by Freya Barker
Obviously taken aback and a little hesitant, Tom places his hand in Neil’s. “Thanks,” he says hoarsely. “My dad just picked me up from the police station and I said I wanted to quickly come and apologize.”
“No reason to apologize, son. You did exactly what I would’ve done in your shoes,” Neil says, clapping the boy on the shoulder. I have to work hard not to snort at his use of the term son. He would’ve been a very young father at fourteen.
“Thanks for checking on me, Tom. I should be right as rain in no time. But you hurt yourself, didn’t you?” I put him on spot.
“Not so bad,” he mumbles, but I can see he’s worried. He’s downplaying it.
“Please see your orthopedic surgeon as soon as possible, honey. If you damaged it again...”
“I will,” he blurts. “I’d better get going. Hope you feel better.” With an awkward hug for me and a nod for Neil, he walks out the room.
Neil turns to me. “I’m just gonna see him off. It’s dark out. I’ll be right back.” With a quick kiss, he disappears as well.
I’m just dozing when Neil comes back in a little later. I hear him pull up a chair and crinkle the brown paper bag. An odd sense of wellbeing comes over me as I listen to him sip his coffee and eat his food.
“I’m not sleeping,” I admit after a few minutes, slowly lifting one eyelid. “I’m just resting my eyes. But if you’re done eating, I wouldn’t mind a hug.” The words haven’t left my mouth before he’s out of the chair, his cup and bag discarded and he’s toeing off his boots. When he approaches the bed, I scoot over as far as I can, making room. It’s a bit tight, but when he carefully rolls me on my side, and curls around me from behind, we fit perfectly. “Is everything all right with Tom?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just wanted to make sure his dad knew that if not for his son, I might’ve...” He stops mid-sentence, but I know what he was going to say. He lets out a deep sigh. “I was so scared,” he admits softly, his face in my hair. I close my arms over his, wrapped around me. “I asked the kid to hold your hand, because I couldn’t, and he said he already was. I’ll be forever grateful for that.”
“I’m all right,” I tell him again, but it’s not until after I hear his breathing deepen with sleep, that I manage to drift off myself.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Neil
It’s been only three days, but it feels like a month.
After I was able to bring Kendra home on Saturday morning, the house has had a revolving door. People in and out non-stop, even though I’d tried to limit the visitors so she could have some rest. That was our first run in. Damian and Luna, who’d set up shop in Cortez while Maryn’s lead was hot, had come to take Kendra’s statement. Cayman was in the wind and that in itself put him right back at the top of the list of suspects, although no concrete connection had been found between the two other than their name. Well, and their connection to the case. Not five minutes prior, Emma, accompanied by Arlene and Kara, had left. They came loaded with food, as per usual. It seems to be a habit here in Cedar Tree that whenever something happens, first thing people think of is food. Kara’s presence was a bit tense. Especially since Emma made some references to my visits with her last week. I could feel the cool breeze coming from Kendra’s direction and cursed myself for not telling her earlier. Probably doesn’t look too good that for those few days, I barely had time to even talk to her, yet I obviously managed to see Kara. Worst part is, I wouldn’t have been able to explain without betraying Kara’s trust. It’s fucked up.
The moment the three left, leaving us with enough food to last the week, Kendra turned to me. “You don’t have to stay,” she said in a cool voice. “I can manage, thank you.” Before I had a chance to respond, she disappeared into the bathroom. Yup, I fucked up.
It was minutes later, while I was waiting for her to reappear, that the two FBI agents announced themselves. I wanted to tell them to come back later so I could fix things with Kendra first, but with Casal Maryn, or whoever the hell he is, still out there, I had no choice. Seating them in the living room, I went to get Kendra. The bathroom door was still closed, so I knocked softly.
“Kendra? The FBI is here,” I tried. The only response I could hear was the flushing of the toilet. I gave her a minute before trying again. “Kendra?’
With a soft click, the bathroom door was unlocked and opened. Kendra, her face swollen and head bandaged stepped out, her eyes downcast. She tried to slip by me but I stopped her by the shoulders.
“Are you okay to do this?”
Slowly her face came up and the moment I saw her eyes, I suspected she’d been close to crying. Still, she lifted her chin and her mouth was pressed into a tight line. “I’m fine.”
“Look,” I started, wanting to smooth things over. “I can explain.”
Don’t know what I was expecting but it sure wasn’t the derisive snort.
“I’m sure you can, but I believe I have guests,” she said before pulling from my grip and turning to the stairs. I wasn’t about to create a scene with Damian and his agent sitting downstairs so I reluctantly let her go, following closely behind.
She spent at least an hour going over the whole ordeal when Luna asked her to describe Lars Cayman again. I knew what she wanted to know. I’d still not asked Kendra about the limping. It took her a minute to think before responding. She indicated perhaps he was favoring one leg, but explained it could have just been because she’d watched him maneuver through the tables of the coffee shop.
The agents left shortly after that and while I was showing them out, Kendra had disappeared upstairs. When I went to check, she’d been curled up in bed, her back to the door. Knowing she was probably exhausted, I figured it probably wasn’t a good time to address Kara, so I left her to sleep.
Since then we’d barely been alone, especially when her mother showed up Saturday night, and stayed. Her patient had sadly passed away that morning and she’d been busy with the family. The moment she could, she’d hopped in the car to come here. There’d been an awkward moment when sleeping arrangements were discussed because Elsa of course would take the spare bedroom, which was fine, because I’d intended to sleep with Kendra anyway. That is, until Kendra pushed a pile of blankets in my hands, relegating me to the couch.
That’s where I’ve been every fucking night since. With Elsa taking care of Kendra, I’ve been keeping busy going over all of the victims’ records, to see if I could find any ties with Maryn/Cayman. I’d simply used an online anagram creator to come up with as many versions of names possible with that set of letters. There were quite a few of them and I was able to connect him that way to four more victims. Each time he’d set up an entirely new online identity. Jasper is working on it from his end and together we’ve generated quite a few leads for the task force to run down.
But now with Elsa heading back to Durango after breakfast, it’s time to clear the air with Kendra. She’s frozen me out long enough. I find her in the kitchen putting dishes in the sink and without pause, I take the plate from her hand and pull her to the living room.
“What the hell, Neil?” she snaps instantly, trying to yank her hand from mine, but I don’t let go. Instead of the couch, I push her to sit in the chair where she is boxed in with armrests and me crouching in front of her. “Is it necessary to manhandle me?”
“Unfortunately—yes. Seems to be only way for me to get some face time with you.” I’m hanging on to my patience by a thread, so I take a few deep breaths before I launch in. “Kara is a friend, nothing more. I know I’ve said it before but it bears repeating.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, looking at her hands. “This was all just a bad idea to begin with.”
“Jesus Christ, Kendra. Are we seriously back there again? Please don’t tell me that after I fucking laid myself bare to you, after barely keeping it together when you got hurt, you’re gonna use this to push me away?” My voice steadily rising, I take another breath to calm down before continuing. “I get it’s
not the simplest thing to wrap your head around, believe me I know that. I still get a little itchy when you talk about Mal. The difference is I trust you when you tell me he’s just a good friend. Maybe it’s because I can’t see anything but good in you and yet you seem determined to find the bad in me.” Exasperated, I run my hand through my hair at the lack of response. It fucking stings. I drop my head while at the same time pushing up from my uncomfortable position on the floor. At this point, it feels like anything I say will fall on deaf ears and I can only hope a few of my words will eventually filter through.
Dejected, I sit back down at the dining room table and start working on the property searches I’m running in Montezuma County in the name of Casal Maryn, Lars Cayman, or any of the other aliases we’ve found. I’m trying hard not to listen for sounds coming from the living room and instead make an effort to focus on my screen.
A soft hand is placed in the center of my back, and without her needing to say anything, I drop my head in my hands in relief.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “You’re right. I’m ashamed that you’re so very right. You’ve given me no reason to doubt your honesty. It’s been a crazy roller coaster of a week—not that I’m trying to offer excuses,” she quickly adds, “but even though these extreme circumstances seem par for the course for you, they’re not for me. I’m a little overwhelmed at it all and went into protective mode.” I can feel her resting her cheek on my head, and when she faintly whispers, “I’m scared,” I know she’s talking about more than the serial killer we have on the loose. She’s talking about us. I turn and immediately pull her down on my lap, my arms holding her tight.
“It’s all good, Pup.”
Kendra
I hate being wrong.
The moment Neil tells me I’m determined to see him in a negative light, I know he’s right. Eating crow tastes like a freaking mouthful of ball sacks. But as soon he goes to sit at his computer, I know I’ll have to choke it down and own it.
So that’s what I do. I walk up and own it and surprisingly, he ends up being his usual comforting self again. Sitting in his lap, with his arms around me, I feel as safe as can be. His words are simple, but as always, they hit the mark. Right here and now I decide, perhaps not for the first time, but certainly the last, that I will stop finding ways to undermine what we have. Or could have.
“Now, lets get this shit aired out for once and for all. And I’m gonna break my promise to her to make sure there can never be any misunderstanding again.” I open my mouth to tell him it’s not necessary but he silences me with a quick, hard kiss. “Hush. Let me finish. Last week, Kara was going through some shit. She knew I was in the GFI offices late, so she waited and caught me coming out. I know she has no one else here who she can talk with about certain things, so I spent some time with her that night and the next, mainly to listen. You see, Kara is—“
Before he has a chance to betray his friendship, I grab the back of his head and slam my mouth against his, forcing my tongue between his lips. I can’t be responsible for ruining his friendship, because like he said, what goes for the goose should go for the gander and like it or not, his relationship with Kara is part of his life. To accept the man, you have to accept his friends. Like Pavlov’s dog, he responds immediately, his tongue tangling with mine while his hands knead my flesh. In seconds, I can feel his cock harden under my butt and an intriguing method of distraction comes to mind. I slide my hand between our bodies and start teasing his hard length through the rough denim of his jeans. Rubbing with the palm of my hand and slightly scraping with my nails over the distinguishable rims and ridges. When his deep moans tell me he’s forgotten what he was talking about, I slip down between his legs, losing his mouth in the process.
“Pup...”
The endearment sends a shiver down my spine, as I quickly take care of the buttons of his fly to release his swollen member in all its formidable glory. On my knees, with one hand fisting him at the base, I run my nose along his length, breathing him in. I never thought the scent of a man could turn me on, but Neil’s does. A mix of his shower gel with his own unique musk—a heady combination, and I don’t hesitate to open my mouth and let my open lips slide along the thick vein running along his cock.
“Baby, you’re hurt,” he tries, his voice hitching on the words as I run my tongue around the crown. I taste the tang of his arousal as the tip of my tongue probes the tiny slit, making him hiss between his teeth. His hand comes up to fist in my hair, holding it away from my face, and as I look up in his heavy-lidded gaze, I slowly but purposely slide my mouth over him.
“Ahhh, Christ, you’re killing me,” he groans, his hips flexing on the seat and his hand tightening in my hair. With every slide up his length, I press the mushroom against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, earning a deep guttural moan of satisfaction. Never considering myself particularly talented in the field of fellatio, his response to being inside my mouth does something to me. Gives me a sense of power and a feeling of immense gratification that I could have this impact on a man. Especially one like Neil. Bolstered with renewed confidence, I start working him in earnest, bobbing my head up and down him, while pumping my fist around his root. His hips lift inadvertently each time I suck him in until the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat and I instinctively swallow down.
“Fuck me,” he exclaims, trying to pull my head up. “I’m too close, I’m gonna let go in your mouth if you keep this up.”
“Let me,” I plead, looking at him and reveling at the dark blush high on his cheekbones. His lush lips are slightly open and I see in the rapid rise and fall of his chest that he’s struggling to control himself. Determined to make him lose it, and more turned on than I could’ve imagined, I shift my bottom so my heel is pressed against my pussy. As I suck him back inside, I swivel my hips and rock myself on its hard surface.
“That’s the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, fucking my mouth.
Already soaked and primed, it doesn’t take me long to start humming my impending climax around his cock, which has Neil bucking twice before coming all over my tongue. I barely manage to swallow him down while chasing my own climax, when I’m suddenly up with my pants around my ankles. He bends me forward over the table, spreading my legs wide in the process. His hands slide down from my ass to the backs of my knees before trailing back up to the inside of my thighs. When I feel him spread me from behind, an involuntary groan escapes.
“Neil... Please, hon— Ahhh...”
The moment his mouth closes greedily over my wet core, all ability to consciously communicate ceases. The contrast of his tongue teasing along my folds before his lips suck lightly at my clit is enough to have me frantically grab on to the opposite edge of the table. Both his hands are molding the cheeks of my ass, before his fingers start playing along my crease. Spreading me wide, he slips digits from each hand alternately in my wet channel, creating an entire new set of sensations. With his mouth working my clit and fingers pumping in my pussy, he slides the finger of his other hand up and around my thus far closed-to-business back door. Alive with sensation, coherent thought isn’t possible. So when his digit, slick with my own juices, is pushed through the tight ring of muscle, the trifecta of pleasure pushes me over the edge, tearing a raw scream from my throat.
“Christ, you’re magnificent,” Neil mumbles, kissing his way up my spine until he’s draped over my back on the table his face burrowing in my neck. “Are you okay, Pup?”
“Mmmmm,” I hum, sated, and immediately follow up with a little whimper when I feel the heat of Neil’s body disappear.
“Just going to clean up,” he says, first stopping to pull up my underwear and yoga pants. Seconds later, I hear the water run in the kitchen.
With my faculties slowly returning, I crack open my eyes and freeze instantly when I notice the front window. Luckily, with the porch wrapping around the house, it’s impossible to look in. Unless of course it’s dark outside and all the light
s are on in here. Movement catches my eye and I suck in a sharp breath as I straighten up. Through the window, I spot the edge of the swing moving in and out of my line of vision.
“What is it?” Neil asks, walking up behind me and giving me one last kiss on my shoulder.
“Someone’s outside,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off the swing. Immediately, Neil shoves me behind him. He stills when he sees the same thing I did.
“Stay put. Do not move a muscle,” he says as he pushes me back into the kitchen. I watch him pull a gun from his ankle-holster and make his way out the other door into the hallway.
“Neil!” I whisper-shout, scared out of my gourd.
“It’s okay, just stay right where you are,” he throws me a tight smile over his shoulder and then he’s gone from sight. I don’t hear the front door open, but I can feel the cool morning air streaming into the house. With my hands pressed against my mouth to keep from making a sound, I slowly sink down, my back against the wall.
“Son of a bitch!” I hear Neil yell and then nothing.
Crazy thoughts whirl through my mind but I can’t bring myself to move. And I’m still not moving when I hear heavy footsteps walking into my house.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Neil
My gun in hand, I manage to open the door without making a sound.
The thought that someone was out on that porch, watching me with Kendra, is enough to make rage boil in my veins. But years of training kick in as I manage to narrow my focus. Keeping my steps rolling from toe to heel, and as close to the wall as possible, I’m able to move silently, despite the aging wood of the porch beneath my feet. A quick glance around the corner and I can see the silently swaying porch swing. Empty. Immediately my eyes snap up, taking in the surroundings. There is nothing—no sound of a car taking off, no movement anywhere. Except... Looking across the road, I see the white-haired, old lady peek out from behind the curtains in her front window.
