Hot for the Jerk, page 27
“See you in a bit.”
“Sounds good.” We said our goodbyes, then I disconnected the call. “That was Clint. Apparently, Myla is the only cop on duty, since Everett is out sick, and they’re struggling to find permanent replacements for Jenkins and Fischer. There weren’t any cops willing to come over from the mainland for a few shifts here either.”
“That strikes me as so odd. This place is paradise, and fairly chill. Why wouldn’t you want to be a cop here? I’d be terrified to be a cop in a big city like Seattle.”
“Totally agree.” I nodded. “Anyway, Burke and Bennett are going to escort Soloman back to the mainland at 2 o’clock. Myla was also waiting for confirmation that there’d be a police escort on the other side to pick him up.”
“I want to go down to the dock, see for myself that he gets on that boat.” Fear, but mostly anger burned like green flames in her eyes. “Will you go with me?”
I nodded before I even fully processed what she had asked of me. “Of course.”
“Thank you.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Anything for you, Elsa. And I mean that.”
Even though I really didn’t want to leave Raina, I did for a short time. I raced home, got a few social media things done, caught up on emails, and downed a protein shake and some much-needed electrolytes, before leaping back into my truck to go pick her up just before two.
She chewed on the side of her thumb as she sat in the passenger seat of my truck, staring blankly ahead as I drove down toward the dock. “Just because he’s leaving doesn’t mean this is the end of it.”
“We can alert the harbormaster, and all the ferry attendants on either side not to let him on,” I said, taking the final corner before the big hill that led down to the marina came into view.
“Besides smacking me, he hasn’t done anything illegal. It’s a free country.”
“Then we’ll file a restraining order.”
All she did was nod, but the way her shoulders rounded and her chin trembled told me she didn’t believe that a restraining order would keep Soloman away. To be fair, neither did I.
“Why’d he come now?” I asked, needing to keep the conversation going, to learn more about that part of her life, and just how twisted the people we were dealing with were.
I started down the steep hill toward the marina. It was still really weird not to see any vehicles lined up on the righthand side, waiting for the next sailing. The harbormaster was pretty good about updating the marina website and he seemed to think that by Monday next week, the terminal would be fixed. That is, if the weather cooperated.
“Josiah and Soloman were the only brothers of twelve children. Soloman had four daughters and one son—Elias. Elias was … different. He never got any kind of diagnosis, because the congregation didn’t believe in that kind of thing. They believed everything could be handled and cured with more discipline—or prayer.”
I shook my head. “Christ Almighty.”
“I don’t have a psych degree or anything, but I’m guessing he had what could be determined as Borderline Personality Disorder. He was unpredictable, had anger issues, was very manipulative, and always lying. Not that anything came of it, but there were rumors that he sexually assaulted several women in the congregation, including teenagers and even a ten-year-old.”
“Fuck.”
She nodded. “Gabrielle typed in a bunch of his behavior traits and that’s what popped up. Borderline Personality Disorder. Elias never married. Not for lack of trying on Soloman’s part. But no father in the congregation would marry their daughter off to Elias. Which says a lot, because normally fathers didn’t give two shits to who they tied their daughter to, they just wanted to be rid of her. Make her someone else’s problem.”
I found a parking spot that was right behind the big rocks that spilled down into the water, and turned off the ignition.
“Soloman held out hope though,” she went on. “Then Marco was born, and he scaled back his desperation to marry off his son. But he must have reapplied the pressure when Marco and I left. I’m not sure how Elias died. But now, Soloman is without an heir. The entire Aaronson side is without an heir to carry on the family name.”
“So?” I shrugged. “What is the big fucking deal about ‘carrying on a name’?”
“I don’t know. Something about being remembered, legacy, and never truly dying if your bloodline and name lives on. I actively scraped a lot of those preachings from my brain the moment I was free.”
“Fair enough. I’d probably do the same. Find a hypnotist to hypnotize it out of me. Or just go for a full lobotomy.” I craned my neck around to glance up the hill to see, but I didn’t see Myla’s police cruiser yet, or my brother’s truck. We were still five minutes early though. I faced Raina again, still not quite able to believe this beautiful stick of dynamite was finally sitting in my lap. “Can I ask you about your family?”
“Not much to say. I had an abusive, overbearing father, and a shell of a mother. She’s a very timid woman. Lives to serve my father. Has never, and will never, speak out against him. Both are still alive, unfortunately.”
“Any siblings?”
I snorted. “Three older brothers. All just as terrible as my dad. They’re abusive to their wives and perpetuate the misogyny and toxic masculinity with their own sons. It’s honestly an epidemic.”
“Did your father try to marry you off again after Josiah died?”
“He tried. He and Soloman were in a discussion about me marrying Elias, but I got the fuck out of dodge before that could happen. I’d already been in contact with Aunt Dolores and Gabrielle, and they had an exit plan in place for me.”
“Thank fuck for that,” I breathed, spying the police cruiser coming down the hill in my rearview mirror. Bennett’s truck was right behind it. “Here we go,” I said, reaching across the bench seat for her hand.
She gave my fingers a squeeze and forced a smile just as Myla Bruce pulled her cruiser up beside my truck. I glanced over at the cop, and she offered me a tired wave. I couldn’t blame her. She was probably running on fumes, and the asshole in the backseat undoubtably wasn’t making it any easier on her.
Bennett and Burke parked on the other side of my truck and got out, joining Myla on the driver’s side of her car.
“We’re not getting out,” I said to Raina, still holding her hand.
“I know.”
Myla yanked Soloman, in handcuffs, from the cruiser. Then she, Bennett, and Burke, escorted the fucker down the ramp to the dock where Gabe Griswald, and several other islanders waited next to the big aluminum water taxi.
Raina sucked in a sharp breath through her nose and held it for a while. I untwined our fingers and unbuckled her seatbelt, then hauled her across the bench seat into my lap. She came willingly, and settled sideways, her legs extended toward the passenger door.
I held her there, my arms around her, chin on her shoulder, and we waited. Waited for the monster—who knocked on her door last night—to vacate our relaxed, safe little island.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she whispered, leaning into me, her eyes glued to Soloman down on the dock. Of course, the man was garnering some confused and curious looks from the other passengers waiting to board. Nobody wanted to be on a boat with someone who sported matching metal bracelets connected by a chain.
“Anything for you,” I said, my chin still on her shoulder. I pressed a kiss to the same spot over her cream-colored fleecy pullover.
“Isn’t it crazy to think that a month ago we couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other?”
“I never looked forward to it, but I also secretly did,” I admitted, which prompted her to turn around and gaze down at me.
“Me too,” she whispered right before leaning down and dropping a small, sweet kiss to my mouth.
I hugged her tighter, and we just sat there in companionable silence until my brother and Burke guided Soloman onto the boat. They were the last to board, but I didn’t even move to get going until the boat pulled away and was out of the marina, headed for the mainland.
Myla climbed the ramp and approached my side of the truck, the surprise on her face seeing Raina in my lap only noticeable for a second. “He’s gone,” she said, after I rolled down my window.
“Not for forever,” Raina said, sliding off my lap to her own seat again. “The men in his family are relentless. They don’t take no for an answer. If he wants something, thinks he’s entitled to something, he won’t stop until it’s his.”
A hot, spicy bubble of rage filled my guts. Josiah never took Raina’s no as an answer. He thought he was entitled to her body whenever he wanted it. I glanced over at the strong woman sitting in the seat next to me and my heart both shattered for her and swelled at how in awe I was of all that she’d overcome. Instead of letting the shit she went through suffocate her, she used that shit to help herself grow. To become an unbreakable, beautiful, strong-as-fuck flower.
Fuck, I was coming up with the most frilly poetics and analogies now that I’d caught feelings for this sexy little porcupine. Ah, hell, I kind of liked it.
“We’re going to do what we can to prevent him from coming back,” Myla said. “Are you willing to press charges against him for assault?”
“What did he say about Jagger hitting him?” she asked.
Myla sighed hard. “He muttered something about pressing charges.”
“Yeah, I figured. If I press charges, he’ll press charges.” She met my gaze. “I can’t do that to you. You were just protecting us.”
I shrugged. “And I’d do it again. Let him come after me with his bogus charges. Honestly, it’s his word against mine. There were no witnesses. However, I saw him hit you. And you have a security Ring camera that I’m sure recorded him striking you. I made sure when I hit him, I did it off the property and out of view of any cameras.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this,” Myla said with an eye roll.
I smirked and faced the cop again. “Raina would like to press charges.”
Myla glanced behind me at Raina. “Would you?”
With a sigh, Raina’s head bobbed. “Yes, please.”
“Come to the station later today when you have a chance and we’ll get things sorted.” She tapped the hood of the truck twice, gave us a reassuring smile, then headed back to her cruiser.
I hit the button for the window to go up again and turned on the engine. “Where to, Elsa?”
Raina checked her watch. “The vineyard, I guess. Marco will be home soon.”
“You got it.”
We didn’t speak the entire way back to the vineyard, and while I didn’t hate the silence between us, I knew she was tense as fuck. I wracked my brain the whole drive about how I could help ease her stress. Take away that constant niggling worry that Soloman would return, and this time when I wasn’t around to kick his ass to the curb.
I pulled onto the vineyard property and shut off the engine, facing her. “You want to talk about how you’re feeling right now?”
She shook her head, her eyes glued to her knitted fingers in her lap. “Mostly because I don’t know how I feel. I’m a mix of emotions. I’m relieved he’s gone. I’m angry that part of my life has infiltrated my new life. I’m sad that Marco is probably really confused right now.” She glanced up at me. “I’m also really happy you’re here and that I don’t have to deal with all of this alone.”
Now was not the time to smile as wide as I wanted to. Nor was it the time for the fist pump my super-ego kept telling me to do. So I engaged in some serious self-talk and told myself to react appropriately. I smiled, but not too much. No teeth. Teeth would have been too much. Then I reached for her hands, untangled her fingers and laced them with mine. “You definitely don’t have to deal with this alone. You’ve got your cousins. You’ve got my family. You’ve got the islanders. And you’ve got me.”
“Come over for dinner tonight,” she said, the green in her eyes getting more vibrant as the clouds overhead parted and the sun beat in through her window. “We didn’t have dinner last night, and I’d like to cook for you as a thank you for all you’ve done.”
“No need to thank me.”
Her crooked half-smile was cute. “Come over anyway.”
I leaned forward, cupped her chin with my free hand, and pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Raina
While Jagger didn’t sleep over again, for the next six days, he was over a lot. And it wasn’t just at my request. Marco asked him to come over too.
After Jagger came for dinner on Monday, he and Marco bonded by playing video games in the living room. Luckily for Jagger, his skills with the Nintendo were impressive, and my kid was in awe. He invited Jagger over every night to play, even showed Jagger off to his cousins, Austin and Damon. Then the four of them would play, sometimes all in the same room, other times Austin and Damon were in their own houses, and they all wore headsets and talked smack to each other that way. It was kind of hilarious to be in my office working while Jagger and Marco—who were on one team—tossed PG-rated insults at Damon and Austin.
It was Saturday now, and even though Jagger and I had been having an awful lot of sex during the day all week, I really wanted to spend the night with him properly. I wanted to wake up next to him. I wanted him to casually roll on top of me, slide inside, and help me greet the new day with a wake-up orgasm, just like in the movies.
Our priorities weren’t exactly aligned though. I wanted to have sex all night, sleep in the same bed, then have sex the next morning. He wanted to go on a proper date. He kept saying how bad he felt that all we were doing was having afternoon sex while Marco was at school. Then I’d cook for him before he and my kid bonded over Mario Kart.
Honestly, the last six days were some of the best in my life. Great sex, endless orgasms, and a fantastic new male role model for my kid to look up to. Because Jagger really was a fantastic role model. He was kind, he was patient, he was compassionate. Everything Josiah wasn’t. Jagger embodied all the characteristics of the kind of man I hoped my son grew up to be one day.
“Is Jagger coming over again tonight, Mom?” Marco asked, sitting at the kitchen table eating his Rice Krispies.
With my fluffy red robe around me, I leaned against the counter and sipped my coffee, casually sliding my bare inner thighs back and forth over each other. They were a little tender from Jagger’s relentless attention yesterday. His beard had some serious scratch to it.
“Mom?”
I shook my head and blinked. “Sorry, bud. Uh, no. I don’t think so.”
My kid pouted. “What? Why?”
“I think we’re going to go out tonight. Like we tried to last weekend. You’re going to go hang out upstairs with Aunt Gabrielle, Damon, and Laurel.”
The appeal of that seemed just a step up from liver and onions for dinner. “But I always see them.”
“And you always see Jagger. Or at least that’s how it feels lately.”
“He’s cool.”
“I agree. He’s also someone that I would like to get to know better without my child constantly interrupting us, asking if Jagger is ready to play video games.”
“Can he come back and spend the night at least?”
“We’ll see.” The answer was already a big fat no, but Marco didn’t need to know that. The plan was for me to stay overnight at Jagger’s, and Marco to sleep upstairs at Gabrielle’s. I’d hopefully be home before my kid figured out I didn’t come home last night. At nine years old he didn’t know that much about sex yet. He understood that people who had “crushes” on each other liked to kiss. He also knew the fundamentals of how babies got made. Everything else was a mystery to him, and I intended to keep him innocent and ignorant to that for just a little longer.
I glanced out the window. “It’s a nice day, why don’t you see if some of your cousins want to kick the soccer ball around for a bit?”
More pouting from the nine-year-old. “Do I have to?”
“What else did you intend to do all day today?”
He shrugged, his copper hair a wild mess, particularly in the back from his pillow. “I dunno? Play video games.”
“That is a reward for time spent outside stretching your legs, getting some fresh air, and basking in this paradise we live in. It’s been a long, cold, wet winter already. Take advantage of these few nice days we have. It’s supposed to get ugly again soon.”
None of my words seemed to sink in. He still wore a scowl of disagreement when he got up from the table to put his dishes in the dishwasher. But he did get dressed, and he did brush his teeth, and he did grab the soccer ball, and take the stairs through the house to go see if his cousins were around. So maybe it did sink in, just reluctantly so.
Even though we’d already finalized our proposal for Bonn Remmen’s land, now that the in-person proposal deadline had been postponed from December to sometime in March when the snowbirds were back from the Baja, Gabrielle wanted us to all go through it and double-check it was polished so shiny a magpie would be drawn to it.
With the proposal up on my computer, I sipped my tea and hummed along to “Current Swell” that crooned softly at a low volume. Gabrielle didn’t want us to actually change anything in the document, but rather highlight sections she thought we could reword or tweak and make a comment or suggestion in the track changes. So far, I had about four suggestions. Mostly, it was for a more impactful word, or to move a sentence around for better flow.
Gabrielle really was the wordsmith, but we appreciated that she still wanted our feedback.
I picked up my mug and was about to take a sip when the front door burst open and Honor, Naomi’s ten-year-old, came barreling inside. “Aunt Raina, two men are here. They chased us into the trees. They’re after Marco!”
