Speed Trap

by Harris Channing

  * * *

  Whiskey Creek Press

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright ©2007 by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  * * *

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  * * *

  SPEED TRAP

  by

  Harris Channing

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Published by

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  Whiskey Creek Press

  PO Box 51052

  Casper, WY 82605-1052

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright © 2007 by Harris Channing

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-59374-969-9

  Credits

  Editor: Katherine Smith

  Printed in the United States of America

  WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

  SPEED TRAP

  "Harris Channing created very rich and believable characters with challenges that many face. Speed Trap was a wonderful book that I will more than likely be reading again."

  Chris

  TwoLipsReviews.com

  Dedication

  To my family for their understanding.

  I love you all.

  Chapter 1

  "You realize, of course, that you were speeding,” the police officer said, his arms folded over his chest, his mouth a firm line. He was young, too young to be so serious. Libby leaned out her open window and smiled up at him.

  "I know. I'm not from here and I didn't see the sign until it was too late."

  "Oh, in Arkansas the speed limit for driving through a town is eighty-five?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  He lowered his arms and set his hands on the door. “I'm going to have to see your license and registration, please."

  Libby bit her lip and caught sight of his nametag. “Please, Officer Davidson, I don't have insurance."

  "Of course you don't.” He sighed and pulled a pen and notepad from his shirt pocket. “What about a license?"

  "I do have that.” She leaned back into the car and began rummaging around in her purse. Her heart skipped a beat and a sickening sense of dread made her mouth go dry. “My wallet, it's gone."

  He squatted down before the window and for the first time she got a good look at him. Clean-shaven angular face, straight nose, soft lips, and dark hair. Very nice. If only she could see his eyes, but the dark sunglasses kept them hidden.

  "No license, no insurance, speeding. Your ass on fire?"

  "What?"

  "You seem to be in an awful big hurry. May I see your registration, please?"

  She shook her head.

  "If I run a check on your plates, what will I find?"

  A lump formed in her throat and tears stung her eyes. “Don't do that."

  With ease of motion, he put the pen and paper back into his pocket and grimaced. “I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car.” He straightened and pulled open the door.

  Libby sat there, her body quivering, petrified. Not missing a beat, he took her by her arm, his fingers strong as they dug into her flesh.

  "I haven't done anything wrong,” she protested.

  "Put your hands on the hood."

  Her body quaked as he patted her down. When his hand skimmed over her thighs and across her buttocks, a strange surge coursed through her and her stomach tightened into a knot.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm taking you into the station,” he answered in monotone.

  She turned to face him and saw him removing handcuffs from his belt. “You don't have to do that. I haven't done anything wrong. I don't want..."

  Davidson grabbed her wrist and spun her around, bending her over the hood. His body rested against the backs of her thighs and again she felt it, the unexpected jolt of excitement. Not the time! She felt herself becoming more and more turned on by his take-charge manner.

  "What don't you want?” he asked, cuffing her and pulling her to standing.

  "I-I don't want my boyfriend to find me."

  Davidson lowered her into the squad car and removed his glasses. Blue—his eyes were silver blue, but difficult to read.

  "You steal his car?” he asked, pointing at the primer gray GTO.

  "No."

  "He can't report it stolen?"

  "No,” she said again, her tears running in salty rivulets down her cheeks. “But if he knows where the car is, he'll know where to find me."

  Davidson blew out a disgusted breath. “Before I take you in, tell me everything and I'll see what can be done."

  She closed her eyes tight at the memory of Dwayne's latest attack. How could she put what almost happened into words without bawling like a baby?

  "He thinks he owns me. I told him I wanted out. I didn't want or need him anymore."

  "Go on,” he coaxed, his voice softer and sweeter than she would have believed possible. “I've heard it all before."

  "He started sending me flowers at work, calling and hanging up...” Tears stung anew and fell in large drops. Her lower lip quivered and she looked to Davidson for reassurance. He offered a gentle smile.

  "Last week he broke into my house and tried to...” The memory of him ripping at her clothes, and prying her legs apart tore into her soul. A sob escaped her lips before she could stifle it.

  Davidson rested his hand on her shoulder, the warmth and tenderness of the gesture urging her on.

  "The police came and arrested him, but his brother is the chief. I knew he'd get out and be back.” She shifted her weight. With her hands still cuffed, her wrists ached and she couldn't wipe away her tears. “I threw some shit into a bag and got the hell out of there."

  "What about your family?"

  She shook her head. “My folks left me with my granny when I was a baby. Granny's been gone for near six years now. Nothing's been right since."

  Davidson knelt down by the open car door and removed a red bandanna handkerchief from his back pocket. Wiping away her tears, he asked, “Where are you heading?"

  Raising her head, she looked up at him. “It looks like I'm going to jail."

  "No, sweetheart.” Davidson winked. “I'm gonna believe you.” He helped her out of the car and removed the cuffs. “I may be a fool for doing it but I can't see risking your life for a little money in the city's coffers."

  "Thanks.” She smiled and without thought reached up and touched his arm. Beneath the light fabric of his pale blue uniform shirt, she felt a well-toned bicep. When her gaze came to his, she caught a flash of interest and her breath caught in her throat.

  "What you going to do now?” he asked. “You got no money, no I.D., nothing."

  "I guess I'll go
back to the place I filled up and hope that they have my wallet. I don't want to. It's well over a hundred miles ago."

  "You remember the name of the place? You could call. Chances are no one is gonna turn it in. You're probably pretty well screwed on ever seeing that again."

  She felt around her pants pocket. “I have a receipt.” She offered it to him and he examined it.

  "What's your name?"

  "Libby Collins."

  'Well, Ms. Collins, I'll call it in and have some folks look into it for you."

  "They'll do that for me?"

  He grinned. “Here in White Springs it will be something interesting to do. The occasional speeder is about the most excitement we get in a day.” He disappeared into the cruiser and talked into the radio. Returning to where she leaned against the GTO, he ran an appreciative finger over the hood. “Annie's taking care of it."

  "Thank you."

  "What are you going to do in the meantime?"

  She scrubbed her hands over her tired face. “I guess I'll find a nice parking spot and wait."

  He cocked his head and grinned. “I'm off duty ‘til tomorrow. What do you think about coming home with me for supper?"

  His voice was softer, his manner changed, and as tempted as she was by the offer, she shook her head. “I couldn't do that."

  "Why not? It's food and a place to wash up before you leave White Springs.” He leaned forward and put his mouth close to her ear. “I ain't a bad sort."

  His warm breath caused a delightful chill and her nipples tightened. He pulled back and smiled. “What do you say?"

  "I am hungry."

  "I imagine you've not had anything better to eat than a day-old truck stop hotdog since you left Arkansas."

  She grinned and he rubbed her arm. “That's better. You know you ain't too hard on the eyes, especially when you smile."

  Chapter 2

  Libby followed Davidson down a winding dirt road and up a short gravel driveway. His house was a smallish white cottage adorned with black shutters. The front porch ran the length of the structure, screened in and decorated with two rocking chairs. In the drive sat an emerald green GTO, shining in the soft light of the spring evening. The air was moist and the scent of fresh pine from the nearby thicket brought back memories of childhood, safe in the bosom of her grandmother's love.

  "My castle.” Davidson smiled as he exited the squad car and slammed the door.

  "Nice ride,” Libby remarked getting out of her car. “'64?"

  "Yes. My baby."

  Libby looked at her heap. “Mine's a ‘65. Dwayne thought my clunker had potential."

  "Oh.” Davidson grinned. “She does.” He approached her and set a hand on her lower back. “Come on in. I'll fix you something cool to drink and you can wash up before dinner."

  Libby stood her ground, uncertainty tugging at her throat. “Why are you being nice to me?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. I guess it's like my momma said, help where you're able."

  "That's nice,” she replied, scanning his face. His eyes were soft upon her, no hint of duty left in them. “Thank you, Officer Davidson."

  "You're welcome, sweetheart.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “My name's Keith. Now Libby Collins, you prefer your chicken baked or grilled?"

  * * * *

  Libby looked at herself in Keith's bathroom mirror. Make-up streaked, exhausted circles under her green eyes, sandy brown hair oily from traveling with the car windows down. Her stomach ached with hunger and her lips cracked from dehydration.

  "You've been on the road less than a day and look at you. You'll never make North Carolina at this rate.” She splashed her face with cool water before rummaging through her bag to find a toothbrush. She could put her hair in a ponytail, wash her face, and feel better, but she thought she'd die if she didn't brush her teeth.

  At the tap on the bathroom door, she jumped. “Yes?"

  "There are fresh towels under the sink and help yourself to the shampoo."

  "Thanks."

  "Relax and take it easy, okay? Mi casa sort of thing."

  She rubbed her tired eyes. Why is he being kind? What does he want from me?

  Too fatigued to ponder, she took him up on his offer and showered. The massaging jets of warm water beat away the ache from Dwayne's assault and the hours of driving. Tension escaped and as she toweled off, she hummed. Dressed in a fresh t-shirt and denim shorts, she left the bathroom and walked down the hallway, combing her hair. She looked at the pictures of smiling faces along the wall. From all appearances, Officer Keith Davidson had a large and happy family.

  "Officer?” she called when she reached the kitchen and found it empty.

  "I'm out here in the back.” His voice filtered through the storm door to the left of the kitchen table. She followed the sound and on opening the door was greeted by a three-legged poodle and a one-eyed schnauzer.

  "Elvis and Priscilla.” He grinned and jiggled the grill to move the bits of hot charcoal around, and orange sparks rose around him.

  "Cute,” Libby remarked, stepping onto the deck before leaning over to pet them. “Hi, you two."

  "They're a couple of jokers."

  Libby giggled as she stroked the dingy white poodle. “Priscilla needs a bath."

  "Believe it or not, that's Elvis.” He chuckled.

  "What happened to him?” she asked, amazed at how well he maneuvered around the deck minus a leg.

  "I don't know. I suspect his owner kicked the shit out of him. Came limping up here one day and I took care of him."

  "And Priscilla?"

  "She was my sister's dog. Sandy got tired of her, left her in the pen all night.” Keith bent over and scratched the black and gray dog behind the ear. “Prissy here didn't think much of the idea and decided to dig her way out. Caught some wire right in the eye.” He cringed and closed his eyes. “Bad scene."

  Libby looked up at him. Dressed in a white tank, jeans, and flip-flops, she noted that even out of uniform, he cut a fine figure. Her heart fluttered and when the idea of him kissing her entered her mind, she didn't stop it. She wondered how he would taste and if he were gentle and giving or forceful and demanding.

  "Just helping where you're able?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  "I guess you could say that."

  She straightened and moved toward him, the heat from the grill nothing in comparison to the heat in her body. “You take in stray woman often?"

  He grinned, no humor in those silver eyes. With a raised brow, he asked, “You a stray or you something special?"

  Rising on her toes, she placed a gentle kiss on those full soft lips. He didn't return her kiss but watched her as she moved inside.

  "Why don't you tell me?"

  "Woman.” He shook his head. “Don't tempt me."

  "You'd be helping me out,” she replied, her mind reeling. Why am I coming on so strong? Am I testing him? Her heart thumped and her legs grew weak. No, I do want him. She'd never felt this way before. The sad fact was Dwayne Parsons was her one and only lover. She'd had men interested, and even dated, but that had been as far as it went. The realization burned through and she watched him, waiting.

  He turned his face back toward the grill. “Dinner will be ready soon. In the meantime, will you get me a beer from the fridge?"

  Humiliated, she brought him a bottle. He took a long swig before looking at her, Officer Davidson having returned. “Sweetheart, what was that all about?"

  "I don't know, was I reading you wrong?"

  He ran his fingers through his chestnut hair, not answering.

  "You don't find me attractive?"

  "I didn't say that. I'll fuck you and it'll be good. Is that what you want?"

  "What if I say yes?"

  He slammed the lid of the grill and walked to where she stood, backing her up against the house. “I say, let's don't waste anymore time.” He pressed his mouth to hers, his lips firm, and his hands strong as he pulled her to
him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her fingers exploring the muscular contours of his back. His mouth moved down her neck, his moist lips and warm breath leaving behind raw, aroused flesh. He cupped her breast with his hand and massaged the nipple into a rigid peak of wanton desire.

  With ease, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom. The bed unmade, he deposited her on the soft cotton sheets. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, exposing her bosom to his gaze. He exhaled a ragged breath and removed his shirt, his body a masterpiece of God and man. Her pussy flooded with anticipation.

  His eyes narrowed as he took in her form. Gripping the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her damp hair and he stared into her eyes.

  "I want you, Libby, there's no doubt about that.” He kissed her again, his lips crushing, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, taunting her. With shaking hands, she pulled his head away and pushed his face to her breasts.

  "Suck me,” she whispered with desperation.

  He groaned and drew a rosy nipple into his mouth. She arched against him, wanting to experience all he had to offer. Kissing her, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of her shorts and panties and slid a finger inside her.

  "You do want me, don't you?” he said, pushing his middle finger deep inside her pussy. She gasped with the pleasure he provided, forcing her hips upward to enable him free access to her. “Tell me you want me, Libby,” he whispered into her ear. Her breathing grew rapid as he moved his finger from side to side. “Tell me that you want me to fuck you."

  "I-I want you to fuck me.” The words rang foreign in her ears, as if she were no longer in the room. Her entire world now revolved around Keith's fingers pressing into her cunt.

  "Show me,” he urged, pulling his hand free. “Prove it."

  In a frenzy of need, Libby pushed him away, and removed the remnants of her clothing. Forcing him to his back, she straddled him. “I'll show you,” she said, then claimed his mouth with hers. She forced her tongue between his teeth, savoring his flavor and the scent of him, musky and warm.

  Nipping and licking, sucking and biting, her mouth traveled down his beautiful, muscled chest, to his abdomen where his swollen cock pressed against his jeans. With greedy fingers, she undressed him, her hands still shaking as she seized his beautiful prick. He was hard and ready for her, so she looked to his face. “I think you want to fuck me too."