Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Kingston
But if the past few months have taught me anything, it’s that my son is full of bad fucking ideas, and he isn’t smart at all.
“What’s that up ahead?” Sebastian asks, leaning forward and squinting.
“Gas station.”
Then I see what he’s really looking at—a sedan lies on its side. Someone is running from the gas station, a phone held to their ear as they run toward the car.
My heart fucking stops in my chest. Dread fills me. A part of me knows, gut-level, that Ella’s in that wreckage. I can barely breathe and I’m not even conscious of operating my vehicle—I speed up to the curb and jump out of my car at the same time as Bash.
The sedan is on its side, the windshield broken. I peer through the cracked glass, praying that Ella is all right. The guy from the gas station is shouting into his phone, asking for emergency services.
Joel is on top of Ella. At first I think they’re both unconscious, but then I see his hands are wrapped around her throat.
Rage, bolstered by terror, causes me to act. I bellow and kick at the windshield. “Let her go! Let her the fuck go right fucking now!”
Sirens wail in the distance. Bash is at my side. The windshield breaks the rest of the way, with the laminate glass sticking together so it doesn’t shatter into dangerous shards. I pull at it, and Bash does too, not caring about getting cut by the tiny pieces of glass. I have to get to Ella.
Joel throws one of his hands up as we reach into the car to grab him.
Ella coughs, and he puts his hand back to her throat.
“You ruined my life!” he shouts.
“You ruined it on your own,” Bash says, reaching into the car again.
Bash grabs at Joel, who has to let go of Ella to try to fight him off. Joel takes a swing at Bash and clips Bash in the chin, but at the same time he screams in pain and falls back against Ella.
There isn’t enough room for me to get in there.
“Ella!” I shout.
With a shout of rage, Joel swings his arm around again—and this time, he holds a gun. He’s pointing it directly at my face. The barrel is a dull, flat black.
I don’t waste time thinking—I kick his wrist and reach for the gun at the same time. The gun goes off, the shot a resounding crack in the otherwise silent street. I wrench the weapon from Joel’s hand while Bash drags him from the car. Then I kick the weapon away, out of everyone’s reach.
“Are you hit?” I ask Bash.
“No.”
I’m not hit either. Thank fuck, the bullet went past us.
Joel screams in pain, but I don’t know why and I don’t fucking care. Ella is still lying back against the car door, her eyes closed.
Emergency vehicles are here—police cars, an ambulance, a fire truck. Bash hauls Joel all the way out of the car, wrapping one of his arms around Joel’s neck in a chokehold while Joel continues to shriek.
“Hey, what are you doing to that guy?” the gas station attendant asks in alarm. “You’re hurting him!”
“He tried to shoot us,” Bash says.
I’m barely listening. I’m shoving my torso through the broken windshield to get our girl.
Her eyelids flutter. She’s alive. Carefully, I unbuckle her and tug her free of the steering wheel.
“Baby, I’ve got you,” I whisper, gathering her in my arms.
Her face is pale and her skin is clammy, but she’s breathing.
In a flurry of competent motions, EMTs are approaching from the ambulance, unfolding a stretcher as they walk.
I have to give her over into their care.
While they ease her onto the stretcher, I keep hold of her hand for as long as I can.
I don’t want to let go, but I don’t want to interfere with her getting whatever medical help and comfort she needs.
I’m marginally aware of Joel getting strapped to another gurney. A police officer handcuffs him to it, as well.
Good. He’s not going to get away this time. My anger for him is only overshadowed by my concern for Ella.
“King,” Ella whispers.
“I’m close,” I say, taking large strides to keep up with the EMTs.
“Bash?”
“Here’s here, too.” I gesture him over.
He stops talking to a nearby officer and jogs to us. “Are you awake, princess?”
“Not Cinderella,” she says.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers.
“Sleeping Beauty,” she says. “Just want to sleep.”
Bash looks alarmed, and I shoot a glance at the EMTs.
“It’s probably shock,” one of them says. “We’re taking her to the hospital and getting her vitals now.”
Bash and I start to climb into the ambulance.
“We can’t take both of you,” the EMT says.
“Go,” I say to Bash. “I’ll meet you there.”
Bash climbs into the ambulance and they shut the door, blocking Ella from my view. My chest aches fiercely. I need her to be okay. But Bash will watch over her. One of us should be there, and it doesn’t matter who.
The officer Bash had been speaking with says, “I’m surprised you didn’t argue about it. It’s obvious the three of you are in a relationship and both of you are extra protective.”
“We do whatever is best for her,” I say. “Having one of us there is better than two of us bickering about it and making the ambulance take longer.”
She nods. “That woman is lucky to have you.”
“We’re lucky that she’s going to be okay. What’s the name of the hospital?”
She tells me, so I type it into my phone.
“Thanks.” I start to explain everything that’s been going on.
Holding up a hand to stop me, she says, “Detective Carl Baldwin has already been in touch. We’re aware of the situation, although we’ll need to interview the young woman. We’ll also be taking your son into custody.”
He’s no longer my son, I want to say, but I hold it in. Instead, I pull a business card from my wallet. “Baldwin can put us in touch, but here’s my contact info just in case.”
“Thanks.” She pockets the card. “Good luck.”
Ella
The ocean air is cool and refreshing. I adjust the scarf I’ve draped around my neck so it doesn’t blow away in the breeze.
I don’t really need the scarf, because it isn’t cold. But every time Sebastian and Kingston see the bruises Joel left on my neck, sorrow and concern fill their eyes. I can’t handle being a constant reminder of what happened. So, scarf it is. Bruises hidden. Happier boyfriends.
It’s only been two days since everything went down. Soon enough, these bruises will fade.
“I’m not fragile,” I whisper at the waves. “And I’m alive .”
“What’s that, little girl?” Kingston asks. His footsteps are soft in the sand as he approaches.
I don’t tell him that his son called me little girl and little one to mock the very pet name I love.
Joel can’t hurt me anymore. Not only is one of his legs broken in several places from the car accident, but he’s behind bars and is now the concern of the criminal justice system, just like his serpentine mother and stepfather.
My bruises will fade, but Joel will be in prison for a long, long time.
Turning to Kingston, I say, “I’m just enjoying the water.”
“This is my favorite time of day,” he says, handing me a glass of sparkling liquid.
“Champagne?” I ask, taking a sip.
He nods. “But only one glass. Bash and I have plans for you, little one, and we don’t want you impaired.”
His care and attention are touching, and I blink back tears.
“Hey, hey,” he says, gathering me in his arms. “If you’re not ready to mess around, we don’t have to—”
“No, I want to,” I say. “It’s just you’re so…good to me.”
He presses me to his chest briefly before letting me go. “I love you, Ella. Your happiness is my number one concern.”
“It’s overwhelming sometimes,” I say.
“We come on strong.” His eyes are gray-blue, like the ocean beyond.
Sebastian comes out on the deck of the house and brings his hand up to shield his eyes from the setting sun. Spotting us, he waves and begins striding toward us.
Kingston continues, “We have strong feelings, Bash and I. It takes a strong woman to handle us. I think you’re that woman. But if we get to be too much, you let us know. We can try to compromise, back off.”
“Back off?” Sebastian asks. “Us?”
I giggle and take another sip of my champagne. It’s smooth, sweet, bubbly.
I don’t know how I got so lucky—I found two amazing guys who would move heaven and earth for my happiness.
In the two days since the kidnapping and car accident, they’ve canceled everything they had going on and whisked me to the beach.
Kingston arranged for a week off of work for me—the first vacation I’ve had since before Dad died.
So far, we’ve been spending the time lazing around.
We read, watch movies, cook together, and go for long walks.
There’s a section of beach a couple of miles away with tide pools, and I love spotting the orange starfish, green anemones, and purple urchins.
Sebastian even brought Schrodinger, so we don’t have to worry about him being lonely back in the city.
“I’m so incredibly lucky, and spoiled,” I say, squeezing Kingston’s hand, then Sebastian’s. “Thank you for this time with you.”
They each lean toward me and kiss my cheeks, one man on each side.
It’s probably my emotions going wild, but I can imagine a wedding photo, just like this.
On the beach. I’m in a white dress and they’re in tuxedos on either side of me.
They lean in and kiss my cheeks while I hold their hands—shiny rings on each of us.
And that would be the photo for the cover of our wedding album.
I blink away the notion. I’m getting way too far ahead of myself, too fast. We’ve only been dating since the end of January, and it’s the end of April, now. Way too soon for marriage dreams!
And yet, with the soft way they each look at me, adoration in their eyes like I’m a treasure to them, someone valuable and precious…it’s hard to banish the marriage thoughts.
Sebastian steals a kiss from my mouth, then takes it deeper, clutching the fabric of my shirt at my back and pulling me close to his body. I nearly drop my champagne flute, but Kingston is there to gently take it from my grasp while Sebastian grinds against me.
Abruptly, Sebastian pulls away. “I’m sorry, princess, I should’ve talked to you first—are you ready for all of this?”
“By this , do you mean yours and King’s cocks?” I ask. “Because if so, yes. I want you both. So much.”
“Good,” Kingston rumbles, while Sebastian reaches for me again.
Sebastian
We make our way back to the house, kissing and stumbling in the sand. The sun is sinking, and although I love watching sunsets, nothing compares to the lust-dazed expression on Ella’s face right now.
She’s barefoot and wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved tee, as well as that scarf that she thinks hides her bruises from Kingston and me.
It doesn’t work. We know those bruises are there. We’d give anything to go back in time and prevent it all from happening.
She still has nightmares. I want to obliterate them. I want to obliterate all thoughts of Joel Tyler and his awful violence.
But I can’t. The only thing to do is move forward, try to get past it.
When I tug on the end of the scarf, Ella grabs it. “Maybe we should go to the bedroom, where it’s darker.”
“I’m not afraid of the marks,” I say. “Are you?”
“No,” she whispers. “I just don’t want to make you mad.”
Kingston kisses her cheek, then her lips, before pulling back and looking into her eyes. “Our feelings are our feelings. You don’t have to take responsibility for them. You’re a survivor, little girl, and your bruises only prove your strength.”
I wait while she allows his words to sink in. Then wordlessly, she nods.
Carefully, I unwind the scarf and pass it to King. “I think we can put this to better use.”
“Yes, we can.” He snaps it tight in his hands, testing the strength of the silky fabric.
I grab the edge of Ella’s t-shirt and ease it up. Her skin is warm and soft, and I can’t resist leaning over to press a kiss against her tummy.
She giggles softly. “Your beard tickles.”
Grinning up at her, I say, “You don’t seem to have a problem with that when I’m eating you out.”
“Shh, don’t be crude,” she says with another laugh, and tries to push my face away.
I stand to my full height and fold my arms across my chest. “Are you trying to boss me around?”
“Maybe I am.” She offers me a half shrug.
“You’re misbehaving, little girl.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Spank your naughty ass.”
King watches with amusement while I lead Ella over to the sofa in the living room. She fights me, but playfully—trying to hook her foot around the corner of the heavy dining table, reaching for Kingston to “help” her, and struggling to pry my grip from her upper arm.
“Daddy,” she says with a pout, “you’re not being fair.”
“I’m being nicer than you deserve. Now stand still.”
She starts to move, but I swat her through her jeans and she yelps in surprise.
“Don’t fucking move, princess,” I say again.
She wiggles her toes back and forth, testing me. I spank her again. Then I unfasten her jeans, pull them down, and expose her panty-clad ass.
Her panties are dark gray lace with little pink bows on the sides. Sexy and girly at the same time—a perfect blend of wickedness and innocence. Just like my girl.
I pull the panties down, exposing her luscious ass. Then I bring my hand back. “Get ready to count your spankings, princess.”