by Linda Kage
He set me down gently on top of the main comforter, but I shook my head. "I want it between the sheets."
Pick's eyes squinted with suspicion but he complied, ripping the blankets back to reveal the final surprise I had in store for him.
He lurched back when he saw it, as if it were a snake waiting to strike instead of brand new sheets. "What the hell?"
It hadn't been easy keeping them from him since he'd been home all day. I'd had to hide them under a pile of socks in the clothes basket to get them washed and ready. Then I'd piled both kids on him in the living room to keep him preoccupied while I'd made up the bed.
"Fuck me," he breathed.
I stood up and bit my lip, not sure if he was scared of the bed, or just in that much awe. I shifted nervously. "You never mentioned what color they were."
"This . . . " His voice croaked off before he cleared his throat and pointed to the sheets. "This color," he said. "Exactly this same pale blue color. Oh my God." He turned to me, looking dazed. "You . . . "
For some reason I was still nervous. "They're not silk. You said silk. But they didn't have genuine silk sheets at the store, so I had to settle for a microfiber blend."
Pick stepped toward the bed and hesitantly reached out to run his trembling fingers over the mattress. Yanking his hand back to his chest, he turned to me, still looking awestruck. "No, this is right. This is exactly how they felt. Christ, I can't believe you found the exact same sheets from my . . . " He shook his head, still flabbergasted. "You are the most amazing woman ever."
Suddenly, I was no longer nervous. Feeling on top of the world, I sauntered toward him and caught the hem of his shirt. "So, Mr. Ryan," I murmured, lifting the cloth up above his perfect abs and chest. "Our babies are in bed for the night, and we have this room all to ourselves. Are you ready to make a glimpse come true?"
"Oh my God. Yes." He caught me by the waist and flung me onto the bed.
I laughed as I bounced. Ripping his shirt the rest of the way off, Pick rushed to shuck his jeans next. The entire time, his hungry gaze never left mine.
Just as famished for him, I lifted my hips off the mattress and peeled off my own clothes. He paused at the nightstand for protection before crawling on top of me. Sitting on his knees naked above me with his legs imprisoning my hips, he gazed down at me as he rolled the condom on. Watching the plump wet head disappear inside the latex before he stroked himself, he teased me by letting the massive column bob out in front of him directly above my face so I had a very intimate view of the show he put on. Further up his body, his nipple ring glistened in the overhead light.
Heat and moisture pooled between my legs. I clamped my thighs together, not ready to be quite so aroused. I wanted to draw our last night out for as long as possible.
But Pick, Mr. Super Lover, had other ideas. He caught my thighs and drew them apart, gazing at me spread open and throbbing before him. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Inside and out." The love in his eyes was so profound I could feel it swelling in my own chest and between my legs.
Dipping his face, he feasted. Shocked by how good it felt, even though I knew what to expect, I jerked under his mouth, pulsing and needy. His tongue ring gave me no mercy. He barely pressed a finger inside me before my womb constricted and my body exploded. I cried out in anger because I so wasn't ready for it to be over yet, but also in passion because it felt so freaking perfect.
"Wow, you're responsive tonight." Pick grinned as he lifted his face. It was one of those self-satisfied, smug grins, and I loved putting it there.
I reached up, grasped his face, and jerked him down to me. This kiss was warm and carnal, yet laced with more adoration than I'd ever felt for anyone. Tasting myself on his tongue, I moaned and clutched him desperately, needing to feel him deep and full inside me.
"I need . . . I need . . . "
"I know," he soothed, lowering his hips to mine. "I've got you, babe."
His penetration was slow and so torturously amazing, I started to come again before he'd even gotten all the way inside. Realizing what I was doing his eyes widened with shock. "Fuck, Eva." He surged the rest of the way in, letting me pulse around him.
Waiting until I was finished, he blew out a breath, then pulled his face away to show me his stunned expression. "Did you take some kind of aphrodisiac?"
Sweat beaded to my brow as I tried to catch my breath. "You're my only drug," I panted. "I just . . . I want you so much."
"I'm right here. There's no rush. You have me for the rest of the night." Moving his hips, he kissed my cheek and whispered, "For the rest of our lives."
I closed my eyes and bit my lip. If only.
As he kept sliding in and out, flexing his hips and hitting me just right every time, it didn't take long for my body to coil back up with arousal. "You're going to come a third time, aren't you?" he teased, his eyes all bright and proud.
"Shut up." I slapped his butt and then groaned at how the erotic sound made me even more sensitized. "No one likes a braggart."
His mouth lowered to my ear. "Oh, but I think you like this one . . . quite a bit."
Then he groaned and trembled on top of me when I tightened my inner muscles around him. "Minx," he muttered, working faster now.
Loving it most when he was ground all the way in, I grabbed his ass and dug my nails in, trying to hold him there. My inner muscles quivered in delight. Pick slid his fingers into my hair and I opened my lashes to find his attention of my face. Our eyes met, and I didn't have to ask to know how this felt to him.
"Tinker Bell," he said, except what I heard was, "I love you."
I sighed in dazed wonder, knowing that no matter where my life led me from here, I would always cherish this incredible man. Smiling up at him, I had to say, "I love you."
He shuddered and his eyes went unfocused as his cock swelled inside me. And that was it; I came for a third time, throwing back my head and pushing my breasts up against his chest. He groaned, his muscles coiling taut before he thrust deep and held himself there, releasing his love.
Afterward, we panted together as he collapsed on top of me like a heavy, limp anvil. I hugged him close, relishing these quiet moments of perfection. Then I couldn't help but ask, "So, how close did we come?"
He laughed, knowing I was talking about his glimpse, and shook his head. "Every fucking detail was spot on."
I sighed, satisfied. "Good."
He pulled back to gaze at me. "It's going to be fine now, Eva. No matter what happens next. Everything's going to be fine. I know it."
I nodded, glad I'd accomplished my job of giving him such peace of mind, because I was going to make sure everything was fine—for him and everyone else I loved.
Chapter 30
EVA
The next day, I waited until after Pick left for his job at the garage. I kissed him at the door, trying not to let on that it might be the very last kiss I ever gave him, and yet I was also trying to get as much out of it as possible.
And then he was gone.
I blew out a shaky breath, commanding myself not to cry. It was time to dig out Bitch Eva and get my attitude back on. Dropping the babies off with Reese, I gave her the excuse that I wanted to get my hair cut and styled. She bought the entire story, happy to help me watch my munchkins.
Mason wasn't so taken in, though. He caught my arm at the door before I left and leaned in close to whisper, "What're you really doing, E.?"
I patted his cheek with a grin. "Don't you worry about it. I'm going to take care of everything. All you need to concern yourself with is making my best friend insanely happy, remember."
But he shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "No, really. What're you doing? Do I need to come with you?"
I sighed in exasperation and finally got him to simmer down. "No, you do not need to come with me. Nothing bad is going to happen."
I was just going to sell my soul to the devil.
***
My hands shook as I entered
Forbidden twenty minutes later. It wouldn't open for business for a good eight hours, but all the lights inside the empty club were on and one of my father's favorite melodies played from the jukebox, making my skin crawl.
Uncertainties rose as Pick's voice filled my head along with everything he'd say if he knew what I was doing: "What are you thinking, Tink? Turn around and walk out of there right now. This plan isn't going to work. Think about your babies. They need their mother. Think about me. I need you. I'll come after you wherever you go."
But I couldn't think of anything else I could do to save them. So I strode purposefully down the hall until I reached the door that said Manager on it. When I pushed it open without knocking, the first thing I saw was Quinn with his back pressed hard to the wall. He was tipping his head away from Mrs. Garrison as she leaned into him, reaching for his face.
I sniffed. "Bitch, you're pathetic."
She jumped and whirled around. Quinn immediately snaked out from between her and the wall. He hurried to my side, looking relieved that I'd saved him.
"Well, well, well," Mrs. Garrison murmured, glaring at me. "If it isn't daddy's special girl. Didn't he ever teach you to knock?"
I lifted my chin and crossed my arms over my chest. "Of course not. He taught me to do whatever the hell I wanted."
From the opened office door behind me, a familiar laugh haunted my ears and made my heart drum hard and fast against my chest. "That's my girl," Bradshaw murmured approvingly.
I turned and lifted an eyebrow, edging closer to Quinn without meaning to. "You wanted my attention," I said to the bastard. "You have it. Here I am."
"Yes, here you are." Eyeing me appreciatively, he moved into the office. His gaze flickered to Mrs. Garrison, and then Quinn. "Leave us."
Mrs. Garrison huffed in disapproval but started for the exit.
Quinn didn't budge. He glanced at me, his gaze apprehensive. "Pick warned all the waitresses to never get caught alone with him. He'd never forgive me if I left right now."
I wasn't sure which man I should be more proud of: Pick, for looking out for all the ladies he worked with, or Quinn for standing firmly by my side.
I touched his arm. "It's okay. He's my dad."
Quinn's eyes flared with horror. "W-w-well if Pick said that after actually knowing who he is, I'm definitely not leaving you alone with him. Just . . . just pretend I'm not here."
After reaching into his pocket, he unwound a cord of ear buds from a cell phone and plugged them in. Then he leaned against the wall, giving me as much privacy with Shaw as he would allow.
I smiled at him, actually grateful he wasn't going to let me face my greatest fear alone. "I guess he's staying," I said.
Mrs. Garrison huffed. "Well, if he's staying, then I'm staying."
"That's fine." I glanced at my father, snickering because this had probably spoiled half of his nefarious plans. "I don't mind an audience."
He growled out his displeasure and moved to sit at his desk, probably hoping the flawless leather throne gave him an air of superiority.
"I'm ready to deal," I told him, not waiting for him to take control of the conversation.
A slow, creepy smile spread over his face. "Is that so? I had a feeling you'd change your mind."
I nodded. "If you want me to go back with you, then sign the deed of this place over to Pick. Right now."
He lifted an eyebrow. "And you'll come back with me? Just like that?"
"I have a few more stipulations."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Like what?"
"My daughter doesn't come with me. She stays here with Reese. And you never have anything to do with either of them, nor do you let them have any contact with me."
I bit the inside of my lip hard to keep my chin from quivering and my eyes from tearing. But that had been the hardest thing to let go of. My Skylar. It went against every instinct inside me to leave my baby behind. But no way would I let her grow up anywhere near him. And the only way to get her out of his life for good was to sacrifice myself. This would be best for both of my babies. Reese and Pick, and even Mason, would take care of them, and love them exactly how I wanted them to be loved. And none of them would ever have to worry about Bradshaw or Garrison again. They'd be free to live the rest of their lives in peace.
"Hmm," he murmured, stapling his fingers as he studied me. "I wasn't expecting that one. I thought you'd grown rather fond of your brat, but fine, I'll gladly allow that condition." His lips quirked smugly. "Next?"
"Fire that bitch you hired to torment Mason. And keep her away from him."
Bradshaw shot an amused glance toward Mrs. Garrison. "She won't go willingly, but I'll enjoy pulling her away. Anything else?"
"Yes. Make sure Pick keeps his son."
My father lifted his eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
I snorted. "Bullshit. You know everything there is to know about him. And you know what Julian means to him."
"Oh, you're referring to the little crack whore's baby. That son. Yes, I'm fully aware he could lose the child if I made one small phone call to Social Services. It's a shame, really. I doubt any foster parent would care for the kid as much as your young man has. Though I'd never allow such a character to remain associated with my daughter, he does seem to be a good father."
He was the best father ever.
God, I was going to miss Pick, Skylar, Julian, Reese, damn, even Mason. But I'd do this. For a chance to keep them safe, I'd do this in a heartbeat.
"Then help him remain a good father."
Bradshaw chuckled and rocked back in his chair. "Really, darling. I don't see how I could do that."
"I don't care how you do it. Falsify a birth certificate with his name on it. Create adoption records. Don't tell me you can't do it. I know better."
"Okay, fine. You're right. I can do such a thing." His chest bowed out, showing me how proud he was of his illegal powers.
I rolled my eyes. "Then do it."
"And you'll come back?"
When I nodded, Quinn made a sound from his perch on the wall. I glanced at him, but he seemed preoccupied with whatever he was doing on his phone.
Mrs. Garrison laughed out a harsh sound. "Oh, please. Tell me you're not serious about meeting all her silly little conditions."
My father glanced at her. "I'm dead serious, Patricia. This is exactly why I came here."
Garrison sniffed, only to have her face leach of color when she seemed to realize just how serious he was. "No," she whispered. "Bradshaw, please don't do this." Hurrying to him, she fell to her knees in front of his chair and ran her hands up his thighs toward his lap.
He caught her wrists and pulled her claws away from him, clucking his tongue. "Really, Patricia. Don't be so unseemly. Besides, you're not that good of a fuck to sway me on this."
After he pushed her aside, openly dismissing her, he unfolded what I guessed was the deed to the club. Waving his pen, he grinned. "You know, I assumed you'd ask to have the club put into your own name. But I guess your heart is softer than I ever took it for. That's . . . disappointing. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter to me who it goes to. Getting you back under my roof is all that matters."
As he signed away the nightclub to Pick, Mrs. Garrison clutched her hair and screamed. "No! You can't do this. You made me a promise. I let you do all that shit to me. What about Mason?"
Bradshaw sighed and rolled his eyes as if extremely tired of her theatrics. "You were a means to an end, Patricia. And I don't give a shit about your little prostitute. My daughter wants you to stay away from him, so you're going to stay away from him."
"But—"
"You're dismissed," he cut in, glaring at her. "Get out."
Screeching out an inhuman shriek, Garrison tore across the room toward her purse.
I had no idea what she was after until she opened the top clasp and yanked out a gun.
I opened my mouth to scream. Bradshaw opened his mouth to yell. Quinn pushed away from
the wall, his eyes wide with horror. And Mrs. Garrison lifted the barrel, pointing it at my father's head.
"No one tells me what to do, you son of a bitch."
"No," he bellowed just before she pulled the trigger.
Watching his head explode imprinted itself in my retinas. It was something I'd never be able to un-see. Mrs. Garrison whirled to me, her eyes crazed and livid. She raised the gun in my direction, and my life flashed before my eyes. Pick, Skylar, Julian, Reese. They were finally free.
But shit, I didn't want to die.
Two-hundred and forty pounds of football player tackled me from the side, driving me to the floor as the gun went off. I screamed and landed hard, cracking my head against cold tile with Quinn piling on top of me. As he tightened his arms around me, shielding me from head to toe, my ears rang, my head swam, and my vision went fuzzy.
Just as Quinn went dead weight, a voice yelled, "Patricia!"
Though I was still seeing stars and couldn't focus properly, I saw a blurry image of Mrs. Garrison over Quinn's shoulder as she whirled toward the doorway of the office.
"Mason?" she gasped, her voice stunned as her gun aimed his way.
"Jesus, Patricia. What did you just do?"
He'd ducked back into the hallway but stayed right outside the door with his back pressed to the wall. I could see the corner of his shoulder from where I lay.
"I . . . I . . . he made me. He was taking you away from me again. Taking me away from this bar. I worked so hard to get him to buy this place and let me manage it. I let him . . . I let him do so much to me. And now he just wants to take it all away. Take you away? Just like that? No fucking way."
"But you just shot someone. Are you insane?"
"I was so tired of waiting. I missed you." Mrs. Garrison's chin trembled and tears filled her eyes. "You don't know what he did to me. Oh God, Mason. The things he made me do so I could get to you . . . "
Mason's answer was dry and unimpressed. "Were they anything like the things you made me do with you? Yeah, excuse me if I don't feel sorry for you."