Mystic Danger 2: From the Ashes

by Cash Cole

  From The Ashes

  A Mystic Danger Story

  By Cash Cole

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  2665 S Atlantic Avenue, #349

  Daytona Beach, FL 32118

  From the Ashes

  Copyright © 2011, Cash Cole

  Edited by Michele Paulin and Juli Simonson

  Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-289-1

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic release: April 2011

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  For T, the ebook addict

  Chapter One

  Jake O’Reilly could still smell the dampness of the stranger’s hair that had slid like liquid silk through his fingers, could feel the chilled skin and see the magnificent chest that had been exposed through the clothing that had clung to him in the rain. He’d never held a man who’d shaken so violently, who’d seemed to both loathe and love him upon first sight, one who’d managed within seconds to jumpstart his libido while bringing out a protective side he hadn’t felt since before his sister had died.

  Jake stepped from his boat to the marina dock where his parents’ restaurant rocked gently in waters that had been rough and choppy the night before. It didn’t look like the eastern Oklahoma storm had done much damage, but then he’d secured everything himself when he’d locked up the night before, hours before he’d motored to Blackgum, deep in the Cherokee Hills. That’s where he’d found the stranger, drenched to the bone, wandering the beach as if he were lost.

  Ordinarily, Jake would have gone straight home as he did most nights, but his cousin Hawk had asked him to retrieve a bass boat that had been left with a friend for repairs. Once on the other side of the lake and after Jake had the small boat strapped to the cruiser he owned, he’d heard moaning, and like a fool, he’d investigated, maneuvering his boat through sandbars that could have grounded him.

  The blond god had seemed confused, almost trance-like, and he’d refused to give Jake his name or let him offer assistance at first. Then when the first thunderclap had rumbled overhead, the blond had jerked as if slapped, and Jake had thought, screw it. At least, get him on the boat and out of the storm. He’d half-guided, half-carried him aboard and sat him on the top deck since he was reluctant to go below where it was dry and warm. Then Jake made a quick pot of coffee and carried it topside, hoping perhaps when the man’s body thawed, so would his mind. Jake had almost radioed the sheriff’s department, telling them he’d encountered a homeless person. The guy had worn clothing that didn’t strike Jake as unusual, but he’d clutched a massive knapsack as if it contained all his possessions.

  “Look, I’m trying to help,” Jake had explained. “Can I take you somewhere? Surely, you drove out here—it’s too far for anyone to walk. Did your car stall? I can radio for someone to meet you.”

  “I-I drove.” The man, who looked to be about thirty glanced about nervously, blinking against the rain. “But I don’t know where I parked.”

  “Well, you’re stranded for about an hour.” Jake’s concentration had been split between positioning the boat and making sure he didn’t fall over the side. “Why don’t you go below? I’ll stay up here—I promise. I won’t bother you. I’ll holler once the rain lets up, and maybe, we can find your car.”

  The guy had looked at him, slack-jawed, and even though he looked like he’d spent the last hour getting soaked to the bone, Jake had never seen a sexier sight than the tanned blond whose open-throat shirt and tight jeans stuck to him like carnal latex. His eyelashes had dripped with raindrops, and his generous mouth had looked grim.

  Romantic fantasies had never been Jake’s forte, so he’d laughed at his own foolishness. A mistake, because the guy had thought Jake was laughing at him.

  “What?” he’d asked. “You think it’s funny that I don’t know where I am? That I’m in the middle of nowhere?”

  Jake had shaken his head. “No. I was laughing at myself, for what I was thinking.” He was about to offer up the coffee when the air seemed to crackle between them.

  Something seemed to have changed in his guest drastically. He’d gone from drowned rat to demonic Greek god. He’d pressed forward audaciously, looking Jake up and down, checking him out from eyebrow to erection, silently assessing him as if ready to devour him. Jake had never had a man unflinchingly show such self-indulgence. The stranger’s candor had been more arousing than anything Jake had ever witnessed or imagined.

  It was as if they’d been two lovers torn apart by time, suddenly reunited, dream-like, walking into one another’s arms. Before Jake could blink, he’d found himself kissing the guy wildly, passionately, unable to get enough of him. Within seconds, they’d gone from strangers to intimate partners. The stranger had known exactly what to do, how to arouse him. No warm up for either of them, just an instantaneous combustion of the senses. Right there in the rain, they’d slipped to the floor of Jake’s boat, hurriedly undressed, and… Jake closed his eyes, remembering.

  He touched the man’s pecs through the soggy material, and he guided Jake’s hands lower to lift his shirt and unzip his pants. The man had fumbled with his belt and worked down his jeans then rolled Jake onto his knees and climbed on top. He spread Jake’s butt cheeks, bucking against him in the rain.

  “Do you have a condom?” The guy’s voice was deep, rumbling as the thunder overhead.

  “What?” For a moment, Jake was too mesmerized to think clearly. Then he raised himself, fumbling in his jeans for the foil-wrapped packet.

  The stranger grabbed it then ripped the foil with his teeth.

  Shakily, Jake resumed the position—but he didn’t wait long. Soon, the man spread Jake’s ass, moaning until he entered…swiftly, surely, stealing both their breaths.

  Good God, the man is massive! Jake’s hands flattened on the boat’s deck. He had never done anything so bold—pick up someone he didn’t know, drag him onto his rig, then lift his ass for whatever without so much as a cup of coffee as foreplay.

  Their mating was wild, all-consuming, quick, urgent, as if neither of them would be able to do anything else without first reaching that pinnacle of sensation that only a climactic release would bring.

  Jake rolled over onto his back, staring at the stormy sky. His breath came in spurts as he tried recovering. “Who…are you?”

  “Nobody, really. Does it matter?”

  When Jake looked at him, the man’s eyes were closed, his handsome face upturned, rivulets of water running from his face to his throat. They were both soaked, sated and strangely simpatico.

  Guess not. But where had he come from, how had he gotten there, and why was he even in on the lake? He looked out of place, with his fair skin and blond hair. Most in that county were Cherokee or at least of Native descent, displaying some sort of those traits. This man was completely different, not only in looks but in attitude.

  He didn’t seem afraid at all, just confused. Jake hoped he hadn’t just been bedded—if he could call it that, considering it was on a hard boat deck—by some nut who had escaped from the asylum at Vinita.

  Finally, the stranger spoke without being asked a question. “It’s been a lo
ng time since I’ve felt this free.”

  Jake’s mind snapped in another direction. Free? Shit. Forget the asylum. Maybe he was a convict. Plenty of county jails in Oklahoma…at least seventy-seven. Not to mention the surrounding states. Maybe the guy was from Ft. Smith, which was only an hour or so away. Or someplace in Texas or Missouri.

  Still, rolling the man’s words over in his brain, Jake couldn’t help but agree. He, too, had felt a sense of freedom. No restraints. No regrets. Just pure animal instincts, urges that had been reciprocated. He could live with that.

  The blond rolled toward Jake, propping himself up on an elbow. “I’m not usually such a selfish bastard.” His free hand traced the corded muscles of Jake’s stomach then inched lower. Stroking Jake’s cock, the man gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ll repay you later if that’s okay. Give back some of what I took from you.”

  “Oh, you gave.” Jake felt his dick spring back to life.

  “Yeah, but not enough.” Then the man got on all fours and lowered himself so that his lips covered Jake’s hardening shaft. He licked, sucked and drew Jake into his mouth.

  Jake’s breath hitched as he felt all of his energy pool dead center, building with each delicious tug on his cock. His hands suddenly moved, as if of their own volition, and his fingers threaded through his lover’s hair. So fine, soft and wet from the rain. He’d never experienced anything quite like this. Somebody loving him like this with nothing but sky above and water beneath.

  Momentum…increase…pressure. Everything seemed to engulf him at once. Jake couldn’t help but rise as his seed shot out of his body.

  The stranger kept licking, moaning, coaxing, until Jake sank once more against the boat’s deck, this time unable to think for several minutes.

  Afterward, they dressed, occasionally looking into one another’s eyes, searchingly, as if for validation for the errant sex drive that had taken them both by storm.

  Jake wordlessly went back to steering them to safer waters, and the stranger sat silently at the far end of the craft, looking out over the stormy lake. Once the boat was safely harbored, he did the strangest thing. He looked at Jake with the largest, bluest, saddest eyes he’d ever seen. Then he shook his head, as if that would erase what had happened between them, and mumbled one word. “Sorry.”

  For what?

  Jake didn’t have a chance to find out. The sky opened with relentless rain. They clung to the boat for what seemed like twenty minutes.

  Once the storm let up, Jake went below deck to find dry clothes, and when he returned…the man was gone.

  * * * *

  “Rance Maxmillian Clarke.” Rance stated his name when the matronly Indian woman asked, but his mind kept zipping from one thought to another, keeping him unhinged. He’d experienced numerous dreams and bizarre visions since receiving Sarah O’Reilly’s corneas, but now that he was with the deceased woman’s mother. It was frightening, the possibility that Sarah’s memories and his own consciousness danced without touching. Am I losing my mind? Is any of this real? First the man on the dock outside had looked familiar—then when Rance had met Sarah’s mother there had been another instant flash of recognition. Impossible!

  Mahala O’Reilly—or Haley, as Sarah’s mother instructed Rance to call her—sat across from him, looking into his eyes.

  “Not what I expected,” Haley said. “When Summer met you and said we needed to meet, somehow, I figured you’d be Native. I didn’t expect…you.” Then as if to cover a mistake, Haley seemed to force a smile. “They have Indians in Nevada, right?”

  Rance nodded, fighting the visions that assaulted him—visions of Sarah and her mother, through Sarah’s eyes. The scenes disturbed him, even though they shouldn’t. He’d read prior to going to Oklahoma about what plagued him…cellular memory, the transference, improbable as it seemed, of his donor’s memories via her cells to his body and mind.

  He concentrated on steadying his voice so as not to alarm the older woman. “Th-the waiting list doesn’t have information for things like that, though. Recipients just apply and are given a position on the list, depending upon how badly they’re in need.”

  Rance felt uncomfortable discussing organ donation with Sarah’s mother, but Haley seemed more than a little interested.

  Haley’s hands were on the laminated oak tabletop, and she twisted the numerous turquoise and coral-stoned silver rings on her fingers as she spoke. “I didn’t even know my daughter was an organ donor until…” Her voice trailed. “She was on a business trip, and Colin—that’s her husband—went with her while we kept the kids.” She peered intently at Rance. “Are you okay?”

  Rance nodded, but he wasn’t fine. He was disturbed, as if he’d done something wrong. He couldn’t look at Sarah’s mother without wanting to get up and hug her, comfort her, tell her how much Sarah had loved her. What was more, Rance wanted to tell her things that would certainly have Sarah’s family calling the police and having them lock him up.

  How could he, who’d rarely been out of Nevada, tell these people that he knew things about them, about their home, their culture, about Oklahoma, plus personal things that only Sarah would know?

  He jumped as Haley’s hands covered his own. “I know why Summer sent you.”

  Rance waited for enlightenment. He’d taken the initiative and had walked up to Summer Knife Chief as if they were friends. Haley had asked Summer to meet with Rance after Rance had written, claiming to be the recipient of Sarah’s corneas. Granted, Rance had made the moves to contact the family, but he still didn’t understand any of it. He’d almost trashed any idea he had of meeting the O’Reilly’s and simply gone back to Nevada. If not for getting lost the night before and meeting the stranger in the rain, he’d have done just that.

  Haley continued. “There’s something I need to show you. Can you stay for a few minutes?”

  Rance nodded, grateful for the prospect of being alone with his erratic thoughts and getting the chance to sort through the memories that weren’t his.

  He looked up as the tall Native man from the dock entered the restaurant. He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt, sneakers and a ball cap. He was lithe, like a runner, with a flat stomach and nice arms. Not too big, definitely not small. The other men Rance had been with were too brusque for Rance’s tastes. This one was the perfect build and size, and his long, hip-length, black hair flowed beneath the cap, giving him a wild, sexy demeanor.

  Rance gulped, remembering their coupling from the night before. Never in his life had he felt such freedom, like a cat clawing at an invisible cage, finally able to burst through to the other side. All because of this man Rance had envisioned in his dreams for weeks, unable to get him out of his mind.

  Rance had seen him outside, watching him from beneath the brim of his ball cap until someone had stepped out of a car and walked up to him. Filaments of information Rance had gleaned from Sarah’s memories had told him that the man who’d driven up was Colin Adair, Sarah’s husband. It had been obvious that he and Sarah’s brother were at odds over something. Rance’s mind stumbled over the thought that the Indian was Sarah’s brother, because he kept getting flashes of inconsistencies from what was left of Sarah’s memories.

  Rance knew Haley had seen the two men as well, because she’d positioned herself so that she could watch their conversation. Then Haley had caught the attention of the two Indian men at the wrap-around bar and had motioned with only a nod and slight wave of her hand for them to go outside. Good thing. The larger man she’d sent had latched onto the jean-clad man’s fist, keeping him from punching Colin, who was much brawnier and taller.

  As the man from the boat drew closer, their eyes met, and once again, Rance felt reality slipping. He saw Sarah and the Native man exchanging hugs then angry words, as a montage of scenes raced across his mind’s eye. As children, teenagers, adults—the memories chased one another. Blood rushed to Rance’s head, and he felt faint. He fought the impulse to flee when he opened his mouth.

  “I
saw you talking with my mother.” He scooted onto the bench across from Rance, where Haley had been sitting. “We didn’t get the chance to get acquainted last night. I’m—”

  “Jake.” The whoosh of Sarah’s memories flooded Rance’s brain, running through his veins with freight train velocity. No-no-no, they kept telling him. Not blood brother and sister.

  Jake looked puzzled. “Have we met before last night?” Then he took off his ball cap and craned his neck toward Rance. His voice was eerily soft, as if he was in disbelief. “This isn’t possible. It can’t be you.”

  Rance blinked, thrown off balance. He was the one with a second sight or extra sense of memories. Right? “You recognize me?”

  Jake’s handsome face darkened, and his eyes flashed threateningly. “I didn’t last night, but I do now. Who put you up to this?” He looked about furtively. “Where’s Mom? Is she all right?”

  Jake reached across the table to hold Rance in place while grilling him. His voice was like velvet sandpaper, soft yet irritating. “What is the meaning of this?”

  An electrical current of recognition ground Rance to his seat. Jake’s fingers on his wrists made him flush with a mixture of sudden familiarity, which he was sure was from Sarah’s memories, and an inexplicable desire, which disturbed him. This was Sarah’s brother, so there was no way he should feel drawn to him sexually, not if he was channeling Sarah.

  “Let go.” Rance struggled to remain calm.

  “Is this a sick joke?” Jake demanded. “Who are you? Where is my mother?”

  “I’m right here, son—goodness!” Haley frowned as she rejoined Rance. “This man has no idea what you’re talking about, Jake.”

  Haley smacked Jake’s hands, telling him to release Rance. Then she placed a framed drawing in front of Rance. “Sarah was a good artist, even had a few showings in the area, and some of her work hangs in various museums throughout the state. She drew this when she was about sixteen. Sarah was our only daughter and had brothers, but she used to say this was a portrait of her brother by a different mother.”