by Sharon Sala
Jesse felt him begin to shake, felt the desperation in his grasp, and tightening her hold on him, breathing a prayer of thanksgiving that he was alive and in her arms.
Minutes passed. They were surrounded by OSBI and Captain Shockey, all wanting answers to their questions. They wanted to know what had tipped him off. How had he realized who was the mastermind behind Jesse’s failed kidnapping? Finally King had enough.
“We’re going home,” he said tersely, daring anyone to argue. “If you have any other questions, come to the ranch, or call. You have our number.”
No one disagreed as King ushered Jesse toward the car.
“King,” Jesse said. “Let me drive.”
He looked down at the concern on her face, and the way she kept holding back tears. His mind was blanking out. Whenever there was a lull in the conversation, King saw that last look on Duncan’s face over and over. He knew if he got behind the wheel of the car, he wouldn’t see traffic. He wouldn’t hear anything but Duncan’s last accusations flung into his face.
He nodded, opened the door on the driver’s side for Jesse, then hurried around to get in. A KTUL camera crew had just arrived. He had no desire to be on the six o’clock news.
“We’re home,” Jesse said quietly. She pulled into the long driveway and looked at King with a worried expression in her eyes. He’d ridden the entire trip without speaking a word.
He blinked, looked up with a startled expression, and then wearily wiped his hands across his burning eyes.
“How am I going to tell everyone?” he muttered. “What do I say? Oh, by the way, Duncan is dead now? He hated me so much that when his plan to get even failed, he shot himself?”
“King,” Jesse rebuked softly. “It’s not your fault. Nor is it mine. I could be sitting here telling myself that if I’d loved him, instead of you, you’d both be alive. The world does not run on ‘what ifs.”’
King glanced sideways at Jesse, grimaced, and then opened the door.
“I’ll tell Maggie, I’ll find the words…somehow.”
“We’ll tell her together, King,” she replied, as she walked beside him toward the house. She slipped her hand in his and squeezed gently. “We’ll tell them all together.”
Somehow the deed had been accomplished. Uttering the words aloud had, in some way, increased the horror. But the telling was over. Now all they had to do was bury Duncan and get on with their lives. It was easier said than done.
* * *
It was late as Maggie bid good night and finally departed to her bedroom for a much needed rest. Jesse walked through the house, moving quietly on bare feet as she checked the locks on the doors. This was usually something King did, but not tonight. Jesse knew a nightly routine would be the last thing on his mind.
The memorial service had been disastrous. How could one mourn the loss of a stranger? That’s what Duncan had become. All Jesse had been able to do was say a prayer, hoping he’d find a peace that had escaped him in life elsewhere. She hadn’t known what King was thinking during the services. He’d remained too silent, watching it all from a distance, not allowing himself to grieve in any manner. As soon as they’d come home, King shut himself in the den…away from phone calls…away from sympathy or pity.
But it was late, and Jesse had worried herself into tomorrow. King had had enough time alone. She was going in, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
She opened the door and stood silently in the doorway, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside.
“Close the door.”
King’s voice came out of the shadows and Jesse stepped inside, complying with his gruff order.
“Where are you?” Jesse asked softly, and started to turn on the lamp beside the door when another order in the form of a plea stopped her hand.
“Don’t turn on the light, please.”
Jesse followed the sound of his voice to the long, overstuffed leather sofa in the middle of the room. She stopped as her foot touched the corner, walked around behind the sofa, and traced her hand along the cushions and down the side until she felt the uneven rise and fall of King’s bare chest.
“Sweetheart,” Jesse said, and then felt King clutch at her hands in desperation.
“Come here,” he coaxed, as he reached upward, pulling Jesse gently off her feet and over the back of the sofa until she lay stretched full length on top of him.
He clasped her face in his hands and ran the tips of his thumbs carefully along the line of her cheeks down to the corners of her mouth, before he pulled her into his kiss with a low, hungry groan.
He drank from the comfort of Jesse’s touch, seeking solace from her taste just as he’d sought solace from the empty glass and half-empty bottle on the floor beside the sofa. Neither took away the slow burn inside his belly.
Finally he released Jesse’s mouth and buried his face in her hair.
“I can’t make it go away,” King whispered hoarsely. “I can’t even get drunk. Help me, Jesse Rose. Just help me get through tonight.”
King felt her tears fall in sparse sprinkles on his face and neck, as her mouth captured the sun-tanned skin on his body in sharp, hungry bites. She moved silently over him, feeling with every caress of her fingers the growing urgency and need in his body.
King yearned for Jesse in a way he’d never imagined possible. Tonight, they both needed to be reminded of life—death had been too near.
King lay still, a willing victim of Jesse’s tender mercies. When he heard her removing her clothing in the thick darkness, he quickly followed suit.
Suddenly there was no time for pretense, no time left to wait for the passion to build. Urgency took away what was left of will power as King took Jesse into his arms in one powerful motion, and drove his hard, aching body into her sweet warmth with a desperate thrust.
The sensation was devastating. Every muscle in Jesse’s body tensed and then pulsed around and on King. She felt him begin to shudder, heard the harsh gasps for breath as he thrust into her again and again.
Tiny moans slipped between their mouths as Jesse took King’s breath and traded it for her own. Her hands clasped tightly behind his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper and deeper into the only solace she could provide.
Release came suddenly in the form of a white-hot flash of pleasure that sent them both falling backward onto the sofa in weak relief.
Jesse sat straddling his lap, as King buried his face in the gentle swell of her breasts beneath his searching hands. She felt the tension flowing from his shoulders and his heartbeat kick into a lower rhythm as all sense of desperation and urgency passed in the quiet darkness.
“I love you, King McCandless,” Jesse whispered as she gently brushed the damp locks of his hair from his forehead.
King sighed softly and pulled her into a fierce hug of thanksgiving. He just wished he could love himself. Maybe then this awful, growing guilt would disappear and he could love Jesse back the way she deserved to be loved.
* * *
The following week was a nightmare Jesse feared would never end. It began with continuous phone calls, most from old friends, some from journalists, looking for a new angle to an old story.
The more confusion that erupted, the further King withdrew. He didn’t communicate with anyone unless he had to. Even Jesse suffered from his long bouts of moody silence. She knew he’d eventually come to realize none of this had been his fault, but it would take time. Nothing she nor anyone said now was getting through to him. He needed time. She was going to give it to him.
She had to go back to St. Louis and tie up the loose ends of her old life. She was ready for a new one.
“Maggie,” Jesse called down the hallway, “is Turner outside yet?”
“No, honey. But he should be here soon. Need any help?”
“No,” she answered, and dashed breathlessly into the living room where Maggie stood watching for her ride to the airport. “I’m just taking an overnight bag. I don’t pl
an on being gone more than a day…two at the most. I’ll spend the night with my friend Sheila, and use the day to finalize my errands. I’ll be home before you know I’m gone.”
“I already miss you, honey,” Maggie said, hugging Jesse quickly, then returning to her vigilant post as lookout for Turner and his pickup truck.
Jesse had tried several times over the last few days to talk to King. She wanted to tell him about her need to go back to St. Louis for a short time. She had a buyer for her house, and needed to see her principal at the school and get an official release from her teaching contract.
But each time she broached the subject, King would plead an urgent duty or totally ignore her efforts to get close. He wouldn’t touch her except in the most casual of manners. It was as if their time together had never existed. Jesse was staying in her own room again, alone and frustrated at King’s refusal to share his sorrow with anyone. He wouldn’t even admit he felt sorrow, when in fact he was utterly miserable.
“He’s here!” Maggie called. And, before she knew it, Jesse was gone. She had a feeling that when King came home tonight, he wasn’t going to like this one bit.
A long, hungry rumble accompanied the clouds darkening the sky over Tulsa. Maggie looked anxiously out the window and muttered, “Lord, if you’re just teasing, stop it right now. We’ve needed rain too long to be disappointed again.”
But the thunder continued, and the sky got darker and darker. Maybe this time it was finally going to rain.
* * *
King hammered the last nail in place in the big gate separating the house and cattle pastures. His muscles ached, his blue chambray work shirt had a three-cornered tear Maggie was going to fuss about, and the perspiration had plastered his Levi’s to his long legs with stubborn stickiness. He was tired, dirty, and hadn’t felt this good in weeks. Maybe when he got home this evening, he could talk Jesse into going out for dinner, that is, if she was still talking to him.
He knew he’d been uncommunicative. He knew he should have been able to talk to Jesse, but somehow he just couldn’t. He felt so responsible for what had happened to her, and he kept remembering how he’d wanted to kill the man who’d hurt her. No matter what his brain kept telling him, his heart told him differently. Duncan was dead, and he’d watched it happen.
But over the past few days, being back at the ranch and working long, hot hours either with the men or alone, he’d begun to heal.
Thunder rumbled across the sky. He looked up in surprise. He hadn’t noticed the air cooling, or the sky darkening. He whistled for Tariq, who was grazing aimlessly along the fence line, and watched with admiration as the beautiful animal jerked his head up and answered his call on the run.
“Come on, boy,” King murmured, as he slipped his tool belt into the saddle bag. “We better get off this hill before we fry.”
He wasn’t anxious to be a target for the lightning he saw in the gathering clouds. “Let’s go home.”
King made it to the house just ahead of the first deluge. The clouds opened and literally poured water onto the arid land. The drought was over.
“Where’s Jesse?” King asked, as he wandered back to the kitchen where a very stern Maggie was preparing the evening meal.
“Gone,” she announced shortly. She, too, was irked at King’s continuing silences. If he’d listened, he would have known where Jesse had gone.
King felt the floor tilt beneath him. A dull, aching throb began behind his eyelids. He could barely speak.
“Where?” he asked softly.
“St. Louis,” Maggie replied. “She tried to tell you for three days, but you were too busy to listen. It couldn’t wait any longer.”
“She left me?” King whispered, and sank down to the bar stool behind him.
Maggie relented at the look of utter desolation on King’s face. He’d suffered enough the last few days to last a lifetime.
“She’ll be back,” Maggie said, and walked over to King. “Come here, boy,” she said softly. “I need a hug.”
King felt her arms go around his neck as she pulled his head down on her ample shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he said, past the ache in his throat. He relished the familiar comfort, yet the empty spot in his heart continued to grow wider. He fiercely returned her hug.
“I’m not the one you need to be saying that to, mister,” Maggie said. She planted a swift kiss on his cheek, then turned and busied herself back at the sink. She didn’t want him to see her cry.
Maggie needn’t have worried. King couldn’t have seen her tears for the ones blinding him. He walked slowly out of the house and stood beneath the shelter of the porch as the rain continued to fall, washing the trees and the land clean from the long months of stifling dust and heat, as it washed the last remnants of guilt from King’s soul. He watched the day end with a promise in his heart of a better tomorrow.
* * *
“I need a one-way ticket to St. Louis,” King growled. He couldn’t believe he was actually getting back on a damn airplane. But it was the fastest way to get to Jesse.
“Yes, sir,” the lady behind the ticket counter replied. “Moving, are you?”
“No!” King answered, ignoring the curious look on the woman’s face.
“Have you checked your baggage?” she asked, stamping his ticket, then handing it back across the counter.
“Don’t have any,” King said shortly, then glared, daring her to continue her nosy harangue. “I’m coming back today.”
“Then you’ll want a round-trip ticket,” she announced, and started to pull the ticket away.
“No, I don’t,” he argued, and stuffed the ticket in his pocket. “This is the last time I willingly get on an airplane. I’m coming home today. If I have to, I’ll buy a car, but I won’t get back on another damn tin bird.”
He walked away, already dreading the sick sensation of lifting off the ground and the feeling of being out-of-control. Jesse better know how much he loved her, because he wouldn’t be able to do much more than shake when he arrived.
* * *
Jesse folded the last of the clothes she intended to take back to Tulsa, and piled the rest in a stack headed for Goodwill.
The painters had done a good job of cleaning up her bedroom, yet she could hardly bring herself to stay long enough in it to get her belongings. Too many bad memories hung heavily in the air. Her principal was more than happy to release her from her contract. The certified substitute he hired had proven to be a good teacher. It was going to work out nicely all around.
Jesse said goodbye to her friend Sheila, made promises to visit, and breathed a sigh of relief. Now all she had to do was load her car and she would be on her way home…to King. When she got back, if she had to, she’d kidnap him until he stopped this foolish silence. King was just going to have to learn how to share more than his body with her. She smiled a slow, secretive smile, and thought to herself, But, his body was a good place to start the sharing process. We’ll take it from there.
She worked in comfortable silence until the ringing doorbell interrupted her progress. Assuming that it was probably Goodwill coming to pick up her clothing donation, she got the shock of her life when a man’s large shadow loomed in the doorway.
“King!” Jesse cried. “Honey, are you all right?”
The look of desolation in his eyes scared her silly. Had something else happened? She was almost afraid to ask as she pulled him by the arm into her house.
“You left me,” he accused in a husky voice.
Jesse breathed a relieved sigh, threw her arms around him in a boisterous welcome, then began kissing his shirt front. It was as far as she could reach.
“Didn’t Maggie tell you?” Jesse asked, as she cupped his face in her hands. “I tried to, but you wouldn’t listen…and this couldn’t wait.”
King closed his eyes, turning his face into the palm of her hand, tracing her lifeline with the tip of his tongue, then grabbed her roughly and pulled her off the floor.
>
“Jesse,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m so sorry, baby, I know I should have been able to talk…especially to you. But somehow it got all twisted up in my head. I felt like it was my fault. It took days for that feeling to lessen. I need you to make it go away.”
“Sweetheart,” she murmured, and brushed her mouth softly across his lips. “You already have me. You didn’t need to follow me here. You should have known I’d be back.”
King watched the love in her eyes grow, and felt a healing warmth flow between them.
“I love you so much, Jesse Rose.”
“I love you, too, King. But you should have trusted me. I wouldn’t leave you…not again.”
“I know that, baby,” he said gruffly.
“Then why are you here?” Jesse asked, as King lifted her into his arms.
“I’m just doing what I should have done three years ago, Jesse Rose. I’ve come to take you home.”
* * * * *
L.A.P.D. Detective Jake McAllister has his work cut out for him trying to identify and capture a serial killer hunting women. The last thing he needs is victim rights’ advocate Kyra Chase included on his taskforce. He senses trouble whenever she’s around, and not just to his hardened heart. It also seems she might have a very personal connection to this most challenging of cases…
Keep reading for a sneak peak of The Setup, the first book in A Kyra and Jake Investigation, from Carol Ericson.
PROLOGUE
Rule number four. The victim should never be someone you know.
He screwed up his face and squinted at the girl curled up in the back seat of his car. He didn’t really know Kelsey. Seeing her around, knowing her name—that didn’t count, did it? He hadn’t known Shelby or Marissa, either. They didn’t know his name, had barely given him the time of day.