Until Joe

by Smith, CP

  He didn’t wait for Armstrong to respond. Instead, Joe turned his back on the old man and walked away. After talking with his wife, he doubted the old man was dangerous; rather, he was used to his money taking care of any problems. Unlike Joe, he wouldn’t get his hands dirty because it was beneath him and might soil the family name. Joe had no such qualms if his sons or Bernice were in danger. He’d do whatever it took to protect them until the day he died.

  _______________

  There are moments in your life that are so profound that you couldn’t forget them even if you tried. I imagine the birth of a child would have been that for me if I’d had one of my own. But there is one memory I’ll never escape: the day a policeman came to our door and told me my beloved big brother, his wife, and son had perished in a horrible car accident. The sounds of that moment are etched deeply into my mind, never to be purged, no matter the amount of alcohol consumed. Calla’s helpless shrieks at the loss of her family were unlike anything I’d ever heard. They marked my soul, left me bleeding with no chance of healing. Those memories are held in a deep part of your soul and become a part of who you are. This was one of those times.

  As I was standing in the shadows of the moon’s glow, watching out the patio doors at three in the morning, my breath caught at the sight of Joe on the beach.

  He’d been quiet after dealing with my father. Too quiet. It had worried me, until he’d taken me to bed and made love to me in such a way that I knew he’d be mine forever, as long as the fates didn’t intervene. Or my father. After what seemed like too short a time in his arms—the clock told me it was hours—I’d fallen asleep on his chest, listening to the deep beating of his heart while his fingers ran through my hair as if it were the finest of silk. But I’d woken up to an empty bed a short time ago, so I went searching for Joe. I’d found him on the beach, and my heart had leapt into my throat at the sight of him.

  Standing under the moon’s glimmering rays, Joe was dressed in a pair of swim trunks and nothing else. The hard lines and planes of his body looked carved out of marble in the pale light. His head was bowed, his arms loose at his side. Before I could move to open the door to find out if he was okay, he began to move gracefully in what looked like a modified tai chi exercise for strength and mobility. I stood mesmerized as I watched his limbs curl then shoot out like he was fighting an imaginary opponent, only to slow down to a seductive speed that took more concentration and balance than the killing blows he threw. He jumped, twisted, turned sideways in a circle, his fluid hands turning into fists of power, leaving me breathless. Here was a man who was dangerous and gentle at the same time.

  My heart pounded rapidly in my chest while I continued to watch this incredible man tame whatever demon my father had unleashed. I knew he was fighting for control, reeling it in before he lost whatever sense of honor he had left. My heart ached as I watched, knowing it was because of my father he’d been pushed this far, but I wouldn’t let him go. Couldn’t let him go. Not now. Not ever.

  When his leg shot out with powerful force, then he jumped and spun in mid-air, something inside of me burned brighter, stronger, like an explosion of heat that ran through my veins until I was nothing but a single fiery atom. I reached out to the window, placed my hand on the cool surface, and knew without a doubt why Joe had mumbled the word BOOM!

  Joe had said BOOM! meant he’d been washed clean of his sins. That I was an angel who’d saved him. But to me, BOOM! was more of a feeling. It meant you’d finally come home. That the puzzle piece you’d been searching for your whole life had dropped into your hands, and it was your job to curl your fingers around it in such a way that you never lost hold. BOOM! In an instant, your life changed as drastically as if you’d been blown apart. Your past was your past, and your future was standing in front of you. And if you didn’t hold on with both hands, you’d never be the same.

  Ten

  Don’t give up

  JOE PLACED A stack of pancakes on a tray, then grabbed the OJ he’d found in the freezer and poured a glass for Bernice. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep after his moonlit exercise. He’d puzzled over Preston Armstrong until his blood pressure pounded in his head, so he took to the beach to get rid of the tension. He’d felt Bernice watching him, but kept at the tai chi, intermixed with tae kwon do, so he could center himself. Her father had struck a nerve. Threatening his sons was a surefire way to get his back up, and the old man seemed to know it. Joe had few weaknesses in this life. His sons were one of them, but he refused to back down. He didn’t think the old man had it in him to go after Chris and Nick.

  Joe glanced out the window at a bush that was in full bloom and grabbed a knife. Two minutes later, he had three fragrant buds sitting in a clear glass. He drizzled warm syrup on the stack of pancakes, then lifted the tray he’d found and headed upstairs. Bernice wasn’t a woman who needed taking care of. She’d stood on her own two feet her whole life, but Joe didn’t care. She was his now. He planned to pamper her as much as she’d let him.

  He stopped in the doorway and took in the sight of Bernice as she slept. She was naked, one leg bent as she lay on her stomach. She’d tucked one of her hands under her face, and her hair fell like a fountain of blonde silk across his pillow, where he’d left her after he’d ravaged her once he’d come back inside. She’d taken everything he’d given her and then some. She was greedy in a way that told him she needed him as much as he needed her.

  He wasn’t lying when he’d said she wasn’t the only one who felt twenty again. After years of providing for his family and taking care of the club, Joe felt as if he’d been given a new lease on life. One where he could live exactly as he wanted rather than taking care of what needed to be done. He was young enough that the time between now and his twilight years gave him endless possibilities. And he wanted to share every one of those with the angel spread across the bed. She was his reward for the years he’d sacrificed his own wants and needs for everyone else. Just like she had. It was their time to experience all that life had to offer. Soul-deep love being the first on that list of guilty pleasures.

  With that in mind, Joe moved to the bed and placed the tray on a side table, then crawled in behind Bernice. There was no time like the present to satisfy a craving, so he pulled down the sheet that lay loosely across her back until her whole body was open to him. He didn’t know if she worked out to keep her body in shape, but after meeting her mother, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was genetic. Her stomach was flat, her ass round and full, and her breasts were a wet dream. But it wasn’t her body that drove his need to new heights; it was the complete package. She was kind. Sassy. Had a sharp mind and wasn’t hung up about material things. If anything, she seemed to hold all that glitters with contempt. And she’d loved and raised her niece as if she were her own child. Her sense of family was as strong as his.

  Her porcelain skin had few marks on it, attesting to a lifetime of taking care of it. It was firm and smelled of the moisturizer she’d used after her shower. He ran a single finger down her back so he could revel in the silky feel of it. Her body twitched at his touch, and he smiled. Leaning down so he could taste the velvet smoothness of her skin, Joe touched his tongue to her ass, then nipped it with gentle teeth. Her breath hitched in response, feeding the predator that lay inside every man. When she rolled with a breathy, “Joe,” spilling from her lips, he moved between her legs and began to eat her with such hunger, her back arched within seconds.

  He kept at her until her breathing stuttered with her coming orgasm, then he rose up and buried himself to the root. He could feel her tighten around him, and he groaned at the feel, breathing deeply to keep from spilling inside her before he brought her to completion. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he surged forward, raising one of her legs so he could thrust deeper.

  “Mine,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Say it.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yours.” But she was feeling territorial as well, so she reached up and pulled his m
outh to hers and bit his lip, stating, “Mine,” to Joe.

  He drove in hard and answered her claim with a growl of approval and a definitive, “Always.”

  “Don’t let my father win,” she begged, tears filling her eyes as she watched him intently.

  He braced an arm next to her head and stopped his assault on her body as a tear fell down her cheek. “He’d have to kill me to keep me away from you,” he said gently, brushing the tear away. “And I don’t think he has it in him.”

  When her lips trembled, he covered them with his own and began to dance with her body again. It was slower this time so they could both touch and taste while the fire built to a crescendo, then in perfect timing, as if they’d spent years together rather than days, they both found their release, sealing their fate.

  _______________

  “Do you want to hold off riding on the beach until tomorrow or go today?” Joe asked as he rubbed my foot.

  We were relaxing on the beach, catching the last few rays of the day as families darted about in the surf, while I texted Calla about my father.

  I looked out over the horizon and decided I’d rather stay right where we were. “Tomorrow, I think. I’m perfectly content right here.”

  Joe smiled then raised a beer to his lips. I followed the motion, my mind blanking as he swallowed deep from the bottle, the muscles in his neck stretching, exposing his masculine neck. A recollection of a conversation I’d overheard the Wallflowers having tickled my memory as I watched. Calla had said watching Devin drink sent tiny shivers through her body. She wasn’t wrong.

  My phone pinged with a return text, so I opened it and read.

  Calla: He’s such a horse’s patoot. Sounds like he’s getting desperate.

  I had no doubt he was. Just like Devin, Joe was proving to be a formidable adversary. That thought made me smile and relax farther into the sun-warmed sand. Life had finally seen fit to send me a man I felt safe with. One who was kind. Smart. Had a deep sense of family. For me, he was perfect in every particular, and his looks only sweetened the pot.

  A seagull cried overhead, its massive wings fanning the humid air around us. I’d gazed up to make sure he didn’t deposit an unwanted gift on my head when Joe’s phone began to ring. He glanced at the screen and his eyes lit up.

  “My son, Nick,” he stated, grinning as he swiped to answer by the third ring.

  I smiled back, then rolled to my stomach so my tan would be even. Joe rested his hand on my bottom, squeezing once as he answered.

  “Nick. Good to hear from you, Son.”

  I couldn’t hear Nick’s response, but Joe’s hand jerked where it lay on my bottom, then he surged to his feet, barking out, “What hospital?”

  I rolled instantly and cupped my hand over my eyes so I could watch Joe. He had his head bent, one hand at his neck as he listened.

  “I’m in the Outer Banks. The nearest airport is over an hour away. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Joe said. “Let him know I’m coming. That I love him.” The strangled sound of his words had me on my feet and reaching for him as he hung up.

  “Joe?” I held my breath as unease crept up my spine like a snake with talons.

  He finally looked at me. Rage clouded his features. “I have to go. Chris was shot sometime this afternoon. I won’t be able to take you back to Savannah.”

  “Shot?” I gasped.

  “I don’t know the details, only that he’s in surgery. They contacted Nick, and he called me.”

  “Go, I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do.”

  He nodded briskly, then pulled away in a hurry, putting a distance between us I felt in my core, and ran toward the beach house, his phone back to his ear before he made it halfway back. My feet stayed planted firmly on the sand in shock as the implications rushed to the forefront of my brain. Joe had told me this morning why my father had pissed him off, sending him out onto the beach in the middle of the night. He’d threatened his sons.

  Icy fingers of fear choked my throat until I couldn’t breathe without effort as what this meant pounded in my head. If my father had done this in retaliation, I was under no illusions that Joe wouldn’t seek vengeance. In one move of a chess piece, my father had not only won, but he’d signed his own death warrant. If Chris died, Joe would kill him and go to prison.

  I took off running, following in Joe’s wake, anxiety fueling my speed. If my father had done the unspeakable, it was my fault. I should have stuck to my guns and steered clear of Joe for his own good. I knew my father was ruthless, but I clearly misjudged how far he would go to win. Most men caved when met with the brick wall of unlimited resources my father had, but Joe hadn’t even blinked. That might have pushed my father, who wasn’t used to losing, over the edge.

  I hit the beach house on tired legs, dashing up the stairs so I could help in any way I could, and ran into Joe, who was pulling his T-shirt over his head. He stepped into his boots while he buttoned his jeans. When he was done, he turned to me with a blank face.

  I couldn’t seem to form words at that moment, because it finally hit me what this meant for all of us. For his sons. All of the Rouger men were in danger because of my father. I opened my mouth, but nothing I said could possibly ease his pain or make up for what my father might have done. I managed, “Joe,” but it came out sounding like I’d swallowed a toad.

  His eyes closed, and the empty mask he’d worn just a few short seconds ago morphed into one of pain. I reached out and ran my hand down his cheek as tears blossomed in my eyes, trickling down my face. At the contact, he reached out and jerked me into his arms. I held on as we stood rooted in deafening silence. We both understood exactly what this meant. Because of my father, we had to say goodbye. Whether Chris lived or not—and I prayed with all I had he did—it was too high a risk if my father was involved. He had to protect his sons.

  “Be careful,” I whispered into his chest. “Know I’ll be prayin’ with everything I am that Chris will be fine.”

  He didn’t answer, just held me tighter for a few moments more, then leaned down and kissed my forehead, pressing his lips there much longer than I expected, killing me just a little bit in the process.

  Joe stepped back slowly from our embrace without a word, then turned and opened the front door. I don’t know why I chose that moment to say what I said, but every cell in my body told me it was the right thing to do. I whispered as softly as I could as he started to close the door, because the words had to be uttered at least once in his presence, “I love you, Joe.”

  His hand jerked slightly, so I knew he’d heard me despite my soft tone. He hesitated for a moment, then came rushing back inside, grabbed my face with both hands, and kissed me with such force, my knees weakened. I poured everything I had into the kiss. My love. My grief. The loneliness that had already begun to sink deep inside me with the knowledge we were over—and the guilt: raw and ugly to the point of suffocating.

  He released me just as quickly as he’d started, but this time, he didn’t stop as he walked through the door and pounded down the steps. He had to get to his son. Chris was more important than anything between us. I would have done the same in his place if it were Calla Lily. When you become a parent, you sign on for life. You take a vow to always put your children first, no matter the cost. Which meant Joe and I were over. That ship sailed with the pull of a trigger unless my father went to prison, and with his connections, it wasn’t very likely. Like any good parent, Joe had to make sure his sons never came to harm again because of our relationship.

  His Harley roared to life like the shot of a gun, making me jump. He revved it several times to heat up the engine, breaking me from my frozen stance. I ran to the door and watched while he walked the big motorcycle back with his legs, so he could turn it toward the highway. He revved it twice more, then turned and looked back at the house. I stepped through the door onto the landing and held his eyes. We stayed like that for no more than a few seconds, then he gunned the Harley and sped off at the speed of
light.

  That’s when my legs gave way. I sank to the landing and curled my arms around my knees, leaning my head against them. I stayed that way until the sun burned my fair skin.

  It wasn’t until a motorcycle roared past, reminding me of Joe, that I finally stood up with a purpose rather than self-pity. In between missing Joe and hating my father, it occurred to me there was still some semblance of hope. There was always the slim possibility Chris had been shot by someone not hired by my father, and until I heard from Joe that he suspected Preston was guilty, I wasn’t giving up hope. Hope for Chris to make a full recovery and hope for Joe and me to finally have what we’ve both wanted our whole lives: each other.

  With that thought in mind, I rushed inside to find my phone. I wanted to send Joe a text message that I wasn’t giving up on us until the bitter end. We’d been too stunned by the news when we first heard to think clearly. Now that I had, I wouldn’t roll over until the evidence said it was time to give up. If the evidence pointed at my father, I would do everything in my power to make him pay.

  I searched the kitchen for my phone, then remembered I’d had it out on the beach with me. I flew down the stairs to the little part of the beach where we’d been sitting and stopped dead, squinting in the low light of the setting sun. While I’d been licking my wounds like some ninny with no brains, my phone, towel, and magazine had been pulled out with the tide. I searched for my phone on the off-chance it was floating in the waves, but after five minutes in the dismal light, I trudged up the beach and back into the house. I looked around for a landline but didn’t see one. I checked for an office I’d missed when we toured the home, but the house was void of anything but relaxation and comfort. Seems no one had a landline anymore when cell phones were so convenient.

  I glanced out the window toward my closest neighbor and saw lights on, then deflated when I realized I didn’t know Joe’s cell number, or anyone else’s, for that matter, without my phone. Technology was awesome until you depended on it so much that you found yourself stranded on a barrier reef without a phone or transportation.