Lost Summer: A Gripping Romantic Suspense

by M T Stone

  “You’re only seventeen?” he asked as if her statement had taken a while to sink in.

  “Yeah, for another week.” She had become more at ease while they were talking and hadn’t noticed that he was using the washcloth to thoroughly clean his raging hard-on. It wasn’t until he let out a groan and shifted in the tub that she realized what he was doing. He didn’t appear to be the slightest bit embarrassed by doing it in front of her. Having grown up like an animal, why would he be? It was no different than a dog plopping down in front of you to lick his balls.

  “You need to stand up,” he instructed, going after himself more aggressively.

  “You can’t do this yet,” she protested, hoping that he would back down once again. “I told you we can’t do anything like this without dating first.”

  He flashed a chilling look with those coal black eyes. “You stand up and open your shirt,” he demanded. “Or else, I’ll get out of this tub and do what I really want to do to you!”

  Summer popped up from the chair, and her hands began to tremble violently as she slowly released the bottom button. The crushing feeling in her chest that had eased a bit was now back with a vengeance. “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me,” she pleaded, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

  “Because you’re beautiful,” he replied, making it sound as if it was just plain common sense. “Take it all the way off. Now!”

  She swallowed hard as she released the rest of the buttons and allowed her shirt to slip from her shoulders. She stood there awkwardly, not uttering another word. Being half-naked in front of a total stranger who was beating off was more than her young mind could comprehend. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, causing her to wipe them away with her hands.

  “Play with your tits,” he commanded, seeming irritated by the tears.

  She struggled to gain control of her emotions while moving her hips slightly from side to side. She had seen how strippers perform, and she decided it would be best to emulate some of their moves and get this over with. “Do you like this?” she whispered, sliding her hands up her sides and cupping her breasts.

  “Oh, that’s good.” He groaned and tilted his hips, causing his washcloth-covered cock to rise above the water. “It’s almost there.”

  Summer didn’t flinch this time. She began rolling her nipples between her fingers, knowing what had to be done. She bent forward slightly, hoping that the sight of her erect nipples would be enough to put an end to this. As she stood there fulfilling an obvious sexual fantasy for him, she had already begun planning her next move. She had felt confident in her ability to outsmart him, but overcoming the basic drive of testosterone was going to be more difficult than she expected.

  Leo let out a huge moan, closed his eyes, and held the pulsing washcloth in place. She could see a shiver run through him as a result of his orgasm. “I’ve got to get out now,” he stated flatly as he regained his composure. “The water’s getting cold.”

  Summer bent over, retrieving her blouse, and slid back onto the chair as he placed his hands on the rim of the tub and lifted himself from the water. She continued to face him this time as he seemed determined to show her what he was packing. It quickly became obvious why he had been so insistent on her seeing him. He had a big, thick cock that perfectly matched the muscularity of his chest, arms and legs. She couldn’t have felt more intimidated. There was no way she would ever be able to challenge him physically. She had to find a clever way out of this.

  Dylan’s mood had grown darker after figuring out the real reason his uncle had come to his rescue. He was initially impressed by the fact that he had shown up as soon as his mother called. He thought that maybe Carson was beginning to realize the value of family after being on his own for so long. Once again, however, it appeared that his primary objective was just to work his way back into Olivia’s life. It had nothing to do with the fact that his nephew was in trouble, but more so that rescuing Summer would be the ultimate coup. The more things change . . .

  Eight years earlier, he had helped Dylan and his family get through the funeral of his father, but then his attention had quickly turned to Olivia. It was casual contact at first, but that had quickly become more intense in the ensuing weeks. Then there had been some sort of blowout between the two of them, and Dylan’s life had once again changed overnight. His mother guessed that Olivia had made it crystal clear that she had no intention of leaving her husband for him. Just as quickly as he had come to their side, he was gone.

  At first, there was an occasional phone call or email, but within a couple of months, the communication had completely died between them. Ironically, it was Olivia who had taken an interest in helping him. He realized now that her concern might have been more out of obligation and guilt than anything, but at least she had been someone to talk things out with. He would often go over to their house after school on days that he didn’t have to watch his younger sisters. That’s how he first got to know Summer. It was an instant attraction on his part, but that was not reciprocated due to the fact that her father detested him.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Carson asked after studying his nephew’s expression.

  “I was just thinking about when I first met Summer and how I used to go to their house for my counseling sessions.”

  “I’ll bet Olivia was a great counsellor.” Carson ran his fingers through his beard. “I always thought she would be great with kids.”

  “Yeah, she’s really nice,” Dylan agreed with a reflective look. “I could talk to her about anything. Unlike Mom.”

  “Your mother was always terrified that she was going to mess you guys up. She never thought that she was capable of raising three kids on her own, but she seems to have done a fairly decent job.” He reached over and placed his hand on Dylan’s forearm, giving it a squeeze. An unexpected sign of affection.

  “Thanks. She did the best she could, considering how much she had to work just to make ends meet.” Dylan fumbled with his phone, looking for a distraction from having to delve deeper into a personal conversation.

  “You need to go to school so you don’t end up in the same boat,” Carson added, shaking him by the arm. “A degree doesn’t guarantee anything, but not having one makes it hard to make any real money.”

  “I had planned to work on an oil rig for a year or two after high school, but then everything crashed about the time I graduated. I would’ve had all the money I needed for school.” The oil boom had created all kinds of high-paying, low-skill jobs that were perfect for someone like Dylan. Unfortunately, the downturn in oil began about a month before Dylan’s graduation. His mother had also been against him working in the oil fields. There were few places more dangerous to work than on an oil rig, which is why the pay was so attractive.

  “Most guys never go back to school after they start making good money,” Carson replied, speaking to his own firsthand experience. “If I had a degree in law enforcement, I would’ve been working on a computer in a nice cushy office a long time ago. Instead, I’ve had to sit on stakeouts and do the shit work that none of the higher ups want to tackle.”

  “I thought maybe you liked stakeouts and working in the field,” Dylan responded, a little shocked by his attitude.

  “Have you been having fun here tonight?”

  “Not really.” Dylan rolled his eyes.

  “Imagine doing this night after night for the next eight fucking years,” Carson said, giving Dylan a sideways glance and narrowing his eyes. “For every five minutes of excitement, there are about a hundred hours of mind-numbing boredom. Some people can sit and do nothing for hours, but I’ve had about enough of it. I’ve honestly thought about the oil rigs myself.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re too damn old!” Dylan backhanded his uncle in the arm and gave out a laugh. “I could just see you working a rig.”

  “I could easily out-work your lazy ass,” Carson instantly countered with an immediate rise in his blood pressure. “I’m
only thirty-nine, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Yeah, whatever. I’m pretty sure you’ve been thirty-nine for a few years now,” Dylan spouted, laughing even harder.

  “Fuck you, buddy! I just turned thirty-nine and I fucking hate it. I remember thinking how old dad seemed when he turned forty.” Carson paused, reflecting on the fact that his old man hadn’t been in nearly as good of shape at that age. “That’s why it’s time to settle down and focus on what’s really important.”

  “Yeah, you’d better. You’re getting pretty damn old,” Dylan concurred, bracing himself for additional retaliation. Instead, Carson’s mood turned a bit reflective.

  “I see it every time I look in the mirror,” he said, looking up at the rearview mirror. “I still feel young, and I’m in great shape, but with each passing year, I see an old man’s face taking over. Each year, I have to work harder to keep from getting a gut too, something I swore would never happen.”

  Normally a macho, self-confidant Alpha male, Dylan had never seen this side of his uncle. He seemed vulnerable and a bit worried about growing old. He was surprised by how much things had changed since he had seen him a couple of Christmases back. At that time, he seemed to be enthused with his job and talked endlessly about the drug dealers and criminals he had helped bring to justice. He always seemed to crave adventure and thrived on adrenaline. To hear him talk reflectively about settling down and growing old seemed very strange.

  “Did something happen to you?” Dylan asked, hoping to find out why his attitude had changed so dramatically.

  “What do you mean?” Carson snapped back, seeming insulted by the question.

  “You’ve changed so much since the last time I saw you.” Dylan stared at him in silence for a few long seconds. “Why are you so worried about getting old?”

  “I’m not really worried about getting old. I’m probably more worried about not getting old.” Carson pushed his fingers across the length of his mustache while composing his thoughts. After nearly a minute, he spoke again. “My old partner was killed a few months back. He was doing the same thing that I do every day. He made one mistake, and they found his head about ten feet away from his body. He was forty-seven, with a wife and two teenage kids.”

  “My God . . . that’s horrible.” Dylan recoiled at the thought of finding someone who had been decapitated.

  “Yeah, it was a brutal hit. His family was devastated. The funeral was the saddest thing I’d ever seen. It got me thinking.” Carson paused again, struggling to put his feelings into words. “Lets just say, I would have a lot of regrets if I left this world without ever having a wife or family. If something happened to me right now . . . no one would even give a shit.”

  “That’s not true. We would miss you,” Dylan countered. “Hell, we already miss you and you aren’t even dead yet.”

  “Thanks, but its not the same. You guys are my brother’s family. Even though he’s gone, he has all of you to carry on his memory.” Carson let out a groan and tossed his head back against the headrest. After sitting there for a few seconds, he pulled out his phone and clicked on the song Sober by Little Big Town. “One night after my partner’s death, this song came on the radio. I got so sad listening to the words that I nearly had to pull off the road.” His lip actually quivered as he fought to control his emotions. “Anyway, that’s when I decided it was time for a change.”

  “I totally get it. A severed head might change my mind too.” Dylan cringed. “Fuck, I hope Summer isn’t in the hands of somebody demented like that.” He noticed that the sick feeling that had been plaguing him all day was still very much present.

  “We’ll find her alive . . . we have to.” Carson dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his brows and letting out a deep sigh. “I just sent you my contact information. Store it in your phone and don’t be afraid to call me if you ever need anything.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” Dylan clicked on Carson’s data file and saved it as a new contact. It had been nice to see that there was a human side to his uncle. The fact that he revealed some of his own vulnerabilities made him seem more likeable, more human. For once, he actually felt like they were family.

  Chapter 8

  After drying off, Leo slipped on a pair of thin cotton pants that he normally wore to bed. Summer was actually relieved that he was wearing something, even though the huge bulge in the front left little to the imagination. He dug out an old toothbrush. “I use this whenever my teeth get too crusty,” he said, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and pouring it over the bristles. He then proceeded to scrub his teeth.

  “You brush with whiskey?” Summer asked, confused by his actions.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” His reply was muffled by the brush that he was sliding over the top of his teeth. “Does a good job of killing everything.”

  “You need to pick me up a toothbrush and toothpaste tomorrow so I can brush my teeth too,” Summer told him, realizing it was another good reason to send him into town.

  “I’ll clean this one for you when I’m done,” Leo assured her, not understanding why it would be a problem for her to use the same brush as him. “What’s toothpaste?” he asked as he put the whiskey bottle back to his lips, took an extra gulp, and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing.

  “It’s what you put on your toothbrush before brushing your teeth. To get them clean,” she replied in disbelief. “You’ve never used toothpaste? I can’t imagine using whiskey to brush my teeth. Gross!”

  Leo’s world was a simple one. If you got a cut, you poured whiskey on it before bandaging it up. Brushing your teeth with whiskey left a tingling feeling that he considered clean. In fact, if anything needed to be sterilized, whiskey always did the trick. It was something that his father had taught him long ago. He put the bottle back to his lips and took another long pull, drinking it down as easily as most guys drink a beer.

  Summer studied the horrific scars that crisscrossed his back as he turned away from her and finished draining the bottle. She wondered how many times he had been beaten and what his father had used to leave such permanently raised marks. The uneasy feeling within her continued to grow as his demeanor began to change once the whiskey began to take effect. His eyes narrowed, and he began to quietly curse to himself. She gripped the edges of the chair, bracing for a conflict that was inevitably headed her way. “Does whiskey make you angry?” she asked, trying to gauge the level of his rage.

  “It’s an inherited trait, I guess. I always got a beating whenever Dad got drunk. He would beat me to a pulp and then dab some of it on my wounds to keep them from getting infected. He was a sick bastard.”

  “Why do you drink if it makes you feel bad?” She shifted in her seat as he passed by her, trying to maintain eye contact.

  “It’s the only way I can sleep,” he replied, walking around the chair and taking a spot behind her. The chain tightened against her leg as she tried to turn toward him. He placed his hands on her shoulders in a way that sent a shiver down the length of her spine. “I’ve waited a long time for you.” He leaned forward, letting his hands fall forward off her shoulders and over her breasts.

  “That’s as far as you can go on a first date!” she snapped, turning back the other direction and rising from the chair. She looked right past his growing bulge, reestablishing eye contact with him. “If you want to do this, you have to do it right!”

  “I don’t care about dating or having a girlfriend,” he declared, much to her dismay. “I only want a son, and I know what we need to do to get me one.” He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into him.

  “Lets play a drinking game,” she said, quickly moving to her backup plan.

  “Drinking game?” He loosened his grip out of curiosity. “What’s a drinking game?”

  “I’ll show you. All we need is a cup and a quarter.” Summer and her friend Jana had been practicing their skills ever since Jana’s older brother showed them the game. He made it clear that it was a necessary skill t
hat every female freshman had to possess. Otherwise, they would be worshipping the porcelain god halfway through a party.

  Leo walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a medium-sized glass and grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey. “Will this work?” he asked, holding the glass up for her.

  “Perfect. Do you have a quarter?”

  She could tell by the look on his face that the two items made no logical sense to him, but nonetheless, he dug through a wicker basket and retrieved one. He set the three items on the table next to Summer and took a chair facing her.

  “First, we need to fill the glass partway,” she explained, pouring much more than she would ever be able to drink. She silently prayed that he wouldn’t have a natural talent for the game. “Then you bounce the quarter off the table and try to land it in the glass,” she instructed, bouncing the quarter on the table and off the side of the glass. “It’s not as easy as you think,” she told him, handing him the quarter. “If you get it in, then I have to drink.”

  Leo bounced the quarter too hard and it flew onto the floor. Summer reached down and grabbed it, wiped it off, and bounced it against the table top and into the glass. “Now, you have to drink it and retrieve the quarter.” He looked at her suspiciously, but he picked up the glass and quickly drained it. He pulled the quarter from the glass, wiped it off on his pants, and filled the glass to the mid-point. He smirked at her and then bounced the quarter off the rim, just missing the mark.

  Summer breathed a sigh of relief, aimed carefully, and once again bounced the quarter into the glass. “I’m getting lucky,” she replied, returning his smirk and pushing the glass toward him. He stared at her for a moment before lifting the glass and once again draining it. This time, he filled it two-thirds of the way, wiped the quarter off, and took more careful aim. Once again, the quarter bounced from the table and glanced off the rim. Summer caught the quarter as it rolled across the table and looked him straight in the eyes before setting up her next shot. She could see that he was moving out of the anger phase and seemed to be enjoying the challenge of beating her at a game. This time, the quarter hit the table at the wrong angle and bounced off the side of the glass.