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“Motherfucker. You’re lucky my woman is so damn kind hearted. But you better apologize to her right now. And you better tell her you’re never going to bother her again. Or I swear to God, prison or no prison, I’ll paint this floor with your brains.”
Jerry looks up at me with wide and terrified eyes.
“Zoey, oh, God. I’m sorry. I’m so...so sorry. Everything I did was wrong. Please, fuck, fuck, please. I’m sorry.”
Zack stares at me with the message plain in his eyes.
He’d kill Jerry if I gave the order.
I shake my head. “You’re pathetic, Jerry. You’re the most pathetic person I’ve ever met. But I’m not going to let you ruin what Zack and I are building together.”
Zack nods curtly and then brings the gun down on the back of Zack’s head, causing him to let out a gasp and then fall unconscious.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zack
The day after Jerry’s failed attempted to taking Zoey is spent liaising with the police as they rounded up the mobsters who backed Jerry up when he ambushed us. The police were glad for my attentive eye as I identified every last one. They were all wanted for minor crimes, but their attack on the building pushed them firmly onto the police’s radar and, once the press got word of what happened, the police had no choice but to bring the harshest charges they could muster.
Jerry is facing the worst of it, though.
Assault on several members of the public, dealing drugs to minors, a rape charge he has been outrunning even before he met Zoey, and attempted murder he committed a few years back.
“To put it simply,” I tell Zoey as we sit on the balcony together, the sun glistening over the city and winking at us, “he’s fucked.”
She looks over from her canvas. She’s almost finished her city landscape, the canvas filled with all the glittering colors of the city. A smile touches her face, lighting me up inside, even brighter than the sun and her art and our future.
She’s brighter than everything, then everyone.
“Good,” she says, nodding. “It’s what he deserves.”
My eyes move over her. She looks so damn gorgeous in her summer dress, the fabric fluttering over her curvy body. The outline of her breasts does torturing things to me, willing me to bend her over the balcony railing and palm them greedily, pulling up her dress and bringing my manhood to her sex.
But today – now that the police stuff is out of the way – is not about that.
At least, it’s not about that yet.
There’s something I have to do first, the most important thing I’ll ever do.
I walk over to her and place my hands on her shoulders, massaging softly as I lean down and kiss her on the cheek. She lets out a perfect moaning noise, tilting her head toward me so our lips collide.
I growl through the kiss, pushing close, and then wrap my arms around her and hug her to me. “Let’s go for a ride, my little artist. There’s something I want to show you.”
Unusual nerves try to warp my words, stampeding through me like a herd of animals. I’ve never felt anything like this before, the uncertainty causing my stomach to tighten.
But my woman prompts new emotions in me all the damn time, causing them to whir around me.
“What?” she asks, her breath whispering warmly over me.
I smirk. “Don’t ruin the surprise. Come on.”
My hands are tight on the steering wheel as I drive us through the city. It’s only a few minutes from my apartment, but I find myself wishing the drive was longer as I round the corner and head toward the office block at the end of the road.
My heart is beating like crazy and sweat prickles my hands.
A bitter voice deep inside of me – the same voice that told me I’d never find the woman of my dreams, never find my Zoey – tells me to turn the car back and end this before it can begin.
I only met this woman a week ago…
But time loses all significance when my little artist is involved.
The only amount of time I give a damn about is forever because that’s how long we’re going to be together.
I pull the car up to the underground garage and roll down the window, swiping the access card to open the door. Once we’ve parked, I step from the car and put my arm around Zoey, eager to feel her warmth against me as a bulwark against all the anxiety shivering around me, all the self-doubt as the old Zack roars from a place deep inside of me, warning me not to ruin what we have.
“Are you okay?” she asks as we ride the elevator up.
I swallow, feeling the pressure against my chest, the small box somehow seeming like a weapon laid against my chest.
