by Nova Rain
There was the passion in his grimaces. That hunger in his eyes while he stared down at my ass. I could see his ripped body behind me, his abs flexing with each, delicious thrust. Tiny drops of sweat had formed across his abdomen, the force of his penetration rocking me forward. I gripped the sheets hard, Sean leaning over me. Feeling his midsection against my back, I pushed back onto him, trying to get every inch inside of me. His right arm crept around my waist, whereas his left hugged my chest from behind. Sean’s long fingers traveled down my crotch, my breasts brushing his forearm with every push.
“Fuck! Yeah!” I cried out, tossing my head as I felt his fingertips rubbing my clit. I kept my eyes closed, finding myself in a world of lust and delight. He was trailing the tip of his tongue up and down my earlobe, breathing down on my neck. His groans in my ear reverberated through my skull, coaxing me to yet another, incredible climax. My inner walls were clinging to his big, thick cock, Sean’s balls smashing against my clit while his fingers drew circles around it. I was his plaything. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. He was dominating me, proving his desire to own me; to possess me. Wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure struck me, leaving me squirming beneath him. I reached back and threw my arm around his neck, savoring more of his deep, hard strokes. A roaring groan tore from his throat, signaling the arrival of his climax. Shoving himself all the way in, he let out a series of more gasps and groans, spurts of his juices splashing inside me. I stayed there, panting, feeling like I was going to melt into a puddle of goo. Sean pushed some tendrils of my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck, sliding his hand up my chest.
“Geez, you don’t let up, do you?” I purred, beaming with satisfaction.
“I’m just trying to thank you, you sexy little thing,” he claimed, leaning off of me. Lying down on his back, he smiled up at me, his eyes dark in the candlelight. “I just have a question. Where did all that dirty talk come from?”
“I wanted to tease you and turn you on.” I answered, snuggling up close. “I didn’t do it that night in your house, because you might have thought less of me. We know each other better now. I’m sure you won’t.”
“That’s right, I won’t,” He assured me, snaking his arm around my neck. “Anyway, I met with a private investigator tonight. Would you like to hear about it?”
“Nah,” I muttered, kissing him on the chest. “Get some sleep. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”
“Sweet dreams,” his whisper caressed my ears, sending more warmth into my heart. Our first night together had been sexy and full of passion, but it couldn’t compare to this. I was past the point where I felt wanted. In his arms, I felt wanted, safe, and protected from everything and everyone that could harm me. For the first time in my life, I could lay back and relax, knowing deep down that I wasn’t going to face any hardships alone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sean
Monica’s revelations about the Davidson’s had prepared me for a lot of nastiness. By stealing her and her boy, we had declared war upon them. What would stop them from pulling all sorts of tricks to punish her friends and me? Hell, they had sent one of their goons to “put some sense into me” before now. An all-out attack on everyone involved in that kidnap operation would be the logical course of action.
For the next four days, I expected to spot at least one car following me around. I looked out for anything out of the ordinary in the neighborhood and the hospital parking lot. I kept checking for signs of forced entry. I searched for bugs and surveillance equipment pretty much everywhere in my house. I even asked Ryan to come over twice, believing that I would be assaulted again by Davidson’s goons.
Nevertheless, none of the above happened. Everything was normal, just like it was before I had crossed paths with Monica. No car followed or chased me. The locks in my home remained intact. My quest for microphones and cameras didn’t bear any fruit, and Ryan’s visits turned out to be unnecessary.
This peace and quiet should have appeased me. However, it didn’t. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the Davidson’s had a big surprise in store for Monica’s friends or me. They had the means and the motive to unleash hell upon us, and yet, for some reason that eluded me, they acted as if I hadn’t done anything bad to them.
That short period of time both confused and frustrated me. Swamped with work, I couldn’t even think of driving back to the Catskills. They were just too far for me to go up there and get back in between shifts. I spoke with Monica on the phone and chatted with her on Skype every day, but it wasn’t enough for me, and I think it wasn’t enough for her, either. There is nothing else like physical contact. A date cannot be replaced by an online chat, no matter how much it lasts, or what is discussed. I hated the idea of leaving her up there, in a small cabin and at the mercy of the elements. She and Timmy were alone in the wilderness, and I was too tired to be there with them. Still, I had to demonstrate patience. I couldn’t let my emotions dictate my actions. The drive to Shandaken was perilous and required absolute focus. It was riddled with tight hairpins; ice formed often on the narrow road. To make matters worse, the jagged rocks over that road could crush a vehicle as if it was made from aluminum foil.
On the eve of the fourth day, I received a text from Isabelle Wilks:
“Tonight. 7pm. My office. Got both good and bad news for you.”
I had no idea how to react to this. I liked the fact that there had been a development. Doing nothing but waiting for her to get some results had been agonizing. Still, it also meant that whatever she had come up with was not going to be to my complete satisfaction.
The same cardboard sign on her door entered my line of sight on that cold, late-November night. This time, I didn’t have to ring the bell. I was still on the side of the road, when Isabelle pulled her door open and disappeared into her living room.
A cigarette was burning in the ashtray, just past her computer’s keyboard. What lay beyond that puzzled me: a bottle of Jack Daniel’s®, two, empty glasses and a full ice tray.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on getting drunk,” I stated, pushing the door shut behind me.
“Trust me; you’ll need a drink after you hear what I have to say to you.” The confidence in Isabelle’s tone intensified my concern. “Have a seat.”
“Well, don’t keep me waiting,” I urged, obliging her as she unscrewed the lid.
“Let’s start with the bad news first,” she suggested, the smooth color of whiskey filling the first glass. “It looks like the Davidsons want to go by the book. They reported the kidnapping to the police. Take a look at this.” She turned her computer screen in my direction. A file folder, containing thumb images filled my view. “The cops did a full forensic sweep of the place,” Isabelle added, clicking on the first thumb. The picture depicted Jessica’s burned-out Supra. Its front end had been compressed into a black pile of scrap metal. Shards of glass and chunks of aluminum and plastic littered the road around it. Pillars, roof, and back end had been consumed by the fire. “The day after the kidnapping, they went to ‘Powell and Caine,’ who sent their own investigator to the scene.”
At that point, she pressed the “Right Arrow” button on the keyboard, bringing up another picture. This one contained long, parallel tire marks of the Transit.
“They’re trying to build a case against you,” she pointed out. “So far, they haven’t been able to link you to the kidnapping. There’s no physical evidence of you at the scene, but there have to be security cameras in the area, and the cops haven’t gone over that footage yet.”
“They’ve tracked down the owner of that Supra,” I presumed, disappointment creeping into my tone. “Have they arrested her yet?”
“They tried,” Isabelle continued, a small smile bursting upon her lips. “That girl was smart, though. She reported the car’s theft just two hours before it all happened.”
“Very good,” I commented. “How did you find all that? I mean the pictures? And the information on an arrest
?”
“I still have friends on the Force,” she explained, interlocking her fingers over her desk. “I had to use my charm to get those pictures. Powell and Caine’s investigator happens to be an old flame.”
“You slept with him?” I squinted, my face twisting into an expression of surprise.
“Look, did I get the job done?” she asked, her voice gaining in volume.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Then stop asking questions,” Isabelle demanded, glaring up at me. “Now, for the good news: it took a lot of soap, but I found out where those so-called parties take place.”
“Soap? What are you talking about?” I wondered, even more confused than before.
“Bribe money, doctor,” she explained once more, furrowing her brow. “I spent all the money you gave me the other day. Like I said, I now know where those fat cats get together. It’s a mansion, about twelve miles east of North Haven. Normally, I’d set up shop at a nearby house, and use the fire escape of the balcony to take pictures, but…” she faltered, “this time, it’s impossible. I went up there this morning,” Isabelle added, closing the folder. She opened the one adjacent to it, titled “North Haven,” and clicked one more picture.
I blew air out of my cheeks, the spectacle supporting her words. In truth, the mansion was buried deep in the woods. The picture had been taken from a distance, but that didn’t matter. The building was in the background, its view blocked by dozens of massive tree trunks.
“Those trees are about eighty to one hundred feet tall each,” Isabelle informed me, her voice losing its nerve. “I’m not good at climbing trees. Even if I was, I’d be scared to death to climb one of those. One mistake could cost me my life.”
“So…” I drew in a sharp breath. “What do we do now?”
“I have thought of something, but I’m going to need help,” Isabelle began, sliding the screen back to its previous position. “I’d use a contact of mine, but they’re not what you’d call ‘tech experts.’ Specifically, I need someone familiar with drone technology. I can fly a drone; I’ve owned a basic model for two years. Do you know anyone who could help me with this?”
“I can do it,” I shrugged, my tone calm. “I know a few things about drones. Don’t they use an onboard camera to record?”
“Exactly,” Isabelle confirmed with a nod. “Which brings me to my next request; I told you, my drone is pretty basic. It’s got a camera, but it doesn’t have night vision.”
“How much does a more sophisticated model cost?” I asked, yanking my checkbook out of my pocket.
“Twenty-six hundred bucks,” Isabelle’s response was sharp. “You can have it back when we’re done.”
“Yeah; I’ve heard my next door neighbor is taking pole dancing classes. I’ll use it to spy on her,” I spoke in sarcastic tones. “Here,” I murmured, tearing the check from the book. “I pray to God this works.”
“I know I’m not supposed to say this, but if you think you can use that footage to blackmail the Davidson’s, you’re in for a disappointment,” she warned, folding the piece of paper.
“Why?”
“They’re both dirty as hell,” Isabelle emphasized with a frown. “They’ve dealt with crooked politicians and gangsters. I’d bet everything I own they’ve been blackmailed before. What makes you think Davidson will give in to your blackmail?”
“Nothing,” I shook my head once. “I just don’t see any other possible course of action.”
“Well, I do, but it’s a bit more radical,” she implied, lowering her hand under her desk. I needed an explanation, but Isabelle would not speak. And in the following moments, I understood her insinuation. She slammed a pistol onto the desk, its silver barrel shining under the strong illumination.
“You can’t be serious.” I groaned, darting my eyes to hers.
“I’m dead serious.” Isabelle rejected my assumption. “You don’t have to do it yourself. Just say the word, and…”
“Shut up,” I grumbled, clenching my jaw. “Go buy that goddamn drone, and let me know when you’re ready. I’m out of here.”
Unable to stay in there anymore, I jumped up and stormed out. Unbeknownst to her, Isabelle had crossed the line. I didn’t like what my plan entailed. It wasn’t legal, but there’s a huge difference between blackmail and murder. I had taken an oath to save people. Just thinking of ending someone’s life for my own benefit twisted my stomach into knots. I just had to hope I never had to face that choice.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Monica
“I’m coming over tomorrow morning. I missed you.”
Sean’s text was music to my ears. Finally, I would see him up close. I did enjoy our online chats, but I just couldn’t wait to wrap my arms around him again. Also, as strange as it was, the two of us hadn’t been out on a real date yet. The way I saw it, a day at a racetrack didn’t really count as a date.
More than that, Timmy would get to see again “the huge man who grabbed him like he was nothing.” I didn’t know what kind of relationship those two would have, but they had gotten off to a good start. Timmy had a soft spot for superheroes. He considered Sean to be one because of his strength. He made me laugh whenever he said it, but I didn’t argue with him at all. My boy was just six-and-a-half years old, so telling him that there’s no such thing as super strength would crush him. It was easier and a lot better for me to see the admiration in his eyes when we talked about Sean. He’d have plenty of time to learn the truth later in his life.
Kate had been amazing during my time on the mountain. After babysitting for me, she had only left for a day and then came straight back, because she thought I could use the company. She and I had been friends for almost twenty years, and she had never been this supportive. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of Jessica. I texted her with information on how to get to Shandaken, but all I got was a silly response.
“I’m not interested in growing reindeer. Call me when you get back to New York.”
Needless to say, keeping Timmy in a cabin was not my idea of spending quality time with him. After Kate’s return, I took full advantage of the opportunity, and visited the scenic town of Shandaken every day. That Thursday night, I was so excited with the news of Sean’s day off that I prepared him in minutes.
Strolling in the town square was like a trip back in time. Everybody knew everybody up there. Every few seconds, I’d hear a horn, and watch two people wave at each other and smile. Locals hugged, no matter where they ran into each other, and exchanged niceties that looked genuine. At least that’s what their expressions told me. They were warm and their eyes were beaming. In other words, they didn’t pretend to be happy. They actually were happy.
With Christmas just a few weeks away, each and every shop had Christmas lights outside. Timmy loved the atmosphere; yet, Kate didn’t share his enthusiasm. New York transformed itself at this time of year, and this was just too little for her. Reaching a shoe store on the main street, we paused to check the prices.
“Look at that,” Kate pointed down at a pair of red snow boots with a white garland around them. The price tag read “$250.00.” “Is the garland included in the price?”
“Come on, girl,” I chuckled, patting her on the shoulder. “Would you buy them if they were half off?”
“I doubt it,” she claimed, flashing a sideways smile at me. “I’m not the one dating a mountain man.”
“He’s not a mountain man,” I responded, speaking my mind, as Timmy stopped outside a toy store.
“No, but you are dating him,” Kate winked. “Does he have a friend? Preferably someone as gorgeous as he is.”
“He’s mentioned someone, but I don’t think you’d like him,” I maintained. “His name’s Ryan and he’s a ladies man.”
“Been there, done that,” she frowned, glancing over at a hotdog stand across the street. “I’d love a hotdog right now.”
“Mommy, look,” Timmy’s voice made me take my eyes off of my friend. But, before
I could satisfy his request, a loud noise forced me to turn my attention back to the road on my right. Kate was halfway across the street; her eyes were on the hotdog stand as a black pickup truck came barreling towards her. Two pedestrians jumped out of its way and onto the sidewalk as my blood froze in my veins. Less than ten yards from her, the driver didn’t bother stepping on the brakes. Instead, he put his foot hard down on the accelerator. I watched the front bumper smash into Kate, projecting her along the street. Her body flew over two oncoming cars, before landing hard on the windshield of a brown Cherokee. I noticed several cracks in the glass, my gaze following her while she rolled off the hood.
Instinct screamed at me to go to her. I wasn’t alone, however. And a child should not and could not have to see any of this.
“Honey…” I gasped, bending down over Timmy. “Please, go into the store and see some more toys. I’ll be right back.”
“Mom…”
“Please, Timmy,” I begged, my heart jumping into my throat. “Do as I say, okay?”
Making sure he was distracted by action figures and Lego toys, I dashed off across the street. Kate was lying on her back, the left side of her face resting on the road, her arms splayed out sideways. By then, the driver of the Cherokee had kneeled over her, and the locals had begun to gather around her.
“Call 911!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, dropping to my knees beside my friend. The blood dribbling out of her mouth tore my heart to pieces. It had left a trail across her cheek, and had almost reached her jawline. “Kate! Kate, talk to me!” I urged, my voice riddled with panic and fear.