Chapter 9 NOVA #2
I clung to his broad shoulders, then tipped down to take his mouth. His taste was intoxicating, and I gave myself permission to remember this. When it was done and the destruction of my game finished, I would remember Emmett inside me.
He gripped my ass, holding me tight as he pounded, stroke after stroke until my orgasm broke and my mewls echoed off the walls.
“Fuck,” he groaned as I pulsed around him. Then he clamped his mouth on my shoulder, his teeth firm on my skin. While my obsession was leaving nail tracks on his shoulders and chest, his was leaving teeth indentations.
We marked each other.
In the years to come, would I look in the mirror and see those marks? Part of me didn’t want them to fade.
Emmett came on a roar, his body shuddering as he poured himself into me, long and hard. Then he dropped his forehead to mine, holding me as we both came down from the high.
As the stars cleared from my head, he set me down on unsteady feet and took my hand, bringing me under the water once more. We washed each other and when I stepped out of the shower and into the towel he held out for me, I smelled like his soap.
I dried my body, then stood naked in front of the mirror, towel drying my hair as he stood behind me, glorious in his own nudity.
“What’s this one?” I dragged a fingertip over the tattoo on his wrist. It was a black bird, its wings spread wide.
He reached past me for the top center drawer and opened it, pulling out a wide-tooth comb. I figured he’d brush out his own hair, but instead, he took the ends of mine.
Tingles raced up my skin as he combed, his knuckles occasionally skimming my shoulder. I closed my eyes, a low hum of pleasure breaking free as he worked from the ends up to my scalp.
“My mom wanted to get matching tattoos, so on my eighteenth birthday, we went to the local shop and this was what she picked out. Surprised the hell out of me. I figured I’d walk out of there with a heart or butterfly or something dainty. But she liked this bird. She said it suited us both.”
It did suit him. It was bold and assertive. But there was a feminine edge to it too. The delicate tips of the wings. The sweep of the bird’s tail.
Emmett finished with my hair, then quickly combed out his own. Tossing the comb aside, he went to the walk-in closet off the bathroom, emerging with two pairs of sweatpants, one T-shirt and one hoodie.
I got the bulk of the clothes while he only stepped into a pair of pants. Clothed and breathing in the clean scent of the hoodie, I followed him to the kitchen, where he snagged two beers from the fridge.
“Living room or deck?”
“Deck.” No question. I loved to sit outside, even if it was cold and dark.
He opened the door and stepped outside, settling into his lounge chair. I opted to sit with him, between his open legs so I could lean into his chest.
There was a book on the floor beside us, one that hadn’t been there yesterday. “What are you reading?”
“Just a book Mom gave me. It was my dad’s. She thought I’d like it.”
His father was dead. Something I shouldn’t know because he hadn’t told me. “Your dad is . . .”
“Died when I was twenty-six.”
I stayed quiet. The normal reaction would be to say I was sorry, except I knew I’d choke on the words.
Emmett’s father, Neal Stone—or Stone, the only name Dad had ever called him—had murdered TJ.
Dad had taken his revenge. The Warriors had ambushed Stone at The Betsy and killed him.
My heart began to race because I didn’t want to talk about Stone. That was personal territory, and we weren’t personal.
“Mom’s been going through his stuff,” he said. “She gave that to me on Friday last week.”
Friday night he’d texted and told me that he’d be late coming home, that he’d text me when he was on his way. We’d met after nine and I hadn’t left until Monday morning.
I’d locked myself away, shut out reality and pretended the clock wasn’t ticking.
“Have you read it yet?” I asked, shifting to see his face.
“No, but she did. She liked it.”
His mother would likely be devastated when Emmett went to prison. But that was the point, wasn’t it? To hurt these people the way they’d hurt us?
Emmett looked down and stared at me for a moment. His gaze was nearly unreadable in the dark light. Could he see the guilt crawling beneath my skin? It was black and tangled with my veins, darker than any of his tattoos.
I broke first, turning to stare into the black trees. The half-moon shone above us in the cloudless sky and illuminated the tips of the tallest evergreens.
What am I doing?
That question crossed my mind and weakness spread through my bones. Dad would hate my weakness. Dad would hate that my weakness’s name was Emmett Stone.
I gulped a long drink of my beer. If he had any idea I was having these doubts, he’d chastise me endlessly. He’d tell me to do better.
Actually, he’d replace me.
He’d arrange for someone else to come after the Tin Kings. Maybe he’d contact another club, one that would blaze into Clifton Forge and leave a trail of dead bodies in their wake.
The only thing keeping death at bay was me.
My heart was pounding so loudly Emmett might hear it, so I inhaled a long breath, giving him my weight, and when I emptied my lungs, I willed myself to a shaky calm.
His fingers found the ends of my damp hair, twirling a lock around one of his fingers as he brought his own beer bottle to his lips.
He’d hate me.
A month ago, I’d hoped for hate. I’d hoped he’d rot in a prison cell, cursing my name. And if everything had gone to plan, I’d be free, reveling in my victory.
What a fool I’d been.
“Nova.”
“Yeah.”
Emmett bent and kissed my temple. “What’s going on in your head?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I had a shitty day at work. That’s all.”
“Want to talk it over?”
“That’s not really us, is it?” It couldn’t be us.
He dropped his bearded cheek to my hair. “No, I guess it’s not.”
We sat there until our beers were empty and my cheeks were rosy from the cold. Emmett led me inside, flipping off lights and setting the alarm system before we retreated to his bed, where he curled me into his side.
I relaxed my body but kept my mind alert. Stay awake. His breathing evened out. The hold he had on me loosened. And as he slumbered, I fought the weight in my eyelids.
It was time to move forward. It was time to act. Before my father deemed me unworthy. Before I lost the nerve completely.
I shifted away from Emmett and lay perfectly still, and when I was sure he hadn’t woken from my movement, I eased off the bed.
His room, like the rest of the house, was full of fine furniture. I passed a six-drawer chest, my feet sinking into the plush Aztec-style rug that covered most of the hardwood floor and disappeared beneath his massive king-sized bed.
My steps were slow, my breath held in my lungs, as I tiptoed out of the room and down the darkened hallway.
Emmett trusted me in his home. A mistake on his part. Another prickle of guilt on mine. I swallowed it down and hurried down the hallway and past the living room.
In my time here, I’d spent hours in the living room and kitchen.
I’d eaten meals at the dining room table and there was nothing in Emmett’s bedroom I hadn’t seen.
But the other side of the house was a mystery.
Just like we weren’t the couple to talk about our days, he also hadn’t given me a house tour.
I snuck past the kitchen, casting one last look over my shoulder to make sure Emmett hadn’t woken up.
Then I poked my head into the first room I passed.
It was a guest bedroom, its closet mostly empty.
The bed was made and nothing was hidden beneath its frame.
The drawers of the nightstand were also bare.
The laundry room was next. The cupboards above the washing machine and dryer were full of detergents and softeners. Emmett had an iron and a bottle of starch that I suspected got little use. There was a pack of light bulbs and a stash of cleaning supplies.
I hadn’t expected to find anything in plain sight. Emmett wouldn’t keep incriminating evidence in the tall, narrow closet that held his vacuum. So I felt my way along the interior walls to make sure there wasn’t a compartment or something hidden.
My father had kept the videos and recordings he’d made of the Warriors in a lockbox that he’d stowed beneath his refrigerator. I had to give the FBI credit. Their search of Dad’s home had been nothing if not thorough.
I moved silently toward the next door in the hall, one that opened to a black staircase. I gripped the railing tight, using my toes to feel from one step to the next, too afraid to turn on the light.
When I finally reached the bottom, I breathed, glad it was a daylight basement because moonlight streamed in through the sliding glass door that opened to the yard. The space was huge, running the length and the width of the house.
Emmett had a pool table in the main room.
I poked at the pockets and green felt, feeling my way along the edges for anything that might open up.
I did the same with the foosball table against the wall.
Then I scoured the large entertainment center and sectional positioned on the other end of the space.
He hadn’t once brought me down here to watch TV, even though this was clearly the better couch and television. We’d always stayed upstairs and watched the TV above the living room fireplace. Why? Was there something down here he didn’t want me to see?
Another room had been set up as a home gym. It was far enough from the windows that the room was dark, so I’d have to check it later. There was one more guest bedroom with an en suite bathroom. And the last door opened to a storage room. Its shelves were organized and crowded with plastic tubs.
I’d have to go through them later too. Tonight was simply about mapping where I needed to spend more time.
Closing the storage room door behind me, careful so it didn’t make a thud, I darted up the stairs. At the landing, I went to the last room.
Bingo. The office. A wide executive desk sat in the center of the room, its surface crowded with laptops and monitors. A gun safe was in the corner beside a window and a bookshelf. I’d bet money it had more than guns inside.
Before I worried about how to crack it open, I’d start with the laptops. Emmett wouldn’t leave anything about the Tin Kings in the open, but there might be something on one of those laptops to point me in the right direction.
Worrying I’d been gone too long, I backed away from the office and turned, only to run face-first into a wall of muscle.
I gasped as Emmett’s hands came to my arms, steadying my feet. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
“What are you doing?”
I dropped my forehead to his chest, my heart pounding in my ears. “I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother you, so I came down the hall to find a quiet corner to read on my phone.”
The lie tasted like acid on my tongue, but if Emmett suspected anything, he didn’t let on. He simply wrapped me in his arms, running his hands up and down my spine.
“Why can’t you sleep?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed, hoping my breaths would level out. “Sometimes I have a hard time shutting off my brain.”
“Yeah, I get that sometimes too.”
“I saw this”—I motioned toward the office behind me—“and started wondering what you did for work.”
“I’m a mechanic,” he said. “But I have some rental properties and investments around town.”
“Ah. Hence the office.”
He nodded, taking my hand and leading me toward the other end of the house. He pulled with enough insistence either he was exhausted and wanted to go back to sleep, or he didn’t want me in his office.
“Why a mechanic?” I asked, hoping my curiosity wouldn’t trigger any alarm bells.
“I like to build. I like to take things apart and put them back together. My dad was the same way. He taught me about cars and bikes when I was young.”
We made it past the living room and his pace slowed. A yawn stretched his handsome face.
“Sorry I woke you up, Ace. I hope you don’t mind that I went down the hall. I was going to leave but you set the alarm and I didn’t want to open a door and have it go off.”
“No worries. And I’m glad you didn’t leave.” He let go of my hand to put an arm around my shoulders, hauling me into his side as we returned to his bedroom.
I climbed into bed and curled into his arms. The dusting of chest hair over his sternum tickled my chin and I ran a hand up his stomach, letting my fingers thread through the coarse strands.
“Does it bother you that you don’t know my name?” My question streamed past my lips before I could shove it aside. The moment it was out, I realized how desperately I wanted the answer. Because if I hadn’t known his real name, it would have driven me insane.
“Yes.”
“It’s Nova,” I whispered, tipping up my chin to meet his gaze.
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He chuckled and kissed my hair.
It was safe for him to call me Nova because Nova Talbot didn’t exist. June Johnson on the other hand . . . that was the identity he could never know existed. It was the reason my car had fake license plates.
Looking those up would lead to a dead end, but a dead end would raise suspicion. At this point, I was fairly sure Emmett hadn’t run my plates. Otherwise he would act differently toward me, right?
Right. There was no way he knew I was June Johnson, daughter of January Johnson. June’s father was unknown. But June Johnson had a younger brother, TJ Johnson.
And TJ, even for a brief time, years and years ago, had been an Arrowhead Warrior. That was the link. That was the fact he could never discover.
It was better to tell him my name was Nova. Maybe it would even help me keep his trust.
“Want to know my name?” he asked.
I shook my head, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “No. I like calling you Ace.”