Marshall's Law

by Denise A. Agnew

  “I’m out of…it…now,” Gregory’s scratchy voice said.

  Startled, the grouping turned to the man in the bed. Pale, with a minute cut on his cheek, Gregory appeared smaller somehow. As if his big stature had shrunk in a few hours. With his head bandaged, and tubes entering his nose and his arm, he seemed vulnerable in a way Dana never would have expected to see.

  Marshall stepped forward immediately. He pulled a pad and pen from his jacket and held them ready. “Who did this to you?”

  Gregory’s eyes fluttered open, and the glaze of pain and confusion clouded his gaze. “I don’t know.”

  Marshall looked from Gregory to Dana, the grim set of his mouth giving away nothing. Dana wondered if he believed her cousin.

  “Try and remember,” Dana said, keeping her voice gentle. Despite her dislike for the man, she had compassion left for him. “The sooner you tell Marshall the quicker we can catch whoever is behind this.”

  Defiance raged in Gregory’s weak smile, his body stiffening under the white sheets. “I’m telling you I don’t know.”

  Aunt Lucille circled the bed until she could reach for Gregory’s left hand. “We have to know. Neal’s also in the hospital.” To Dana’s surprise her aunt’s voice came out determined, unwilling to put up with Gregory’s brand of deceitfulness. “He was shot, Gregory. Someone shot him in his hotel room and left him for dead.”

  Gregory’s mouth sagged, falling open. “What?” Panic laced his face. “No!”

  Dana never would have guessed Gregory could show worry for his brother; she’d never seen it in him.

  “That’s why we need your help. He’s in worse shape than you are,” Dana said, aware of the manipulation in what she said. For the greater good, in this case, she’d use this against him.

  His fingers squeezed Aunt Lucille’s hand and Dana saw her aunt flinch. “I was on my way back from a bar on Main Street and was going to stop at the house. I parked over by your SUV.” He looked at Marshall, nodding and wincing. “When I started past the doorway I was attacked. Someone slashed my side. I swung back and I know I hit him. I heard him grunt and fall.”

  “What happened next? After you were stabbed?” Marshall asked, his words rapid fire.

  “I ran to the house and got inside. I thought whoever was behind me might follow me in the house. I was going for the phone when I heard more sounds in the basement. I figured maybe the crazy-assed bastard that got me was down there—somehow got in through the sliding door.” He moved his fingers on the sheets, as if grabbing for purchase. “I was at the top of the stairs when the basement door opened and I passed out.”

  “You heard Marshall and me downstairs,” Dana said. “You fell down the stairs.”

  Gregory pinned her with a skeptical gaze. “What were you doing down there, cuz? Screwing Deputy Dog?”

  Amazed at the man’s audacity, she sucked in a breath. Marshall started to say something, his face suffused with anger.

  Marshall took Dana’s arm and started for the door. “I’ll be back to question you again, Metcalf, in case your memory starts working better. I will find out the truth.”

  Going into Lucille’s dark house made Dana nervous, even though Lucille had left the porch light on. “Thank goodness she left lights on inside too. I really don’t like this.”

  “We won’t be here long.” Marshall unlocked the back door and they trailed into the house the same way they’d come the first day they’d met. When he stopped at the head of the basement stairs she almost ran into the back of him. “Do you hear anything?”

  Unmistakable. The sounds of two people in the throes of passion echoed loud enough it could be heard through the closed door at the bottom of the steps.

  A sliver of light showed under the door. As the gasps and moans reached a higher pitch, Dana felt heat wash over her. She didn’t know whether the feeling emerged because of awkwardness or a forbidden arousal.

  The female ghost’s enflamed voice roared out, making Dana jump. “Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

  Dana gripped the back of his coat sleeve. “Boy howdy.”

  “Holy mother—” Marshall cut himself off. “I can’t believe I’m actually hearing this again.”

  Without another word, he headed down the stairs. Drawing his weapon, he opened the door slow and steady. She followed, half fearing that they’d find a real couple enjoying the heart-shaped mattress. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved when they found no one.

  At least no one alive.

  Once again the bed felt warm to the touch, and yet the sounds issuing from the bed did not make it move. Tying into an impulsive mood, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. From here she thought the utterance sounded louder, but she couldn’t say for certain.

  Marshall made a noise somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. “What are you doing? Communing with the spirits?”

  She folded her hands over her stomach and kept her eyes closed. “I’m not sure what I’m doing. I just thought this might stop them. Anything is worth a try at this point.”

  “Anything?”

  She felt a weight drop on her, and she squeaked, her eyes popping open. She flailed about as Marshall wedged his hips between her legs and braced over her on his forearms. His lips curved in an unrepentant, boyish grin.

  “Brennan Marshall, what are you doing?” She allowed her hands to settle on his shoulders.

  “You did say you’d try anything. Maybe we can help the ghosts rest.”

  Dana put her hands on the satin coverlet and experienced the odd heat under her fingers. “Feel this.”

  Marshall’s hips moved, pressing into the cradle of her thighs in a way that made her gasp. “I am feeling it.”

  She pursed her lips and bucked under him. “Feel the satin, or get off.”

  Rising to his knees, he touched the satin. “Feels warm, like it did before.”

  “What else?”

  His brow crinkled in concentration. “Vibration? Don’t tell me this is a vibrating bed?”

  “No, no. At least, not vibrating in a conventional sense.”

  The noises turned desperate, and Dana felt it seeping into her, making her want to close her eyes again and surrender to the raw emotions and passions the sounds generated.

  “The poor ghosts are not only torturing themselves, they’ll haunt Aunt Lucille forever. Can you imagine listening to this kind of stuff for eternity?” Dana asked as Marshall moved off the bed, and she followed.

  One corner of his mouth turned up in a wicked smile. “Uh…yeah.”

  From the gleam in his eyes she realized what he was thinking. “Marshall, you’re very naughty.”

  “So?” He stepped closer, leaning down and lowering his voice to a suggestive drawl. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “You or the ghosts?”

  “The ghosts.”

  “What makes you think I know how to get rid of them?”

  “You must have some ideas.”

  She wished she did. “An exorcism? A ghost hunter extraordinaire? Beats the beejeebers out of me.”

  When he tilted her chin up and gazed down at her with sin and heat in his eyes, she trembled. “What are you thinking, Marshall?”

  His finger traced over her cheek and sent wildfire through her limbs. “I’ve got a plan.”

  As Marshall’s deep, probing gaze searched her face, she felt a breathless anticipation stealing over her. “Is it guaranteed to work?”

  He leaned in closer, and his body heat almost sent her into heart attack mode. “No. But it might be worth a try.”

  He touched her chin with a soft brush of his thumb, his body touching her now from chest to knees. She slid her arms up and burrowed her hands into his open jacket. Shuddering, he released her long enough to shove the jacket off his arms. It fell to the floor. His hands cupped her face, and she quivered as he kissed her ear, then nibbled at her earlobe.

  “It’s worth experimenting,” he said.

  “Show them how it�
��s really done?” she asked, gasping.

  His tongue found her ear again and searched inside. She gripped his waist and squeezed, shuddering in delight as he made quick work of the front of her blouse and his fingers flicked open her bra.

  He rasped into her ear, “Give them an example how to finish the deed.”

  He groaned and his lips found her neck. As Marshall sampled her she gasped again and said, “And I don’t think a little nibble here and there will accomplish the task.”

  It was then Dana heard the feathery voice of a woman exclaim, “Oh, don’t stop.”

  Dana looked around. “Where did that come from?”

  Marshall surveyed the area. “I don’t know. All I care about is you and I together right now.”

  As his gaze traveled over her in hot assessment, his chest heaved and he took a deep breath. His thumbs slipped back and forth with feather light sweeps over her nipples and she almost came unglued.

  Her mind wouldn’t function as she slid one more step toward insane desire. When his tongue traced a circular path across one nipple she yelped.

  “Marshall.” The sound escaped, desperate and eager.

  The ghosts seemed pleased by the turn of events as they turned up the volume, escalating their noisy and never ending pursuit toward climax.

  This time a ghostly male voice groaned with excitement, “Ohhhh…”

  “What on earth?” Marshall asked, his face etched with disbelief. “The ghosts are talking?”

  Another seriously excited moan filled the room as the ghosts pursued their lovemaking with full vigor. Dana almost laughed. “It’s like they’re listening to us listening to them.”

  Marshall grinned. “This is kinda kinky.”

  She did laugh then, and plastered herself against him as she slipped her arms around his neck. When their lips came together he taunted with delicate, tender strokes that surprised her. She’d seen the passion roaring out of control in his eyes seconds ago, but he’d slowed down enough to drive her within a half inch of begging him to put them out of their misery. When he pulled back she saw a dark, dangerous, consuming sexual desire ignite in his eyes.

  Dana knew she was a goner.

  An animal need pounded inside her, speeding up her heart and quickening her breath.

  The ethereal occupants of the bed moaned with need, and Dana felt the ghostly passion simmer inside her. Warmth flooded her entire body with a pounding urgency. Marshall picked her up in his arms, and before she knew it he dumped her on the heart-shaped bed and came down on top of her.

  “I think…we…were…here…before,” she said between each sweet kiss.

  “I want you,” he said. His eyes blazed with a frenzied desire. “Now. Here.”

  The very idea of now and here turned the last switch required to start Dana’s pilot light. Her thighs tightened in reaction, arousal burning at the core.

  Here. Now. Hard. Fast.

  “Oh, my God, Marshall.”

  He moaned as she kissed his nose, his chin, his cheeks. “Exactly.”

  This time it seemed written in the heavens that they would make love on this bed. Perhaps the ghosts agreed because they continued their unapologetic noise.

  “Sweet heavens.” A breathy voice, feminine and sweet, echoed in the air. “Sweet, sweet heaven.”

  The ghost’s voice sounded faint now, mixed in with the moans and groans of delight. Thrilled that the ghosts might find their own special enjoyment, Dana poured on the passion.

  Marshall plucked at her nipples, and Dana shivered in delight. His knee wedged between her legs and she rubbed against it in frantic search to ease the ache. As he kissed her his tongue moved against hers in a relentless stroking. She ripped at his shirt and seconds later it came open. She plunged her fingers through the hair on his chest, glorying in the feeling of hard muscles beneath her touch. He shuddered, a soft moan slipping through his lips. Seconds later he unzipped her pants and pulled them down and off along with her panties. She found the zipper on his jeans and yanked. When it resisted, she tugged again.

  He moaned and trapped her hand. “Sweetheart, easy on the equipment.”

  Slowly he pulled down the zipper and within seconds she had him in hand. Literally.

  His breath hissed through his teeth as she tested the length and the width of him. “In my wallet.”

  She could barely think straight. “What?”

  He reached into his back pocket and yanked out his wallet. Seconds later he sheathed himself with protection and settled between her thighs again. As he kissed her with hot hunger, she knew they couldn’t wait any longer. He slid deep with one solid thrust that sent her arching against him with a gasp, glorying in the way he filled her with hard pressure. Marshall stayed immobile, gazing down at Dana with bone-melting intensity that said he knew nothing else, felt nothing else but her. Her emotions swelled under a lash of sweet love. She wanted him, needed him with more than an overwhelming physical hunger. No man could equal him in any way, shape, or form. She would never meet a man like him again.

  As the pulsing inside her threatened to go volcanic, she twisted against him. With a savage, satisfied smile, he licked her nipples, rasping over them with long strokes. She shivered in excitement.

  “Marshall.” She gasped, squirming.

  He uttered a muffled growl as his hips ground against her, then started to thrust, picking up to hammering speed immediately. Everything blurred as all emotions, all sensations centered on the rhythm. Dana knew without one shred of doubt she’d never love any man as much as she loved Brennan Marshall. If today ended, she wouldn’t regret the soul-searing love and demanding passion.

  Her hands found the bunching, rippling muscles in his arms and shoulders, then her fingers plunged through his hair as if grabbing for purchase. Breathing wasn’t necessary, thinking impossible as sensation piled upon sensation. Marshall’s rocking motion, emphatic and relentless, brought her to within an inch of detonating. She hovered on a skull-splitting edge, whimpering and panting. Dana felt him reach something deep and high inside, and it fragmented her world.

  Then she did something she’d never done before.

  A scream ripped loose from her throat.

  She heard Marshall’s guttural exclamation of satisfaction as he continued to slam deep inside her. His last ramming thrust took her over again, bursting sweet and hot. He shuddered, his entire body rigid.

  For a second she heard the ghost’s voices reaching for the heavens, mingling with their human counterparts in an eerie and incredible choir.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Incredible. Total heart attack sex.

  Marshall’s brain attempted to register what had happened as he sagged onto Dana and tried to suck in a breath. As a little consciousness crept in, he realized he’d experienced the most breath-stealing sex of his life. He knew the idea of making love to Dana on this bed had sent him over the edge.

  Not to mention the horny ghosts making a racket.

  He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of her as alarm bells shrieked inside his head that Lucille might show up any moment and find her niece in a compromising position. He grinned. Had danger made him this hot, or was it Dana alone that sent him out of control?

  Dana. God, she’s so beautiful. So sexy. He managed to shift, leaving her body but not her embrace. As he rolled to the side he wrapped her tight in his arms. Her soft scent and warmth threatened to arouse him again.

  His gut clenched. “Dana.”

  “Mmm.” She moved against him and kissed his neck, her hand skimming down to clutch his butt. “Oh, my gawd. We just…we just…”

  “Had mind blowing sex on a heart-shaped bed?”

  Her breath feathered against his jaw as she sighed. “You can say that again.”

  Silence flooded the room.

  Silence.

  “Marshall? Do you notice anything different?”

  Oh, oh. A woman question. The kind that could get a man in trouble if he didn’t think fast. He
noticed that since they’d made love the first time she looked at him with desire and maybe admiration. Her eyes shone with a special potency that made his heart ache with deep longing.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ve noticed that you’re still soft and—” he slid his fingers down to the apex of her thighs and found the softness that had enclosed him, “—hot.”

  With a startled sound she surged against him, and he teased her until she fell into another gasping, panting release. As she lay against his chest, breathing hard, he savored the warmth of her in his arms, and his heart squeezed on an emotion he recognized and dreaded. The thought of anything happening to Dana filled him with overpowering fear. It blossomed like a malignant bloom, growing until he wanted to roar in fury.

  He wouldn’t feel like this if she were a stranger.

  He wouldn’t feel like this if she were just a friend.

  Emotions this powerful meant one thing.

  Panic clutched him and he reacted without thinking. He released her, rolling to his feet and hitching up his pants. He staggered into the little bathroom and gazed into the mirror. Man-oh-man, his hair looked as if it had been processed through a blender. He sighed and pushed a hand through the tangled mass. It didn’t make much difference. He was still a damned mess. When Marshall surfaced a few moments later, he’d already buttoned his flannel shirt and zipped his pants. Scanning the room, he found his baseball cap lying on the floor. Snatching it up, he mashed it down on his head.

  Dana rearranged her clothes, put her pants back on and buttoned her shirt. His gaze pinned her, drawn to stare, to observe everything about the woman who owned him in ways she could never know.

  Her cheeks went pink and her eyes glittered with a satisfied gleam. She looked so good he wanted to sweep her away somewhere hidden, somewhere he could indulge their fantasies until they wrenched the last teeth-clenching orgasm out of their system.

  Her smile faded as he looked at her. “What’s wrong, Marshall?”

  Unable to resist, he walked toward her, cupped the back of her head and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. “Not a damned thing. Now what were you going to say earlier? Before I made you forget.”