All of Me: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel

by Jackson, A. L.

  But still, it was in the air—the taste of her fear.

  I followed it, moving faster and faster with each step.

  A scream broke in the air.

  Grace.

  That spike of adrenaline I’d felt when I first got here dumped like a vat into my system.

  Brimming and overflowing.

  I started to run, vision clouding with red when I rounded the hedge and found Grace caged against her car.

  Bastard was plastered to that sweet body, grinding himself all over my girl. Hand under her dress while he tried to kiss her.

  He was trying to kiss her.

  Sweat slicked my skin, images flashing, my heart whipping and my spirit thrashing.

  I sprinted for them.

  There was no thinking it through. No calculating the risks or the consequences. I grabbed him by the back of the collar and yanked him away from her.

  The asshole stumbled, so wrapped up in defiling the girl that he hadn’t even realized I was there.

  Took him about two seconds to add it up.

  “You fucking prick.” He came right for me.

  I welcomed it.

  The way his body slammed mine, the fucker wider than me, but he wasn’t close to being a match.

  Pussy-bitch clean and polished.

  He’d probably never even been the brunt of a schoolyard scuffle.

  I let him take me to the ground, dick thinking he had the upper hand. He scrambled to get on top of me, and I lifted a foot and planted the sole of my shoe against his chest, sending him sailing where he thudded to the concrete.

  Instantly, I spun, crouched before I attacked, on him in a second flat. My fists flew with all the fury I felt.

  With all the hatred and the anger bottled inside me.

  For Grace.

  For those kids.

  Memories spun as I pounded the fucker into the ground. Sight blurring at the edges.

  My mother.

  I pummeled his face. Strike after strike. Blow after blow.

  My mother.

  He was just like those pricks who’d used her. Kept her drugged and needy and bloody. The men who’d used me and my brother as punching bags.

  Total disregard.

  I was wholly game to disregard him.

  Flesh split and blood gushed, and I could feel the splintering of bones.

  Every part of me coming unglued.

  Unhinged.

  Screams were all around me. Hitting my ears.

  That sweet, sweet voice begging me to hear.

  The impact of it barely landed in the fringes of my manic mind. “Ian . . . please . . . stop. You have to stop.”

  “Asshole,” I seethed. “I’ll end you. You think you can touch her?”

  From behind, Grace curled her arms around my neck, her mouth at my ear, her presence penetrating through the haze of violence that blinded my heart and mind.

  “Ian, you’ve got to stop. Please, stop.”

  Another blow landed on his cheek.

  “Please,” she begged again. “You can’t do this. Not like this.”

  I sagged, slowing, my last punch landing limp. My vision flickered, and my heart pounded harder than it had before.

  With something different.

  Something bigger than I’d ever felt.

  I sucked for a breath, the cold air drawn into my collapsing lungs.

  I staggered to my feet. Prying myself away before I went for him again.

  “Oh, God.” Grace pressed her hand to her mouth when she saw the mess I’d made of the piece of shit who was trying to destroy her life.

  The piece of shit who was using her.

  The piece of shit who was trying to take her from me.

  He was coughing, gasping for air, groaning in pain. Finally, he peeled himself off the ground, staggering to one side and then the other, hand swiping across the river of blood dripping from one eyebrow and his chin.

  He only managed to smear it all over his smug face that was now a little disfigured, nose bent and lip busted.

  Blue eyes glared at me, blinking in disbelief, like he was having a hard time accepting that he’d just gotten his ass handed to him. Wondered if the fucker knew I’d only stopped because it was what Grace had begged me to do.

  For her.

  For her.

  Every-fucking-thing had become about her.

  I looked in her direction, my damned heart bleeding as badly as that bastard’s chin. Wanting to crawl all over her. Wrap her up. Hold and never let anyone hurt her again.

  I’d almost been too late.

  My stomach roiled with what would have happened if I’d waited for five more minutes.

  My gaze ripped from the girl when he bellowed out a deranged laugh. “Oh. I see how it is. You’re fucking your attorney.” He wasn’t looking at me when he said it. “You think I don’t know who this punk is?”

  Frantic, Grace shook her head. “No.”

  He was back in her face in a flash. “You fucking slut . . . don’t lie to me. You’re fucking your attorney, aren’t you?”

  I had half a mind to finish him. Take him out. Erase the threat from her life.

  Didn’t give a shit what it cost.

  I sucked it down, trying to latch onto the thread of sanity that was dangling somewhere in my brain, getting blown in the breeze, just out of reach.

  I’d worked too hard to let this cocksucker ruin my life. And I wasn’t going to do something that would ruin hers.

  “No, asshole, I came over here to have her sign the paperwork in response to the petition I filed at the courts today. And low and behold, what do I find, the same scumbag she just made a claim against, the man she stated she was afraid of, trying to rape her. Wonder how that’s going to look?”

  It was my own threat.

  Go on, asshole. Cry to the media that you got your ass kicked. I’ll have your reputation fried in the blink of an eye.

  Incredulous laughter rocked from him, and he was shaking his head, looking away before he turned his attention back on me. I thought maybe the man staring back at me was every bit as hard as I was.

  Stone.

  Willing to do whatever it took for him to get what he wanted. “You actually think you’re going to go up against me? A pathetic, scrounging at the bottom of the barrel, wannabe attorney who thinks he’s a hot shot, thinks he’s actually going to go up against me? Funny how you’re the only attorney in town who was willing to take her case.”

  I lifted my chin. “I took it because it was one I knew I could win. One that I will win. When I rip your fucking name to shreds in court, I’ll be the one all you piss-ass politicians who think they know what’s best for everyone want on their side. It was a calculated risk. After today?” I squeezed my fist that was screaming like a bitch. “I’m pretty damned glad I took it. It’s looking like a sure thing.”

  He looked between Grace and me. The girl was getting rocked by quivers of unrest that speared through her body, her spirit in turmoil, that energy so fierce I wasn’t sure how I was still standing right there pretending like I was still doing this for myself.

  He backed away, nodding. Knew from the expression on his face that it wasn’t in surrender. He pointed at Grace. “Warned you.”

  Then he turned and stormed away.

  Grace and I stood there in the breezy silence of the quiet neighborhood, watching him go.

  The fact the judge had called Reed told me the law was not going to be our best asset.

  This was going to be a harder fight than I’d first anticipated, and I’d already been sure it was going to be a shitshow.

  Hell, I’d known it was close to hopeless from the get go.

  Reason I didn’t want to take it in the first place.

  Not when I felt like every part of me was wrapped up in the middle of it.

  My fists clenched in agitation when his engine roared and his tires squealed as he flipped around and tore down the street.

  Every muscle in my body was rigid, ants
y and angry and hungering to go after him. But it was the worry I felt for Grace that had everything breaking down around me.

  She stood in some kind of terrorized, numbed state.

  Her jaw slack and her gaze vacant.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” It rumbled out of me, so low it became one with the whip of the wind.

  Grace turned my way, emotion so thick in her expression that I was having a hard time standing in her presence.

  Especially after this afternoon at the salon. After what I’d just walked in on right then.

  “You’re sorry, Ian? You saved me.”

  My face pinched as I let the admission free. “I want to kill him, Grace. I want to get in my car and chase him down and end it all. Destroy him so he has no chance of hurting you or your children again.”

  She edged my way, locks of long, wavy hair whipping around her face, the girl a tornado of energy.

  She reached out a trembling hand and touched the spot over my eye where the prick had gotten in a shot. “You’re here. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  “Grace,” I whispered, unable to stop, overcome with this swell of emotion that filled me up. Bubbling from the deepest part of me, in that vacant place that had been left for ugliness that now glowed with something warm.

  She reached her hand out for me. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You’re a mess.”

  I followed her into the house. The walls echoed with a profound stillness. Or maybe the intensity that beat between us was so alive that it was the only movement I could feel.

  Pulse after pulse.

  She moved down the hallway, and I followed. She turned into the first door on the left that was a small bathroom.

  She shut the door behind us.

  It closed us in.

  Swore, I could taste her on my tongue.

  That I was inhaling her spirit and imbibing her goodness.

  That this woman was ruining me.

  Those hands found the buttons of my shirt, and she was peeking up at me as she worked through them.

  Slowly.

  One by one.

  Her heart battered so hard I could feel it drumming against the walls.

  Ricocheting.

  Slamming from her and into me.

  Beat after beat.

  She pushed the shirt off my shoulders.

  Shivers rushed, and my breaths turned shallow. “Grace,” I whispered again.

  Her head slowly shook. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t have shown up here.”

  Rage burst in my blood. Flames of fury and hatred.

  Incinerating.

  I reached up and ran the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip.

  Wiping hard.

  Like I could erase the bastard.

  “He tried to kiss you.”

  I knew he’d intended more. Way more. His hands all over her. Slipping under and trying to get inside. All of it . . . it made me crazy. Self-control chipped away as I pictured what could have happened.

  That he’d hurt her. Touch her. Force her.

  Could feel that thread fraying, spinning, getting ready to snap.

  I brushed my thumb across her lips again, entranced by the motion.

  Kisses are for who you love most.

  Emotion bottled in my chest.

  So tight.

  So big.

  So real.

  And the girl, she ran her fingertips over my mouth, tenderly, in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever been touched.

  I breathed out, lips parting.

  Those blue eyes watched me with something vast. Something endless.

  A toiling sea of all the things she couldn’t feel.

  The things that I couldn’t feel.

  But it was there.

  Brimming in the space between us. Lapping like the lull of her waves. Rising higher and higher. So comforting and quiet that I was under before I knew I was drowning.

  Our bodies had begun to move, circling, hovering, magnets that attracted and repelled.

  Not quite touching.

  So close. So close.

  Unable to resist the connection, I dropped my forehead to hers, a choked sound leaving me, pain and wounds and the overpowering desire to protect her.

  To keep her and hold her.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, rocking forward and rocking back, pained pants leaving my lungs as I warred with this feeling.

  With the compulsion.

  Compelled to find this girl in a way I’d never found another.

  There was nothing I could do.

  My mouth slanted over hers, and I felt myself slip into oblivion.

  Our lips pressed softly.

  Once.

  Twice.

  God, she tasted so good. So right. So perfect.

  The sweetest, juiciest plum.

  It was instant. The way delirium raced.

  A need unlike I’d never had before.

  Wanting to consume all of her.

  Like taking of her could fill up the hollowed-out space in my chest. Provide and sustain.

  My hand twisted in her soft hair, and I slanted my mouth over hers, swallowing her needy gasp as I kissed her.

  I kissed her.

  “Ian.” On a raspy moan, her fingernails sank into my shoulders, raking my skin, trying to get closer.

  Her tongue sought mine.

  A soft, sugared petal.

  Swirling so deliciously.

  Ecstasy.

  I’d never known it quite like this.

  I kissed her harder, possessively, lips and tongue and nips of teeth. I wanted to devour her, gulp her down and gorge on her beauty.

  She kissed me back just as recklessly. Hands everywhere. The two of us spiraling. Spinning as we banged into the wall, the door, the sink.

  Hot, hot kisses.

  A fever in my veins.

  Need, want . . . love.

  Oh, God.

  Was pretty sure that was when the thread of sanity finally snapped.

  When I lost all control. Mind gone. Insanity taking over. Everything I’d fought and overcome and put behind me finally caught up to me.

  There were some things in life you couldn’t outrun.

  Fear.

  My oldest friend. My constant partner. Cold and hungry and afraid.

  It gripped me everywhere, in a way I hadn’t felt since I was seventeen.

  My chest tightened and everything came crashing down.

  Raining.

  Pouring.

  Annihilating.

  Panic gripped me by the chest. A steely vice. Crushing.

  I couldn’t do this.

  I couldn’t.

  I pressed my hands to her shoulders and pried myself away, lungs jerking as I sucked for the air that had gone missing, horrified as I stared down at the girl who was watching me with what I couldn’t receive.

  Panic took control of my shaking movements, and I snatched my shirt up from the floor, shrugged it on, and flew out the door.

  Twenty-Eight

  Ian

  Twelve Years Old

  Ian shot upright in his bed. Darkness surrounded him. He blinked, disoriented, his sight almost completely taken by the deep, desolate night.

  But he knew he’d heard it.

  The front door bursting open and banging against the wall.

  His heart took off the way it always did, fear creeping up behind him like a monster that would jump on his back and sink its fangs into the side of his throat.

  Drain him dry.

  Ian struggled to breathe.

  He wanted to burrow under the blanket. Hide. But that’s what cowards did, and Ian was no coward.

  His brother told him he had to be brave.

  That he had to take care of himself.

  He shoved off the itchy fabric and stood, his knees shaking so badly he almost dropped to them when he heard a crash of shattering glass and the whimper of his mother, all of it muddled together with another voice.r />
  Gulping down the terror, Ian inched to the door, squeezing his eyes closed as he turned the knob and sneaked out into the hall. A hazy light glowed from the main room of the apartment.

  This one was nicer than they’d had for as long as he could remember, the refrigerator full and the water always warm when he wanted a shower.

  His mama said she was going to take good care of them from now on. She’d promised that she hated it when they were cold and hungry, and that she was going to make sure it never happened ever again.

  She said she was clean. That she was going to stay that way. That she wasn’t going to touch that crap ever again.

  Best part? His mama . . . she’d seemed . . . happy. Smiling so much that it made Ian think it might be safe to smile, too.

  But the sounds coming from the kitchen didn’t sound like she was smiling.

  “Fuck you,” she whimpered. “Get out of my house, you piece of shit.”

  Ian pushed his back up against the hall wall and slid that direction, wishing his big brother Jace wasn’t still off with his friends.

  He’d know what to do.

  There was another crash, and his mother screeched. Her footsteps pounded on the floor. Heavier ones were right behind her.

  Fear raced across Ian’s flesh like the prick of a million needles when he heard the man’s low, menacing voice. “Your house? I bought you, you stupid bitch. You think any of this comes for free?”

  Ian peeked around the corner, and the man was trying to put his mouth on his mother, his body way bigger than his mom’s, so muscly and hard, Ian was worried he could break her in half.

  She kept moving her face away from him, head jerking one way and then the other, trying to stop him from putting his gross mouth on her lips. “Stop.”

  Sickness crawled through Ian’s belly.

  Kisses are for who you love the most.

  That man didn’t love his mother.

  His mama flailed and kicked while the man tried to put his hand under her shirt, and his mother cried out, “Get off me, you sick prick. You disgust me. I told you we were over. Over!”

  Ian flinched when he heard the crack.

  He’d heard the same thing before, and he knew it was a strike across his mother’s face. That her cheek would be blue tomorrow, and she’d spend the day in bed crying.

  It only took that flash of realization, and he was no longer afraid. He went barreling out into the other room, roaring at the top of his lungs, “Leave my mama alone!”