He gazed down at her, and his chest caught. Beth. His girl. He’d never had this with anyone, this ability to play and laugh, and in the next second, unleash a passion that stripped him raw. It was so much more than sex.
She swirled her tongue around his head, then closed her lips over his length and sucked him. Watching his cock slide deep into her mouth nearly undid him. He hissed, his entire body bowing at the sensation. He wasn’t going to last. She did this to him, drove him to the edge of the cliff.
Pressure swelled. “You’re going to make me come,” he warned her, giving her a chance back off. But she cupped his balls, her thumb brushing over the sensitive strip of skin.
His orgasm raced down his spine. “Fuck,” he growled. His control snapped. Planting his feet, he pumped into her mouth and exploded, totally surrendering to the bliss crashing through him in wrenching waves. Finally, his cock slowed its pulsing and slipped from Beth’s mouth.
Pulling her up, he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the warm peach scent. “What you do to me.” He didn’t even have words. Tilting her head back, he eyed her flushed face and wet lips. He wanted more, wanted to drive her to the wicked edge of pleasure until she came with wild abandon. “That’s only half your punishment. The other half is going to require you to get naked and—”
Her cell phone dinged a text message. Justice reached into her back pocket, tugging it out. “No distractions.” He glanced at the screen and froze. “Noah.” Shock blasted through him. Shifting his gaze to her, he said, “My dad?” Beth texted Noah occasional little things and sent pictures of Justice on stage. But Noah rarely answered her.
The heat of passion cleared from her eyes. “Open it. See what he says.”
Dual sensations of jealousy and relief clashed inside him. His dad was talking to Beth, reaching out to her but not him. He knew logically his dad couldn’t talk to him for reasons of his own.
But that old pain kicked logic’s ass, and it just hurt.
Beth smoothed her fingers over his face.
Getting out of his head, he focused on her. She’d told him to look at the message. He wanted to, but his dad was building a trust with Beth, something Noah hadn’t been able to do with his own wife, his mom or his son. Was Justice going to stomp on that? Hell no.
He forced himself to hand her the phone. “You read it. He’s reaching out to you, I don’t want to screw that up.” He stepped back to give her space and yanked up his pants. The sharp edges of his old pain blunted. If he was going to trust anyone to connect with his dad, it was Beth.
She opened the message and scanned it. “Oh no. Noah says, Hit by a car last night. Arm broken. Can you help me?”
Adrenaline powered into his veins. “Where is he?”
“He didn’t say that.”
His worst fears materialized—his dad was injured and Justice didn’t know where he was to help him. “Shit. Will he answer if you call him?” Was his dad even in San Diego? For a few years, he’d traveled around the state, sometimes farther.
“Maybe.” She thumbed her screen, then put the phone to her ear. “Ringing.”
Justice held his breath, his head pounding with helplessness. They had to get to his dad. And what would happen when Justice was gone on tour? Would Beth try to go to his dad alone? That sent a chill down his spine. His dad wouldn’t hurt her, but someone else could. Beth was pregnant and too damned softhearted.
“Noah, I got your text.” She motioned Justice closer so he could hear.
He leaned in.
Beth added, “Where are you? Can I come get you?”
“Don’t want a hospital. Hate them.” His dad’s voice was thin and stressed.
Memories of his dad in that bed in the VA hospital, burned and broken, washed over Justice. Noah had gone through months of pure hell. And the whole time, he’d rarely talked. Except at night when he screamed.
Justice shuddered and stepped away. “Tell him we won’t leave him in a hospital. Swear it. We’ll just get him treated.”
“Noah, I promise, I won’t leave you in a hospital. But if you’re hurt and I can’t treat you, I have to get you help. Trust me, I won’t let them admit you unless you agree.”
Relieved, Justice leaned in to continue listening.
“He’s there, isn’t he?”
Justice’s heart jammed into his throat.
“Yes. Justice is right here with me. He wanted me to reassure you that we won’t let them keep you in a hospital. Noah, please let me help you. I’ll come alone if you want.” Her eyes turned to him. Sorry, she mouthed.
In that moment, he loved her so goddamned much. But no way would he let her go alone. Most homeless people were safe, but a few were on the run from more than their internal demons. He slipped his hand beneath her hair to cup her nape and listened.
“Maybe need him. Dizzy.”
Beth trembled beneath his hand, but her voice was calm. “All right. We’ll be there. Just tell me where you are.”
“By Petco Park.”
Justice nodded. “The baseball stadium, I know it.” He’d found his dad near there in the past where some homeless people gathered.
She nodded. “Noah, can you stay on the phone with me?”
“No. Call me when you’re here.” He hung up.
* * *
In the car, Justice drove while Liza frantically tried to think of the best way to get Noah treatment. “Ben!” She scrolled through her contacts, found Ben’s number and typed out a quick message.
“What are you doing?”
“Telling Ben what’s happening. I don’t know if he’s on shift at the hospital or home. But he might be able to help us if he knows Noah’s situation. Does your dad have VA insurance?”
“He’s eligible. No idea if he keeps it up. I’ll pay for him, we just have to—”
She put her hand on Justice’s bulging arm. “I know. I’m trying to give Ben information.” She finished up and sent the message.
He turned to meet her gaze. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Yes, you have. He texted you for help. He hasn’t done that. Not to me and not to Grandma, who was his mom.”
“I don’t know why he talks to me. My only guess is it’s a connection to you. Did you see his face the night he watched you sing? It was heart wrenching. Like a starving person staring at food they can’t reach. He loves you, Justice.”
He took a breath in what seemed like an effort to believe her. “Will you feel safe with him staying at our house?”
Startled, she said, “It’s his house too. Always. He can come home anytime he wants to.” Stroking his arm, she added, “Your dad isn’t going to hurt me.” But he might hurt himself. She’d learned from her research that was more typical behavior of people suffering severe forms of PTSD rather than hurting others.
He tapped his index finger on the steering wheel. “He has nightmares, well night terrors really. He doesn’t sleep much. He’s skittish and jumpy. The tension of living with him can be tough.”
In that second it all came flooding back to her. Her own night terrors, the absolute fear that if she slept, bad things would happen to her while she was helpless. Hot tears filled her eyes, shocking her.
“Hey, Beth. Sh, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out.”
She shook her head and wiped away her tears. “You know that moment when you’re almost asleep and you sometimes jerk?”
“Yeah?” His voice softened as he checked the road then looked at her in concern.
“I’d jerk awake in full-bore panic. Sweating, screaming, guts churning. I’d throw up from the terror. Then lay on the bathroom floor, the only place I felt safe—in the small locked space with blazing lights.”
Justice grabbed her hand. “What did your aunt and uncle do?”
“They tried to help, but they were so stressed, tired and worried about their own kids.” The memory calmed her stupid tears. “But this isn’t about me. I meant that I’m not goi
ng to judge your dad. It’ll be rough, but I’ll understand. I won’t make things worse for him.”
“Have you slept on the bathroom floor when I’m gone?”
She hesitated.
He jerked his head around, gaze intense. “Beth? The truth.”
“Not all night. I’ve sat in there once or twice, calming down. Then I sit in our bed and write, like we often do when you’re home. Sometimes I play your music on my phone. That calms me.”
“Shit. I’m going on tour, I won’t be here.” He glanced at her, his mouth flattening. “You can handle this, right? My being gone, being pregnant, dealing with my dad if he’s there. You won’t cut.”
“Stop worrying about me, I can handle almost anything.” A face loomed up in her mind. “Except Gene Hayes. As long as he leaves me alone—” She shook her head, stopping herself. How had they gotten off track? This wasn’t about her right now. “Let’s get your dad. It makes me sick to think of him hurting and alone. And I know it’s a million times worse for you.” Her phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she said, “It’s Ben.”
While Justice drove, she talked to Ben, quickly running down the situation.
“Bring him to the emergency entrance, ask for me. Two doctors here are former military, and I believe some nurses are too. They might be able to connect with Mr. Cade. We’ll get him treated. And, Liza, don’t worry. Just stay calm. The last thing Mr. Cade needs is anyone else getting upset as he tries to cope.”
“What do I do for his arm?”
“Immobilize it the best you can. Call me if you need to. I’ll do my best to help over the phone. Otherwise, get him warm and assure him we’re not going to do anything without his agreement.”
“Thank you, Ben.” Gratefulness overwhelmed her.
It took them another twenty minutes to find Noah in the park area across from the stadium. He sat against a tree, shivering in the late-afternoon sunshine. She wasn’t close enough to see his face clearly, but the way he cradled his right arm across his body telegraphed pain.
Noah saw them and hunched his shoulders.
Stopping, she laid a hand on Justice’s arm. His muscles were rock hard, almost humming with his worry and frustration. He shoved his sunglasses up, his eyes dark and troubled.
“Let me talk to him first,” Liza said.
He glanced at his dad then back to her. “Go.”
Crossing to Noah, she knelt close enough to see fresh, raw scrapes on his face over the scars. One cut near his temple had dried blood around it, but still oozed. Concussion? His jacket and pants had streaks of dirt and some rips. “Hi, Noah. You’re looking rough.”
He shifted his stare to her. “It’s my good arm. Can’t fight without it. Other arm isn’t good for much except eating and pissing.”
She snorted in surprise. “Ah. Now I see where Justice gets his bluntness.”
The man’s gaze went to his son. “Hate him seeing me like this.”
“He’s not liking it either.” She didn’t see any reason to lie, Noah wasn’t an idiot. “It made him crazed to think of you in pain. He wants to help you, Noah.”
He nodded once. “My forearm is broken, hit my head pretty good. Confused most of the night, not sure how I got here.”
God. “All right. The plan is to take you to the hospital where my friend Ben is a physician. He’s arranging your care. He promised me they won’t do anything to you without your permission. I’ll stay with you where I can if you want me to.”
“You going to buy me French fries and chocolate too?”
It took her a second to remember the night she’d told him everyone needs French fries and chocolate after they get out of the hospital. He had to be in agony and was still able to tease her. She frowned at him. “Only if you agree to come home to heal.”
Noah closed his eyes, pain wrenching his features. His scars whitened. A few seconds passed, then he seemed to regain control and opened his eyes, his gaze flicking to Justice and back to her. “Don’t have a choice. I want my fries supersized, and a chocolate milkshake.”
* * *
Justice waited as Beth knelt by his father, her voice pitched too low for him to hear. But he could see his dad relaxing. She turned and motioned him over.
It had been six months since he’d last seen his dad for those brief moments when they’d picked him up at the jail and drove him to the house.
And now, there he was, looking so damned old and fragile. Not the big, strapping man who fought wars and laughed loudly enough to wake the dead.
Go. Take care of your dad.
Up close, his dad looked worse. Ragged beard streaked with gray, cuts and abrasions on his face. Weary lines digging into the tender skin around his eyes. And the scars on the side of his temple, cheek and neck from the bomb that exploded, marking his father forever. Those scars made people’s eyes slide away in horror.
“Dad, the car isn’t too far. Can you walk?”
Weariness radiated from him. “Yeah.”
“He says his right forearm is broken. I’m thinking he might have a concussion too.” Beth looked up at him. “Can you get your arm around him and help him up?”
Justice moved slowly, positioning himself at his dad’s left. He ignored the smell of old sweat and sickness. “I’m going to help you to your feet, then keep hold of you to get you to the car.”
His dad stared straight ahead. “Sorry.”
That one word dug in so deep it nearly undid him. What had it cost this man to ask for help? “I’m not. I’ll come any time you need me.” He didn’t give his dad time to respond, just said, “Now let’s get you up.”
Once Noah stood, it didn’t take them long to get him in the car. Beth fussed around him, cushioning his arm on a pillow and covering him in a blanket.
His dad didn’t protest, just sat in that distant, quiet way that Justice had found strange as a teenager. Almost frightening.
Now? It broke his fucking heart.
Chapter 10
Almost a week later and Justice was on his last damned nerve. He’d run nearly twice his normal three miles this morning. He was increasing his cardio and weight training to prepare for their tour.
But those bastards Jagged Sin had beat their band to the punch—they’d scheduled the release of their album one week before Justice’s band. God he hated those pissant wannabes. But what worried him more—what was Gene Hayes doing?
I can handle almost anything…except Gene Hayes.
Beth’s words nagged at him. What if Hayes made a move when Justice wasn’t here? Could Beth handle it? Hans’s plea bargain, meeting the probation officer to give her version of the story, and going to the sentencing hearing had stirred up her nightmares. Add to that the pressure of Justice on the road, her pregnancy and taking care of his dad, and Justice worried she’d crack.
She’d need him, he wouldn’t be here, and Beth would pick up a razor blade or maybe break a glass and cut. He swiped an arm over his sweaty face as he headed up his driveway. Once he went inside, he had to deal with more frustration—his dad.
Noah had been there five days and barely spoke to his own son.
The hell of it was, part of Justice wanted to leave, to go on tour and get on that stage where he could make audiences fucking adore him. He wanted it all, damn it—Beth, his father back, and to be a star so big no one walked away from him.
Steeling himself, he walked through the door, but the sounds in the kitchen made him grit his teeth. Pausing in the living room, he swept his gaze over the eight-foot tree in the corner topped by that ridiculous Christmas Chicken. Christmas had exploded in the house—Santa, elf and reindeer figurines had landed on every flat surface, and the dining room table proudly boasted a festive tablecloth and red candles. It turned out Beth loved Christmas. And she missed her family, especially now that she was pregnant.
He was getting more and more worried about her. He looked up to the ceiling as he heard her chatting to Noah. Typically his dad didn’t say anything, but that didn
’t stop Beth.
“The whole band locked me up in the ship’s brig, then took pictures of it. All because I’d merely suggested that we stage one of them falling off the side of the ship and the others jumping in to save him. Like Savage Heroes.”
A deep sound filtered out, a half cough, half laugh.
Justice closed his eyes. Oh yeah, his dad listened, and laughed, the sound so rusty it raised the hairs on Justice’s arms. Old memories of his dad laughing rippled and teased him. He’d all but forgotten the sound.
“Right, stupid idea. But not jail-worthy.”
Nothing then except the sounds of utensils on the counter, pans on the stove. Did Beth hope Noah would say more?
Of course she did. This was the girl who’d believed her dad at fourteen and let him lead her into hell. Beth was smart, but Noah tugged at her profound need for family. It was more than that too. Beth simply connected to Noah, maybe because they’d both had traumas.
But Beth had found a way to keep living, and Noah had shut down. He’d leave, and it would hurt her. It was bad enough his father did it to him, but to Beth? He couldn’t bear his father rejecting her the way her aunt, uncle and grandmother had.
Crossing into the kitchen, he swept his gaze over the room. Ignoring the chicken-shaped wall hangings that all now had their very own Santa hats—Beth was on a mission to convince him there really was a Christmas Chicken—he focused on his girlfriend. Dressed in her black and pink pajamas, her hair piled on her head and glasses perched on her nose, she was beating eggs in a bowl.
His dad sat at the table, thumbing through Beth’s laptop. He read news sites obsessively.
“Hey, how was your run?”
He yanked his gaze from his dad and went to her. “You should be sleeping.” She’d worked five long days this last week, plus catering to his dad and getting ready for Christmas. “You need rest.” The doctor had emphasized that, along with a good diet and prenatal vitamins.
“I’m fine. I heard Noah up and thought I’d make breakfast.” Beth poured the eggs into the pan, then looked down and stilled. A second later she swallowed. The color drained from her cheeks. “Uh—”
Savaged Vows: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 2 Page 12
