16. Jack
16
JACK
The doctor at the hospital popped my dislocated shoulder back into place. Despite managing to ignore the pain while I was with Ava and Quinton, the doctor’s touch served as a harsh reminder of my injury. But I’ve been mended and allowed to go home. Baby Quinton has also been given a clean bill of health, although the pediatrician has asked us to monitor his behavior, particularly his reaction to noise and being in a stroller for an extended period.
Sam and I are convinced the bearded man is the motorcyclist who killed Greta Hall. Unfortunately, the elusive villain has managed to erase any evidence of Willem’s involvement in the Clancy house, including the paperwork Ava was coerced into signing and the sound machine that supposedly imitated Quinton’s cry.
What is left looks like a scene from a bad prank, with the crib and doll—not accounting for the two dead men that Sam took down. The most troubling part is that nobody knows the bearded man’s identity, almost as if he were a creation of Willem’s artificial intelligence. But we all know he is flesh-and-blood .
My partner for the day, Huxley Cometti, was able to keep the round-faced man under control in the Townsend house until the police arrived. But the criminal has been stubbornly keeping mum about implicating anyone. The only thing he told the police was that he and his group were planning to leave town this morning, but Quinton wouldn’t stop crying. They believed the baby wanted his giraffe. So, while the round-faced man returned to retrieve the missing toy, the babysitter was attempting to calm Quinton by taking him for a walk—a move that ended up changing everything in our favor.
I am certain it wasn’t the toy that made Quinton cry then. When I showed him the matching one I bought from the bookstore, he threw it to the floor and never wanted to see it again. So, in Townsend, he cried because he was afraid of going back to the house.
Huxley is driving us to the safe house, and we’ve welcomed him to stay and be our bodyguard tonight.
“You’re good back there?” I swivel in the passenger seat to see how Ava and Quinton are doing. She hasn’t let him out of her sight, not even for a second.
After sleeping for most of the afternoon, Quinton has been vocal throughout the journey. There’s no sign of his Paw Patrol calls. Instead, he’s been uttering different sounds as if singing a story.
“I think he’s saying he’s happy to have his favorite back,” Ava says while Quinton gazes up at me with wide eyes. His tiny fingers grip his beloved giraffe teether.
I feel pride and humility, realizing that my gift has remained his most cherished possession.
As we arrive at the safe house, Quinton’s content expression crumbles into tears.
“Do you think he’s afraid of this house?” I query, concerned that the repercussion of today is starting to manifest itself in him.
Ava shakes her head gently, her fingertips tracing circles on Quinton’s belly. She appraises him, then coos, “No, I think he’s hungry again. Yes, baby?” She cradles him close, peppering his belly with sweet kisses and making playful sounds to distract him. Quinton’s cries grow louder. “That’s definitely his hungry cry.”
As soon as we open the door, Elmo greets us. The mutt jumps up at Ava’s leg, seemingly wanting to comfort Quinton. When he doesn’t receive any attention, he starts barking.
Quinton’s cry softens into sobs, his hand reaching down to Elmo.
“Good dog!” Ava praises as she settles on the sofa and gently rocks Quinton on her lap, suggesting, “Let’s feed him formula tonight.”
“I can help,” Huxley offers, eager to raid the diaper bag he’s just set on the kitchen bench. That shifts Elmo’s attention, and the pup starts circling the Comet, sniffing him. “Just tell me how many mils and scoops.”
Ava is amazed and amused. “I didn’t know you had kids! No wonder you got everything on my shopping list right.”
“No, ma’am,” Huxley chuckles. “I used to help my mother take care of my brother, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Ava exclaims. “That’s remarkable!”
“Thanks.” He blushes.
“All right. Two hundred ten mils, with seven scoops, please.”
“On it,” Huxley replies and begins fussing in the kitchen.
I’ll let the Astro Boy steal the limelight for tonight, but I need to step up my game and learn more about the culinary needs of infants .
Then Ava approaches me. “I think he wants you.” She hands Quinton to me, and I happily oblige.
Ava watches as Huxley prepares the bottle and checks the temperature while I cradle Quinton. The baby is calm now but keeps gazing at the bottle. I’m glad it wasn’t trauma that prompted him to cry just now. A mother always knows.
I give Quinton the bottle while Ava observes me with a smile. He feels so right in my arms, as if I was meant to be with him, and I’m honored by his trust.
“Why don’t you go to bed?” I suggest to Ava, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Hesitating for a moment, she locks eyes with Quinton, her gaze filled with tenderness. She whisper-kisses him, “I won’t be far. Be good to Jack, okay?” Then, she turns her head toward the open door of the bedroom, her gaze locked on something, her expression unsettled.
“What is it?” I whisper.
She briefly holds my hand. “Nothing. I’ll wait for you in bed.” Leaning in, she plants a quick kiss on my lips.
I watch her walk away, torn between wanting to ask her if something’s bothering her and letting her sleep.
A hand lands on my shoulder. “Night, Jack,” Huxley says.
“Thanks for today.”
“Anytime, Lieutenant.” With that, he also turns in.
“Well, Quinnie-Bear, it’s just you and me now,” I whisper.
As I lay on the couch, I willingly become Mattress Jack for him. Nestled between my pecs, the baby rests on his belly, tilting his head to meet my gaze. Our communication flows through gurgles and chuckles, which I interpret as his happiness and perhaps a tale of his recent experiences. I pat his back, encouraging him to share more. Slowly, his head falls, his efforts to stay awake futile against the embrace of sleep.
The room falls silent, interrupted only by the peaceful sound of Quinton’s breathing. When I set out on this journey from Hawaii, I never imagined I would find myself here, holding a baby in my arms, feeling their precious life against my own heart. It’s a wonder, a deep connection that can only mean one thing—this paternal instinct has always been in me, waiting for the right moment to awaken.
“I love you too, Quinton. You’re a brave boy,” I murmur as I carefully get off the couch. I faintly shush him as he stirs, planting a light kiss on his crown, my lips tickled by the touch of his hair.
Passing Elmo, who’s asleep next to our bedroom door, I enter and place Quinton in the crib, his tiny body snug and secure.
“Good job,” Ava whispers, her voice still alert despite the late hour. Rolling out of bed, she rushes to Quinton’s side. She watches him, occasionally giving his belly a gentle touch.
I strip to my boxer shorts. She may disagree, but she needs to rest, or she’ll risk passing out. I hold her, whispering, “Come to bed with me.”
She slowly lets go of Quinton, then follows the tug of my hand. Together, we slip under the covers.
“Don’t tell me you’re not sleepy,” I tease as she settles herself on my chest. “Quinton has done better than you.” I don’t think she’s had a wink of sleep since the first time I saw her in Helena—and I don’t mean when she was unconscious.
Minutes pass, maybe ten. Despite her efforts, she’s unable to hide her restlessness.
A growl escapes her parted lips, bouncing off my chest.
“What is it?” I ask.
She hums out her impatience as her fingers glide over my abs.
“That’s nice,” I moan, absorbing the arousing effect of her caress .
She leans forward, her hand reaching for my lips. Her touch intensifies as it lands precisely on my pulsating, uncontrollably rigid cock.
The discovery excites her. A hunger flickers in her eyes as she moves down.
Fuuuck…
She takes me into the warmth of her mouth. I shuffle the sheet off her, eager to maintain eye contact with her. Her lips, slightly swollen from her passionate ministrations, wrap around my shaft in a greedy move. Her sucking exudes urgency, but I can’t help but flinch at the speed.
“Sweetheart, sweetheart, wait.” The sensation threatens to push me over the edge too soon, but the brashness of her move bothers me even more. It doesn’t feel like her. It’s a surprise, but not one that brings a spark of delight.
She looks up at me. “Sorry…you didn’t like it?”
At that moment, I see a different Ava.
“I like it,” I murmur. Damn, it was sensational for my cock. But this woman means everything to me, and I can’t go on without unraveling what’s driving her this way.
She continues sucking, but I gently withdraw, nudging her shoulders up so she’s face-to-face with me.
“Hey…” I settle her on my chest, feeling the rise and fall of her breath against my skin. “Ava, what is it?”
Her lips quiver, unable to speak. Her expression is coated with guilt.
I cup her chin softly. “This isn’t about me not liking what you’re doing.” I examine her glistening eyes, searching for the truth. I have to ask the question now. “Did he ever hurt you?”
She grimaces. I feel the significance of her burden. Last night, amid her distress, she desperately sought relief from me. Now, she’s desperate to please me because of a pain that has just surged from deep within her .
“Ava, talk to me,” I whisper as low as I can. With how helpless she is now, lying on me, I swear I’ll break her if my voice comes out just a little bit louder.
“I wanted to please you until you come. Don’t you want that?”
I brush my fingers against her cheek, “I do, as long as you enjoy it too.”
She inhales sharply, lost for words.
I probe further. “Did he force you to do things you didn’t want to?”
She lets out a sigh, her eyes closing with regrets. “At first, he used to hit me,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But then, one day, when he broke my arm, I left him.”
A pang of pain surges through me, but I push it aside and focus on her. She shrugs as if questioning whether I want to hear what comes next. I stroke her, urging her to release whatever is tormenting her.
She continues, “He came to me, apologizing. He had gone to therapy to control his anger, and he swore he’d changed. I foolishly took him back.” Bitterness laces her voice. “Well, he did change. He didn’t hit me that hard anymore, and in bed… as long as I did it his way, he would leave me alone.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” The pain inside me resurfaces, stronger and impossible to ignore. I’ll make it my commitment to keep that cockbag away from Ava forever.
“I stayed with him for the sake of Quinton. My pregnancy became complicated, and during my final trimester, I was mostly bedridden, so I needed him. I felt like I owed him for all the care he gave me.”
“Ava, Ava.” I hold her tightly, almost shaking her. I’m furious about the control Willem exerted over her, and I wish it had been me caring for her. “You don’t owe that man anything!”
“I know, I don’t. But at the time, I couldn’t help feeling that way. Willem became a devoted caregiver when he was in the right state of mind, and it was hard not to feel grateful. But when our wedding became inevitable…” She exhales, full of anger. “I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with him.”
I draw a breath, making it audible to emphasize her safety with me. “Ava, I am not Willem. I love you, I care about you, and I want nothing in return. Even if you didn’t love me, I still love you.” I guide her hand to my chest, wrapping it with mine. “Tonight, I want to make love to you in a way that pleases you.”
Her finger moves under my palm and strokes my pec delicately. “I want to please you too.”
“I know. I know.” I rub my palm against the top of her hand. “The truth is, Ava Belle, I haven’t been in a long-term relationship. But I’m a man who can’t take pleasure in sex unless my woman is happy and content. It’s a man’s role to satisfy his woman. I don’t care what other people say, and I’m not talking about equality and all that stuff. It’s what I live by. You before me.”
She looks at me with a distant expression as though my words aren’t registering. I cup her cheek, bringing her back to the present. To me. My other hand coasts down her chest, passing the curve of her breast. I want her heart to take charge first, and only then can she let out her urges. That’s the only way she can embrace her true desires—not Willem’s, not her past.
“I love you, Jack,” she murmurs, crawling up on me and again planting a kiss on my lips. She presses firmly, her breath steady. “And I love you for what you’ve just asked me. ”
“I never want you to hide from me.”
“I never will.” She shakes her head, feebly but clearly. “Willem did things I wish he hadn’t, but over time, I learned to create distance. It was like—I let him in, and he was in the same house as me, but I locked myself inside a room, out of reach. He knocked, he tried to kick the door down, he rammed into it, but it held.”
Pride fills me. I’m never wrong about her. “I know you have that strength.”
“He’s out of my life, but sometimes his knock sounds louder, his kick more powerful. It makes me wonder if the lock will ever give way. Just like tonight,” she says arduously. “In Clancy today—reading that contract, seeing his name on it, witnessing his cruel tricks—it was as if his force had made its way back into me. I don’t know what possessed me to unleash it on you. I’m sorry, Jack.”
“No, there’s no need to apologize, Ava.” I turn my face to hers, pressing our cheeks together.
“That lock still holds. The door remains shut,” she maintains. “No matter what happens, I’m still me, okay? Free, not chained. Yours, not his.”
I nod in understanding. “Let him come to you. I know you’re not scared of him. And if he happens to overpower you, I’ll be there, holding that damn door. I’ll be the lock, the security bar that stops him from reaching you.”
I hold her chin gently, urging her to meet my gaze. “As long as you let me stay with you.”
“I always want you in that room with me, Jack.” She puts her hand on her heart.
“And when you hear that knock again, tell him to pack his sorry ass.”
A smile graces her beautiful face, matching the curls that frame it. We lay in silence, absorbing each other’s presence .
She then raises her head. “He’s gone. Now, may I?” she pleads with genuine lust this time.
I let her go, allowing her to slink down my torso. But then she stops, whispering, “I do want you to cum in my mouth.”
Excitement builds within me. Feeling her jerking her hips, removing her panties, my cock swells, begging for her touch. Without words, I surrender to her, letting her take control.
Her scorching lips nibble at my shaft, sucking it with a steady up-and-down movement.
I spread my legs wider, hoping to provide her with more comfort, but she surprises me by nudging them back together. Instead, she rests herself upon my legs, teasingly rubbing her tits and pelvis against them while her mouth is still accommodating me. Arousal radiates from her body, spreading through my skin. It’s so tantalizing and sexy as fuck.
Her hands firmly grip the sides of my hips, and I instinctively take hold of them, intertwining our fingers. As she slowly crawls toward me, her hair tickles my sensitive skin, heightening my senses. I brush her hair back, revealing her beautiful face, and our lips meet in a passionate kiss. Our tongues twist together like a pair of vines as I follow her body’s erotic motion. The surface of her entrance stimulates my length. Goddamn. This woman is putting Venus to shame!
Then she flashes me a dirty grin, biting her lower lip, before returning her focus to my throbbing cock. I jolt as her mouth latches on the slick tip. This is the edge, the ultimate threshold that I’m about to breach.
“I’m gonna cum, baby,” I mutter, trying to stop my gasp from forming into a moan that will be too loud for the night.
Ava quickens her pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she takes my entire length into her throat. This is a pleasure I’ve never experienced before. I hold back, just to savor her a moment longer. She has penetrated my heart with her lust, skill, and care, and my own fervor has allowed her to do so deeply. I never desired other women, but with Ava, it’s different—she’s not just another woman fulfilling a physical need. She’s my dedication. She possesses every part of me.
I can no longer contain myself, and with a suppressed cry, I release. Everything becomes light, every nerve in my body tingling with ecstasy. I feel gentle pressure along my pulsing member as Ava swallows. Sitting up, I meet her gaze, pulling her up so she rests against my pecs. I kiss her engorged lips, tasting the mingling flavors of my own and her natural sweetness.
We lie close together, our bodies still warm and our breaths heavy with satedness. Then I murmur, “Just give me a moment, and then it will be my turn.”
Bliss fills her eyes as she huffs, “I’ve already come, baby. You’re too hot for my body to resist.” Her gaze is dreamy, her irises swirling like a storm. She means what she said.
I bury my face in her hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her curls. “If you change your mind, just let me know.” If she’s willing, I plan to go all the way with her. She’s as irresistible as a comforting blanket on a winter day. However, her response comes as a weary sigh, a sign that such a possibility is out of reach tonight. She’s one tired mama.
I chuckle. “Tell me, did you think of me when you were alone? I mean, after we parted in Bozeman?”
She shifts, rolling halfway to look into my eyes. “All the time. Your handsome face is impossible to forget.”
I venture further, asking, “Have you ever fantasized about me and touched yourself?”
She halts her laughter as I gently wipe the sheen of sweat from her delicate nose. “I thought that’s what you were asking in the first place.”
Thoughts of our time in Bozeman resurface, recalling the moment I shared my kidnapping story with her. At that time, I believed she saw me as strong and saw no flaws in me, but I never actually sought her opinion of me.
“Did you ever see me as a broken man?” I ask.
She rises slightly, her hand caressing my face. “You’re as gorgeous as sin, Jack. And I have a goddamn weakness for a broken man.”
Today has been spectacular, but some things cannot be fixed overnight. Broken— that is what I am. She may not fully comprehend the depth of it. But despite that, I will always seek her, clinging to her for as long as she allows. How long that will be, I cannot say. Perhaps until she glimpses the true extent of my brokenness and is frightened away.
“How about you?” she asks. “Did you think of me when you lay in bed alone?”
“You, Ava, are my moon. And it goes beyond the cliché of mysterious beauty. I’m talking about its force—how it governs the earth’s tides from such a distance,” I explain. “We were apart, but there was no one else in my thoughts, my imagination, my fantasies, or my longing.”
Ava’s lips curl into a smile as sleep takes hold of her. With a slow blink, I shut my eyes, silently hoping that Scalpel won’t make an appearance.