by Trent Evans
Ford’s dread deepened as he backed the truck out of the Wingates’ driveway.
But why would the source lie to a reporter about their identity? Why implicate someone who had no idea what was going on?
Then cold fear sank in his belly as he realized it.
Oh, shit.
Falon was in danger — and it wasn’t from the man who’d reduced her to a sexual plaything over the last thirty days.
Someone wanted to lure her to White Valley.
And the only people who knew the real fates of April Brock and Lucia Hernandez were the three sitting members of the White Valley Council.
Chapter 20
As soon as she heard the door at the top of the stairs open, her pussy was wet, her nipples instantly standing up in that mortifying mixture of fright and anticipation. She knew he’d wanted her that way, and she was beyond caring anymore. She just wanted more of him — in any way she could get it.
Of course she knew she’d gone off the deep end. The whole temporary ward scheme was a farce, simply an excuse for him to keep her. But the fact remained — she wanted to be kept.
He’d drowned her in pleasure, and pain, and tenderness and yes — though she fought it — love.
Did he really feel that connection? As he’d made love to her last night, the moonlight lighting up his bedroom, had he known what she’d known then? Even if Falon wasn’t his ward, she’d still want to be in those same strong arms, surrendering to a man whose passions, whose dark urges, seemed to so closely match hers.
It was foolish to hope, yet hope blossomed within her nonetheless. There was a chance, however remote, that she’d finally found someone who spoke to that missing part of her, someone who finally filled that void in her heart… even as she knelt at his feet.
But when Ford finally appeared at the bars of her cell, he wasn’t holding a whip, or her paddle, or one of a dozen toys he used to drive her to heights of ecstasy she wasn’t sure she’d yet survive.
No, this time, he held her clothes.
“W-what’s… going on, sir?”
But he didn’t speak as he opened the door, stepping inside and kneeling next to her. She leaned up toward him, just as she knew he expected… but instead of touching her, he released her wrists from her chains.
“Put these on,” he said, laying her clothes across her lap, his eyes coursing over her body, a wistfulness in his gaze she’d never seen before. “When you’re done, come upstairs. The door’s unlocked. We have something to talk about.”
“Okay… sir.”
He left then, and she pulled on her clothes, trying to overcome the almost alien feel of her body being covered up once more, all the while wondering what he might have in mind. He surely wasn’t freeing her. Though it had been many days — she was ashamed to admit she’d lost count — she felt sure it had been nowhere near the full term she’d agreed to.
Something wasn’t right.
Has anything really been right since this whole thing started?
She started up the stairs, not truly knowing what she hoped to find at the top of them.
* * *
She found him in the kitchen making coffee, the smell of it instantly making her mouth water.
His back was to her, his tan uniform trousers clinging to his muscular buttocks in a way that didn’t at all help with her mouth-watering problem.
Turning to the table in the breakfast nook, he set down a steaming mug with WHITE VALLEY PD emblazoned on the side.
“Have a seat.” Ford said, sipping from his own mug and leaning against the kitchen counter.
She slipped into a chair, the image of servicing him on her knees under that very table still fresh in her mind, her womb stirring at the thought.
“You’re in danger now, Falon.”
“W-what?” She swallowed. “Sir — sorry.”
He grimaced at that, glancing out the window, true sadness flickering in his gaze. “You… don’t have to do that anymore. Ford is fine now.”
What the fuck?
How many days had that been drilled into her? She’d shed more than a few tears at the lessons he’d used to drive home that requirement.
More than that though, she’d come to like that three letter word.
Sir.
That tiny affirmation of his role, his rule over her — and the confirmation of her place at his feet. A place she increasingly thought of as her rightful place, the place where she felt the most comfortable.
And the most his.
“I don’t understand.”
Ford sat down at the table across from her, and she reached for his hand, taking it in both of hers. He didn’t stop her — and he didn’t admonish her either, a habit of his she’d come to regard with more than a little fondness.
“I talked to Keenan today.”
“What did he say?”
Though her story since she’d become Ford’s ward had become about so much more than what her source had originally fed her, she was still curious about him, about his motives. It was impossible not to be.
“Falon… it’s not him. He’s not the source. I’m certain of it now.”
She clapped a hand to her mouth, her heart suddenly racing. “Oh… Jesus Christ.”
How? This wasn’t possible.
You’ve been had, you stupid bitch.
Of course, it was something every producer, every reporter always knew was possible — and dead-ends were part of the job. But she knew this was nowhere near a dead-end. It couldn’t be. Not after what she’d witnessed — and especially not after her time as Ford’s ward.
You mean plaything,
“You’re not safe here. Not now.” He stood, and walked to the window, looking out at the river, his arms across his chest. “And it means I can’t keep you this way. Not anymore.”
“If it’s not Keenan, sir, then…”
Oh, dear God.
She ran her hands over her face, not wanting to believe what had happened. “I’m the stupidest… I can’t believe this. I’m — well, I’m fucked.” She looked over at him, the pulse in her neck pounding now. “Who?”
“That’s what we don’t know — among a whole list of things. But if I were to guess…” He shook his head, looking down.
“Please tell me… what?”
“I think there’s something else going on here.” He looked back at her, his suddenly world-weary eyes catching the midday light. “And if I were a betting man, I’d say someone wanted you to come to White Valley — but not for some story.”
“You must think I’m the dumbest blonde you’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Shock, humiliation, and profound frustration flooded through her then. “What happens next? I mean what do we do?”
Ford turned back toward her, the bright window behind him shadowing his face. “I don’t know. I... you should go home. You’re in danger here, Falon. I can protect you. But I can’t protect you if you go, and it’s not right for me to make you stay. Not now, deal or not. This has to be something you choose.”
Falon stood, walking slowly around the table, hugging her arms around breasts she still wasn’t used to having covered. “And what if I choose to stay?”
The words seemed to leap from her lips on their own, but wasn’t that the truth, deep down? The very thought of leaving him now — regardless of the story — it just seemed… wrong. Didn’t he feel it too? How could he not?
“You’ll lose your job, won’t you? I have a hard time believing your boss is going to let you be on perpetual assignment.”
She shook her head. “I’m not a very good reporter if I’ve been taken like this. What do you think’s going to happen when I go back to Portland empty-handed? I may not be canned, but... it won’t look good. Not at all.” Falon looked down, taking a deep breath. “But that’s not what I’m really getting at. It hasn’t even been a month. If — if I stay, what would that mean... for us?”
Ford was silent a long moment, and Falon knew that what he said next cou
ld either open a door to endless, exciting possibilities, or forever close the only one that really mattered.
“I’d want all of it. I’d demand all of it. What you’ve seen, what I’ve done to you? That is me. It’s why I’ve stayed single so long. Because I never thought the woman existed who complemented me, who needed the same things I did. Even in this fucked up town, my needs are considered... unusual.”
Falon took a step closer, meeting his gaze. “Try me.”
“Complete and total control, Falon. You’d be mine, in every way. You’d be little more than a plaything. A well-loved one, yes, but...”
Falon’s breath caught in her throat. “What — what did you just say?”
Ford ignored it, his gaze sliding back toward the window again. “You’d be… my property. How could you want such a thing?”
She firmed her chin, even as she wrung her hands together. “I took everything you’ve dished out, and I’m still here.”
“But you’re in danger if you stay. This is about more than a ritual, a sexual dynamic. This is about your safety now — and I’ll never let it be threatened, not as long as I live.” He turned away, leaning an elbow against the window frame, as if he didn’t want her to see how this tore at him. “You know what the right decision is here, girl. It’s time for you to make it.”
A painful lump had grown in her throat. Did it really tear at him? Maybe he just wanted her to go? Make it easier on both of them. Perhaps the right decision was really the one that saved his heart. But what about hers?
“I… why can’t you just say it, Ford? Give me something, a lifeline, a hope to hold onto for the future. Why won’t you tell me what you really feel? Tell my why you really want me to go.”
But you know, Falon. Stop being a fool.
“Because it doesn’t matter what I feel anymore. No matter how much I... it doesn’t matter,” he said, his deep voice strained. He turned to her then, advancing on her, grasping her by the arms, almost shaking her, the pain clear in his dark, gorgeous eyes. “I can’t be responsible for allowing you to be hurt. Not ever! Don’t be stupid. Think about what this means — and do the right thing, goddammit!”
His words cut her more than any weapon ever could, and though it shamed her, she burst into tears, pushing at his grip on her. “Okay! I’ll — I’ll go, if that’s what you want!”
He pulled her close then as she sobbed, beating against his chest, the confusion, and hurt, boiling over.
Why can’t he just say it?
But as he stroked her hair, murmuring to her, the answer was plain to see, the same answer she should have had the courage to face long before that moment.
Ford wouldn’t say it, because he didn’t really feel it.
She pushed at him again, and he finally let her go. Standing there before him, she put her hands over her eyes, the tears already threatening again.
“I… I’ll get my things.” She looked up at him as she dropped her hands in frustration, her heart twisting in her chest. “I… where are my things?”
Ford met her eyes then, and what she saw there was something that shocked her. That light in his eyes, that dark, twisted, dangerous drive that so drew her to him, even if it sometimes scared her… it was gone.
He looked like a part of him had died.
Stop hoping, Falon. You’re a fool to hope.
Slumping back down into her chair, the tears spilled again, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand. She’d shed enough tears over Ford Mathis.
It was time to pick up the pieces and move on, no matter how much it hurt.
Ford sat down at the table, spinning his mug of coffee in both hands. Then he met her gaze.
“We know the story’s bogus… but we’ve got a chance to figure out who might be the real person behind what’s going on.” He cracked a bittersweet grin. “Feel like helping me nail a scumbag?”
Chapter 21
He closed the door to Leigh’s personal office behind him. Von sat at one of the plush black leather chairs in front of her huge cherry wood desk, Miles, his dark suitcoat slung over one shoulder, leaning a hip against one of floor to ceiling bookcases dominating one wall of the space.
Leigh, on a phone call, held up a finger, turning so the back of her chair faced them as Ford took a seat next to Von, laying the manila folder on Leigh’s desk blotter.
She dropped the phone back in its cradle, spinning around to face them again. Her white sleeveless blouse exposed tanned, toned arms, her gray eyes regarding Ford over her long, steepled fingers.
“Thanks for meeting with me on short notice, everyone.” Ford opened the envelope, and slid the first paper toward Leigh.
“She’s rolled over. Agreed to terms, in writing, as you’ll see there, barring her from acting on any of the information provided by her source.”
“How the hell… did you get her to do this?” Miles plucked up the paper, scanning it.
“I have my methods,” Ford said. Then he continued, looking to Leigh and Von, studying both of them as he spoke. “She conducted an extensive interview with me, and she’s satisfied that based on my answers, plus… uh, her experiences here thus far, that she’s confident there isn’t a story here.”
Von chuckled. “Must have made an impression, Ford. Jesus Christ.”
Ford cleared his throat. “She has pledged, again in writing, not to run a story for the stipulated one year. She has agreed to leave town immediately, and not return without the permission of the White Valley Police Department.”
“What about the information she refused to turn over?” Leigh’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the ticking time-bomb for me. Without that—”
“She turned over all the information she had stored in the cloud. I transcribed the relevant items from that tranche of information — you’ll see that in the addendum — and required her to destroy the information in my presence.”
“How do we know she didn’t have another account?” Leigh set down the paper. “This is a reporter we’re talking about here.”
“Producer.”
Leigh rolled her eyes. “The point remains, Sheriff. It’s almost a guarantee she’s lying about giving you all the information.”
Ford nodded. “I thought so too, so I had her put me in touch with her boss back in Portland, a very nice fellow named Michael Callum, who was quite, uh, apologetic. He wanted to make this whole misunderstanding go away, and I got the distinct impression she’d be in serious hot water if he caught her so much as thinking about pursuing the story further.”
“This is… unbelievable,” Von muttered, scratching the back of his head. “You’ve… hit a goddamned homerun here. Seriously, great work, Ford.” Von clapped Ford on the shoulder.
“Finally, she has disavowed the authenticity of the information provided by her source, and she’s done it in writing. You’ll see that in the envelope there too.”
Miles laid his paper down on the desk, extending his hand.
Ford shook it, noting the quick glance the man flicked toward Leigh.
“I must say, Sheriff, you exceeded even my expectations. Maybe a raise might be in order for our lawman here?” Corddray slipped on his coat, tugging on the sleeves. “Or maybe we make him our secret weapon next time we need a negotiator? The man’s obviously got talent.”
“Save it, Miles,” Von growled.
“I’d have thought you’d be happy, Ellison? Miles Corddray complimenting your protégé?” The smug Council member walked to the door, opening it. “Oh, one more thing. What are you… doing with her now?” Miles didn’t even try to hide his leer. “Her term isn’t up yet. Going to force your toy to serve it out? I wouldn’t blame you if you did…”
Fucking prick.
“She’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Leigh asked. “Little sudden, isn’t it?”
Ford shrugged. “She’s a little sheepish I think. Once a reporter knows they’ve barked up the wrong tree, they’ve got the sense to move on. Honestly, I thi
nk she’s worried her boss will fire her for being a pain in the ass.”
“A sentiment we can all relate to,” Leigh murmured, resting her chin on one hand, drumming her fingertips against her chin. “Let’s just hope this particular pain in the ass stays in Portland where she belongs.”
“Tailing her again?” Von grinned as he said it, standing up.
“Mike Anders did fine the first time. No reason not to have him do it again, at least down to the 97 junction.”
Miles pointed out the window at the gathering clouds to the west. “If she’s leaving tomorrow, she’s picked a bad day to do it.” The man’s eyes flashed as he stepped out of the office. “Storm’s coming.”
Chapter 22
The rain began almost at the exact moment she left White Valley, the highway that hugged the curves of the river stretching like a ribbon down the mountain gorge toward the Columbia.
By the time the last signs of the beautiful, mysterious town had disappeared from her rearview mirror, the rain had become an absolute downpour. She slowed a little, thankful that the road seemed completely deserted — though the cloudburst pouring down might have been the reason for that.
The sky darkened more by the minute, and as she craned her head forward, trying to keep the roadway in sight ahead, the wipers squeaking as they frantically swept the windshield, the first flash of lightning flickered among the clouds.
“Jesus, this is bad,” Falon muttered, slowing her car still further.
Far behind, almost totally obscured by the sheets of rain, there was another vehicle. She’d seen Deputy Anders’ cruiser behind her for quite a while, but he’d pulled off a couple minutes ago. So the car must have been someone else.
Her thoughts returned once more to the choice she’d made, the decision he’d forced her to make. She’d never have believed it would be so hard to say goodbye to the twisted, darkly alluring atmosphere of the town.
Deciding to leave Ford was the hardest of all. The same man who’d been her captor, her tormentor, her lover, and her protector. How could one person be all of those, and yet, in her heart be so much more?