by Rebecca York
“You should go back to bed,” he said.
That was the truth. She should. Instead she walked toward him. He’d said he’d been shot. Thank God he’d recovered.
Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his shoulder.
“Don’t.” The word was a low rumble in his chest.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re in a fragile emotional state, and you’re reacting to danger instead of thinking rationally.”
She blew off the flat, emotionless statement. “I’ve been trying to think rationally ever since Mom called to ask if Laurel was at my house. It’s not working. Too much is happening too fast.”
“I scared you,” he muttered.
“Not you. Everything.”
Unable to stop, she pressed against him, warming herself with the heat of his skin.
To her relief, he put down the gun, then lifted his arms and folded her close. One of his large hands played with her hair, combing through the strands. The other stroked her back and shoulders in small circles, working the tight muscles.
He made a muffled sound deep in his chest as he reached down, slipping his hand under the hem of her shirt and sliding it upward, splaying it against the bare skin of her back, sending prickles of heat through her body.
Heat that warmed her from the inside out.
She closed her eyes, wanting to focus only on the man who held her in his arms. Tonight she’d come to him for comfort and discovered she wanted a lot more than that. No, she’d known it when she climbed out of bed, but she hadn’t been able to admit it.
When she lifted her head, he went very still.
Reaching up, she clasped the back of his head and brought his mouth down to hers. Their lips met in a kiss that turned hot the moment they touched.
The contact drove all the uncertainty from her mind. She forgot everything but his taste, his touch. And her own out-of-kilter response.
She needed to get closer to him, as close as she possibly could. If she had ever felt such desperation, she could not remember when. All she could do was lean into him, caught by the steamy pleasure of the contact.
“Sage,” he murmured against her mouth, nibbling with his lips before settling into a more steady pressure.
She liked the way he kissed and the way he said her name with an edge of the desperation she felt. It made her reckless, made her feel as if she was a prisoner of forces that held her in their grip.
Wrapping her arms around Ben, she felt the hard shaft of his erection between them. When she moved against it, his hands went to her hips, pulling her more tightly to himself.
They rocked in each other’s arms, caught in a cloud of sensuality that was carrying them away from this place and time to somewhere better. For heartbeats she thought they were going there together.
Then he shattered the moment as she felt the pressure of his hands against her shoulders, easing her away from him.
His breath shuddered.
Her eyes blinked open, and she stared up at him, struggling with confusion.
“Don’t push me away,” she managed to say.
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“You know this is wrong.”
“Why?” she asked again.
“You hired Decorah Security to find your sister—not have me seduce you.”
“You weren’t seducing me. I was the one who came to you.”
“And I should have sent you back to your bed.”
He was being too damned rational, but she knew there was no returning to the place where they had been. She stepped away, turning her head, embarrassed that she had pushed the two of them so far when she knew as well as he did that it was the wrong thing to do.
Before he could say anything else, she climbed back into her cold bed and burrowed under the covers, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as she tried to warm herself.
Ben had thought there was no way he could go back to sleep. But perhaps he wanted to get away from the little room where he and Sage were confined, because he drifted off quickly. Yet sleep was a trap, too. When another dream seized him, he tried to fight his way to consciousness, but he couldn’t wake. And this time, to his horror, he was back on the Windward, walking down long corridors, past closed doors. He knew the passengers were in the rooms beyond the doors, enjoying the pleasures that the slaves provided.
He had always shunned those pleasures, and he had never understood why his sister was turned on by the sexual games she liked to play.
Yet as he walked down the passageway, imagining what might be going on in those rooms, he could feel his body responding. Finally he paused in front of one of the doors. He told himself he didn’t want to go in, but he knew that was a lie.
He turned the door handle and walked into the chamber beyond. It was a dungeon, like something out of a medieval castle. Although the lighting was low, he could clearly see the walls that looked like stone, the racks of implements, a wooden table with restraints for hands and feet, the large X-shaped wooden beams against one wall with hand and foot manacles attached.
He wanted to feel disgust when he looked at the room and the equipment, but a surge of sexual excitement coursed through him. It ramped up when he saw Sage standing in the room, a satisfied expression on her face. She was dressed as he had never expected to see her—like a dominatrix in black leather shorts, a low-cut leather vest, black fishnet stockings and black high-heeled shoes. The effect was bold and sexy.
She watched him taking in her appearance.
Giving him a considering look as he stood by the door, she said, “I’m glad you’ve finally arrived.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to participate in any of this stuff.”
“Not even when you need to be punished?”
“For what?”
“You’re the one who thinks you deserve the punishment. For being the security chief here. For letting people die on your watch.”
“I . . .”
“Take off your clothes,” she said in a harsh voice. “Or get out of here, and never try to contact me again.”
Her words made his heart stop, then start to pound in double time. Never see her again? That was unthinkable.
With hands he couldn’t quite hold steady, he pulled the knit shirt he was wearing over his head and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. Then he began to unbuckle his belt. He unzipped his jeans and shucked them down his legs. Now he was wearing only the briefs he’d had on in the motel room.
“Take them off,” she said in a sharp voice.
He was aroused, and the idea of facing her that way, in this room, embarrassed him. But he had no choice. Not anymore. He pulled off the briefs, feeling his cock spring free.
She ran her eyes up and down his body, fixing on his erection. Stepping forward, she took him in her hand, weighing him, caressing him lightly, her touch jolting up his sexual need.
“Are you ready to take your punishment?”
“Yes,” he managed to say.
She looked around the room, considering. “I could have you against the wall, but I think I like the table better. Lie down on your stomach.”
He did as she asked, his breath hissing in and out of his lungs as he lay on the uncomfortable wooden surface while she secured his wrists to leather thongs at the top corners of the table, then his ankles to the bottom.
Walking along the length of the table. She stroked his butt and ran her hand between his legs to squeeze his balls. Then she reached under the table and opened a trapdoor so that his cock and balls were exposed. She reached through the opening, stroking his penis, drawing a gasp from him.
He was so hard he thought he would climax right then, but she leaned down, her lips close to his ear and whispered, “You had better not let yourself go. That’s part of your punishment.”
She walked away from him, and with his head turned to the side, he
could see her standing beside the wall of implements.
When she turned back to him, she was holding a short whip with several braided leather strands. “I think we’ll use this.”
She slapped them down on his back several times with small, stinging strokes. Then she moved down to his ass, striking him over and over, making his flesh burn and his cock swell with blood.
When she stopped, his whole body was tingling.
“I need to come,” he panted.
“Not now. Not until I give you permission.”
“When?”
“When you’re ready to accept yourself.”
oOo
Sage woke to the sound of the shower running. Ben must be getting dressed, which gave her a little time to collect herself before she had to face him.
He was right. She’d been off balance and swept up by emotions last night. Worse, she’d made a fool of herself. And worse still, she’d been behaving the way her mother always did.
What had she said to him about Angel Baker? That she wanted to be dependent on men? And what had Sage done last night but demonstrate the same behavior?
She made a disgusted sound, wishing she could be out of the room before he got out of the bathroom. But then what? They only had one car—his car—and she wasn’t planning to hike into town. Angry with herself, she pawed through her bag, looking for clean clothes to wear, wondering what the heck they were going to say to each other when he finally came out.
oOo
Ben finished drying himself. Finished pulling on his clothes. Finished shaving. Each thing he did was slow and deliberate, because he didn’t want to open the damn door and face Sage. Not after that dream.
Only she hadn’t been in the dream, he reminded himself. It had been his imagination. He’d put himself back on the Windward and put her there with him.
He wasn’t sure what it meant. He’d hated the place. He’d thought he had participated in evil there.
Yet going into that dungeon with her had turned him on. What she’d done to him had turned him on more. Thinking about it was turning him on now, and he deliberately forced himself to calm down.
He didn’t like the implications of the dream. But there was nothing he could do about it now.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
Sage looked at him, then away, and he knew she was thinking about the scene between them. The real scene. Not the one his unconscious mind had conjured up after he’d sent her back to bed.
He focused on keeping his breath even as he stepped back into the bedroom.
“I think we should separate today,” Sage said.
Had he heard her right? And what was he going to say?
oOo
As he shaved, Everett Judd stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Turning his head one way and then the other, he inspected his sagging jowls. He should be drinking less beer and exercising more, but three or four cans of brew in the evening were the only way he could cope with life in Doncaster. That was better than the hard stuff, he rationalized. As for exercise, by the time he finished putting in a day at the police station, plus the other duties assigned to him, he was too tired for the gym.
And luckily his duties didn’t involve personally chasing after any stickup artists. They were few and far between in Doncaster.
He kept the town free of petty crime. And he made sure all his young officers were well trained. At least he could be proud of those things.
It was the other part he’d come to hate.
His hand clenched around the handle of the razor as he thought about the decisions he’d made that had landed him here.
Back in North Carolina, he’d caught Sally Ann cheating on him, and he’d divorced her. But he’d known he couldn’t take care of two little kids on his own, which was why he’d given up custody. He was no deadbeat. He was prepared to pay child support. But the money for the kids had cut into his income, and he’d started looking for a place that was cheaper to live.
An ad for police chief of a small town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland had seemed like the perfect solution. He’d interviewed for the job and been happy to get it. Now he wondered what the men who’d hired him had seen in him, specifically.
A man who’d be willing to look the other way in certain instances? If the price was right.
They hadn’t brought that up right away. Not until he’d gotten comfortable in town. And the approach had been subtle. Don’t patrol at certain locations on certain nights. At first it wasn’t more than once a month. And the pay was good, considering the job was doing nothing instead of something.
But gradually the frequency had increased.
Now it was two or three times a month. And there were other duties that he hated.
Like digging in his heels and pretending he thought that girl had run away. He was almost certain that something nasty had happened to her. Probably at the hands of one of the men who paid him under the table. If he had to make a bet, he’d put his money on George Myers. There was plenty going on out at his Pine Fairways besides guys swinging clubs at little white balls. And then there were Mayor Hinton and Martin Kendley, owner and president of the bank. Both of them strutted around Doncaster like they owned the place and could do anything they wanted. But he couldn’t prove anything, and he wasn’t going to get himself into trouble by doing a real investigation. The town fathers had hired him. They could fire him just as easily. Or worse. If they could make a girl disappear, they could do it with a man, too.
Sometimes he had fantasies of pulling his own disappearing act. And maybe he could pull it off it eventually. He was saving a lot of the money they slipped him. You could live in Mexico pretty cheap. Maybe he could head down that way and disappear into some little town.
In the meantime, he was stuck doing what he had to.
oOo
Sage wasn’t going to let Ben make the rules this morning.
“We’ll get more done if we each cover some of the territory. I can go to the college and see if I can locate some of Laurel’s professors. Did you get something from Teddy Granada on the other girls?
“Yes. If dirt exists, Teddy Granada can find it. He’s got a report on missing women in Doncaster. There are more than we initially thought. Seven over the past five years.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Did they find any of them?”
“Three really were runaways—and turned up later. The other four were never found.”
“Who were they?”
“The runaways were all local, which gives credence to Chief Judd’s theory about Laurel.”
“She didn’t run away,” Sage shot back.
“I’m not assuming that she did. I’m just saying he has reason to make the assumption about her.”
“Or claiming that’s what he thinks.”
“Either way, he’s got a logical argument.”
“The others?”
“The others were guest workers who’d come here from Eastern Europe to work.”
“Which means Laurel didn’t fit the pattern. No family here would be looking for them.”
“Maybe somebody who saw the argument with your mother thought that would make good cover for her disappearance.”
“Unfortunately. Do we have names for the women who never turned up?”
“Yes. The two most recent ones were Magdalina Sawicki and Andrea Dvorak.”
“You can ask the police chief about them. Maybe you can get him to say the word ‘kidnapping.’”
“I doubt it.”
“But we’ll split up?”
He waited several seconds before answering with a tight nod, and she knew he didn’t like it. Too bad. She needed some time by herself. Not because he’d done anything wrong, but because she had.
She grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom, which was still steamy from his shower. As quickly as possible, she showered, changed into jeans and a tee shirt and put on the barest minimum of makeup.
When she emerged, he was
sitting at the table, scrolling through information on the laptop.
“Something else?”
“Just getting details on the stuff I told you.”
“Okay.”
Sage transferred a credit card, twenty dollars, her driver’s license and a picture of Laurel to a fanny pack, then locked her wallet in her carry bag. “Drop me at the community college. I’ll see if I can talk to someone who knows her status. Then I’ll go back to the dock area and see if anyone on one of the boats saw her.”
“Why is the dock area any better than Main Street?”
“I was thinking she could have gone down there—and somebody could have offered her a fun boat ride.”
He shrugged, “Possible.”
“Let’s go.”
“Mind if we stop for something to eat first?”
“Are you always eating?” she snapped, giving away her state of mind.
“Only when I’m hungry.”
They drove into town and stopped at a deli where they both had coffee and bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon which they ate without saying much besides “pass the sugar.”
Afterwards, Ben dropped her at the college, which was outside the downtown area.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk to the docks,” he said.
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Okay.”
After watching him drive off, she consulted the signboard that gave the names and locations of the buildings and decided to start with the school administration.
Inside, she identified herself and asked about the status of her sister. As she’d suspected, they wouldn’t give any academic information, but they were willing to give her the names of Laurel’s professors and their offices.
She found only one of them in, a distracted looking forty- something guy who taught World Literature. He wouldn’t discuss specific grades, but he was willing to say that Laurel wasn’t having any problems in his class. In fact, she was one of his best students.
Feeling somewhat justified in her assumptions about her sister’s status in school, Sage left the college. Because it was only about a mile walk to the center of town, she didn’t waste time calling a cab. She knew she was defying Ben by walking, but she couldn’t help herself. Still, she kept her eyes peeled for a blue pickup truck or a large, dark sedan.
