Burn
Page 15
“Remy,” she said, but it came out like a plea. A plea for what? For more? Fuck yes. Fuck yes a million times.
He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper down. He didn’t even want to take his clothes off. He’d waited far too long for this. He just wanted inside that…
“Remy,” Sara said again, harder than before. “No, Remy. You’ve been drinking.”
He shut her up with his mouth, but her legs automatically closed the second he tried to spread them.
“Stop, stop,” she said, moving away from his face. “Stop it, Remy. No!”
“Let me in,” he gruffly ordered, gripping her hip tighter than he’d intended. “Let me in, Birdy. Let me the fuck in.”
He felt her head shake.
“Let me the fuck in!” he growled.
He overpowered her and spread her legs wide. He’d waited long enough. Too long. Fuck her if she thought she could say no to him one more time! That shit wasn’t happening. His body was primed for this; he was lost in the desperate need for fulfilment, all rational thought escaped him.
“Please,” she cried hysterically.
He gripped the pillow her head was on and squeezed the ever-living shit out of it. The tip of his cock was right there – right fucking there! Like a volcano, his anger erupted and he shouted incoherently, letting her hip go as he stormed off of her. His whole body shook, the taste of anger so palpable on his tongue he wanted to fucking blow up!
And he did. He swiped everything off the dresser and knocked the television down. It crashed to the floor as he raked both hands through his hair and stopped abruptly at the door. He knocked his head against it once, and then twice for good measure.
Why? WHY was she doing this?
“You’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ tease,” he cursed, breathing rapidly against the wood of the door.
Her cries only angered him even more. He turned to her and she recoiled at the sight of him, as she fucking should! He’d never been this pissed off before. Not even tonight’s news had tipped him over the edge like this. He was brimming in this vehemence and he hated her so fucking much for crying the way she did, the way that made his heart pain in his chest. Fuck her and her manipulative bullshit! She brings me in and pushes me away. Like stormy waves against a cliff, there was only so much crashing he could take.
“Move the fuck on!” he shouted at her, the pressure of anger so full in his head he just wanted to pop.
She brought her knees into her chest. He recognized this action from her well. She did it when she felt threatened and afraid. Fuck, she was afraid of him? The one man that would take a bullet for her without a moment’s notice?
“He doesn’t want you anymore,” he ground out, pointing at her accusingly. “I’m so fuckin’ sick and tired of this bullshit! He doesn’t want you anymore! When the fuck will you get that through to you? How else can I prove it to you—”
“You took me there on purpose!” she interrupted him. Even in the dark of the room he saw her redden from her own anger. “You wanted me to see him! That’s the only reason you took me there–”
“How the fuck else was I meant to show you he doesn’t care for you? He’s moved the fuck on! Hasn’t even disturbed me since the fuckin’ night he wanted you back!”
The words were like bullets. She flinched, the pain permeating her features, and then she had the audacity to shake her head!
“Stop this denial shit. I’ve fuckin’ had it, Sara. Fuckin’ had it like you wouldn’t believe. I’m so sick of waitin’ for you—”
“I never asked you wait, Remy,” she retorted. “You’re wasting your time with me. Go find someone else willing to put out for you.”
He wouldn’t let her see the panic those words caused him. Find someone else? He didn’t want anyone else. He’d be a shell without her.
“This isn’t about puttin’ out, Sara,” he told her calmly. God, what the fuck had he just done? It dawned on him quickly – the scene that had just unfolded, his demand for her to spread herself to him, the constant times she’d said no… He felt sick.
He stumbled to the edge of the bed and collapsed on it. Elbows propped on each knee, he looked down at the dark floor and rested his forehead against each hand. He let the silence soothe the anger away until…
“I’ve been waitin’ for you since you were fourteen,” he whispered. Oh, fuck, did he really just say those words? Maybe she didn’t hear them–
“Fourteen? Since the swings.” Her tone had softened by his calmness and it eased him. He didn’t want to fight with her. He just wanted her to know how he felt and how hard it was dealing with her constant rejection.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Pretty fucked up, huh?”
“Why didn’t you do anything?”
“You were fourteen, Sara. Four-fucking-teen. You know how sick that is? You know how sick I felt? I saw you walkin’ down the road in weird fuckin’ ducky jammies, and your hips were swayin’ with every step. I went cross-eyed just watchin’ you. I thought you were sixteen minimum. I’m perverted either way, huh?”
“You’re not perverted at all.”
“Fell in love with a fourteen year old at age twenty two? That’s perverted shit, Sara.”
Her breaths thinned. Yeah, he fucking admitted it. So what? He turned his head to her. She was eyeing him with a lost, disbelieving look.
“What’s wrong, Birdy? Cat got your pretty little tongue?” He needed to hear her speak. The silence was brutal.
To his surprise, she smiled shyly at him. “I had the biggest crush on you after that night.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I hated myself for not asking what your name was. I would get so tempted to walk into Jackal owned shops and ask about you. I couldn’t, obviously. I was too scared of them at the time.”
Well, shit. How about that? He’d always figured she’d thought he was some creep at the swings, an inconsequential occurrence that slipped away with the years.
“I’m sorry,” he said, remorse thick in his voice. “I lost my mind just now and…” And was a piece of shit for it.
She shook her head. “You stopped. That’s all that matters.”
“I didn’t want to stop.”
“I know. I didn’t want you to stop either, but…” She exhaled hesitantly, looking nervously down at her knotted fingers.
“But what, Sara?”
“I don’t think I can do this with you, Remy,” her voice broke. She quickly wiped away her tears. “I hate seeing you like this. This was coming, I knew it was. Lucinda warned me a man can only wait so long–”
“I’d wait another eleven years for you,” he interrupted unequivocally. “I don’t care how long. I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. What happened now, that was a moment of weakness combined with alcohol and other… stressful shit. I won’t let it happen again. Just… Just be patient with me, Sara. Alright?” Begging like a pussy-whipped–
Yeah, I’m a pussy-whipped fool, he thought. I don’t even care anymore.
“After all the patience you’ve shown me, you deserve it right back and more,” she told him. “I just don’t know…”
“Don’t know what?”
She stared at him with saddened eyes. “I don’t understand what it is about me that you want so much, Remy.”
“You.”
“But why?”
What did she mean why? He just did. She was the one constant in his life. She’d always been the girl that depended on him and didn’t know it. She’d given him purpose – to look out for someone when everything around him collapsed. And then suddenly he’d wanted her to know it and he wanted her to feel it – that dependency. Maybe it was to feel important to someone, or maybe it was him latching onto one good thing after the shit he went through. Regardless, it manifested into love, and the way he felt for her was unconditional.
“I just do,” he answered.
She nodded but said nothing else.
He moved up the bed and took her into his arms. He was sure she could hear the violent thumping of his heart; this was the reaction she gave him every time she was near. For once he didn’t care about hiding it. He wanted her to know he was hers. She needed to see how in love he was with her. If she knew then maybe… just maybe she’d move on from him once and for all.
Jaxon
Well, nothing could fucking suck more. He was the lowest of the low.
What were the fucking chances she would be here tonight? And to fucking boot, she’d caught him in a situation he wouldn’t have been able to defend against no matter how hard he tried.
Even though he hadn’t done shit. Not since her anyway. He’d kissed the woman, went to push her away from his pants, and then found Sara standing there. Fucking lovely.
Fucking Finley was always watching him, always throwing women in his face and waiting for him to act like he did long before she’d resurfaced. The more he did it, the more he hated him. Finley was a poison that latched onto everything in its wake. He was cunning, manipulative, and self-serving in every way. If Jaxon didn’t start stepping it up again, Finley would take matters into his own hands. And the last thing Jaxon wanted was Sara targeted because of a psychotic prick who wanted to control every living thing around him.
It made sense to him. If she was out of the picture, Jaxon would be straight back on the bandwagon as before. He’d been suspecting for a long while that he’d been the one to send out the killer as a means to rid Jaxon of his distraction and sudden moral dilemma. Before she’d come along, he’d been ruthless. Now… now not so much.
He stood up and left the empty room he had pretended to be reserved in. He ambled down the hallway of the bar, over passed out bodies and half naked women. He felt numb… and pathetic. How had he been tricked into this disgusting lifestyle? How could he have allowed himself to get so desperate?
Now he was just another chess piece in Finley’s well-orchestrated life. And he’d just reached his limit.
He stood outside and stared at the spot she’d stood in, holding him. She’d been crying. He couldn’t remove the image from his mind, and as much as he wanted to tell her what she saw was wrong that moment, he couldn’t do it without Remy blowing up to pieces. He’d tried hard lately to convey to Finley that she’d been forgotten, a blow up from Remy would have fucked it all up.
God, she went home with him. That fucking obsessive lunatic! Had they… Had they fucked? Jaxon gulped and shut his eyes. God, he hoped not. She better not have. Fuck, if she did… He took in a shaky breath as his eyes raked the spot once more. If she did? With him? After all he’d done to Jaxon? He wouldn’t be able to look at her the same again.
He heard the door open behind him.
“You alright, bro?” asked Damien.
“No,” answered Jaxon, feeling like his throat was on fucking fire. “I can’t do this anymore, man. I want out of this fucking club, out of this lifestyle…”
“You got one man standing in the way of that.”
“And he’s got everyone wrapped around his little finger.”
“No,” Damien disagreed. “He doesn’t.”
Jaxon looked at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Derek and Mark are in there saying he was talkin’ to the Jackal Prez about under the table bribes. They didn’t think they were being listened to. Apparently Manny’s been pocketing money from the mafia out east.”
“Why?”
“Using his trucks to transport their weapons.”
“And the club doesn’t know about this?”
Damien shook his head and smirked. “Apparently not.”
“And why the fuck was he telling Finley this?”
“Finley’s got connections to more organized crime bosses than the Prez. He wants to bring him into the loop to get the names across and offer the same business deal. Finley, being the businessman that he is–”
“Un-fucking-believable.”
“Yeah, man. The word’s spreading and everyone’s on the down low. Don’t want him to know we know, you know? Shit, that was confusing…”
Jaxon sighed and gave his good friend a hard pat on the back. “Tell everyone to keep an eye out then. We may very well find a way to bury these fuckers.”
Then he sent a text to his trustworthy informant.
Shit is brewing and I’m going to need you.
*****
One look. That’s all it took and Jaxon was being motioned over to where the calm and collected man sat in the corner of the prison yard.
Finley.
He was the leader of the most feared gang there. At least fifteen of his men surrounded him, eyeing Jaxon with deadly looks that he had to pretend he wasn’t intimidated by. Then he stopped, gulped down the need to grimace in his recent agony, and stared at their leader.
He had a deceptively friendly face. You knew there was a simmer there behind those eyes, and you wished he’d just show his cards like all the other psychos in the yard playing leader and screaming their obscenities. No, this man was reserved, too much of a higher esteem than the rest of them. And that made it fucking worse.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said, voice low and inquisitive. He leaned back in his chair – a plush chair that the others didn’t have for themselves and that no one in the yard had acquired from the guards – and dangled a lighter in his hands.
He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper down. He didn’t even want to take his clothes off. He’d waited far too long for this. He just wanted inside that…
“Remy,” Sara said again, harder than before. “No, Remy. You’ve been drinking.”
He shut her up with his mouth, but her legs automatically closed the second he tried to spread them.
“Stop, stop,” she said, moving away from his face. “Stop it, Remy. No!”
“Let me in,” he gruffly ordered, gripping her hip tighter than he’d intended. “Let me in, Birdy. Let me the fuck in.”
He felt her head shake.
“Let me the fuck in!” he growled.
He overpowered her and spread her legs wide. He’d waited long enough. Too long. Fuck her if she thought she could say no to him one more time! That shit wasn’t happening. His body was primed for this; he was lost in the desperate need for fulfilment, all rational thought escaped him.
“Please,” she cried hysterically.
He gripped the pillow her head was on and squeezed the ever-living shit out of it. The tip of his cock was right there – right fucking there! Like a volcano, his anger erupted and he shouted incoherently, letting her hip go as he stormed off of her. His whole body shook, the taste of anger so palpable on his tongue he wanted to fucking blow up!
And he did. He swiped everything off the dresser and knocked the television down. It crashed to the floor as he raked both hands through his hair and stopped abruptly at the door. He knocked his head against it once, and then twice for good measure.
Why? WHY was she doing this?
“You’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ tease,” he cursed, breathing rapidly against the wood of the door.
Her cries only angered him even more. He turned to her and she recoiled at the sight of him, as she fucking should! He’d never been this pissed off before. Not even tonight’s news had tipped him over the edge like this. He was brimming in this vehemence and he hated her so fucking much for crying the way she did, the way that made his heart pain in his chest. Fuck her and her manipulative bullshit! She brings me in and pushes me away. Like stormy waves against a cliff, there was only so much crashing he could take.
“Move the fuck on!” he shouted at her, the pressure of anger so full in his head he just wanted to pop.
She brought her knees into her chest. He recognized this action from her well. She did it when she felt threatened and afraid. Fuck, she was afraid of him? The one man that would take a bullet for her without a moment’s notice?
“He doesn’t want you anymore,” he ground out, pointing at her accusingly. “I’m so fuckin’ sick and tired of this bullshit! He doesn’t want you anymore! When the fuck will you get that through to you? How else can I prove it to you—”
“You took me there on purpose!” she interrupted him. Even in the dark of the room he saw her redden from her own anger. “You wanted me to see him! That’s the only reason you took me there–”
“How the fuck else was I meant to show you he doesn’t care for you? He’s moved the fuck on! Hasn’t even disturbed me since the fuckin’ night he wanted you back!”
The words were like bullets. She flinched, the pain permeating her features, and then she had the audacity to shake her head!
“Stop this denial shit. I’ve fuckin’ had it, Sara. Fuckin’ had it like you wouldn’t believe. I’m so sick of waitin’ for you—”
“I never asked you wait, Remy,” she retorted. “You’re wasting your time with me. Go find someone else willing to put out for you.”
He wouldn’t let her see the panic those words caused him. Find someone else? He didn’t want anyone else. He’d be a shell without her.
“This isn’t about puttin’ out, Sara,” he told her calmly. God, what the fuck had he just done? It dawned on him quickly – the scene that had just unfolded, his demand for her to spread herself to him, the constant times she’d said no… He felt sick.
He stumbled to the edge of the bed and collapsed on it. Elbows propped on each knee, he looked down at the dark floor and rested his forehead against each hand. He let the silence soothe the anger away until…
“I’ve been waitin’ for you since you were fourteen,” he whispered. Oh, fuck, did he really just say those words? Maybe she didn’t hear them–
“Fourteen? Since the swings.” Her tone had softened by his calmness and it eased him. He didn’t want to fight with her. He just wanted her to know how he felt and how hard it was dealing with her constant rejection.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Pretty fucked up, huh?”
“Why didn’t you do anything?”
“You were fourteen, Sara. Four-fucking-teen. You know how sick that is? You know how sick I felt? I saw you walkin’ down the road in weird fuckin’ ducky jammies, and your hips were swayin’ with every step. I went cross-eyed just watchin’ you. I thought you were sixteen minimum. I’m perverted either way, huh?”
“You’re not perverted at all.”
“Fell in love with a fourteen year old at age twenty two? That’s perverted shit, Sara.”
Her breaths thinned. Yeah, he fucking admitted it. So what? He turned his head to her. She was eyeing him with a lost, disbelieving look.
“What’s wrong, Birdy? Cat got your pretty little tongue?” He needed to hear her speak. The silence was brutal.
To his surprise, she smiled shyly at him. “I had the biggest crush on you after that night.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I hated myself for not asking what your name was. I would get so tempted to walk into Jackal owned shops and ask about you. I couldn’t, obviously. I was too scared of them at the time.”
Well, shit. How about that? He’d always figured she’d thought he was some creep at the swings, an inconsequential occurrence that slipped away with the years.
“I’m sorry,” he said, remorse thick in his voice. “I lost my mind just now and…” And was a piece of shit for it.
She shook her head. “You stopped. That’s all that matters.”
“I didn’t want to stop.”
“I know. I didn’t want you to stop either, but…” She exhaled hesitantly, looking nervously down at her knotted fingers.
“But what, Sara?”
“I don’t think I can do this with you, Remy,” her voice broke. She quickly wiped away her tears. “I hate seeing you like this. This was coming, I knew it was. Lucinda warned me a man can only wait so long–”
“I’d wait another eleven years for you,” he interrupted unequivocally. “I don’t care how long. I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. What happened now, that was a moment of weakness combined with alcohol and other… stressful shit. I won’t let it happen again. Just… Just be patient with me, Sara. Alright?” Begging like a pussy-whipped–
Yeah, I’m a pussy-whipped fool, he thought. I don’t even care anymore.
“After all the patience you’ve shown me, you deserve it right back and more,” she told him. “I just don’t know…”
“Don’t know what?”
She stared at him with saddened eyes. “I don’t understand what it is about me that you want so much, Remy.”
“You.”
“But why?”
What did she mean why? He just did. She was the one constant in his life. She’d always been the girl that depended on him and didn’t know it. She’d given him purpose – to look out for someone when everything around him collapsed. And then suddenly he’d wanted her to know it and he wanted her to feel it – that dependency. Maybe it was to feel important to someone, or maybe it was him latching onto one good thing after the shit he went through. Regardless, it manifested into love, and the way he felt for her was unconditional.
“I just do,” he answered.
She nodded but said nothing else.
He moved up the bed and took her into his arms. He was sure she could hear the violent thumping of his heart; this was the reaction she gave him every time she was near. For once he didn’t care about hiding it. He wanted her to know he was hers. She needed to see how in love he was with her. If she knew then maybe… just maybe she’d move on from him once and for all.
Jaxon
Well, nothing could fucking suck more. He was the lowest of the low.
What were the fucking chances she would be here tonight? And to fucking boot, she’d caught him in a situation he wouldn’t have been able to defend against no matter how hard he tried.
Even though he hadn’t done shit. Not since her anyway. He’d kissed the woman, went to push her away from his pants, and then found Sara standing there. Fucking lovely.
Fucking Finley was always watching him, always throwing women in his face and waiting for him to act like he did long before she’d resurfaced. The more he did it, the more he hated him. Finley was a poison that latched onto everything in its wake. He was cunning, manipulative, and self-serving in every way. If Jaxon didn’t start stepping it up again, Finley would take matters into his own hands. And the last thing Jaxon wanted was Sara targeted because of a psychotic prick who wanted to control every living thing around him.
It made sense to him. If she was out of the picture, Jaxon would be straight back on the bandwagon as before. He’d been suspecting for a long while that he’d been the one to send out the killer as a means to rid Jaxon of his distraction and sudden moral dilemma. Before she’d come along, he’d been ruthless. Now… now not so much.
He stood up and left the empty room he had pretended to be reserved in. He ambled down the hallway of the bar, over passed out bodies and half naked women. He felt numb… and pathetic. How had he been tricked into this disgusting lifestyle? How could he have allowed himself to get so desperate?
Now he was just another chess piece in Finley’s well-orchestrated life. And he’d just reached his limit.
He stood outside and stared at the spot she’d stood in, holding him. She’d been crying. He couldn’t remove the image from his mind, and as much as he wanted to tell her what she saw was wrong that moment, he couldn’t do it without Remy blowing up to pieces. He’d tried hard lately to convey to Finley that she’d been forgotten, a blow up from Remy would have fucked it all up.
God, she went home with him. That fucking obsessive lunatic! Had they… Had they fucked? Jaxon gulped and shut his eyes. God, he hoped not. She better not have. Fuck, if she did… He took in a shaky breath as his eyes raked the spot once more. If she did? With him? After all he’d done to Jaxon? He wouldn’t be able to look at her the same again.
He heard the door open behind him.
“You alright, bro?” asked Damien.
“No,” answered Jaxon, feeling like his throat was on fucking fire. “I can’t do this anymore, man. I want out of this fucking club, out of this lifestyle…”
“You got one man standing in the way of that.”
“And he’s got everyone wrapped around his little finger.”
“No,” Damien disagreed. “He doesn’t.”
Jaxon looked at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Derek and Mark are in there saying he was talkin’ to the Jackal Prez about under the table bribes. They didn’t think they were being listened to. Apparently Manny’s been pocketing money from the mafia out east.”
“Why?”
“Using his trucks to transport their weapons.”
“And the club doesn’t know about this?”
Damien shook his head and smirked. “Apparently not.”
“And why the fuck was he telling Finley this?”
“Finley’s got connections to more organized crime bosses than the Prez. He wants to bring him into the loop to get the names across and offer the same business deal. Finley, being the businessman that he is–”
“Un-fucking-believable.”
“Yeah, man. The word’s spreading and everyone’s on the down low. Don’t want him to know we know, you know? Shit, that was confusing…”
Jaxon sighed and gave his good friend a hard pat on the back. “Tell everyone to keep an eye out then. We may very well find a way to bury these fuckers.”
Then he sent a text to his trustworthy informant.
Shit is brewing and I’m going to need you.
*****
One look. That’s all it took and Jaxon was being motioned over to where the calm and collected man sat in the corner of the prison yard.
Finley.
He was the leader of the most feared gang there. At least fifteen of his men surrounded him, eyeing Jaxon with deadly looks that he had to pretend he wasn’t intimidated by. Then he stopped, gulped down the need to grimace in his recent agony, and stared at their leader.
He had a deceptively friendly face. You knew there was a simmer there behind those eyes, and you wished he’d just show his cards like all the other psychos in the yard playing leader and screaming their obscenities. No, this man was reserved, too much of a higher esteem than the rest of them. And that made it fucking worse.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said, voice low and inquisitive. He leaned back in his chair – a plush chair that the others didn’t have for themselves and that no one in the yard had acquired from the guards – and dangled a lighter in his hands.
