Page 54 of Aced (Driven 4)
“I’m certain that even if the other shoe drops, it’ll be off an octopus with a lot of shoes so we’ll be able to handle it, because I married the only man ever meant for me. We can handle anything that comes our way, shoe by dropping shoe.”
Colton just falls onto his back and starts laughing, deep and long. I can tell he needed something humorous to release the stress clawing him apart from the inside out. I find comfort I can use a game I invented for little boys and still affect the grown man in my life.
Then again, boys, men, they’re really no different from the other.
Af
ter a moment he rolls back onto his side and scoots up against me so my belly hits his. He cradles my face in his hands. “Octopus shoes?” He laughs again with a lift of his eyebrows and a flash of that irresistible dimple.
“Yep. They’ve got eight feet. Lots of shoes to drop,” I tease, wanting to keep the moment now that our hearts are a bit lighter.
Colton just shakes his head with a soft smile on his lips, love in his eyes, and tenderness in his touch. How in the hell did I get to be so lucky to be the one sharing my life with this contradiction of a man?
“God, I fucking race you, Ryles,” he says, sealing the sentiment with a kiss and stealing my heart once again.
With my eyes closed, our lips touching, and hearts beating as one, I think back to our wedding day, to the vows we made, and the promises we made and have kept. The “You know that’s permanent, right?” and I know there’s nothing I would ever change because he’s here, he’s mine, and no matter what life throws at us, he’ll be here for me. He’s protected me. Put me first. Made me consequential. Made me whole.
With every beautifully scarred, bent piece of him.
“DID YOU BEAT THE SHIT out of him?”
I look up from the stacks on my desk just as Becks takes a seat in front of me, propping his feet up on its edge. “Please. Make yourself at home.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he says in that slow even drawl of his that’s equal parts irritating and comforting to me. “So?”
“He didn’t show,” I explain with a shake of my head. “I sat outside the damn office for an hour before and an hour after his appointed meeting with his parole officer and the fucker never showed.”
Such a waste of time. Staking out the probation office during the two hours around Eddie’s appointment time. Watching drug deals go down and a hooker giving a guy head in his car, while I waited to have my moment with Eddie. Draw him out to give him a little payback of my own.
“Can’t you get in trouble seeking him out with the restraining order?” he asks.
“Restraining order was filed on Ry’s behalf. Not mine,” I say with a smirk. I want him nowhere fucking near her. Now me on the other hand? I have no problem coming face to face with him. In fact, there’s nothing I’d like more.
“So you can approach him, kick his ass, and . . .”
“And no one’s worse for wear,” I say with a shrug. “Well, besides him that is.”
“Can take the man out of the trouble but can’t stop the boy in him from looking for it,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Damn straight.”
“But wait. He didn’t show, so now what? Will he be hauled back to jail for violation or some shit?” He laces his fingers and brings his hands behind his head.
“No clue. Possibly . . . but I have a feeling he’s a helluva lot more scared of the loan sharks and their thugs than missing a parole appointment. Getting put back in jail might be the safest place for him, considering the amount of phone calls I’ve received asking me if I know his whereabouts.”
“Well played, brother,” he says with a shake of his head. “Giving his name up like that to the press.”
“It hit me that night at the bar. The loan sharks came knocking when we fired him. Then he fucked us by stealing the blueprints to sell so he could pay them back. So why not fuck him over by using them to pay me back?”
Full circles. They’re everywhere I look.
“Scary fucking shit, dude,” he muses. I glance to the garage down below. “So . . . how are things? Ry good?”
“Yeah. Good.”
“That doesn’t sound convincing.”
I lean back in my chair and prop my feet on my desk like he did, lace my fingers behind my head, and look at the ceiling. “What if I told you I was looking into adopting Zander?”
