“We had this sitter, Shirley, and she was tired and lay down on the couch, so we were left to do our own thing. Lane played with his Legos, but I went outside and started messing around with the car, pretending I was my dad. He had a classic Chevy Nova that he loved to work on. So I loosened the lug nuts like I’d seen him do, pretending to rotate the tires, and then I didn’t tighten them back up enough, I guess. The next day, my parents took my dad’s car for a ride and the wheels spun out. The authorities blamed the wet roads and the leaves.”
Aly squeezed my hand tighter, her thumb dipping into my palm and rubbing soft strokes, her silence both encouraging and scaring the ever-loving shit out of me. When Lane and I talked, we screamed and punched. I’d never experienced this quiet attention before, except maybe from Doc Wells, but this was a different kind of listening.
“Shirley told us not to tell anyone about the car after it happened. That we could go to jail.”
“That’s not true!” she blurted.
“We know that now, but it doesn’t matter.”
Like the tough girl I knew her to be, Aly tucked her finger under my chin and brought my eyes to meet hers. “It wasn’t your fault, Jake.”
“That’s what everyone says. My shrink, and Lane and his wife, Bess. I don’t know. I was nine. Maybe I should’ve known better?”
“No, you shouldn’t have. You were a kid! Not someone who would know better.”
I didn’t know how it happened, but I felt my head drop to her shoulder, seeking comfort in her even breathing and calm gentleness.
“We were doing mostly fine until last year when Shirley appeared out of fucking nowhere and wormed her way back into our lives through Bess. Now she’s gone, but it’s too late for us to do anything about her. The statute of limitations in Ohio, where we lived with our parents, is twenty years. So I’m fucked up, and will be for the rest of my life. There’s no absolving what I did, Aly.”
The longer we talked, the more wound up I had become until my every muscle felt strung taut to the breaking point. I was practically vibrating with tension when her hand came to my thigh and rubbed long, soothing strokes up and down my corded muscles.
“Jake, you’re absolved. You have been since the moment it happened because you were nine and this adult Shirley was in charge—not you or Lane, but Shirley. And yeah, it sucks that it’s too late for her to answer for it, but you need to move on.”
What happened next, I couldn’t help. I grabbed my tumbler and tossed back some liquid courage, and then I leaned in and ravaged her mouth, pushing her hard into the back of the sofa. My lips, hard and firm, pressed into hers, stealing from her what I coveted: innocence, truth, power from intelligence. They took all of it, drinking the best out of Aly.
It started as needing a taste, just one small sip from her, but I couldn’t stop. I pushed myself over her as I kissed her, letting my hands and imagination roam, thinking of more. More Aly. All of Aly. In the wake of all my madness, my cock was rock hard and jutting into her soft stomach, seeking what I was afraid to request out loud.
A moan made its way up from my chest and I tore my lips away for a second, allowing it to make its way out. “I just needed a taste, a little of your goodness,” I whispered into her cheek before grabbing her mouth with mine again.
My mind was barreling through what my body wanted to do to the woman in front of me, all legs and hair and heart, when she pulled away.
“Jake, stop for a moment,” her lips mumbled along mine.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push that fast.” My forehead naturally fell onto hers by some type of magnetic pull.
“That’s not it. Why did you say one taste? Is that what this is about? A fling? A one-night thing?”
I shifted and my hand found its way to her lower back, pulling her tight, almost on top of me. “Don’t you want to leave after what I said? I’m a monster. That’s why I work out, because that’s all there is to me—strength. If I didn’t exhaust myself in the gym several times a day, what other types of damage would I do?”
Her lips settled on mine as she gave me a soft, lingering kiss full of meaning, but not lust or passion or the need to fuck. Pulling back, she said, “Jake, you’re not a monster. You were a child. Not even a teenager.”
My fingers found their way up and down her back, drifting from the nape of her neck to the waistline of her pants, itching to dip inside.
“Jake,” she whispered, “my dad was the victim of a terrible crime. A hit and run. He wrapped his car around a pole when my mom was pregnant with me. He’d gone out to meet a buddy for a drink and never made it there. For years, she didn’t know what happened. I grew up with my mom telling me it was a random accident. That’s what she thought.”
Aly inhaled and let out a deep sigh, her breaths hitching with emotion. “Then years later, we found out he was into some mob guy for money, and the accident was supposed to be a warning. They thought my mom knew and would cough up the money, but she never came forward. They didn’t come see her until the statute of limitations on his murder was up. Those thugs sat in our living room and waved a gun at both my mom and me.”
Tears streamed down her face and I placed a finger over her lips. “Aly, you don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to.”
She shook her head. “There’s a point. That statute was up and there was nothing we could do. I wanted to blame my dad, but my mom told me, ‘Aly-girl, he made a mistake and borrowed money from the wrong people, but that doesn’t mean he deserved death.’”
Turning to me, she grasped my chin and looked deep into my eyes, demanding my attention. “He was absolved of his part, Jake, just like you. You were doing something wrong, but it wasn’t right for Shirley to tell you to lie. You’re already absolved.”
Aly
Although the night shrouded our bodies in darkness, the faint moonlight illuminated our faces, making it impossible to hide our true emotions. Jake looked like I felt—rocked to the core. Now he knew why I was relentless at pursuing justice, insisting that the truly guilty be punished, but most people didn’t know my motives. And likewise, now I understood the sadness and conflict that lurked deep within his blue eyes.
Why did it all feel so right, and yet so dirty? I should despise who he was, what he’d done and who he’d become, but I didn’t dare. Somewhere inside me a switch had been flicked on with this man, and I didn’t want to power it down. Not yet.
Still, I wasn’t sure why I felt like baring my soul while grinding myself all over him was the answer. I was a vixen in his arms, a powerful, sensual woman when I was in his grasp.
“Aly.” Jake brought me out of my fog, his deep voice penetrating my rattled brain. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but you survived it. And now you’re saddled with me. But I want to do right by you, protect you. These muscles aren’t just for show. I need to use them for something.”
My sneaky hand found its way to his heart, pressing against his chest to feel the easy constant heartbeat of someone who practiced breathing steadily for a living. I wanted to reach inside and keep that constancy, that calmness, but decided to borrow it for however long Jake wanted to share what he called my goodness. He might want to protect me, but I needed him to set me free. With him, I wanted to soar, to actually live not just survive, and I wanted to love.
Our heavy conversation was cut short by the doorbell and our food. Before opening the door, I saw Jake put Mav in a small crate in the corner I hadn’t noticed earlier.
He bought a crate for his place?
I didn’t ask about the crate because with a big bag of takeout in his hand, I couldn’t help but notice how his forearm flexed while setting it on the breakfast bar. My tongue sneaked out to lick the tiny bit of drool spilling from the corner of my mouth. Yes, that’s what happens when a sex-starved lawyer who graduated with high honors sees a sexy-as-fuck forearm. We drool.
“Sit,” Jake instructed me, and I did. Settled on the tall bar stool, he laid out the food i
n front of me and two dinner plates. “Shit, one second,” he muttered, and took two strides to the other side of the kitchen to grab forks and serving spoons.
“More wine?”
“Just a little.”
He grabbed a bottle of water for himself and topped off my goblet before sitting next to me.
I watched Jake load his plate full of protein and salad, slightly embarrassed to dip a small piece of pita into the hummus in front of me. Sheepishly, I tore a tiny corner of the delectable carb and plunged it into the dip.
“Hey, take this.” Jake ripped a large hunk of pita and passed it. “Remember what I said? All that exercise stuff is for me. Not you.”
And just like that, we ate Middle-Eastern food at Jake’s bar, chatting and laughing, the seriousness of our talk on the balcony forgotten.
We were finished eating when Jake snagged the back of my stool, dragging the entire chair with me in it toward him. “All good, Legs?”
My skin prickled and heated at the nickname. I nodded and stood up to clear the plates when Maverick whimpered in the crate.
“Leave it,” Jake said. “Let’s take the little guy out.”
He snatched my hand in his and dragged me back outside, hand in hand. We strolled the north side of Pittsburgh, quiet but for the sound of the river streaming past in the background, the hum of traffic in the distance, and my heart beating as loud as a gavel in the courtroom.
“Jake, I’m so confused. This isn’t me. Meeting—”
“A perp,” he offered.
I laughed. “No, meeting anyone. I don’t really do this. Dating. But here we are walking this puppy and sharing secrets, and it feels so good. But I don’t do this.”
“Neither do I, so let’s try.” He changed the subject, not giving me a chance to respond. “Let’s talk about something positive. See that?”
He pointed at the baseball stadium, and I nodded.
“The team hired me. They want the team to use my gyms when they’re not working out in-house. Since I played in college, they want me to make a plan specifically for some of them at the gym. So, that’s good. Since I can’t play anymore, at least I get to be a part of an organization.”
“That’s great!”
“Yep, but I’ve got to keep my fighting ways in the past. Because they would definitely frown on that.”
My stomach roiled with chicken and hummus. Why did we have to keep coming back to that night, to the reason why I shouldn’t be here?
“And they’re going to appear in my print advertising, so it’s a win-win.”
“You should be proud.”
“Well, this time I really am because this was all me. Usually, Lane is the idea man and I’m the brawn. But this I came up with on my own.”
I squeezed his hand, and we slowed to allow Maverick to squat before heading back.
“I think I should go now,” I said when we made it back to the garage.
“Sadly, me too. If you stay, I’ll have my way with you, and we need to wait until it’s absolutely perfect, Alyson Road.”
I gave him a forced smile. Actually, I wanted to stay, but he agreed I should leave. I was a twisted, messed-up girl who was finally in like with a guy after years of denying myself. And I had absolutely no idea how to act.
“Come on, I’ll take you.”
Jake flung open the door to the Hummer and I climbed in. He set Mav in my lap, and we sped off into the night. At my apartment, he double-parked the SUV and walked me with the puppy in tow to the front door.
“I’m going to go on my own from here,” I said with all the authority I could muster. Jake semi-growled and began to protest when I stood on tiptoe and kissed his rough lips as I slid my hands through his thick hair.
“I’m good,” I told him as I broke away from his mouth. “I need some time to digest all that’s happening here. On my own. Give me that.”
Wrapping my long hair around his fist, he pulled me in for one last closed-mouth kiss. Then he turned and trotted down the steps, but stopped at the bottom to look back up at me, his eyes radiating a deep need that tugged at my heart.
Then he frowned and called out, “Go!” as he pointed to the door.
I nodded and picked up Maverick, then pulled open the heavy door and headed inside.
Aly
As I unlocked the door with Mav squirming in my arms, I heard the Hummer rumble away. I was drained and tired, but even if I’d been wide awake, there was no way I would have ever been prepared for what lay before me.
My place was wrecked. The furniture was all tossed about, garbage tipped over, the fridge wide open, the blanket from my bedroom dragged through the living area, and paper was scattered everywhere. My briefcase sat empty in the epicenter of the mess, a note tacked into the top of it by a knife.
A lump the size of Mount Washington formed in my throat, and my stomach clenched painfully. Someone had been in my place and gone through everything of mine, leaving a knife stuck in my briefcase. A threat?
I need to run, leave, go to the authorities, call Jake. Something!
My mind raced with everything I should have been doing, but my feet were glued to the floor. I couldn’t move a muscle. Standing there like an idiot, I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for it to all have been a bad dream when I opened them.
But my place was still a violent mess when my eyes opened again. Concentrating on breathing, I realized I was squeezing the dog to my chest when he yipped. “Sorry, little buddy,” I whispered against his small head and rubbed his ear, not daring to put him down.
I walked with false bravado toward the note. My hand trembled violently as I reached for the piece of stark white paper folded under the knife—and just before I pulled it out, common sense overtook me. I needed to call the police. If I removed the knife or tampered with anything, it might ruin the chances of figuring out who did this to me.
I stood up on legs almost as shaky as my hands and reached into the purse still hanging from my shoulder to pull out my cell phone. It took me three tries to dial 911 successfully. My finger kept bouncing and catching the two or the eight.
A woman’s brisk voice answered. “Hello, 911, how may I help you?”
“I’ve been robbed or I don’t know. Someone’s been in my apartment. My name is Alyson Road in Oakland.” I backed up toward the threshold where the door met the hall, putting some much-needed space between the scene and myself.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” she asked quickly, her businesslike tone turning concerned. “Are you inside your apartment? Is anyone inside with you?”
“No. Yes. N-no, I don’t know.”
“You may be in shock. You need to leave and go outside in case the intruder is still hiding somewhere inside. I’m dispatching police and an ambulance to 1121 South Hughes Street. Is that where you are, ma’am?”
“Yes. Apartment 3B.”
As I hurried down the steps to the vestibule of the building, a party buzzed loudly on the floor below me. They were having a great time while I was being robbed or assaulted, I wasn’t sure which, and for some irrational reason it made me angry. I, on the other hand, was doing my best to juggle the phone and the puppy and not fall down the steps and break my neck.
“I’ll stay on the phone with you until help arrives,” the dispatcher said in a soothing voice.
I whispered okay into the phone; it was all I could muster. The anger had been fleeting; tears were building. Screams were crawling up my throat, and my heart was at war inside my chest.
I slipped around the side of the apartment building and leaned against the cold stone. “I’m here,” I said for my own benefit as I cuddled Mav closer.
“Me too,” the operator assured me.
Sirens ripped through the night, blue and red lights swirling on the street like a laser show. A moment later, two uniformed cops approached me with caution.
“Miss, are you Alyson Road?”
I nodded.
“Dispatch said you’ve had a break-in. We’re he
re to help,” the dark-haired one said. The guy with blond hair trailed a few paces behind, surveying the area with his hand on the gun at his hip.
I nodded again.
“Are you okay?”
Another nod.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
I nodded again, and the ridiculous notion that I must look like a bobble-head doll came to me. Stifling a manic laugh that tried to bubble up my throat, I pressed my lips together, unable to respond.
“We’re here now,” the policeman said. “It’s safe to talk. My partner, Officer Simms, is going to go upstairs and take a look at your place.”
“It’s apartment 3B,” I finally said. “There’s a note. On my briefcase. S-s-stuck there with a knife.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m going to go look,” Simms assured me.
“I’m Officer Petrisky,” the first one said. “Can you tell me when you arrived here tonight?”
“Just about fifteen minutes ago.”
“And you were out?”
I went back to nodding.
“Was your dog home?”
This time I shook my head. “He was with me. We were having dinner at a friend’s place.” I didn’t have time to consider what or who Jake was to me.
“Who would that be?”
“Um,” I said, then hesitated. “Jake Wrigley.”
“Is that your boyfriend?”
The question unsettled me, so I said, “I’m with the public defender’s office.”
“Do you want us to call someone?”
One more head shake.
“So is this Jake a boyfriend?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you have plans in advance? When did you know you would be out tonight?”
“I’m not sure why that’s important.”
But I did; I knew how this worked. They were going to question Jake. In their eyes he was either my alibi, a suspect, or both.
“Petrisky?” Simms called from the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“Look at this.” The blond cop walked outside, waving something in his gloved hand.
The Crossroads Duet Page 38
