by India Kells
“Owen!”
“Yeah, I know. Look at me, my amazing Dylan.”
His voice was a beacon; she couldn’t help but obey him. There was no danger, no risk with Owen, and that knowledge made it even easier to find her way back from her past, from her nightmare, and into the golden god kneeling between her legs.
“Oh yeah. I could lose myself in your eyes, too … warm pools of golden bliss.” As he spoke, he pushed her legs up. “You say that women could come with only hearing my voice, but I’m damn sure I could come just losing myself in your dark eyes.”
For a brief instant, he rolled away, grabbing his wallet to get a condom and covering himself up. As he returned, ever so slowly, he parted her legs even more, making room for him, and she could sense his member gently poking at her entrance. Using one hand, he glided his sheathed penis between her slick folds without penetrating her, teasing endlessly. She was about to growl when she felt him parting her lips and pushing himself inside of her in one strong, skilful motion. The sensation was amplified when he used his thumb pad to apply pressure on her clit as he went in. Hard.
Dylan wanted more, more of him, more of this, but Owen kept her still. Not as retaliation from what she had done to him earlier. That’s not the emotion that was emanating from him. It was only to lose himself in the pleasure he could give her. It was an offering. One that would get out of hand soon.
Owen remained deep until the need for friction was burning her inside out. His fingers on her were relentless, the movement increasing. Thank goodness, he was starting to lose control, too, although not as quickly as she was.
Locking her legs around his trim waist, she pulled herself up, gripping his arms and shoulders to finally lift her body enough to reach his lips. The contact was like a detonation as she bumped her pulsating clit against his pelvic bone. Once. And another time. Owen adapted to her sudden movement, immediately understanding the pleasure it was giving her. Although her knees circled him, he was the one moving. And as if he knew her body better than herself, when it became too much, he pushed her down again, breaking the connection. Before Dylan could fight him, he rolled her to her side, tucking securely her back in front of him, lifting her right leg over his knee as he plunged into her once more. The position took her breath away, and she gripped his arm for support as his name became a mantra on her lips.
He wasn’t done with her, though. In this position, she soon realized that he had access to all of her with his hands. Owen rubbed his bearded cheek against her shoulder before biting it, the pain mixing with the pleasure, a drug she wanted from him over and over again. His thrust accelerated slightly and it was Dylan’s turn to groan both in pleasure and in frustration. She was so close, and yet so far to climax, she wanted to scream. Owen’s breath came close to her ear. He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth before circling it with his tongue. Dylan shivered, biting back a whimper, one hand clamped on the comforter, the other holding his thigh, clenching reflexively.
“I know, babe. I know what you need. And I’m going to give it to you. I’m desperate to hear you scream my name.”
His voice murmured in her ear relentlessly, as his hand let go of her hip to aim for her core where they linked. It only took her a moment to crash into a thousand pieces of pleasure. The only sound coming from her lips were gasps, and his name, only his name. Moans pleading him to continue and to stop at the same time.
As she floated, she felt him tense behind her as he came, senseless words tumbling from his lips. His wonderful voice.
For a long moment, as she was in his embrace, surrounded by all of him, their body still heated by their lovemaking, she knew it was irrevocable. She was lost to him.
Chapter 35
Owen paced the kitchen of his apartment, trying once again to reach Lance.
Dylan, at her computer, had found Miranda’s trail, at snail’s pace away from Dallas. What was she up to? Her credit card added up purchases going west; gas stations, restaurants, hotels. It was easy to follow her. Or maybe too easy?
Pondering on this thought, she was distracted by Owen, cursing at his phone.
“He’s not answering. That’s not like him.”
“Owen, he told us that he had to pay back for having found Miranda. It’s very probable that he won’t be reached for a while. Did you speak to Wes and Mac? And your mother?”
Owen turned to the window. “Last time I could reach Wes, they were well, waiting for Lance to go back to Beatrice. Mac hoped she could help by butting heads with Bea. I guessed that they are both going to Gabrielle’s home in Maine. And if I’m right, some of the close guards are already there. Both of them are safe. Mom too. Wes suggested telling Lance to bring Mom to Beatrice. I tend to agree with him, since there can’t be any place safer for her.”
Dylan nodded. He was right, Mrs. Sorenson would be safe with Beatrice and the admiral. Even though it had been a while since she had spoken to her friend, she was certain the founder of Purgatory, and a formidable woman to boot, was more than capable of protecting the most important person in the eyes of the Sorenson brothers.
“Now we have to end this.”
Owen nodded and pocketed his phone. “Yes, we must find her.”
“Well, that’s not the most difficult part of the mission. Since Lance found her identity, I’ve been tracking her.”
“So why do I feel that you’re not happy about it?”
Dylan bit her lip. “Not unhappy. It’s just that everything is too easy. Too obvious.”
“Do you think she knows we’re observing her?”
Frowning, Dylan looked from her screen to Owen. “I think that we have been tricked too many times. And we don’t know anything of her motive, other than she sees herself as the heir of Knudson, and that she’s invested in a mission. Me.”
“And that’s not the part I don’t like. Not at all.” He came beside her, and lowered himself to capture her lips.
Dylan relished in the contact, how natural it had become, but she was surprised by how the simple touch turned into an intense and possessive fire. When he stepped back, she took his hand, unable to let him go yet.
“What’s going on?”
She shook her head, not answering.
He winked playfully. “Let’s put an end to this. Quickly.”
“Yes. Let’s.” Dylan turned to her computer.
Owen sat beside her, looking at the screen. “Let me know where she is, and we’ll go to her. Trap her.”
Dylan nodded, letting go of his hand, but halted her fingers above her keyboard.
“What? What’s in your mind, babe?”
Without answering him, she booted up another program. Dylan had an idea. She tracked the last stops of Miranda. A gas station. In a minute, she accessed the security system.
“From the beginning, she’s sent us on a wild goose chase. Why would that be different now? We assumed she was the one fleeing west, using her credit card. But to be honest, it doesn’t sit well with me. Before we make a move, I want to make sure of her whereabouts.”
The screen blinked and there was a point of view of the inside of the gas station, from behind the cashier. Dylan looked at the time, and compared it to the time Miranda would have made the transaction. A few more clicks confirmed what her gut had known from the beginning.
“Damn. It’s not her.”
On the screen, there was an old couple.
“She must have switched the cards in the system. No surprise there, she’s bright.”
“And if you find the card of this couple, their name or card number, could you find her?”
Dylan leaned back on her chair. “I doubt she would do that.”
“So, we’re a step behind once more.”
“Yes and no. We know her. We know who she is. And who she wants. What if I could contact her, offer to meet her?”
To his credit, Owen pondered her suggestion. “I know you’re truly considering it, but how can we do it safely? Until we have the upper hand, I don’
t see how it can be organized.”
Dylan got to her feet. “But what does she want from me? If I could only know that piece of information, I wouldn’t feel so stuck.”
“She’s the heir. What was the purpose of Knudson when he abducted all those girls? The key is there.”
Dylan walked to the window, and unseeing of the cityscape, forced herself to relive some of her worst memories. Images coalesced in her mind, and she tried her best to stay stoic, detached.
“The specialists and psychologists theorized about depersonalization, like he was trying to find a sense of self by appropriation. This means that he was supposed to have kidnapped and tortured to find a sort of satisfaction. But when I tried to analyze what happened to me, it doesn’t make sense.”
“Why?”
“When I was being tortured, I didn’t see satisfaction on his face or in his behavior. When I begged for my life, he looked … disappointed. When I fought back, I saw pride.”
“What did the experts say about that?”
Dylan smiled sadly. “They told me that due to my situation and trauma, I probably misinterpreted what I saw.”
“Did you?”
She blinked as she turned. “Did I what?”
“Did you misinterpret what you saw?”
Dylan paused but she knew the answer. “No.”
Smiling, Owen nodded. “You may have been his victim, but first and foremost you were a cop. And a cop sees and notices things. You may have been his captive, but your brain wasn’t. So, what did you see? What do you think it was?”
The answer was obvious for her. “It was a test. That’s what I think. All victims were young, spry, bright, and smart women. Up and coming. No feeble females. Not easily manipulated. I think he was testing them. Pushing their threshold of pain, playing mind games. The symbols he carved on each victim were symbols of power, not mere scars.”
“But for what purpose?”
Dylan sighed. “I don’t know. After all, he had a deranged mind … how can we give him clear and intelligent reasons for his actions?”
Without a word, Owen came behind her and took her in his arms. Leaning back, Dylan relished in his embrace, his chin resting in the crook of her neck. “You survived. And maybe it’s what Knudson was searching for all along. A survivor. The one who survived the longest, and would even more if Beatrice would have not killed him. You’re Knudson’s survivor, that’s why Miranda is obsessed by you. Maybe to finish what he started, for whatever reason.”
Dylan sighed deeply, her voice small, so small. “Sometimes, I wished I wouldn’t have survived.”
Owen’s hold tightened. “You didn’t survive for Knudson. You survived for yourself, so you could end this.” For a moment, he hesitated before tightening his hold on her, as if trying to transmit an emotion. “And I think you survived for me too, even though I didn’t know you yet. I love you, Dylan.”
The words hovered for a long time between them. Frozen, she thought that she had misheard. She turned in his arms.
“What did you say?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Don’t tell me you’re the kind of woman who’s into playing that sort of games.”
The panic that rose inside her did even see his tender teasing. “I must have hallucinated the words. And if I didn’t, you can’t say them to me. Ever again.”
Taken aback, Owen let her go. His frown was anything but friendly. “I won’t take them back. And I can say those words to whom I damn please.”
Dylan winced, but before she could find words to mend the gap between them, her phone rang. As the number was blocked, Dylan put it on the speaker to make sure that Owen could hear, too.
“Hello?”
“Dylan? It’s Bea.”
Dylan swallowed, relieved to hear her friend’s voice.
“Bea! Are you all right?”
“Yeah, all is good. I should have contacted you earlier, but after shutting down Purgatory, I had to make sure everyone and everything were protected. How are you?”
“We’re both fine, Owen is with me.”
“Good.” There was definitely relief in her friend’s voice.
“Why did you shut down Purgatory, Bea? What happened?”
It took a moment for Beatrice to answer her. At first, she thought that they had been disconnected.
“Because you told me to, Dylan.”
Dylan glanced at Owen before answering. “I didn’t order the shut down of Purgatory. I received the notification that you did.”
“Shit! A trick again, from Miranda Knudson?”
Whoa, news traveled fast. “Who told you?”
“Lance, he reached me, to give me an update. Did you find her? Or is she still out there?”
“Nothing yet. I’m still searching.”
“I’ll send a warning to all of our agents. To reinforce our defense system. At least until she’s stopped. You make sure you stay safe.”
Owen took a step, leaning over the phone. “We’re as safe as possible. You just take care of my mother, in the meantime.”
“No problem, Owen, just let me know where she is, and I’ll make sure she’s well surrounded.”
Owen froze and Dylan had to fight hard against the icy dread in her gut. “Beatrice, she’s with Mac and Wes.”
“There must be a mistake. As soon as Lance arrived to take care of your mother, they joined me here. Lance didn’t tell me where he intended to hide. That was two days ago. It’s been twenty-four hours since Lance last answered any of my calls. And you?”
Owen tensed as he answered, “I only spoke to him over the phone as he went back on some sort of secret errand. Didn’t look serious, though, and he promised he would go to my mother as soon as possible.”
Beatrice’s voice became clipped as they realized that since Lance arrived to protect Mary, he didn’t have contact with any of his siblings. Worse, that both him and Mary may have possibly disappeared.
Owen, pale as a ghost, straightened. “If they can’t be reached, that means that there is a possibility Miranda Knudson interfered. Maybe found their location.”
Something screeched over the speaker of the phone. Dylan took it in her hand. “Bea, do you hear me?”
Her friend’s voice was barely audible.
“I don’t understand, reception is not good, there is no reason …” More screeching noises and silence, as if the line had been disconnected.
“Hello, my hope to the world.”
Dylan froze, her eyes on Owen, as reality dawned on her. That voice. “Miranda?”
“You found out my name, I’m so pleased! But not surprised. You are, after all, an intelligent woman, one of the best hackers of your time.”
Dylan swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “As you can find me so easily, I cannot accept your compliment.”
“Oh, don’t belittle yourself! And if I have the upper hand right now, it is because I’ve analyzed your every move for so long. Studied who you are since the very moment you survived my dear brother’s test.”
Gently, Owen signaled her to move to her computer. Her brain kicked into gear and she understood.
“What test?”
“Come on! You can’t be so dumb not to have figured it out by now. You do know what my brother taught at college.”
“History.”
“Not only history. Mythology.”
Dylan started typing, as silently as she could. From the corner of her eye, she saw Owen taking his phone out, speaking to someone in a low voice.
“So, he taught mythology. What does it have to do with me?”
“Years ago, as he was studying the various forms of female mythology across the globe, he found out about a link between all of them. Similar symbols, similar stories of warrior women who transcended their times. When he returned, the idea obsessed him. He had to find that essence in women. That’s when he started his quest.”
“It wasn’t a quest; it was a rampage. He killed people!”
Miranda’s
voice firmed. “He was searching for a woman capable of accomplishing her destiny and influencing a world going into shambles. Even you can see that.”
Dylan tried to follow where the hook from her phone was coming from, but Miranda had scrambled the lines. It bounced all over the city, but remained distinctive to Seattle. She had to pinpoint its origin. A cell phone hack was less complicated than a computer’s, as the device was not as secured. The only solution was to taunt Miranda, keep her on the line.
