The Redemption of Nixon Thorne

by T Steele

  When we enter the building, it’s plain, mostly neutral colors with chairs lined up along the wall and a man sitting behind a glass partition at a desk.

  He eyes Ella, and then his gaze lingers on me, and I clench my jaw. Cops always give me this look. The one that says they don’t trust me. I’m here for Ella, I remind myself, and put one foot in front of the other until we reach our destination.

  The guy talks through a speaker. “May I help you?” he asks.

  I look over at Ella and nod my head. I try to communicate through my eyes: I am here for you. You’re not alone.

  She gives me a half-smile before stepping forward. “I’ve been getting weird notes and…gifts? I guess you could call it that,” she says all this low and quick before taking a deep breath. “I think someone may be stalking me.”

  She finally said it aloud. I’d been thinking the same thing, but I didn’t want to make her more scared than she already was by voicing my concerns.

  The man furrows his brow and stands from his chair. He walks over to a door, a buzzer sounds, and it opens.

  “Back this way,” he says, motioning for us to follow him.

  We reach the door and he looks at Ella. “You sure you don’t want to report this alone?”

  Ella stiffens. “No,” she says quickly, and I smile at the man who hides behind his badge as if it’s a shield that makes him feel superior.

  “Very well,” he says and begins to lead us to an office.

  We step inside the office. There's a fake plant in the corner and a desk in the middle of the room, one chair on both sides. Very impersonal.

  “Someone will be in with you shortly,” the man says, before shutting the door behind him.

  “I don’t like him,” Ella says.

  I grimace. “Neither do I.”

  Then, I pull out a chair for her. “Go ahead, sit.”

  “What about you? We should’ve asked him to bring you a chair.”

  “I’ve got an even better idea,” I say, sitting in the chair and then patting my lap.

  She lets out a surprised laugh, and her cheeks redden. Just as she looks like she’s about to take me up on my offer, there’s a knock at the door and a policeman walks in. I clear my throat, standing from my seat and offering it to Ella once more.

  She gives me a grateful look and takes the seat.

  I stand behind her with my hands on the back of the chair—a silent show of support.

  The policeman sits. “So, I hear you have a stalker?” he says, pulling out a notepad and pen. I have to clench my jaw at the annoyed tone of his voice. If I wasn’t at the literal police station right now, I might have tried to intimidate him a bit, but I stay still and silent. The thought of giving these fuckers a horrible Yelp review online quells my anger, if only a tiny bit.

  Ella launches into everything that’s happened in the past few weeks, describing the letters and the necklace, which she pulls out of her purse. She shows the man the two letters and the necklace and he glances at them before sighing and picking up one of the notes.

  His eyes scan over it, and he raises his eyebrows. “Looks like a love letter,” he says flatly.

  “A love letter she doesn’t want,” I say heatedly. “And you can’t tell me that these don’t feel threatening to you. It’s not a typical love letter, and whoever did it has always done so when she’s not there. Why are they being sneaky? Why are they watching her?” I force myself to stop talking.

  Jesus, you’re not even letting Ella speak, my inner voice says.

  The police officer levels me with an amused stare before fixing his gaze on Ella. “Ma’am, I’m afraid there’s nothing to report here. Sure, you’ve received these letters and this necklace, but there is no threat and you can’t even give me a description of someone. We haven’t seen anything harmful happen, or even implied, and we have no suspect.”

  “You’re not even going to make a written report?” Ella asks, but from the tone of her voice, I can tell that she already knows the answer.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing to report, ma’am. I can advise you to be aware of your surroundings, but from the tone of these letters, I don’t think whoever this is would want to hurt you.”

  “That’s bullshit!” I say.

  “Nixon, it’s okay,” Ella says quietly, before looking up at me from her seated position. “It’s fine. Let’s just leave.”

  I want to argue. Demand that they give us someone else, or that they just do their fucking jobs and at least make out the damn report. But I realize there’s nothing else we can do at the moment. We came here expecting help, and they’re obviously not going to give it to us.

  “I can assure you that if there was an active threat against you, we would take care of it, and if you actually see someone doing something wrong, please don’t hesitate to come back here,” the officer says, before standing up and walking to the door. “Let me escort you out.”

  When we get back inside my truck, we both sit quietly for a moment. When the silence thickens, becoming too much to bear, I speak. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Don’t be,” Ella says, and I perk up at the fierceness in her tone. “You were just trying to do the right thing. They weren’t doing their jobs… It’s why I—” She cuts herself off, bowing her head.

  “It’s why you what?” I whisper, dying to know what she was going to say.

  She tries to smile for me, but it looks more like a grimace. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  The haunted look in her eyes makes a motherfucker like myself willing to do anything to take it away. Which is why I say what I say next.

  “Is Waverly still at that party?” Do I really want to go to a party where there will likely be dumb frat guys hitting on Ella? Fuck no, but it might help us blow off some steam. If anything, it’ll distract us for a few hours.

  Her head whips up to mine, and she checks her phone before laughing and showing me what’s on the screen. It’s a picture of Waverly sticking her tongue out, which just so happens to be blue from what I can only guess is Jello shots.

  “You don’t have to go to the party if you don’t want to…”

  “Parties aren’t really my thing, but I think it could be fun.” I try to sound more excited about it than I actually am, because there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go to a party alone.

  “Okay,” she says, smiling. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  We pull up to a big bonfire out in the woods. It’s too people-y. I already hate it, but Ella looks excited.

  She hops out of my truck and runs up to Waverly, who stares at me distrustfully.

  I smirk at her. “Nice to see you, too,” I say, being a smartass.

  “Why’d you bring this big crazy dude? He literally beats the shit out of people for a living, and he tried to kidnap you!”

  Waverly’s voice is louder than normal, and I get the feeling she might have had one too many drinks, or maybe this is just her personality, I don’t know.

  “Thanks for screaming to the entire party about what it is I do for a living. Ya know, the thing that I’ve been working really hard to keep a secret. Appreciate it. Also, I did not try to kidnap Ella. How did you come up with that?”

  “You made her get into your truck! I know what boys do in big trucks like that,” she says, crossing her arms.

  “Waverly, you got in his truck too, remember? And he’s nice now. Nixon and I are…friends,” Ella says, and even I have to cringe at that. I guess she’s not lying. We are friends, but I don’t think friends have the same thoughts I do about Ella. I don’t think friends finger fuck each other.

  Waverly laughs. “Did you guys hump?”

  Ella turns beet red and I chuckle, patting Waverly on the arm. “Maybe go drink some water, hmm?”

  She suddenly looks exhausted. “You’re right. Dammit, I know I’ve had too many to drink when Nixon Thorne is smarter than me!”

  She stalks off.

  Ella snickers.

  “Wh
at?” I ask.

  “Drunk Waverly is my new favorite thing.”

  I grin, then ask, “So, now what?”

  Chapter 9

  Ella

  “Don’t look at my ass!” I screech, as Nixon throws me over his shoulder and starts walking away from the bonfire.

  “Too late,” Nixon says.

  I do something between a weird hiccup/giggle. Waverly did not end up getting water. Instead, she’d gotten more beer and had brought me some. I’d only been drunk a handful of times, so it didn’t exactly take me a long time to start feeling tipsy. Once the “twerking” started, if it could even be called that, Nixon had thrown me over his shoulder. I’d caught him murmuring something about how he didn’t want to go back to prison for beating the shit out of the few guys who’d tried to dance with me.

  Naturally, Jake was already at the party when we’d arrived, blunt hanging from his lips.

  “What are you doing here?” Nixon asked as soon as we’d spotted him.

  “This is my party,” he’d said, and smiled.

  “Your party?” Nixon had asked, exasperated.

  “Yeah, I needed some extra cash, so…” he’d trailed off, shrugging.

  “Wait, you were charging people to get in?” I asked.

  “Not just me,” he’d said, and then looked meaningfully to Waverly, who had been dancing and having the time of her life.

  Nixon chuckled and shook his head, while I stared back and forth with my mouth open. “Why would Waverly help you throw a party? She hates people!” I’d said.

  “Why, the money, of course,” Jake had said.

  And then when I’d asked Waverly if she wanted to catch a ride home with Nixon and me since we were going to the same place, she’d replied with, “Hell no, I hate these people, but I’ve made five hundred bucks so far tonight. Momma needs a new pair of shoes.”

  So now here I am, arms hanging down Nixon’s muscular back, swinging them around like a monkey. I have this urge to pinch his ass or tickle him, and the thought has me giggling.

  “What’s so funny down there?”

  This makes me laugh harder. I really do need some water.

  We finally get to his truck, and he opens the door and deposits me gently in the seat, buckling my seat belt for me and everything.

  I pucker my lips out. “Fank youuu.”

  He smirks. “You won’t be thanking me tomorrow morning when you wake up with a headache.”

  He shuts the door and jogs to the driver's seat, gets in, and starts the ignition. Then, he hands me a bottle of water.

  “I managed to snatch this for you before we left.”

  I take it and unscrew the cap, drinking almost half the bottle.

  When I’m done, I play with the radio for a beat while he drives, before turning it to some Taylor Swift song and singing the lyrics horribly off-key.

  Nixon slow claps for a second before grabbing the steering wheel again. “Wow, that was really breathtaking.”

  “I can play the flute, too,” I sniff, lifting my chin cockily.

  “I know, I’ve watched you.”

  “Why do you always watch me?” I ask.

  “You’re hard not to notice.”

  “No one’s ever looked at me the way you do.”

  He chuckles. “I highly doubt that.”

  “Why haven’t you touched me again?” I ask, and even in my half-drunken state, I feel myself flush, and I know I’ll be cringing tomorrow when I replay this conversation. I sound desperate. Maybe he didn’t like the way I felt down there. “Were you upset that I didn’t return the favor?” I’d thought about this many times. After everything had happened in the alcove, I had been so focused on myself and the way I felt, that I didn’t even ask Nixon even though I noticed the bulge in his pants. And then Winston and what's her face came back…

  “No, God no, it’s just…”

  “Just what?” I ask.

  He white knuckles the steering wheel so hard the leather creaks.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it,” I whisper.

  Nixon lets out a soft laugh. “Me too. I think you’re going to regret this conversation tomorrow.”

  “No!” I say more forcefully than I intended, and his eyes snap to mine. “Why do I always have to have regrets? Why can’t I just say that I think about you touching me without cringing in embarrassment? I bet other girls… ” I trail off, tightening my jaw, trying not to let my jealousy show in my tone. “I bet the other girls you’ve been with said exactly what they were thinking and told you how much they enjoyed it.”

  “Ella, you and I haven’t been together.”

  God, he’s right. I sound like a whiny brat, but why did his saying that hurt me so badly?

  As if he can read my thoughts, he continues, “And I don’t mean to hurt you when I say that… it’s just…I mean, you’re different.”

  That didn’t make me feel any better either.

  “You don’t want me,” I say matter-of-factly. “I get it. It’s okay. Girls probably throw themselves at you all the time—more experienced girls.”

  I don’t feel drunk at all anymore. I just feel hurt and rejected, but it’s not Nixon’s fault. I should’ve never brought it up. He’s just been so nice to me lately, and how pathetic did that make me sound? Just ‘cause a boy’s nice to you doesn’t mean he wants you.

  Suddenly, the tires squeal as Nixon turns the wheel, careening sharply onto some backroad, deeper into the woods.

  “What are you doing?”

  He doesn’t answer, but he looks furious. His jaw is clenched, and his brows are lowered, causing his eyes to narrow, making him look cruel.

  He pulls over, parking on the side of the road out in the middle of nowhere.

  My eyes are wide as I look around. When he shuts off the car, the only light comes from the moon outside. I can barely glimpse the outline of Nixon’s body.

  He gets out of the car, slamming the door. Then, walking around to my side, he opens my door.

  “Get out,” he says.

  “What?” I whisper fearfully, unbuckling my seatbelt. Is he going to leave me stranded out here?

  “Do you want me to throw you over my shoulder again?” he asks softly.

  “You’re freaking me out!” I say as I scramble out of the truck. As soon as my feet touch the ground, he cups my cheeks in his giant hands, slamming his lips to mine.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you,” he murmurs against my lips, licking at the seams. I let out a squeak of surprise when he bites at my bottom lip. “But this is important,” he breathes in between kisses.

  When he pulls away, he’s breathing heavily. “Don’t for one second think I don’t fucking want you,” he says. “I’m trying so hard to be a good guy in this situation, Ella. I’m not the devil, but I’m not a good man, either. I’ve fucked you a million different times in my head, but I’m trying to be patient for you. But if you want me to touch you, I’ll gladly give you what you need.”

  When I lick my lips, his eyes darken with need. “Hop in the bed of my truck. Now.”

  I turn to do as he says, but he’s right on my heels, and opens the hatch and lifts me to sit inside.

  He straightens, standing at his full height, eyes boring into mine. “Can I take your pants off?” he asks hoarsely, licking his lips.

  I nod. It’s dark, and as long as I keep my shirt on I’ll be okay.

  “Thank fuck.”

  Chapter 10

  Nixon

  Ella stares up at me with wide blue eyes, and fuck, she looks like something out of a fairytale. Like something I don’t deserve.

  My hands feel too rough against her soft, pale skin. Making me feel like I’ll somehow taint her with just the brush of my fingertips if I’m not careful. Her smooth, unblemished skin. She’s so soft, light, and addicting. Exactly something that a motherfucker like myself needs.

  My hands grip her hips, bringing her flush against my body, and then I slide one hand up her back and into her soft,
fiery hair. The other glides down until it reaches her ass, which fits perfectly in my hands. I give it a firm squeeze and press my lips to hers. She makes this soft noise in the back of her throat, and hearing it makes all the blood in my brain drain straight to my cock.

  I’m breaking my promise, and I hate myself for it, but how can I tell her no when this is what she wants? How can I deny her this? If I was a good man, I’d tell her no, but I guess it just proves that I’ll never be the noble hero I wanted to be. But I can be what she needs at this moment. She can take from me what she needs, but I won’t let her give me pleasure. I won’t take her virginity. She deserves someone better.

  I finally skim my fingers along the elastic band of her leggings.

  “Kick your shoes off,” I instruct her.

  Her hands tighten on my shoulders as she shimmies her legs around, getting rid of her slip-on shoes. I let our kiss dissolve and step back, taking off my shirt and laying it on the bed of my truck, hoping it keeps some of my body warmth with it.

  Ella’s eyes widen, drinking me in, and her throat bobs. One side of my lips quirks in a half-smile. I can’t help feeling male pride that she finds me so attractive.

  I stick my thumbs into the waistband of her pants and slowly pull them down her legs, underwear included. My nostrils flare, smelling her desire. Desire for me, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want to devour her.

  When I reach her ankles, she lifts her feet, helping me turn her leggings inside out. I throw them further into the bed of my truck then lift her, setting her down on my shirt. The fabric isn’t much, but it’s all I could offer her at the moment.

  “Are—are we going to…have sex?”

  I swallow. Fuck, do I want to, but I can’t do that to her. Maybe I do have some honor. I shake my head. “No, right now, this can be about just you.”

  She lets out a shuddering sigh. She’s nervous, but if I’m not mistaken, she looks disappointed, too.

  “Lay down. Get comfortable,” I say roughly.

  She’s stiff as she does so, and I have to prepare myself because once I see her bared before me, vulnerable and wanting, there’s no going back. My need to taste her is so strong.

  “Spread those sexy legs for me,” I rasp.