Torrid Teasers Volume 22

by Jamie Hill

  "Shhh.” He slipped his hand inside her robe and caressed her breast. “Don't think so much. Unless you want to think about what we're going to be doing this afternoon. I could give you a few suggestions..."

  "Davey...” she murmured.

  "We'll play with Davey all morning, be the good little mommy and daddy, but at naptime, you're mine again."

  She started to object to his use of the word ‘daddy’ but he kissed her solidly and Sarah had to use all her strength not to melt into his embrace.

  A car pulled up outside, driving all the way around to the back of the cabin. Reid jumped to the window and pulled back the curtain. “Who the fuck is that?"

  Sarah looked over his shoulder at the sheriff's car. “Oh, that's just Pop—Cliff's father. Probably came out to check on us after the storm."

  Reid reached behind his back and pulled out Cliff's gun. “Get rid of him!"

  "What?” Sarah was stunned.

  He moved to the living room and motioned toward Davey. “We'll be waiting for you in here. Get rid of him and don't let on there's trouble, or you won't be juggling so many roles, if you get my drift.” He pointed the gun at Davey and whispered, “Pow!"

  Sarah's eyes widened and she muttered, “I didn't realize there was trouble.” She gave him one last glance and then opened the back door to the sheriff. “Hi, Pop."

  "Hey, Sarah! You and Davey make it though that thunderstorm all right?"

  "Sure, no problem,” she answered dully. How could she let him know there was a problem, without endangering her son? She glanced toward the garage, hoping maybe he'd notice the bedroll and knapsack in there, but Sarah saw the garage was fully secured. Jesus, had Reid slept at all last night, or had he spent the whole night prowling around her cabin? She looked at her father-in-law. “I hope you didn't come all the way out here because of the storm."

  "I wish,” he replied and shook his head. “A prisoner escaped from Leavenworth a couple days ago. The Feds tracked him to somewhere in this area. I wanted to give you a heads-up and make sure you were extra cautious."

  "A prisoner?” Sarah's heart sank. Why couldn't the heads-up have come one day earlier? “You wouldn't happen to have a picture of him, would you? Just in case, you know."

  "I do.” He pulled out a ‘wanted’ flyer with Reid's picture plastered all over it.

  "Shit!” she muttered.

  "Have you seen him?"

  "Oh, no. I just don't like the idea he's in the area."

  "Me either. He's a nasty one, this fella."

  Sarah looked at the flyer one last time. “It says armed and dangerous. How did he get armed?"

  "He robbed a liquor store the day he got out. Stole the owner's gun and shot him with it. Robbed a wilderness store the next day and took some camping supplies. That clerk was going to let him have whatever he wanted, but Owens shot him anyway. At least that one lived to tell about it."

  Sarah clutched the doorframe for support. “Owens?"

  "Yeah, Reid Owens, doing time for rape and murder. Don't mess with this one, Sarah. If you see anything suspicious, call me. You've got your cell phone, right?"

  "Yeah. I've got to go.” Sarah always ended her visits with Roger Carlson by giving him a hug, so she didn't this time. She started to shut the door abruptly.

  "Hey, I thought I might say hi to the little guy."

  "Davey's sleeping. You know what a late sleeper he is. We'll try to stop by and see you and Francis tomorrow when we get back into town. Bye now.” She stared at him as she closed the door.

  Sarah saw Roger hesitate, but then he got into his car and drove off. She inhaled and exhaled before she went in the living room to face Reid Owens.

  He was sitting on the arm of the chair with Davey in one hand and the gun and her cell phone in the other. He grinned and waved the phone at her.

  "You're very thorough, Mr. Owens."

  "In my line of work, you have to be."

  "What line of work is that?” She approached him and reached for Davey.

  He held the child firmly for a moment, then smiled and released him to his mother's arms.

  "I'm going to put him in his room. I'll be right back.” She sat Davey on the floor of his room and surrounded him with toys. “Play for awhile, baby. Mommy needs to talk to Reid.” She turned to leave and found him leaning in the doorway, watching her. “Get out,” she muttered to him.

  "After you.” He motioned to the front room.

  She marched into the living room and whirled to face him. “Rape and murder? God, am I ever stupid! I should have remembered that women found Ted Bundy attractive."

  He grinned and pulled her into his arms. “Wow, Ted Bundy! You flatter me. But rape is such a harsh term. Everything doesn't have to be black or white, sometimes there are just shades of gray. Like last night, I wouldn't call what happened rape, would you?” He nuzzled her neck roughly.

  "No.” Sarah sighed. “I wouldn't. Stupid, crazy lust, maybe. Stupid, definitely."

  "It was great,” he whispered to her. “I was telling the truth when I said it had been a long time."

  "With a woman, anyway. Might that explain your anal obsession?"

  He whirled Sarah around with her arm twisted behind her back, and shoved her up against the wall. “Don't get smart with me, sweetheart. There are shades of gray to murder, too. You wouldn't want anything to happen to that cute little boy of yours."

  "Please, no!” she cried. “I'll do whatever you want. Just leave Davey alone."

  "That's more like it.” He kissed her cheek. “Now why don't we go on into your bedroom, and I'll tell you exactly what I want."

  He pulled her away from the wall and Sarah looked at him. His beautiful, kind eyes looked cold and deadly this morning. And the smile that constantly graced his face looked cruel and menacing. “If you touch me today, it will be rape,” she told him.

  He shrugged and then laughed. “Won't be the first time, baby. Guess you know that by now.” He shoved her down the hallway to her room.

  "Reid, wait,” Sarah attempted to reason with him. If he wanted to have sex again, she could handle that, but if he got violent, she might not make it, and then what would happen to Davey? “It doesn't have to be rough. Can't we be gentle, like we were last night?"

  He shoved her down on the bed, flinging open her robe. “I don't recall a whole lot of gentle. I remember hard and fast, and you loving it,” he began, unzipping his jeans.

  "I never thought you were going to hurt me. Today, I don't know."

  He laughed. “That's part of the mystery, isn't it? Never knowing exactly what I might do.” He reached between her legs and fondled her roughly.

  "Reid—” Sarah began, but was interrupted by a voice in the doorway.

  "You never know what I might do, either. I could blow your head off, but that would make such a mess on Sarah's bedspread. A nice clean shot through the heart would be easy from this angle, too.” Roger Carlson leveled his gun at Reid.

  Reid still held Cliff's gun in his hand, and he fumbled to raise it as Roger's gun went off. The shot hit his forearm and Cliff's gun flew across the room.

  Sarah scrambled up and wrapped her robe around her.

  "You wanna pick up that gun, honey?” Roger asked her, his eyes and gun still focused on Reid.

  "Yes! Oh thank God!” She grabbed her gun and aimed it at Reid as Roger handcuffed him.

  Roger looked at her and smiled. “You could have said something a little less cryptic. I was halfway back to town when I realized Davey never sleeps late, and I didn't know who the hell Francis was. I figured something was up."

  Sarah smiled sadly. “He had a gun pointed at Davey."

  "You son of a bitch!” Roger growled, and shoved Reid roughly from the room. “If you harmed one hair on my grandson's head—"

  Sarah slipped into Davey's room and carried the boy out in her arms. “Davey's fine, Pop. You saved us."

  "I'm bleeding here,” Reid held up his arm.

  Roger shoved
him into a kitchen chair and fastened another set of handcuffs so Reid couldn't stand. “You're lucky to be breathing, you piece of shit."

  Sarah thrust Davey into his grandfather's arms and got a towel from the cabinet. “I'll put some pressure on the wound."

  "Don't help that animal. The Feds and an ambulance will be here any minute."

  Sarah knelt behind Reid and told her father-in-law, “I just don't want him to bleed all over the place.” She pressed the towel to his arm and he turned to watch her.

  "Did he hurt you?” Roger asked gruffly.

  Sarah and Reid looked into each other's eyes. She didn't know what he might have done if Roger hadn't arrived, but she didn't want to worry about what-ifs. They shared an amazing night together, and while he might not have been truthful with her, their feelings for each other had been extremely open and real. Shades of gray, she decided. “No, he didn't hurt me,” Sarah said to Roger, while looking at Reid.

  Reid smiled.

  WINDFALL

  by

  Jamie Hill

  She was woken abruptly with a yank to her hair and the sound of a gun being cocked in her ear.

  "Get up!"

  "Who the fuck are you?” Misty Stanton sat up quickly. She had no choice; her hair was going with or without her.

  "Mr. Davis sends his regards. Where is Benny?"

  Misty rubbed her eyes and looked at the man in the tan suit standing next to her bed. He was tall and muscular with closely cropped brown hair and a neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard. She knew him from somewhere, if she could just focus ... “Derek Richmond!” she muttered. He was the infamous henchman who did dirty work for the owner of the Atlantic City casino where Misty worked.

  "Gold star for you. I repeat, and let me advise you that I hate to repeat myself ... where is Benny Alonso?"

  She looked up at him. “Could you let go of my hair, please? I might think better if you're not yanking on my brain."

  He dropped the tuft of long brown hair and leaned down to look in her face. “I could yank that peabrain out one of your ears and shove it back in the other if I wanted to. Now you'd better start talking, or things are going to get unpleasant."

  Misty reached for her cigarettes on the nightstand and lit one. “As if they aren't unpleasant now?” She glanced at the menacing look on Richmond's face and said quickly, “Okay, okay. I'll tell you what I know, which is not much. I saw Benny at work yesterday as he was leaving his shift dealing Blackjack. He told me he had a meeting with Mr. Davis, and he'd see me at home later. I got done waitressing at eleven, but he wasn't here when I got home. I waited up for him awhile, and then went to sleep."

  "You never heard from him, and he never came home?"

  "That's what I'm telling you."

  "He never mentioned coming into a little windfall at the craps table?"

  Misty was surprised. “No, he never mentioned it."

  He grabbed her by the back of the neck and yanked her to a standing position, letting the barrel of his gun rest directly below her chin. “Why do I not believe you?"

  "I don't know,” Misty muttered nervously. “I'm telling you the truth."

  He glared at her. “So, does your scum-sucking, low-class boyfriend not come home often?” He pressed the gun into her flesh.

  "No!” she cried out, fighting back tears. She would not let this ape see her cry! But damn if he wasn't hurting her. Misty blinked rapidly; tears were still threatening as she realized things were likely to get worse.

  He glared at her for another minute and then released her.

  She took a drag of her cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray. “What's going to happen?"

  He looked around. “Mr. Davis wants his money. If Benny isn't going to stand up and face his debt like a man, then we'll have to take whatever we can get."

  "Take his debt like a man?” Misty scoffed. “What, by letting you shoot him in the kneecaps or someplace worse? I don't think he's going to do that."

  Richmond sneered at her. “In that case, he should never have borrowed money from Mr. Davis. He knew the consequences."

  Misty sighed and lit another cigarette. “Benny has a problem. You know it, Mr. Davis knows it, and I know it. Feel free to search the apartment, you won't find anything of value. If you do, you're welcome to it."

  "Oh, I intend to.” Richmond sneered at her again. “But I've already found one thing of value.” He reached out and cupped her breast through her thin nightshirt. “Minimal value, for sure, but apparently, worth something."

  Misty slapped his hand away and glared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I have my orders,” he informed her. “If Benny doesn't have the money, I'm to take care of him and bring you back to Mr. Davis."

  Her jaw dropped open. “You can't be serious."

  "Do I look like I'm joking?"

  He didn't. Misty gulped and said softly “But I work for Mr. Davis."

  "I'd guess you're going to be working for him in a different capacity now.” He smiled evilly. “Unless he sells you to one of his foreign associates. They're always in the market for semi-attractive American women."

  "You son of a—” She kicked his shin and he grabbed her wrists. Misty dropped her cigarette and Richmond stepped on it, grinding it out into the carpet.

  "I'll give you five minutes to get ready to go. Put some clothes on, for crissakes.” He eyed her body disgustedly. “No one should have to see that this early in the morning."

  "You're a real charmer, you know that, Richmond?” She pulled away from him and reached for her jeans and a sweater.

  "Just get ready,” he muttered as he started searching dresser drawers and throwing things out on the floor. “Don't try anything funny. It wouldn't break my heart to take you back with a bullet hole in you."

  "Fuck you,” Misty snarled at him, and slammed the bathroom door between them. She used the toilet and dressed quickly, pulling her long hair back into a ponytail. Her mind was racing; she had to figure a way out of this situation, and she had about three minutes to do it.

  Two and a half minutes later, she didn't have any answers, but she did have an ace in the hole. She dug through her box of tampons for the little jeweler's bag she had hidden there. No man would be caught dead looking in there, especially Benny. She wasn't sure about Derek Richmond; he didn't seem to be a typical man.

  Misty tucked the bag into her pocket. It contained several pieces of her grandmother's jewelry, and the last time she checked, they were valued at nearly fifty thousand dollars. She never told Benny, because he would have pawned the jewelry and gambled the money away. The jewels had always been her insurance policy, and now hopefully, they might be enough to get her out of the situation that lowlife Benny had put her in.

  "Let's go!” Richmond pounded on the bathroom door.

  Misty opened it and smiled at him. “Always the gentleman.” She glanced around the apartment and saw that he made the most out of his five minutes—nothing was untouched, and the place was in shambles. “I don't suppose you're going to pick up after yourself?"

  He snorted and grabbed her arm. “This place is a pit, anyway. I think I saw a cockroach."

  "Just one?” She raised her eyebrows and he shoved her toward the door. “Hang on!” Misty grabbed her cigarettes and purse before he pushed her out into the hall.

  "Leave it to a classy dame like you not to mind cockroaches."

  "I work with worse cockroaches than I live with.” She cast a disparaging glance at him, and he laughed as he shoved her into the elevator.

  "You're a tough little bitch, aren't you?” He stabbed at the button for the first floor, and the doors closed.

  Misty didn't reply, she leaned into her own corner of the elevator and crossed her arms. They had ten floors to go, and then they would be on the street level, where lots of people milled around. She wondered if she could get away, or at least get someone's attention. Richmond had holstered his gun under his jacket, but she knew he was probably a
damned quick draw. She was trying to figure out a strategy when the lights went out and the elevator jerked to a stop.

  "What the fuck?” Richmond muttered, and then a dim light popped back on.

  "Generator lights,” Misty told him.

  "What happened?"

  "The elevator got stuck, big brains. Look.” She pointed to the digital numbers which were wavering. “We're in between six and five."

  "You've got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered again, and swore some more under his breath.

  Misty shrugged. “Happens all the time."

  He whirled to face her. “So what do you do?"

  She leaned back against the wall. “Relax and wait. It'll start moving eventually. It's the only elevator in the building. Someone will call the super, and he'll eventually show up or send someone."

  "Eventually?” Richmond's eyes widened.

  She shrugged again. “The elevator is under contract to a repair company, and if they have a service tech in the area, it might not take too long. One time, I was stuck in here for three hours."

  "Three hours?” His eyes bulged, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow. “Is there enough air?"

  Misty smiled. “You're afraid!"

  "I am not!” he barked at her, but he continued wiping his brow.

  "You're a big-fucking-baby scaredy-cat!” She laughed out loud.

  He drew back his jacket and showed her his weapon, and she stopped laughing. “I just don't like tight spaces,” he mumbled.

  Misty slid down the wall into a seated position, and hugged her knees. “So, you don't like it tight, huh?"

  He gave her an evil glance and sat opposite her, with his legs stretched out. He had long legs, she noticed.

  "What was I thinking?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, studying the face of it.

  "You were probably thinking, ‘damn, there's no service in here.’”

  He glanced up at her, irritated, and dropped the phone back in his pocket. “So much for that bright idea. You got any ideas?"

  "Yeah.” She leaned her head back against the wall. “A nap sounds pretty good."

  "We really have to sit here and do nothing?"