by Coulton, JC
“Look it was the last thing on my mind,” I say, cutting him off. “We were fighting. And by the way, that asshole is stronger than he looks. April had already left, and then Cooper pushes Carrie! Last thing I see is her stumbling back before I get Cooper in a headlock. I’m just trying to shut him down, but honestly, I was getting tired and I wasn’t looking as closely as I should have. And when we stop for a second, I notice Carrie has disappeared.”
“What? Carrie’s gone too? Are you fucking kidding me, Blake? What did Cooper do?”
“I know, brother. It’s bad. Cooper was still on the road but he got up and we started looking for her. She was nowhere, Ryan. She disappeared. I thought she must have gone to the coffee shop to regroup, or maybe returned to her hotel, but she wasn’t anywhere.”
“So let me get this straight,” he says. “You went to see her, followed her to Jersey, found another kidnapping victim, lost that victim, attacked an FBI agent and then lost Carrie?”
There’s nothing I can do but hang my head. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it.”
He looks like he could deck me. The shame sits in my throat. I haven’t handled this well. I let my feelings and my anger get in the way.
“I was just trying to protect her, but Cooper got in the way.”
“You love her, don’t you Blake?” He says it quietly. I don’t have any words, so I just nod. “Okay, well this is a real shit show you’ve gotten yourself into. I don’t think you should’ve been suspended. I hope you know that.”
“Thanks, man.”
“I’m keeping my eye out at the precinct for you. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning that could uncover some things. So stay in touch, will you?”
“Definitely. You’re the only one I’ve got on my side right now. I’m grateful. Whatever you find out, let me know. You can phone me, or we can meet here again if you prefer.”
“Sure. I’ll let you know. Just don’t go doing any more crazy shit, alright? You just need to chill. Get home, have a shower and hope Cooper is not getting you charged with assault.”
He’s got a point, but something tells me Jason Cooper has just as much to lose as I do. I don’t feel too worried; I’m just resentful he got the better of me. I tell Ryan I’ll wait to hear from him, and head home. I need a shower, an Advil and some sleep.
Brenda and George are asleep by the time I arrive, so I sneak upstairs and quietly get ready for bed. I’m worried about Carrie. The adrenaline is still pumping from the fight, and it hurts to breathe. I’m hoping he just bruised my ribs but something tells me they may be broken. It takes a long time to drift off to sleep. My thoughts are constantly on what she could be doing and where she disappeared to. Finally though, I start to get drowsy and surrender to my exhaustion.
I wake up after a few hours. I was dreaming. It was so vivid. In the dream, Carrie and I are sitting cross-legged on the couch upstairs. She’s looking incredibly cute with her hair tied back. I want to reach out and touch her face, but she’s talking. I listen. The words look so good coming out of that perfect cherry-colored mouth, but they sound even better. We’re making plans for a short vacation. It’s as if none of the drama and pain have happened. I’m dreaming that we’re a real couple.
She tells me she’s found a cabin where we can spend the weekend. The weather will be cold, but there’s a fireplace. I have the task of hauling in firewood and lighting it up each night.
The first night, she gets on the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace. She’s naked, soaking in the warmth, stretched out like a cat. I can’t take my eyes off her. I start shedding my clothes to join her on the sheepskin.
I hold her from behind, pulling her into my arms. I press the length of my body into her back, spooning her and softly stroking her from the waist to the neck. I wait for her to slowly warm up to my touch before I let myself kiss her neck. I’m gentle. She tells me she feels loved. I want this woman to know how amazing she is. I show her with my touch, and put my patience to the test by holding myself back to pleasure her.
When she squirms those hips and begins to grind back onto my hardness, I roll her onto her back, look into her eyes and kiss her deeply, passionately until she’s pulling at my hair. I circle her nipples with open palms. I stroke and kiss her collarbone as those gorgeous breasts heave with desire.
I encircle that waist, push her legs gently apart and dip my tongue into her sweet honey. I groan into her pussy, mouthing her wetness, licking and suckling until I feel her hips start to rock. For once Carrie James is going to be mine.
I continue the assault with my tongue and squeeze her perfect bottom, pulling her pussy in so I can slide my tongue deeper between her folds. I can feel she’s getting close. I quicken my rhythm and refuse to let up until she comes, and then comes again in my mouth.
I wake up with a start and I’m as hard as ever. My cock bulges with desire and all I know is that I have to find her. I’ll do anything to find her.
Chapter 3
Carrie
Opening my eyes in this place usually brings on a fit of tears. Today though, there’s something new. The sun still makes its way in stages across the wall. I’m still handcuffed to a shitty old bedframe, with no idea what’s going to happen. But I’m no longer alone.
There’s someone in the bed across from me. A slumped figure. A new girl, whose face I can’t see. She has a ratty blanket twisted around her body. I can’t see more than an outline but she’s here with me. The tears start to run down my cheeks in relief.
“Hey,” I call out. My voice still croaky with sleep. “Are you awake?”
There’s no response from the girl. Well I assume she’s a girl, because there’s a bunch of matted, long blond hair draped over the side of the mattress. I reach out with my foot, stretching desperately I try and nudge her leg but I’m not close enough. I can’t reach!
“Hey,” I say it louder this time, hoping she’ll wake up.
There’s not even a moan, and I wonder for a fearful second if she’s dead. The thought makes me sick. And all my fears resurface. I wonder what a dead body smells like, and whether they’re going to kill me too. I’m torturing myself, trapped in my head and making stories up as she remains silent, unresponsive to each prompt.
That’s it. Enough wondering. I reach up to the unlocked handcuff and pull it apart. I listen quickly to the sounds in the building. Neon’s thugs will be here at some stage, but I can’t hear them yet. I summon my courage and pull myself up from my mattress. I sit on her bed and grab the edge of her shoulder, turning her over to see if she’s breathing.
Oh My God. It’s April. The shock runs through me. She lying here, looking sicker than ever. This is the girl I grew up with.
“April!” I say her name with a sob while shaking her shoulders. She’s hardly breathing. She’s as pale as death and unresponsive to even the fiercest shakes.
“Honey, listen to me. Can you open your eyes? April honey, just show me you can hear me?”
Still nothing. Finally I resort to holding her wrist, searching wildly for a heartbeat. When one flutters up underneath my fingers, I pull her close to my chest. She’s alive. It may be a light pulse but it’s steady. She’s alive! I pull the blanket back a little. She’s still wearing the dress she had on yesterday.
There are bruises up and down her arms and legs. She’s heavy in my arms. The puncture wounds on her arms are infected and swelling. Tears continue to run down my face. What can I do? I start to wonder if she’s having an overdose. What else could it be? I shake her again. Saliva dribbles out from the corners of her mouth.
I take a big breath. I need to calm myself. There’s nothing I can do. All she needs is time. I put her in the recovery position to stop her from choking. At least I can do that. I arrange the blanket so I can see the rise and fall of her ribs from my bed. She’s lost a lot of weight, in only a few weeks, she’s unrecognizable. I get the feeling she’s seen more terror than I ever will. I stroke her back gently, watching her, wondering if she’ll w
ake up. I start to hope that at least she’s resting peacefully.
A noise echoes from the depths of the building. It’s a steel door, cranking open and then slamming closed. It’s my signal that someone is here. I’m back on my own mattress in a flash. There’s no way I’m letting anyone know I’m mobile. I act as if I’m sleeping.
No further noises filter through the thick walls. I begin to wonder if I was imagining it all. I’m not. This is real, and soon, they arrive with the needle, proving me right. I’m not taken to the bathroom this time. They say nothing; they don’t even look at me. They pull me into a seated position and begin slapping my arm. The site of my own injections is swollen. I wince as they approach, ready to stab me again.
There’s no doubt in my mind. They want me to become what April is right now. They’re turning me into a junkie, and then they’re going to try and turn me into a whore. In my last moments of lucidity, before the drug takes me down, I tell myself it’ll be ok. I devise my plan to lie to every john they set me up with. I’ll say that I’m with the cops, or I’ll ask them to call the cops for me. I’ll do or say anything to not become the prostitute they want me to be.
I’ll tell them I’m not Misty or Sky or whatever trashy name Neon wants to call me. I’ll make sure no one can touch me or hurt me. The promise flashes through my mind as I lose consciousness. I’m not a hooker! I’m Carrie James and I’m part of an undercover police sting.
The next few hours—it feels like hours, anyway—pass in a daze. I keep coming close to the surface for a second, and then the drugs suck me back down. Whatever they’ve given me is strong, stronger than anything I’ve had before. The nausea is so overpowering I have to keep surrendering to sleep and blackness. I have no choice in the matter; nowhere to go.
At some point I hear noises. I want to open my eyes, but I can’t. I’m aware April is lying here with me, and I desperately want to check if she’s awake, but the drug has made my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth. All I can do is groan a few unintelligible phrases.
There’s a thin sheet on me when I wake up again. It’s twisted around my legs. I find myself struggling to get lose, sweating and crying. Nightmares fill my head and I’m sucked back down again, powerless and alone.
I disappear into another deep dream. This time it’s more peaceful. I dream of kind hands stroking my body, making me feel alive, sending shivers across my skin. I’m in Blake’s arms. I feel safe. I don’t know where we are, but it’s warm and inviting. The bed beneath me is soft. He’s behind me, pressing himself gently into my back.
All I can feel are the rock hard ridges of his abs and chest on my back. His arms are huge, wrapping me in desire. I want to turn and face him, but he holds me still. Stroking slowly, trailing his fingertips over the curve of my buttocks and up into the dip of my waist. Intuitively, I snuggle back into his chest. He holds me tight. His big hands skim softly across my stomach, pulling me gently into his body.
He’s so much bigger than me. His body dwarfs mine even when we’re curled up. His strength turns me on even more. He’s lighting a fire that starts in my stomach and travels down to melt my insides, sending moisture to my core. I want him closer to me; his hands, his tongue and more. I want to surrender to him. He holds me firmly, torturing me with slow strokes of those deft fingers.
Finally he turns me over. Looming above me, he looks down and slowly moves his mouth in towards mine, tipping my chin up and opening my lips with his thumb before he kisses me. His tongue melds with mine, igniting desire in us both. He leaves me gasping for more. I’m panting for his touch and the growl that comes from his throat is audible. He wants me. I see it in his eyes and feel it in the hardness of his cock. I am dripping wet, dying to feel him inside me. I’m close to begging, but again he delays the torture.
His tongue starts at my neck, hot breath setting my skin on fire. Then he moves down to my nipples, palming them and licking gently, bouncing them in his hands. Cupping me, kneading and plucking at my nipples. I’m already squirming under his touch. My hips rotate without permission but his firm body holds me down. That hot tongue travels lower leaving a sizzle of desire over my stomach and rib cage. I want his mouth on me I want to thrust into him but I’m too shy to ask so I let him take control. Slowly parting my thighs and exposing the folds of my soft, wet pussy.
He blows warm breath against me and it drives me wild, crazy in the lust he summons up. “Blake, Blake,” The moans escape my mouth as his tongue connects with my clit. “Oh my God.” My cries are plaintive wails, and I open my legs fully, pushing into his face, reveling in the warmth of his mouth.
I’m dripping wet, begging him to fuck me, and thrashing my head around. He latches on tighter, sipping at my pussy, sliding his fingers in and out, humming into my clit and bringing me closer and closer to orgasm.
It’s time for me to let go; to surrender to the feeling, and the peaks he’s driving me to. When I do I’m rewarded. I cry out with a deep wail as he swallows my first orgasm and keeps licking. He doesn’t even let me finish coming before he’s moving again, putting more pressure and more still, taking me higher until my body bucks underneath him, exploding into a white hot light that fills my body with tremors. I love the feeling of his mouth on me, and the shivers passing across my body.
When I wake up on the shitty mattress, I’m clearer. My body tingles, and I remember the dream. Blake is my everything. I know this now. I need to forgive him and make the most of this feeling while I can. My heart soars for a moment before I hear the approach of Neon’s guys, and realize what’s coming.
This time they are rougher. The contrast between my fantasy and the reality of what’s happening is stark. They hurt me. They enjoy it. They pick me up and throw me back down on the mattress like a rag doll. It’s how they intimidate me and make me fearful. They are more cruel than before. They don’t even tie my arm before they start plunging the needle into it.
I can tell instantly it’s a strong one. Tingles run up my arm and through my body. It’s nausea and warmth at the same time. I retch, and they laugh before turning without another words and leaving me lying limp on the mattress. I feel paralyzed. I can’t move, and even my breath hurts before I stop struggling and pass out, moving towards the unconscious relief that the drug now provides.
My bladder wakes me up. I need to use the bathroom. It’s dark now, and I’m disoriented. For a second I forget where I am.
“Blake are you here?” I call out and wave my hands around, before feeling the rough weave of the mattress. He’s not here, and as my vision slowly returns. I realize I can no longer hear the sound of April breathing.
I look over and see I’m right. The shape is gone. The bed next to me is empty. I’m all alone.
Chapter 4
Blake
I get up and decide to double my efforts to find Carrie. With every hour she’s missing, the chances of finding her go down. It’s a fact that taunts me, drives me and sickens me all at the same time. She was so courageous, dressing up like that to find April, but her naivety is worrying. She may be trained and able to protect herself, but the last time she needed to act on that training she barely got away. I can’t trust she’ll be as lucky next time.
I try to think logically on where she may be. I doubt she’s with April. All I can assume is she was taken by one of the local pimps or traffickers. Dressed like that and standing in Neon’s turf, she would have been mistaken for a street worker without a doubt.
Neon’s newer status on the scene makes her girls vulnerable to these types of attacks. It could be a power play by Neon’s competition. It could be a bigger organization trolling the streets, or it could just be a sick John.
Every option is bad. I wince, thinking of her lying in a basement somewhere, or in the trunk of someone’s car. The thought that my girl could be in danger feels unbearable. It spurs me on. I’m out early walking the streets, showing her photo to people and tapping every CI I’ve ever had for leads. I desperately make call after call with
no luck.
What I would like to do is hit up the computer system at the station. Obviously that’s not an option. I have to take this suspension seriously. No one at the precinct would be happy if they knew I was out doing this, let alone using their resources. I haven’t been put on the spot yet.
Everyone I speak to is under the assumption there’s still a badge and gun in my pocket, and I don’t correct them. Especially the CI’s. The last thing I need is to upset the balance of power. These guys are invaluable. The only reason they’ll tell me anything is because they think they’re getting benefits and some immunity in return. The truth is, none of this is in place, because I’m suspended. It couldn’t be more ‘off the books’.
The situation is very bad. Yes I could be disciplined again for trying to find Carrie. Jacob would say I’m obstructing justice. If I don’t do something to find Carrie—and to clear my name—I’m going to lose everything. Fuck! I slam my fists down on the steering wheel. It feels like this is the end, but it can’t be. I need to keep looking.
I look out the window. Everything seems grim. People are scowling at each other in traffic, and angry horns are a constant companion to the music on my radio, drowning out both the funky beats and any positive thoughts I might have been feeling when I woke up.
Several hours later, I’ve exhausted every lead I have—the pool halls, the drug dealers and every working girl or bouncer that’s ever owed me a favor. There’s no place to go now, except back to Caliber. Jessup knows something. He already told me I should be looking in my own backyard. I need more details. The dude is intentionally playing with me. And I need to push back.
He’s had power over me because he’s always known my old friendship with Neon never ended. Now the brass knows too—I’ve got nothing to lose. It’s time I get down there and push some buttons. Jessup’s been lucky thus far. It’s about time his luck runs out.
