Forever My Angel Part 9

Chapter Seventeen.

a-aa- It takes me less than two seconds to throw on the brakes and ease the Denali to the side of the road. The farm is visible up ahead, but clearly this cannot wait.

"Arion! What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" Angel peers at me in the darkness, her eyes wide and reflective as I throw the gears.h.i.+ft in park and climb out of the truck. My stride is determined as I march around and throw open the pa.s.senger door.

"What the f.u.c.k!" Her eyes are flas.h.i.+ng. My Angel is awake and paying attention now. Good. I take just enough time to skim her face with my gaze to make sure she's not afraid of my erratic behavior, and when satisfied, I unsnap her seatbelt.

"Out," I bark, sharper than I mean to be.

She doesn't move until I narrow my eyes and she realizes I'm completely serious. I cup her elbow, making sure she doesn't lose her balance as she hops to the ground. "If you think you're going to leave me by the side of the roada"

I silence her protest by pressing my lips to hers. Just about every time I touch or kiss this woman, there's a part of me that holds back, afraid to scare her with the intensity of my need for her, but not this time. My tongue furiously probes her mouth until her lips are swollen and heated against mine. Pinned between my unyielding body and the metal side of the truck, Angel writhes in my arms. "Arion," she breathes against my lips when I finally let her catch a breath. "What are you doing to me?"

"Making it abundantly clear that you and I are the real deal. I may not know what color the paint was in your bedroom when you were a kid, and I may not know how old you were when you learned to tie your shoes, or when you had your first kiss, but I know that I'll be your last. I know that whatever color you paint your next bedroom, and the one after that, and the one after that, they will be the walls I sleep between every night. And I know that when you're old and can't tie your own shoes, I'll kneel down and help you, even if it takes me five minutes to get my old and decrepit body back up off the floor. Because you and I, Angel, we're forever. And I want to make d.a.m.ned sure you know it."

Her body melts against mine as she loops her arms around my neck, clinging to me. "How am I supposed to think clearly when you say things like that?" she whispers.

"Who said I want you thinking? Baby, I love nothing more than driving you out of your ever-loving mind." I s.h.i.+ft my hands to grab her a.s.s, hoisting her up until she's braced against the side of the truck. Her legs wrap around my waist and lock together behind me.

Supporting her with just one hand, I lightly roll my thumb over her nipple, and her head dips back against the truck. She shudders, then lifts her head to beg me with her eyes. I'm just not sure whether she's asking for me to stop or keep going.

She's got on a skirt that's easy to push up and out of my way, and her underwear offers little resistance. Angel gasps as the fabric rends with an audible rip. "Tell me you don't want me to do this." I plunge a finger into her warmth, and she instantly rewards me with a moan.

"What if someone sees?" she squeals between erratic breaths.

"Then they'll know you're taken," I growl as my finger goes slick with her need.

"We can't!" Her legs squeeze tightly around me as she pants beneath my fingers.

"We are, baby." I remove my hand, unzip my pants, and press my eager c.o.c.k against her entrance. "Tell me you want this, Angel."

She buries her head against my shoulder, but I feel her nod.

"Words, baby."

Her hips grind against me, searching, desperate for me to fill her.

"You've got to tell me what you want." I'm an evil b.a.s.t.a.r.d and I know it. But I also have to be one hundred percent sure I'm not pus.h.i.+ng her too far.

"Please," she begs, and I can't deny her any longer. "Ahh!" she cries out as I sheath my entire length inside her. The intense pleasure of her tight walls pulsing around me makes my knees tremble as I thrust in and out with long, desperate strokes. It doesn't take long for her release to quake around me, and I answer her with my own. I grab a handful of napkins out of the glove box and clean us up the best I can, then just hold her in my arms on the side of the road.

A car flies past us, tossing gravel in its wake, but they don't even give us a second glance. Once they're gone, Angel gives me a withering look. "Glad they didn't come by a few minutes ago."

I shrug, but secretly I agree. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I feel her sigh.

"Trust in me, Angel. Trust in us. I won't lead you wrong."

I feel her nod, but worry is still nagging me. If she thinks I'm moving too fast, should I call off the plans to propose, and give her more time? I don't want to push her, but I also don't want to wait another moment to begin the rest of our lives. She said she was ready, but did she mean it? Suddenly I'm not so sure.

"Babe, my parents didn't work because neither of them were willing to fight for it. That, and I don't really think they were compatible. I was young at the time, but I remember them arguing a lot. I'm not sure if they even liked each other. You've never seen two people so wrong for each other: Dad was all business and logic, Mom was whimsy and imagination. Oil and water. You get the idea. You and me? We're milk and cookies. We just go together."

Angel laughs as she opens the pa.s.senger door of my truck so she can climb in. "Chocolate chip?"

"Pfft. Peanut b.u.t.ter. Ready to go do the paperwork with my dad?"

We get back in the truck and quickly cover the remaining distance to the large farmhouse I was raised in. I expect to find my father in his study, not in the kitchen, and I sure as h.e.l.l don't expect to find my mother with him, happily doing dishes while Dad sits at the table finis.h.i.+ng off his lunch.

Neither one of them have the d.a.m.n courtesy to look the least bit ashamed.

I'm f.u.c.king speechless. Even Angel seems a bit tongue-tied, though she does manage to choke out, "h.e.l.lo, Mr. Chadwell. And, um, Mrs. Chadwell."

"Tucker, please, Tess," my father reminds her at the exact moment my mother says, "Call me Joyce, dear. How are you feeling today?" Then, realizing they spoke in tandem, they look at each other and laugh.

I've entered the f.u.c.king twilight zone. I briefly wonder if we came as close to catching them doing something as the car on the road came to catching me and Angel. Then, when I realize what I'm thinking, I want to punch myself. No. Just no.

"Dad? Where's Vanessa?" Never thought I'd care to know the answer to that question.

Dad wipes his mouth with a paper towel, then places it neatly beside his plate as if he's not in any hurry and doesn't have a care in the world. I stop myself from growling at him in frustration, just barely. "The Four Seasons, I imagine."

"Huh?"

"She's unhappy with your mother's re-entry into our lives, and she's decided to go to a hotel while she evaluates what role she'd like to take going forward."

What the f.u.c.k, Dad? Does he realize his marriage isn't a merger? Not that I can say I'd be sad to see Vanessa go, but what would that do to Chelsea? I lift my eyes to my mother, who is was.h.i.+ng dishes like this conversation isn't even happening. "Well, you know, I can't imagine why she'd not like your ex-wife standing in her kitchen like she still lives here."

"Don't use that tone with me, young man." Dad pulls off his gla.s.ses, his version of rolling up his sleeves, preparing to duke it out.

Wait just a d.a.m.n minute. "Mom. Are you living here?" I think my brain is about to explode. I feel Angel's hand on the back of my shoulder, offering silent rea.s.surance.

Mom turns and grabs a dish towel. "No, Axel. I'm staying with the Ferrons down the road. But I have been over here some, discussing things with your father."

Some. Right. "And just what do you two have to discuss?"

"Axel." She gives me an exasperated look I haven't seen since I was a child. "We do have two children together."

Nice of her to remember that. "Ever heard of phones?" Dammit. I'd been coming around to trying to work on things with Mom, but seeing her in our kitchen, where she should have been all these years, is throwing me. I feel my walls going up.

"Axel! Enough." Dad's gaze is hard, and I know I'm on thin ice. "Apologize to your mother."

"Sorry," I mumble. Why does he think he can talk to me like I'm five? And why the h.e.l.l am I listening?

"Why don't we sit?" Angel nudges me toward two open seats at the table. Numbly, I let her lead me over, taking the seat farthest from Dad, near the wall. Angel sits next to me, keeping her hand on my leg, a constant reminder that she's right here. I don't have to face my parents alone.

Mom looks at me. "May I?" Her hands are nervously kneading the cloth towel.

I wave an open palm toward another chair. Not like it's really up to me, anyway.

She flashes a grateful smile, though I try to ignore it. I don't want her to think permission to sit means something it doesn't. "As I was just telling your father, I believe that Vanessa is testing his commitment to her and their marriage. Surely my showing up with Warren was quite a shock to her as well, and she's feeling insecure. If your father were to go to her and demonstrate that he wants her to come home immediately, so that they can face this as a unit, well, I have to imagine she'd come scurrying back."

Like she would have.

I don't know if Dad hears it, if he's even ready to, but I hear Mom's message loud and clear. She's suggesting that if Dad doesn't fight for Vanessa, the way he never fought for Mom, he's going to lose her too.

"Dad?"

Dad closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry over it, Axel. I'll handle it. I'll go up there this afternoon and let her know the time for this foolishness is over, and she needs to come home if she's going to. I refuse to be in a marriage where one person has a foot out the door." The way he looks at Mom while he's talking implies there's more to his words as well. But there's a softness that begins at the corner of his eyes as she meets his gaze with a smile.

I clear my throat loudly. "Um, anyway, Dad, have you checked your fax machine recently? I had Eva Fitzsimmons send over the paperwork for the property I've selected. It's perfect, but we aren't the only ones who think so. I'd like to proceed quickly."

Dad nods, and I think I see a bit of relief on his face. Business is what he knows best, and he's clearly more eager to deal with it than with the two women currently complicating his life. He stands. "Let's go into my office. Tess, will you be joining us?"

I answer before she can. "Yes. She's going to be a part of this as well, so I'd like her with us." I tuck her hand in mine as we rise to our feet, pus.h.i.+ng in our chairs.

We're almost out of the kitchen when Mom calls my name. I turn, suspended in the middle of the doorway. "Do you think we could have dinner next week?"

"I don't know."

Her face falls for a moment, and I almost feel bad. Then she surprises me. "What if I offer you something you want in exchange? I'll tell you why Warren and I are really here."

Chapter Eighteen.

a-aa- Clearly, playing dirty to get what I want is not a trait I inherited solely from my father. But I guess it's like Angel always says: If you're going to play, win. My mother has apparently decided to get in the game, but I'm not sure what the prize is. My forgiveness? I'm not sure if that's something I can offer.

Still, Mom's words play through my head on repeat for the rest of the day, like a hot new song. You're excited about the first twenty times you hear it, but then you're so tired of it you immediately change the station when it comes on, only to find it playing on another channel. No matter how I try to distract myself, I can't seem to escape my thoughts.

Why are they here? Why is she willing to tell me? What's Ware's secret? I guess I'll find out on Monday when we have dinner with Mom. I don't know much, but I know it has something to do with him. I can just feel it. Speaking of Ware; he seems to be settling in here at Tuck's Tap well enough, I have to grudgingly admit.

I would have stayed home with Angel tonight, but I knew he was coming in. Plus, I think she's had enough of my hovering since her accident. She insisted that I come to work like normal and let her stay home and hang out in game for a little while. I relented, but d.a.m.n I wish she was here with me. I do know she gets bored just sitting here at the bar without much to do, though.

And I didn't want Chelsea to have to handle taking care of acclimatizing Ware all on her own. She's been taking on a lot of extra responsibility latelyaas my wallet can attestabut I think training Ware would be too much to ask her to do. He's got zero bar experience, and a chip on his shoulder. Hmm. Maybe I should let her handle him after all. Maybe she'd use her rusty spoon to take him down a peg or two.

As it is, I've got him working in the kitchen with Vince, who I know can definitely handle him. Dad wants Ware trained up to be my right hand here at work, like he thought Dougie was. But what Dad doesn't realize is that while yeah, Dougie was helpful because he could fill any role, my real right hand here is Chelsea. I just wish she wanted to put her people skills to use, for something other than this. She's got so much talent, but so little ambition. I swear, I couldn't run this place without her help. She's so good with the front-of-house staff that all I have to worry about is the back end.

And security. I sigh.

Ian has a chair pulled up to the corner of my desk, and we're going over security concerns for the new location. We're running full speed ahead with Angel's idea about making it into a fondue bar, and we've also decided we'd like to create some very cozy couples' seating in one section of the upper level. The problem is that if we give couples privacy, they might take significant advantage of it. Also, I want the property covered by cameras everywhere other than inside the bathrooms. But I don't want to give people a false sense of privacy and then record them on camera. Ian and I are trying to come up with a solution.

"What about posting a sign, simply stating that the area is under video surveillance? Post it near the door, so that everyone sees it when they first come in. I get that you don't want to be in their face in every area, constantly reminding them that they're being watched, but if it's posted they can't claim they didn't know."

Hmm, sometimes simple is best. I don't want to scare my clients away, making them think I believe the area is so unsafe that I need to monitor every moment, so maybe the simple solution is the right one.

There's a sharp knock on my door before it's flung open.

I jerk my attention upward, ready to lay into someone for breaching my office uninvited, then stop when I see the look on Chelsea's face.

I'm already surging to my feet, and so is Ian beside me.

"Jordan needs you. He said there's trouble in the side parking lot." Chelsea darts away before I can order her to stay.

My mind is whirling through one worst case scenario after another as I bolt through the bar with long strides. The night Angel was drugged here and nearly abducted is still all too fresh in my mind. I've got a photo of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who did it up behind the bar, and every member of my staff knows to call the police if he sets foot in here again. But what if he nabbed someone from the parking lot?

Icy dread stabs into my spine, making it hard for me to breathe.

It's quiet chaos when I reach the parking lot.

Ware is staring in horror at his truck. The driver's side window has been viciously smashed in, and gla.s.s is fanned out around the truck like snowflakes, s.h.i.+mmering under the streetlights. Two other cars also have smashed windows. I think they belong to two of my waitresses, Carla and Denise.

Jordan, our bouncer, heads toward me from the far side of one of the cars. "Did you check thoroughly to make sure there's no one out there? Look in and under every vehicle," I tell him. Jordan's been on my s.h.i.+t list lately, and I think he knows this is one more strike against him. I understand he can't control everything that happens here, but dammit, I pay him to keep trouble out. Yet trouble keeps finding its way into my bar. I turn my attention to Ian, who's at my side. "Ian, call Kevin, then start reviewing tonight's tapes."

"I didn't see anyone, boss." Why the h.e.l.l is Jordan still standing in front of me? I harden my gaze, and he turns back to the cars to give things another look.

I nearly jump when Chelsea touches my arm. "Call me if you need me. I'm going to go keep the bar going."

Thank G.o.d I have at least one competent person here. She knows what her job is, and does it well, rather than trying to do everyone else's or making excuses for what happened. s.h.i.+t I love that girl.

I'm sort of glad Angel didn't come with me tonight after all. She's safe at home. Except...what if this is like last week, and they hit the bar and our house as well? "Chel?"

"Hmm?"

"Call Tess. Just to put my mind at ease. I'm sure she's fine, but I need to know it." I'd call her myself, but she'd just accuse me of hovering. Plus, I need to call the police department, and then our insurance company.

"Of course."

Nearby, Ware slams his truck door closed after searching inside the cab. "Nothing's missing." He looks as furious as I feel. Someone is f.u.c.king with my home turf, and it's going to stop.

It takes me nearly fifteen minutes to get a rep on the phone at the insurance company. I understand it's after hours, but I still need this handled. When I finally do get someone on the line, it takes them less than two minutes to tell me to take photos, have the police doc.u.ment everything, and they'll have someone contact me soon. I'm pacing the parking lot, feeling a bit like a caged cat, waiting for the police to show up. I hate waiting. And I hate not being able to control this situation. I'm at the mercy of several people who don't value my time and property the way I do. The police seem to be taking their sweet-a.s.s time arriving, and I'm about to call again and ask for an update when I see Angel's new Mustang glide into her normal parking s.p.a.ce. Even under the circ.u.mstances, I can't help smiling.

Her face is dark with worry as she climbs out of the car, her long legs encased in a slim-fitting pair of jeans and her hair in a messy bun. "Are you okay?" She rushes to my side.

"Better now that you're here." I press a kiss to the top of her head. All thoughts of being in a hurry for the police to arrive evaporate as I hold my Angel tightly in my arms. She makes everything better just by being here. "Just waiting on the cops now so we can start cleaning this mess up." It's been nearly twenty-five minutes since I called them.

Angel looks around at the destruction in dismay. "Any idea who did it?"

My jaw hardens. "No. I've got Ian reviewing the tapes now." I catch her confused look. "An a.s.sociate of Kevin's. He sent Ian to represent him here so he can keep playing house with Lexi down in Chancellorsville." I can't help the growl to my words as I think about Lexi and Kevin together. Angel laughs. She thinks those two make a great couple. Clearly she has no sense, but I already knew that, since for some reason she picked me to be hers. "Not that I mind, but what are you doing here?"