by S. L. Scott
“You would have never let me walk out of here, so let’s not pretend otherwise. Now that the tables have turned, what do I do with you?”
Before I can decide the next step, Cutler comes barreling down the hall screaming and pounding his chest. What the hell? Has he lost his ever-fucking mind?
It happens fast, and I’m flipped to the floor. The guns scatter with us scrambling after.
I grab one and turn on my ass to find a gun already pointed at me. The sound of the bullet discharging echoes through the air. I close my eyes and wait for the hit.
28
Jason
Cole groans in pain, dragging himself to sit. “I’ve been shot. You shot me!”
This is going to be a bloodbath. I’m stuck in a standoff with my hand steady on the gun I’m aiming right at his heart. His gun aimed right at me.
“Shut up,” I growl. I hate Cole . . . even saying that fucking name. I also may want to kill him, but I’m not going to let this guy kill him for me.
Knowing there’s no way out of this mess, I keep flashing my mind back to Delilah. Delilah and I didn’t fall in love slowly. Nothing came slow when it came to us. We fell fast and hard. I can’t lose her.
The door opens, and my eyes flick to find her standing with a gun aimed at this dick. Why will she never listen to reason? “Get out!” I yell.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see her flinch in response. The guy in front of me grins with pure evil in his eyes and turns his gun on her.
“Run!” I say. I work my way up until I’m standing, ready to take that bullet if he shoots at her.
He laughs. “I’m not afraid to shoot a woman in the back.”
I believe him. He’s trapped and is going to hell soon enough, so he might as well try to drag an angel with him. “You shoot her, and there’s no reason for me to keep you alive.”
She doesn’t move.
“Tough guy, huh?” His aim doesn’t shift while she stands frozen in the spotlight. “Come here, doll,” he says to her.
“Don’t listen.”
She glances at me. “What do I do . . . Eric?”
Cole knocks his head against the wall, and whines, “Who’s Eric? Help me, Delilah. I’ve been shot.”
As if she just spotted him, she looks his way, her hands starting to shake. “Oh, my God.”
For Delilah, I’ll die any day of the week. But for Cole, fuck that noise. “It’s barely bleeding.” Even wet, his pants make it look worse than it is. “You’re going to live,” I say.
The asshole shifts, practically belly laughing at this scene. “This is the ex? Damn, I’d be fucking her, too, pretty boy.” He gets to his knees, keeping the gun on her.
The term grates my nerves, drudging memories of that gun to my head back in that alley years ago. My body tenses, and I grind the warning, “Sit back down or I’ll make you hit that floor.”
Despite the odds against him, he’s emboldened and gets to his feet. Nodding toward Cole, he says, “So this must be Cutler.”
“I don’t want to die,” Cole cries. “I’m sorry, Delilah.” Cole is moaning. “Shoot them, Koster. Shoot them.” The asshole needs to shut the fuck up.
My finger twitches, causing the other asshole to blink. I’ll win. I can have a bullet between his eyes before he has a chance to blink. My target is in focus, the room starting gray.
“Eric?” The sweet voice of an angel wipes the gray away and brings me back to her. My eyes slide to Delilah’s. “Remember how you said it was us or them?”
I will never forget the night I killed that man. “I remember.” I don’t want her dead, but I don’t want her left to be tortured by these guys either if I’m killed. We’re stuck in this damn standoff like we have no chance at that happiness Delilah and I have talked about.
“This is one of those times,” she says. Why is she referencing our conversation about why I had to kill someone? Without regret. “A situation like this is why you made the decision you did, right?” There’s no tremble to her tone. Her confidence is fierce.
I glance around at the predicament we’re in. His hand is shaking. Mine is not. He doesn’t want to shoot me. What kind of money collector is this clown?
When I look back at Delilah, she’s not scared. She’s not shaking. She’s strong, stronger than I thought possible. I reply, “Just like this.”
“I understand why you did it now.”
The guy says, “Clue me in. Did what?” When Cole groans in pain again, the asshole yells, “Shut the fuck up,” and then shoots him.
Delilah screams as another shot slices the air. I follow through and take the shot, aiming to injure but not kill. I’ll spare his life this time. I’m on my feet and over him. Cole blacked out, and I can tell Delilah’s going into shock. She’s going to be in shock, but I need her to stay focused. Just for a little while longer. “Call 911,” I say.
She nods, but it’s lifeless, so I repeat, “Call 911.”
“Okay,” she replies, her eyes leaving them to find mine. “Okay.” When she hurries into the kitchen, I see the mess this guy is making. Why does blood always have to be so messy? “You look like you might bleed out. This is where I give you a choice. You can either make sure you never come back to this town or within fifty miles of this town, or I kill you and feed you to the fishes out back before the cops arrive. Choice is yours.”
Grabbing his leg in agony, he replies, “My boss will kill me, so I’m already a dead man.”
“Fish it is.” I stand and aim the gun at his head.
“Wait!” His hands lift in surrender. “I have a wife and three kids. I won’t bother you again. I won’t come anywhere near this town. I promise.”
Squatting down, I look him in his beady eyes. “Why should I trust you?” He squirms under the intensity of my glare.
“It’s Cutler I was after. I have no beef with you or the ex-wife. I promise. We have a deal?” We’ll see what sort of deal you get with the sheriff’s department.
“I’m going to let you live this time.”
His head thumps on the wood. “Oh, thank God.”
“Thank me.” I turn my attention to where it needs to be right now and the sirens sounding in the distance. Red and blue lights flash across the fields and invade the living room. It’s going to be a long night, and I just want this nightmare to be over. I need to get to my girl.
“This gun is still registered to your daddy, Delilah. You need to file the proper paperwork to put it in your name.”
The farmhouse has been shot up. Holes are in the walls, the floor, and in people. Cutler is in the ambulance on his way to the hospital, and the gambling ring criminal otherwise named Brooks is also on his way to the hospital. Naturally, Whaley’s more concerned about the proper paperwork for the gun Delilah used to come save me. She’s my hero.
“I’ll take care of it this week,” she says, twisting her mouth in annoyance.
Although Delilah’s dress has dried from the warm night air, Lorraine wraps a blanket around her. I know Delilah is going to experience a whole range of emotions, but right now she’s running on adrenaline. When you’re up that high, the fall back to reality is sometimes chilling.
I take her hand and turn it palm up. Placing a kiss on it, I let my lips remain, closing my eyes, grateful that I’ve been gifted this life with her. When I lift back up, I ask, “Are you okay?”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
She’s not a good liar, and at times like this, I appreciate that fact. Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I hold her while we finish giving our statements.
In towns like Solace Pointe, the whole jail staff comes out for a looky-loo, so we’re grateful we don’t have to go down to the station. Three hours of questioning is quite enough. Delilah’s exhausted, so I wrap this up. “We’re done, Deputy. If you have more questions, you’ll have to contact our lawyer and set up a formal interview.”
“Sounding like a big shot there, Mr. Koster. You’ve been i
nvolved in these kinds of situations before?”
“No,” I lie. “I just know my rights.”
Whaley scratches his chin. “Well, I think we have enough to file our reports. If we don’t, we’ll be in touch.”
“What about your men inside?”
“They’ll be there all night. I suggest you find another place to stay for a few nights while we do our investigation.”
After a heavy huff, Delilah’s shoulders fall. “Great. Just great.” She slides out of my grasp and walks toward the field. Standing at the edge, she crosses her arms over her chest and stares into the darkness. She’s struggling, and I get not wanting an audience. “Thank you, officers.” I join her side, wishing I could make this all go away like it never happened, but sometimes bad shit happens. I hate that the outside made its way to the inside of our little piece of paradise. “Whaley said we could go.”
“Where can we go?” It’s not resolve but resignation I detect in her tone.
I try to take it away and offer an opportunity. “Anywhere we want.”
“Lorraine said we could stay with them. She has a sewing room with a foldout couch.”
“Billy called. They wouldn’t let him on the property, but he said we’re welcome on his farm.” I move closer, keeping my eyes ahead.
“Your mom called me.” Taking my hand, she holds it between us. “She said she wants us to come over.”
“Tomorrow. How about I take you to a hotel so we can decompress?” We’ve had a lot happen, and we’ve told the story more times than I care to tell again. “A room of our own.”
“Can we treat ourselves and get one with room service? I’m hungry. By the time we reach a hotel, I’ll be starved.”
“You can order the whole menu if you want.”
A sliver of a smile ripples across her face. I’ll spend the night coaxing the full one out because she deserves to smile.
An hour and a half later, we’re standing in our room, and she’s staring at the tub, her tone full of disappointment. “Normally, I’d take a bath to wind down.” Coming to sit on the bed next to me, she says, “I think I’ll skip it tonight.”
Almost drowning in one makes her reaction reasonable. Fucker. He’s stolen that from her as well. “Sorry I wasn’t there sooner. I thought he’d run, not gone inside. I was checking the perimeter.”
“I thought he was on drugs. Now I’m thinking he was on a mission.” Resting against my chest, she drapes her arms over my middle.
My arm curves around her back, holding her to me, our warmth exchanged in the embrace. “He only had one bullet in his gun, Delilah.” I don’t mean to sound ominous, but his intentions were clear.
“He was going to drown me.”
“And then kill himself.”
“His life is shit. He’s shit. I hate him so much.”
Swearing doesn’t come natural to her. The words are distorted, dripping from a place that should never reside inside her heart—hate. Sitting up, she presses her palm on my chest over my heart. “What if you wouldn’t have found me in time?”
Caressing her cheek, I lean forward and kiss her. “You saved yourself. I have no doubt after the courage you showed tonight that you would still be here.”
“In your arms?” It’s an odd question, but the whole night was odd.
“I have everything to live for now, so no one’s taking me out that easily.”
Her smile returns, the light in her eyes smothering the dark that tried to win, tried to take her hostage.
A knock on the door signals room service. I hop up and let them push the cart of food inside. After tipping, we’re left alone with enough food to feed a small army. Her eyes are wide, and a huge smile appears. When my stomach growls, I rub it, and ask, “Was the drive worth it?”
“It was definitely worth it.” When she grabs a bowl of spaghetti, I can tell by the way she settles back on the bed and starts flicking through the channels that she’s content . . . for now.
I’ve been paid a lot of money over the past few years. It gave me financial security for the rest of my life and then some. But living within the confines of darkness, at times existing just outside the law, I didn’t have this. Contentment. With her, my girl, I’ve found it. Peace. Solace. This is something no paycheck ever provided.
I’ll take this life over the last every day of the week and twice on Sundays. I reach for the steak because there’s no time like the present to enjoy a few of the finer things in life.
29
Delilah
I can’t breathe.
I savor the fiery orange on the inside of my lids. Orange means life.
Flailing my arms to find anything to hold on to that will give me the leverage to save myself is useless. I’m held under, drowning in his arms.
. . . The horror I felt at that moment has worked its way into my veins. It’s attached itself in ways I can’t remove. I was so close to that slice of paradise with Jason that even though we survived and still have that future, I don’t think I’ll be able to easily let last night go after almost meeting death.
I thought I was doomed to spend eternity tangled up in Cole and death, hate, and hell.
Jason stirs, and I look back. Just the sight of him, the fact that we’re alone in this room has me smiling, though. He once told me he was a soldier, a mercenary of sorts, but when I look at him, I only see my dark-haired knight. His sleep is steady, his features finding peace, as his body lies bare for me. The sheet is tangled around a leg, exposing parts of him that I’m the only one privy to these days.
How can he possibly be that hard when he’s sleeping? Men will always be a mystery to me. It’s a mystery I’m happy to solve over the next sixty, seventy, or more years. I’d love to live a long life with him. The years we were apart, when he was doing those things he doesn’t like to talk about, will pale in comparison to the years we’ll spend together.
One day, they won’t matter at all.
One day, last night won’t matter.
We survived. Together. That’s all that will matter when our souls leave this place.
I shut the blinds and crawl back into bed next to him. Careful not to wake him, I untangle the sheet and cover us both up. How does he sleep so soundly? Even after what could have been a horrific tragedy.
Is the peace that keeps his features gentler in the moonlight his acceptance that the world has bad people in it? He’s just learned to deal with it?
If he had his way, my life would remain pristine and untouched by the outside world. It’s good in theory but not realistic. I’m human, which means I’ll make bad choices . . . breaking up with Jason and trusting Cole hopefully the worst. It also means I have a chance to start over, clean the slate, and move on. Move on is what I intend to do. I feel so incredibly fortunate I get to move on with him this time.
I run my fingers lightly over his arms, appreciating the dip and rise of the muscles beneath. Is it wrong to want to get lost in something wonderful after the events from earlier?
His eyes open. “Delilah.” My name languidly rolls off his tongue as if we have more than one lifetime together. In no great hurry, his hand reaches for me.
“Make me forget for a little while.”
Our gazes stay locked long enough for him to read me like a book. He sits up and sweeps my hair behind my shoulder. His hand remains and slides down the strap of my pajamas. His lips are warm, wet, and delicious against my skin until I’m left with the cool air of the room breezing across the trail he’s left.
He removes my top, and when his palms cover my breasts—kneading and squeezing—I close my eyes, enjoying how my body responds to him. When he moves on top of me, I open for him, opening myself and letting him in—mind and soul.
And when he reaches for a condom, I cover his hand. “I need to feel all of you.”
I need his weight, his lips on mine, the rough tips of his fingers scratching across my skin. I want him to mark me as his. I don’t need to feel pretty to the world, to wear
a tiara and smile anymore. I just want him to find me beautiful when I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is a mess. I only want to be how he sees me already, the real me—the bare and bold me. The me I am with him.
His mouth moves along my neck, kissing and sucking, and I feel every last one of them all the way to my core. My hand slides into the back of his hair, keeping his close, loving the feel of us together—ravaged and real, carnal and lustful.
He warms my neck as his fingers flame the fires of desire between my legs. “Take me,” I whisper in his ear.
“I want all of you, baby.”
“Take every last bit of me. I want to forget everything outside this room.”
The stubble of his beard has grown in overnight and scrapes against my chest, leaving me to crave more of the sting left behind. I love it. It’s not pretty, fitting for how I feel. He looks at me, his eyes gently drifting back and forth between mine, studying me. He says, “Sometimes the bad helps us remember the good. Let me be that good for you.” He is good, knowing exactly what I need and how I need to be loved.
“Leave no part of me untouched.”
He thrusts, his desire for me driving him deep inside me. My back arches and my head goes back, leaving my neck exposed. Jason pulls back and thrusts forward while his lips find my throat again.
Wrapping his arms under me, he uses my body against his, uses me for his pleasure while heightening mine. Our bodies start to sweat, sliding with ease and creating more. The sounds of our love are the only sounds I hear. The troubles from the night drift away as I quickly find the ecstasy in his arms instead.
“I love you,” I exhale with every breath. “I love you. I love you.”
Our bodies slow until our souls sigh in satisfaction. His head rests on my chest and I hold him there, never wanting to let go.
Time doesn’t stand still for us. It ticks by as we lose minutes or days, like the years we lost that we’ll never get back. This time, there’s no true loss because it’s time I’ve spent losing with him. Allowing the ugly of the day to fade away, together we find our own haven, and I’ve found solace in his arms.
