Submissive by Moonlight

by Sindra van Yssel

  Foot hit flesh with a bone-breaking crunch. Frank stumbled backward. The kick had succeeded too well, and Nolan was thrown off balance for a moment. Frank coughed, seemingly stunned.

  Maybe I punctured a lung or something. Nolan stumbled forward and aimed another kick, this one at Frank’s head. Frank raised the pistol. Nolan knew he wasn’t going to be fast enough to stop him from getting the shot off, so he tried to twist as he kicked.

  He heard the report of the gun but stayed focused as he drove his foot into Frank’s head. Frank went down and didn’t move again. Nolan reached for his own gun, but his side hurt like hell. He touched his hand to his side, and it came back wet. He didn’t have to look to know why. He needed backup. Still. He bent at the knees to pick up the radio and heard the front door open. He remembered the shotgun Kyle had. He could probably shoot whoever was coming before they acted, but he’d rather not kill any more people than he had to. Especially kids, even if they were legally adults. So he moved to the side of the house, flattened himself against it, and waited.

  Breathing hurt, but he was getting enough air. He took shallow, quiet breaths, and waited. He felt decidedly wobbly. Maybe I’m losing too much blood. Fuck.

  Kyle came around the corner, carrying the shotgun, and saw Frank lying there. The man hadn’t moved. “Oh my God. Someone shot him. Oh my God.”

  “Drop the gun and put your hands behind your back, Kyle, or I’ll have to shoot you too.”

  Kyle dropped the gun as if it were red-hot and first started to raise his hands, then put them behind his back. Nolan snapped his handcuffs on the kid and then leaned back against the wall. Even with handcuffs, Kyle could do a number on him if he lost consciousness. And he still hadn’t summoned backup. He picked up the radio.

  “I need backup. Suspects are armed and holed up in an abandoned house, and they have a hostage. Off Tyler Road, near the Sampson farm, off a side road from their access road. I’ll need an ambulance too. I’ve been hit.”

  “Roger that. It’s already on its way.” The chief’s voice.

  “Huh?”

  “Miss Clarke called, said she sensed you were in danger. Couldn’t find Frank, but played back your call.”

  “Roger. Hurry.” Did Marisa really sense that? Or was she making a worried and fortunate guess?”

  Kyle turned and looked at him, a sly look in his eye.

  “What?” Nolan asked.

  “You didn’t read me my rights.”

  “I didn’t arrest you, either.” Nolan growled. “Keep your mouth shut, and I won’t shoot you.”

  Kyle shut up. Nolan sat down. He still had Aaron to worry about, and he couldn’t very well go charging into rescue Jerry in this condition. On the other hand, he now knew that the door squeaked. If Aaron came for him, he’d have plenty of warning.

  He heard the door a few minutes later. Aaron had probably wondered why Kyle didn’t come back. He expected him to come around the corner, possibly armed. Instead Aaron ran down the road as fast as he could go.

  “That fucking coward,” said Kyle.

  Nolan let Aaron go. He didn’t have another pair of handcuffs on him, and they’d be able to catch Aaron eventually anyway. Nolan knew that a doctor would say he ought to stay still, but he didn’t. He moved on his butt over to the window and then peered inside. Jerry was still there, still breathing, still tied up. And alone. Good enough. He settled back against the wall and waited for backup. He could hear the sirens faintly in the distance.

  He clicked on the radio. “Suspect escaping, Aaron Mercer, age twenty, muscular with short black hair. Don’t know if he’s armed. Pick him up if it doesn’t slow you down, but get here fast.”

  It wouldn’t do to pass out. Nolan knew he was getting weaker by the minute. He was losing a lot of blood, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. He jammed his shirt up around the wound and hoped for the best.

  He suspected that even if he passed out, Kyle would make a run for it. Even if the kid couldn’t hear the sirens, he knew from the radio conversation that help was on its way and that he wouldn’t be helping his case if he killed a wounded police officer. But people weren’t always rational, and Kyle’s situation didn’t look so good no matter how you sliced it. Kidnapping. Drugs. Whatever else he and the Mercers had been up to.

  He managed to stay awake until the last patrol car came up. “Jerry. Inside. Tied up,” he said to McSweeney when the man reached him. Then he passed out.

  * * * *

  He dreamed Marisa was there whispering to him. Holding his hand. He knew they had given him painkillers of some sort. They probably wanted him to rest. He wanted to see her, and that gave him the strength to wake up.

  But Marisa wasn’t there. The room was empty. He called out for her.

  A nurse came through. She checked the monitor, and then she left. A few minutes later a familiar figure appeared at the door.

  “Welcome to the land of the living,” said the chief.

  “Oh, man.” Nolan closed his eyes. Maybe he could go back to sleep. He knew that eventually there would be lots of questions. Papers to fill out. Days to appear in court. But that wasn’t what he’d woken up for.

  “That little woman’s been mighty worried about you. She’s been staying with you almost all the time. And trying to get the nurses to let her light candles.”

  “Where is she now?” he asked. He imagined not in earshot, because he didn’t figure the chief could get away calling her “that little woman” if she was.

  “Sleeping. She’ll be back. She’s a flake, isn’t she? Sorry if I saddled you with her, but I’m sure you can shake her eventually.”

  Nolan clenched his fist around the bedrail. “She is not a flake. She’s a very unique person with special qualities.”

  Jacobsen put his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. It’s clear that she cares about you. Anyway, she’ll be back.”

  Nolan smiled and relaxed. For some reason knowing she was coming back, and that she cared, made him feel very good, in spite of the pain he was in.

  “We picked up Aaron on the road,” the chief said. “Jerry’s in the hospital for observation, but he’s going to be okay. He’s gonna make a good witness too. He saw a drug deal going down, and that’s apparently why he was kidnapped. Kyle and Aaron have been talking. Kyle claims that Frank and Aaron were part of a gang, and his story matches up with Jerry’s. Aaron claims that he and his dad were there to assist you.”

  He couldn’t let that slide. “Aaron is full of shit.”

  “I figured. I think he was hoping you wouldn’t make it. We got the bullet that hit you, and it came from Frank’s gun.”

  “How’s Frank doing?”

  “Dead. Rib punctured his lung. Another almost perforated his heart. Doc says a single blunt-force trauma broke several ribs.”

  “That was me.”

  Jacobsen nodded. “All right, then. Anything else you want to know?”

  Nolan’s mind was beginning to clear. He thought about what had led him to Kyle and Aaron in the first place. Some of it had been good old-fashioned detective work, but the rest had been Marisa. But what had she really told him? That Jerry had seen something, and maybe he had, but that happened before he called her, so maybe he clued her in then somehow. That he was afraid. That didn’t take Sherlock Holmes, either, given that he was missing. That there were people with Jerry who were on edge. Well, accurate, but if he’d been running away, he would have probably been in crowded bus stations, and the people there would have had their own worries. She’d said one more thing, though, that was specific. Testable.

  “Cookies. Were there cookies in the house?” He looked at Jacobsen.

  Jacobsen chuckled. “That’s what you want to know? Yeah, in fact. There were a ton of them. Seems that’s the worst thing they did to Jerry, other than the coke they were making him snort. They fed him nothing but cookies the entire time they had him.”

  Ugh. That was it, then. Marisa was a witch. That was the one detail she cou
ldn’t guess. “Every kid’s dream, nothing but Oreos, but yeah, that would make you pretty sick.”

  “Oreos? Nah. Nilla Wafers and lemon cremes.”

  Nolan had no idea what to make of that. The drugs in his body were winning again, making it hard for him to care. Maybe Marisa would bring him cookies. That would be nice. Yeah.

  He fell back asleep.

  * * * *

  When he woke up again, Marisa was there. He stayed still for a moment. She was holding his hand in hers, but his hand was a lot bigger. He needed to think for a moment. He’d been dreaming of her. He wanted her there more than anything. He just hadn’t gotten it sorted out yet. He still didn’t know what to make of all this witch stuff, but she’d been helpful in finding Jerry. And in finding the girl. Hell, if he was her, maybe he’d believe it all too.

  And that aside, she was perfect for him. Smart enough to challenge him. Independent enough outside the bedroom to hold her own in any conversation. Hell, probably smarter than him, given what she could do with computers. Submissive sexually. He enjoyed her company, even if they did see the world differently.

  He moved his hand to enfold her small hand in his large paw. It fit better that way.

  “You’re awake.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say, so he squeezed her hand again. He hated being drugged. It took him out of control. But the sound of her voice was like that of an angel. Maybe she’d keep talking. He looked at her. She was wearing a dark flower-print dress with a black background broken by pink roses and green leaves. She looked good all dressed up, even if her eyes had dark circles underneath them. Better than he did, that was certain.

  “They tell me they’ll let you go soon if you can stay awake,” she said. “They’ve given you a blood transfusion.”

  “I could stay awake if they quit pumping me full of drugs.”

  “You got shot. I hear that hurts.”

  “Not right now it doesn’t.”

  She had the good sense not to tell him that was because of the drugs. He knew that, but he’d rather have the pain. There was an awkward silence until she spoke again.

  “I told them I was your girlfriend,” she said. “It was the only way they’d let me stay. I wanted to be here for you.”

  Girlfriend. That sounded pretty good, actually. Although maybe he should make that call when he was less drug-addled.

  “I was thinking of you while I was asleep.”

  She smiled. “I know.”

  Right, because you can read minds. He almost said it, voice dripping with sarcasm, but he didn’t. Possibly because the drugs slowed him down even as they reduced his inhibitions. Besides, maybe she could. Or maybe he’d been talking in his sleep.

  Maybe she was that confident. Although he doubted that. He got the impression that as sure of herself as she generally was, it didn’t extend to thinking she was attractive to men.

  “They’ll want someone to stay with you. Chief Jacobsen said he could call your mom.”

  “Oh my God, no.” His mother was an admirable, caring woman who loved him very much. She would make him hot cocoa, tuck him in, and wait on him hand and foot in between lectures on the Bible and the importance of giving his life to Jesus. His mother’s faith worked for her, and the last thing he wanted to do was take it away from her, so he tried not to argue.

  Marisa raised her eyebrows. The idea of her and his mother together made him chuckle. Okay, that hurt, although in a way it was good to feel the pain. The drugs only did a halfway decent job of deadening the pain. Mostly they made him not care whether he hurt or not, and he liked that even less than not feeling.

  “What’s funny?”

  “My mother.”

  “She wouldn’t come?”

  “She’d be on the first plane and get here as fast as she can.”

  Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Wasn’t that in the Bible somewhere? Not that his mother would put it into practice. But the two would clash, for sure. And maybe at some point reach an agreement to disagree. He wanted things to be more solid with Marisa first. But someday. My God, I’m planning how it will go when she meets my mother. I guess she is my girlfriend.

  “Well, your other option is to stay with me.”

  He smiled. “I think I’d like that very much.”

  * * * *

  Marisa took Nolan back to his place, but it was a small apartment, and they both agreed it was cramped for two. So she helped him pack up a suitcase, which he wasn’t allowed to lift, and she drove him to her house.

  She provided him with a stack of books and moved the television into the bedroom so he could lie down and watch. She told him to ring for her if he needed anything and went to the kitchen. For some reason, she felt like baking. It was something to do with her hands that let her think at the same time.

  “I love you,” he’d said in the hospital.

  Of course he was half-conscious and drugged when he’d said it, so it didn’t count. Maybe he didn’t even remember it. Maybe he would have said it to a complete stranger.

  Or maybe he meant it.

  She was thinking maybe she meant it back. She knew there was something there. Sexual sparks, for sure. A bond that she could feel as surely as her bond with the Goddess. An almost—no, not almost—a magical connection. They were soul mates. She wasn’t sure why she balked at the word “love.”

  She chuckled. It was easier to believe in magic than in love. Maybe it was the reverse for Nolan.

  She had the dough all made and was rolling out a pie crust on the counter when she heard his footsteps. She glanced over to make sure he was all right. He filled the doorway. Wearing nothing but shorts and some medical tape, he sure looked good.

  “You’re supposed to be in bed,” she chided.

  “The doctor said rest. I’m not exerting myself.”

  “He said take it easy.”

  “You’re easy on the eyes.”

  She blushed and looked back at the pie.

  “I’m not allowed to do any heavy lifting,” he said. She could tell from his voice that he’d moved behind her, but his footsteps had made almost no sound on the kitchen tile.

  “Well, then you better not lift me,” she retorted.

  “Not for a while,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  She wanted to lean back into him and rest her head against his shoulder. But he should be in bed. “You’re a rotten patient.”

  “Huh. I think I’ve been told that before.”

  “By who?” she asked, instantly jealous of the last woman who got to be with him when he was sick.

  He laughed. “By doctors, nurses, and my mother. However, I always get better. And I do listen to doctors’ instructions.” He moved his hands upward, cupping her breasts. “I don’t think he meant I couldn’t lift these.” His thumbs brushed against her nipples through two layers of fabric.

  She resisted the temptation to moan but couldn’t avoid a gasp. His hands felt so good. She ought to have a retort ready, but her brain wasn’t functioning. She gripped the rolling pin tighter.

  “Can’t have you on top, though, I’m afraid,” he said. “And me on top is too much like doing push-ups, so that’s out too.”

  A minute earlier she wouldn’t have thought a few days without sex would be that horrible, but her opinion was changing as he played with her breasts. Still, she should be strong. “Rest, and you’ll be able to have me any way you want.” Any way he wants. God that felt good to say.

  “Actually,” he said, giving her a nudge in the backside, “I was thinking that since I’m up to standing and some moving, I could simply take you from behind.” He lifted the hem of her skirt and pulled her panties down.

  “Here?” She was sure that wasn’t what the doctor meant by rest. But she couldn’t help but visualize his cock sliding into her, and her pussy clenched at the thought.

  “In bed. Later. But keep your panties off. I want you to remember what I’m going to do.”

  She nodded. Not trusti
ng herself to speak.

  “Do you have anything you need to tell me?”

  Do I dare say I love you? There was a silence that seemed to extend painfully long. And then she thought of something else he’d asked her to say, something that had seemed impossibly difficult at the time. But now it seemed the easier course, almost a cop out. But at least it was true. “I’m wet.”

  “Good girl. I’ll be able to do something about that. Soon.” He let go of her and took a step back. A grunt accompanied the step, causing Marisa to turn in alarm.

  “I’ll go lie down now,” he said. “I’m okay. It’s only pain. The drugs are wearing off.”

  She frowned at him out of concern. “I’ll bring you some more. It’s been four hours. You’re entitled. Want me to help you back to bed?”

  “I’ll lie on the couch.”

  “The television’s back in the bedroom.”

  “That’s okay. There’s no football on till Saturday. Besides, I tossed one of the sci-fi books you brought me on the couch on the way here.”

  Obviously, he’d planned to end up there all along. Maybe he wasn’t as bad a patient as she thought. Or maybe he didn’t like the frills of a girl’s bedroom. She watched him until he was lying down again, and then brought him two of his pills and a glass of orange juice to wash them down with before going back to making her pie.

  * * * *

  They made love that night on her bed over Marisa’s feeble and unmeant protests. She knelt on the bed on her forearms and knees, her ass up in the air, and he knelt behind her. His hands were expert. He seemed to know when to caress her breasts and when to rub her clit in time with his thrusts. She came softly, and he achieved his release a few moments later.

  “I love you, Marisa,” he whispered.

  She wanted to say it back, but she didn’t. He was asleep shortly after he disposed of the condom.

  She watched him for a while. The painkillers she had brought him were still on the table next to the couch, untaken. But having a bullet go through your body had to hurt for a few days. She was pretty sure she’d be slamming down anything they gave her to make her feel better, and if it made her drowsy, so much the better. But despite her earlier comment, he wasn’t a bad patient. He didn’t complain, and he didn’t make demands. She missed him making demands, actually.