* * * *
Mason Black was moving swiftly and was soon entering the forest. Here there were signs of disturbance everywhere. He scanned the ground. There were older, smaller footprints. A woman’s? Holly’s? Beside these there were paw prints, large and shaggy. Sumo’s. Confirming Holly had passed this way. However, on top of these were bigger, deeper footprints, those of a heavier, larger person, a man. Jaw set and with an intense steel-hard look in his eyes, Mason moved slowly forward, circling the footprints, ascertaining exactly which way to go. Moving fast his powerful legs working like pistons and his training coming to the forefront, he covered the ground at an exponential rate. Soon he came upon the hut. Doing a quick reconnoitre he noted Holly had been there and unbeknown to her she had left clues. The still-warm ash in the fireplace, the disturbance of dust, and at the front door a spider frantically reworking its web. However, judging by the web and the already cooling ash she had left some time ago, Sumo was still with her. Of that he was thankful. The dog would protect her and keep her safe.
Leaving the hut, Mason moved deeper into the forest, but suddenly came to a halt. Something was wrong. He crouched down to get a closer look at the ground. A lot of information could be ascertained by the disturbance of earth. Just recently a man had stood here, immobile. The indents into the moss were deep and there was a cigarette butt on the ground. He reached down and touched the tip, it was still warm. The man had not ventured farther but had instead spun around and stalked off deeper into the wood. Rising to his feet, Mason scanned the area and slowly moved forward, his eyes still on the forest floor. Stopping he cast a look around, his gaze everywhere, on the ground, up to the canopy of trees, and deep into the coarse bracken. His gaze narrowed. An arrow was embedded in a tree. He moved toward it. Studying the fletch consisting of three feathers, he noted that the arrow was from an old medieval crossbow, belonging to someone serious about weaponry and most probably a sportsman or a hunter. His face grew grim as he looked back down at the ground. Holly had hesitated here. His gaze narrowed. Here the footprints were closer together. She had started to run. Following the disturbed trail led him to an ancient oak. The ground was flattened here. Holly had rested for a short time. However, just beyond the tree a skirmish had occurred. The dog’s four paws had become two. Sumo had risen on his hind legs. Now the ground was really messed up, indicating that the man had fallen, and Holly? He pursed his lips. She had got close, halted, and then moved off. He frowned, moving farther away, checking for more signs. Then, his heart froze in his chest. There was blood! He touched the spot and carried it to his nose. Yes, it was definitely blood, but whose? He frowned, gazing at the scuffed-up area. The dog was limping, holding one paw off the ground. His gaze was intense, searching. Holly seemed to have fled the scene going deeper into the trees, but the dog had departed in another direction. The man? He circled around. The man appeared to have fallen again but once more gotten to his feet and his footprints were almost obliterating Holly’s as he took up the pursuit.
Mason’s jaw clenched and momentarily he hesitated. The next second he removed a small cylinder-shaped object from his pocket and blew into it. Tilting his head to one side he listened intently and was rewarded by a faint whine. Sumo! The dog whistle had worked.
The reunion with Sumo was ecstatic. The dog, in an attempt to throw himself at Mason, tumbled head over heels. Laughingly Mason righted the dog, calmed him down, and from his pack took a bottle of water and some beef jerky, which he fed to the animal. Time was of the essence, but upon examining Sumo’s leg Mason knew he needed to stem the flow of blood. The vest Holly had wrapped around the wound was soaked. Gentling the dog, stroking his head and talking sweet nothings to him, Mason quickly and efficiently removed the makeshift bandage and expertly rebandaged the injury. All this took but moments and, extracting a mobile phone from his pocket, he spoke briefly to William. Securing the dog to the tree with some rope, he ordered him to wait. The dog stared up at him with loyal, loving eyes. Taking another second, Mason ruffled Sumo’s rough fur. “Stay there, old boy. William will be here shortly and I’ll see you at home after I find Holly.”
Seconds later Mason was moving at speed through the wood. Of necessity Sumo forgotten, his mind focused on just one thing—that of finding Holly.
* * * *
Holly was scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves had her trembling in horror wondering if this was to be her final moment. The forest had taken on frightening proportions. Twigs became evil hands about to grab her, the fluttering of the odd leaf to the ground became spiders of gigantean proportions, and the deepening shadows became spectres out to cause her harm. Alex was hot on her trail. She could hear him swearing in a foreign language and lumbering somewhere behind her. The time since morning seemed like eons ago and she was tired, hungry, and completely and utterly exhausted. Leaning back against a tree she quickly looked behind her. Her heart was pounding and her lungs felt fit to burst. However, it was the fear that made a vile companion, filling her mind and crawling along her skin. Why Alex was doing this she couldn’t understand. She had done nothing to him. He was the one that had led her on, promising her a future that didn’t exist, and he was the one that had demanded and taken her money, not caring that he was leaving her in penury. And now, now when she finally had a chance of happiness he was trying to kill her. Life just wasn’t fair. She choked back a sob, impatiently wiping tears from her cold, dirty cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to wallow in self-pity. She had to find a way out of there. Reaching in her bag, she pulled out the knife and, balking at the thought of plunging its gleaming blade into someone’s flesh, she nevertheless placed it carefully on the ground beside her. Just in case…
* * * *
Jules De Verne stumbled unsteadily against a tree. His head hurt and the forest was spinning dizzily out of control, images merging into one, and the noise…
Holding his head, he peered into the gloom. The woman Holly had to be near. He had heard her anxious cries from time to time. She was like a startled fawn that had lost its mama, thrashing about, scared and lost, just waiting for someone to fire an arrow into its heart. He grinned evilly, and then grimaced as the pain in his head grew into mammoth proportions. He looked up as birds suddenly flew into the air. Listening intently, trying to hear above the buzzing in his head, he frowned but couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Looking again at the trees and the now silent birds, he wondered, was someone moving stealthily through the trees? Could it be that a hero was riding to Holly’s rescue? Scowling in fury, which then turned into more pain, he moved away from the trees and, pulling out his phone, stumbled out into a nearby clearing. He wasn’t about to take a chance on getting caught. Revenge could wait for another day. It was now time to get out of there.
* * * *
Holly didn’t want to move. Her legs felt like jelly and exhaustion sat heavily on her shoulders, weighing down her head. Lethargy washed over her. Life had been hard and she’d had more than her fair share of bad luck, so maybe it was time to let go. She no longer had the strength to continue the fight against all that life had to throw at her, the worry, the stress, and the fear. Closing her eyes, she curled more comfortably against the base of the tree. Just a little sleep and after she’d rested she’d decide what to do next. Her eyelids grew heavy and her chin dropped onto her chest as she slowly slipped into a deep and exhausted slumber.
The wood grew quiet, and a small breeze ruffled the handful of leaves still left on the branches, causing them to flutter slowly to the ground in a myriad of colours, yellow, red, gold, and brown. Holly stirred, her lashes fluttered briefly against her white, cold cheeks but she slept on completely unaware of the hauntingly beautiful scene in which she slumbered. The dark green of the soft moss on which she slept, the kaleidoscope of rustling leaves that lay like a carpet on the forest’s floor, and the dappled sunlight breaching through the density of the trees. The giant oaks, their branches gnarled and f
ar-reaching, joined like a canopy over her head, protecting her from the elements. And as the day quickly became twilight, the silence was filled with the sounds of the forest’s nocturnal inhabitants coming out to forage.
* * * *
Mason Black slowed his steps and stooped, looking at the ground around him. Going off to the right were Holly’s footsteps, whereas to the left were the heavier footsteps of the man. The man’s footprints were odd. With narrowed eyes he noted each and every one. Some seemed normal whilst others seemed to merge together and then go back on themselves. Something was wrong. Was he injured, drunk, or something else? However, Holly’s footprints now appeared to be unsteady, dragging a little almost as if she was running out of steam. Exhausted or hurt she was slowing down. Decision made, he rose to his feet and started to the left then hesitated. The man was going nowhere, and his immediate concern was for Holly. So without further hesitation he instead followed the lighter footprints veering off to the right.
It was but moments later Mason came across Holly, fast asleep hugging the tree. Standing over her he wanted nothing more than to quickly gather her up into his arms and smother her with kisses. However, she could be injured. Crouching down he scanned her sleeping form with discerning eyes. There appeared to be no outward signs of injury, so satisfied, he stroked a gentle finger down the side of one tearstained, grubby cheek. Startled, her eyes opened wide and automatically catching up the knife she held it forth and cringed back against the tree in fear. However, seconds later she was hurling herself into his arms, sobbing and talking incoherently. Holding her close, Mason found her lips with his and gave her a kiss of devastating proportions.
“It’s okay, Holly,” he murmured. “You’re quite safe.”
And even as he said the words a loud noise rent the air and a wind of unusual proportions bent the wispy trees and stirred up the fallen leaves into a whirlpool of colour. Mason covered Holly with his body and his jaw clenched. A helicopter. Obviously the enemy had found a way out. So this wasn’t in fact the end.
Holly felt dazed and disorientated and remained still as Mason gently brushed leaves from her hair. The air that had at first been disturbed by the whirling of the helicopter’s rotors now seemed calm and unnaturally still.
“Mason.” She sighed, hiding her face in the side of his neck and inhaling the clean earthy familiar smell of him. “I thought I was going to die.” She began crying from all the pent-up emotions of the last few hours now taking her to the breaking point.
“Easy, sweetheart.” Mason held her close and allowed her to cry.
Eventually her sobs turned to muffled snuffles and Mason pulled gently away, grimacing slightly at the dampness of his neck.
Handing her a tissue, he regarded her red, swollen eyes and woebegone face. “Better.”
Holly nodded, her breath still hiccupping jerks in her chest.
“Yes, thank you. So sorry for crying all over you. It was just— Just…” She drew another shuddering breath.
“I know, sweetheart.” Mason cupped her cheek and gently kissed her, his lips just a butterfly’s touch on hers.
Staring into his eyes, Holly bit her lip against the words she wanted to say, and instead, at Mason’s enquiring look, wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated a deep, searching kiss.
“Here, Holly?” Mason, surprised, pulled away slightly.
“Yes, here,” she whispered, lying back on the cushion of leaves and pulling Mason with her.
Slowly taking off Holly’s clothing, Mason kissed the flesh revealed at each removal and for Holly it was a lesson in patience, stamina, and most of all exquisite torment.
Her senses were heightened, the muffled sounds of the forest inordinately loud. The snuffling of badgers and rodents, the hooting of an owl, and the small screech of its hapless prey and even the rhythmic pounding of her heart seemed almost deafening. However, soon she was naked and it was her turn to torment Mason with her ministrations. Pushing him back to lie flat against the soft moss, she rolled on top of him and began her slow seduction. Opening one button at a time followed by a kiss, she slowly opened his shirt. His skin tasted salty and slightly musky. Her hands smoothed over his tanned, muscular chest, revelling in the feel of hard, defined muscle under silky flesh. Moving down his body, she dipped her tongue into his navel whilst her fingers fumbled with his belt and slowly lowered his zipper. Mason’s breathing became constrained and she smiled against his sensitised flesh.
A slight flick of her hand ordered Mason to lift his hips and she slowly and skilfully pulled down his pants and his underwear. His cock sprang free like a jack-in-the-box. The whimsical analogy made her want to giggle, such was the tension. Sitting astride his thighs she took his cock in her hand and gently began moving her hand backward and forward. Hearing Mason’s breath catch in his throat, she smiled knowingly, enjoying the power. However, that was not to last. Moments later Mason’s hands, hard on her hips, lifted her and, holding her gaze, he impaled her onto his fully engorged cock. Now it was Holly’s turn to catch her breath and as she felt the thick, long length of him penetrating her body she felt elated, contented, and utterly, utterly loved. Setting the rhythm, Mason’s hands on her hips instructed, coordinated, and controlled with the precision of a military undertaking. Soon she was reaching for the heights and as she exploded on a dizzying, spiralling orgasm, Mason’s primal cry and the warm rush of his seed into her womb confirmed his volatile climax.
Chapter Twenty
It was late. Holly was tucked up in bed safe at home and in the security of Mason’s arms. Earlier she had told Mason about everything that had happened. How she had succumbed to the irresistible urge of checking her online messages, which had thankfully given her the forewarning of Alex’s intentions.
“It was just pure luck I happened to check the messages and a coincidence that it was on the same night Alex had decided to act. If I hadn’t checked, Mason, he would have found me here at home, in bed.” Her voice rose on a squeak. “I know I shouldn’t have given in to the temptation, but I was bored and lonely and missing you.” She looked earnestly at him. “I’m sorry.”
Mason pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“No worries, sweetheart. I think you going online at that moment must have been an act of fate, and thanks to that you managed to get away just in time. I’m proud of you. You were so brave tackling him the way you did. I bet he’s nursing one hell of a headache.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Sumo. He was fantastic. Thank God his injury was just minor.” She smiled across at the dog, full of a chicken dinner and now fast asleep in his basket in the corner of the room. William had found the dog where Mason had said and taken him to the vet where after a thorough examination he had had six stitches in his thigh and an antibiotic injection before being given a clean bill of health. Her smile faded and she looked worriedly at Mason.
“But what about Alex, Mason? I mean won’t he come after me again?”
“Don’t worry, Holly. I’m here for the duration and of course I’ve alerted the police and sent them a copy of all the messages you have received from Alex. However, I doubt he will try again. He expected to be confronted by a helpless woman, not a veritable virago that could defend herself. So if he has any sense at all he will leave well alone and put you down to the one that got away. But, and I mean but, if he is still around we’ll get him. You have my word on that.”
Holly threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Mason,” she whispered, kissing the side of his hard jaw and then his throat, her arms tightening into a stranglehold around his neck.
Mason rolled her onto her back and his lips found hers in a kiss that enticed and devastated at the same time.
Caught up in a maelstrom of emotions, Holly gave back kiss for kiss. Pressing closer to Mason she murmured softly, her words incoherent, but her actions clear and concise. When she pushed his head down to her now naked breasts and opened her legs, the thrust of her hips invited him in. Maso
n, needing no further encouragement and accepting her invitation, pushed his hard, engorged cock deep inside her pussy.
Their coupling was fast and furious. Mason’s hips, working like pistons, stirred up a whirlpool of intense delight. Her internal muscles caught and captured his pumping cock and she wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him safely in the cradle of her pelvis. And then, suddenly with a small scream of fervent excitement she reached the dizzying heights of an orgasm. A deep, primal responding groan and Mason was following her into a climax, pumping his hot seed deep into her waiting womb.
* * * *
It was some time later when Holly stirred. She felt lethargic and she ached in places she didn’t know she had. Looking to her left she watched Mason as he slept. His face still granite hard looked slightly softer in repose. She smiled. How she loved this man. Oh, nothing like the love she’d had for Adam that was the intense love of a young girl teetering on the brink of womanhood, a love that grew into an acceptance. The love she had for Mason was deep, intense, abiding, a love that would be with her until the end of time. Her smile faded. However, although she loved Mason, she knew he felt nothing for her except a physical attraction and perhaps friendship. Tears filled her eyes, but she determinedly blinked them away. She was a fool crying about everything and anything. She had it good, and she could live with the fact he meant more to her than she did to him. Anyway one person always did love more deeply than the other, well, so she’d heard. And she had enough love for both of them.
Third Time Lucky (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 11
