chapter 30
Scarlett
I’M DRIVING TO JAXON’S when I see a policeman on a motorbike coming up in my rearview mirror. He signals for me to stop, so I turn onto the side of the road and wait for him to approach. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong: I was driving the speed limit and I can’t think of any other reason he’d have to pull me over. He climbs off his motorcycle and approaches my window, which I quickly wind down.
“License and registration, please,” he demands, glancing at me and then over the car.
I grab my purse and take out my driver’s license and the papers from the glove box and hand them to him.
“Scarlett Reyes,” he murmurs, and I pick up a hint of distaste in his tone. Instantly, I’m on alert. I don’t always trust police, because I’m more than aware that there are good ones and bad ones. If this man has it out for me for no reason, there could be a chance he was friends with Darren. Did he recognize my license plate? Maybe he ran it and saw who the car belonged to. Either way, I start to feel uneasy about the situation. It’s dark outside. I’m driving straight from work to Jaxon’s house, and although the road isn’t completely deserted there aren’t that many cars driving up and down.
“Yes,” I reply, keeping my tone soft and even. “Is something wrong, Officer?”
“Many things are wrong,” he replies, handing me back my license and papers. “Sometimes justice doesn’t always prevail, does it, Ms. Reyes?”
I don’t know what he expects me to say to that, because justice did prevail. Darren got what he deserved, and I’m now free to live a happy life without him. I decide to stay silent because no matter what I reply, there’ll be no right words. Who knows what Darren said about me to his fellow officers? If this man was friends with Darren though, he’s probably just as dirty as Darren was. Filth sticks together. I make sure to remember the officer’s name.
Gilmore.
He taps on my hood and tells me I’m free to go.
I continue on my way feeling confused, scared, and angry.
This whole thing was meant to be over for me, and sure, he didn’t actually do anything, but I still shouldn’t have to deal with this type of behavior from an officer of the law. I’ve done no wrong, I’m guilty of nothing, and I should be treated like any other civilian. I shouldn’t have to deal with some passive aggressive shit from a cop because of who my ex-husband was. I don’t want to be dealing with the past anymore. Darren crosses my mind less and less these days, and everything in my life is finally at a place I never thought it would be. I wake up and go to bed happy, and I have a love that I never thought I’d find. I never knew men like Jaxon even existed outside of movies and books, but here I am.
My own heroine.
In a story I finally like.
I tell myself this is a one-off thing, and I should forget it. I won’t run into this man again, and who cares if Darren’s friends are sour. I won; they lost. Not only did I win, justice won. If they can’t see that then . . .
They don’t deserve that badge they wield around.
I push what happened out of my mind and lift my chin.
I’m not going to let anyone ruin my day.
When I walk into Jaxon’s house using the key he gave me last night after we had dinner, I come to a standstill as I take in the scene before me.
Candles.
Dinner.
Red roses on the center of the table.
And a handsome Jaxon standing there with a single rose in his hand.
“Wow,” I say, smiling wide. “What’s the occasion?”
He grins and closes the space between us, handing me the rose and kissing my lips softly.
“I love you,” he tells me. “I wanted to find the right moment to tell you. So I decided to create the right moment instead.”
I take the rose, shaking my head in disbelief, pure happiness spreading throughout my body. I jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around him.
He loves me.
I’ve known that I’m in love with him for some time now, but I didn’t say the words. I didn’t want to jinx what we have, or scare him off, but deep inside I knew.
And he loves me back.
“I love you too, Jaxon,” I say, kissing him deeply, then looking into his eyes. “You have no idea how much.”
His hands, holding me up by the curve of my ass, tighten on me. “I think I do know how much,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “I can tell by the way you take care of me. I will never take that, or you, for granted, Scarlett.”
Another kiss, one I smile through, in fact I don’t think I’ll stop smiling for the remainder of the night. He lowers me to the floor, and I slide down his body, give him another tight hug then move to the table to see what he’s cooked tonight.
“Steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and garlic bread,” I say, my mouth watering. “You did well, Jaxon. Maybe I should let you into the kitchen a little more, especially when you do all this.”
I lift the rose that’s still in my hand to my nose, breathing in the sweet scent. Jaxon pulls a chair out for me and gestures for me to sit. I take my seat and lay the rose down next to my plate. I was going to tell Jaxon about the cop, but I’m not going to ruin this moment. I’ll tell him about it another time. Tomorrow, maybe, or the day after.
Right now though, I don’t want this moment to end.
Jaxon Bentley is in love with me.
Me.
The same woman who once stayed with an abusive man because she didn’t feel she was strong enough to leave. Didn’t feel like she was worthy. A victim. A woman who never smiled, and one who didn’t think she was beautiful enough to ever attract the attention of another man. It feels like a lifetime ago, and a whole different person.
I lift up my glass of red wine, and make a toast. “To love.”
“To my love,” Jaxon clarifies, raising his glass, then bringing it to his lips.
His love.
I’ll never tire of hearing those words.
I’ll never stop loving this man.
IN NOTHING BUT A silk white nightdress, I open the fridge and scan the contents inside of it. Grabbing the milk carton, I close the door with my hip then scream, the milk dropping to the floor. Jaxon runs into the kitchen, switching the light on, looking like he’s ready to kill someone, his body tense and braced for some kind of altercation.
“What the fuck?” he grits out, looking at the third person in the room.
“What are you doing here?” I yell. “You scared the crap out of me! Did you have to come and stand so close to me in the dark? What the hell is wrong with you? And . . .” I pause, and study him. “Are you bleeding?”
“Yeah,” he replies, looking down at his arm, which he’s got covered with a ball of what looks like a flannel top, to stop the bleeding. “I got into a fight. And got stabbed.”
Worry fills me. “I’ll grab the first-aid kit.”
I rush into the bathroom and grab it. When I walk back into the room, I see Jaxon examining Demon’s wound. Why is Jaxon not angry that there’s a Wind Dragon who apparently broke into his house? And how did Demon even know where we live?
“What’s going on here?” I ask, and Jaxon immediately straightens and steps back from Demon. I’m missing something here, I know it. Do these two know each other? And if so, how? This makes absolutely no sense.
“Just seeing how deep the cut is,” Jaxon says, holding his hand out for me to pass him the kit. “I think he’s going to need stitches. We might need to go to the hospital.”
“If I could go to the hospital I wouldn’t have come here,” Demon points out, shaking his head. “I can’t go there. The cops are up the MC’s ass right now and I don’t need them asking questions as to how this injury came about.”
“And how did it come about?” Jaxon asks, cleaning the wound, and not being too gentle about it.
“I’m a biker. We get into the occasional fight,” Demon replies, not bothering to elaborate or give an actual reason. “I know I shouldn’t have come here, but your house was close by, and like I said, I can’t go to the hospital, okay?”
“Jaxon, why are you not surprised that Demon is in your house?” I ask, needing answers.
Demon glances at me, then at Jaxon. “I didn’t know she’d be here. Her car wasn’t out front.”
“It’s in the garage,” I say, pursing my lips together. “Explain. Now.”
“I’m about to pass out from blood loss, Scar, give a man a break,” Demon says, wincing as Jaxon pokes around his wound. I step closer, trying to see what he’s doing to the poor man. The cut looks nasty, quite deep and painful-looking. I don’t know how he’s standing there acting like everything is fine. I decide to grab a glass and pour him some Scotch. When I hand it to him, he flashes me a grateful look. “You’re a keeper, Scar.”
He downs it, so I pour him another.
He downs that too.
“I’m going to have to stitch it myself,” Jaxon says, sighing. “Let’s just fucking hope it doesn’t get infected, Demon. Or else you will have to go to the hospital or lose your fucking arm.”
Demon sends me a pleading look, so I quickly pour him another drink. Jaxon heads into his room and comes back with a needle.
I pour myself a drink this time.
Jaxon stitches, and Demon doesn’t make a noise, not even a whimper. Once Jaxon’s done, he examines his work and mutters, “A doctor needs to look at this. I can drive you out of town so no one knows who you are. This isn’t something to fuck around with.”
“Fine,” Demon mutters, but he can’t hide the relief in his tone.
I wait until they’re finished before I start the interrogation, because they have some damn explaining to do.