by Loren, Celia
The sound of the doorknob startled her. Someone was playing with a key. Who could it be? Britton’s heart stopped. She knew who it was: it was Jagger, coming to his senses and saving himself from jail. The fidgeting ceased, and the door cracked opened. It felt as though it took a lifetime before the warmth from the heat outside snuck into the cabin through the fully opened door.
Britton stared at the face in front of her.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Hey Brit. How are you doing?”
“Dominic. What are you doing here?”
“Jagger asked me to give you something.”
“Is he okay? Is he safe? Where is he? Why isn’t he here?” She was frantic now, trying to piece her fears together. She looked past him, into the woods, assuming that Jagger was hiding among the trees, awaiting Dom’s signal that all was safe in the cabin.
Dominic paused, unsure of her knowledge of the situation. “Brit,” he started. “Jagger turned himself in. I thought you knew that.”
Her heart sank. He chose not to escape. He had left her at the cabin, alone, again. Britton turned from the door and dropped to the couch. She knew she should be happy that her brother was willing to come speak with her even after all her secrets and lies were revealed, but she couldn’t think of anyone but Jagger. Why didn’t he want to run away with her? For the first time in his life, why did he choose the ‘high road’?
Dom nestled next to Britton and laid his arm around her. She stayed stiff for a time, but soon collapsed her body, using his as support. “I’m so sorry, Dom.” She whispered.
“I know.” It was all he needed to say. Of course he knew she was sorry. He saw the way she looked at Jagger. No one could fake that kind of love.
“Does everyone hate me?”
“No one knows. Jagger only told me.”
It made her feel a hundred times better to know that her secret hadn’t torn up their club. Of course Jagger hadn’t told anyone. He was most likely too embarrassed of his short sighted mistakes to confess to his club that he had been played.
“So he’s not coming back?” She knew the answer, but focused on the slim chance that he had a plan to rejoin her in the works.
“No, Brit, he’s not coming back.”
Britton felt a tear roll down her cheek. It was just the one. It was all she had left. She would need to prepare herself to go back out into the world alone.
She sat up straight and took a deep breath. This was her reality now. There was no way around it. “What did you want to give me?” She was cold, knowing that any other side of her would easily break.
Dominic fished into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it and handed her the sealed envelope. “I’m assuming it’s a letter?” Dom had not read it; Jagger had simply passed it to him while he was visiting him in prison.
Britton flipped it over in her hands, afraid of its contents. He couldn’t be happy in confinement. Did he blame her? Would he ever forgive her? Did he want her to come visit before she left for Washington? She knew she couldn’t do that. Everyone still thought that she had been exclusively fighting for the Feds during her undercover operation. If she were to show her face at the prison, with an empathetic visit to Jagger, someone would surely start looking deeper into her case.
“Thanks Dom.” She softly smiled at him.
“Of course, sis.” He stood up, preparing to leave her to herself. He made his way to the door, not expecting her to walk him out in her current state. His hand touched the knob, and he quickly turned back to her. “Oh, and hey, thank you…for talking. I want you to know that I’m getting out.”
Britton’s shoulders lifted from their weights. “Really? Oh, Dom, are you sure?”
“I am. You know, you were right. I don’t want Matty only knowing me from behind bars.”
Britton suddenly felt as though she was to blame. “I wouldn’t, Dom. You know that.”
“Of course I do. But you didn’t turn Jagger in either, and look where he is.”
Britton’s focus went off into the distance. ‘Look where he is…’ It would be all she could ever think about. Those words were destined to haunt her forever. She snapped out of her trance and looked to Dominic. “I’m proud of you.”
“Awe, shucks, sis.” He teased, forcing her to smile back. He held out his arms, asking for a hug. She stood and met him with her open arms. It felt good to know she still had gained something from this venture. Her brother was back in her life, and she had influenced him to take a step in a different direction.
“Thanks for coming, Dom.”
“Of course. And hey, maybe we’ll make it out to Washington sometime.”
“Please do.” Her eyes begged. It would mean the world to her to see him again.
“Bye Brit.”
“Bye Dom.”
He walked out of the door into the night. He turned and gave her one last wave goodbye before disappearing into the dense trees. She closed the door and rested her weight against it. She didn’t want to move from that spot. She was afraid to read the letter that was sitting on the couch. She was afraid of the hurt it would bring her for the rest of her life. When Jagger had left her unconscious on the side of the road after the car accident, she had hated him with all of her might for ten straight years. How long would she hate herself for leaving Jagger to die in prison?
Britton found the strength to move back to the couch. She slid her finger under the seal of the envelope and lifted the flap. There was a single piece of paper lying inside. It was a letter from her love, possibly the last words she would ever know of him.
Dear Britton,
I know you’re angry with me for leaving you alone at our secret place, yet again. Please know it was not my intention for you to suffer. I spent too long putting you in harm’s way, and I couldn’t bear to do it any longer. I love you too much for that. The thought of our few days together is the only thing that will get me through the time I will be shackled to this place. You, my Britton, are the one true thing in this world to me, and I will spend the rest of my days making sure that you are never hurt again. That being said, and I hate to say this but I must…I don’t want you to wait for me. I will be in here for quite some time, and I NEED you to move on. Get married, have babies, and be the best damn FBI agent anyone has ever seen. I’m so proud of you for what you have made of your life. No one deserves happiness more than you.
I love you more than life itself. I pray you never forget that.
Jagger
P.S. My one request: please don’t marry David. I don’t trust blondes.
Britton let out a small chuckle as she reread his final line. Even in a goodbye letter, he was able to make her laugh. She loved him and hated him for that letter. Her mind fought the two sides of her emotions. The couch was too soft. She needed to feel her body, know that she was still breathing. Britton curled up beside the fireplace, holding his letter to her chest. She couldn’t cry anymore. There was nothing left.
Britton didn’t leave that spot beside the fireplace until it was time for her move to Washington. She stayed crushed to the cold stone for three days. It seemed only fitting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Britton pulled the tape off the box and flattened it against her chest.
“Done!” She called.
“Finally!” A voice answered from the other room.
It had been three months since her move to Washington, and she had finally unpacked her last box. She stepped out into the living room and glared at her little sister.
“And you were such a big help, Rebecca.” She sarcastically commented.
“I told you I had to write a paper. At least I’m keeping you company.” She smiled back at Britton. They had the same smile.
Rebecca had been spending most days with Britton. Neither of them dared to ask for any time to themselves; they were too happy to have a family again.
Rebecca looked up from her computer. “Do you want me to call Dom? See how things are going?” She
was cautious.
“No, I don’t want to know until the end.”
It was the day of Jagger’s trial. Hank would be taking the stand and admitting to a jury everything he had witnessed. It was surely enough to put Jagger behind bars for quite some time. Britton couldn’t bear to think about it. David had called her after she had settled into her new apartment on the east coast, and asked if she’d be able to come out and testify. Britton told him she didn’t see any cause for her testimony. Jagger hadn’t admitted anything to her while she was undercover. It was a blatant lie, but she already blamed herself for Jagger’s current sentence; there was no way she would hold the guilt for any extra time he spent in a small cell.
Even with everything against her, every day she found more and more reason to hope. There was always a chance that he’d be able to come back to her. Maybe it wouldn’t be tomorrow, but despite the plea in his letter, she was determined to wait for him. She didn’t want anyone besides him. How could she ever love again when she had already had the love of Jagger Stromm?
A knock at the door startled her out of her daydream.
“I’ll get it.” Rebecca called.
“Expecting someone?”
“Pizza. Perfect paper writing food.”
She flew to the door and swung it open. “Dom? What? Hi!” Rebecca threw her arms around her brother.
“Becky! Don’t you look gorgeous? College life suits you well.” Her brother flattered her.
Britton stood up, completely shocked at her brother’s visit. Matty ran in, followed by Cindy.
“Sorry, it was a long flight. Hi Britton.” Cindy smiled, catching her son.
Britton moved to the door to greet her guests. “What are you guys doing here? What about…” She froze. Jagger stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. “Oh my God.” Britton forgot all manners and ran into the hallway, jumping on Jagger. He caught her, using the wall to catch his own weight.
“Hi Britton.” He whispered into her ear.
She couldn’t speak. Her laughter was mixed with tears of joy. Jagger managed to set her on her feet, and everyone walked into the apartment. The greeting of hugs came full circle, and Rebecca finally solicited the question her and Britton were dying to ask.
“How are you here right now?”
“They dropped the case.” Dominic beamed.
“But…”
Jagger stepped in. “There was no physical evidence, and for some reason, Hank realized he had forgotten everything he knew about me.” Britton cocked her head to Jagger, knowing full well what that meant. Jagger shrugged, unapologetically. “Old habits die hard.”
Everyone laughed, even Matty, although he had no idea what was so funny.
“So what does this mean?” Rebecca asked, gesturing to the new group.
Dominic smiled. “Las Vegas was getting a little too hot. We figured we’d try our hands at the east coast.” He turned to his wife and stole a kiss.
Britton was glowing, unable to hold in her emotions. Jagger replied with a sly smile and flash of his dimples. He moved to Britton, wanting only to touch her, ensuring she was real. A single step away, he dropped his voice. “Is there a David?” He questioned. She knew what he meant.
“No. No David. There could never be a David.”
He scooped her up in his arms and made his way down the hall, not even glancing over his shoulder. “Sorry guys, we’re going to be a bit.”
He found her bedroom and closed the door behind him. “Wow I’ve missed you.”
Britton said nothing, only grabbed a hold of his face and kissed him. They sunk to the bed together, both refusing to let go of each other’s lips.
“So this is it?” Britton asked, not believing how her day had changed so quickly.
“This is it. I'm on the straight and narrow, no more crime. Just you and me…and everyone out there in your living room.” They laughed, unable to break eye contact.
“You gave it all up for me. I never…” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She was still in shock. “What will you do?”
Jagger thought about it, not having considered any options. “I’m really good with motorcycles.”
He smiled, knowing everything would be alright as long as he was with her. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her body to his. This time, he promised, he would never let her go.
It only took ten years.
THE END
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The following is an excerpt from my next book in the Vegas Titans Series:
Breaking Beauty (Devil's Aces MC)
Coming Soon!
Though he’d made this trip a hundred times, it never seemed to get old. To begin with, all the world would be flat in front of him, the highways lonely and dark. The horizon would seem nonexistent until suddenly, as he rounded the tight corner just beyond the jutting lip of the Hoover Dam—there she’d be: a glittering, blinking metropolis, flashing her blinding grin his way. Las. Vegas. The city on the edge of forever.
He’d accelerate on his way into city limits, letting the thrum of the speeding engine begin to outpace his heartbeat. It was always like mounting a rollercoaster, this odd mixture of dread and glee which filled his blood whenever he drifted through this funky town. Perhaps because he was usually on the run from something (or someone…) when he took shelter here. Perhaps because the neon lights made such a stark contrast to the silent prairie plains of his youth. But in the way that say, the stilted bungalows of Northern California or the waterfront clapboards of Seattle were designed with certain sorts of folk in mind, Vegas was a town for the runaway, the man of mystery. It was a town made for him, and in this way...it was home.
ONE
Romy was tired. Well, correction: she was always tired; today she was exhausted. First, she’d been up till four in the morning proofing a friend’s biology thesis. She’d gone on to spend her waking work day shuffling between Professor Hinegart’s office hours and the library. Now—having had barely enough time to secret a granola bar from the common room vending machine on her way to the car—Romy found herself bopping from foot to foot under angry casino lights. She’d hastily changed from her college-girl gear (five year old Sofi pants, old boyfriend tee) into the glorified bustier and black leather knee-length “business skirt” which made up—of all things—her work uniform. She shuffled two letter-thin stacks of plastic KEM cards between her aching joints, sneaking the subtlest peak possible at her watch: 10pm. A mere hour into her shift.
“Look alive, Blondie,” muttered Paulette, sauntering by on yet another of her stealthy strolls about the pit. Paulette Nagle (“Used to be Nagle-Brownstein, but whaddya gonna do?”) was Romy’s immediate supervisor and closest alliance here at The Windsor—a.k.a. the ninth most popular casino on the Sunset Strip. Two years ago, fresh off the boat from a small college in Arizona, Romy had put all of her belongings into a guitar case, put the guitar case in an ex-boyfriend’s third-hand Thunderbird, and high-tailed it to Vegas; hoping to make a brand new name for herself at the research university there. Neither the boyfriend nor the dream had lasted the year, but today a much wiser Romy Adelaide was a mere two credits away from a Masters in Statistics, paid for in part by dozens of weekends spent shuffling KEM cards at the ninth-swankiest spot in all of Vegas. She was a blackjack dealer.
“I’m serious, Ro. They’ve been watching us like hawks lately,” Paulette said. She made a meaningful face at an innocuous spot in the ceiling which, everyone agreed, was the site of the pit’s largest security camera. “So I’ll let you back at it.” Paulette wiggled away, flashing a toothy smile at the motley crew of mid-level-rollers who’d been waiting all this while for their cards.
Romy took a deep breath. Seven hours, plus breaks. She could do this.
“Are you fu
ll up?” came a voice from by her elbow. Romy lifted her eyes from the deck and stopped short.
Typically, handsome clientele at The Windsor fell into the ‘Silver Fox’ category—they tended to be older gentlemen, vacationing from the East or West coasts. The SF’s were dapper, old-school—their suits were cut from Savile Row, their chips were stacked in perfect, guarded rows. They were well-groomed and appointed. They didn’t grab ass the way plenty of the local-yokels or bachelor parties liked to do; they were polite, reserved, sensitive. They’d render you smitten with a George Clooney grin or a Sean Connery cocked-eyebrow before offering to buy your shift drink. You’d hear them talk a little nonsense about the NASDAQ and feel like a respected adult. But as compelling as these gentlemen could be, the Silver Fox seduction ended the same way any other seduction seemed to in this town: buck naked, sharing a cigarette in a “Basic Luxury Package” room upstairs, the TV on low and the shower running. There was something endlessly grimy about sleeping with customers, and Romy’d made sure to fall for even the top-shelf stuff only once. Because odds were, the lady lost face.
