by Leo, Cassia
“Harder.”
With each hammering thrust, I let out a sharp gasp, which prompts an epiphany.
“That’s your nickname,” I say between gasps.
“What?” he grunts. “What are you talking about?”
“Hammer,” I moan, as his cock digs so deep inside me I can feel it in my abdomen. “You are mighty good with that hammer, Hammer.”
He laughs as he tightens his arms around my waist and holds his cock inside me. “I’m not too bad with a drill, either,” he says, grinding his hips in slow circles.
I moan as his sac rubs against my clit. My pussy clenches around his cock, and he picks up the pace of his thrusts again. Within seconds, his arms tighten even harder around my middle as he stops moving.
His erection still twitching inside me, he presses his mouth to my ear and whispers, “I’m so happy you’re here, wiz.”
A warm feeling surges up from my belly and explodes inside my chest. Before I know what’s happening, tears spill from my eyes.
“So am I,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion as he kisses my neck. “So am I.”
* * *
I smell like him.
It’s all I can think as I slide out of bed to go the bathroom.
Colton is asleep as I trek through the darkness. In the restroom, I resist the urge to look through his medicine cabinet for clues. Anything that will tell me he’s not as perfect as he seems.
I manage to stop myself from peeking through his cabinets and head back to the bedroom, leaving Colton’s privacy intact. But as soon as I enter the bedroom and see him lying on his belly, the sheet barely covering the curve of his perfect ass, I have a change of heart.
I’m not a normal girl. I’m on the run. And anyone who wants to get close to me has to be regarded as suspicious until I’ve proven otherwise.
Clutching my chest, I sigh as I watch him sleep. How could I ever suspect that gorgeous man of being anything but genuine?
I shake my head at this thought. I can’t be a silly girl who gets herself into dumb situations. I have to be smart. I have to look inside his nightstand.
Besides, it’s probably nothing but a gun and condoms in there.
I tiptoe to my side of the bed, where the nightstand sits, and I crouch in front of it. Slowly and quietly, I slide the drawer open. But as I suspected, there’s nothing in there except some condoms and socks.
Then, I remember his jeans lying on the bathroom floor.
Don’t do this. You’ll regret it.
It’s too late. I’ve already looked inside his nightstand. Nothing’s stopping me from looking in his pants pockets now.
I tiptoe back to the bathroom and softly close the door behind me. Picking up Colton's jeans off the floor, I reach into the back pockets and come up with a black leather wallet. Then I slip my hand into the left front pocket and come up with a few small black electronic devices, each about the size of a nickel.
I stuff them back inside and slide my hand into the front right pocket. Feeling around a bit, I feel something that feels…familiar. I pull the object out of the pants, and the sight of it nearly stops my heart.
There, inside Colton’s jeans that smell like him, is the necklace my father gave me.
17 Izzy
August 7th
To give myself the extra time I need to move the suitcase, I tell Colton — or whatever the hell his real name is — I have a womanly appointment after work. But I don’t have an appointment, and I’ve called in sick to work. Edie seemed a bit concerned, but I faked a sore throat and assured her it was nothing serious. I hope she doesn’t use my illness as an excuse to check in on me at my house after she closes up The Junk Drawer tonight.
As I drive to the medical office building where I supposedly have an appointment today, I check my rearview mirror regularly. Occasionally, I see a silver SUV about five cars or two lights back. I’ve felt like I was being followed since I arrived in Valdese, North Carolina. It’s only mildly comforting to know I haven’t imagined it.
I stop at a red light, and my stomach twists with regret as I think of how stupid I’ve been not to see that Colton’s feelings for me weren’t sincere. The corners of my eyes sting with the threat of tears, but I slam my hand on the steering wheel in anger.
I will not let him turn me into a blubbering mess. I need to keep my guard up and stay alert, or I’m going to end up broke or dead.
Why did I take that stupid suitcase?
I park my car in the parking lot of the Sunrise Medical Office in Morganton, then I grab my backpack and head inside, quickly finding a back exit. I hop over a block wall behind the building and cut across a residential neighborhood. When I’m about a half-mile away, I get on my phone and request an Uber to take me to a car rental shop.
I drive my nondescript white sedan through the streets of Morganton until I’m satisfied I’m not being followed. Then I cross the Huffman Bridge to the other side of Rhodhiss Lake. Fifteen minutes of maneuvering the backroads, and I turn right onto a narrow dirt lane, which leads to a small roundabout at the entrance of a densely wooded area. From here, it’s a thirty-minute hike to get to the covered hole where I keep my diving equipment.
* * *
I pull the suitcase — which is wrapped in four trash bags and sealed with two rolls of duct tape — onto the shore on the opposite side of the lake and a few hundred yards away from Colton’s property. Dragging the suitcase by a piece of loosened tape, I use my other hand to unzip the top of my scuba suit.
No alligators in the lake today, just a large amount of striped bass, catfish, and more than a few dead birds. I didn’t look around for the jacket Colton and I reeled in while fishing. The fewer reminders I have of my naivety — and my mortality — the better.
I can’t believe I questioned whether the scuba lessons I took in Michigan, during my road trip across America, were worth it.
By the time I reach my hole with the suitcase, my lungs are burning and thighs trembling with exertion, but I don’t have time to rest. I quickly change back into my street clothes, tucking my gun into my waistband. Retrieving a small hunting knife from my backpack, I use it to remove all of the waterproofing material from the outside of the suitcase.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the steel luggage is still perfectly dry. I consider hauling the suitcase back to the car to open it there, but I don’t want to take any chances. I have to search this thing from top to bottom, and I have to do it fast.
The only reason I’m still alive right now has to be because there’s something in here Colton needs more than he needs me dead. And he hasn’t been able to find the suitcase, even with all the burglaries and broken pipes he undoubtedly orchestrated.
I shake off my feelings of stupidity and set about the task at hand. I fan through every stack of bills as I place them one-by-one on the bottom of the dirt ditch. Most of the cash is hidden in various holes around my property, so checking the money doesn’t take long.
I move on to running my hand along the satin interior of the suitcase. Everything feels normal until I reach a tiny rectangular bump on the bottom corner. I trace my fingers over the opposite corner to verify it’s not a standard feature. It’s not.
I use my knife to open up the fabric and my heart races at the sight of a yellow and black Corsair USB flash drive. This must be what Colton is after. This is my life insurance.
I slip the flash drive into my jeans pocket and close up the suitcase. Grabbing the stacks of cash off the bottom of the ditch, I hastily stuff them into my backpack and slide my arms through the straps.
I put the scuba equipment and suitcase into the plastic tubs I keep in the hole. I don’t need to let the scuba suit air out now that I won’t be using it anymore. Then I cover up the ditch with netting, leaves, and branches.
As I’m hiking back to my rental car, my body freezes at the sound of a twig snapping somewhere behind me. My gun is out of my waistband and pointed into the empty woods faster than I can take my
next breath.
With my heart thumping inside my skull, I spin around slowly, trying not to make any loud noises so I can listen for foreign sounds. But after a few tense minutes of nothing, I head back to my car with haste.
18 King
August 7th
Eddie Shah, our tech guy, uses Hunt’s private jet to catch an early flight out from Las Vegas to Foothills Regional Airport in Morganton. After a quick morning fuck, where Izzy’s mind seems strangely preoccupied, she declares she has a gynecologist appointment after work. Announcing she’ll be back “home” in the early evening.
Izzy left for work about an hour ago, and Santos has been following her, as he always does. But she hasn’t gone anywhere near The Junk Drawer.
“She’s been driving all over Morganton since nine o’clock this morning,” Santos says, sounding annoyed and slightly out of breath.
I glance at the time on my phone. “She was driving around for ninety minutes? Nonstop?”
“Non-fucking-stop. It’s a good thing I filled the tank last night. She just pulled into a doctor’s office and went inside. Should I follow her in?”
“No, she’s obviously up to something. We don’t want to tip her off,” I reply as I stand on the back porch and gaze out across the grass toward Izzy’s dock. “Just keep an eye on her car, and I’ll keep watch over the dock.”
I end the call and tuck the phone into my front pocket.
Fuck. Izzy must have seen or heard something that made her suspicious. Why else would she lie to me and say she was going to work?
I think back to when I got out of bed in the middle of the night to make a call to Eddie. I thought Izzy was asleep the whole time, but maybe she heard me telling him to fly out here as soon as possible. Though, I don’t remember mentioning “Vegas” or anything remotely linked to her stealing the suitcase.
But Izzy has proven herself to be much smarter than anyone gives her credit for. This thought brings me a small amount of peace. She just might make it out of this alive if we both play our cards right.
I have to decide what kind of project I’m going to work on in the backyard today so I don’t lose sight of Izzy’s dock. Almost immediately it dawns on me: I’ll install a swing on my back porch.
I think Izzy will like that.
* * *
By the time Izzy returns from “work” and her “appointment,” I’m sitting on the new back porch swing with an ice-cold beer and a smile. I can hear her setting down her purse and keys on the kitchen counter before she steps outside. My heart skids to a stop at the sight of her.
“You’re just about the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” I say as she walks toward me.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You were busy today,” she says, eyeing the white wooden swing.
I pat the green weather-resistant cushion. “Take a load off, working woman.”
She chuckles as she sits on the front edge of the seat, but throws the swing off balance, and she almost falls forward onto her knees. She yelps as she manages to grab the porch railing to save herself.
“That’s not how swings work,” I reply, as she spins around and casts a suspicious look in the direction of the seat she just vacated.
Her cheeks are flushed as she retakes a seat next to me, this time scooting all the way back. “Is that how they work? Silly me,” she remarks sarcastically.
She’s definitely more standoffish than she was yesterday, though it’s not hard to be. Yesterday, she was a fiery bombshell, when she wasn’t lying in my arms and engaged in an intimate conversation, mostly about her parents. I’m getting a distinctly colder vibe today.
Something definitely set Izzy off last night, based on what I witnessed in the lake while installing the swing today. If she didn’t overhear my conversation with Eddie, then she’s probably having second thoughts about staying with me. I don’t know which is worse, the former or the latter.
Definitely the latter.
“Are you okay?” she inquires, though her tone has a dark edge to it, almost as if she’s hoping my answer is not affirmative.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. You? How was your day at work?”
She shrugs. “I ended up calling into work. I…I just had a lot on my mind, so I drove around for a while and rescheduled my gyno appointment for later in the morning.”
I reach over and wrap my arm around her soft shoulders. “Sorry,” I say when she flinches away from me for a split second.
“No, it’s okay!” she says, grabbing my hand to hold my arm in place. “Just caught me off-guard.”
I get a sickening feeling in the pit of my belly as she rests her head on my shoulder and snuggles into the crook of my neck. “You sure?”
She chuckles. “Of course,” she replies without hesitation.
I smile and tighten my arm around her as I hear her sniffing my neck. “What was on your mind today?” I ask, rubbing the top of her arm softly.
She’s silent for a long moment before she responds. “My mom. Just thinking about her and wondering if I should visit her and… Honestly, just thinking about all the things I’d say to her if I saw her.”
Recalling the things she told me about her mom last night makes me think of something one of my superiors said to me in boot camp. “When you blame someone for your problems, be sure to blame them for everything,” I begin, ignoring the puff of laughter that comes out of her mouth. “I’m serious. Go ahead and blame your mom for not taking good care of you after your dad died. But that means you also have to blame her for giving you life… Blame her for ignoring you while she was high, but also blame her for believing in you enough to drive you to your music lessons… Always keep your perspective, Iz.”
Fuck!
She tilts her head back and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Always keep my perspective…when blaming people?”
“Always keep your perspective, wiz,” I reiterate, attempting to cover up my previous slip. “Your mom wasn’t all bad, was she?”
I feel some of the tension in her muscles loosen as she tucks her head back into the crook of my neck. “Her boyfriend raped me.”
“What?” I blurt out, loosening my arm and scooting back a bit so I can look her in the eye. “What did you say?”
Her hazel eyes are cast downward as she holds her hands in her lap. “He…” She draws in a deep breath, and her shoulders sink as she lets it out. “He forced himself on me when I came home drunk one night. I… I’d been out late partying with Tiff, and… I caught an Uber home from the bar, ’cause Tiff was too drunk to take me home.” She finally looks up, and the tears in her eyes make me want to kill whoever did this to her. “I stumbled through the front door, and he was right there on the sofa, as usual. He was all tweaked-out on meth. The room was spinning, so I went to the bathroom to throw up. I think I fell asleep with my head on the toilet seat.
“Anyway, I don’t remember much, except a vague memory of him carrying me to my bed and giving me a glass of water. Then I woke up with him on top of me, but I felt even drunker than when I got home. I think he might have given me something, maybe I thought he was giving me an aspirin or something, and I took it. I couldn’t… I couldn’t fight him off. I couldn’t even scream. I just kept…coming in and out of consciousness.”
I think about when she was drunk at the bar about a week ago, and I left a glass of water and aspirin on her coffee table. “Fuck,” I whisper, shaking my head. “That’s…so fucking messed up. I’m sorry I implied you should give your mom another chance.”
She shrugs as she wipes tears from her cheeks. “It’s not like you knew. Besides, that’s good advice, to keep your perspective. Just doesn’t really apply in this case.” She lets out a deep sigh, but this time she sits up straighter. “I didn’t want to admit it was rape. I wanted to believe it was my fault for being that drunk, so I didn’t report it. I just told my mom I wanted to go live with Tiff. She fought me on it. Probably didn’t want to lose her gravy train. But eventually, she gave up. I
knew she would.”
I want to pull her into my arms again, but I afraid of pushing myself on her. “Can I hold you?” I ask tentatively.
She smiles, and this time her smile seems genuine. “Yes.”
“Come here,” I beckon her, and she takes it as an invitation to straddle my lap as she lays her head on my shoulder again.
Izzy’s hands are balled up as she tucks them between our chests, like a safety barrier. I carefully fold my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder.
“I think someone’s casing my house,” she whispers, and my heart drops as I realize Santos and I have made her feel unsafe.
“I won’t let anything happen to you again,” I reply fiercely. “Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
* * *
“I have the suitcase, but there’s no flash drive in there,” I tell Eddie as I glance back at the dark hallway, which leads to my bedroom where Izzy is sound asleep. “She definitely knows something, but I don’t know what,” I continue, remembering how I followed the movement of water in the lake and watched from a distance as Izzy dragged the plastic-wrapped suitcase onto the opposite shore. “It’s possible she’s already seen what’s on the flash drive, and maybe even made copies. I’m going to need you on standby for the moment I find it.”
“Got it. I’m right here in this shitty Days Inn just waiting for your call, compadre,” he replies.
“Good. I’ll check back with you tomorrow.”
I end the call and set the phone down on the kitchen counter, not too far from Izzy’s purse and keys. I consider looking through her bag for the flash drive, but I doubt she would leave it there after all the trouble she went through to hide the suitcase in the lake.
I leave her purse untouched and head back to the bedroom. As I slide under the sheet, Izzy groans softly and grabs my arm to cuddle with it. I sigh as I decide not to move for a while, so I don’t wake her.