by Meli Raine
“Isn’t there always? Most of us live lives that are way more complex than they appear from the outside,” Mark says, popping open another beer.
Chase snorts.
Allie giggles.
I just steal the beer out of Mark’s hand and start drinking. He’s right, but that’s a truth that takes a lot out of you.
Fifteen minutes later we’re digging in to a great, simple meal. Chase and Allie are clearly in love. Mark’s more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a while. As we eat, I think about all the unresolved issues between us.
I was talking to Eric by the side of the road.
I went to the Landau house alone.
And yet...we’re fine. He giving me these little looks that make it clear. We are fine. We may have some issues between us, but in the end, everything is okay.
Everything between us is better than okay, even if the rest of our world is falling apart.
I just got fired. I’ve been accused of nearly killing a dog that had illegal drugs in it. Mark’s under suspicion for Eric’s mysterious disappearance. His director at the DEA is about to take him off this deep undercover case he’s worked on for four years.
Dean Landau may be El Brujo and he just lied about me to the chief of police.
Who believed him.
The bite of burger in my mouth suddenly tastes like dirt. I feel the blood run down, down, down, my body moving slowly. Allie and Chase are telling Mark some story about Chase’s nursing classes. Something about learning Spanish so he can work in hospitals.
It feels like they’re talking underwater.
“What’s wrong?” Allie asks. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
“I just—I’m realizing how much trouble we’re in.” I give Mark a helpless look.
“We’ll be okay,” he says, putting his arm around me. I lean into him, wanting his words to be true.
“I can’t believe he set me up for what happened with Wizard,” I say, turning my face into his shoulder. He’s so warm and big.
“Wizard?” Chase asks, popping a piece of watermelon in Allie’s mouth. She giggles. Some of the juice runs down her chin and he licks it off. She giggles even harder. They share a look that makes me snuggle even more with Mark.
“Wizard’s the name of the dog that the dean adopted from the shelter where I volunteer,” I explain.
Chase freezes and gives Mark a pointed look.
“You’re joking.”
Mark frowns. “No, she’s not. Why?”
“You speak Spanish?” Chase’s entire body is rigid. He’s rising off his seat, like he’s about to dash off into battle.
We both shake our heads.
Allie clears her throat. I look at her. She’s gone white.
“Um, guys. The word ‘wizard’ in Spanish is brujo. El Brujo.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Oh, my God.” My stomach squeezes. Claudia’s words come to me.
“Wizard. It’s Papa’s nickname.”
“Carrie, you look like you’re about to throw up,” Mark declares, caressing my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Claudia said that’s the dean’s nickname.”
Mark goes rigid and pulls away from me. “What?”
“When I told her the pit bull’s name, she said ‘Wizard. It’s Papa’s nickname.’”
“Fuck,” Chase says, the word coming out of him like a tire with a slow leak.
“I suspected it for a long time, but...” Mark reaches for the phone he uses for DEA business and stands. “Excuse me. Allie, can you help Carrie?”
No one says a word. We all understand as he walks away, tapping his phone furiously. I imagine his director’s going to hear a few F-bombs herself shortly.
“Carrie, what do you need?” Allie asks.
“A time machine?”
She gives me a wry grin. “We could all use one of those.”
“How about a beer?” Chase offers.
“I could drink a case or ten.”
He pops another one open and hands it to me. “Mark said he needed to borrow our tent. I’m guessing you don’t need to drive anywhere.” He winks at Allie. “And neither do we.”
Color comes back to her face at that comment.
I drink deeply, enjoying the slightly uncomfortable feel of the carbonated beer going in me. Mark’s back is to us and he paces in front of his car. He’s clearly arguing, but quietly. He runs his hand through his hair. He’s tense, but firm.
Dusk is coming soon. The day feels so long. It feels like I just woke up.
I still can’t believe that in two weeks I’ve managed to get fired from the job that brought me home. The job that was supposed to give me stability. A degree. A future.
The job that was supposed to give me answers.
And closure.
I stand, suddenly loose. My skin feels like there are fire ants under it. Chase and Allie are nice, but I need a few minutes to myself. Alone.
“I’m going for a walk,” I announce.
They nod, and soon I’m running on the sand, my tennis shoes filling with grit. I don’t care. I reach the wet sand and kick off my shoes, peel off my socks, and wade in to my ankles. The water feels like a mother’s kiss.
I breathe in deeply and let time disappear.
I have no idea how long I’m here. Too long, yet not long enough.
Mark appears. I feel him behind me. I’m watching the sun set. A blood-red orb is half gone on the horizon. The sky has an eerie, dove-grey shade to it.
“Hi,” he says softly against my shoulder. A gentle kiss punctuates the greeting.
I inhale again and breathe out. The saltwater scent and the crashing sound of waves fueled by the tides feels like a womb.
“Hi.”
“You okay?”
I laugh. “No.”
“Me neither.”
“We can be not-okay together.”
“Sounds good to me, Carrie.” He pulls me back against his chest and I sink into it. His arms wrap around me. We stand there, facing the ocean. Facing our past. Facing the demons that threaten everything.
The red sun disappears, a final wink its goodbye.
The wind picks up. I start to shiver. He tightens his hot grip around me. How can he be so warm all the time?
Mark spins me around and gives me a sweet kiss. “This is how I imagined us. When I learned you were coming home. I want more of this, Carrie. I want a normal life with you. Barbecues and walks on the beach. I want to settle down and create a home. A family. A life. A real one.”
I look up, startled.
“Not a life where I have to lie for a living. And certainly not a life where we’re set up for crimes we didn’t commit by men like El Brujo.”
He pulls back and wraps one arm around my waist, guiding me away from shore. “I set up the tent.”
A zing of thrill runs from my belly down. “You did?”
“Chase showed me a little alcove where no one will bother us. They probably can’t even see us, it’s so well hidden. He said we’ll have plenty of privacy.” His implication is clear.
Privacy is really a code word for intimacy.
When we get to the tent I start giggling.
It’s literally the size of two sleeping bags with a tiny roof.
“Is this a tent or a kid’s toy?” I joke.
“It’s a two-person pup tent. Only the best for my honey,” he teases.
“It’s the Ritz-Carlton of tents,” I answer. The wind kicks up and I shudder.
“C’mon. Crawl in,” he urges. “It’s warm in here. I’ll heat you up.”
Oh, he just did.
By the time I’m snuggled in next to him, his hands are everywhere. Our mouths tangle in a kind of desperate passion that strips away any tentativeness. We know exactly what we want. Mark knows exactly how to touch me.
The first time we made love he was tender. Careful. A gentleman with a healthy appreciation for my innocence.
The second time we made love we
just had fun.
This time, it’s all about the passion. Tenderness and gentility be damned.
It’s time to get hot, bothered, and funky. His hands come as close as possible to ripping my clothes off me, the gentle snap of my bra and the sound of it pinging against the tent flap making me laugh.
I can’t laugh, though—not really. My mouth is too occupied by his tongue, his lips, the not-so-soft bites of my lower lip and his groans making me wet and ready.
“I can’t believe I went all those years without having sex,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“I can’t believe I went twenty-two years without it,” I reply.
He laughs, the sound a low rumble that makes my breasts bounce. He’s pressed so hard against me that any time he moves, I do, too.
“How did you manage?” I ask as I reach down and stroke him.
His answer comes out in a sharp inhale. “Have you seen my right hand? I could arm wrestle a cow and win.”
And those are the last words we say, thank goodness.
He bends down, taking one nipple between his lips and nipping just hard enough to make me plume with arousal. All the blood in me rushes between my legs. The air is cool. Mark has sleeping bags under us. We’re a tumbling pile of naked limbs, his body a dim outline as the fading light makes it hard to see.
I don’t need to see him as long as I can feel him.
My hand strokes him, enjoying the reaction of his thick shaft, growing from my attentions. My other hand reaches down to appreciate the fine lines of his muscled ass. I am bold, enjoying the exploration. No more shy Carrie. I’m primal, nude and enflamed, ready to match his touch, his kiss, his lick, his moan.
We’re equals in every way.
I kiss his neck, then make a trail down his breast bone, pausing at the spot beneath his navel where his hair begins to thicken. His abs tighten and go concave. His hisses, then groans as I go lower.
“Oh, God, Carrie,” he murmurs as my hand continues to stroke him. My mouth seeks to replace my hand. I’ve never done this. I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is that I am driven to try. To give him pleasure. To make him lose control.
To have him feel as good as he makes me feel.
Following instinct, I take him gently in my mouth, careful to avoid my teeth. He’s rock-hard, yet soft at the same time. He groans. I take him in deeper, my hands focused on holding him steady, my mouth unsure but determined.
“This is...oh, man,” he whispers, his body stretched out beneath me, all muscle, bone, and pure power.
He arches as I pull up, then move down, the motion wet and wild. And then suddenly he’s moving me, twisting me, positioning me so I’m over his face, his mouth rising up to—
“Oh, Mark,” I moan, his tongue touching me where I’m pulsing. We’re giving each other pleasure, our bodies twinned, mouths giving as we each take. It feels equal and awkward. I try to give and accept at the same time, but I feel like I’m failing at both. I wriggle to move away from his mouth, wanting only one feeling at a time.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting up, caressing my shoulder and back.
“It’s, um...too much. Too much sensation. I want to make you feel.”
“Oh, no worries, Carrie,” he says with an impassioned look. “We’re about to feel more than enough.”
I’m suddenly on my back, Mark over me, his mouth on mine. I taste my own musk, his tongue eager and filling, his hands claiming me.
I open my legs to welcome him, wanting this now. The sense of urgency is so overwhelming. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t have him in me.
“Already?” he asks, poised at the brink, ready to enter me and make this divine.
“Yes,” I whisper, arching up, guiding him in. The rush of skin against skin, of the soft and the wet and the hot and the hard, all blend into one sensation.
“But I want you to come,” he says against my earlobe, the words a demand.
“I will,” I say, uncertain. As he moves slowly, then faster, something begins to build deep inside me. It’s both part of me and something outside myself. When he thrusts, it’s like he’s pulling the world into me.
The flow of our skin against skin, our blood pulsing to find each other, our mouths kissing sweet and hard, all makes this feeling grow. I become nothing but glorious light, the pleasure infusing every cell of my body. I feel everything. The brush of his thighs against my inner knee. The touch of his fingers against my cheek bone. The push of his ass as he clenches and presses me into the soft blankets beneath us.
The slick of sweat against sweat. How my breasts are flattened against his pecs. The sense of belly against belly, of bodies struggling to touch at every point possible.
The rhythmic movement of his body within mine begins to mimic the ocean’s waves. I feel it, this communion. We become part of nature, the earth our guide to divine love. All of the love within me for Mark becomes a part of my body.
And we use our bodies to show this love.
His neck tenses, his words tight as he moans my name. “Are you close?” he asks.
Close to what?
As I open my mouth to ask what he means, he crashes into me, taking me along for the ride. A rip tide of pure kinetic energy envelops us, cocooning us in layers of joy and ferocious passion. I cry out his name over and over, as if it’s the only word I know. He makes me quake, my body splitting and fusing, clawing and clinging.
I clench and release like my life depends on it, his body my only anchor. Mark keeps me here, pinned in place by his body, his thrusts, his mouth.
As the wave recedes and my body quivers from the after effects of whatever you call what just happened, I realize I can’t think. The endless stream of words that normally fill my mind are gone.
Gone.
I am my arm. The palm that caresses his ribs. The breasts that press into his chest. The ankles that brush his lower back. I am the salty taste of his stubbled jaw. He is the raw musk of our lovemaking.
We are the senses.
We are the now.
And we are so tired as we fade into the nothing of each other, under the stars.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The door’s there again, and Amy’s crying out my name. I’m frozen, reaching up and down, my eyes struggling to adjust. The slick coating along the walls of whatever I’m in feels like it’s choking me.
I can’t move, and at the same time I keep slipping. Nothing I do helps. Nothing I do makes a difference.
“Carrie! Please! Hurry!” she screams, her voice high and terrified. The screams make me frantic. My nerves all stretch as if they’re trying to escape my skin.
I need to get to her before it’s too late.
“Where are you? Amy, help me find you!” I cry out.
“Shhhhhh,” she says back. “He’s coming! You have to get me before he does.”
“Who? Who’s coming?” I claw my way toward the sound of her voice, but all I get in return is a prickling sensation. It feels like I’m crawling on nails.
Blood blooms on my hands.
Then the ground becomes black roses.
“It’s him! He’s coming to cut more!”
Cut more?
“Cut what?”
“Everything....”
Her voice dies out like she’s moving. The Doppler effect is like a train whistle as the caboose runs past.
I start screaming as the air changes. Now it’s dry and cool. I smell metal and alcohol.
“Carrriiiiiieeeeeeee,” she whispers. She’s next to me.
Except that’s not Amy’s voice.
I wake up to the amazing sound of waves crashing on the beach.
And to an empty tent.
I sit up, shocked to be alone. I hear a dog barking in the distance. The water laps at the shore. I’m wearing my t-shirt and jeans. No bra. My panties are in a ball at the base of my sleeping bag.
And there’s a note next to my phone. It’s an old receipt, with a few words scribbled on it.
<
br /> Had to go home. Allie will bring you back. Will explain later. Love you.
Weird.
I check my phone. 6:22 a.m. Whoa—I’m never up this early. No texts from Mark. I have a bunch from Elaine, though. She’s deeply worried about me. I send her a quick message assuring her I’m fine, then lay back and stare at the criss-cross of the tent poles.
My phone buzzes.
It’s Chase.
When you’re ready, I’ll take care of the tent. We have coffee here. Come over whenever.
One deep breath. A second. A third, all the way to ten. I’m acutely aware of the ache between my legs. My thighs feel like I’ve ridden a wild stallion for miles.
When I think about last night, well...I kind of did.
Who knew that making love could be so enticing? Alluring? Fun and hot and everything in between. Waking up without Mark’s warmth makes me miss him so much.
I need to get home. I wonder what was so urgent that he’d leave me here.
I get fully dressed and unzip the tent door. The sight that greets me is breathtakingly gorgeous. I’ve lived close to the ocean for most of my life. Being on the beach isn’t new to me.
Waking up right here and standing in the warm breath of the water’s breeze is.
Especially after being made love to with such zeal last night.
The only thing that pulls me away from the shore is my need for coffee. And my curiosity. What made Mark leave?
I walk up to the pop-up camper and find Chase and Allie sitting outside in camp chairs, holding hands and drinking coffee.
I smile. “Good morning.”
Chase gets up and nods, turning back around with a travel mug. “Mark said you like it with milk and cinnamon.”
I give Allie an incredulous look as Chase hands me the mug. “Have I died and gone to heaven? Where did these brothers come from?”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she says with a grin. She’s completely taken with Chase, mooning at him. “You’ll find out soon enough they’re not perfect.”
Chase kisses the top of her head and pretends to be offended. “What? I’m perfect.”
“You snore.”
“I snore perfectly.”
We all laugh. Chase is dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt. He’s clean shaven and recently showered. He looks so professional.
