Page 60 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

“So.” I squash the nerves at the thought of her rejection. This is asking a lot of her. “Do you want to move in with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Fuck, how did I get so lucky?” I tilt her chin up for a bruising kiss.

CHAPTER27

RIGGS

“Come drinksome coffee with me, son.”

To my surprise, Mr. Tucker is home and has found me on the couch in the living room. I carried Charley back to bed and made love to her, slowly, taking my time and worshipping her body, drawing out these cries and soft noises that made me want to ravage her.

But that wasn’t what we needed. I had to show her with my body how much she means to me. The way she snuggled up to me afterward, encasing me in her long legs and sexy arms, I’d say mission accomplished.

However, sleep didn’t come for me and I was going crazy sitting there with my thoughts. I needed to let my feelings out, so I came downstairs to the gym and went through a couple of drills Kai taught me. Once I’d worn myself out, I landed on the couch. After keeping Charley up all night, I didn’t want to chance crawling back into bed and waking her up. Plus, I wasn’t sure it was possible to keep my hands off her. My cock twitches in my sweats, thinking about that tight body.

Not long ago, I heard the front door open and shut and thought maybe it was Jensen. His smoking habit has him up early and out on the porch when he has trouble sleeping.

Not the right Tucker, apparently.

“I don’t really drink coffee.” Lie. I drink lattes like they’re going out of style. But I’m an asshole and don’t want to see this man. I’ve been letting him help Charley because I’m not dumb enough to believe that she doesn’t need help from somewhere, since her parents are failing her miserably.

“Humor me. Please. Everyone else is asleep. It’s time we chat.” I sigh, knocking my head back against the wall. A talk with Mr. Tucker is not what I want to do… ever. But I need a distraction from what happened with Charley to keep me from running. This might help. We may have made up, but I’m still doubting myself.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

The fancy latte machine fires up and to Mr. Tucker’s credit, he actually knows how to use it. I would’ve thought that was a task for staff, but no one is here yet. It’s only four in the morning. They’re not due to arrive until seven.

A few brief minutes pass, and he hands me a steaming mug. “I’ve seen Jensen buy you lattes. Drink up.” He gives me a smirk and takes a sip of his own. I let it cool for a minute, trying to collect my thoughts before I take a sip. It’s good, no denying that.

“Thank you,” I say, finding my voice.

Mr. Tucker doesn’t respond. Instead, he fishes in his wallet and pulls out a ratty old picture. He inspects it, a frown tipping his lips down, and the deeper wrinkles around his eyes become more pronounced. In a few quick seconds, the man seems to age right before my eyes. He sets the photo down on the counter. Placing a finger in the middle of it, he slides it toward me.

Almost immediately, I see a woman who looks like Mr. Tucker, standing next to a younger version of him. Her youthful eyes are a bright beacon in the sepia colored photograph, her body thin but voluptuous. The happiness that surrounds her is obvious.

“I’m assuming this is your sister.”

His nod is curt, but emotion swirls in his eyes.

“I’m gonna need more than that to go on.” I wrap my hands around the mug in front of me, pulling on its warmth to keep me grounded because I’m feeling a tad out of control after everything tonight.

“Thatwasmy baby sister, Jennifer. Her husband took her from us. Cut all ties, basically kidnapped her. One day, we received a letter with no return address telling us she was happy with her newhusbandand they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, away from the suffocating claws of the Tucker family. My parents let her be. A little tough love was what they felt she needed because she always was the one who was harder to handle. If she wanted to be left alone, then they would quit fighting, and that’s what she would get.”

Mr. Tucker stops and takes a sip of his latte, swallowing harder than the liquid requires. He stares down at the granite his hands rest on and takes a second. He clears his throat and looks back at me.

“I couldn’t believe that she would ever cut ties like that. With my parents, sure, they never got along. But with me? Shit, we were thick as thieves growing up. Very close. It nearly ripped my heart out to read that letter.” He swallows again and I can sense his struggle to hold it together, leading me to believe he’s sincere. His eyes fall to a spot on the floor, just past where I’m sitting.

When he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs and I can actually hear how hard he is working to force emotion back. “Anyway, I never liked the guy, felt he was controlling. My baby sister wouldn’t leave me like that. Ever. There had to be something else going on. So, I hired a private investigator. It took years, but he found her.”

“I’m sorry she left you like that,” is all I can say. I’m so out of my element here and not seeing the point to his story, but I’m trying to be patient.

“She didn’t. He took her from me—hid her away. I bought the house next to the one they lived in and my PI stayed there, keeping notes.” With that, a snort of derisive laughter shoots out of me.

“Throwing your money around. You’re all the same. Did you ever think she wanted to be left alone?” I bite before I can stop myself, angry and ready to leap out of my chair.

“Would you rather me not know what was happening with my baby sister? We were close, the best of friends. Surely if Jensen were to up and disappear with some heinous letter, you’d want to find him,” he says sternly. “It was a situation very similar to yours. She had a child, my niece, Emma.” He pauses. “Who isdead.”

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