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Mind Lies

Page 25

by Harlow Stone


  “So, together at last, the stubborn man gives her enough water to never know thirst. And in return, the beautiful Lass gives him enough light so that he will never be lost in the shadows of darkness again.”

  I wipe a tear from my cheek, a smile engraved on my face.

  “Sleep, little lass,” he whispers before returning to our bed moments later. I relax into his embrace with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I do every night before I fall asleep. Taking a deep breath, I place my lips over his heart. “I love you madly, Locklin Cavanaugh.”

  I keep my lips there for a moment, thankful for him, our healthy boy, and our growing little girl in the other room. I’m grateful for this cabin and our children’s pseudo-grandparents on the other side of the property.

  We made it.

  It took over a decade. It took nearly dying and Locklin fighting for something I didn’t completely understand.

  But we did.

  “Oh, he’s so handsome!” Jerri gushes over the foul-mouthed little bastard.

  Portia always did call her child her spawn, and I never bothered to correct her because he is.

  The spawn of fucking Satan.

  I watch the little prick eyeball Lara from across the room. Even at six months, she knows he’s a bad seed. She’s a watcher, my little lass, and she can spot the evil from where she sits in her jumper. I may have had a talk with her and her brother before I got here, without Jerri present, of course, because she would have kicked my ass.

  Or she would have deprived me of sex for a week.

  Witch.

  My boy is almost three now, and after a man-to-man chat, he understands he needs to protect his little sister from shit disturbers like Portia and Cooper’s son. Josh has no manners, swears like his mother, and has taught my boy that if you throw your vegetables far enough at dinner—you don’t need to eat them.

  As I said, little prick.

  I motion toward Lonán. He comes and stands between his sister and I. “Smart move, Lad.” He looks up to me and nods, his serious little face a mirror image of my own. I take a moment to remember how lucky I am as I place my hand on his shoulder.

  To have this family isn’t something I have ever dreamed about. It’s not even something I had hoped for. It took me a long time to pull my head out of my arse, as Paddy would say. A long time to realize that living in the shadows and chasing ghosts wasn’t going to warm my bed or my stubborn heart.

  It took Jerri nearly dying.

  Twice.

  I’ll never forget the day my life nearly ended, right along with hers. I’ll never forget any of the days I spent with Jerri, but it tears me to shreds and makes me all the more grateful to know what we’ve overcome to get where we are today.

  Tears stream down her face when I explain why she’s my water.

  Why she’s everything to me.

  “I’m your water,” She whispers back, as if she gets it and wishes she’d have understood the meaning sooner. A smile touches her beautiful mouth, and I press my lips to hers. “My water, Jerri girl.”

  The air slowly whooshes out of her lungs, eyes losing light and color draining from her face. The medic shouts, “She’s crashing! Sir, I need you to move back.”

  I grip her hand more fiercely as the ambulance slams to a halt, the rear doors ripped open.

  “Sir!” she shouts again. I jump into action, hanging onto my Lass’s hand and helping them lift the bed from the ambulance to the ground.

  “Multiple contusions. Gunshot wound to the hip.”

  I talk to her as I run beside the stretcher, a medic trying desperately to pump air into her lungs along the way. “Stay with me, Jerri. Don’t you fucking die! Stay with me, Lass.”

  The doors are pushed open, and the medics wheel her into the emergency room, tearing my hand from hers as hospital staff surround the table.

  “Jerri!” I shout. An older nurse puts her hand to my chest.

  “You can’t help her in there, Lad.”

  She shuts the doors as I watch through the window. They begin cutting the dress from her lifeless body. It makes a slapping sound when it hits the floor—it’s soaked in blood.

  “Jerri! I’m right here, Lass!” I shout, banging on the window, not listening to a goddamn thing the medical team says because I need her to hear me. I need her to know I’m here.

  That I’m not leaving.

  Ever.

  They wheel surgical trays toward the bed and hoist her legs up in stirrups.

  “No. Fuck no, let my boy be okay,” I weep, not giving a shit who watches me, a grown man, cry.

  A strong hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Lee. He stands, giving me silent support while we watch them administer blood, stick a breathing tube down her throat, stitch her side, and poke around her belly at the same time.

  “Sir?”

  I don’t bother looking. I refuse to take my eyes off her.

  “Sir, I brought you some clean clothes. If you change, I’ll take you in there. The doctor would like to speak with you.”

  Finally peeling my eyes off my Lass, I nod in thanks at the older woman before tearing my clothes off in the middle of the hallway. Lee says, “Thank you, Elaine.” And I make a note to thank him and his connections later. I ignore the looks from nurses as I strip. Whether they are ogling my body or the bruising all over my chest, I don’t care. Within seconds I’m pushing through the door. Jerri’s hand rests back in mine.

  I can’t kiss her as they work on her face, but I watch as the doctor moves his hand around her belly. “The baby’s in distress, Mr.?—”

  “Cavanaugh. The father,” I choke out.

  “Mr. Cavanaugh, the babe’s not due to come out but he needs to. He’s a good size, so I’m certain he’ll be fine. But there’s too much stress on both after the trauma. I’d like to perform a caesarean. I recommend it.”

  I nod. “I don’t care what you do, Doc, so long as you try your fuckin’ hardest to keep both of them breathing.”

  He motions to a nurse, who then begins prepping Jerri, before placing the scalpel to her stomach. I turn my head and press my lips to the palm of her hand, praying for them to be okay.

  I won’t take either of them for granted ever again. I won’t let Jerri feel as though she’s not wanted, as though she’s not the most important person in my whole goddamn life. I’ll finally tell her that even when she was with that prick, Tom, even when I was away from her for months at a time, I never, not once, slept with another woman.

  I didn’t even think about it.

  Because it’s always been Jerri.

  It’s only been Jerri..

  A wail pierces the air. I open my eyes and take sight of my boy.

  So little.

  A nurse furiously scrubs his filthy little body, which only angers him further, before hustling him over to a different table. Then another doctor rushes into the room.

  “Is he okay?” I rasp, feeling torn between hanging onto Jerri’s hand or letting go to see my child.

  The doctor nods. “A little fighter, this one. Strong heartbeat, good lungs. Gonna need to spend some weeks in the NICU until he’s grown, though. Better to be safe.”

  I let out a breath, and since they’re finished cleaning Jerri’s face, I press my lips to her cheek.

  “A healthy boy, Lass.”

  “Would you like to hold him for a moment before we take him?” I wipe my cheeks on the scrub shirt and nod. I’m a sore fuckin’ sight for my boy to see, but I don’t care. The nurse sets him in the crook of my arm, and I hold his little head in the palm of my hand.

  “Hey, little Lad.” He looks up at me with bright, curious eyes, and I vow in that moment to never leave my family again. Never again will I let any harm come to them, and if that means moving to some shanty in the middle of nowhere, then that’s what we’ll do.

  Jerri later died on that table.

  She died and my fucking heart broke when they tossed me to the o
ther side of the room so they could work on her.

  It took sixteen seconds for her heart to start beating again, but it might as well have been an hour because it was the longest sixteen seconds of my life.

  I eat, breath, and live Jerri.

  I hover around her like a bee to a flower, now, never letting her out of my sight for too long. She may let on that it drives her crazy, but I know better.

  I’m obsessed with her, and she’s infatuated with me. And after so many years apart from each other—after everything we’ve been through, everything I put her through—this is our time.

  This is our time to love and live and be a family.

  It’s our time for a new normal that doesn’t include us being separated for weeks or months at a time. Once Lee shot Yakov his cronies disbanded. Some were caught, some were killed, but it’s safe to say the threat to her safety is over. The bottom feeders of Yakov’s clan don’t have the resources or the want to harm Jerri.

  I still see Lee from time to time, a pint here and there. If it weren’t for the tactical watch he put on my wrist he wouldn’t have saved us that god awful day. So, it’s safe to assume all rounds at the pub are on me from here on out.

  “Would you stop scowling? You’re scaring the poor kid.”

  Jerri leans into my side, and I put my arm around her shoulders and kiss her forehead. “You can’t scare the devil, Lass.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I press my lips to hers. “We’re not leaving our children with that boy. Lonán already asked if he could stay with Cory and Marcus.”

  “Locklin!” she whisper-shouts. “He barely has any friends, and he’s not going to make any if you keep sabotaging his sleepovers.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve sabotaged nothing, Lass. Lonán knows he’s a bad seed.”

  “Tell me you are not talking about my baby?” Portia scolds from behind us. I raise my eyebrows, challenging her. Thankfully, Cory comes to my aid.

  “Pixie, that hell-raiser you call a child scares even me. I don’t blame the guy for not wanting him around his kid. Last time Marcus and I watched him, I woke up to him sitting on the end of the bed with a pile of my bow ties. He’d already tied one around Marcus’s wrist, and he looked like he was thinking of strangling me with the one in his hand.”

  Portia smirks. “Can you blame him? Which one was it? Purple with stripes?”

  “Not the point, Tiny Tits. If I wanted to sleep with a Chucky doll, I’d buy one.”

  “He does resemble Chucky,” I muse. Jerri punches my arm.

  “He’s a free spirit!” Portia argues.

  “Anyway,” Jerri continues as Portia and Cory carry on their argument. “Cory and Marcus just got back from their honeymoon. I doubt they want to look after the kids; they’re probably tired.”

  I give her a look because she knows all too well they will take the children whenever they can have them. There’s no doubt about it, especially since they haven’t seen them in so long.

  We’ve been spending most of our winters in Ireland, travelling back to Boston for the spring and some summer months. Our schedule isn’t a regular one, but we’ve made it work. Of course that will change when the kids start school, but until that time, Jerri has been happy to have two homes.

  Whatever makes Jerri happy is what Jerri gets.

  I’m just happy I have a family to call home. These three are my life—I’ll take them any way I can get them. Jerri’s shop here is still thriving, and she’s looked into opening up another in Ireland once Lara is bigger.

  “Look! I told you she’d love it.” Marcus’s glee gathers our attention as he holds my daughter like a prized pony at the fair. I’ll hand it to him; he does treat my girl as exactly that.

  As he should, because she is.

  I take note of the tiny, Lara-sized cardigan, which has been covered in tiny shining jewels. “Are they stick-on? She could choke, Marcus,” I say.

  The saucy man points a finger at my face, and the conversation dims. “Do not underestimate my bedazzling skills. Did any of my BeDazzle’s come off Lonán’s jean jacket? Hmm?”

  I frown. “Those silver things?”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Those silver things were original BeDazzler Flathead size 20 studs, and I know for a fact that none of them came off because I know how to run my machine.”

  Cory rolls his eyes, and Jerri gives me wide ones. “Honey, do not talk ill of that man’s BeDazzler.”

  I raise my hands. “My apologies, Marcus.”

  He gives me a quick nod of his head. “I’ll accept. But only because Jerri promised to show me pictures of your trip to the Outer Banks.”

  I frown and Portia adds, “He gets to see your hot man-body without a shirt on.”

  Jerri laughs and I curse. The man has no shame, but so long as he continues to treat my children like gold and my woman like a queen, I’ll put up with his antics.

  When everyone leaves our apartment above the shop, I practically pounce on my wife after she turns the deadbolt. She gasps when she feels me press my body to the length of hers.

  “Turn around, Lass.”

  She does, slowly.

  I don’t want slow.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been inside you without the worry of interruption?” I ask against her neck, devouring her skin as I pull the strap of her dress from her shoulder.

  She shakes her head. “A couple days?”

  “Seventy-eight hours,” I deadpan before grabbing her dress, ripping it right down the middle.

  Her eyes glaze over, heat overtaking them, as I remove every last stitch of fabric covering her beautiful skin. I don’t bother with my own but simply release my aching cock from the confines of my jeans and grab two handfuls of her fine arse. She obliges by wrapping her legs around my waist, and I waste no time in sinking into her in one hard thrust.

  I take her hard and fast, her cries feeding the beast within that wants to be buried inside her twenty-four hours a day. The beast that wants to put a tribe of children in her to mark her as my own.

  Our teeth clash and our tongues duel before I tear my mouth from hers and return to the spot on her neck that makes her whimper, cry, and beg.

  I run my tongue along the raven taking flight up her neck, tattooed on her shoulder. It used to stand for a horrible time, a time when the word “raven” made her shudder so much that she considered having it removed.

  So I pay special attention to the newer part of the tattoo.

  “You’ve risen from the ashes, Jerri girl. I believe that’s some of the myth behind the bird, is it not?”

  The next day, Jerri came home with my tattoo clutched firmly in the bird’s grasp: a Celtic triquetra, talons holding onto it for dear life, ash’s trailing behind knot.

  The same knot that’s been tattooed on my chest for decades.

  “If I’ve risen from the ashes, I’m bringing you with me. No more ghosts, Locklin.”

  I didn’t think I could care for her more. I didn’t think it was possible. But fuck, that day she did me in.

  Took the breath right from my lungs.

  No more ghosts, Locklin.

  As I sink deeper into her body, there isn’t a thought of the ghosts from my past. They may have shaped me into the man I am today, but it’s this woman, this beautiful fucking person in my arms with the voice of an angel and eyes that bring me to my knees, that overpowers anything and everything that was once dark in my life.

  She’s the air I didn’t know I needed to breathe.

  She’s the light that chased away my shadows.

  She was, and always will be, my water.

  Thank You

  Mind Lies was a hard one to write. Not because I didn’t love the idea, but because originally I wanted to base the book completely around Jerri singing and the YouTube video. While it was a great theory in my head, I couldn’t keep it interesting without adding my usual flair for dramatics like the Russian’s, the mystery behind her past and why she was hiding, etc.
r />   I love suspense in novels and I hope I kept you guessing and turning the pages in this one. I’m not as proud of this book as I am The Ugly Roses Trilogy, but I sincerely hope you enjoyed it all the same.

  I’d like to thank Christine Stanley at The Hype PR for helping me deliver every single one of my books. I came into this business with my head in the fog not knowing a damn thing about getting a book out and this woman has answered every single one of my questions on the way. Not only does she work hard, but she enjoys what she does and that in my opinion is a great person to work with.

  Give her some love here: https://www.facebook.com/thehypePR

  My favorite beta reader, Rachel Green. You help make my books shine flawlessly with those priceless peepers of yours! Thank you for being such a speedy reader and coming through so quickly for me.

  My editor Greg, thanks for putting up with my endless questions and embarking on this wonderful journey with me!

  To my readers: You truly make this worthwhile. If it weren’t for your reviews and support I wouldn’t be where I am today. Thank you so much!

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  © 2016 HARLOW STONE / KATE KEARNS

 

 

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