Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  Jason opens the door to our room.

  One glance, and I’m shaking my head. Perfect yellow roses erupt from a thin vase on a graceful wooden desk. The television is thinner than a sheet of paper, and there are no cords visible anywhere. The art hanging on the wall is beautiful, and original—I can see brush strokes in the paint.

  This room must have been really expensive.

  A wall-to-wall balcony overlooks palm trees and a pool, built with graceful curves. It reminds me of an enormous watery piano. It’s a pool for lounging beside, not swimming laps. Bunched casinos, all glittery light and magic, stretch in the near distance.

  For several long moments, I simply stare.

  I close the balcony doors and jerk the curtains shut, then investigate the marble bathroom. In addition to a whirlpool tub, there’s a stall with two different shower heads.

  I run my fingers over a folded bathrobe with a fresh plumeria flower tucked under one lapel. “This is what clouds must feel like.”

  “Wet and chilly?” Jason asks. I’m facing away from him, and our eyes meet in the mirror. He holds up his keycard. “I’m going to collect our bags.”

  “I can help.”

  “No need. If you’re wrapped in a cloud before I return, I’ll make it worth your while.” He doesn’t even wait for me to agree because he knows I will. And he’s right; my shoes and shirt hit the floor before the hotel room door clicks shut.

  Slipping into the cottony soft robe, I close my eyes in bliss. This is heaven. When I open my eyes, my laundry piled on the bathroom floor ruins the effect.

  I grab up the clothing, fold it, and place it on the brocade chair closest to what will be my side of the bed.

  Would most people feel compelled to neaten? Jason sure wouldn’t. But it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do while I wait.

  Well, I could clean out my purse. There are a lot of odds and ends from my former life, and every time I see one of my business cards, a knot of disappointment tightens around my heart.

  I open my wallet and notice I’ve only got a few twenties inside. Before my fateful trip in Toby’s pickup, I never carried cash. Partially because I never had it but also because cards are easier. Now, I’m all about cash. Cash and prepaid cards, but those have unreasonable fees.

  Jason left his backpack of cash sitting on the luggage rack. I unzip the bag, intending to take out five thousand, most of which I’ll stash at the bottom of my purse.

  Jumbled stacks of hundred-dollar bills greet me. Hoping to find some twenties or even fifties, I dig around.

  My fingers hit something hard. I’m not curious enough to investigate until I realize that whatever I’m touching is also kind of… velvety.

  Some kind of kinky sex toy? It’s small, whatever it is.

  I shouldn’t look, but…

  Feeling like I’m being naughty—and kinda hoping I get caught and punished—I investigate further. It’s damned small, some kind of box.

  My heart hammers in my chest, and I jump back from Jason’s bag.

  It could be anything.

  Nipple clamps, for example.

  The door makes a dull thunking sound. The lock releases.

  I hurry to zip up the backpack, then sit on the edge of the bed. My hands are clasped, fingers knitted together and knuckles white.

  Then I realize Jason is struggling to get through the door. In addition to our luggage, he’s carrying a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne. I help by running over and taking one of the suitcases.

  “Sorry,” I say, kicking the suitcase aside and making room for Jason to enter. My voice sounds tight and strange, or maybe I’m imagining it.

  Jason doesn’t seem to notice. “I picked up some bubbly. Instead of mourning what we’ve lost, we should celebrate our new adventure.”

  The door closes behind him. He engages the secondary lock and the deadbolt, then turns toward me with an expectant grin, his eyes hungry and ready. “How does that cloud feel on…”

  His voice trails off, and he frowns.

  It happens as if in slow motion.

  Jason’s gaze flickers to where my dropped suitcase sits in the middle of the floor. I can almost hear him thinking, that’s not like DeeAnn.

  Chapter 45

  I’m rooted to the spot, helpless and terrified.

  Jason takes a single step forward, but then his eyes narrow almost imperceptibly and he looks at the backpack of cash.

  To my horror, the bag slips an inch, then another. In my haste to cover my tracks, I must have set it askew on the rack.

  It tumbles onto the floor.

  I look at Jason and find he’s already watching me. Without breaking eye contact, he walks to the bag.

  “DeeAnn, come here. Please.” His voice is steady and commanding, but he’s smiling.

  It’s just a sex toy. Maybe I should be relieved, but I feel like I’m made of spare parts as I woodenly obey.

  Jason’s smile disappears, and he slowly drops onto one knee.

  He unzips the bag, reaches inside, and pulls out a small box.

  Even then, I don’t believe it. Maybe he hurt his back and that’s why he’s not standing?

  He opens the box.

  I’ve seen this a zillion times in movies and gifs, but my over-excited brain can’t process what’s happening.

  He takes my hand. “DeeAnn.”

  “You’re so weird,” I say. I can feel that I’m blushing hot, and my heart is pounding. “Stop fooling around.”

  He nods. “DeeAnn, you’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?”

  “Marry you?” I ask, because I’m still not putting it together. I’m thinking he’s referring to a Vegas show or a night club he wants to check out.

  Then Jason is slipping the ring onto my finger. “Don’t worry,” he says with that sexy, irresistible smile of his. “I paid for it out of my half.”

  It dawns on me that he’s serious, but I can’t look at my hand because I can’t stop looking at him.

  Jason’s smile slowly yields to a light frown. “I realize this is unexpected. And that the last twenty hours have been intense. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

  He tries to smile again but quickly gives up.

  “How about an answer? Even if it’s ‘maybe.’ Even if it’s ‘no.’”

  “Yes,” I whisper. There’s no question, has never been any question, not really.

  Jason doesn’t release my hand as he stands, and then he’s locking his fingers with mine. He squeezes, once, and I feel like his strength is now mine. He lifts our conjoined hands, kisses my fingers. The small diamond crackles with fire.

  I feel invincible.

  “Do you like the ring?”

  “Yes.” Jason picked it out, and therefore I love it. The diamond is set in a yellow gold band engraved with graceful curlicues. On closer inspection, I realize they’re stylized feathers.

  He kisses me, and even though he makes me stronger than I’ve ever been before, I’ve also never felt more vulnerable in my life.

  My chin trembles.

  “Tears of joy, I hope.”

  “What tears? Who’s crying?” I ask, trying to sound tough.

  “As long as we’re together, I’ll make sure you never have a reason to cry. Anyone messes with you, they have to answer to me. Including me, DeeAnn. If I fuck up, I’ll make it right. Always. I’m not perfect, but for you, I do my best.”

  Scalding tears spill down my cheeks. Jason gently kisses them away before his lips descend onto mine.

  It’s the sweetest kiss I’ve ever experienced. I remember the dream I had months ago, the morning after the shootout, when I woke up in the car next to the lake. Before I knew that Jason was my soulmate. How safe I felt in that dream.

  I’d forgotten all about it, but it’s how I feel now.

  This man.

  He slowly pulls away. “I’m glad you said yes. I wasn’t sure when or how I would propose. After everything we�
��ve been through, I can’t imagine what kind of stunt I would have needed to impress you.”

  That makes me burst out laughing. “When did you buy the ring?”

  “This morning, but I’ve been looking for weeks.” He lifts my hand. “Synthetic diamond. I researched the controversy over blood diamonds. Would have bought you a conflict-free stone, but I couldn’t find one I liked. The point is that this one is completely ethical.”

  My heart breaks in that moment, and I feel my lower lip start trembling again. I’m not sure I would have thought about the diamond’s origins, but if it had registered, I would have cared very much.

  “I love you so much,” I whisper.

  “Do you think we can find someone in this conservative little town willing to unite two people? I want you as my wife right now.”

  “Now?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Don’t we need birth certificates or something?”

  A smile curls one corner of Jason’s mouth. “Anita anticipated everything we need.”

  I’m stunned at how prepared he is, sad that Anita won’t be attending, and confused at how he plans to pull this off tonight. “Surely the office that issues licenses is closed?”

  “You don’t know Vegas. I can even do it online.”

  “But—”

  He silences me with a kiss, this one dominant and possessive. When he pulls back, it’s only a couple of inches, and our faces are still close.

  “But nothing,” Jason whispers, his breath on my lips. “If I can’t use my ill-gotten skills for this, then what good am I?”

  “But we won’t really be married.”

  “Sure we will. We’re using our real names and socials. The information will be real even if the proof is fake. Speaking of, do you want to become DeeAnn Traugher?”

  I shake my head, thinking of my father. Someone else who won’t be attending. “I think I’d rather stay DeeAnn Carmach. Does that bother you?”

  “Why would it?” Jason kisses me again, makes me dizzy again.

  But I can’t stop thinking about the practicalities. “Surely we both have to be present to pick up the license.”

  “DeeAnn, I’ve got this.” His kiss is like honey, and I’m so happy that I could explode.

  “Gotta go,” he whispers, though he’s still holding my face, his lips touching mine. “Buy yourself a nice dress. Your dream dress. Use my money.”

  “I can afford my own wedding dress,” I say.

  He releases me and cocks an eyebrow. “No wife of mine will ever need to spend her own money.”

  I roll my eyes and playfully flick his arm. I doubt he even notices through all that muscle.

  “Go on, now,” he says, the picture of seriousness. “We’ll meet here at ten.”

  I wouldn’t have expected to find legitimate wedding dresses in Las Vegas, but they’re everywhere. Vintage and new. In hotel lobbies and casino shops. You can even rent a couture dress with a sky-high retail price.

  As I stare adoringly through a window at fluffy white gowns, I wonder if going the traditional route even makes sense.

  After all, there’s nothing traditional about my relationship with Jason. He’s a criminal, a very bad man who has seen and done things I can never imagine.

  I like to think I’m pretty levelheaded—at least, when I’m not drowning in grief or panicked about being the witness to a shootout—so I know how ridiculous all this is.

  But I also know how happy I am when I’m with Jason. It bubbles up sometimes and makes me feel like I’m going to explode, but it also simmers, warm and comforting. The chaos of life becomes beautiful. And even though we’ve had very different experiences, we somehow make sense together.

  I think back to the first glimpse I had of him, and my heart lurches in my chest.

  Some people know, I guess, from the first eye contact, the first few words. Or maybe they convince themselves of that after years of being together.

  It wasn’t like that for Jason and me, and that actually makes me feel even more certain that this is the right decision. Because even though I was attracted to him from the beginning, I didn’t hear wedding bells or start having nonsensical fantasies that we’d end up together.

  No, we earned this relationship. Through our blood and tears. We had to struggle through mistrust of each other and the fear we each carry of being abandoned.

  I’ve opened myself to Jason in ways I never thought possible. He rarely talks about his feelings. I know he struggles with his past. When it comes to the two of us, though, he’s unafraid to bare his soul.

  God, I can’t believe he wants to marry me. It feels so right, I almost don’t want to trust it because nothing in my life has ever worked out.

  Or maybe everything has worked out. All the little pieces of bad luck and rotten timing led me here, to this moment.

  Well, maybe not this moment, standing in front of an overpriced boutique, gawking at wedding dresses, wondering who the hell comes to Vegas and drops five grand on a gown.

  In the end, I decide I don’t want to do it like this, with the white dress.

  I want black. I want sexy and dangerous.

  Chapter 46

  Jason glared at his reflection in the mirror.

  He didn’t usually give much thought to his appearance. The casual, oblivious thing had always worked for him. Skipping a few haircuts, not bothering to shave… No woman had ever complained.

  He ran his fingers over his lightly stubbled jaw.

  DeeAnn liked him like this.

  As for the rest…

  He adjusted the black bowtie. It clipped on, but he wanted it to be straight. The starched white shirt was the most uncomfortable thing Jason had ever worn.

  In fact, the entire tuxedo felt like something designed to torture men. What did he know, though? He’d never worn a suit, either. Maybe formal menswear was supposed to feel tight and constrictive.

  Still, he had to admit he looked good. Like an undercover spy from a movie.

  “Bond,” he said to his reflection. “Jason Bond.”

  All right, so he thought he looked damned good, and he hoped DeeAnn would like it. If she didn’t, they’d walk down the aisle in jeans and sneakers. Jason didn’t much care, so long as DeeAnn was the woman standing beside him at the altar.

  The door opened, and DeeAnn walked in.

  When she saw him, her eyes widened. “Holy shit,” she stammered. “You look so fucking hot.”

  She was carrying a black garment bag. Jason couldn’t see the contents, but the bag couldn’t contain a full-on wedding gown. Not unless the rest of it was still waiting in the hallway.

  DeeAnn carefully placed the bag on the bed, then turned to scrutinize him again.

  “Really, really, really hot,” she said.

  The gleam in her eyes told Jason what she was thinking, and when she reached for him, he easily caught her arm, then backed her against the wall and loomed over her.

  “Bad girl,” he said. “Bad girls need to be spanked.”

  She trembled, her pupils widening with arousal.

  “Unfortunately,” Jason said, “I don’t have time to discipline you. I’m getting married in twenty minutes.”

  Jason knocked lightly on the bathroom door. “We have to go.”

  Fifteen minutes had passed.

  DeeAnn opened the door. She was staring at the floor, and her lower lip had disappeared completely into her mouth.

  He looked her up and down several times. His cock, however, had gone up and was staying that way, fully hard.

  Her strapless black dress was long and tight. A slit ran up the left leg, almost to her hip, revealing a garter belt and stockings. One of her hands twisted nervously at a lock of gleaming wavy hair.

  Jason generally appreciated when DeeAnn was desperate for his approval, but not like this. Tonight wasn’t a game.

  “Beautiful,” he said honestly. “Like a centerfold.”

  She blushed six shades of pink. “Exaggerator.”


  He wanted to explain that she was lovelier than any airbrushed photo, but despite all her beauty, it was her soul he loved. But he couldn’t think of the right words. Talking dirty, that was easy. Speaking his heart… He would simply show her how much he loved her, over and over, for the rest of their lives.

  “If anything, I’m understating. DeeAnn, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Ever.”

  She finally raised her gaze to his. “You don’t think it’s too… slutty?”

  “Hell, no,” Jason said, drinking in the bare bit of skin between her stocking and her thigh. “I’m wondering if we can have a priest meet us here. Then we can exchange our vows while I fuck you.”

  “I’m relieved,” DeeAnn said in a rush, smoothing her hands over the shiny fabric. “I didn’t think a white wedding dress would be appropriate, but I didn’t know if black was too far in the other direction. Then I took so long that I didn’t have time to get my hair and makeup done professionally.”

  “You are perfection,” Jason said. “My perfect submissive princess.”

  As they walked to the elevators, he watched the rolling of her hips and ass under that sexy black dress.

  DeeAnn was a walking dream. He’d seen plenty of hot women in his life, but no one had ever come close to her. And that would still be true when they were both over a hundred years old, with more wrinkles than hair.

  Looking back, it was amazing he hadn’t tried to seduce her in E-Z Cash, DeeAnn standing there in that ridiculous pink tracksuit top, looking seductive and innocent and, above all, terrified.

  Jason’s cock had known exactly what to make of her. He clearly remembered fighting an erection and wondering what had gotten into him.

  But it wasn’t him. It was DeeAnn. He’d acted like an asshole, trying to rattle her, scare her away. He’d wanted to protect her.

  Even back then, deep down, he had known. He’d denied it, fought it. He’d tried to hate her.

  He hadn’t even lasted two days before falling hard.

  Jason pushed the button for the elevator. DeeAnn slid her hand into his.