Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense) (11 page)

She bites my finger and I yank it out of her mouth before she clamps down. I can feel her whole body as tight as a coiled wire, and it gives me such a rush, like the pleasure is rolling through her into me. I pump my fingers faster.

“I want to taste your pussy,” I whisper in her ear.

I don’t get the chance. She explodes, but never makes a single sound except for a strained throaty whimper as she writhes and thrashes in the bed, shaking it with her motions.

When she finally calms I draw my fingers out of her and pull my hand back. I can’t help it. She rolls over just in time to see me licking my hand clean. God, she tastes good.

Ellie kisses me. Hard. Hard, as with intensity, but also with inexperience. She was always like that, she kissed so hard it hurt and became gentle after, like she was afraid she’d miss the chance. When she settles down this time I taste her and savor her, and tug on her bottom lip with my teeth. She returns the favor with a sudden urgency.

“I think we might talk about sex,” she whispers in my ear. “Not tonight but soon.”

I grab her ass with both hands and she giggles.

I grind my cock against her. I can’t help it.

“You’re torturing me.”

“Good,” she says, and rolls over.

It takes me a while to get to sleep with my hard-on pressed into her butt, but eventually I drift off. The next time I open my eyes I have a serious cotton mouth, a throbbing ache in my balls, and Ellie in my arms.

That makes up for the others, until she sits up and takes that from me. She yawns the way she does, like she can’t open her mouth all the way.

“I should have known,” a booming voice says from the kitchen. “Who’s up for pancakes?”

Ellie

I’m not sure if I actually heard someone say, “Pancakes?” or if I dreamed it, until I sit up and catch a whiff of the scent on the air. Jack runs his hand up my back, and I shiver. I wasn’t dreaming. I slept with him. I can’t look at him without a flush creeping up my neck and face.

That actually happened. He sits up next to me, yawns, and looks at me. Waiting. What do I do? What do I say?

I always missed him, but I never knew how badly I needed to share a bed with another person until last night. Just the warmth of him around me put me right to sleep, without the night sweats and frightening dreams that plague me. I slept straight through until morning.

I think it’s morning.

“It’s noon,” my uncle bellows. “Get out of bed.”

Jack gets up first and takes my arm, steadying me as I stand up and yawn. I stretch my arm over my head and roll my left shoulder, trying to work out the tension.

Jack puts his hands on my shoulders from behind, and I wince. His thumbs dig into my neck, and he lets out a low whistle.

“Tense, huh?”

I nod but shrug out from under him and walk into the kitchen. My uncle is already laying out a full spread on the table—a big and growing pile of floppy, fluffy pancakes on a plate in the middle, fresh butter, French toast, bacon, sausage, and he’s making the eggs.

“How you want ’em, over easy or scrambled?”

“However Ellie wants them.”

“Over easy.”

Jack pulls out my chair before he sits down and starts piling his plate high, rubbing his head as he does. He pours cranberry juice from a pitcher and then fills my glass. There’s coffee, orange juice, and milk, too.

“Don’t mind if I go overboard. I don’t have guests for breakfast very often,” Uncle Rod says, setting a plate of eggs before me. “It’s my favorite meal of the day, because I get to eat it first.”

I stab a slice of French toast with my fork and pull it onto my plate, smear butter on it, and wait. He’d have to be blind not to realize that I crawled into Jack’s bed, yet he says nothing.

“Long driving coming up,” he says. “Two days to Arizona if you stop overnight.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighs.

“You sure this is a good idea? Might still be time to turn around and—”

“No,” Jack says firmly. “Ellie, what do you say?”

“I’m going to Arizona. You kidnapped me.”

My uncle smiles. “Eat, then. Just don’t overdo it. You’ll want to leave your car here. Take mine.”

“Why?”

“He’s right,” Jack sighs. “They’ll be looking for us by now. Somebody has realized you’re gone, and even if they haven’t, they know I’m gone. I was supposed to be at work at my father’s company today. Also yesterday. I hope I didn’t get that lady in trouble.”

“What lady?”

He shrugs. “Dad sent some woman to be my assistant. I left her in charge. I’d have had no idea what I was doing anyway. It was just another check box on my résumé for when I run for office. Stick a key in my back, wind me up, and watch me go.”

He stabs a piece of sausage and chews it angrily then downs a cup of coffee in three big gulps.

“What’ll you do if they come looking for us here?” Jack says.

My uncle shrugs. “Tell them you stopped by and I didn’t see anything amiss. They won’t come out here anyway. Jessica has probably forgotten I exist by now. She doesn’t care about anyone if she can’t get money out of them.”

He glances at me like he expects me to say something. I turn the stem of my fork in my fingers and fight a twisting feeling in my stomach. Mom had every reason to leave me after the accident, move on with her life, all that. She was always there for me.

Now, though, I wonder. She never had a problem spending my money—there’s plenty in my inheritance, enough that it grows, even, from investments. I never spent much but Mom has always had the most stylish wardrobe, fanciest shoes, jewelry. Her family was always in my house, spending time with her while I sulked in my bedroom.

Jessica and Fitzgerald were my sole contact with human beings for most of the last ten years of my life. Could I have been so hungry for company that I didn’t think to look into what she was doing with her time and my money?

“How long did Jessica date my dad before they announced the engagement?”

Jack’s voice shakes me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, um, not long. Like, six months?”

“They knew each other, though.”

Of course they did. We were all part of the same social circles; Jack and I went to the same private schools together even if we didn’t really talk until that night at the stupid dance when he dragged me onto the dance floor when I was off to the side, sulking.

My uncle and Jack look at each other like they know something, but keep eating without saying anything.

“Why do you ask?”

Jack sighs. “Just thinking about some things.”

I look back and forth between them. “You two talked last night. Then you ask me this.”

“Ellie, do you remember why we went out to dinner with your dad that night?”

“No. I don’t remember much of anything. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jack nods. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”

My uncle doesn’t look at either of us, he just chews on his bacon. Between bites he says, “Back when I talked to him last, your father, I mean, he said something about arguing with Jessica about your training. Do you know what he would’ve meant by that?”

“I told you, personal training. Mom had me doing this exercise program and eating a special diet, and she signed me up for singing classes.”

My uncle nods sagely then puts a stack of pancakes on my plate. “Eat. You’re too skinny.”

“You sound like an old housewife,” Jack says with a snicker.

“My brother said that, too. She is too skinny, look at her. Don’t you think?”

Jack looks over and gives me a sort of distant smile. “I like her just the way she is.”

Then it hits me. I’ve been sitting here this whole time, no hood, no hair over my face, eating, talking… Like I’m normal. I
forgot
. I start to shake and drop my fork, breathing harder.

“Ellie?”

“You okay, honey?”

I take a deep breath and close my eye.

“I’m fine, I just… Let’s eat.”

We eat the rest of the meal in silence. Uncle Rod made too much of everything, but that’s okay. He wraps it all up in waxed paper and plastic and puts it away while I sit at the table, rubbing my stomach. I haven’t eaten that much in years.

Not since…

My eye starts to burn as I tear up. I blink it away.

“Ellie?” Jack says.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about my dad.”

My uncle leans over the counter and looks out the kitchen window into his backyard.

“I didn’t expect to outlive him, you know. I’m ten years older. I was supposed to go first. Not my little brother.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, squeezing my hand.

Uncle Rod stands up and lets out a rumbling sigh. “I don’t think it had anything to do with you, now. I think I need to call a friend of mine. First, let me show you around a bit, then it’ll be time you got going.”

When I stand up, I can’t stop myself before I let out a heroic belch. I grab my stomach and cover my mouth, but it’s too late. Jack laughs first, and my uncle joins in. I punch Jack’s arm and he rubs the spot where I hit him as if it hurts.

“Come on,” my uncle says.

He leads us through the kitchen into his den, a room as long as the whole house and about a third as wide. There are three desks covered with all sorts of stuff, a worktable set up for fishing flies, and so many books. He has a whole library, more books than I’ve ever seen in one place. I can’t help myself. I drift over to the bookcases. Jack follows me, standing close behind my shoulder.

It’s an eclectic collection. A lot of history books, novels, paperbacks, and hardbacks of all description. He must have every Stephen King novel and a bunch of weird books all together on one shelf by a guy named Aleister Crowley. I pull one down and flip through it. There are a bunch of geographic diagrams and drawings of weird monsters. I start to pull a book called
Species of the Undead
off the shelf, but Uncle Rod carefully slots it back into place.

“That’s an antique, that one. Need to be careful with it. I have something for you. Come on.”

The den opens into a workshop with a high ceiling. Over in the corner there’s a long car under a tarp; the rest is full of woodworking tools and workbenches. Rod scans the shelves, pulls down a wooden toy, and hands it to me.

“I made this for your thirteenth birthday, but I never got to give it to you.”

I take the doll in my hands. It’s cleverly articulated, with working joints that hold a pose. On its back is a pair of wings.

“What is this, an angel?”

“Yes.”

“It’s lovely.”

“I made something else every year and sent it, but I suppose you didn’t get them.”

“Did you make my rocking horse?”

“Yes, and your bed, too.”

“I remember my dad telling me that, now.”

The room smells like fresh-cut wood and glue, and oil. Rod moves over to the car and draws the tarp away with a flourish, piling it on the floor. Jack lets out a low whistle.

“Can you drive stick?” Rod says, turning to him.

“Yeah. I’m not sure we can take this, man.”

“Yeah, you can. It’s not mine, it’s Ellie’s. This was her grandfather’s car, then her dad’s.”

“I don’t remember it.”

He sighs. “Your mother made him get rid of it,” he says with a twist of disdain in his voice. “He couldn’t bear to let it leave the family, so he brought it here for me to take care of. I take it out for a drive now and then, change the oil, check it over and do any maintenance it needs.”

It’s beautiful, a rich black polished to a mirror shine. I lightly run my hand over the sweeping fenders. “I don’t know anything about cars. What is this?”

“It’s a ’68 Corvette Stingray,” Jack says before my uncle can answer.

“Close, she’s a ’69. This was our father’s car. He ordered her with a 454 and a rock crusher.”

“What’s that mean?” I ask.

“It’s got a big engine,” Jack says.

I roll my eye at him. “Thanks.”

“You asked.”

“I never had much taste in cars. I’m more of a house person. She’s a beauty, though.”

“So this was my grandpa’s car?”

“Yes. Shame you never met him.” He turns to Jack. “You wreck this thing and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jack flinches and blinks. Then he says, “Yeah, you know what? I’d deserve it. Are you sure—”

“I need my truck and it’s not mine anyway. Maybe one day, Ellie, you’ll learn to drive her.”

“Her?”

“It’s a guy thing,” Jack says.

I snort.

“Give me your keys and I’ll pull your Camaro in here and keep an eye on it while you’re gone. I’ll put the cover on.”

Jack fishes his key out of his pocket and hands it over without ever taking his eyes off the car.

“Are you sure about this?” he says again.

“Sure enough. Go on. You two need to get going.”

He walks over to a switch that raises the garage door. It rumbles upward as I open the door and step into the car. Jack stands with my uncle outside, talking. He ends up giving Jack a bundle of clothes, all my dad’s old stuff. Jack puts on my father’s old leather jacket before he gets in the car.

It smells new in here. Everything looks like it just rolled off the assembly line. Even the little switches in the dashboard are shiny.

It’s close, too. My shoulder almost rubs up against Jack’s as he stretches his legs out in front of him.

“Seat belts,” Uncle Rod says before Jack closes the door.

Jack eases the car out of the workshop and stops. Uncle Rod stands behind us, waving. I turn and lean my arm out to wave back, and Jack beeps the horn.

As Jack navigates the twisting turns to the base of the hill, he says, “He loves you.”

“Yeah. He’s a lot like my dad.”

“You okay? You’re choking up.”

“I miss him.”

“Yeah, I do, too. I think he liked me. I liked him.”

“He did like you. I know dads are supposed to be all creepy about their teenage daughters but he always encouraged me to go out with you more.”

Jack lets out a deep sigh. “Your family is so cool. My father hasn’t ever been anything to me but an asshole pushing me around and telling me what to do. He liked you before the accident, I guess. He said you were ‘really solid’, whatever that means.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s what a gawky teenage girl wants to hear. You’re really solid. Who talks like that?”