The Last Execution (29 page)

Her love for her son amazed him.
Jesus.
How strong did you have to be to love a child born from such an act? Yet, she did. He couldn’t grasp how difficult the decision must’ve been to raise Ethan. A stirring of respect settled over him for this amazing woman in his bed.

J.T. shut down his laptop and walked down the hall to his bedroom. He stopped just inside the doorway and stared across the darkness.

Leigh’s slim body lay stretched across his sheets, her long, graceful arms flung carelessly over her head. Those same arms had wrapped around him last night. Those fingers dug into his flesh while she came apart with him buried deep inside her body. For now, she slept at peace with the world. He turned to leave the room, wishing for a way to vent his anger.

“Don’t go.”

Her voice, heavy with sleep and soft with emotion stopped him. His arms ached to hold and protect her. He went to her, determined to offer her comfort. His warm-ups hit the floor seconds before he slid in the bed beside her. She scooted against him. Her face nuzzled his neck. Heat shot through him when she held him tight. Here in his arms was where she belonged. Here where he could protect her. Here where she made him feel humble.

“Shh.” He moved a long golden curl off her face. “Go back to sleep.”

Her soft breasts pressed to his body. He hardened instantly. Would he ever get enough of her? The curve of her hips, the softness of her skin, the taste of her, everything about her fueled his desire. Her fingers stroked down his ribcage, and he sucked in a breath.

“I will. After awhile,” she whispered.

Her hand slid between them and trailed down to his erection. Warm fingers wrapped around him. He moaned a sigh of pleasure. With each movement, each stroke, his need intensified. Without a sound, she slid on top of him. Damn, he hated to stop her, but he grabbed her hip with one hand and fumbled with a condom. Finally, with a laugh, she took it from him, covering him herself.

“Now. Where were we?”

“Right here.” She made a soft mewl and guided him to her. Hot and wet, she took him deep inside.

In the darkness, with a sliver of a moon shining through the blinds, streaking across her naked shoulders, she looked ethereal. A silhouette of darkness and light, head back, long blonde hair hanging around her shoulders, she rode him. Rising and falling, rocking back and forth. The urge to explode slammed into him.
Not yet. Not yet.
He dug deep, held off. She needed this release, and he’d give it to her. When she cried out his name, her contractions clutched around him, pushed him toward the raging water, and under the rolling tide. One word reverberated in his mind as he followed her over.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He was through questioning their relationship. So what if he’d headed down a dead-end road? It was his decision, and he’d see where it led.

She collapsed, heaving, and spent. They rested in silence for a minute, before she rolled away from him onto her side, pulling his arm across her body. “J.T?”

“Hmm?”

He turned her over, cradling her in his arms. Tears fell on his bare chest, searing a trail straight to his heart. His knowledge of a woman’s inner emotions was zero, but crying was a form of release, and she’d been building toward this since she’d walked through his door. So he held her until her sobs subsided. He picked up a box of tissues from the bedside table, placing them on the bed.

“Thanks.”

She turned away to wipe her face and blow her nose. For a heart-stopping minute, J.T. feared she was leaving. Instead, she stretched out beside him again. She breathed in deeply and then blew out a sigh.

“He beat me, raped me, and left me for dead.”

J.T. knew who “he” was. No need to ask. “Sorry bastard.” He pushed the words over a lump in his throat.

This was her story to tell. He wouldn’t interrupt, and he damn sure wouldn’t tell her he’d read her file. He’d carry that breach of privacy to his grave. Instead, he smoothed his hand across her body and tried to convey with his touch what he felt down deep inside.

She pushed up in bed, pounded a couple of pillows into submission, and then slid them behind her back. J.T. propped on his elbow and waited.

“I met Jason at a department fund-raiser. His mom and dad contribute lots of money to different charities. Handsome and charming, he invited me to dinner, but I turned him down. A few days later, he called me. That time I accepted. We went out a few times. I swear he seemed normal until he started getting possessive. All of a sudden, he wanted to know why I wasn’t at home when he called, insisting I account for every minute of my time. I ended the relationship.”

“But he didn’t go away.”

“No. He started sending flowers, showing up unannounced, and making demands. I threatened to file stalking charges against him.”

Leigh reached for the sheet, dragging it all the way to her chin. She flipped her hand through the air as if to shoo away bad memories.

“I woke up one night with Jason on top of me. He used my own covers to help restrain my movements while he hit me in the face. Again and again. Then he raped me.”

Her eyes closed. When she opened them, the tears were gone. J.T.’s chest felt as if a hand was slowing tightening its grip, taking his breath away.

“Did you know it’s possible to become numb and stop feeling pain?”

He nodded.

“I mentally shut down. Sort of had an out-of-body experience, like the attack was happening to somebody else.” Tears returned and ran unchecked down her face. “I was stupid. I’m a cop and should’ve seen through him.”

“Easy, Hotshot,” J.T. whispered, struggling for something comforting to say. The pain in her voice stoked the fire burning in his heart. “You’re not stupid.”

She’d given him a second sacred gift tonight. One that caused her great pain to share. Her trust moved him beyond words. A weird sensation rolled into his heart and found a home.

He sat up, pulled her off the pillows into his arms, and then rocked her as he’d seen her do Ethan when he’d fallen off the swings. Her body tensed.

“Nine months later Ethan was born.”

Her whisper came out raw and painful. Anger for what she’d suffered ripped him apart inside.

“Something good out of the bad,” he whispered into her hair.

She didn’t have to explain. He got it. Understood. Regardless of how Ethan had been conceived, her love for him was boundless. The boy would never understand how fortunate he was to have a mother like Leigh.

She blinked a couple of times like he wasn’t in focus, stared at him with wide eyes. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. No one ever looked at him with such an expression—as if he’d invented the light bulb or walked on the moon. It hit him, smacked him square in the heart. She made him feel like a hero. Like maybe he could walk on the moon.

“Exactly.” Her fingers dug into his arm. “I’m ashamed to admit my first thought was to have an abortion. I was so angry. At Jason. At myself. I got as far as the parking lot of a clinic, but I couldn’t go inside. So I decided I’d go the adoption route. The first time the baby moved something funny happened. My anger vanished. He was a helpless baby who wanted nothing more than to be loved. When I held Ethan in my arms, I apologized for ever considering giving him away. How could I not love a blameless child?”

“He’s a lucky kid.” Awed by her inner strength, J.T. didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t know about that. Took lots of therapy to get past the fear Ethan would turn out like Jason. For the first few years, I watched every gesture, every move Ethan made. He’s spent years with my father as a role model, and it’s his mannerisms I see my son picking up.”

“He’s the perfect example to support the theory it’s who raises you and the values they instill that molds a child’s personality.”

She turned her gaze toward him, studying him with an intensity that made him squirm.

“Like you.”

“Me? What’s one got to do with the other?”

“Your grandmother raised you. You live by her values. Not your mother’s.”

While spoken softly, Leigh’s words struck him square in the chest. He swallowed hard, trying to wrap his mind around her statement. If only she were right about him. Time to move back to the subject of Ethan.

“And Ethan will grow up with your values.”

“I think so too. All I’ve ever wanted was to do the right thing by him.”

“And you won’t stop now.”

J.T. wound a flyaway curl around his finger, and she rewarded his gesture with a full smile. When she lit up, she warmed places deep down inside him. Turned lights on in areas that had been dark. J.T. held her hand to his face, placing kisses on her warm palm.

She pressed her nose against his neck and sniffed.

“Know what I remember most about Jason?” she said, her breath warm against his skin.

He shook his head, unable to speak. He’d been through several rough patches in his life, but she’d lived through more hell than he could imagine. Yet, with all the ugliness she’d been through, her spirit was strong and unbroken.

“His cologne. I wake up sometimes and smell him.” She pressed herself closer, held him tighter. “Makes me physically sick.”

He buried his cheek in her silky hair, soft as angel’s wings. “You can relax now. I’ve got you. He’ll never hurt you again.”

It was a promise J.T. intended to keep.

****

Tuesday, May 11, 9:00 a.m.

Jason tilted his head back and inspected his nostrils carefully. His hit of coke leaving telltale signs would cause one hell of a stir. He wasn’t ready to come down off his high. Didn’t care if snorting in the bathroom stall was dangerous. Hell, he’d like to ride this one forever. He dried his hands, slid his suit jacket back on, and walked down the hall to his office.

“You have a ten o’clock with Morgan Anderson,” his secretary said.

He didn’t acknowledge her comment. He spoke to her only when he needed something. After closing the door, he settled down behind his desk and breezed through the few business callbacks. Thank God, he’d found Vick’s stash. The coke increased Jason’s capacity to make decisions, and he wanted to have his desk clear when the attorney arrived.

He shredded the lease agreement. The growl from the machine sent chills up his arms. He’d let Vick rent the safe house, so Jason’s name was nowhere on the documents. It had turned out to be an excellent idea, because when the body was found nothing would point at Jason.

Last night he’d worn dark clothes, parked inside the garage as was his habit, and gone inside pretending to bring extra money. Vick’s mistake had been turning his back when he sat down to play back the previous day’s recording from Leigh’s house. Jason’s blade had pierced the skin of Vick’s neck and slid across with surprisingly little effort. The dumb bastard didn’t realize he was dying for a few seconds. Cutting his throat from behind had been necessary, because Jason had no desire get blood on his clothes. Shit, the whole thing had been too easy. Killing Leigh would be a lot more fun.

Packing up the recording equipment, wiping down the surfaces, and making sure Vick hadn’t hidden anything that would connect the two of them had taken a couple of hours, but Jason hadn’t been in a hurry. He’d carried out the boxes, put them in his trunk, and then quietly driven away.

The tap on his door told him this day would only get better. He rose and crossed the room, putting the Carrington smile on his face.

“Morgan, come in.” Jason waved toward the couch before turning to his admin. He spoke directly to her delicious tits. “We’re not to be disturbed.”

“I come bearing good news.” Morgan took a chair, placing his briefcase on the floor next to him.

Jason tried not to sound too excited when he sat. “I love good news.”

“Ms. McBride’s attorney contacted me this morning. Her client waived the paternity test. She’s confirmed you’re the boy’s father.”

Jason sprang to his feet. “No. Goddamn her. She can’t.” He leaned across the table separating him from Morgan and got right in his face. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

Morgan remained seated, his eyes as cold and flat as the shark he was. “What did you want to happen?”

“I wanted her publicly, in a court of law, to acknowledge the boy’s my son.”

“You have choices. We can turn down her offer, demand proof, but—”

“Do it.”

“Let me finish. Think about the ramifications of her admission. She’s opened the door to a parental visitation suit.”

Morgan spoke as if he was talking to an imbecile, which was a mistake. Jason collapsed back on the couch, closed his eyes briefly, and checked his temper. Morgan made sense this time. “Then get one filed. My mother wants that boy in her arms, and I’m tired of making her wait.”

“Understand we need to proceed with caution. Your father doesn’t want another scandal.”

“You are my attorney. I sign your check, not my father. This is my decision. Are we clear?” Jason relaxed his jaw, holding back signs of anger.

“Very clear.” Morgan stood and straightened his suit jacket with a snap.

Jason walked his attorney to the elevator, waiting until the doors slid closed before crossing the hall to the restroom. Once safely locked in a stall, he hurriedly pulled the small vial of coke from his pocket. A quick snort up each side followed by a rub across his gums and he leaned back against the cool metal door to wait for the warm rush.