“Do you think your message has reached old man Bronson yet?” Brad asks Wolf, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.
“It won’t be much longer. He’s probably making his little prick son here shit a few bricks ,” Wolf says, his eyes on his prisoner. “Do you think Daddy cares enough to save your ass, douche bag?” he asks, grinning.
“He has no problem killing to keep baby boy happy,” Nate says. “Letting someone live to save him shouldn’t be an issue to Bronson.”
“On the bright side, if he doesn’t agree to terms,” Tomas says, “we get to kill this one slowly and with the appropriate brutality.”
Tomas gets it. A little scary but on point. The gleam in his eye is a clear indication he is familiar with the dark side of humanity. Things can always take an unexpected turn when you deal with maniacs.
The phone call comes a few hours and a couple games of poker later.
Bronson, after making his always disappointing son stew a while, has agreed to negotiate for his safe release. I would imagine David is nearly as afraid to face his father’s scorn as he was being taken hostage.
By the look on Wolf’s face, I can tell he’s a little disappointed.
“It would have been fun cutting the little bastard up piece-by-piece,” he says. “Hear him squeal like the coward he is.”
I can’t believe I’m about to do this but I pat Wolf on the back. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, brother. Now I see what Madison saw in you. If you ever need anything, I’ll be there.”
Wolf grins. “Don’t get soft on me, Cole. I’d like to think there are other men out there, instead of pussy-ass weaklings who hurt women without their consent.”
“Okay, Wolf, but we have agreed to let him go. He’s Bronson’s son, remember. Let someone else take that bastard out.”
Wolf laughs pointedly. “Ah, I’ll be watching the little prick and his father can suck my balls.” He steps over to Bronson Jr. and slaps him on the head a few times. “Another time, little man,” he says.
The worlds of Wolf and Bronson will collide again someday soon. I truly hope he doesn’t take me up on my offer and give me a call when it does. If he does call, I owe him one and I’ll be there.
*
“What the fuck?” I growl as I enter Ella’s apartment and find both the men who are supposed to be guarding her on the floor and bloodied.
My hand finds my gun. I shut the door behind me. “Where’s Ella?” I say, grabbing one of them by the collar. All he does is moan. My mind’s reeling with an icy dread for leaving her out of my sight—again.
I immediately spring back to my feet and raise my gun as I hear a clink coming from the kitchen. Without thinking, I take the few steps to the hallway, gun raised as I move toward the small kitchen.
Ella screams as she comes through the kitchen door, dropping some towels she’s carrying. I can’t tell if it’s fear or relief at first but then she runs to me, folding her arms around my neck, legs wrapped around my hips. I barely have time to put the gun away and support her weight placing my hands under her ass.
“I wanted to punch you but I missed you too much,” she says.
I kiss her neck and ear. “Ella, what the hell?”
She locks her eyes on mine as she jumps down to stand on her feet.
“Tanner happened,” she says. “He was a little pissed and didn’t bother asking questions when he broke through the door.”
“He escaped Wolf’s crew?”
“Apparently,” she answers. “And fucked a few more of the wolflings when he arrived here like a fucking thunderclap.”
“So much for him being shot,” I say, looking around for signs of him.
Ella nods. “He had his left shoulder in a sling. Unfortunately for these two, his right hook was still in business. He’s in my room.”
Tanner is sprawled on the bed, adjusting his sling. He’s sweating and his face is pale. The anger is still oozing out of his every pore.
“Mr. Cole,” Tanner says, lifting his chin. “If she was my girl, I wouldn’t leave her out of my sight.”
“I thought Wolf’s men could handle this,” I tell him.
“Believe me, they couldn’t,” he says.
“I believe you,” I say. “I’m never leaving her again.”
“I’m sorry to cast accusations,” he says, suddenly apologetic. “I’m the one who failed her. I’m taking it out on you.”
“Well, you’ve never been double-crossed like that before,” Ella says to Tanner, her voice trembling as she puts her hand on my back.
I hug her again. Her shoulders shake a little under my grasp.
“So much violence,” she says. “So much blood.”
“It’s over now,” I say. “Bronson agreed.”
“It’s over for you all,” Tanner says. “I still have some issues I am going to need to work through.”
“Bro,” I say. “You are a true professional. We live and learn. Your heart was in the right place.”
Tanner stares at me a long time and then he stares at Ella. “Don’t let that get around,” he says.
“What?” Ella says.
“That I have a heart,” he says. “It’s bad for business.”
Ella smiles. Tanner smiles a little, I think. This whole nightmare is over. Life can begin now. We all made mistakes. I heed Tanner’s advice and vow to myself never to let Ella down again.
She has my honesty. She has my protection. She has my love. Always.
—fifteen—
Ella
Three Days Later
The evening breeze blows my dress over my knees and onto my thighs. I have to keep my hands on the fabric as we walk down the promenade to keep it from blowing over my head. In hindsight, a pair of shorts would have been a better choice.
Except I feel like celebrating. A light, linen dress says time to celebrate way better than a pair of pants or shorts.
Jax, Carter and I have just had dinner at a small bistro in Santa Monica and, surprisingly, we were all able to get along. Very little sarcasm was used even when Carter announced he’s planning on leaving. Again.
I’m okay with that. I’m okay knowing the truth about my father and his various flaws and limitations. It’s better than being in the dark, imagining endless sad scenarios. Every child wonders if a parent left because of them and I was no exception. I will never have to blame myself again. Carter didn’t abandon me because of something I did or didn’t do. Carter left my mother and me because of choices Carter made in his own profession.
“Don’t be too harsh on Lucius,” Carter tells Jax. “You can hate him, you can write him off, but don’t judge him too harshly. You don’t know how hard it is to be him. It’s not a position you can step down from.”
Jax shakes his head. “Of all people, I didn’t expect you to come to his defense. He betrayed you despite your long history and years of friendship.”
I grab Jax’s hand. I love this man so much. He pulls me close, arm around my shoulders. A single embrace makes me purr with contentment.
“It’s true,” Carter says, “but I’ve never made it easy on him. Neither have you. Anyway, who am I to judge, right? And he’s the only relative you have left. I know that he loves you, Jaxson, in the way he knows how to love.”
“When are you leaving?” I say, seeing how the Lucius conversation is making Jax uncomfortable.
“Sometime next week. I’d like to see your mother if you could arrange that.”
“That’s totally up to her, I can’t help you there.”
Mom hasn’t had an easy life since he left. I have no idea if she has the strength or desire to be in the same room with him.
“Is it okay if I smoke?” Carter says.
I shrug. “I guess it won’t kill me if it’s just this once.”
We stop near a bench so Carter can light his cigar.
“Do you want some ice cream?” Jax says, pointing at a Cold Stone Creamery across the street.
“Yes, I
’d love a pistachio cone,” I say. I realize as Jax walks away that he is giving me some time alone with Carter. I watch quietly the little ritual Carter has with the cigar, cutting off the tip, looking at the lighter flame for a while before he brings it to the cigar, inhaling hard.
“What a lovely family scene,” Rick Esposito says, startling me. He claps his hands. “Bravo.”
What the hell is wrong with him? How does he always know where to find me?
“You, Sir, must be the infamous Carter Wade,” Esposito goes on.
Where is this going? Is he here to arrest Carter?
Carter stares back at Rick curious. “Do we know each other?” he says.
“I know you,” Rick says. “You might not remember me, after all you only saw me once. As for me, it’s hard to forget the man who killed my father.”
Carter straightens his body as he takes a step toward Esposito. “I’ve never killed a man in my life.”
“Maybe not directly. Carlos Torres. Remember him? He was your partner back in Tijuana twelve years ago. You betrayed him, left him to die in the hands of the cartel.”
My blood freezes. So that’s Rick’s story? Is this where his interest in me has stemmed from all along? Was he hoping I’d lead him to my father?
“Your father tried to steal from the cartel,” Carter says. “There was nothing that could be done.”
Rick smiles. “They came to the house, you know, a few days later. They killed my mother and sisters after they tortured them in front of me. They laughed, said they’d keep me alive so my suffering would remind their enemies what they’re capable of.”
Carter's face goes pale at Rick’s words. “I’m sorry, son. I didn't know that.”
“No, because you ran away, you bastard. You could have protected us but you only cared about yourself.”
“Is this why you were nice to me?” I hiss at Rick, stepping in front of Carter. “So I would lead you to him?”
“Ella, step back,” Carter says, pushing me to the side.
“What? You think I’d hurt a woman?” Rick tells him, laughing. He turns to me. “I don’t blame you for what he’s done.”
“It was a messed-up time,” Carter offers.
Rick smiles and I fall into a daze as a gunshot is fired. Am I dreaming? Is this happening? Who shot who?
Jax comes running, dropping two ice cream cones on the way, to tackle Esposito. The two men roll down to the ground, a tangled mess.
Carter is on the ground, too, face down. Dad! I drop to my knees over him. I turn him over, pushing his hair back off his forehead. His hands are on his stomach. Blood, I realize, so much blood gushes through his fingers.
“Pressure,” Jax yells at me, “put pressure on the wound.”
I look at Jax, but I can’t really see him. I think he’s overpowered Esposito, taken the gun from him, but I might be dreaming.
“Listen to me,” Carter says.
“You’ll be okay,” I say, recovering my senses. I move his bloodied hands away, using the lower part of my dress to cover the wound, my hands pressing down hard. I don’t know why I haven’t fainted yet.
“I always kept an eye on you and your mother.”
I nod. “Don’t talk.”
“I was a rotten husband and father, but I loved you both. Always.”
My eyes blur. The more he talks, the weaker he sounds. The words come to my lips effortlessly. “I love you, too, Dad. I always have. Now stop talking, keep your strength.”
His lips part in a smile. “Ah, little Ella, you just made me a happy man. This will always be one of my best days, even if it’s my last.”
“You can’t die.”
“Every man dies, sweetheart. But not every man dies happy.”
He starts coughing, blood escaping his lips.
“You can’t die,” I keep saying through sobs. “You can’t die.”
A hand on my shoulder, strange voices and then a familiar embrace. Jax. “Step back, baby, the paramedics are here. Let them do their work.”
It is a strange thing to realize you love someone when their life hangs from a thread. I bury my face in Jax’s chest, letting my tears run freely.
“I told him I loved him,” I say.
“I think he already knew that,” Jax says, squeezing me tighter, letting me know he loves me, too. “But it’s always nice to hear it one more time.”
—sixteen—
Ella
Four Months Later – Thanksgiving Day
I wake up next to Jaxson’s warm, naked body. His skin runs smooth over his rippling abdominal muscles, stretched with every breath he takes. The skin on his ribs and back has healed, only some rough spots and pink scars left to remind us of his ordeal.
My stomach growls. We’ve been having too much sex lately and not nearly enough food. It’s good we’re having a decent meal later today at Mia’s family’s place. My mother’s in town, staying at my apartment, so we’ll pick her up, too.
Cooking isn’t my forte and Jax is so sleep deprived after having been on the set for two whole weeks shooting his first big screen film ever that he deserves to sleep in.
I tiptoe out of the room in the white t-shirt I slept in after I kiss him on the lips and go straight for the kitchen to make some coffee. I open a window and peek outside. It’s a nice fall day, a little overcast but calm and clean.
The phone rings right as I break an egg into a bowl for an omelet.
It’s Tanner.
“What’s up?” I say.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Miss Wade.”
“Oh, that,” I say. “Happy Thanksgiving, Tanner. Now tell me why you really called.”
Tanner is still very, very pissed about what happened the day we were shot at. He feels responsible for the way Wolf manhandled me. I can’t even count the times he told me he failed me. I keep telling him that even the best lawyers lose some cases but that only seems to make him angrier.
“It’s your father,” he says. “I thought it fair to warn you that he plans on showing up today.”
“Thank you,” I say. “His timing usually sucks but I think today is a day not to judge. We’ll be fine.” We will be. I don’t think even my mother will mind.
The bullet that went through Carter got lodged in his lower back. He has had a hell of a time trying to get back on his feet with intensive physiotherapy and rehabilitation but he’s alive and has decided to stick around for as long as it takes. He was even granted a few conversations with my mother.
Revenge can drive a man crazy. Carter knows that so he holds no grudge against Esposito. The need for revenge destroyed Rick. He got twenty years in prison even though Carter didn’t testify against him.
I turn on the TV to watch some news when Jax shows up, his eyes still sleepy, wearing his sweat pants.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he says with a yawn.
“I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve slept for what? Six hours? In my recent line of work, that’s heaven,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss.
“Hey,” I say, “you’re on TV.”
Jax turns to watch as a picture of him from a recent photo shoot shows up on the screen, followed by that of Angel Mars, his sexy, beautiful co-star in the film he’s shooting.
“Are the two dating?” the reporter wonders, listing all the reasons why that could be true.
“Jesus,” I say, frowning. “I’m so sick and tired of this constant speculation about who you’re dating. Can’t they see I’m right there, next to you, everywhere you go? Am I invisible or something?”
Jax chuckles. I guess it is funny that this is what I consider to be a problem these days. It beats being hunted down by professional assassins.
“I have a solution,” he says, squeezing my ass for a moment.
“Unless you quit acting and modeling and the rest, I don’t know what that could be.”
I stop talking. Because he’s on his knees and he’s holding a ring. An eng
agement ring. An expensive one if that huge stone is real. “I was going to wait until after dinner but now is as good a time as any.”
“What are you doing?” I say, suspicious of, well, nothing.
He takes my hand. “I’m proposing, Ella Wade.” The never nervous actor/model/international gunman is actually trembling as he holds the ring up to me. “Will you marry me?”
Okay, where are the hidden cameras? “You want to marry me?”
“I believe that’s the goal here, yes.”
My God, he’s serious. “Ask me again,” I say. “It didn’t feel real before.”
He kisses my hand and then clears his throat. “Ella, I’ve loved you my entire life. Through all the uncertainties I fought against, you have been my only certainty. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Oh my God,” I say, my voice shrill and breathy. “You’re so going to get laid tonight.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, it’s a yes,” I scream. “An absolute, total yes.”
He gets up, looming over me. His eyes sparkle as he slides the ring on my finger and searches for my lips, pulling me into a slow, wet kiss.
Nothing stays slow with us for long. I love that about us, how deep our intimacy is and how we’re always ready to explore each other’s body.
Jax picks me up in his strong arms to take me to the couch. His body covers mine and we kiss hungrily, my hands on his jaw and then the back of his head.
He yanks my panties off and I wrap my legs around his hips, inviting him for more. His hand reaches down to stroke my pussy, slow and deliciously, setting me on fire.
I moan, turning my face to the left so he can kiss my neck while his fingers explore my wetness.
What I feel is absolute loss of control, a breakdown of will and composure. My hands go for his sweatpants, lowering them so I can squeeze his butt cheeks. Squeeze might be an exaggeration. How do you squeeze something so rock hard?
Scandal: The Complete Series Page 25
