by Julie Kriss
I went very still. I didn’t have much choice, but from the angle of my head I also had a view of Carter’s wrist. He was wearing a watch.
It was 5:17. I let my breath saw in and out of my lungs as I watched the tiny gold second hand sweep around the watch’s face. This hadn’t gone according to plan, but I just needed five more seconds in which Carter White didn’t pull the trigger. Five more seconds in which he didn’t blow half of my face off in the most painful way possible.
What do you want, Riggs?
I just want five more seconds. To save my life.
Four. Three, two…
Carter aimed the gun.
Tara, I thought.
Then I threw myself forward as the first shots started and the SWAT team broke in.
Twenty-Nine
Jace
Four hours later I was still sitting in a hospital room. I hadn’t been hurt in Carter White’s chop shop, but they checked me out anyway. A nurse cleaned the cut Officer Kyle had given me on my temple and put a stitch in it. They examined the bruise on my right wrist, where I’d wrenched it in the handcuffs, ducking away from Carter.
Doctors questioned me, and then cops. More cops. Detroit cops, then plainclothes cops who were obviously higher rank. Then Westlake cops, and then Westlake plainclothes cops. A lawyer came in with his own questions and went away again. Then another doctor, and yet another plainclothes cop. I told them all whatever they wanted.
The worst thing was that they’d taken away my phone. They had to, because my phone had recorded the entire conversation. It had only looked like it was turned off—in fact Dex had installed an app that made your phone look off when in fact it was on. It was probably mostly used by students in class and people in meetings, but today I’d used it to record Carter White threatening to kill me. Actually one of Carter’s suited guys had recorded it, because he’d put my phone in his breast pocket and stood there, unaware that he was a microphone broadcasting the entire conversation to the SWAT team closing in.
So they needed my phone for the recording. Still, that left me with no way to call Tara, no way to call my brothers and tell them I was okay. They wouldn’t let me leave, and no one was allowed into the hospital room that became my makeshift interrogation room.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, thinking about just walking out and letting the cops catch me later when the door opened and Dex walked in.
“Jesus, they let you past the guards,” I said.
“Ha ha,” Dex said. He was wearing his disintegrating jeans and an old Redwings shirt so faded it wasn’t red anymore. “I heard the recording. Jesus. That was pretty fucking close.”
I stood up. It was Dex who had called his old contacts on the force to set up the sting. The cops wanted Carter White, and Carter White wanted me. So when I agreed to meet Carter, the cops came along in a couple of unmarked vans—courtesy of Dex—and gave me eighteen minutes to get in place in the chop shop. Then they got the most prestigious arrest of the year, and Dex did some repair on his tarnished reputation. Everyone was happy, except me, because I’d be hearing the sound of plastic being laid out behind me until the end of my fucking life.
Jesus, I was tired. I couldn’t remember anymore when I’d last slept. Or ate. The only option here was chips from the vending machine, and just the thought of it made me feel nauseated. A lot of things made me feel nauseated.
“We done?” I said to Dex. “I’m leaving.”
Dex looked concerned. “Where are you going?”
I had to put my thoughts together to answer. “To Tara’s. I have to talk to her, tell her I’m okay.”
“You’re going all the way back to Westlake?”
“Where else am I supposed to go?”
“Jace,” Dex said, “you don’t have a car. The last I saw, it was still parked at that warehouse. And you’re in no shape to do the drive.”
“I’ll figure something out. And I’m fine.”
He sighed. “And you don’t have to go back to Westlake to find Tara. She’s downstairs in the lobby with Luke and Emily, waiting for them to release you.”
I stared at him. Here? Tara was here? While I’d spent hours wondering how to get access to a fucking phone? The thought made me angry, then tired again. I had to get the hell out of here.
“Thanks for the SWAT team, Dex,” I said. “They were handy. Nice work. See you later.”
He moved to block me at the door. “Have you been released to go?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “If they want me, they know where I live. They’ll have to come in person, because I no longer have a phone. But I’m telling you, I’m gone.”
He looked at my face for a second and gave in. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. They’re downstairs. Just go.”
There were too many people at the hospital. In the corridors, in the elevator, too many faces moving too fast. It was hard to scan them all, looking for Tara.
I wandered around the lobby, over to the ER entrance, back to another entrance that was an MRI room. No Luke, no Emily, no Tara. No one paid me any mind, even with the small bandage on my temple—I was just another patient, albeit a dressed one. In the end I stood in the middle of the large open space of the lobby, turning slowly in a circle, looking for that distinctive fall of dark brown hair.
She was in line at a small kiosk that sold coffee. I recognized her hair, her long legs in dark jeans. When I circled beside her and touched her elbow, she turned and gasped.
“Jace,” she said. She left the line, grabbed my arm, dragged me away. Then she flung her arms around me.
She smelled like shampoo and hospital hand soap and Tara. She was wearing a soft gray zip-up sweatshirt I’d never seen before, and I pressed my face into it. She held me so tight she nearly cracked something in my neck, and her hands were in my hair. She was saying something, but she was half sobbing so I couldn’t hear it.
I held her back, my arms around her waist, holding on. Just holding on.
“They took my phone,” I told her. “Sorry.”
She loosened her grip a little and leaned back, looking at me. “What?”
“I couldn’t call you.” There was something else I was supposed to say. “I don’t have Emily’s car either, so I can’t give it back to her. It’s parked in a lot somewhere.”
“It’s okay,” Tara said. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her face was a little pale. She must have been worried. How long was she worried?
“I had to turn my phone off,” I said. “To use the app. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to you.”
She put her hands on my face, her palms cradling my jaw. “Baby, how long has it been since you slept?”
“Your place. It’s made me a little stupid, sorry.”
“You’re never stupid,” she said softly. She gently touched my bandage. “This is all my fault.”
“Don’t say that ever again,” I told her.
But she only frowned. “He’s off the force,” she said, brushing her thumb over my cheekbone like she couldn’t quite stop touching me. Like she was memorizing me. I watched her beautiful mouth and realized I’d forgotten to kiss it. “He’s gone. You can file a complaint, you know. Police brutality. It’s all on his dashboard camera.”
“No,” I said. “I’m never having anything to do with cops again.”
She nodded, her gaze softening as she looked at me. “Are you hurt, Jace? Tell me the truth.”
“I’m not hurt,” I said. “It was bad, though. I might need therapy.”
I meant it in my tired brain as a joke, but her expression grew tight. Always so serious about helping people, my Tara. “I can find you someone. Someone good. You need to tell me if you’re having any symptoms—nightmares, insomnia, anxiety attacks. That sort of thing.”
“That sounds like my everyday life,” I said. I was joking again, but she got even more serious if that was possible, so I said, “Never mind. You’re going to know whether I have symptoms because you’re
coming home with me and you’re not leaving.”
She blinked at me, and then she smiled, just a little. I lived for that smile. “Okay.”
“We don’t have to have sex unless you want to, but I have to say I’m going to be hoping pretty fucking hard.”
The smile got wider. “I like you, sleep-deprived Jace. You’re sweet.”
“I’m always sweet,” I said, touching her hair. There had been a moment when I thought I’d never touch her hair again. “The main reason I’m pissed they took my phone is because it has the text on it where you say you’re in love with me.”
She blinked hard, and I thought maybe there were tears in her eyes, but that couldn’t be right. “I am in love with you,” she said. “Now kiss me, and we’ll go find Luke and Emily and go home.”
Thirty
Tara
Jace slept on the drive home. We were in Luke’s Charger, a car I hadn’t confessed to Luke that I’d made out with his brother in. I’d mention that probably never. Luke was driving, Emily was up front, and Jace and I were in the back. Almost immediately Jace lay down with his head in my lap. He looked almost comical because he was so big; his legs were folded like an ironing board in a closet. I stroked his hair, he mumbled something that sounded like I’m crashing, and then he was asleep.
“Shit, his feet are on my upholstery,” Luke said. Emily punched his arm. It was the last thing any of us said on the drive.
I was exhausted myself. We’d gone back and forth from Westlake to Detroit and back, trying to track down Jace or Dex, searching for news. I’d been home long enough to change my clothes and get a few hours’ sleep before Dex called and told us what had happened, and we’d been back on the road to Detroit again. I felt like I had been living in Luke’s car and the hospital for weeks.
My fault, the voice in my head piped up again. My fault.
The logical part of me knew it wasn’t. It was Kyle’s fault this had happened—he had tried to get Jace killed. I didn’t know why; it wasn’t because Kyle loved me or even cared all that much. Housekeeping, he’d called it. How had I been with a man who could sentence another man to death and call it housekeeping? How had I lived with him, kissed him, slept with him, nearly married him? How had I not known he was a cop who could stoop so low? I was supposed to be the expert on other people, but what a joke that was. I knew nothing at all.
So, yes, it was my fault. It was my fault that I’d ever gone on a date with Kyle in the first place. It was my fault I’d fallen, even a little, for his bullshit when I was supposed to know better. When it was my job to see through people’s bullshit every day. I’d thought that Kyle was the kind of guy I was supposed to be with, and I’d let that idea make my life choices, and Jace had almost died for it.
So I owed Jace Riggs. Again. He had trusted me with everything—literally everything, including the fact that he was sleeping in my lap right now. He was still trusting me. I would have to make it up to him.
When we got back to the Riggs house, I said a tired goodnight to Luke and Emily and led a groggy Jace into the guest house. We managed to get our shoes off before we both fell on the bed and slept.
When I woke up it was raining outside. The clock said it was eleven o’clock at night—what night? I didn’t remember what day of the week it was, and I didn’t care. Jace was still beside me, deep asleep.
You’re coming home with me and you’re not leaving, he’d said. I was fine with that. I’d go back to my place in the morning just long enough to pick up some things; I didn’t feel like being anywhere but here. I walked into his tiny kitchen and found a can of soup, which I heated over the stove element. I ate some of it, leaving the rest for Jace when he woke up, and drank some water. Then I stripped my clothes off and stepped into the shower.
The hot water was heaven. Jace didn’t have any girly soaps or shampoos, but I made do. I was just rinsing when I heard the bathroom door open.
I hadn’t locked it. I didn’t see the point. I looked over my shoulder through the glass and saw the blurry, steamy figure of a huge, naked, bearded man. Then the shower door opened and Jace got in with me.
It was a close fit; it wasn’t a big shower. I turned to find myself up against his chest, the fine layer of soft hair brushing my nipples. The water rippled down the muscles of his shoulders and his amazing stomach. His cock was halfway hard and getting harder.
I looked up at his face. He was looking down at me, his gaze unreadable.
So I asked him the first thing that came into my mind, which was, “Do you want to talk?”
Jace’s gaze never wavered. “No,” he said, those dark gray eyes sucking me in like they had from the first moment I’d seen them. “I don’t want to talk.” Then he leaned in and kissed me.
I’d been so worried, so torn apart, so lost inside my own head. For a second my heart leaped and my chest contracted because I’d forgotten the feel of him, the reality of Jace, of this man and his big body that was made for mine.
But as always he started a fire, and I felt my body burn as I pressed up against him. It felt like a year since we’d done this, since I’d felt his hands twist in my hair and cup my head as he kissed me deeper and deeper. We were supposed to do this, him and me. I opened my mouth and slid my hand down through the hot water, taking his cock and giving it a long stroke. Jace made a sound deep in his throat that made me throb. I’d never get tired of that sound as long as I lived.
He was hot and hard and I wanted to keep stroking, make him make that sound again, but he broke the kiss and ran his hands down to my breasts, stroking them. Then he put his hands on the curve of my waist as he sank to his knees.
I inhaled and leaned my head back under the water. We hadn’t done this standing up yet, but oh my god, he was so good at it. He leaned in and parted my pussy, licking gently inside me, tasting and rubbing me. I moaned and tried to keep my balance with my hands on the wet shower tiles. He slid two fingers inside me and stroked me as he licked my clit and I felt it through my whole body, pleasure licking up through my spine and down to my feet, my nipples going hard under the hot water, my legs trying to part wider.
Still, he was merciless. He kept his fingers inside me and closed his mouth over me, pressing in just the right spot. I moaned as my hips bucked, out of my control. There had never been anyone who could make me feel like this. He’d been in the shower with me for mere minutes, and already I was close to coming, my legs shaking and my body on fire. His firm hands held me still so I wouldn’t fall, but also trapping me so I could do nothing but accept pleasure. I could do nothing but surrender and feel.
I broke apart hard, the orgasm sharp as a knife. It felt overdue, like I hadn’t come in years despite the fact that Jace had given me a string of orgasms a few nights ago. I cried out, the sound echoing in the shower as I pressed against his talented mouth.
Jace stood up. For a second he cupped me possessively, his beard scraping my neck as he kissed me there. Then he turned the shower off and we moved to the bed.
He’d been slow with me before, but not now. Now he turned me on my stomach and pushed my legs apart, putting his knees between mine. He held himself over my back and kissed the back of my shoulder, the back of my neck. “Fuck, I need you,” he said, his voice tight with restraint.
“Yes,” I said.
His hands moved to my hips again. He lifted them up and in one motion he thrust inside me all the way, a stab of sensation that made me cry out in pleasure. He pulled out and thrust in again as my hands curled in the sheets, gripped the edge of the pillow. He braced himself over me, one hand on the bed with the other still on my hip, and thrust into me again. I dropped my head, my hair falling over the pillow as I closed my eyes and did nothing but feel.
We fit like this. So perfectly I just held myself and let him take me, over and over. There was an edge to the way he fucked me, desperation, like he’d thought he’d never do it again. I let him do what he wanted, how he wanted, because it felt so good I never wanted him to st
op. I wanted to feel his hand on my hip and his breath on the back of my neck and his knees between mine. It was heaven.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he said in my ear. “I want to be inside you all the fucking time.”
“Yes,” I said, because that was all I could think of to say. Yes, yes, yes, yes. “Fuck me harder.”
He made a low, turned-on sound and slammed into me harder as we rocked the bed. He was big, and it was harsh, and it made me ache in the best way. I moved a hand down between my legs and stroked myself, feeling myself climb again. I had no shame. I came again, my hips bucking up against his heavy weight, my pussy squeezing him over and over.
“Jesus Christ, Tara,” Jace said, and then he came long and hard inside me as we finally slowed down. We were out of breath and sweating, still wet from the shower. Jace pulled out of me and lay next to me and we both stared at the ceiling, panting.
“Was I too rough?” he asked me after a minute.
“God, no,” I said. “I liked it.”
He rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at me. He searched my face for a second, making sure I was telling the truth. “I really fucking love you,” he said, his voice gruff.
I laughed, because it was such a Jace thing to say, and because hearing him say it gave me a burst of pure joy. “I love you too,” I said.
He traced a fingertip along my jaw. “You really think we can make this work?”
“I have no idea,” I said, thinking of the advice Catherine had given me, “but you aren’t getting rid of me. If you try and dump me, I’ll get you back. As many times as it takes.”
He shook his head, his gray eyes thoughtful. “All right, then. If you’re in, so am I.”
I was in. I didn’t know the future. I didn’t know if we would work out. I didn’t know where we would live, what we would do. I didn’t know if we would get married or have kids. I didn’t know if my parents would like him or if his brothers would like me. And I was okay with all of it.
