Chapter Thirty
Eros
Even though she knew the news was coming, she called me in tears as soon as the cops notified her, they had found her father’s body, and I raced over to her home.
I expected her to be upset, but she was on the verge of a panic attack.
I guess the news he had been found made what we had done more real.
Of course, I had to use the private entrance because the reporters were camped out in the front looking for any chance to get a picture or statement from any family members. They were like vultures. Cameras and reporters were everywhere. There was even a news helicopter flying overhead.
Did they ever sleep?
It was a madhouse in front of her residence, and we weren’t ready to go public just yet. We needed to make sure his death was tied to the cartel first.
Knox had dumped him and the girl in El Silencio Arroyo—a dry wash that snaked through a canyon that very few people traveled.
It was just east of San Diego only a few miles from the Mexican border.
The terrain was brutal with enormous boulders, brittle bushes, a shit ton of wildlife, and rusted remnants of old border patrol buildings.
There was spotty cell service, and over the years the cartel had used it as a dumping ground for their victims. Dozens of bodies had been uncovered there throughout the year.
The channel straddled a stretch of land where the border fence was broken.
For that reason, it was always unclear whether the murders happened in Mexico or in the U.S.
which was a jurisdictional nightmare that fueled conspiracy theories and political tension.
However, the connection to the cartel was never in question.
They always left their calling cards. Their victims’ hands bound with red nylon cord, their throats cut in some manner, and traces of Mexican soil rubbed into the wounds.
All of which would be found on the bodies of the late Roger Thorne, and the woman he was sleeping with.
We were just waiting for confirmation because the evidence the police investigation would uncover, which Knox was slowly leaking would connect Thorne to the cartel.
“Where’s your brother?” I asked, running my fingertips up and down her bare arm.
She’d been quiet after getting her emotions under control after I got here.
We were together in her bedroom, in each other’s arms, watching the TV, waiting for news to break.
I hadn’t met her brother yet because since he came into town he was rarely here.
He’d check in with her, but he was having a hard time staying in the house, while his father was still missing.
So, he had been spending most of his time at the beach hanging with friends.
“At the beach again. I called him to let him know they had found Dad so he wouldn’t be blindsided, but he didn’t want to come home. Said he was going to hang out there for a while and for me not to wait up for him. He won’t come around until it’s time for the funeral.”
I heard the guilt in her voice, but she had nothing to feel guilty for. This was the only reason she was alive.
“You have nothing to feel guilty about, sweetheart.”
“I keep telling myself that, but every time I think about what my brother is going through. I can’t help it. My father is dead because of me. Now we have no one left.”
“You have each other.” I tightened my embrace around her. “And your father is dead because of his actions, not yours. Would you rather the cops come to your door to tell your father about your death that he sanctioned?”
I told her repeatedly that her father was the reason for everything that had happened. He was the one who wanted the governor dead. He was the one who hired someone to kill her. He was the one who killed his wife. That had nothing to do with her. She was innocent in all this.
“You also have to remember, your brother is living in the past,” I continued. “He doesn’t know the man your father became. He doesn’t know he killed your mother. He doesn’t know he tried to kill you. And he hasn’t gone through any of the shit you have.”
I did my best to make her realize she put the safety of herself above everything else.
And there was nothing wrong with that. I quickly realized a while ago that Janea was the person who always put other people’s interests in front of hers.
This time she had me in her life, and I refused to let her do that anymore.
It was him or her, and she had every right to choose herself.
I wouldn’t let her feel bad for making that decision.
“You’re right, but I still feel bad that he’s hurting.”
“It’s normal for him to hurt. Shit, you’re hurting even after all your father put you through. Don’t be so hard on yourself. And you’ll both get closure in a few days. It won’t be long before they announce what they’ve come up with. Knox left enough evidence that’s irrefutable.”
“And you’re sure it won’t point to us?”
“No. They’ll connect the investigation to the cartels, and you’ll be able to have a proper goodbye.”
“I’ll be glad when it’s all over,” she said, as she pushed me on back, then climb on top of me, straddling my hips. “Then we can move on with our lives.”
“And what does moving on look like to you?”
I knew what it meant for me. Janea Thorne would be my wife, my old lady, my everything.
“You, me, and Ambrose. Happy, healthy, and safe.”
“I like the sound of that.” My fingers dug into the flesh of her hips when she grinds against me. “And what’s the first thing you want to do?”
“Vacation. Somewhere warm. Is there any place Ambrose wants to go?”
One thing I loved about Janea was that she always included my son in everything. She wanted to know how he felt about her being around more, so I had no problem asking. He was thrilled. And that was new for my son. He didn’t like a lot of people, but he had taken to her.
“Yeah, the North Pole, but I’m pretty sure that’s out of the question,” I said, laughing. “Santa’s on his shit list, and he’s got a few words he wants to say to him.”
Her carefree laughter caused my heart to seize inside my chest. She never sounded so happy. So free. Even when she was playing with Ambrose, there was always a tinge of sadness in her eyes and voice. But not now.
Her breath hitched as my fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, tentatively, reverently. She was something sacred to me even if she didn’t know it.
We didn’t speak because we didn’t need to. My eyes locked onto hers, unguarded, like we’d stopped running. Like we’d concluded that this was real even though we’d already said I love you. That we were going to give this a real chance. There was nothing to stand in the way now.
The air between us was filled with so much tension it was almost suffocating.
One shallow breath, then two as we gazed into each other’s eyes. I could no longer hold back. I kissed her, and it was so desperate like we’d been holding back for so long even though we had been together multiple times. Tonight was just different.
Her fingers locked onto my hair as she groaned into my mouth, her wet slit moving against my hard dick. My mouth was just as fierce, searching, like I needed to memorize her just in case shit went to hell tomorrow.
She kissed me back with everything she had as our bodies collided with the kind of urgency that only came when two people had freedom to be with one another and were not waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Grabbing her ass, I slowly pushed inside her, feeling her grip me.
We moved together with a kind of urgency that wasn’t rushed but expected.
Every touch answered every question we didn’t voice to one another.
Every breath shared was an unspoken vow that this was forever.
What mattered wasn’t the outside world, the death of her father, or how her brother was dealing with the aftermath because the outside world didn’t exist. What mattered was the way her moans and whimpers would become the soundtrack for the rest of our lives.
What mattered was the way her spine arched beneath my palm, the way my mouth found the hollow of her throat as she rode my dick.
It was the way we’d carry each other’s secrets until the day we died.
“That’s it, baby. You feel so fucking good.”
“Niko,” she whimpered
“Take it, it’s yours,” I said through gritted teeth, holding back my own orgasm.
As her hips rolled, and we got lost in the sound, smell, and feel of each other, I knew there was no one left on the Earth for me. Janea Thorne was all mine.
“Let go, baby,” I said, pinching her clit. “Come for me.”
Her breath hitched, lips parted, and then it happened. Slow at first, like a fuse burning toward something that was ready to explode. Her body arched, fingers clawed at my shoulders. The way her guard shattered. The way she let me see her, all of her, without armor.
I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. Just watched.
Her face twisted in something between pain and release, and I knew this wasn’t just pleasure. It was her release from the past as she fell apart.
I didn’t need words from her. I just held her through it, like I’d always promised I would do.