“The backpack doesn’t match your tux,” she said.
“With you looking like that, I’m invisible. I could be naked and no one would notice.”
Jason wondered if the wedding license application had caught the FBI’s attention. This was the reason he hadn’t let DeeAnn accompany him to pick it up.
He wasn’t afraid of the FBI, but he wasn’t ready to reach out to them. He wanted to talk to Cindy first.
Gary Parauda was a different story. With the Jack Rebels, Jason knew what he was dealing with, but Parauda was a wild card.
Jason had taken additional precautions.
First, the hotel he and DeeAnn were staying at had been registered using an ID guaranteed to remain valid for the foreseeable future. Reading between the lines, Jason understood that it belonged to someone Anita was bribing. Before they left last night, Jason had hidden several stacks of money in Wabash’s dog bed to ensure the ID would stay clear.
Anita washed the bed weekly, so he knew she’d find it. She would understand what it was for.
Second, Jason had reserved the wedding chapel under a completely bogus name: M. Chen. Chen was, after all, the most common surname. Unless Shot had made that up.
And one final precaution.
While DeeAnn was shopping for her dress, Jason had checked into a second hotel, using his real name. He’d prepaid for a week, had left a bag of clothes on the luggage rack and a throwaway cell phone plugged into an outlet. He’d messed up the sheets, dropped a wet towel on the bathroom floor, and squeezed a glob of toothpaste into the sink. Finally, he’d left the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the door.
This was the address he’d entered on the marriage license.
If anyone tracked him anywhere, it would be to that hotel, on the other side of the city. Jason only regretted not having set up a spy cam. But he doubted the FBI would show up within a week, if they came at all. He simply wasn’t that high of a priority.
The elevator opened.
“Ready?” DeeAnn asked.
Hell, yeah, he was ready.
Chapter 47
The little chapel smells like pizza.
I don’t care. I couldn’t tell you if we walked past wooden benches or folding chairs to get to the altar, or how many windows there are. I don’t even know the color of the walls.
But it’s the most romantic place I’ve ever been.
Jason is holding my hand, and I don’t think he’s listening to the officiant any more than I am until he nods slowly.
I force myself to tune back in.
“Your souls have been searching for each other since the beginning of time. Now that you are reunited, the world will yield before your love and strength.”
Under any other circumstances, I’d be snickering and rolling my eyes, but right here, with Jason, I feel like there might be some truth in those words.
Well, the bit about the world yielding is too much, but our souls searching for each other…
I guess there’s a part of me that felt incomplete without Jason. It’s cheesy and sounds weak.
But it’s true.
I’m stronger with him. That was obvious right from the beginning, when we teamed up. But from the look on his face, it’s like he’s thinking he’s stronger with me, too.
“You must treat this love with deference and respect. You must never forget that it’s sacred.”
Then the officiant gets to the vows part, and Jason and I say the words that I’ve heard a zillion times.
There’s no exchanging of rings. The chapel sells cheap bands, but we decided we’d buy something permanent later.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Jason steps closer to me. “My wife,” he says, his voice ragged, as if he can’t quite believe it.
For a long, horrifying second, I think maybe he’s realized that he’s making a huge mistake. That he should be with someone hotter. Someone… cooler, who won’t give him a hard time when he wants to steal a car or beat someone up.
Calm down, DeeAnn. We signed the license before the ceremony. We’re already married.
Slowly, he kisses me.
My lips soften at his touch, and his tongue flicks across the tip of mine. The sensation is almost ticklish, except I feel it between my legs, electric and unbearable, and I’m getting very, very wet.
God, I love him in this tux. So handsome. It doesn’t hide his strength or the power of his body.
One of his hands grabs my ass, squeezing it possessively. He jerks the bottom of my dress over my knee and up my thigh.
My fingers stroke his shirt, which is strangely stiff. I don’t know how to negotiate it, with the narrow ironed pleats and the small buttons. I want to feel his hard muscle and the beating of his heart under my palm.
Jason pulls my knee up, bringing me closer.
I’m not wearing panties.
I try to keep some distance, but Jason—my husband!—isn’t having it.
He growls softly, letting me know that he wants my body against his.
There’s nothing I can do to deny him. He’s bigger and stronger, and we established a long time ago that when it comes to sex, he has not only the final word, but the first word and everything in between. He has everything except “eggplant.” That one is mine, will always be mine, and carries more power than all the other words added together.
The fabric of his tux is rough on my pussy, but I don’t even care because I can feel the thickened bulge of his erection, and I moan.
“I’ll need the room back in ten minutes,” the officiant says mildly.
I almost gasp; I forgot all about him. And the witness…
Their footsteps shuffle away.
Jason reaches down between us. “Wet. All over my clothes. I suppose I won’t be getting my deposit back.”
“Oh, no,” I say, completely embarrassed.
He brushes his lips over my ear. “It was a joke,” he whispers.
Then he’s nibbling and biting his way down my neck.
I squirm and whimper, and he lowers my leg a little… only to slide his thickly muscled thigh between my knees.
Within seconds, I’m riding his leg. Shamelessly.
He jerks down the top of my dress, and my breasts bounce loose. My nipples tighten, and Jason lowers his head to take one between his teeth.
As he bites gently, he flicks his tongue over the sensitive peak inside his mouth.
A moan sighs from deep inside me, and I arch, offering myself.
He switches his attention to my other nipple, and when he finishes, both peaks are glistening wet and almost painfully hard.
“You’re going to come,” he says. “I demand it, as your first wifely act. Come for me. Show me that you’ll be obedient in the bedroom, that you’ll please me.”
Jason’s hands settle on my hips, and he sets the rhythm he wants, making me hump his leg. I circle my arms around his neck and hold on.
“Come for me,” he says. “Now.”
He covers my mouth with his and kisses me.
My orgasm is immediate. I cry out, helpless to defy even his smallest sexual wish. The spasms shake me hard, putting me at Jason’s mercy.
If he weren’t holding me…
But he is. He always is.
As the orgasm relaxes its grip, I regain my self-awareness and realize where we are—a Vegas wedding chapel—and that my body is covered in a light sweat.
I start to push him away. I want to try to cool off and find my composure.
“No,” Jason says. “The officiant said we have ten minutes. You owe me nine more orgasms.”
Jason collects his ten orgasms.
Only the first two happen easily. The rest he takes at his leisure, with his strong fingers doing those magical, impossible things to my clit and pussy.
But he gets every single one, and I’ve long since passed the barrier between “light sweat” and “drenched.”
“That’s a good start,” Jason says. “Come on, sweet wife. Let’s g
et you home and out of that wet dress.”
He holds my hand and we walk together toward the chapel’s exit. He’s a bit ahead of me; I’m trying to take smaller steps so that all the wetness gushing out of me—ten fucking orgasms—doesn’t drip all the way to my feet.
“Wait. I need the bathroom really fast,” I say as Jason opens the doors to the anteroom.
He grins at me. He’s so handsome. “Need or want? Is it an emergency?”
I narrow my eyes slightly and try to concoct an honest answer that will get me what I want.
“No,” Jason says. “It’s not an emergency.” He shakes his head in mock bewilderment. “We haven’t even been married fifteen minutes, and already you’re earning spankings.”
I gulp.
He pulls me close until our faces are inches apart. “That’s right,” he says in his deep, growling voice. “Spankings. I’d been hoping to feed you strawberries and champagne and talk to you about what a beautiful, lovely creature you are and how lucky I am to have you. But, unfortunately, instead of worshipping my new wife, I have to lay her across my knee and deal out a thorough spanking.”
“We only get one wedding night,” I protest. “Do you really want to look back at this and remember spanking me until I cried?”
His eyes gleam evilly, and he doesn’t answer.
That’s fair; it was an absurd question.
We sleep in the next morning.
Jason is awake before me; he usually is. He’s sitting up, watching TV. The set is muted, and the captions are on.
He’s so considerate.
Am I fucking lucky or what? Surprising, though, that I don’t smell coffee.
I stretch, enjoying the decadent sheets against my skin. My buttocks, which are a little raw and sore from Jason’s very enthusiastic punishment, are especially appreciative of the soft, silky fabric.
I drape an arm across Jason’s lap.
He doesn’t respond. Nothing. No sexy growl, telling me to be careful or he’ll be forced to fuck me. Not even a hint of interest from his cock.
I’ve heard about couples losing that sexual spark after getting married, but the very next day? No, not even… We were still going strong well after midnight.
Then I realize Jason isn’t paying attention to me at all. His eyes are glued to the TV screen.
Curious, I roll onto my side so that I can watch TV without making the effort to sit up.
Because of my position, everything is sideways, and I don’t immediately recognize what I’m seeing.
“Oh my god.” It’s a photo of Jason.
A mug shot, to be precise.
I bolt upright, wide awake. My fingers and lips have gone numb, and there’s a faint ringing in my ears. “What happened?”
Jason doesn’t answer.
The blocky captions flashing at the bottom of the screen tell me two things.
One, that Jason is wanted for a string of murders.
And two, that he was spotted in Las Vegas.
“Cameras and facial recognition software,” Jason says, his voice tight with fury. “I was so careful, but they got me.”
The mug shot disappears, and now a grainy image of Jason walks across the screen. He’s with a woman who looks nothing like me.
“Your stand-in,” he explains. “To pick up the license.”
I don’t care about that. “You have to throw away those clothes. We have to…” I’m overwhelmed, my mind racing with all the things we need to do. Haircuts and wigs, different clothing styles, fake beard for Jason, something to cover his tattoos…
He shuts off the TV, and when his flat-eyed stare turns my way, the blood freezes in my veins.
“It’s not too late to get an annulment,” he says.
“No.”
“DeeAnn—”
“Fuck you for even suggesting it.” I’m so angry that spots form in my vision. Angry with him. With the situation.
He stands, grabs my hand. I try to jerk away.
“It’s for your own good,” he says. “We should at least discuss—”
“Fuck you, Jason,” I say. “You wanna talk hard limits? Losing you is my hard limit. Don’t go there. Don’t go anywhere near there. You said you’d never hurt me. Make this right.”
I’m so upset that I’m shaking all over.
“All right,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He pulls me against him, and I can already tell from the tension in his body that we’re not settling in for a long cuddle or some hard fucking.
Then he says again, “I’m sorry.”
And I know he’s not apologizing for suggesting that I would ever let him go.
He’s apologizing because he knows our lives are about to get a million times worse.
Maybe he regrets marrying me, but I don’t.
I never will.
Chapter 48
Jason’s mind was working the fastest and hardest it ever had.
The urge, the knee-jerk temptation, was to immediately clear out. Hit the road.
Ninety-nine out of a hundred men would have done exactly that.
Limit that group to hardened criminals, and that number probably fell to fifty out of a hundred.
The urge to take his woman and run was working through him, digging into his skin like an itch that wouldn’t relent until he was far, far away from this place.
“Go on and take a shower,” he said to DeeAnn.
She was staring at him with wide eyes. He could see that she was gearing up for a fight, and he didn’t have the energy to get into it with her. Not right now.
“We have to be ready to leave,” he said. And he needed time to think.
“Fine.”
Jason remained standing until she disappeared into the bathroom and he heard the water running. Then he sank onto the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands.
Those murders—Jason was being set up. The Jack Rebels had done this. They were weaponizing law enforcement against him.
Parauda. The motorcycle gang had FBI agents working with them.
Or for them.
The Jack Rebels had to be in Vegas already. The city was probably crawling with them, and they might not be immediately recognizable. Their contacts in the FBI, for example, probably had conservative haircuts and wore business suits to work every day.
If only he had an idea of what the Jack Rebels knew… and what they might not yet know.
They didn’t know about his current hotel—otherwise he’d have woken up to a dozen angry men swarming all over him.
They’d probably found the other hotel room, though.
Hitting the road now, in the middle of the day, would be reckless. With his photo splashed all over the TV, chances were someone would recognize him.
Whoever was after him, the FBI, the Jack Rebels, they’d be expecting him to disappear at night, to creep into the darkness.
Jason grabbed the room phone and dialed reception. “Would it be possible for me to keep this room one more night?”
“Could I put you on hold for a moment, sir?”
“Sure.” Jason walked to the window. Unless an FBI agent was sitting in a hotel a mile away… He closed the sheer inner curtains.
“Sir?”
“I’m here.”
“I can indeed extend your stay for another evening. Is there anything else I can help you with this morning?”
“Nope. Thanks.” Jason felt some of the tension leave his body. He picked up the thick room service menu. He wasn’t hungry, but they needed to eat.
The shower turned off.
Jason wished he’d told DeeAnn to take her time. To put some of that conditioning glop on her hair and let it soak in for an hour or two while she relaxed in the whirlpool tub.
The door opened. DeeAnn emerged in a cloud of steam, a big white towel around her torso and a second towel in her hand.
Fuck, just the sight of her stole his breath. As dark as his world had become, she was still a shining beam of light.
And her smil
e was enough to make his heart light despite the boulder of stress that had taken up permanent residence on his shoulders.
She tilted her head and blotted water from her hair. “I’m really glad you’re still here.”
“I’m your husband. Where else would I be?” Jason raised an eyebrow and was pleased to see her smile. He hoped she’d always get that look when she saw him.
“I was thinking,” he said. “Come here a minute.” He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for DeeAnn to join him.
She did, and he could tell she was trying to read him, trying to get a sense of how dire their situation was.
Once she was close enough, Jason pulled her onto his lap.
A breathy cry escaped her, and then she was grabbing at his arms, clinging to him. Holding him.
“You smell good,” he said, burying his nose in DeeAnn’s wet hair and inhaling the scents of melon and mint. He regretted not having been in that shower with her.
“They’ve got amazing toiletries. I’m taking all the samples with me.”
“We’ll give the maid a few bucks and you can really load up,” Jason said. “Look. You saw the TV, and you know it’s not good.”
DeeAnn nodded, her beautiful smile gone.
“I want your input. We’ve got this room for another night. But beyond that… We have to decide: stay or go?”
“The same thing I was pondering in the shower.” She snuggled into his arms, and he appreciated that she still turned to him to keep her safe.
“Hm,” he said thoughtfully.
Despite her attempt at a smile, her worry shone through. “If you’re about to suggest I leave you here, forget it. For better or for worse, Jason.”
He thought their current situation was beyond the scope of wedding vows, but the stubborn fire in DeeAnn’s eyes told him not to waste his breath.
“In that case, we have to leave,” he said. “If we step outside in the daytime, I’ll be recognized. If we leave at night, well, there’s less traffic to blend in with. Either way is risky.”
She nodded somberly. “I can go out, though, get disguises. And leave at dawn? I bet they wouldn’t be expecting that. Or…” Excited, she stiffened in his arms. “They’ll be looking for us on the roads, right?”
Brightest As We Fall Page 30
