by Kim Jones
I’m letting her go because I do.
46
WINTER
I wake up on the deflated air mattress alone. Yawning loudly, I stretch and crane my neck to find Lynn sitting on the couch staring at me. She’s still in her robe. Her legs crossed. One slipper dangling from her left foot as she bounces her knee.
“I was watching you sleep,” she says, matter of fact. “Is that weird?”
I nod. “A little.”
“Hmm.” I wait for more but she just keeps staring. Finally, she smiles. “Coffee?”
“Please.” Trying like hell to get off the floor as graceful as she stands from the couch, I pull myself to my knees and struggle to stand.
She eyes my shorts and T-shirt, seems to approve then jerks her head toward the kitchen. “I’ll make a fresh pot.”
“Sounds good.” I clear my throat and point to the bathroom. “Is Jinx in trouble?” I ask. She says nothing. “Okay…I’m just gonna…”
“Of course.”
Dropping my head, I move quickly toward the bathroom. Wondering what I feel most anxious about—her watching me, or me not really giving a shit that she was. After my face is washed and my teeth are brushed, I feel a little more normal. Actually, I feel great. That is, right up to the moment she points at the barstool and says, “Sit.”
I have a strange feeling I’m about to get the talk. And where the hell is Jinx?
“They guys went for a run,” she says, answering my unspoken question as she hands me my coffee.
“Oh.” It’s the best I got.
“He’s a storm, you know.”
Frowning, I still my cup at my lips. “Excuse me?”
“Jinx. He’s a storm. Unpredictable. Incorrigible. Capable of bringing mass destruction, yet you anticipate him.” A faraway look flashes in her eyes for a brief moment. Then she smiles. “You know that feeling you get right before the rain starts? The smell of it in the air…The sound of it on a tin roof…The thought of curling up to a good book on a cozy couch with a warm blanket…I find those things peaceful. Do you?”
“I guess…” What the fuck?
“But then you hear that first rumble of thunder. See lightening in the distance. Next thing you know, you’re fucking power is out. You’re scrambling around trying to find candles and flashlights. Worried a damn tree is going to fall through the roof. Or a tornado is going to rip your house to shreds.”
“Is this a metaphor or something?” I ask, starting to get a little nervous. “Because I’m not following.”
Reaching her hand across the counter, she grabs mine and gives me that sweet smile of hers. “There’s a little bit of fear with every storm. A whole lot of mystery. And you could never appreciate the beauty of the sun without the devastation of a storm.”
“So you’re saying that if Jinx didn’t fuck shit up, then we wouldn’t be able to appreciate things when they aren’t fucked up.”
Throwing her head back, she lets out a loud laugh. But as the seconds pass, her laugh dies out and then she completely sobers. “Shit…it does kinda sound like that, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just a little.”
“Well, that’s not what I mean.” She grins and shakes her head. “Mother of the fuckin’ year right here. What I’m trying to say is that Jinx is strong. Powerful. He’s a force. He can bring such happiness…” She trails off and I can tell she’s searching for the right words.
“Like to a farmer who needs rain,” I offer. “Because he’s a storm.”
She points a finger at me. “Exactly.”
“But he can also fuck up his property, kill his crops and put a tree through his house.”
“Yes.”
“But even then, the farmer can collect insurance and probably get out of farming all together because it sucks balls and nobody wants to do that shit anyway, but they’re too invested to get out…Until this huge storm comes, blows their shit away and gives them that out because…”
I hold my hand out for her to finish. She doesn’t disappoint.
“Because farming sucks balls.”
“Yep.”
She stares at me in mock awe. “I knew you’d understand.”
“How could I not?” I ask, animatedly. “You explained it so well.”
Buffing her fingernails on her robe, she looks down at them and shrugs. “It’s what I do.”
Laughing, I finally take a sip of my coffee. It’s perfect. Almost as good as scotch. And this conversation is perfect. And Jinx is perfect. And I feel perfect. And I really hope I get to spend the rest of the weekend with these people. In their home. With Jinx. Because in a few short days, this perfect feeling I have will only be a memory. So will they.
So will he…
“A fucking storm?”
I laugh at Jinx’s disbelieving expression and nod. “An unpredictable, incorrigible storm, no less.”
After the guys returned from their run, I offered to help Lynn cook breakfast. I broke two dishes, burned a carton of eggs and set a dish towel on fire before she demanded I take a seat. But at lunch time, I made some kick ass ham sandwiches that earned me a slow-clap, standing ovation. Dinner, I just poured the wine. Drank most of it too. Now, we’re back at the lake that could definitely benefit from a rainstorm. The thought makes me smile.
“There’s that happy smile again,” Jinx says, tracing my lips with his thumb. “Mama says there’s something magical about this place. I’m starting to believe it.”
“Yeah? Me too.” I look back out across the shallow water. Down at the rickety pier. Along the overgrown edges. “I think it might be the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. What about you?”
Jinx just shakes his head. His eyes on me. Voice barely a whisper when he speaks. “Not even close.”
I knew the sleeping arrangements were going to be the same the moment we walked back inside the house.
On the floor in the living room, was a brand new, king sized air mattress and twin sized air mattress already inflated—giving the guys a bed and a half to sleep on. Standing next to them with a pointed look was Lynn who simply nodded her head toward the floor and said, “Boys.”
“Winter sugar,” Payton started. My grin was already forming, knowing he was going to say something completely inappropriate and funny as hell. “If you want to cuddle, just let me know and I’ll come to you. No sense in me having to fuck up Jinx’s ugly face when he tries to steal you from me.”
“It’s sweet of you to offer, Pay,” I said, my tone serious. “But it’ll be nice to sleep solo tonight. I think I’ve had all the cuddling I can handle.”
I wasn’t serious.
I was lying.
Because it’s just after two, again, and I’m tiptoeing down the stairs. I recognize Jinx’s large form in the middle. His tattooed arms out from under the covers and on display for my greedy eyes. As if he’d anticipated me coming, or someone, there’s a small nightlight casting a faint glow over the entire room.
Wordlessly, I slide under the covers. My head falling on Jinx’s shoulder. My arms around his waist. His around mine. Our legs tangled. And that unfamiliar hand that is becoming more and more recognizable curls around my hip.
“Payton!” I whisper shout.
“Let me touch youuuuu…” Payton cries in a creepy tone. Clayton starts making those weird throaty noises from that freaky movie with the little dead kid. Jinx laughs. I just shake my head.
“You know Mama’s gonna kill us, right?” Jinx asks, pressing his lips in my hair.
I sigh. Swoon. Snuggle deeper into him and admit, “Some things are worth dying for.”
We’re leaving today…
It was my first thought when I woke up this morning. That quickly faded when I found the guys gone and Lynn watching me sleep—again.
I joined her in the kitchen for coffee where she tried to come up with a different metaphor to describe Jinx. It too was an epic failure that ended in us both laughing. Finally, I just told her what I think she’d been wanting
Because I did.
I do.
She cried. We hugged. It was some real Brady Bunch, Full House, Hallmark card shit. But I liked it.
When we said our goodbyes, Lynn hugged me again. Lyle was curt. Clayton was overly dramatic. Payton copped a feel of my ass—I let it slide.
Jinx offered to take me to the magical lake one last time. I refused. Not because I didn’t want to go, but because I was afraid if I did, I’d cry. He’d told me I’d see it again. I didn’t respond. But I think we both knew I wouldn’t.
The entire ride home, I worked on blocking out my emotions. Putting up my walls. Preparing myself for tomorrow—the big day. The end of my captivity. The day I see Pierce. Meet with a lawyer. Give Jinx back what I took from him. Say goodbye and start my new life of freedom—something I wasn’t allowing myself to get too excited about.
Jinx claimed he had it all figured out. He planned to hide me away for a few days after the meeting tomorrow. Somewhere safe. Secure. Once he had my new identity, he’d put me on a plane to wherever I wanted to go. Even offered to go with me and help me get settled if I wanted—practically insisted it.
I didn’t say anything.
Because Jinx is forgetting one major detail in his oh-so-well thought out plan.
Cain Malcolvich.
He’s yet to show his face, but I know he’s somewhere close. I swear I can feel his evil in my bones. He’ll come for me. Just like I always knew he would. And if he demands I go with him, I will.
I won’t poison Pierce with my problems.
I won’t burden Jinx.
You don’t do that to the people you love. And God, do I love them. Both of them. Pierce I’ve loved for as long as I can remember. Jinx stole my heart in the back of that van two months ago. When he kissed my palm. When he showed me tenderness when all I’d felt was pain. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’m sure of it now.
I’m in love with Jinxton Marks.
And as good as that feels, it hurts just as bad.
Now, we’re in bed. Back at the clubhouse. Home. And I can’t fathom the idea of going to sleep without him. Of waking up alone. All I want is to touch him. I know if I do, it’ll only make leaving that much harder. But I’m tired of denying myself. My mind. My body. My heart.
“You know,” Jinx says, his voice cutting through the silence and making me tense. “All you have to do is ask.” How did he… “For the past few minutes, you’ve been rubbing your pussy against my hip every four and a half seconds.” Oh…that’s how…
I search for his face which I can’t make out in the darkness. “Four and a half seconds? That’s pretty precise.”
“I’ve been counting.”
“If you knew I wanted it, why are you making me ask? Why not just give it to me?”
“Because I like when you beg.” His tone might be playful, but he’s serious as hell. As is my need. So I don’t hesitate a moment longer.
“I want you to make love to me.”
He’s silent a few long moments before he speaks. “You say that like this is goodbye.”
“You never know,” I mumble, wondering if this truly is goodbye. If this is our last night together. Or if fate might actually cut me a little fucking slack and give me the future I want.
“Yeah,” he says, rolling over on top of me and pinning my arms above my head. “I think I do.” It’s the only thing he says. Then he’s kissing me. Rocking his hips against me. Teasing me until I do beg before he gives in and gives me what I want.
My panties are ripped away. Legs over his shoulders. His hands beneath my ass—lifting me. His cock sliding between the wet, swollen lips of my pussy. Once…twice…he’s inside me. Sliding into me slowly. Filling me. Completing me.
We make love—just like I asked. Passionate. Unhurried. Sweet and sensual love. Our kiss only breaking when he asks, “You okay?” When he demands, “Spread your legs wider so I can see that pretty pussy.” Or when he says, “You feel good, baby. You’re fuckin’ perfection.”
Perfection—I’m not even close. Yet my heart swells when he says it. My body responds. I come hard around him. He comes with me. I’m not one to refer to an orgasm as beautiful, but this is. Or at least I can’t think of a better word to describe it.
I cry myself to sleep in his arms. Silent tears of guilt. Sadness. Pain. Remorse. Each one shed with a different emotion. The last just as heart breaking as the first. And every last one of them for Jinx.
The man I love.
47
WINTER
I’m up early. I’ve showered, dressed and consumed two cups of coffee and smoked a half of a pack of cigarettes before Jinx joins me on the couch.
He doesn’t sit next to me. Instead, he sits opposite me on the sectional. Fully dressed. Coffee in hand. Expression stoic. Voice blank when he announces, “Pierce is here.”
I nod. My reaction gives nothing away. I’m calm. Composed. I have my emotions in check. I’ve had all morning to prepare for this moment. I’m ready.
The door opens.
Closes.
Footsteps.
Pierce appears before me. Dressed like the business man he is by day—shiny black shoes. Perfectly tailored gray slacks. Bright white button down. The sleeves rolled up his strong forearms. Rolex on his wrist. Dark, unruly hair styled messy and just long enough to brush the top of his crisp, overly starched collar. He’s freshly shaved. Expression cool. Blue eyes appraising.
To women, he’s a dream. To his enemies, a nightmare. In the eyes of his brothers, he’s a leader. In the eyes of his partners, a force. But all I see when I look at him is a distant memory. He’s like a stranger to me. And all I feel is heartache. Because he’ll never be anything more.
“Winter,” he greets. Formal. Polite. Detached.
I respond in the same manner. “Pierce.”
His gaze sweeps over me. Taking in the outfit I know he wanted me to wear just for this occasion. White silk blouse. Sensible, knee length black pencil skirt. When he gets to my red high heels, he frowns. He wanted me to wear the other pair he’d provided—the black ones with the thin, short heel. But he doesn’t say anything.
“If you don’t mind, Jinx. I’d like a moment alone with my sister.”
I can feel Jinx’s eyes on me. Almost hear his unspoken question. But I keep my gaze trained on Pierce. I don’t need my brother getting the idea that I’m attached to Jinx. Or that he has any kind of feelings for me. It will only complicate things.
After several seconds, Jinx leaves us. Pierce takes his seat, stretching his arm across the back of the couch and propping his right ankle on his left knee. His fingers curl around his leg and I notice he’s wearing my father’s ring—the one that was supposed to be mine. I ignore it—assuming he wore it just to get under my skin.
“You look good,” he says, his mood friendly. Posture relaxed.
I gesture toward him with my finger. “Ralph Lauren suits you.”
His lips twitch. “It’s Armani.”
I gasp. “Wow. Business must be good.”
“Always.”
That, I was sure of.
Pierce had invested all of his money from the settlement we got from our parents’ accident in some oceanfront real estate property when the market was shit. Now he owns the only high-rise condominium on La Jolla Beach in San Diego, along with several other properties on Mission Bay. He’s living proof that stereotypes are bullshit—especially when it comes to bikers.
“So…” I trail off and give him an expectant look. Steeling my spine for what’s to come.
He shrugs. “What?”
“You wanted a minute. You have it. What do you want to say?”
“Nothing. I just thought we could talk.”
I laugh. “Talk.” Shaking my head, I reach for the nearby decanter and pour a glass of scotch. I knew I’d need it. I just didn’t expect it to be this soon. Taking a sip, I meet his stare. “You don’t want to talk to me.”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Fine,” I say, taking another drink. “Talk.”
“How are you?”
“Great.”
“Did Jinx treat you well?”
“He was the perfect gentleman.”
“And the club? Were they good to you?”
“I couldn’t have asked for better hosts.”
Pierce releases an exasperated breath. “I’m trying here, Winter.”
“Me too. I’m answering all your questions aren’t I?”
“Only with what you think I want to hear.”
I feign shock. “Oh…you want the truth?” His lips thin and he nods once. “The truth…hmm…let me see.” I tap my finger on my chin as if I’m thinking hard. “Well, you asked how I am. I didn’t really lie. I’m great. Considering this will all be over very soon. You asked about Jinx, I didn’t lie about that either. Except for the first week when he tied me to a bed for seven days straight, tried to starve me to death and forced me to stay out in the cold for hours a day.”
“What?” Pierce asks, his voice a little disbelieving with a hint of anger.
“Come on, big brother.” I shake my head. “You didn’t think he’d be nice to me, did you? Treat me like a queen? Actually, I remember you saying I was supposed to be tied up, uncomfortable and alone, but safe. Right?”
“I didn’t mean that literally. I expected him to take care of you and treat you with respect.”
“What about the club? Did you expect the same of them?”
“Of course,” he says, his tone soft. His expression even softer. Almost innocent. It only pisses me off more.
Slamming my glass down, I lean closer to him. “Well then why the fuck would you tell them I was nothing but a trashy whore? Someone who couldn’t be trusted? A fucking burden…,” I have to look away from him for a moment after choking out the words. When I turn back, he’s thoughtful.
“I was angry. It was wrong. I apologize.”
I lose it.
“Fuck you and your apology!” I scream, sending the decanter and my glass to the floor with the sweep of my hand. There’s something pleasing about hearing it shatter. I want to throw something else. Somehow, I refrain and settle for just walking away—my feet crunching the broken glass.
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