Ella moves through the apartment in a daze. It’s not big, very similar in size to Andrea and Rob’s. Furniture’s sparse, new and classic. She’ll have everything she needs. It has an oceanfront balcony off the bedroom. There’s a small electric treadmill pushed up against one wall. She may not be able to run on the beach, but she can stare at it as she does. The bed’s positioned facing the slider. Her suitcase sits in the corner beside mine. With the door open, you can smell the ocean on the breeze.
“It’s so nice,” she admits. She turns and smiles shyly. “I feel guilty liking it.”
“I knew you would.” Pointing to the slider, I say, “You’ll be able to see the sunrise from bed.”
She comes closer, wrapping her arms around me. “I know you tried to make this nightmare as tolerable as possible. Thank you.”
“Ella, you are giving up your life to help the FBI catch a murderer. This is the least they can do for you. I merely reminded them.”
“This is more than the FBI trying to make me comfortable. This is all you.” She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses me. “It means a lot to me.”
“You mean a lot to me.”
We unpack leisurely and talk about memories she had of visiting little cape towns in New England with her mother. So many places they visited, all having their unique flavor.
“I never saw a beach before moving to New York.”
“Ben, that’s a crime in itself.” A reflective look passes over her face. “What were you like as a hormone raging teenage boy? Would we have had the same chemistry if we met years ago?”
“Absolutely,” I admit. “I would most definitely have noticed you in school. You’re exactly my type. I probably would have taken you to the prom, only to book a hotel room afterward, hoping to get lucky. We would have dated, and I probably would have wanted to spank you on several occasions when you were a pain in my ass. But in the end, I don’t have a doubt that we would have fallen in love, eventually.”
She giggles and agrees.
Once we’re fairly settled and lying on the bed lost in thought, she wants to make love.
“Ella.”
“Please? I need you.”
I can’t ever deny her. Even as I slowly make love to her, I worry she’s using this connection to cancel her pain. Even when her voice sounds dreamy as she says she loves me, snuggles up to my side, and falls asleep, I fear she’s avoiding reality.
As she sleeps beside me, I can’t help but worry her reaction to this whole mess just isn’t normal. Since her panic attack and fainting, she hasn’t shown any other signs of distress. Not that I want her to, but I’m concerned she’s repressing, and it will worsen her attacks, nightmares, and PTSD. I suggested she speak to the therapist more than just once a week. She understood my point, but stubbornly said that she was fine. Why would she be less stubborn even in a crisis?
Since falling in love with her, my demons haven’t haunted me in quite a while. I guess my subconscious is busy, as well as my heart and my mind. I’m too busy loving, worrying, and thinking about Ella.
I’ve been trying to put myself in her shoes. If I were told I’m not who I thought I was, but instead I was the son of a mob boss, how would I feel? She explained she felt detached to the person she is by birth. I guess I can understand that. By suddenly having someone thrust a piece of paper in my face, claiming I’m someone else, would that suddenly make me that person? Good or bad?
It wouldn’t. It would also mean nothing to me. Unless my behavior followed some sort of pattern and answers were revealed, I don’t think it would affect me in the least. I can’t ever know for sure how I would react in such a situation. I do know that I’ll be here for her to ensure the shock of the truth doesn’t ultimately alter who Ella Parker really is.
I also feel the scope of the situation hasn’t hit her, because she has no idea who her father was. Farley gave her all the facts surrounding her bloodline. She hasn’t opened the folder yet. It sits ominously on the table in the living room. She confided that once she reads the facts on her parents and who they were, it would cause a connection that she doesn’t want to have. They are strangers to her, and she’d like to live in the fantasy that Virginia Parker was the teenage girl who ran away from home to have her only child.
I understand her mentality completely, but sooner or later she’ll have to face the truth and when she does, I’ll be there to keep her grounded. Her sordid family history ultimately caused my family’s demise. How can I continue to loath, hate, and despise a man who created the love of my life? We both have some soul searching to do. She needs to come to terms with who she is and where she came from. I need to come to terms with the hatred that’s filled my heart for so many years.
Of course, I don’t blame her for what happened to my parents. That blame is solely on my father and Politto. My need for retribution against Politto hasn’t changed. It has only cultivated, because now not only do I need justice for my family, I need it for Ella even more so.
Ella now knows of my hatred. She knows why my father killed my mother and for who. She knows that decision my father made only nurtured my swelling resentment toward him, and it grew to the hatred I’ve been carrying with me for a decade. I fear that she’ll avoid her past because of me. By acknowledging who she is, she’d become what I detest. She couldn’t be farther from the truth. She has nothing to do with the hostility I carry deep in my core.
As I hold her now, I want so badly to erase everything that was dumped on her today. It may be a false sense of security to think that by not knowing a truth it can’t hurt you. I don’t give a fuck if I’m kidding myself or not. There isn’t a person on earth that can convince me that Ella wasn’t better off never finding out the truth about herself.
Her warm naked body rests against mine. She mumbles and jerks in my arms. I tighten my hold while kissing her head. When she gasps for breath, her eyes fly open.
“I’m here, Ella.” She pants in my arms, but otherwise doesn’t speak. I can feel her heart racing. “What is it? Tell me.”
“It’s that same dream. The one where I see my mother being killed.” She looks up at me in fear. “Lately, everything is the same as that night, except it’s you. You’re the one lying on the floor bleeding from the same wound as my mother did.” Her eyes dart over my face as she clutches me tighter.
“It’s just a dream. I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“Ben, I’m so scared.”
“I know, baby. Don’t be scared.” I hold her chin to keep her focus on me. “I’m your Superman.” I tease. “Just do not ask me to wear blue tights and a cape.”
She smiles wearily, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s channeling her fear toward me. “Are you hungry?” I pathetically try to change the subject.
“What time is it?”
“It’s about eight, I think. You’ve been asleep for a while.”
“Don’t you have to get back to headquarters?”
“Not until morning. I’m not going anywhere all night.” She settles against me, and I can feel her calm slightly.
“Every time you leave, I’m going to be terrified.” Her mind is fixated on my safety. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Please send me a signal, a text, something that tells me you’re okay. Rob sends Andrea…”
“An xo. I know. I used to bust his chops over it. I’ll never admit it to him, but I’m stealing his idea.”
She nods against my chest. I can feel her warm sigh of relief against my skin. “It would make me feel better getting that from you whenever you can.”
“I promise. Whenever I can.”
She looks out the sliding door that leads to the balcony. It’s dark and hard to tell where the sky ends, or the ocean begins. The waves hitting the sand are the only indicators we are on the beach.
“I’m never going to tire of looking at that.”
“If we don’t keep the blinds closed, the sun will wake us like a beacon to the face.”
She giggles adorably. “I wouldn’t mind being woken up that way every day. Only one thing would make such a beautiful sight even better.”
“What’s that?”
She looks up at my face and adds, “Watching it with you beside me.”
I lie back, aligning her above me. “That can be arranged.”
Her lips are begging to be kissed, so I do. As are her flushed cheeks and her upturned nose and her silky neck, and I kiss all those, too. Her rosy nipples pebble before my eyes. Of course, I need to kiss those as well.
The energy between us is palpable. That connection that I felt the first time I kissed her hasn’t waned or weakened. It’s still as strong and as powerful as that first time. It’s that energy that changed me as a person. I’ve never had that connection with anyone. I scoffed whenever people claimed they felt it with their partners, Rob included. It was all a bunch of bullshit. Crap like that didn’t happen to guys like me.
Fuck, do I look like an ass now?
Not only did it happen, that connection kicked my ass.
“Ben?”
“Yes, babe?”
“I need you.” Without warning, she slowly slides over my length, taking me in inch by inch.
Am I a shit for letting her do this, for allowing her to evade her fears through sex?
My inner conflict does nothing to lessen the desire I have, the need I have to be inside her. The look of ecstasy on her face is overwhelming to me. I’ll never get tired of watching her face when we make love. The emotions transform her gorgeous features to something angelic like, unearthly in beauty. I can’t deny her this, even if it is a coping mechanism for her.
I skim my hands down her back, placing them on the curve of her ass to hold her still. She gasps when I thrust below her, increasing my force and my speed with each thrust. Her hair fans around us, creating a curtain blocking our vision from everything but each other’s face. The only sounds are from our panting and our moans. Her breasts are so close. With minimal movement, I easily pull her nipple into my mouth and suck forcibly. The more I suck, the louder she gets. She tilts my head to kiss me, driving her tongue inside my mouth. I apply the same force to now suck on her tongue.
My hands roam over her back and shoulders. When the pressure becomes too much to bear, I wrap my arms around her to eliminate any space between us. Nose to nose, lips to lips, we watch each other’s eyes as the pleasure created by being deep inside her takes hold, making our breaths ragged and our heartbeats frantic.
She comes first. Her body stills, as she flexes and holds her position practically motionless. Except for the short puffs of air she releases erratically, except for her pussy contracting around me, she doesn’t move otherwise.
The hold she has on me makes me come violently. My response is opposite from hers. My legs jerk with each spurt, causing my muscles to spasm and my fingers to grip her skin until one final thrust, one final grunt ends it all.
Her eyes swell with tears as she watches me.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask with concern. “Why are you crying?”
“Because, I love you,” she states matter-of-factly. “So much so that it scares me.”
“Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’m always going to be here.”
“If you’re going to give me this sendoff every day, I’m going to have to set my alarm twenty minutes earlier.”
She has me at the door of the apartment. Her fingers clutch the fabric of my button down shirt. Every time she kisses me goodbye, adding, “Okay, have a good day,” she throws her arms around my waist just to start the whole process again. It has nothing to do with her feeling unsafe. It has everything to do with my safety.
“Babe, I really have to go.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” With one last kiss she says, “Go. Before I handcuff you to the bed and throw the key in the ocean.”
“Hmm,” I contemplate her threat. “That’s not going to get me out of here.”
“Sorry.” Another kiss, another hug, and another kiss. “I love you. Please, please be careful.” Another kiss. “And don’t forget my xo.” Another hug. “Love you.” Another kiss.
“That’s it.” I lift her from her waist, move her about three feet into the apartment, and dash out the door. Once it’s closed, I demand through the wood, “Lock it. Love you.”
She giggles and I hear the latch of the lock in the jam. “Love you, too.”
In the hallway, I snap out of Ella mode and into cop mode.
“Hey,” I acknowledge the guard outside her door.
He nods and smiles. “Have a great day.”
“Thanks.” I nod back. How can I possibly respond to that? Do I wish him a great day as he stands outside my girlfriend’s door for hours and hours, protecting her from the mob?
Fuck my life.
This day will not be fun, and I’m both dreading and anxious for details to be ironed out. The sooner a plan is formed, the sooner this will be done with.
In the elevator, I glance up at the added security camera feeding directly to headquarters. I do the same with the four positioned in different corners of the lobby, each capturing every inch of the space.
An agent works the desk. His name is Grunn, Grubb? I can’t remember. I can’t keep them straight in my head. I should learn their names and get to know them. They are protecting the most important person in my life.
My nondescript compact rental car sits in the garage. I hate driving. It’s one of the best things about living in New York. No need to ever drive. I could have Rob driving us in today, but if I need to take off for home at any moment, I need to be able to without anyone slowing me down.
Rob said Andrea is freaking out over this whole thing. She doesn’t know details. He did tell her Ella’s murderer is connected to the mob. He didn’t explain who Ella is. When the time comes, that’s Ella’s truth to tell. Ella is “recuperating” at home from emergency surgery. That’s the story circulating at their office.
By the time I get into headquarters, I am in severe need of caffeine. I send my xo text to Ella adding an “I love you” as well and grab a few cups of coffee to carry into the briefing room. Farley isn’t one to supply food or drink when he keeps us locked up. I need these to get me through to our first break.
A few agents are already sitting, waiting for things to begin. There’s going to be a dozen or so all sitting around a table brainstorming.
“How is she?” Farley asks when I find a seat at the table.
“She’s okay.”
Rob enters minutes after I do, carrying his own tray of coffee. He meets my eye and smirks. We could share, but we won’t. He sits beside me and asks, “Is she okay?”
“Freakishly okay. I’ll fill you in later.”
“Okay, let’s get started. Politto.” Farley points to the fucker’s face on the whiteboard. “The objective is to taunt Politto. He’s cocky and invincible. He’s been photographed smiling directly at the cameras capturing his image. He’s a ball-busting fuck who thinks he’s above the law and smarter than it. So then, how do we get him to take the bait?”
Ella, that’s how, I think to myself. My coffee suddenly tastes sour in my mouth.
Farley points to Razzo. “Razzo wants out. Politto won’t let him.” Farley makes brief eye contact with me before turning his back to us. “Razzo knows where Ms. Volante is.”
Rob glances my way as I sit seething in my chair. This is impossible. I can’t sit here discussing the trade of my girlfriend for scum. I regret not listening to Rob months ago, when all this shit began, and walking away from this case. I wasn’t with Ella then, I’d just met her. If I weren’t involved, would she be in this predicament now? There’s no way to know. She could have been in a much worse situation where she was on Pollitto’s radar, but not necessarily the FBI’s.
I can’t play the “what if” game now. It’s a waste of energy.
Every so often an agent makes an asinine suggestion that I immediately squash down. Release a picture of Ella anonymously. Cause an emergency at one of his gyms with Ella. Fabricate a story and deliver it with Razzo that Smyth will disclose Ella’s location to Politto in exchange for jury tampering.
Fucking morons.
The last suggestion to have Ella contact Politto claiming she has a flash drive loaded with evidence against him that her mother had in her possession, has me standing up and spewing, “Are you fucking kidding me?” to the fuck-face who suggested it.
“Stone.”
I glare at Farley and sit angrily, stewing over these assholes and their insensitivity to the whole situation.
Hours later, and we are getting nowhere. Farley breaks for lunch, asking me and Rob to stay put.
“You need to calm the fuck down.” He points a finger at me like I’m a child. “You aren’t her boyfriend in this room, you’re a cop! Got me?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I brought you two on because you are the best in the city. You need to get your head OUT of your ass and get your head in the game.”
He’s right. I’m not helping anyone with my attitude. “I’m in the game. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” He storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Rob looks at me sympathetically but doesn’t speak.
“I feel like I’m literally walking her before a firing squad.” Frustration is an understatement. I am beyond frustrated.
“I know. But we need to think as cops, and not as two people who love her and don’t want her hurt. The latter will not save her life.” He waits a few seconds to let his words sink in. “Ben, you need to be her Superman.”