She turned her head to me, slowly, and the movement caused a tear to fall. It bypassed her cheek completely and landed on her pant leg. “That’s fucked up,” she said.
“Well, when you have a criminal record of third-degree murder, my options for work are limited. It’s either stay in crime and make money, or flip fucking burgers, but I’d rather live like a king like I deserve.”
“You’re very high and mighty for a man that just admitted he killed people.”
“I’m high and mighty on a billion-dollar throne,” I added and sat back against the couch, stretching my arm along the back.
“Wow, criminal-ing really does pay off, doesn’t it?”
“If you do it right,” I said, crossing my ankle over my knee. My fingers reached for the blonde strands of wet hair falling down her back, and I mindlessly played with the ends.
“And I am going to guess that you do it right?”
I smirked and then rubbed the cocky smile away with my free hand. “Criminals don’t even know it’s us. They have a nickname for us.”
“San Quentin Five?” she joked and then gasped, turned her eyes on me, and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was so insulting.”
I gave a light chuckle and wrapped a tendril of her hair around my finger. “It’s okay. It was a good joke. No, they call us the Underground Kings because we never fail, and since they have never been able to figure out who is targeting other criminals, they came up with ‘underground’. I don’t know; maybe I’ll talk to the guys. San Quentin Five has a ring to it,” I joked and poked her side.
She jerked to get her ticklish zone away from me and then tilted her head back until she rested it against the couch. “I don’t know why we are joking about it, but I suppose if you were going to do something criminal, this would be the way to go. What do you usually do with the money you get if you get money?” she asked.
She was asking the important questions now. “Well, we donate a lot of it, but we keep a portion. Last month, we stole diamonds from a guy and sold them to another, donated about seventy percent of the funds, kept thirty percent, and we never need to work again, honestly.”
“Diamonds? You didn’t keep any!” Her mouth fell open, and I saw the red wet tongue that I sucked into my mouth earlier, and my cock plumped, wanting to feel the wet muscle wrap around it. “Blasphemy. If I had been here, I would have kept one.”
“Is that so?” I lowered my voice and scooted over until our thighs touched. The thought of her here on her own free will turned me on more than ever. I could see her here, helping us plan or help with us if we were wounded since she was a nurse.
“What woman wouldn’t want diamonds?” she deadpanned me.
“A woman with no taste, apparently.” I did keep a diamond. Each of us did. I picked the yellow canary diamond. It was seven carats. We could have made a million more, but something made us keep one, whether it be to build a ring or just to have one because we wanted one.
I kept one and built a ring. I always kept Quinn in mind. I could imagine it on her finger, shining in the light and glittering just like her blonde hair did in the sun.
Her hand grazed my arm, and I held my breath, feeling like we were sixteen again, waiting to see who would make the next move. I never felt so powerless, but one touch from her, and she drained me of any strength I had.
Her fingers trailed down the tattoo on my forearm, tracing the black outlines until she came to the geometric design on my hand. She intertwined our fingers, and a puff of air escaped her. The breeze of her breath warmed my arm, and it partially sounded like she didn’t know what she was doing or why she was holding my hand, but I was glad she was.
We were a work in progress, and I wouldn’t stop building until we were a masterpiece.
“I believe you,” she said.
“Believe what?” I asked, burying my nose in her hair. I got that familiar scent of citrus and closed my eyes when a hint of spring made me feel nostalgic again. I remembered a day as a kid, walking through the orange groves with my family, and we were all happy, smiling, and it was spring. Quinn’s scent always took me back to that day, and it made me remember times filled with love when life was easier.
“I believe you didn’t kill Tracy.”
I sat up and fell to the floor on my knees and then pushed my way between her legs. I untangled our hands and cupped her jaw instead. For the first time in ten years, my lashes were wet. I could count on one hand the number of times I let emotions get the best of me: I cried when my parents died, when Tracy died, and in this moment. “Say it again because I don’t know if I heard you right the first time.” My thumb brushed away the wetness on her cheek, and her hand held mine against her face.
She shut her eyes, leaning into me and soaking up my touch like a sponge. Drops of tears formed on her lashes like rain, waiting to fall, but they hung there, filling to the brim until they burst.
“I believe you, Jaxon. I have always known. I’ve always known,” she started to sob. “I always knew, but I let fear and Brian control me because it was easier. I know you did not do it. I feel it.” She took our hands and placed them over her heart. “Right here. I have known all along, but I spent ten years with a man that bashed you every day, and I believed him. Being around you, it’s reminded me of who you are and what you are capable of, but I know you aren’t capable of killing someone you care about, especially someone like Tracy. God, Jaxon. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I don’t deserve for you to love me when I’ve done nothing to earn it. I’m so fucking sorry I abandoned you when you needed me.” Her words were hard to hear since she cried so hard, but I was able to make them out.
I brushed my hand through her hair and closed my eyes, thanking whatever god, whatever devil, whatever high power that allowed her to come to this realization. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for believing in me.” I pressed my lips against hers, gentle and soft. I didn’t want to rush this moment. I thought about us reuniting for the past ten years. It started to feel like a silly dream, one that I could never obtain, but here I was, kissing the lips of the woman that had owned me for nearly half of my fucking life.
I tasted her tears; the salt and regret were like a familiar taste of poison. They were addicting, something that could kill me if I wasn’t careful, but I didn’t care. I had been dying languidly over the years and having her lips against me again made me feel like there was a reason to this life. I had been living in a damn veil, a fogged mind, waiting for her to come back to me.
The fog has lifted, and I can think clearly again.
Without unlocking our lips, I picked her up by her thighs, and she tightened her legs around my hips. I didn’t need to watch where I was going. I knew this house better than I knew the wrinkles on my palm. Her lips pried mine open, giving me teasing circles of her mouth before her tongue flicked out to trace the seam of my mouth. I groaned as she kissed me how she wanted to, taking what she needed
Our past couldn’t compare to what was happening between us now. We had hit the reset button. Everything felt new, as if I had never kissed her before. My heart was a gavel hitting my chest with every glide of her lips. She was unknown territory all over again, and I couldn’t wait to explore the ways she had changed.