by Unknown
“Who’s there?” she called quietly. She didn’t want to awaken Taylor.
There was nothing there.
Nothing she could see.
What had brought her awake?
Why was her gown folded back to her waist?
Why was there an ache between her thighs? Not the kind of ache from being penetrated, but from being lightly stroked or licked. Jesus, her imagination must be working overtime.
But her breasts tingled, as though a man’s hands had touched her there, too. Maybe she’d been dreaming. Maybe Jace? Had Jace come to her room? She was angry with her husband. She didn’t think he’d sneak into her room and play with her body while she slept.
She got up and eased down the hall to Taylor’s bedroom. His door was ajar, in case he needed her in the night. But Taylor was sound asleep, his breathing deep and even. He slept like the dead due to the nightly sleeping pill he took.
Kaycee reached down and flipped the switch on the nightlight. A beam of light slipped from beneath the horse-shaped figure. She knew darned good and well she’d left the nightlight burning when she went to bed.
She jerked up, whirled and searched the length of the hall. There was nothing, but she’d heard a slight scratching at the back door. Barefoot, she slipped quietly down the hall to the kitchen. Her glow-in-the-dark watch revealed the hour. Three a.m. The night was cool with a gentle breeze as she stepped outside and down the three steps. The stables were to her left, but all was quiet in that direction.
Still, she shivered.
“What are you doing out here?”
Kaycee squeaked, jumped, and whirled to face her husband. “Jace, you scared the crap outta me!”
His face was dark in the shadows. She couldn’t read his mood in the darkness. His soft sigh reached her ears. “We need to talk, Kaycee.”
She shook her head, then realized he probably couldn’t see her. “There’s nothing to discuss. I want a divorce. This marriage was doomed from the start and you know it.”
“Kaycee.” A slight hitch caught in his breath. “Don’t let her do this to us, darlin’. Don’t let her win. You have to listen to me. I love you. I’ve loved you from the first second I saw your beautiful face.”
She backed up a step. “And how long have you loved Jillian? I don’t think you know the meaning of the word love, Jace.”
“I know the meaning.” His voice sounded achingly quiet.
Her heart thudded in her chest. No, she couldn’t think about his feelings. Her first concern had to be herself and Taylor.
“I know what love is,” he repeated softly. “It’s something sweet and pure. Clean. It’s gentle as a summer rain and leaves a taste in your mind that is soft. So soft. It makes your heart skip beats. It astounds you. I’ve searched all my life for it. Don’t think I wouldn’t recognize it when I found it. I know what love is, darlin’. It’s my wife.”
Tears blocked her throat. They choked her until she thought she couldn’t breathe. A sob hitched past her lips. She swallowed it back down. What woman wouldn’t melt at those words?
She shook her head. “Don’t you see she’s a part of your family? She’s going to remain a part of your family. I’m nothing.”
“You’re my wife. My child sleeps beneath your heart.”
“She’s pregnant with your child.”
“It isn’t possible, sweetheart.”
“What? Did you use the condoms you carry on her?”
“Damn it, I haven’t touched her. She’s not pregnant. She’s lying. She told the same lie to my father to force him to marry her, and he fell for it. She’s not pregnant.”
“So you’re saying you used protection?”
“Listen to me, I haven’t touched Jillian.”
“But she touched you?”
“No.”
“Jace—”
“Yes. Hell. I don’t know! Shit.” He raked unsteady hands through his hair. “She touched me, damn it, or at least she tried. But it wasn’t like it sounds. I didn’t touch her. I threw her ass out of the shower when I realized what she was trying to do.”
“And what was that?’
“Kaycee—”
“What was she trying to do, Jace?”
“Fuck! She was on her knees in front of me. What the hell do you think she was trying to do? I’m sorry—”
“Don’t Jace. Nothing can change the fact you showered together. You did things to her.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“She did sexual things to you, and you allowed it to happen. I won’t share you with another woman.”
“I didn’t let her do anything to me. You’re not sharing me with another woman. You haven’t shared me with another woman. Don’t you understand? I’m yours darlin’. I’m so damned yours.”
“No. I’m leaving. As soon as I can get the funds together, Taylor and I are leaving.”
“No, we’re not.”
Jace and Kaycee whirled to see Taylor sitting in his wheelchair in the open doorway.
“I like it here. We aren’t leaving.”
“For heaven’s sake,” Kaycee bellowed. She swiped angrily at the tears streaking her face. “You were the one who wanted to leave.”
“I changed my mind. I’m not leaving, and that’s that.” He backed up the wheelchair. “I suggest you both try and get some sleep. You can work out your problems tomorrow after everyone’s had some rest. Goodnight.”
“Taylor’s right. Go to bed, Kaycee,” Jace said softly. “Tomorrow…we’ll sit down, and I’ll tell you everything there is to tell about Jillian.”
“I think I’ve heard enough about Jillian from Jillian.”
“No. There’s more to tell. I’ll meet you in the morning, about ten, in the stables. And you’re going to listen to me.”
Chapter Twenty
Ain’t nuthin’ like ridin’ a fine horse in new country.
~Agustus MacCrea
(Robert Duvall~ Lonesome Dove
Davis Property
Tuesday 6:00 a.m.
Jillian awoke slowly with the painful realization dawn was sneaking across the sky. Threads of yellow, gold, orange, and red filtered through the single, dirty window, capturing floating dust particles in their ethereal beams.
She couldn’t move. Her eyelids felt unbearably weighty. Her head felt thick and heavy, as if her mind hadn’t quite caught up with her body and her body felt a lead vest weighing her down. She couldn’t move.
Jillian tried to raise her head, but shards of pain drilled through her skull. Her mouth felt dry as a desert without rain. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t recognize the room.
It wasn’t the stables at the Star, although it smelled like sweat and something more pungent, like mice, urine and the musty smell of sex.
The mattress underneath felt old and lumpy. It dawned on her she was naked. Had she wet herself? She felt moist and sticky between her legs. She must have wet herself.
A weak moan slipped past her lips when she tried to lift her head. Fresh pain burst through her skull. Tears slipped along the corners of her eyes.
“So, awake at last, Miz R. We been waitin’ for you. Although my little buddy here got a bit impatient waitin’ for you to wake up, so I gave him a small taste of the sweet nookie between your legs. My buddy here, well, he got so excited, he lost his hot juice inside you. I’m afraid the mangy critter’s still hungry. In fact, he’s starvin.’”
She focused her gaze on the man standing a few feet from her. He was as naked as she was and fondling himself. He moved closer to her and stood there stroking his long shaft.
“Yeah, me and my buddy, we got a lot planned for you today. This is your big day, Miz R. You might even say you’re the star. We’re going to celebrate your last day on earth.” He grinned but there was pure malice in his cold eyes. “You shoulda left my woman alone. You hurt her with your filthy lies. No one hurts what belongs to me.”
“Your woman?” She couldn’t believe this man.
Who
was he?
Who the hell was his woman?
She struggled to sit up, but fell back, panting. Jillian frowned. Why couldn’t she move? She eyed her wrists, her ankles.
What the hell?
Both wrists and ankles were tied and her legs spread as far apart as possible.
“Kaycee Remington. She belongs to me,” he said in a deadly voice.
“You can have the bitch,” she screamed. “Just let me go! Let me go, you crazy bastard!”
He came closer, bent over her and licked her jaw. His face, scant inches from hers, smelled lie sour onions floating over her. Nausea curled in her stomach.
His thin lips twisted into a wide, chilling smile.
“Oh, my God,” she whimpered.
His teeth!
Jillian stared at his teeth, chills creeping up and down her spine. Had he filed them into fine, needlepoint tips?
“You like my new look? I spent most of the night sharpening them. I did it especially for you. I have a present for you.” He held up a long bladed knife, the tip bright and deadly sharp. Then he drew it smoothly across her lower belly, smooth, deep and agonizingly slow.
Ice-cold pain slithered across her abdomen. Shivers started at the base of her spine and traveled up to the base of her neck. Her teeth chattered, bumping together like dry bones. It seemed an eternity before he held the knife up and let the blood drip onto her breasts from the stained tip.
“Oh, God. Please, don’t. Don’t do it again.”
Whimpers turned to screams. Fiery pain mixed with the feel of a cold blade as he slowly drew the knife across her midriff. Agonized screams filled the little room.
“Scream all you want,” he said uncaring. “Hell stands between you and God. It’s just you, me, and my horny buddy.”
He crawled on top of her, guided his cock forward, and penetrated her. At the same moment his hard shaft filled her, he sank the needle sharp tips in her right cheek and ripped the smooth flesh from her face.
Jillian screamed and bucked. She twisted and turned. All her squirming only tightened the silver duct tape around her wrists. No tearing it. No escape. The man laughed and thrust harder between her legs.
“That’s the way, Miz R., keep bucking. Ride my cock. You’re like a sweet, untamed filly. Ride me, baby. Yes, that feels sooo good.” He panted, thrust harder, then squealed like her daddy used to when he came inside her.
Slowly, he pulled out of her and grinned. “Oh, yeah, my second climax of the day, but who’s counting. Right, sweetheart?” He leaned back and licked his bloody lips. Gingerly, he picked up the knife again. He handled it as if it was delicate as china. “I think this time I’ll slice off a piece of your pussy, just a little piece, or maybe a big one.”
Jillian fought. She cried and begged. She screamed until her throat grew raw and her voice disappeared.
“We’re going to have a busy day, Miz R. Before this day is done, I’m going to strip the meat off your bones. Won’t be nuthin’ left when I’m finished with you, but bone.”
The torture went on and on through the long day. A slice here. One there. Tearing bits of skin from her breasts, shoulders, and thighs. Until at last, the struggles ceased. The pleading and crying stopped.
As the sun slowly sank in the west, Smitt Davis spent himself inside Jillian’s lifeless body and whispered, “Rodney was right. You’re first class pussy.”
Jillian’s eyes fixed on something in the distance, a place only she saw. She slowly exhaled her final breath. Utter silence filled the room, and the strong scent of blood and sex permeated the air.
He pulled his cock out of her and shook his head. “Why, Miz R., I don’t think you had a bit of fun today. But I sure did. And my little buddy—well, he’s almost numb from all the pleasure you gave him.”
He stared at her. Stared and stared, then he leaned down and kissed her bloodless lips. His dick hung flaccid as a wet noodle between his legs. He smiled, leaned back, and stared some more. A contented sigh filled the air.
“Looks like I’m done here, me and my little buddy. What a shame, cause that means I have to go claim my woman.” He stared at Jillian’s blank face, stroked his cock and laughed. “Sweet Kaycee, I’m coming for you,” he whispered. “I’m coming. I’m coming. Kay—cee!”
He turned back to Jillian’s body and grinned. “You understand, Miz R.? Your pussy gave me a little pleasure, but you just don’t have what it takes to keep my little buddy here satisfied for long. I think Kaycee will feel much better. What do you think?”
He frowned, stared into the lifeless eyes. “No? You don’t agree? Who gives a fuck what you think? You’re dead. Dead, dead pussy.”
He jerked on his pants, tucked his flaccid member behind the zipper and grinned. Smitt leaned over and spit in Jillian’s bloody face, the final, ultimate insult.
“Hell, party time’s over, bitch. It’s no damn fun talking to a fucking dead woman anyway.”
* * * *
Rimrock, Montana
Tuesday 7:00 a.m.
Sheriff Danger Blackstone pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed back the rage still pulsing through his bloodstream. Another sleepless night and another bitter quarrel with Lacey this morning had set his head to pounding.
He let the door to the Blue Goose Café shut behind him as he stepped outside and drew in a deep breath. The air smelled sharp and crisp, the wind bone-chilling hard. The scent of snow lay heavy in the gray clouds overhead. Pinecones and dead grass glistened with hoar frost. Winter had definitely arrived in Montana.
His thoughts returned to his wife, and he wondered when his feelings for her had started to go to hell. When he considered it, he thought it was her last photo shoot that killed his love for her.
Three months.
She’d been away for three damn months, three long miserable months, without even hearing her voice over the phone. First, he’d been lonely, then he’d stopped caring. He couldn’t put all the blame on her. It was him. Everything she said or did irritated him.
And sex.
God, he hadn’t touched her in months, and he couldn’t bring himself to work up a dab of sexual interest in her. He’d even snapped at their two-year-old son, Joseph Hiram Danger Blackstone last night. It didn’t help matters that his head felt like an ax constantly chipped away inside it, which he blamed on the ton of paperwork he struggled to get through daily.
He hated paperwork.
But if there was one thing he hated worse than paperwork, it was having his morning coffee interrupted for an apparent homicide.
Juggling a mug of steaming coffee in one hand, Danger put thoughts of his wife out of his mind and eyed the headline news of the Rimrock Gazette. Big, bold letters on the front page announced Cynthia Hemphill, the mayor’s wife, was expecting her fourth baby any day now.
He snorted. Like that was big news.
He took an appreciative sip of the java and walked toward his Jeep. Static crackled on the radio, alerting him the dispatcher was about to contact him again. Sure enough, Gertie Mae Crossman’s scratchy voice greeted him. “Calling, Sheriff Blackstone.”
The seventy-year-old dayshift, senior citizen took sweet delight in her job. She took her whiskey neat and had the salty vocabulary of a sailor. Gertie thrived on giving him hell.
“Calling, Sheriff Blackstone.”
Crap, she made the words, Calling, Sheriff Blackstone, sound like something out of an old black and white cop movie.
“Calling, Sheriff Blackstone. Where the fuck you hiding, Danger? At the Blue Goose Cafe? Toss the damn mug of coffee, and get your handsome ass moving, you sexy thing. I told you, there’s been an apparent homicide at the Pine Cone Inn. Fucking, bloody mess from what Blake reported.”
Danger smothered a groan. Right. It was only the Calling, Sheriff Blackstone part that sounded like an old black and white movie. The rest was—well, the rest.
He grabbed the mike and keyed it. “Gertie Mae, if the stiff is dead, he isn’t going anywhere. I’ll be
there in a minute. And for God’s sake, you can’t talk like that over the air.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because…you just can’t,” he snarled.
“Don’t you growl at me, Danger Blackstone. I changed your diapers when you were still crawling around your mama’s feet. Your answer ain’t no answer. It won’t do, Mighty Dong. I gotta have a legitimate, fuckin’ reason not to talk like that, and you ain’t given me one.”
He rubbed his brow. The tension headache that had threatened all morning finally arrived. It settled between his eyes and chipped away at his skull. Danger dragged over the bottle of aspirin he kept lying on the passenger seat, ripped off the lid, and popped three in his mouth.
“Because I said so,” he replied around a swig of coffee, “and because I’m your boss.”
“And I’m old enough to be your granny, Donkey Dick. Show a little respect here and give me another fuckin’ reason.”
“Gertie!”
“Okay. Okay. Bitch-bitch-bitch.”
“I heard that, Gertie.”
“I meant for you to, Donkey Kong. The vic’s unidentified at this time. Better get the lead out. Ain’t it exciting? A murder! Why, we ain’t had us a murder here since all those bodies were found in the cave and your deputy killed. Remember that? I sure do. What a mell of a hess!”
Swearing, Danger tossed the contents of his mug in the bushes and jumped in the driver’s seat. How the hell did Gertie Mae think he’d ever forget the bodies Lacey and he found? The terrible images were branded in his brain.
He grabbed the mike and keyed it. “Pipe down, Gertie. You sound like a ghoul. There’s nothing exciting about a homicide.”
“Apparent homicide, Dick Breath,” she huffed.
“Right. Apparent homicide.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long day. He’d managed to piss off Gertie Mae. Since all the other names she’d been labeling him with weren’t bad enough, now she’d be a lot more colorful, calling him every kind of nasty name she could dream up.
