Tomb's Tale

by Amanda McKinney

  Her lips parted as she looked down.

  Oh. My…

  Before she could finish her thought, he pushed her legs open—widely. He stepped to her, kissed her lips, then lowered down onto his knees.

  She exhaled, closed her eyes and felt the heat of his breath against her. She tipped her head back, ready to fully give in to the pleasure he was about to give her.

  He breathed on her for a moment, teasing her, rubbing her thighs.

  Then, she felt his wet tongue slowly lick her inner thighs, kiss, and trail inward until finally his mouth enclosed over her.

  “Oh, Weston,” she breathed as she began to throb.

  He inserted a finger into her and slid his mouth over her inner lips. He softly licked, pressed into her, and finally glided his tongue onto her clit.

  “Oh, my God.” Tingles broke out over her skin, the heat rising between her legs as he licked and sucked her swollen bud, his fingers sliding in and out of her wetness. She squirmed, the tingling intensifying.

  “Let go, Roxy. Let go, ” he whispered.

  He licked harder, with more pressure, his finger, faster and faster. She bit her lip, curled her toes, the sensation almost painful now.

  A beautiful light-headedness washed over her, her body vibrating with euphoria until—

  “Weston!” She screamed as the orgasm ripped through her, wave after wave, until she collapsed on the cool, wooden table. Chest heaving, she finally opened her eyes to see his hard body standing over her, with a small, satisfied smile on his face.

  She pushed up on her elbows, dazed. “Wow. That was…”

  He smiled. “I heard.”

  She felt the heat of embarrassment flush her face. Did she scream that loud?

  He laughed, helped her sit up and then swooped her off the table.

  Feeling like lead weight, she nestled into his chest.

  “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “Across the foyer, down the hall, on the left.”

  She felt like she was weightless—floating—as he carried her across the house. He stepped into the bedroom, pulled back her down comforter and softly laid her into bed.

  He covered her up.

  She frowned, confused. “Wait…”

  “What?”

  “Uh… we’re not done. Right?”

  He smiled, kissed her softly on the top of her head. “For the time being, we are. You’re going to get some sleep. Recharge your batteries.”

  She reached up, grabbed his arm. “Weston, no, I want to…”

  “I’m not asking.” He kissed her again, laid her back, and lightly stroked her head.

  And before she could protest, she felt herself slipping into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 15

  Snick.

  Roxy stopped, turned, her eyes darting from tree to tree.

  The late afternoon sun shot through the forest, like spears coming down from the sky. The wind whistled through the thousands of trees that surrounded her. The air was full of electricity, nature’s way of announcing rain to come.

  Dead leaves blew across her boots, which were now scuffed to hell.

  A chill ran up her spine as she looked around the dense forest.

  No one was following her.

  Not many people wandered this far off the trail.

  Not many people had spent the better part of their afternoon looking for a witch.

  She scanned the trees above as their branches swayed back and forth in the wind, and took a deep breath, inhaling the faintest smell of rain.

  She should get back soon.

  She turned, peering ahead.

  According to Zander, this was the area where he saw a group of people, cloaked in black, hidden in the shadows of the trees—right before black smoke and a mysterious bright light blinded him.

  Right before his helicopter tumbled to the ground.

  Rumor had it that Krestel spent most of her time hidden in the Great Shadow Mountains, which included hundreds of miles of rough terrain filled with cliffs, steep valleys, caves, and streams.

  That was okay. Roxy would hike to the ends of the earth to find the woman who tried to kill her sisters.

  She slipped out of her backpack, grabbed a thermos and took a sip of water.

  Where the hell was Krestel?

  Where the hell was the Great Shadow Book of Secrets?

  Find the book, find her.

  Find the book, find her, Roxy.

  A gust of wind whipped through her hair. She glanced at her watch—almost five o’clock. She’d been out in the woods looking for the witch, or any sign of her, since two-damn-thirty in the afternoon.

  She blew out an exhale, her shoulders slumping.

  Where the hell was she?

  Frustration began to bubble up. She couldn’t give up. She couldn’t just sit around and wait for Krestel to come for her family again.

  No, she would not give up.

  She pulled out her compass, looked around and hesitated. She knew she should head back, but being the strong-willed woman she was, she decided to take the long way back to the car. Maybe she’d stumble upon something. Maybe she’d find her this time.

  She strapped on her backpack and pressed on, stepping over rotted logs, rocks, and anything that threatened to trip her up.

  As the seconds faded into minutes, her thoughts trailed from an evil witch to a certain sexy fireman.

  A certain sexy fireman who rocked her world the night before.

  After their rendezvous on the dining room table, he’d carried her to bed, tucked her in and told her to go to sleep.

  And that was the last thing she remembered. She’d awoken eight hours later to the light of dawn peeking through her windows.

  Eight hours!

  She’d slept through the entire night, without waking once. In the decades since her sisters had taken over the company, she couldn’t remember a single time that she’d slept through the night.

  Not one.

  Not until Weston Cage entered her life.

  A smile crossed her lips as she lifted her hand to her neck, softly running her fingers over the spot where he’d kissed her so passionately not twenty-four hours ago. She flushed, remembering the feeling of those lips between her legs.

  She pulled her hand down and frowned—she hadn’t returned the favor, which had been bothering her all day. But the moment she’d looked into his eyes after her mind-numbing orgasm, she knew that he had something else in mind.

  Taking care of her.

  A man willing to put a woman’s needs over sex was unfathomable—shocking. And she had a feeling that if she kept hanging around Weston, she’d continue to be surprised by him. Pleasantly surprised.

  There was something about him. Something that made her feel vulnerable but safe at the same time. Something that made him steal her thoughts all day. Something that made her want to see him again, immediately.

  She shook her head.

  Get ahold of yourself, Roxy.

  Just then, sprinkles of rain began to fall on her shoulders.

  She looked up at the dark cloud creeping over the sun.

  Great.

  ***

  Roxy clicked the speaker button, slid the phone on the bathroom counter and smoothed on a dab of pink lip gloss as the call connected.

  “Hello?”

  “Fi, it’s Roxy.”

  “Hey, girl. You thawed out?”

  “Mostly.”

  Not two minutes after she’d felt the first sprinkle, the clouds let loose and rained down on her the entire hike back to her car. She’s gone back to the office where she changed into her spare jogging clothes and worked for another hour, answering emails and returning phone calls. She was cold and still soaked to the bone by the time she’d gotten home, and now, after a long shower, she was finally beginning to feel like a real person again.

  She swiped some deodorant under her arms. “How’s your research coming along on that information I gave you this morning?”

 
“You mean the Marburg virus? The nasty, disgusting virus that makes you vomit your insides out?”

  “That’s the one.” She swept mascara over her eyelashes.

  “It’s okay. I’m actually headed to the library now.”

  “The library?”

  “Yeah, you know, a building that holds thousands of books.”

  Roxy frowned. “Is the internet down or something?”

  Fiona laughed. “No, I did plenty of research on the ‘net. There’s just a few medical journals I want to check out. Hell of a lot easier looking at the actual journal instead of PDF copies on the screen, trust me.”

  “Okay, sounds good.” Ding—a text message. “I gotta go, let me know what you find.”

  “Sounds good, Rox. Talk soon.”

  She glanced at the clock—7:45—then opened the message.

  Almost there—Weston Cage.

  She spun on her heel, pulled on a hoodie, jeans, and after lacing her boots, grabbed her bag and ran to the front door. After setting the alarm, she stepped outside to the loud hum of rain pounding the ground around her.

  Headlights bounced up the driveway, cutting through the darkness. She yanked up her hood and jogged down the steps.

  Before she reached the truck, Weston was already out, opening the door for her.

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach the moment he touched her hand to help her up.

  She watched his tall, muscular body jog around the truck, the rain pounding his shoulders.

  He slid inside. “Sorry I’m late.”

  The curt tone of his voice had her eyeing him. “You’re not late. Right on time.”

  He shoved the truck into drive. “Got the address?”

  “Yep, it’s close.” She plugged it into the navigation system and sat back as he took off down the driveway.

  They drove in silence, and every second that passed, she grew more and more anxious. He seemed edgy, stressed.

  Was it her?

  Was it last night?

  Did he think it was a mistake?

  She looked out the window. She should have never let her guard down. She knew better! She’d guarded herself and her family for years now, and all it took was one muscled up, drop-dead gorgeous fireman to knock her off her game.

  Dammit, Roxy—

  “Had a fire tonight.” His voice was low, serious. He stared straight ahead, his body tense as he said it.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He paused. “Kid’s in the hospital.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…” She wanted to kick herself. She’d been worried that his mood was something to do with her, but in reality, it had to do with his job. A job that she couldn’t begin to imagine the amount of stress that came with it.

  “He’s going to be okay. It got his arm pretty good, though.” His grip tightened around the steering wheel.

  “Is the rest of his family okay?”

  “Yeah. Jimmy—I think you met him—is still with them.”

  “Oh. Do you need to—

  “No. He’s got it covered. The fire’s been out for hours. He needs to get used to things like this. I told him I needed to go deal with something involving creepy corpses." He forced a smile.

  “If you need to—

  He cut her a glance. “I don’t, Roxy.”

  She paused. “How did the boy get burned?”

  “He ran back in to save the family dog.”

  She covered her heart with her hand. “How horrible. Poor, poor kid. What caused it?”

  “Dishcloth fell on the stove.” He blew out a breath. “Thank God everyone’s okay. I just hate it for the kid.”

  “The dog?”

  “I got the kid and the dog.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You went in? Saved both their lives?”

  He paused, and for a moment said nothing. Finally, “It’s my job. It’s what I trained to do, and what I’m paid to do. Anyone would have done it.”

  She shook her head. “No way, Weston. Not everyone would have done it. Fireman or not, not everyone would have run into a burning house. And if I had to guess, you probably weren’t supposed to do it.”

  His lack of response told her the answer. No, by the book, he should not have gone into the crumbling house. And for the first time, she realized she wasn’t the only person with a lot on her shoulders. She wasn’t the only one who felt responsible for keeping others safe. She wasn’t the only one that would walk in front of a bullet to save someone else. She would do it for her team, Weston Cage would do it for total strangers.

  “I think this is it.” He flicked on the turn signal and pulled up to a small brick house on the outskirts of town. He parked behind a brand new four-door Chevy truck.

  Roxy cocked her eyebrow. “Must’ve bought this beauty with his inheritance.”

  “Right before he blew the rest at the casino.” He turned off the ignition. “Let’s go talk to our boy.”

  As he started to push out the door, she grabbed his hand. “Hey.”

  He turned.

  “I’m sorry.”

  A soft smile crossed his lips. And before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward and kissed him.

  His smile widened. “Thank you.”

  She smiled back. “Thank you.”

  With that, they jumped out of the truck and jogged through the rain and up the front steps. A light from inside framed the curtains that were drawn in the front window. The low hum of a TV sounded through the walls.

  Weston knocked.

  They waited.

  A cool gust of wind sent goosebumps across her body. She shoved her hands in her pockets. “God, I hope he has something for us.”

  “He will. He was way too nervous last night. Kid knows something.” He knocked again. “He said eight o’clock, right?”

  “Yeah.” She looked at her watch. “It’s six after now.”

  Weston frowned and a faint warning bell tickled her stomach—a gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She looked at Weston, who was looking at her, no doubt thinking the exact same thing.

  He glanced at the doorknob.

  She shook her head. “Knock one more time.”

  He did, and after a solid minute, he reached back and pulled a gun from his belt, as ironically, she was pulling hers from her bag. She glanced at his Sig and raised her eyebrows. “Hell of a gun.”

  “I pack a lot of heat, Miss Knight.”

  She grinned. “I know.

  He chuckled. “I always carry a gun.” He glanced at hers. “And I had no doubt you did, too. Nice pink, you girl.” He grinned, slid his hand over the knob and turned—unlocked.

  He slowly opened the door. “Adam?”

  Her pulse picked up and she glanced behind her, but thanks to the heavy downpour, she couldn’t see, or hear anything.

  “Adam?” Weston slowly stepped over the threshold.

  She stepped inside after him, and a chill ran up her spine. Her instincts piqued.

  Something was wrong.

  Something was very wrong.

  Slow, ominous music floated through the air. The music looped—repeating itself every few seconds.

  “Sounds like an intro to a movie, or video game or something.”

  “Sounds like a horror movie if you ask me.”

  With his gaze forward, he reached back and blocked her from taking another step. “Stay here.”

  She nodded and watched him slowly walk forward, gripping his gun.

  Her heart started to pound.

  He stopped cold as he looked into the first room on the right.

  “What? Weston?”

  He raised his gun, scanned the room, then turned to her with an ice-cold look that her tensing from head to toe. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” He slid his finger over the trigger, turned, and disappeared into the house.

  For what? What the hell did he see?

  Screw this.

  She raised her gun and tiptoed down the hall. Her
heart stopped as she peered into the room.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  The television was splattered with blood, hair, and skin fragments. A brown leather sofa centered the room, where what was left of Adam’s head hung to the side.

  CHAPTER 16

  She spun ON her heel as Weston came up behind her.

  “Dammit, Roxy. I told you to stay by the door.”

  She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Is the house clear?”

  “Yes. Whoever did it came and left, fast.”

  Her mouth gaped open as she looked back at the gruesome scene in front of her.

  Adam had been murdered—on the same evening he promised to give her information about Leland Richmond.

  Coincidence?

  Not a shot in hell.

  Weston slid his gun into his belt. “We need to call the cops.”

  “Wait. I mean, yes, but let me look around first.” Her legs shook as she stepped toward the couch. The smell of fresh blood hung heavily in the air.

  An open can of Busch beer and half-eaten microwave dinner sat on the coffee table, splattered with blood. A video game remote sat at his feet.

  On the television, a trio of pus and blood-covered zombies creepily swayed back and forth, humming eerily to instrumental music. He had been playing a video game when he was murdered.

  She tried to keep her eyes off of Adam’s disintegrated face as she stepped around the side of the couch. Her gaze immediately landed on a yellow folder, sitting inches from him, barely sticking out from under a blanket.

  She looked up at Weston, who was scanning the room—for evidence, she guessed. His eyes met hers.

  “A folder.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  She yanked a pair of latex gloves from her bag and carefully slid it off the couch. Weston joined her at a small end table.

  Her hand trembled as she opened it—and the papers tumbled to the ground.

  “Dammit!”

  Weston grabbed her shoulder. “Roxy. You need to take a deep breath. Go outside.”

  She feverishly shook her head. “No, no I’m fine.” She shook out of his grip, kneeled down and began looking through the papers.

  “These are financial records… emails…”

  Weston joined her. “Phone numbers… international numbers.” He did a quick search on his phone. “These numbers are from Africa, Roxy.”