Chapter 13
Linsey
Every night after Noah goes to bed, the same thing happens.
Zen’s laptop opens, and they put their heads together to impersonate Noah.
I know they have my son’s best interests at heart.
And lying to a liar isn’t inherently wrong, especially one intent upon harming us. But something about this feels sketchy.
They send messages that sound like they’re coming from a scared, confused nine-year-old.
They’re good at it. Sometimes, I chime in with advice based on what I know of Dylan.
I know we’re in a morally gray area, but I’m not going to take the moral high ground with someone manipulating my child online. Fuck Dylan Everett.
I give them pointers on how to write like Noah does. I’ve paid enough attention to my son to know all his writing quirks, the way he misspells certain words and how he will occasionally use double question marks for emphasis.
Even being paranoid and suspicious by nature, Dylan buys their ruse. He spends hours pouring poison into what he thinks is his son’s ear. Most of it is a bunch of misogynistic crap with a side of religion to make it easier for the average person to swallow.
Meanwhile, the rest of our life keeps rolling along.
Noah does his schoolwork and happily does the little chores we’ve assigned him.
He’s always keen to do his part-time job of checking doors and windows three times a day.
He likes putting the twenty bucks a week he earns together with the twenty-dollar weekly allowance I give him.
That’s big-time money for a kid his age.
To his credit, my son saves almost all of it.
He’s sleeping through the night again. And even received a hand-drawn card that says GET WELL SOON and a little sketch of a throwing knife dripping blood into a big red smiling face. So strange. I’m not sure how I feel about that one. I eventually decide it’s the thought that counts.
This goes on for a few days and then finally, after an exchange of messages, Dylan sends the one we’ve been dreading.
You showed her, didn’t you? You showed that despicable, lying mother of yours our chats. I can tell. You must be a liar, like your mother. I thought you were better than this.
We didn’t get any response to our texts on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Zen keeps watch over the dead account. But by the fifth day of silence on Dylan’s part, I can read the truth on both their faces.
“He could be out there right now,” Zen says. “Or he could be fourteen hundred miles away.”
“Maybe distance doesn’t matter. He managed to get close enough to hurt him online.”
Sabre comes over and pulls me into his arms. I rest my cheek against his chest. I allow him to hold me because this is a luxury I’ve never had before, and I like it.
Zen closes the laptop halfway and rubs his eyes. “The kid’s account is burned. He’ll keep the account open because he can’t help himself, but he probably won’t talk again now that he thinks Linsey is monitoring the conversations.”
Sabre rubs my back. “Too bad. We almost had him schedule a meetup a couple of times, and something spooked him.”
Zen’s voice turns excited again. “Maybe he’ll respond to Linsey directly.”
Sabre’s head pulls back. “What? No, I’m not gonna give him an opportunity to do the same thing to her that he did to Noah.”
I say what’s on my mind. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family safe.”
“Darlin’, we’ll find another way.”
“It’s my choice, Sabre. I’m not an innocent little nine-year-old boy he can easily manipulate. Heck, I’m not even the innocent little teen I was when we first got together. I’m a lot stronger and more independent.”
“Linsey.”
“He got with me when I was a young teen and spent years learning how to manipulate me, Sabre. He’s spent ten more years daydreaming about doing it again.
I’m the one person Dylan is sure he can manipulate.
I can practically guarantee he’s not ready to handle the woman I’ve become.
He’s too busy daydreaming about trampling over the person he remembers. ”
***
We sit around Sabre’s kitchen table and plan it all out. Sabre and Zen use everything they learned pretending to be Noah to come up with some hard-and-fast rules. First of all, don’t ask where he is. Don’t bring up a meeting, at least not at first.
Zen writes out the rules as we come up with them.
“Your anger needs to sound real.”
“After what he just did to my son, do you think I’m going to have to fake some anger?” I ask bluntly.
“No, I guess not,” he says sheepishly.
“I understand that man better than anyone. Dylan never trusts anything he didn’t have to fight for.”
“If he’s a control freak, the thing that’s gonna keep him engaged is walking away from each text exchange feeling a little more in charge than when he started.”
Sabre adds, “That’s the kind of toxic shit assholes like this live for.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” I tell them. “If that’s what he thrives on, I’ll shovel it up for him morning, noon, and night, whatever it takes to get him out of our lives.”
The first message goes out Tuesday morning from Noah’s phone.
Me: This is Linsey. I found the messages between you and my son, and I’m not happy.
A reply comes through from my ex pretty much straight away.
Dylan: I’m a lot less happy, especially after spending ten years in prison over your dumb ass.
Me: That’s ancient history. Stay away from my son, or I’ll get a restraining order. Bet that would complicate your parole.
Dylan: I have a right to talk to my child.
Me: You don’t have the right to lie, manipulate, and scare him. That missing person poster stunt was unforgivable. Do you know how upset that made him?
Dylan: All I did was tell the boy the truth from my point of view.
Me: You’ve been lying and manipulating my son. You have no paternal rights here. You gave up any claim to him the day you put me in the hospital.
Dylan: You know I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. We’ll try this conversation again when you’ve had a chance to calm down.
I ignore his calls for two days until he’s messaging nonstop.
Then we have three more texting marathons where we go in circles.
He keeps asking me to talk to him on the phone, but I refuse.
He begs to speak to Noah again. That’s a big hell no from me.
I’m slowly cutting off every option except an in-person meeting, the one that proves he’s violating the terms of his parole.
Finally, he demands to meet in person. We get into a bit of a wrangle over text about it.
Me: If you’ve really changed, I’ll meet with you in person someplace public. Maybe you can explain why you felt manipulating my son was the way to earn my trust back.
Dylan: I want to see Noah. Bring him with you and we’ll all talk together.
Me: Absolutely not. You’re not getting close to Noah until I’m convinced you’ve changed. We meet first. That’s the only offer I’m willing to make right now.
Dylan: Fine.
Me: I’ll text you the time and place.
Dylan: Don’t wait too long. I might be a patient man, I’ve waited ten years for this, but don’t string me along.
I put the phone down and look at Sabre. “What do you think? Will he show?”
Sabre responds dryly, “I’d bet the fuckin’ farm on it. There’s a diner on the east side of Las Salinas called the Rusty Anchor. It’s on Harbor Road. Text him to meet you on Saturday morning for breakfast at seven.”
“Are you sure this will be safe?”
He nods. “It’s a public place and well-lit.
I’ll arrive early, make sure he’s alone and nothing looks sus.
If it looks safe, I’ll text you. When you show up to talk to this asshole, I’ll be at a table in the back watching to make sure nothing goes off the rails.
All we need is for him to show up, so I can call the cops and have him picked up. ”
I type out the text and hit send. Standing there looking at his brief reply, I’m finally able to relax a bit.
The moment his agreement comes through, Sabre’s hand closes around mine.
“He took the bait,” he says.
I stand there feeling all kinds of emotions at once, then fling myself into Sabre’s arms. I can almost believe this is finally going to be over, once and for all.
He holds me for a long moment, with one hand curved up over my shoulder and the other stroking slowly up and down my back. His touch is soothing and reassuring, when I need it the most.
“Hey,” he says, tipping my chin up with two fingers. “You can’t spend all your time worrying and dreading this meetup. It’ll drive you insane.”
“I can’t help it. I have to sit across from him and try to make conversation until the police arrive to arrest him. His attack in that parking lot ten years ago keeps playing in my head and I don’t know how to stop it.”
“I know how to stop it.” His voice drops low and turns rough, as his hands slide down to my hips, and pull me flush against him. “Tonight you’re not gonna think about that man at all because all your attention is gonna be on me, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he kisses me and every thought of arguing flies right out of my mind. All I can think about is the slow movement of his lips and the slide of his tongue against mine. When one big hand cups my head, I pull at his clothing, wanting them gone.
The triumphant look on his face as he pulls back and sweeps me up into his arms is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
“Time for bed, sweetness,” he says against my mouth. “I want you in my bed, right now.”
He takes me up to his room and gently nudges the door shut behind us. He sits me down on my feet and walks me back towards the bed, slowly undressing me every step of the way.
This is the perfect way to forget about whatever was bothering me a minute ago.
Right now, nothing exists in the world but the two of us.
I move my arms, helping him remove each piece of clothing while he presses his mouth to the newly bared skin.
By the time he lays me back on the bed, I’m trembling with need.
“That’s better,” he murmurs, gazing down at me. “Now you’re only thinkin’ about us, right?”
I nod as he settles between my thighs and puts his mouth on me.
I love it when he does this. Sabre takes his time pleasuring me.
He’s patient and thorough, doing all the things I love best. I get too excited as his tongue swirls around my clit over and over again.
He has to hold one hand flat across my belly to hold me still.
When he sucks my clit and finds my g-spot, the firm coaxing becomes a stampede to the finish line.
I come apart with his name on my lips and both hands fisted in his hair.
He kisses his way back up my body while I’m still experiencing wave after wave of the orgasm he just gave me.
My big, sexy biker lines himself up and pushes his cock into me so slowly that I can feel every single inch.
I claw at his chest, as the slow stretch turns into a slight burn.
He stills, braced on his forearms, giving me time to adjust.
“Look at me.” I do. His blue eyes are intense, and I can’t seem to look away. When he speaks again, his voice is deep and rough. “You’re mine now. I’m not ever gonna let your ex or anyone else take you from me.” He starts to move again, bottoming out inside me.
“Yours,” I agree breathlessly. “I’ll always be yours, Sabre.” There is something about being claimed and him saying the words at the same time that makes it seem like pure truth to my mind.
He sets a pace, slow and deep at first, teasing me with his body.
“Whatever happens at the meeting, you’re coming home with me and he’s going to jail.
Here in my home, in my bed and wrapped around my cock is where you belong now.
And I’m gonna make sure you never want for anything in this world. I give you my word.”
He keeps that slow, deep rhythm, bringing up one hand to cradle my face, murmuring low and filthy and tender words in my ear, telling me how good I feel, how he’s got me, and how no matter what happens in the future, he’ll always come for me.
That’s when I break apart the second time, and he follows me over, filling me with his seed. Afterwards, he holds me so tenderly that I begin to believe that he really does love me. Then he gathers me against his chest and pulls the blanket up over us both.
“Sleep,” he says into my hair. “Dream of all the days we’re gonna spend together, a lifetime of days, darlin’.”
That’s the last thing I remember before tumbling off to sleep.