by K. Marie
That was my cue.
Opening up the file in front of me, I removed the photos and slid them across the desk. Clay eyed them warily, before glancing back at me.
Always have leverage. To play the game, you’ve got to know how it’s played.
“Those were in McKellan’s possession, don’t ask me how I obtained them,” I told him bluntly.
The photos were mostly images of Camry that had been taken somewhere between their broken engagement, and just before our marriage. McKellan had been stalking her. There were photos of her in varying states of leaving and returning home, of her in the parking lot of the grocery store, one outside of her yoga class—as well as one with Autumn and me in it.
“As you can see, those last photos were shot here,” I pointed out, referring to the ones taken at the equestrian farm. They were mostly photos of us getting out of the car in the parking lot.
“Christ…” Clay murmured in disgust, thumbing through the photos.
I wasn’t done yet.
“I’m sure you’ll find this even more disturbing,” I told him, handing over more photos.
The photos were of another woman that McKellan had apparently been stalking. Only, they were much older; likely taken a while ago. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, had dark hair, brown eyes, and was of thin build. Much like the photos of Camry, these seemed to have been taken without the woman’s knowledge as well. They were saved on McKellan’s computer.
“Angela Moore; age twenty-three at the time, lived in Canton, Ohio. Death ruled a suicide,” I explained, placing the police report in front of Clay. “She and McKellan had dated before that, but she’d broken things off with him. She never filed a formal complaint, but her sister stated that she’d complained of McKellan harassing her and that she was afraid of him. The police questioned him, but the suicide ruling held.”
“Jesus, you’re saying McKellan was responsible for this woman’s death?”
“She broke things off with him, he stalked her, and she conveniently took an overdose of pills for no known reason. Her family and friends stated that she hadn’t been depressed nor suicidal; and that the pills weren’t hers. Looks like a pattern of behavior to me.”
I knew without a doubt, McKellan was behind it. A high voltage of electroshock can be an effective truth serum.
“Is there anything else in that file you’d like to share?” Clay’s voice was weary, his face a sober mask.
“That depends, is there anything else in this file you require knowing?” I returned.
If he wanted, I could keep on pulling tricks out of this little bag of horrors.
In his juvenile file, John Daniel McKellan, aka, Jonathan Christopher Thurman, had lost his parents and only sister in a house fire when he was thirteen. He was the single survivor. The investigating detective on the case strongly believed all evidence pointed to McKellan having intentionally set the fire. It couldn’t be proven. But, yes, he was a certified sociopath.
Clay gave me a considering look. “I think I should probably leave it here, I already know more than I should or ever wanted to. However, I knew I could come to you for answers.”
He’d wanted assurances that I wasn’t some half-cocked animal meting out vigilante justice. He just got them. Lawman or not, lines tended to become a lot more blurred when it was your own loved ones involved.
“The safety of my family will always be my priority—regardless of the methods necessary in achieving it. For the sake of our mutual love for your daughter and our desire to protect her above all else, I trust that this conversation will remain in this room,” I told him.
My father-in-law nodded his agreement. “You’re a cold-hearted bastard, son; I don’t know whether to be afraid or relieved that you’re on my side,” he said with slightly dark humor.
Eight
C A M R Y
After leaving Lilly and Autumn singing happily to Roman in the nursery, I went in search of my husband, anxiously anticipating his reaction to my new look.
After the trek through the mall in sandals, the coolness of the marble felt terrific underneath my bare feet as I made my way to the back of the house. The shoes I’d worn to the mall had taken their toll.
As I approached Garland’s office, I saw that the door was pulled almost shut—save for a small crack. Just as I raised my hand preparing to knock, I heard him speaking and hesitated.
He must be on a business call.
Deciding to give him some privacy and to come back in a few, I moved to turn around—but paused when I heard the unmistakable voice of my father. Curious, I inched a little closer, wondering what they could be discussing behind closed doors.
I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, it was blatantly rude, but I couldn’t help it. Growing up, I was the kind of kid whose curiosity always found me in trouble.
“For the sake of our mutual love for your daughter and our desire to protect her above all else, I trust that this conversation will remain in this room.” I heard Garland say as I strained my ears to listen.
“You’re a cold-hearted bastard, son; I don’t know whether to be afraid or relieved that you’re on my side.” came dad’s response.
What in the heck was that about?
“Mommy!” Autumn, called out, startling the hell out of me.
Whipping around in alarm, I saw her skipping up the hallway towards me.
I glanced a panicked look back at the closed door, then back to my daughter; probably looking guilty as hell. I quickly scrambled to distance myself from being caught lurking.
Moving quickly, I rushed towards Autumn. “There’s my beautiful daughter,” I said when I reached her, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead.
“It worked! Roman’s asleep now,” she said excitedly, flashing an adorable smile up at me.
I looked at her in puzzlement. What worked?
“The singing, mommy—it worked, he fell asleep!” Autumn clarified, seeing my confused look.
Oh. My mind was clearly still back next to that office door.
“Ah…I knew that would do the trick, the two of you sounded like Angels. You are shaping up to be an awesome big sister,” I told her with a praising smile.
Though, I admit to feeling a stab of disappointment that Roman was already asleep. I’d missed my sweet little boy today; I had only intended to be downstairs for a few minutes.
“My wife return…” Garland’s voice said from behind me—words trailing off mid-sentence when I whirled around to face him.
He just stood there staring at me. Guiltily, I wondered if my eavesdropping was written all over my face. Garland had the uncanny ability to read my thoughts from my facial expressions easily.
Yep, I was caught red-handed, I thought, as Garland sauntered towards us. My stomach started churning nervously.
Stopping in front of me, Garland lifted a hand to finger the strands of my hair. “This is different,” he said.
Oh, my hair! I had forgotten entirely just that quickly.
Yeah, because you were busy eavesdropping. My conscience reminded me.
“Do you not like it?” I asked.
“You look beautiful, Camry, I almost didn’t recognize my own wife,” he answered, eyes scanning my body, lingering on my cleavage, before moving back to my eyes.
I grinned.
He was such a man. Their eyes were always trolling a woman’s body.
“She looks like a princess!” Autumn cheered with enthusiasm.
“Yes, she does,” Garland agreed, “I am truly a lucky man.”
I beamed at him. If he was looking to get laid, he was well on his way.
“And don’t you ever forget it,” I qualified, rising on my toes to place a quick kiss on his lips. “You are also probably the poorest man, I had the pleasure of spending a lot of your money today,” I added gleefully.
Garland flashed me a wink. “Whatever you spent, I approve.”
Yep, he was so getting laid.
Hearing a discreet cou
gh, I poked my head around Garland to see dad. I’d forgotten all about him!
“Sorry; didn’t see you back there, dad, I only had eyes for my man,” I teased as he walked into view.
“Yes, I could see that. I was beginning to think Autumn and me should cover our eyes,” he replied with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Autumn giggled.
“Why’d you go and ugly yourself all up, daughter? I’m sure your husband was just fine with the dreadlocks and old rags you wear around the house,” dad cracked.
“You are so not funny, dad, who told you that you were a comedian, old man?”
I love my dad; he’s the greatest father in the world.
“You look gorgeous, daughter, you do your old man proud,” he praised, wearing a proud smile. Turning to Garland, he said, “Well, all I can suggest is hiring more bodyguards, or locking her in the house.”
Completely Biased.
“How about locking her in a tower like a princess?” Autumn offered, having seen one too many Disney movies.
We all laughed.
“I prefer not being locked away anywhere. This guy, already got a shackle on me that only he has the key to,” I protested, hiking a thumb towards Garland.
The gold Cartier bangle surrounded in diamonds was given as a wedding gift. Out of all the fancy and expensive gifts that Garland has given me, the bracelet was my most cherished because of its significance. In a symbolic gesture on our wedding night, he’d locked it around my wrist with the turn of a tiny gold screwdriver. It hasn’t been removed since. I was officially shackled to him and didn’t mind in the least…I intended to be bound to him forever.
“You’re asking for trouble, husband, or else, a cold shower,” I murmured sleepily sometime later.
“I’m definitely asking for something, but neither of those things makes the top of my list,” Garland grumbled near my ear.
After returning from downstairs a short while ago, I decided to take a nap until Roman awakened for a feeding. Who knew getting pampered and shopping for hours could be so damn exhausting? However, I was prematurely roused from sleep by the feel of my husband’s warm body pressed against mine, his busy hands on my flesh.
“You could’ve molested me without waking me,” I complained.
“What’s the fun in that? Besides, I’m not into necrophilia,” he replied.
“Necrophilia is having sex with a dead body,” I corrected.
“Dead, unconscious, same thing.”
“That is not the same thing! There is a distinct difference between someone who is breathing and someone who is not,” I protested, unable to contain my laughter.
“It would be no fun either way,” he maintained, grazing my neck with his mouth.
I squirmed and giggled.
“You, on the other hand, are all warmth and softness. I’m a starved man, Camry, and you’re lying in this bed damn near naked,” Garland said plaintively, nipping my earlobe with his teeth.
“Well, if you’re starving, you’re in luck. I brought you back one whole pound of gummy bears from the IT'SUGAR candy store at the mall,” I told him, grinning my ass off.
“Unless I can eat those off of your pussy, they won’t satisfy my appetite,” he growled, before kissing my neck in the spot he knows drives me crazy.
A lustful moan escaped my mouth.
Garland was hesitant last night, but today, he seemed determined to get into my pants. And I felt inclined to let him. Maybe that business in the shower last night had released the beast in us both.
Turning to face him, I pressed my mouth to his in a hungry kiss. “You can eat them off of anything you’d like,” I whispered.
Garland groaned deep in his throat, before flipping me onto my back and crushing his mouth to mine. His beast had just been granted a full license.
I sucked his tongue into my mouth as if it were candy, provoking his beast even further. All of my resolve from last night seemed to have vanished. Last night, I sought that intimate connection we’d always shared but had felt missing. Right now, though, I felt pure animal lust—an almost primal need to mate with him.
“We’re not going to make it the full six weeks, are we?” I asked breathlessly, once we’d finally come up for air.
“I’m not going to make it another six seconds,” Garland groaned, attaching his mouth to my neck.
“Dr. Schiller is going to be so disappointed in us…”
It was only one more week; surely, we couldn’t be faulted for that.
“She’ll have to get in line because my dick has been sorely disappointed for weeks.”
I couldn’t help giggling.
Garland kissed from my neck to my collarbone, before moving lower still, down to my breasts. His tongue caressed the slopes above my bra, then between my cleavage, before using his teeth to pull at the clasp that held both parts together in the front.
“Play at your own risk,” I warned, right before he flicked open the clasp. “Those are no longer for your enjoyment only; they’re also your son’s food supply.”
Undeterred, Garland pulled the material aside to expose my breasts to his gaze. “These were mine first…our son will have to learn how to share,” he murmured before dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth.
I groaned at the feel of his warm mouth on my flesh. It seemed like forever since I’ve felt it. It was a welcome reminder that my boobs served purposes other than nourishing Roman. Two distinctly different goals, two distinctly different feelings. Mother nature knew what the hell she was doing.
So did Garland.
My eyes fluttered shut as he worked his magic on my body, caressing mouth traveling its way down my stomach to my navel, tracing it with his tongue, before dipping it inside. “This view is a lot different from the last time I visited,” he whispered against my skin, causing me to shiver.
“The mountain has been removed.” I felt a lot different from the last time he’d visited.
“It’s hard to believe our son came out of here,” Garland mumbled in reverence, pressing a gentle kiss to the scar from my c-section incision.
It was hard to believe—the incision was a mere four-inch horizontal line. It was right at my bikini line and damn near undetectable. It was healing nicely and didn’t look as if there’d be any significant scarring. Even if there were, though, Roman would be worth bearing any scar.
“You are amazing, sweetheart, your body is amazing,” Garland breathed, kissing even lower.
“Your mouth is amazing…” I moaned, damn near panting.
“Tell me when to stop,” he said, kissing me through the sheer, nude-colored panties before moving to my inner thigh.
Was he fucking kidding me? “Don’t you dare stop!” I urged, desperate for him to continue.
His response was a raspy chuckle; and a gentle tug on my panties.
I squirmed and moaned as Garland kissed every inch of my skin while pulling my panties down my legs. Once he’d tossed them, his head disappeared between my thighs, and I was in heaven.
Gripping handfuls of his hair, I rocked my hips impatiently as my husband’s magical tongue on my clit did so many amazing things.
Things that I’d greatly missed.
And judging by Garland’s enthusiasm, the feeling was mutual.
My body writhed, back arching as I moaned, crying out in orgasm what seemed only seconds later. As I spiraled quickly out of control, I bit down on my bottom lip to try and stifle my cries; mindful of my son sleeping in the other room.
Because, yes, there was that bit of reality.
As I lay recovering, all I could hear was my labored breathing in my ears. Reflecting on how drastically my life had changed, I tried to recall what I’d been doing this time one year ago and couldn’t. Which was fine, because I knew for sure, I wasn’t doing this.
I knew for sure, I wasn’t trying to keep quiet during sex because my newborn baby slept in the next room.
I also knew for sure, my husband’s talented mouth w
asn’t placing soft kisses along my inner thighs. And finally, I knew for damn sure, I wasn’t lying here thinking…my husband had forgotten the gummy bears.
I had to smother a laugh. Maybe next time.
“Wow…” I breathed, “That was the best damn postpartum orgasm ever.”
Garland chuckled, sliding up my body until we were face to face again. “Good to know I can still wow you, wife,” he said with satisfaction.
“You always wow me, husband, it’s your most special singular talent,” I teased.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, eyes now serious.
I knew he meant physically—as in, did I feel fit enough to be fucked. I felt fine physically, down there. It’s not like I’d pushed Roman out. Everything down there was still tight and intact. Thank God. However, I gave his question serious consideration.
“I feel great, Garland, normal,” I told him, running my fingers through his hair.
“Normal?” he questioned.
“Yes, normal, with you, like this, the two of us…this is normal.”
He gave me a perplexed look.
“You do realize, I’ve been pregnant our entire relationship, right?” I asked.
There was a look of dawning in his eyes.
“You’re right, and I have no idea what it’s been like for you. Are you saying you regret it?” Garland asked.
What? “No, of course not!” I said immediately. “I haven’t regretted a damn thing since laying eyes on you for the very first time.”
Well, maybe there was one thing I regretted.
“What I meant was, there’s been three of us in this bed for months now. And, as much as I love our adorable son, it feels nice for it to be just the two of us again, like this,” I told him, bringing my mouth to his in a gentle kiss. “I love you, Garland, and can’t imagine my life without you. But right now, what I would like, is for you to fuck me,” I emphasized.
That caught him off guard; if his surprised look was any indication.
I smiled with satisfaction as I watched his emerald eyes change quickly from surprise to lust. Giving me a wicked grin, Garland got to his knees and pulled the white t-shirt over his head before going to work on his belt. I sighed complacently on the inside…Garland was the kind of man you never needed to tell twice.