Jerk: A Bad Boy Romance (21 page)

“I’m thinking.”

She shoved the gun in my ear.

“If you think that’s going to help me concentrate, it isn’t,” I muttered as my entire body trembled. “I can’t think with that gun crammed in my ear canal.”

“Pick up the pen.” When I didn’t move, she clicked the gun.

I squeezed my eyes and grabbed the pen.

I wished I could call Clay and warn him. He would be next. If I couldn’t save myself, I wished I could at least save him. But there was absolutely no way I was going to get my hands on a phone.

I stared down at the paper.

If I couldn’t save either of us, could I at least make sure Carrie went to prison for what she’d done? I would need to word this letter in such a way that even someone who didn’t know me would see it was a fake.

I started by addressing it to Mom
and Dad
, hoping that would raise a red flag if the authorities did an investigation on me.

“Good,” Carrie grumbled sliding the gun up to my temple again. “Now keep going.”

I was glad Carrie and I hadn’t gotten to know each other well. She wouldn’t pick up the inconsistencies in the letter.

From that point the writing flowed. I created an entirely different life, complete with regrets I’d never felt and promises and mistakes I’d never made. I wrapped it up with a vague,
I never expected things to end like this when I had so much to look forward to
and signed it.

If Carrie didn’t like it, too bad. She’d either need to leave me alone while she found some more paper or accept it.

She snatched it up and read it while I watched, my breath blocked in my throat by a huge boulder. She squinted in a few places, which made me hope she might insist I write a new letter. But after reaching the bottom of the page, she smacked it down on the counter. “It isn’t perfect but it’ll do,” she snapped. “Now the fun part.”

The contents of my stomach roiled.

My heart slammed against my breastbone.

She shoved the gun harder against my left temple.

I clamped my eyes shut and prayed I would die fast.

“Don’t worry. At this range, you won’t feel a thing,” she promised.

God, I hoped she was right.

A crazy thought occurred to me, and I blurted, “The noise. People will hear.”

“Duh. Silencer.”

Fuck! “I’m right handed,” I yelled.

“Huh?”

“You have the gun pointed at the wrong side of my head.” I made an L with my right forefinger and thumb and pointed at my right temple. “See?”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

As she shifted the gun to her other hand, I clamped my eyes shut and swung my arms, hoping I’d knock it away.

It worked. She yelled, “Shit! You bitch!”

I opened my eyes, catching her diving for the fallen gun.

I sprinted for the nearest door, grabbed the handle with my shaking hands, and yanked.

Unlocked!

I ran in blind terror down the steep staircase, my arms outstretched in front of me.

The door. If only I could get outside, I would have a chance.

“You fucking bitch!” Carrie screamed behind me.

Something whizzed past my head. It sounded like a huge bug flying really fast. The wall next to me puffed, dust flying.

Bullet!

Oh God!

I pumped my legs harder, desperation propelling me so fast I was stumbling down the steps, bouncing between the walls on either side. At the front door, I fumbled. It was locked. But all I needed to do was twist the deadbolt.

The wood next to my head splintered, bits blasting my face and eyes. I cried out, tears instantly blinding me. My fingers gripped the lock.

Turn.

Push.

Out!

I ran as hard as I could, slamming into something hard, immobile. Tree. It was a tree.

I screamed and pushed away from the tree as it too was broken by another bullet. She was shooting at me! Outside! Where anyone could see. I dragged the back of my hand over my eyes as I ran.
Clear up, dammit! Clear up!
I tripped over something and did a belly flop onto the hard ground.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t.

Breathe.

A shadow loomed over me.

I shouted, wincing. I clamped my burning eyes shut.

This was it. The end.

I heard a click.

A bang.

I jumped.

Pain?

No. No pain.

What happened? Was I dead? Was it true, I hadn’t felt a thing?

I inhaled. Exhaled.

Breathing. I was breathing.

Shouting. I heard shouting.

“Morgan!”

My name.

I blinked. A lot. Still couldn’t see a damn thing. The world was one great big smudge of color.

Strong arms wrapped around my quaking body. I inhaled.

That scent.

Clay!

Falling into his embrace, I bawled like a freaking baby.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s over. You’re safe,” he said in a soft, deep voice.

I heard the words. But I was still too wound up to stop crying. I tried to swallow my sobs, but that hurt as they busted up my throat and out my mouth. I sounded like I was choking. Probably because I was. Choking on tears. On terror. On horror.

“Babe. I’m here now. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“S-she was going to shoot me.”

“I got here as soon as I could. Hardin called me after he met with you. He told me you were upset. And he said Carrie had followed you out. I had a feeling she was up to something. ”

Hearing footsteps, I lifted my head. We weren’t alone. There were men surrounding us. Some were wearing gun holsters. A couple had sheriff uniforms. “Who are they?”

“I called a few friends, in case I needed help.”

“I glanced over at the crumpled form lying on the ground not far from me. “Your sister. Is she...?”

“Yeah, she’s dead.”

My insides twisted, making me feel like I might throw up. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything to deserve any of this.” He glanced at his deceased sister, his expression softening. He had loved her. It was clear. “Carrie was... troubled. She’d been that way for a long time.”

“Was what she said true? Were you adopted?”

“Yes. That part was true. When she found out my adoptive parents had left their ranch to me, she was furious, despite the fact that she’d been left a great deal of money, too. Since our parents’ death, my sister has been a lot of trouble. She’s done some things to me... bad things. But I never expected her to go this far.” He blinked eyes that were getting redder by the second.

“It has to hurt...”

“We grew up together. We were close once... best friends. I don’t think either of us knew I was adopted until the reading of the will. They’d kept it a secret.”

I didn’t know what to say.

To lose your best friend was a terrible tragedy.

To lose your best friend on top of your parents...

And now, to learn that former best friend had wanted you to suffer and was willing to do just about anything to make that happen...?

My heart was breaking for him. And for the innocent child, Emmy, who had just lost her mother. Tears blurred my eyes again. “I would do anything to take away all your pain. You don’t deserve any of this. Neither does that sweet little daughter of hers.”

“Thank you. You are the most wonderful, generous, giving woman I’ve ever met. And I love you. Very much.” He stood, scooping me into his arms, and I squeaked in surprise.

“Put me down. I can walk.”

“Of course you can. But I’m not putting you down. Because now that I have you in my arms, I can’t let you go. Ever.”

I’d never heard more wonderful words.

I looped an arm around his neck and grinned at his charming, handsome face. “Very well. You have me. I’m yours.”

I
sat smooshed against Clay all the way home. If I hadn’t, I was sure I would have fallen apart. Clay was my rock. He held me up. He held me
together
.

Once we were home, he scooped me out of the truck and carried me inside his house. Absolutely, I could have walked. I was no shrinking violet... at least, not when crazy women with guns weren’t threatening my life. But I appreciated his gallant show of chivalry.

Walking swiftly, and rattling off a million questions, he carted me straight to his bedroom then lowered me down on the bed. “What do you need? Water? Something stronger? Are you hurt anywhere? Should I call a doctor”?

“I’m fine,” I answered, my teeth still chattering slightly. Adrenaline. It did crazy things to a girl.

Clay plopped on his ass beside me and gripped my hand like it was his lifeline. “Are you sure? I have to leave.” My heart literally stopped. Leave? Now? He was going to leave me alone? No. “I have to see to Emmy. She’s at preschool. I have to pick her up.”

Of course. Emmy. Poor baby, Emmy! “Yes,” I murmured. Alone? I was going to be alone? My heart rate amped into overdrive.

“You’ll be fine. You’re safe here. Nobody will hurt you here. Nobody will ever hurt you again.”

I gulped in those words, wanting to believe them... needing to believe them. Nobody would ever point a gun at me again. I would never feel so terrified. Tears leaked from my eyes. “Thanks.”

Harper. Where was she? Harper could sit with me.

What the hell was I thinking?

I wasn’t in danger anymore. I didn’t need anyone to sit and hold my hand.

I was alive. I’d survived. And I was
not
going to let the actions of one sick woman turn me into a cowering and frail little girl.

“Babe, you’re my life. You and Emmy. I’d die before I let anyone hurt you.” Still holding my hand, he cupped the other over my cheek. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I nodded. That was one demand I didn’t have a problem obeying. I doubted my knees were strong enough to carry me anywhere, even down the hall. Clay gave me one last look and left, and I pulled the covers over myself and closed my eyes.

I focused on breathing. In. Out. I relaxed my legs. My stomach. My arms. My face. Darkness swirled. And then in a blink horrific images flashed in front of my eyes.

I lurched upright a scream bottled up in my throat. Gasping for breath, I said, loud enough to hear over the thundering of my heartbeat, “It’s over. She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

Did I believe those words? Yes. But did that stop the terrible images from returning the instant I started sliding into sleep again? No. Once more I rocked upright, sucking in huge lungs full of air.

But this time, Clay was there to take away the terror.

He wrapped me in his strong arms and whispered sweet promises in my ear. Promises to protect me and cherish me and make me happy for the rest of my life. Gradually, as the seconds turned to minutes and the minutes to hours, I was able to fall asleep, cradled in Clay’s arms. The nightmares didn’t return.

By daybreak I wasn’t trembling anymore. Clay’s low rumbling snore soothed my nerves and slowed my heart rate to a more human pace. I wriggled and Clay’s arm, flopped over my waist, tightened, tugging me flush against his warm, hard body. A little quiver of arousal skittered through me at the feel of his morning hard-on pressed against my stomach.

Life was precious. Yesterday I had learned that lesson. At any time it could be stolen away from me. With the swerve of a car—or a bullet—my life could be stripped from my grasp. Or the ones I love could be taken from me.

From this point forward I would not take anything for granted. Not one person. Not one minute. Life was short. And it was the most precious thing in the world.

This wonderful, caring man was the most precious thing in my world. He would know it, too. I would make sure of it.

Stretching, I wiggled against him, this time trying my best to wake him in a way any man would like to be. I wriggled my hand between our bodies and inched it down until my fingers found their target. His cock, covered in cotton knit boxer briefs. I teased it through the material before pushing my hand beneath the waistband.

Skin-to-skin. Delicious.

A rumbling moan let me know Clay appreciated it too.

He rolled me onto my back, pinning me to the mattress and trapping my hand in his underwear. “I wasn’t expecting this kind of good morning,” he said, his voice husky and low. “Not after the rough night you had.” He brushed his lips across mine before reaching down to pluck my hand from its cozy spot and pin it to the bed next to my head. “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to have to tear your clothes off and make sweet love to you all day long.”

Every cell in my body rejoiced. “Is that a promise?” I asked as I parted my knees to let his body settle between them.

He angled over me and nipped my neck. “What do you think?”

I shivered as a chill burned up and down my side. Goose bumps prickled. I pushed the one hand Clay didn’t have hostage up over his bumpy abs and defined pecs. His skin was as smooth as satin, with a line of dark, downy hair cutting through the middle of his abdomen, arrowing straight to his erection, hidden behind the gray knit material that was slightly damp in one spot. Precum. My insides dampened at the sight.

He shifted above me, arm and shoulder muscles flexing. What a sight it was, to look up at such a beautiful man. He loved me. Me! He wanted me. It blew my mind that someone who could be on the pages of a magazine found me attractive. But there it was, the desire, shimmering in his eyes. It could not be missed. “Do you know what I want to do to you right now?”

“Tell me.”

“I want to take you to the edge of ecstasy. And then I want to watch you cum.”

I liked the sound of that! Purring, I raked my fingernails down his picture-perfect abs. “I’m all yours. Do what you wish.”

He beamed a wicked smile and pushed against the bed, sliding down my body. Then he released my hand and grasped my knees, forcing them apart. I felt his gaze rake across my heated flesh. It burned right through my clothes.

A little moan slipped from my lips.

Clothes. They had to go. I grabbed at my shirt, but Clay knocked my hands away.

“This is mine to unwrap. Mine.” He slowly dragged the material up my body, one inch at a time. He worked agonizingly slow. I quickly grew impatient. But every time I tried to help, he pushed my hands away. Little butterfly kisses rained over my stomach, my chest, the cleft between my breasts, my collarbone. Once the shirt was off, the bra was next. He lapped at my nipples, and it felt as if an electrical charge was zapping straight to my center. My hips rocked forward and back to the building need thrumming through my body. More. I wanted more. More kisses. More touches. More, more, more!