Page 43 of Being Lost

“You’re not asking,” I contradict. “But I am. I’m asking that you stay and take a stand. For you, for Dan, for Beth. And, maybe, for us. For however long you want me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Patsy

It’s peaceful here. Hot, but not unbearable as Lost has parked under the shade provided by a tree. A gentle breeze is blowing. On the bike it had been cooling, here in the foothills, it’s warm.

I walk back to the barrier and rest my forearms on it again thinking hard. Phil had died when his car had exploded. Of course, as I’d no connection with him for years, the police hadn’t involved me, and I knew little more than I’d read in the newspaper. So far as I’m aware, they remain with no clues as to who was responsible for the explosion which killed him. The timing though, that it coincided with the Satan’s Devils rescuing Beth, I’m ninety-nine percent certain that Demon and the Colorado chapter of the Satan’s Devils were the ones who eliminated my ex. Neither Dan, Beth nor I had mourned his passing. His death had left the world a better place. In the end, he’d proven he was a worse man than I’d ever imagined, seeing Beth not as a daughter, but as a commodity he could make money from, uncaring if she were heading for a life of suffering.

I hadn’t asked a straight question, knowing I wouldn’t get a response. Sharing, admitting was not the way of the Devils. In truth, if I knew who was responsible, I’d probably have shaken his hand.

If Phil had been a bad man, Alder? Well he’s something else. More evil, more devious, richer and clearly powerful. The Devils might have been able to take an unsuspecting Phil Foster out, but Alder? Not only will he be better protected, after Phil’s death, he’ll be on his guard. He’s already underground, hiding from the feds. I’m not even certain the Devils could find him.

Lost has basically told me he’d kill a man, so I’d have my life and family again. That he’d offered himself in the process, well, I’ve got to push that to the back of my mind. Sorting out my life and that of my children takes precedence now. A few short months back, I was a woman happy with her small business and living a quiet life. If anyone had told me I’d condone not just one actual but a second possible murder, I’d have laughed in their face. But that’s what I seem to be doing.

Lost looks uneasy, like admitting he’d kill a man to remove him from my life might have upset me. It hasn’t. What woman wouldn’t want a man to do all in his power to keep them safe? But what if he fails? What if I decide to take a stand, as he calls it, and lose my life, his, and my children’s as well? Alder wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. I don’t even know what he wants. Me found, certainly, me dead, possibly.

I’m the one he’s looking for. Not Dan. So that presents another option which Lost hasn’t considered. I could go, disappear, all by myself. Cad, Demon’s computer guy in Colorado could get me a new ID. Dan, well, he’s dead. He can stay here and be safe, especially if Lost watches out for him. If I leave, only I will suffer. If I stay, I risk everyone’s lives.

I hadn’t lied when I’d told Lost I’ve been out on a few dates, but no man I’d seen more than once or twice. Beth had been nine when the hell that had become my marriage had ended, and Connor just four. My life revolved around them and their activities. Sometimes I felt I was an unpaid taxi service, always in demand. But I didn’t resent it, these were my kids, I gave them life, and that gave me the responsibility of bringing them up the best that I could. Beth used to encourage me to get a life for myself, babysitting Connor once she was old enough on the rare occasions I did go out.

But I’m a boring homemaker whose hobby is sewing. I was picky with men, always had been, stupidly holding out for a happy ever after. The few men I met seemed to want something short term, or ran when they heard I had kids, thinking I was after a substitute father. Or they saw me as a desperate woman who they wouldn’t need to work hard at to get into bed.

I’d never met one who I’d felt any real attraction for. Men my age were balding, had pot bellies, and looked tired.

Lost though, well, he could pass for a man ten years younger. He’s kept himself in shape, still has a mass of hair, and that beard… I didn’t realise how attractive one was until I saw his. His eyes are sharp and miss nothing, which begs the question,What does he see in me?

I admit I’ve aged well. Without bragging, I know I compare fairly well against some women who’ve lived the same number of years, and I’m more confident in my outward looks now than I was when I was a gangly teen. My waist is only an inch thicker than thirty years ago, my hair is long and thick, and while bringing up two kids on my own should have caused worry lines aplenty, my face is still fairly smooth. But it’s the parts that don’t show that are what worry me. My breasts are no longer perky and firm, and my stomach is flabby. Cellulite rules my thighs and butt, and my skin is creased.

What does Lost look like under his clothes?

I’ll probably never find out.

At the age of fifty-three, life has been cruel enough to present me with a man that for the first time ever makes me understand the sexual attraction I’ve read about in books. But the problem is, I’d been honest when I told him, I’d not be able to separate my emotions from any physical activity. If I’m going to risk my heart, it will be with a man who’s prepared to give a relationship a try, not who’s trying something new for one or two nights.

And what was that strange enigmatic statement,that it would be me who’d be the one to end it.Why? What’s he hiding?

He’s right in that we should go slow, but we haven’t got time. Unless, I stay. Problem is, it wouldn’t be just me facing the music.

“I don’t know what to do,” I tell him at last. “Alder left my son for dead; he deserves death himself for that.” I turn to look at him so he can appreciate the honesty in my eyes, letting him see I’d kill the man with my own bare hands if it were possible. “I’m just scared to stay. Alder’s powerful. We don’t know where he is, where he’d be coming from, let alone what he actually wants. If I stay and take him on, someone else may get hurt.”

His eyes sharpen. “What exactly are we talking about here, Patsy?”

I take in a lungful of the sweet fresh air. “Dan can stay. Alder isn’t looking for him. I trust you, Lost. You can keep an eye out for him, and he could build a new life here. I could go, Alder would lose my trail. Problem over.”

He growls. “Problem far from over. You’d lose both your kids.”

“But they’ll be safe. And that’s all that matters.”

“If you go, you’ll hurt. If you go…” He breaks off.

“If I go, what?”

“Forget it.” He shakes his head dismissively.

“Forget what? What is it, Lost?”

Suddenly he stalks toward me. “If you go, I’ll fucking hurt. For years I thought I didn’t want or need another woman in my life until I met you and that got knocked on the head. I want you, Patsy, I’ve told you that. But not just for one night. I want to take you out, date you, get to know you and then, if you agree, take you to my bed and fuck you the way you deserve. I want to discover how you taste on my tongue, the sounds you make when you come. I want your thighs squeezing my head. I want you to come over and over again, and then, only then, will I feed my cock into your pussy and feel you clamp down and orgasm over my dick making me lose control too.”

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