Dangerous Desires

by Tia Siren

  "Faster," she said, her voice somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

  That simple word falling from Whisper’s mouth sent another primal surge through him and Dante complied with her request, picking up speed as she reached back to support herself on his legs. The position presented her breasts to him and gave him a full view of their bodies massaging each other as she parted her thighs further. He watched hungrily as she gave herself to him so he could plunge into her harder and faster. He ran his hand up her body, briefly grasping her breast before running his palm up her throat and slipping his finger into her mouth. A suck and flick of her tongue drew an animal cry from deep in Dante's chest. He withdrew his finger and brought his touch back to the wet heat between them.

  Whisper's body suddenly gripped him, sending him tumbling into his own explosive orgasm. He impaled her with a forceful thrust, holding her hard against him as he poured into her, reveling in the thought that he was filling her, melding them together even more intimately. She fell forward onto him, shuddering in his arms as her body continued to squeeze him.

  10

  Just as Dante had told him to, Evan was still waiting in another small cellar beneath the floor of the living room when Whisper and Dante climbed out of the cellar and went for him. Whisper looked down into the space and saw Evan sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest.

  “They’re gone,” Dante said to him.

  He reached down and grabbed Evan’s arm to help him up the ladder.

  “What are we going to do?” Evan asked. “How could he have found out about the safehouse?”

  “There’s a leak somewhere,” Dante said. “Someone told him where to find us.”

  “Someone also told him that the police think that he’s holding me hostage,” Whisper said.

  “Something like that would spread fairly quickly,” Dante said. “Enemies from the neighborhood are one thing. A guard is another.”

  Dante looked at her.

  “So?” he asked.

  “So, they know that someone like that isn’t going to hang on to hostages endlessly. He’s going to kill us eventually.”

  “He’s going to try,” Dante said.

  “What would happen to you if the police found us right now?” Whisper asked.

  “They’d haul my ass back to that prison and toss me in the middle of the riot.”

  “And if you could prove unequivocally that Vince is responsible for Johnny’s death and the rape, and everything else that he’s done?”

  “I would still go back to prison,” Dante said. “They have more on me. Escape is enough to earn me years.”

  “So why don’t we ensure they never get a chance to put you back, but get Vince instead?”

  Evan’s expression turned quizzical and he took a step toward her.

  “What are you saying?” he asked.

  “I’m saying we let him kill us.”

  “You’re sure that they won’t be able to test them?” Dante asked.

  Whisper shook her head as she took the bracelet off of her arm and wrapped it around the skeletal wrist of the arm she had positioned in the center of the living room floor.

  “Even if they did, there wouldn’t be anything that they could do with the results. My DNA isn’t on file and I have no living relatives. There won’t be enough left for them to determine the age of the bones. It will all be based on assumption.”

  She looked at the arm a final time before starting out of the cabin, the bag of the few belongings that she was bringing with her over her shoulder. As she went, she tried to keep the guilt from overwhelming her. The bones belonged to someone buried in a potter’s field often used by the prison to inter dead inmates whose bodies weren’t claimed by their kin. This hadn’t been one of those bodies. Instead, it was a body that had been buried there after spending weeks in the morgue. Contained only in a fiberboard box, the body was nameless, forgotten. Now that person was going to give them a chance at their new life.

  As she walked out of the house, Evan came from the bedroom, the strong smell of gasoline following him. He tossed one empty gas tank to the side and opened another to start dousing the living room. He paused long enough to pour extra gas directly on the arm. Whisper watched him through the broken front door, waiting until he came to stand with her and Dante on the sidewalk.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  Both men nodded.

  Dante took a knife from his pocket and held it out to her. His face registered concern, but Whisper didn’t hesitate long enough to feel the same. She took the knife and in one swift movement slashed a cut across her arm. The adrenaline was flowing through her so much that she didn’t feel the pain. As the blood started to drip from her arm, Whisper shook it, letting the drops fall onto the stones of the walkway leading up to the house. She walked into the house, leaving a trail of blood droplets as she went. Before walking out of the house for the final time, she pressed her opposite hand to the cut and then grabbed the doorframe, leaving a handprint. She didn’t know how much of the structure was going to survive, but she wanted to leave as much as she could.

  As she wound bandages from her bag around her arm, Dante and Evan followed her lead. When they were finished, Dante used a lighter to ignite a piece of a branch from one of the nearby trees. As soon as he threw it into the cabin, flames shot up from the gas. Within moments, the entire structure was engulfed. Whisper suffered the searing heat to watch the cabin burn for a few seconds, then turned away and got into the car with the men. It was another car brought to them by one of Dante’s contacts, the first burned out on the path to the cabin, another breadcrumb left for the police. They would drive into the next state, pick up another car, and move on. Whisper didn’t know where the cars were coming from. It didn’t matter. Something like that seemed so incredibly trivial now.

  “Did they come?”

  Whisper smiled at Dante where he sat in a plush blue recliner, his mind and body getting the relaxation that it so deserved after all they had been through in the three weeks since the fire. She perched on the arm of the chair and he swept his arm around her waist, pulling her down into his lap. Whisper giggled and held the thick envelope she had found in the front seat of their car out to him. Dante took it and opened the flap, pulling out a sheaf of papers. He sifted through them and then handed several to her.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, looking over the papers in her hand at him as he read through his own papers.

  “Erick Halen. What’s yours?”

  Whisper smiled at the name, thinking of Erickson, the inmate they had left behind.

  “Gloria Halen.”

  Dante grimaced at the sound of the name.

  “That’s even worse than Whisper,” he said.

  She laughed and hit him playfully in the chest.

  “Hey!”

  He swept her up against him and gave her a hard, possessive kiss.

  “I love you no matter what we call you,” he said.

  Whisper’s heart swelled and she gave him another quick kiss.

  “I love you, too.” She brushed the hair away from his forehead. “Have you heard from Evan?” she asked.

  Dante nodded.

  “He made it to his next point. If he doesn’t have his papers already, he should have them soon. It won’t be much longer until we can hook back up.”

  “Good,” Whisper said.

  Going their separate ways after leaving the burning cabin had been difficult, but they agreed that it was the best thing that they could do. It would be easier for a single man and a couple to sink into obscurity separately than it would be for three people to do so together. News of their deaths had already gone out and Whisper had watched a televised vigil held for her at the prison. Though she should have been touched by the gesture, she wasn’t. They were such hypocrites, lamenting her senseless loss of life, yet not saying a word about either of the men presumed to have been murdered alongside her. She took comfort in
knowing that they had done exactly as she had expected them to, following the clues that they had left to make the assumption that they had been found, held hostage, and murdered by Vince, who then torched the cabin in an effort to conceal his crime. Police were scouring the area looking for him and she knew that he wouldn’t be able to evade them for long. Soon he would be in the riot-tattered skeleton of the prison, serving the years that Dante had already served for him, and looking ahead to a life of time that wouldn’t even begin to make amends for what he had done.

  She looked down at the papers in her hands again. Gloria Halen. The name made her laugh. Who thought of that? It certainly didn’t suit her and she didn’t know if she would ever be able to get fully accustomed to it. Maybe she would have to find a nickname that she could deal with and hope that it caught on. She looked at Dante and ran her fingers back through his hair again. It was thicker and longer now, the dark dye that he had chosen making it look richer as it flowed between her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the tattoo along the inside of her arm. Just like the one that mirrored hers on Dante’s arm, the pattern of a chain woven with a thorned vine of roses covered the scars left from the cuts they had made before leaving the cabin.

  Seeing the tattoo erased the shallow concerns about the name that she had been given on her new vital documents. It didn’t really matter what name she was now living under or what anyone called her. All that she cared about was that she shared that name with Dante and that together they would take on a world that had nearly been denied both of them, but was now completely open to them. As long as she had him, everything else was just details.

  Dante eased her off of his lap and she watched him take the wallet out of his pocket and toss it to the coffee table that filled a considerable amount of the living room in their tiny rented home. Now that they had their new papers they would be able to choose where they were going to settle and find a better home, but for this moment, this was home. As he scooped her into his arms and started carrying her toward the bedroom on the second floor of the house, she noticed the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from the billfold. She knew it was one of the few items that she had taken out of her house in the brief visit that they made before leaving the town, and the lives that they knew behind. Tucked in his wallet, a reminder of decisions that changed lifetimes, was the note that she had found on her desk what felt like so long ago, a note that she was thankful for now as she lost herself in Dante’s intoxicating touch that she didn’t follow.

  Don’t come into work on Thursday…

  Damaged

  Sarah J. Brooks

  1

  The chill of the December wind bit into Julian while he stood watching the ripples on the surface of the lake. It was beautiful, but his mind was far away. Something about the lake reminded him of his recent past, and he briefly wondered what would have happened had things gone differently. Someone moved up behind and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “What are you thinking about?” the sweet female voice asked.

  “Nothing.”

  She pushed under his arm and came to stand facing him, searching his eyes. Cupping his face, she kissed him tenderly.

  “Are you still thinking about her?”

  “Not at all,” he lied.

  The woman before him knew him well. She didn’t miss a beat. He had been thinking about the other female in his life. He couldn’t help it. She’d been an important staple in his life for the last few months, and she wasn’t as forgettable as he would have liked.

  “She’s gone; forget about her. Let’s enjoy our trip.”

  Resting her head on his shoulder, she pointed to some ducks feeding in the pond. The slight breeze was cold, which made her hug him close. Julian couldn’t help thinking about what happened in the past three months and how everything changed.

  Three months ago …

  Julian eyed the Hermes on his wrist, checking the time. Ryan should already be at the restaurant for the investor meeting. As he checked in at the reception desk at Chez Marie, the maître d’ raised his eyes from a computer behind the desk. He gave Julian a look of indifference before returning to the monitor.

  This was nothing new for Julian. At first glance, he seemed more like a bum rather than the genius behind the new medical technology that was set to take over the future. Jeans, a T-shirt, crumpled sports jacket, and sneakers was his most comfortable attire. A leather briefcase completed his ensemble. His clothing was not fitting for an upscale restaurant such as this. Julian smiled as the man raised his eyes once more.

  “Can I help you?” the maître d’ inquired, raking his eyes over Julian.

  “Julian McConnel. I have a reservation for a table of four.”

  The man in the black and white suit tapped his keyboard and scanned the computer monitor. A flicker crossed his face before he stared wide-eyed at Julian. This time a broad smile presented on his face as he perhaps realized who his guests were.

  Not only did Julian personally know the owner of the restaurant, he helped him get started. Additionally, the two investors he was meeting were two of the most prominent names in Cupertino.

  Julian was famous in the medical community. His small company, Maconn MedTech was becoming a leader in medical technology. His auto glucose reader had taken the market by storm only two years ago. It was the most widely-used blood glucose reader as of the latest survey.

  If you were diabetic and hated having to prick your fingers three times per day, then this was the device for you. A simple microchip was placed in the upper arm. This chip synchronized with a small handheld device that when turned on would give you an instant reading. No more pricking fingers or drawing blood. No more urine cups.

  “This way, sir.”

  The maître d’ guided Julian to the private dining area where two suited men were already sitting. Ryan was not among them. This was becoming a habit with his managing director. Julian knew he was going to be a few minutes late himself, so he’d asked Ryan to get to the restaurant early.

  A hushed tone greeted Julian as he followed the man to the dining area he’d reserved. From the small room, he could see through a glass panel the expanse of the main dining area. On the other side of the large dining room was another private area.

  The white tablecloths and silver cutlery gave the dining areas a pristine look. The only splashes of color were in the small floral arrangements on the center of each table. Patrons spoke in low tones as they enjoyed their breakfast. As he entered the room, he placed the briefcase at the foot of the table and greeted his guests.

  “Mr. Anderson, how are you?” Julian greeted one of the men and gripped his outstretched hand.

  “Great… great,” the man replied, giving Julian’s hand a vigorous shake. “And it’s Harold, no need for formalities here.”

  Julian turned to the other man, around the same height and age as the first. The men seemed to be in their early sixties, around the age his father would have been. Harold Anderson reminded him of his father with the graying sideburns and pale blue eyes.

  “How are you Mr. Reid?” he greeted his second guest.

  “Oh, come now, Julian. As Harold said, no need for formalities.”

  “Thank you, Leonard.”

  The business breakfast was supposed to start promptly at nine with Ryan taking the initiative. Julian had informed Leonard and Harold that he was running a few minutes late and expected Ryan to fill in. His MD was nowhere in sight.

  “Where’s your director?” Harold asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, since you’re here, we should get started.”

  “Yes. I apologize on behalf of…” Julian started, but someone rushing to the table caused him to pause mid-sentence.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” the person breathed, plopping her backside into one of the chairs.

  Julian stared for a moment at Ryan’s assistant. She wasn’t supposed to be at this meeting. In fact, this was intended to be an exclusive investor meeti
ng. No line staff was to be involved with the project until it was officially released.

  Julian stood and gently gripped her arm, pulling her up from the chair. He excused himself from the small group and moved away from the table. Going through the door, he entered the main dining room. The woman’s brown eyes narrowed as they looked questioningly at him.

  “What are you doing here, Colleen?”

  Pulling away from his grasp, she replied with a smile, “Ryan had an emergency, so he asked me to sit in for him.”

  “Why didn’t he contact me himself?”

  “I don’t know. You have to ask him that.”

  Julian felt chaffed by Ryan’s actions. They’d been friends since their freshman year in college. He made Ryan his MD when his software development business grew from his bedroom to rented office space. Ryan was the business and marketing executive to allow Julian to concentrate on his inventions.

  As a software engineer, Julian allowed Ryan to pull in the investors and market their products. Ryan knew nothing about software development, but Julian had a team of technicians whom he worked with. This particular project was exclusively Julian’s development. None of the other technicians had any input. Because of the sensitive nature of this project, he’d specifically informed Ryan that this new project was not to be discussed with anyone except the investors.

  “Look, Colleen, you can’t sit in this meeting. I’m sorry, but you can’t stay.”

  “Then how will I take notes?” she pouted, running a finger along his jacket lapel.

  “Take notes?” Julian chuckled. “What are we, in the 19th century? Don’t you think I record all my meetings?”