CHAPTER SIX
Jillian
STARING OUT THE WINDOW, the sun crawls across the sky, the moon stalking behind it. My mind and body are so confused, and my soul is beyond repenting. Everything I’ve ever known, preached at for Christ’s sake, has been thrown to the wind. Whipped up in a desert storm, only to fall in a debris of chaos. Chaos that makes up the Sin City Outlaws.
Our attraction was a mistake from the beginning, when that desire grew into love it became punishing.
Our relationship is fucked up, forbidden even. Couples who have been together for years don’t go through the shit we’ve gone through. I bite my bottom lip in thought. However, Zeek has stood by my side the whole time. Even when I pushed him away.
I guess being here isn’t the worst idea, those who know me wouldn’t think to look for me here.
The door to the bedroom flings open, slamming against the wall so hard I jump. I close my eyes, not wanting to deal with Zeek right now. I just can’t work through what’s going on in my head right now. I hate Zeek, but I love Zeek. Feeling the two is a constant battle. Like Heaven and Hell playing on the same field.
The bed dips with force, what sounds like a bottle slamming on the nightstand. Reaching over, he takes my cuffs off, and I instantly rub at the sensitive flesh. I can’t help it.
Silence fills the room, along with a tension so thick, it’s impenetrable.
“You know, I don’t think I ever said it, but I’m sorry for everything, Jillian.” His words come out relaxed and pained at the same time. I clench my eyes, trying to resist the tears slipping from them, but it’s no use. The smell of whiskey hits me strongly, and I realize he’s drunk. “If I had known he was your father, I would have never—” He chokes on his words, swallowing loudly.
“I know you think I’m a piece of shit, a bad guy who doesn’t give a fuck, and you’d be partially right. I am a bad guy; the worst kind. But when it comes to you, I give all the fucks and I would never do something to hurt you, not like that.”
My lungs scream for me to let go and sob, to suck in a gut wrenching breath while a heartfelt cry rips up my throat. I want him so badly, but I feel like us being together is just doomed for nothing but consequences and repercussions. My hands flex, wanting so badly to turn and clench Zeek’s shirt while I seek comfort in his strong hold. To just fucking let go already.
That’s all I’ve wanted since that night, but it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be fair to my father.
“Your dad wasn’t the greatest guy. In fact…” He pauses, and my tears pause, my harsh breathing seizes, nervous of the words he’s about to spill. “Technically, he killed my father. Looks like the graveyard of Las Vegas is filled with Machiavellian men.”
“Stop,” I whisper, the word coming out more of a croak. My hands wrap around my stomach in disbelief, my body beginning to rock. This can’t be. My father wouldn’t do that, if he did kill Zeek’s dad it was because he was breaking the law and doing his job. Right?
I’m not so sure anymore, and that hurts most of all.
“Your father worked for us,” he continues. His statement hitting what in my heart I know, but didn’t want to acknowledge.
“When my uncle told me I was to kill my father, I laced a cigarette in Ricin, and met up with a certain sheriff to deliver it. Your father was the Reaper that night. He was as dirty as they come, Jillian, he did a lot of things that tainted his hands in the eyes of the justice system. He was fine with it, because he got paid for it in a lot of ways.”
“Stop, Zeek,” I whisper, not wanting to hear anymore. The respectable memory of my dad slowly crumbling. “If your father was trying to take someone down, and it turned out that certain someone was standing in the way of Sin City Outlaws then we delivered them to your father’s department, and, in return, he turned a blind eye to our endeavors when we needed him to.”
Squeezing my eyes shut I feel my world slip from beneath me.
“Your father warned you to stay away from us, forbid you to bring us down because…he was one of us. He was a murderer, a criminal behind a fake badge.”
“STOP!” I scream, turning in my spot I set an icy stare focused right on Zeek.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Rookie.” He grabs the whiskey bottle, curling his lips around the top. Amber liquid spills into his mouth, his eyes hooded, and focused right on me. His thick dark hair falling into his eyes conveying he’s not sorry at all. My eyes grow heavy, my mouth hanging open as my nostrils flare. My confusion teeters on the edge of sadness and anger. “Now you can stop blaming me for everything though.”
Words of anger sit in my chest, ready to spill. “You’re such a son of a bitch!” I seethe. Grabbing the whiskey bottle from his grip, I shove off the bed. “Zeek, I’m angry. Everything I’ve ever known or cared about has been ripped from my hands in the last two days. I don’t expect you to understand that.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Fuck you!”
He grabs my hand, stopping me. I pull at my hand, and glare at him. “Let go!”
“No, we’re going to fucking talk about this. What happened with your dad, I don’t expect you to ever forget, Jillian, but—we are fucking talking about it.”
“Talk, now you want to talk? What, you want to sit down and do the couple thing now that everything has fucking gone to shit!?” I feel high on anger, my heart thundering in my chest. His face hardens, his grip tightening on my wrist.
“Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact, and you’re going to sit here and play the happy fucking couple, goddamn it!” He tugs hard, forcing me to sit back on the bed, causing me to nearly drop the whiskey.
“Why are you doing this? Why are we doing this? Look at us?” I gesture between us. “We are a fucking mess, we don’t belong together!” I shout. “How about that for starters?”
“You’re right, we don’t. It’s been fucking hell since the beginning, but that’s because we’re defying the odds.” His grip lightens, catching my attention. “Do you want to be with me, Jillian?”
His words catch me off guard, my wall of anger crumbles. “Wh-what?”
“It’s a simple fucking question, do you want to be with me?”
I stand, and rub at the tender flesh of my wrist deep in thought.
The question is anything but simple. I do want to be with Zeek, but how? That is the question that has been plaguing my mind, making me so angry. I’m a sheriff, and he’s an outlaw. How could we ever work, and that’s saying if we make it through this shit? Which isn’t looking promising at the moment.
Who else will get hurt because of our selfishness? Can he still be president if he’s with me? It’s his life, just like being a sheriff is mine. I don’t think I can take the only thing he’s ever known away from him. I just…can’t. That is when it hits me like a stack of bricks…I don’t hate Zeek. I’ve hated myself, and I’ve hated my father, but never Zeek.
Depending on who you ask, they say love can bring the worst or best out in a person.
Which am I?
“I—I don’t know, Zeek.”
I slam the door behind me, my chest heaving as a sob I can’t control anymore shakes my entire body.
Taking the cap off the bottle I take a huge sip, instantly regretting the amount I just took in when it burns my mouth like acid. Closing my eyes, I swallow. The liquid so strong it slows in my throat, threatening to retreat.
Using the back of my hand I wipe at tears that I didn’t even know were there, and look around the room.
I can’t believe I’m in a damn trap house. Alessandra would probably love it, curious as to how they run things. I miss her so much.
My toes press into the soft carpet as I make my way to the desk chair behind the table with the scale and empty baggies. Using the hand not holding the whiskey, I caress the top of the scale. I have seen these a million times in the department—confiscated ones even. Ones that had been wiped clean of any evidence. This one, though, has a faint dusting of white powder. Rubbing my index finger and thumb together, the powder is soft, like baby powder. Cocaine.
Sighing loudly, I shove the scale off the table, and sit in the chair. Slamming the whiskey bottle on the tabletop.
The voice of my father preaching about doing the right thing echoes in my head. Things he said, but didn’t mean. Not when he’s beaten them into my head, then turned around and did the opposite.
Taking another big sip of the whiskey, my eyes focus on the radio sitting on the fireplace.
Music, I need sound. Anything to shut these fucking voices up in my head. Quickly I jump from my seat and head towards it. Flicking it on, “Used To Love You” by Gwen Stefani is playing. Pressing the top of the whiskey bottle to my lips I sing a few lyrics, and take another swig.
The burden that I was responsible for my father’s death becomes fuzzy, but not quite enough. The whiskey flows down my throat causing my body to swarm with a blissful numbness.
“One day, Jilly Bean, you’ll have a shiny badge, and you will get to put all the bad guys away.”
Rubbing my little fingers along my father’s shiny badge, my eyes lit up. I never wanted to do anything else ever again. To hell with figure skating, or modeling. I wanted to hold a gun and put bad guys away. From this day forward, it was my dream.
“Just like you, Daddy?” I asked, looking at the badge in awe.
He sighed, taking the badge from my fingers. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to hold it just a little longer. Having it in my hands I felt like I was holding Poseidon’s Trident, something with magical powers. I could hold this up and everyone would do what I wanted.
“Jillian, baby, let’s hope you’ll do a way better job than Daddy.” He fluffed my blonde hair, and walked away.
Opening my eyes, tears stream down my face.
My father was dirty, a murderer, Zeek said. My dad led me into a war I wasn’t prepared for. Realization strikes my subconscious that if I didn’t have Zeek, I’d be in a grave next to my dad. I wonder if Mom knows?
My hands sweep up my scalp and tangle in my hair.
I cry so hard my vision blurs and when I turn my head to look at the door that holds the beast, Zeek is standing there watching me. The beast I threw everything away for, the one who threw everything away for me. The animal that is here to save me.
The radio switches to Saliva playing “Always.”
Standing on wobbly feet, sloshing more booze down my throat my eyes never leave his.
Black briefs hug his hips snugly. His body tanned and outlined in perfection, that fucking V leading right into those tight briefs. I’ve been fighting my love for him, denying him out of respect to my hypocrite father.
I’ve pushed him away trying to do the right thing, not only for me, but him.
I’m so sick of doing the right fucking thing. It’s all I’ve ever done, and it’s so exhausting, and painfully lonely.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, blinking slowly.
A tear slides down my face and slips across my nose as I finally give into the fight. I wait for that nagging pain from loving my father’s murderer to strike my chest, but it doesn’t come.
My conscience just doesn’t give a shit anymore.
I tried so hard to give my father the benefit of the doubt. I tried not to turn on my family of blue…But not anymore. My father doesn’t deserve my tears anymore. It’s time for me to stop this pity party, and take back what was mine. Look forward to the future and build my own path in the McAdams’ name.
He strides toward me, his steps slow, his eyes focused on mine. He has that look, the one where he is going to grab me and kiss me stupid. My heart beats wildly, my fingers that were holding the whiskey loosening, allowing the neck of the bottle to slip through them. The bottom of the bottle hitting the floor, splashing whiskey on my feet before spilling onto the carpet. I can’t deny it any longer, I need his touch. I feel like I’m drowning without him, even if he’s the reason for this pain, I can’t breathe without him.
He grips the back of my neck, looking down at me with a look of hunger, protection, and dominance.
My lips part, my eyes growing heavy.
“You don’t hate me,” he whispers. “I may be one of the darkest creatures God put on this green Earth, but he put me in your path for a reason, Rookie. Some of the sweetest things wouldn’t exist on Earth without the man eating beasts to protect it.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as I ponder that. It reminds of pilot fish in the ocean, they stay close to the sharks because predators are afraid of it. Now it all makes sense.
“Just kiss me. We can talk later.” My voice thick with booze and emotion. I want him to ravish me with his strong hands, push me to the brink of pleasure to push out thoughts of abandonment.
He lowers his lips, almost touching mine but stops. Those dark eyes looking right into my soul, making me feel things I don’t want to succumb to.
“Tell me no, tell me to walk away,” he whispers, his words hit my chest hard. He nearly said the same thing before we had our very first kiss. His brows narrow, his eyes hooded with sincerity. I couldn’t tell him no then…and I can’t now.
“Yes.”
“You stupid girl.” He smiles. Like a wolf does right before it devours its prey. Maliciously.
Zeek gently presses his lips to mine, his mouth taking my upper lip in a tender hold. My toes curl into the carpet, the feelings of lust, infatuation, and love striking my chest so hard that what little salvation I have is pulled from me. Placing both my hands on his hard chest, it’s warm beneath my palms, his hard build alluring as ever. I miss touching him, the security and comfort brought an addiction of its own. Pulling back to catch my breath, he grabs me from under the thighs quickly, lowering me to the carpet with ease.
“Your arm!” I warn, scared lifting me is going to hurt him.
“Fuck my arm.” His husky voice hits me in all the right places, his full pink lips forming a full smile.
Hooking my legs around his waist, he grips my wrists and anchors them above my head. His hand sliding from my hips up my stomach slow and savoring, like he’s burning every curve, every freckle to memory before cupping my tit firmly. The smell of Jack Daniels strong as it soaks into the carpet beneath us.
“Goddamn, I missed you,” he whispers, grinding his hard cock against me. “Your softness, your fragile body beneath mine, it fucking draws me in a way I can’t figure out, baby.”
“I missed you, too,” I moan.
Letting go of my hands, he rips the blouse I’m wearing apart with such a rush it surprises me. His mouth engulfs my sensitive nipple like a starved man. The look on his face, so fucking hot I whimper in response.
He nips at the soft tissue of my tit, while the other hand grips my other breast vigorously. His touch transitions from something gentle and warm, to possessive and rough. I missed it so fucking much, and right now I need rough. I demand to be manhandled. Making the feelings that are flying around in my head and chest find roots somewhere else while I give myself to Zeek in a tangle of moans and limbs.
He skims his lips along my collarbone, the feeling of his scruff along my soft skin amazing. My back arches off the floor, a mewl spilling from my lips.
“You still hate me, baby?” I nod my head yes, rolling my lips over each other as sweet desire ripples up my limbs. I don’t know why I nod, I think I’d agree to anything at this point as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing. He stills, an evil grin spreading across his face. “I guess I’ll just have to fuck the hate out of you then.” His lips curve into a devilish smile, his eyes darkening. Butterflies fill my stomach, just like the first time I ever laid eyes on Zeek.
Gripping my hips, he flips me onto my stomach and pulls down my panties in one quick move.
“Hold on.”
A moan that resembles a desperate cry trembles my lips in a frantic plea for him to go faster. Looking over my shoulder, I push my ass out even more and watch as he pulls himself from his boxers, stroking himself as his eyes focus on my exposed wetness. My pussy clenches, everything below my belly button throbbing with longing to have him desperately thrust into me hard and fast.
He pushes the head of his dick in between my wet lips, spreading my arousal around.
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, before thrusting forward so hard, I fall from my position. He fills me to the point I can’t take anymore, his girth stretching me to where it’s borderline painful. The fullness of his cock buried so deep inside me makes my eyes roll in the back of my head. I could live like this, him inside of me, not moving. The tranquility it brings is a drug my body relies on to survive. Some women take pills, or talk to a therapist about their problems, I just need Zeek to fuck my brains out.
Slowly he pulls out till the head of his length reaches my lips, then he drives into me hard, causing me to groan loudly. My fingers claw into the wet carpet, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. He drives into me again and again. Skin slapping skin, my knees slipping along the whiskey-soaked carpet as if I were on a goddamn slip and slide.
“God, yes!” I cry, meeting his thrusts eagerly. My lungs scream as I begin to lose my breath, my mouth going dry as I practically pant for more.
His hands slide around my waist and up my stomach cupping my breast, pulling me from the floor. My back against his chest now.
“Say, you believe me about everything.”
“I—I believe you!” I cry, my head flinging back onto his shoulder. His hand slides up my collarbone gently grabbing me by the throat.
“Say you’re mine,” he whispers into my ear, his fingers digging into the soft skin of my throat.
“Yours.” With my release in sight, I’d say anything right now.
“Know that you will forever be mine, Jillian. I’ve never loved anyone before, but what I feel for you, I ain’t just going to let you walk away, baby.” Teeth bite down on my shoulder, and a powerful warmth explodes into my lower half so hard, I instantly go languid in his arms. Warmth knifes through my body so wildly I go deaf and stars shoot behind my eyes. Zeek grabs at my limp body, driving into me harder and harder. Fucking me like a rag doll, until he roars with his release so loud my hearing snaps back to normal. We both slump limply to the floor, our bodies tangled in a mess of sex, whiskey, and sweat.
My knees sting from rug burn and my body is sticky with alcohol and cum. But I’m the most at peace that I’ve been in days.
“Still hate me?”
I frown, because if it’s one thing I’ve learned…I can never hate Zeek. Not even if he killed me himself. I’d go to the grave loving this man.
“Why didn’t you tell me about who my father was when we left Vegas?”
He sighs, his fingers trailing up and down my arm blissfully. Turning my head, I look into his dark eyes, ones that are capable of love one second and putting a rifle to someone’s head the next.
“You had enough falling apart at your feet, I didn’t think letting you believe your father was the hero you thought he was a little bit longer was such a bad thing. Even if it meant you hated me, it was worth it.”
I lace my fingers with his, wanting to be touching him. This right here is why I love him. He may do the most terrible things, things that are unimaginable to any normal person but it’s the things in between that hooked me so quickly.
“Looks like we do have something in common,” I mutter. He looks at me with a puzzled look. “We both have shitty parents.”
“It’s fitting. Our dads got into each other’s pockets when we were kids, they started it all.”
“What do you mean?”
Running the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip his forehead creases. “You sure you want to hear all of this?”
I nod. As much as this is going to hurt, hearing how bad of a man my father—Lieutenant Oaks—really was I need to hear it. “I need to know what’s real and what isn’t if I have any hope in piecing things back together.”
Scratching his head, he takes a deep breath.
“Here is what I know. Every man has his price, my dad was an expert at finding that weakness. In fact, it’s one of the most useful tools he taught me. Your father’s was power; his job. My dad bait and switched clubs all around the Las Vegas area, turning the leaders of gangs and clubs into the hands of your father. Your dad went up the ranks with how many criminals he was taking off the street, some had been wanted for ages.”
My head throbs with the information, things clicking into place that didn’t before. “I remember him telling me he got Lieutenant so quickly because he followed the rules and that literally brought the criminals to his front door.” I shake my head angrily. “He was a liar.”
Zeek chuckles, “In a way, he was kind of right.”
“You said he was a murderer?” The words come out painfully.
“You sure you want to know?” He runs a hand along my spine. I nod, biting my lip to keep from bawling.
“A clean deputy caught your dad and Frank dealing one night, and your dad buried him.”
I suck in a breath so sharp I cough. Zeek slaps my back, helping me catch my breath.
“You okay?” My lips purse, and tears race out of my eyes.
“When your dad got Lieutenant, and my dad became the most outlawed club member in the west, things went sour between the department and club.”
I roll over onto my stomach, resting my head on my arms. Fixated on the wall as Zeek continues to explain how Lieutenant Oaks was an outlaw himself, and put my mother and me in danger without us even knowing it. Him allowing me into the department with a blind eye was like strapping a ticking time bomb to my chest. Closing my eyes, pieces that never seemed to make sense as I was growing up fall into place.
“Lieutenant or not, how is that enough to pay off the mortgage, Larry?” My mother slapped the bill down on the table. I was peeking around the corner, watching them carry on their fight.
“Caroline, don’t question how much money I make, or what I bring into this household. I paid it off, you should be thanking me.”
“You have been acting really strange lately, I don’t even know who you are anymore.” My mother rubs at her forehead, her voice warning she’s about to cry.
My father throws his hands out like he doesn’t know what to do.
“Caroline, I have just been,” he pauses, and looks down at the floor. “It’s not easy being responsible for so many deputies, I’m doing my best. The money came from a bonus, I thought it would be nice to pay it off so we didn’t have to worry about it.”
My mother looks up, wiping her face. “You promise?”
My father smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes, dear.”
“How could I have been so blind?” I whisper, still focused on the wall.