I nod, rubbing at my throat. “Water?”
She hands me a cup of water and I sip at it. It relieves my throat instantly. I swallow half the cup, then hand it back to her. “The doctor will be in shortly. I’ll just check your vitals and then we’ll let you know what has happened.”
I nod and stare around the room as she checks my vitals and fills out my chart. An older gentleman comes in a minute later, wearing scrubs. I’m guessing he’s the doctor.
“Ah, Dr. Henry. She’s up.”
The doctor comes in and stops by my bed, looking down at me. “Hi there, Hartley, how are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a train,” I admit.
He laughs softly. “I imagine. I’ll let you know what procedures you’ve had, get you up to scratch. You had a lot of bumps and bruises, and you were severely dehydrated, so we made sure that was the first thing we took care of. The cut on your head was deep, it took eight stitches, and the swelling behind it was quite severe, but we’re keeping an eye on it. The wound was very close to your eye, and there was some severe swelling there, too. We had to operate to reduce that, but your vision shouldn’t be affected in any way. We’ve also stitched the deep gash on your leg. However, it was directly in muscle, so you were very lucky. Other than that, a lot of rest and fluids is all you’ll need.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Lucky.
I don’t know if I’d call us lucky. Although, we did escape the hands of a serial killer.
That has to count for something.
“Hart?”
My good eye darts to the door, and Ace is standing in it, filling its narrow frame. Tears well in my eyes as I stare at him and take in his broken expression, and the pain he’s flicking in my direction.
“We’ll leave you to it,” the doctor says as he leaves with the nurse.
“Hey, big guy,” I say, but my bottom lip is trembling.
Ace walks over, leans down, and circles those big arms around me, pulling me into him in a way that makes me feel like I’m coming home. His hug is full of affection, and relief, and so much more. His face nuzzles into my neck and his body engulfs mine. He was afraid. I know he was afraid. He didn’t find me. Couldn’t. I can’t even begin to fathom what went through his head for those terrifying moments of his life.
“I couldn’t fucking find you,” he says, pulling back and cupping my chin in one of his big hands. “But … I found him through the support group you told me about. You were right, he was watching girls from there all along, playing the role of a janitor so he could get information. If I had looked into that earlier…”
“It wouldn’t have mattered what you did, he would have found a way,” I say softly. “He was smart. It’s what made him so good. But I’m here. I’m alive. And he’s gone.”
“I’m so fucking sorry. I should have taken you to Taylor’s house…”
“Don’t,” I say, reaching up and cupping his jaw. “This was something he would have found a way to do, no matter what and you know that.”
“Are you okay after experiencing what you did? I know firsthand that it can mess with your head…”
I shake my head, giving him a tired smile. “He wasn’t going to win, Ace. I wasn’t going to let that happen. So outside of these superficial injuries on the outside, he didn’t touch the inside.”
I take his hand and press it over my heart.
“You’re incredibly fuckin’ brave. I saw what happened out there. I saw him. What you both did.”
I swallow and take a shaky breath. “Jacob.”
Ace’s jaw ticks. “He was right there the whole time, under our noses. It’s always someone close.”
“You couldn’t have known. I didn’t even know. He was good, Ace. He had everything mapped out, perfectly planned.”
Ace nods, stiffly, but he does nod. “He’s gone now, because of you both. You did that. You got yourself and Taylor out, and then you walked over ten miles injured, carrying your friend. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met in my entire fucking life.”
“I could say the same about you, big guy.” I smile weakly. “Hey, Ace?”
He looks at me.
“Why do you think he did it? Did you find out much about him?”
Ace studies me. “We’re still looking, but from what we could tell about the woman who raised him, she was abusive. Possibly physically and sexually. In the few pictures we dug up, she looked very overpowering.”
“He said something about her when I was in there, about her being proud.”
“A lot of the times, killers do have someone they’re trying to make proud of them. It could be that she abused him, made him feel worthless and pathetic. He wanted to prove to her that he wasn’t. He wanted to show her he was strong. He did that in the form of manipulation and violence. In one of the photos, he was wearing a bowtie.”
“Oh,” I say, my chest clenching. “I guess that makes sense why he had that particular style. Still, if she was so cruel to him, so horrible, why would he want to be the same?”
“His mind isn’t like yours and mine, sweetheart. It’s twisted. He had the mind of a sociopath. The cool demeanor he kept, the way he involved himself in your life, that takes skill but it also takes serious lack of emotion. That’s how those kinds of people get to others. They tell wild tales, they make themselves out to be amazing people. They can manipulate anyone. They’re the most dangerous kind.”
“I shiver when I think of the depths he went to, to get to me. The research, the careful skill…”
“He’s gone now,” Ace says kindly, his voice low. “He’s gone.”
“Why do you think he picked women who had lost someone?”
“Losing his mother was his trigger. He was probably feeling the same emotions, only in a twisted, more deranged kind of way. He targeted what he was feeling. He went for people who were alone, and sad, and broken, just like him. He tormented them, probably in ways he was tormented. Perhaps the woman who adopted him tormented him about the loss of someone in his family. It always connects back.”
I think about it, and as much as I’m glad the world has one less crazy out there, I feel bad that Jacob lived that kind of life. The kind of life that led him to do such horrible things. What was his childhood like for him to lose his mind so completely? It makes sense, now that I know more about his story, and I guess I’ll never know what went on in the depths of his brain, but I imagine it was a very traumatized place.
I wonder if he’s at peace now? Maybe that’s how it was supposed to go for him. To switch off the demons.
I shudder.
“Thanks for telling me all that, it … helps,” I whisper.
“Anything for you,” he murmurs.
I smile over at him, so grateful he came into my life. So damned grateful.
He leans down, brushing his lips across mine. “You’re changing everything for me, Hartley Watson.”
I kiss him back, softly. “You’ve already changed everything for me, Ace Henderson.”
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Stop fussing, Hartley,” Taylor groans, slapping my hand away as I try to pull yet another blanket over her. “I’m not a cripple, you know.”
I roll my eyes, reaching for the blanket again, but she slaps it away.
“Stop fighting me, will you?” I snap at her. “You’ve got a serious leg injury, the least you can let me do is cover you up and keep you warm.”
“I can pull my own blanket up.”
I give her a look. “Taylor, you’re three seconds away from getting a swift kick to the shin.”
She pokes a tongue out at me, takes the blanket, and jerks it up her body. “Are you happy now?”
“Not really,” I mutter, eyeing the food on the coffee table beside the sofa.
“I’m not hungry.”
I cross my arms. “Well I’m not leaving until you eat that, so it’s your choice.”
She ma
kes a frustrated sound, but takes the banana I lift off the tray and hand to her. Her leg is in a full-length cast. The doctors had to operate—there was ligament damage, as well as bone damage and a major loss of blood. She’s going to be off it for at least six weeks, and she’s less than impressed about it. Other than that, she fared well, as did I.
Outside of cuts and bruises, and dehydration, we are probably the two luckiest girls in the world, because we escaped the hands of a well-known serial killer in one piece. And we did it together. So she can yell profanities at me as much as she wants, and fuss and carry on, I’m not leaving her side because she didn’t leave mine. We’re in this together.
“I liked you so much better when you were just my best friend, not my nurse,” she grumbles between mouthfuls.
“I see the patient is still complaining?”
I look over my shoulder to see Ace walking into my apartment where Taylor will be staying for a few weeks until she’s able to move around on her own. He’s got a brown paper bag in one hand, two coffees in the other. He looks at Taylor, and she scowls at him, before her eyes drop to the bag. “If there’s muffins in there, you might just be allowed closer.”
He gives her a look, and then thrusts the bag at me. “Two double chocolate, two lattes.”
“You’re amazing.” I smile at him, and then turn to Taylor. “Are you going to stop snapping like a rabid dog so we can share these muffins?”
She huffs but nods, and I sit down at the end of the couch where there is just enough of a gap for me to squeeze my bottom in. I pull out a muffin and hand it to her, and she discards the banana with a quick toss back onto the coffee table. Ace sits down on the sofa across from us, his eyes on mine.
“How are you feeling?”
My eye is still sore and patched up, and the stitches in my head are bugging me, but otherwise I feel good. Really good. I’m alive. I lived in fear for weeks, and then the days we were in Jacob’s clutches … I have been given a second chance and I certainly am not going to waste it.
“I feel good, I’m still tired, but I’m good.”
“She’s obviously not that tired, she’s going to start offering to wipe my butt soon!” Taylor grumbles between mouthfuls.
Ace snorts. “Well, you do owe it to her.”
Taylor rolls her eyes, but smiles at me. She’s lucky I love her.
“We’ve closed the case, informed the other victims’ families about Jacob, so they can finally get closure too,” Ace tells me.
My heart breaks for those three girls who didn’t get the second chance Taylor and I got.
“How did their families take it?” I ask.
Taylor directs her eyes to Ace, listening in.
“They didn’t take it great, but as I said, they got their closure, and because of that, they can finally start moving on with their lives as best they can.”
I nod. Understanding. It doesn’t bring anyone back, but at least now they don’t have to live in fear that there is still someone out there, planning his next hunt, finding his next victim.
“I’m glad they can finally get peace.”
Ace nods. “As can you.”
I exhale and smile. “Yeah. I’m not wasting this second chance. I can’t say the same for Taylor. She’s going to get pushed off the nearest balcony if she keeps it up.”
She flips me off. “You try being an invalid, with no leg.”
“You have a leg, it’s just out of action,” I inform her.
“Same difference.”
“You’re alive, Taylor, don’t forget that,” Ace says, his voice firm, but kind.
She looks to him, scowling, and after a few seconds she exhales and murmurs, “Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not everyone gets a second chance to make their life better, take it for what it is and don’t waste it.”
She ponders this, as do I.
Raymond, Miranda, and those three girls Jacob took before Taylor and me. None of them got a second chance. Their lives were cut short. This is our chance to do something good. To make something of ourselves. To change the world, if that’s what we need. An idea pops into my mind, and my eyes swing to Ace.
“I have an idea.”
His brows go up. “I’m listening.”
“It’s not much, but what if we created something, say a website, where people could come and share their stories of second chances? Be it survival of an illness, recovery from an accident, anything where they have beaten the odds and come out of something alive. I know that when I was afraid, it felt like there was nowhere I could find comfort. I felt like there was no way I’d ever feel okay again.”
“That’s a great idea,” Taylor says, perking up. “Every time you look for something on the internet, all you find are the horror stories, about death, and pain, and heartache. What about if there was a place you could find stories of encouragement, of survival, of miracles and second chances. We could even set it up so people could search stories similar to what they’re going through.”
“Yes!” I cry happily. “Like if they’ve been given bad news about cancer, and want to read how someone has overcome it.”
“Or if they’ve been told they’ll never walk again, or have a serious injury…” Taylor cries throwing her hands up. “It’ll be a place where they can find positive experiences, things to help them get through.”
“I think you girls are onto something,” Ace says, looking at me with those eyes again.
The ones that say he adores me.
The ones that say he’s proud of me.
My heart swells.
“We can add Raymond’s story, and Miranda’s, and even what happened with Jacob as a start. Then we can categorize it all, so people suffering with grief and pain can find stories of how it can get better, of how there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“It’s perfect,” I beam at her.
“It’s more than perfect, it’ll change the world. I’m going to get started, right now. I know some amazing website designers. Quickly, get my laptop.”
I hand her the laptop, and I grab a pen and paper.
And we get to work on changing the world.
One step at a time.
* * *
“You’re so fucking perfect,” Ace murmurs, running his nose up the side of my neck until he meets my jaw. He kisses it softly, before tangling his fingers into my hair, turning my face to the side, and finding my lips.
My fingers glide up his arms, over his biceps, and settle on his shoulders. My legs wrap firmly around his hips, and I kiss him deep, loving how he tastes, loving how he feels, loving every single thing about him. I never thought I’d meet anyone after Raymond who could spark life in my soul, I never thought I’d feel it again, but I have. Ace is showing me that there are second chances, not just at life and recovery, but at love.
Ace is my second chance.
“More,” I whimper when his tongue laps at mine, teasing me, taunting me.
“You want more?” he growls.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He pulls his mouth from mine, sliding down my body until his face is between my legs. He nudges my knees apart, looking up at me with those hooded eyes, before dipping his head and capturing my clit with his mouth. I gasp and thrust upwards, heels digging into the comforter, as his mouth devours me with long, tantalizing licks and fast, powerful thrusts.
“Ace,” I cry out, fingers holding the blanket so hard they ache. “Oh God.”
He works his tongue in fluid movements, building me right up to the edge, before sliding two fingers inside me. I explode, crying his name, thrashing around beneath him, my thighs capturing his head as he sucks every last shudder from my body. He pulls his mouth away and looks at me with hungry eyes. I want him as much as he wants me, possibly more.
“I need you,” I order in a hoarse tone. “Right now.”
He takes hold of my hips, and with one effortless move, launches me up and takes me with him as his back hits the bed and
my body comes over his. My knees straddle him, my hands land on his chest, and I look into those incredible eyes, wanting this possibly more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
“Fuck me, slow,” he growls, lifting my hips and reaching between us, taking his cock in his hand and guiding it to my entrance.
I slowly lower myself down onto him, letting him fill me, letting him stretch me. A gasp leaves my lips and my head tips back as I sink onto him, my body exploding with pleasure as I start to rock, a slow motion of my hips that quickly turns into more frantic jerks. Ace growls, fingers digging into the flesh of my bottom, and I know it won’t be long for me.
It feels so good.
My fingernails slide down his chest as I rock harder, faster, my breasts bouncing, my hair falling down my back, my mouth open and little pants leaving my throat. It builds quickly, starting as a slow burn from the inside before exploding out like a volcano. I scream out Ace’s name as what is probably the best orgasm I’ve ever had rocks my body.
I nearly miss his growls of satisfaction as he thrusts his hips upwards to meet my rocking, as well as his ragged cry as his releases fill the room.
I fall forward, hands not strong enough to hold me up. My cheek presses against his slightly sweaty chest, and he immediately curls his fingers into my hair, tugging my head back gently so he can capture my mouth in another kiss. He tastes like me, and like sex, and like Ace. It’s incredible. I nuzzle against him, slowing my breathing, loving the way his big body feels around mine.
“I’m real proud of you, honey,” he rasps into the silence.
I keep my cheek on his chest when I answer, “You are?”
“Yeah, I am. What you and Taylor are doing. It’s incredible. It’ll help so many people out there, who have nowhere else to turn.”
“I hope so,” I whisper.
“It will. You’ve taken the best of a bad situation, and turned it into something you can share with the world. Not many people can say they have that kind of determination or strength. You could have crumbled, but you came out stronger.”
I squeeze his sides. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you. You’re the reason I fought when he had us, you’re the reason I believed there was a chance I could escape. You kept me strong, even in my darkest moments, Ace. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”