Chad.
She turned around and saw the spot where he’d fallen asleep last night was empty.
Last night they’d come to her room. She’d wanted to make love, but instead they’d only talked. It was almost better than sex, she’d thought last night. They’d never talked like that before. She felt in the hour they’d spent communicating she’d learned more about him than in the months they’d screwed around.
She’d asked Chad about the house, if they’d made a mistake by coming here. When he didn’t respond she’d looked up to find him asleep. So adorable, so handsome. He’d looked like a big kid on his back, mouth slightly parted and a soft snore rattling in his throat.
It felt great having him with her. She’d snuggled up to him and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. Such a great night.
Until Grunnel showed up and ruined it.
Now Chad was gone. He’d left her in the middle of the night.
Left me to Grunnel. If Chad would’ve been here…
Again she had to remind herself that it was just a fucked-up dream featuring a fucked-up person doing nasty things to her. Chad had no control over whom she dreamed about or what that person did in Heather’s dream.
Still, she believed if Chad had been with her, Grunnel wouldn’t have come.
Heather took a deep breath, her lungs prickling with a coldness not caused by the chill hovering in the room. She exhaled deeply, feeling faint throbs of pain all over. There were places on her skin that felt tight and sore. Phantom injuries from her dream, most likely.
She listened and thought she detected the muffled gush of water coursing through the pipes behind the wall. Chad’s in the shower. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Maybe I can surprise him. It was early, so everybody else should still be sleeping. She could simply tiptoe to the bathroom and join him.
How would he react to the shower curtain suddenly being yanked open?
Hopefully, he won’t scream!
Heather could see him now—head down as the spray pelted him with hot water. Soapy streams slipped down his strong body, bubbly as they cascaded in swirls at his navel, frothy as they flowed between his buttocks. His hair plastered around his skull, eyes screwed shut and his mouth open as if moaning from how good the shower felt.
Now she craved not just him but the shower’s comforting heat. Heather swung her legs off the bed. She rose in a hurry. The air hit her skin like a frigid splash. The carpet was old and flat under her feet. Its springy softness was long gone.
She reached the door and quietly tiptoed out.
It was fairly dark in the hallway as she walked on the balls of her feet to silence her movements. Other than her ankles popping with nearly each step, she was successful. She passed Debbie’s room. The door was closed. The small gap above the floor was a dark bar.
Still sleeping.
Randy’s room was next. She noticed tiny bristles of dirt and some leaves in front of it. His shoes probably tracked it in.
Then she heard a tooting sound, like a foot slipping on wet enamel.
The shower.
She passed Randy’s room.
Chad’s room was the last one before she reached the bathroom. Its door was also shut, a dark band under the door. Really quick, she swung the door open and saw his bed. It hadn’t been slept in. Of course not. He’d gone straight from her room to the shower. His skin had made that noise, as if calling her.
Come get me, Heather. I’m in here, waiting for my surprise!
Heather paused outside the door, looked from one side to the other and slowly turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. She couldn’t help feeling that Chad had been hoping for this all along.
The hiss of water and spanking of heavy drops in the tub increased as the door swung inward. Heat floated out, touching her face in misty strokes. She slipped inside and delicately shut the door. Any noises she might have made were covered by the sizzles coming from behind the shower curtain.
Steam hung in front of her like a tarp. It seemed to cling to everything. The darkly tinted curtain draped the tub. All she could see of Chad were shadowy movements—a flicker here, a sifting there.
She frowned.
Something about his movements was weird. The showerhead was on the left side. She could see a slant of pipe above the curtain. But the shadows were on the other side, as if trying to get away from the water.
What was he doing?
Heather, not as excited as before, crept to the tub. She chewed on her bottom lip, grimacing as she stood just outside. If she were to puff out a shot of air, she could make the curtain shake. Her hand rose, then lowered. It rose again, lowered again.
Just do it, already!
Heather lifted her arm, which felt heavier than normal. Her stomach seemed to be climbing into her ribs. Her hand gripped the curtain, slick and cold under her fingers, and started to pull.
Heather’s original plan had been to yank the curtain open and yell “Surprise!”. Now, she moved it with the vulnerability of somebody opening a mysterious package that was ticking inside.
A woman’s foot was uncovered when the curtain slipped past. Toes gripped the rim of the tub, the foot was arched. Heather felt disgust and shock shatter her heart. She traced the gleaming shin up to a bent knee. A curvy thigh, a hand gripping its slippery flesh as water streamed down, brought tears to her eyes. A man’s back blocked the woman’s chest. She couldn’t see his head from how it hung low in the front.
But raised above his shoulder was Steph’s face. Her eyes were closed, eyebrows pointed down, mouth opened in a combination of gasp and moan. Her hair was a hood of saturated crimson around her face.
Heather watched as Steph’s head shot up and dropped with each thrust of the man’s hips. Heather studied the man shoving into her. His back, like Chad’s, was muscular, with lines curving down to a bare ass that clenched with each jab between Steph’s opened legs. Seeing the rump made her face go from a disconsolate frown to one of furrowed confusion.
The man was not Chad.
Ted.
Her mouth dropped open and she quickly slapped her hand over it. Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! Pedaling backward, she released the curtain. The plastic drape fell back into place, shielding her view of them once again.
I’m such a moron!
She should have known better than to walk in without knocking. Lucky for her, they were too occupied to notice. They would have thought she was a perverted peeper.
Heather snuck in and watched us fuck in the shower!
That was Steph’s voice, protesting to Randy.
I’m such a goddamn idiot!
Tears dotted her eyes, threatening her already dewy vision.
Heather hurried to the door. Her feet slipped on the moist tile, but she didn’t fall. She gripped the knob and slowly turned it. As she carefully pulled the door to her, she heard Steph release a soft squeal. Ted softly chuckled.
Then Heather was outside the room, the chilly air of the hall drifting across her warm skin. Shivering, she pulled the door shut.
“Good morning.”
Heather slapped a hand over her squealing mouth. She looked beside her and saw Chad holding a tray with breakfast on top.
“I was bringing you breakfast,” he said. His smile diminished. “You okay?”
Though she was crying, she couldn’t stop laughing.
Chad turned his head to the door when Steph’s orgasmic cry resonated from the other side. He turned back to her, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
Probably wondering why she’d been in there.
I am a goddamn idiot.
Piper
Panting and sweaty, Piper pulled out of Brooke. He was on his knees and leaned back, tilting his face up. Sweat trickled down into his ears. It tickled. He rubbed his hand across his neatly cropped hair to shake the sweat out. It w
as getting long already, and another date with the electric trimmer was near.
“Whew,” he huffed.
He put his hands on his thighs and leaned forward. She wasn’t looking at him, nor had she since the first time. He wished she would. He relished the pathetic pleading their eyes usually gave him. Brooke had begged at first, and once he started, she’d stopped. Hadn’t said a damn thing since.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She continued to lie there, her arms stretched above her and cuffed to the bars of her cell. It pulled her back taut, straining her stomach flat and raising her breasts higher on her chest. He liked that—how it seemed to stretch and enlarge them, all at once. He grabbed one and gave it a shake.
“Hey,” he said, louder. “Are you hungry?”
“Nope.” There was no emotion in her voice, lacking any real kind of tone.
“Thirsty?”
“No.” That same robotic tone, like an automated operator on the phone.
Piper smiled. “Suit yourself.”
He stood up with a groan, ligaments sounding like fingers snapping as he straightened his back. Though he was a few years away from forty, he’d never admit he wasn’t in the same kind of shape he had been at thirty. Nor would he acknowledge the gray hairs in his beard and hairline. He also chose to ignore how his body produced more rackets these days than the car he’d owned when he was a teenager.
But at least he could still fuck like he was thirty.
Hands on his hips, he stared at Brooke Brown. He doubted he’d tire of her as quickly as the others. Her skin was so soft it was like gripping a marshmallow coated in silk. It sank under his hand. Not that she was flabby. He felt firmness under that soft pelt and that he really liked. Athletic. He recalled the parents saying she was on the track team. That meant the girl could run, and if given the chance, she might outrun Piper. He needed to be vigilant around her.
Yet he also appreciated the challenge.
Though he doubted she’d be able to run very far since each ankle was cuffed to a metal bar on her cot, spreading her legs so he could slide right between them without any trouble.
Other than her tits, if he had to pick a piece of her he liked the most, it would be her legs. Starting at the hips, they curved like teardrops around her groin to her knees. From there, they dipped and narrowed to a pair of delicate ankles. He hated seeing how much the cuffs were chafing them, making them bleed, but the extra precaution was essential.
Her skin, polished under a sweaty sheen, was naturally dark. And he noticed there were no tan lines, which meant she was an adventurous little twat who sunbathed in the nude. She seemed to glow like a bronze statue when the sunlight hit it after a heavy morning’s dew. There were a couple ruddy spots from his fervent groping and suckling. For as anxious as he was to have at her, he was surprised she didn’t look worse. Hosing off in the shower later would make her sparkly once again.
His cock gave a little tic at the thought of her hanging by her wrists under the shower’s spray. He felt a faint yet evident pain in his testicles.
Why wouldn’t there be? Shot off four rounds in that girl last night.
Careful not to bump his testicles, he walked slow and stilted over to his clothes and started to dress. He stifled a groan when he stuck his legs into his pants. His eyes stayed on Brooke as he clasped his belt. She remained motionless. Head canted to the side, eyes seemingly fixed on the cinder-block wall. It was as if she’d gone into a hibernated state, like a computer when nobody’s on it.
Piper smirked. “You sure you don’t want something to replenish what I fucked out of you?”
Brooke took a breath and for a moment, Piper thought she was going to reply. She didn’t. She only exhaled in a slow gust.
“Last chance until lunchtime,” he said, heading to the cage door. He glanced back at her, expecting her to be watching him leave, but her eyes were still fixated on the wall.
He pulled on his T-shirt and uniform shirt, leaving the tan-colored garment unbuttoned. Keeping his head turned to Brooke, he reached through the bars and pawed until his fingers found the keys sticking out from the lock. He gripped them and twisted his wrist. There was a deep clang when the bar retracted from the lock. He swung the door open, grimacing as the high-pitched squeal of ancient hinges hurt his ears.
Outside the cell, he gave another fleeting glance at Brooke before slamming the door. He put force behind it to make sure the noise was loud and thunderous, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of her. His prisoner hardly seemed to notice. He thought she might have flinched, if only a smidgeon, but he wasn’t sure.
Piper first went to the restroom and emptied his bladder. His piss came out sputtering from all the sex he’d had last night. He gently tapped the head of his penis. He was sore there as well. Brooke’s tightness had brought this dull pain on. It was the kind of ache he enjoyed.
After zipping up and flushing, he crossed the room to the sink and washed his hands. As he rinsed off the soap, he stared at the reflection of a haggard man showing all the signs of fatigue. The puffy, dark circles under his eyes, the pale skin and bristly stubble on his cheeks that never seemed to go away. Under the fluorescent lights, the gray hairs in his military haircut sparkled like glitter among the brown.
Piper walked to the compact kitchen, drying his hands with a paper towel, rubbing the grooves between his fingers. He dropped the soaked towel in the trash. There was a two-burner stove with an oven underneath, a fridge and microwave in here. The cabinets were stocked with canned food, and the fridge with drinks, milk, sandwich meat, and breakfast stuff. They used a poker table to eat on.
Being one of a three-man police force who worked in seven-day intervals, there weren’t very many places around where Piper or his two deputies could grab a burger whenever they felt the need. The closest restaurant was Golla’s, but that was in Cradle Elk. So, for most of their meals they were dependent solely upon themselves and this ridiculously small kitchen.
Three years ago he’d come out here to find Amy. She ran out on him, apparently fed up with their relationship. His father had raised his boys to dictate to their women, with force if necessary, but Piper had never applied those traditions. Until Amy, he’d treated every woman in his life as an object of worship. He might admit after a couple six-packs that he was afraid of them, but never aloud and only to himself.
Amy changed that. In her was a woman who wanted to be dominated, needed it. After the first time he took charge, he’d found he couldn’t stop. And until she’d busted her cell phone against his forehead and run off to meet Gary Butler, she’d seemed satisfied with how things were.
Gary.
Piper smirked as he removed two eggs from the carton in the fridge. He carried them to the stove, carefully placed them between the burners and turned the dial to the medium setting. A pan was already on top, washed and ready to cook.
He returned to the fridge and grabbed a fresh pack of bacon. He slit it open with the knife from his belt.
He’d hoped to use the knife on Gary, but the Haunchies got him first. As he stretched out four pieces of bacon across the pan’s shiny surface, he remembered how the little monsters had swarmed Gary, like ants on a beetle. They’d torn him apart in mere seconds. It was incredible, and terrifying.
The pan was heating up. The grease sizzled as it started to cook the meat. The delicious smell of frying bacon drifted up. He opened the drawer next to him and grabbed the metal spatula from the top of the utensil pile. Standing in front of the burner, he anxiously tapped the counter with the rounded handle.
Whenever his mind wandered to the past, he became jittery. His heart pounded him with sickening thumps. He felt his eyes stretching, unable to blink, until the memory completely trampled by in a flurry of images. Like flipping through a book and only catching glimpses of what was inside.
His short stint in a cage, with Amy nearb
y. His escape. Slaughtering Haunchies as he tried to flee from the village. He’d left Amy behind, knowing they would kill her, and deep down he was only regretful because her death wouldn’t be caused by his own hands.
When the fires started, he barely made it out of the corn. And to his surprise, he found Gary Butler’s girlfriend, Wendy, climbing out of the ground like a zombie rising from the grave. He’d watched with horrible fright as the black earth birthed this feral-looking woman, clawing her way to freedom.
But he had the gun, after all. He could take her. He wanted her. Everything he’d been through just to make Amy and Gary suffer for the problems they’d caused him, and here was a reward, as if given to him by God Almighty himself. Thoughts of Wendy had kept his motivations steered in the right direction. Now, here she was—his for the taking.
So he took.
But he’d underestimated her newfangled savagery. He should have comprehended the depths she’d had to sink to, to make it that far. She attacked him.
Between then and when he awoke in the hospital with the mayor of Doverton at his bedside was a dark block of missing time. Mayor Rileson had performed a background check on Piper and learned he was a sheriff back home. After Piper explained he’d come through Doverton to find his girlfriend who’d run off with another man, the mayor had nodded sympathetically.
Then he offered Piper a job.
Rileson needed somebody who knew what was really happening in his quaint town behind the façade of an average farming community, needed someone who knew about the creatures lurking in the dark recesses of their peaceful home. And, most importantly, he needed someone who would keep his mouth shut about it.
Piper took the job.
Looking down at the pan, he saw the bacon was starting to curl. He flipped each strip. The side on top was lightly brown with tiny bubbles of fat protruding from the crispy skin. He took all the necessary precautions to ensure the meat would be chewy. He didn’t like bacon that was crunchy like pork-flavored chips.
The Lurking Season Page 12