Eviscerating the Snake - The Complete Trilogy

by Ashley Fontainne

  Audra Tanner started a firestorm months ago, that was for sure. When he read McRae’s forensic report on her home and work computer, he had been stunned at the amount of documentation she had horded over the previous five years. He had laughed at Doster when he questioned the legalities of keeping such information. Apparently, Doster missed class the day at the academy when corporate law and computer policy were topics. Information stored on the server of a company is owned by the company, not the individual sending them. And since Audra Tanner was the head of the IT department, she had every legal right to read and review them.

  S.A. Kendal didn’t agree with the way Audra handled her personal issues, but he did understand her motives for destroying the people she worked with. My God, what a bunch of fucked up people they were. He took a sip of coffee and almost laughed out loud when he recalled the look on the lead prosecutor’s face when Olin’s death was confirmed. Maxwell Stockton had been a media darling for months while he extolled to the world how he was going to put Olin Kemper behind bars for life. After the news broke about Olin’s murder, Maxwell had only given one interview and it was short and to the point, the look of disappointment clearly etched across his face.

  S.A. Kendal eased back into his chair and kicked his feet up on his desk. He wondered how much effort was really being exerted to solve Olin’s murder by the officers in Summerset. With all he had on his plate, he was glad that the case wasn’t under the domain of the FBI. Part of him, after reading the files from Audra’s diligent research, wanted to shake the hand of the individual or individuals responsible for snuffing the bastard out. Of course, he would never share that opinion with anyone considering his position, but it didn’t hurt to let the thoughts wander through his own mind.

  He stared out the window and felt the knot inside his stomach twitch. He would let others worry about finding Olin’s killer. He had his own issues to wrangle with, all centered around the events of Saturday in Summerset.

  He knew Nicole Simmons was lying—he just needed some hard evidence to prove it.

  THURSDAY

  “WELL MS. TANNER. YOU have made a remarkable recovery for sure. That wound of yours has progressed to the point that you should be able to care for it yourself. And your tests all show normal levels in every other area. I’m impressed.”

  Dr. Kingston sat next to me in my room, and my parents and Steve were beaming from ear to ear on the other side of the cramped space. I was thrilled with the prognosis and more than ready to leave, although a twinge of worry hit me about my memory loss.

  Earlier, we had discussed my fears about never regaining my lost memories and Dr. Kingston did his best to assure me, as did my father, that they would return. It was just a question of when. That did bother me, but at the same time, after hearing what Nicole told me, I guess it was sort of a blessing in disguise. Physical pain needed to heal before emotional pain, I figured.

  “So, when can we take her home?” Mrs. Tanner asked.

  The one part of my release that I hadn’t been looking forward to was telling my parents of my decision to stay in Summerset. Steve and I discussed at length numerous times wide variety of issues (except the conversation of what happened, which we seemed to silently agree would occur later), and I had no desire to go back to Phoenix just yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate my parents’ offer to stay with them, but there was an overwhelming urge to remain in Summerset for a while. I couldn’t really understand it except right before I would fall asleep, quiet voices reminded me I needed to stay, and I sensed it had something to do with Steve.

  Fortunately, perhaps pre-planned by Steve and Dr. Kingston, the sticky situation was diffused when Dr. Kingston replied to my mother.

  “I don’t think she should attempt that long car ride at the moment. Give her a few more days to heal.”

  “She needs to be home with us. Besides, where would she stay?” my father blurted out.

  “I think, temporarily, the best place would be at Steve’s. He only lives a few miles from me, and that way, I can check in on her on my way to and from work.”

  After a few tense moments and raised voices protesting vehemently, my parents conceded defeat. My mother wasn’t really the one that voiced her objections; it was my dad. I thought that odd until I caught a strange interaction between her and Steve, her face softening when she looked at him. I wondered if while waiting for me to wake up they had bonded. I sure hoped that was the case.

  An hour later, all the tubes and needles were removed and my mom and Nurse Chas helped me dress while everyone else waited outside. Nurse Chas and I chatted away and I thanked her for taking such good care of me, and surprisingly, so did my mother, who I don’t believe ever thanked anyone with such sincerity before. Although it was a painful task to accomplish, I was finally dressed and ready to leave my home that I had been in for the last several days. Thank goodness because spending another night in this room would have been torture. I wanted to take a hot shower, which Dr. Kingston said I could do as long as I covered my bandages first, and sleep in a real bed.

  Leaving the hospital was my first big adventure. Steve had told me that there were a lot of reporters outside that were clamoring for an interview, especially after the news was out that I was awake. I hadn’t granted any interviews before, but I sort of felt like I should say something to all the kind people from around the country that had sent me well wishes. Nurse Chas told me yesterday that the hospital had to quit accepting flower deliveries after the second day of my stay since they were taking up two rooms already. I just didn’t feel right leaving and not expressing my thanks to those strangers that reached out to me.

  When the elevator doors opened and Steve wheeled me out to the main lobby, the amount of noise was unbelievable. The blinding lights flashed in my eyes, the sounds of voices yelling my name and throwing out questions was almost too much. God, how did celebrities stand the invasion of their privacy? Thankfully, Steve commandeered their attention and quieted them all down so I could say my quick thank you, then, without warning, several police officers came through the door and made a small opening in the sea of people and before I knew it, I was hoisted inside Steve’s awaiting Jeep, and we were on the road to his house.

  “Are they following us?” I said after noticing several news vans pull out of the parking lot.

  “You are a celebrity of sorts, my dear. Everyone wants that exclusive interview with the Warrior.”

  “I see your sense of humor is still sharp enough after spending days in the hospital without much sleep,” I said, smiling as I reached out to hold his hand. “But seriously, are they?”

  “Yes, I am sure they are. Don’t worry though. The town has you more than covered.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the honking began. While Steve wound his way through what the locals would call downtown, each direction was simultaneously being blocked off by the random tractor or a near miss pileup, and even at one spot, the crossing of a few straggly cows across the street. Even though it hurt my side to laugh, I couldn’t help myself.

  “How did you arrange all that while at my bedside?” I asked, squeezing his hand tighter.

  “Oh, I can’t take credit for it, dear. This little masterpiece is brought to you by Sandy. All I did was put a bug in her ear this morning and she took care of the rest.”

  “Remind me to thank her the next time I see her,” I said, leaning back against the cool seat, grateful that the drive to his house wasn’t too many more miles. Steve and I chatted briefly about my new-found fame and the repercussions that came along with it. Numerous amounts of other mundane subjects bounced between us, but never the white elephant that sat in the seat next to us. It seemed that both of us preferred to stay away from the topic that loomed before us.

  I smiled when Steve turned into the driveway and crept up toward the house, mindful of the bumps in the road. Was there anything he didn’t think of? My mom told me earlier that he refused to leave my side, and that Tuesday, when I for
ced him to go home and clean up, was the first time he had left the hospital. It made me wonder if the blurry thoughts of hearing his voice and feeling his hands caress my face and head truly were real rather than imagined while I was floating around in the nothingness of my head.

  Once we were inside and he settled me on the couch, I watched in quiet awe as he busied himself around the house, buzzing from one room to the next as he prepared to make me feel at home. Did I need a blanket? A pillow? A drink? Was I hot? Cold? In pain? Hungry? He was making me dizzy with all his doting.

  “Steve,” I said, reaching out to hold his hand as he stood over me, awaiting an answer to his numerous questions. “No blanket, no pillow, yes to some water; no, I am not hot, cold, or in pain; and I am not hungry. So please, grab yourself a beer and me some water and come back and sit down beside me. That’s really all I want at the moment. Maybe once you wind down, you could help me with a bath. Other than that, I’m fine.”

  The little smirk that graced his face was so adorable. I felt the tension in his hand loosen as his shoulders lost some of their tightness and relaxed.

  “Be right back.”

  A few minutes later, he returned and handed me my water, and I patted the spot next to me on the couch. He eased his large frame next to me in slow motion, obviously afraid I would break any second if his movements were too quick.

  “There, that’s better. You were making me rather seasick with all of your running around. You are acting like I am some fragile egg that you might break…or a newborn baby that requires constant attention.”

  He just stared at me, those immense eyes missing nothing as he scanned me quickly to make sure I was telling the truth about how I felt, probably searching for signs of pain.

  “I know, but I can’t help it. I just, I am, well, oh God, thankful for so many things.” His voice became a deep, low rumble, and I could see him struggling to retain his composure.

  The time for our conversation had not yet arrived, even though I needed to hear the missing pieces.

  “Steve, please stop fretting. I’m sore and have a wound that will make a pretty scar one day, but other than that, I feel fine. I need to concentrate on healing, and I can’t do that if I’m worried about your state of mind and body. Here,” I said, tipping my water toward him, “let’s toast to living each day to the fullest and be thankful for what we have found in each other.”

  Our glasses clinked and we sipped our respective drinks in silence. Even though he had relaxed somewhat, I could still sense that there was some major tension circling through him. I suspected that some of that was from the conversation we had yet to embark upon about the events of the past week. It was a discussion that we both knew needed to occur, yet we both still shied away from. Although Nicole had dropped the first hint of the chaotic scene a few days prior, Steve insisted we discuss it “when I was feeling better,” and I didn’t press the issue. There was a part of me that almost didn’t want to know. Deep down, I knew it was going to be rough, so before we broached that territory tonight, I wanted us both to enjoy some bonding time.

  It wasn’t just that though. I felt different, and not just from my bullet hole in my shoulder or the fact that I had been unconscious for days. Oddly enough, even though I knew soon I would hear the entire story about what happened to us all last week, I felt an almost ethereal calm. A strange peace, a quiet nudging in the back of my mind that soothed my fears, letting me know that I would make it through. Nothing remotely close to the feeling of warmth had ever been a part of my life before, and trying to put my finger on exactly what it was that I was feeling, as well as the source of it, was damn near impossible.

  Perhaps it was an after effect of being in a coma. I made a mental note to ask Dr. Kingston at my next appointment. But tonight, I simply wanted to bask in the presence of Steve. I almost laughed when I realized how attracted I was to him. I mean, I just left the hospital after being in there almost a week, and yet I was internally panting like some teenage girl that was anticipating a romp in the backseat with the captain of the football team. Jesus, what kind of drugs had been in my IV?

  “If I don’t get into a shower and rinse the stench of the hospital off of me right now, I am afraid it will permeate the entire house. Will you help me?”

  His gorgeous face softened, his taut jaw-line relaxed and his eyes lit up with anticipation. He stood up and set his beer on the table.

  “Madame, I shall retire to the bathroom and prepare it for your cleansing ritual and return momentarily,” he said, bowing at the waist. His attempt at a British accent was priceless and I almost spewed my water all over the floor and couch.

  When he returned less than five minutes later, his previous demeanor of humor was gone, replaced with a strange mix of authority and rich sensuality. He never said a word as his strong arms encircled me, effortlessly picking me up from the couch in one, easy swoop. His steps were slow and cautious as we made our way into the bathroom. I smelled his delicious scent that rose from his neck and inhaled deeply, imprinting his smell to my olfactory memory banks. When he stopped at the threshold of the bathroom door, I let out a small gasp.

  The room was aglow with multi-colored votive candles placed strategically upon the countertops in the shape of a heart. The shower was running and the steam was heavy, filling the entire room with light pink glow and jasmine-scented fragrance that made the room smell like a little piece of heaven. Steve let me down and no words crossed either of our lips as he slowly undressed me, then himself, and guided me into the shower. His hands were careful and his touch light while he ensured that my bandage was covered before he helped me into the heated bliss. His muscular body held me close as he began. The water was the perfect temperature, and I closed my eyes and let its warmth embrace me while Steve’s hands worked their way over my body with a sponge. Once he finished his gentle removal of a week’s worth of grime, he helped me ease back and began to wash my hair. His fingers were magnificent as they gently massaged my scalp, and I felt myself shudder inside as his body melded into mine. As the water rained over my head to rinse away the shampoo, I couldn’t control the moan of pleasure that escaped me. I was completely immersed inside a world that consisted of nothing but his strong hands and warm water.

  For the very first time in my life, I let myself go and truly succumbed to the feelings of my body and stirrings of my soul. I didn’t know if it was the warmth of the fragrant water, simple exhaustion from my injuries and hospital stay, the sensual hands that caressed my body, or the fact that they were attached to the most incredible man I had ever known, but I felt truly safe and loved for the first time. I moaned again as Steve’s hands made their way around my wound, his touch delicate as he moved, the sensation driving me insane with passion. He responded by tracing his fingers down my stomach, which ignited a fire inside of me. My body responded on its own, my senses were in complete and total control over my brain. I felt my hips move in response to his magical touch, ignoring the twinge of pain in my shoulder.

  His face was near my neck, his breath coming in heavy rasps, and I felt his excitement building against my thigh. His sweet murmurings melted into my soul while his fingers took me to an orgasmic bliss that I never knew existed as I screamed out his name to his eager ears.

  “WELL now, my love, I believe I just unleashed your inner beast. I can’t wait to see what animal comes out when you are fully recovered,” Steve said, the sensual grin on his lips intoxicating as he wiped off the water from my back.

  I felt my face flood with heat. “Who knew a shower could be so erotic? Guess it just depends upon who is in it with you,” I said, my fingers moving through the wet curls on his head. “I am quite shocked myself.”

  I didn’t want the moment to end, even though I knew it would. While he finished dressing me and we walked hand in hand back to the living room, the air between us went from a state of sexual bliss to more serious considerations. Once he settled me amidst a sea of cushions and a comforter on the couch, he we
nt into the kitchen to prepare a light snack. Thoughts of reality came flooding back and the enormity of the situation, as well as the apprehension I was feeling about finding out the full events of the past week, took front and center inside my head.

  “Babe, would you bring your phone with you when you come back? I need to call Gabrielle and check on things at the office before we start. I should have called her earlier. I imagine things have been insane around there lately.”

  I startled when his voice responded from behind me, unaware that he had come back to the living room. He cleared his throat and set down the tray of food and just stood there. My heart sank when I looked into his face and knew the weight he was carrying was about to be handed over to me. He sat down beside me and reached for my hand.

  “Audra, are you sure you are up to this? We can always discuss this tomorrow.”

  I shook my head. “I doubt that I could ever feel any more relaxed than what I am now, so no. Tell me. I’m ready. Just give me a moment to call Gabby.”

  A slow, long rush of air left him, followed by a deep breath.

  “I have gone over this conversation a hundred times in my head the last few days, trying to figure out where to start, how to tell you all these things, but the truth is, there is no delicate way to begin. So, here goes: I didn’t bring the phone in here because you can’t call Gabby.”

  He paused there, his eyes scanning my own for understanding. I swallowed the fear that was rising in me, knowing the answer to the question before I posed it.

  “Why can’t I call Gabby?”

  “Because she was a victim of Piper’s wrath, Audra, along with Robert. You and Nicole weren’t the only ones that Piper went after in her quest to remove all the people that were planning to testify against Olin.”

  Although I tried to stop them, to remain calm and rational as I soaked in his words, tears sprang forth and spiraled down my face. I nodded for him to continue, and for the next two hours, I listened to him recount the entire morbid tale, right down to the moment I woke up in the hospital. Each word was like a dagger slicing into me, the mental anguish unbearable. Dear God, so much tragedy! How could one person be so demented?