“Come on,” Ger said quietly, smiling sadly at Trisha. “Let’s get her into bed.”
Ian supported Trisha as he got to his feet, pulling her up with him so that she didn’t have to put any weight on her own weary legs. Instantly, Ger wrapped the warm towels around her, making sure to put one around her hair as well. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her lips.
Trisha’s eyes flew open, and she stared wildly at Ger.
“Are you my killer?” she whispered fearfully.
Chapter 18
Trisha felt Ger drop his hands from her face as if she had burned him with her words. He took a step back, his expression aghast. She squinted to try and focus herself a little more, and she saw that there was actual heartbreak in his eyes.
Wait, what was going on? What was this? The fog of confusion and darkness and pain burned away under the bright, unforgiving light of full consciousness and left her without even a faint mist of dizziness to cover herself with.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, struggling to steady herself on her own feet without Ian’s support from behind. “Ger, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. But, I…”
She bit her lip as she heard the lie in her own voice. Ger turned away from her, and she saw his hands ball into fists. Ian’s grip on her tensed, though whether it was to protect her or to offer her to his brother’s wrath, she couldn’t be sure.
Her own body tightened tiredly, too exhausted still to coil for a defensive spring or to run. Still, mind and heart ran in desperate circles, trying to find a solution to a mystery without enough clues.
“You meant exactly what you said, Trisha,” Ger said, his voice shaking slightly. “You think I am the Butcher of Bangor.”
The sound of agony in his voice tore at her, but she couldn’t find the words to dissemble with him. Everything she had been through had stripped her raw, so that only the simple truths were left.
“I don’t think you are the Butcher of Bangor,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “From what I know and have seen though…I have no choice but to say it’s a possibility.”
Ian’s large hands suddenly became painfully tight around her waist and upper arm.
“Which means,” Ian said in a low, rumbling, menacing voice, “that you think that I am his accomplice, and this is why I have been putting you off all this time.”
Clutching at the towels around her body, she bit her lip. Whether she was right or wrong, this was it. The end of the fantasy lovers. The end of the case. Maybe even the end of her life depending on the truth.
A bitter laugh escaped Ger, and it was a shocking sound to Trisha. For kind, gentle Ger to have that much anger in just a laugh was both heartbreaking and terrifying. Slowly, he turned around and stalked back to her, his golden eyes now narrowed and a vivid, flashing molten yellow.
“That’s pretty brave, Agent Blacke,” he murmured, caressing her face, and damn her if his touch even in this moment didn’t send a thrill of forbidden, dangerous desire through her. “You’re taking a big risk in telling us this. What if we are the killers?”
“Killer,” corrected Trisha, unable to keep her stupid mouth shut. “Only one killer, one ritualist. If there’s any accomplice, they’re just covering because they have to. Only one killer, though.”
“Do you think there’s an accomplice?” Ger asked softly, bringing his lips to hers and brushing against them as he spoke.
“N–no,” she stammered, fighting to keep the desire building in the pit of her stomach from forcing its way into every vein and nerve in her body. “I…I think we are dealing with a lone wolf killer.”
Ger’s expression turned stunned, and then he laughed again with that strange, angry, bitter laugh that grated on Trisha’s soul like metal on flesh. Ian’s nasty, low, rumbling chuckle reverberated in his chest and through her back to shake her own ribs.
“Oh, how right you are,” Ger said, his laughter dying away and a look of unbearable sadness taking its place. “But, it’s not me.”
Trisha stared at him, wanting to believe him to the point of feeling like her brain would burst from trying to rearrange the time-space continuum with her wishing that it could be so.
“I’m a man just like any other man,” Ger continued. “I have my faults, my anger, my resentments. I have done things in violence before, ask any man and he will say the same.”
“He smashed his shortwave radio one Christmas because he couldn’t get it to pick up the BBC’s Christmas broadcast,” Ian added with a chuckle.
Ger smiled bleakly at Ian and nodded. “Yeah, not one of my finer moments. But I’ve never raised my hand to a woman or a child, and by God, I never will. I have had my disappointments in life, but I learned to make peace with them. Don’t mistake my acceptance of the way things are for me for some kind of veneer over violence. It was either learn to be content or go mad, and I had a good reason to stay sane. I knew that someday, I would find the woman meant for me, and I wanted to truly be a man that was worthy of her.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.” Ger cut her off, cradling her face again and kissing her. “You are that woman, and it cut to the bone to think you could see me in such a light. But, that is why you are amazing. Despite what you feel for me—and I know you do—you still have the courage to stand your ground and do what is right, no matter what the cost to yourself.”
Ian spun Trisha around in his arms, yanking her against his chest in a way that left her feeling embarrassingly excited and still a little scared.
“It’s not us, Blacke,” he said flatly, his eyes burning into hers. “Yes, I’m trying to keep some things from you, but you have to trust me that it has nothing to do with this case. I want this bastard as much as you do.”
“Why do you have to keep things from me at all?” she demanded, wincing as more heartbreak than snap infused her voice.
“Because,” Ian replied, kissing her fiercely between words. “It’s not my secret to tell. You should know, though, that if for one second, I thought this monster was my brother, I would be the one to put the bullet through his brain. No one and nothing has meant more to me than the safety of Blue Moon…until now.”
Trisha looked up at him, feeling her dry eyes pinch out hot tears as she fought not to give in to him, to the way he looked at her as if he treasured her.
“Until I met you,” Ian added, kissing her tenderly now. “From the first moment you broke my balls in the motel, I was lost. Seeing you earlier, hurt, bloody, in danger…I couldn’t breathe again until I knew were still breathing. You’re all the air I have now, Trisha Blacke.”
A sob she didn’t know she had held in broke free from her throat, and when Ger came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and nuzzled her towel-wrapped hair, she finally felt all the pieces drop to the ground. There was nothing left. She had no will to fight, no need to resist, no choice but to follow where they led.
Arms and kisses carried her to the bedroom, and Trisha lost the need to see whose hands were on her breasts, stroking her back, tickling up the soft skin of her inner thighs, and caressing her behind. Her eyes had drifted closed, because to see was to invite the contagion of reality into this moment, and for once in her goddamn life, she simply wanted to feel. No excuses, no thoughts, no rationalization.
Just touch.
And heat.
There was suddenly so much heat from two, hard, living bodies surrounding her. Ian was warm, but Ger was almost burning to the touch. Her eyes fluttered open as she ran her hands up Ger’s bare chest, tracing the muscles of his abs and pecs and watching them tense and shift under her fingers.
Ger moved her so that she reclined against Ian, and he could position himself between her legs. She jumped in a moment of startled, unexpected pleasure when his cock brushed her pussy. He lowered some of his weight onto her and began to kiss her neck, working his way from her collarbone up to the shell of her ear with teeth and tongue.
She writhed in pleasure and
felt Ian practically growl with need behind her. He was all bone and muscle and man, pure strength holding her fast around the waist. He moved his hips so that now she became aware, curious, terrified, and incredibly turned on by the feeling of his cock snuggling between her buttocks.
Ian cupped her breasts in his hands and began to stroke her nipples with his thumbs, sending her into a dizzying echo chamber of need where the only thing that registered with any resonance was a desire that burned as hot and harsh as pure oxygen.
“How did I ever live without this, without you?” Ger murmured kissing from her ear to her lips and pulling her face to his for a devouring kiss that had her body beginning to throb and demand more.
“I can’t ever let you go, baby,” Ian said, kissing the nape of her neck and moving one of his hands back to her waist and the other to her ass.
“I don’t want to go,” she gasped before she realized what she was saying. But that couldn’t be true, could it? She was high, drugged from kisses and lust, and focused only on what needed to happen next to satisfy her.
“Then don’t,” Ger replied, lying back on the bed and pulling her on top of him.
For a moment, he held her there, and she felt the heavy swaying of her breasts as they swung free in the air. Why had she never paid attention to that sensation before? It was so feminine and sensual, only serving to increase her hunger.
She wanted to be full in ways she couldn’t describe. She wanted to be taken, invaded, dominated, and treasured all at the same time. She wanted to feel loved and wanton, sheltered and free, sexual and sweet.
The amount of trust she realized it would take to finally be that way with Ian and Ger frightened her. To get the ultimate pleasure, she had to volunteer for the ultimate vulnerability, not just with her body, but shedding the psychological armor that had been her shield, chastity belt, and sharpest weapon.
“Look at me, love,” Ger commanded, and there was that something in his voice that made her jerk her eyes to his, a compulsion she couldn’t possibly fight. His eyes welcomed her openly, yellow having given way to a deeper, more complex gold. It was like coming home and being scared to cross the threshold.
“Come on, love,” Ger said gently, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
“Let it go, Trisha,” Ian added, kissing the backs of her shoulders and running his hands slowly over her back, pausing to learn the lines of her muscles, ribs, and spine, the deliberate caresses throwing her into a pool of shivers that was swirling and pulling her under again, away from thought and doubt.
She gasped as Ian’s hands slipped under her ass to her pussy, stroking her honey up to the tight hole that she now knew she wanted him to take and use. His fingers drew little slick circles around her asshole, testing it with teasing little prods.
“Together, love,” Ger affirmed, moving her with Ian so that she sank down on his ready cock.
She winced and tensed as his girth stretched her.
“Shhh, loosen up, relax,” Ger prompted, his own muscles tight in his neck and jaw.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to be softer with her body. The moment she relaxed, Ger slid all the way in, giving her the full, delicious feel of him. She heard a sweet, low, satisfied moan, and then realized that it was coming from her…and she didn’t care.
Ian pushed her forward so that she now lay flat against Ger and her ass was pointed upward. She began to pant with anticipation of what Ian was about to do when Ger moved her so that her clit rubbed against the base of his cock. Just as the pulsing sensation was expanding through her, she felt a cold, slick pressure against her asshole that tightened into a moment of pain and stretching before quickly giving way to a feeling of fullness that she could never have imagined.
Ian was working his cock back and forth, slowly but steadily pushing further inward, his hands like iron clamps on her hips. Ger began to move her again, up and down on his cock.
The only sounds she heard were hot, harsh breaths, gasps, and the sliding of flesh on flesh through honey. She was so full that her sense of self was pushed outward, reaching to capture every sensation from the feeling of the sheets under her knees, to the musky, spicy smell of her men’s aftershave and sweat, and even the slight tickle of every tendril of her hair sweeping across her back.
Their possession of her was so complete that finally, she found the place she had been looking for where all that existed was feeling. She was object and goddess, forbidden and given, tool and trade, unknown power blossoming from the broken seed of submission.
The hands, tongues, nipples, cocks, fingers, flesh tormented her and drove her to a moment of divine deafness and blindness. Pleasure spread out from her clit like the impact of a bullet, tearing through civilization, education, speech, and name, leaving nothing but pulses of pointed ecstasy and beats of miraculous stillness between them.
The bodies of her men went taut and hard around her as they found their own infinite, pleasurable agonies of release. In a tangle of arms, legs, cocks, and awkward laughs, Trisha found herself once again snuggled between Ger and Ian.
She stretched herself languorously, allowing herself to wallow in the complete, blissed-out satisfaction of perfect physical exhaustion. Her headache was gone, and though she was still sore from earlier, she was sore in other, better ways, too. Reality could wait for at least another ten minutes. Couldn’t it?
Ian pulled her so that she was turned toward him. His smile turned into something smug and sexy.
Trisha laughed a little.
“What, baby?” Ian asked, tracing her chin with his forefinger.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen your shit-eating grin and not wanted to slap it off your face,” she replied.
“The Lord be praised,” Ger said from the other side of her, and she looked back over her shoulder at him.
“Were you just sarcastic?” she asked in mock astonishment.
“I learned it from Ian,” he answered with a wink.
Trisha turned back to Ian, pulling him close to her and scooting herself back against Ger at the same time. She nestled her head against Ian’s chest, moving until she found the perfect spot where she could hear his heartbeat. Ger’s hand rested on her hip, a warm, heavy weight.
She smiled to herself, drifting into soft blankets of darkness.
“I love you guys.”
Chapter 19
Shit!
Had she just said that out loud?
The sudden stillness on either side of her made Trisha realize that she had indeed just said the worst possible thing ever.
“Um,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to say that exactly in, um, exactly that way.”
Worse and worse.
“I do care for you both,” she ventured again, wincing as her words came out. “I think my word choice was poor. Careless. I mean…”
Trisha’s voice trailed off, and she tried to sink herself into the oblivion of the pillows and covers. Her heart was hammering in her chest at the possibility that she had actually meant what she said. To admit that, however, was to open a can of worms that she couldn’t even begin to deal with.
“It’s okay,” Ian said finally, his voice flat and emotionless. “Chalk it up to post-sex brain short circuit.”
Ger said nothing but slipped out from under the covers and grabbed his clothing and left the bedroom. She heard the bathroom door close and the shower start. Damn, she had really screwed things up this time.
“What time is it?” she asked, trying for normal and nonchalant.
Ian grunted slightly as he twisted his torso around to glance at the bedside clock, treating Trisha to a beautiful view of his lean, muscled chest.
“It’s five thirty,” Ian replied. “I’d better check in with the guys at the station.”
“Five thirty?” she exclaimed. “Holy crap, where did the day go?”
“Well, between your kidnapping and being unconscious, you missed most of it. We searched everywhere for you, and it was only when
Ger remembered Perk had been telling you about his bait shack that we put it all together and went out there.”
“I want to go back to Perk’s shack. I think I need to go there ASAP.”
“Why? The guys are still processing it for evidence.”
“They’re not looking for the things I’m looking for,” Trisha replied, scooting off Ger’s empty side of the bed and grabbing a blanket to wrap around her.
She paused and frowned, feeling her mind shift gears, almost as if it was literally clicking into different grooves and clockwork. Faces, words, smells, and gestures all snapped into place, and she reeled from the picture the puzzle finally revealed.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I have been so stupid. So incredibly stupid and distracted. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. We are fucked!”
“Why?” Ger asked, coming back into the room.
“I know who the killer is,” Trisha said, taking a deep breath to calm the fear rising up in her. “The only thing I don’t know is if we’re already too late.”
“Too late for what?” Ian demanded, dressing and putting on his gun holster.
“To stop Perk Hawkins from claiming another victim.”
* * * *
Ger watched Trisha in the rearview mirror as she worked feverishly on her laptop in the backseat of Ian’s official SUV. A grim-faced Ian was driving, and Ger knew it was taking all his concentration to go as fast as possible in the near whiteout conditions that were now blowing treacherously soft snow in practically horizontal lines.
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