replies softly, “My mother is in trouble. Or thinks she is.”
I gasp and nuzzle closer to him, clinging for support. “Uh oh,” I mumble.
“Uh oh is right,” he says grimly.
We make a few more turns, going deeper into the neighborhood until we reach a dead end street with rows of bungalow houses, small and modest. I wonder what secrets lie behind each of these humble facades, what kinds of fears lurk in the neatly-trimmed hedges.
This is not a rich neighborhood—that much is obvious. But it looks homely and comforting, the kind of place where one could eke out a pleasant, quiet living and keep to oneself.
I have a feeling that’s the kind of life Jake would live if given the chance, and that realization kind of breaks my heart. We’re opposites in that way. I’ve been craving excitement, adventure, anything to break up the monotony of my real life. Jake has been thrust into a life of danger and uncertainty, but all he wants is stability. Suddenly, I feel kind of guilty for ever resenting my easy, sheltered life.
The motorcycle putters up a driveway at the end of the street, right by the dead end sign. It’s a slouchy, low-slung navy blue house with canary-yellow trim and a stark-white front door. The rose bushes out front look to be perfectly maintained, and I have to smile to myself in spite of my nervousness.
This home looks warm and inviting, even if it’s nothing impressive, even though the windows are all dark, as if no one’s home. The motorcycle stops and Jake hastily helps me down, leading me by the hand to the front door.
He doesn’t even have to knock before the door inches open to reveal a sliver of a sweet, middle-aged female face looking very anxious. She has the same bright green eyes as Jake, though her dark hair is streaked with silvery threads. Her face lights up when she sees who’s at the door, and she hurriedly beckons us inside without a single word.
Jake pushes me into the house, nods to his mother, and then sneaks back out, leaving me alone with her. His mother quickly locks the door again, and reaches for my hand as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. She holds a finger to her
lips to keep me quiet, and leads me down the darkened hallway to a tiny but cozy sitting room. She urges me to sit down on the old-looking floral loveseat and I oblige. Finally, she speaks.
In a soft, cautious voice she says, “Would you like some tea?”
I give her a smile and, though my impulse is to decline, I get the sense that she wants to keep her hands busy. So I nod. “Oh, yes please.”
“What flavor do you like, dear?” she asks, in a near-whisper.
I shrug and smile pleasantly. “Any kind is fine by me. Thank you.”
She nods and putters into the adjoining kitchen, where a kettle is already starting to wail. I lean around and watch as she pours two cups of tea with trembling hands. I bite my lip, wanting to go help her but knowing that if she’s anything like her son, she won’t accept my assistance. She carries the tea back on a silver tray, the porcelain tea cups vibrating and clinking as she sets it on a small coffee table between the loveseat and armchair.
“Lavender earl grey,” she whispers.
“Sounds lovely. Thanks,” I reply, taking my cup.
“What is your name, dear?” she asks, still so softly.
“Charity,” I answer. “What’s yours?”
“Maude,” she says. “Charity is a pretty name.”
“So is Maude,” I reply, smiling.
“Sorry to call you both out here in the middle of the night, but I thought perhaps I saw someone prowling around outside and, well, I got frightened,” she explains sadly.
“Don’t apologize. Jake would sooner pull his own arm off than put you in danger,” I tell her honestly. She chuckles, her face brightening.
“I know. He’s such a good boy. Always takes care of me, even though he doesn’t have to. It’s strange, you know. I used to think I had to protect him from the world, but nowadays, he’s the one protecting me. And he always has, even before I fell ill,” Maude explains.
She warms to the topic, clearly chuffed to have a chance to talk about her beloved son. “You know, my ex-husband, Jake’s stepfather, was a terrible man. Jake saw that even before I did. He’s forever been good at reading people. If he likes you, it must mean you’re a good person.”
I blush, staring down into my cup of tea. Luckily, she continues. “I’m so happy he’s found someone. After he rescued me from his stepfather, he kind of closed himself off. He never brought another girl home. I think he was too afraid to let himself be happy. My Jake—he’s such a sweetheart. So attentive. He just poured all his energy into taking care of me. He still does. I’ve tried to tell him to live his own life, let me handle my problems. If I fail, it’s my fault, not his. But he refuses to let go. He works so hard, Charity. So hard,” she trails off, getting misty-eyed.
“He adores you. He’d do anything for you,” I tell her. She nods.
“Yes. He’s almost too good. If not for him, well, I wouldn’t be here now, I’m afraid. I just worry that he’s so caught up trying to save me that he’s going to forget to save himself,” Maude laments, shaking her head.
I open my mouth to answer, but then I hear the jangling of what sounds like a dog collar, and the pitter-patter of paws on tile. Moments later, a medium-sized white dog with brown patches and blue eyes comes trotting into the room, tongue lolling. When he catches sight of me, his tail starts wagging uncontrollably and he rushes over to jump up onto the loveseat beside me, laying his head in my lap. I giggle and almost spill my tea, I’m so delighted and surprised.
“Samson, calm down,” Maude says, laughing gently. “Oh, I don’t know why I bother. He can’t hear me. That dog is deaf as a brick wall.”
“I didn’t know Jake had a dog,” I whisper, scratching Samson behind the ears.
“Mhm. Samson’s been with us, oh, about five years now. He’s the only remaining puppy of the litter our old dog, Goldie, gave birth to. The others all got adopted out, but Samson was the runt. And being deaf and all, we just knew he was safer here with us. Poor Goldie. She was such a good girl, but boy, did she have a hard life. My ex-husband—he didn’t treat animals any better than he treated humans. But Goldie was so sweet. She never fought back, not even once. Samson’s just like her. Well, except for being deaf and a lot dumber. We love him, though. Especially Jake. That dog is his life,” Maude explains, grinning.
There’s a faint scraping noise from across the house and both of us freeze up, but then Jake comes walking into the sitting room, and we realize he must have come in through the back screen door. He grins when he sees Samson in my lap, but the dog nearly trips over himself in his haste to get up and greet Jake.
“Good boy, Sammy. Oh, I missed you, too,” he gushes, kneeling down to hug his dog, whose tail is wagging so hard it looks like it might detach and go flying at any second.
Jake looks over at his mother and smiles. “It was just some bratty neighborhood kids skulking around. I scared ‘em off,” he says, and we both sigh in relief.
“Oh, good. I’m sorry for dragging you out here for no reason,” Maude sighs.
Jake walks over and kisses her on the forehead. “No worries. I’d rather be safe than sorry. But I do think we should stay the night here, just in case. That okay with you?”
Maude beams happily, wrapping her shawl more tightly around herself. “Oh, yes! Of course. I’ll make us breakfast in the morning! I’m sure you’re both exhausted. There are fresh linens in the closet, and you could sleep in your old room in the basement.” She yawns.
Jake pats her on the shoulder. “Go ahead to sleep, Mom. I’ll make up the bed and stuff. It’s way past your bedtime.”
She giggles and nods as she hoists herself up and trudges away. “You’re right about that. Oh, it’s been lovely to meet you, Charity. See you both in the morning.”
“Same to you. Good night,” I reply brightly. As Maude disappears down the hall, Samson the dog follows after her like a white shadow. Jake gestures for me to come with him. He puts an arm around me and leads me down another hall and downstairs to a basement, which looks less creepy and more cozy than one might expect. It’s a simple, comfortable bedroom with framed pictures on the walls, and even though there are no windows, there are string lights around the headboard of the bed, casting the room in a soft glow. I wait patiently while Jake retrieves some sheets and makes up the bed, and I can’t help but watch his muscles flexing as he does so. Even though I’m exhausted, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to sleep. I want to stay awake, lying next to Jake and feeling his body so close to mine.
“It’s been a long day,” he whispers. “Come here.”
I saunter over to him and he folds me in his arms, hugging me close as he sways from side to side. Finally, I can exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. No matter how strange and scary things get, I always feel safe in his embrace.
Still, seeing Jake’s mother has reminded me of my own parents, worried sick and frustrated with me for what they will view as ‘rebelling.’ I murmur, “I have no idea how angry my parents will be when I go home. I miss them, but I’m dreading it.”
“I can understand that,” he says gently, stroking my hair.
“It’s odd, you know. I always dreamed about breaking free, but I never expected it to be like this,” I muse aloud. “I never thought being with a… a man could feel this way.”
“There’s so much more I could show you,” he whispers, sending a thrill down my spine.
I lean back and look up into his handsome face, those green eyes shining with promise. I bite my lip and muster up the courage to ask quietly, “Will you?”
He contemplates it for only a moment before leaning in to kiss me deeply.
Jake
The taste of her lips pressed against mine awakens my body to a feeling it’s learning to love very quickly. I hold her face in my hands as we touch, and I push her against the wall, running my hands down her shoulders to her sides, resting on her hips. I squeeze her, feeling her push against my crotch and her needful moan spill into my mouth as our tongues touch
.
She has always been very careful, very conservative when it comes to matters of what happens in the bedroom, but this time, I feel something different in her. Her hands do some exploring of her own. She keeps her hands on my shoulders, but soon, they start to explore downward to my pecs. She traces their outline with her thumbs, then lets her fingers slide further down to my abs, right where they rest while she’s on the back of my motorcycle.
I’ve often felt her there, squeezing me and being held in my hand, but I’ve never felt her get so bold in how she touches me.
“Have you been waiting for this, Charity?” I growl in a low tone as our kiss breaks, and I put my hand over hers, running it around my abs and letting her feel just how hard I am. “Feel it. Enjoy all of it. Everything you want.”
She leans her head back against the wall, exposing her neck to me, and I move my face in to kiss it. I’m gentle at first, but I soon feel my more primal desires getting the better of me, and I open my mouth to let my teeth graze her neck. I bite some of it gently, teasing her with the sharp edges of my teeth and never pinching her too hard, but letting her know that I have power over her here. Meanwhile, her hands trail further down.
She touches the V pointing toward my crotch, feeling how even my hips are impeccably sculpted. I have kept myself in peak physical condition ever since I could start developing real muscles, and I never want to let them lose their shape. Not as long as I have something to fight for, and Charity is reminding me that I’ll never run out of that.
“You know what my body does,” I say in a low, husky tone. “You know how well I use it to kill. You’ve seen it firsthand.”
I look her in the eyes, and she stares back at me with innocent wonder and fascination. I have her utterly entranced in me, in everything that I am and represent. And the longer I gaze at her, the more I realize that she has me under the exact same spell, even though I never noticed it creeping over my mind. It’s intoxicating. She is intoxicating. And I’ve never known more clearly than then that I want to utterly lose myself in the aura of another human being.
The Assassin’s Heart Page 13
