by Morgan Black
~ Jake ~
I can’t believe it. She wants to stay.
In a short week, I’ve gone from feeling like I had nothing left to being the luckiest man alive.
And it’s all because she convinced me that maybe, I’ve got a future after all.
As Alicia dozes off in my arms, I hold her tight against me. I’m done with the dangerous life. I’ve got enough money to last us both through to retirement age. Probably pay for Eloise’s college too, since that’s what her dad would have wanted.
I gather Alicia against me, listening to the slow throb of her heart as she drifts off to sleep.
I’m done with the dangerous life, but I’d kill in a heartbeat to protect her.
Vin offers to help us with the necessary arrangements, for a fee of course. It comes to over twenty grand altogether: new passports, an itinerary out of the country. He points us toward Texas, hooks us up with a dark green Ford Explorer. It’s a mom car through and through, but the cops won’t look twice at it.
“What about your Maybach?” I ask Alicia as we’re getting ready in the parking lot. She’s helping Eloise into her jacket.
“It’s not mine,” Alicia says.
“But you won’t miss it?”
“Jesus, of course I’ll miss it.”
The Maybach idles dormant in Vin’s garage. I thought for sure it’d be destined for the chop shop, but Alicia insisted we return it to her old employers. They’d done nothing wrong, she said. They were good people.
So one of Vin’s guys will take it back. Along with her handwritten notice of resignation.
It makes sense: if she disappears, that’s one less face the police will be on the lookout for.
I know I’ll be on the run my whole life. I don’t think there’s a statute of limitations on murder.
Which is why we’re headed to Texas. From there, we’ll grab a boat. And from there, maybe Mexico. Maybe further south. There’s a lot of world out there and I haven’t seen most of it.
I slide the bag down off my shoulder, the surprise I’ve been keeping for Alicia since Augustine’s.
“Hey,” I say, approaching her. Alicia looks up. The sun catches her auburn hair, which falls in gentle waves around her face. I reach out and brush a strand behind her ear on impulse.
“If we’re going on a road trip, you should have a camera. I hear you’re actually a pretty good photographer.”
I had the extra lenses leftover in our hotel room sent out this way, then ordered up a replacement for the camera she abandoned in the casino. It’s all packed up in the bag on my shoulder.
When she opens it, her eyes shine. Just about with tears.
She throws her arms around me and we almost drop the thing.
28
EPILOGUE: ONE MONTH LATER
~ Alicia ~
I’m gently stirred awake by the slow lap of waves against the yacht’s hull. Slowly, more sounds filter in: the distant caw of gulls. The lengthy, sprawling mattress is tangled with white sheets, nice and cool against my skin.
For a moment, when the sun shines through the door, the whole world is golden. It’d make a great photo, but my camera’s on the dresser.
As usual, Jake’s out of bed before I’ve even woken up. But I’m used to that. Most mornings, he’s fishing. Or talking excitably to our Captain, learning the ins and outs of sailing the big wooden beast we now call home.
The yacht’s an older model, all classy, high-gloss wood. Its interior is also bigger than my old apartment in Echo Park. I slip my silk day robe onto my shoulders and knot the belt, then walk out onto the deck, enjoying the feel of cool deck under my bare feet.
At first glance, I don’t see Jake or Eloise anywhere. Or Gilbert, the Captain. But this isn’t unusual. We’re anchored off the coast of a small town near Ciudad Del Carmen. We’ve been slowly sailing our way down the Gulf of Mexico, leaving the searching eyes of the United States government behind us.
We’ll settle down soon. We have to get a tutor for Eloise, after all.
Just as I’m convinced my new family is out and about town, I hear a girlish giggle from the rear of the boat.
I’m still learning all the boat terms. Pretty sure they’re near the stern.
Sunlight streaming through a thin, gauzy layer of clouds hits my shoulders and neck, warming me as I pad along the deck.
At the aft deck, Jake and Eloise are engaged in what appears to be a very serious fishing lesson. Jake’s got his rod all ready to go, but Eloise is watching, mortified, as he threads a worm onto her hook.
When he spears the worm onto the hook, she squirms, letting out a shrill groan of disapproval.
“That’s horrible!” she shouts, condemning him.
“It’s alright,” he assures her. “They can’t feel pain.”
I don’t know if that’s true or not. But I nod in unison with Jake as I approach.
“Uncle Jake’s right,” I say. “They can’t feel pain. They’re just fish food.”
I stroll over and lean in, stealing a kiss from Jake, just a quick peck on the mouth. He reaches up to embrace me, but I duck away, robe fluttering around my legs.
“I just saw your worm fingers. Nice try.”
Jake leans forward, wiggling his fingers in my face.
“Aw, come on, I’ll wipe them on your robe.”
Groaning, I elbow him in the ribs, then leave him be. I hurry over to Eloise, then stoop down beside her. She’s lost interest in worrying about whether the worm is suffering. Now, she’s looking over the edge into the clear blue water, watching the ripples slap against the hull of the yacht.
I can’t believe the life this poor girl has had. First losing her mother, then her father. Jake was the only thing she had left.
I feel a pang in my chest. I look up at him reflexively.
Nothing can erase the things Jake has done. I know he used to work for some real bad men. I know he used to hurt people. But I also know that everything he did, he did for Eloise. The men he killed at Isobel Towers, the trail of damage we left across the desert… it was all to ensure Eloise’s safety.
That’s what Jake is, at his core: he’s a protector. First for Alain, now for Eloise and me. I know without hesitation that he’d kill for me if he had to.
And if those men from Vegas ever come for us, maybe he’ll have to. But for now, making our way slowly southward, that’s not a concern. We’re mobile. We’re nomadic. Each day blends into the next: sunshine and grilled fish and sailing lessons and reading with Eloise.
We’ve got a little map of the world in the cabin. We’re going to tick off the countries as we sail past. Jake let me in on his finances, explained the accounting business he used to run with his little brother. We’re going to be in good shape for a very long time.
Sometimes, I wonder how Val is doing. I think about my old job, remember cleaning out cars for the Touring Club, holding open doors for the rich and famous, for the world’s elite.
I wasn’t made to be a servant like that.
Neither was Jake. We’re alike in that way.
I lean against the rail, watching Jake help Eloise cast her hook. This close to the harbor she probably won’t catch anything, but she’s all smiles. It’ll keep her occupied.
Jake’s so good with her. He’s patient, slow, understanding when he has to be. He helps her cast her hook over the rail, then slowly let the line out. She holds tight to the rod with both hands as if terrified a fish will yank it away at any second. Jake laughs, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.
I can’t help it. My heart melts. Worm fingers or no, I lean in and sling one arm around him. Jake’s so big I can’t even side-hug him all the way, but he bends down and presses a kiss to my hairline, inhaling deeply when he does so.
“I love you, Alicia Brennan,” he whispers in my ear. It sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.
I’m not Alicia Ference yet, but that’s only because we don’t know what country we’re going to end up in. We may as well wait u
ntil we settle down and know the local marriage laws, right?
While Eloise is occupied with her fishing pole, Jake casually slides his hand up one of my legs, fingers playing over my skin just at the hem of my robe. I reach down and snatch his hand, weaving our fingers together.
“Ooh, that was the worm hand,” Jake admits. I groan in dismay.
Then he bends down to kiss me again, winding both arms around my waist. He lifts me just barely off my feet, an easy feat for someone so strong.
The gulls call out overhead. I feel like I’m flying, too.
~ The End ~
Also By Morgan Black
WASTED
A Dirty Boys of Chicago Novel
Farrah:
I wanted to kill that bastard.
Xavier Santini ripped my family apart.
Now it was my turn for revenge.
I'd do anything to find out the truth.
About my mother's death. About him.
I'd even pretend to fall in love with him.
But then I realized, after all this time, I was still his.
Xavier:I've wanted her since the moment I met her.But it's been ten years.
I've been in prison.
Locked away from the one woman I couldn't have.
I'd kill again to keep her safe.
To make her mine.
Wasted is a FULL LENGTH, Standalone with NO CLIFFHANGER and a HEA.
For a limited time, it also includes Uncovered, a full-length romantic suspense!
Turn the page for a sneak peak!
Xavier
She was so fucking beautiful.
There was no question about it—with her stunning dark hair and intoxicating hazel eyes, she was gorgeous. She had a unique look about her, unlike any of the other girls that I had slept with. Large doe eyes, with an innocence that I hadn’t ever encountered before. Nobody around me was that innocent. We all had our deceptions. Lies we told people to get by. But not Farrah. But I guess that was why I wanted her so badly.
She was forbidden.
I remembered my father telling me that once. I wasn't allowed to mess with any of the women in the family. Not that she and I were blood relatives. We weren't even related. But her mother worked for my dad, and that made her a part of the family, which meant she was untouchable. But it didn't mean that I didn't think about her. Her small hips swaying as she walked away from me. The way she flirtatiously glanced over her shoulder. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. She just didn't care. But I did.
I wondered what she looked like now. So much time had passed. Was she still so thin? So fragile? Or had she filled out?
I imagined she had. Beautiful curves that I could touch. Taste. Breasts that would fill my hand when I grabbed them. But fantasies didn’t satisfy me like the real thing.
I heard the clanging on the outside of the bars that startled me out of my restless sleep. I never slept well in jail. I should've gotten over that by now, having been in here for four years, but I hadn't.
I hadn't had one good night’s sleep since I had been locked up.
I opened my eyes slowly, trying not to appear disturbed by the noise outside, but I knew that the guards were just trying to get my attention. It was always one of the guards trying to assert his power. Dumbass. I could own them in a second if I wanted to.
I was part of the Santini family. No matter what the guards liked to believe, they didn't have full control over me, even if I was in jail. My father did. If he ordered a hit on somebody inside this prison, it would be my job to get it carried out, no matter the cost. If some stupid asshat guard tried to stop me, I’d have to take care of it, and quietly.
Luckily, my father hadn’t asked me to do any jobs lately. He just wanted me out of this hellhole. I didn’t think it was out of love or because he missed me—that wasn’t my old man’s style. I suspected it was mostly my mother putting pressure on him. She had convinced him that I deserved to be out, after all that I did for the family. The only reason I was in here was because of them, anyway.
But that was how it was in the Santini family. You did as you were told.
I waited for the noise again, but instead, I just heard the sound of someone clearing his throat.
“Santini, your lawyer’s here. Get your ass up.”
My lawyer? I wasn't supposed to have a meeting with him for another week. My parole hearing was next month, so there was no need for him to be here now. I wondered if this was some sort of message from my father. Shit, I hoped it wasn’t an ordered hit. While I was good at what I did, I didn’t want to risk fucking up my parole meeting.
“What the hell are you talking about, guard? My lawyer’s not coming today.”
I heard the keys jangling against the bars as he started to open up my cell. “Well, he's here now, so unless you want me to turn him away, I suggest you get your ass up and out here.”
I nodded as I wrapped my hand around the metal bedframe of the bunk above me and pulled myself up. I smiled at the empty bunk. I hadn't had to share a cell with anyone in a few weeks; I think they were scared to put anyone new with me. It wasn't my fault that the last guy had gotten a broken nose. If he hadn't been such a dick about taking up the mirror all the time, we wouldn’t have had a problem. I just let them know that taking up the mirror wasn’t going to help him with his looks.
The guard cleared his throat in annoyance.
“I'm coming, I'm coming.”
I turned around and stuck my hands behind me through the bars, which was the protocol. I knew he would have to cuff me, not that it mattered. If I really wanted to overpower this twerp, it wouldn't be that hard. All it would take was a swift knock to his head with my own, and he would be out like a light. It had been about a month since I'd last gotten tased, but I wasn't really in the mood to relive that experience right now. It wasn’t worth it to start anything with him. After he cuffed me, he attempted to assert his dominance over the situation and held me tightly by the uniform. You do that, bro, act like you’re the man. I didn’t really give a shit about this guard and his power pissing contest. All that I wanted to know was what my lawyer wanted.
I let my thoughts wander as we walked through the sterile halls. I hated the way this place smelled, like sweat and old piss. So instead, I thought about how she used to bake, how she and her mother would make pies and bring them in once a week. My favorite was the apple pie. I missed the warm, sweet aroma filling the office.
The office was where we held all the business. It was located under a strip club that the family owned. Growing up, I’d always gone with my father to the office; he wanted me to learn the family business when I wasn’t in school, so seeing naked women was never a new thing for me. The strippers didn’t take too much interest in me until I was in high school. That was when I finally filled out into my large frame. Several of the girls offered to teach me how to please a woman, and being a stupid high school kid, I took them up on their offers. Sure, those women were hot and always ready to go for a ride, but as I grew older, I realized that they were just assets of our family business. They weren't real people.
They certainly weren't Farrah.
As we walked the rest of the way to the conference rooms, I wondered what she was doing. Who she was with. Was she safe? I had spent hundreds of nights dreaming about her. Dreaming about what I would do when I saw her again. How I would take her and make her mine. It was one of the only things that kept me sane in this place. I would give anything to have those hazel eyes on me again.
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Kelley Carson is successful, beautiful, and celibate. But that last part certainly isn’t by choice. Seems every time Kelley meets someone who might be able to help her scratch her physical itch something always goes terribly wrong.
Then she meets Lawson; a hot
real estate attorney, who by the looks of him doesn’t have a problem getting ladies into bed, and she desperately wants him to take her home.
Will she make it through one date without totally screwing it up? Or will she go home alone again?
Excerpt
So I call this portion of my diary “Lawson” because it’s all about Lawson, that guy I met in the bar on Ladies’ Night. Yeah I met a guy on Ladies’ Night. Guys actually still come to those things. It’s not all just a bunch of women, that’s what I mostly thought it would be. Actually come to think of it, before meeting Lawson, I had a rather portly woman buying me drinks. I don’t think she honestly thought I was going home with her, but thinking back on it, maybe that brush on my butt was more of a love tap. Hmmm I wonder if I still have Joyce’s number around here somewhere.
But anyway, after Joyce had bought me drink number three and we were having a rather in depth conversation about the latest episode of The Bachelor I had to excuse myself to use the rest room.
“Be right back,” I said holding my drink up to her. She winked back and raised her Miller Lite at me. Geez how did I not see that love connection before?
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