by J. A. Dennam
“I had a few more corrective surgeries,” he continued, stretching his legs out before him. “They put me on a brief anabolic steroid regimen, but the real healing came from a different drug that was used outside the radar of the FDA. Something I thought was too good to be true since I felt so unbelievably strong. Turns out I was right. There were some nasty side effects to this drug I hadn’t counted on, certain... addictive properties that would keep me loyal to IGP. And, as if that wasn’t enough, they used other incentives to ensure my cooperation.”
“Like…”
This was the part that hurt so much. He lifted her hand, pressed it against his forehead. Her touch... the feel of her skin was just the distraction he needed to keep going. “My handler has a sadistic appetite for beautiful bright-eyed blonds. He carried your picture. Brought it out when he needed to.”
Her mouth formed an “oh” when the light came on. “How did he get my picture?”
He brought her hand down, rested it in his lap. “Danny had given it to me in the hospital when I refused to see you. It was the one on my bulletin board of you in the baby-blue tank top with your hair all tossed around and that come-get-me smile of yours.”
What he didn’t tell her was how that particular handler mistreated her photo on a regular basis. Always when he was around. Derek had sworn the man would never get the opportunity to carry out his threats if he were to break away from IGP’s hold.
“And this handler person threatened to do just that,” Melanie guessed with a frown. “Come get me.”
“It was a constant stand-off between us,” he murmured. “I nearly choked him to death once when he pushed me too far. After that, they strapped me down in a box for a few days and let me experience withdrawal from their super drug. There I was, completely healed, feeling like Captain America. I was larger, leaner, more powerful than ever, and getting pretty cocky with it. When they finally let me out of that box...” Derek released an involuntary shiver. “I’m just lucky Rafferty didn’t tell me to bend over because I would have if it meant ending the torture.”
Melanie stopped breathing beside him for a moment. “Oh, Derek.”
“They had no more problems from me,” he went on, touching the smooth skin of her arm with starving fingertips, re-familiarizing himself with her curves little by little. “I trained out the ass, getting ready for Rena’s big day. They kept me under strict guard; never let me out of their sight, never let me leave. All the while, my addiction was getting worse. Cold turkey would likely finish me the next time around.”
“Yet you still defected,” Melanie said with a tiny frown. “I guess they underestimated the depth of your commitment issues.”
She was so serious, crying even, but he couldn’t help granting her a fleeting smile. Her comment made him remember a time eons ago when he was lying in a hospital bed near death, sorting out his scattered priorities. Something he thought of a thousand times while staring at the plaster walls of his IGP holding cell was how he’d repeatedly turned her away. Because of his pride.
A section of hair fell over her shoulders and gently grazed a plump breast. His eyes stayed there, feeding his need to touch. Ever since he’d come down from that rush of anxiety to find her tongue in his mouth and a needle in his arm, he’d been battling yet another penile uprising. Her persistence toward the topic at hand brought him out of his stupor.
“There has to be a way to find out what it is,” she said with determination, “so we can figure out how to help you off of it.”
“Rena,” he answered absently, staring at her mouth.
Melanie blinked. “What about her?”
“She’s my ticket to ending this nightmare.”
“But I thought she didn’t know what it was.”
“She has enough dirt on IGP to make a trade. I just scratched her back in a very big way by not delivering her to them. As long as she returns the favor, I have a fighting chance. But if this drug takes me down first...”
Her lovely eyes were back on him. Searching. “We may lose you all over again.”
Derek lost himself in the intensity of her look. Melanie Parker, his sister’s sweet little vixen of a best friend, had grown up. No longer a gullible, spoiled fashionista, but an intelligent woman who’d flourished under the learning curve of her responsibilities. It was a transformation that completely suited her and, in turn, wreaked havoc on his libido.
“So, what’s the game plan?” she asked, all business. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”
For some reason, he had to fight back yet another smile. “You trust me now?”
Something in Melanie’s eyes changed. A hint of heat mixed with caution. “The Derek I know wouldn’t care.”
That heat was all Derek needed. Mac or no Mac, he was about to take something that no longer belonged to him, but that his body could no longer do without. “The Mel I know would love that about me,” he countered softly.
She blinked, parted her lips for a breath and he moved in. His hungry mouth absorbed her heady moan, took in the depth of her own passion as their tongues mated. Yes. She had missed him. And he was suddenly unable to conjure the logic behind his need for distance. He should have known this from the beginning. There had always been a carnal element between them that couldn’t be denied.
“I’ve never needed anyone more than you right now,” he rasped against her throat. “Please, Mel. Let me...”
She allowed him to push her down to the bedding. The feel of her body beneath his was finally more than just a dream. She didn’t answer him with words, which should have slowed him down, but his lust for her had been neglected far too long. The ache was far too strong. She melted against him and he took it as assent, ran with it. With unbridled fierceness, Derek brought her shirt up and exposed her midriff.
Slow down. But he couldn’t. She felt too good, and the look he’d craved for years was back in her eyes. Holy God.
He had to force himself not to hurt her as he shoved his hands beneath her bra and pushed upward. Her creamy, full breasts popped from their bindings, were exposed to him now, vulnerable, edible, irresistible. And he devoured them.
Her back arched with a gasp. It was almost his undoing, but he held on a little longer. He took one plump nipple between his teeth and pulled, sucked, then pulled harder. It must have hurt. Her nails dug into his shoulders, but when he released it, she groaned with need. He moved to the other nipple, gave it equal treatment while he kneaded both mounds with rough hands. Her pleasure from pain reminded him of how violent their lovemaking had become in the past. When the need demanded it. He wondered... She seemed almost as deprived as he. Had Mac been able to satisfy those desires within her?
Just as he curled his fingers around her waistband and prepared to remove her pants, a suspicious noise he’d been half expecting reached his ears. His movements stilled. Though his groin was about to explode, the opportunity to finally douse the flames was gone.
And tension was restored.
Chapter 7
Whatever he heard was beyond her. After what he’d just done to her breasts, comprehension of any kind was impossible. But when Derek slowly stood, he pulled her up with him, pulled her shirt down, and put his lips to her ear.
“Go to your room,” he whispered softly, his warm breath grazing her hairline.
Melanie’s eyes closed as her body quivered with a confusing mixture of fear and intense desire. When she opened them, she was completely alone.
Again? She looked around only to find the room empty. What the hell? But she didn’t dwell on it long when his words echoed in her brain. Suddenly, her parental radar sounded and, straightening her clothes, she dashed out of the room toward her own to check on her son.
But when she got there, DJ was gone. The dog was gone. The diaper bag lay open on the floor, just the way it was left. Even the pink blanket was there, rumpled with her son’s tiny imprint still warm on the surface. More obvious was the fact that Rena was nowhere in sight. Melanie knew Derek expected
her to lock herself within the room’s inaccessible walls. She didn’t want to get taken by some sadistic freak with a thing for blonds. But her baby wasn’t here and, with a thundering heart, she suspected Rena had something to do with that.
Without caution, Melanie left the basement and made her way up to the sanctuary. Dawn was breaking, allowing her a better look at the decaying interior of the church. What was once ornate, bright and well cared for now looked like a dirty ashtray. A fine haze hovered over the sagging floor, brought in by the rapid cool of morning precipitation. Wood rot, damp and mossy, made breathing difficult.
The carpeting surprised her, faded and lined with strategic holes where the pews used to sit. Beneath the filth, the subtle, intricate designs from top to bottom hinted toward sophistication and wealth. It also hinted toward a reluctant abandonment that had her rubbing the chill from her arms.
A movement caught her eye and Melanie went to one of the tall windows on her side of the church. Below it, the wall recessed a bit where an old radiator, now removed, had left its ghostly imprint. But her attention was on the sill where, amid some dried leaves, was an aged prayer guide she hadn’t recalled seeing there before. A small draft from broken glass set the curled edges to motion, flipping a loose page over. Words written in fresh blood popped bold red over vintage black and white.
They’re here!
The color left her face. Something slammed in the vestibule. She jumped, scanned the area by the double doors that she was certain had not moved.
Stop cowering and find your child.
Melanie told herself over and over again she wasn’t afraid, but why did she feel so painfully alone?
Because her son was missing.
Something passed by outside the window’s distorted glass. Melanie dove for a jagged hole and peeked outside only to be met with thick fog. A powerful surge of anger and panic brought back her courage. These games would end. Now.
“DJ?” she yelled, bursting into a run. The floor creaked dangerously beneath her feet, but she didn’t care. Beneath a listing choir loft, she yanked frantically on the double doors. Locked.
“Shit!”
Precious time was wasted as she fumbled with the bolts. Finally, she was able to squeeze her way through. Once outside, Melanie ignored the cool air as she took the stone steps two at a time.
It wasn’t long before she encountered the thick undergrowth that had slowed her down before. She stopped to listen for other movements. Rena was out here, doing God knows what to keep DJ quiet. She was certain of it.
A gray mass moved through the cloying mist then disappeared. She followed it, feeling terribly exposed by the racket she made in doing so. “Rena?” she called out with a slight quake in her voice. Her movements slowed as a crop of trees materialized in her path.
“Rena!”
Nothing. Not even the morning song of a single bird. When it was clear she was indeed alone, Melanie turned to go back and slammed bodily into a solid chest. Her squeak was muffled against thick fabric. She looked up and saw a black hoodie, its mushroom shape pulled low over a hidden face. There was a brief rush of relief when she thought she was once again in Derek’s arms… until something told her all was not right.
They’re here…
Her face instantly fell. The hooded figure stepped closer and she backed up. Gloved hands snaked around her from behind, covering her mouth, pinning her arms. Holy God, there was one behind her, too. While panic ensued, the man in front swept up her feet, but just as they left the ground her eyes widened on a shape behind him.
A flash of tan arced down from above. After a violent impact, the hold on her ankles was gone and she was roughly deposited into a thicket of bushes. By the time she untangled herself, Derek was in the process of snapping the neck of the man he’d just levered to the ground. Her eyes widened in shock. There were two hooded figures down. But they weren’t just knocked out... they were dead.
He kills people now.
Derek untangled his legs from his victim and rolled to a stand.
“Derek!” came a female voice close by.
He glanced behind him long enough to catch the black piece of clothing that was tossed in his direction and then dove for Melanie’s hand. “Come on,” he growled, his naked torso glistening with sweat as he pulled her along. “There will be others.”
The shock brought on a brief flash of reluctance. Did she want to go with him? With someone she’d just watched murder two people? On the other hand, she was pretty sure those men weren’t going to escort her to a cocktail party.
Melanie took two steps then dug in her heels. “But I can’t leave! Not without…” Her argument was cut short when she noticed Rena following close behind. In the woman’s arms was a bouncing, bleary-eyed baby boy.
Relief glowed bright from within, washing away the special brand of dread that comes with losing a child. Melanie’s own attempted abduction was almost an afterthought when she tried to break away from Derek’s hold to take her son.
“She has him,” he snapped, clamping onto her hand. “Just stay on your feet!” As they cut through the fog and brush, the earth dropped down at a steep grade and she had to fight to stay upright.
“Who were they?” she panted, angling her body down the hill.
“IGP calls them ghosts,” Derek answered, taking her by the elbow to prevent a fall.
Ghosts… With a sick feeling, Melanie braved a look behind her as they reached level ground.
Rena smirked over DJ’s bobbing head. “You heard the man.”
Eyes forward, she managed to keep up. “But they aren’t like… real ghosts, right?”
“More like their version of Men in Black,” Derek clarified. “Some are enforcers, some are just eyes-and-ears, but they’re all highly unpredictable and extremely dangerous.”
“Okay, so ghosts are creepy bad guys we have to avoid at all costs who can somehow materialize out of nowhere.”
Amused, Rena jerked her chin in Derek’s direction. “What do you think he is?”
What! Melanie’s shocked gaze flew to Derek just as he armed his way into the black hoodie Rena had thrown at him earlier. “Remember that extra training I mentioned?” he said when his head popped into the mushroom-shaped hood.
She nodded.
“I worked with these really weird fuckers who knew some really weird shit.”
An explanation Derek-style. Somehow it resonated more clearly that way. “But if you’re one of them, that means you’re highly unpredictable and extremely dangerous.”
His mouth thinned into a grim line. “Exactly, and IGP doesn’t take it lightly when one of their ghosts goes AWOL.”
They came upon Melanie’s stolen 1993 Honda waiting patiently in a clearing ahead. While Derek unlocked the door with keys he dug out from the wheel well, Melanie wasted no time in taking her son from Rena’s arms.
The woman chose that moment to say in a Barbie-doll voice, “Guess I’m not so crazy after all.”
The comment was meant to rankle. Melanie turned and smilingly shoved the boy face-first under Derek’s startled nose, giving him no choice but to handle his son for the first time. Since she couldn’t come up with a single reason not to, Melanie swung around and plowed her fist directly into Rena’s smug smile.
“Guess that just makes you a bitch,” she snarled, shaking the pain from her knuckles.
Rena gaped at her from the ground and gently probed her bleeding mouth. “You did not just do that!”
Melanie, who was in the process of rescuing a distressed Derek from his own son, shot back over her shoulder, “Accept! And don’t you ever lay hands on DJ again!”
“I’m tired of her hitting me, Derek,” Melanie heard from inside the car while she strapped DJ into his five-point harness. Then she heard him say, “I guess you shouldn’t have messed with mama bear,” in a blasé tone. A jolt of satisfaction brought a smile to her lips. DJ reared back and returned it tenfold. His mega-watt exaggeration produced four small teet
h, two dimples and an audible laugh from her.
Rena took the front passenger seat. After a lengthy sulk, she asked, “Where’s Chewie?”
Derek ended a brief call on his cell phone and slid behind the wheel. “I can hear him making his way down the hill.” He inserted the key. After three sluggish turns, the engine came reluctantly to life and he gave it just the right amount of gas to coax her into obedience.
He still knew how to handle her car. It was heartwarming in a way and Melanie was suddenly hung up on the shock of having him back. The old familiarity of his presence behind the wheel of her temperamental ride had her wondering if she was indeed dreaming after all.
“Da!”
Eyes going wide, Melanie looked down. DJ pointed a pudgy finger at the man he’d just seen up close for the first time; just as he pointed at the numerous pictures and videos of Derek he’d seen throughout his short lifetime.
“Dada!” DJ repeated as if educating her to the fact.
Well, hell.
“That’s what he went back for?” Rena said, scoffing loudly. “Your dog needs to sort out his priorities.”
Derek re-opened his door and a black ball of fur bounded over his lap. Chewie hopped over the center console with a pink, monogrammed blanket draped between his teeth. The car lurched back then forward while the mutt dropped the cloth, now liberally matted with pollen and brambles, right over DJ’s denim-clad legs.
“Chewie, I believe you’re starting to grow on me,” Melanie marveled, immediately removing the filthy blanket from sight.
“Screw the dog,” Rena snapped, holding onto the dash. “I want to know what plan-B is since the ghosts found us before your contact did.”
Derek turned onto a dirt road and drove as if nothing was amiss, but his voice hinted of trouble. “Ty had a minor setback.”
“What?” Rena gaped in full-blown panic mode.
“He has the car now, but I told him to hold off until I know we’re not being followed.”
Rena huffed, shook her head as the landscape passed by outside the windows. “How did they find us so fast? Do you think you’re still being tracked?”