Vanished (A Born Bayou Novella)

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Vanished (A Born Bayou Novella) Page 4

by Suzanne Steele


  Bo

  I don’t say a word as I hand her the phone. Her expression is enough to tell me she understands how perilous her situation is. No matter how badly she feels like she hates me, I’m her only redemption in this mess her boss has dropped her into. I’m going to kill him and when I do… I’m going to make sport of it.

  When you have a vendetta against the person you’re in pursuit of, It’s a whole lot more fun to hunt . The hunt will start long before I cut him loose in these woods. The problem is, I need her help, and I can’t get that until I know I can trust her. For now I’m on my own.

  I direct my attention back towards her. I’m taking a chance having her call her friend, but I’m taking more of a chance if I don’t. The last thing I need is a nosey best friend going to the cops and filling out a missing person’s report. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if she was a gang bangin’ dope dealer like my last victim. Nobody thinks anything about a guy like that when he disappears. They just think he went to a new town and started over because the cops were looking for him.

  Ashleigh is an established professional who would never disappear without telling someone where she was going. I have no choice but to let her make this call.

  “Put it on speaker phone. Now!”

  “Stephanie…”

  “Oh my gosh, do you think you could have waited any longer to call. I’m dying to know how last night with the hottie went. I want to know every detail—like was the sex good, girl?”

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now with the glare Ashleigh’s giving me.

  “No. He can’t fuck, and he has a pencil dick.” She cocks her head and raises her eyebrows giving me an “I got you! So there!” look.

  “You can’t be serious. What a waste. That guy was so hot. The Cajun accent alone was enough to have me swimming in my panties. I’m so disappointed. I was looking forward to some juicy tell-all when you called. I wonder if that means ugly guys are better in bed. I’m totally disillusioned.”

  “Typical Stephanie, going off on a tangent. It’s a joke. I’m kidding. You know me better than that to think I’m going to give you a play by play on my bedroom activities.”

  “Geez. You had me worried there for a minute, girl. If a guy who looks that good sucks in bed, there’s no hope for any of us. Where are you?”

  “I’m taking a vacation. I rented a cabin in the Appalachians—about an hour and a half away. I need to study this file and get my bearings so I have a good story to take to a different outlet.”

  “Did you take him with you?”

  “No. I used him for sex. I never plan on seeing him again.”

  “Who are you and what the hell have you done with my good-girl girl friend?”

  “I’m still a good girl—a good girl who is married to her job and has no time for a man.”

  “Well stay in touch. Are you safe up there in the boondocks?”

  “I’m fine. I just need to get away to do some writing and research on this story. Everything up here is satellite and the cell phone connections are sketchy sometimes, so don’t freak out if you can’t reach me.”

  “Call me every day and I won’t.”

  “I can’t guarantee that, but I’ll call you every few days.”

  “What do you want me to say if anyone, like your boss, comes to the bar and asks about you?”

  “Tell him to stick a pool stick up his ass so far that it comes out of his mouth. And then you can tell the son of a bitch I can’t get a job because he smeared my name all over the city.”

  “Why would you want to give him that kind of credit?”

  “Because he’ll think he’s won and he’ll never see my sucker punch coming.”

  Listening to her on the phone only confirms what I already know. It’s evident this girl has got game. She has the ability to plot, plan, and scheme. I have the responsibility to make sure she doesn’t use those attributes against me.

  Now… to deal with the pencil dick comment.

  Ashleigh

  I barely have time to hang up the phone before he starts in on me.

  “Pencil dick!?! I’ll show you a fucking pencil dick, girl.” He grabs me flipping me over so fast I never see it coming. When I attempt to scurry away his fingers clamp into my legs pulling back in his direction. My fingers clench into the sheets when I feel him spread me open with his fingers. I can hear him unzipping his pants, but he doesn’t bother taking them off. He roughly thrusts into me and I’m horrified by how wet I am. It’s like he’s trying to punish me with his cock for the attack on his ego. I knew it would piss him off, but I never expected this.

  “Does that feel like a pencil dick to you?”

  His fingers lock into my hips for leverage and every plunge is deeper and harder than the last. It hurts so good. I’ve never had a man affect me the way this one does. I can’t wrap my head around why my body loves a man I hate.

  “I’m sorry,” I cry out, as if maybe he’ll have mercy on me.

  “Too late for that,” he says, grinding down in me until he’s bottomed out. “You let that big mouth of yours overload your tight little body.”

  He leans down over my back from where he’s fucking me from behind, and he whispers in my ear. “It must so humiliating to know that even though you hate me, your pussy loves me. You are so wet, and you are so getting ready to come like the top of your head is blowing off.”

  As if my body is going to obey him no matter how badly I don’t want it too, I come. The feeling is like it starts somewhere in my belly and moves its way down, peaking until I explode in a toe curling orgasm. I can feel my body latching onto his throbbing cock and pulling an orgasm from him too. I don’t know what this man is doing to me, but worse than that, I don’t know how to control it or make it stop.

  It’s like he’s awoken some dormant primal woman inside of me that only he can tap into.

  I fall exhausted into the sheets as he pulls out of me without saying a word and makes his way to the bathroom. I can hear the shower running. I close my eyes to take a moment and try to process everything going on. That’s the last thing I remember before I go to sleep.

  Bo

  I lean against the shower wall letting the warm water from the showerhead pulse over my body. I wish I could let it wash over my mind and rinse away what this woman is doing in my head. I’m so pissed at her right now. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a job.

  I’m a problem solver—a fixer. I can’t figure this one out though. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a woman affect me like she does. She enrages me, and at the same time she mesmerizes me. It’s confusing the hell out of me.

  Part of me wants to just let her go and let fate run its course and finish its job—but I can’t. Between my crazy father and brother, it would be like throwing her to the wolves. Maybe that’s the answer… tell her some bedtime stories that will horrify her into reality. She comes from a world that’s cultured, and I come from a world where people act like animals. Yeah, me Tarzan, you Jane. I chuckle at the thought. I could use a good laugh right about now.

  I get out of the shower and dry myself off. I need to feed her. Her chain won’t reach the kitchen. No sense in tempting fate with a butcher knife at my expense. I have no doubt she’d stab me, if she could. She’s the type to plunge a knife in my heart and then feel bad about doing it. I’ve never met any woman who’s such a contradiction in terms. At least with me she knows what she’s getting. I never know what to expect out of her.

  I grab a pair of sweats to put them on and pad out to the kitchen barefoot. What I see stops me in my tracks. She sleeps. I run my hand through my still wet hair and take a minute to stare. Her legs are wrapped in the sheets like she lost a wrestling match with the covers. That sexy dimple in her lower back is visible and I feel my cock jump at the sight of it. Her head is laid to the side with her long blonde hair spilling over the pillow. She’s beautiful. Damn it! I don’t need this right now.

  My phone ringing
cuts through my thoughts, and I jump to get it before it wakes her up. When I look down and see that it’s my father, my heart begins to immediately speed up.

  “You ain’t checked in with me, boy.”

  “Things are going so well I haven’t had to, daddy. I’ve got eyes on the girl and I’ve also got files on her boss.”

  “That’s good, boy. I want that son of a bitch’s balls on a silver platter, and if that girl gets in the way or knows too much, then you take her ass out too.”

  “You know me, daddy…”

  “That’s why I sent you on this job. You just make sure you don’t let your ole man down.”

  “Like I said, daddy: you know me.” His only reply is hanging up on me. I take in a deep breath and slowly let it out to release the stress of dealing with the man responsible for giving me life. He’s the same man who could very well be taking it away soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Ashleigh

  The smell of eggs and bacon wake me up. I’m surprised I fell asleep again.

  “Just in time for brunch,” he announces from where he’s cooking in the kitchen.

  “Brunch? I didn’t realize Cajun men did brunch.” I’m purposely being a smart ass, but given the situation I think I have a right to be. It hasn’t been a good couple of days. I’ve lost my job, my home, and now my freedom. I do have to admit, it’s nice of him to cook. I think it’s the contradictions in his personality that drive me so crazy when it comes to him. I’ve never met anyone quite like him—crazy, dangerous, sinister sweet, and attentive all rolled up in one man. It’s enough to confuse the hell out of any woman. It seems like every time I have a read on him he throws me a curveball without even trying—it’s just who the man is.

  “Well, we’re not all a bunch of wild animals running through the Bayou barefoot and huntin’ gators while we scream, ‘Sooie.’ It must be my European upbringing that makes me so classy.” He smirks.

  And… he has a sense of humor. Is there no end to the perplexity this man brings to the table?

  “You’re laughing”—I reach out for the plate he’s handing me—“but I do sense an air of etiquette about you. Tell me more about your family.” Now he’s got my curiosity piqued.

  “Oh, I get it—now we’re bonding. Let’s get real and acknowledge it for what is: the reporter wants info so she can escape. I’ll open the door and let you go. You’d do the same thing that boy I cut loose in bayou did.”

  I wonder what boy he’s talking about. I have no way of knowing I’m going to find out details I might not want to know very soon. “And what’s that?” I answer him defiantly.

  “Run in circles, and get lost.” This time it’s him rolling his eyes. “Back to your question. Well… according to what people say about our family, we’re the perfect blend of European class and bad boy bayou. My grandmother was European and my granddaddy was Cajun. My daddy is half European and Cajun, but on the inside the man’s straight up born Bayou Cajun.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “My daddy slit her throat and threw her to the gators.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “I’m kidding—maybe.”

  The cocky grin on his face, mixed with the tousled copper colored hair that has blonde highlights running through it, make for a very sexy man. There’s an easy going vibe that goes with this guy, like he’s comfortable in his own skin. I’ve noticed his hazel eyes change, depending on what he’s wearing, or his mood. Right now they’ve taken on a whiskey color, and they’re staring into me.

  In between bites I talk. “You stare a lot.”

  “I want to remember what you look like in case I have to kill you.”

  “Very funny.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’m not quite sure if I can take another session of rough sex this soon.

  “Would be, if it wasn’t true. I guess that’s what makes humor funny though—the element of truth in it.”

  The look on his face is so direct and matter of fact I wonder if he’s really serious about offing me. There’s only one way to find out. I’m a reporter, so I’ll do what I do in every other situation: I’ll ask questions and read his body language to see if he’s lying to me. I set my fork down and look him square in the eyes.

  “Okay Mr. Tall, Blonde and Lethal. If you’re as dangerous as you say, then tell me about your last kill. Don’t leave out any of the gory details. I can take it. I’m all ears.” I’m half expecting him to back down or tell me some farfetched tale that’s untrue—I’ve done enough interviews, I’ll know if he’s lying.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose like I’m beginning to get on his nerves.

  “You just don’t quit. You’re not going to be satisfied until you’re in so deep there’s no way out. You ever breathe a fucking word of what I’m getting ready to tell you, you won’t have to worry about my crazy daddy, I’ll kill ya myself.”

  He looks at me until I shake my head yes, acknowledging what he’s said. He sets his plate of food down as if it’s going to take some thought to bring up all the morbid memories and he begins.

  “My daddy runs a string of strip clubs throughout Louisiana. He had an ol’ boy working for him who was Latino—worked out good ‘cause he was bi-lingual. Everything was going well until he brought some cousin of his in. His cousin got to planting thoughts in his head. Stuff like, ‘You should be running this place. Why are you paying Lozado a cut of what you make’—things of that nature. The picture I showed you is the result of that. My daddy strung him up in the barn and ‘bout beat him to death, then killed him.”

  “What happened to the cousin?”

  It’s like I’m in a trance watching him as he reaches in his back pocket and pulls a huge knife out flicking it open with precision. His eyes take on the look of a predator. The sinister grin on his face tells me he’s enjoying the jaunt down memory lane. I’m too far gone—I have to know.

  “It’s different huntin’ a man you hate. I had it bad for him ‘cause of what he done to my daddy. It was like a drug; I had to get even. My daddy had been good to that ol’ boy—set him up in business, supplied the women, everything he needed to get started, my daddy gave him. The agreement had been it was still my daddy’s club, and all he had to do was split the profits, but no… he had to get greedy, let his cousin talk my daddy down. If we let that shit go, we lose respect. In our line of work, respect is as important as currency. Once you’re seen as weak, it’s over. He’d crossed a line and I wanted to make him pay in the worse kind of way. I begged my daddy to let me kill him, and when he finally turned me loose on that ol’ boy, I played with him like a cat toying with a mouse.”

  I’m so caught up in what he’s telling me that I’m glued to his every word. The hair’s standing up on my arms and instead of feeling fear, I’m excited. I want more—I want the whole story. It’s like I’m reading a book and I’m flipping pages as fast as I can to see what happens next.

  I lean in listening with anticipation. He’s got that knife gently running the pad of his thumb over the blade. The light hits it and it glimmers only adding to the ominous mood. I can see how sharp it is, and I make a mental note of the fact he knows how to handle it to keep from getting cut. It’s like he’s in a zone of his own, reliving a moment he’s kept as a secret inside himself.

  “I took him out in the swampland and cut him loose. He ran, and ran, and ran. It took him hours to realize he’d been running in circles. I can still see the exasperated look on his face when he leaned up against a big old cypress tree and started crying like a little bitch. I pulled back an arrow in my compound bow and waited until he was standing perfectly straight. The sound it made going through the air and thrusting into him was like the best drug any man could ever do.

  I took my time walking over to him, making sure he heard every branch that cracked under my boots. When I finally got to him, and we were face to face, the look of wide eyed terror he had was absolutely delicious.

  I took my forefinger and flicked the arrow
just enough to make him gasp. Little bubbles of blood started coming out of his mouth, and I popped ‘em like a kid does soap bubbles.”

  He stops and looks at me. “You ever seen a gator feedin’ frenzy?”

  All I can do is shake my head no. I’m hypnotized by his reminiscing.

  “Yeah… he hadn’t either—until I threw him in that swamp and he was the fodder of their frenzy.”

  He looks up shaking his head at me like he’s coming out of a trance.

  “I don’t come from where you come from girl. I need your help to take down this man—your ex-boss. This isn’t a game. If you fuck me over, it won’t just be me you’ll make an enemy of—it’ll be my whole crazy family…”

  Chapter Eight

  Bo

  “I don’t like asking you for help, lady. I don’t know you, and I damn sure don’t trust you. I’m sure you can say the same for me. For some reason, destiny has thrown us together. If there was any way I could let you go and handle this job on my own, I would.” I’m such a liar. I’d find some way to hang on to her. I just don’t want to admit it to her. It’s bad enough having to admit it to myself.

  “There are things you know about the man you worked for that can help me. You know his habits, his schedule, and where he spends his time and money—because of that, I’m not about to let you go.”

  “I can’t help you unless you’re totally honest with me. What’s the big deal about the load of sugar? Why in the world would you guys steal that load?”

  “Like I said: you won’t be satisfied until you’re in so deep you can’t get out. You crossed that line when I told you about killing that man. Do you understand as far as any friends or family are concerned, you’ve disappeared—vanished? Even though you did it under the guise of taking time away to work—the real truth is I’m not letting you go.”

  “I’m not close to my family. If I even see them once a year for Christmas or Thanksgiving, it’s unusual. And the only friend I have is Stephanie. Just tell me why that load was so important so we can get started on finishing off that asshole ex-boss of mine.”

 

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