“She loved your money, you damn fool!” Veda stood to face her husband.
“No, you’re wrong. A man knows when a woman loves him. Dinah loved me. You’re the one who loves my money. You’ve been obsessed with being Mrs. Farlan MacKinnon all our married life. Your one thought has been to retain your position as my wife, to keep your hands on my money.”
“For Brian! Not for myself. He’s your son.”
“And Dinah’s twins are my daughters.”
“You say that as if you’re proud of the fact that you fathered some trashy whore’s two bastard children.”
When Farlan lifted his hand to strike Veda, Brian stepped between them. Farlan’s arm froze in midair.
“Don’t,” Brian said calmly. “You don’t want to hit Mother.”
Veda could not stem the tide of tears cascading down her cheeks. How was it possible that the pain was as fresh and raw this very moment as it had been all those years ago when she’d discovered that not only had her husband been unfaithful, but that he had fathered his mistress’s babies?
Farlan stared at Brian, his eyes glazed. He lowered his arm.
“And you don’t want to go to Sheriff Butler,” Brian said. “What would that accomplish? If something happened to Dinah and her twins years ago, you know nothing about it. None of us do. So how would making some personal confession to the sheriff do you or anyone else any good?”
“I want proof that those girls are mine,” Farlan said. “And if somebody hurt Dinah…If somebody tried to hurt those babies…”
“I suggest that if you’re hell-bent on revealing the truth, you should contact Griffin Powell,” Dodd said. “Reve Sorrell hired him to investigate her past, didn’t she? Speak to Mr. Powell, tell him whatever you need to tell him to see if he will reveal what he knows.”
“He’ll go straight to Reve Sorrell with whatever you tell him,” Veda said.
“Probably.” Dodd looked at her with sadness and sympathy in his eyes. “But if Reve and Jazzy are Dinah’s daughters, it’s only a matter of time before Mr. Powell finds out and once he does, then everyone will know.”
“They won’t know that Farlan is their father, not unless he makes some foolish confession.” Veda hated the desperation in her voice, but God help her, she was desperate. Desperate to save Brian’s inheritance, desperate to save her marriage, and desperate to keep the truth buried in the past.
“I suggest that we all sleep on this tonight,” Brian said. “And tomorrow, when everyone’s emotions have settled down a bit, then Father can decide what he wants to do.”
“I agree.” Dodd patted Brian on the back. “That’s a sensible suggestion.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Max said. “Sounds right to me.”
“Mother?” Brian slipped his arm around Veda’s shoulders.
Her precious son. Always loyal to her.
“Of course, whatever Farlan decides to do, we will support him.” What choice did she have? She hadn’t come this far, kept so many deadly secrets, to lose everything now. But she knew exactly what she had to do, no matter what Farlan decided. And she had to do it soon. Very soon.
Touch me, her mind screamed. Dear God, touch me. She was wound so tightly, her body so hungry for him, that she feared she would climax the moment he put his hands on her.
How had this happened? How had cool, calm and in-control Reve Sorrell become nothing more than a woman in heat? Not in her entire life had she ever wanted anything as desperately as she wanted Jacob Butler. Her few sexual experiences had been with men her social equal, men with whom she shared a long-standing personal relationship. The sex had been good—wasn’t sex always good?—but right at this moment she couldn’t remember what those other men looked like. Hell, she couldn’t even remember their names.
Jacob Butler’s presence filled her whole world. Every centimeter. Leaving no room for anything or anyone else. And that was what she had feared most—allowing him to dominate her. He was a man accustomed to taking what he wanted, to consuming all he needed, and doing it with a passion that Reve had never experienced.
When he inched closer to her, she felt the heat of his big body behind her, his chest almost touching her back. She shivered, more from fear than the damp coolness of her wet body. Standing perfectly still, holding her breath, she waited.
He touched her. Trembling from head to toe, she sighed loudly. Warmth spread through her, from where his arms circled her waist and his big hands clutched the edge of her sweater to her entire body. Every muscle. Every nerve. Every inch of flesh. Whether she leaned back against him or he pulled her, she didn’t know. Didn’t care. He surrounded her, encompassed her. Allowing her head to fall backward onto his chest, she closed her eyes and savored the moment. He lowered his mouth just enough to kiss her temple, then moved on to nuzzle her ear.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes…baby.”
Baby! Dear Lord, he’d called her baby.
Her femininity clenched and unclenched. Tingles of pure sexual desire set her on fire. Hot. Burning hot. His touch was electric.
And when he eased the edge of her sweater up over her belly, she didn’t protest; instead she lifted her arms and allowed him to pull it over her head and off. Feeling as if she’d been drugged, she rubbed herself against him as he undid the snap of her bra and eased the straps down her shoulders. She quivered, high on passion, her flesh super-sensitive. He kissed first one shoulder and then the other, just before he removed her bra completely and tossed it aside. His huge, rough hands cupped her breasts, lifting them as if he were weighing them. Her breasts filled his palms to overflowing.
He scraped his thumbs over her nipples and elicited a cry of pure pleasure-pain from her lips. While she writhed against him, wild with need, he kissed her neck, then licked a path downward to her shoulder as he continued tormenting her nipples.
Acting entirely on instinct, she turned in his arms and reached for the buttons on his shirt, wanting—needing—to touch his bare skin. When her hands trembled so badly that she couldn’t undo the first button, he grabbed her hands and eased them up and under his shirt, flat against his chest. Then he undid the buttons and tossed his shirt aside. The moment his shirt hit the floor, he grasped her by the waist and hauled her up against him. Naked breasts to naked chest.
She loved the feel of him, of that smooth, hard chest, that taut flesh. He exuded an aura of strength and pure masculine power unlike anything she’d known. He was, as his ancestors eons ago, a primitive male, now in his prime. And she had never felt more like a woman, as if she ruled the world, as if she could control this man with a look…a touch…a word.
Lifting her hand to drape his neck, she brought her gaze up to meet his and saw the depth of his desire.
“Jacob.” His name came softly, like a whisper. Almost like a prayer.
He kissed her then, kissed her the way he had in her dreams, with a primeval force that shook her to the very core of her being. Overwhelming in intensity, consuming her totally, his mouth took hers, but the moment she responded, opening her mouth freely for his invasion, his entire demeanor gentled. The tenderness that followed the brutal storm conquered her completely. She was his. Heart, mind and body. And she understood, without any doubts, that for this night, he belonged to her and her alone.
They kissed until she went weak in the knees and gasped for air. She couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get as close as she wanted. Only by joining her body to his could she reach the level of intimacy she craved.
When he cupped her buttocks and lifted her up and into his erection, she tossed back her head and keened, the sound one of complete surrender. Surrender not only to him, but to herself, her own human needs. His mouth came down to one breast, his tongue flicking back and forth over the nipple. She grasped his shoulders to steady herself and nearly came unraveled when he suckled her.
He lifted his head. She eased her palms down his arms and captured his hands in hers. “Make love to me.” The plea came from deep
within her, emerging from the center of her soul.
“All night long,” he said, then swooped her up into his arms.
Startled by the suddenness of his actions, she gasped, then threw her arm around his neck and nuzzled her head against his shoulder. He carried her into the bedroom, placed her on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her. Without asking her permission, he removed her shoes and knee highs, then undid the button on her slacks, unzipped them and tugged them over her hips and off. She sat before him, shivering with anticipation, longing for him to hurry and finish the job and yet at the same time wanting to savor these moments, to make them last forever.
His next move surprised her. Instead of removing her panties, he stood and divested himself of his pants and boxer shorts. Standing over her, a man of hard muscle and bronze flesh, he allowed her to study him, to caress him with her gaze. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Not beautiful in any traditional way. His features were harsh, as if chiseled from stone and his body was the same. Everything about him evoked power. Especially his large, jutting penis. Her hand trembled uncontrollably as she reached out to touch him. First his chest. His tiny male nipples went pebble hard when she teased them. As he waited, allowing her unparalleled pleasure, he stood as still as a statue. She skimmed her open palms over his flat belly, down his slender hips and over his long, sinewy thighs. She deliberately avoided touching his sex, but whenever her fingertips got close, his penis jerked, almost as if it was begging for her touch.
After withdrawing her hands from his body, she eased to her feet and took off her panties. They were equals now. Both completely naked. Both thoroughly aroused.
He placed his open hand over her mound and squeezed. Tension tightened inside her, damn near close to the breaking point.
“You’re almost ready,” he said, his words low and deep.
“I am ready. Oh, God, I’m ready.”
She held out her arms to him.
He toppled her into the bed sideways and came down over her. He kissed her mouth, but not long enough or thoroughly enough before his lips and tongue explored her from head to toe. And then, as he worked his way back up her body, he spread her thighs apart and petted her. Before she realized his intent, his mouth had replaced his hand, his tongue pressing and probing. Licking and sucking. Driving her wild. Within seconds she came, gushing with completion, crying out as her body shook with release.
Suddenly Jacob was gone, depriving her of his heat and strength. Weak and trembling from her orgasm and unable to do more than lift her head, she turned to seek him and found him removing a foil packet from his discarded pants. She watched in fascination as he sheathed his wet, rock-hard penis with the condom. With the aftershocks of her orgasm tingling through her, she opened her arms and her body to him when he returned to her. He lifted her hips in his big hands and thrust deep and hard, taking her with one swift lunge that united their bodies, making them one. No words were necessary. Anything either could have said would have been redundant. Their bodies spoke in a language all their own and were saying everything that needed to be said.
The feel of him inside her was ecstasy. There was no other way to describe it. Before he’d entered her, she had been empty. And now she was complete, her body made for his and his for hers. The fit was perfect. For several minutes he went about their lovemaking slowly, his movements gentle and coaxing. But when she responded, urging him into action, telling him without words that she wanted all he could give, that she could take everything he had, Jacob gave himself over completely to the animal inside him. He pumped into her with savage force and she loved it. She loved him. Loved the feel of him, the taste of him.
His long back hair fell to his shoulders and feathered over her upper body. They mated wildly, Reve discovering that when it came to this man, she was no lady. She had never known it could be like this. And she wanted more. She wanted it all. Everything!
Only seconds before she realized that Jacob was on the verge of climaxing, she felt her own body building to a second orgasm. As he hammered into her, she clung to him for dear life, knowing that his hunger for fulfillment would appease her own desire as well.
He came, like a raging bull, grunting and snorting, his whole body shaking with the force of his release. When he was spent, Reve came a second time, this climax more earth-shattering than the first. He collapsed on top of her, then eased off to her side and wrapped her in his arms. She hugged him and kissed him and repeated his name over and over again.
He caressed her naked hip and nuzzled her neck as he growled, “Baby, baby…”
She never thought one word could sound so sweet. And she’d never dreamed that a man could ever make her feel this good.
CHAPTER 26
If it was true, if Reve Sorrell and Jazzy Talbot were Dinah’s daughters, then what would he do? Recently the thought had crossed his mind that they might be Dinah’s twins, but he’d dismissed the notion because he’d believed those babies had been disposed of shortly after he’d killed Dinah for the first time. Now he wasn’t so sure. What if Slim hadn’t done as he’d been told? What if everything he thought was the truth was really a lie? He had to find out, had to be sure.
This was all Dinah’s fault. If only she had loved him and not the great Farlan MacKinnon, she’d still be alive. And she would be his. They would be together now. They would be happy.
After undressing, he walked into the shower, savoring the feel of the warm water peppering his body. Why had he never paid closer attention to Jazzy Talbot? He didn’t think he’d ever actually taken a good look at her face. Oh, he’d ogled her dynamite body, just like all the other men in Cherokee County, but he’d seldom looked farther than her big boobs and her long, slim legs. Dinah had had a great figure, too, only she’d been a much smaller woman than either Jazzy or Reve Sorrell. But then, with a father the size of Farlan MacKinnon, it was no surprise that those women possessed more Amazonian proportions.
He chuckled as he soaped his body with the imported hand-milled soap he preferred. Just to think that, all these years, the closest thing to Dinah might have been right here in his own hometown, right under his nose. Had Dinah deliberately led him away from Cherokee Pointe time and again, led him away from her precious daughter?
“You didn’t want me to kill her, did you, my darling? That’s why you chose all those other women.”
His hand lingered lovingly over his penis, lathering and rinsing, then discarding the soap. He touched himself as he thought about Dinah.
If the truth about Farlan having fathered Dinah’s babies came out—and it seemed inevitable that it would—how would it affect him? Would the authorities put everyone associated with Farlan, all the members of his family, under a microscope and examine their lives? He couldn’t risk anyone poking his nose too closely into his personal business. He’d been careful, but he wasn’t perfect. There had been times when he’d made mistakes.
“Dinah, Dinah, why did you force me to kill you?”
His hand circled his erection. He sighed as he thought about that day when he’d forced himself on her. She’d tried to fight him, but she’d still been weak from having given birth to twins. Besides, she’d been a small, slender woman and easily subdued after he’d hit her a couple of times.
His mind filled with Dinah, thoughts of fucking her and killing her exciting him more and more, he came suddenly. He could feel his hands twisting the black braided ribbon around her neck, choking the life out of her. He should have known that very first time that once would never be enough. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d stay dead. And apparently her two little redheaded mongrels were just like her—they wouldn’t stay dead either. But he could kill them, just as he’d killed Dinah. And if necessary, he could kill them over and over again.
As he washed the cum from his hand and penis, he considered his options. Both Jazzy and Reve had to die. And die at his hands, not the victims of some copycat killer with delusions of grandeur. Jazzy was in the hospital,
still in a coma. Helpless. But she was surrounded by people twenty-four hours a day, he reminded himself. Wait. Wait to see if she recovers. She might never come out of that coma. There’s even a chance she could still die.
But he didn’t want her to die. Not yet. She should be his victim. Jazzy and Reve should be his prey. He would kill each of them, just as he’d killed Dinah. He’d take them away from Farlan as he’d taken their mother away from him.
After he killed them, would Jazzy and Reve come back again and again, just as Dinah did? How odd would that be? Three redheads coming back from the dead to haunt him, to entice him, to give him a pleasure almost beyond bearing.
He had to be very careful not to draw attention to himself in any way. But he had to get rid of Dinah’s daughters. Wouldn’t it be true justice if he could somehow frame Farlan MacKinnon for their murders?
Farlan had to call in several favors in order to get Griffin Powell’s home telephone number. He was determined to speak to the renowned private investigator who was probing into Reve Sorrell’s past. And he intended to speak to the man tonight. After all these years of wondering about Dinah and the babies, of telling himself that they were all three well and happy, he now suspected a horrible truth. Something terrible had happened to Dinah, and someone had taken the twins away from her and left them for dead. Apparently, everyone in Cherokee County knew part of the truth about Jazzy and Reve’s infancy. But what they didn’t know, what no one would ever suspect, was that he was their father.
He’d never forget the first time he saw Dinah. Prettiest little thing on earth. But he’d known she was a prostitute, a teenage prostitute who’d been servicing Dodd for months. Dodd had thought he was in love with the girl, had been totally infatuated with her. But his brother-in-law had begun feeling guilty and had wanted to find a way to end their relationship. That was why he’d taken Farlan along that night, to help keep his courage bolstered so he could end things with Dinah.
As Good As Dead (Griffin Powell Book 4) Page 30