by Anya Summers
He held her close and began to thrust. Slowly at first, letting her experience every inch of his wicked intrusion. Anal was different, more decadent than vaginal penetration. Her body, her every cell was attuned to his cock pumping in her back channel. Jack increased his pace. Thrusting hard and deep, he rammed his shaft inside her to the hilt. His balls slapped against her pussy in time with his torrid thrusts.
Rayna didn’t care that everyone in the club was watching Jack take her on the cross. She loved the sensation, the feel of his wide length furrowing deep.
The orgasm hit with the force of an atom bomb. It shattered her. She keened. Her body clutched at his plunging shaft as she came. Her pussy quaked.
Jack’s cock jerked and poured semen inside her anus.
“Rayna, fuck.” He bellowed as he came. His fingers dug into her hips as he continued to thrust, wringing every drop of ecstasy from their bodies.
But then he withdrew his shaft from her rear. She sagged against the cross. She was floating in an oasis of bliss. In a hazy daze, she felt him move around behind her. Jack drew a warm wet cloth between her thighs, cleaning up the excess sperm and lube. She gasped at the feel of it against her sensitive flesh. Then he undid her restraints, helped her off the cross, and wrapped her body in a warm blanket. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the scene area. Jack settled her on one of the couches, headed back into the scene area and gathered their belongings. Then he returned to her side and pulled her onto his lap.
She cuddled against him, content and happy. When was the last time she could say she had felt that way? Not since Nicolas.
“You did well, babe,” he murmured against her temple.
Pleasure spread through her chest at his praise. She slid into a haze, her eyes closed, then she was startled when he shifted his body. She must have drifted off a bit. He rose with her cradled in his arms and she clutched at his chest at the sudden movement.
“Hush, just hang on to me. We’re going to go grab my things from the locker and I’ll help you dress so we can get out of here.”
She nodded. “Okay.” Her speech felt slurred. She was so tired after their scene that all she wanted to do was burrow inside his arms.
But he was true to his word. In the men’s locker room, he set her on the bench and retrieved his gun holster and belt first. Once he had that affixed around his waist, he slid his shirt on. Pity. She loved looking at his bare chest. Then he diverted his attention to her and helped her dress. After she was clothed, she stood and wobbled on her feet.
Jack was about to pick her back up but she held up her hand and pressed it against his chest. “I’ve got it. I need to drive home, anyway.”
He snorted. “You’re not driving, not in the condition you’re in. I will take you home tonight and bring you back to your car in the morning. No arguing. In the shape you’re in, you would wrap your car around a telephone pole, or worse.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, but I need my purse.”
“We can stop by the employee room on our way out.” Jack led her out, his hand at her elbow, making sure she was all right as she retrieved her purse with her keys in it.
Then he escorted her out to his truck and bundled her into the front passenger seat. He joined her in the truck cab and drove them home, holding her hand while he drove. It made her want to climb onto his lap and stay there, forever.
He made her want things. Things she had no business wanting.
He pulled up into his driveway then got out and helped her out. When he started to direct her toward his place, she said, “Jack, can we please go to my place tonight?”
He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded his head in agreement. He walked her up her front porch steps. That’s when she spied her front door partially hanging open.
“Jack,” she whispered, struck with fear. Her place had been broken into. By whom?
“I see it. I’m taking you to my place. No arguments. Then I will come back and deal with this.” Jack never gave her time to attempt to argue. He steered her toward his place with ease, mainly because she was numb with terror. Why did these things always happen to her? Who would break into her place? It wasn’t like she had anything truly of value.
Once at his front door, he unlocked it and escorted her inside, flipping on lights as they entered. He towed her into the living room. “I want you to stay here and lock yourself in. I have my keys and will be back as soon as possible.”
She sputtered, “Are you kidding? I’m not letting you go over there alone.”
“Rayna, listen to me. It’s my job. This is what I do. I will be careful, I promise you. But I need you to do what I’m asking right now. More than anything, I want you safe, above everything else. Do as I’m asking you right now. Once I know that the coast is clear and you aren’t in imminent danger, then I will let you yell at me all you want to. Please.”
It was the please that did it. She nodded in agreement.
“Lock the door behind me,” he ordered. She followed him back to the front door. He stepped outside and waited for her to comply. Rayna shut and locked the door. Fear and anger were not warm bedfellows.
With nothing to do but wait, she turned on the rest of the lights, sat on the couch and waited for Jack.
Chapter 21
Jack called the break-in into dispatch as he crossed the distance back over to Rayna’s place. His gaze scanned the area, searching for any signs of danger. The street was empty. Dammit, this had happened on his watch.
“This is Detective Stone, badge number 9658. I need back up sent to 627 Marigold Lane.” Memories of the last time he had entered a crime scene alone assailed him. He doubted the perp was still around, but if he or they were, he wanted to catch them.
“Are ambulatory services needed?” the dispatch operator asked, her voice calm.
“Not at this time. The victim, Rayna Thompson, is at my place next door at 629 Marigold,” he informed her.
“All right, Detective, I have a pair of vehicles on their way to assist you,” she replied.
“Thanks. Make sure they know I’m in plainclothes and am armed.” The last thing he wanted to do was have a couple of uniforms show up and confront him for having a firearm.
“Will do, Detective.”
He hung up and dialed Mitch. “Where the hell are you?” he said to the voicemail when it picked up. Where the fuck was Mitch? He was supposed to be watching the house?
A terrible foreboding settled low in his gut. Jack called Carson.
“Carson. Rayna’s place was broken into. You need to get your ass over here and take a look.” He hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket.
Gun drawn, he flicked off the safety and slowly entered Rayna’s place. In the half light from the street, he saw that the interior of the place was trashed. He wished he had a flashlight on him. Wait a second. He pulled his phone back out and booted up the flashlight feature. Using that, he noticed that it was even worse than the darkness suggested.
Everything was smashed to bits and piece. Glasses, plates, the pots with her plants. Her furniture was shredded, with the interior stuffing pushing through the ripped sections. The television was on the floor, the screen nothing but broken shards.
He trod as silent as the grave through her first floor, finding nothing but destruction. Had they been angry they had not found her here? Or had it been deliberate, to get her attention and scare her? Either way, Rayna would be devastated.
After he cleared the first floor, he ascended the stairs to the second level. Once at the top of the stairs, he checked in the spare bedroom first. Whatever this room was going to be before it was destroyed, now there was nothing but debris scattered throughout. Then Jack stealthily moved into the master bedroom. Still no signs of an intruder present.
But in Rayna’s bedroom, the destruction was vicious and vengeful. The bed was smashed to pieces; the mattress slashed and stuffing out. The pillows had been shredded. Her clothes were dumped all over the floor.
Jack would have to review the video footage of the intruder and break in once he got Rayna to sleep. She would be overwhelmed by the devastation.
The sounds of sirens approaching shattered the stillness. He stowed his firearm, withdrew his badge, and headed downstairs. Fuck, it was going to be a long night. He was just glad that they had been out and together when this happened.
He had his badge out when the first of the officers arrived. The cavalry pulled up to Rayna’s place in a blaze of flashing red and blue lights. He knew the pair who stepped out of the first vehicle.
“Miller, Lloyd, when did you two start working the graveyard shift?” he asked as he approached.
“Detective Stone, we hadn’t realized you’d moved out of that one bedroom of yours. Moving up in the world,” Officer Lloyd, said shaking his hand. The years weren’t being kind to Officer Lloyd, he had a paunch and a thinning head of hair, but he was a good cop. Steady on the draw and dependable as the sun.
“Only about two weeks ago.”
“Didn’t realize you were back from medical,” Office Miller said. Miller was Lloyd’s opposite, half a foot shorter, but athletically built, with a buzz cut. The guy was former military and neat as a pin.
“I’m not, but then again, are we ever really off?” Jack joked with a congenial grin.
“Point taken. So what happened here?” Lloyd asked.
“I was out with the victim, Rayna Thompson. She’s currently next door at my place. We returned and the front door was wide open. I know it was shut and locked, because I was the one who made sure it was locked when we left. I assessed the place to see if the perp was still present and found it empty. Doesn’t mean they are not still in the area though.”
“We will go in and have a look before forensics arrives,” Miller said.
“Good. I’m going next door to check on Miss Thompson, but I will be back to assist,” Jack replied.
They saluted and worked in coordination with the second unit that had pulled up to assist. Jack strode the short distance back to his place, wondering how much he should say to Rayna. His keys were in his hand when the door swung open. She stood inside the doorframe, her face ghost white and drawn. Fear emanated from her body. He walked inside and gathered her into his arms. She fought him at first, struggling against his hold. But he held on until eventually the fury eased and she slumped against him, buried her face in his chest and clung to him.
“Babe, you’re staying here tonight. Let’s get you upstairs and into bed.”
She nodded and didn’t put up a fight. That was when he knew his little firebrand was done for and he needed to take care of her. Taking her hand in his, he led her upstairs to his bedroom. She stood near the bed, looking lost and wounded while he grabbed a shirt she could sleep in. He walked over and helped her out of her work uniform. When she was in nothing but her panties, shivering and solemn, his heart rolled over and exposed its soft underbelly.
If she’d been at home tonight…
Christ, even thinking about it made him insane. “Lift up.” He indicated her arms with a gentle tug.
She responded to his command like an automated doll. His heart ached for her.
He fit his shirt over her head, her arms through the sleeves, and then watched a tear roll down her cheek… and then another. He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap, cradled her in his arms and let her cry herself out. He rubbed her back, soothing as best he could.
“It’s all right. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured against her temple.
He let her cry. It was what she needed most. And he was there for her through the swelling storm. Her tears bathed his shirt with moisture. He grabbed some tissue and held it to her nose. “Blow,” he ordered.
She didn’t put up a fight, doing as he asked, for once.
And he just held her, letting her lean as much as she needed to. Being a victim of a crime was difficult, and with her background, he could only imagine what was going through that head of hers.
He shifted slightly and found her eyes closed. She’d fallen asleep against him. Sleep was the best thing for her. And it would keep him from worrying about her while he was next door dealing with everything.
Jack moved, with her still in his arms and, one handed, yanked the covers down and laid her in his bed. Gently, treating her like the precious cargo she was, he drew the covers back up around her body and tucked her in. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles and then turned off the light by the bed.
In case she woke up in a panic, he left the bathroom light on, letting the light spill into the room before he headed down the stairs, retrieved his keys from the coffee table, and joined the fray of officers outside his door.
In the short time he had been inside, her street had filled with dozens of police vehicles. Jack put an officer on guard right outside his front door. That way he would know she had protection nearby, while his department and the Bureau went over her place with a fine-toothed comb.
Chief Sheffield and Agent Carson had both arrived while he had been seeing to Rayna’s needs. They stood together at the base of the driveway while officers and agents worked the crime scene.
“Has anyone found Mitch?” Jack didn’t even bother with greetings. He was pissed.
“Is he missing?” the chief asked.
“He wasn’t answering his phone and he was supposed to be watching her place tonight,” Jack replied.
Chief Sheffield ordered two officers to search for Detective Martin’s car.
Jack glared at Carson. He was on the phone, as usual, barking orders. A few of his agents walked out of the townhome, white gloves on their hands, carrying plastic bags full of evidence.
What wasn’t evidence in Rayna’s place?
Chief Sheffield’s radio crackled.
“Chief Sheffield, we’ve located Detective Martin.”
“And?” the chief spoke into his radio.
“He’s alive but we called for an ambulance.”
“How bad is he?” Chief Sheffield asked.
“Blow to the head. But you’re going to want to see this. He’s parked south of the townhome a block down, behind a hedge,” the officer said through the radio.
Jack was already on the move. He raced the short distance. Fear for his partner, for Rayna, drove him. Mitch was slumped over in his vehicle, still unconscious, blood at his temple, with a note attached to his shirt with two words hand written on it.
She’s mine.
Fury filled Jack. Travino. No one else would go to these lengths to get to her. The destruction had been the mobster’s way of getting back at Rayna for being with Jack. Fuck. Did this mean that Travino’s obsession wasn’t purely motivated by revenge? Had Travino wanted the marriage? Jack knew from Rayna’s testimony that she’d never wanted the engagement, that it had been forced on her by her father. But Travino was acting like a jilted lover. Perhaps it was an angle they could pursue. It only made the man more dangerous, not less.
Chief Sheffield had Mitch taken by ambulance to the hospital with a possible concussion. They were able to wake him up, at least. He never saw who hit him. Before he left, forensics got involved and removed the note from his shirt.
Once Mitch was on his way in the ambulance, Jack rounded on the agent.
“Carson, it’s time to tell her. Now. Today. No more of this bullshit.”
With his hands on his hips, Carson shook his head in the negative. “We can’t do that. We almost had him.”
“Are you fucking crazy? Travino did this out of spite. He did it because he could. He’s playing with you, playing with all of us. Keeping Rayna in the dark is wrong, and you fucking know it.”
“I’m handling it. Keep her with you. Give me a few more days,” Carson countered. Jack wanted to pound his pretty face into the ground. It would defuse the pressure cooker of energy building inside his chest.
“With the way Travino is playing cat and mouse, we may not have that much time left before he
strikes. You know that as well as I do.”
“I do. We’re close. Give me as much time as you can. Then we will tell her. I will tell her personally,” Carson replied.
“We’ll send an officer around in the morning to ask Miss Thompson some questions. Keep everything procedural and all, even though we know the perp involved,” Chief Sheffield said.
“Good. She’s sleeping and I don’t want to wake her. Tonight’s been hard enough,” Jack said. And there are harder things yet to come. “I’m going to head in and will start reviewing the footage from tonight. I’ll let you both know if I find anything.”
Jack left them standing there without a goodbye. Considering he wanted to ring Carson’s neck, it was better he not speak. This case was spiraling out of Carson’s control and the asswipe wasn’t willing to admit it.
That could be deadly. It almost had been tonight. Jack thought about the call he’d made to Mitch’s wife tonight, having to tell Carrie that her husband was being taken to the hospital but was thankfully alive. It was too close a call.
Jack thanked the officer standing guard at his door and dismissed him. It was going to be a while before he went to bed. Once inside he locked the front door, grabbed a soda from the fridge, and then trudged up the stairs. He checked on Rayna first. She was sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, snoring softly. While he’d been gone, she’d wrapped herself in the covers so the only thing showing was her face and a small patch of her hair.
He leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead. He’d had some bad moments tonight, imagining it was her and not her things that had been destroyed. Then he padded quietly back across the hall into the spare bedroom. He sat before the bank of monitors and brought up the feed from that night. He went back all the way to the point where they’d left for the club.
He didn’t pay attention to the current feed. The Jackson PD was still hard at work on the crime scene, and likely would be until morning.
Chapter 22
Rayna startled awake. Her dreams had been suffused with dark memories. She panicked, not recognizing where she was, and then Jack’s scent hit her. Jack’s place. She was at Jack’s place because hers had been burglarized. And it had unearthed old wounds.