One Wicked Night Read online

  Justice handed Stefan his cell phone. “Call 9-1-1.” He went to Roger and pushed Myka aside. “Baby, I need to stop the bleeding. Get me towels."

  She stared at him, her expression blank.

  "Myka, stay with me.” He snapped his fingers. “Get clean towels."

  A lone tear slid down her cheek as she turned away and headed to the washing machine in the back of the basement. Justice cleared his mind, fought the pull to gather her in his arms, and used his knife to cut away Roger's shirt. The bullet missed his heart—Justice wasn't yet sure if that was a good thing—and was lodged in his shoulder. He used the already ruined shirt to staunch the bleeding while over in the corner, Stefan talked to the emergency operator.

  What in the hell would they tell the cops? The man Senator Prentiss setup for murder decided to take revenge by killing the senator's daughter, only to find out said daughter was his?

  Roger moaned, his eye flickered open. “Myka."

  "I'm here.” Running up to them, Myka handed Justice some kitchen towels and dropped to her knees. She clasped the senator's hand in hers. “I'm here."

  "I'm sorry,” Roger whispered. “It doesn't make up for all I did, but I'm sorry."

  She shook her head. “We'll deal with that later. Let's get you well."

  Justice pressed the towels against the wound. The blood flow was already slowing down. He turned to her. “Myka—"

  "The cops are on their way,” Stefan interrupted. “What do we say?"

  Roger coughed. “This is where I come in.” Breathing labored, he managed, “The man I testified against years ago came for his revenge and I shot him in self-defense. You kids came in after and found me like this.” He looked at Justice. “Well, what do you think?"

  "That could work.” Justice nodded at the senator. “Guys, get the rope Charles used to tie you up, we need to get rid of it."

  Stefan ran to get the ropes while Justice handed his gun to Roger. “Okay, listen,” he said hurriedly. “First he shoots you, then you hit him when he turns away. That would explain the two guns. Got me?"

  Roger nodded. “Got it."

  "What are we doing with the ropes?’ Myka asked, the first time she addressed or even looked at him since he came in.

  "Put them in the trunk of my car,” Justice instructed. Shrugging off his jacket, he slung it over her shoulders and stood up. He eyed the room with a careful eye. “Alright, I think we're good."

  He handed Stefan his car keys. “Take the ropes and put them in the trunk.” Stefan nodded and ran up the basement steps. Justice turned to Myka. “I know you have questions. I'll answer them when we're alone."

  She shook her head and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Did you know before now that Charles was my father?"

  He nodded. “But I—"

  A storm gathered in her eyes. She pursed her lips. “Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I wanted to be sure, Myka. I couldn't take Roger's word for anything.” He reached for her, but she stepped out of his grasp. His heart froze.

  "You decided to play God with my life, choose what I know and when I should know it?” Incredulity shone in her brown eyes. She took a step back, he took one forward.

  "Don't do that,” he pleaded. “Don't make it into something it's not. I wanted to have all the facts before I brought it to you. What if it wasn't true?"

  "I needed to know,” she shouted. “I needed to know there was a possibility I wasn't who I thought I was.” She trembled and her voice broke. “I needed to know my life was lie, orchestrated for money and power. I needed you to have my back."

  "I have your back always,” he whispered. “I couldn't stand it if I shattered your world with a lie. The facts needed to be established.” Why couldn't she see that?

  "And instead you left me flailing in the wind, blind sighted with the truth from someone else.” She sniffed. “I should have been more prepared when a mad man decided to make me his sacrifice. I should have been ready to fight. But you didn't prepare me—you didn't give me the weapon I would've needed. The truth.” Moisture filled her eyes, then ran down her cheeks. “I can't be with someone I can't trust."

  "No.” Justice grabbed her arm as men lumbered down the stairs. The fucking paramedics. He dropped his hand and hissed, “We're not done, Myka."

  She ignored him, turning away to direct the cavalry.

  * * * *

  Myka sat in the hospital waiting room with Stefan's hand in her tight grasp, waiting for word on how her father's surgery went. Her father. In just a short time the life she thought she knew, her whole world, had been turned upside down. She'd gone numb inside, the pain too much to comprehend, so she'd pushed it down. Way down.

  Justice kept it from her. The one person she thought she could trust, who would never lie to her, had done that. A lie of omission, meant to protect, but one that had put her in even more danger.

  "Coffee?” Stefan's partner hovered over them, worry wrinkling his brow, a cup of coffee in each hand.

  She took a cup from him. “Thanks, Chris."

  Stefan shook his head no.

  Christian took a seat to her left. “Still no word?"

  "No.” Stefan rubbed her back while Christian patted her knee.

  "Where's the, ah, scary-looking man?"

  "She sent him away and we're not mentioning him,” Stefan chided him.

  Justice had followed them to the hospital, insisting on explaining. She couldn't do it, she couldn't look at him without wanting to punch him in his fucking mouth. He made decisions about her life without consulting her. What kind of shit was that? What did that say about their relationship? Did they even have a relationship after this?

  "Ms. Prentiss?"

  She looked up. Her father's surgeon approached them. Jumping to her feet, she rushed to him. “How is he? How's my father?"

  Dr. Kaisaris patted her arm. “He made it through fine. We were able to remove the bullet and he's resting now."

  Her knees buckled in relief. “Thank God.” She started crying again. “Can I see him?"

  The doctor nodded slowly. “But only for a minute."

  He led her to her father's room and she swept aside the curtain with her insides churning. The senator lay on the hospital bed, pale and drawn, with a million tubes coming out of him. A whimper left her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth and crept forward.

  After all the things he'd put her through, the cold shoulders and non-existent affection, this was where they ended up.

  His chest rose and fell with the tiniest movement—she had to stare at it to make sure. Could she forgive him for all the ways he'd mistreated her? In the end when it counted the most he'd come through for her. He'd protected her.

  The senator's lashes fluttered then opened. He stared at her with unfocused eyes. “Myka?” He lifted a trembling hand.

  She stepped forward and took his hand. “I'm here, Senator."

  Tears leaked out of his eyes as he gave a wobbly smile. “I always hated when you called me that."

  "I know.” Tears blinded her.

  "I keep saying it over and over, but I'm sorry for everything.” His breathing sped up. “I allowed greed and my need for power to rule me for a long time, and you had to pay the price. Words cannot express my shame and sorrow."

  "I'm trying to understand,” she said. “But I can't, not really."

  "I know, but I want to tell you...” He paused and took a deep breath. “I heard your anger at your friend. Justice, was it?” She nodded and he continued. “Your anger is misplaced. He didn't trust my word, and I wouldn't have either. He had to make sure what I said was true before he broke your heart. He loves you so much. I could tell he wanted to kill me for what I did, but he thought first about you. How it would affect you.” Roger squeezed her hand. “Don't throw your life away over me, I'm not worth it."

  Myka fell to her knees. Sobs wrenched from her throat as she laid her head on her father's knees and cried. A hesitant hand stroked her hair. The force of all she
'd been through the last few hours slammed into her, stifling her. She needed Justice's arms around her. She missed his warmth and strong shoulders.

  She lifted her head to look up at her father. “I don't know what will happen to us, or where we'll go from here, but right now I need time away from you, and away from being Senator Prentiss's daughter."

  He nodded. “I understand."

  "The press is camped outside. With Election day fast approaching, they're predicting this will catapult you to a win with sympathetic voters.” She patted his hand. “Good luck. I won't be voting."

  She turned around and walked out of the room. Justice stood off to one side in the waiting area, his arms folded, dark glasses covering his eyes. Stefan and Christian stood on the opposite side, Stefan glaring at Justice.

  Walking up to Stefan, Myka pulled him into a hug. “I love you. You know that, right?"

  "I know.” He rubbed her back. “Are you okay?"

  She pulled away with a grimace meant as a smile. “I will be.” Kissing him then Christian on the cheek she headed to Justice.

  * * * *

  Justice watched her approach with his heart in his throat. Her expression gave nothing away. If she ended them and gave up, he didn't know what he'd do. What could he say to change her mind? She'd been right, he should have told her. They would have figured out a way to find the truth together. Instead, he kept the information from her and as a result she'd been helpless when Charles showed up.

  He would never be able to forgive himself for the pain she had to go through, both mental and physical. Pain that could've been avoided if only he'd been up front with her. If he'd only trusted her with the truth or at least what Roger told him that night.

  She stopped in front of him. “Remove those glasses, I want to see you."

  He did what she asked, afraid to speak, afraid to hope. “What do you want to see?"

  "I want to see you,” she said. “Your heart. Tell me what your heart says."

  "That's easy, Myka. My heart is yours. Now. Always."

  "Yeah?” Her chin trembled. “Should I trust you with my heart? With keeping my heart safe?"

  "I love you, Myka.” Justice cupped her cheek with shaking hands. “I never want you to doubt my love, or to doubt me. I'm sorry I didn't trust you enough to tell you what I should have.” His fingers tightened on her face. “I won't ever make that mistake again."

  "See that you don't. Now, take me home."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * * *

  The drive to his apartment was quiet. Myka laid her head on his shoulder and promptly fell asleep. Justice reflected on a journey he never expected to undertake, but was so happy he did. He came to Brooklyn to do a job he couldn't imagine doing, and found love with a woman who loved him back.

  Now he understood what he couldn't see before with Niko and Maysin, the way they felt about the women in their lives. He'd scoffed at both of them, accused them of being crazy for allowing themselves to be caught up in the love game, and here he was—neck deep and sinking fast. Myka was an all or nothing kind of woman—he'd give her anything she wanted or needed, with a smile and a happy dance.

  No hesitation.

  He pulled into the parking lot, scooped Myka into his arms and headed upstairs. She woke up as he stepped through the door. Justice headed to the bathroom and placed her in the shower. Holding her steady with one hand, he tugged off her clothes with the other.

  She sat on the shower floor, an arm around herself while he undressed and climbed in to sit with her. They remained seated as he soaped her down, rinsed the lather from her skin and she cried, her falling tears mixing with the water.

  Justice cleaned her thoroughly, then quickly washed himself. Wrapping them both in towels, he brought her into the bedroom, where she crawled up on to the bed on her own and curled up on her side. He went in after her, pulling her wet body into his arms. Myka buried her face in his neck, dropping kisses on his skin.

  "Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  Face hidden, she shook her head. “There's plenty of time for talking, remembering.” She pulled away, met his eyes. “I want to forget, to lose myself in you. In us."

  He sank his fingers in her thick hair. “I like the word us."

  "Good.” She kissed him softly. ‘Take me, I want you inside me."

  "That's what you said to me in Toronto.” He rolled over, bringing her to the bottom. “It got me hard as a rock then, and has me even harder now.” His hips rolled, grounding his cock into the softness of her belly.

  Her legs widened, spicy arousal scenting the air as she clutched his shoulders. He pressed tiny kisses to her neck and down to the tops of her breasts, while his hand circled her ankle and slid up. Taking a chocolate colored nipple in his mouth, he sucked greedily, hungrily on first one, then the other. Her hips rose, undulated against him.

  "Umm, yes,” she moaned.

  His hand on her foot crept up her thighs, closer to the heated center of her. Justice released her nipples with a wet pop and kissed his way down her contracting stomach. His tongue slid into her navel, swirled around the diamond winking at him, then licked that sassy tattoo taunting him, proclaiming wetter things to come.

  "Touch me, Justice.” Myka caressed his head as she begged.

  He gave her what she wanted, plunging two fingers into her slippery pussy with a growl. Myka hissed, one of her legs draped over his shoulder as her muscles grabbed his fingers, pulling him deeper into her cunt.

  "Shit.” He curled his digits, scraping her rippling walls.

  "Oh, God.” Her hips lifted off the bed, her body arched.

  Justice sprawled out between her legs, his eyes on her glistening folds and erect clit. He flicked his tongue out, laved her hard nub. Myka cried out, pressing herself closer to his face. Catching her clit with his teeth, he bit down with care. She'd feel the pain, but mostly the pleasure. Always pleasure for his woman.

  She grabbed his head, forced his face deeper into her. He obliged with a strained laugh. Pre-cum wet the tip of his cock and he rotated his hips, grinding his pulsing cock into the mattress. Fuck! Pleasure tightened his balls, but nothing compared to sinking into Myka's welcome heat.

  Removing his thrusting fingers from her wet cunt, he slid his tongue into her. Creamy confection melted on his tongue, making his tastebuds water. He hummed while he caught her clit between his index and forefinger and squeezed.

  She bucked. Fresh moisture poured from her. Justice lapped it up with a shudder. Her smooth legs wrapped around his neck, locking him to her. He grabbed her ass cheeks, pulling her onto his face. She rode him on a furious rhythm, painting his face with her sticky-sweet cum.

  He kept sucking her, still licking while she rode out her climax before he lifted his head. Sweat glistened on her skin, making it glow. Her hazel eyes were at half-mast as her body shuddered and twitched. Crawling up her limbs, he took her mouth and growled low in his throat when she licked her cream off.

  She dragged a hand down his front, clasped his cock in her heated palm. A shudder ran through him and he bucked in her hand. “Gimme that,” she whispered.

  Fuck if he'd refuse. Rising on his toes, he entered her with her hand still wrapped around him. Tight muscles parted for him with exquisite slowness. Myka hooked a leg around his waist—her heel brushing the crack of his ass. Justice bucked, sending his cock deeper into her snug heat.

  Her lashes fluttered, arms wrapped around his neck as the slick walls of her pussy molded to fit his cock. Contractions massaged him in a painful rush. Her wet core held him in a chokehold that was so fucking sweet he swore he'd never leave.

  He threw his head back with a groan, bit the inside of his cheek and began to thrust. Myka moved as he moved, fucking him, riding him as he rode her. The heel of her leg around his waist pressed into his ass, hardening him even further.

  "Shit.” His balls tightened, tucked up under him. Heat spread from the base of his
spine, to his thighs and up his body. Justice pistoned into Myka. Those honeyed walls grabbed him, clung to his cock like they didn't want to let him go. And he didn't want to be anywhere else, loving anybody else.

  Myka pulled him down to her, locking her ankles above his ass. Her nails dug into his shoulders, then dragged down his back, sending spikes of pleasure-pain coursing through him. Justice roared. He sank his fingers into her hips, lifting her ass off the bed as he pounded into her cunt. Her walls tightened even more, causing ripples to swirl around the tip of his cock and his vision to darken. Her climax brewed and she was taking him with her.

  "Justice, I'm coming.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, her hips rolled. He leaned forward, taking her lips as heat exploded in his balls. Painful contractions squeezed him as she came. Her body jerked. She clutched his shoulders, threw her pelvis into him as he ground against her.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He couldn't stop chanting the words, couldn't stop thrusting into her rippling body. Myka touched her tongue to his, deepening their kiss with a smile.

  "I love you,” she murmured."

  "Fuck. I love you, too.” He gasped the words around another delicious contraction.

  She giggled.

  Roger Prentiss lost his re-election bid for the senate by the tiniest of margins. Myka visited him on his sick bed once, though he ended up spending a week in the hospital. She couldn't bring herself to see him—he represented too many bad things in her life. Maybe one day she could stand to be in the same room with him, but she wasn't holding her breath.

  She signed over ownership of the store to Stefan. After many tears and hugs, she finally told him the real story behind why Justice showed up in Brooklyn. Stef thought it was romantic. Maybe it was. All she knew was that the man she loved, loved her back. Nothing compared to the feeling of finally belonging somewhere, with someone.

  Now they were in Seattle, heading to meet with his friends at a club. As they drove straight from the airport, butterflies careened around her belly. She was basically about to meet Justice's family.

  What if they didn't like her—didn't approve? She was seriously considering moving here with him permanently. He hadn't asked, because he wouldn't make her choose. The choice was up to her, and it hinged on how this meeting went with his friends.