Rush (Roam Series, Book Four) Page 13

He turned his left arm upward, and I focused on the tattoo on his skin. Exactly where the coordinates appear. The numbers were smaller, but looked familiar. “I had this done so that no matter how many years passed, I’d never forget that day. North Carolina.” He gestured to the location on his arm.

  “Wow. Dramatic. Do you also journal about your tortured existence?”

  His eyes snapped to me as I finished my text to West. The words were ready to be sent as soon as we landed.

  He’s on the plane.

  “This is a joke to you?”

  “No, but you don’t seem to be listening to me.”

  “I’m talking, but you’re not hearing. He will break. The nightmares will change him.”

  “Troy’s gone. The nightmares are gone. He doesn’t even have the coordinates anymore! Like I told you in Ohio- you’re in over your head. We’re handling this, dude. Back off.”

  He dropped his eyes to my hand, and I spun my engagement ring so that the diamond was hidden in my palm.

  Leaning towards me, his breath was hot on my neck. I stiffened.

  “It’s Rush, isn’t it?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting blood.

  He shook his head, exhaling with a sardonic laugh. “You have no idea what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

  His endearment conjured up images of 1940s noir films with cigar-smoking gangsters. “Don’t call me that.”

  “So he’s your fiancé.”

  “No!” I jerked away as he moved closer.

  “He knows who she is, then?”

  I couldn’t hold back my temper another second. Turning to face him defiantly, I squeezed the arm rest. “He’s known Roam all of his life. They were… going out… before she met West. He loves her. He saved her life, and he helped her fight Troy. The past is the past, Mr. Mathison, and you don’t belong here. Logan does.”

  He moved a fraction of an inch closer to my face, and my heart thundered in my ribcage.

  “For every second he lives, she is a second closer to death. And now, so are her children. Do you want to be responsible for all of that?”

  “Don’t say another word to me. When we get off of this plane, my father will be waiting.”

  “And not your fiancé?”

  “Logan is in Afghanistan, fighting for peace. Get the fuck out of my face.”

  The man in the seat ahead of me turned slightly at my profane language, and I shot him a mind-your-own-goddamn-business look and tucked my headphones back over my ears.

  Cole was silent for the remainder of the flight. He stayed right behind me as we exited the plane, shifting his carry-on over his shoulder and reaching for mine.

  I snatched the backpack from his hands, trying not to run through the mass of people to get to the escalators. When I caught West’s expression, his controlled wrath sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Where is he?” West demanded, and I spun around, searching the crowd.

  “He was just here-…,”

  “Get in the car, Violet, and lock the doors.” He pressed the keys to my palm, and I nodded, running toward the front of the airport. I saw the white BMW that Eva dubbed our ‘ocean car’ sitting in the parking lot, and I locked myself inside, waiting.

  After more than twenty minutes, I watched West walking to the car. I hurried to buckle my seatbelt as he threw the car into gear.

  “Did you find him?”

  “No.” He stopped at the red light, reaching for me. I folded into his hug as he kissed the top of my head. “Are you okay?”

  “I need to talk to Logan.”

  “Tell me what this guy said.”

  I talked about Cole the entire way to the beach house, leaving nothing out. West listened semi-patiently, waiting until I was finished to ask questions. “…and I told him Logan was in Afghanistan, and he was a good person.”

  “His son was there.” West nodded once, staring straight ahead. “I remember the boy.”

  “I guess Logan gets to have a kid after all.” I corrected the position of my diamond ring, spinning it around on my finger.

  He pulled onto our road, turning to me as his eyes softened. “Still an issue?”

  “Yes.” I focused on the ocean shore, so thankful to be back.

  “I haven’t earned the right to give you advice, Vi. But I’m going to anyway.” He pulled into the garage, turning off the ignition and focusing on me. “Work this out before the wedding. It’s not fair to either of you to get married when you’re both not in agreement on something so big.”

  I swallowed, looking down at my hands. Thanks to you, I can’t have kids, West. The resentful part of me cowered to my logic. It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know that.

  “He’ll get over it eventually.”

  “You need to talk to each other.”

  “West,” I let him take my bag. “What are we going to do about Cole?”

  He shifted the bag over his shoulder. “I’m going to find him- before he finds Roam.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Logan

  “Here comes the bride!”

  I tried to escape my bunk before the inflatable doll smacked me in the face. Somehow they’d gotten their hands on a white, lacy veil, and Thompson was straddling me in seconds.

  “What the fuck,” I laughed, bucking at him. He howled, and I tasted plastic vinyl as the bug-eyed sex toy was shoved my way. “Come on, dude!”

  “Corporal Rush- this is your official bachelor party,” He retorted, and Mackelby jumped in behind Thompson, dry-humping the both of us. I kicked them both off of me, batting at the doll.

  “Fuck you both,” I grinned, reached for my bag and joining in their laughter.

  I thought of my platoon’s impromptu send-off, cringing to think of what Violet’s expression would have been if she had seen what they’d done to her photo. I’ll miss these assholes, I thought with a smile, anticipating kissing my future wife for the first time since Christmas.

  The last mile from the airport to Camp Lejuene was the longest, harder than the entire eighteen-month deployment. I knew everyone would be waiting for me; Eva had become my shadow when we were together, and Roam would have suffered through the numbers changing several times over the last twenty-four hours.

  As we climbed off of the bus, all I could see was Violet’s face.

  I didn’t have to look at Roam to know she was crying. Violet tore through the crowd, and I dropped my duffle bag in time to catch her in mid-air. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, and I caught her lips in mine before she could speak.

  “Don’t stop kissing me,” she managed between breaths, and I balanced her easily in my arms. My calloused fingers threaded through her masses of curls as I tucked her against me with my other arm. I thought back to the night of our first kiss and our clumsy make-out session on the stairs, turned on just at the memory of kissing her tattooed skin.

  Only three years… and we’ve changed so much. I was no longer that skinny kid from Ohio; I held her effortlessly, and could have carried her for hundreds of miles if that meant keeping her in my arms forever.

  I thought of the year that time had reversed. The memories of Violet’s face in my dreams had haunted me, day after day. I hated that I’d spent an entire year screwing around with Roam (but never quite getting to actually screwing), knowing how Violet had suffered and missed me.

  I planned to make up for that time- and more.

  “It’s okay,” I ignored the people around us, holding her face in my hands and basking in the taste of her mouth. She clung to me, and I moved soft kisses to her cheeks. “It’s okay, Vi. I love you… God I missed you…,”

  “Eva, wait,” West tried to catch her before she wriggled away, running to me. My sunglasses did little to darken the effect of her flaming red curls.

  “Cor-per-al Rush,” she stood ramrod straight and saluted me with the wrong hand. I smirked, settling Violet back to her feet and squatting before my soon-to-be sister-in-law.

&nbs
p; “Have you been good?” I demanded playfully. She curled her tiny lips inward, raising those green eyes to the sky.

  “Yes?” She answered, and I chuckled, scooping her into my arms.

  “Red, your nose just grew ten inches.”

  “Come and meet Christopher!” She caught my hand, and I turned back to Violet, who now had her arm linked firmly in my elbow and two permanent tears in her eyes.

  “Christopher Logan Perry,” Roam carried the baby in her arms, and instead of reaching for him, I held my arms out to both of them.

  Her long, dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, and the sunshine in her skin sent unexplainable relief coursing through my veins. Her body was softer, curvier, and her shoulders rolled back with the confidence she’d lost during our time in the castle.

  The image of the bruised, sickened waif she’s become during our imprisonment was forever burned into my memory. I let my eyes wander over her body for a second longer than I should have, suddenly remembering that it was no longer okay to appreciate the way her chest now filled out her tee shirt. “You look good, Cam.”

  “So do you,” she acknowledged, patting my bulging upper arm with a grin. “Now, they’re impressive.”

  I laughed, raising my eyebrows at the baby in her arms. Even in all of the commotion in the tearful reunions and laughter around us, the boy slept soundly, his blonde-brown cap of hair matching his long lashes. “Congratulations. Finally.” West appeared at her side, and I reached for his hand.

  He pulled me into a half-hug, patting my shoulder once. “Welcome home, Logan.”

  My senses prickled, and I narrowed my eyes, turning back to Violet immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  She and West exchanged a glance, and Roam tucked the baby closer into her arms.

  “We need to talk. But first- let’s all go home,” West gestured to the BMW SUV. I exchanged good-byes with a few of my men before following them to the car.

  What now?

  As we pulled onto the highway, I sighed. “Okay, listen. If it’s Troy again, I say we go all Friday the 13th and chain him to the bottom of Crystal Lake.”

  “Logan,” Violet’s reproving voice as she covered Eva’s ears made me flinch, but Eva pushed her sister’s hands away.

  “Sorry. You can tell me later.”

  Violet scooted closer to me (which was almost impossible without sitting in my lap) and I tried to control the urge to kiss her more thoroughly.

  She tilted her face to whisper in my ear. “You have a son.”

  “What?” I jerked back, my hand automatically covering her tight, flat stomach. I just saw her at Christmas… she’d be seven months pregnant by now! Was the baby born?

  “No,” she shook her head, lacing her fingers through mine. “Your immortal soul… produces immortal children. You have a son, from 1955. And he wants to kill you.”

  I listened to her quiet, furious tone, tightening my grip on her hand.

  “What are you whispering about?” Eva demanded.

  “Leave them alone, babe.” West ordered.

  Every possible scenario in my mind unraveled into some sci-fi mind fuck. “From 1955?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s immortal?”

  “Me too!” Eva cried, and Roam shot her a ‘shush’ look.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No. But he pushed his way into the house, and booked the same flight I had. He took off in Jacksonville-…,”

  “Before I could get my hands on him.” West interrupted. Roam turned around and adjusted Christopher’s pacifier as the baby began to stir in his car seat.

  “Did he threaten you?” I hissed, trying desperately to keep my voice down low enough for Eva not to hear.

  “No. But he’s after you.”

  “Fucking bring it.” I dropped a kiss to her neck, and she shivered, tucking her head on my shoulder.

  “I’ve doubled the security for the wedding. Just in case.” West reached for Roam’s neck, brushing his fingers softly over the skin just below her ear. She turned into his touch, closing her eyes.

  I stared at them, thankful to finally see them together.

  “Temptations, please!” Eva called to the front seat, and West glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

  “We’re talking. In a few minutes.”

  “Now.”

  She stared him down through the mirror, and my smile fell as her bright, green eyes flashed with amber. After a moment, a high-pitched frequency poured through the car before Ain’t Too Proud to Beg peeled in, mid-way through a verse. Eva turned to me, her eyes darkened to a honey-brown.

  “Eva Anastasia Perry,” West fired, quickly controlling the volume, and Eva grinned, her eyes settling back into Roam’s lush green color.

  “When this song came out in 1966, Daddy had a beard.”

  “Huh. Really,” I exchanged a glance with Violet, who raised one eyebrow and shrugged as though this happened every single day. Her magic is getting more powerful.

  “What else happened in 1966, DJ Eva?” Violet murmured, winking at me.

  Eva tossed her bunny into the air and caught it, mouthing the words to the song with a toothless lisp. I readied myself for an onslaught of historical facts ala-Roam-style, but instead she twirled her red, curly pigtail in her finger and said, “John Lennon told the news peoples that the Beatles are better than Jesus and peoples burned their music in a fire!”

  “Really?” I turned to Roam, and she sighed as West turned toward the island.

  “People,” he corrected, clearing his throat. “Logan, your parents said they hope you understand, but they’ll see you in the morning. They wanted to give you time with Violet.”

  Subject change. Got it. “Did Mom and Dad decide to stay at the house, or a hotel?”

  “A condo at Sound of the Sea,” Violet answered, sighing. “I don’t think your mom can stand to be in the same room with me for longer than ten minutes.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “She seriously asked Roam if I was a stripper.” Violet scowled, and I snorted, shaking my head. Roam groaned, turning toward the window.

  “What’s a stripper?” Eva tucked her bunny into her lap belt, adjusting the yellow, terrycloth ears.

  “Jesus Christ.” West pulled onto their road, and I grinned, turning to Eva as Christopher began to fuss.

  “The Beatles!” Eva argued, and I couldn’t hold back my laughter any longer.

  He swung into the driveway, and I raised my eyebrows at the new house between the shore and the Perry Beach Mansion. “Alright. Here,” he tossed me a single key, and I looked between Violet and West, confused.

  “Is that a mother-in-law suite?” I asked, leaning between the front seats for a better view. I only had to wait a fraction of a second before Roam shot a much-anticipated glare my way.

  “It was funny the first seventy times, Rush, and if you call me your mother-in-law again, I’ll end you.”

  “Come on, Cam,” I tousled her hair, and she squirmed away from me, faking irritation.

  “Go. You have privacy until tomorrow morning, seven AM.” West gave me and Violet an amused glance before turning away to mumble, “Try to get some rest.”

  I followed her to the smaller house, realizing it very much resembled the original cottage from 1955. Carrying my bags, I watched her turn the key in the door. The black and white siding-shutter combination mirrored the main house, but the moment I stepped inside the little cottage, the similarity ended.

  Everything inside the house was modern and new, and the entire back wall was made of floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the ocean. “He built this for us?”

  “Until we decide where we want to live.” Violet kicked off her flip-flops, and I dropped my bag to the marble floor.

  She took a step closer, her white, halter sundress the only barrier between me and her perfect, hot body.

  In a flash of camos, panties, and white-blonde ringlets, our clothes were discarded on the kitchen floor. I lifted her
up and against me, instantly hard as her full tits crushed against my chest. Her long legs wrapped around my waist in perfect rhythm. My lips found her neck, trailing over her throat. So familiar… so right.

  Everything about her is home.

  “Hurry,” she groaned, her raspy voice halted with the need I had come to know so well from her. I kicked at a door, turning to carry her to the bedroom, but stopped half-way into what appeared to be an office.

  The mostly-clear, mahogany desk would have to do.

  “Here?” She exhaled sharply as I slid my hand up the back of her thigh, curling my fingers into the under curve of her knee.

  “I want you- right fucking now,” I managed.

  “I missed you,” she breathed as I hitched her leg up, smoothing my fingers over her inner thigh. Only seconds of exploring through her panting breaths told me that she was more than ready.

  Her slender fingers slid over my hip, taking me into her hand. I shuddered, slamming her down onto the desktop. “Now,” I growled, and she threw her head back, letting her long hair slip over her shoulders and brush the desk. I began at her ankle, dragging my lips over her knee, up her thigh, and to her abdomen.

  When I slipped my arms around her hips and bent to pull her against my mouth, she arched her back, her hands skidding over my shoulders. Her small cries fueled my hunger, and she scraped at my skin, pulling me toward her.

  I glided my mouth over her stomach, cupping her breasts, sliding my thumb over her hardened nipple. Losing control, I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to steer my mind away from her warm, willing body.

  Slow. The. Fuck. Down.

  “Logan,” she locked her hands on my hips, and I met her clear, blue eyes. “Wait- I need to tell you… something…,”

  “Vi,” I groaned, dropping my forehead to hers. “I can’t wait. What’s wrong? No condom?”

  She drew a shaking breath, and shrugged. “We don’t need one.”

  I held my breath, taking in her words slowly. She wants a baby, now, and this is her way of asking me?

  My lips hovered over hers, and I let them curve into a smile. “You really want to do this?”

  She nodded, her gaze never leaving mine.

  I held her, easing into her, watching her eyes moisten with tears. Every time is like the first time with her. That was my last logical thought before my obsession for her took over my senses.