AJ's Salvation (27 page)

You get the drift. Just make sure she signs in the right spot. As soon as you can, get an adoption paper on him. Collene signed all rights over to Jamison, not wanting any participation in the boy’s life. Or at least she will have done so by the time you apply. Once that’s settled, there are even more legal documents making him yours, and if something should happen to the boy’s father, you’ll get him, no matter what. It’s the best way to handle this.

Now, once you have your family back, maybe you’ll have time to visit an old man.

Sincerely,

T. Fairchild.

Aly lowered the lines, her heart squeezing tight as she realized what this meant. With a lump in her throat, she checked the papers—the ones that would change her life for the better—and saw Thomas’ signature at the bottom, perfect ink and his seal making this the most valuable thing in her possession. Her heart thundered against her ribcage, making her hold her breath, but nothing could change the pattern. They were closer, so much closer, and it made her heart light. The talk they had before breakfast was just for show, and if push ever came to shove, he could always deny any involvement. He had to think of himself, and she could always pretend to have stolen his official seal. If they brought her to prison, she didn’t have anything to lose anyway. She couldn’t and wouldn’t be mad at him for trying to do her a favor yet save himself.

She hopped out of the car, the lighter heavy in her hand, and walked out onto the empty country road. Looking left and right, she didn’t see anyone so she held out the one page and lit the corner on fire. She wouldn’t ever forget what she read on there, but if she wanted to save her son, those words had to go up in flames. Evidence was bad, that much she knew, and she did not intend to leave any behind. After the wind had blown away the ashes, scattering in all directions of the sun, she got back in the car and started up the rental. She knew she wouldn’t find any good motels on the route, but now, she didn’t care any longer. She could spend a few nights in a bed that wasn’t hers or exactly clean, as long as in the end, she would get to hold her baby again.

Jam couldn’t get out of his funk. The dark was walking around the edges of his consciousness more clearly than it had in years. He didn’t know what had changed, but maybe it was all the memories flooding his mind ever since he had told Aly all he had dared to tell her.

No denying he needed help, but for now, Jam hoped that getting rid of the immense anger he was feeling would be a start.

“Carl.” He greeted the guy from the junkyard. He knew him well, and Carl was already there, a hammer in hand. To Jam’s luck, the place was far out of town, and no one had ever seen him there, meaning he didn’t mind parking his car and spending hours there.

He had seen Alessandro that morning, ringing the doorbell exactly at eleven, not a second later, and then had been allowed to be with his son under supervision for an hour. Even though that time didn’t feel nearly long enough, Jam itched to get away. Lesso had most likely caught on to his mood because the boy had been unnaturally quiet begging for Aly. That was probably what Jam had done most of the time—holding Lesso and trying to soothe him.

“You’re lucky, son,” Carl announced, handing over a mechanic’s jumpsuit, too. It said a lot that Jam had brought his own protective glasses.

“Is that so?” Jam asked while pulling on the protective gear. His skin was crawling with anxiety as if a million ants had made it their home.

“We just got a new one in. Perfect piece. The engine gave in, though.” Carl took the lead and Jam followed him, already feeling better the moment he lifted the sledgehammer.

They rounded a few piles of metal junk and then Jam’s eyes fell on a perfectly fine red car.

“What the hell? They could’ve sold it, for fuck’s sake. Someone probably would have been ready to buy a new engine,” he stated in disbelief, and Carl shrugged.

“I thought about selling it, but I think it’ll satisfy you a lot more than any of the crap pieces I have.” 

Jam wouldn’t even deny that. He knew that the shinier the surface, the more he could ruin the thing. Just as it was with him.

“Radio’s working. Find a heavy metal station and get on it, boy.” Carl came over and placed his hand on Jam’s shoulder. He looked at the older man, seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“When you didn’t return for nearly a decade, I thought your horrors were over finally. Now, I can see they’re not. You need to get on that shit. I saw your whole body trembling the moment you stepped out of your car.” He shook his head, and Jam gritted his teeth.

“She has my son.”

If Carl was surprised that his abuser had been a woman, he didn’t let on. “I think I should gear up as well and join you,” he growled, and Jam saw his eyes blazing as he looked up. 

“If I ever find out who did all that bullshit to you, I’ll probably need a whole squad of cars,” he growled and then turned away. 

Jam thought about foregoing the music, but heavy, angry sounds always had been crucial to his soul’s healing. Even though he hadn’t needed any of it in forever, he needed it now.

The moment he had found the right station, heavy screaming filled the air and he raised the hammer. Pausing for only a second, he then let it crash down on the windows. The shattering sounds mixed with the music eased his mind, giving him a rush like a cutter felt when he saw the first drops of blood well from a fresh mark. It wasn’t anything good, or healthy, but it sure gave a person relief as nothing else ever could.

Jam turned the destruction into a symphony. The raining down of the sledgehammer against the metal came at regular intervals, accentuating the music, pushing it higher and higher until the echo of Jam’s pain filled the whole junkyard. For weeks in a row, he had been here to express his anger the only way he knew without hurting people or himself, and it had always done its deed. He wouldn’t stop until his arms were shaking and his knees threatened to give in.

It was what he needed—mental and physical exhaustion. He knew tears were streaming down his cheeks, leaving tracks in the dust that was flying through the air with every step he took and settled on his cheeks because of the sweat running down his skin.

He didn’t care. This was his escape, and he needed it. 

Losing track of time and space, he focused on ruining everything about this car that once had been shiny. He started in the back, making his way around until reaching the front, closing his eyes as exhaustion started to set in. He raised the hammer, waiting for a moment, testing his emotions and his body. He was so concentrated that it took him a second to realize that the music had changed. 

He let the hammer go down again, only to whip around as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He dropped the hammer, too afraid what he’d do with it otherwise when he realized it was a dark-haired angel. That was the only explanation Jam had for the vision standing in front of him.

She wore black heels that were dust-covered yet sexy, leading the eyes up long, bare legs that vanished beneath a skirt that was a lot shorter than he knew on her. She wore a white blouse that was pretty much giving a perfect idea what was hidden in the black bra showing at the neckline. 

“Holy fuck, Aly,” he mumbled, wanting to rub his eyes, but the dirt on his hands wouldn’t be the best thing for his eyes.

She didn’t reply. Instead, she pulled some pins from her hair, making the dark waves tumble down her back. Then she walked closer to him, pulling him with her until she was almost seated on the hood of the red piece of trash. 

Jam didn’t hesitate, leaning in to run his tongue along the edges of her bra. She instantly moaned, and he pushed the cups aside, finding her nipples, sucking one while gently twisting the other between his fingers.

Her fingers were between them, unzipping the jumpsuit and then unbuttoning his jeans. Jam growled against her skin as she wrapped her hand around his cock and started stroking.

His hands left her chest, pushing his way beneath her skirt, finding that she had obviously forgotten her panties. When Jam met her eyes with an inquiring expression, Aly just drew him in for a kiss that was almost rough while she aligned them with her other hand. He could feel her hot and needy, and it made his body tremble again; only this time, it was something entirely different from when he had gotten here. 

She wrapped her legs around him, and he reached around her back, cupping her cute ass in his hands before pulling her close and drowning himself in her in the same instant. He actually had to pause for a moment, feeling overwhelmed with need and lust. 

“Hell no,” she just whispered and then started to move against him, not giving him a break to collect himself. Her kisses were hot and heavy, leaving him breathless as she sucked his lower lip in before sweeping her tongue into his mouth, pulling herself closer to him, using her legs to urge him to move. 

“Aly,” he gasped.

“Harder,” she said in return, and he knew his fingertips were already bruising her hips, but he still followed her order, taking her faster, rougher, until he was soaring high, brought there by her moans, her whimpers, and pleas. “Yes, Jam, fuck me just like that,” she mumbled, and he couldn’t stop it, coming deep inside of her. He knew she hadn’t come yet, and once he regained his wits, he pulled his shirt off, cleaning her up before replacing his shirt with his tongue, positioning her legs over his shoulders.

He licked her clit, hearing her nails scratch over the metal as she tried to find something to grasp.

Eventually, her hands found their way into his hair and he pulled her closer, licking her harder. He could feel her heels digging into his back, and it was obvious that while being half-crazy with lust, she still tried not to hurt him. He just knew that she held back.

“You can’t hurt me, Aly.”

“Lick,” Aly ordered, and he had to laugh at her husky tone, getting serious again, though, the moment he lowered his lips back to her. “I’m so close,” she whispered, and he slipped two fingers into her raising the intensity. He knew how close she was, he could almost feel it, and then she came apart under his hands, calling out his name. He drew out her orgasm, and then he stood again, looking at the woman who owned his heart. Her dark waves spilled over the red paint, her white blouse, now gray with grime, giving way to tanned skin and a black bra that supported but did not hide her rosy nipples. Her skirt was high on her hips, and she looked up at him with her eyes shining.

God, Jam could never thank heaven enough for having given him this woman.

Aly never wanted to move again. This definitely was a lucky coincidence that she had seen Jam’s car out front while being on the way to talk to some people at a bank. She had been dressed up, but without needing to talk to him, she could guess what he was doing there. Not thinking long, she had lost her panties, opened her blouse, and walked into the junkyard.

“Back,” an older guy only told her, pointing a certain way, but it wouldn’t have been necessary. She could hear the music and the destruction.

She had walked there and then … she’d say the rest would go down in history.

Pulling her skirt down and trying to rearrange her clothes at least a little, she watched the angry, dirty, yet in her eyes perfect, man in front of her. 

“I ruined your blouse,” he whispered while buttoning his jeans and tying the jumpsuit around his hips. God, he was sexy all dust-covered and sweaty. She never had been into sweaty guys, but seeing Jam like that … man, a woman quickly could get weak. She drew him close by his belt, making sure he was between her legs again.

“Hey,” she said over the music, and he groaned, leaving her to silence the air around them, then he took the spot again that she had assigned him. “I think
we
ruined my blouse.” She laughed and then reached out to brush her hand through his hair, resting her forehead against his.

“Alessia,” he breathed and then pulled her close to hug her gently. The way he was holding her was such contrast to his touches just moments ago.

“Feel better?” she asked, her lips moving against the skin of his shoulder as she spoke.