Beneath These Chains
Page 18
I woke up with Lord’s arms around me, his chest to my back … and his cock sliding inside me.
The last time I’d woken, I’d been the one to reach for him. Sleep paled in comparison to this.
“Can’t get enough of you. Fuck. Don’t think I ever will.” Lord’s words were scratchy with sleep, and I arched my back, pushing into him.
“I’m okay with that,” I said as his arm slipped around me and pulled me tighter before cupping my breast and toying with my nipple.
His thrusts were slow and steady, dragging out the pleasure for both of us as our bodies woke to the sensations. My breathing quickened, and I could feel Lord’s chest expanding and contracting behind me.
His hand slid down, finding my clit, and I was poised on the brink in moments. He knew exactly how to play my body to wring every last ounce of pleasure from me.
“You gonna come with me?” he asked, his teeth finding my earlobe and scraping along it.
“Mmmhmmm,” I moaned, moving into his touch. “But only if you’re going to come in the next sixty seconds, otherwise you’re going to have to play catch up.”
Lord’s thrusts increased, faster and harder, driving us both to the edge. My inner muscles clamped down on him as my body detonated.
“Fuck,” he groaned, tensing with his own orgasm.
We lay there for a moment, spooned together, before Lord pulled away.
“Oh fuck.” This time, the word was not sexy, but concerned.
“What?” I asked, and then I felt it. The wetness sliding out of me. I knew exactly what he was oh fuck-ing about before he even said it.
“I forgot a condom. Didn’t even think about anything but getting inside you again.” He climbed off the bed and headed out of the room.
My mind zigzagged out of post-coital bliss to practicality as he retuned with a washcloth and helped me clean up.
“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean,” I said.
“I’m clean, too, but still—” Lord tossed the washcloth on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. “I should’ve—”
I laid a hand on his tensed arm. In the moonlight, I could make out the inked designs from his military days. But his protectiveness seemed to have existed long before that … and here he was, trying to protect me again.
“It’s fine. I trust you, and I’m not worried.”
He stared down at me. “Thought you’d be flipping out right now.”
I shook my head. “I don’t care if we never use another condom again.”
His expression once again took on the intensity that I was finally getting used to. “You realize you’re it for me, right?”
“I think I’m getting that. Which works, because you’re it for me too.”
Lord grabbed me and hauled me into his lap, his lips crashing down onto mine. It was a kiss of possession and passion.
When we finally fell asleep again in the early hours of the morning, it was with my head on Lord’s chest, and my hand covering his heart.
Tuesday morning, Rix was waiting in the alley behind Chains when I pulled into the warehouse.
“What’s he doing here?” Elle asked.
“No idea.”
Rix didn’t wait for an invitation, just sauntered inside. His black T-shirt and dark jeans didn’t give away his gang affiliation, but his tats did. I pushed open the door of the ’Cuda and almost told Elle to stay inside, but I didn’t. Rix wouldn’t hurt her—of that I was confident, and not just because I’d kill him where he stood if he made a wrong move toward her.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” I asked, shutting the door behind me. But Rix’s attention wasn’t on me—or Elle—it was on the cars.
“Holy fuck, man. Didn’t realize this is what you had locked up in here. Dayum … you got some sweet rides.”
I did. And unloading one or two would put Chains even more solidly in the black—if I sunk in the cash to restore them first. I knew I needed to make the investment, but I didn’t want to risk the bottom line just yet.
“You in the market?”
Rix pursed his lips. “I might be. They look like they need some work though.”
“Better price if you want one before I put the work into it.” It was the truth, and maybe selling one before it was restored would free up the cash to restore the others.
He raised an eyebrow. “What year is the SS?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“What about the Shelby?”
“That one’s not for sale.”
His eyebrows rose. “And here I thought everything was for sale in this place.”
“Not that one, and not the ’Cuda. You like the Boss 302?”
I had plans for the Shelby. Plans that included Elle overcoming her fear of driving and taking back control over that aspect of her life. She’d lived in fear too long about what could happen. And the GT500 named Eleanor would suit my Eleanor perfectly. If I sold the others, I could justify keeping it for her.
“So the Charger, the Boss Mustang, or the SS? Not bad choices. I could use some more muscle in my life.” He flexed his bicep and wandered closer to the cars. His inspection took only moments, and then he turned and said, “I’ll let you know on the cars, but I came to deliver some news.”
Elle, who had come around the car to stand beside me, tensed.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I took care of the hospital shit for the kid who got shot. I’m not saying it was one of my guys, but I took care of it. All of it. You don’t need to worry about him or his ma. They’re set.”
“I’m sure they appreciate it.”
Rix ran his hand along the blue paint job of the Charger. He was getting attached. Excellent. “Gotta look out for our community. Ain’t no one else gonna do it.”
I didn’t say anything about the fact that a big part of the reason our community needed his brand of looking after was because gangs like his ruled the streets.
“I’ll let Con know it’s been taken care of.”
“You do that. Maybe he’ll quit banning my boys from his shop and actually let them get some decent ink.”
Con didn’t, and would never, allow any of his artists to do gang ink.
“If you wanted to add a butterfly to your sleeve, he’d do it.”
“Fuck you, Lord,” he said without heat. He turned to head for the raised overhead door. “I’ll be in touch about the car. Soon.”
“Well that was interesting,” Elle said.
“It was something.”
Then a question came I wasn’t quite ready to answer for her. “Why isn’t the Shelby Mustang for sale? I looked it up online, and you could get a lot of money for it. It’s in the best shape, other than the ’Cuda, obviously. I know you’re worried about things … and that could be the way to get you solid again.”
I reached down and grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door. “That one’s just not for sale. Come on, we’re gonna be late opening.” I snagged the box hanging from the ceiling and pressed the button to lower the door. We were in the alley before I realized I should’ve handled the situation a little differently.
“Is that my cue to butt out of anything that doesn’t fit in a display case?”
I stopped, and Elle kept walking—until my grip on her hand tugged her to a stop.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Whatever.”
The dreaded whatever. Even I was smart enough to realize the word didn’t mean anything good.
“You know I respect your opinion. I just … have plans for that one.”
She jerked her head around, and the eyebrow arched in my direction told me the issue wasn’t dead. “Plans you’re not going to share, I take it.”
The last two days we’d barely left my house, just lazing around, cooking, talking, and getting naked. It’d been fucking beautiful—a window into what I wanted my future to be. We were finally in a good place, and I wasn’t going to jeopardize that.
“You know what that car’s
name is?”
“Seriously? You name your cars?”
I chuckled. “Sometimes, but this one came named already. Have you ever seen Gone in Sixty Seconds? Not the original, but the remake. There’s a ’67 GT500, and her name is Eleanor.”
Elle’s brow furrowed. “There’s a car named Eleanor in a movie?”
“Yeah, and ever since I found out that was your name, I knew she was yours. She couldn’t be anyone else’s.”
Her eyes widened—with what looked like both surprise and horror. “I don’t need a car. I don’t drive.” The words were emphatic, and so was the way she tugged at my hand.
“But you will. You’re not your mother. You’re not going to become your mother. If you never want to drink another drop of alcohol because you’re worried the disease runs in your family, that’s totally cool. But the not driving thing is something I think you need to address.”
“I don’t want to address it. I’m fine without it.”
I sighed, knowing I should’ve waited longer to bring it up, but it mattered to me. I couldn’t stand to see Elle still trapped in the past over something so irrational.
“What if there’s an emergency? Or what if you want to be more independent? You were so worried about control and someone trying to pin you down, but you hobble yourself by not driving.”
“But what if—”
Pulling Elle against me, I tilted her face up to mine. “You’re a smart woman. Strong. Independent. Sexy as fuck. You’re not going to do anything stupid. You’re not some kid on a bender. It’s been almost a decade; it’s time to let it go.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, and like they did every time, they hit me in the gut.
“I’m not saying today, but soon. I think it’s important. You’re putting the pieces back together after losing your dad. It’s time, Elle. Time to let yourself heal.”
I tucked her chin against my chest as she let her tears fall silently. The back alley behind my pawnshop was the last place I wanted to see her break down, but sometimes you had to let yourself break before you could start picking up the pieces. I held her for several minutes before she pulled away and swiped at her tears. The grief she’d never truly dealt with still hovered at the surface.
“So first I’m telling my stepdad to fuck off, causing him to leave my mom, and then I’m going to drive Eleanor.” Her mouth wobbled into a sideways smile. “Jesus, who knew my life would be so action packed.”
“If you want me to take you home—”
“No. There’s nowhere I want to be but here,” she interrupted. “Sorry about being such a girl.” She swiped at the last remaining tear.
I leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I’m happy as fuck you’re such a girl. Let’s go tackle this monster of a day.”
After a quick call, I had confirmation from a friend that the treatment facility was on standby as soon as we needed them. Elle and I discussed how we wanted to break it to her mother, and her nerves shined right through.
“She’s going to hate me. So much. Even more than she already does.”
I kept her hand in mine, something I couldn’t seem to stop myself from doing, and told her, “She’ll forgive you. It might take some time, but eventually, it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever done for her.”
Elle’s face pinched with worry. “I should’ve insisted on it years ago. I should never have let it get this far.”
“There’s nothing you can do but focus on the now.”
“You’re right.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Focus on the now. Everything else can wait.”
“Good girl.”
Her smile faded. “It’s still totally shitty that he can divorce her and leave her with nothing. I can’t believe she signed a prenup. I mean, I get that he has basically supported her the whole time they’ve been married, but she deserves hazard pay for putting up with him.”
I shrugged, because there was nothing I could do about that. “At least she’s getting out.”
“It’s still bullshit.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
The chime rang to signal a customer entering the shop. We both looked up at the kid. Probably mid-twenties, clean cut, but something was off about him. I studied his body language as he came toward the counter. Sniffling, wiping at his nose. And then he started talking fast as fuck and my suspicions were put to rest. Coked up. Great.
“I got a car out front I wanna pawn.”
A fucking car? He must be in deep with his dealer.
I walked to the window.
“Which one?”
He pointed to a yellow Honda S2000, at least ten years old, rims scuffed from where he’d gotten too close to a few curbs.
“Can’t say I’m in the market.”
“I just need like ten grand, man. On pawn, not sale. I love that fuckin’ car.” He was waving his hands around, and his watch face caught the light and damn near blinded me.
Elle cleared her throat, and I looked her way. She jerked her head to the side and mouthed can I talk to you before starting for the corner of the shop where we’d still be able to see him, but far enough that he probably wouldn’t hear anything we’d say.
“Hold on a sec,” I said to the kid.
I met Elle in the corner. “What’s up?”
“He’s one of DJ’s friends. I’ve seen them together before. I think he might even work at Denton’s firm.”
“Well, he’s got a drug habit that has him wanting to pawn his fucking car.”
“How can you tell?”
“He’s got all the signs. Isn’t the first cokehead who has walked through my door looking to sell something.”
Elle glanced over at him and then back at me. “Are you going to do it?”
I gave a sharp shake of my head. “No. The kid can find another way to feed his habit. I’m not gonna bankroll that shit.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I headed back toward him.
“Can’t help you, man.”
“Come on. I just need a loan. That’s why pawnshops fucking exist.”
“Still not interested. It’s not something I want to have to flip if I need to. I’m not in the market for more cars right now.”
“Seriously? Just do me a solid,” he said, shoving his hand into his hair and pressing his palm against his forehead. That’s when I got a real good look at his watch.
It looked damn near identical to the one Elle had snatched out of the customer’s box a few days ago.
“But your watch, on the other hand … let me check it out and see if we couldn’t make a deal on that.”
His eyes cut to me, overly bright and excited. “Yeah?” He yanked his hand out of his hair, and I was surprised he didn’t tear out a chunk with his erratic movements.
He ripped the watch off his wrist and handed it to me. I held my breath as I flipped it over.
The inscription read, “To T.S. with love.”
Holy fucking shit.
Chains did have some voodoo magic sprinkled on its doorstep, because there was no other explanation for the watch showing up.
“How much you want for the watch?”
His eyes locked on me. I wasn’t being particularly smart when it came to getting the best deal, but I didn’t care. I was buying the fucking watch.
“I need ten grand.”
It wasn’t worth that, but it was priceless to Elle.
“Let me take a closer look with my loupe. I want to make sure there aren’t any cracks in the crystal.”
I was mostly making up that bullshit about the cracks, but I needed to show it to Elle to confirm.
“Sure. Whatever.”
I carried it to the counter where she stood waiting, arms crossed over her chest. I held the watch out and flipped it over so the inscription faced up.
“You’re gonna want to look at this.”
Her eyes zeroed in on my hand, and she snatched it up. “No way. No fucking way.” Over and over she repeated t
he words. Luckily, her voice was hushed; otherwise the kid would have heard her. “It’s here. That’s it. Holy fucking shit.”
“Good. Then it’s not leaving this shop with him.”
I stared at the watch I had strapped around my wrist. It was too big, but I didn’t care.
“I just can’t believe it,” I said again.
Lord’s hands landed on my shoulders and squeezed. “Believe it. After all, that’s why you came here in the first place. You must’ve had some faith it would show up.”
I finally pulled my eyes off the watch. “I mean, yeah, but it’s still crazy. I just can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” he said one more time.
“You have to let me pay you back.”
He’d dropped five grand on the watch. It wasn’t worth that much, but the kid refused to take anything less. Lord had pushed him, but he also hadn’t wanted to let him leave with it.
“I’m not letting you pay it back. It’s a gift.” His tone didn’t allow for any argument—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.
“But the shop can’t absorb that kind of loss right now.”
Lord spoke directly into my ear. “You let me worry about that. Besides, I’ve got twenty bucks on Rix coming back to buy the Charger. That’ll give me plenty of room.”
“Still—”
“Woman, you need to learn to accept a damn gift when I want to give one to you.”
I reached my hand back and rubbed it over the buzzed hair on the back of his head. I craned my neck around and kissed him. It was time to give in gracefully. “Thank you.”
“It’s on your wrist where it belongs; that’s all that matters.”
What Lord had said earlier about putting back the pieces because I had never finished grieving was eerily accurate. How he’d known, I wasn’t sure, but I was just now realizing how right he had been. It was one of those things I’d pushed aside every day, preferring instead to focus on my anger toward my mother and Denton. She’d moved on so fast, and it had caused me to pen up all of my grief and cement it over with resentment.
It was time to learn to let go.
“Putting the pieces back together,” I said.