Golden Trail

by Ashley, Kristen

  Layne’s grin turned into a smile. He’d seen himself the number of kids who’d walked out and it wasn’t sixty, it was more like eighty or higher. Jasper had been at work which was good. Part of Gaines’s advantage was that there were concerns voiced in whispers but no action. The more attention Youth Group had, the more parents would start waking up and asking questions and not in whispers, especially when Christian Youth Group became a Single’s Club for teenagers and an opportunity to jack around. It would be hard to recruit young girls for whatever he needed them for when they were more interested in the football team and when your attention was diverted by questions about creationism to which you probably didn’t have the answers and with angry parents breathing down your neck.

  “Ryker’s surveilling the apartment,” Layne told Rocky. “We’ll see what he gets and if he can find a time when I can get in there. I’ll get prints, get someone at the Station to run them and have a sit down with the boys.” He gave her a squeeze and murmured, “This’ll be over soon, baby.”

  Rocky burrowed into him and murmured back, “I hope so, Layne.”

  “It will. Swear,” he promised.

  She didn’t respond and Layne was about to roll to his back so she could pin him to the bed when she called softly, “Layne?”

  “Yeah, sweetcheeks.”

  He heard her hair move on the pillow.

  “In your dreams…” she started then trailed off.

  “Yeah?” he prompted.

  “You said it’s good?”

  Layne knew where this was going and he grinned.

  “Yeah, it’s good.”

  “What…” she paused, “what do we do?”

  Layne didn’t hesitate. He rolled into her so he was on top of her.

  “Layne?”

  He found her mouth with his. “Show you,” he muttered, his hands sliding up her sides, taking the tee with it, she lifted her arms, he pulled it off and tossed it away. Then his mouth went back to hers. “Hold onto the slats in the headboard and don’t let go.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  “Hold onto the slats in the headboard and don’t let go, no matter what.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what. Promise.”

  “Layne.”

  Breathy. Beautiful. Jesus, he just came and his cock was already starting to get hard.

  “Hands to the slats, baby, keep them there, no matter what.” She hesitated only a moment before she moved, her arms lifting, she grabbed onto the headboard. “That’s my good girl,” he muttered against her mouth. “Promise to hold on.”

  “I promise,” she whispered and he kissed her.

  Then Layne experienced the best of both worlds at the same time.

  And it was unbelievably sweet.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Don’t Get Dead

  She moved against him, he felt her sliding up and both his arms went around her.

  He turned his head just in time for her lips to hit his.

  But she didn’t kiss him.

  Instead, she whispered, “This is the beginning.”

  His eyes opened, looking into hers.

  “Yeah, baby,” he whispered back and watched her eyes darken, sorrow and fear mixing in them before she went on.

  “The beginning of the end.”

  Then his arms were empty.

  She was gone.

  * * * * *

  Layne’s eyes opened, his body tense, and he stared at the ceiling.

  Rocky was dead asleep against him, her arm a heavy weight on his gut, her knee cocked, thigh on his, he could feel her hair on his chest.

  It was a dream.

  “Christ,” he whispered, his hand moving up her back, fingers sliding in her thick, soft hair.

  She didn’t rouse, didn’t even move, didn’t make a noise. She was out.

  He turned his head to the side and looked at the clock. It was 6:29. She didn’t wake him early this time.

  He was still looking at the clock when the digits changed and the buzzer sounded loud. Rocky’s body twitched then she pulled up to an elbow, her other hand going to her hair and moving it from her face.

  “An alarm,” she whispered into the dark room. “God, I forgot what that sounded like.” Then she plopped back down, landing on his chest, her arm going back around him and curling tight as Layne’s arm moved out to hit the off button. “Can we snooze?”

  Layne hit the snooze button instead, the buzzer died and he replied, “Yeah, baby, when do you need to get up?”

  “Quarter to,” she muttered, snuggling into him.

  Layne was surprised; she was always out of bed early, considering it took her an age to get ready. Maybe she had a late start today.

  “Quarter to seven?” he asked, just to be sure.

  “Six,” she mumbled.

  “Baby, it’s already six thirty,” he replied and her body tensed, she shot back up to her elbow and peered at the clock.

  “Fuck!” she hissed, threw the covers back and crawled over him. “Fuck!” she repeated and darted from the bed.

  “Roc,” he called as she raced across his room.

  “I’m late!” she cried, the bathroom light went on and she disappeared.

  Layne didn’t move. He lay in bed trying to shake off the dream.

  It was nothing, he told himself. Just a dream. It wasn’t surprising he had it. Things were good, Rocky was back, he was happy but he’d had that before and it had gone bad before. He knew that subconsciously just as much as consciously. It would fuck with his head and it was. He had to find a way to sort her out and until then he just had to deal.

  He was out of bed and tugging on a pair of pajama bottoms when he heard the faucet go on in the bathroom and he headed that way.

  Rocky was in his tee, her hair in a messy knot at the top of her head, standing at his sink brushing her teeth.

  He leaned against the arched doorway, her neck twisted and her eyes came to his.

  “Do me a favor?” he asked, her eyebrows went up but she kept brushing and he went on. “Kiss me before you leave my bed.”

  She took the toothbrush out of her mouth as her brows drew together. “Wha? Why?” she asked, her mouth full of foam.

  “Just do me that favor,” he answered.

  She stared at him a second, bent and spit then looked back at him. “You okay?”

  He gave it to her honest. “My dream wasn’t so good this morning.”

  Layne watched some of the color run out of her face. “What?”

  “My dream, about you, it wasn’t so good this morning.”

  Her gaze didn’t leave him for three beats then she turned, bent over the faucet, rinsed out her mouth, turned off the faucet and grabbed the towel from the holder. She wiped her mouth and dried her hand then came to him. She put a hand on his chest and leaned in.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Sweetcheeks, you’re late,” he reminded her.

  “Yeah,” she replied but didn’t move except to fit herself to his front and curl the fingers of her other hand at his waist. “What happened?”

  Layne put both hands to her hips. “You gotta get a move on.”

  “In a minute, tell me about the dream.”

  “It’s just a dream.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Rocky.”

  “Layne.”

  He looked down at her seeing she was prepared to go into stare down if she had to therefore his arms curved around her, one staying at her waist, the other one drifting up her back, her exposed neck, to glide his fingers in her pulled up hair.

  “You woke me up, in the dream, to tell me it was the beginning of the end,” he told her.

  Her eyes stayed locked to his then her chin dipped and she pressed her forehead against his chest.

  His hand cupped the back of her head. “It’s just a dream.”

  “I did that,” she told his chest.

  “What?”

  She tipped
her head back again and repeated, “I did that.”

  “Did what?”

  Instead of answering his question, she informed him, “That freaked you out.”

  “Like I said, Roc, it’s just a dream.”

  “Right,” she whispered, her hand at his waist curling around his back and her hand at his chest sliding up so she could wrap her fingers around his neck. “Just a dream that made you get that look you’ve got right now and tell me to kiss you before I get out of bed.”

  “Not an odd request, sweetcheeks.”

  “I’ve been waking up next to you awhile, Layne, you’ve not made it before.”

  “Until this morning, I didn’t need to.” And this was true. He’d fucked her every morning she’d been back in his bed for real, and the one he’d woken up in hers, excepting the morning his mother had come calling.

  She held his eyes and didn’t respond. Then she lifted up on her toes and touched her mouth to his.

  She moved back barely an inch to whisper, “I’ll kiss you before I leave your bed, sweetheart. Promise.”

  “Thanks, baby,” he whispered back.

  Her arm and hand gave him a squeeze, she lifted up to touch her mouth to his again then she pulled away and moved to the faucet.

  Layne watched her start to wash her face, his eyes moving around the basin, seeing all her stuff scattered there. All of her stuff around his sink. She didn’t claim the other one, she used his.

  Or you hold it so close, it can’t ever go away but, if it does, you got as many precious memories as you can bag. Devin had said.

  You hold it so close…

  You hold it so close…

  Rocky rinsed her face, Layne still watching, knowing, using his sink instead of claiming her own, it was one of the ways Rocky was holding him close, being at his sink, around his shit, just his toothbrush, his razor, but she was holding him close, even with little shit like that.

  Holding him close.

  He let that settle and, doing it, he let the after effects of the troubling dream slide away. He moved in behind her and kissed the skin at the nape of her neck.

  Then he went to the toilet.

  * * * * *

  He opened the door to the Suburban just as his phone rang. He jumped down and held the door for Blondie to trundle out behind him as he pulled the phone out of his pocket, looked at the display, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

  “Hey sweetcheeks,” he greeted.

  It was third period time; she had it free so she could make calls. Even so, he was mildly surprised to get one since this was the first time she’d called since that day he’d visited her at the school to tell her what he found out about Gaines.

  “Hey baby,” she whispered back in a breathy voice.

  Hearing it, Layne decided that the next favor he was going to ask of her was that she call him on her free period every day.

  But he’d do it later. Now, he wanted to know why she was calling.

  He slammed the door to his truck and, with Blondie beside him, he walked up the sidewalk toward Mimi’s.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Just wanted to tell you that the girls are having a Bachelor Auction Powwow tomorrow afternoon at my apartment. Is that cool with you?”

  “Yeah, you comin’ over after?”

  “No, I thought I’d make you dinner at my place and you can stay the night with me.”

  He smiled into the phone as he opened the door to Mimi’s and walked in, leaving Blondie outside. “Works for me.”

  “Anything special you want?” she asked.

  “Surprise me,” he answered.

  “I can do that,” she replied.

  “Just a sec, sweetcheeks,” Layne said into the phone then ordered from one of Mimi’s employees, a kid with three piercings in her bottom lip, two in her nose, one in her eyebrow and she had pink hair.

  Layne didn’t understand piercing nor did he find it attractive and it went without saying that pink hair was not his gig but this kid had made him coffee before and she was even better at it than Meems, which was saying something. She also had a great smile and she learned his name early and used it whenever she had occasion to do so, making him feel a member of the Mimi’s Coffee House Family. This was a nice touch and the way she did it was real, not ingratiating. Therefore, he found he liked her hair and didn’t mind the piercings because under all that shit was a genuine person, not one who wanted attention but just one who got off on that shit.

  To each their own.

  He went back to Rocky after got his, “What’ll it be this time, Tanner?” he’d placed his order and as he pulled out his wallet to pay.

  “You get to work on time?” he asked Raquel.

  “Ten minutes late but no one noticed since Adrian was in and cleaning out his office with Principal Klausen and Nick Fullerton in attendance so everyone was jabbering about that.”

  “You see him?” Layne asked.

  “No, Sharon told me about it then I went to my room. I’m thinking avoiding Adrian Cosgrove is a good strategy.”

  There she was, his good girl.

  “You’d be right,” he told her.

  “Did you set a meeting with one of the boys?”

  He had, with Colt. Merry still wasn’t returning his calls even though the subject of his messages had changed. Dave now also wasn’t picking up, even on the home phone which didn’t have caller ID and this meant he was making it his mission to avoid Layne. So it was Colt and it was also a study in patience not to hunt the Merrick men down and get in their faces.

  “Colt, he’s comin’ to my office in half an hour,” Layne answered.

  “Good,” Rocky replied.

  Layne had paid and was standing at the other end of the counter waiting for his coffee when he heard Blondie bark three times and his head turned to the door to see Ryker come in. And it was a Ryker with a serious look on his face and this look was aimed with pinpoint precision at Layne.

  Layne held Ryker’s eyes as Ryker stalked through the coffee shop toward him.

  “Baby, gotta go,” Layne said into the phone. “Ryker’s here.”

  “Oh, okay,” she replied. “Are we still going to the game tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Layne answered. “I’ll pick you up. Get a snack, sweetcheeks, we’re havin’ pizza and beer at your place after.”

  “Oh, okay,” she repeated, this time softer, breathy again. She remembered weeks ago, she liked what they shared weeks ago, she wanted it back and she wanted it to have a different ending, just like him.

  “We gotta talk,” Ryker growled, he’d made it to Layne, he was impatient and Layne nodded.

  “Be at your place at seven,” Layne said to Rocky.

  “All right, sweetheart, see you then,” Rocky replied.

  “Later, baby.”

  “Later.”

  He flipped his phone shut, shoved it into his pocket and asked Ryker, “You want a coffee?”

  “We gotta talk,” Ryker repeated.

  Layne studied him until his coffee was up; he grabbed it and led the way out of Mimi’s. Blondie barked at Ryker again but followed close to Layne the short distance to his office, not taking her eyes off Ryker and not leaving her man. She didn’t know what to make of Ryker and she wasn’t sure what she was reading from Layne, but she did know what she was reading from Ryker, so she was being vigilant.

  Layne let them into his office and he’d barely taken off his coat and settled in his chair, Blondie sitting sentry beside his desk, when Ryker spoke.

  He was sitting across from Layne and his posture wasn’t lazy, it was alert to the point of being wired.

  “You used to be a cop,” Ryker stated bizarrely, this not being the opening Layne expected, not that he knew what to expect.

  “Yeah,” Layne returned guardedly.

  “On the ‘burg’s PD,” Ryker growled and Layne studied him a moment before he nodded. “Still close with those pigs?” he asked and Layne’s neck muscles contracted.
>
  “Yeah, Ryker, I am and you already know that. I gave that comment a pass once but head’s up now that I’m not a big fan of my boys bein’ called pigs and I’m not likely gonna give that comment a pass again,” Layne replied softly.

  “They’re pigs,” Ryker shot back and Layne leaned forward, not a deep lean, enough to show Ryker he, too, was on alert and he was losing patience.

  “I get you’re a badass, Ryker, but this is my place, my office, you show respect here, do you get me?”

  Ryker didn’t hesitate before he went on. “One of ‘em in particular.”

  Layne stared at him, understanding, and he went hyper-alert.

  Then he growled, “Stop fuckin’ around, what’s got you tweaked?”

  “My babe’s got a daughter,” he stated.

  “And?” Layne prompted.

  “Name’s Alexis,” Ryker told him.

  Holy fuck.

  It was Ryker’s turn to study him and he did, then he nodded. “I think you get why I was willin’ to be all over that shit.”

  “Talk to me,” Layne ordered low.

  “Yesterday, last night, this mornin’, I was all over that shit,” Ryker said.

  “What’d you get?”

  “Man and woman, comin’ and goin’, no schedule, but they’re both busy. The Youth Minister and his woman. Though, not sure she’s his woman. They walked to their cars together, no touchin’, just talkin’. He’s either whipped or she’s the one with the balls. He’s not the big man with her, she was the one with the ‘tude. She threw a stick and told him to fetch, he’d run.”

  When he stopped talking, Layne urged, “Keep goin’.”

  “Late night visit, bro, around eleven thirty, one of the tenants of The Brendel took a walk.”

  Layne’s entire body got tight but he didn’t say a word.

  He didn’t have to, he knew it when Ryker stated, “You get me.”

  He got him. Rutledge.

  Rutledge went to church every Sunday. Rutledge lived at The Brendel. Gaines acted like he was untouchable because he was, he had a dirty cop in his pocket, or, more to the point, whoever the woman was, she did.