by Lulu Pratt
A car pulls up beside me and the driver opens the door as soon as the tires halt against the pavement.
Someone’s in a rush, I muse.
Shoving my debit card into the slot, from my peripheral vision I see a shiny, black shoe exit the car first.
When the man stands to full height and fully exposes himself, I cry out in relief and drop the gas pump in my hand to throw myself at Jameson.
*****
Jameson practically has to pry my arms off him after our embrace stretches on, me sobbing into his chest.
“Grace, let me see you,” he says hoarsely, emotion clouding his voice.
Reluctantly, I release my hold on him and step back.
Gasping, I realize for the first time that there’s blood splattered on his white jacket.
“Who hurt you?” I shriek, horrified.
This isn’t how I imagined seeing him in his uniform for the first time.
“Don’t worry about me, I want to make sure you’re okay,” he states, eyes roaming over me carefully.
His honeyed orbs land on my neck and he swears savagely.
I know then that my attacker’s hand must have left a noticeable mark around my neck.
A roughened thumb reaches up to wipe away the tears pooling on my cheeks.
I savor his touch, finally feeling a semblance of normalcy and safety.
His presence has anchored me.
“How did you find me?” I wonder aloud.
Still examining me from head to toe, he answers offhandedly. “The car service has tracking devices on each of their vehicles.”
“How did you know I was in trouble?”
The questions are just flowing.
I’m thrilled that he’s here but there are a ton of gaps to fill in.
His brow quirks, testament to his annoyance.
Had Brick sent someone to derail him as well?
“We’ll discuss that later. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Before I can reassure him, sirens blare as three cop cars skid into the parking lot of the gas station.
Trepidation seizes me even though I’ve acted purely out of self-defense all night.
“Don’t worry, the limo service sent them,” Jameson assures me, expertly reading the horror on my features.
*****
An hour later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Jameson’s Porsche as we head back toward his home for the evening.
Exhaustion weighs me down and my head droops as my body tries to submit to slumber.
In the last hour I’ve learned that Brick is in custody for breaking and entering with an armed weapon. And the driver I stabbed is in the hospital, mending from the wounds I inflicted.
The driver I stabbed.
Jesus Christ.
After garnering that information, we talked with the cops for an hour and they took an initial report from me. They’d urged us to come into the station tonight but Jameson had shut that down.
He promised that we’d be there tomorrow morning after we both got a good night’s sleep.
And the police relented without any further questions.
Not for the first time, I wonder just how much power Jameson had in this town.
He seemed like a god.
Interrupting my reverie, Jameson’s hand wanders over to my side of the car and rests in my lap as we near his property.
“We’re here, baby.”
The endearment fills me with warmth, replacing the icy fear that had previously coursed through my veins.
I love the thought of being his baby. His actions certainly demonstrate his obvious affection for me.
It’s a comforting feeling.
Gravel crunches under his tires as we journey towards the garage.
Parked, Jameson turns to me and exhales heavily as a somber expression clouds his face.
“Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”
Chapter twenty
JAMESON WILCOX
Bewildered, Grace stares at me across the desk in my home office.
“I don’t understand,” she states again.
“I’m a bounty hunter,” I reiterate.
“No,” she shakes her head. “You told me you were a security guard.”
Trying to approach this delicately, I mull over my next choice of words.
“What I told you is that I wanted to start a private security business.”
Her eyes squint, amber pools still drowning in confusion.
“I was hired by Brick to capture you.”
Grace recoils as if she’s been slapped in the face.
A shooting pang of regret takes root in my chest.
I’ve done a lot of fucked-up things in my life but none have made me feel quite as guilty as lying to Grace Chambers.
She doesn’t deserve that.
“Jameson, I don’t understand…” her words trail and I see moisture gathering in her beautiful eyes.
“I fucked up, Grace.”
Betrayal is reflected all over her features and it rips my heart in two, knowing that I’m the culprit.
“So, it was all a lie?” she chokes on her words as the first few tears finally slide down her cheeks.
“No,” I say emphatically.
“I trusted you.” Her words are accusatory and for good reason.
“Grace,” I began sorrowfully but she doesn’t let me finish.
“Why did you pretend to care?”
The question slices through my resolve.
“I never pretended to care about you, Grace. I just did. I never had to fake my feelings for you because they came naturally after we spent more time together.”
Her head whips in my direction, suspicion the dominant emotion there on her face.
I lean forward, palms facing upward.
“I wasn’t honest with you. And for that I’m sorry.”
Grace glares at me but says nothing.
“But I won’t apologize for falling in love with you, Grace.”
“In love?” she echoes, her expression transforming. Distrust is replaced by inquisitiveness. But she masks the emotion as soon as it emerges.
“Yes, I’m in love with you.”
Saying the words aloud is both terrifying and freeing.
Grace has never alluded to the fact that she loves me. And I know even if she doesn’t reciprocate these feelings, it won’t dim the devotion I have for her.
No other woman in my life has ever crept beyond the exterior and infiltrated my heart.
Until Grace.
“Love doesn’t lie, Jameson,” Grace mutters and the disappointment in her voice is disheartening. She leans away from me and folds her arms across her chest in a protective gesture.
Her words slice through me and I know she’s right. On one level.
“I just wanted to protect you. From Brick and from the truth of who I am. I knew that if I was honest with you from the beginning that my chances were nonexistent.”
Grace tilts her head to observe me, stealing my signature move.
“And how are you feeling about your chances right now?” she asks.
I swallow the anxious knot in my throat and let silence answer the question.
“This is unbelievable,” she mutters to herself.
Instead of raging emotion, I’m met with her silence which I think is worse. At least if she was yelling at me, I could try to deescalate the situation. I have nothing to work with here and it’s driving me insane.
I feel the need to further explain myself.
“Grace. Don’t leave me. Please,” I urge. “I knew the second time we met, that I would do whatever I had to do to protect you. It was never my plan to fall for you. It just happened. Naturally. I was supposed to meet you and deliver you to Brick. Plain and simple. But I was so drawn to you. I kept coming up with excuses to see you again. I wanted to be wherever you were. I wanted to text you all day, and call you every night. It was so outside of my character but with you, it just flowed.”
S
he blinks in my general direction and I’m not even sure she’s absorbing my words.
I continue anyway.
“You’ve become everything to me, Grace. When I wake up in the morning, my first thought is you. I meant what I said about protecting what’s mine and you are mine, Grace. Forever. Whether you want me or not, I’m here. I need to know that you’re safe. I need to know that you’ve eaten. I need to know about your shitty day at the office. And I need you to know that I love you and that will never change.”
After my spiel, Grace’s face is even tougher to read. She’s not giving anything away.
“I want to go home,” she says.
Panic sets in and I don’t have a problem letting it show. I can’t let her leave me tonight. I’m afraid that she’ll run and I’ll never see her again.
“It’s late. I don’t feel comfortable driving you home tonight,” I say.
Annoyance colors her features. “Fine, I’ll call Stephania.”
Then her face falls and I know she’s remembering that she left her phone at home.
“Can I use your phone?” she sounds loathe to ask me for anything.
“Stay here tonight,” I persist. “I won’t touch you, I won’t even sleep in the same bed. But please don’t leave.”
The exhaustion seems to conquer any of the fight she has left in her and she gives in.
“I’ll be in the guest room.”
She quietly dismisses herself without a backwards glance.
Though the impulse is strong, I decide not to crowd her and give her the space she needs. I’ve said a mouthful. Some things I hadn’t planned to reveal.
But now everything is on the table.
She has all the power now.
*****
I don’t sleep a wink all night, my nerves are strung too tight.
But knowing that Grace is in a nearby room comforts me.
In my office, I down almost a full bottle of bourbon.
I don’t undress or go to my room, even though I know Mendoza came to scrub the scene before I returned.
It just wouldn’t feel right sleeping there without Grace when I know she’s in another corner of my home.
My blood-spattered jacket is discarded on the sofa against the far wall and my shoes are in a corner somewhere. Long ago, I unbuttoned the collar of my shirt. An outsider looking in might say I look calm, however I’m anything but.
I can’t shake the image of Grace’s face when the betrayal sank in.
I’m a piece of shit.
At nine a.m., I can’t take the confinement any longer.
The house is silent so I assume Grace is still out like a light.
Standing up, I head to my room to shower and change.
Under the scorching water, I meditate on the events of the last twelve hours.
I almost lost her to that bastard and the thought breaks me.
Bowing my head, I let the pounding water cascade over my head and shoulders.
Moments later, the glass shower door slides open.
I hold my breath when I see a naked Grace standing there, her make-up from last night smeared from tears.
She steps into the shower and I don’t think twice about making space for her.
We stand under the spray of water in silence for a few moments before she reaches out to turn the knob.
“I don’t know why I’m not angry,” she states pensively.
I remain quiet. She let me speak uninterrupted last night and I would grant her that same privilege.
“I hate that you lied to me. I hate that I believe you. I hate that I don’t want to leave. I hate that I want to be with you. I hate that I love you, too. But for whatever reason, I can’t get angry.”
Her words wash over me and wring out all my fears.
I’m not in this alone.
She loves me too.
“Never lie to me again,” she demands fiercely.
Her eyes rage with fire and the intensity has a chilling effect on me.
“Never,” I promise.
“No more secrets,” she adds.
“None,” I oblige easily.
Her forgiveness is unspoken but it still speaks volumes between us.
When the silence stretches between us, I bow my head towards her hungry for a kiss.
My lips crash against hers and I pour my emotions into every lick and caress. Her pliant mouth yields to the force of the aggressive lip lock.
Hands tangled in her hair, I’m panting after a minute of nonstop contact.
Pulling away, I make a solemn vow.
“You have my word, Grace. I adore you and I will spend the rest of my life protecting you.”
Epilogue
GRACE CHAMBERS
SIX MONTHS LATER
My hand smooths down the front of my gown as I try to capture the butterflies that have occupied my stomach.
The dress is simple. With a sweetheart neckline, the material molds to the curves of my waist and thighs before flaring near my knees to open up into a full train.
With deep breaths, I reach up to finger the lace of my veil.
It’s my wedding day.
I never in a million years thought this day would come, but nothing in my life has gone according to plan since meeting Jameson.
My eyes wander around Jameson’s guest room, my makeshift dressing room.
We decided on a small ceremony in the backyard.
Only about twenty guests and the reverend will be in attendance, with Eric Mendoza acting as Jameson’s best man and Stephania, my maid of honor.
Speaking of Stephania, where the hell is she?
She’s supposed to be getting me a glass of ice water.
My nerves have left my mouth dry and parched.
Before I can wonder any longer, the door creaks open and reveals a very flushed Stephania.
Catching my eye in the full-length mirror, she pastes on a sunny smile and walks over to me with a glass of water.
“Here you are, my dear.”
As I turn and take the glass from her, my eyes roam over her closely.
Her pale skin is tinted red around her cheeks and neck. And she’s breathing heavily.
“Are you okay?” I ask taking a sip. The chilled liquid runs down my throat, cooling me from the inside out. The sensation is a welcome relief.
Stephania begins fussing over my hair.
That’s when I see it. A red mark.
She has a hickey!
From the way she’s acting, I can tell she doesn’t even know.
“Are your lips swollen? Why are you out of breath, Steph?” I ask playing it cool.
“What? No. I’m fine.”
“Maybe you’re having an allergic reaction to some of the flowers,” I say, restraining peals of laughter.
“Maybe,” she offers offhandedly, fingering the material of my veil.
My suspicions won’t rest.
“Did you happen to run into Mendoza while you were out there?” I ask watching for a reaction.
Her face grows even redder before she clears her throat, confirming my speculations.
“I’m not sure.” Liar! “But enough about me, Grace.”
Taking the glass from my hand, she steps back to assess me with pure mirth dancing in her eyes.
“You look absolutely stunning. I can’t believe you’re getting married!” she gushes and I see the moisture gathered in her eyes.
Keeping my own tears in check, I grin at her. “I know, I can’t believe it either!”
I’d been totally floored by Jameson’s proposal last month. Stating he didn’t want a long engagement, we’d planned a small wedding with only our closest friends and family in mind.
Because I loved his property so much, we’d agreed to exchange our vows here.
I’ve never been this happy in my life.
Jameson had effectively overturned every previous notion that I’d held about love.
There were no words to describe the way his love transformed me
from the inside out.
I wake up every day knowing that he’ll cater to my every whim while pushing me to be better than I was the day before.
And it goes both ways.
There’s absolutely nothing that I won’t do to make him happy. He’s easy to love and I plan to spend the rest of my days doing just that.
Picking up a bouquet of beautiful flowers, Stephania offers it to me.
“Let’s get you married.”
*****
The ceremony is everything I thought it would be.
At the first sight of Jameson standing under the arbor, I burst into tears.
I gather myself together and make it through the nuptials before placing the chrome wedding band on my husband’s ring finger.
My husband.
Oh, my God.
Now, in the back of the limo, my head rests on Jameson’s shoulder as we journey to the airport.
His fingers caress my hand lovingly, lulling me to sleep unknowingly.
“Grace, wake up. I have something to show you, sweetheart.”
I feel the limo coming to a stop and look out of the window to see a large plantation-style home set on several acres of land.
Definitely not the airport.
“Where are we?” I ask, pressing my nose against the tinted glass of the limousine.
“Come see,” Jameson says offering his hand to assist me out of the car.
My feet are planted on a horseshoe driveway, I turn in a complete circle surveying the property.
It’s breathtaking.
And peaceful. I feel an immediate sense of calm when I inhale the rural air.
Jameson looks nervous before speaking.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous,” I say without hesitation. “But whose house is this?”
“Ours.”
My jaw hits the pavement beneath us and I turn to Jameson so quickly, I almost lose my footing.
Catching me, Jameson’s eyes bore into me, mirroring the love I know is visible in my own eyes.
“You’re kidding.”
“I want a fresh start with you. Here we will build our lives together. Raise our children and love each other until our last breaths. What do you say?”
“I say yes! Oh my fucking God!”
Enveloped in his strong embrace, unconditional love sweeps over me as I’m comforted by the thought that I will always be his and he will always be mine.
