Wheeler (Four Fathers Book 4) Page 5

  I need to have her. I will just have to make sure I plan it out perfectly.

  Chapter Six

  Jax

  Psychopath red flag

  #7

  They are cunning

  Waiting is difficult for most. It’s a test to one’s character. A measure of a man’s strength. For me, waiting isn’t so much a nuisance or a punishment. It’s a reward—makes something sweet even sweeter.

  And for her, I wait.

  Sometimes, the challenge in waiting is half the excitement. The building that slowly grows inside you becomes like a living, breathing beast. When the time is right, I will unhook that beast’s chain and let him run fee.

  The waiting will be over. Finally.

  She’s waiting. She’ll be ready.

  The bacon sizzles, lifting the aroma into the air and enticing Rowan from her room. Her soft footfalls sound on the stairs before her petite frame rounds the door.

  There’s a crimson blush to her cheeks and a dazed look in her eyes. She must have slept well.

  “Hey, Daddy.”

  She winces when she takes a seat. Maybe she’s coming down with something.

  She was asleep when I got home last night, her door shut and lights out. It gave me time to go over some new information I’d gathered and the old photos. To study them in critical detail, but there was not one imperfection I could see. There never is. Even after all this time, after thousands of pictures I’ve taken of her, I can’t seem to find one thing wrong with her. Aside from her living arrangements and the company she keeps, she’s perfect. Thoughts of my sweet, waiting girl kept me awake until the early hours of the morning. I stroked my cock until it screamed for release, then punished myself with a cold shower. Becoming undone by my new girl isn’t allowed. I must keep my wits about me, discipline my urges.

  But the longer I wait, the harder it is to keep control. The desire to storm into her life like a hurricane is becoming impossible to ignore.

  I place breakfast in front of Rowan and go to the medical cabinet to fetch the thermometer.

  “Open,” I order, holding the stick at her mouth.

  Dark lashes fan out above her eyelids as her eyes expand. “What are you doing?” she admonishes, pushing away my hand.

  “You look different. I thought you were feeling unwell.”

  The crimson flush grows brighter as her eyes drop to her breakfast. She picks up a piece of toast and darts from the stool and out of the room.

  There’s a small smearing of blood on the seat she’s vacated. She must have her period. I’ll make sure to pick her up some Tylenol and candy while I’m out today. I check the calendar where I have her cycle marked and discover her period is early. I always monitor her cycle so I can buy her the correct products and get in the ice cream she likes around that time of the month. I learned this from a TV show when she was just reaching puberty, and it fared me well over the awkward hormonal times. Maybe this sort of thing happens as they get older. I’ll have to read up on it later.

  I gather her heating pad and take it to her room. She’s talking in hushed whispers as I push open her bedroom door. She startles and drops her cell phone when she notices she’s no longer alone.

  “Daddy!” she screeches, her brows pulling down over her eyes. She’s been acting strange this week. Like she’s hiding something. I know she thinks her relationship with one of the Pearson boys is a secret, but I know everything about her. So long as he’s not fucking my daughter, she can have her teenage crush.

  I raise the heating pad to show her I’m just bringing her something, and she frowns deeper.

  “I thought you may need this,” I clarify.

  “Why?” she scoffs.

  We stare at each other for a few seconds in silence. I must have been wrong. Maybe it wasn’t blood. It was blood.

  “It doesn’t matter. Get ready. I’ll take you to school.”

  “I’m leaving early today,” she tells me. “I’m going to the middle school for a reading program.”

  The middle school.

  Where my lovely spends her days teaching music and making children smile.

  It’s fate. It’s fucking fate.

  A thrill of excitement courses through me.

  “That’s fine. I will take you, sweetheart. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.” I leave her to get ready and stuff the heating pad away in a cupboard.

  Pouring the remains of my coffee down the sink, I rinse my mug and scowl when I see a woman sneaking out of the Pearson’s residence. It’s not unusual to see women fleeing that place, but this girl seems younger than the rest.

  Damn, I’m lucky my Rowan is a good girl.

  I don’t have enough digits to count on both hands the harem of women pouring out of Eric’s bed over the years. He doesn’t even try to hide it. He’s proud of sucking the singles market bare. Using up the desperate girls with stars in their eyes and discarding them like trash once his cock’s dry and limp.

  I don’t understand the appeal he has. It’s grotesque, his pursuit of women half his age, and his boys are following in his footsteps with regards to fucking anything that flashes their ass their way. I’ll be damned if I let Rowan become one of their dirty conquests.

  “Ready?” Rowan asks, coming up behind me. “What are you looking at?”

  “Just one of Eric’s playthings,” I growl.

  Her breath hitches, and she moves me out of the way to look out the window.

  “She’s gone,” I state, annoyed Rowan is witnessing one of his whores leaving. I don’t want her thinking that’s acceptable behavior.

  The walk of shame isn’t one she’ll ever be taking.

  I wait for her to get her fill of the antics of the neighbor, but she’s transfixed.

  Why are teenagers so nosey?

  “Come on, Rowan,” I bark. “You know how I hate tardiness.”

  Swiping up my keys and briefcase, I open the front door, but Rowan hasn’t followed me.

  “Rowan?” I call, and get no response. Going back to the kitchen, I find her still staring outside, but it’s now at Eric berating Hayden. Maybe the girl wasn’t one of Eric’s whores, after all. Eric’s still wearing pajamas. He must be skipping the office today, no doubt making Trevor pick up the slack. Rowan turns to me, her arms wrapping around her stomach.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, dropping the case and going to her. I take her in my arms and hold her. Her hands grip onto my shirt, and in this moment, she’s back to being my little girl.

  “I think you were right, Daddy. I don’t feel well. Can I just stay home today?”

  I release her and place a hand to her head. She’s not warm, but she wouldn’t fake feeling unwell. “Okay. Go to bed. I’ll bring you some chicken noodle soup at lunchtime from Margo’s.”

  She smiles before reaching up on her tiptoes and kissing my cheek. “Thank you.” And then, she’s running into the foyer. She comes back with a bag and hands it to me as if she’s eager to see me off. “Would you be able to drop this off at the middle school office? It’s for that reading thing.”

  Auburn hair. Sweet curves. Adorable smile.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  “Sure.” I take the bag filled with books and kiss her forehead. I can only hold back my grin of anticipation for so long and barely make it out of the room before it breaches my face.

  My mind can’t focus on my lovely, no matter how much I’ve missed her, when I know my Rowan is home feeling ill. Maybe she’s coming down with the stomach flu. A churning in my gut reminds me of the time she was eight or nine and vomited for two days straight. I don’t lose my cool often, but cleaning up a kid’s puke for days is enough to drive any single parent to madness.

  Pulling into the middle school, I pass Trevor Blackstone’s over-the-top sports car.

  His son is grown and in college. There’s only one reason he would be here—to see what’s mine. I clutch the steering wheel to keep from ramming his car with mine, killing him on impact.

&
nbsp; He frowns as he passes me, doing a double take. I’m getting a little fed up with the attitude Eric and his partners aim toward me, especially Trevor. He has everything, and he doesn’t even realize it. Well, for now, anyway. Soon, he will have nothing. It must be hard having another man in their circle, especially one superior to them, but it’s not like I ask to be invited to their shindigs. I prefer them to be a square and for me to be singular. Eric forces this weird acquaintance on me where he pretends to be friendly but waves his metaphorical dick around the entire time. It’s not friendship, that’s for fucking sure. I can’t stand him, and I know it’s mutual. He just doesn’t have a real reason to dislike me, not one he would ever admit to anyway. The only conclusion I’ve ever come up with is he’s jealous I’m better looking, successful, and a hell of a lot of a better father than he could ever dream of. Quite simply, he feels threatened by my superiority.

  I manage not to smash Trevor as he leaves the school and find that worthy of a motherfucking pat on the back for as much restraint as it took. The memories of when I discovered he had tricked my woman into being with him assault me, making me hit the brakes.

  Past…

  I’m back on the beach. I’d overheard her talking on her cell phone yesterday about going for a walk on the beach and planned my entire day around being here so we could “bump” into each other again. But I never for the life of me expected to see her with company, and not just any company. Trevor Blackstone of all people. There’s something between them. It’s evident in their postures and closeness. Fucker wormed his way in, no doubt for the same reason I stalked the house in the first place—to learn who owned it and how to acquire it.

  Even though he’s with her, I can’t help but still want to be close to her, to watch her lips move as she speaks and smell her flowery scent. I will take great pleasure in watching him squirm knowing the old fuck has some competition. Her cunt will get wet from the mere sight of me, something Trevor no doubt has no abilities of doing.

  I’m waiting for you, my lovely. Don’t worry.

  She’s staring directly at me, and she must have said something to Trevor because he’s squinting, trying to see what or whom she’s talking about.

  It’s me, motherfucker. Boo!

  As they get closer, Trevor’s frown makes him look old. She’s way out of his league, and he knows it. He senses the threat I am. How could he not? He’s been punching above his weight, and she’ll outgrow him with or without me in the picture.

  “I knew I recognized you,” Lucy says, her smile as dazzling as the sun. “Jax, right?” She already knows it’s right. And now he knows I’m in her life. This could be a problem.

  My cock stirs knowing she hasn’t stopped thinking about me. Dreaming of me. I’ve watched her in her room at night touching her body, looking at herself in the mirror, pretending she’s performing for me. Sometimes, when she looks out the window, I think she knows I’m out there looking back and her body trembles and quakes, begging for me to make that night the night—the night I finally take her as mine.

  What has me truly excited is my company has acquired a new untraceable drug I will be trying out on Lucy when the time is right. It was all lining up like fate until this wrench in the cog.

  “That’s right. Good memory, Lucy.” I give her a lopsided grin, a knowing one that will make Trevor question how she knows me. I stand closer than I should so he can smell my cologne, and so she can taste it on her tongue. His small mind will be racing and conjuring up dirty images of me fucking her—images the crazy bastard won’t be able to escape from. He’ll no doubt accuse her of them rather than ask her, and they will argue. Perfect. I could go to town on her without using any drugs, getting things messy and bloody, then pining it on Trevor.

  God, my cock is so hard at the mere idea.

  “Trevor,” I greet, keeping the venom from my tone.

  “Jax,” he replies curtly.

  Lucy’s eyes bulge, and she turns her head abruptly to Trevor.

  “Wait, you two know each other?” she gasps, and it’s a beautiful sound. One I want to hear in my ear as I enter her body.

  Dear little Lucy, he is the reason you will be mine. If it weren’t for him, I would have never have driven down to check out the property in the first place. Fate.

  “Jax is Eric’s neighbor,” he states, staring at me like he can dissect me. Many have tried. Many have failed. I should be offended of how he says I’m just Eric’s neighbor, like that’s all I am, like we haven’t been forced into social situations many times before this and he’s known me for six years.

  Trevor’s jaw tenses, then he reaches out, clasping Lucy’s hand in ownership. A pathetic show of a weak man.

  The sizzle of heat and urge to punch him in the throat, crushing his windpipe, slithers through me, but I swallow it down. Bide my time.

  “What brings you out here? Bit out of the way for you,” Trevor accuses, tugging Lucy to him.

  Pitiful.

  How she isn’t laughing at his lame-ass attempt of who has the bigger cock is beyond me. And it’s me, by the way. I have the biggest cock, and it will be buried inside her soon enough.

  I smile at him, which makes his eye twitch. A droplet of sweat slides down the side of his aging face, then my eyes graze over Lucy and all that tanned skin on display for my viewing.

  “Just enjoying the views,” I tell him, my eyes never leaving Lucy’s form. It’s so easy to rile him up. He’s so insecure, it’s almost embarrassing.

  “Okay, well. Great running into you again. Trev promised to fill me up on yummy food, amongst other things, so...we better get goin’,” Lucy rushes out, clearly uncomfortable being on the arm of this idiot.

  I keep my smile firmly in place despite the numerous ways I’m planning on disemboweling Trevor.

  He marches her off without a goodbye, but she turns with pleading eyes. “Make me yours.”

  I will, my lovely. Don’t you worry. Soon.

  Present…

  I left the beach that day feeling even more determined to make Lucy mine. Trevor is such a weasel, it’s criminal he gets to be with her, holding her. On the other hand, that’s not what I want from her. I don’t want walks on the beach and handholding. I want to own her, mind, body, and soul—own her so completely, I take her last breath. She will be a part of me forever. He could never have that, but all those plans went out the window after seeing her and Rowan together. Then I found Stacy, and it seemed right to wait, but it looks like Trevor isn’t going anywhere, and I know I won’t be able to just wait around. The voice inside is whispering too strong.

  And Rowan hasn’t ever mentioned her since. It was just a coincidence. Them being in the same place at the same time, a conversation struck up out of politeness.

  Finding a parking spot is easy compared to Rowan’s school since none of these kids are old enough to drive. I heave the bag out of the trunk and wonder how my little girl was supposed to lug this thing around with her. It nearly weighs as much as she does.

  The security is lacking considering the price these schools charge to send your children here. I manage to get inside without being stopped or questioned. The corridors are long and filled with children.

  Damn, this is a nightmare.

  The noise of their chatter bounces from the walls. Lockers slam closed, shattering the air around me, making me cringe. It’s all too loud here. I hate being surrounded by people, and it’s worse when they’re teenagers. Even worse than that, middle schoolers.

  Horrors of my youth torment me.

  A bell shrills, and a flurry of running feet sound in all directions as they hurry to close. And then, I see her through the sea of heads. My lovely girl in waiting. Like a vision plucked from my imagination.

  It would be so easy to walk over to her, toss her over my shoulder, and force her into my car. Within hours, she would be gasping her last breath as I fucked her sweet cunt that would weep only for me. She no doubt dreams of a real man—not some old, crazy rich fuck�
��to stretch her pretty, slippery holes to the point of pain. I would show her everything before I took everything.

  Unfortunately, now’s not the time. This has to be right.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  I’ll wait as long as I must.

  She’s worth it.

  My heart thuds, and the need to go to her, smell her, hear her voice, feel her skin overwhelms me to the point I almost spoil everything.

  She’s my fate—I know it to be.

  I push past the thinning crowd, marching toward her, but then someone grabs my arm, and I find myself turning to face an older man.

  “Can I help you?” he asks, his brows furrowed, his drooping skin over his eyelids crinkling as he sweeps his eyeballs over me.

  “No,” I tell him, then turn around again, finding her straight away and locking my gaze down. She’s wearing a sexy little skirt that shows off too much skin. Her tanned legs are toned and smooth, and I want to see them spread before me.

  She turns, her auburn strands shielding her face from me.

  “Sir?” I’m tugged by the arm again and find it extremely rude. I have to hold back from snapping this old fool’s neck.

  I turn reluctantly and eyeball the annoying flea distracting me. “I’m dropping off books,” I growl.

  He swallows and takes a step back, sensing the grim reaper inside me lying dormant, waiting. The corridors have emptied, and I shoot my gaze back around, but she’s gone.

  Goddammit.

  “Where did that lady go?” I demand. I’ve never been inside her workplace before and I’m desperate to know which classroom is hers. I’m dying to see her full tits jiggle as she gestures to the board, teaching all the rich nitwits at this school about music—something they won’t give too shits about when they’re running empires like most of their parents in this overpriced school.