Burn

by HELEN HARDT

  And goddamnit, I had to have her.

  How I longed to shove my cock in her tight little asshole, but that would have to wait.

  The next time she removed her mouth, I flipped over quickly, my erection huge and standing straight.

  She bit her lip—that beautiful red lower lip.

  “Sit on my cock, baby. I need to be inside you.”

  She gnawed more on that lower lip. “Did you like it?”

  I closed my eyes and groaned. “My God, sweetheart. Look at this fucking hard-on I have for you because of what you were doing.”

  She smiled and sank down on my cock.

  Sweet fucking Jesus. I had come home.

  “Now fuck me, baby,” I said. “Ride my cock. Ride me all the way home.”

  She lifted off of me and plunged back down. My skin tingled, my nerves sizzled, every cell in my body prepared for an orgasm.

  “That’s right. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard.”

  Her beautiful tits bounced as she fucked me, and I reached for them, thumbing her erect nipples. She sighed beneath my hands. Still fucked me hard.

  She was an angel above me, her blond hair falling in waves over her soft shoulders. Her green eyes were closed.

  She bit that luscious lower lip of hers, always ruby red and ready to be kissed.

  “God, baby. You’re so beautiful.”

  She fucked me harder, and then…one of her arms slithered down to her abdomen, and she began stroking.

  I nearly exploded into her then. So beautiful, watching her touch herself. I groaned. “Baby, I can’t believe how gorgeous you are.”

  Her fingers slowly padded over her folds and her opening, which was slick with juices. She rubbed herself while continuing to fuck me.

  I hoped she would come soon because I was nearly there. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back, not wanting it to end because her gyrating hips pushing up and down on my dick felt so good.

  And then—

  “Oh!” She forced her beautiful pussy down on my cock.

  That was the end for me. I spewed up into her, releasing everything into her, my heart, my body, my soul. All into this beautiful woman.

  Melanie. My Melanie.

  I closed my eyes, thrusting my hips up into her, milking every last drop from my cock.

  “Melanie.” I opened my eyes.

  Her long hair was plastered in damp strips to her creamy body.

  “I love you,” I ground out.

  Her orgasm was still reeling, her eyes still closed, her body still shuddering above mine. God, she was beautiful. Her body was covered in a shiny coat of dew.

  So perfect.

  She pulled herself off me, and immediately I felt that sense of loss. But soon she was snuggling in my arms, her head tucked into my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her.

  How perfectly she fit against my body, like we’d been created to slide together. No one had ever felt so good against me, as if she were cut perfectly to fit my mold.

  And in my heart, my soul, the deepest marrow of my bones, I knew no one ever would again.

  * * *

  A few days later, Melanie arranged to meet Talon at the house to do a therapy session including hypnosis. I had finished my work for the day, so I decided it would be a good day to drive into the city and have a chat with Larry Wade. Bryce had gone with me the last time, but this time I needed to see Larry alone. There were questions I needed to ask—questions I couldn’t ask in front of my best friend. I couldn’t ask Talon to go with me either. He wasn’t ready to face one of the men who had abused him so horrifically. Plus, I had every intention of asking Larry point blank about Tom Simpson and where he might be hiding. I needed to be armed with the most accurate information possible when I told Talon and Bryce my suspicions.

  And while I was at it, I’d ask about Milo Sanchez, and if there was any connection to Nico Kostas or Gina’s abusive uncle.

  Would he answer? Probably not. So I’d have to be on guard. I’d have to try to get him to slip up.

  I sat at the table looking through the glass, waiting for Larry to come and talk to me on the phone. Because it was only me this time, a guard didn’t need to escort Larry to the visitor’s area. For violent offenders like Larry, even though he hadn’t been convicted of anything yet, the guards really didn’t like to use the open area.

  I was slightly disappointed. I wanted to look my uncle straight in the eye and ask questions. Granted, the glass was clear, but it still created a barrier—a barrier I didn’t want right now.

  Finally, a guard escorted Larry down the walkway to the desk in front of me. We were separated only by the glass. I picked up the phone.

  Larry picked up the phone as well. “What the fuck do you want now?”

  “Nice to see you too, Uncle Larry.”

  Again, Larry looked like he had aged. His face had healed, but he had lost weight, and his forearms were bruised and battered. Clearly, he was still getting into some trouble behind bars.

  “Just here to ask you some questions,” I said. “I hope you’re feeling more talkative today.”

  “Can’t say that I am.”

  “The offer still stands. You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll hire the best lawyer in Colorado to represent you.”

  He said nothing.

  “So…I’m going to ask you again about Nico Kostas. Does that name ring a bell?”

  “Nope.”

  “How about Milo Sanchez?”

  One of his brows lifted. Nearly microscopically, but I noticed. I again cursed the glass between us. If only I could get a look straight into his face, with no barrier, not even a clear one.

  “Recognize the name?”

  Larry cleared his throat. “No.”

  “Theodore Mathias.”

  Again his brow lifted, just slightly.

  “Nicholas Castle?”

  Nothing.

  “John Smith?”

  Nothing again. Either he had trained his eyebrows to stay down, or he didn’t recognize the names.

  “Is it possible that all those men—Nico Kostas, Milo Sanchez, and the other three—are all the same person?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Larry said.

  “Some of them even sound similar. Nico Kostas and Nicholas Castle. Don’t you think those names sound similar?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

  “I understand that one of your fellow abductors had a phoenix tattoo on his left forearm.”

  Larry cleared his throat.

  “Interestingly, both a man named Nico Kostas and a man named Milo Sanchez have the same exact tattoo. I’m talking identical, on the left forearm, and both got the tattoo at a shop in Snow Creek. Do you find that odd at all?”

  “Can’t say that I do.” He cleared his throat again. “Listen, I don’t have to talk to you.”

  “No, I suppose you don’t. But I’m not done here, so you stay seated.”

  “Why should I? What will you do for me?”

  “How about this? I don’t talk to the guard over there, and you don’t get murdered in your bed tonight.”

  Larry widened his eyes for a moment, but only a split second. A-ha. That got to him.

  “I see you’ve already been having some trouble with your fellow inmates. Trust me, it could get worse. Much worse.”

  He pursed his lips into a thin line.

  “So you will sit here and talk to me until I’m done.”

  He nodded.

  “So far you’ve been a huge help,” I said sarcastically. “Are Nico Kostas and Milo Sanchez the same person?”

  “And I told you I don’t know.”

  “Was Milo Sanchez one of the abductors?”

  His mouth remained closed, his lips set.

  “How about this? Whose idea was it to take Talon?”

  “Talon was never meant to be taken.”

  “So you say, but we’ve come into some new information. From Wendy Madigan.”

  His brow l
ifted slightly again.

  “Wendy seems to think Talon was taken on purpose, for ransom, by enemies of my father. Tell me, Uncle. Who were these enemies of my father?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sounded genuinely confused. “Talon was never meant to be taken.”

  “That’s your word against hers, then. You’re a psychopathic child molester, and she’s a respected newswoman. Who should I believe?”

  “She’s not who you think she is.”

  I’d already decided that for myself, but now my uncle had confirmed it. “Who is she, then?”

  “Nobody. She’s nobody.”

  “What was her role in all of this? Was she my father’s lover?”

  Larry’s brows nearly jumped off his forehead. But he said nothing.

  That was all the proof I needed. I’d be investigating Wendy Madigan further. However, I did know one thing for certain. Wendy was not one of Talon’s abductors. They were all men. So this line of questioning wasn’t going to get me any closer to the two we hadn’t caught.

  Time to try a different avenue.

  “The last time we were here, you had some advice for my friend Bryce. And also for me, I believe. You said not to go searching for the truth, that it was overrated. What did you mean by that?”

  “I think that speaks for itself.”

  “Perhaps, but I want to know why you said it.”

  He glared at me. “You know why, don’t you?”

  Yes, I did. And now Larry knew that I knew. “Tom Simpson, the mayor of Snow Creek. Bryce’s father. Is he one of the abductors?”

  “I won’t roll over.”

  “I know about his birthmark. Talon remembers it, just like he remembers the phoenix tattoo, and he remembers that you were missing a little toe. It’s amazing what therapy can do for repressed memories. Things you thought were long gone come screaming back into your head. That happened for Talon. And that’s what helped us catch you. Believe me, we will catch the other two. However, if you help us, we can help you.”

  Larry said nothing for several seconds. Then, “They’ll kill me.”

  “What makes you think they won’t kill you anyway? They already tried once, didn’t they? After you let Talon go. Remember? You ended up in the hospital, on the brink of death.”

  “See what I mean?”

  “Look, you’re in here. They’re out there. They can’t get to you in here. But I can.”

  “Believe me, they can too.”

  “What are you saying? That the reason you’ve been getting gangbanged is because of them?”

  He nodded.

  “Then what does it matter? We get them into custody, and they can’t make any more trouble for you from the outside.”

  “Don’t be naïve. They could make a lot more trouble for me from in here.”

  “Look, I need some answers here. There’s a girl who allegedly committed suicide because her uncle abused her—an uncle who went by the name of Milo Sanchez, which just happens to be the name of a man who had the same tattoo as one of Talon’s abductors. It’s possible that this young woman didn’t kill herself, but that she was murdered. I need to know where to find that man. And as for Tom Simpson? He has disappeared.”

  Larry widened his eyes again. “He has?”

  “Yes. About a week ago. No one’s seen him or heard from him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

  “Because they’d kill you?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt kind of caught between a rock and a hard place. I wouldn’t mind seeing Larry get the shit kicked out of him, but I also needed him alive, to answer my questions. Problem was, so far he had refused to do so. If only we were sitting at the table, right in front of each other. I’d be able to play with his head a little better.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he spoke first.

  “So have you told your friend about your suspicion?”

  “You mean about his father?”

  Larry nodded.

  “No, I haven’t. Not yet.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Not yet. I need proof. That has to come from you.”

  No response.

  “The mayor told me that you and he go way back. That you went to high school together in Grand Junction.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Any chance Theodore Mathias went to that same school?”

  No response.

  “Nico Kostas? Milo Sanchez?”

  No response.

  “Larry, you’ve got to give me something here.”

  “I don’t have to give you anything.”

  Christ. Either this man was terminally stubborn, or he truly was afraid for his life.

  “Fine.” I stared straight at him, through the glass, into his vacant blue eyes. “One last thing. You might want to do something before you go to sleep tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Say your fucking prayers. It’ll be a long night.”

  Chapter Thirty–Six

  Melanie

  Jonah had gone into the city, so Talon came over in the late afternoon for our session. I needed an enclosed space, where we could have quiet, so I decided on one of the vacant bedrooms. Unfortunately, Talon was used to sitting in my recliner during his sessions. The best I could do was either a rocking chair or a bed.

  “That’s fine,” Talon said. “I’ll lie on the bed.”

  “Are you sure? You never wanted to lie on the couch in my office.”

  “Yeah, but that was when I was new to therapy. I’ll be fine. I no longer feel so…vulnerable. Plus, lying on a shrink’s couch—that’s just so cliché.”

  “This will seem a little different because we’re not in my office, but it will basically be the same thing. I’ll take you back to the beach, like the other times. Then we’ll go from there. Is that all right?”

  “Yes. Whatever you think is best.” He sat down on the bed and pulled his legs over, laying his head on the pillow. He squirmed and fidgeted a bit.

  “Let’s get you a little comfortable first,” I said. “How are things going? With the ranch? Jade?”

  “Good. I’m still taking terrible advantage of my foreman. He’s been really understanding about the extra workload. I love having Jade at the house. We talk every night after dinner.”

  “How’s her work going?”

  “She’s overworked. There’s only one attorney, so everything falls on her. And now, with the mayor missing, she has even more going on.”

  Of course. The mayor was missing. Bryce had told Joe and me earlier. In fact, I was possibly the last person to have seen him in the Snow Creek hardware store before he disappeared.

  But I couldn’t tell Talon any of this. At least not yet.

  “The mayor’s missing?” I said.

  “Yes. He just up and vanished sometime last week. Now a lot of his stuff has fallen on Jade as well.”

  “He doesn’t have a deputy mayor?”

  Talon laughed. “Not in a town this small, Doc.”

  I returned his laughter. “How are you feeling otherwise? Are you still having dreams?”

  “Yeah. About once a week. I try not to let them bother me, though. I’ve kind of trained myself to wake up before the dream gets bad. I lie there for a few minutes, listening to Jade breathe beside me, and then I’m able to go back to sleep.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you think they’ll ever stop altogether?”

  “They may. And they may not. The important thing is to handle them well, which you seem to be doing.”

  “This is never really going to go away, is it?”

  I sighed. “Therapy can’t erase what happened to you, Talon. I only wish that it could. The best therapy can do is help you heal, help you deal with the fact that it did happen, help you accept that it wasn’t your fault and that it doesn’t change who you, as a person, are. You’ve come a long way. You’re definitely one of my biggest
success stories.”

  “I suppose. I know I want to live now. I look forward to every new day, and for a long time I never thought that was possible.” He cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about your other patient. The girl.”

  “Every therapist—every doctor, whatever his specialty—has patients who don’t make it.” I tried to sound nonchalant.

  “I’m sure,” he said. “That doesn’t make it easier, though.”

  “No, it does not. But let’s get back to you.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  “No problem. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. I need to figure out if I can remember anything at all that might help us catch the other two guys.”

  “All right.” I flipped the speakers on from my laptop and started playing the ocean sounds.

  “Close your eyes. You’re on a lounging chair on the beach. I want you to scrunch your toes up and then relax them. Feel the tingle. Feel the sun shining on you, as you hear the waves rolling in. The birds chirping here and there. Now tense up your calves, and then relax them. Feel the tingling and relaxing sensation from your knees out to your toes. The sun is shining its warmth on your face, a tiny breeze blows over you, and you welcome the coolness of it…”

  * * *

  Look around. Do you see anything on the walls?

  The walls… They’re caving in on me. It’s dark… I am shivering. And so cold. Always cold.

  Warm yourself. You have woolen gloves on your hands. You’re wearing a warm fleece jacket and fleece pants. Snuggly slippers on your feet.

  So, so cold.

  You have mittens, fleece. You’re not cold.

  The walls are caving in. So frightened.

  You know the walls can’t move. They’re inanimate objects.

  The bird. The bird with flames for wings. It’s on the wall, staring at me, taunting me.

  That’s your imagination. You know it’s your imagination. Now look around the room.

  Just gray walls. Gray concrete floor. Never any light except when they open the door up the stairs.

  There are no windows in the place?

  No. No windows. They open the door, and the light hurts my eyes.

  Look around the room. Is there anything you can identify?