His Thrust: A Dark Small Town Romance (Pine Grove Book 3)

by B. B. Hamel

  My heart’s beating fast as he gets close. I don’t know what this man wants, why he’s getting so close, but…

  There’s something about him. Something in his eyes. Something in the way he moves.

  I can’t help myself.

  “I don’t trust you yet,” he says softly. “You think I can just leave you? I know you’ll just disappear the first chance you get.”

  “I won’t, I don’t—”

  He steps closer, taking one wrist. I gasp and he lifts it up above my head, standing close to me. His fingers grab my other wrist and keep it pinned down at my side.

  “Enough,” he says, breath hot on my neck. “You’re going to follow my rules, little Emma. You made a promise, and now you’re going to follow through with it.”

  “I didn’t promise,” I say defiantly.

  I expect him to hit me. Every time I’ve talked back to my father, he slapped me. I’ve been slapped so many times I’ve lost count.

  But he doesn’t. He just tightens his grip on the wrist above my head and brushes his lips against my neck.

  “You did promise, little Emma,” he whispers. “You’re staying here. And in exchange, I’m keeping you out of prison. Don’t forget that.”

  I glare at him as he releases my wrists. I’m breathing fast and staring at him, and some crazy part of me wants him to take my wrists again, to pin them both above my head, to kiss my lips hard enough to hurt just a little bit.

  “Come,” he says, turning away from me.

  I follow him after a second. He leads me through the house and into the hall. There’s a big door there with a lock on the outside. He opens it and flicks on a light.

  Stairs lead down into a basement…

  “Go ahead,” he says gently. “It’s not scary. I promise.”

  I start down the steps. They’re carpeted and don’t make a sound as I descend.

  I expect cold concrete floors, cinderblock walls, maybe even chains.

  Instead, it’s entirely finished. The walls are white, but there are pictures on them. There’s a couch, a television, and even a little kitchen area toward the back. There’s another door off to the left.

  He follows me down. “Kitchen, living room, and there’s a bedroom back there.” He points at the far door. “Bathroom’s through there.”

  “It’s… an apartment.”

  He nods. “Yep. I had this built a while back, when I thought…” He trails off. “Anyway, here it is, all yours for now.”

  I can’t help myself. I let out a little laugh. “Does… it all work?”

  He cocks his head, making a face at me. “Of course it works.”

  “I mean, I get my own TV?”

  He laughs gently. “You sure do.”

  I laugh along with him, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in a long time.

  My parents didn’t let me watch much TV. We had one in the house, but it mostly played Fox News or the bible channel. I never had my own TV, never had my own anything.

  And now here I am, in my own little apartment. I can use this stuff as much as I want while I’m down here.

  I know it’s a prison. It’s a comfortable prison. But it’s also like a paradise.

  “Go ahead and get settled,” he says. “I have to go back to the station, but I won’t be late.”

  I look back at him. “I can just… stay here?”

  He grins. “That’s the deal. There’s some food in the refrigerator and some in the pantry. I’ll bring more when I have time later, but you should be fine for now.” He cocks his head, watching me closely. “Do you need anything else?”

  I shake my head. “No. This is good.”

  “Okay then. Door up there will be locked. You can try and break it down if you want, but you’ll just hurt yourself. There’s no other way up, no windows, nothing like that. I’ll check back on you later.” He turns and heads toward the stairs.

  “Wait,” I say. “You’re not… leaving me down here for a while, right?”

  “I promise I’ll be back soon,” he says. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave you alone for long.”

  I nod at him and I’m not sure if that makes me feel any better or not.

  He turns and leaves. I hear his steps softly on the stairs. The door shuts upstairs, and I hear the lock slam shut.

  I look around my new apartment. It’s my prison, my cage, but… it’s a comfortable prison. It’s the nicest damn place I’ve ever lived in my whole life.

  My parents can’t hurt me down here. They can’t beat me, scream at me, try and exorcise the demons from my body. Maybe I’m at the mercy of Rhett, but at least I have a couch and a kitchen and a bed.

  Maybe this won’t be so bad. I’ll stay until it all blows over, and then…

  Well, I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know how long I have to stay down here.

  I just hope he doesn’t leave me alone for long.

  4

  Rhett

  T he Fast Fresh is still crawling with people when I arrive not long after leaving Emma.

  My mind’s still down in that apartment with her. I wonder if she’s afraid, if she’s comfortable, if she’s too cold. I hope there’s enough food for her. I bet she hasn’t had a decent meal in a while.

  Hell, I’ll cook for her later.

  I step under the police tape and start looking at the scene. It’s much like I remember from the night before. Blood on the floor from a struggle, footprints from someone stepping in it. At least the body’s gone now.

  Evans looks up as I step into the room. He must’ve stopped back at the department to change clothes. Of course he’s spending all his time at the scene. The guy’s a good detective.

  That could be a problem.

  “Chief,” he says.

  “Detective.”

  He’s looking down where the body was, crouching on his toes, leaning forward.

  “Something I don’t get,” he says.

  “Yeah?”

  “How’d he get so far?”

  I cock my head. “What do you mean?”

  “They fought back there,” he says, pointing toward the back hall. “My bet is, as he was closing up, the killer broke in and scared him. They struggled, and somehow he ended up all the way in here.” He pauses and looks up at me. “How?”

  I shrug. “Fuck if I know.”

  He sighs and stands up, stretching. “You responded last night, right?”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  “What’d you see?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “It was dark, nobody around. Saw the blood, the body, that’s it.”

  He grunts. “How come you didn’t stay on the scene?”

  I was waiting for that question. He was patient, walking me into it a little bit before asking, but I knew he couldn’t resist it.

  “I had something to take care of,” I say. “When the other units responded, I took off.”

  He frowns. “What was more important than a murder scene?”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” I say softly, staring at him. “Just you worry about this scene.”

  He stares back at me. His face is hard, but I can tell he’s confused. He wants a straight answer out of me, hell, he expected one. But he didn’t get one, because I don’t have a fucking excuse.

  Here’s the thing about being the police chief. You can get away with a lot… but there’s also a lot of scrutiny. Someone like Evans, he could make some problems for me if he really wanted to. I don’t think he has a reason to dig too hard, but you never know.

  He’s a good detective, after all.

  I show my face and walk around the scene, making nice with the troopers, asking questions. As far as I can tell, nobody knows the girl was here, and that’s exactly the way I like it.

  Based on what I’m seeing, I think Emma is probably telling the truth. Evans is right to wonder how they ended up so far into the building, and my guess is that the victim put up a serious fight.

  No fucking way Emma could’v
e stood her ground against him. She’s small, maybe five foot five at most. He would’ve overpowered her easily.

  So that leaves her claim about another man running from the scene.

  Goddamn. She really might be an innocent bystander. I really might be keeping her safe from all this after all…

  After a few hours, I head back to my office and start on the paperwork. The thing about being a cop is there’s more paperwork than you’d ever expect. Most of my time is spent in front of the computer, typing shit up.

  I don’t stay long though. I can’t wait to get back to the house and see Emma. I’m not sure why, I don’t know the girl, and I don’t plan on fucking her just yet. I don’t plan on doing anything to her just yet.

  But I am curious about her. The way she reacted to the apartment was interesting. She’s clearly some type of drifter, running from some shit, and now I want to know what she’s running from. I want to actually know about her.

  Strange. I’ve never felt this way before.

  I finish up and head back. The house is waiting for me, quiet and dark. I turn on some lights and head into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of whiskey for myself before putting some water on to boil.

  I cook her dinner. I’m not a great cook, but I can make a half decent quick pasta sauce. I have some ground turkey, so I add that in there, and when I’m finished about an hour later, it smells pretty damn good.

  I unlock the door and head downstairs. I find her sitting on the couch, knees up to her chest, staring at the TV.

  She looks over her shoulder at me as I bring down the food. She jumps to her feet, staring at me like a wild animal.

  “I’m home,” I say. I put the bowl of pasta down on the table along with a fork, a spoon, and a napkin. “And I made some dinner.”

  She stares at the bowl, hunger in her eyes. She takes a step closer.

  “For me?”

  I nod. “Go ahead.”

  “You’re not eating?”

  “I’ll eat upstairs.”

  She looks a little disappointed. I smirk at that. She wants me to stay down here with her.

  “Okay,” she says.

  “Go ahead, sit down.”

  She walks over and slowly sits. She hesitates before taking a fork and digging in. She’s clearly still hungry, and I guess whatever I had in the pantry wasn’t enough after all.

  She digs in and looks up at me.

  “It’s good,” she says.

  “Good,” I answer, grinning. I hesitate there for a second before heading back to the stairs.

  “Wait,” she says. “You don’t have to go.”

  “I know,” I say softly. “I’ll be back. I have some clothes for you.”

  “Clothes?” Her eyebrows go up.

  “I grabbed some from the evidence room,” I say, laughing. “They won’t miss it.”

  “Are they… clean?”

  I nod. “They’re clean. I promise.”

  She bites her lip. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

  “I know you will.”

  I hurry upstairs, heart beating fast. Leaving her is hard, which is strange. I’ve never been attached before. I’ve never cared before.

  I shut the door and lock it. I head into the kitchen and sip my whiskey, picking at some of the pasta I left for myself.

  This girl is interesting. She’s naïve and inexperienced and I have no clue what she’s thinking. I mean, she’s being held captive in some strange man’s basement and yet she’s acting like it’s normal.

  God damn, it’s exciting, though. I think she might actually like it here. I think I can teach her to like it, at least, slowly but surely.

  A smile spreads across my face.

  Yeah, she’ll learn to love it. Because we never once agreed on when she would leave, and as far as I’m concerned, she’ll be here for as long as I want her.

  5

  Emma

  I t’s just spaghetti with meat sauce.

  But it tastes so, so good.

  It’s the first real meal I’ve had since my money ran out about a week ago. Nobody’s been nice enough to feed me this much, and so I’ve been living on scraps, but mostly I’ve just been hungry.

  And now he’s cooking for me. God, he’s actually cooking for me.

  I feel so stupid. I know this shouldn’t matter as much as it does, but it’s been so long since someone’s been nice to me. I mean, so many people want to use you and hurt you out on the road. I had to learn that pretty fast. Rhett might be like that, but…

  But he’s different. At least he’s different enough. He doesn’t want to just use and abuse me. He wants something else, too.

  I just don’t know what that is yet.

  I want to find out.

  After a half hour, I hear the door unlock again. I’m just cleaning off my plate as he comes down the steps, a bag held in his arms. He drops it down on the floor as puts his hands on his hips.

  “Are you cleaning?” he asks.

  I nod. “I just finished. I thought I’d wash up.”

  He laughs. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s okay. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  He cocks his head. “You’re not supposed to do anything, little Emma. Not unless I tell you to.”

  I blush a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break the rules.”

  He sighs. “Relax. You’re doing fine.” He bends over then opens the bag up. “How do you feel about getting changed?”

  I try to suppress a smile. I put the clean plate and silverware down in the drying rack and step toward him, tugging at the sleeve of my sweater. I don’t remember when I last put on something actually clean. Probably since before I left.

  “Come here,” he says, taking out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. “What do you think?”

  They’re plain but they look fine. At this point, I couldn’t care less.

  “Thanks,” I say as he hands them to me.

  I turn toward the bedroom.

  “Stop,” he says.

  I look back at him. “Sorry?”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  I stare for a second. My heart starts beating fast. I know what he just said but it’s taking my brain a second to process it.

  “You want me to… take off my clothes?”

  “Right here. Let me watch.”

  Laughter bubbles up from my chest. I’ve never taken my clothes off in front of a man before. The idea of letting him watch me get changed is… well, it’s crazy.

  But he’s not joking. He’s watching me carefully, arms crossed now. He’s so damn handsome, so intense, and I know I’m not getting out of this. As soon as our eyes lock, I know I’m going to do what he wants.

  “Take off your clothes, Emma,” he says softly.

  I put the clean clothes on the back of the couch and bite my lip. My heart’s beating so fast but I figure I’ll just get it over with. If he wants to watch me, so what, it’s not a big deal. It’s just a body.

  I start with my jeans. I unbutton the fly, unzip it, and pull them down. I’m wearing simple black panties and I suddenly feel so naked with him staring at me like that.

  His eyes roam my skin. “Turn around,” he says as I step out of my pants.

  I hesitate but I obey. I let him look at my ass, my cheeks turning bright red.

  “You have a gorgeous body,” he says softly. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

  I can’t help but laugh again. “No. God, no.”

  “Really?” He sounds surprised. “Perky, firm ass. Smooth skin. You’re very pretty. You know that, right?”

  I bite my lip and shake my head. “I don’t have a lot of experience with boys.”

  He grunts a little. “You won’t get any boys here, little Emma. There’s only me.”

  I blush some more, feeling stupid. Of course he’s not a boy. Rhett is a man, a lot older than me, a lot more experienced.

  “The panties now,” he says. “Go ahead.”

  I s
lide them down my skin. He’s watching the whole time, eyes taking in every single detail. I know this is wrong. My parents would kill me if they knew about this. I can already imagine the beating my father would give me, and my mother would tell me that I’m tainted now, that I’m broken and used and worthless.

  But I don’t feel worthless or broken. I feel good, weirdly good. All he’s doing is looking at me, but I can tell he likes what he’s seeing. I can tell he likes me.

  The thought sends shivers down my spine. I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me like this before.

  “Now the top,” he says.

  I pull my sweater off, dropping it on the pile of my clothes. This time, I don’t hesitate. I take off my bra right away.

  I let him look at me, and he lets out a soft groan.

  “Fuck,” he whispers. “Turn around.”

  I turn for him, slowly. I let him look at my body. My nipples are hard from the cold, or maybe from excitement, and I think my pussy’s wet. I can’t remember the last time I was this wet, and I’m not sure I ever have been before.

  “Fucking hell,” he says. “You’ve never let a man look at you before, have you?”

  I shake my head. I resist the urge to cover my breasts. “Never,” I admit.

  “Shit,” he whispers. “You’re perfect. Little pink nipples, perky breasts, gorgeous hips. You have no clue how gorgeous you are, little Emma.”

  I blush and cover myself now, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He shakes his head and steps closer. I think he’s about to touch me, but he stops himself.

  “Don’t cover,” he says, visibly holding himself back.

  I drop my arms. “Okay,” I say. “I won’t. If you want to look… I guess that’s okay.”

  He groans again. “It’s very okay, Emma. Fucking hell. You have no clue just how beautiful you are.”

  I’m blushing like mad and my nipples are so hard I feel like they’re going to break. I look away from him, over at the clean clothes hanging over the back of the couch.

  “Go ahead,” he says finally. “Put them on.”

  I grab the top first and pull it over my head. It’s a little big, but it’s warm and it smells like detergent. I pull on the jeans next, and they just barely fit.