Battlefield (The Covenant Book 2) Page 12

  I let the words sink in, so she could understand that her options were limited. In fact they were non-existent. “You are mine. The only question is when you will submit to the inevitable.”

  We finished the meal in silence with Cece fuming under my gaze. She was fiery and stubborn but also scared. I knew it was going to take time to earn her trust. She kept up her silent treatment as we drove home, but she didn't fight me when I took her hand and set it on the center console, rubbing her skin with my thumb. I was relieved she didn't pull away because I needed this small thing. I needed to touch her. I needed to fuck her, but I could wait. It would be worth it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cece

  The next two weeks I let Jordan woo me. I knew that if I stayed firm long enough, he would eventually move on. So, I let him drop me off and pick me up from work. I let him take me to dinner on the nights I worked late. We even walked around the lake one night after dark.

  But he never made a move beyond a brief goodbye kiss or hand holding. I found myself getting frustrated that he didn't try more. I needed him to try more so I could reject him. I found myself fantasizing about how he would try to seduce me the next time we met. The bed of his pick-up truck seemed appropriate. But it never came. Instead we just talked, like a couple of friends. I didn't realize how difficult it would be not to engage with him. He asked me things that no one had ever asked before. I probably shouldn't have answered, but I wanted to tell him. I wanted someone to know about my frustrations and worries.

  We didn't see each other every day, but, on the days we were apart, we texted. And what's strange was that I was the one texting him. Somehow, I convinced myself the texting conversations were safer than in person. Jordan managed to implant himself in my life, and I had no way to stop it. I could accuse him of stalking, but he always texted before showing up, except once.

  It was a Sunday morning and Sonny had stayed the night, so I decided to make him breakfast. The doorbell rang as I was pouring his juice.

  I opened the door to find Jordan standing there with a bouquet of flowers. “What are you doing here?” I whispered, letting my tone reflect my annoyance.

  He gave me one of his sexy smirks. “I thought we could go for a Sunday drive and I could buy you breakfast.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse when Sonny came up behind me.

  “This the new boyfriend?” he asked.

  Jordan’s smirk turned into a wide smile. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, Cece, invite the guy in. There is more than enough food.”

  Sonny went back toward the kitchen, and I grudgingly opened the screen door to let Jordan in.

  I took the flowers from him and said, “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome,” he said and leaned into kiss me. I let it happen because there was no point fighting him. His lips lingered for a moment, like he wanted to go deeper, but I quickly pulled away and headed down the hall.

  When we came into the kitchen, Sonny had retaken his seat and Jordan pulled out one next to him.

  “Sonny, this is Jordan Mitchell. Jordan, this is Sonny, my mom's boyfriend.”

  They shook hands, and Jordan didn't wait to start piling the food onto his plate. The oven dinged, and I turned to take out the quiche.

  “Cece didn't tell me she was dating an Ace. It's actually surprising,” Sonny commented.

  “She did take some convincing,” Jordan said as he sipped his coffee. As I sat down to eat, they began talking about their professions and the upcoming football season.

  I tried to ignore the good feeling at the sight of Sonny and Jordan getting along. This almost felt normal, like something most girls go through. Dad meeting the boyfriend. Sonny wasn't exactly my dad and Jordan wasn't exactly my boyfriend, but it was fun to pretend. Of course, my normal moment couldn't last.

  As I watched Jordan finish off his second plate, a voice came from the hallway.

  “Hello?”

  Oh, no. My mother came around the corner, looking put together for the first time in months. Her long blonde hair was styled, and she had on make-up that was just a little too heavy for a Sunday morning. She wore tight fitting jeans and a low-cut Harley Davidson tank top.

  Seriously? She couldn't bother with my graduation but an Ace steps into the house and she’s more than ready to go somewhere. I kept my mouth shut since an insult was on the tip of my tongue. After an awkward few seconds, Sonny did the introductions.

  “Betsy, this is Cece's new man, Jordan.”

  “How nice to meet you, Jordan,” she said placing her hand on Jordan's shoulder.

  “You, too, ma'am.”

  Betsy came around the table and poured herself some coffee.

  “So how old are you Jordan?” she asked sweetly.

  “Thirty-two.”

  She sat down at the table next to me. “Aren’t you little old for Cece? She is only eighteen.”

  “I'm nineteen, Mom,” I said a little too harshly.

  “Still, you're closer to my age than hers,” she said with a playful smile.

  “I'm not very mature,” Jordan replied easily. “And Cece acts like a woman in her sixties, so it all balances out.”

  Sonny laughed. “That's the truth.”

  Jordan reached for my hand. “How about that ride, babe?”

  I nodded quickly. “Just put the dishes in the sink and I'll do them later,” I said to Sonny.

  “Don't worry about those, I'll take care of them. You guys just have fun,” Sonny said.

  I cringed when my mother followed us to the door.

  “Jordan, we must have you back for dinner sometime. I want to hear about everyone at the clubhouse. You know I was a Heart for a time.” She smiled, like being used by several men was something to be proud of.

  “Sure,” Jordan said and took my hand in a hard grip.

  He drove us out toward the country, and I felt lighter with every mile we put between me and my house. We were an hour in when he pulled into a park area. He stopped his bike in the dirt parking lot and pulled me to one of the picnic tables close by. I sat the helmet he bought for me on the wood and slumped onto the bench. Jordan sat next to me, taking one of my hands in his, rubbing my skin with his thumb like he always did. The touch had become comforting over the last few weeks.

  “I'm sorry about my mother,” I said after a moment.

  “Don't be. I'm glad I met her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now I know why you are so scared to be with me,” he said, looking me in the eye.

  “You understand now?”

  He nodded.

  “You'll stop pursuing me?”

  He chuckled. “Fuck no. It would take a lot more than a slightly creepy mother to put me off.”

  “What would it take?” I asked bluntly, pulling my hand from his.

  The smile left his face. “A bullet to the head,” he said with all seriousness, his possessive gaze boring into me. I knew what he was saying was crazy, yet I felt my panties become slick under his hungry gaze.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You’re beautiful, brave, and smart. Do I need to say more?”

  “Yes. We both know there are other beautiful, brave, and smart women out there.”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “You need a definitive reason for me wanting you the way I do?”

  “Yes,” I said stubbornly.

  “I can only call it instinct. There is something inside me that wants you and only you. No other woman has called to me the way you do. And every time I am with you it only gets stronger. You feel the same, I know you do. You think I am chasing you, but the truth is that the chase is over. I can feel it every time we touch.”

  “How?” I asked wistfully.

  He took my hand again, encasing it in his strong fingers. “You don't flinch or pull away when we touch. It's like your body has accepted what your mind rebels against.”

  He was right. Touching each other felt so right that pulling away felt unn
atural.

  “I'm trying to do this right, Cece, but my patience won't last forever,” he said next to my ear.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that every time we are together I am seconds away from bending you over the nearest surface.” My heart pumped hard at his words, wanting the same thing. “And we both know you wouldn't stop me,” he said, leaning closer.

  I could feel his breath mingle with mine, and I shivered a little.

  He put a hand in my hair. “I wake every morning thinking about you, needing to know where you are and what you are doing.”

  I bit my lip, wanting to tell him that it was the same for me.

  He gripped my hair a little tighter. “I literally want to lock you up in a cage, so I'll always know where you are, and you’ll be there waiting for me, waiting to take my cock whenever I please.”

  I gasped. His words were atrocious, but I felt my nipples tingle and my pussy twitch.

  “You'd hate me, but I don't think I'd care all that much because you'd be mine completely.”

  His confession was insane, but my mind conjured the scene so easily. I saw myself lying on a mattress, naked with a collar and chain around my neck…

  Jordan approaches out of the darkness. I can see him through the metal bars in nothing but a pair of jeans. My pussy begins to weep as he unlocks the door and steps in. I imagine him taking hold of the chain on the floor and tugging me to him, slowly but firmly. I don’t try to resist. Then I am on my knees before him, his arousal bulging the front of his jeans and his hand still on the chain. I reach for his fly and bring his cock out of confinement. It’s hard and big, and I am dying for a taste. I need to have him in my mouth, not only to please him, but to please myself.

  I imagine him tugging on the chain, bringing my mouth closer to his cock. I open wide and take him as deep as I can. Would he call me a good girl and let me suck him until he came on my tongue? Or would he fuck my mouth like a beast and force every drop down my throat?

  I shivered, wanting both the gentle and the rough Jordan.

  I hear a growl, breaking me out of the fantasy. My eyes snapped to Jordan where I could see the lust burning. “Fuck, Cece. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Being completely under my control, at my mercy?”

  “Yes,” I admitted without a thought. I lifted my mouth to his, and he took it without hesitation. Suddenly, he was lifting me, so I straddled his waist. I immediately rubbed myself against him, needing that feeling between my legs. Jordan devoured my mouth, making me shiver and moan against him.

  He broke abruptly, wrapping a hand around my throat. “But I need more from you, Cece. You'll let me inside your body, but I want inside your head, your heart. I want your fucking soul.”

  Then he was lifting me off him, so I could stand. “I could fuck you, but after you'll just keep denying me what I really want.”

  “I'm sorry, Jordan,” I said, not knowing how to give him what he wanted. I was always alone. If I opened to him now, what would stop me from becoming the clingy, love-desperate, girl that I knew was hiding inside me?

  He led me back to his bike, and I thought about what he said the whole way home. When I stepped off the bike, he didn't say anything, and I knew that he wouldn't.

  “Jordan, you’re right. I won’t let you in.” I saw his jaw clench in anger. “Not because I’m not willing, but because I don’t know how.” I quickly turned away, not wanting to answer the question in his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cece

  It had been four days since I'd seen Jordan. The Monday after he met my mother and we had that intense conversation, he didn’t pick me up for work. Instead, Lauren picked me up. “Jordan said he was busy,” she had said. Now it was Thursday, and he still hadn't texted. I found myself checking my phone every few seconds like some preteen.

  He said that the only thing that would keep him away was a bullet to the head. I guess that was a lie. Unless he is dead.

  It suddenly occurred to me that it was possible in his line of work. But I was certain someone would tell me. I would hope Greg would but maybe not. Izzy would tell me if no one else.

  So, he wasn't dead.

  Then, where is he?

  He could be working. I learned over the years that MCs did go on “runs”. There were perfectly rational reasons for him not to be texting. But that insecure awkward teen in me couldn't help but scream wildly about all the other reasons. You pushed him away with your stubborn bullshit. He finally realized how worthless you are.

  While I'd never been a ray of sunshine, these thoughts were taking their toll, making me even more of a Debbie Downer than usual. I was so surly that I had my first customer complaint yesterday. An uppity bitch said I wasn't going fast enough so I slowed my scanning down, moving like a sloth all while holding her outraged gaze. She turned around and told Lauren to call the manager. Mark arrived at the front and kindly asked her to come back to his office. After she left, my punishment was just a glare from Mark, which was nothing new.

  This morning started off with the same attitude, but I was on edge ever since the mayor's wife came into the store. This being a small town, we all knew Alison Weaver, with her perfect blonde hair that was always styled and her Louboutin shoes. I'd never known her to shop at Bigby's before. When she checked out with only a bottle of wine, I felt like she was studying me, judging me. She probably heard about my scandal with Jordan and Greg, but I doubted gossip from the poor part of town would matter to her. Still, it felt strange to have her looking at me in such a way. She was almost angry. She left without saying a word, not even a thank you like most folks around here.

  I was still thinking about it an hour later when Mark tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Cece, I just got a phone call from Tommy over at the fire station.” I glanced up at him, unsure how to react. “Your mom has been in an accident.”

  Shit, I thought. This wasn't the first time Betsy had driven drunk. I would have to call Sonny for bail money. “Have they arrested her yet?” I asked as I continued to scan items.

  “No, she is hurt, like, seriously. They are taking her to the hospital.”

  My first thought was that he was mistaken. Mom was never hurt in her accidents. Scrapes and bruises maybe, but she was never seriously hurt.

  “They are Life Flighting her to St Bernard’s.”

  Life Flight?

  “Come on, Cece. I’ll drive you,” Lauren said.

  “No, that’s too far,” I said immediately.

  “Lauren, take her,” Mark said.

  Blood was rushing in my ears. Before I knew it, we were in the car and Lauren was talking, or at least I saw her lips moving.

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “I was asking if you wanted to call the hospital to see if you can get an update.”

  I blinked. Call the hospital. Yes, yes, that was a good idea.

  “Okay, what was the name again?”

  “St. Bernard’s.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I used four-one-one rather than trying to Google it. When someone picked up, it must have been some sort of switchboard. They transferred me to the emergency room, who placed me on hold for ten minutes. I tried to remain calm as Michael Bublé sang in my ear. To be honest, the hold music was a good choice. Michael Bublé was calming.

  Eventually a woman answered, different from the first. “Hi. This is Jennifer. You said you were Ms. Taylor's daughter?”

  “Yes, my name is Cecilia Taylor. I'm in a car on the way there now.”

  “That's good. They have your mother in surgery right now.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “I don't know the exact details, but her file said there was a head injury and she had some internal bleeding. The surgeon needs to stop the bleeding before anything else can happen.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “She should be out by the time you get here.”

  “Um, where should I go when I get there?”


  “The ICU.”

  “Okay, thank you, Jennifer,” I said before hanging up.

  “She’s alive?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes. She has internal bleeding, so she is in surgery.”

  “She is going to be okay,” Lauren said when I didn’t say anything else.

  “Yeah,” I said. The rest of the trip was spent in relative silence. That was my doing, too distracted to carry a conversation.

  At the hospital, Lauren dropped me off and went to look for parking. I made it to the ICU and a nurse told me she would page the doctor since the system showed they were out of surgery. Lauren met me in the little waiting area right before I was approached by a man in light green scrubs. “Cecelia Taylor?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am Doctor Hurston,” he said, shaking my hand. He was tall and wiry with glasses. His long curly hair made me think he was a bit of a hippy, which made me feel relaxed for some reason. “Your mother is stable but still considered critical. She was hit on the driver side, and the vehicle did not provide any protection.”

  I nodded. Sonny bought her a Cadillac from a used car lot after she totaled the last one. I think it was supposed to have side air-bags, but they were probably stolen years ago.

  “We did do a cat scan and found swelling in her brain. For the swelling to go down we have put her into a chemically induced coma. It will also help with the detox.”

  I nodded again. Of course, she needed to detox.

  “I have to warn you that I am obligated to report her tox screen to the police.” I just continued to nod like an idiot. I’d have to deal with that later.

  “Can I see her?” I finally asked.

  “Yes.” He led me down the hall and around the corner. The room was dark except for a small light above her head. I stopped a few feet away from the bed, unsure if it was Betsy. She looked small, like a light skinned doll in the white sheets. And her face looked different. In all the different versions of Betsy, I’d never seen it vacant.

  “How long will she be…”

  “We will do another scan in two days. If things look good, we will slowly decrease the meds and hopefully she’ll wake up on her own.”