Love You Always

by Lorin, Terra

  “Yes you are. You saved Angela. You took these burns on your back to prevent her from getting burned.”

  I put my arms around him and hug his back. “You’re a hero. Angela knows it, and I know it. Don’t take that away from yourself.”

  He turns his body towards me and he embraces me, squeezing me tightly to him as though he’ll never hug anyone again.

  Then his lips are on mine, and there’s so much fervor in his kiss, that my body aches with unbearable passion and lust.

  He gently pushes me back on the bed while his hands roam me, explore me, sending currents of electricity throughout my senses. Then he hovers over me, his lower body pressing against mine, and with a gentle thrust, he’s inside me, stroking me, filling me up with his hardened shaft, while sending me to sexual heights that make my thighs quiver.

  My arms and legs wrap around him, working in tandem to his rhythm as he thrusts all the tension—all his anxiety that he’s been enduring—into me, and I’m caught up in his fervor because it’s mine too. And we make love with everything we have in us, until we’re panting with the fulfillment of our amazing climax.

  He rolls off me and cuddles me in his arms. He holds me lovingly to him and whispers, “Thank you,” in my ear.

  I turn to face him, and I see a drop of tear fall from the side of his eye. He’s thinking about his sister again. Oh God, he has to save her. Please let him save her.

  We lie in each other’s arms, and my heart knows, yes, it undeniably knows—I’m falling in love with him.

  Chapter 17 - Marcus

  ~* Marcus *~

  I’m falling for this woman. She’s amazing—strong, intelligent, insightful, great sense of humor, and beautiful, inside and out—what more can a man ask for?

  She cares about people—she cares about Angela, and she cares about me, even if she’s only been in our lives for a short time. I’m glad she’s here, with me, throughout this ordeal, because she gives me comfort—her company makes my stress and anxiety tolerable.

  I hope I didn’t take advantage of her by making love to her. But I so needed her in that way at the moment, and I sensed she needed me too. Her embrace, her kiss, giving me her body and soul, and doing the same for her, released so much tension in me, and filled a hole in my soul that was so deep, I was feeling buried in it and struggling to get out.

  I hate to admit it but sex does help and it sure beats punching a wall.

  But I didn’t make love to her just to relieve my tension—I’ve wanted to make love to her since we were at the lake. Laura moves me—she invokes emotions in me I haven’t felt in a long while. It took several months to fall in love with Sheryl—with Laura, I’m falling fast.

  Laura’s sleeping in my arms while I spoon her. She breathes so quietly that I have to listen closely to hear it. I’ll let her sleep for a bit more and when she awakes, I’ll want to visit the FBI again. I hope they’ve made some progress.

  After we got back from the bank this morning, I called George Cartwright about selling most of Angela’s and my shares in my father’s corporation. He said it would take a few days to draw up the paperwork, but he’ll get back to me as soon as it’s done so I can come in and sign them. I didn’t tell him why I was selling, because the less people know the better. If the press gets a hold of it, the publicity may make matters worse.

  Thoughts of Angela pervade me now, wondering how she’s holding up, praying she’s okay and they haven’t hurt her. She’s been through so much in her life already, with losing our parents and David, and dealing with her agoraphobia. She must be terrified. Fuck. This shouldn’t be happening to her, she doesn’t deserve it. I’d trade places with her if I could.

  Laura stirs and I squeeze her tight. She turns her head to look at me.

  “Oh my, did I fall asleep?” she asks, seeming embarrassed.

  “You must’ve been tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

  “I’m afraid not. How can I, with Angela being kidnapped?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t slept much either.”

  “I know,” she says in a tender and sympathetic voice.

  “I’m going to see what the FBI has so far. Do you want to come?”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  I smile at this lovely woman lying next to me.

  “I don’t want to assume. You’ve been more than generous of your time.” I snuggle my face to her neck.

  “I’m at your disposal, Marcus. You and Angela are well worth my time.” She puts her arm up to embrace my head.

  “How did we get so lucky to have you come into our lives?” I whisper in her ear.

  “It’s me who’s the lucky one,” she replies.

  She turns her entire body around to face me, and her hand touches my cheek in the most affectionate way. And with just the look in her eyes, I know what she wants. I move in and kiss her lips—it’s a kiss that says to her . . . thank you, and that she’s important to me, she’s a part of my life now, and I don’t want to ever let her go.

  * * *

  “Agent Crowley will be right out,” the receptionist says with a smile.

  Within thirty seconds, Agent Crowley greets us. He’s a tall man, about three inches taller than I am and I’m 6 foot 2 inches. He wears the stereotypical black suit and conservative tie, and gel probably keeps his black hair groomed and kept in place. He looks in his early forties, he’s trim, and seems in good physical shape. I shake his hand and he beckons us to his office.

  As we sit, he asks, “Do you want some coffee or anything to drink?”

  “No thanks,” I reply.

  “I’m fine,” says Laura.

  “Unfortunately, we couldn’t trace the call or zero in on their GPS location because the kidnappers aren’t using Angela’s cell anymore,” he says. “They probably used it only for the initial call so you’d answer. After that, they either destroyed her cell or removed her SIM card and battery.

  “Looks as though the second call might’ve come from a prepaid cell. Those can easily be bought and used anonymously. Most likely they’ll use a different cell for each call they make to you to ensure they’re untraceable.”

  “Sounds as though these kidnappers are pros,” I say.

  “What bothers me is the size of the ransom,” Agent Crowley says. “The kidnappers would have to feel confident you can get that kind of money, otherwise, they’re just looking to fail with their demands. One mill, I can see, but five mill is high, especially since you aren’t high profile people.

  “I hadn’t heard of you, or your father, or his corporation, so we did some research and the type of business his company is in, the average public would know about it or about you.

  “These kidnappers either have an inside connection and know what you and your sister are worth, or someone within the company hired them to extort it from you.”

  I can’t believe any of my father’s associates would do such a thing. This sounds incredible.

  “Can you think of anyone who your father might’ve had differences with?” he asks.

  “No. My father seemed well-liked. He didn’t have any enemies that I know of.”

  “And you? Or your sister?”

  I think for a moment who might want to do this to me, or to Angela.

  “No, there’s no one.” I finally say.

  He leans forward and clasps his hands, resting them on his desk. “Was there an investigation for the boating accident that killed your family?”

  “They didn’t find anything suspicious, if that’s what you mean. It was deemed an accident. They said it happens. I remember reading about one in the U.K. not too long ago. The way the boat blew up and caught fire was very similar to ours.”

  I look at him curiously. “Do you think there may be a connection, and it wasn’t an accident?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s always a possibility. We have to look at all angles and connect the dots. It may lead us back to the kidnappe
rs.”

  I lean back in my chair as a sick feeling stirs my gut. Could one of my father’s associates have done this? But who?

  “When are you getting the ransom money?” Agent Crowley asks.

  “I’m having papers drawn up but it may take a few days.”

  He looks at me with concern. “Go home and get some sleep, son. You’re not going to do us any good if you get sick. The local police are working with us around the clock, so we’ve got a lot of manpower behind us to get your sister back.”

  He comes around his desk towards me, so I stand.

  “Call me when you’ve got the ransom money ready to go. When the kidnappers set the drop off location, we’ll take it from there.”

  “Thank you,” I say and shake his hand.

  Laura and Agent Crowley exchange smiles and we head out the door. Laura was silent the entire time, sitting patiently, and listening attentively to the conversation. There’s really nothing for her to say to the FBI—she’s basically just keeping me company. It’s sure nice to have her with me.

  “You hungry?” I ask her.

  “Starved,” she answers.

  “Let’s go have some lunch.”

  Chapter 18 - Angela

  ~* Angela *~

  I don’t know if it’s something I ate or I’m coming down with a bug, but I don’t feel very well. I’m cold, and shivering, and my body aches.

  In the distance, I hear the cabin door open and footsteps on the porch.

  “I should be back by nine tonight,” I hear the older kidnapper say. “You need anything?”

  “Nah.”

  “Call me if you do.”

  There are more footsteps, but this time walking on earthy ground instead of planks of wood. An engine starts and then I hear the sound of tires crunching over small rocks and branches until it fades off in the distance.

  I wrap my arms around my waist as I lie on the ground in a fetal position. My body quivers uncontrollably. This isn’t a panic attack; it feels more like having the flu.

  The door unlocks and I hear his footsteps as the young kidnapper approaches.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he asks. “Are you having another panic attack?”

  My eyes can’t see him because they’re closed and my head is tucked under, but his voice is clear.

  I don’t answer, I can’t answer, because my teeth are chattering, and I feel too weak, too sick to even move or utter a sound. His hand is on my forehead. He then swipes it to the back over my hair, almost fondly, as though I were a child he takes care of.

  “Shit,” he says, but it’s not an angry curse, it’s one of worry.

  I feel his arms scoop me up, and he carries me. Although I’m feeling some deliria, I’m still aware of what’s going on. I brace myself for a panic attack, but nothing, seems when he carries me, I’m okay outside.

  He takes me to the cabin and lays me down on a bed. He leaves the room and I hear him opening and closing cupboards, then I hear ice cubes being moved around, and the water faucet running.

  He’s back in the room and puts a large bowl down on the nightstand. He leaves again. Now he’s back with a washcloth. He dips it into the bowl and wrings it out.

  I must have a high fever, and he’s going to try to cool me down. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I turn my head to face the ceiling. When he places the towel on my forehead—his eyes look into mine.

  Although he looks at me caringly, I’m not going to smile at him; he doesn’t deserve my smiles. He’s a bad person and no matter what he’s doing to help me right now, I can’t forget that.

  He places his hand on my cheek.

  “You’re burning up,” he says with alarm in his voice.

  He throws the washcloth into the bowl, then his fingers start to undo my buttons, and instinctively my hands rise up to stop him, but I’m so weak, and he’s determined, so he grabs my wrists and pulls them away and I let my hands fall to my sides.

  When my dress is unbuttoned all the way to the hem, he removes it from me.

  Please leave my underwear on, my thoughts yell out, as I watch his eyes scan down my body.

  But he doesn’t hear me and removes them too until I’m bared naked.

  Oh God, his eyes gaze over me again, and even in my fevered state, I’m aware of what’s happening and I try to cover myself. I moan with the misery of my illness, and as if reminded of the task at hand, he immediately wrings out the washcloth. Holding my arm in his hand, he wipes the cold cloth over its entire length, down to my hands, and to my fingers.

  Another drench into the icy water and he does my other arm, and then my face and neck.

  He pauses for a moment, staring at my breasts, and then wipes the washcloth slowly, deliberately, over my flesh. I can’t help but watch his eyes as they reflect his indulgence of my supple breasts as they jiggle with each motion he makes.

  I let each swipe of coolness take me, relieve me of the heat that emblazes my body. Another moan escapes my lips as my fever continues to engulf me. He lays the cloth on my stomach and my mound until it absorbs my heat.

  As he continues downward, he spreads my thighs, and I writhe as the cloth rubs over them. He leaves it there, in the crease of my thigh, and then removes it, turning it over to do the same to my other thigh.

  He misses no part of my flesh—he cools me down thoroughly from my face to my feet until my entire body calms down to a reasonable degree.

  When he’s done, he touches my forehead again, then my cheek.

  “Your temperature seems to have come down.”

  He leaves me and I hear the ice cubes moving again. When he gets back, he puts a cube to my lips.

  “Open,” he says.

  I open my mouth very slowly, because I’m so very weak and have no energy in me. He pushes the cube in and the coldness immediately hits my tongue. I welcome it.

  “Suck on that slowly. Don’t chew it,” he instructs.

  He throws a blanket over me and tucks me in.

  “Now sleep,” he says.

  I watch him as he leaves the room.

  My mind wants to drift off and I close my eyes. But before sleep overtakes me, I hear . . .

  “You better pick up some aspirin . . . she’s sick, she’s got a fever . . . yeah, I got it down for now, and she’s sleeping . . . I can handle it. Just don’t forget the fucking aspirin.”

  * * *

  “Here, drink this,” the young kidnapper tells me as he hands me two aspirins and a glass of water.

  I sit up, holding the blanket to my chest, and do as he says.

  “You feeling better?” he asks.

  I nod my head.

  He touches my forehead.

  “You’re still a little warm, but it’s way better than last night.”

  I don’t say a word.

  “I’ll be bringing you some breakfast in a bit.”

  He pauses and looks into my eyes.

  “I won’t be taking you back to the shed. You can stay here until you’re better.”

  I’m wondering if I took his bed and he had to sleep on the sofa, but I don’t want to ask him any questions and tick him off again. Anyway, why should I even care? He’s probably only concerned about me now because they still need me to get the ransom.

  But this man confuses me. Even if he’s just keeping me alive for that, he shows signs of being caring, as he was last night when he took care of my fever, yet he can be horrible and cruel, like what he did to me in the shed.

  I don’t know what to make of him. It’s as if he has two separate personalities—like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

  The older kidnapper appears at the door.

  “So, what’s the deal here?” he asks.

  “She’s still got a slight fever,” the young kidnapper replies as he turns to look at his partner, “but the worst is over.”

  “Good, because she better not screw this up.”

  The young kidnapper
turns his attention back to me and while he looks into my eyes, he replies, “She won’t.”

  The older kidnapper looks at me in disgust. “She better not or I’ll kill her slowly and hack her to fucking pieces.”

  My heart races and I feel nauseous. I’m shaking again, but not from the fever. These two are a roller coaster ride that is terrifying the hell out of me. I don’t know what they’re capable of and if they mean what they say—they scare me to death.

  “I’ll be back with breakfast,” the young kidnapper tells me as they both leave the room.

  I hurriedly put my clothes back on before they come back. I sit up in bed and hug my knees to my chest while I listen to their conversation.

  “You need to get her back to the shed,” the older kidnapper says.

  “Look, she ain’t going nowhere. She takes one step out that door and she freaks. She won’t flee.”

  “You better be fucking right about that.”

  “Don’t worry. Even if she does try to run, where’s she gonna go? There’s nobody around for miles. She’d get lost. She can’t escape.”

  Oh God. Is he just saying that, knowing I can hear them, to keep me from trying? But he’s right. I won’t make it even ten feet from the door—my agoraphobia will hold me back.

  I am so screwed. How am I going to get out of this? I pray Marcus can pay the ransom, because that seems my only hope . . . unless their plan all along is to kill me.

  God, I want to live.

  Chapter 19 - Laura

  ~* Laura *~

  Since originally I hadn’t planned to stay more than two weeks at Marcus’, I decide to go home to pick up a few things.

  “I’ll drive you,” he says.

  “There’s no need for you to accompany me. It’s just a waste of your time. I’m sure you have better things to do,” I tell him.

  “Look,” he says, holding me by the shoulders, “you’ve been accompanying me all over the place these past few days. I want to do this for you.”

  How can I refuse when he gazes into my eyes this way—the way that weaken my knees and melts my insides.

  “If you insist,” I say with false reluctance, because I love his company and being with him every minute.