Devastate (Havoc Series Stand Alone Book 5) (6 page)

Day 13 in Georgia

              Grabbing my hat from the corner of the dresser mirror, I patiently wait for Jazz to come out of the bathroom dressed for our first day out. The last couple of days were supposed to be relaxing, but information came in to be analyzed. Tyger's latest moves are suspiciously slow, as is the flow of new tips on The Face. Both trails are ice cold. Almost like they've ceased all contact between one another. These strange shifts caused Jazz to spend the time I had planned to show her around, on our bedroom floor with highlighters, pens and sticky notes. I knew I would just be in the way, so I used the time to help Pa fix a few simple things around the house my so called siblings can't find the time to do.

              “This gonna work?” she questions causing me to look up. In a pair of light wash jeans and white tank top exposing a pair of tits my hands are throbbing at the thought of exploring, Jazz does a small twirl. The brief shot of her ass is enough to make more than just my tongue expand to uncomfortable proportions. “Should I change? Where are we going?”

              “You look...” the end of the sentence falls as I try to remember manners. Any manners. Anything that isn't an expletive. I've got manners. I'm a gentleman. I'm...slowly losing my mind staring at her ass in those jeans. Goddamn! Clearing my throat I shake my head. “We're going out.”

              “To town?”

              “No.” The thought makes me scratch the back of my neck at the uneasy feeling. “I thought we'd go on a ride. Check out some of the property.”

              “A ride?” Jazz strolls my direction. “Tractor?”

              “Horseback.”

              To my surprise a smile pops on her face. “Really?”

              “Yeah.” Curious I ask, “You like horses?”

              “Love them.” She loops an arm through my extended one. “Always have.”

              “Really? The city girl like horses...”

              “I'll have you know I can probably out ride you.”

              “And now you're challenging my skills? You're lucky I'm a gentleman.”

              “Or you'd lose with less dignity?” her jab causes my eyebrows to rise.

              “Oh you're on darlin',” I sigh. “And when you can't keep up, I'll take your apology in the form of one dirty secret.” Jazz smirks in return. “Just to clarify by dirty I don't mean how you shine your heels with that stuff that smells like nail polish remover cross bred with Windex. I mean a dirty secret like how many pairs of handcuffs do you have and which are fuzzy?”

              A deep vinous hue flushes her perfect high cheek bones. Doing her best to pretend the sentence didn't intimidate her or turn her on, she snaps, “Fine. But when I
do
keep up, you get to tell me how many times you've thought about me using them.”

              “You got yourself a bet darlin',” I say placing my brown cowboy hat on my head the minute we're outside. Typically I lose most bets. I'm really not the best gambler. Never really learned that lesson from Kenny Rogers. If I had it would save me humiliating defeats between my best friends, but where's the fun in that? At least when we do it, it's in good sport, not because they know my chunk of inheritance is bigger than theirs.

              Jazz and I cross to the part of the property that lies in between the two homes. It's a well kept farm area with cows, a hen house, a rooster I call Chuck, pigs, ducks, barn cats, a couple goats, and a gorgeous stable area where we keep the horses. The two of us load up on a pair Pa not so cleverly named Johnny and Cash. Our ride towards the deeper part of the property is slow at first out of respect for Jazz, but the minute she gets fed up pretending she can't ride, she takes off trying her best to keep me in her tracks. We travel towards the back edge of the line that gets closer to the actual orchards, but veer off towards a path rarely used.

              As we slow down to a trot, coming up on one of my favorite clean ponds in the perfect gathering of trees, I say, “Historical landmark right here.”

              “Oh yeah?”

              “Yup. Each of my brother's lost their virginity at this very spot.”

              Jazz snickers, head shaking. “Not surprised.”

              Halting my horse I hop down and lead Cash over to grab a drink before tying him up. Watching as she does the same, I try not to get swept away in the swaying of her hips. Wonder if she would sway like that on top of me. Sweat drifts down her neck between her boobs and the only thing I can continue to picture is how that would look with her straddling me, the sweat from riding me instead of some goddamn horse. Fuck. I've got no business thinking about my boss naked or crying out my name, but Pa’s speech about living life is speaking louder than my conscious. More importantly, my moral compass is pointing up for only her. Haven't fucked a girl in so long, I'm not sure if my nuts are blue or purple. At what point do testicles explode from lack of coming?

              “They never wasted time rubbing it in my face over breakfast when they came over. I hated family breakfasts before school almost as much as family dinners after. I was thankful when Ma and Pa started cutting back on them.”

              Sensing some resentment in my voice, she attempts to pull the conversation back to the lighter direction. “So why did they all pick this spot?”

              “Because whatever big brother Jo did, so did they all. Growing up, it was all about being like your big brother. Not just in our family, but in general. If you had siblings, most of the time you aimed to be just like them when you could.”

              “But you're the oldest. Shouldn't they wanna be like you?”

              I shrug. “I don't count. Besides, Jo and I aren't that far in age. Born within less than a year of each other.”

              “Classic Irish twins,” her description in our close ages makes me slightly smile. “Wait. You said all your brothers. What about you? You lose it here too?”

              “Nope. Lost my virginity in the back of my truck, like a gentleman.” I give my horse a good pat.

              She mimics my action with her own horse. “That's gentlemanly? Now you sound like Glove.”

              Laughing at the remark, I reply, “It's not a fucking romance novel. There wasn't a dramatic sword fight for the lady's honor then a room of candles lit by the house maid--”

              “But you have housemaids.”

              “That's...not the point.”

              “But it is a valid point.”

              “Do you wanna hear the rest of the story or not?” With a simple wave of her hand she lets me continue as we relocate closer to the water. “Tammy Turner. We'd gone out for a couple months. One day making out went further than expected and it just sort of happened.”

              “Typical.”

              “Never said it wasn't. Just said it wasn't like theirs.” She hums as a reply and I say, “Come on. Was your first time really that romantic?”

              Jazz looks off in the distance briefly before snapping back to me. “No-huh. No questions. The bet was, if I could keep up, you had to tell me how many times you thought about me using those handcuffs you think I have.”

              With a grin I drop down by the water. I tilt my head for her to do the same. As soon as she does I state, “I'll tell you, but I gotta know first. Where'd you learn to ride like that?”

              “Boarding school. Horseback riding was my gym credit every year. Fell in love with it from the first time I got on one.”

              “Compete?”

              “Occasionally. There were other studies I was more interested in, but when I did compete, I always won. My father had a saying. I'd overheard him say it more than once. If you're not going to compete to win, do not waste your time.”

              On a grunt, I relax my arms back behind me, stretching out my large frame. “Sounds like something my family would say.” Turning to face her I ask, “Boarding school? How long did you go?”

              “I had nannies until I was old enough for Kindergarten, then boarding school until I was recruited.”

              “How early did they get you?”

              “I was graduating at 16 and enrolling in one of their programs by 17.”

              “Parents proud?”

              Jazz pulls her legs to her chest. “Disappointed.”

              Baffled I choke out, “What?”

              “My father makes billions and does a great job helping others do it with the same skill set I have. He expected something similar from me. Not to 'waste my life' on a 'frivolous desk job'.”

              “If only he knew you had more than a desk job.”

              “He wouldn't care. Doesn't rack in the type of income he approves of.” After a beat she shakes her head. “Nothing I do, he approves of.”

              In a mumble I sigh, “I know the feeling.”

              Slowly I roll my head back her direction to see her staring at me, a nervous yet excited expression creeping into her eyes. This is the permanent problem with her. One minute she's strong, independent, holding her own, and within a matter of moments she's melting, offering me....her surrender. The chance to demand whatever it is I want from her. The chance to get it. Complicated doesn't scratch the services of the situation or my feelings for that matter.  To call falling for a woman whose entire existence is locked up tighter than Ft. Knox complicated, would be belittling in the very least.

              With another head tilt, this time for her to come to me, she obeys scooting her body over until we're hip to hip. Her intoxicating smell in combination with her mouth-watering look, feels like the devil's temptation on the steps of a church. A sin so sweet, even the angels are tempted to weep. Losing self-control with each passing breath beside her, I roughly yank her so she's straddling my lap.

              By the way her body is grinding itself against mine, I can say it doesn't object. Her lips on the other hand are prepared to plead a case. “Lordy...”

              “Yes darlin',” the words roll out of me and through her by the way she shudders.

              “If we...if we cross this line...there's no coming back.” The uneasiness from the decision having to be made causes her bright green eyes to slightly dull. “I know, we've...played with it in the past. Flirted with it. Treated it like a child learning the definition of what straight means, but if we...if we...”

              “If we, what Jazz?” the huskiness in my voice increases as does my grip on her hips.

              “If we break this rule, we can't undo the damage that's going to come. The backlash. The repercussions. It's not going to end well.”

              “Who says it has to end?” The question opens her mouth but I brush mine with it. She whimpers. I clutch tighter. Her hips grind again. “Just tell me one thing.”

              Breathlessly she asks, “What?”

              “On the other side of this line, are you all mine? And only mine?”

              “Yes.”

              “That's all I need to know,” I declare and crush my lips against hers.

              Dissolving in my lap, Jazz whimpers once more, this time as my tongue enslaves hers. One of my hands burrow in the back of her hair, latching her in place as my other explores the curves I've been begging to get better acquainted with. Recklessly, my mouth consumes her, tasting every corner, every curve, every crumb I can possibly find until the sweat that's covering her body isn't just from the heat of the sun any more. Damn. Why the fuck did I wait so long again?

Day 16 in Georgia

              Jazz fiddles with the radio in the truck beside me an unmistakable grin on her face. It's the same one she's been sporting since we made out on our horseback expedition. She gets it after a good tongue on tongue session I've learned. It's a cross between a giddy school girl and a very horny woman. I know because I have a similar dopey look on my own mug. While the last three days would have been better if we would've started making the bed squeak, my respect for body and desire to do this right are slightly stronger than my willpower to fuck the hell out of her. Only slightly. But that's fading faster than I care to own up to. Problem is, I'm not sure she's ready for us to go there. Just the little under the shirt action I've been gifted has me confused on her comfort zone levels. It's like she doesn't know whether she wants me to rip her shirt off or tuck in to never touch her again. Fuck. I pray it's not the latter.

              “Your cogitation is making my head hurt,” she snaps me out of my own head, a Marshall Tucker song filling the truck.

              Playfully I say, “Can't you just say thinking?”

              With a smirk she says, “No. Now, I thought festivals or fairs or whatever were supposed to be fun.”

              “They are.”

              “Then why do you look like your pet cow is going to slaughter?”

              The comparison is spot on. That's when I learned it's best not to name animals unless you know for a fact they are pets and not food.

              “I uh...well, the last town fair I went to was the day I left. It was also my 19th birthday. It was the worst day of my entire fucking life, so forgive me if I'm not thrilled to be here.” I park the truck in one of the more empty parking lots a good distance from the activities.

              “But you have to be here because it's your family's annual Peach Celebration, so put your big boy underwear on, and get ready to show me a good time.” Jazz demands.

              Hearing the sass out of her mouth shoots straight to my dick. Instantly, I reach out and pull her until she gets the hint to sit in my lap. I'm becoming addicted to this position. Infatuated with the idea of her naked like this.

              “I can show you the best time darlin'. Right now.” My tongue wets my lips as my hands slowly run up her thighs.

              Jazz arches slightly into me and softly moans.

              “You like that?” I let my hands creep a little higher as she scoots a little closer to me. A pleased hum vibrates the two of us. My dick stiffens even harder. Slowly I slip my hand closer to the spot between her legs, inches from her silk thong. The fabric on my fingertips has them so anxious they slightly slip underneath. “Tell me you want this darlin'....Tell me and I'll give you what you're askin' for.”

              “Lordy please...”

              “Tell me.”

              “Touch me,” she moans the encouragement. My finger slips into the luscious lure gently pushing inside, winning me another whimper. When I add an extra finger Jazz rewards me yet again with the sound of my name. “Lordy...”

              Positive it's not the heat making me as hot as I am, I growl and pull her face down into mine, lips needing to sample bits of kisses between absorbing the orgasmic breath she's leaking out. She bucks tumultuously, drawing out my own need to explode. Much faster than expected, Jazz is on the brink of falling apart as her nails anchor themselves into my shoulders. Goddamn. The small cut of pain turns me on even more.

              “That's it darlin',” I push moving my fingers faster. “All mine...”

              She squeaks at the same time her muscles pulsate around my fingers, claiming them. Claiming me. Claiming this moment to be the next step in whatever this is growing between us.

              Watching her come down off her high is almost as sexy as watching her climb it. There isn't much she does that isn't sexy. Hell, even the way she scolds me is sexy.

              “Did you have a good time, cowgirl?”

              “Mmm,” she hums running her hands down my chest, her breathing still unsteady. “How about you show me a good time outside of this truck?”

              “Now you're just bein' picky.” I chuckle and peck her lips.

              Once the two of us are all cleaned up and properly rearranged, we get out of the truck and take off towards the activities, hand in hand. Our hands slightly sway. I do my best to relax. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to go smoothly. History isn't going to repeat itself. It can't. It won't.

              Jazz abruptly stops us before we get too close to the fun. “Spill Lordy.” When I raise my eyebrows in confusion she pulls her hand away from me and folds her arms across her white tank top covered chest, a look I am becoming enamored with. Don't get me wrong. Her business tops are hot, but this laid back style, is much better. Bonus points for my ability to get a better view of her tits in tank tops. “You're going to try to play stupid with me? Really?”

              I innocently shrug and adjust my hat.

              “Your body language is basically screaming at your level of discomfort. The tension that's settling in your neck. Your well-played attempt to make me forget about it by making me come--”

              “If you're gonna say that word darlin' make sure you're prepared to do it again.”

              A wild smirk flashes on her face. “Lordy, what happened that day? What happened to make you leave? I've met your family and while they are enough on their own to make you wanna escape, what broke the camel’s back?”

              Increasingly angry I ask through gritted teeth, “Do we really have to do this now?”

              “Yes.”

              “Really?”

              “Really.”

              “Fucking seriously, Jazz?”

              “Now.”

              My eyes drop to my boots the ability to breathe a struggle.

              “Lordy.”

              Looking back up I sigh, “Fuck. Fine. A few weeks before my 19th birthday, I found out Mary Beth had been cheating on me with Jo.” Jazz doesn't look surprised, which makes me question, “Why don't you look shocked? Is this already in my file?”

              “No. She just exhibits obvious behavior characteristics of someone who manipulates her way to the top. Word choice. Body language. Eye contact. Not to mention her past behaviors--”

              “She has her own file?”

              “I have a lot of files.”

              In disbelief I continue, “When I found out, she confessed she never cared about me at all. That everything she did was to get closer to my brother. It was the reason she made us keep our relationship hidden for so long. All she wanted was an in to Jo and I was the information fast track train. No, we weren't close, but I knew enough about him apparently to be the inside track she needed. On my birthday, I made one last plea to her, telling her I'd forget it all, forgive everything if she let Jo go. If she left him for me.” The memory floods back forcing me to rub my temple hoping to scrub it out. “She laughed in my face again. Called me pathetic. And then Jo showed up to tell me that he proposed, on my fucking birthday might I add, and she said yes. They hadn't been together more than a couple months.
We
had been together longer than that. He told me I was gonna be his best man...because I was his big brother. He knew it was one of the only ways Pa would fork over the money he needed for the wedding Mary Beth wanted. Because to Pa, it's all about family...up until the day I left he tried to give us chances to bridge that never ending gap between us. Particularly Jo and me since we're closest in age.” Shaking my head I state harshly, “She didn't love my brother. She didn't love me. She just wanted to be a Lord. All that fucking bullshit to fuck her way into the company. Lay on her back in hopes she gets laid out an inheritance.”

              “Why didn't you tell Jo?”

              “I knew how the situation would play out. He'd tell me I was jealous. That I was lyin' because I would never be a real member of the family. That I was full of shit and this was just a final attempt to gain some attention. So I ran. I left the fair, packed some shit, and fucking bailed. One of the only friends I had moved to D.C. for school. I went to visit him and while I was there I made a choice not to go back. Signed up for the Marines a few weeks later.” After the anger drains back from my face I sigh, “Running away without so much as a see you later was definitely not my proudest moment.”

              Jazz takes a firm step to me arms still crossed. “Let it be your weakest.” With a precise stab to the chest she says, “You Lordy, are a damn good Jacket. You have done incredible things that can never be mentioned to protect this country. To protect your HORN brothers. You have to realize you are not only good enough to be a member of the team, but you are good enough to be in
this
family. You need to realize you deserve to be here just as much as them, and stop hiding every time you get a little uncomfortable. Every time someone turns you back into feeling like that six year old not invited to play with the others. Stop acting like the boy that left this place and start acting like the
man
I recruited.”

              I wanna believe her. I wanna believe she's right. That I have earned my place in both families, but after so long of being on the outskirts of one, it's difficult to think anything else.

              Before I have a chance to rebuttal, Johnson's voice interrupts, “Look at that! Rascal made it!” Slapping me on the back he cockily questions, “Are you gonna eat some BBQ or are you watching your girlish figure?”

              The comment reminds me of something Glove would say. Damn. I can't wait to get home. My eyes cut to Jazz who has a soft smile. Then again. I can.

              “Come on.” I grab my girl's hand and pull her along to follow Johnson. “You have to try the Miller's ribs.”

              “Bro, he started adding these peppers to it...Makes you shit fire.” The description gets a laugh from me before he quickly apologizes. “Sorry little lady. Don't mean to offend.”

              “Takes more than that to offend me,” Jazz clarifies while I drape my arm around her shoulder. He takes the hint and relocates to the other side of me. “I work with Marines remember? Not the cleanest mouthed men in the military.”

              Johnson laughs a little as we approach the Miller's booth. “If you wanna see a real dirty mouth, you should ditch my Boy Scout brother, and I'll show you something your innocent mind has only dreamed of.”

              “Hit on my lady again Jon and I'll pound you into a peach pancake. Clear?”

              “They make peach pancakes?” Jazz scrunches her face.

              “Don't let Ma see that reaction or you'll be eating those bastards until you pray for salvation in the form of her running out of flour.” He snags a slice of chicken out of a long silver foil pan. With a huge bite, he winks, smacks, and wanders off to cause trouble elsewhere.

              She looks up at me with a crooked grin. “It's like if you and Glove actually shared DNA.”

              “Except, I actually like Glove,” I remind her before speaking to Mrs. Miller who almost faints from the sight of me.

              News of my arrival spreads fast forcing Jazz and I to answer hundreds of questions, endure gossip whispers that are anything but subtle, and be fawned over for how much I've filled out. In between the face pinching and games of twenty questions, I manage to sneak Jazz into the petting zoo where she bottle feeds a baby pig, and over to the face painting booth where she gets a small peach painted on her cheek.

              Strolling away from a pie booth ran by the Springs, family of my friend who lives in D.C., Jazz looks up at me, beaming bright. “Can we ride the Ferris Wheel?”

              “We can do anything you want darlin',” I assure, pulling her in closer to me. “Except for another hog tying competition. I hate those.”

              “But you beat Johnson.”

              “It's not hard to. He can barely tie his own shoes.”

              She giggles again dragging me to the line, which is almost non-existent. We flash the operator our wrist bands and he opens the gate to let us on the ride.  Jazz let's the back of her head hit my chest, leaning into my grip as the machine slowly starts to move us upward.

              “I must say, not too bad for my first fair.”

              “This is your first fair?”

              “That's why I said it.”

              “Are you shitting me?”

              “No,” she replies coldly.

              “How is that possible?”

              “Boarding schools don't have fairs Lordy. Or carnivals. Or anything fun. They're like prisons without bars on the windows.”

              “And the summers?”

              “Were only a month long. During it I had some sort of nanny who had specific instructions on things I was and was not allowed to do. Trips outside the house had to be educational.”