The Unlucky Ones, page 20
“Fuck, you taste better than I imagined,” he growled against me.
Nipping, licking, and sucking, Lincoln’s investigating changed. Gripping my ass, he tugged me farther toward him. Fingers joined his mouth. He was a man on a mission, incinerating every cell in my body with pleasure. A cry shuddered from me, and I grasped him by the head, moving my hips against him, ecstasy blooming inside me. Another loud moan bounced off the walls. I could hear chatter and activity bustling a few yards away, but I no longer cared. I gave in to unbelievable pleasure, chasing it like a kid after an ice cream truck.
A knock tapped at the door. Of course someone needed the bathroom now. “Occupied,” I grunted, not caring who was out there. The risk of getting caught seemed to provoke Lincoln to strengthen the force of his objective.
“Fuck… Lincoln.” My nails dug into his hair as he shifted, tongue in deeper, devouring me as his thumb rubbed my clit. I dropped my head back in a cry.
Sweat beaded at my back as my orgasm climbed every vertebra. Sensing my body starting to retract, my breath hitching in tiny gulps, he notched up the intensity, nipping down.
A choked moan was all I could get out as sheer bliss stole me from my body, taking me away from all the pain and heartache. All I felt was joy. Convulsing and jerking, I gradually came back into myself. Muscles let go of all their tension, and I crashed back against the mirror, trying to catch my breath.
I didn’t move or speak for several moments, my mind and limbs mush.
Lincoln kissed me softly before rising up on his feet, a smug smile curving the side of his mouth.
“You don’t know how many times I visualized doing this.” He placed his palms on either side of my hips. “Far better than any of my fantasies. But again, this was half-assed. Next time I want to take my time, really make you lose your mind.”
“Half-assed?” I sputtered. “Jesus, I don’t think I could handle full-assed.”
“Guess we’ll have test it out.” He leaned in, his mouth covering mine voraciously, his tongue and lips claiming mine, kissing me passionately. I went from sedated to turned on in a blaze, my knees gripping his hips as the kiss became frantic and desperate.
Abruptly, he pulled away, tipping his head into mine, our breaths ragged. “I better go.”
My stomach dropped, my head spinning from the extremes this man could take me through.
“Yeah, you probably should. It won’t be long before Amelia comes looking for you.”
“I’ve told her I’m not interested. That there’s someone else.” He skimmed his lips over mine and then stepped back. “You haven’t told her something’s going on between us?”
“No.” I brushed down my dress. “It never felt like a good time. She is so set on you… I didn’t want to hurt her.”
“Seriously?” He inched back farther, straightening his spine. “Keep me a dirty little secret to save Amelia’s feelings. What about yours?”
“Mine? I have no idea what those are,” I huffed, sliding off the counter, straightening my clothes, the façade I let down for a moment going back up. “I better get back out there, or they may start wondering where I am.”
“Devon?” He caught my arm, exasperation written over him like his tattoos.
“I need to go. There are still a few guests I need to thank.” I tugged out of his grip, sounding colder than I meant to. I didn’t have the energy to get into it with him. Outside these walls was enough stress. “There’s a side door down the hall.”
“You do that.” He nodded, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt, his voice impassive. “Get back out there, play the picture-perfect host and selfless sister.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Irritation curled around my throat.
“Always the noble one. Righteous. I swear, I can hear your soul screaming from here to be let free. Be honest, Dev. You’d rather be anywhere but here.”
It was as if he pried me open and scooped out my deepest thoughts. Few people ever looked beyond people’s veneer, seeing into their soul. I hated Lincoln was one of the few who could really see me, see me suffocating.
“So?” I thrust my hands back to my hips, not bothering to deny it. “What does it have to do with anything? I have to be here… It’s my mother’s memorial. People are—”
“Counting on you.” He finished for me, annoying me more. “Tell me, would your mom even like this memorial?”
No. My mom would hate it. She’d want a party or everyone sitting around a campfire getting drunk and telling funny stories. Before Dad died then she got sick, she was a bit of a free spirit.
“You know these memorials aren’t for the person who died. It’s to appease the living. Do what society tells you to do.”
“Screw you.” I bit down. “I am trying to get through without falling apart.”
“Fall apart.”
“What?”
“Fuckin’ fall apart.” He threw up his hands. “What will happen if you do? The world will end if you aren’t in control? Of all the people who deserve to lose it, it’s you. You don’t think people would understand?”
My mouth opened then shut. It wasn’t that I thought people wouldn’t understand, I didn’t want to…because somewhere along the road, I became a huge control freak.
“Who are you to talk?” I countered, my shoulders rolling forward. A moment ago his tongue was inside me, making me come, now I was contemplating punching him in the face. “You are so closed off I’m surprised you aren’t constipated from your lies.”
A gruff laugh hurled from him, but it dropped away as fast as it started. “My life depends on keeping private.”
“Yeah, you’re doing great at that.” I waved my hand toward the main room. “But I know who you are. So why keep me out?”
“You don’t want in. I promise you.”
“Don’t decide for me.” My shoes knocked into his. Words spewed from me as if being around him made me lose all sense of control. “Or are you too scared I’ll find you are a narcissistic, common, low-grade drug dealer? A thief stupid enough to get caught because he thought with his dick and not his brains.”
His jaw locked down, his eyes narrowing into slits, his physique growing over me. I could feel the anger rising off him like steam.
“Is. That. What. You. Think?” He spoke slow and gritty.
“No. Uh. I don’t know what to think,” I challenged. “You won’t tell me anything. You only slip in ambiguous hints here and there. You’ve never told me who the girl is in the photo. Do you have a kid? A wife?”
His head tipped to the side, anger contorting the lines of his face. “You really want to know?” He sneered, as if he were goading me, already knowing the outcome.
“Yes.” I didn’t back away. After all I’d dealt with, I could handle his story.
“Fine.” He gripped my hand, swinging for the door. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” I wiggled out of his tight hold.
“You said you wanted to know. Well, you’re getting what you ask for. But you have to come with me to get the full story.”
“I can’t leave.”
“Too bad.” He shrugged, unlocking and opening the door. I knew in my gut this was the one chance he was giving me. If I didn’t go, I wasn’t sure he’d offer it again. Hesitating for a second, I watched him step from the room.
Go, Devon! Don’t let him leave without you. A voice screamed inside my head, pushing me forward.
“Wait.” I slipped out with him. He glanced down at me, seeing the choice set firmly on my face. I would send Skylar a text, asking her to apologize to everyone, that I needed a little time by myself. “Let’s go out the back door.” I pointed down the opposite way of the main venue.
Lacing his hand in mine, he rushed us down the hallway and pushed the door open to the back exit. With a final glance down the hall, I spotted Uncle Gavin, Skylar, and Amelia all talking in the room. Turning away, I ran from obligation and guilt, letting my control crumble away and leaving it behind with my discarded underwear.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What?” I looked around in confusion. “Why are we back here?”
Lincoln climbed out of the Bronco, forcing me to follow. Heavy purple light shaded the cemetery.
“Lincoln?” I stepped around the Bronco, watching him stride toward a path opposite of where we just laid my mother to rest. “Lincoln!”
He didn’t say a word, just kept walking. His legs were so long I had to jog after him, my feet aching as they struck the pavement. Why didn’t I wear my Converse?
“Where are we going?” I caught up with him, but his walls were locked in place, not allowing a sliver of emotion out. “I thought you were showing me something.”
“I am.” The cords up his arms constricted, drawing my eyes up. His entire physique was rigid.
Where were we going? Why are we back here?
We curved down another path, the gate for the exit not too far away. But halfway to the gate he stopped, stepping carefully between a row of graves until he stopped in front of one. Heels sinking into the dirt, I came up beside him. My gaze shadowed his, looking down at the little headstone, reading the name.
Oh. God. No. I pressed a hand to my mouth.
The name carved into the stone: Kessley Montgomery-Smith.
“My daughter.” His voice strained, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Oh god…” My brain captured the dates. She had died around nine months ago. About the time Finn Montgomery escaped from prison.
He kept his head forward, his throat dancing with emotion. “I was so young when she was born.” He blew out of his mouth, his body still tight, but he let the story come out. “When I met Kim, I was barely twenty and shallow. I didn’t care about her personality, merely that she was hot, experienced, and wanted me. We were oil and water, but we kept hooking up over the summer. Combustible. Toxic in everything but the bedroom. I didn’t think anything of it after we parted ways. Then one day she showed up my doorstep with a baby. Mine. We had been dumb so many times...” He trailed off, shaking his head. I remembered his brother mentioning the name Kim, calling her a bitch. The mother of his child.
“I had no money, barely able to pay my bills, and Kim demanded more and more from my wallet. I wanted to be a good dad, unlike mine, and do the right thing. But I was drowning. My brother and I had always been on the gray side of the law. Pinching things from rich houses since we were kids to get by. It was more a hobby than anything.” Lincoln scoured his head, wrinkling his forehead.
“It was my idea to do it more full-time. We were good at it, and it was the fastest and easiest way to get what we needed. We never used weapons, just robbed places when people weren’t home. I did it because I felt I had to, but my brother took to it like a fiend. With his addictive personality, it was a high, a drug to him. He loved it. And similar to most drugs, you have to keep taking more to get the same high. He started talking about doing bigger jobs, like banks and businesses, bringing in guns, which was never my plan. I now had a precious blonde-haired, blue-eyed reason to stay out of jail. I was planning to get out, open a bar, have a proper job and be a good dad to Kessley. But of course, life always has to come along and fuck you…”
I didn’t move or blink, lapping up his story like a sponge. He was letting me into his world, seeing his truth and his demons.
“She was only two when the doctors discovered she had a rare form of leukemia. Over the next four years it was one treatment after another and expensive hospital stays.” He swallowed, pointing his face at the sky, squeezing his eyes tightly, holding back the pain. “With no family support on either side, it got harder and harder for us to afford health insurance. My brother and I came up with a plan. Steal enough to pay for her treatments. As you know, things didn’t go as planned.”
Oh. Holy. Crap.
He hadn’t been some drug dealer selling medicine on the black market for himself. He had done it to get money. To save his daughter’s life.
“It was supposed to be a quick in and out. A friend of Kim’s stole us a nurse’s badge and uniform, but a guard quickly realized I didn’t match the name on the tag… I think I could have gotten out clean, but my brother’s greed consumed him. Unknown to me, he was carrying a gun. He held up the gift shop on the way out, wanting cash, slowing us down and adding a huge weight to our crime. I took the gun. Told him I’d get rid of it.”
“That’s what you were going to hide in the bathroom.” My brain trying to put all the pieces together.
“Stupid, I know, but I panicked. I figured someone would throw out the trash in the dumpster, the gun concealed inside, then head to the dump, where it would stay. I’d be back on the road, no one knowing I had ever stopped there. No gun for the cops to link to the crime.” He twisted his head to look at me, a slight knowing grin on his mouth. “But that plan got botched too…”
“Me.” I pinched my lips together.
“Jesus, Freckles, you were my fantasy come to life.” He faced me. “Timing was awful, but even then, I couldn’t seem to stay away from you. And you had this fierceness in your eyes, a sadness, that sealed my fate.”
“A few hours earlier my mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s,” I said. “And right before you walked in, my boyfriend sent a ‘sext’ to my best friend. I got it by mistake. They had been secretly having an affair. On our anniversary he was screwing her brains out.”
“Wow. I’m sorry.” He gripped my arms, running his palms up and down. “What a stupid asshole…but can I say I’m kind of thankful he was such a douche. I did not mind being your revenge fuck.”
A snort rose up my throat.
His hands moved to my face, sliding under my jaw.
“Sex with you…it got me through most days in prison. For some reason I couldn’t stop thinking or fantasizing about you…” He let his declaration taper away, his expression flattening out.
“But...” I filled in, biting my lip.
He let his hands go, stepping back from me, sorrow straining his features, tears permeating his eyes.
“Kim and I tested to be bone marrow matches. I was locked away when they found I was a match. Kim wasn’t. The doctors were trying to prepare Kessley for a transplant.
“But I rotted in there while my little girl grew sicker… Kim told me she was no longer responding to any treatment and was failing fast.” He sniffed and turned away from me, rage and grief twitching his neck. “I promised I’d never leave her side; I’d read her stories and play with her at the park. I told her everything would be okay.” His voice strained. “Having my throat slashed was nothing to the pain I caused my little girl. Kim hated my guts, so she especially loved to rub it in when she did come to visit me in prison telling me Kessley cried every night, asking where I was. I had promised her I’d be there. I had broken my daughter’s heart.”
He kicked at the grass, resentment shredding his voice. “I was a model inmate. Kept to myself and did everything I was told. Knowing it was too late for the transplant, I wanted nothing to keep me from parole. But life once again, gave me a big fat fuck you…” He wheeled around, his eyes bright and wild, his teeth bared. “I still had over a year left, but my girl was done fighting. And guess what my daughter’s last wish was?” He bellowed, a single tear falling through his lashes. “To see her daddy.”
He heaved in oxygen, putting his hands on his hips, his head down.
“She was the sole reason I was being so good anyway, in the hopes I could see her, be with her. I decided fuck it. Seeing her for the last time was worth being recaptured and spending the rest of my life in jail. I broke out…” He choked over a whisper, a sob ripping his throat. “And I was still too late.” He glanced back up at me, red streaking his eyes. “My little girl died before I got there, always believing her father failed her. That I didn’t love her enough to show up. So, yes, Devon, I know the devil…the road of what-ifs and wishes,” he seethed.
Tears tumbled down my face, feeling the anguish and guilt he held so deeply, caging him in a prison of his own making.
“Lincoln.” I took a step to him, my heart empathizing with his grief.
“Don’t.” He took a step back, rage and heartache fighting under his skin. Ignoring his rebuff, I continued to him, wrapping my arms around his torso.
“Devon…” He stiffened, which made me hold him tighter. At last, he broke, his shoulders slumping forward, his arms engulfing me. His body started to shake, and he heaved with the sobs he was trying so hard to keep back.
In our mutual grief, we clung to each other, both of us broken and strong at the same time. We didn’t talk. I didn’t want to hear cliché sentiments, and I doubted he did either. This is where we could truly grieve, touch the darkness and heartache. Our connection tying us together even closer, buoying us above the sinking pit of crippling pain.
He held me close as our heartbeats slowed down, our anguish quieting. Slowly, he pulled back, gripping my face, dapping my drying tears with his thumbs.
“When you asked me if I regretted you…” he said softy.
“I understand. I would hate me too.”
“No, you still don’t get it.” He expression severe. “I should. I should despise myself for deciding to stay…my mind will always wonder if I left, would I have been there to read her one last story? Would I have been there when she died?” He leaned into me. “But no matter how much I want to hate you, I can’t. Nothing about you feels like a regret. And when you walked into my bar…yes, I wanted to blame you. Hate you. I thought fate really was trying to punish me. But strangely, you began to seem like the opposite.”
“Opposite?”
“Yeah. When you walked back into my life, I felt as if I could breathe again, as if I had been holding my breath since the day I walked out of that bathroom. Every time I told myself I’d fire you…I couldn’t do it. The idea of you not being near me…felt like a prison.”
