Willow & Aiden After Forty

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Chapter 24


I drive to Willow’s to pick her ass up. Tonight, she’s going to get a fucking clue how she’s naive and reckless walking after dark in a city of nine hundred thousand people. She listens when I lecture and agrees with everything. Hell her sister got on her about running in the park in the morning before the sun rises. She listens and takes everything in, and you think you have gotten your point across, and she going to be more cautious. But no, she’s walking around like she still lives in her little happy, sleepy town where everyone is eager to help one another. She thinks she’s safer because people always surround her. She gives no thought that a more significant number increases her chances of someone being off and unstable. I scoff, her fucking attitude of thinking that all people are good is total and utter bullshit. It’s how I know she truly is clueless to a lot of what goes on around her even under her nose.

Goddamn, Gus Wendle has now made himself my number one priority. I plan to meet with Glassman first thing tomorrow morning. It’s past time I address his judgment and his loyalty to our firm’s collective decisions.

Willow needs to understand that there are too many coincidences that are starting to surround her. I pull up in front of her row home as she opens her front door. She jogs down her steps and opens the car door and hops in the car. “Hi.” She leans over and kisses me.

“Hi.” I grab her head and deepen the kiss. Goddamn, one taste of Willow, one whiff of her floral scent, and as always, I’m ready to bury myself in her.

I keep ahold of her face and look into her the eyes, “I’m upset that you walked home alone tonight.” I run my nose down hers and give her a quick kiss. I need to get her home. Every time I see, smell, and touch her, she’s like a drug; I tingle, my heart pounds, and adrenaline courses through my veins. I want to cover her with my body, protect her, care, love, and keep her safe from the fucked-up world all around us.

She places a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, “I love your nose, I love it when you rub your nose down mine.” She kisses it again. “I can’t wait to see your house Aiden, but you’ll have to give me a tour in the morning.” Her hand goes to my leg, and she rubs up to my cock. “I’ve missed you last night,” she breathes and her mouth interlock with mine, and god-fucking-dammit, I’m not one bit pissed any longer.

I watch Willow sleep. I’ve never had a woman in my bed in this house. I bought the place four years ago. I’ve had no desire to find a woman for a type of relationship that would bring us to the point that I would want to bring her home.

The last seven years have been hook-ups at The Shadow. I’m not sure what people think about The Shadow, it’s a secret that everybody seems to know about and openly speak about, I do not. I know many people from all walks of life who frequent different clubs around the city. It has been a convenience for me. I go a few times a year. It’s easy because you know everyone in the bar, enjoying their two-drink limit, is looking for sex and freedom to enjoy whatever the fuck they want. You meet, discuss what you like, and if you find the other one attractive, you enjoy a few hours together. At the end of the night, we go our separate ways, both fulfilled and satisfied, knowing our time is over. It’s been a freeing way of life for me. It fills my needs and gets me through the mounds of work I have buried myself under for most of my life.

I kiss Willow’s head. She has never brought up the club again, but she’s fascinated by the thought of watching. I groan and squeeze her and sniff her hair. Fuck, I need to leave her alone, she’s worn out. She works every day at the shop until Christmas so she can have a few days off to spend time with her son, Henry, who works out in California but will be here for a week over the holiday. I look at my alarm clock; it’s past midnight. I need to quit thinking with my dick and do some work.

I gently roll Willow and whisper into her ear, “I’m going to my office, baby.”

“K.” She snuggles down into my blankets.

I leave the bedroom door open and go into my office. I check my emails. I sent one to Rowland; he owns the private detective firm we use to dig for facts on our clients. I told him this was personal and to bill me. I don’t want any chance of Glassman getting a whiff that I’m looking into the Wendle family and also every fucking thing about their plastic factory.

I told Rowland, I want everything he could find on Gus Wendle. I even want to know what time he takes his daily shit. The little fucker is messing with the wrong man. I have no idea yet what his game is, but whatever it is, I’ll win.

I click to open an email from Rowland’s firm. I scan over everything, and it is mostly general information I could find out myself. This email is good, though, and it confirms what I thought I already knew. Gus Wendle does not have a goddamn fucking sister.

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