by Ronica Black
“Not yet, baby,” she said, positioning herself over her center. Carefully, and as she looked into the honey eyes, she gently encouraged the long legs to open. “Yes, like that.” She bent down and blew gently, watching with delight as the clitoris awakened and grew with hungry blood.
“Slowly,” she said, gripping Kennedy’s excited hips. She bent and blew again, this time inhaling as much as she exhaled, and she became intoxicated with the sweet scent of her. What would she taste like, feel like, respond like? With her impatience growing, she extended her tongue and carefully touched the outside of her satiny folds, purposely avoiding the excited center.
Her brain swam in bliss as her mouth registered the sweet tart taste of her. Kennedy moved and thrashed underneath her, gripping the covers in hasty pleasurable excitement.
“Please,” she groaned, lifting her head off the pillow.
“No, baby, not yet,” she said, teasing her with long lapping strokes just to the side of her extended clitoris.
“Shawn. Shawn, please.”
The words were keys to her locked-away passion. The prison doors of her soul flew open as she flattened her tongue and eased down, feeling the firm, soft tissue of Kennedy underneath her. Then, with her own excitement building between her legs, she licked and pressed and flicked.
“Shawn, oh God, Shawn.”
She massaged her with her tongue, gathered her in her mouth and sucked—
“Mommy. Mommy.”
Shawn moaned and turned over, still feeling Kennedy beneath her.
“Mommy, Kiley wet the bed,” Rory said, tapping her on the shoulder.
Shawn looked around slowly. She had her covers clutched close to her chest and gathered between her shaking legs. Sweat beaded her brow as she sat up and looked at Rory. Blood pounded between her legs and in her ears. God, how she wanted to return to sleep to finish the dream.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked instead, trying to focus on reality.
“Kiley wet the bed.” Rory placed her hands on her hips. “She’s all wet.”
Shawn pushed back her covers. “All right.”
The dream quickly took the back burner as she busied herself with the girls. She put Kiley in the shower and rinsed her and then ran a warm bath for the both of them. They crawled in happily and began to play. She busied herself changing Kiley’s sheets and remembered that they were leaving today.
Outside the window, storm clouds brewed in the distance, looming over the gray, churning sea, promising a large hurricane.
Veronica had called the night before. She’d heard about the hurricane and had insisted they come back to New York. Shawn had argued, not wanting Veronica to think they were leaving just because she wanted them to. They were leaving because they had to. And they weren’t going back to the house.
She stood by the bed and hugged herself as she looked outside. Sadness settled in as she realized they would be leaving behind not only the house, but maybe Kennedy as well. How much longer could they keep her?
She headed into the bathroom to help the girls with their bath. She wasn’t about to give Veronica another chance, but she knew she had to face her, to talk through the horror and betrayal. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be graced with an answer, she at least had to ask Veronica why. Why had she done it?
Would any answer satisfy her? No. But she still had to try her best to find out why. So she could put the whole thing to rest.
She dried the girls off after their bath and walked with them out to the beach for one last pirate adventure. She sat in the soft sand and relaxed a little as the strong sea breeze ran its cool hands through her hair and across her face. She squinted into the wind and watched her girls. The sea crawled hurriedly toward shore, like a million tiny little crabs running for the sand. Thunder rolled deeply, causing the girls to shriek with delight. The clouds rolled as well, blowing inward in one smooth, quick motion, as if the wind never stopped to take a breath.
A drop of rain pelted the envelope in her hand. The manila envelope was full and unopened. She’d found it outside her bedroom door. She knew what it was, what it held.
Tearing it open, the thunder spoke of her pain, voicing her fears. She slid out the contents and found a handwritten note from Kennedy.
Shawn,
Here is the information you asked for. It goes back nine years. I’m sorry. If you need to talk, I’m here. Anytime.
Kennedy
She leafed through the pages, one at a time. The names and dates came before the photos. All ten of them attractive, well-known women, excluding the most recent assistant. She sat staring, eyeing each woman, one at a time. Eight of them came after they’d exchanged wedding vows. Four of them had been good friends at the time. Thunder boomed again and she shuddered in the wind as the tears warmed her cold cheeks. She looked up and bit back her sobs, smiling through the pain at her girls, who danced happily in the wind’s strong arms.
And there was one now. Right now.
Marion Grace.
But now she knew. And now she could heal.
Chapter Twelve
Scarsdale, New York
The knock came and Larry answered, allowing Veronica inside. Shawn was nervous and edgy, not really wanting to see her, but she’d shown up uninvited at their hotel, insisting on seeing her. Veronica had wanted them back at the house but Shawn had refused, too scared and too upset.
Veronica stepped into view and smiled. Larry closed the door, locked it, and left them.
“Hi,” Veronica said, crossing the room to embrace her. Shawn stiffened in her arms. Her perfume set Shawn’s neurons firing and all of it came rushing through her. The betrayal, the lies, the hurt. A sob threatened and she pulled away.
“What’s wrong?” Veronica asked. Her silky dark hair was full and beautiful, hanging just below her shoulders. Her black eyes beckoned.
How could she stand there and look at her like that?
Shawn couldn’t do it. It was too much. She couldn’t pretend like it was all okay.
“Girls,” Shawn called out, turning away.
Rory and Kiley flew into the room and then stopped cold when they saw Veronica.
“Hi, guys,” Veronica said, bending to embrace them.
“Hi,” they both responded, going to her, but shyly.
“Why so shy?” Veronica asked, running her hands through their long hair.
“They’re tired,” Shawn said, knowing her girls were exhausted and confused. They had witnessed her crying upon leaving the beach house. They didn’t understand why they weren’t at home. “Why don’t you girls go get ready for bed? I’ll be in to tuck you in soon.”
“But I haven’t seen them in weeks!” Veronica looked at Shawn with surprise and hurt, just like a child. “I thought maybe we could stay up, maybe play some games like we used to do.” She eyed the girls, baiting them.
“You’ll have plenty of time to see them tomorrow.”
“Yeah! Yeah! Let’s play!” Kiley exclaimed, bouncing up and down. “Can we, Mom, please?” She clutched her hands together in front of her, begging with an excited toothy grin.
“Not tonight, girls.” Silence filled the room as the answer set in. Shawn gave Veronica a stern look, letting her know not to push it.
“Okay, Mommy,” Rory said softly, walking over to hug her leg. Kiley was close on her heels doing the same.
“I’ll be in in a few.” She kissed them both, giving Rory a wink of gratitude for following her directions.
Veronica stalked off to the suite’s living room, so upset that she didn’t tell the girls good night. Shawn wanted desperately to ignore her, but more than that, she wanted her gone. She found her sitting on the couch.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, angry.
“What the hell was that?” Shawn repeated. “What about what the hell is this? What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you guys. You’ve been gone for weeks.”
“You’re not supposed to be here, V.
We’re divorcing.”
“Those are my kids.”
“I had them.”
“They’re mine.”
“They’re ours. Even though you have yet to officially adopt them.”
Veronica opened her mouth to bite back, but she seemed stymied.
“Why aren’t you at the house?”
“For many reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Well, there’s a psycho out there trying to kill me, I’m divorcing you and don’t want to be around you, and oh yes, you said on the phone that the house was yours.”
“It is.”
Shawn wanted to scream, but she held back and said, “We are legally married. I am entitled to half.”
“Half?” She laughed. “Is that what this is about? You wanting half?”
“No. I’m saying that the house isn’t solely yours. But never mind. The girls and I will look for another one soon.”
“With what money?”
“With my money.”
“Your money?”
“Yes.” She had savings and she had made damn good investments over the years. It wasn’t millions, but it would buy them a decent home.
“You’re cracking me up, Shawn.”
“I want you to leave.”
“And I want to see the girls.”
“It’s not about what you want. It’s about them. They’ve had a long day. We all have.”
“So let me guess, you’re too tired to talk?”
Shawn started to say something in her own defense but then changed her mind. How soon she had forgotten that she would be fighting a losing battle. One never won an argument with Veronica. But thankfully, the war was finally over—she had nothing to defend. There was no more relationship. Relief washed through her and she almost smiled at how good it felt. She had always hated fighting with Veronica, and now it seemed she would no longer have to.
“We’ll have plenty of time to talk.”
“Yeah? When? Tomorrow, when I’m scheduled for a magazine shoot?”
The question was rhetorical and meant to upset her, but this time it didn’t. It was amazing how freeing apathy felt. “Whenever you have the time.” She said the words softly and sat on the love seat across from her. Her voice was calm and almost soothing, something that would no doubt surprise Veronica, who had always been good at pushing her buttons.
“How about now?”
“What did you want to discuss? I think our attorneys should handle the majority of it.”
Veronica squirmed, looking intensely at Shawn’s face. Fire brimmed just below her surface, Shawn could feel it.
“We need to talk about us.”
“What about us?”
“Are we over?”
“I’ve filed for divorce, V.”
“That can be stopped.”
“No, it can’t. It won’t.”
“You’re serious about this.”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?” She lurched forward as she said the words, her emotions ready to fly high.
“No, not just like that. It was over the first time you cheated on me. But unfortunately I just found out the details today.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t just Sloan or this new assistant. It was eight others. At least eight others. One right now.”
She stared at her hard, disbelief on her porcelain face. “You’re crazy.”
“Am I? Because I have the proof right over there in my bag.” She pointed to her luggage.
“You’re out of your mind.” She paced the room, walking forcefully and quickly, like a mad dog. “What, did you pay some ungodly amount to some sleazy, lying private eye?”
“No.”
“Then who? Who told you these lies?”
“The FBI.” Was Veronica really this stupid? She had to know that the FBI would look into her background thoroughly. No, she wasn’t stupid. She was just convinced that she could talk and act her way out of anything.
“What?”
“I said, it was the FBI.” She spoke louder, her anger fueling her confidence. No longer did she have to listen to Veronica’s ranting and raving. No longer did she have to listen to her drama. “I don’t think they’re known for making up extramarital affairs for money.”
Veronica stopped pacing and stood still, her chest rising and falling. “Well, that’s just fucking great. Kennedy. Just like I suspected. She’s been moving in on my family from the start.”
“It wasn’t Kennedy who did the investigating on you. They had already run a check on you soon after the shooting. It was standard procedure. All I had to do was ask for the information.” She knew Veronica was just looking for a scapegoat. She always did like to blame others rather than herself.
“Who gave you the information?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“It doesn’t matter who—”
“It was Kennedy. That self-serving bitch.” She grabbed at her head, then slammed her fists down to her side. “She’s after you. Trying to ruin me. I knew it!” She grabbed a statue off a table hurled it against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces.
The noise was deafening, like a shotgun blast, and Shawn instinctively covered her ears. “V, stop! The girls.”
“The girls? You won’t even let me see the girls!” She glared at her and threw two other statues, smashing them into pieces.
Shawn ran from the room. The girls were out of bed, scared.
“Mommy!” Tears sat like crystals in the corners of their eyes.
Shawn hurried them into their bedroom.
“Mommy, what was that?”
“Shh. It’s nothing.”
They heard more commotion as Larry confronted Veronica in the other room. Yelling. Cursing. Veronica talking about the girls.
“Is Mommy gonna be okay?” Rory asked.
Shawn closed the door and locked it. She urged the girls to crawl back into bed.
“Yeah, why is she mad?” Kiley asked.
Shawn smoothed her hair.
“Sometimes, when people get real mad, they do crazy things.”
“Like throw things?” Rory asked.
Oh God, they knew what was happening. “Yes.”
“So is it okay to throw things when you get mad?”
“Not always. Because sometimes you break things that mean a lot to you.”
“Oh. So what do you do then?”
“Well, it’s best to hit your pillow or throw your pillow. But only if you absolutely have to.”
“Oh,” they said in unison.
There was more yelling but then a door slammed. They listened intently to the silence.
“Does Mommy know that?” Kiley asked.
“She’s not thinking about it right now.”
“But she will later, huh? She’ll be mad she broke such neat stuff.”
“Yes. But let’s not worry about that. It’s over. Everything is fine.” She smiled and snuggled between them, kissing their foreheads. “Who’s ready for a story?”
The girls clapped and Rory ran from the bed to her book bag. She climbed back in with three books.
As Shawn read to Rory and Kiley, she thought of Kennedy. Even though she and Keri were in the suite across the hall, she wished for her presence more than she’d ever wished for anything.
*
FBI Field Office, New York City
Kennedy entered the building and checked in. She glanced at her watch. She was five minutes early.
Allen had called requesting her presence. They had something and he knew she wanted in on it. So she’d flown to New York, bringing Keri and the boys with her. They were back at the hotel, swimming in the indoor pool, security still with them.
“Kennedy.”
She turned. Allen greeted her with a handshake and led her farther into the building.
“How are things?” he asked.
“Okay.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
�
��I’m worried about everyone. Shawn and the girls, my sister, this case.”
“Well, I’ve got good news as far as the case.”
“I was hoping you would say that.”
He chuckled as they waited for the elevator. “As you know, we have a composite and a name.”
They stepped inside.
“We ran the name through our database and got zilch. The numerous A. Williamses we found were not our UNSUB, based on name, age, sex, or location. The two Ashley Williamses that were close were both under twenty and enrolled at community college. They still lived at home, both dated regularly, and both had no idea what we were after. Their main concerns were school, boys, and partying. Nationwide, the search is ongoing. So far the results are more of the same.”
The elevator doors opened and they exited and headed toward a conference room. Even though it was after hours, several agents were still working. She nodded to the ones she recognized, and they nodded back. Allen held the door for her and showed her inside to the long table. It was just the two of them in the room. He offered her a seat but she declined.
He leafed through some files and pulled out a page.
“What we did find was this.” He handed it over. It was a list of employees from a place called Courtesy Cleaners. The name Ashley Williams was highlighted.
Kennedy grew excited and Allen smiled, pleased.
“Did you show them the composite?” she asked.
“Yes. They identified her just like Mrs. Valasek.”
“What do we know?”
Allen switched on his laptop. The screen behind him came to life on the wall as he moved his mouse. A page came up. A profile.
“We went to the address she provided to Courtesy Cleaners. It was an apartment, a cheap one, one of those rent by the month. The residence was vacant. As if she’d just walked out one day and didn’t come back.”
Kennedy listened intently.
“We found old, used furniture.” He brought up photos of the apartment on the screen. Kennedy could see the small golden striped couch, the broken kitchen chair and worn kitchen table. The carpet was the color of rust, the linoleum a deep green. An older-model television sat on a small table. It was bolted down, along with the table. It belonged to the rental property.
