Flashback

by Cait London

  When his mouth lowered to take her breast, sucking gently, Rachel cried out softly.

  “No, I don’t believe I ever have….”

  I’ll haunt you forever….

  In his study, the man paced back and forth. Jada didn’t know where Rachel had gone. Rachel was after something, prowling around Neptune’s Landing, digging into private lives, and pretty soon she just might stumble onto something incriminating.

  “I can’t afford that…. She could ruin everything, my whole life of hard work, my standing in the community….”

  Rachel had closed Nine Balls with a simple sign on the door—Closed For Repairs. She’d called Jada early that morning and had told her and Trina not to worry, that she was taking a “little drive” to relax, maybe staying out of town overnight.

  “She never relaxes, and she always has a purpose.” He continued to prowl in his study, furious with Rachel’s interference. A methodical woman, she’d scour Nine Balls and the apartment and she’d find the connection he didn’t want discovered. If the doll was still there, the doll with the needles that had caused him to be impotent….

  He rubbed his forehead where the headache had lodged and imagined the pin piercing his head like a sword….

  Rachel had burned candles, the same way as Mallory, the vanilla scents lingering in the apartment. “Witches, the both of them, deserving what they get. Rachel is no more than the evil harlot her sister was. She’s out there now, doing something she shouldn’t be, poking around in other people’s business. Just maybe she needs a lesson, right here in Neptune’s Landing. I’d prefer to do it away from here, but if I have to—”

  The sunset slid through the window and shot straight into his brain. He reached into his desk drawer, found the headache pills his doctor had prescribed, and swallowed two of them with a full glass of water.

  Until Mallory’s death, he’d had a means to find pleasure, either watching her with other men by the video camera he’d installed or by punishing her for the evil seductress she was. Mallory had drawn him into her web, caused him do things he didn’t want to do. Only when she was groveling, practically strangled, could he successfully use her. “Because she actually liked it, knew that it was her punishment for being a sinner, a whore.”

  He’d removed the camera, just a tiny device hidden behind Mallory’s headboard with a perfect view to the activities on her bed. It wouldn’t do to have anyone else find it, because technology could have traced it to him. Rachel had stripped the apartment, burned Mallory’s bed, and replaced it with her own, one that Kyle Scanlon had obviously shared.

  “Where is that damned doll?” Forcing rage under control that few had seen, he sipped his cup of tea and brooded about Rachel and her lover. “Scanlon should have taken the hint, but he didn’t. Now it looks like I have Rachel and Scanlon to deal with. Not a good combination, but one that I am perfectly able to handle,” he murmured confidently before going back to his paperwork.

  A car passed by on the street bordering his office and soulful music slipped through his open window. I’ll be with you forever, till the tides no longer flow, till doves no longer fly and roses no longer bloom, till time comes no more…. I’ll be with you forever….

  Shaking, his hand knocked over the teacup, the brownish liquid spilling onto his paperwork. “Mallory….” he whispered, because the song was her favorite, and in his way, he’d loved her.

  Thirteen

  “YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME,” RACHEL WHISPERED FIERCELY, her fingers digging into Kyle’s shoulder as she pressed her hips down upon him, moving slowly to feel him deep inside, filling her.

  “I am?” Kyle’s hands were busy cupping her breasts, his mouth tormenting them, the edges of his teeth applying just enough pressure to keep her on that peak without releasing her.

  Rachel’s thighs slid against his, her hips lifting, withdrawing that tight moist heat gloving him. “Tell me, Scanlon.”

  Her hair clung damply to her cheeks, her muscles taut with the physical pressure of demanding everything from Kyle. Her skin burned with every touch of his hands, of his belly, hard against hers, of the place where his body locked with hers.

  Riding on the edge of her passion, fiercely needing to match Kyle’s raw, honest hunger, Rachel pushed herself—and him—and reveled in the wide-open freedom, holding nothing back…. She smiled briefly into his silvery slitted eyes, testing the beast within him, the control of those big hands moving on her possessively. He clamped her to him and she loved moving within the power of their lovemaking, holding her own, demanding as much as he…. She’d never been so alive, prowling through her sensations, her hunger, feeding on it—

  She tasted the perspiration on his jaw, nipping him lightly to feel the rock-solid jolt of his body within her, the strain of holding back nudging him.

  Once more, she dived in to feed on his lips, to taste the hot dark depths of his mouth, her tongue matching his, the slant of their kiss as tight as the joining of their bodies. She pushed down hard, felt the resulting inner pressure and held still, feeling his breath upon her face, gauging that dark savage look on his face, the stark primitive look that said he’d be coming soon, that he needed relief.

  “You’re not sweet, Scanlon. You’re holding out in more ways than one.”

  “That’s my charm, honey. Keeps ’em coming back for more.”

  Rachel grasped his head and took his mouth again. “You know that’s not true. The girls and I had a little chat about you. You haven’t had sex for years.”

  Kyle’s hands slid down to cup her butt, hiking her closer, moving her body faster, rocking her above him. “What would they know?”

  “They aren’t exactly sweethearts, Kyle. They just know. You’re sweaty.”

  “So are you, and you’re close to it—”

  “No more than you….”

  “Oh, no?” His hand curved around her hip and eased down low on her, his thumb pressing, rubbing just there—

  Rachel closed her eyes as the tightening within her started to pound, racing through her bloodstream, burning her mind. Amid her pleasure, swimming in it, resenting letting it go, Rachel couldn’t think, arching back as Kyle took her breast into his mouth, sucking in rhythm to the pounding of their bodies. She tossed against him, fighting to control the tide of heat and pleasure overtaking her…. But Kyle held her tight, moving relentlessly amid the storm enfolding them.

  On that high edge of release, Rachel held herself tightly, going inside herself for the pleasure that ran on without her control.

  Kyle turned her quickly beneath him, moving deep inside, holding them both on that edge. Rachel gripped his back, dug her fingers into the powerful, flowing muscles, her feet braced to lift her hips higher to his. When her pleasure burst, she cried out and supported by his forearms, Kyle’s muscled body arched bow-tight.

  After a long sweet fall into a pool of pleasure, Rachel summoned her strength to look up at Kyle, still locked in place, his body quivering with his own release. His expression was no longer primitive, but tenderness and uncertainty moved around the hard planes, something that caught and bound her.

  Rachel lifted her hands and smoothed his face, drawing him down for a soft kiss. She felt more for this man than the passion that rose too quickly, the burning flame too hard to control. She was half in love with him, needing him, enjoying their game. She floated amid the small, gentle kisses across her face, the tenderness soothing after an almost savage lovemaking, and gathered him down upon her, stroking those quivering muscles of his back in a leisurely play she’d never wanted, never had….

  “I’m heavy,” Kyle breathed against her throat as he prepared to ease away, his muscles tensing.

  “Stay…”

  She ran her insoles up and down his legs, cherished the difference of male and female textures, her thighs rubbing against his. “Mmm…. Is that all you’ve got, Scanlon?” she whispered dreamily. She didn’t want this moment to end, the weight of Kyle upon her, the safety and warmth she felt
with him now, the barriers gone….

  He nuzzled her throat, kissed the edge of her jaw and smiled against her lips as his hands moved gently over her. “Having fun?”

  Rachel drifted amid her soft, glowing cloud, luxuriating in the aftermath of their passionate struggle. She sighed and when she forced her eyes to open that bit, she caught Kyle’s closed expression, the way he watched his hands flowing over her breasts, over her hips and thighs. “You’re so pale, so soft,” he whispered unevenly.

  “You’re not,” she returned gently, as she sensed Kyle wading through his emotions. Whatever was being forged between them, apart from sex, shimmered and warmed. He’d held her so possessively, touched her so reverently, almost in awe.

  When he looked back at her, Kyle frowned and eased away, lying beside her. Rachel curled against him, placed her thigh over his, her hand running across that damp, intriguing chest as she kissed his shoulder and listened to his slowing heartbeat. His fingers slid the damp strands from her cheek and replaced them with his kiss.

  The air-conditioner’s steady hum enfolded them, sunset lighting the closed blinds, people talking, yelling as they entered their cars, the beep of automatic locks being opened and closed. Enclosed in their private world, Rachel slid into much needed sleep.

  She slowly surfaced to Kyle’s warmth moving over her, his knee easing her legs apart, his sex stroking her up and down, dampening her to slide within, filling her. Dreamlike, they made love, a gentle contrast to their first desperate hungers and later, lay tangled amid the sheets, hands lightly caressing each other’s bodies, a kiss given and one taken as the hours slid by.

  “Mallory’s vanilla scent is soaked into everything, even my notepad.”

  At eleven o’clock, his office was quiet and shadowy, the light of the computer screen lighting his face. He answered a few impatient e-mails, “friends” wanting their old meeting place back—and the girl that went with them. They didn’t know who he was, of course, his identity protected by an anonymous e-mailing system. They weren’t happy about staying away, but he needed time to get Rachel out of Nine Balls.

  Jada’s running dialogue as she’d cleaned his house had infuriated him, but he’d pushed away that anger and coldly set to work tracking her sister. Bringing Rachel to heel excited him, and the next time he’d make certain that she fought—and aroused him. He flipped open his notepad to the numbers he’d taken from Rachel’s credit cards. Luckily, she was one of those people who used online banking and her credit purchases could be easily tracked with a password. He had taken down several passwords from the booklet he’d found in her laptop briefcase…. “That sloppiness was not typical of her, but then, she was upset about her sweet sister, wasn’t she? Mm…Mallory…that password fits right on target, Rachel….”

  He scanned the list of Rachel’s online accounts. “Nice investments. Smart, but then, you’ve always taken care of business, haven’t you, Rachel? You’ve got quite a nice nest egg. You can run Nine Balls for a while without showing a profit, can’t you?”

  He hunted for her credit cards, anything to show him recent purchases. Rachel had used her credit card just that afternoon, and he quickly clicked to her last charge. “Margie’s Little Motel,” the 800 number, and the charge was listed.

  Confidently, he dialed a number of an “associate” who called the motel asking directions. Within minutes, the motel’s location in ChakChak, Idaho, came back. Using the white pages online, he found a John Scanlon Jr. “Very interesting, Rachel. You’re with Kyle now, aren’t you? That mechanic—letting his greasy hands touch you….”

  His own were soft, but strong and he knew they could hurt.

  The semi-automatic gleamed on his desk and he hefted it, getting the feel of it. The fully loaded clip was filled with deadly hollow-point bullets. “Mmm. A handy little thing. Left right beside a list of people for Rachel to call if she felt threatened. Most likely it belongs to Kyle, who wrote that list.”

  He sighted it out in front of him, supporting his right hand with his left. He’d never really toyed with a gun before. It was heavier than he expected and he chuckled as he thought of the stunned look on the mechanic’s face as a bullet took him down—not to kill him immediately, but just enough to disable him. “It is always you, Scanlon, standing in the way of what I want. And then I can have Rachel…she’ll grow to love me, too, just as Mallory did.”

  He thought of Rachel beneath him—soft, agile, terrified—and chuckled again, wildly, the sound ricocheting in the shadows….

  Somewhere between midnight and predawn, Rachel roused. As she slipped from Kyle’s arms, his eyes opened, hunger still simmering within the depths. Her body ached slightly as she walked to the bathroom, aware of his stare, the attraction of his body for hers. Had she returned to Kyle, they would have made love once more.

  Instead, Rachel collected her overnight bag and then walked into the bathroom and showered luxuriously, her body sensitive to the pinpricks of warm water, to the soap bubbles sliding down her, to the intimate and sensitive areas of her body that Kyle had possessed. She towel dried her hair and in the mirror found the slight reddish marks of his morning stubble on her skin, the heavy sated look of her eyes, the new fullness of her lips. Kyle’s overnight kit—aftershave, a toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving cream, and a blue plastic razor he had used yesterday—rested on the scarred vanity next to the chipped sink.

  What was she doing in this cheap motel room, a sack of cold, untouched burgers on the table and a man sprawled, sleeping in the bed with the sagging mattress?

  Why did she want more, even now, after making love for hours, the muscles of her body aching slightly from the exertion, pushing the limits?

  Yet there was tenderness between them now, a caring she hadn’t expected or hadn’t wanted. The attraction could be physical and momentary, soon dying and leaving little self-respect.

  On the other hand, now, at this moment, she didn’t want to be anywhere else but in this cheap hotel with its cracked mirror and dripping faucet—with Kyle Scanlon, a man she had always detested, a man who she had believed ruined Mallory—but then, he’d cared for her, tried to save her, didn’t he? He’d helped her to live….

  Rachel combed her damp hair and studied herself in the mirror, a woman who had never spent a night in a motel like this one, never had a brief affair, never demanded or hungered, or felt so much alive—

  I love you, Kyle, Mallory had written on the mirror.

  Mallory…Rachel’s sister and the likely mother of the girl…. Rachel frowned slightly and placed her comb inside her designer cosmetic bag, so different from the drugstore’s basic overnight kit for men.

  She wrapped a towel around her body, tucked the end between her breasts and opened the door to the tall, powerful, naked man on the opposite side. Kyle’s hands braced against the doorframe, and those blue eyes stripped her as one hand moved to cup her breast gently, caressing it beneath the toweling. Then his finger prowled slowly across the top of her breasts, hooking into the cloth between them.

  “I came here for a reason, Kyle. This wasn’t it,” Rachel whispered, even as she lifted her lips to his seeking, sensual kiss. All her defenses were slipping away, just like the towel.

  “Disappointed?” There was a rough edge to that deep drawl as though Kyle feared the answer. Rachel caught that vulnerability, and treasured it, one of the intriguing tidbits about Kyle.

  “Um. Not really,” she whispered, only giving him so much so that he would take more.

  He smiled tightly and she knew the game was on, the excitement racing between them. “Feeling okay? Not hurting anywhere special?” he asked.

  She let her eyes drift downward to where his erection stood hot against her belly. “Feeling tiptop and shipshape.”

  The towel dropped between them, and Kyle’s gaze slowly took in her nude body. Then his hand curved around her nape and tugged her to him; his other hand pressed her hard against him. His kiss was rawly primitive and possessive, and when Rache
l’s arms locked around his neck, Kyle picked her up and carried her to the bed, dropping her down on it. His body followed, lying heavy and warm over her. “Any complaints?”

  Aware of the tenderness now between them, she smoothed back his hair. “Not a one. You?”

  “I think you’re going to cost me a lot of sleep.”

  Feeling warm and alive and carefree, Rachel laughed at that and gave herself to the man already moving within her….

  Rachel awoke to blinding sunlight, her own protesting groan, and the heavenly scent of fresh coffee. “That’s not nice,” she said to the man who had just opened the blinds to the morning sun.

  “Just getting your attention.” Kyle closed the blinds immediately. He sat fully dressed beneath the window, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his stocking feet on one chair. His hair was damp and combed, his face shaven, but he wore the same greasy, torn shirt and jeans from yesterday. He smiled at her and laid the newspaper he’d been reading onto the table. “Breakfast is on the table beside you.”

  Holding the sheet in front of her breasts, Rachel slowly sat up in the rumpled bed, adjusting the pillow behind her. The retro designed tray held a big plate of bacon, eggs, hash browns and biscuits, a tall glass of orange juice and a small carafe of coffee. Rachel’s hand shook as she poured the coffee into a big heavy mug and tried to ignore Kyle’s steady, penetrating look. She resented the fact that Kyle looked so awake while she was struggling to place herself in this room, with this man, after a night of loving him. She opted for casual protocol, as if she were accustomed to morning-afters. “No breakfast for you?”