by Desiree Holt
Zane slid his hands from her legs to the cheeks of her ass, bending low over her as he pulled her even more tightly against him.
"Don't fight me, darlin',” he gasped. “Go with it. Let it take you."
"I ... can't.” She barely got the words out. “Please."
"Ride it, Jamie. Right now."
His hands gripped her buttocks, his rhythm increased, and with a final roll of his hips, he plunged them both into a black void. She was whirling, tumbling, rudderless as hard spasms shook her. She didn't think she had anything left in her, but her body obviously thought otherwise. As Zane's latex-covered shaft pulsed inside the tight walls of her vagina, her orgasm went on and on, seemingly without end.
She had no idea how long it lasted, only that when it was over, she lay back limply, unable to move, just praying she could get her next breath. Zane's head dropped to her shoulder, his own breathing rough, his heart thundering against her breasts.
Finally, he pulled himself up and slowly pulled his cock from her unresisting, spent body. She was too weary even to open her eyes, but she heard him move away, probably to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Then he was back, bathing her between her legs with a warm cloth, then drying her with a soft towel.
Sweeping all the towels off the bed into a pile on the floor, he lay down and pulled Jamie up against him, spooning her into his body. He brushed her hair behind her ears and kissed her cheek and her neck, light kisses meant to soothe rather than arouse.
"You belong to me now,” he murmured in a low voice. “Don't forget it."
She roused herself enough to ask, “Belong to you? What do you mean?"
"You're mine now, Jamie. Just the way you should have been before. Only this time, I'm not letting you go."
Jamie swallowed the panic that suddenly surged through her. She'd thought about this, but was she really ready for it? Sex was one thing, but did she trust Zane enough to accept that kind of commitment? What the hell did she do now?
As she drifted off to sleep, she could have sworn she heard him whisper, “I love you."
* * * *
Jamie stretched lazily in bed, eyes still closed to hang onto the memories floating around in her mind. Early that morning Zane had made slow, lazy love to her one last time before he had to get up.
"Do you remember what I said last night?” he asked as his cock slipped into her from behind. He had one leg pulled over his thigh and his fingers were busy at her tender clit, gentle but insistent.
"You said a lot,” she answered breathlessly. “Which particular thing?"
"That you belong to me.” He emphasized his statement with a hard thrust into her pussy. “That you're mine now."
"You ... said something else, too,” she reminded him, drifting in a haze of sexual pleasure, wondering if he'd admit to what she heard.
He was silent for so long, concentrating only on bringing her to the edge of climax, she was sure he was going to either ignore it or deny it. Then he put his mouth close to her ear. “I meant it, too."
Her heart stuttered and a warm feeling flushed through her body. She'd never thought to hear Zane Cameron admit he loved her. Ever. It had always just been about sex, and she'd thought it was now, too.
"I...” She set her lips, pulling the words from deep inside herself. “I ... love you, too. But Zane—"
His arm tightened around her and he groaned softly.
"No buts. We have a lot of strikes against us, Jamie. A lot to work through."
"But—"
"I said no buts. We started out here for all the wrong reasons. We were both angry, both felt betrayed, both wanted some kind of payback. But I'd like to think we're past that. That we can figure it out as long as we're together."
Then there was no more talking. Her orgasm, when it erupted, had none of the explosiveness of the night before. Instead, it was a series of warm spasms that moved through her like slow waves. Zane held her clit between thumb and forefinger, rubbing it to prolong her pleasure while his cock pumped his fluid into the latex covering it.
His kisses had been deep and languorous before he reluctantly pulled himself from her body and rolled off the bed.
"Sex with you is so incredible, darlin',” he told her as he bent over her. “There's so much more I want to do with you. Tell me I don't frighten you or turn you off."
"Never.” She smiled and pulled his head down for a quick kiss. “And I don't know who's more amazed, you or me."
"Treat yourself to another bath this morning. One where some horny man isn't bothering you. It'll do you a world of good.” His voice deepened. “Relax and think of tonight. Think of how you can reward me for all my hard work today."
She chuckled. “I'll put my mind to work on it."
"I hope to have something to tell you about the truck tonight. And remember. Don't go anywhere alone and without calling me."
"Kit will be back before long. We'll be together all day."
"Good.” He kissed her one last time and was gone.
After he left, she dozed off again, but now she was wrapping the memories around her like a familiar quilt. One hand stole naughtily between her legs, touching her well-used pussy. Zane took her to unbelievable heights. She couldn't wait to see what else he had in store for her.
Smiling she rolled over on her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head, savoring the feelings for a few minutes more. She heard the front door open and close and waited for the click of Kit's heels on the floor, the call of her voice. Instead, she heard heavy footsteps, and suddenly a heavy body was pinning her face down to the bed, a rough hand covering her mouth.
"You bitch.” The voice was a whisper, disguising whoever it was.
She struggled against the person, trying to throw him off, but he punched her in the side of the head, so hard that pain exploded behind her eyes and rocketed to her ears. While she was trying to recover, her attacker yanked her hands behind her back and tied them with rough-feeling rope. Then he blindfolded her with material that felt like burlap and scratched her eyelids.
"Now,” he said. “Let's get down to business. First, where's the money?"
"I don't have it,” she cried. “Please don't do this. Please."
"Bitch,” he spat again and smacked her head again. “I can do this all day so give it up while you still can."
"I told you I don't have the money.” The second blow made her sick to her stomach, and she struggled not to vomit. She heaved up against him, but he was too heavy to dislodge.
"Maybe I should try a little different approach.” His whisper was guttural. His hands came around to her front and strong fingers squeezed her tender breasts so brutally she screamed at the pleasure/pain. “Ah, that got your attention. Thought so."
One tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. Jamie bit her lip, the pain in her head so bad she could barely stand it. How had this man gotten into her house? Where was Kit? What would happen to her when she walked in on this?
"You need to do yourself two favors, you rotten little cunt. Sell this house and get the fuck out of this town. Get as far away from Amen as the world allows. And don't ever come back."
He squeezed her breasts again, pinching the nipples hard enough to draw another scream from her. Then she felt the cold blade of a knife against her breast and the pain as it sliced into flesh. Cold fear stole over her.
He's going to kill me. Or make me wish he had.
Jamie had never been much for praying, but she was praying hard now.
"You hear me, you tramp? And give back the fucking money. It isn't yours. Your old man's dead so he's got no use for it. That sheriff isn't going to save you. We've got his number. He'll wash his hands of you in a hot minute.” The knife made another small slice into the sensitive skin.
This time she couldn't swallow the scream.
"Pain makes people think twice, you know.” His mouth was so close to her face, and his breath had a fetid quality to it. “Hey. Maybe I can get myself a little piece of ass wh
ile I'm here,” the man laughed. “Seeing as how you're already naked and all. Then you can find out what pain's really all about. You'll never screw with the wrong people again."
He yanked the covers back, exposing her body, and shoved her legs apart. He knelt on her calves to immobilize her and one hand touched her pussy. The knife caressed the insides of her thighs, the edge of it sharp against her skin. She whimpered.
The front door slammed, and the man jerked, the knife twitching in his hand so that it skittered down to her knee, leaving a stinging trail.
"Jamie? You out of bed yet? I see the hunk has already left."
Oh, Jesus. Kit!
She heard the heels tapping on the hardwood floor, and Kit's voice getting louder as she neared the bedroom.
Go away, Kit. Save yourself.
Then she remembered. Kit had her father's old wheel gun. She'd said she knew how to use it, but did she really?
"Hey, girl. Answer me, will you? We don't allow people to lie in bed all day, you know. Did you ... oh, shit."
Jamie's attacker lifted himself from her slightly. “Who the hell are you?” he growled.
"I can ask you the same thing.” Kit's voice held a combination of fear and anger. “Get off of her. Now."
"Put the damn gun down,” the man ordered, shifting his knife to press it against Jamie's throat, “or I'll slice your friend open like a ripe tomato."
There was a thud as something dropped to the floor and then a shot whizzed past Jamie so close she felt the breeze. The weight on her was suddenly gone as the man rolled off the bed, the knife scraping her skin as he went.
"Hey, watch that gun,” he shouted.
Kit's answer was another shot, followed by a loud groan.
"God damn it. You shot me, you cunt."
Another shot and Kit screaming, “Get out of here."
Then the thud of heavy feet running down the hall.
One more shot echoed, but Jamie heard the front door slam. Whoever her attacker was, he was gone. She heard the gun fall to the floor, then Kit was beside her, trying to work the rope loose.
"Oh, shit, Jamie. Oh, sweet Jesus. Oh, god. Shit, shit, shit."
She finally got the rope off and yanked away the blindfold. Jamie's head was ready to explode, and her breasts were so sore she wanted to cry. She forced her eyes open to see Kit looking at her with horror in her eyes.
"Oh, my god. Shit, you're bleeding. Don't move. Wait. Stay there.” She pulled the covers over Jamie.
"Aspirin,” Jamie managed to get out.
"Did he hit your head?” Her fingers pressed against Jamie's temple, finding a tender spot.
Jamie winced, tears leaking from her eyes.
"Oh, honey, you've got a huge lump here. And another one over here. I'm not giving you anything until a doctor sees you."
"Call ... Zane,” she managed before blackness rolled over her.
* * * *
Jamie fought her way up from the bottom of the ocean, water choking her, suffocating her.
"I'd like to keep her overnight,” she heard a strange man say. “She's got a concussion and some very nasty cuts and bruises. Apparently, he scraped the skin on her throat with the edge of the knife, too."
"Was she raped?” Zane's voice, filled with rage. Was he mad at her?
"No, but not for lack of trying from what I gather. It looks as if he meant to mutilate her with a knife."
She heard colorful cursing, long and low. Where was she anyway? She forced her eyes open.
The room was unfamiliar, a cubicle of some kind, and she was lying on what could only be called a piece of hospital furniture. No other bed was this uncomfortable.
"If I hadn't walked in, who knows what would have happened?” Kit, as angry as Zane but also holding back fear. “Thank god she insisted I take Frank's old gun with me."
"Jesus, Kit, when I saw all that blood..."
"Surface cuts bleed a lot, especially in that area,” the strange male voice said. “I promise you, it looks worse than it is."
"Don't ... talk ... so loud,” she managed to get out.
Immediately, Zane was kneeling beside the bed, holding her hand. He kissed her fingers, pressing them against his mouth.
"How do you feel, darlin'? Like hell, I'll bet."
"Got ... that right.” She hurt everywhere, and her mouth felt as if someone had stuffed cotton in it.
His kiss on her lips was so soft it could have been a fairy's touch. When she managed to look at him, she saw two Zane's and quickly closed her eyes again. “Hurts,” she whimpered. “Head."
"Doc?” Zane's word was as much a question as a command.
"I can't give her anything until we're sure there's not brain damage.” From the other side of the bed, a warm hand lightly touched her arm. “Miss Randall? I'm Dr. Laforza. You're at Diablo General's Emergency Room. You've taken some nasty blows to the head."
Jamie tried to focus on the man standing beside her, but like Zane, she saw two of him.
"Two ... doctors,” she told him.
"I was afraid of that,” she heard him tell Zane in a low voice. “Double vision. Jamie, I'm just going to look into your eyes. The light will be bright, but I'll be very quick about it."
He was right. The light stabbed at her eyes painfully. She flinched as Dr. Laforza lifted first one lid then another.
"Well?” Zane's voice was impatient.
"Before we do anything else, I want to get a CAT scan of her head. Maybe an EEG. We've applied antibiotic cream to her cuts and given her a tetanus shot just in case. She'll hurt but she'll heal. It's the head that worries me."
"Do what you have to,” Zane told him. “But wherever you take her, I'm going with her."
"Zane—"
"Not up for discussion. Deal with it."
Jamie closed her eyes and drifted off, trying to hide from the terrible pain in her head. When she roused again, she was in a darkened room surrounded by machinery, Zane was standing on one side of her, Kit on the other, and they were talking in low tones.
"I told my techs to go over every inch of that house,” Zane was saying. “I want every fingerprint they can find."
"Jamie went through the place like Mr. Clean, so anything they find will be new."
"I'll need your fingerprints and hers for elimination,” Zane told her.
"How on earth did he get in?” Kit asked.
"Either it's someone who had contact with Frank before and had a key or he picked the lock. Damn it to hell anyway. When I find out who this is and who's behind it, there won't be enough left of them to fill a tea cup."
"Don't forget,” Kit warned. “You're the sheriff. You have rules to follow."
"Not where she's concerned. Those bastards will wish they'd never heard of anyone named Randall."
"Pretty damned brazen of him to do this in broad daylight."
"My guess is whoever's running this show saw you leave yesterday but then saw me show up last night. Otherwise they would have done it then. They waited until they saw my SUV leave this morning. And that damned house is so isolated no one can see or hear what's going on."
"And I wonder if that's the lure.” Kit's voice was thoughtful.
"What do you mean?"
"That someone wants that house because of its location. They've got something going on that needs that kind of privacy. Not to disparage my good friend here, but why else would anyone want that piece of shit?"
A woman's voice sounding warm and soothing broke into the conversation. “Sheriff, we're ready now. You and the lady will have to step outside."
"Not on your life.” Zane's voice had that ‘don't mess with me’ sound. Jamie would have smiled if her head hadn't hurt so badly.
"Dr. Laforza said you might be a problem. All right, then. But you'll have to stand where I tell you. And no talking, please."
Someone rolled the gurney, then hands lifted her to a cold, hard surface. Someone was telling her to take deep breaths and not to worry. Someone else asked Zan
e if she was claustrophobic. She had no idea what was going on and mercifully she passed out again.
* * * *
Gray Ballou had insisted Manny drive all the way to San Antonio to meet with him, and Manny was less than thrilled.
"What's wrong with Amen?” he grumbled. “Or Copper Ridge? It's not like people don't know we do business together."
"I don't want to take the chance there are any stray ears in Diablo County,” Ballou said, putting his china coffee cup down in its saucer. They were in one of his favorite high class, low key restaurants, where even the sound of china and crystal was muted.
"What's going on?” Manny popped an antacid tablet in his mouth, chewed it, and washed it down with water. “What's the big deal all of a sudden? I already know we're up against a deadline."
Gray stared thoughtfully at the man across the table from him, eyes searching for something. Manny didn't know what, but it made him nervous.
"What?” he asked again. “I haven't had time or the opportunity to finish our ... project. You know that. The Randall place has been busier than the airport, people coming and going and the sheriff all but living there."
"So I can safely say you had nothing to do with this morning's fiasco?"
Manny's hand trembled as he picked up his water glass again. “What fiasco? What's going on?"
"Someone got into the Randall house this morning when the girl was alone and threatened her with a knife. Did some damage. Hit her in the head hard enough to give her a concussion."
Manny stared at him. “How did you find out? I haven't even heard about it yet."
Gray idly stirred more sugar into his coffee. “I pay a lot of people to keep me informed of what's going on. How the hell else would I operate?"
Manny nearly spilled his water. “Is she okay?"
"No thanks to whoever pulled this stunt. Zane Cameron's got her in the hospital, and he's madder than a bear with a bullet in his paw. You know what that means. He'll be digging into everything ... everything, Manny ... to find out how this happened.” He took a slow sip of his drink. “You didn't happen to have a hand in this disaster, did you?"