Pleasures of Promise Lake

by Marti Shane

  Funny, they were putting on the same face. Both practicing eye contact and nodding. She wasn’t sure why, but she imagined Mitch in his place, having just won the World Series and being amongst the same crowd. He’d be intolerable, she laughed to herself, the guest in front of her looking at her like she had two heads. Sam had no idea what the woman had been going on about, but thanked her for being here and made her way to Jake.

  Otis dropped the usual kiss to her head, his hand wrapping her back in a quick squeeze. She couldn’t read Jake other than discomfort making him on edge. She assured Otis she was okay after the third time he asked. Smelling the vodka tonic on his breath, she wondered how loose his tongue had been.

  “Fresh air?” she asked Jake, who slid his drink away, climbing off his stool. The clear liquid didn’t fizz and floated a lime.

  “Water,” he answered her question, hand finding the small of her back. “Where to?” She led them to the terrace on the second floor, the silence awkward and pissing her off. Jake scrubbed his clean-shaven jaw, lips pressed tight to not let the wrong words escape.

  “I didn’t handle myself well,” she began, his body growing impossibly stiff as she spoke. “Cigarettes are sort of a trigger for me.” His hand ran through his hair, head shaking at her words. “I guess Margaret’s a trigger, too. Anyhow, I didn’t mean for her to go kill herself,” she said in a rush and then blew out a breath. “But I don’t really care if she does.”

  “You think I care you told that woman to go to hell?” he growled, as if saying that woman left a bad taste on his tongue. “I wasn’t judging you,” he bit out, hurt softening the bite. “I couldn’t process how your mother treated you.” He looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Or how I treated her,” she finished. Jake leaned his weight on the rail, the power of his shoulders and arms visible even in his suit. “I could apologize, but I’m not sure I’d mean it.”

  “Sam, it’s not healthy to hate someone as much as you hate her.” His hands wrapped tighter around the rail, his features stern in profile.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Help me.” He turned, leaning his hips against the rail. “You don’t seem like the damaged type to me. You’ve got everything going for you. I was proud of you at the service. Even when you were provoked, you took the higher ground. Then, this afternoon…” His hand waved as in filling in the blanks. “No matter how she behaves, how can you let her affect you so deep?”

  “They threw me away.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Forfeiting her parental right was to your benefit. Try again.”

  “They threw me away,” she repeated, pulse rising as the memory queued up. She tried separating emotion from memory, committing to tell him the truth. “Literally. Rolled me in a rug and put me in the dumpster behind our projects.” Jake stood frozen, face falling into a state of shock as she worked off the tremors buzzing deep. “They always lit up after they ate, after they shot up, or after they got done with a chore,” she explained.

  Jake tried stepping closer, but she held up a hand. She swallowed back the bile forcing its way up, determined to get the words out.

  “After I ingested the heroin, I couldn’t move-”

  “Jesus Christ.” Jake looked twice his size, hands balling into fist. She shook her head, her hand outstretched in an attempt to calm them both.

  “I was conscious, sort of. My ears were ringing so bad, and I felt sick. I fell off the stool at the kitchen counter and they ran into the room. Nick was next door at the neighbors, asking for some more milk for his cereal. I was so hungry, I just tried to eat it with the sugar.”

  “Sam- ” Jake’s throat was tight, his body straining not to come to her but she needed the space. She needed to get this out so he’d understand.

  “I’ll only tell you this story once,” she warned, wiping her sweaty palms down her dress. “The only time I ever remember my father holding me was when he picked me up from the floor. I thought…” She closed her eyes, holding back tears she could feel in her throat. Emotions flooding to the surface made her head too heavy, her chin dropping toward her chest. “I thought he was going to save me,” she managed, collecting herself on a deep breath. Her father was a sociopath, incapable of love or compassion. “He put me on the rug in the living room floor. For some reason I just remember the smell. Our whole apartment building smelled like an ashtray, but the rug...” She shielded her nose instinctively with the back of her hand.

  “Son of a bitch,” Jake cursed under his breath, so quiet she barely heard.

  “They rolled me up. Margaret was screaming and Cyrus was slapping her around pretty hard. I got sick from the spinning.” Sam looked to the sky, her mind half in the present and half in the past. Vertigo tried to take hold, her stomach knotting. “I thought when I threw up, they’d know I wasn’t dead,” she said, staring into the clouds above. Tears pooled and ran from the sides of her eyes. “They threw me away.” She wiped the tears, not daring a glance at his face.

  “Nick called the police?”

  “There’s no police report.” She shook her head. “It all got locked away with my adoption, everyone getting what they wanted. Gram got me and she got to pretend it was all Cyrus’s fault. Her daughter would’ve never let me die in that dumpster.” She filled her lungs on a deep inhale. “She wasn’t wrapped in her own vomit while Margaret lit up, like she’d just finished a normal chore.”

  Sam paced off her anxiety, the cadence of her heels against the natural stone echoing in the air.

  “Have you ever been to therapy?” Jake finally asked.

  “I’ve been to Promise,” she smiled, hoping he’d believe she was okay. “That’s where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “Promise is my safe place. Nick’s, too. Margaret called just before we hit the bridge Monday. She was pissed off the lawyer called her to tell her Gram passed.”

  “And then you crashed?”

  “I could tell she was smoking, that fucking sound after she takes a drag.” Sam stopped pacing, wiping her palms once more. “I was with Nick, the one person I trust to get me out of anything, and we were sinking in that fucking car.” The sob broke through her words, eyes pooling again. “I was back in that dumpster, Margaret lighting one up.” She met Jake’s gaze, vision blurred. “And then you were there.”

  Jake pulled her gently to his chest, soft lips kissing away her tears. She was exhausted, his arms what she’d craved all day. She nested in, his hand running circles over her back for the longest time.

  “Let’s go home,” he said softly, the words music to her ears.

  They managed to ease out of The Royal without much fuss. The ride was short to her building, but the silence seemed to stretch for days. Sam ran over their last words in her head. Or maybe it was everything? The funeral, her psychopath mother, or her horror story of a childhood. He asked about therapy. Maybe he thought she was damaged and was rethinking the whole work together, play together, live together.

  He offered his hand after opening her door, pulling her to her feet. Their pace up the stairs was almost rushed, his patience thin as she fumbled the key in the door. Her feet left the floor when the deadbolt clicked, Jake ripping the keys from the door and pushing them inside. The keys clacked against the glass-top table, her mouth devoured by his as her back hit the wall. His hands ran her thighs, her skirt ripping at the seam when her legs wrapped his waist. His growl was primal when his hand found her sex, her panties tossed after her shower at The Royal.

  Sam was helpless to his need, his mouth sealed to hers and his erection pressed to her pelvis as his fingers pushed inside. He broke the kiss, eyes searching hers as his hand drove her wild. Her body begged, her hips trapped beneath his when she tried to grind. His fingers plunged into her ache, mouth swallowing her moan. She opened to him, pleasure pushing away all the pain from her past and today. Her hands found his hair, the feel and taste of him all-consuming as he feasted on her mouth.
<
br />   Jake stretched her opening, his fingers slick with her lust. He swallowed her gasp as he left her wanting but giving her a short reprieve. She was so close, any friction to her clit would tip her over the edge. She wanted to beg, to move, but she was helpless to his hold. She was covered in two hundred pounds of primal alpha male, his erection pressing against her core. His teeth grazed her lip as he broke the kiss, his hand threaded in her hair at the nape. Her ankles crossed behind his back, needing him inside of her. His lips trailed her jaw, his breath hot on her ear.

  “I’ve got you.” He was raw, his body tight as he filled her in one powerful thrust. He bucked inside of her, his pelvis grinding her clit before he began to stroke. His hold tightened in her hair, his thrust hard and deep in a punishing pace. The picture crashed from the wall beside them, Jake growling at her ear as he continued to thrust. Sam realized the needy cry was coming from her, hips rocking for him to get just the right spot. Pleasure burst through her, every nerve ending coming undone. Her muscles laxed, limbs heavy as her sex saturated his hardness.

  Jake held her easily, pumping harder as she surrendered heart and soul in his hold. Sweat sheened her skin under her dress, making her crave skin to skin. Her mouth found the thick vein from his neck, tasting salt and him. He thrust and stilled, her teeth sinking into his flesh as her walls suckled his release. His chest rumbled against hers, a rush of moans erupting from his throat as he marked her, owned her, and in that moment, she only knew him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jake balanced the coffees as Charlie opened the door. Kay and Mick were upstairs, starting the day early by helping Sam pack away Sloane’s things.

  “I could’ve taken care of that,” Charlie said.

  “It’s okay. I needed an estrogen break,” he said. They could’ve easily ordered in, but he let them have some space. Charlie glanced over Jake’s shoulder, his hand going to his pocket and retrieving his phone.

  “Put it away.” Jake turned, expecting to see a gun the way Charlie reacted. At first glance, he thought it was Sam. She caught his eye the other day, walking in on five-inch stilettos just behind Sam. “I’m just leaving this for Sam.” She slammed a messenger envelope to Charlie’s chest. Charlie avoided the eight by eleven inches, stepping away.

  “I believe you know who her attorney is,” he said coldly. “But you obviously don’t understand the meaning of a restraining order.”

  “Who are you?” Jake asked, setting down the coffees. The woman blinked at him, her features so similar to Sam’s.

  “Who are you?” she snarled back, the similarity to Margaret chilling his spine.

  “Jake. Sam’s boyfriend.” He tried out the word, but it was too generic.

  “Ms. Kramer, these men will see you out,” Charlie said in a clipped tone. Two guards in matching suits were crossing the marble floor.

  “Alexis, right?” Recognition of the spoiled reality star hit. He looked around for cameras, hoping like hell no one was filming this. What did she want with Sam? “I’ll walk you out.” He eyed the envelope in her hands. Her eyes darted to the two suits and back to Jake, weighing her options. He extended a hand to the door, leading the way.

  Jake followed behind her, scanning the street for a camera crew. Alexis dipped her head, as if avoiding being seen, and scurried in the back of her waiting car. The driver didn’t close her in, leaving an open invitation. He climbed inside the car, the envelope on the seat between them.

  “I made a mistake,” Alexis sighed. “I’m trying to make it right, but Sam has an arsenal of people around her.” Jake didn’t respond, hoping he’d somehow catch up to what the fuck was going on. Alexis scrubbed her palms down her silky black pants, something Sam did to settle nerves.

  “How do you think you can make it right?”

  “This is the deed to the apartment.” She slid the envelope over. “I can’t take back the last week, but I’m not taking away her childhood home.”

  “Why did you want to in the first place?” he bit out.

  “I made a terrible assumption about Sam,” she snapped back, holding up a finger to pause his attack. “My father never told me about her and believe me, since he died, woman are making all kinds of claims.” Jake’s jaw clamped tight, nostrils flaring as he let out air. “I knew the estate manager was hiding something from me, and until Nick sicced Curtis Black on me I didn’t know Sam was my niece.”

  Jake had to catch up quick, clouded with irritation of not knowing how it all fit. The apartment, the restraining order, and bad assumptions.

  “You thought Sam was his mistress?” he clarified tightly, still processing Sam was her niece. That made Alexis and Margaret sisters?

  “My father never had a mistress. Funny, I’ve learned more about him since he died than I did living under his roof.” She wrung her fingers in her lap, but he refused to show an ounce of compassion for anyone just because they were related to Sam. Yesterday was a crash course in “blood doesn’t mean shit.”

  “What do you want from Sam?”

  “To give her a place to live, for starters.”

  “She has a place to live,” he said, one finger to his chest and the other stabbing the envelope in the seat. “Give this to Curtis Black.” Alexis rolled her eyes, fueling his temper. “We buried her grandmother yesterday and now she’s upstairs packing her things. She doesn’t need this.”

  “I don’t need this,” Alexis, stabbed her chest with her pointy manicure. “A restraining order? Curtis Black has some vengeance against my family and he’s using Sam to make my life hell.”

  “The way I see it, you made your life hell. Stay away from Sam.” She wrapped his bicep as he popped the door handle. Glaring at her, he pulled his arm from her grip.

  “I know what happened to her,” she blurted, making him pull the door shut. Alexis Kramer was a fame whore with nothing of real interest in her life. He wasn’t sure how she came across the information, but he knew it was dangerous in her hands.

  “If you breathe a word- ”

  “Never,” she interrupted. “My father gave Sloane this place so she could raise Sam. Her parents were monsters. I don’t want to take it away.”

  “Are, not were,” Jake corrected her, Margaret having proven that yesterday. “This apartment won’t change that.”

  “I need to tell her I’m sorry.”

  “You need her to forgive you,” he said, knowing her game. God, she and Mason were from the same mold. Being raised with money fosters immediate gratification, but this was something their money could never buy. You can’t carelessly cut someone deep and then expect them to forgive you just so you’ll feel better. “You haven’t earned access to Sam.” Alexis’s eyes narrowed, her glossed lips in a pissy pout. Fuck her. “You’ll have to earn that through Curtis.” He leaned into her space. “And if you think he has it out for you now, you better erase her parents from your memory.”

  Alexis’s words were on repeat in Jake’s head as he emptied the breakfast sandwiches from the bag. He wanted to shield Sam, keep this from dampening the mood.

  “Hey.” She padded toward him on bare feet in shorts and one of his shirts. Her hair was in a messy pile on top of her head and the smile she gave him reached her eyes.

  “Hey,” he said back, hating to break her good mood. Kay and Mick were laughing in the back room, obviously the best team for the difficult job at hand. “You guys about done?”

  “Yep.” She plucked a coffee from the tray. “You feel like hitting the cages this afternoon?” Her eyes danced with mischief as she sipped from her cup. “Otis invited us out.” It was a dream date, batting with Otis Smithfield.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Bat.” She laughed. “And eat. He’s a great cook.”

  “You bat?”

  “He mentioned he’s my Godfather, right? Yes, I grew up in those cages.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “I was coming in here to call you. I thought you got lost.” Jake glanced down the hall,
Mick and Kay still in the back room. “What?”

  “I ran into your Aunt Alexis,” he said, pulling her close to him. Her smile disappeared, a scowl immediately in its place. “She wanted to- ”

  “Apologize,” Sam finished. “She tried yesterday.”

  “Do you trust Curtis?” he asked, wanting to at least warn of what Alexis said.

  “Nick does. She told you she was my aunt?”

  “Better than you being her father’s mistress.”

  “S-A-M,” she spelled. “Sloane Anna Marie, same as Gram. She thought she found her dad’s fuck pad and I was the only tenant.” She shrugged. “Honestly, Gram only told me about Buck a month ago. Maybe she thought he’d name one of us in the will.”

  “Did he?”

  “I hope not.”

  “She doesn’t want you to move.”

  “She doesn’t get to be in control of my life.” Jake felt his smile grow ear to ear. “What?”

  “I dig you.” He kissed her lips, so proud this strong beautiful woman was his.

  “Gross,” Mick groaned behind them. “Break it up.” Sam smiled against his lips.

  “He digs me,” she said, the three of them giddy as they browsed the food. “Alexis showed up again.”

  “Geez, what is her problem?” Mick pulled out her phone.

  “Don’t bother Curtis with it,” Sam said. “Jake took care of it.” He liked the sound of that. Mick arched a brow, giving him an approving smile. They sat on the balcony to eat, his first time seeing it in the light. The space was open but private, the furniture scattered with pillows and matching rugs spread over the stone. He thought about the deed Alexis offered and wondered if Sam might change her mind if she knew.

  “What does Curtis have against the Kramer’s?” he asked, the subject seeming up for grabs.