The Suppressor by Erik Carter (good books to read for beginners .txt) 📕

me’ includes this.” He poked the hideous brown blob on the corner of his jaw.

She swatted him. “Stop it. I like everything about you.”

“Even the mole?”

“Even the mole. Even your lame jokes.”

He took her hand and brought her to a halt. She spun on him, her polka dot sundress twirling.

For a moment he hesitated, but then a bigger part of him took control.

“How would you like to have the brown eyes and the mole and the lame jokes all the time?”

He reached into his pocket, grabbed the small ring, and got on a knee.

“Will you marry me?”

Her mouth opened. No words came out. Just a vigorous nod and a tear that escaped the bottom of her sunglasses.

Jake smiled and slid the ring onto her finger. He stood, put his hands on her waist, his forehead against hers.

Applause.

Jake turned.

People on the beach-towel-draped balconies of the condo tower beside them had seen it all. Cheers, whistles, commotion.

Jake and C.C. waved back.

He took her hand and examined the ring, a carved piece of brown-and-tan shell.

“Hope it fits,” he said. “I got it from that surf shop back there.”

He pointed to a small building past the condos, next to a pizza joint.

She twisted the ring around her finger.

“It’s a little loose, love.”

He turned in the opposite direction. “Then let’s exchange it. Come on.”

She didn’t budge, shook her head. “No. I’ll just add some masking tape or something.”

“It’s only temporary,” Jake said. “Until we get everything here wrapped up. I mean, it was only a couple bucks. I’ll get you a real ring some day soon.”

Her stare had stayed fixed on her hand as he spoke. She ran a finger along the ring. “Please don’t. This works for me.”

He smiled. “I know it does.”

The crown of Jake’s head had burnt. He should have applied more suntan lotion.

It was dark. They’d spent the entire day at the beach. That week had been a particularly stressful one in their combined efforts of working with the police department to put an end to her brother’s brutalities. They’d needed sand therapy, and Pensacola Beach had generously provided some.

There were no more condos or surf shops or beach bars. They were at the undisturbed, natural beach of the national seashore. Entirely alone.

Moonlight shone off gentle waves that lapped a few feet in front of them where they sat at the edge of the surf, right where wet sand met dry sand.

They’d chatted for over an hour about everything and anything and nothing before reaching a point of silence.

Finally, Jake spoke again. “You know, I’ve always found it interesting, how your life relates to the rest of your family.”

She shifted toward him, pulling her knees tighter to her chest. “How do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I mean, you’re so peaceful and into such thoughtful, esoteric topics, but all those hours in the library are contingent on the safety provided by your family’s violence.”

She looked back at him. Blinked. Readjusted the arms wrapped around her knees. Then looked to the sea. “Maybe I’ve been sheltered. Maybe I live in arrested development. But I used my privilege to expand my mind. To make a difference in the world, one must first take care of oneself.”

Her eyes narrowed, as though scanning the dark horizon for a distant ship.

Jake considered filling the quiet moment. But didn’t.

“And one must always take advantage of one’s opportunities,” C.C. said. “It’s wrong not to. I’m playing the hand I was dealt. I could get some normal job, be another cog in the wheel. An opportunity was provided to me, and I capitalized on it to have the sort of life I want. If that makes you uncomfortable, I don’t give a damn.”

Oh, shit.

Anger looked improper on the ideal lines of C.C.’s face. Jake had managed to piss her off for the first time on the same day he’d proposed.

His mind space was so chaotic that when he got to talking, sometimes words just spilled out. Stupid words, often enough. Regrettable words.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I didn’t—”

She smiled. “Shhhh. I know you’re sorry. I can see it. That’s one of the things that I love about you: your sincerity.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his chin lowering. “Oh, man, I really screwed this up, haven’t I? On the day I gave you your little shell ring.”

In reply, she kissed him.

She moved herself onto him, fingers pressing hard into his back, her breasts squeezed against him through her thin sundress, nipples hard. They tangled for a few moments. Then her hand went below his waist, grabbed him.

He took her wrist, stopped it, and pulled away from the kiss.

“Whoa, now! Easy, tiger. What happened to waiting till we got married?”

She smirked, a coy twinkle in her eyes. “Well, aren’t we presumptuous, Mr. Rowe? I’m not going back on what I said. I’m a woman of my word.” A purposeful bat of the eyelashes. “Just relax, love. Let go.”

A half hour later.

They lay against a sand ridge, facing the water, the star-speckled sky, both fully clothed, both covered in a sheen of sweat.

She was on his chest, hand on his shoulder. His heartbeat was finally slowing to a normal rate.

The sea had gone quiet. The rhythmic hum of the waves coaxed his eyelids closed.

“Just a little preview,” C.C. said without leaving his chest. “Something to tide us over until the real thing. Okay?”

Jake tried to reply. He opened his mouth, but all he accomplished was a stupid smile.

C.C. lifted off his chest and looked down at him. She grinned.

“I guess there’s one way to shut you up.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

The place smelled like shit, like literal feces.

Burton was good at faking smiles, but he had to work extra hard to keep a pleasant look on his face as he traveled down the long, supposedly sterile corridor, which was built wide to accommodate wheelchairs and had stainless-steel railings along the walls. At the far end of the hall was a fish tank and beside it a little table with an