Holly Madison (Sins of the Father, 2) (11 page)

I sit at the long, metal table nearest to the window, watching my hands as I twiddle my thumbs, waiting on him to show up.  The guard escorted me into the brightly lit visiting room and immediately left to retrieve the man I haven’t seen in almost five years.  The last time I was here, he eyeballed me with a look of disappointment.   He never forgave me for having called him out on his lies, even though I was just a young girl at the time.

My head lifts and I see Dad approach.  Joshua Hart is a handsome man.  He gave me his thick, brown hair and dark eyes.  His hair has faded to almost all gray but in an attractive way.  He is a broad man and has kept himself in shape.  I’m guessing there’s not much else a man can do while in prison. 

If he weren’t such an enormous dickhead and hadn’t caused the hit-and-run that took a woman’s life, he would be a real looker.  Instead, you can read all over his face what a miserable sack of shit he is.

“Holly,” he greets.  That is the first word he has spoken to me in five years and he did it in a voice that was made of pure ice. 

I decide that I will respond in a more dignified manner as opposed to the, “Sperm donor,” reply that I really want to dish at him.  Instead, I go with, “Dad.”

“I hear that you’re doing well out there in Greenville.  Got yourself a cushy job working for the state as a paralegal, is it?” 

I don’t feel the need to reply. He already knows the answer.  So I keep my mouth shut.

“Heard your mama is doing well.  How is the bitch who turned her back on her husband, sending him to rot in this hell whole?” 

I feel my eyes blink in surprise.  My mind processes what he had the nerve to say to me. 

“Mom is doing great.  Considering the fact that she had to pack up and relocate with a child because her loser husband couldn’t leave the drink alone.”  I shrug.  “I think she’s done quite well for herself.”  I scan his face, watching his jaw tick and his eyes harden on me. “I see that life hasn’t been good for you, old man.  Your age is showing.”

Dad’s mouth gets tight and his eyes flash with fury.  His hands, which are resting on the table, ball into fists. 

I sigh and move us past this awkward greeting.  “I need to know more about the woman.”

Dad huffs out a hard breath.  “What do you need to know?  She’s dead.  There ain’t nothin’ I can do about that now.”

It amazes me how little regard he shows for a life lost due to his careless mistake.  You would think that, after being in prison for so long, a man would have a ‘come to Jesus’ moment.  Not my father.  I can’t believe my mother ever saw anything in this man.

“Mom always kept everything hidden from me.  She didn’t feel the need to give me all of the gruesome details.  Said that I was too young and had gone through enough as it was.  I need to know who she was, Dad.”

“Why?”

“Because it is important to me,” I respond. 

My father sits across the table, his eyes assessing me. 

“What was her name?”

He slouches back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.  “Alexis Holt.  Wife and mother of four.  She had one of her kids with her in the car that night.  He survived, but just barely.  Is that what you wanted to hear?”

My world just stopped turning the minute he said her name.  I can’t breathe.  Beads of sweat form over my brow and my heart threatens to burst through my chest.   All of this and I already knew what the answer was.  I just needed to hear it from him.

This man will never understand to the full extent what he has done.  He ruined so many lives, and he continues to do so while rotting in a jail cell.  Just when I finally find a piece of happiness, a possibility of a future with love in it, he rips it from my grasp. 

“You son of a bitch!  You don’t get it, do you?  You ruined the lives of a man and his four children, almost killing one of them, by ripping his wife and their mother from them!”

“Yeah, Holly, I know.  Been sitting here in orange for quite some time now, paying for that little mishap,” he responds bitterly.

“Little mishap?  You consider killing a woman a little mishap?”

“It’s not like I meant to do it.  Besides, what the hell was she doing out so late at night with one of the kids anyhow?  She should have been at home where she belonged.”

I slap my hands on the top of the table and shoot up out of my seat.  “I was in the car with you!” I scream at him.  My eyes slice around the room.  When I notice the guard coming toward me, I hold my head up in a way to ward him off and let him know that I will take it down a notch.  I notice that all eyes in the visiting room are now on me as I struggle with regulating my breathing. 

Dad leans forward and hisses, “When are you gonna get over that?”

I’ve had enough.  If I stay much longer, I will lose my lunch all over him.  “I’m done.  That’s all I needed.”  I sling my purse over my shoulder and turn on my heels, clicking across the room.  Before I make it to the door, I turn and give him one last look.  “You are a mean, miserable old man and I hope that you rot in here for the rest of your life.  Once your sorry excuse for a life is over, I hope that you burn in hell for all of your sins.”

He knifes out of his chair and roars, “I’ve paid for my sins!”

“No!  I’m the one paying for your sins.”  I whirl around and quickly walk out the door.

A little over a week after the barbecue over at the Holt house, I am getting ready to head over to Tristan’s for a date.  I give myself a once-over in the mirror and take in my red sweater dress, turning to check the back.  I always look great in red when I actually wear it.  This dress is form fitting, hitting me just above the knee with a deep scoop neck that displays a generous helping of cleavage.  The sleeves are short.

I decide on a half-down, half-up do, allowing for that pesky strand of hair at the front to lie freely where it may.  I’ll end up tucking it behind my ear all evening.  I apply a little extra makeup, going for the smoky-eye look and red lips to go with the dress.  I look hot.

The boots are my favorite part.  They are black, leather knee-highs with a nice heel. 

I feel sexy.

I drive to Tristan’s house in a constant state of anxiety.  I have fallen in love with him and I don’t know how much time I have left with him, so I plan to make whatever time I do have count.

His gym-slash-apartment comes into view and my heart kicks into overdrive.  When I get out of the car, I see the front door to the gym open.  Tristan is in jeans and a dark-gray button-up.  He went semi dressy knowing that I always like to dress nice for him.

I grab my bag, shut my door, and engage the alarm, locking it up.  I gradually make my way up the sidewalk, meeting Tristan’s eyes.  He is standing at the entrance, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest, watching me as I approach.

I take a deep breath and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as to not take a nose dive onto the pavement.  When I get within a few feet of him, he takes my hand in his and guides me through the gym to the stairs that lead to his apartment.  We climb up and he steps aside, letting go of my hand and applying it to the small of my back as he ushers me inside.

One second, I am walking through the door, and the next, I have my back against it.  Tristan leans into me, one arm around my waist, one hand in my hair, and his tongue in my mouth.  He tightens his grip in my hair.  Our hands are roaming each other’s bodies.  I feel the area between my legs dampen.

This is the most amazing kiss I have ever had.  It is wild, carnal, passionate, intense, earth shattering, insanely deep, and astonishingly explosive.

Yes!  All of that in one kiss.

By the time Tristan breaks his mouth from mine, his hand is cupping my ass while the other is planted to the wall next to me to steady himself.  I can feel the evidence of his arousal against my core.  We are breathing heavily, our chests heaving with excitement. 

“Do you want red or white wine tonight with dinner?  I made you lasagna.”

He made me lasagna? 

“I’ll go with red.” 

Tristan takes my hand in his and we leisurely make our way to the kitchen, where he has set up our meal on the breakfast bar that divides the living space.  I climb onto a stool.  He grabs the bottle and pops the cork.  Next, he nabs two long-stem wine glasses from his cupboard filling them up and setting them on the bar by me. Then he returns, the cork to the bottle, rounds the bar, and slides into the stool next to me.

We eat and talk.  The conversation is fun and flirty.  We go through two bottles of red before we start making out on the couch like two teenagers.  Tonight, we’re having a hard time keeping our hands off each other, and before my brain catches on to what is happening, I am lifted into Tristan’s arms so he can carry me down the hall to the door that leads out to the gym.

“Umm…Tristan?”

“Time for a workout, cupcake.”

The stereo comes on, blasting Five Finger Death Punch, one of my favorite bands.  Yes, a girl who wears pencil skirts and high heels loves metal.  Don’t judge me.

Tristan has a predatory swagger as he approaches.  When he reaches me, he skims my arms with his fingers.  I want to moan, but I refrain.  It’s insane how my body reacts to him. 

“Maybe you should step out of these heels,” Tristan suggests, his lips turning up in a smartass smirk.  “I also think that you’re wearing too many clothes.  Let me rectify this situation.”  He slowly lifts the hem of my dress up and over my head. 

I raise my arms to give him a hand.  He leans down and places a tender kiss to the exposed skin of my shoulder, causing my eyes to slowly flutter and roll.  I set my sights on his eyes, watching him closely.  He is cooking up a scheme and I am suddenly very turned on. 

“I think we should make this class a tad more challenging.” 

At that, I swallow hard.  “How do you propose we do that?” I question. 

“Well, cupcake.  Distraction can be very dangerous.  You want to be alert and aware of your surroundings at all times.  But what happens if you allow yourself to get distracted?”

I know where this is going.  I
like
where this is going. 

“You see, I have to feel comfortable knowing that, while you’re out there in the big, bad world all by yourself, you’ll be smart and vigilant.”

“Ummm…Tristan?  I don’t think that there will ever be a time that I’m going to be walking the streets in a bra and panties.” 

He flashes his devastatingly gorgeous yet devious smile.  “Maybe not, but I prefer you like this while in my company.”

Oh boy. 

“Do you remember what I told you was the best self-defense?” he whispers in my ear. 

“To run?” I answer. 

“To never put yourself in a vulnerable situation,” he corrects, running his tongue up the right side of my neck. 

I feel my breath hitch, and it takes everything in me to will myself to breathe again.  “I think it’s a little too late for that.”  I exhale, and Tristan chuckles. 

“Touché, cupcake.  Now that you find yourself in this little predicament, it is up to you to follow these simple rules in order to survive.  One, do not allow for distraction.  Stay alert.”  He drops to his knees before me, running his talented hands up my thighs. 

“Oh, shit,” I moan, and it echoes throughout the gym. 

He tugs my panties down to my ankles and urges me to step out of them.  “Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’re going to answer them.  Don’t allow my actions to cloud your thoughts.  Understood?” 

I nod in agreement, but I have no idea what that even means.

His hands travel up my legs, reaching my thighs, where he nudges them apart.  His finger finds my wet heat and massages my clit in agonizingly, slow circles.  My head falls back while my eyes close. 

“Pay attention, Holly.  This could one day be a matter of life or death.”

Pay attention?  Pay attention?  Is he fucking delusional?  How the hell does he expect me to— No!  No!  Don’t stop.  Why is he stopping?

“Holly, you’re not listening to me.  I asked what the best self-defense move is,” he says before he returns to his assault on my clit.