Healed heart, p.9
Healed Heart, page 9
“I know, baby.” I squeeze her hands and then let them go. “But he said something to me when I left his hospital room. He said, ‘you never fucking deserved her.’”
She shakes her head. “Did he tell you who beat him up?”
“It wasn’t me, Angie.”
“I know that.” She sighs. “I’m sorry again that I doubted you. I know you could never do such a thing. And then, when I found out my brother was in town, for a hot minute I thought it might have been him.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Your brother? Why?”
She exhales sharply. “You don’t know my family. The men are a bunch of hotheads who will do anything to protect their women. Their wives, sisters, cousins, mothers, daughters. I’m not even exaggerating.”
“I get it,” I say. I would have done anything to protect Julia. Lindsay, too. If Ralph came between either of them and me, I’d have no qualms about beating him to a damned pulp.
“But it wasn’t him. He was out with friends last night, having a few beers.”
“Have you confirmed this story with his friends?”
She laughs at that. “I don’t know who his friends are. Probably people he met at the conference. But I don’t have to check out his story to believe him. He didn’t have a scratch on him, and neither do you.” She rubs her temples. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess it’s just the uncertainty of it all.”
She’s caught up in this mess just as much as I am, and the last thing she needs is more to worry about.
“Look,” I say, setting my glass down and standing to face her. “Ralph doesn’t matter. I’m…” I let out a breath. “I’m going to level with HR. Tell them about us. And then I’m going to figure out who murdered my wife.”
She places her hand over her chest. “You’ll lose your job, Jason.”
“I’d lose it anyway if I went to Switzerland for the surgery. Which I may still do if I can get to the bottom of this before then.”
“But anatomy lab…”
“They’ll find someone else to teach it. And you’ll do fine. Probably better without me there.” I run a hand over my face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this.”
“For loving me? There’s no reason to be sorry about that.”
I swallow. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Neither did I,” she says. “It just happened.”
A shared silence falls, but it only lasts a minute before Tillie scratches at the door. Angie lets her in, and she jumps onto the couch in the living room and lies down.
“I need you,” I say.
“I need you too.”
“No.” I shake my head, stalking toward her. “I mean I need you. Now, Angie. Fucking now.”
Chapter Nineteen
Angie
Jason grabs me and swoops me over his shoulder as if I’m a sack of grain.
Already my heart is stampeding, my pussy pulsing.
He takes me to the bedroom and throws me on the bed.
He’s being even rougher than usual.
And it’s turning me on.
The glass of wine I had at dinner with my brother has loosened me up, and the adrenaline from Jason’s unexpected visit is making me buzz with anticipation. He strips off his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. His scarf follows, and then his sweater and shirt.
He’s never been this urgent before, and it stirs a wildness inside me that’s new to me.
“Jason,” I gasp.
His eyes are dark, intense—almost feral. It scares me a little, but it excites me more.
His hands are everywhere, rough but not careless. “Angie,” he rasps out, burying his face in my neck.
I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer.
His lips find mine in a bruising kiss that leaves us both breathless. There’s no tenderness in this encounter—just raw need and desire.
He pulls back and looks me in the eyes. “This doesn’t change anything. We still have to face what’s ahead. But right now I need you.”
“And I need you,” I whisper back, reaching up to pull him back to me. “Right now, there’s nothing else.”
His lips meet mine again, his kisses coming harder and faster. There’s a roughness in his touch, a raw intensity that fuels the heat bubbling between us.
He breaks the kiss with a loud smack. “Take off your clothes, Angie. Strip for me.”
I stare back at him. “Oh? Is that what you want?”
His gaze is ravenous, consuming me as it travels the length of my body. “Yes,” he growls.
I rise to my feet, my body trembling under his heated gaze. I start with my blouse, unbuttoning each button slowly, teasing him. His eyes follow my fingers as they make their way down to the hem of the material.
Once my blouse is discarded on the floor, I hook my thumbs on the waistband of my pants. I give Jason one last provocative look before letting them pool around my feet.
His breath hitches as he drinks in the sight of me in just my underwear. I can tell from his hardened expression how much he’s enjoying this.
“Your turn,” I challenge.
He stands from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. He starts with his belt, unbuckling it slowly. He undoes each button of his jeans, revealing his toned abdomen. He steps out of his pants and kicks them aside. His boxers follow, and he kicks them away just as nonchalantly.
He’s as magnificent as ever, his muscles taut and corded, and his cock hard and ready. I warm under his gaze as he returns to the bed and pulls me back into his arms.
“Say it,” he demands, his voice a low growl that sends me spinning.
“I need you,” I whisper, my voice shaking as desire courses through me.
He roams his hands over me, tracing my curves and igniting a path of heat wherever he touches.
He guides me onto the bed and covers my body with his, his weight both comforting and arousing. Our bodies meld together, fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.
“Angie,” he whispers against my skin, his voice thick with desire.
He explores me with a frantic urgency that leaves me breathless and wanting more. My world narrows to the feel of him, his spicy masculine scent filling every part of me.
He trails a path down my neck with rough sucking kisses, marking me. A low moan vibrates out of me as he grazes my flesh with his teeth. He skims his fingers over my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples until they’re hard as berries, so ready to be nibbled and sucked.
I arch against him, craving more contact. I tangle my fingers in his soft hair, pulling him closer as I seek his mouth with mine. Our kisses are hungry and desperate, raw and promising.
He moves lower, trailing kisses down my stomach. He grips my hips, holding me steady as he ventures lower, his breath tickling me, making me want to beg.
But I don’t have to. He spreads my legs, and the touch of his lips against my inner thighs sends a current jolting through me. I gasp as my nerves come alive, the tickle between my legs blazing. He traces the edge of my panties before he hooks them around the sides and pulls them off.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, the sensation overwhelming. I want his tongue, his lips, his teeth—everything.
“Jason,” I moan, writhing beneath him.
He doesn’t make me wait long. He slides his lips over me, delving his tongue into my heat. I arch again, an incoherent cry escaping my lips as pleasure washes over me.
He tightens his grip on my hips as he sets a relentless pace, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I clutch at the sheets beneath me, my breaths coming out in ragged gasps.
I’m teetering on the edge, all thoughts slipping away under the onslaught of his attention. Only feelings remain. Only Jason. The world narrows to just him and me. Nothing else exists beyond this room. Beyond this bed.
Lips, tongue, teeth. He gives me all of it, nipping at my clit, my labia, sliding into my pussy.
With a strangled cry, I come undone beneath him, waves of pleasure radiating through every cell of my body and then rushing back between my legs.
“That’s it, baby,” he grits out. “That’s it.”
He explores me with an expert touch. I continue to writhe beneath him. I grip the sheets as I lose myself in the sensation of him, each lick and kiss sending sprays of rapture pounding through me.
“Jason,” I whimper, my voice barely more than a breathless moan.
He looks up at me again, his eyes dark with passion and desire.
“Say it,” he repeats, his voice hoarse with need.
“I need you. I need you.” My words come out as a plea.
He rises above me, and though I whimper at the loss of his mouth between my legs, I savor the sight of him, of his emerald eyes burning, his lips glistening with my juices, his jawline harsh and manly.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, his flesh warm beneath my touch.
“Jason,” I moan.
He doesn’t make me wait for long. He scrambles off the bed, and in a flash he’s back, sheathed and fully inside me.
He remains still for a moment. I savor the feeling of true completion, of perfect melding.
His strokes are slow and deliberate at first. But it isn’t long before our breathing becomes ragged as he increases his pace.
Hard and rapid thrusts.
Just how I love them.
The world outside fades into insignificance as our bodies move in sync, each stroke pushing us closer to the edge. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath against my skin sending me reeling. His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of my body with a desperate need that matches my own.
The pleasure builds again inside me with each plunge of his cock into me.
I gasp, moan, whisper his name—all a crescendo that threatens to consume me.
His rhythm becomes more erratic as he nears his peak.
“Angie,” he groans into my ear, his voice a raw whisper.
Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, and I tense as I reach the brink, ready to tumble over into oblivion.
And then it hits me.
A powerful upsurge of ecstasy that sweeps me under. I cry out, my voice lost in the roar of pleasure that fills my ears. My body shakes as I cling to him, riding out the storm of sensations that shatters me in the most beautiful way.
“Angie,” he murmurs again, his voice echoing through the haze.
He thrusts once more. His body freezes, every muscle taut as he spills into me. His ragged breaths are hot against my neck as he rides out his climax, our bodies tangled in a sweaty mess of limbs.
Slowly, the tremors subside, and we’re left panting and sated, his weight a soothing presence on top of me. He rolls to the side of the bed and pulls me into his arms.
He plants soft kisses on my forehead and gently traces patterns on my bare skin. The room is silent save for our ragged breathing and the occasional soft murmur.
“I love you,” he whispers into the silence, his words heavy with emotion.
I rest my head on his chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart.
Th-thump.
Th-thump.
Th-thump.
A drumbeat that soothes me like a cooling salve.
“I love you too, Jason,” I whisper back.
He tightens his arms around me and pulls me closer, as if he wishes he could climb inside me, truly make us one. We lie in silence. The moment feels both endless and fleeting at the same time. I close my eyes and let myself sink deeper into his warmth, savoring the sensation of being completely and utterly wanted.
As I doze off, he shifts underneath me. He plants a soft kiss on my forehead before whispering, “Sleep well, angel.”
And with those words, I surrender to the pull of sleep, safe in Jason’s arms.
Until I wake to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.
I turn toward Jason…
But he’s gone.
Chapter Twenty
Jason
I left early, before Angie woke, because a text message came through.
The PI I hired found Lindsay’s old friend Rebecca Tate in Orlando, Florida.
It’s seven a.m. here, which means it’s nine a.m. where she is.
So I give her a call.
She doesn’t answer.
Probably because she doesn’t recognize my number. Can’t blame her.
I leave a voicemail.
“Hi, I’m calling for Rebecca Tate. My name is Jason Lansing, and I was married to Lindsay Davis, your friend from childhood. Please give me a call.”
After fifteen minutes, I resign myself to the fact that I may have to travel to Orlando and show up on this woman’s doorstep, when she calls.
“Hello, Rebecca?” I say into the phone.
“Yes. Hi. You were married to Lindsay?”
“I was.”
“So you’re divorced?”
My heart drops. “No. She passed away.”
She gasps. “God, I’m so sorry. She disappeared after graduation. I… I’ve thought about her over the years. I never imagined…”
“I apologize.” I rub at my forehead. “I thought you knew. Someone named Becca posted on her Facebook memorial page.”
“That wasn’t me. I’ve never gone by Becca or Becky. Just Rebecca.”
Fuck. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I mean, I haven’t seen her since high school, but like I said, I think about her from time to time. Wonder how she’s doing.” She sighs. “I guess I know now. I’m not on social media, so I never heard about this until just now. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. It was a while ago. Nearly three years now.”
“Damn. Again, my deepest condolences.” Another sigh. “May I ask what you’re calling about?”
“I’m hoping you can help me. I need to locate her old boyfriend, Ronny Burgundy.”
“Wow,” she says. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He fell off the face of the earth, too.”
“Did he? Do you have any idea where he might be now?”
Rebecca is silent for a moment. “Last time I heard anything about him, he was heading out west,” she tells me. “San Francisco, if I remember correctly.”
“San Francisco,” I repeat, filing that information away.
“Yes.” She pauses again. “But it’s been years. I’m not sure if he’s still there.”
“It’s a start,” I say. “Thank you, Rebecca.”
“Sure.” Her voice cracks. “God, again, I’m so sorry to hear about Lindsay. She was so pretty and smart. Of course I spent a few years hating her for abandoning me and never reaching out.”
“She had her reasons.”
“Ronny?”
“Yeah. He wouldn’t leave her alone. She had a restraining order and everything, but he continued stalking her, so she and her parents moved to Colorado after graduation. She went to college here, and that’s where she and I met.”
“Wow,” Rebecca murmurs, sounding stunned. “I had no idea. She always seemed so strong, so fearless.”
“She was,” I say. “But everyone has their vulnerabilities. She couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to live her life.”
Live her life. The irony of my words hits me like a ton of bricks.
Lindsay should be alive, damn it.
We stay silent for a moment longer before she breaks it. “I hate to bring up something horrible for you, but what happened to Lindsay? Was she sick?”
“No,” I say. “She… Well, I think she may have been murdered.”
I hear a clunk on the other line. Sounds like Rebecca dropped her phone.
In a second she’s back. “You can’t be serious.”
I draw in a breath, steel myself for what I have to say. “It’s a long story. She and I… We lost our daughter three years ago in an accident. She couldn’t cope, and she… She took her own life. At least that’s what we all initially thought. But recently I’ve come to suspect that foul play may have been involved.”
Another gasp.
Fuck.
I’ve said more than I should have.
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Lindsay?” I ask.
“God, no. Everyone loved her. Especially Ronny.”
I scratch the side of my head. “Yet he disappeared.”
“Yeah. Everyone just assumed he followed Lindsay wherever she went.”
“He didn’t,” I say. “When Lindsay and I met, he was nowhere around.”
“What did she say about him?”
“Just that she thought he was her first love, but he turned into a creepy stalker.”
“Yeah, sounds like Ronny.” She sighs.
“Who told you he may have gone to San Francisco?”
“God, I don’t remember. That was years ago.” She sighs. “Maybe Ralph Parker?”
The name Ralph gives me a nudge. “Who’s Ralph Parker?”
“He was the student body president. He kept tabs on everyone after graduation. He still puts together all our reunions. Dude needs to get a life.”
“Ralph Parker…”
“Yeah. You want his number?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She rattles off the digits as I program them into my phone.
“Thanks again, Rebecca. I’ll let you know if I find anything else. I’m truly grateful, and I’m sorry for the bad news.”
“Good luck, Jason,” she says softly, her voice filled with sympathy.
With that, we end the call, and I stare blankly at the phone. My mind is turning over this new information, but it provides no immediate solution—just more questions.
Ralph Parker. San Francisco. Ronny Burgundy. They’re all pieces of a puzzle that don’t quite fit together.
I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than meets the eye. The idea that Lindsay was killed—murdered—turns my stomach. Plus…why didn’t she ever reach out to Rebecca or anyone else from her past? Was Ronny Burgundy truly that much of a threat?
I dial Ralph Parker’s number, my thoughts whirling as the phone rings and rings. His voicemail comes on the line.
