by Alexa Grace
Pausing to tame his rapid breathing and heartbeat, he picked her up and carried her to the kitchen table and struggled with the buttons on her shirt as she did the same with his, until they were skin against skin with her long legs wrapped around his hips, his throbbing cock aligned perfectly against her sex. He wasn't sure where he began and she left off. But there was one thing he was absolutely certain of. He wanted her like he'd wanted no other woman. Brody kissed her ribs, her cleavage, each sweet breast, and finally her mouth, kissing her with toe-curling determination as his erection throbbed like a toothache.
Pulling the zipper of her pants, he lowered them to her ankles, threw them to the floor, and then made quick work of his jeans. Carly worked her hands behind her back to unfasten her bra, and Brody rewarded her efforts by drawing on her nipples, sucking, tonguing, and teasing until she threw her head back and moaned aloud with erotic pleasure.
His thoughts fragmented as her hands and lips continued their hungry search of his body. In a raw act of possession, Carly tilted her hips to receive him and took his rock-hard, velvet-like steel into her fingers and led him to her.
An electric shock seared through his body as he entered her. He heard a tiny moan catch in her throat as he grasped her bottom. Her nails digging into his shoulders, Carly arched hungrily up to meet his next thrust, and his next, clinging to him, sinking into his body as the hot tide of passion raged through them both. Thrill after thrill shot through him as he possessed her body. Never had he experienced such intense chemistry before. The sexual tension built and built until the earth fell away, and he went with her to that place of rapture, utterly consumed.
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Chapter Eight
In the early morning light, Brody lay next to Carly and watched her as she slept. She'd rocked his world the night before, again and again. Loving her physically had already led to loving her emotionally. Carly had awakened something within him that hadn't been touched in years. The more time he spent with her, the harder it was going to be to let her leave at the end of her job, if that's what she chose to do.
Brushing some silken strands of hair from her eyes, he watched as eyelashes fluttered and a smile spread across her face. She cuddled closer to him and ran a smooth hand down his back.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he whispered, as he kissed the top of her head. Levering himself up on his elbow, he traced the shape of her face with his finger.
"Good morning, Brody," Carly said with a smile that lit up her face. "May I ask you a question?"
"Like I could stop your inquisitive mind if I wanted to," Brody replied, as he kissed her forehead. "What do you want to know?"
Propped up on her elbow, she asked, "How do you feel about me?"
"Do you mean besides the mind-blowing sex and the fact I can't keep my hands off your unbelievably sexy body?" He asked with a slow, sensual smile, as he snaked a strong arm around her waist to press her against his hard body.
"I'm serious, Brody," she returned.
"Sorry. Talking about my feelings is not my forte," he said as he lay back and stared at the ceiling.
"How do you feel about me?" Carly asked again.
"I think I'm falling in love with you, and it scares the crap out of me. How's that for honesty?" Brody said as he turned on his side and ran his hand down her back to her bottom. "What about you?"
"I'm way past thinking about it. I know I'm in love with you," whispered Carly, as she stared into his eyes, as if she were trying to determine what he was thinking. "And it scares the crap out of me, too."
"I guess you'll be making a big decision at the end of the job — go back to Florida or stay here with me in Indiana," Brody said as he rolled on top of her, bracing his weight on his elbows and subtly shifting so the hot, hard ridge of his erection was cradled snugly between her thighs.
"Just so you know," he said in a husky whisper as he looked down into her eyes. "I can be very, very persuasive."
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Erin lay quietly in her bed listening to her brother slam cabinet doors, along with pots and pans in the kitchen. He'd never been a morning person and could be especially nasty, so she pretended to sleep until he left the house for work.
The night before she'd told him there might be something wrong with one of the slaves. Flippantly, he replied, "Why don't you tell somebody who cares?" Claiming he was dead-tired, he'd taken a shower and gone straight to bed.
Maybe the girl was better this morning, she thought. Sometimes all it took was a good night's sleep. Daddy had beaten her just as hard, and she'd survived it.
Once she heard the back door slam, signaling her brother had left for work, she got out of bed to make breakfast. Getting into the refrigerator, she pulled out a carton of eggs and a container of bacon. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she fried up scrambled eggs and bacon and scooped them into two plastic containers and on a plate for herself.
Sitting at the small kitchen table, she ate her breakfast looking out the window and wondering how she'd fill her lonely day. She was tiring of spending her days out in the sticks with no one to talk to. One would think after five years, she'd be used to it.
There were times when she thought about having conversations with the slaves, but then she reconsidered. That would make her as stupid as her brother often told her she was. People were often identified as committing crimes by their voices alone, her brother had warned her. So she kept her mouth shut and stayed away from the slaves. Besides, she didn't want to have another little incident like the one that resulted in her shooting two of them.
Erin wanted a job — any job that would get her out of the house and off the farm. Her brother, the Master, vehemently disagreed. He said he could support his little sister and didn't want her to have to work, but Erin reasoned he didn't trust her to have friends at work she might confide in. Friends could find out things they shouldn't know and contact the police. Then she and her brother would find themselves spending the rest of their lives in prison or on the wrong side of a needle.
Finishing her breakfast, she laid the dirty dishes in the sink, picked up the plastic containers of eggs and bacon, and opened the basement door. Once downstairs, she noticed Alison was awake and watching her as she huddled beneath a quilt at the far end of her crate. The other girl lay in the same position as she'd seen her the day before.
Unlocking Alison's padlock, she opened the door and slipped her stun gun out of her pocket. Erin used it to point to the small bathroom at the end of the room. The girl knew the drill, nodded, and crawled out of the crate. Erin followed Alison to the bathroom and stood in the door while the girl did her business. Once Alison finished washing her hands at the sink, she hesitated, as if she were considering her next move. Erin shoved the stun gun at her and Alison went reluctantly but quietly back to her cage. Pushing the plastic container of eggs and bacon across the floor of Alison's crate, she locked the padlock and headed toward the next cage.
The slave named Jasmine, curled up in a fetal position, and hadn't moved an inch since the day before. Slipping the stun gun back into her pocket, she unlocked the padlock, opened the door, and poked at the girl with her finger. Jasmine didn't respond. Deciding to investigate further, Erin pulled Jasmine to her by her ankles. Once Jasmine's body was close enough, she tried to find a pulse. Not only was there no pulse, but the girl's body was ice cold. The girl was dead!
Erin backed out of the dog crate and scrambled up the stairs until she reached the kitchen. Where was her cell phone? She had to call her brother. She raced to her bedroom to get her cell out of her purse when she heard a loud pounding on the side door.
Slipping into the kitchen, she peeked out the window to see a Shawnee County Sheriff patrol car parked in the driveway. Her blood turned to ice. Did the cops know what they'd done, what they were doing? Breathing in shallow, quick gasps, panic sliced through her like a knife. Oh, God. They know. They know.
Glancing toward the back door, she wondered if she should run for it. There
was a handgun in a kitchen drawer. Using the element of surprise, should she kill the deputy? Erin cursed her brother for not being there when she needed him. He would know what to do. Damn it. The deputy pounded on the door a second time, the sound echoing through the empty house. She froze for a moment, collected herself, and went to the kitchen for the handgun. Slipping it into the pocket of her sweatpants, she walked to the door and opened it.
Tall and slender, a deputy who looked young enough to still be in high school, stood before her, with one hand resting on the gun in his holster.
"Good morning. I'm Deputy Jeffrey Walker with the Shawnee County Sheriff's Office," he began. "We're trying to find a missing girl and could use your help."
"Missing girl?" Erin managed to get out, and then crossed her arms tightly across her breasts praying he wouldn't notice how badly her hands were shaking.
"Yes, we're looking for Alison Brown," he said, as he pulled a photograph out of his file and handed it to her. "She's thirteen-years-old and missing from Indianapolis. We have reason to believe she's in this area."
Erin's heart froze as she looked down at the photograph in her hand. Why yes, she'd seen Alison Brown, about five minutes earlier in a dog cage in her basement. Sweat dotted her brow as she handed the photo back to the deputy.
"No, I can't say I've seen her," she said, as she fought the urge to shoot him, or turn and bolt.
Forcing the photo back into her hand, the deputy said, "Take a better look. You may have seen the girl in town somewhere while you were shopping for groceries, or eating in a restaurant."
Feeling the deputy's eyes on her, Erin looked down at the photo again. Sure enough, it was the slave called Alison, grinning from ear-to-ear in what looked like a school photo. Of course, since the girl had arrived at the farmhouse, there had been few reasons to grin. "No, I'm sure I haven't seen her, but if I do, I'll call you right away." Erin started to close the door, but the deputy stopped her.
"If I could keep you another minute or so," the deputy said. "I have another photo I'd like you to see." Once he inserted Alison's photo back into his file, he withdrew another one and handed it to her. "This picture is a little hard to make out because we took it from a surveillance videotape from a camera at the Greyhound Bus Station."
Glancing down at the photograph in her hand, Erin couldn't believe what she was seeing. Though it was a little blurred and grainy, it was definitely her in the photo at the Greyhound Bus Station the day she picked up Alison Brown. Luckily, the hood on Erin's sweatshirt blocked a direct view of her face. Distinctly remembering her brother telling her the security cameras in the bus station were fake, she cursed him. Who's stupid now, big brother?
As casually as she could manage, she said, "No, I haven't seen this woman either. Who is she?"
"We're looking for her in connection to Alison Brown's disappearance," he replied.
A new wave of apprehension swept over her in response to his steady, suspicious gaze. Her hands started shaking anew, and she clenched one hand so hard her nails cut into the palm.
"I wish I could help. Like I said, I'll call if I see either of them," Erin said, now holding onto the handle of the gun in her pocket.
"We'd appreciate it," offered the deputy, as he shoved the photo back into his file. Turning, he strode back to his patrol car, and got inside.
Relieved, Erin closed the door and leaned against it as she choked back a cry, but her relief was short-lived as she peered out the kitchen window. In his vehicle, the deputy was writing something down as he periodically glanced back at the house. What the hell was he doing? Now he was talking to someone on his cell phone. Was he calling for backup? Would the house soon be surrounded by armed deputies? Was he calling for a search warrant? What a career-making move that would be with one dead girl and the one he's looking for caged in the basement. Erin was torn between watching the deputy in her driveway and racing to her bedroom to get her cell phone to call her brother.
Suddenly, she heard the roar of the patrol car's engine as the vehicle started and backed out of the driveway. When she was sure the deputy was gone, she sprinted to the bathroom, huddled over the toilet, and vomited.
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Finished shaving, Earl Haas stood back to admire himself in his bathroom mirror. Okay, so he wasn't fifteen, but he still had a lot to offer a thirteen- year-old girl. At five feet eleven inches tall, he was slender without an ounce of fat on his body, and still attractive enough to get a second glance from the women who rode on his bus. Too bad, a woman wasn't what got him off. He liked his sex partners young, nubile, vulnerable, and inexperienced. Earl was just the guy to show them the ropes in the bedroom.
Retrieving a bottle of beer out of his refrigerator in the kitchen, Earl went to the computer on his desk in the living room. He could think of no better thing to do on his day off than to sweet-talk little honeys in the comfort of his living room. First, he'd scour his usual sites like Facebook, MySpace and Teen Chat for girls who posted personal profiles that included their names, physical descriptions, telephone numbers, and best of all, photographs. One would think, in this day and age, that this kind of information would be harder for him to find. Luckily for him, there were still lonely-as-hell preteen girls out there who provided it all with abandon. Just asking for it.
Currently, he had three such girls on the line. One girl was getting close to agreeing to meet up with him for sex; another had just emailed a couple of nude photos of herself that had sent him flying to the bathroom to masturbate.
Little did the girl know the photos put her in his complete control, just where he wanted her. She'd have sex with him or he'd threaten to post those naked photos all over the Internet. The last girl he'd successfully seduced met with him in Indianapolis, and he'd had some of the best sex of his life in the back seat of his car parked behind a closed O'Charley's restaurant. He was getting hard just thinking about it. He'd gotten tired of the girl, however, after the third hook up when she wouldn't quit crying for him to stop, blubbering the whole time. Returning her naked photos, he told her to keep her mouth shut about the hookups because he still had some negatives, not that she even knew his real name. He wasn't stupid, and he sure wasn't about to spend any more time in prison for screwing a little preteen bitch who had it coming to her.
The third girl was a thirteen-year-old knock-out with long, silky black hair and dark eyes he'd found on TeenChat. @SweetTeen was a new contact for him, and the girl had a lot of potential. Immediately attracted to her, he could visualize her begging him for more in his bed, and he'd be more than happy to give it to her.
Online today, he'd try again to persuade her to join him for a Twilight movie festival at a local theater. Such a festival didn't exist, but she wouldn't know that until she'd arrived in Morel. Maybe he'd send her a webcam so she could take some photos of herself. He'd sure like to see this little beauty without her clothes.
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As usual for lunch time, Mollie's cafe was bustling with downtown retailers, employees from the Sheriff's Office, and anyone else who wanted a quick and tasty meal. Perhaps she was imagining it, but it seemed to Carly that Mollie made a beeline for their group as soon as she saw Cameron standing near the cash register. He and Mollie teased each other and chatted all the way to the table she'd saved for them, which made Carly even more curious. She'd been told early on that Mollie didn't take reservations.
Once they were all sitting with menus in front them, Mollie flashed a big smile at Cameron, Brody, and Gabe, but simply nodded at Carly. What was she? Chopped liver? In the scheme of things, Carly thought, the gorgeous men at her table oozed testosterone, so what hot-blooded female would behave any differently?
Just as she considered her options on the menu, a light tap on her shoulder made her turn to see Mollie's fourteen-year-old daughter, Hailey, standing with a girl who looked about the same age. The girl had heavily moussed, spiked and dyed blue-black hair and a small silver ring piercing the edge of her upper lip.
Blushing, Hailey pointed to the girl beside her. "Carly, I'd like you to meet my best friend, Christy Hilton."
"It's nice to meet you," Christy said before she turned to Hailey. "Is she the FBI agent you were telling me about?"
Hailey poked Christy in the ribs and whispered, "Yes."
"Wow, that is so cool," Christy said to Carly. "I want to be an FBI agent when I grow up. Can I see your gun?"
Hailey gasped and said, "Christy, you're embarrassing me."
"No, it's okay," Carly said as she pushed back her navy blazer for a moment to reveal her Glock in its holster.
The girls stared in awe, inspiring Cameron to say, "Why haven't you girls ever asked to see my gun?"
"Oh, you're just a local detective, Mr. Chase," Hailey replied.
"Thanks," said Cameron, pretending to be insulted.
"Are you coming over again tonight to see Mom?" asked Hailey and all eyes focused on Cameron.
Cameron cleared his throat and said, "Hailey, I'll bet you're here to take our drink orders. I'll have a Coke."
Hailey took the rest of their drink orders and headed back to the kitchen, her friend in tow.
Gabe, who was sitting next to Cameron, pointedly held out his hand. "I believe you owe me five bucks."
Digging in his back pocket for the money, Cameron slapped a five dollar bill in Gabe's hand.
"Do I dare ask what the bet was about?" asked Brody as he tried to smother a smile.
"No," Cameron insisted.
Hailey returned to the table with their drinks, along with Mollie who quickly took their orders.
After a gulp of his sweet tea, Gabe said, "I had some time to look at the Internet habits of the four girls found in the shallow graves. It seems all four had profiles on MySpace, Facebook, and Teen Chat. They also frequented Craigslist on a regular basis."
