Killing Streak

by Merit Clark

  “Mmm.” Corie sighed.

  “What are you curious about?”

  “What made you that way. I don’t flatter myself that I had that big an impact.”

  “You were the start. Things going wrong with you was the beginning of a long string of disasters.”

  “Things don’t just go wrong,” Corie said.

  “No. They don’t, do they?”

  “Well, sometimes they do. But this wasn’t a typhoon. It wasn’t a natural disaster out of your control.”

  “Are you kidding? Being an eighteen-year-old boy is the definition of an out of control natural disaster.”

  Corie laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll give you that one.”

  “You will? What else will you give me?” He leaned into her and kissed her. When he stopped he said, “For the record, I am sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  Her hand slid down his stomach but he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “No. I want to make you come.”

  Corie’s eyes grew wide.

  “I want to touch you and I want to see your reaction. I want to watch your face when you come.” He looked very serious.

  “Jesus, Jack.”

  Without taking his eyes off her face he touched her between her legs, lightly so that his index finger barely grazed her softness. Corie gasped. “You do like that.” His voice was low and soft and sexy.

  Corie couldn’t answer. She could breathe but that was about it, and even that was becoming more difficult.

  “Lay back.”

  She found it hard to endure that dark, hazel gaze. His eyes bore right through her and he felt again like a stranger. Corie leaned against the pillows, propped up in the bed while he spread her legs wider and touched her, carefully, softly, teasing, exploring; her breath came in stuttered gasps. “Jack.”

  “No. Don’t think.” Still with his eyes on her face.

  She closed her eyes. She couldn’t hold his gaze. His light touch was agony. Did he know what he was doing? What was he doing? “Jack.”

  She opened her eyes for a moment and he was looking down, looking at her, there, watching what his fingers were doing. It was unbearably sexy. She said his name again but he didn’t stop. So Corie surrendered. She lay back against the pillows and let him do what he wanted. Gradually he increased the pressure, no longer teasing, until it was the most perfect thing she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if he was watching her. Soon she didn’t care about anything.

  “Is that what you like?” He changed the stroke. “Or like that?”

  “Oh God, Jack.”

  “Tell me.”

  Corie whimpered.

  “Tell me. Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” Corie’s voice was hoarse with agony, longing, frustration, desire, lust. “No. Please.”

  If he stopped she would die, but he didn’t. His fingers moved on her more firmly again until she couldn’t even think anymore. She was incoherent with pleasure and, for a few blissful minutes, didn’t care about anything but Jack, how he felt, how he tasted, how he sounded. When he finally moved on top of her Corie clung to him, the only real thing in the world.

  “Yeah.” A rough whisper, his lips in her hair. “That’s what I wanted.”

  After she’d sufficiently recovered Corie rolled onto her side, holding her head up with her hand, and watched him. Jack looked supremely satisfied, even with his eyes closed. Suddenly everything about him was endearing. The charcoal shadow of a beard on his face, the way his thick, unruly dark hair sprouted in several different directions, his amazing long eyelashes. Corie touched his face. “I should go.” She didn’t sound sure.

  “But then how will I do that again?”

  “Again?” Corie’s voice rose an octave. “I think if you do that again you might kill me.”

  “Stay. I’ve waited almost twenty years.”

  “This is insane.” But Corie found it too much of an effort to sit up and sank back onto her side facing him. With a finger, she traced a line down his jaw and then dragged it across his lower lip. His wonderful, sexy, full lips.

  He turned his head and kissed her palm. “You have to admit, we do have a lot of time to make up for.”

  Her eyelids felt heavy and Jack was so warm, the bed so comfortable. His voice was soothing and his touch was magic. She let her head drop onto his shoulder for a moment. All she wanted was to curl up against him and finally, really sleep. She felt safe. Corie realized with shock she couldn’t remember the last time she felt safe. If ever. Even her dog sleeping on the floor shifted position, stretched, and let out a satisfied sigh.

  But Corie couldn’t quite trust comfort. “What if I’m the killer?”

  “You’re not.”

  “But what if I was?”

  “Then I’d send you to jail.” He sounded like he was falling asleep.

  “Just like that?”

  “It’s only ‘just like that’ on TV.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Jack roused himself enough to look at her. “I know that you don’t really want to leave. I know that I love having you in my bed. I know that the attraction between us is very, very mutual.”

  “And that’s enough?”

  “It just is. Nothing makes up for anything else.”

  “That’s very simple.”

  “I’m a simple guy.”

  Corie shook her head slowly from side to side. “Oh no. You’re not.”

  He tried and failed to keep his eyes open and to sound tough. “You don’t know me.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know you.” Still. Corie considered for another moment and then switched off the light. She turned so that her back was toward him, slid down in the bed, and fitted herself against him. His arm closed around her. She pulled the covers up over her shoulder and gave in to the luxurious sleepiness. “And you might not want to know me.”

  Chapter 40

  Shaun let the door of the bar slam behind him as he stormed out into the cold night. Last call his ass. Who was around to give them a hard time? Who gave a fuck? The mountain town was closed down and silent. Who the hell did that tight-assed bitch think she was, throwing him out? Stupid uptight bartender had her nerve telling him it was the law, they had to close at two. Had to get home, she said. Had to go to bed.

  “It’s the law.” Shaun sang in a high-pitched falsetto, followed by, “Law, my ass!” His breath fogged the night air. He dropped his pants and showed the sleeping town his own white ass and then laughed hysterically. Almost hoped his uptight little brother would drive by. Chris deserved a frigid, shriveled-up cunt like the bartender. Maybe Shaun’d fix them up. He laughed harder.

  Shaun pulled up his pants and climbed into the pickup. Her loss, missing out on the party he had to offer. He could fix her up good but she’d never know it now, stupid bitch. He reached into his jacket pocket and weighed the baggie of crystals in his hand.

  “Go fuck yourself you ugly, dried-up cunt.” Shaun beat the steering wheel and let out an excited whoop. The crystals in the bag were the real deal. Clear white shit, high quality, thanks to Evan and his roll of cash. Shaun pulled a ragged U-turn in the empty street, driving up onto the sidewalk on the other side to complete the maneuver. The pickup’s gears whined in complaint as he shifted.

  As Shaun drove, his tongue worked its way habitually around his teeth. Maybe he’d get them fixed with some of the money. His ex told him he looked like a hillbilly. Not that he gave a shit what she thought, but maybe with his teeth fixed he’d get more women. High-class women. Maybe someone with big tits like the one he saw Evan take to the cabin.

  Was Evan dropping a hint earlier? He’d clearly let Shaun know that she was there by herself. That she liked to sleep in. A feral grin spread across his face. Hell yeah. He let out another loud whoop. She could sleep in with him anytime.

  What the hell time was it anyway? Shaun blew on his hands. The night had turned cold, bitter, well below freezing. He cranked the heat lever to high in the old t
ruck. He was wide awake.

  He remembered Vangie picking her way through the brush in her high heels. She was fine. Maybe she was like a tip or something. Shaun tapped a ragged rhythm on the steering wheel, sang aloud to a nonexistent radio, and reached over to touch the empty passenger seat. She’d been right there. In his truck. With that round ass and those long legs and those tits. He imagined he could smell her, that musky, rank female smell. He cast an occasional glance at the road but it was deserted this time of night. He’d been one of only two people left in the bar when Tara or Tina or whatever the fuck her name was threw them out into the cold. Well fuck her. Shaun had a much better woman waiting for him at the cabin. Evan had as much as said so.

  Shaun’s erection made him impatient, and out on the highway he ground gears and pushed the old pickup to go faster. He rehearsed what he was going to tell her. He’d say, ‘Evan wanted me to check up on you.’ He’d say, ‘It’s such a cold night, I wanted to make sure the stove was working.’ He’d say, ‘I thought you might be scared out here all alone, a pretty girl like you.’

  Shaun eyes darted back to the passenger seat. His fingers raked the tattered old upholstery. Right there. Her ass had been right there. He pictured her naked, bent over the arm of the couch while he stroked his fingertips fast, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on the greasy ridges of the upholstery. The sensation was enervating but he couldn’t stop. He steered with his knee, raised up in the seat, and used his other hand to unzip his jeans. A motion stabbed at the corner of his eye and he glanced up in time to see a big buck in the road. Shaun yanked the wheel but the fucking pickup had the maneuverability of a cinderblock. He overcompensated back the other way and felt a grinding collision. Glass shattered and the scenery spun through the patchwork maze of the windshield like one of those scenes in a cartoon where the characters are fighting but it looks like a big spinning blur. His foot pumped the brake pedal but he felt only air.

  A squealing, grinding metal sound, and then silence. The buck thrashed once, twice, tried to stand and fell back. Shaun cut himself on glass groping in the upside-down pickup for the baggie. The truck shifted position, settled, and a searing pain shot up his leg. Had to find the fucking baggie. It must have fallen out of his jacket. All his hard work, gone, because of some fucking stupid deer. Because some mean, ugly bitch threw him out. Because things never went his way no matter how hard he worked or how hard he tried.

  Shaun’s breathing was ragged. The cops would come, maybe even his brother. Was Chris on graveyard? That bag had cost thousands. Practically the entire payment from Evan. Cops couldn’t find it, couldn’t find him, not like this, not when his little brother worked for them. Fuck.

  A car was coming and Shaun thought about running. He crawled out through a window but his legs wouldn’t hold him. He looked down and the bone in his right leg didn’t look right. He tried to haul himself up against the truck and failed. Where’s the fucking baggie? He felt in his pocket for it but he couldn’t think straight with the pain. A woman got out of a car, ran to him, then stopped and stared.

  Why was the bitch screaming? It wasn’t that bad. Hadn’t she ever seen anyone hit a deer? But she wasn’t looking at the buck or at him. Shaun followed her frightened gaze. He’d completely forgotten about the big bag in the back of the pickup. Evan’s bag. It must have fallen out and ripped open when the pickup flipped. It lay now near the shoulder of the road, clearly illuminated in the car’s headlights. Something was wrong. Something was sticking out of the bag that wasn’t a hoof or an antler or a piece of trash. A hand stuck out, a girl’s hand, white and ominous. Shaun gave up on hauling himself to his feet, gave up on the idea of flight, and sank to the pavement. The woman backed away from him in terror, toward her car. He couldn’t take his eyes off the bag and the woman wouldn’t stop screaming. High-pitched screaming, scary and loud. Even louder than the wind that blew cold and relentless down from the unseen black mountains, wind that whipped and sliced at the bag, making the torn edge flap and snap like a canvas sail. Fuck.

  Chapter 41

  Jack instinctively grabbed past Corie for the phone. Past Corie. His hand stopped mid-reach and he stared. Corie. In his bed. Naked. With that hair spread out on his pillow. The memory of being inside her was fresh, with those long legs wrapped around him and her hands clawing at his back. The insistent, vibrating electronic thing on the nightstand irritated him beyond belief.

  “What?” Jack barked into the phone.

  She looked at him with sleepy blue eyes, stretched, and then sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. “What is it?”

  “I have to go. You don’t have to get up, though.” Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed with a beleaguered groan. He ran a hand through his hair.

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after nine.” Not how he wanted the morning to go.

  “It has to do with the case, doesn’t it?”

  “It has to do with a case. Stay as long as you like.” He got up and headed for the bathroom.

  “Please don’t lie to me.”

  But he did. “Got some results back. I have to meet Serena at the station. Shouldn’t take too long.” He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that he could lie so easily and convincingly.

  “They woke you up for that?”

  “It’s after nine. Not unusual at all. When they get results in they call me. No big deal.” He shrugged and smiled. The smile felt false but she looked like she believed him.

  While he was in the shower Corie made coffee and brought two cups back to the bedroom. She watched him dress. “You have to wear a suit? Even on Sunday?”

  “Even if massive earthquakes and tidal waves are consuming the Earth and hell’s freezing over.”

  “What a great job.”

  “I like it.”

  “I hope the coffee’s okay. I made it really strong.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jack finished knotting his tie and gave her a quick kiss.

  “I’ll get dressed and leave with you,” Corie said.

  “No reason. You’ll be safer if you stay here and I’ll have one less thing to worry about.” What he’d really like was to find her naked and waiting in his bed when he got home. Nice fantasy. Jack checked his gun and his phone and then walked into the kitchen where he picked up his keys off the counter.

  Corie followed. “I have to start looking for a place to stay sometime. Might as well be today. I’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah. Where have I heard that before?”

  She gave him a wry, tight-lipped smile. “This isn’t—” She stopped and watched while Jack got something out of a drawer. “This whole night didn’t turn out to be what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Hmm. When I let my lying, deceitful husband manipulate me into going to the benefit? Good times. I don’t know. If I planned ahead I suspect I wouldn’t be here right now.”

  Jack walked over to her and kissed her more thoroughly. His hand slid down her back and she tasted like coffee, which wasn’t a bad thing at all. “Well I, for one, am very glad about how last night turned out.”

  She gave him a real smile that lit her whole face.

  “Spare key.” He handed it to her.

  “Seriously? You’re very trusting for a homicide detective.”

  “What’re you gonna do? Steal my television?”

  Chapter 42

  “How could you!” Jessie’s voice shrieked out of the speakers in Evan’s Mercedes.

  “Mother, calm down.”

  It was Sunday morning and Evan was driving toward Fairplay after a breakfast meeting with Stu. Evan intended to stay close to the investigation into Vangie’s death and keep tabs on things to the best of his abilities. He wondered how soon the police would let him back into the cabin. Evan had some pull with the locals, but he had no doubt Jack Fariel would be involved.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. How dare you? How. Dare. Yo
u!” In stuttering, high-pitched shouts articulated by sobs, the story came out. Jessie woke up to find her bed, and her house, empty. “Len left me. And it’s your fault. What did you say to him?”

  “When did he leave, exactly?” He really wanted to ask if she’d inventoried the silver. So the loser had taken Evan’s not-so-subtle hint. And right before Jessie called, Evan had gotten the news that Shaun had been found with both a bag of meth and a bag full of dead Vangie. From Evan’s perspective, the morning was going extremely well.

  “I wasn’t timing him with a damned stopwatch. I was asleep, Evan.”

  “It’s important.” Jessie liked to sleep late. She was a night person, plus she usually took an Ambien. Practically the whole world aside from Evan was addicted to pills.

  “Oh, shove your importance up your tight ass. He’s gone. What difference does the time make? He took all his things. He didn’t leave so much as a toothbrush. Do you even care how that makes me feel?”

  Evan was glad she couldn’t see his face. “I am terribly sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “All right. I can’t say that I am. But I am sorry you’re having such a hard time. You must have been scared.”

  He let her cry for a while, and when she spoke again, her voice was shaky but calm. “He wasn’t strong. I don’t need to be with a man who will abandon me at the first sign of discomfort.”

  “He was unsavory.”

  “You have always been jealous of my relationships.”

  In his mind’s eye, Evan could see Jessie stiffen. It was healthier, he decided, for her to be angry at him rather than waste tears on a loser like Leonard Funderburk. “I know you’re upset, but that’s beneath you.”

  “It’s not that easy finding companionship at my age.”

  “You don’t seem to have much trouble. You’re a beautiful woman.”

  Jessie’s voice quavered. “Wh–where do you think he went?”

  “How would I know?”

  “You talked to him at length last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if you suggested a destination. What was it?”