I leaned down to his ear, kissing all around it to his gasps before saying, “Get down there and clean me up with your tongue.”
His breathing quickened again. “Yes, ma’am.”
And like the good boy he was, Jack licked me clean until I was commending him for a job well done.
We went back to sleep with him clutching me so tight, I wondered if it was really just a dream.
FORTY-EIGHT
JACK
MARCH
What the fuckhad I done.
I stabbed a man. I almostkilleda man. I tried to pin it back on him, but what I did was fundamentally wrong. I awakened the demon inside me.
I mean, the knife was there, and that was somewhat self-defense, but I wasn’t the one who ended up with a knife sticking out of my leg.
My mouth dried at every cop car I saw on the road. Every man who looked remotely like Bryce made my armpits sweat immediately.
He could easily come after me. I did this to protect my family, and now I was possibly making things even harder for Mara.
If I was in prison, she’d have four kids to take care of on her own.
But why would she even want me? I was violent. Everything she hated about Bryce, I’d become. Conniving. Brutish.
Evil.
There was one way out, but I had to act fast.
“Leroy! Jesus!”I sat in the chair in Coach’s office, my leg jiggling while I waited for him. “What are you doing in here? We don’t have practice for another two hours.”
“Close the door,” I said, wiping a sheen of sweat from my brow.
“I’ve got a meeting with the GM in a few,” he said.
“Just close the door and sit,” I said, my tone more stern.
He gave a single nod and shut the door, taking his bag off his shoulder and rounding the desk to take a seat. “What? You look like death.”
“I need you to trade me.”
His eyes widened and he sat back, not breathing for a moment. “Oh . . . kay. This feels sudden. Did something go wrong?”
I shook my head. “I need to go somewhere shitty. Small. The Midwest. St. Louis. Detroit. Ohio. Fuck, Buffalo if I have to.”
He clamped down on his perpetually present piece of gum. “And there’s nothing behind it?”
I flicked my head to the side. “Something.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Jack, you’ve been with us for eleven years. You could easily finish your career here.”
“But I can’t,” I said. “I need to lay low.”
He stopped chewing again. “Christ, Jack, what the hell did you do?”
I pinched my lips into a line, steepling my fingers. “How much do you want to be accountable for in a court of law?”
