Waking Evil

by Brant, Kylie

  When she pulled away from him, he made a move to stop her. But his movements halted when she embarked on a sensual journey of discovery.

  There were intriguing hollows on his chest, where sinew met bone, and she used her lips to trace each one. Moving lower, she swirled her tongue in the slight indentation of his navel. Used her finger to follow the trail of hair, a couple shades darker than that on his head, to where it arrowed toward his sex.

  The muscles in his belly clenched and jumped beneath her touch, the evidence of his reaction firing little pinwheels of desire through her system. His penis was engorged, quivering. And when she took him in her mouth, his hips jerked helplessly.

  She wrapped her fingers around his shaft to stroke as she used her tongue to lash at the sensitive tip. And let the dark flavor of him work through her, until it joined the fever in her blood.

  It was less about control now. The thought formed, fragmented. It was more about wanting to return the pleasure in kind. To bring him to the brink of trembling need. To hone his desire to the same painfully keen edge as her own.

  He withstood the sensual torment for long moments. But when her intent changed, when the soft suction grew stronger, his fingers tightened on her shoulders. Urged her higher.

  “Not without you, sugar,” he murmured against her lips.

  It pleased her that his voice was thick. Ragged. “That can be easily arranged.”

  He guessed her intention when she straddled him, and he sat up, one arm around her waist to keep her steady while he sent a hand in search of the other bedside table. She heard a drawer open. The crinkle of a foil wrapper.

  She took it from him and opened it. Made the act of rolling the latex over his thick sex an act of excruciating promise.

  The desire steadied. Was no less fierce for being tamped down, but it was no longer in danger of slipping its leash. That was important, wasn’t it? That she retain something of herself even as she drove them both crazy. So she wouldn’t be searching for splinters of herself to re-form once the act was over.

  But when she paused in position over him, took him in, she made the mistake of looking into Dev’s eyes. Found them narrowed and glittering. And realized with a start that he knew exactly what she was about.

  To distract them both, she started moving, her eyelids sliding shut in pleasure at the delicious friction. She slid from slow and easy to a mad frenetic pace that had them both gasping. Flesh slapping against flesh in a frantic speed that promised to hurtle them both to completion in record time.

  Until he slowed beneath her. His movements halted completely, even as his body quivered against hers like a tiger ready to spring. “Ramsey.” The word was drenched in emotion. “Look at me.”

  His plea punched through the fog of desire and she dragged open her eyes, her body still attuned to the feel of him pulsing and throbbing inside her. It took a moment to focus. Another to comprehend the very different sort of need in his gaze.

  “Look at us. See us.” His palms left her hips. Found her hands. Threaded his fingers with hers against the mattress.

  She shook her head, a ribbon of panic unfurling down her spine. He was asking for more than she could give. More than she wanted to give.

  But then his hips began to thrust, establishing a languid rhythm that had the need streaking through her again, so sharp, so ripe, that it burned. She met him glide for glide, the pace slower but no less intense.

  His deep blue eyes were blurred with passion. She wanted to deny the request she saw there. Wanted to pretend she’d never noticed it at all.

  But she was caught. Helplessly mesmerized by the promise and plea she’d identified. Terrified her expression would give away just how very much she wanted to give him the answer he sought.

  Their pace quickened. Breathing thickened. And still her eyes remained fixed on his. When he’d swim out of focus, she fought to clear her vision, wanting to watch him as the pleasure took him. Watch him watching her.

  The world shifted, narrowing crazily, until it pinpointed this moment. Only the two of them engaged in a race to be first to drive the other over the edge. And if there was more here, more that threatened to ensnare and entangle, Ramsey was certain she could avoid it. Shake free of it.

  Dev smiled then, and her heart stuttered. But before her reaction could summon panic, he lunged beneath her, driving home with hard rapid thrusts.

  She shattered, riding the release in a long endless rainbow of unspeakable pleasure. His climax followed seconds later as their bodies shuddered together.

  And through it all, her gaze never left his.

  Chapter 22

  Collapsed on top of Dev, Ramsey felt no particular compulsion to move. Given the lazy stroke of his hands over her still-trembling flesh, he was in no hurry for her to do so.

  The jangle of her cell brought a snarl to her lips. An epithet tumbling off her tongue.

  “Is that yours?”

  “Of course.” Reluctantly, she disengaged from him. Sitting up in bed without him entwined around her was strangely disorienting.

  The cell went silent as the call switched to voice mail. Then it immediately began to ring again. It took a moment for her to fumble though the pile of their clothes. Another to retrieve it from the pocket of her suit jacket. By the time she squinted at the screen, it had gone silent again. Two missed calls.

  It took only a second to ascertain that they both came from Cripolo.

  “Gonna deal with that tonight?”

  She turned her head to find Dev close enough to read the cell screen. There was no judgment in his expression. No sign of his opinion of a woman who’d rather chase down a murder suspect than deal with her own family.

  But he had a little experience in that area, too, she recalled. He’d be the last to offer empty platitudes.

  The cell began to ring again as if in answer. And she recognized that she’d put this moment off as long as she could. Flipping the phone open, she said shortly, “What do you want?”

  There was a moment of silence on the line, before the familiar voice sounded. “Well, well. Miss High and Mighty finally decided to answer my call. Guess I should be grateful.”

  “I don’t have time for this, Luverne. Say your piece and get it over with.” As if the messages he’d left hadn’t been enough already. After the first couple, she hadn’t bothered to listen to the rest. She knew exactly what her brother was. She always had.

  “Did I interrupt somethin’? Hope you’re takin’ it rough up the ass, you stinkin’ cunt.”

  “As usual, your brotherly sentiment is overwhelming. You’ve got ten seconds. What do you want?”

  There was a pause. She could hear him haul in a breath, as if to rein in temper. “You cost me a sweet li’l deal with that Realtor. You’re gonna have to pay for that.”

  “Seems to me I was going to pay anyway,” she said drily. Sitting on the edge of the bed in the near darkness, spine straight, heart hardened, the sense of déjà vu was dizzying. It washed over her with an accompanying blanket of hopeless-ness.

  She shook it off. “That’s my house. I bought it for Hilda. If she doesn’t want to live there, wants to milk it for the rent money, well I guess I’ll let that go.” She had a feeling that surprised him, as if they hadn’t suspected she knew what they used the property for. “But my name is still on the deed. How the hell did you think you’d ever get away with selling it?”

  “Almost did. Would have if that dipshit Realtor hadn’t gotten it in his head to call after I convinced him right and proper.”

  “Yeah, you’re real clever. That sort of theft would constitute a felony. A brainy move for someone only out of prison, what? Twenty-one months?”

  “Wouldn’t a had to try it if’n you gave me money when I asked. You’re a tight-fisted bitch. You want your own family crawlin’ ’round on our knees, beggin’.”

  “I’ve given you money,” she pointed out futilely. Luverne— for that matter her mother and sister as well—remembered only
what suited them. “Got tired of throwing dollars down the same rat hole. I told you last time you wouldn’t be getting anymore so, true to form, you decided to steal it instead. There goes my faith in the rehabilitative nature of prison.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll give me more.”

  There was a tone in his voice, sneaky and satisfied. The sense of déjà vu returned. Stronger this time.

  “I ain’t takin’ this layin’ down. You’ll give me money every damn month. Exactly as much as I say. Or I’m gonna have me a little confab with Reggie Masterson.”

  The name was like a punch to the gut. It shouldn’t have been. Masterson and his buddies were in the past. A past she’d buried long ago.

  A past that had a nasty way of rearing up at random moments to prove it still retained some power.

  “He’s law down here, y’know. Sheriff, just like his daddy was. How’s that for a kick in the ass?”

  She had to wait until her throat eased enough to force the words out. “Your ten seconds are up.”

  “Wait!” A new note of threat entered Luverne’s voice. “You want to know what I’m gonna tell ’em? I’m gonna waltz right into his office and slap a paper on his desk with your address and phone number.”

  There was no way to prevent the quick shuddering breath at the words. And no way for Luverne to have missed it.

  “That’s right. I hear he’s still harboring a grudge over the way you shot that paint gun at his family jewels. And then tryin’ to get him in trouble with his daddy by cryin’ to the cops . . . well, folks ’round here still talk ’bout it sometimes. How you lured them boys into the woods, offerin’ to spread your legs for ’em, and then got all pissy when they wouldn’t pay for it.”

  An unnatural calm settled over her. “Is that what they say?”

  “Most do. ’Course there’s ’nother side to it that got spread ’round agin when Everett Grout was runnin’ ’gainst him in the sheriff’s race. Reggie won anyways, but he was mighty pissed it got told. I hear he has a powerful bitterness ’gainst you. The story is, you cost him one of his balls.”

  The fierce stab of satisfaction at the words hadn’t lessened after all these years. “If you owned a pair yourself, maybe you could loan him one.”

  Luverne’s voice went ugly as the leash on his temper snapped. “You listen to me, you smart-mouthed whore. You think you’re somebody now? You’re the same li’l tramp you was down here, shakin’ your ass for anyone who’d pay you for it. You ain’t nuthin’.”

  “Oh, I’m something,” she protested mildly. She was numb now, walled off from feeling. Maybe she wouldn’t feel anything at all anymore. It would be so much simpler. “I’m the one with the money, remember? And you’re still not getting a dime.”

  The names he called her then slid harmlessly off her. She’d heard worse. Some from him. “Y’all think I’m kid-din’?” Rage had his words ragged. “I’ll do it. And maybe I’ll come on up to your place myself first. Pound some damn respect into you. Then I’ll let Reggie do the rest.”

  “You might want to recall that I have the name of your parole officer. I’m sure the Realtor would be pleased to tell him how you tried to bilk me out of my property. And if you talk to Reggie, be sure to tell him and his friends that I don’t use branches and paint guns to defend myself anymore. I use bullets. And I’m a helluva shot. Come to think of it, you might want to remember that yourself.”

  She disconnected the call, but then the strength seemed to leave her limbs. She sat there, knowing she had to move. Unable to. As if words would summon the energy she needed, Ramsey said, “I should be getting back to the motel.”

  In response, Dev simply reached for the cell she still held and set it on the bedside table. Then, with one arm around her waist he repositioned her in bed, cradled close to him. “I don’t think so.”

  She wanted to struggle, but the feat was beyond her. So she lay there. Listening to the steady and solid sound of his heartbeat, and waiting for her knees to stabilize enough to hold her upright again.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Did he mean he wouldn’t press or that he’d heard enough of the conversation to piece it together? It didn’t matter, she thought wearily. It had all ceased to matter once she’d left Cripolo, Mississippi, behind. Maybe time had taught her she couldn’t carve away the past with the precision of an emotional surgeon, but it was over. She was often grateful for that.

  Minutes melded into an hour. They laid there awake, motionless, save for the hand Dev brushed soothingly over her back. Sleep would have been as impossible to summon as the strength needed to head back to the motel.

  “Maybe you ought to give your brother’s parole officer a call anyway. Save yourself some headaches,” he suggested in a murmur.

  She gave a little shake of her head, her hair brushing his chest. “He’ll land back in prison soon enough. I’ll keep that as an ace in the hole.” Black humor filled her. “With Luverne, it always pays to have something to fight back with.”

  “He should’ve protected you.” For the first time, she identified the tone in his voice, and she felt a jolt of surprise. Suppressed fury. “He’s your brother, and he should have been watchin’ out for you back then.”

  “Familial loyalty isn’t a cultivated Hawkins family trait.” The note of humor she tried for came out flat. “We were trash, Dev. The sort you have here in town, too, I imagine, who everyone pities or looks down on. My mama was never too proud to take charity. We were so low that the people I envied were the ones who lived in the double-wide trailers on the other side of the park. The ones with the decks and porches built on. Compared to us, they lived like kings.”

  “You’re a long way from the trailer park now.”

  She didn’t dispute him. Not even as she recognized the trailer park was a big part of who she’d been. What had formed her. Was part of the darkness that lived inside that had once threatened to swallow her whole.

  “I knew what everybody in Cripolo thought of my family,” she whispered, eyes burning. “Had a hard time looking anyone in the eye because of it. It took Masterson two weeks to even get me to return his hellos. But he was persistent.”

  And she was stupid. Her eyelids slid shut in pity for the naïve fifteen-year-old she’d been. Kids these days seemed wiser, didn’t they? Older than their years. But she’d grown up in a hurry once Reggie Masterson had taken an interest in her.

  “A month later he convinced me to let him show me the prettiest place in the area to look at the stars.” And she’d been young enough, dumb enough, to daydream that their first kiss might ensue. “Turns out he had something else in mind. A little naked hunting in the woods, followed by a gang rape. First one to hit me with the paint gun was first on, I guess.” She shrugged. “They ended up with a bit more than they could handle.” But not before they’d terrified her with a scene that, if she were honest, still lived in her nightmares.

  “And his dad was the town cop.”

  “He was the sheriff. And since it was county land, that’s who we were sent to.” Hilda Hawkins had marched her into Sheriff Masterson’s office, still bruised and weeping. But Ramsey had been thrilled, in some tiny part of herself, that her mother was acting like a parent. Taking her side.

  “My mother accepted eight hundred dollars from the sheriff to forget all about it. I got labeled as the town slut. She bought two new chairs for her beauty parlor and a fancy dryer. And it all went away.”

  “Holy Christ, Ramsey.” His arm tightened around her, making it difficult to breathe. The weight of it warmed something inside her.

  He went up on one elbow, still holding her close, his face near hers. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Too strong, I thought sometimes. I can admire that about you while hatin’ like hell how that strength was formed.”

  His kiss was soft as gossamer. It shouldn’t have had the power to heal, just a little, the tangle of raw-edged emotion she carried inside.<
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  “I don’t want you to matter.” Her voice was a whisper, but when he stilled, she knew he’d heard it. “It’d be so much easier if you didn’t.”

  “It’d be easier if you didn’t feel,” he countered. “But you do, Ramsey. You can pretend differently, but you do. And none of us can will ourselves to not feel a certain way.” His hand moved from her waist to stroke her hair, the gesture tender. “All I’m askin’ is that you not run away from your feelin’s. Least not ’til you give yourself the time to figure out what they are.”

  She pressed her face closer to his chest. Her eyes were dry, but they still stung.

  All I’m askin’ is that you not run away from your feelin’s.

  He had no idea what he was requesting. If she could find a way to get through life without feeling at all, she’d take it in a heartbeat.