Intimate Fear

by D. C. Stone

  His heart thudded against hers, a matching hammer between their bodies, telling her he was just as affected. The hand at the back of her head tightened. She trailed the caress over his cheek; his lips were right there, centimeters away.

  The rest of their surroundings faded. She didn’t know if it was because of this man drawing her absolute attention, or because of her exhaustion.

  She touched the side of her mouth to his and thought she’d be prepared for the rush of desire.

  She was so wrong.

  Her stomach clenched and her sex tingled, waiting. So rare a feeling, she realized she had missed this, the buildup before lying with a man.

  A shrill ring pierced the air and she jumped back from Dwayne, then lunged for the cell phone on the counter. Out of breath, she answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, ma’am, I’m calling from Trade Services International and we’ll be in your area on Tuesday conducting free personal reviews of finances.” Brooke wanted to scream at not only the interruption, but also at the false hope this call would be from her daughter.

  “I’m sorry, not interested.”

  The telemarketer went on as if he didn’t hear her. “So I have you set up to meet with me at ten in the morning. All you need to bring is your latest bank statement and last year’s tax return.”

  At her wits’ end, she hung up, not giving an answer, and set the phone back down. Behind her, she could feel Dwayne’s questioning and expectant gaze. With the glaring sun shining inside, the moment before now seemed as if it had been a dream.

  Her attention flipped to the clock on the hanging microwave, and she drummed her fingers on the counter. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore him. His presence had the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

  “Dwayne…” She pivoted to face him but closed her mouth at his expression. His eyes, dark and hungry, did not reflect the normal green she had known more or less all her life. In their place was a deeper color, almost like twilight. She wrapped her palms around the ceramic counter behind her to keep from jumping on him. From the way his pants stuck out between his hips, she figured the earlier encounter had affected him as much as it did her. Still, they couldn’t do this. She would never be able to look at sex as just a casual thing.

  She wasn’t wired that way. And unfortunately, Dwayne was.

  He took a step and she lifted a hand.

  “Wait. Look, about earlier,” she trailed off when he blinked and the darker color left his eyes. He shook his head.

  “There’s nothing to it, Brooke. Who was on the phone?”

  She frowned at the dismissal but skipped over what was sure to be an uncomfortable topic. “Just a telemarketer. No one important. Hey,” she said and glanced back to the clock. “I think we should head over to the school and get some questions answered, see if anyone knows anything.” She pushed from where she stood and took an unsteady step, reached for her coffee, and tried to gulp as much of the hot liquid as she could.

  “How about you stay here and get some sleep? I’ll go to the school.”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t sleep, won’t sleep, not until I find out where Hailey is. You go to the school. I’ll go to Jaxon’s.”

  He crossed the room so fast she barely had time to react. She sucked in a breath as he loomed over her. “Absolutely not. Let me handle this. I am the detective here. It’s my job.”

  “It’s mine, too. She’s my daughter.”

  His gaze softened and he cupped her face. “I know, but something doesn’t feel right. And I’m not about to let you get in the middle of something that could get you hurt.”

  “What about Hails? She could be hurt.”

  His head tilted. “That’s true, but I’ll be able to concentrate and move faster if I didn’t have to worry about what kind of situation we were walking into. Please, I will need you on your toes later, and you really should get some sleep.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep,” she whispered. The despair she thought she had battled returned full force. She felt useless.

  She went to take another drink of coffee, wanting to wash the taste of fear from her mouth, but he removed it from her hands. “Not drinking that you won’t. Come on.”

  He tugged on her hand, pulling her from the room and down the hall to the back of the house. Once in her space, he guided her to the bed and despite earlier, and against all claims that she would not be able to sleep, she looked at the covers with longing, exhaustion settling on her head.

  He drew the covers back, sat her on the mattress, bent to take off her shoes, and directed her to lie down.

  “I’m going to go check a few things out. I’ll call as soon as I hear anything, okay?” Dwayne didn’t sit on the bed, but he leaned over her prone form until she had no choice but to take in his features. She understood why women tossed themselves at him, felt the temptation drawing at her with his dark, raw looks. He was a man built for danger and seduction. An irresistible combination.

  “Okay. Please, just keep me in the loop.”

  He brushed hair back from her face and studied her. Their faces were only a few inches apart, but she couldn’t hold his gaze so close. Not after earlier. Being so tired, she didn’t think she’d have enough strength to not pull him down on top of her.

  “I will.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he was gone.

  * * * *

  About a half hour later, Dwayne pulled his cruiser to a stop against the curb. He studied the rancher across the street, frowning at the brown grass, the weeds climbing up the side of the house, and the trash littering the yard. Nyack was a sensible town, a noble village that took pride in their appearance. Folks traveled far and wide to settle here during the summer months. Hell, even a few from Hollywood owned mansions up on the hill overlooking the compact space and the Hudson River.

  But the house he looked at now stood out like a white dress at a funeral. What used to be white shutters lay on the ground and the windows were cloudy, as if parchment paper lined the panes. You couldn’t see a thing inside. At least from this distance.

  He set his jaw. Typically, the papers on the windows led to one of two things: drug use or heat insulation.

  He doubted the latter and unfolded from the car, unzipped his jacket. The comforting weight of his Glock sat on his hip. He crossed the yard, tried to ignore the crunch of dead grass, and bounded up the three cement steps to the front door.

  Silence met his knock, and while patience had always been a strong suit for him, something didn’t sit right. It was too quiet, so much that he knew, before he looked inside, the house would be empty. He leaned close to the door and was able to get a look inside through the small, rectangular window at the top, or at least make out the bare rooms. Slapping a fist against the glass, his thoughts took a nosedive into worst-case scenarios, which this was it. Nothing, not even a scrap of furniture.

  “Shit.”

  Dwayne pivoted and scanned the neighborhood, his mind screaming on code three, lights and sirens full ahead. He tapped an old high school drumbeat against his legs, something he did when he was deep in thought or in anticipation for a big response on scene.

  Brooke had looked so damn defeated, and this news would kill the small measure of hope in her eyes. He wanted to keep it there, build it up until she smiled again. He’d always been a fan of her smile, adored the way her face lit up. All he saw this morning was pain and sadness, helplessness he had no way of saving her from.

  Where could these kids be? What the hell was going on? How was Hailey wrapped in all of this? He dug his phone from his pocket and hit the contact for her phone again. It continued to ring as he crossed the yard. The fact that he’d seen Hailey yesterday morning with a boy whose house was now empty sat in his gut like sour milk.

  Mrs. Wilshire stepped out from her house across the street, and he lifted a hand in greeting.

  The complete opposite of the piece of shit shack sitting behind him, the eighty-two-year-old wom
an’s house was doused in a plethora of colorful roses that played peek-a-boo between full hydrangeas. Her grass was lush and green, and the tall oak that stood in the center of her lawn buzzed with windmills and birdhouses.

  As if her house wasn’t loud enough, Mrs. Wilshire’s outfit made up for it in spades. She wore a bright pink muumuu with prints of every different type of bird imaginable. Never one to be outdone with the likes of the ladies down at City Hall who played bingo, today she sported a pastel wig atop her head and sunglasses larger than his palm. He held back the inward laughter as hot crimson lips pursed and blew a kiss his way.

  “As I live and breathe, if it isn’t little Dwayne Gonzalez.”

  He bounded up the step to her yard, flashed a grin, bent low, and kissed her wrinkled cheek. Baby powder and lavender assaulted him in a thick wave. “Mrs. Wilshire, have you made up your mind about running away with me?”

  Her high chuckle sent a team of birds scattering into the sky. “Always such a flirt. I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again, you couldn’t handle this old woman.” She pressed her forearms beneath ample breasts and pushed them higher. A smile hovered on his lips.

  “Of that I have no doubt, but a man has to try.” He removed his dark shades and stood to the side, pointed across the street. “I’m actually trying to find the owners of that house. Do you have any idea where they are?”

  “Florida.”

  He gaped at her and she patted his cheek. The action brought back memories of when he had been in middle school, darting along hallways, and finding Mrs. Wilshire, who had been the principal at the time, waiting at the back door they were trying to skip out of.

  “I see I can still shock you.” She giggled and her entire body shook with effort. “The Ramseys own that place, but they moved to Florida two years ago. A few months back some rough-looking hoodlums came in. They had people coming and going at all hours, I tell you.” She leaned closer and he dipped his head to listen. She whispered like a conspirator. “And some of the young women they had coming in looked a little loose, if you catch my drift.”

  He nodded. “Ah, yes, I think I do. Have you seen them recently?”

  She shook her head and he tried to ignore the double chin jiggling for a few more seconds after she stopped. “No, yesterday evening they packed up everything in a white truck and took off.”

  His unease grew, but there had to be something, some way to track them down. “Did you notice any markings on this truck?”

  “Nope. Plain white. I saw a bunch of them young ladies get in the back, too. Yes, I did. Think it’s the oddest thing and against the law to boot.” She gave him a pointed glare as she said the last. “Would have thought they needed the truck for furniture, but all they put back there were mattresses and a couch. Everything else got set on the curb and the trash people picked it up this morning.”

  Dwayne cursed, and the word tinged the air blue.

  “Dwayne David Gonzales, just because you’re grown doesn’t mean you can color the air with your filth.”

  His face warmed and he reached for her hand, then brought it to his lips. “I’m very sorry, ma’am, I just really need to find the previous tenants.”

  Her cheeks, already stained with pink circles, reddened. “Well, I’m sure you can apologize and come by for tea next week. An old lady does get lonely every now and again.”

  He grinned, knowing he was forgiven. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  She drew her hand away and set it to her ample bosom. “Well, no, just tea.”

  “Ah,” he laughed. “So you just want to get me alone.”

  Her musical, high-pitched squeal rang out and she slapped him on the chest. “You’re such a flirt. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” With that, she walked away, up along the sidewalk, heading toward City Hall.

  He grinned after her and fished his phone out of his pocket as it started ringing. A glance told him it was Charlie.

  “What’s up?” he answered.

  “We’ve got a real issue here at the high school, D. You might want to get here as quick as you can.”

  In the background, several women shouted, but one voice stood out. He turned and rushed for his car, jumped inside.

  “Shit, she’s supposed to be in bed.”

  “Yeah, well she’s not,” Charlie answered wryly. “She is accusing the principal of some pretty foul things, and she’s refusing to leave until someone brings her Hailey. I gotta say, D, so far Mr. Rodgers hasn’t pressed charges, but I think if she throws one more book at him, we’re going to have to intervene.”

  “Christ! She threw a book at him?”

  “Books,” Charlie answered, emphasizing the s.

  He flipped on the lights and squealed away from the curb. “You tell the principal I’m on my way. And you tell Brooke I’m gonna paddle her ass if she doesn’t calm the fuck down.”

  Charlie laughed, the sound deep and hearty. “Yeah,” she said in a sarcastic tone, “I’ll get right on that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I can’t possibly understand why my daughter isn’t here!” Brooke slapped her palms on the dark wooden counter and glared at the principal.

  “Mrs. Mason—” the tall, balding man began.

  “It’s Ms.,” she hissed. She rose on her tiptoes, leaned over the platform, and spoke through clenched teeth. “You will damn well find an answer about how my daughter disappeared off school property. Someone here knows something. You,” she said and thrust a finger at him, “have some explaining to do and my patience is running thin, Mr. Rodgers.” Out of sorts, she realized she was acting crazy, placing blame where it wasn’t due, but thoughts of Hailey’s safety were at the forefront of her mind, and she couldn’t seem to stop the runaway train that was her mouth.

  Mr. Rodgers glanced over at Charlie, who stood at the wall behind her. She followed his expectant stare. The female detective had long, dark hair tied in a ponytail atop her head, blue jeans, a white polo, and a smirk. In the past, Brooke always thought women cops had no femininity, that it somehow got lost underneath the uniform or the persona of who they had to be. This woman, though, broke those misconceptions. She was tall and curvy. Her confidence radiated through her body with the power she needed to do her job. Petite shoulders shrugged as she returned the principal’s contact.

  “She’s got a point, Tom.”

  Brooke clapped her hands together, then whipped around to him again. “So help me, if something happened to my daughter…”

  “Now just you wait a second, Ms. Mason, I am only responsible for the children once they are inside the school. Since she never showed for her first class yesterday, there is no way of knowing if she truly did come in the building.”

  “She was here,” she interrupted, but he continued on, talking over her.

  “However, I do understand the concern for Hailey, and the school will do everything in its power to help. Perhaps if you kept a tighter rein on your daughter, then we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  “If I what?” she shrieked. “Listen here, you son-of-a—”

  The door behind her crashed open and Brooke spun around. Dwayne stood in the doorway, dark eyes menacing and focused entirely on her. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  Her breath caught, and she turned back to the man and small plump woman who hovered nearby. “Find her.”

  “Ms. Mason…”

  “Find her!” she screamed. Tears stung her eyes and her vision wavered. “Find her!” With her fists clenched by her sides, chest splitting wide open, she screamed over and over again, chanting the two words until strong arms surrounded her. “Do something! Don’t just stand there.” She pleaded with them to listen, but all the man and his secretary did was pass her a look of pity.

  It was too much.

  She wrenched out of Dwayne’s arms and reached for the closest thing. Charlie’s shout of warning was the only thing she heard before the glass vase flew out of her hand, crossed the high counter, and missed the prin
cipal’s head by an inch.

  The sound of glass breaking shattered through the air.

  “Goddammit, stop it!”

  Iron bands grabbed her at the waist and hauled her out of the office. Incoherent words babbled out of her mouth. She didn’t understand anything she said. And as if she were watching from above, looking down on the out-of-control scene, she could see her own erratic behavior.

  She was so damn tired and worried for her daughter, her focus had been to get answers. Coming to the school seemed like a good idea at the time, but now dozens of students looked at her like she belonged in a mental institution. She was carried out of the building by the Nyack Police Department, and now she realized how wrong she had been.

  “Put me down.”

  “Nope.” His short answer spoke a thousand words with the tone alone. He stepped outside and the thick, humid air wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. They bounded down the stairs, him carrying her as if she didn’t weigh any more than ten pounds. He crossed the front yard and headed for his cruiser.

  “My car is in the parking lot.”

  Dwayne ignored her and made a beeline for his vehicle.

  “Detective Gonzales!” she squealed.

  He stepped up to the backseat, tossed open the door, and unceremoniously threw her inside. She landed on the cloth-covered seat in a tangle of limbs and scrambled to get back out of the vehicle.

  A large finger appeared in front of her and she glanced up to meet storm turbulent green eyes.

  “Don’t.” That one word, uttered in a voice she had never heard before, with such dominance, as if he expected her to listen, had her frozen.

  The car door shut and he pivoted. He crossed back over the lawn to meet Charlie and Mr. Rodgers. The sad, pitiful eyes of the principal met hers, so she sat back with a huff.

  “Damn it, I just want to find my daughter.”

  * * * *

  Every muscle in Dwayne coiled tight like a serpent ready to strike. Pissed beyond reason, he fought to keep his face impassive as the balding dictator of the high school droned on and on about responsibility. Dwayne knew his responsibility, damn it. It was sitting in the back of his car.