by Fiona Zedde
Tomorrow.
Yes. He continued. Although I’d rather be skin to skin with you right now. You’d feel so good. You ALWAYS feel so good.
Her fingers moved languorously against her clit, sliding down and inside, imagining they were his fingers. She licked her lips.
He’d never been so talkative before. The flow of words from him was just what she needed. If his body couldn’t be there to fill hers, it was only right that his words were there now to overpower her senses, to conjure him there in her office. She could almost feel his breath at the back of her neck. His hands tugging down the straps of her dress to bare her breasts. The cool air teased her nipples to hardness. Like his tongue painting wet circles around them, flicking the hard nubs until she gasped her pleasure.
What are you doing?
Touching myself. There was no need to lie.
A moment of tense silence. Are you imagining me inside you?
No, we’re not there yet. I’m imagining you playing with my body, the way you like to do. I like how you lick me.
If I was there with you right now, I wouldn’t be able to hold off. I’m so—The sentence cut off. I need you so much. I couldn’t wait. I can’t wait. Another pause. I’d push you on your back over that desk, rip off your panties, and fuck you until you screamed my name.
The words simultaneously pushed and pulled her into the flames. The scene he sketched was vivid, undeniable. Him moving up behind her to shove her down onto the desk, her back hitting the neat surface, scattering papers, pens, the laptop, all to the floor, her legs lifting to clasp his naked waist, the light illuminating their joined bodies but showing none of his face. His stomach, hard and flexing, muscles rippling as he shoved his hard length into her again and again. Her spine turned to liquid gold.
The pulse beat stronger between her legs. But she was pulled too.
I want to know your name, she wrote.
A pause. I don’t think you do. I’ve given you chances to know me. Plenty of chances. You didn’t take any of them.
Her hand stilled its movement between her legs. I was scared.
Are you scared now?
“Yes.” Renee’s whisper startled her, as if she weren’t the one who had said it. But it was the truth.
She drew a shuddering breath.
If I see your face, everything good between us will end. Our relationship will turn out like all the others I’ve had.
It will become stale and empty, and then it will disappear.
The silent words echoed in her head. More painful truth. But she couldn’t deny her hunger for more of him. She wanted to walk out of the darkness.
“I want to see you,” she said to the man beyond the computer screen.
I want to see you, he wrote.
A fine tremor started in her belly, growing until her entire body shook. When will you be back? she typed.
I can meet you on Tuesday night.
In three days.
Where?
The first place we met.
She remembered the dark hotel not far from the university. The cool smell of evening on his skin when he’d walked in. His teeth sinking into her palm when she tried to silence him.
Tuesday night at 8 then.
Tuesday night at 8, she echoed, looking at the black words on the white screen, knowing what they meant. On Tuesday she would see him. Really see him. Was she ready?
Chapter 35
Mayson grabbed her bag from the kitchen counter and, glancing quickly at her watch, walked to the front door. She swung it open. And nearly walked into Grant’s upraised fist.
“Shit!”
And he looked like shit.
“What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t know where else to go.” He looked behind Mayson into the house. “Have you seen Renee?”
“Not since yesterday. Is everything okay?” A coldness dropped in the pit of her stomach. The duffel bag fell at her feet. “Was there an accident?”
“No, nothing like—” He stopped. “She and I were supposed to get together last night and she never showed.”
Mayson frowned. “Did you call her?”
“Yes. No answer.”
Before he could even finish talking, she pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Renee’s number. The feeling of unease deepened when her call went straight to voice mail.
“Ren, it’s me. Give me a call when you get this message.” She slowly closed the phone and looked at Grant. “Was everything going okay?”
Before he could answer, her cell phone rang. Mayson nearly snapped it in two flipping it open. Grant’s eyes fastened on the phone. The phone number on the screen was unfamiliar, but she hoped.
“Renee?”
“No, but she’s close.”
Mayson turned away from his tense, questioning face. “What? Who is this?”
“You forgot the sound of my voice so soon? I’m crushed. I really didn’t mean much to you, huh?”
“Kendra?” Mayson tried to push aside her annoyance. It didn’t work. “This is not a good time.”
Kendra’s abrupt indrawn breath came clearly through the phone. “Well, you better fucking make it a good time or you’ll never see your little fuck buddy again.”
Mayson froze. “What?”
“Now I have your attention, don’t I?” Kendra’s laugh sent shocks of fear up Mayson’s spine.
“You know where Renee is?”
“Who’s that?” Grant demanded, stepping closer. “Do they have Renee?”
“Whoever is there with you is smarter than you look, honey.” Kendra chuckled again.
“You have her.”
“Of course.” Her tone said that was the most logical thing to assume. “Now, all you have to do is find her. And me.”
“Why? What the fuck are you doing?” But all she got in response was dead air.
“Oh my God.”
Without the distraction of Kendra at her ear, Mayson abruptly realized her knees were shaking. She grabbed at the wall. The phone fell from her numb fingers and crashed against the floor. “Oh my God.” The words tumbled in her head, echoed, until she wanted to scream. A roaring noise pressed against her from all sides.
Grant grasped her shoulders. “Who has her?”
When Mayson didn’t answer, he shook her roughly, once. “Who has her?” His face was tight with fear.
Helpless fury erupted in Mayson’s chest. “Back the fuck off me!” She slammed her palms against his chest, shoving him back. He let her go.
“I’m sorry.” He backed off, hands held up in surrender. “But please, tell me who has her.”
“Someone I was seeing. Kendra…” She cast around mentally for the woman’s last name but couldn’t find it. “I think I have her card somewhere in the house.”
Her senses abruptly sharpened. Yes. Kendra had put a business card in her tux the night they met. The vest pocket. And although Kendra had given her the card under the pretext of Mayson getting the suit dry-cleaned on her dime, Mayson had hung up the suit and forgotten about it.
“I know where the card is.” She turned and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.
Mayson pulled open the closet door, stumbling inside. She dragged the hangers along the rack with a long wooden whine, frantically looking for the tux. The card was right where Kendra had left it.
“James.” Downstairs, she shoved the card at Grant. “Her last name is James.”
He nodded grimly and pulled out his cell phone. “This is Detective Grant Chambers. I need you to check into something and get back to me ASAP.” He turned over the card and read off the information to the person on the other end of the line.
When he was through, he turned back to Mayson, his nostrils flared.
“Now tell me everything you know about this crazy bitch who took my woman.”
When Kendra called again, they were ready. Grant attached a small device to the cell phone to track the call. They put the phone on speaker.
“Are you coming, Mayson?” Ken
dra said in a singsong voice. “She doesn’t have much time left.”
The fear thumped harder in Mayson’s chest. “If it’s me you want, just tell me where you are. I’ll come and you can let Renee go.”
Kendra laughed. And the hairs stood up on the back of Mayson’s neck. Because she’d heard that laughter more than a dozen times, that sound of teasing amusement that reduced everything to a joke.
“I won’t make it that easy for you, baby.” The laughter eased out of her voice. “Come, find your little girlfriend. Prove that you know something about me.”
Mayson heard a sound as if Kendra sank into a big, soft chair. Like she had all the time in the world. “Were you even listening when I poured out my life to you, Mayson? Or was it just about the sex?” Kendra paused, giving Mayson the chance to say something.
But she didn’t know what to say. Guilt and anger and helplessness gripped her tongue. Across the room, Grant gave her a frantic sign to keep the conversation going.
“Tell her anything!” he mouthed. The cords stood out in his neck as he hovered over the phone at Mayson’s side. His eyes burned in his face.
She cleared her throat.
“I put everything out there for you to take, you know that?” Kendra murmured so quietly that Mayson had to lean closer to the phone to hear.
“That was a mistake I made,” Mayson finally said, “not being able to see that. I’ll do better next time.”
“I was a virgin when we met, you know.”
Mayson’s teeth snapped shut.
Laughter spilled from the phone. “Okay, that one was a lie, but wouldn’t it have been fun for you if I had been.” Kendra chuckled. “I wish I could see your face right now.” She hung up.
Grant slammed his hands against the counter. “Shit!” He spun toward Mayson. “That wasn’t enough time to trace the fucking call. Why didn’t you keep her on longer?”
“Do you think I can get that damn woman to do anything she doesn’t want to do?” She gritted her teeth, fighting the panic that bubbled up in her throat. Her fingers stiffened at her sides.
“Can you at least pretend to be interested in her pathetic little life so we can get Renee back?”
Mayson growled in frustration. “I’m working on it, dammit!”
He wasn’t telling her anything that she didn’t know. Before Kendra had hung up the phone, Mayson was already flitting through the few intimate conversations they’d had to figure out what the hell Kendra had been talking about. She’d given Mayson everything? They were only fucking, for God’s sake!
Mayson turned away from Grant. His intensity was making her nervous. With him battering at her with his frantic worry, his anger, she couldn’t think. All she could feel was his passion for Renee and his need to get her back. That was her fault too. But this wasn’t the time. The important thing was that they find Renee. And fast.
“You and your cop friends do what you can to find out more about Kendra. I’ll go through all the shit she ever gave me—the letters, the cards, everything.”
“I’ll look with you.” He moved to follow her up the stairs.
Mayson stopped. “No. It’s okay. I can do it better by myself.” When he didn’t slow down, she put up her hands. “No. I need to do this alone. If there’s anything in those things, I’ll show it to you right away. I just need this time alone, okay?”
Grant nodded jerkily and backed away. He raked fingers through his hair. Cursing.
Chapter 36
“Fuck!”
Mayson slammed her bedroom door. “Fuck!”
This was where she’d brought Kendra. This was where she’d pulled that psycho woman into her life and because of her fucking bad judgment she could lose Renee. “Goddamn it!”
The anger and fear spilled over her in scalding waves but her cheeks and fingers felt cold. She paced the floor—to the window with its view of the empty driveway, to the wall, then back again. Suddenly she couldn’t stand the sight of her room anymore, not the bed, not any of it. Her arm shot out and swept across the bedside table, spilling the phone, her books, her reading glasses onto the floor.
“Stupid fucking fool!”
The anger burned behind her eyes until wetness slid down her face, into her mouth. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.” She sank to the floor on her knees. “Please be all right. Please. If anything happened to you—” The hardwood bit into her skin but she barely felt it.
A vibration in her pocket shook her out of her trance. She snatched open the phone without looking at the number.
“Yes?”
“Hey, baby. I thought you were coming up to see us this weekend?”
It took her a moment to realize that it was Iyla’s voice on the phone and not Kendra’s. She sagged with relief. Then instantly tensed again. “Iyla. I—I can’t this weekend.”
“What’s wrong? You sound strange.”
Her friend’s concern loosened whatever temporary rein Mayson had on her emotions. She bit back a sob. “I fucked up,” she muttered into the phone. “I fucked up in a big way.”
The entire story spilled out of her. And saying it aloud, telling her friend just how she’d put herself and Renee into this shitty mess, made it even worse.
“Shit…” Iyla’s voice trailed off. “I’ll do what I can to help,” she said without hesitation.
“Thanks. I—I really appreciate that.”
“You can thank me after she’s safe, Mayson,” Iyla said. “Do the cops have any leads?”
“Not yet, but they’re looking.” Mayson sagged against the wall. “A friend of hers is a cop. He was the one who suspected she was missing. He’s doing everything he can to find her.”
“But we could always do more. Can you think of anything the woman told you that might give you a clue where she’s keeping Renee?”
“Grant asked me the same thing, but I have no fucking idea. I just can’t remember a goddamn thing that she told me. And I threw away almost everything that she ever gave me.” Even the vases that had come with her flowers.
“What about…?” Iyla hesitated. “Does she have a busi-ness—or is she in a sorority or something like that?”
A rhythmic thumping made its way through the phone. Mayson imagined Iyla pacing back and forth across the wooden floors of her office, sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The image calmed her. Iyla continued without a pause. “Can you think of anywhere she has access to facilities to keep someone locked up without anyone else finding out?”
“Ah—shit, I don’t know.” She’d never felt so helpless in her life.
“You know something, Mayson. You just don’t realize it yet.”
“But I don’t have the time to fucking meditate on it. God knows what Kendra is doing to Renee while I sit here with my thumbs up my ass.” She pushed herself off the wall and paced the room again.
Iyla’s voice droned on in her ear. Even from so far away, she was doing something. She was helping as much as she could. And what was she doing? Not a damn thing. This was bullshit. She refused to live on her knees while Renee was out there going through something that she had caused.
“Iyla, I have to go.”
Before her friend could respond, she hung up the phone and ran downstairs, barely noticing that Grant was already gone. She jumped in her car and sped off toward Lemon Grove.
She’d been to Kendra’s house only once, and that was to pick her up before they went off somewhere else. The invitations had just never appealed. She liked the comfort of her own home, the conveniences that it offered—her own bed, her own dildos. But as she got out of the car and approached the stacked hillside apartments, Mayson had to admit that she simply had had no interest in being in Kendra’s apartment or in finding out more about the other woman’s life.
From the beginning, she’d drawn that boundary between them. Her lesbian life and the straight woman. That was how their relationship started and that was how she planned on ending it after they’d both gotten what they w
anted. But Kendra had changed the rules.
She hopped the stairs to unit number 7, partially hidden by a swaying jacaranda tree and, with her hands casually in her pockets, slammed her booted foot into the door just under the lock. Once. Twice. The impact shot up her leg. Mayson grunted. Then with a sound like a muted gunshot, the wood cracked under the third kick, the lock wrenching through the door frame. A shower of splinters fell at Mayson’s feet.
She slipped into the apartment and shoved a chair against the door, giving it the illusion of being secure in case someone wandered past. But Kendra had boasted that her top-floor apartment, tucked away in a shaded corner of the small complex, was very private. She’d even invited Mayson at one point to fuck her on the stairs with nothing to shelter them but the purple blossoms of the overhanging tree.
Mayson scanned the spacious apartment. Nothing was out of place. Everything was pinprick neat, bookshelves neatly arranged, even the magazines on the coffee table ordered by size, then color. Her hands shook with the urge to rip it all to pieces.
No. The breath hissed through her clenched teeth.
In the kitchen, she yanked open drawers—knives, dish towels, receipts, and menus—pawing through everything that could mean anything. Kendra apparently liked Asian food. Mayson pulled menu after menu from the drawer, interspersed with receipts from restaurants—Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Vietnamese. She jerked out the receipts and menus, letting them fall on the floor one after the other. Some of these were places that Mayson had been to. Soon the empty bottom of the last drawer stared back up at her.
“Useless.” She slammed it shut.
The living room yielded even less. No papers, just books and magazines, old issues of People tucked away in the coffee table drawers. On the walls, abstract paintings with reds and golds, splashes of color against the pale walls. All of it pointed to Kendra being a very boring and unimaginative person. Except the part where she was a psycho bitch.
“Useless,” she hissed again. And the futility of it struck her like a blow to the chest.
She staggered to the middle of the apartment. For the second time that day, she was on her knees. The apartment smelled like Kendra, sweet and cold. Her hands shook; the breath churned fast in her chest until she was nearly hyperventilating. She jumped to her feet, reason falling away from her like dead weight.
