“Then you should.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“What if I’m not ready to be a mother, and I’m terrible at it?”
“You’ve got no cause to worry. You’re a natural.” He knew from experience she had a sweet, nurturing side.
“What about you?” she asked. “What do you want?”
“I’m with you on the house. What does yours look like?”
“Well, there’s a big yard and a dog.”
“And when you have this place with a backyard, a little boy, and Rover, who else is there with you?”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you askin’ me?”
“Do you picture a man livin’ with you, Etta?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know…”
“Could it be me?”
“Justice…”
Before she could answer, tell him “no,” he kissed Etta, and she melted into him, going limp in his arms.
Justice wanted to be inside her. It wasn’t just lust, although that was part of it. No, he needed to be with Etta, be a part of her.
“Etta, it’s time.” Justice crouched over her. “I promised that tonight would only be about you but—”
“I want you, all of you, and I’m ready.” She raised a hand, stroking his cheek. He kissed her palm, then encircled both her wrists and placed them on the pillows.
“Keep your hands over your head.”
Her breath caught.
Justice pushed her shirt up. Her nipples were hard and ready for his mouth. He latched onto one, and he worried the edge of it with his teeth and then gently sucked.
He sampled one breast, and then the other. And then he tasted her throat, kissing the line of her neck, and then cradled her head. Their tongues tangled, as their mouths melded together. Justice ran hands up and down her body, getting her used to his touch. This time, he didn’t want her to stop him.
Etta moaned, arching up for him.
Justice slipped her pants off and tossed them away. Etta was left in a gauzy white pair of panties. Her pussy was covered in reddish gold ringlets, and he could see them peeking out. He cupped her in his palm, gently squeezing, and she moaned.
He was raring to get inside, but they had something important to discuss first.
“Do you have a condom?” he asked.
“No.”
Neither did he. “My brother, Duke, is a former medic. He’s extreme about gettin’ us all STD tested. My last results came back negative, so I’m clean.”
She sat up. “I haven’t slept with anyone in, well, it’s been years, but I don’t have anythin’ either.”
“What about pregnancy?”
Her brow creased. “Not a problem.”
Yet again, Justice suspected she was holding something important back. At any other time, he would’ve asked, but he had difficulty focusing at the moment.
“Do you want this, Etta? Want me?”
“Yes.”
“Then lay back again.”
Once more, he caressed his way down her body slowly, taking his time, loving every single inch of her with his fingertips and then his mouth. Her stomach bunched as he licked his way down the length of her abdomen. And then he tasted her through the thin fabric of her panties.
She’d soaked them, and he rubbed his nose and mouth against the wetness. Justice grasped the crotch and pulled them to one side so he could get his mouth on her. As Justice loved her with his lips and tongue.
When she was calling his name, rocking against his face, Justice knelt between her parted legs. He grasped the edge of her underwear with his teeth and yanked playfully. Etta gasped. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he pulled her panties off and tossed them over his shoulder. She rested her feet on his thighs. He lifted one leg, and kissed the long length, starting at her ankles, and then working his way up to her inner thigh, inch by inch.
She trembled.
He hooked an arm around her thigh, and then bent to his delicious task. Justice licked her sweet pussy, lapping at her. As he tasted her, he pushed his finger inside her—one solitary finger.
Etta groaned, and he loved the sound.
Then Justice teased her, by stopping and kissing his way up and down the length of her body before tasting her mouth again. He sucked one nipple as he played with her, stroking her sleek wetness with his fingers.
His cock swelled so much, Justice had to release himself from his pants to relieve the pressure. The shaft pulsed and the head was wine-dark, bulging with need. Justice eased a fist around his dick and pumped up and down.
This was intense, more than a physical need—it was a mental one, emotional, too. Justice wanted all of her, and he wanted to give himself in return.
Justice had wanted to be inside her for so long, and it was hard to deny himself the pleasure, but he wanted to make this good for her. He’d make certain she’d never forget this night, or him.
And then he bent to the task again.
This time, he pushed two fingers inside her, as he took her clit in his mouth. And then Justice positioned himself over her, placed his swollen cock against her slick pussy folds.
They both moaned at the sensation—slick, swollen flesh, tender with need. Justice edged the head inside her tight little hole, leisurely getting her used to the size of his thick cock before he fully entered her.
And then he got on his knees. She lifted one leg in the air bracing it against his shoulder, giving him space to move as he thrust into her, deliberate at first, and then harder, faster, harsher.
Beneath him, she shifted on the bed in time with his movements. Her breasts bounced, deep moans issued from her throat. She lay beneath him, innocent and open.
Justice marveled at the trust she showed in him. He alternated between laying down on top of her, enjoying the feel of her soft and yielding body, tasting her mouth as he took her body, and thrusting deep and hard as he crouched between her thighs.
Every now and then, just for variety, he fucked her much harder, going to his knees and thrusting deep. And then Etta was shaking, quaking beneath him, teetering on the edge of orgasm.
Justice could see it in her eyes, but she couldn’t let go, and he knew why.
“It’s okay, Angel, flyaway, and I’ll be here to catch you when you fall back to earth.”
Etta gave the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of her head, as though she couldn’t believe his words. Justice cupped her face in his hands and waited until she focused on him.
“Come on. I wanna see you soar, just like you did on my bike.”
Keeping his cock inside, Justice rubbed her clit, soft and slow circles, then cranked up the tension a bit. Justice thrust deeper, and then stilled, filling her to the brink. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. Justice was on the verge of orgasm, but he wanted her to come for him first.
With a cry, Etta threw her head back. Her eyes slammed shut, as though concentrating. And then she keened for him, lifting her hips, catching fistfuls of the sheets beneath her.
It was glorious to behold, a revelation. He wanted to see her take wing, again and again.
And when Justice couldn’t stand it anymore, he shuddered, groaned, thrust one last time and came until he was utterly spent.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Justice’s cell phone went off, and he grabbed it before the noise woke Etta. He walked out into the hall to answer the damn thing, although he was loathe to leave her, even for a few seconds.
Last night they’d slept together once more, only this time he’d wrapped her in his arms and held on for dear life. If Justice had his way, he would never let go of her. But she hadn’t answered his question yet.
“Hey, have you heard from Woolly?” Trick asked without preamble.
Fuck. I’m a shitty friend.
“No, I’ve been callin’ him, but haven’t heard anythin’. I’ve had a couple of busy days, so I didn’t follow up on it.” He’d been so preoccupied with Etta and Mary, it had sli
pped his mind.
“I was afraid you’d say that. We’re gonna have to go over there. I’ve been tryin’ him and haven’t heard back either. I’m officially worried.”
“Me too. I can make it this afternoon, what about you?”
“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at two.”
Justice hoped they weren’t too late already.
Trick somehow picked up on his mood. “Don’t worry, brother. I’m sure he’s fine. We all go through spells where we don’t feel like messin’ with people.” A tendency toward being anti-social was yet another fun little PTSD symptom they shared.
“You’re right.”
But Justice doubted it.
***
After Etta went to work, Justice pawned off Mary’s guard duty on Ten and headed out with Trick instead. Woolly lived outside of San Antonio, so it was a bit of a trip.
The drive gave him time to think.
A lump formed in his throat. Justice wondered if they’d all settled in Texas because they had a need to be together. All three of them had been discharged at the same time. Trick had the priesthood as a support system, and Justice had the MC. But what about Woolly? As far as Justice knew, he had his job, and the acquaintances he’d met there. That’s it.
As soon as they pulled up in front of Woolly’s house, a sense of foreboding rolled over him, like a dark thundercloud.
Something was wrong.
Woolly’s car, his prized possession, a red Jaguar, was parked outside in the driveway, instead of the garage. Woolly was a real car nut. He washed it every weekend, polished the vehicle until the damn thing gleamed, too.
Justice never cared for cages, cars as civilians called them. He liked the freedom of the open road without metal boxing him in.
One time, the two of them had gone out for a drive. They’d stopped at a hot dog stand for lunch, and Justice had dropped a bit of chili onto the floorboard. Woolly had blown a gasket. He’d even threatened to make Justice walk all the way home.
Woolly would never leave the jag out in the open, exposed to the elements.
When they got up to the front door, Justice smelled something rotten. The hair stood up on the back of his neck.
“No, not today, not like this.” Trick knocked on the door. No answer.
Justice tried knocking. Again, no response.
“No more foolin’ around. Kick it down.” Trick backed up and glanced down the street. Nobody was out and about, because they were probably all at work or otherwise occupied.
Justice planted his foot on the wood with a thud and then hauled off and kicked it. It cracked in response. He repeated the action and the door buckled further, but still remained intact.
This time, Trick had a go, and the wood splintered some more. One last kick and they were through it. When the door swung open, a rush of foul air assaulted their noses. It reeked of rotten meat.
“Son of a bitch,” Trick said.
Justice clasped a hand over his mouth. He froze in his tracks, unable to move.
Once again, he was in the prison cell, Bulldog lying at his feet, dried blood on his hands, and a familiar stench in the air.
He backed away from the door, shaking his head, while Trick charged ahead.
No. This can’t be true. Can’t be.
“Get over here!” Trick ordered.
He forced himself to walk through the door and knelt by the body.
Woolly was sprawled on the living room floor, lying on his back. Two glassy eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Reddish brown blood had soaked into the beige carpet. Flies buzzed in the air, and the ceiling fan overhead rattled.
The handgun lay on the carpet a few inches away from his good hand. He’d lost the other one when a Taliban fighter had sliced it off as part of an intense torture session.
It wasn’t all Woolly had sacrificed.
With a heavy sigh, Trick knelt and closed Woolly’s eyes.
As Trick prayed over the body, Justice staggered into the kitchen and puked in the trash can. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his face. The rush of blood in his ears nearly deafened him.
The next thing he knew, Trick was on the phone with the cops, but he barely registered the words.
And then there were two.
***
“Hi, Justice,” Etta said, answering her phone. She’d schedule a couple hours in the afternoon to catch up on her paperwork, and could use a break from the pile on her desk. He’d left in a hurry this morning, and they hadn’t had a chance to talk.
“Hey.”
“What’s goin’ on?” From his subdued tone, she suspected trouble.
“I meant to call earlier, but I got caught up in…stuff.”
The silence stretched between them.
“Tell me.”
“One of the men in my old unit committed suicide. Now, there’s just me and Trick left.”
Etta gasped. “Oh no.” She didn’t know how he dealt with so much loss in his life.
He’d once mentioned it was nearing the anniversary of their capture. Etta knew from experience anniversaries could be difficult. It had a way of bringing all the buried memories right to the surface.
“Yeah, we came over to visit, and found him…I mean, the body.”
“Is there anythin’ I can do?”
“No, Trick and I got it covered. Woolly didn’t have any family, so we’re gonna take care of things. The upshot is, I won’t be able to stay with you tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
While the thought of being alone made her nervous, she didn’t want to add to his burdens. Etta wished she was there with him so she could comfort Justice.
“Well, I’m worried about you anyhow. I called Pretty Boy, and he’s gonna be over there after his shift at Perdition is finished, which is around two in the mornin’.”
Her manners warred with common sense.
“I don’t wanna put him out.”
“As a matter of fact, Pretty Boy insisted on comin’ over. You’re welcome to try and talk him out of it.”
She sighed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Now, I figured you’d be more comfortable with him, than anybody else, but would you like me to send someone over in the meantime?”
“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary.” She could handle a few hours on her own. Etta never much cared for strangers in her place, anyway.
“Fair enough, but keep your gun out, and your cell phone in your pocket.”
“Will do.”
“It’s settled then.” He expelled a long breath. Justice sounded bone-weary, as though he didn’t even have one more ounce of energy to spare.
“Justice?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks. Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Count on it, and give me a call if you need to talk.”
“I will. I’ve missed you today.”
“Same here.”
She could hear the longing and his voice, and she shared it. Sleeping without him wouldn’t feel right. He belonged in her bed, or she belonged in his. They’d only been apart a few hours, and already it hurt.
“Glad to hear it, and I’ve got a proposal for you.”
“An indecent one?” Etta teased. She hadn’t answered his question last night because she didn’t know what to say. Etta had an inkling his proposal was related.
“Maybe a bit.”
“I like the sound of it already. Any hints?”
“No, I’m gonna keep you in suspense.” Etta could hear the smile in his voice. She was glad she’d temporarily lifted his mood.
“Fine, be that way. Bye, Justice.”
“Goodbye, Etta.”
And then neither one of them ended the call.
“Hang up.”
“No, you hang up.” They both chuckled.
Finally, the line went dead.
Etta had the strangest feeling, her answer
would be “yes” this time.
***
In the early evening, Justice was seated in front of the fire pit at his place. Justice watched the flickering flames dancing. He felt like a puppet without any strings. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
He didn’t even remember driving home. Nothing felt real right now.
Trick sat next to him, also silent. He took a pull on the beer in his hand.
Justice downed the rest of his. Right now, he was craving a joint so bad, he couldn’t stand it, but he refused to smoke in front of Trick.
They’d spent the day making funeral arrangements as well as dealing with the police department, and the coroner’s office.
“We’re the only two left.” Trick shook his head, as though he couldn’t quite believe it.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it either. Would Justice be the next to go? If he were a betting man, Justice would put money on it.
“Ever think we should’ve died, too?”
It felt wrong, to still be walking around. As if by living, he was an affront to what they’d all sacrificed. Occasionally Justice thought about taking matters into his own hands. Over the years, the option had brought him some comfort.
Whenever he couldn’t stand the pain anymore, he’d hold the gun and think about the bliss awaiting him. One shot and it would all go away—no more terrible memories, no more guilt. Nothing but quiet. Peace. Perhaps Woolly had made the best choice possible. He’d gotten out the only way he knew how.
“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.” Trick seized his arm. “You hear me?”
“Leave me alone.” Justice shoved him away.
“If you ever… so help me...” Trick’s jaw clenched, and his voice wavered. He could hardly get the words out. “Please don’t.”
“Ain’t gonna, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t ponder the option.” Especially on dark days like this—when the anniversary rolled around, or one of the guy’s birthdays. They wouldn’t be getting any older, eating cake, celebrating with their friends and family. All of them gon, like a puff of smoke, as if they’d never been here at all.
“Me too.”
“I thought priests don’t believe in suicide. Isn’t it a mortal sin?”
Cold Blood (Lone Star Mobsters Book 4) Page 14
