Jack Stone - Deadly Revenge

by Vivien Sparx

  He went down hard and didn’t get up again.

  Stone wiped away the blood from his face. It was spilling into his eyes, pulsing down from the wound in his scalp in runnels and then dripping from the line of his jaw onto his t-shirt.

  He crouched beside the Dom. The man was dazed, his eyes glazed and bleary. Stone took a handful of his hair and smashed his head back against the wall.

  “Talk you son-of-a-bitch!” Stone hissed. “Tell me what you know about my sister, or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

  The Dom said nothing. Stone bounced his head off the wall again and the Dom groaned weakly.

  “Talk!” Stone’s anger flared. There was a growing bloom of murderous rage burning behind his eyes. He snarled at the Dom and raised his blood-covered fist.

  “Talk!”

  The Dom groaned. Blood was pulsing from his shattered mouth. “I didn’t own your sister,” the Dom’s voice was reedy with pain. “She was dropped off here. Picked up a couple of weeks later. She was in transit…” he choked off the words and spat bloodily onto the ground.

  “Who?” Stone hissed, and his face was twisted with his fury. “Who dropped her off? Who picked her up? Where was she going? Who owned her?”

  The Dom shook his head. “I took her as a favor,” the Dom said weakly “Made a little money while she was here, that’s all. I swear.”

  Stone crashed the man’s head back against the wall again.

  “Not good enough.”

  The Dom’s eyes were filled with hateful tears of pain. He wheezed and tried to feel the inside of his mouth with his tongue. Stone clamped his big hand tight around the man’s throat and began to squeeze the life out of him.

  The Dom’s eyes bulged in terror. He could feel the crush of Stone’s fingers pressing and constricting. He felt a sudden surge of fear and panic and he began to flail his hands uselessly. Stone slapped them away. Kept squeezing.

  “Big guy….” The Dom gasped. “No names…” His legs began to thrash, and his heels began beating like a mad drum on the carpet. “A guy with a southern accent. Drove a small panel truck. A Ford…”

  Stone squeezed once more. He could sense the knuckles in his hand whitening from the force of his grip. The Dom gasped. Began to choke on the blood in his mouth. But he said nothing more.

  Stone let him go. Got to his feet and reeled away. Stood over the man, breathing hard, flexing and clenching his fists, forcing the red mist of rage from his eyes.

  Susan had been here. But she had never been the Dom’s property. The Cage had been just a holding place for his sister for a couple of weeks. Stone didn’t know why, or where she had been taken. It was another dead end.

  He walked away. Walked back down the passage and out into the cool night air, his steps heavy, weighed down by a kind of lonely sadness and frustration.

  There was a woman paramedic standing beside an ambulance down in the alley. Her and her partner were loading a steel stretcher into the back of the vehicle. The guy Stone had seen at the bottom of the stairs was strapped to the gurney and the woman was holding a plastic fluid bag. She took a look at Stone’s bloody face as he came down the stairs.

  The paramedics wanted to shave half of Stone’s head to stitch the gash in his scalp. Stone looked at the woman like she was mad. He compromised. Let her bind his forehead with a swath of bandages and then swallowed a handful of pain tablets.

  Celia was waiting for him. She was standing, frail and small and fragile, lit by the flashing lights of the ambulance. She was standing alone by a steel-sided trash bin, hunched inside a heavy cop’s jacket. She looked up at him and her face was stricken with concern and turmoil.

  Stone put his arms around her. She collapsed within the strength of his embrace. “Come on,” Stone said gently. “It’s over. I’ll take you to see Katrina.”

  Thirty-One.

  It was almost dawn by the time Stone and Celia returned from the sheriff’s homestead to the hotel. Celia was floating on a euphoric cloud of relief. She had spoken to the nurse. She had seen the medical reports. Katrina’s recovery would be long and slow and expensive.

  But she would recover.

  Stone pushed open the door to his room. Flicked on the lights. He could see the jagged ends of rope that still hung from the headboard of the bed. He said nothing.

  He showered quickly, scrubbing away dry blood from his face and neck, careful around the bandage. His t-shirt was ruined. There was no way the blood would come out. He bundled it up and threw it into a small plastic waste-bin tucked under the sink.

  When he came out of the bathroom, he found Celia asleep in his bed. She was breathing deeply and steadily, and there was the faint touch of a smile in the curl of her soft lips.

  Stone hung a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the handle of the door and climbed into the big bed beside her.

  They slept, curled up and entwined together, until late in the morning.

  Thirty-Two.

  Stone woke to the sensation of unfamiliar pressure.

  Pressure around his thighs.

  A weight that held him down.

  He blinked his eyes. His mind registered daylight – the room was bright, with sun streaming through the window. Then he realized the bed beside him was empty. He glanced down.

  Celia was astride his legs, facing him. Her eyes were dark and glittering with sexuality. Stone stared at her. She was smiling back at him, her expression impish.

  She had peeled off her blouse and bra, and Stone was enchanted by the gentle sway of her breasts and the hard peaks of her nipples. She slid her hands across his shoulders, and then moved them downward with lingering emphasis, feeling his lean strong body as she followed the dark shadowing of his chest hair towards his stomach and beyond. Finally she took his hardness into her hand and marveled at the warmth of him. Stone felt the sensations of her grip and he stiffened in an instant. Celia’s eyes grew a little wider in appreciation.

  Slowly she lowered her mouth over him, taking the tip of his shaft between her lips. Her hair fell forward over her eyes concealing the sudden hectic flush of color that rose in her cheeks as her tongue fluttered in light teasing strokes.

  Stone held his breath. Felt himself pulse. Felt Celia’s grip at the base of him become tighter, and the wet slide of her mouth make his toes curl.

  She made a contented humming sound in the back of her throat and slowly she took him deeper and deeper, never rushing. Never seeking to bring him to release, but merely enjoying the taste and the feel of him as the tip of his shaft touched the back of her throat. She held him there until her eyes began to water, and then slowly slid her mouth back to the swollen hard head of his length. He was wet and glistening. She licked her lips and then slid forward until she was settled across his hips.

  It was only then that Stone realized she was naked.

  She reached down and guided him against the soft swollen lips of her sex, feeling within herself a sudden ache and a need that was inflamed. She felt the touch of him against her and she paused, drawing out the moment with delicious anticipation. Her eyes locked on his and her mouth fell open in a silent gasped moan.

  Stone felt Celia’s weight move. He felt the brush of her thighs against his. She closed her eyes suddenly, her face a mask of concentration. She had one hand by his shoulder to balance herself and her other hand wrapped tight around his shaft. He felt himself sliding slowly within her, and it took every ounce of his control and restraint not to wrap his big arms around her narrow waist and plunge himself fully inside until their bodies were locked together.

  Stone held his breath. Waited. Watched the expression on Celia’s face slowly transform from intense focus to rapture. Saw it in her eyes as they flashed open again. Saw it in the flush of color on her cheeks as she took another inch of him, and then another, and another, until she felt the thickness and the length of Stone stretching her.

  “Oh, God,” she sighed. Her hips began to move as if she had no control. She felt herself gyrating, grinding
herself down a little more until at last he was deep within her and she was overcome by a sense of triumph and possession.

  Stone groaned. He threw back his head and clamped his hands on Celia’s thighs. She began to rock her body in a gentle rhythmic sway. Then she planted both her palms flat against Stone’s chest and leaned forward to kiss him.

  Their mouths met. She kissed him with wet open lips. Stone’s hands rose to the smooth skin of her waist and he seized her tight. Celia moaned into his mouth, and felt her heart begin to race. She stopped rocking and concentrated on the hard flare of him smoldering deep within her sex. She felt her body grip and tighten. She felt the throb of her arousal become a steady beat and she kissed him again – this time in a sudden frenzy of unrestrained passion and hunger.

  Stone bucked his hips. Thrust up hard, so that the depth of him rocked Celia. She groaned and laid her head against his chest, suddenly gasping for breath that she couldn’t quite catch. She felt light-headed. She felt everything around her tilt out of kilter. Stone plunged into her again and she bit her teeth into his shoulder to stifle a scream of pleasure.

  Stone thrust again, and again, and she juddered and moaned until the sound became like an undulating song in her throat.

  Stone’s fingers dug deeply into her flesh, seeming to sear the skin with the heat of his touch. She held herself rigid for him, then when she could take no more she went limp, bobbing and swaying above him like a boat on a storm-tossed ocean as he filled her with long powerful strokes that left them both on the edge of release and exhaustion.

  At last he rolled her over. Laid her on her side and pressed himself against her back. Celia felt the rock-hard push of him, insistent and undeniable, and her legs fell apart. Stone wrapped his arm around her shoulder and cupped the weight of one breast in his hand. Then he slid into her again from behind with a powerful thrust that made Celia gasp with joy. She was taut and shaking, so driven by her need that she was unable to think, only to feel. The ecstasy reached out and touched every part of her body, making her pliant and helpless within the embrace of Stone’s muscled arms. Their bodies began to move in a slow undulating dance that ground them together so tightly it felt to Celia that their bodies had melted and become one.

  It was a moment torn straight from her dreams. A wild, wet, perfect dream. Celia felt her body burning with desire. Her hands clawed at the bed sheets and she closed her eyes tightly to concentrate on gripping the length of him and holding him deeply inside of her.

  She was thrilling. She could feel the pressure building. It started low in her abdomen, like an impossible ache, and bloomed outward. She tossed her head from side to side. Bit her lip and clenched her jaw. She fought the urge with all of her might until she could hold back no longer, and the pent up dam of her desire overflowed, ruptured – and she was coming hard.

  Her vision burst into a million shards of bright blinding light. The rush of heat boiled from between her parted thighs and simmered all the way to her fingertips. She cried out. Buried her face in the pillow, and felt the sudden rocking spasms of her orgasm like an endless procession of waves exploding against the shore – each one leaving her breathless and exhausted until she felt shattered beyond repair and there was nothing left to give.

  Nothing at all.

  Stone slowed for just a moment. The grip of Celia’s orgasm was intense. He felt the pulsing clutch of her around his shaft and then her body clenched so tight it seemed to wrench his own orgasm from him. A ferocious ache assailed him – a voracious desire that ran rampant through his whole body. He felt Celia press back against him and his senses went into meltdown.

  He clung to her tightly. His own body seized in the grip of his release. He felt it torn from him and he held his breath as the sensation flared like the sun behind his eyes and then slowly, slowly, faded to black.

  They lay together, hot and sweaty and exhausted for a long time, and then showered together.

  Stone left Celia in the bathroom and went back into the bedroom to dress. When Celia appeared in the doorway there was a soft cloud of steam behind her. She smiled demurely. She had washed her hair and she came to him barefooted, wrapped only in a towel, looking fresh and sweet and quite beautiful.

  Stone was dressed. He had his haversack in his hand. He looked at Celia.

  “I have to go,” he said simply.

  Celia was alarmed. “So soon?”

  Stone nodded. “There is nothing more I can do here,” he said.

  “But, Jack. What about us?”

  Stone shook his head slowly. “Celia, I have to keep looking for my sister. It’s part of the reason that brought me here, and it’s what drives me on. I can’t stop searching for her. Not for anything. Not for anyone.”

  Celia nodded miserably.

  “And you need to give all your attention to Katrina,” Stone said. “She will need you now like never before. She’ll need your help and support. It’s a full-time job for you in the weeks and months ahead.”

  Stone strode for the door and then stopped suddenly. Turned back to face her. Stood in the open doorway for long silent seconds.

  Celia felt her breath hitch in her throat like the heroine of some cheap melodramatic romance novel. She went to him in a desperate rush.

  “No, Jack. Please!” she crushed her finger against his lips to stifle the words he was about to say. Celia stared up into his face and her whole body was trembling. She felt her eyes begin to well with tears. “Don’t tell me that you care for me. And don’t tell me that I was the best you ever had,” she said softly, but her tone passionate and strained. “And don’t tell me that you’ll think of me always… or that one day you will come to Ohio and look for me.”

  Celia shook her head and her hair fell around her shoulders in a soft cascade. “And don’t tell me that you love me, Jack,” she pleaded. “More than anything else – please don’t tell me that you love me. I’m not strong right now, and I think if I hear those words, you’ll break my heart and I wouldn’t be able to let you go.”

  Stone stared down at Celia, his face impassive. Then he kissed her gently on the forehead. “I wasn’t going to say any of that,” Stone said. “I was just going to tell you I left thirty thousand dollars in the trunk of the Lexus. It’s for Katrina – to help her start her life all over again.”

  Stone walked out the door. Went down the stairs and strode across the manicured hotel lawns until he was standing on the main road leading out of Heston’s Cove. The afternoon was warm on his back. He dug into the bottom of his haversack. Found his New York Giants cap and pulled it carefully down over the bandage around his forehead. Started walking and never once looked back.

  Cars were crawling out of town – heading home at the end of the holiday season in a steady stream. Stone figured it wouldn’t be long before someone gave him a ride.

  He stuck out his thumb.

  * * *

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