Chapter 30

Lilly

Mark was laughing as he related a story about a client who’d asked him to draw a nude of his middle-aged body as a gift for his wife’s birthday. “I remember asking him, ‘Do you want it, well, realistic?’ The guy looked down to his groin and looked up at me, saying, ‘I suppose she’d know if you exaggerated, wouldn’t she?’ I couldn’t help myself, Lilly. I burst out laughing right there in his face.”

“Oh!” I laughed, imagining the scene. How I longed to get back out into the world and feel alive. Mark was laughing and then, right before me, I saw his face freeze and his head draw back in tension. He was looking up and past me.

I swiveled my head, and there stood Bolt. He was not happy. It was definitely one of those “if looks could kill” moments.

“Get your purse, Lilly. You’re leaving,” he said in an even, but deadly voice.

“Bolt! How’d you know I was here?”

He didn’t answer.

Mark slid out of his side of the booth and thrust forward his hand. “I’m Mark,” he introduced himself.

Bolt slapped away the proffered hand, and pulling his arm back, let go with the speed of a drawn bow and punched Mark in the face. I screamed, “Bolt! What’s the matter with you?” I bent forward toward Mark who lay on his back on the floor.

I didn’t get even close before Bolt seized my arm, grabbed my purse and coat with his other hand, and propelled me out of the restaurant. “Bolt, what in the hell is the matter with you?”

He pushed me aside and I turned in time to see Mark, his head lowered and charging like a bull from the restaurant entrance. He caught Bolt in the gut and the two of them went down to the sidewalk. “Bolt!” I screamed. “Mark! You two stop this! Oh my god! Stop it!”

Two men who were customers inside came out and pulled Mark off Bolt, but not before Bolt caught him with an upper cut and knocked Mark cold. His chest heaving, he reached into his pocket and threw a handful of hundred-dollar bills onto Mark’s unconscious chest. “For the ER bill,” he muttered, grabbed my elbow, and after looking both ways, dragged me across the street and put me firmly into the passenger seat of his car.

He squealed the tires as he pulled away from the curb and drove fast and angrily. I was so stupefied I didn’t even know what to say. So, I said nothing. Not all the way back to the farm. Not when he took me out of the car by the hand and pulled me inside the door. Not as he pulled me up the stairs toward our bedroom, stopping long enough to open Mary’s door and say, “Get the baby and go downstairs. He shouldn’t hear this.”

I didn’t even protest as he pulled me into the bedroom and locked the door behind us. I will admit, I was afraid, but I didn’t say a word. He began the pacing, hand-in-the-hair thing. I waited for him to calm down.

“What were you thinking?” he finally asked me, his voice husky with emotion.

“If you can settle down a minute, I might tell you,” I answered, peeved.

“This had better be good,” he warned, standing with his legs spread to face me.

“Sit down,” I ordered him. He remained standing. I repeated in a louder voice. “Sit…down…or I’ll walk out of this room, and you’ll never know. We’ll see if you can handle not knowing for a change. I’ve done it, many times.”

His mouth dropped open. “Is that what this was? You were getting back at me?” he shouted.

“No! Now sit the hell down, Bolton Symington!” I screamed, rising to my knees and throwing my coat at him.

His eyes blazed as though a fire had been lit behind them, and for a moment, I knew I was looking into hell. Those damned eyes, so much like the miniature set that waited downstairs. He finally sat, although rigidly erect, on the edge of the bed. “Tell me.”

“OK, now just calm the hell down. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’ve got a pretty good idea, and you’re wrong. You pissed me off this morning, trying to run my life again. When will you get it into your head that I can’t turn over control to you? I’m just not capable. You’ve got the girl who lost her parents in an instant and had to find a way to survive, a way to take care of her older sister. I don’t want any applause for that, Bolt, but I would appreciate some respect.”

I saw him blink, and I knew he really heard me for the first time.

“I went to the studio, alone. It was awful inside. Cold, vicious, not the me I want to be and not the mother I want to be. So, I decided something. I’m taking your advice and stopping with the tattoos. I’m going to use my college education and do freelance design.”

“Good. Who’s the guy?”

“Calm down! I’m getting to that.” I reached for the pitcher of water on the nightstand and poured a glass of water, taking my time. I knew I was taunting him, but at that moment, it was important that I become alpha, or I’d never regain my standing. Not with him and not in the world. I put the glass down slowly. “Mark showed up at the studio as I was scraping the logo and artwork off the front window. He knocked, and I opened the door to tell him I was closed. He asked very politely if I’d do a tattoo and knowing I’d need money for my new career, I let him in. Turns out he’s an illustrator and has been freelancing. He’s going to make a go of it in California and when he found out what I was planning, he offered to refer me to the clients he’s leaving. I learned a lot from him while I worked and didn’t charge him for the tattoo. He offered to buy me a sandwich across the street so he could give me the info on the clients. It was a business meeting, Bolt. If you weren’t such a French hothead you might have taken the time to find that out before you punched him.”

I let that sink in. The flames were dying down in his eyes, so I continued. “Look, you’ve got to see how ridiculous you’re being. Would I go out with a guy for romance and eat across the street from my studio after having told Mary exactly where I was? For heaven’s sake, Bolt.”

He blinked, and his head seemed to collapse on his shoulders. He turned away briefly with relief. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions. It’s just that I’ve had one of those days, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I gave it all away,” he said quietly, his back to me.

“Gave what away?”

“I went into my office and sat there, looking around. I asked myself why I was there. I wanted to come home and snatch you and Jinx up, take you on a trip around wherever until we found somewhere we like better—and then stay there. I walked down the hallway and gave Kenny the keys to the business. Told him to have a happy birthday and left.”

“You left? Just like that?” I could barely contain my excitement.

“Ohhh, there’s no doubt I left. I shouted it to the rooftop as I got onto the elevator.”

I rolled back onto my knees and threw my arms around his neck. “Oh, Bolt, my god, you really did it, didn’t you?”

He put his hand on my arm and turned to face me. “I told you I would,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes.

“I know, but you’ve said that before and… Oh, never mind. I believe you really did it this time.” I kissed him on the cheek, excited and needing to touch him to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

He nodded. “It’s done. Look, I was serious. I know Jinx can’t travel like that yet, but maybe this summer? When he’s older? Let’s just buy one of those ungodly big motor homes and head down the drive. We’ll turn left, we’ll turn right, and when we get to where we want to be, we’ll throw out an anchor and settle there. What do you say?”

“I say, I love you, Bolt.”

His eyes turned fierce as he pushed me to the mattress and crawled atop me, his lips pressing into the flesh of my cheeks with a bruising ferocity. “Jesus, but I needed to hear you say that,” he rasped, holding my face between his hands and then bending to kiss my eyelids, my brow, every inch of my face. He pulled his head back, a questioning look in his eyes. I nodded, and relief flooded his expression.

He sat up, suddenly, holding up a finger to stop me. “Before we go any further, I want you to answer one more question.”

I was gasping with need and couldn’t believe he wanted to argue more. “Go ahead,” I told him, tensing.

“Lilly Schultz, will you and Jinx marry me? Will you be my family forever and ever and for real? Never leave me again, and I will never leave you?”

Tears rose to my eyes to witness my dream coming true. “Yes! Yes, I will. Yes, we will. I love you, Bolt Symington!”

The fierce devil left, and a young man with love and enthusiasm for life replaced him. Bolt leaned over me and began to open my clothing, ceremoniously sliding each piece, sometimes with a missing button or a tear, but eventually it ended up on the floor, as did his own. His hands parted my legs, literally shaking with weak anticipation. He pressed his lips to my pussy and kissed me there just once. I saw his dark eyes pass slowly up the length of me until they were looking directly into my own. “Thank you,” he whispered. With that, he rose high up onto his arms and shutting his eyes, thrust his hips forward and buried his hardness into me. I tensed at the long-forgotten sensation, and he stopped at my bottom, his eyes opening to make sure I was OK. The tears had begun to stream down my cheeks, and his brow furrowed with concern.

“Fuck me like you mean it,” I whispered, and he laughed, not minding my coarse words one bit. In fact, they seemed to light him afire, and his body became a machine—a machine whose only purpose was to take possession of me, as one might plant a flag. He wasn’t vindictive or cruel, but he was determined. He entered me over and over, never fully withdrawing. It was as if he was trying to pound into me the eternal edict that I would never leave again. His penis was massively enlarged—a sign of his long-denied lust. If I’d ever feared that the baby would have stretched me, I needn’t have. When he ground into me, it was if he’d sealed a tunnel from which there was no escape, no movement possible.

His hands were everywhere. They slid gently beneath the weight of my breasts, brushing the sensitive, tender skin there. He slid his powerful fingers beneath my bottom, lifting me up to meet him as he continued the sure but covetous strokes. He stopped suddenly and rolled to my side. His lips took over then, kissing and sucking my skin—from the smooth expanses to the more tender folds where limbs and orifices joined together to make my body one quivering mass of desiring flesh. “You’re mine,” he rasped, less for my benefit than as for his own reassurance.

Like a wrestler, he swung his body smoothly to my feet, grasping each of my ankles in his hands. He pushed them upward and back until I was almost on my head—my moistened, puckering vaginal lips directly beneath him and greedily waiting.

“I want you inside,” I begged, and he nodded and planted himself firmly into me. It felt as though he sunk all the way to my hips. He resumed the even, greedy rhythm our bodies craved, and it was only moments before I felt the magic elixir of orgasmic lust release in my brain and flow through my body. I began to gasp at the long-forgotten sensation, my head rolling from side to side as ecstasy became mine.

Bolt stiffened, his head thrown back, as I heard and felt him reach his own. He flooded me with hot juice, and I welcomed it. Finally, when the last spasm had ended, he collapsed on the bed next to me, his chest heaving from the exertion. Still dazed in my own afterglow, I lazily scooted until my body was molded against his. We lay that way for a bit, and then his arm reached over and pulled me so that I lay on my back, my head on his shoulder. He put one hand at the back of my head to hold it in place and said, “We need to talk.”

This time I didn’t fear another argument, not another controlling order. This time I sensed it was something different. I nodded my head and heard him take a deep breath.

“What I’m about to tell you can never leave this room. Not ever. I’m literally putting my life in your hands. What I’m about to tell you is more binding than any ring because you could use it against me. Do you understand, and are you willing to be trusted to that extent?”

I looked at him sharply, raising my chin so I could look into his eyes. “You’re safe with me.”

My words must have hit a spot, because his eyelids closed, and his free hand covered his eyes and brow for a moment before sliding onto the pillow next to his head.

“Then listen, and don’t ask questions until I’m done. I cannot tell you everything, but I can tell you enough. Lilly, there’s a reason I’ve had to leave you and not tell you where I’m going. I can’t tell you how much it hurt me to see you hurt by that. I can’t even truthfully say I’m sorry, because I had no choice, and you’ll know now why that is.

“In my last year at school, I was approached by some gentlemen representing the federal government. Without going into dangerous details, I agreed to aid them from time to time. As you may, or may not, know, I speak quite a few languages, and like a native. It’s a kind of gift that my mother and I realized I had when I was a young boy and we traveled the world. It became a sort of game. She’d choose a country with a finger dropped on a spinning globe in my father’s office, and within a couple of days, we were on a plane headed there. By the time we returned home, I spoke another language.

“I started my own import/export business right out of college. That was my cover. Oh, it was legitimate enough, but Kenny was doing the bulk of the work running it. That freed me up to come and go without explanation and be gone for however the assignment took. He didn’t ask questions because he thought I was going on buying trips. The government didn’t say anything when I did use those connections and influence to buy for the company. So, it was a mutually satisfying relationship, to explain it, if somewhat stretching the truth.

“There were times when I was in danger, but it was seldom. I wasn’t there to shoot a gun, in fact that was the last thing anyone wanted. I was more of a diplomat who could communicate with anyone, in any language, if that makes sense. I heard things they thought I didn’t understand, and my country was grateful for that information. Very simple, actually. I used my business as a cover to gain entry to some powerful peoples’ homes and was introduced to their friends. Financial gain is always at the root of evil, Lilly—don’t ever forget that. But, at some point, you can’t spend all the money you have, and so you look for other ways to entertain and fulfill yourself. That’s when people turn to power. It wasn’t always men, either. You’d be surprised.

“Anyway, it’s why I never married and why I couldn’t tell you when I fell in love with you and wanted to ease your hurt. I just couldn’t. Do you understand?”

“Can I talk now?”

“Yes, but I can only answer what I can answer.”

“Did your parents know?”

“No, they did not. I think my mother suspected something, but she was sophisticated enough to understand that such things took place in the world, and as long as they didn’t affect her directly, she stayed out of it. She knew how to be discreet. My father, on the other hand, did not. He couldn’t know because he was an eternal womanizing drunk, and it was far too risky to let him know anything that could be compromising.”

“Did you kill anyone?”

He took a deep breath at that one. “Only when it was a him or me situation, and I never initiated an offensive.”

“Are you done?”

He paused but nodded. “Yes, I’m done. They may not realize it, but I’m not going away again. I’m done with that life.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Then I will trust you,” I said.