The Final Bullet

by Chris Taylor

  With that thought firmly in mind, she reached out and loosened his tie. The silk slid easily between her fingers. Without taking her eyes off him, she let it fall to the floor. She splayed her fingers across his broad chest, loving the feel of his hard muscles. Pushing his jacket off his shoulders, her hands went to the buttons of his shirt.

  As slowly and precisely as she’d worked on hers, she eased his shirt buttons from their restraints and then tugged the fabric out of his suit pants. Spreading the shirt open, she looked her fill at the magnificence of his chest.

  Broad and muscular and sprinkled with hair, he was a perfect specimen of a man. Her gaze drifted over him, across the wide expanse of smooth skin, to the flat planes of his belly and beyond. Unable to help herself, she touched him.

  Sliding her hand over his smooth, heated skin, she flicked at his nipples with her fingernails and heard his sharp intake of breath. Moving lower, she slid her hand across his abdomen and then lower still, until her fingers were inside his pants.

  His cock was hard and throbbing, heated to the touch. She fitted her hand around it and squeezed.

  “Jesus,” he groaned and closed his eyes as if the sight of her hand on his erection was too much.

  “You feel rather…eager,” she teased, squeezing him again.

  “Minx,” he muttered, with hooded eyes. “Your turn will come.”

  Ava’s belly somersaulted at the velvet promise in his voice. Anticipation danced along her nerve endings. She removed her hand from his cock and focused on the belt around his waist. Releasing the black leather from the shiny silver buckle, she eased the belt through the belt loops and let it go. It hit the carpet with a soft thud. With her gaze fixed on his, she undid the button on his pants and slid the zipper down.

  Once again, she reached under his underwear and found his thick cock. Her finger brushed across the tip and found warm moisture there. She spread it around and around his head, massaging as she went. He stared at her, his body tense, waiting for her to finish.

  “You’re driving me mad,” he muttered, his voice now hoarse with need.

  She smiled. “Good.” With that, she kneeled before him.

  Reaching up, she tugged at his loosened pants and, along with his underwear, dragged them all the way down. They pooled at his feet and he kicked them off, then stood there, naked except for his shoes and socks.

  Licking her lips, she stared at his cock. It jutted out from his nest of dark hair, thick and proud and glistening. Still on her knees, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. He groaned in relief and excitement and cupped the back of her head with his hands, holding her in place.

  She sucked him hard and deep, taking as much of his length as she could. He groaned again and threw back his head, his eyes closed against the torment.

  “Do you like that?” she murmured.

  “Hell, yes. Too much,” he groaned.

  She swirled the tip of her tongue around his engorged head, tasting the fluid that gathered there. Her hand reached up to cup his balls, squeezing them gently. They were full and heavy and filled her hand. He shuddered against her touch.

  Stepping back, he freed himself as his cock slid out of her mouth. “Enough. Get on the bed. It’s your turn.”

  His gruff commands excited her, as did the determined look in his heated gaze. Anticipation shivered through her and she did as she was told. He followed her onto the four poster and pressed her back against the covers. Kneeling between her legs, with his cock stiff and hard, he leaned forward and unclasped her bra.

  His erection slid along her stomach at the same time her breasts sprang free. He tossed the bra over his shoulder and then reached out to cup the soft mounds. Squeezing and massaging, he flicked her hard nipples with his thumbs. She gasped. Desire raced through her and centered in the heated place between her thighs.

  “And you thought you were the only one who got to tease,” he rasped and then he bent and took one of her nipples in his mouth. He bit down gently and she gasped again as another surge of hot need found its mark.

  Desire built up inside her, heavy and urgent and throbbing. She squirmed beneath him, desperate to have his cock.

  “Please,” she gasped. “I need you. I need you inside me. Now.”

  To her chagrin, he looked down at her and chuckled. “Ah, not so smug, now, are you? You’ll have my cock when I say so. You’re going to be driven to the point of madness before I finish with you. Just like you did to me,” he added with a satisfied smile.

  Sliding slowly down her body, he came to a stop between her thighs. Her stockings were rolled down, one by one and tossed over the side of the bed. Next, his tongue swept over her lacy mound. Burying his face against her heat, he breathed in deeply of her scent.

  She squirmed again. “Lachlan, please.”

  “Shh,” he demanded roughly. “You had your turn. Now, be quiet, while I have mine.”

  His voice brooked no argument, but she wasn’t in the least bit scared. Instead, desire surged through her again, setting every nerve ending on fire.

  He pulled aside the scrap of lace that covered her femininity. His finger traced her soft lips and then he tried to move his hand lower. The tiny panties restricted his access. With a muffled oath, he tore them off her and tossed them away.

  She gasped in shock and excitement. Never had he treated her this way. She loved the feeling of being dominated, just as she’d dominated him earlier. With a sigh of relief, his hand cupped her bare mound and his tongue laved across her sensitive skin. Once again, his fingers moved lower.

  He parted her lips and then bent his head and licked her from top to bottom. His tongue probed her entrance and pushed inside and then was replaced by a couple of his fingers. Moving rhythmically in and out, his tongue kept up the external pressure. She twisted her hips and cried out from the torment, but he refused to give her relief.

  “Do you like that?” he rasped, mirroring the words she’d said to him. Beyond words, she could only moan her consent and still, he wasn’t finished.

  With her legs spread wide, he licked and sucked and nipped at her sensitive flesh. His fingers continued their wicked onslaught until she was mindless with desire.

  “Lachlan, let’s call it even,” she gasped, her body white hot with need. “I can’t take any more of this torture. I need you. Please, fuck me. Now.”

  The profanity shocked her, but Lachlan merely smiled. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked.

  She stared up at him. “Yes.”

  Without another word, he rammed into her, filling her in a single hard thrust. Catching her breath, she clung to his shoulders, hanging onto him for dear life. She was already so close to the precipice, so close to exploding into a million pieces and falling mindlessly over the other side. His frantic thrusts continued and all of a sudden, she was there.

  Toppling and spinning out of control, her body convulsed around his. Her fingernails dug into his skin, not easing until the last shudder had finished. Breathing hard, she opened her eyes and stared up at him in wonder.

  His face was tense, his expression unfocused. His eyes were glazed with need. Teetering on the edge, he picked up speed, thrusting his hips hard against her. Moments later, he cried out in relief and collapsed in a heap against her.

  His breath was harsh and hot in her ear. His heart thudded against her chest. She held him close and kissed his hair, exhausted and content. It was a long time afterward, wrapped in each other’s arms that they had the energy to speak.

  “You don’t have to move to the city,” she said, idling running her fingers up and down his arm. I’m happy to relocate to Moree. I enjoyed my time living there. It’s a friendly community and closer to your kids.”

  He smiled down at her. “I love that you’d give up your life here for me, but it’s not necessary. Kristy’s going to make a home on the Central Coast, so it’s closer for me to travel from Sydney to visit with my kids. I… I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

  She
pulled his head down for a soft kiss. “I hope they like me,” she murmured.

  “They’re gonna love you,” he promised.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind leaving the country?”

  “Not at all. I enjoyed my time there and it’s definitely a more relaxed lifestyle, but I don’t mind living in the city. I was born here, after all. And I can spend more time with my mom. I’m sure she’s been lonely since Dad died. Then there’s Rohan—”

  “And Sam,” she interrupted with a smile.

  “Of course. How could I forget? Their wedding was what brought us together.”

  “And aren’t you glad they did!” she teased.

  He kissed her again. This time, he lingered over her lips. “Absolutely.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dear Diary,

  Did I ever imagine it might come to this? That there was nothing left for me, but the end of my family as I know it? I fear the answer is no, and yet, I am filled with equal parts terror and sad resignation. I realize now it’s the only way. I’ve lived a lie for so many years, it’s time I brought it to an end.

  I might have scoffed at the hours of therapy, but they have helped me make my decision. I’m not beyond appreciating the irony. Therapy has brought me a measure of acceptance and peace. Now, I hang my head in shame.

  Am I responsible for any of the tragic deaths that are now on everyone’s lips? I want to protest any hint of liability. I want to shout my innocence from the rooftops, to anyone who can hear… And yet, I can’t. I fear I am responsible. If not for all, at least, for some and the guilt is a heavy burden to bear.

  I’m a cross-dressing, hypocritical, deceitful, middle-aged man. It is time I accepted the truth… I mourn the pain and anguish my actions will cause others, but my mind is made up. The truth will set me free.

  Now all I need to do is find the courage to break the news to my wife. She isn’t going to take my leaving well, but I refuse to live in the dark and shadows any longer. I’ve found my soulmate, the love of my life. He will help me through this transition. He’s in a perfect position to do so. After all, he’s been there, too…

  * * *

  Lachlan squeezed the last box into the back of his pickup. It was already loaded high. Even the backseats were full, but he’d managed to fit everything in. The moving van would be there within the hour to collect the furniture. The thought of leaving filled him with mixed emotions. He looked forward to a future with Ava, but he’d spent five years of his life in this town. He’d made strong friendships, he’d forged a career. He’d had a family.

  A few days earlier, Becker had called him to tell him Elsie Irwin had retracted her statement, putting both Lachlan and Martin in the clear. Though Lachlan welcomed the news, it was bittersweet and the fact was, it no longer mattered. Martin was dead, along with his family. Life would never be the same again.

  He looked around at the neat garden that bordered his family home. He’d listed it for sale. He and Kristy agreed it was for the best. They were both moving on, their lives headed in different directions. It saddened him to be bringing to an end the life he’d imagined would be his until he died, but he couldn’t deny the joy and anticipation he felt at the thought of starting a new chapter with Ava.

  The sound of his phone ringing broke into his thoughts and he collected it from where he’d left it on the front seat. Glancing at the screen, he noticed he’d missed three other calls from blocked numbers while he’d been going back and forth with boxes between his house and truck. He frowned and answered the phone.

  “Lachlan Coleridge.”

  “Lachie, are you still in town? We need you at the station.”

  Lachlan frowned at the urgency in the voice of one of his former colleagues. “Mick, my resignation was effective three days ago. My time in Moree is done.”

  “I understand, Lachie, but we… We have a bit of a situation. We need your help.”

  “Where’s Becker? Does he even know you’re calling? He won’t take too kindly to your invitation. He and I didn’t exactly part on the friendliest of terms.” Suddenly, Lachlan heard the howling of sirens. They didn’t sound very far away.

  “That’s the thing,” Mick was saying. “Becker’s the reason for my call. He… He killed himself last night. Apparently, he left a note. His wife was working a night shift at the hospital. She left home at eleven last evening and arrived home a little after eight this morning. She found him.”

  “Shit,” Lachlan muttered, shocked beyond belief. Becker was dead? He’d committed suicide? Why? How?

  The questions hammered away at his dazed mind. He simply couldn’t take it all in.

  “Please, Lachie. As the most senior officer on staff, we need you.”

  The quiet desperation in his colleague’s voice finally broke through Lachlan’s haze. He couldn’t bring himself to remind the man he was no longer stationed at Moree.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he promised. Ending the call, he swallowed a heavy sigh and closed the back of his car. It appeared he wouldn’t be leaving for Sydney anytime soon.

  * * *

  Lachlan strode up the neat brick path that led to the house Becker shared with his wife and two young kids. Constable David Jacobs kept pace with him.

  “The general duties officers who answered the emergency call told me the superintendent’s death occurred in unusual circumstances,” Jacobs said, a little too eagerly for Lachlan’s liking. He shot the officer a hard look.

  “Becker was the head of the Barwon Local Area Command. He committed suicide. Isn’t that unusual enough?”

  The constable blushed in embarrassment and Lachlan felt a surge of satisfaction. Good, the man ought to be embarrassed. No one’s death was cause for innuendo and speculation, not even Becker’s. Lachlan might not have liked the man, but it didn’t mean he’d treat him with disrespect at a time like this.

  Pushing past an officer who guarded the front door, he paused to ask the man about the location of the body.

  “He’s in the back shed, Detective Coleridge.”

  Lachlan nodded his thanks and kept walking through the house. Jacobs jogged to keep up. Two more constables stood by the back door and opened it as Lachlan approached. Once again, he nodded his thanks. He strode across the back porch and down a short flight of steps.

  The yard was scattered with the usual assortment of kids’ toys, a swing set, bicycles and dolls. The innocence of it tore at Lachlan’s heart. Now two kids would grow up without a father. It didn’t get sadder than that. It was bad enough for his own children that he was going to be their part-time Dad, but he was determined to be involved in their lives as much as he possibly could.

  The shed loomed in front of him, the galvanized iron catching rays from the morning sun. Becker lived on a large block. The shed was large enough to house a bus. Lachlan wondered briefly why his former boss would need such a building and then dismissed the thought.

  What did it matter what Becker had used it for in the past? It would be forever known as the place where he hung himself. The thought was sobering.

  There were another two officers standing guard outside the galvanized iron door that led to the inside of the shed. Blue-and-white checked police tape cordoned off the area. The officers acknowledged Lachlan and Jacobs in silence and stood aside to allow them to enter.

  Far from being dark and gloomy, the inside of the shed was lit up like a football stadium at night. Lachlan blinked from the unexpected brightness. A forensic team was already set up, with high-powered spotlights illuminating every nook and cranny of the building. Their main focus was the body that still hung from a steel beam that ran the length of the shed. An old, rusted ladder stood less than a foot away from the corpse.

  Lachlan moved closer, skirting around an assortment of vintage car bodies in various states of restoration and crates of what looked like miscellaneous car parts. So, Becker had been a car restorer in his other life. It was funny how little Lachlan knew about him outside the s
tation.

  Looking up, Lachlan got his first good view of the body and gasped in shock. Becker was clothed in a long flowing dress that looked like it might have come from his wife’s closet, had she been a larger woman. The red silk fluttered in the light breeze that stole through the cracks in the walls. Red high-heel sandals adorned Becker’s feet and matched the garish lipstick on his face.

  Lachlan shook his head back and forth, trying to gather his thoughts. Becker was a transvestite? It certainly appeared that way. Just another hobby Lachlan had been ignorant of. Turning on his heel, he approached the forensic officer who held a digital camera in his hand.

  “Are you finished with your pictures? Are we able to cut him down?”

  “Yes. I’ve taken all I need. You’re going to need help getting him down. He’s not a lightweight, by anyone’s estimation.”

  Lachlan nodded in grim assent. Like his shed, Becker had been an oversized man. Lachlan called out to Jacobs who moved over toward him, a slight grin on his face.

  “I told you his death was a little unusual, didn’t I?” Jacobs smirked, indicating the commander.

  Anger stirred inside Lachlan. He might not have gotten on with Becker while he was alive and a lot of the time, he hadn’t liked the man, but that didn’t mean he’d think badly of him now, or allow others to make jokes at his expense.

  “Enough!” he growled. “Have some respect!”

  Jacobs’ eyes widened in surprise, but he refrained from making any further comments and the sly look on his face disappeared.

  “Forensics have what they need. Go and get a couple of the others. I need help to get him down,” Lachlan said.

  “Yes, Detective. Of course. I’ll go and get someone to assist.”

  Jacobs scurried off in the direction of the exit. Lachlan glanced back up at Becker and sighed.