Surrendering To Him

by Hope Jones

After that, we sat at his dining room table eating the eggs and toast he fixed. I was sated and feeling extremely relaxed from my two orgasms by the time Hux sat down.

  “Got everything sorted with your insurance agent and your windows are boarded up. You can go home whenever you want to grab anything you need to stay a little bit longer.”

  The grin that spread across my face couldn’t have been wider if I tried. While I loved spending time with Huxley, being cooped up in his condo was beginning to wear on my nerves. I was used to being on the go.

  “Yay!” I exclaimed, springing up and kissing Hux passionately. “Thank you.” I sat back in my chair, shoveling toast in my mouth so I could get dressed and leave.

  “Welcome, babe.”

  Eating in comfortable silence, my mind started to wander. Hux confirmed yesterday that the Disciples and Hector had left town, so while we were still wary, it was a little safer for me than before. He also stressed that I should still carry my panic button on the off chance that Hector rolled back into town. I agreed, knowing it wasn’t fair for me to worry about his safety and not give him the same consideration.

  Being so happy was a different feeling than I was used to. But it also brought my fears to the surface. I was waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. What goes up must come down, so to speak.

  My anxiety must have been plastered on my face, because Hux put his toast back on his plate and asked, “You okay?”

  My knee-jerk reaction was to push my fears aside and not talk about them. After my discussion with Hux the other night, I knew that was no longer an option.

  “I’m okay. I’m just concerned,” I said, placing my feet in the chair and resting my chin on my knees.

  Hux’s eyes dropped to my legs before coming back to my face. “About?”

  I sighed. “Things are going so well right now. I’m happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. And I’m worried something is going to fuck it all up. You’re going back to a regular work schedule and your job is dangerous,” I admitted.

  Hux stood and kneeled in front of me, clasping my hands in his large ones. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going anywhere. I’m good at my job. I make sure I’m safe when I’m in the field.” My insides melted at his words and some of the tension dropped off my shoulders.

  “I know,” I mumbled, dropping my legs and resting my head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around me, rubbing soothing circles on my back. “I’ll call and make my appointment with that therapist today.”

  “Think that’s a good idea, baby,” he whispered in my ear then kissed the delicate spot below it.

  Hux stood, taking me in his arms and walking us down the hallway to his bedroom. “I hate to run, but I have a new client I need to meet with today.”

  I groaned but knew this was part of going back to normal.

  “I suppose I’ll let you go,” I joked.

  Hux laughed and gently sat me on the bed. I watched him move around the room, getting dressed. Before walking out the door, he bent and kissed me, reminding me of my panic button and telling me to be safe. I lay in the bed for a few moments before getting dressed and driving to my house.

  _______________

  When I walked into my house and walked upstairs, my heart hit my stomach. My entire upstairs from my bedroom to my bathroom to my office was pulverized.

  It was devastating.

  I had worked my entire life for this house. After paying back my student loans, I put every cent I earned into my house, and to see it shot to smithereens was heartbreaking. All of the windows were missing, boards covering the massive holes. There must have been several hundred bullet holes scattered throughout my bedroom, and even more in the bathroom and my office.

  It was going to take so much work to get it back to normal. Work that I had already put my blood, sweat, and tears into the first time. Shaking the sad thoughts from my head, I went into the office and started rifling through my filing cabinet.

  I kept every story I did. All the notes I took when speaking with a source, the newspaper my story was in, every minor detail was in my filing cabinet. The cabinet was organized by subject.

  I was looking for Sheriff Douche’s file. I wanted to go back and look at everything to see if there was another story there. I couldn’t do a piece on how the election was rigged, because that was already being talked about. I needed something with a little more juice.

  I was having trouble finding the sheriff’s file folder. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t in my cabinet at all.

  What in the hell?

  I knew it was in my cabinet before my house was shot up. Hell, I had just added the car chase experience in my notebook and then put my notebook back in the filing cabinet.

  A thought crossed my mind, and I immediately pulled my phone out and dialed Hux’s number.

  It rang three times then went to voicemail.

  Well shit, what now?

  Then I remembered I had Roman’s number in case I needed to get in touch with Hux and he wasn’t answering his phone. Hux told me that if he was meeting with a client or out on a job, he rarely kept the ringer on. The last week and a half had been an exception because of Hector.

  He told me Roman always had his ringer on, even if he were in the same meeting as Hux. He was a direct line to my guy without him having to seem rude to a client by taking a call that wasn’t an emergency. I dialed Roman’s number and got him on the second ring.

  “Yo,” he answered.

  “Hey, Roman, I can’t get in touch with Hux and I think someone may have been in my house,” I told him, worrying my lip between my teeth. I didn’t want Hux to flip his shit and scour the ends of the earth to find Hector and kill him. The last thing I needed was for Hux to go to jail. Hector and Sheriff Douche were the only people I could think of who would want my evidence against Sheriff Douche.

  “Who? What makes you think that?” he replied, all the lightheartedness gone from his tone.

  “I keep a filing cabinet in my office with all my notes. I’m looking for the file on Sheriff Douche and can’t find it. I know I had it in here. Could he or Hector have come in here before they skipped town and stole it?”

  I heard a door shut in the background and figured he had walked away from whatever conversation I could barely hear in the background.

  “Hux didn’t talk to you, did he?” he asked back, and my hackles rose.

  “Talk to me about what?”

  Roman sighed, and I could practically hear the trouble he was having deciding on what or how much to tell me.

  “Roman, half the cat’s out the bag, so let the other half out and don’t leave me hanging,” I said, pinching my nose between my thumb and forefinger. Whatever Hux did or didn’t do, I needed to know before I went back to his place, so I had time to calm down.

  “Phoebe,” Roman hesitated.

  “Look, I get it,” I started. “Your loyalty lies with him, and I’m not trying to discourage that, but clearly he did something with my stuff or you wouldn’t have brought him up. This has something to do with me, so you need to start talking.” My anger was rising, but I was doing my best to keep a level head and not blow up.

  “Hux took the file. Said ‘I know her. She’ll still write the story.’”

  Hux was not wrong, but it wasn’t his place to dictate what I did with my notes. I was gonna kill him. Seriously, that man knew exactly how to push my buttons.

  “Okay,” I said, frustrated.

  “Phoebe,” Roman warned slowly.

  “Nope. I’ll deal with him when I get back to his house.”

  Click.

  I ended the call and set my phone down on my desk a little harder than I should have, considering I couldn’t afford a new one if I shattered the screen.

  We were doing good. We were talking more, mostly about what life was like for him growing up, what my grandparents and mom were like. My fears and facing them. Hux knew what my stories meant to me. He knew how important they were. I couldn’t
comprehend why he would just take my file.

  He should have talked to me. If he didn’t want me to write the story, he could have brought it up over dinner. If he was worried about me writing the story and risking Hector coming back, he could have said something. He could have brought up his fears. After all, he had been pounding into my head for so long that I needed to face and voice my own. That I should speak to him about how I was feeling instead of shutting down and keeping everyone at arm’s length.

  What a crock of shit it was for him to demand and expect those things from me but not give them in return. I never had anyone mess with my research in this way. It was a foreign feeling, like a violation.

  If I couldn’t be proud of anything else, I could be proud of all my work. I knew I kicked ass at what I did.

  And all that work was gone.

  I didn’t want to be petty, but I also didn’t want to see Hux for the next couple hours, so instead of blowing him off, I sent him a text.

  Me: I’m hanging out with Millie for a while. I’ll be home later.

  I didn’t expect a response, so I turned my phone on silent, shoved it in my purse, and walked out of my shot-up house without a second glance.

  Twelve

  Dead-Dead

  “WELL THAT KINDA freakin’ sucks,” Millie responded, sitting on the couch next to me and handing me a glass of wine.

  “Tell me about it,” I replied.

  When I showed up at Millie’s door, she immediately knew what I needed by the look on my face. I threw my purse on the table in her foyer, folded myself on her couch, and preceded to rant about Huxley.

  “But I also understand where he’s coming from,” Millie said, shocking the words right out of me.

  “I... what?” I stuttered, my body tensing and sitting up a little straighter.

  Surely, I couldn’t have heard her right.

  My best friend, who has been there for me for ten years, was not taking my boyfriend’s side in an argument.

  “I see where Hux is coming from, and he isn’t entirely wrong, but neither are you,” she reiterated.

  “Whose side are you even on, Millie? Of course he’s wrong!” I fumed, blowing a strand of hair out of my face and slumping down even farther.

  Could I seriously not have some girl time and unload my problems on her? Why was she taking up for him anyway? Millie had to have a fever or something.

  “I’m on your side, and that’s exactly why I’m telling you this, Pheebs. He isn’t wrong. You made a deal with Hector to find something else to write about. His deal was he would leave town and take his cartel and drug peddling with him, so long as you didn’t out him. He didn’t make any threats about what would happen if you renege on that deal, but it’s also kind of implied,” Millie said, staring directly into my eyes and shrugging. “You can’t worry over him but not allow him the same feelings. It doesn’t work that way. Huxley taking your notes ensured you wouldn’t write that story and put yourself in danger. In a way, he’s protecting you.”

  I huffed, because I knew she was right, but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet.

  “I also believe he could have done a better job of what he was trying to accomplish. He should’ve said something to you first. I’ve seen firsthand over the years what you’re like when you go after a story. I know the blood, sweat, and tears you put into your work, so to have it taken without having a say-so is a little shitty.”

  “Thank you!” I yelled.

  Taking a sip of wine, she smiled.

  I knew she was right.

  In the back of my head, I already said pretty much the same thing, but I wasn’t willing to let go of the hurt of having my work taken from me.

  Glancing down at my phone, I noticed two things.

  One, I didn’t have a response from Huxley yet, an hour after I had sent him the text telling him where I was. I figured he would have text me back by now but thought maybe he was giving me some space since undoubtedly Roman had told him I was more than a little mad.

  The second thing I noticed was it was already 6:00 p.m. and I was exhausted. My heavy lids were closing for longer and longer periods.

  While I wasn’t drunk off my glass of wine, I could tell it had made me a little sleepy.

  “I think I’m gonna crash here for a couple of hours, if that’s okay?” I asked Millie, stifling a yawn.

  She giggled. “You don’t even have to ask, and you know it.”

  I stretched out on the couch, throwing Millie’s afghan over me, and fell asleep in less than a minute.

  _______________

  I was moving, but not by choice. I knew I wasn’t on the couch anymore, because the only solidness I felt was below my knees and around my shoulders; therefore, I knew I was in someone’s arms.

  I smelled the same spicy, mint gum that I smelled the first time I kissed Hux in his safe room. My assumption was I was being carried by him out of Millie’s house and to Hux’s car.

  Without opening my eyes, I snuggled deeper into Hux’s neck and moaned quietly, reveling in the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me and the scent of him engulfing me.

  A low growl erupted from his throat, vibrating my nose.

  “Wish you would make those noises when we got home,” I slurred, my voice still thick with sleep.

  “Oh, I’m gonna make some noises, baby.”

  “Mmm,” I moaned, licking his throat for no reason other than wanting to taste him.

  “I have no problem fucking you in the car before we make it home.”

  While I loved the idea of that, I pouted. “We can’t. Your car is too small. You aren’t a small person, honey.”

  I fell back asleep before I could hear his response and didn’t wake up until Hux was pulling my jeans down my legs and my plain white T-shirt over my head. My bra was taken off next, and a soft cotton shirt that was Hux’s replaced mine.

  I fell back into the bed with a flop and laid there for a few minutes while listening to Hux rustle around the room and in the bathroom.

  I was no longer angry at him, but I also didn’t want to talk about what he did while I was sleeping and unable to get my point across because of exhaustion.

  Maybe he would let it go until morning if I feigned sleep.

  Knowing Huxley Carson, this was not going to be easy for him.

  Hearing the toilet flush and knowing he was walking out of the bathroom, I moved to the middle of the bed like I did every night, taking my pillow with me but resting my head against his. Any time he left the bed before me in the mornings, I immediately moved to his pillow to keep his scent all around me. I slept more comfortably that way.

  Huxley got in the bed the same way he did most nights, shoving me over gently, forcing his arm under my head, and pulling my body flush to his.

  “Want to talk about it?” he whispered into the dark room.

  “No,” I grumped, not shoving my body closer to his like I normally did.

  “Gonna grouch all night?” he asked, humor lacing his tone.

  Clearly, he thought this was funny.

  “You’re a dick,” I snarked back.

  “You know exactly why I did what I did. Millie told me you know why.”

  Turning over to him with a huff, I explained, “I get why you did it, yes, but it doesn’t excuse the fact that you could have talked to me and actively chose not to. You expect me to express every feeling and concern with you, but you don’t expect me to want the same?”

  My eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. I made out the features on his face and could see the furrow in his eyebrow. He genuinely hadn’t thought about that before.

  I wasn’t sure if this made me okay or more pissed off.

  “You really didn’t think I would care how you felt?”

  “It’s not that,” he expressed, confusion still evident on his face.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Phoebe, what would you have said if I told you not to write the story or that I was going to take your notes?�
�

  My mouth slammed shut, and I locked down every emotion that was previously playing on my face.

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s not fair, Hux.”

  “How so? You can tell me day in and day out that my job scares the hell out of you, but considering the deal we made with Hector, your job isn’t supposed to scare me?”

  “No, my job isn’t supposed to scare you!” I yelled back.

  “I hate to tell you, babe; this case specifically does scare me,” he snapped irritably.

  “Well, it shouldn’t.”

  “Don’t think you understand, baby. Hector wants you dead. As in dead-dead. Not in the hospital needing some stitches. Not a couple of bruises. He wants to make an example out of you. I’ve seen a lot of things in my line of work, and Hector is on the nastier side of that. You want to know what he did to a snitch one time?”

  The humor Hux was holding on to a few moments ago was completely gone. In the middle of his speech, he had sat up and was looming over me like a dark shadow. The lines and planes of his face were wrinkled with a mix of frustration and worry. Suddenly, I felt bad for being a bitch to him.

  I squeaked a reply and wasn’t sure if I said yes or no, but Hux didn’t care. He kept on.

  “Last year, detectives farther north, where Hector’s operation was settled, put an undercover cop in the cartel who worked for damn near a year, gaining everyone’s trust and moving up the ladder. Hector found out he was a cop and gutted him. Hung him up on a light pole, guts dangling out.”

  I gasped, hands flying to my mouth and tears gathering in my eyes.

  “Yeah, baby,” Hux continued, the hardness leaving his tone slightly. “Hector is not one to play with. He doesn’t take lightly to someone fucking with his business. So yeah, I took your notes on him and Sheriff Romer. If it were up to me, I’d burn them until there was nothing but ashes. Not gonna do that though, because I know what those notes mean to you. But you aren’t writing that story.”

  The fight left my body, and I melted into Hux.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, snaking my hands up his chest until I reached both sides of his neck and gave him a soft, apologetic squeeze.