by Snow, Nicole
I just can’t do it right now. It’s too much of a distraction, and I need to keep my mind on Joannie.
Gabe’s just the stress relief I need when the tension builds up too much. That’s it. A bit of physical exertion to work out my nerves and frustration.
That’s all he can be.
That's all I'll let him be.
So, instead of heading home, I drive to Grandma’s. She’s not home, but Monika is.
Sis limply, listlessly tells me Grandma’s out with friends, then trudges back to her blanket nest on the couch, curls up, and pulls a blanket over her head.
Oh, damn it. Reality’s starting to sink in, isn’t it?
We're no closer to finding her. I know it, and so does Monika.
I settle down on the edge of the couch cautiously at her hip and rest a hand on her shoulder through the blanket. “Nika?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Meh.”
“Come on. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Like you don't know. We’re never going to find her, are we?” she mumbles, pain barely muffled behind the blanket. “The detective called today. Harmon’s definitely clear. They don’t know who took her or even where to start looking. My –” Her voice hitches. “My baby’s gone.”
I close my eyes.
Pain swamps me through and through. It’s an awful, helpless feeling. I shift to lean against her, laying against the lump of blanket holding my sister, trying to offer comfort through closeness, if I can't offer answers. It kills me because it's true.
“I haven’t stopped looking,” I whisper firmly. “I won’t stop. You know that.”
“Yeah?” she answers morosely. “But what fucking good does it do?”
I have no comeback. No easy, hollow words of encouragement.
It’s a gunshot to my heart, and now I’m bleeding, the life draining out of me next to my dying sister.
I just stay quiet. I just stay with her, while she shakes against me in soundless, gasping sobs.
* * *
It’s a while before I leave.
I stay with Monika until she falls asleep, and then pull the blanket back and smooth her hair, drying the tears off her cheeks. I hate what this is doing to my sister, how it’s ravaging her.
No matter how it’s eating me up inside, it’s ten times worse for her.
I have to do something. Anything.
With determination hardening inside me, I slip out and into my car, meaning to head back to my place to start working like a dog. I can't give up, and I won't get distracted. Not until Joannie comes home.
Gabe can either make himself useful or stay out of the way.
But there’s a massive delivery truck blocking my path. I bite my lip, annoyed I can't even get on the street.
It’s a loading truck, and it’s dropping off one of those huge portable moving trailers in Jim’s driveway. One more ugly reminder he really is moving to Montana.
Damn. He’s been such a comfort to Monika, and I hate that he’s moving away.
Without him, she won’t have anyone left but Grandma and me.
And right now, I’m feeling like having me is cold, crappy comfort that’s no good for anyone at all.
* * *
I don’t even get to say a word when I come home before Gabe’s on me.
His kiss comes hard, hot, and electrifies me in a way that makes it hard to think about anything at all. When I’ve got so much on my mind, I welcome the distraction.
I’m still determined to find a lead, but I can take a few minutes to just melt into this wonderful man who changes my whole gravity.
Just a few minutes of kissing turns into more, straddling Gabe’s rugged, giant body, savoring the way he spreads me open. I love being under him, lost in his heat, his own personal playground for just a few precious moments.
A few frantic minutes of his body moving under me, a lion-man pinning me in place, fucking up into me so hard I'd fly right off him if his huge hands didn't lock me back in place.
Every time I try to take control by sinking down on him, he wrests it away, thrusting up into me in that wild way that makes me burst apart at the seams.
I love the fight, the flesh, the sweat, the entanglement.
I love the heat of his mouth and the feral groan as his fingers dig into my ass, knuckles turning white.
I love how I bring him to the edge, and how I can't fight as he pulls me over.
I love how I come so hard my eyes roll back, swallowed up into his numbing, white-hot sweetness.
Pure, lush sensation radiates out from the depths to the very tips of my toes, spiraling outward in shockwaves of heat.
We’re wild together. We're perfect for the next sixty seconds.
We rock and surge like the sea, and it’s madness, cataclysmic and explosive. I can’t get enough of his cock, his hands, the brutish thickness of his body and the gentleness in his low gaze.
Every time he looks at me, those soulful hazel eyes promise.
This is the only time I'll ever hurt you, darlin'. Hurt you real good.
I hear him saying it, loudly but wordlessly.
It's what I need. I want him to hurt me so good, so deep, until instead of a hateful fireball I’m just liquid fire, and I’m burning myself up into pieces.
* * *
When it’s over, I sprawl against him, tucked in bed with one lazy leg hooked over his.
This feels intimate. Close. Personal.
And I shouldn't let it be that, for the sake of my own sanity. Not when he holds me like he wants me, needs me. Not when he holds me like he owns me already.
Not when he holds me like he cares, and like we're meant to be.
So I make myself say it, forcing my voice to sound light. “I’m glad you’re around, Gabe,” I tell him, but before it can be taken the wrong way, I continue, “You know, I appreciate your kindness and the stress relief and...yeah. I need this. The physical outlet. The release. And I guess I'm just glad we can both handle it without things getting messy.”
He’s too quiet, too still, almost not breathing, but his voice is calm, even when he asks, “Handle what, exactly?”
“Fucking,” I say, although it feels like a lie and it’s one that hurts. “No strings sex, I mean. Most people can’t do that more than once without getting weird about it.”
Again that telling silence.
I can almost tell what he’s thinking, but I know what I’m doing. I have to keep the boundaries in place between us. I need to put those walls in place and reinforce them before they crumble completely.
“So that’s all this is?” he says neutrally. “Just a distraction. A little fun. Another thing to tack on my invoice from Landon when we’re done. You so sure of that, darlin’?”
I can’t answer. I can't even think. But my face is hot, and I hate it.
Jesus, I never blush. Never. But now it's been happening almost nonstop, ever since he barreled into my life.
I don’t want to deal with this.
I can’t.
So, tonight, I don’t, just letting the silence leave a million things unsaid between us.
* * *
Maybe that conversation is why he asks me to stop by his place a few nights later.
Maybe that conversation made him realize things were getting a little too personal. You can’t get more impersonal than an AirBnB belonging to a stranger, living out of boxes and fucking on a bed that isn’t your own.
It’s just a reminder that he’s only here temporarily, so there’s no point in getting attached.
That’s probably why, when we wrap around each other tonight, there’s a feeling of desperation to it. Like we’re trying to carve ourselves into each other. Like he’s trying to brand himself inside me while I score permanent marks down his back and leave fierce imprints in his shoulder with my teeth.
He’s out cold almost as soon as we’re done, falling away like sleep is a refuge.
I can’t escape quite that easily. Even if this p
lace isn’t really his, it feels wrong for me to be here.
I’m the one making things weird between us, not him. Even if we haven’t brought it up again, everything I said constantly haunts us, a third presence in the room, straining the easy camaraderie and understanding we’d developed.
It needs to be that way.
Doesn’t it?
God, if I’m asking myself that...
I need to leave.
I have work to do, anyway. And Gabe is definitely too much of a distraction, when I’m no closer than I was a week ago to finding new intel on Joannie.
Gingerly, I slip out from under his heavy arm and shift to my feet, reaching for my clothes – but I don’t make it a step before a warm hand curls around my wrist, then drifts down to tangle with my fingers. I freeze, glancing back over my shoulder.
Gabe watches me over the rumpled pillow, one drowsy eye drifting over me.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he mumbles. “Can’t sleep?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t owe him any explanations, but with that uncanny way he has of reading me, he sighs and says exactly what I’m thinking.
“You’re on the trail again, aren’t you?” His gaze clearing, he shifts onto his back, sitting up. “You’re still after Harmon even though we know he’s a damned dead end.”
“Do we?” I shake my head and pull my hand free from his. “You know the cops aren’t thorough. That’s why companies like Enguard exist. That’s why we had to hire you. So, yeah, maybe they missed something. Maybe all the phone calls and our snooping missed something, too. I think I need to go to Redding. I need to be on the ground to see what’s happening, what we missed before it’s too late. Joannie could be across international lines right now, and if Harmon won’t crack then maybe one of his friends will.”
Gabe frowns, considering, then shakes his head.
“I’m just not seeing it. You know I’ve been digging too, darlin’. Harmon’s friends ain’t the type to take a bullet for him. They’re self-serving rats, and they fled that sinking ship already. Any one of them would’ve turned by now if they knew more, just so they wouldn’t get caught up in his shit when it’s no joke to be suspected of kidnapping a kid. They’re not gonna help him. They’re not the ones who ripped up your car. I don’t see Harmon here, creepy little fuck that he is. He just ain’t got the smarts for some kind of international conspiracy, and he doesn’t do anything that doesn’t have money in it for him. There’s no gain in him taking Joannie.”
“You don’t know that!” I fling at him, frustration bitter inside me.
Because I know he’s right.
I’m just clinging on to Harmon as a suspect to have something, when otherwise I’d have nothing but completely lost hope.
But the fight’s gone out of me, for now. And it doesn’t take much for Gabe to coax me back to bed, warm arms wrapped around me.
A kiss, one that tastes like promises I can’t let myself believe in. I let myself curl up against him, taking shelter in the stone wall of his breadth and his bulk.
One more night, I tell myself.
One more night to take comfort, and then I’ll take action. Won’t let anything stop me.
Not Gabe, not work, not Monika, not Grandma, and not life.
He brushes his lips to my hair. “Sleep, darlin’. Sleep. We’ll figure something out. We’ll find what we’re missing.”
I’m not so sure.
But I say nothing, as I fall still against him and listen to the sounds of the night, and just know I won’t be sleeping for a very long time tonight. If at all.
14
Don't Lose Yourself (Gabe)
I’m losing her.
I can feel it happening with every minute she spends chasing down leads in Redding, constantly scrubbing through email searches, phone calls, public records. She’s slipping through my fingers just like my father, consumed by this demon that’s eating her alive, and just like my father I feel like there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
No way I can save her.
It's like she doesn’t even see me half the time, even though I’ve been by her side constantly for the last two weeks. Little Joannie's disappearance is hollowing out the woman I love, and it's an entire field of thorns in my soul.
The only time I can coax her down is when I kiss her, hold her, make her forget.
If only for a few short hours while I love her to sleep, tease her body till the only thought in her mind is animal pleasure, the only word on her lips is my name.
Gabe.
When she's moaning real sweet for me, I feel like a king again. Just wish it would last.
The moment it's over, and she comes out of her ecstasy haze, staring at me with those bright pixie eyes, we're both seeing the same mammoth in the room.
I feel so goddamn helpless.
But I’m gonna hold on to her as long as I can.
As long as she’ll let me.
And I can’t help how my heart jumps, when my phone rings with her number not long after she's supposed to be getting off work. Usually I'd already be on my way to meet her at her place, but today I got sucked down an internet wormhole of my own, reading up on the psychology of abusive fathers and kidnappers.
I still don’t believe it’s Harmon, but fuck, I’m trying to see what she sees.
Sky knows him better, after all. I try like hell to match Harmon to that textbook psych profile to predict his next move.
Problem is, he doesn’t fit.
But I completely forget Harmon as I swipe my phone and lift it to my ear. “Hey there, darlin’.”
“Gabe?” Her voice is a tight hiss. “Are you coming? I need to show you something.”
The tone of her voice instantly sends my alarm bells into overdrive. I drop my feet off the desk –something I shouldn’t be doin’ in an AirBnB anyway, when Mama taught me better – and lean forward. “What is it? You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just...get here as quick as you can.”
“You gonna tell me what ha –”
No. She ain't.
I’m talking to dead air.
I stare at the phone for a minute, then rub my temples, pocket my phone, and get up to head out to my truck. It’s only through sheer willpower that I don’t run, or floor it out of there at a hundred miles an hour.
This girl’s got me dangling on a string, turning me into an overgrown yo-yo, and now that string's pulled tight enough to snap.
Even keeping right at the speed limit, I get to Sky’s house in record time. She’s sitting on the front step, looking small and forlorn, her knees pulled up and a piece of crumpled paper clutched in her hand. The door behind her swings partially open, and it’s not hard to see, even from my truck, that it’s been bashed inward. The plate around the latch is completely warped, the wood splintered on both the door and the frame.
Someone busted the lock in.
What. The. Fuck?
Tight tension crawls over me like an army of daddy long legs, and I’m out of the truck like a cannon shot. I can’t breathe.
Some sick, demented fuck came after her. Somebody came for my girl.
“Sky?” I tumble closer to her. “You okay? What happened? Nobody hurt you, did they?”
There’s a delayed reaction before she responds, pulling out of that haunted inner world she’s been sunk into for weeks.
“Huh?” she murmurs numbly, looking up from the letter and at me, then shakes her head. “Nah. I wasn’t home when they broke in. I'd have kicked their asses if I were. Nothing in the house was touched. Already looked for prints. They just left this caught in the door.”
She offers me the paper. I take it carefully by the edges, already thinking about fingerprints, but mostly just trying to settle my hackles and the urge to kill something in my blood while I scan the note.
It’s handwritten. Several lines in these big, stabbing Sharpie slashes where you can tell some evil genius was trying to disguise their handwriting.
KNOW YOUR PLACE OR IT W
ILL BE IN A GRAVE
LET DEAD DOGS LIE OR JOIN THEM
HARMON HID THE GIRL AND YOU’LL NEVER EVER SEE HER AGAIN
Fuck!
Skylar drags herself to her feet, looking up at me with almost manic eyes. “Jesus, I knew it. Harmon has her, and he’s run away to Redding.”
It takes a minute to push my voice past the rising red tide of rage inside me. Someone threatened Sky, and every last little bit of Southern gentleman inside me is burning up like paper in the face of this fire of rage.
I take a deep, slow breath and force myself to focus. Be rational. She’s looking at me like she needs me to believe her, needs me to say the one thing that'll validate all the work she’s put in, make it mean something.
I wish I fucking could. I wish the cold, bitter truth didn't have my balls pinched in a vise.
“Darlin’, I don’t think so,” I say, trying to be gentle, looking down at the note again. “Why would Harmon talk about himself in third person? Makes no sense.”
She blinks. “What?”
“It says ‘Harmon hid the girl.’ Not ‘I hid the girl. See?’” I point to the line.
A frown wrinkles her brow. “Well, of course he wouldn’t say ‘I hid the girl.’ That’s practically an admissible confession. Besides, he’s in jail, so he probably had someone else send it. You just know –”
“Is it a confession, Sky? Only if you’re assuming it’s from Harmon. Just sending this is a confession, yeah, if it’s him. But that's a mighty big if. He’s not smart, but he ain’t dumb neither. Not dumb enough to basically hand himself over to a life sentence.” I shake my head.
I hate bursting her bubble, but there’s hope here if we can get some info out of this note. “Know what? I think it’s somebody else trying to throw you off their trail. They want you looking at Harmon, darlin', not them. If they wanted credit for the kidnapping they’d have said ‘I’ and then left you to figure out it was someone else gloating. This ain’t that. This asshole's genuinely scared you’re gonna find them. They're trying to send you off chasing tails in the wrong direction.”