Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Jason
Angie gasps. “What?”
“It’s a long story. And I’ve told it twice already today.”
“To whom?”
“Once to Blake, and then again to a detective.”
“You’re going to have to tell it again, then, because I don’t want secrets between us.”
“I know. You’re right.”
For the third time, I pour out the story of where I went last night and why. What I found out as a result. And then the questioning with Blake and the detective. How my one shot at corroborating my story was found dead this morning.
Angie listens. I can tell she’s trying not to interrupt, which I appreciate. When I’m finally finished, she just stares at me.
“Jason,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… This is beyond…”
“I know,” I say. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”
A tense silence falls over us, Angie’s eyes wide and filled with fear. I reach out, intending to comfort her, but she flinches away.
“I can’t believe this,” she murmurs to herself. “Ralph isn’t Ralph. He’s…”
“A murderer,” I finish for her, the words tasting sour in my mouth.
“And he wanted me to believe that about you,” she says.
Rage boils through me. “What?”
“I didn’t believe it. Not for a minute. But he said you had killed before.”
I think back to the first time I failed a patient on the operating table—a mistake that cost a young man his life.
“He’s not wrong,” I say.
Fear laces over her gorgeous face.
“It was five years ago, in the OR. Like I said in class, every surgeon will make a mistake at some point in their career that ends a life. I’ve carried that burden with me since.”
Not nearly as much as the burden of my daughter’s death, but I leave that part out.
“Oh, Jason…”
“But that’s probably not what he meant.” I rise, pace around the living room. “He’s going to try to pin Lindsay’s death on me, isn’t he? That motherfucker.” My mind races. “But he can’t. I have an alibi for that day. The police already know it. It’s too late.”
My words are true. Lindsay’s case is closed.
If I open it, will Ralph somehow try to point to me?
Angie swallows. “What about the brother? Could Ralph have been involved with that in some way?”
I shake my head. “He’s still in the hospital. Lots of eyes on him there. Foolproof alibi. The brother’s death, from what Detective Mann was able to gather, was due to some preexisting heart condition. Probably aggravated by the stress of his brother’s death.”
“Oh.” Angie lowers her head.
After several agonizing minutes, she finally brings her gaze to mine. “What do we do now?”
“We prove that I didn’t hurt Ralph. And we prove that he killed Lindsay. I have to get a handwriting expert to compare Lindsay’s note to some writing of—”
“Oh my God!” Angie’s eyes go wide. “I have a note from Ralph. I have his writing!”
“Angie, my God! I could kiss you!” I grab her, crush my mouth to hers.
The kiss is raw and desperate, like most of our kisses are, but this one…
Angie may have just saved everything.
That is, if her sample matches Tom’s sample and Lindsay’s note.
But we still have to prove that Ralph is Ronny.
But my thoughts cease as I deepen the kiss. I grab her ponytail, pull it hard, yank the band out of it so her gorgeous hair flows over her shoulders.
She lets out a little gasp against my lips, and for a moment, all thoughts of Ralph and Lindsay and the horrifying reality of our situation are lost in the feel of Angie in my arms.
“Jason,” she breathes when we finally break apart, her hands resting on my chest.
Her eyes are wide and filled with an emotion I can’t quite make out. Fear? Concern? Or maybe it’s just the reflection of my own feelings I see mirrored in those beautiful dark depths.
“We need to focus,” she whispers, though her hands don’t move from where they’ve settled against the fabric of my shirt.
I laugh and press a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling away. “Right now I know what I need to do. Focus. Focus on you.”
I kiss her again as I lead her to my bedroom.
We’ve never fucked here.
My room is clean, almost spartan in its simplicity. No clutter, just the essentials. The bed is large and inviting with crisp white sheets and a plain blue comforter. I lead Angie toward it, both of us silent.
As we reach the bed, I turn her to face me and settle my hands on her waist.
I want to be gentle with her. Want to love her the way she deserves, but my animal instinct takes over, and before I know it, I’ve pushed her onto the bed, my body covering hers. Our lips meet in a fiery kiss, our hands fumbling with buttons and zippers in a hurried attempt to get closer.
“Jason,” she moans against my lips.
“I know,” I say. “I know.”
Time seems to stand still as we lose ourselves to each other—all thoughts of Ralph or Ronny or whoever the hell he is are forgotten for the time being.
When we’re both naked, I spread her legs and slide my tongue between her wet folds.
She gasps and tangles her fingers in my hair as she pulls me closer. Her taste is intoxicating, and I lose myself in the sensation. She moans my name and arches her hips.
As I explore her with my tongue, I roam my hands over her body, tracing the delicate curves of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts. She digs into my scalp, urging me on as she gasps and writhes beneath me.
“Jason!” she cries out, her body convulsing.
It’s a sight to behold—Angie, lost in pleasure at my touch. Raw, primal instinct surges within me.
I rise up over her, capturing her lips with mine once more. The kiss is frenzied and wild, full of the same desperation that drove us into each other’s arms in the first place. I move off the bed swiftly, grab a condom from my dresser drawer, and slide it on.
Then I climb on top of her and thrust inside her heat.
It’s a perfect fit, as if we’re two parts of a whole finally uniting.
“Angie,” I groan, my voice muffled against her throat.
I start moving, slow and deliberate. Each thrust met with a sigh, each retreat with a whimper.
The rhythm builds steadily as I grind into her. Her breath hitches with every thrust, her nails digging into my back. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, mixing with our heavy breathing.
The tension coils tight within me, yet I hold back. I want this to last. I want to savor it. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper inside her and making it near impossible to resist the climax building within me.
“Jason,” she gasps, grabbing my ass. “Don’t stop.”
I drive into her.
“Jason!” she cries out, the sound echoing through the room as her body tightens around me.
It’s mind-altering, the way she comes apart beneath me, and it pushes me over the edge. With a final thrust, I spill inside her and ride out waves of sheer pleasure.
Exhaling, I collapse beside her on the bed, pulling her close against my chest as we both catch our breaths.
Outside the room, reality waits—the harrowing truth about Ralph.
But for now, we’re protected in the cocoon of our love.
“Jason,” Angie murmurs as she traces circles on my bare chest, her head pillowed on my shoulder. “We can’t forget.”
“I know.”
The thrill and satisfaction recede, replaced by the reality of our situation.
Murder. Deceit.
It’s still here, and we still have to deal with all of it.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
Angie lifts her head from my shoulder and looks at me. Her eyes shimmer with a mix of emotions.
She leans in and kisses my lips. “We’ll figure it out, Jason.”
I nod and pull her closer into my body. Her reassurance feels like a lifeline in the chaos swirling around. I press my lips to her forehead and tighten my arms around her.
Each tick of the clock is an unsettling reminder of what awaits us come dawn.