Hearts of Winter (Bleeding Angels MC Book 2) (7 page)

I blink at my reflection. Did I just hear what I think I hear?  Once the shock has worn off I feel my smile spreading so wide across my face that it actually hurts my cheeks.  I hurriedly finish with my teeth and virtually run out of the bathroom, tiredness forgotten.

“What did you just say?” I ask, or rather, squeak.

“Why?  Are you freaking out again?” Jake asks from the bed, looking a little like he’s expecting me to run out the door.

“No.  Yes.  A little,” I say, noting that a multiple-choice answer isn’t really any kind of an answer at all.  “You just caught me off guard is all,” I tell him.  “And all this.” I gesture to the space between us. “It’s all… pretty new.”

“I didn’t mean tomorrow, Winters,” Jake says through his smile.  “I meant one day.  Does that help to reduce the setting on your freak-out scale?” He assesses the effect his words have had on me.

“A little,” I admit.

“Come here,” he says.  He opens his arms and I walk over to him as if I’m being pulled by a magnetic force and I couldn’t get away even if I had wanted to, which I don’t.

Jake settles us together in the bed in our sleeping position that has become customary.  Next to him, snuggled in tight, is pretty much my favorite place to be in the world.  The full impact of Jake’s words wash over me and I can’t deny that I like the idea of us, all old and wrinkly, walking hand in hand into the sunset.  I want to believe that’s possible, that we’re not crazy to think that we can have that.

I remember the fact that Jake threw himself on top of me when the explosion filled the sky, protecting me from whatever was coming next.  I’m filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling as the gravity of what he did comes over me.  I love this man more than I thought I could love anyone.  If it’s possible for us to have found each other, then it must be possible for us to be together.  Why would life put us together and match us so perfectly, just to tear us apart?  It doesn’t make any sense.  I ignore the little voice in my head that has started to make such an unwelcome return.  She tells me that life doesn’t always make sense, that there isn’t necessarily a grand plan to all things.

I can’t think about the future right now.  All I know is that we have the present, one moment to the next.  So I want to spend as many moments as we have together, telling and showing Jake how crazy I am about him.

As I think this over, my right hand, almost unconsciously, starts to drift down his chest, over the tight muscles of his six pack, and further down to the dense curls below. 

“I thought you were tired,” Jake whispers in my ear, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, if you’d prefer I slept,” I tease, easing my hand back up his body before he catches it in his.

“Did I say that?  I don’t think I said that,” Jake amends quickly, and I laugh at his eagerness.

“That’s what I thought.” I release my hand from his and make my way back down his happy trail.

I reach lower this time, to the hardness that I knew I would find between his legs.  Jake lets out a low moan as I wrap my fingers around his shaft and tug gently, up and down.  I look at his face and see the control he’s trying to maintain.  “No games tonight,” I tell him, and he understands straight away.  I see the smile spread across his face.

“Deal,” he replies softly.

“Good,” I say, and kiss him deeply on the lips.  His mouth is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, but that’s not where my mouth is going to stay tonight.  I maneuver myself so that I’m lying on top of him, teasing him with my tongue, flicking it in and out of his mouth, and biting his lips.  I start to slide down his body, slowly, making sure as much of my torso rubs along his shaft as possible in the process.  I kiss my way down his neck, his strong chest.  I let my tongue trace the squares of his abs. 

I'm already wet between my legs.  This man’s body drives me insane.  All I have to do is touch him to get so turned on it’s hard to think straight.  Jake’s hands sink into my hair, and then further down, touching my breasts through the thin material of my night-dress.  I breathe in deeply as he starts rubbing my nipples in a way that makes my pussy throb. 

“Hold on there, cowboy,” I say, looking up at him through lowered lashes.  “This one’s about you,” I tell him.

“You’re driving me crazy, Winters,” he admits, his voice sounding more than a little strangled.

“That’s kind of the idea.” I continue kissing him, following the line of hair from his bellybutton down to the dark curls between his hips.

I shimmy my body down for better access to his shaft and in one swift movement, I cup my hand around him and bend my head down to lick his tip.  Jake gasps as I taste the saltiness of his cock.  I never thought that it was possible to enjoy giving a guy head this much.  A blow job—it was something that the girls in high school would whisper about.  They all used to say that they only did it because their boyfriends made them, that they hated it, hated the taste, the act.  But I couldn’t disagree more.  Giving Jake pleasure turns me on as much as anything his touch can do to me. 

I lick from the tip to the base, along the bottom of his shaft.  Jake raises his hips and I grab hold of his hard butt with one hand and his shaft with the other, guiding him into my mouth as far as he’ll go.  He lets out a muffled moan and I can feel myself getting even wetter between my thighs as I listen to the noises.

“Jesus Christ, Aimee,” he says explosively, sitting up as I take a long pull of his cock, enveloping as much of him in my mouth as I can without gagging.  “Come here.” He motions for me to move up but I shake my head.

“I want to do this, let me do this for you,” I say.He doesn’t understand that doing this for him is a massive turn on for me too.

“But I want to touch you too, to taste you,” he says seductively, with that gorgeous mouth of his.  He pulls me up his body, so we’re face to face again, and he kisses me deeply. So deeply I feel like my whole body is turning to jelly.  “Have you heard of 69?” he asks, breathing heavily.

I nod. I’ve heard it, but I’ve never really been sure what it meant.  I would always just nod knowingly when Suzie would talk about it.  Suzie—I push the thought of her out of my mind, shaking my head for good measure.

Jake must see my confusion and embarrassment at not knowing what he’s asking.  But he’s not frustrated, not judgmental, he’s gentle and kind and patient with me.  “You stay on top, but you need to face that way.” He nods towards his toes.  I don’t need to voice the question in my eyes for Jake to explain.  “This way we can taste each other.” He says it softly, and it makes my body turn hotter and hotter.

Jake guides me into position and I try to put all my hang-ups aside until I realize that my pussy is hovering right above his face.  “Maybe… this isn’t such a good idea,” I say, wishing that I could ignore the crippling embarrassment at the idea of Jake seeing way more of me than even
I’ve
seen.

I feel rather than see Jake shake his head.  “You’re beautiful, Aimee,” he says reverently.  “Every part of you is beautiful.” I gasp as he licks the wetness that’s already spreading between my legs. 

Feeling his tongue exploring me and licking my folds makes me forget any uncertainty I was harboring.  I want to make him feel as good as he’s making me feel.  I lower my head and take his cock into my mouth.  He exhales deeply against my pussy and the sensation threatens to push me over the edge.

“Fuck, Aimee, you taste so amazing,” he murmurs, and that just drives me even more wild.

I bob my head up and down, taking him into my mouth and sucking hard, only to release him again and repeat.  He’s starting to move his hips, encouraging me to take more and more between my lips, and I find my body is mirroring his movements.  My hips are moving up and down as Jake’s tongue dives inside of me again and again. 

We’re both sucking, licking, tasting each other so deeply, turning each other on, building each other up to our own release.  I feel his tongue against my clit and I cry out, sucking hard on his cock.

“You’re so goddam good at that,” Jake breathes out and I allow myself a little feeling of pride before I stop focusing on anything other than Jake’s mouth on me and mine on him.

We’re both moaning and breathing hard—so hard that I know we’re both close.  I take him into my mouth as much as I can, and at the same time I feel Jake’s tongue going to work on my pussy in earnest.  I’m building towards my release and I can tell from Jake’s erratic movements that he is too.  I pump Jake’s cock, licking the tip, and I feel his shaft surge with his orgasm.  I catch him in my mouth as he comes, tasting the saltiness of his juice.  At the same time I come hard, so hard I almost feel like I’m going to pass out as Jake licks inside my folds, tasting my slickness.  We lie without moving, both breathing heavily, recovering from the intensity of the experience. 

“We should definitely do that more often,” I say eventually and I feel Jake laugh beneath me.

“You talk a lot of sense,” Jake agrees, still taking deep gulps of air.

“Now I really
do
need to sleep,” I say quietly as the tiredness I had been fighting off surges through me with the satisfaction of my release.

I wriggle off of Jake, moving myself around to lie by his side and resting my hand on his chest. His arm curls protectively around me. 

“Good night, Summers,” I say quietly as sleep overtakes me.

“Good morning, Winters,” he corrects me, pulling me even tighter against him.

In the days after the explosion the mood of Painted Rock has changed.  We’ve become a town that isn’t used to outsiders, where anyone that you don’t recognize arouses a certain kind of suspicion.  But now that the news of the Angels having ripped off an army truck had filtered through the general populace, there was even more unease than usual. And that was really saying something. 

For the first time in a long while, people were actually talking about the Angels and what had happened more or less openly.  But, of course, they only speak in hushed tones, their eyes still flitting around them, scanning for any sign that they might be overheard by unfriendly ears.

Over the past couple of days I had managed to piece together a story of the events from the quiet conversations in the diner.  It was one of the few places in the town that had a pretty good view out onto the highway.  That made it a magnet for all the residents of Painted Rock who wanted to get the scoop on the biggest news to hit the town in years.

“Manny was right there when the truck went up—said he’d never seen anything like it.  He’s got the singed eyebrows to prove it!”

“I heard they were looking for guns.”

“Those two biker boys were burnt pretty bad, howling and screaming and carrying on.”

“The driver didn’t make it.   Poor guy, burning to death… What a terrible way to go.”

“Saw some fellas looking through the wreck this morning. Looked like city boys.”

“They’ve gone too far this time. Feds’ll have to be getting involved.”

“No respect for life.”

“They’ve always been dangerous, but not stupid.  This was both.”

Everyone has their own version of events or knows someone who saw something or who has inside information on what’s going on over at the wreck site.  It took less than 24 hours for the professionals to appear and set up one of those tents you only see on cop shows.  I take in the snippets of conversation as I make my way through the diner, refilling coffee cups and delivering orders.  I wonder to myself how the Feds found out so quickly.  If the driver had died in the fire and he was the only person in the truck, then who raised the alarm?  It’s not like anyone in this town has a direct line to the homeland security.  But I don’t have to wait long to find out.

“Heard they picked up a soldier by the side of the road.  He’s in a pretty bad way—guess he must have gotten out when the truck went up.”

“I thought it was strange there was just a driver inside.  Army truck like that, must’ve had another soldier along for protection or something.”

When I hear this news, it’s hard not to get excited.  First of all, the army isn’t just going to lie down and let something like this happen without investigating.  Secondly, if there’s a survivor of the crash, then he should be able to identify who was involved and that’ll lead them right to the Angels.  It seems like the best news I’ve heard in a long time.

But, that night, when I share the information I’ve collected with Jake, my excitement gives way to dismay.  Most of Jake’s body is under the latest car that he’s working on. Only his legs are visible as he clangs around with his tools underneath it. 

“They made it look like an accident,” he says, his voice even.

“An accident?  What, like the truck just spontaneously combusted?” I ask incredulously.

“Dad was talking to some of the guys on the force and they mentioned that it wasn’t clear that the bikes had collided with the truck with intent,” Jake explains, emotionless.

“Oh, come on!” I yell in frustration.  “The fact they’re at the scene and that the Angels are known for ripping off trucks on the highway?  It’s just a matter of two plus two makes four, right?” I ask, unable to believe that the Angels are going to get away with something this big.  Isn’t there such a thing as justice anymore?

“All circumstantial, I guess,” Jake says, rolling out from under the car. “One of the bikes collided with the truck—that’s what caused the explosion.  Who’s to say that they intended to do it, or if they just lost control of the bike?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders.  He makes his way inside the car and puts the key in the ignition, smiling in satisfaction as the engine purrs like a kitten.

I’m surprised at how little he seems to care about this. Especially after we’d talked about this potentially being our way out.

“How can you be so calm about this?  Don’t you care that they’re just being handed a ‘get out of jail free’ card yet
again?
” I ask. I’m taking my frustration out on him, I know—but I’m unable to control it.

“Of course I care, Aimee!” Jake shouts, his anger matching my own.  He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and then starts again.  “Of course I care.  How can you even ask me that?” He shakes his head in disappointment and I feel angry at myself for treating him this way.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly.  “I just don’t understand how things always seem to go their way.  This is a big deal and, as always, they’re getting away with whatever they want.”  I fling my hands in the air in desperation and sit down heavily on the stool that I’ve been perching on almost every day for the past ten years.

“We don’t know that they’re just going to walk,” Jake tells me patiently, loping towards me and lifting my chin so he’s looking into my eyes.  “It looks like an accident, which might satisfy the local cops. But the
Feds
are a different breed.”

“They just need to find someone that’ll talk, someone that will tell them what’s been going on here for years, someone that knows they were planning on ripping off the truck,” I say, slowly getting to grips with the ideas rushing around my head.

“Yeah, that should be really easy,” Jake says sarcastically. “Finding someone that’s willing to talk to the Feds in this town.  Everyone’s too busy watching their backs to run the risk of being a whistleblower.” He wipes his grease-stained hands on his even more grease-stained jeans.

“I’ll do it,” I say confidently.  “I’ll talk to them.  Tell them everything I know.”

Jake is looking at me as if I’ve just grown a second head.  “You’re kidding, right?” he asks.

I shake my head slowly.  “It’s the only way,” I explain. “I’m not just being gung-ho about this.”

“You know they won’t let you do it,” Jake points out.  “The Angels won’t just let you have a nice little tête-à-tête with the Feds. They won’t allow it. You can’t fix everything, Aimee.”

“I can at least try,” I insist.  “It’s better than sitting around, not doing anything, and just waiting for bad things to happen.” I angrily stand, knocking over my stool in my hurry to get up.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Jake demands.  “Just sitting back and letting bad shit happen?” His brown eyes are hurt behind the fire that I’ve set in them.

“I think that I’m the only one here coming up with any solutions, and you just keep batting me back with problems and reasons why nothing is going to work,” I snap loudly.  I can’t feel so impotent, so unable to change the course of my life—of
our
lives.  I’ve never let myself become so ground down by the reality of where we live and what we have to deal with on a day to day basis.  I wasn’t going to start being scared now.  “I’m not going to give up.  I’m not going to be like her—” The words are out of my mouth before I have even thought about what I’m saying.

“‘Her’ who?” Jake asks with a frown.

“My mom. I’m not just going to
let
things happen, I can’t believe that I can’t change things,” I say.

“Aimee, your mom didn’t give up,” Jake says reasonably, but I’m in no mood for reason.

“She gave up on me. When I needed her, she wasn’t there. Not in any way that mattered,” I say.  All these feelings that I’ve had towards my mother over the past few years seem to be bubbling up from inside me and I need to do something with it before I explode.  “I’m going to see my mom,” I say to Jake abruptly, grabbing my bag and heading towards the door.

“What?” asks Jake, clearly incredulous. “So that’s how you’re going to deal with this?” He rakes his hands through his hair.  “I know you have some stuff to work through with her, but we’re in the middle of an argument, Aimee.  You’re just going to walk away when we disagree about something?”

His words sting me, because I know he’s right.  I know that I’m not being fair to him, but I can’t deal with this right now.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, barely looking behind me as I push open the door and walk through it. 

I hear the sound of metal clattering as Jake presumably throws one of his tools against something, hard.  I should probably turn around and go back. I should apologize for being so combative when he’s the last person I want to have any kind of conflict with.  But I don’t do that. I set off in the direction of the Summers home, not entirely sure what I’m hoping to achieve by seeing my mother, only knowing that it’s important to me.