by Rachel Garon
Play Me Harder
By Rachel Garon
Copyright and Disclaimer
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any other means: electronically, mechanically, photocopied, recorded or otherwise, without written permission of the copyright owners.
This book is supplied for your entertainment only, and is not representative of any true events or characters.
There is no part of this book that may be construed as a real event, or real characters, but rather the musings and imagination of the author.
The author, publisher and any others connected to this writing will not be held responsible for any personal damages as a result of any decisions made based on the content of this book.
Claire gasped as a pocket of turbulence caused the small plane to buck madly. Her fingers clenched the arms of the seat, the bloodless white of her knuckles a stark contrast to the brilliant crimson painted onto her well- tended fingernails.
She stared down at those nails, wondering how something as simple, as ordinary, as a trip to her nail salon could have ended with her being kidnapped. Anger surfaced at that thought, breaking through the terrible fear that had kept her in its grip ever since the burly man sitting in the seat next to her had grabbed her and shoved her into the car that his equally large friend had been driving. That man was sitting across from them, his beefy thighs spread out across the seat and a gun held firmly in his large fist. The barrel of it, and its unwinking eye, had been fixed on Claire ever since they had climbed aboard.
A long groan came from somewhere under the belly of the plane and for once the gun wavered. Heroine had time to feel a small frisson of satisfaction at that crossed her captor’s face but just then a hollow thump sounded from the side of the plane. She turned her face toward the tiny window and shrieked as a long blue tipped belch of flame erupted from the engine. Her hands came up in an involuntary movement, a warding off gesture designed to protect her face and head, a gesture she knew was futile even as she made it.
The earth below had been spread out in a patchwork pattern but the details grew clearer as they tumbled closer. At first Claire was unsure what the long expanse of dark green they were heading for was but then the trees began to distinguish themselves, as did the piles of large gray rock. A childhood prayer crossed her lips as limbs and branches scrubbed and scraped the metal of the plane. Large sections of metal tore away with violent screeches, revealing glimpses of the world outside. A crushing pressure pushed at Claire even as a vortex of air tried to suck her into itself.
The man sitting beside her, the one she had nicknamed Ronald because of his odd resemblance to a well-known fast-food chain’s namesake, screamed in a high thin voice as his head was slammed into the top of the plane. Blood spilled down his face and a sharp report came from the seat across from them. A puff of soured air streaked across her cheek, bringing a stinging pain with it.
He accidentally squeezed the trigger, Claire thought, and then darkness took over.
***
Cole Reynolds looked up from the book he had been holding as a loud bang sounded from somewhere over the distant foothills. There was a softer bang that followed. Cole knew that nothing from nature could have made such a huge amount of noise and a hard glint was in his eyes when he headed for the door of the house that sat nestled into the face of the cliff.
He stormed grimly along the narrow trail, the all too familiar smell of smoke meeting his nostrils. Damn developers, he thought angrily, why can’t they just leave well enough alone? They already pulled off half of the mountain top to make that damn ugly resort and now they want to carve up this side of it too.
He was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes when he rounded the bend. A plane was smashed into the ground, smoke rose up from its back end and the nose was crushed all the way into what had likely been the middle but was now a gaping hole littered with what looked like tree limbs and leaves and shredded metal.
A groan made hi turn to the right. A young woman was staggering across the small clearing. Blood seeped from her right nostril and she was limping badly. From the plane came a piteous wail.
“Don’t!” the woman cried as Cole stepped closer, “They are killers! They kidnapped me! I’m Claire Maxwell!”
Cole blinked in surprise at that statement. Before he could think to ask any questions a man stumbled out of the plane. Blood poured from one of his cheeks, even from a distance Cole could see the unmistakable furrow of a gunshot wound. His eyes went back to the nose of the plane; he saw a pattern of blood on the broken glass that told him all too clearly the pilot was dead.
He turned his gaze back to the goon exiting the plane and saw the gun held in his hand. Adrenaline kicked in and he ran toward the woman, her eyes went wide and she tried to flee but her foot went out from under her and she fell flat on the ground in front of him.
“Stop!” the man yelled but Cole ignored his order.
He scooped the woman up and ran with her. She didn’t help, sagging in his arms and letting her feet swing uselessly. A whining crack from behind them told Cole he was being shot at and he zigged to the left then zagged to the right. The woman’s weight held him back however and he dropped her cruelly on the ground.
“Hey!” She yelled, “Help me!”
He scooped her back up, gave her a fast hard shake and snarled out, “Put your good foot down and fucking move your ass or I will leave you here with this mess.”
She heeded his words. She held her own weight and hobbled as fast as she could. He held onto her arm, basically dragging her but she was at least helping instead of hindering their escape.
There were a stand of trees close by, Cole aimed for them and dove for cover behind a huge oak. Another shot rang out and chips of bark flew. The woman screamed and he slapped a hand over her mouth and hissed at her to shut up. His nerves had steadied, all of the old training from his years in the military kicking in and serving him well.
The man was not used to being outside. He blundered across a deadfall and his loafers got stuck in between branches. He spun at the sound of birds and fired at the direction of their whistles. Cole tightened his grip across the woman’s mouth and leaned close to her ear.
“He will get lost out here if we’re lucky. There’s highway in every direction so he won’t be lost forever. We need to get to my house and you have to be dead quiet while we get away. Do you understand?”
Claire nodded. Cole let her face go and led the way, creeping silently across the ground. Clair looked down at her bare feet, for a moment she was dumbstruck by the sight of them. She couldn’t remember for the life of her what had happened to her Ferragamo stilettos. Then she remembered. She had lost them in the crash. She had seen one being ripped off of her foot and the other had snapped its strap as she had climbed out of the plane.
Pine needles stung her tender soles and her silk blouse ripped as it brushed against tree limbs and waist high thickets. The sound of pursuit faded in the background and they came to a steep slope then went over it.
The house was built right into the side of the mountain. If Claire had been looking for it she would never have seen it. It had been built with indigenous materials and it was further camouflaged by the large jumble of rocks that it sat behind. Bushes screened the windows, hiding the glass from the sun.
Her rescuer led her inside and she stared. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered two walls, a large sofa covered in leather rested below a large oil painting of the mountainous peak that was just visible from the window to the right.
The floors were soft wood and there was not one rug in sight. The whole place smelled of wood and leather, it was an intoxicating aroma, one that made Clair smile.
The only
chair in the room was a deep soft recliner, obviously ancient. Cole pointed to it with a grunt and Claire sank into it. Her eyes wandered the sparsely furnished room as she wondered who the strange man who had rescued her really was; the house seemed to want to keep his secrets. Out of idle curiously she leaned close to the bookshelves and peered at the titles. Most were in Italian and German, many were classics.
That only increased her curiosity. There seemed to be no television, no computer. She scanned the ceiling, wondering what it was that was missing and then she gasped, her eyes flicking to the bottoms of the walls. There were no electrical receptacles or lights anywhere.
She blinked, wondering what her rescuer did for running water. Before that line of thought could turn unappetizing he reappeared holding a bowl of light green liquid. He sank to the floor at her feet and picked them up. She gasped in shock as her feet met the cold water; whatever he had added to it stung the tiny cuts all over her sensitive flesh.
“It’s made from pine needles and eucalyptus.”
“You should sell it to the spa I use; I swear its run by a fucking sadist. It would be right up her alley.”
Cole hid a grin and stood, “Keep your feet in there for at least half an hour. You have a lot of scratches and cuts and the last thing I need is you dying from an infection.”
“How do I get out of here? You said there is a highway in every direction.”
“There is. Just walk out of here and head in any direction. Go west and you will reach it in half a day, east is about the same. North a day, go south and it’s about six hours.”
“Shit,” Clair said weakly. “I don’t suppose you would give a girl a ride?”
“Not used to walking?” Cole asked sarcastically.
“I walk all the time. “Claire said haughtily, “I live in Manhattan you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
Claire’s mouth fell open. “How can you not know? I’m Claire Maxwell!”
“I’m Cole Reynolds.”
Claire blinked. “You really don’t know who I am, do you? What have you been living under a rock the past couple of years?”
Instantly she regretted the question. Of course he had, she was sitting there in his house, which was basically inside a rock and she already knew he didn’t have any electricity so of course he couldn’t know that she was the hottest reality star of the moment. Her father was one of the country’s richest men and she had been bored and angered by the fact that everyone she knew was getting a show so she had gone to her father and he had called up a friend of his in the entertainment industry and wham! She was a star.
“I’m a reality show star.”
“You mean reality as defined by the media?” There was amusement in Cole’s eyes.
Stung Claire quickly changed the subject, “Will those guys find us?”
“Not unless they somehow manage to find the house that is highly unlikely though. How many were there?”
“Um, the two who kidnapped me and the pilot?”
“The pilot is dead.”
Claire shuddered at the coldness in his voice. “The other guy might be too. He accidentally shot the one who was chasing us when the plane went down.”
“He was chasing us so he is likely only superficially wounded. That or the adrenaline has not worn off enough for him to know he’s really hurt.”
Cole got up from the floor and went to a room that led off of it. Claire sat there with her feet soaking and her eyes began to close. She drifted off into a light doze that was abruptly broken by a hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s get your feet out of there,” Cole said and then pulled the bowl away before handing her a plate filled with a savory looking chunk of meat that was smothered in roasted onion and peppers, odd looking vegetables and a thick piece of cornbread.
She opened her mouth to say that she didn’t do carbs but the food smelled so delicious that she couldn’t resist. She tucked a tiny piece of the bread into her mouth, then a larger bite. Before she realized what she was doing she had cleaned the entire plate.
“So why do you live here?”
Cole shrugged. “Why do you live in Manhattan?”
“I grew up there. You didn’t grow up here, did you? I mean you don’t even have a TV.”
“You said you’re famous.”
Claire bristled at that. “I am famous.”
“So where were your bodyguards, or the paparazzi? If you are a reality show star where were your cameras?”
Claire blinked at that. “Um, I was incognito for the day. My manager arranged it so that I could slip off and just get a mani-pedi without having a million cameras in my face.”
Cole’s training kicked back in. “So your manager, you two have been together a long time?”
“Well, my dad hired him when I got the show. I needed a good manager and he needed a client.”
Cole’s forehead wrinkled in thought, “Would he profit from you being dead?”
“What! No! He only makes money if I’m alive. “
“Or if your show is doing well.”
Claire blinked again, “Are you saying my show sucks?”
“Does it?” Claire glared at him but he ignored that. “I’m wondering if he set the kidnapping up as a publicity stunt.”
“If he did why not have the cameras rolling?”
“He may have wanted to avoid any nasty legal issues. “Cole said dryly, “Plus I doubt he really wanted to tell you, you might have protested.”
“Damn right I would have! “Claire yelled, “Who wants to get kidnapped? And Mike would not care about the legal issues; he would have just done it and let the courts sort it all out. Besides, he would have been onboard the plane with caviar and champagne just to try to cool me out.”
“So if your manager didn’t do it, which would have had the money to hire a plane and three men to snatch you?”
“I hardly think most crooks have any money,” Claire sniffed.
“That was not a bus you were on, that was a well-cared for private plane. Someone’s plane. Now who else may have wanted to take you away?”
Claire shrugged and toyed with her fork. Silence ticked out around them.
“No idea huh?” Cole asked.
“No idea. “Claire replied.
Cole doubted that she was telling the truth but he decided to let it go. I should just take her down the mountain and dump her out a hotel he told himself. The last thing on earth I need is some spoiled rotten celebrity sitting here waiting for me to take care of her. Hard on the heels of that thought came another.
“If this was a publicity stunt would they have shot at you?”
“I doubt it. “Claire said, “But maybe he got a case of crazies from the stress. It happens.”
Cole opened his mouth and found he had nothing to say to that.
“So it’s awful quiet here.”
“Yes, it’s why I like it.”
“Have you ever been anywhere else?
“I grew up in LA. I spent ten years traveling the world courtesy of Uncle Sam. I came here to get away from all the crime and bullshit and whatever it is that passes for civilization these days.”
“You don’t like being civilized?”
There was different note in Claire’s voice. Her head had tilted to one side as she surveyed his face. He’s handsome, she thought to herself. And he is good shape. I bet he can fuck too.
It hit her that she was alone with a man, really alone, in a way she had not been in years. There were no cameras rolling and no need to worry that there was one hidden, his lack of electricity and technology made her bold.
Cole had been living alone for over two years. The fact that a beautiful woman was sitting in his house had not escaped him. While she had been napping he had been staring at her round tits, the thick eyelashes that rested on her ivory cheeks and the long legs in the skirt that seemed to just creep higher with every breath she took. Her black hair hung in a straight sheet and her feet were delicate and highly
arched.
Feeling naughtier than she ever had Claire got up and went to the couch where Cole sat.
“I don’t always feel so civilized myself. “Claire said meaningfully as she gazed into his eyes.
There was an electric tension in the air. Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then Cole made the first move.
His lips came down hard on hers, sealing off her breath. Their tongues twisted and meshed together, Claire could feel her heartbeat thumping against the walls of her chest and a trickle of juice made her panties feel sticky and wet.
Her silk blouse was mostly rags anyway so when it ripped both she and Cole let out giggles and then he tossed it to the floor.
“Maybe we should examine you for cuts and bruises, “Cole said.
Claire giggled and shrugged the straps of her black lace bra off of her narrow shoulders. “Gee Doctor Cole; do you want to break out the probes?”
“I think we need to, “He replied in a voice made husky by desire.
Cole skinned out of his jeans and boots, nearly falling over in his haste. Claire did a nasty little striptease, bumping her hips and arching her pelvis at him before shaking her tits so hard the bra fell onto the floor.
Cole practically tore the panties off of her ass. They were so sheer and fragile that when they came off her pussy juice had soaked the entire front of them. He held them to his nose, inhaling the sweet smell of her arousal.
“Gee Doctor, do you think I need a shot? “Claire asked, and then she turned around and bent over.
Cole had to stop himself from running at her like a wild dog. Bent over her perfect heart shaped ass split in half, revealing the heavy full lips of her pussy. Pink flesh peeked at him from a neatly waxed strip of hair that was as black as the hair on her head.
“Oh I think you need a few shots,” Cole finally got out.
He pushed her down onto the couch, she lay there looking up at him and he could not resist her scarlet lips any longer. He guided his cock to her mouth and she opened wide for his meat.
His dick was long, thick and heavily veined. Claire licked along the ridge below the head and along the shaft as she suckled at it, causing Cole to arch his hips in a reflexive movement that buried his dick all the way inside her mouth.
