Between Faith and Fear

by J. A. Dennam

  Her knees dug into the mattress as she rode him. He cupped her breasts, reveled in the feel every time the head of his cock cleared her opening then plunged back inside. He sat up and wrapped her in his arms. Their hips ground together while he tasted the silky skin over her collarbone. It was the closest to heaven he’d ever been.

  Melanie began to mewl softly and he knew she was on the verge again. Their fit was so tight, so perfect. The friction on his engorged member so unbelievable. Her movements were so fluid. The moment so surreal. And when she tightened around him, completing that perfect act of coupling, he bulged, contracted and pumped as he came with her. Forcefully. Wondrously. Completely.

  He tightened his hold and muffled his pleasure against her chest, determined not to shake the rafters. And she continued to stroke him, milk him of every drop as she clung to the last remnants of her own climax.

  When gravity took hold once more, they settled back to earth in each other’s arms. As they caught their breath, he brought his hand up, moved her hair back, exposing her face as she lay panting on top of him.

  “No matter what happens from here on out,” he said quietly, “I want you to know that I have lived every day hoping to get the chance to see you again. Make love to you again. Tell you how I feel without my pride getting in the way.”

  Her eyes opened and she looked at him with wonder.

  God she was beautiful. Her flawless skin, devoid of makeup, was every bit as soft as it looked. The color of her hair blended with the heather-blue of her eyes in a way that always reminded him of summer. “I love you, Melanie,” he whispered. “Since the day you first batted those eyelashes at me.”

  She blinked slowly, shook her head. “Until today, I thought I’d never hear those words from you.”

  His regrets were many. He frowned. “Only because I was such an asshole.”

  “Shhh,” she soothed sleepily. Her breathing slowed and her words became slurred. Eyes closed. “You can make it up to me by never dying again.”

  Chapter 18

  Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

  Derek was sleeping so soundly, Melanie didn’t have the heart to wake him. They were both naked, resting on the covers, hardly decent for when Rena decided to show. But as she lay with her ear to his chest listening to his heartbeat, her fascination with him keenly outweighed her judgment.

  Splayed fingers barely hovered over the light fur covering his chest. For some reason, his living warmth felt more convincing under the verity of her fingertips, but she dared not wake him. Something told her he hadn’t slept like this in a while.

  Her stomach growled loudly against his hip. He jerked awake, blinked a moment and caught her wide-eyed stare. “What the hell was that?”

  Wow. “You really are a light sleeper now,” she responded with a perturbed smile. “It was my stomach.”

  His hand came up as he closed his eyes, combed through his hair. “You should eat something. Keep up your strength in case Rena doesn’t come.”

  It was all he thought about. Not that she could blame him, but she longed for the day he’d no longer have IGP breathing down his neck. Her fingers skimmed over the various scars he bore over healthy muscle. Some of them were obvious surgical scars, but the jagged ones... she knew those were from something much more unsavory, just like the dark set of teeth marks he’d acquired from that ghost at the service station. “What if she doesn’t?”

  Derek inhaled loudly and propped himself up, rolling her off of him in the process. He gazed down at her with sleepy eyes and a hand at her waist. “I’ll have to find out why. You’re out of here either way.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  He appeared to expect that response. “You’ll hook up with the others and wait with our son until this is over.”

  “Don’t use him to manipulate me, Derek. You’re just as important.”

  And he was still unfazed. Instead of arguing, he frowned. “How long did I sleep?”

  She frowned back. “Not long enough.”

  He made a sound of disgust, rolled off the cot. “I’ll sleep when I’m free.” He picked up the edge of the bedding and folded it over her nakedness. Before she could ask why, he was lifting the rolling metal door from the ground.

  Bare-assed, he waved Ty in from the hallway before the man could even knock.

  Denim colored eyes flitted back and forth between them. “Ain’t no time like the present,” Ty said under his breath as he ducked inside.

  Melanie buried her face, groaned. “A warning would have been nice.”

  The door thumped to the concrete and Derek went for his pants. “Couldn’t leave him standing out there with the ghosts.”

  “Your dynamic sense of hearing compels me to remind you I’m now stuck in here with one.”

  “And now you can be one, too,” Derek said sarcastically, indicating the extra uniform. “Just in case.”

  As the two bantered, Melanie was reminded of that locker-room mentality between men. “My dynamic sense of modesty compels me to ask you to turn around.”

  “Oh, sorry, Mel.” Ty turned his back and she dove for her clothes.

  Derek shrugged into the hooded top. “You came alone, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Make sure she eats something.”

  Melanie struggled into her own top and shoved the hood back to expose her scowl. “He’s not here to babysit me, is he?”

  Derek reached for a bottle of water and popped the cap. “I’m not leaving you here alone,” he said before taking a healthy drink.

  Ty, already in babysitter mode, reached for the bread and small jar of peanut butter. “You think Rena ran into trouble?”

  “I’m going to check on her.”

  “What if they catch you?” Melanie asked irritably, standing up into her hastily donned pants.

  “They won’t. I’m operating on all cylinders now.” Derek leaned over her upturned face as she tightened the strings around her waist. His eyes lingered over hers for a moment before he planted a meaningful kiss on her lips. “Hey. I love you.”

  As she searched his brave countenance for signs of reservation, Melanie fought back the feeling of abandonment. “I love you, too.” His arm came around her but she held him off. “Come back to us,” she ordered fiercely. “I mean it, Derek, failure is not an option, here.”

  Still no reservation. It made her feel somewhat better, but when he wrapped her hair around his fist and pulled her head back, she felt his strength. He kissed her vehemently and the power of it took her breath away. It was almost as if he were kissing her for the last time.

  Damn.

  His silence as he left her there was no help. When the door rolled shut behind him, Melanie willed herself not to cry. Instead, she focused her energy on the person she’d been left with. Babysitter. Mr. February. Sandwich man.

  Ty looked up. The plastic knife stilled in his hand. His eyes instantly became wary as he folded the plain slice of bread over the loaded one.

  “Who did you come with?” she asked suspiciously.

  He tore off a paper towel. “Derek and Rena.”

  “And no one else is here?”

  He handed her the sandwich. “Not that I know of.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Melanie took the offering with a raised brow. “You’re a terrible liar and easy to manipulate.”

  Ty maintained steady eye contact. “Your Jedi mind tricks won’t work on me.”

  “Perhaps.” She took a healthy bite, chewed, swallowed. “But I know Danny and my money is on her. She got you to spill this location somehow.” Another bite. “And that means Austin is here, too,” she finished through her mouthful.

  His movements were casual as he reached between his legs, pulled the metal chair up and sat. “Sorry, can’t help you.”

  Melanie shrugged a shoulder, ate and let some time pass before asking conversationally, “So, who has DJ?”

  “Some dude named Mac.”

  Her face was devoid of exp
ression. “But, Derek said he was with Austin and Danny.”

  Ty’s shoulders tensed and he leaned back with the realization he’d just been played. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” he said miserably.

  Melanie took a bite, chewed. And smiled.

  ____________

  “Rafferty. Wakey, wakey.”

  One brandy eye moved beneath a greasy lid caked with matter. They’d already removed the lacerated one, as the pristine white bandage would suggest. Now the man was sleeping it off in recovery. Alone. Unprotected.

  Derek glanced at the two bodies by the doorway. Well... at least now he was unprotected.

  “Hey, Rafferty,” he tried again. “You’re going to miss the best part.”

  Slowly, the greasy eyelid opened. No more than a little. Anesthesia made things tough for the guy, but the scalpel pointed at his one existing retina was an easy thing to understand. A harsh, guttural moan rolled inside his chest, then he coughed it out.

  “You’re getting good at this, kid.” It was no more than a slurred jumble of words.

  But Derek understood and held up the dripping IV he’d just pulled out from under the man’s skin. “You have no idea, asshole.”

  Just the thought of no more pain meds began to work on Rafferty’s psyche, just like Derek knew it would. Knew first hand. The recovery room was a small, boxy thing with no windows, poor ventilation and an ugly striped curtain Derek had grown to loath over the years.

  “You’ll be captured before that affects me.”

  “Depends on how you look at it. If you can.”

  More rasping. Rafferty attempted to move and realized his wrists were bound to the bedrails. “What are you... going to do, Bennett? Blind me?”

  “And the eardrums are next if you don’t answer my questions.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Disable your senses one by one? You bet I would. At least five blonds that I know of would appreciate the public service.”

  “But,” Rafferty coughed. “You won’t get your answers.”

  “Better than living out my miserable life as a mannequin.”

  The man’s eye closed against the threat. “But little DJ’s life could depend on you.”

  It was half expected. It was the reason Derek had paid this visit first. His life sustaining drugs were secondary to what he feared Rafferty had planned in case Melanie’s abduction went awry.

  “It’s a good thing I know you so well, Rafferty,” he said evenly. “You knew about Melanie’s son, didn’t you?”

  Rafferty’s chest moved with a humorless laugh. “I always wondered if that boy was your bastard.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t divulge that information earlier. Use it against me somehow.”

  “Sophie thought it would be... counter productive.”

  “I can only assume you no longer think so.” His only answer was a forced, poor excuse for a smile. “Who did you send?”

  “River.”

  “Just River?”

  The man tsked, gingerly stretched his neck. “You know he doesn’t play well with others.”

  “There is no airbag below you this time, gentlemen,” Derek said as he looked down the length of the twelve-story brick building. “Going up free solo is the easy part. Now we get to go down the same way.”

  He and his three students teetered on the edge, ready for the big test. River proved most worthy, having an extensive background in freerunning, the disciplined sport of tumbling, vaulting and climbing the existing environment using momentum. But his faux boyish smile wasn’t going to charm the brick into showing mercy on the way down. Derek looked at the kid who refused to wear his wavy hair shorter than six inches. A boy-band’s candidate, only his outward innocence was as counterfeit as his self-proclaimed good intentions.

  “Remember what I taught you?” he asked as the wind blew the March chill right up their shorts.

  River shook his wiry limbs, gearing himself up for his first unaided practice run. “Legs for weight, arms for balance.”

  Derek focused on the next in line. “Owen?”

  “Use only enough grip strength to keep you balanced.”

  And the next. “Why is that, Damian?”

  “To limit fatigue, sir.”

  “See that cum stain on the grass down there?”

  “You mean Rafferty?”

  “He’s assigned me the task of teaching you ghosts how to builder, not fertilize the landscape. If you fuck up, it reflects badly on me.”

  “If we fuck up, we probably die.”

  “Which reflects badly on me. Now, this is brick. Basic shit, nothing fancy or too heinous, but there are twelve stories of it. Hug it. Limit stress on your grip. Keep moving and stay on course. River. If you fall, what do you do?”

  “Tuck and roll.”

  Owen, who outweighed the kid by thirty pounds, made a sound of disgust. “He means push out as far as you can, dipshit.”

  The eye-fight that followed was typical of the two brothers. They’d been “rescued” by IGP after a July 4th prank involving homemade explosives resulted in a Hollywood fireball that killed their entire family.

  “Duke it out once we’re back on the ground, ladies,” he warned, having had to pull the two apart before. “But you’re both right since we’re keeping score.”

  Three stories down, Owen plummeted wildly to the grass below, thanks to a well-aimed kick to the face.

  Once they all reached the ground, Derek joined Rafferty and a few others as they gathered around the body of River’s last living relative.

  “Tuck and roll, dipshit,” River muttered as he was escorted to detention.

  “So, what’s the plan, Rafferty?” Derek sneered. “Bring DJ back here to use as leverage against me?”

  The man blinked, was about to go out again. “Already... tried that with your whore.”

  Which brought Derek to the only other plausible conclusion. Cold rage compelled him to move the scalpel to the spot just below the man’s right ear where he would start slowly. “You ordered River to kill an innocent child just to punish me? Do you realize how sick that is?”

  “River... didn’t even flinch.”

  The point broke skin. “How far out is he?”

  Rafferty released a pent up breath. “Too far.”

  A ribbon of blood followed the blade as it moved to the left. “We’ll do this inch by inch, man. You’ve already lost too much.”

  Someone walked into the office beyond and spotted the two bodies on the floor. They were coming fast, calling for reinforcements. Derek pulled the hood deep over his face and released the brakes on the bed. Then he positioned himself where he’d be most useful as he waited for them, scalpel at the ready.

  Chapter 19

  “In here!” Rafferty croaked. “Hurry!”

  A man and woman in scrubs hovered outside, unsure of whether to enter. Everyone was on edge, acutely aware there was a ghost who’d gone rogue... and would not discriminate when caged in. Derek stood behind Rafferty with one hand anchored below the man’s squared chin, the other poised as if about to quarter an apple. They eyed him with fear. Unable to see his face, no one knew what he would do next. The silence was deafening.

  He broke it. “Tell Sophie I’m turning myself in. But Rafferty stays with me.”

  Two more ghosts entered the scene as the female nurse picked up the phone and made the call. They flanked the wide doorway and didn’t speak. At least one he knew, the petite stature a clear giveaway. As the three squared off in silence, the male nurse worked at clearing the bodies from the floor. As the last was moved, the hood slipped back revealing the thick black brows and Roman nose of a man he recognized. It caused a reaction in the ghost on the left.

  “Angelo?” Derek asked. “That you?”

  “You know it’s me.”

  And his dead lover had just been removed from sight.

  Shit. Derek winced beneath the hood as the female nurse shouted from outside. “Miss Hellberg is on her way. S
he asked that you not do anything rash.”

  Okay. Now he only had to wait it out with an angry Cuban who was notorious for his deadly street skills. It seemed unreal that they’d all shared a meal and some laughs together a few nights ago. “Look, I’m sorry. We’re all just trying to survive here.”

  “I would’ve given a shit before you defected and started killing your own.”

  “IGP took me from my own. I was trying to find my way back.”

  “Once a ghost, always a ghost. You took the oath, just like the rest of us.”

  The oath. Derek blew air through his lips. “Rafferty’s after my fifteen-month-old son. That’s a game changer for me, something you should understand.”

  The ex street pusher who’d managed to dole out some vengeance on the Cuban drug cartel before “dying” had done so after his young daughter had become a casualty of war.

  But that was another lifetime ago. “You have no family,” Angelo retorted hotly. “That’s how this works. That’s how we exist. None of us are going to let you take us all down.”

  After a short silence, the female ghost asked, “Who’d he send?”

  But Derek was focused on the harsh fact that Angelo was absolutely right. As long as a single member of his dark brethren drew breath, even the few he called friends... he’d never truly be free. “River.”

  Angelo scoffed. “That murdering little pyro? Sorry for your loss, man.”

  Rafferty barked out a cold laugh that ended with a pained groan. “You may have joined us under different circumstances, Bennett... but you still owe us your loyalty. Your life as you knew it was over. We made it possible for you to function normally again.”

  “But the price was too high for me, Rafferty.”

  “You’re saying you’d rather live out your years in a wheelchair?”