The 'Burg: Hold On Part 33

At that, Jones thankfully decided he was done.

I knew this when he stepped away from Merry and muttered, "I see that I'll need to find alternative avenues to understanding Lowe's psyche."

"How's this? The man was jacked," Merry told him.

At these words, Jones's face screwed up in a weird way that didn't seem right to me.

But Merry wasn't done talking, and as he kept going, Jones's face shifted back to annoyance before I could figure it out.

"And that s.h.i.t was textbook. There wasn't anything new there, and you've got to have studied him so you know that's the straight up truth. What you intend to do is not a service to the community, man. Be honest with yourself. And you f.u.c.k with people's lives that they pieced together after that maniac ripped them apart, be honest with them that you're doin' this for cash in your pocket, book tours, and in hopes of seein' your name on a film credit."

That took Jones from annoyed and frustrated to p.i.s.sed.

"Small-town cop who thinks he knows it all but doesn't know d.i.c.k. I'll confirm you don't know d.i.c.k since you sure as f.u.c.k do not know me," he clipped.

That didn't sound very FBI-like.

Then again, what did I know? I'd only met a couple of them and, thankfully, our a.s.sociations were brief.

"Small-town cop in the 'burg rocked by Dennis Lowe's lunacy, and we've seen a lot of a.s.sholes like you," Merry returned. "You're standing outside the home of a woman Lowe f.u.c.ked with that you underestimated, 'cause I'm tellin' you now, you're actually lucky you're dealin' with me. If I let her loose on you, she'd grind you to nothing. And that woman is my woman. So do not stand outside my woman's home and tell me what I don't know. I know you. I can see right through you. And all I see is ugliness and greed."

"This conversation is over," Jones murmured, beginning to move down the walk.

"It's about f.u.c.kin' time," Merry decreed.

Jones kept walking, but he looked over his shoulder to hurl, "Small-town cop, small mind, and too stupid to know it doesn't make him smart to have the last word."

To my shock, at that biting retort, Merry busted out laughing.

Then I got it.

Jones didn't leave the last word to Merry. He took it. Which meant he'd called his own d.a.m.ned self stupid.

I grinned.

Merry stopped laughing and stood, arms still on his chest, watching Jones walk to his rental car at the curb.

I stayed inside the door as Merry and I both watched Jones get in it, start it up, and drive away.

Merry turned his head to watch it go down the street.

I kept waiting.

Then he dropped his head and shifted to move up the steps of my stoop toward me.

I opened the door and opened my mouth to share with him how totally awesome he was, but I didn't get a word out before he lifted his head, looked at me and I saw the ice still in his eyes.

I held the door, unable to move until he put his hand on it and kept moving toward me, which meant I had to move out of his way.

The storm whispered then banged and Merry locked it.

Then he slammed my front door, and locked that.

But he slammed it, the unexpected noise sounding loud in my silent living room, making me jump then slowly, step by step, retreat.

He again turned eyes of blue ice to me.

"That happen to you a lot?" he asked.

His conversational tone didn't fool me, so I kept retreating.

"Stop moving," he ordered.

I stopped moving.

"That happen to you a lot, Cher?" he pushed.

I opened my mouth, but my movement was again slowed by his vibe filling the air so full, it weighed on me.

Suddenly, he leaned forward and roared, "That happen to you a lot?"

"Not so much anymore, Merry," I answered.

"Not so much anymore," he repeated after me.

"Sometimes," I shared carefully.

"Ethan open the door to that s.h.i.t?" he asked.

"No," I answered and thankfully did not lie.

"They call?" he kept at me.

Slowly, I nodded but added verbally, "Not so much anymore with that either."

"Then, they don't get what they want 'cause you shut them down, they come to the door?"

"Yeah, but not so much," I reiterated. "Not anymore. Swear, Merry."

"Think they're targeting the weak," he stated.

"Maybe it starts like that, but if they make it to my door, I handle it and educate them different."

"You handle it," Merry again repeated after me.

"Merry," I whispered.

At the sound of his name, suddenly and without warning, he charged me. Automatically, I retreated and had to do it fast, so I tripped over my feet. Thankfully, that happened in a strategic place, so when I started to fall back, my shoulders slammed against the wall instead of me landing on my a.s.s.

I could make no further move because Merry was so close to me, he was fencing me in.

Even if he wasn't, he grabbed my wrist, lifted my hand, and pressed it to the wall over my head.

I sucked in a sharp breath of surprise and held it, lifting my other hand toward his chest, not knowing if I intended to rest it there in an attempt to calm him or push it against him in an attempt to escape.

I wouldn't find out because he caught that wrist too, and then both of them were pinned to the wall over my head.

"Is there an us?" he asked.

My b.r.e.a.s.t.s brushed his chest as I started breathing heavily.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, Cher, is there an us?" he clipped.

"I want there to be."

f.u.c.k!

It came out because he was freaking me out.

f.u.c.k!

"Then there's an us," he declared firmly.

Oh G.o.d.

He wanted that to be too.

That made me unimaginably happy.

And it scared the absolute f.u.c.king s.h.i.t out of me.

"And there bein' an us, Cher, that means you're mine. Ethan's mine. Are you followin' me?"

"Merry-"

"Yes or no, you followin' me?"

I swallowed and it hurt that mid-throat it hitched because I needed way more than my normal oxygen in that moment and shutting my mouth to swallow meant not sucking in air.

"Answer me, sweetheart," he ordered.

"Yes, I'm followin' you."

He adjusted my wrists to hold them in one hand so he could rest his other hand at my upper chest, right at the base of my throat.

This did not mean he was calming down or about to let me go.

It meant something else.

I just didn't know what.

Yet.

"You're followin' me, which means you get me, which means from now on, any a.s.shole phones you, you tell me," he commanded.

That was when it occurred to me that his motions were claiming.

s.h.i.t.

"Okay, Merry." I thought it sensible in his current mood to agree.

His hand at the base of my throat slid down, and suddenly, I wasn't uncertain about the situation.

Well, not true. My head still was, but my body was having a different reaction.

"They come to the door, you do not lose your mind on them. I'm not close, you shut the door in their face and call me immediately."

"Okay, Merry," I repeated.

His hand kept going down.

"You don't look after yourself. That's not your job anymore, Cher. You leave that to me."

Oh G.o.d, G.o.d, G.o.d, my eyes were burning even as the backs of my knees were tingling.

"Cher," he prompted harshly.

"Okay, honey."

"You don't go it alone, not anymore, not in anything, with a.s.sholes like that guy or anybody who tries to get to you, 'cause while we ride this out, you don't need that fortress. You don't need it because you got me," he declared.

I nodded, at that moment, his words penetrating, I was unable to speak.

His hand had slid between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down my belly, and his fingers shoved into the top of my jeans when he stated, "No one f.u.c.ks with you, Cher. Not ever. But they sure as f.u.c.k do not show at your door and f.u.c.k with you."

Without my permission, my eyes fell to his mouth as I whispered in agreement, "No one f.u.c.ks with me."

He undid the b.u.t.ton on my jeans.

I drew in a soft, audible breath.

"Baby," he called.

My eyes drifted up to his the exact moment his hand shoved inside my jeans then my panties and his middle finger hit my c.l.i.t.

Oh yes, Merry was claiming.

My lips parted, a gust of breath whispering through as my eyes floated closed.