by Ker Dukey
I stand. “But you can’t go back to your apartment. It’s a murder scene now.”
I peer over at him, my muscles tensing. “You think he killed her there?” Scenarios play without permission through my head. How? When?
Unbuttoning his jacket, he pushes it aside and buries his hand in his pocket, the gun holstered to his ribcage. “No, but we need to be sure.” How easy would it be for a Willis of the world to tackle him and relieve him of it?
“Lizzy?” I jerk my head from his gun to his eyes.
“You’re free to leave.”
When we get to the foyer, my stomach dips. It’s dark outside. How long have we been here? “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he comes around me, opening the door.
“Yes,” I lie. I haven’t even thought about where I’ll go. I just want out of here.
When I step out onto the street, Stephan and Charlotte are there waiting for me. “We thought he was going to keep you all night. Do they really believe you could have something to do with this?” Charlotte looks tired. Dark bags swell beneath her eyes.
“It’s routine. Don’t worry,” I try assuring her, but there’s no conviction behind it. I’m not sure what I believe anymore.
“We should go,” Stephan blurts out, and a wave of déjà vu blasts through me. We’re here again, going around and around the bodies piling up.
“Where are we going to go?” Charlotte shivers, rubbing her arms.
“Maybe I need to get out of town,” I announce. “It would be safer for you all.”
“No,” Charlotte snaps, tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder. “Don’t let him drive you into isolation.”
“Who’s he?” Stephan asks, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Are there things you’re not telling me?”
“Yes.” Charlotte narrows her eyes on him. “Of course there are. You’re the friend who has a crush on her, I’m the best friend who is more like a sister, so she tells me more.”
Grabbing her wrist, Stephan grits his teeth. “You’re over the damn line again.”
“Ouch, you bastard! Let go!” she moans, tugging to no avail.
“Stephan,” I warn, shaking my head and pulling his arm away from her.
“Whatever. I’m sick of this bitch. I’m out,” he sneers.
Spinning on Charlotte, I growl, “Do you have to antagonize him?”
Raising her chin, she jerks her shoulder, calling out to his retreating form, “Yo, Stephan.” When he turns, she flips him the bird before turning to me. “Yes, I do.”
Irritated, I jerk down on my sleeve. “What are we going to do now? He was our ride.”
Tapping me on the shoulder, she turns my body. “We have another.” Jack. He’s sitting at the curb in his car, his eyes glued on me. “Come on.” Charlotte yanks me. “For the record, I don’t trust him, but it’s cold, and I don’t want to sleep in my crappy car.”
Smiling over at her, I slip into the car, grateful she took the backseat this time.
Twenty-Three
The yellow tape covers our closed door as we pass it on the way up to Jack’s apartment. It still feels too close—that poor woman stuffed into a duffle bag beneath the place where I shower. A tremor vibrates through my body as I linger my gaze on the door. Jack’s large hand encompasses mine, squeezing. “Come on.” He nods his head to the stairs.
Once inside, Charlotte whistles, turning in a circle in the center of the room. “Wow. You’re a neat freak?”
“I like order. My upbringing was chaotic,” he tells her, placing his keys in a decorative dish and going into the open-plan kitchen, getting out some glasses. “I have water, wine, whiskey.”
“Ohhh, wine for me, please.” Charlotte grins, running her hand down the drapes as she moves around the room.
“Thanks again for letting us crash here tonight.” I take a seat on the stool opposite him.
“Of course.” He uncorks a bottle of red and pours two glasses, pushing mine across the counter with a heart-stopping smile.
“Do you have a TV?”
Darting his eyes up to Charlotte, his jaw ticks. “No.”
“Boring.” She huffs, throwing herself down on his couch, pulling out her cell phone and flitting her thumbs over the screen.
“You must be hungry,” he asks me, studying, dissecting.
“Starving,” Charlotte booms. “Do you have any potato chips?”
“Charlotte,” I groan.
I feel her eye-roll as she gets to her feet, storms over to us, takes my glass of wine, and gulps it down like its water. “I’m out of this snoozefest! Don’t wait up.” She waves her phone and moves toward the front door.
“Charlotte,” I admonish. “You can’t be serious. We found our neighbor in a fucking duffel bag this morning.”
“I know. You have your way of dealing, being a frigid mope, and I have mine.” She kisses her fingers and places it at her crotch, flashing me the phone screen with her dating app up.
“Being a callous slut?” Jack snorts.
“Fuck you, Clark—or Jack—or whoever the hell you are. You could be the one who put her there for all we know and here we are waiting to be your next victim.”
“Charlotte,” I hiss, getting up and pushing her to the door, closing it behind us. “What the hell was that?”
Leaning back against the railing, she crosses her ankles, looks down at them, and says, “He called me a slut.”
“Before that, why are you being a bitch?”
Exhaling, she rubs her palms down her face and shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know. I feel out of sorts. I’m going to chill with a friend for the night. Give you two some space. I swear, being around you two is like living in a teen movie.”
When I just stare at her with a what the hell look, she elaborates. “The freaking tension is suffocating. You need to bone already.”
“You just called him a murderer not five seconds ago.”
Shrugging, she says, “Yeah…well, I don’t think murdering you is what he has on his mind. Unless he’s murdering your pussy.”
I cover her mouth with my hand and narrow my gaze. “You’re so gross. Go, but text me to let me know you’re okay later.”
“I will. He’s picking me up right outside.” She kisses my cheek and is down the first flight of stairs before she calls up, “Sorry for being a bitch. You know I love you, right?”
“I love you too, asshole,” I say down to her. I’m scared of the way she’s dealing with this. We found our neighbor in a duffle bag, and she seems perfectly okay. We knew that woman, saw her life through our window every day.
“Everything all right?” Jack asks, frowning when I come back inside.
“Yeah. She’s just been through a lot and has her own way of dealing.”
“I was out of line. I just didn’t like the way she was speaking about you.”
Sighing, I re-take my seat and play with the stem of the glass. “I think we’re all a little frayed from…well, everything.” Will she have her breaking point when it all hits her at once and she crumbles?
Pouring a fresh glass of wine and picking up what looks like dusted doughnuts, he comes around the counter and takes my hand, leading us over to the couch.
“You said before you don’t think this is Willis.” I gulp down the nerves chewing away inside me. I take one of the balls and devour the sugary goodness, my stomach twisting in pain from the intrusion of solids. “Do you know where he is?”
Leaning back into the cushions, he jerks his head. “I do.”
Thud.
Trembles dance through my fingers. “Is he here?”
What if he sees him, speaks to him? Have I been reckless letting Jack in?
“No. I’d never allow him to touch you.” His scoots forward, his strong palm cradling my cheek. He’s so soft, yet his strength emanates from him in waves. “Lizzy, he never once mentioned you. We didn’t have TVs, so he didn’t watch the news. We lived in derelict farmhouses away from civilization. He only left for fo
od and to hunt.” A cold shiver snakes through me. He doesn’t mean hunt animals. No, he means girls, victims.
“Then who could be doing this?” I exhale. I’m not sure which is scarier: it being Willis or it being someone new, someone replicating, fixating on the past.
“Whoever it is, I’m going to find them, and when I do—”
“What?” I ask, moving closer, placing the half-eaten doughnut down. His allure is intoxicating. Like a magnet, my body senses the pull. “Is that what all those pictures and clippings are for? Are you tracking him?”
“That’s what I do, Liz. I hunt. I’m a hunter.” Nerves zap around inside me. I don’t know what to make of it all.
“Tell me what you want, Lizzy. What do you want from me?” His voice is hushed, a silk hint to it—a promise.
“For the longest time, I wanted you to release me. I needed closure from you. To let you go. But I never could,” I say honestly.
“And now?” He drags me closer, and I crawl across the couch to be near him, climbing into his lap. A sense of need stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before hums in my veins, like the ache of an addiction desperate for medicine. Feed me.
My heart rushes, and butterflies flutter in my stomach. Reaching out, he swipes the pad of his thumb across the corner of my mouth, making me shiver. He pulls it away and shows me the sprinkling of sugar, then sucks it into his mouth, slow, deliberate. My thighs squeeze together in response. I feel hazy, like I drank the entire bottle of wine—and I like it. I need it after today. I need to forget, if only for a moment. Visions of us naked and writhing on each other assault me. I gulp, looking away from him. I’m positive there’s a crimson blush creeping over my neck and up my cheeks.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice a raspy tone that delights me in parts that haven’t been touched in a really long time.
Is this normal? To feel such a quick, intense connection with someone?
Grasping my jaw, he tilts my chin, “Penny for them?” He brushes his fingers across the nape of my neck. A shock of electricity shoots down my spine, pooling between my legs. Desire burns, fire raining down all around us, setting us ablaze.
“What do you need?” he groans, long fingers sliding into my hair and tugging, exposing my throat.
“I need you,” I moan.
The tension in his body dissipates as he dilutes right in front of me, a sigh wisping from his lips as our eyes lock, and our souls greet their mate re-introducing old friends to the new bodies they inhabit. “You’re so fucking beautiful. More so than I could ever have imagined.”
The clothes are yet another barrier, stopping us from connecting on the level we so desperately need.
“Jack,” I moan, writhing. Tightening his hold in my hair, he drags me forward, his lips latching onto mine in a dominating, heart-rendering kiss. Everything heats as the clash of two forces detonate. His touch is claiming. His hot tongue begs for entry. And I give it. I let go and give in to the need.
At the heart of all this darkness, we seek comfort and light within each other.
Tearing at each other’s clothes, wild and free, we touch, feel, seek more. Lips caress over fevered flesh. Lifting me, he twists our bodies almost violently, placing me beneath him, demanding my legs to part with a nudge of this thighs. Teeth nip at my skin. His hands are everywhere, exploring, tantalizing.
Inhaling sharply, he hesitates, resting his forehead against mine. “Is this real?” he gasps, sweat coating his skin.
“Yes.” I recapture his lips, wrapping my legs around his waist and grinding myself against him, offering, giving permission.
Grasping the back of my neck, his kiss grows rough, possessive. His hard bulge grinds against the apex of my thighs, stroking. Wet need soaks my panties. Tilting my head back to give him access to my throat, I squeeze his ass, pushing him farther into me, needing the friction. When my eyes flutter open, a mirage takes form. My nightmares creep to the surface, taking over my reality. Bracing up, Jack’s powerful shoulders tower above me. The grip of his fingers closes around my throat, and panic seizes my lungs. Visions of my neighbor lying looking up at her killer, dying in fear and all because of me, barrel into me.
“Liz?” Jack croaks, and tears burn the corners of my eyes. I slap at him, my body twisting and turning, struggling to free myself. Jumping up, he scurries away from me, his skin almost white, hands out in front of him. “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”
I claw at my throat, desperate to get oxygen into my lungs. A sob pushes its way out as I collapse to the floor.
“I don’t know what to do. Can I touch you?”
Embarrassment and guilt taunt me as the panic subsides. I look up to see Jack terrified. “I’m sorry,” I sob. I’m in his arms in seconds, the strength of him protective. “I’m sorry.”
“Shhh…it’s okay.”
Encompassing me into his arms, he carries me to the kitchen, placing my butt on the counter. A cold breeze blows over my skin, reminding me we’re both topless. Jack’s body is covered in little scars I hadn’t noticed when ravishing him earlier. Toned muscles strain as he pours water into a glass and passes it to me. “Drink.”
“I don’t know what happened.”
Tucking my hair behind my ear in a gentle, affectionate motion, a ghost of a smile touches his lips. “You’ve been through so much.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, closing his eyes briefly. “Too much.”
“So, have you,” I murmur, swigging from the glass and pulling his body between my legs, my fingers dance over the tiny bumps on his chest. “What about all you’ve been through?”
Taking the glass, he kisses the fingertips. “None of that matters now.”
My body sags against his, flesh to flesh, my heart hammers against the ribcage, arousal blooming. “Take me to your bed, Jack,” I beg.
I catch him off guard, his head jerks back, wary eyes search my features for reassurance. “Please,” I beg.
Twenty-Four
Giddiness and nerves fight for dominance inside me as we crash down onto his mattress, I yank at the buttons on his jeans, using my feet to aid them loose. Hungry lips latch onto my nipple, grazing with his teeth before suckling to soothe the sting of sweet torture. Sitting up on his knees, he keeps his eyes locked on mine as he drags my panties down my thighs, bringing my body to life. Using his lips, he traces a path back up my leg, biting the soft flesh of my inner thigh, leaving his mark before dipping between the apex. My chest hitches. Am I dreaming? Digging my hands into his hair, I move him where I need him. When he swipes out with his hot, delicious tongue to part my folds, it sends electric pulsing through my bloodstream. The sensation is so exquisite, I could come from that alone. My thighs encase him as he works me over, tasting, flicking, sucking. My eager body responds to his every touch, writhing, begging for more. When his fingers push inside, peace washes over me. Heat blooms up my cheeks, across my chest. Surrendering moans of approval echo around the room. His returning growls make me feel alive, sexual, beautiful. Stretching his fingers deeper, he curls them to stroke the little bundle of nerves to send me spiraling into ecstasy. Every part of me is hyperaware. Overwhelming pulses of euphoria flood through my veins when I reach the peak of my orgasm, my body shuddering, toes curling. Fuck.
“You’re so beautiful.” He traces his lips up my body, capturing my nipple and sucking before moving to my neck, chin, lips. The hard length of his cock strokes through my folds, each divine movement eliciting shockwaves of arousal. Reaching between our bodies, I take his thick cock in my hand, making him hiss. Rubbing the pad of my thumb through the beads of precum before lining him where I need him, I use my legs to force his ass forward. Inch by delectable inch enters me, stretching me open, filling me up. Consumed with need, he thrusts hard, rough. “Fuck…more…” I cry out, meeting each thrust with an uplift of my own. We’re lost to the rhythm, hypnotized by the sensation coursing through us both, every kiss driving out all the fear and doubt. I’m floating at the hei
ght of bliss and I never want to come down.
I wake to my cell phone chirping, my aunt calling for the thousandth time. I mute the ringing, knowing I’ll have to call her later or she’ll show up here.
Every part of me aches in ways I’ve never felt before. I wasn’t a virgin, but sex with Jack was mind-altering and body-exhausting in the most delicious of ways. “You smell so good.” He hums against my skin, kissing a path down to my navel. I’m sure I smell of sweat and sex, but I won’t stop him. “What do you want to do today?” he asks, moaning while kissing my inner thigh. This. I want to do this all day, every damn day.
“I need to go to the store, then I have a shift at Marley’s,” I groan, my breath hitching when his lips kiss over my mound.
“Really?” he teases, swiping his tongue, making my body shiver from his touch on my sensitive clit. “Can you not take a day off?” Swipe.
“He’ll dock my pay,” I moan, pulling the pillow over my face and biting down.
“I’ll give you money.” My pleasure turns to laughter, and then I’m writhing in rapture.
Twenty-Five
The air is thick today. Gray storm clouds loom above, threatening. I read a text from Charlotte letting me know she’s at work and survived the night with a knife emoji, asking, DID YOU?
I tease her back with a BARELY. Smiling, I slide my phone back into my pocket. Rain tap dances over the windshield as we pull into the supermarket parking lot. Taking a breath, I smile over at Jack. “I won’t be long.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” A line appears on his forehead.
“No. Stay here and keep dry.” Leaning over, I kiss his lips, knowing we’re not going to be able to stay in this bubble long. People need to know Portland’s Lost Boy is alive and here. My aunt deserves to know. I need to call her.
Rain hammers down as I open the door. I didn’t bring a coat, so I make a dash for the doors, managing to only get half-soaked.
