Lies in the Morgue

by Erosa Knowles

  “Mmmm,” she moaned, and rubbed against him.

  “You like that? Huh? You like that, baby?” Max moved closer and took control, rubbing her mound against his thickness.

  Instead of speaking, she tightened her arms around his neck, and rolled against him. He tweaked her nipple and slapped her butt-cheek. The sound muffled beneath the covers, but she jumped. His hand slid between her thighs and he groaned. She was so hot and wet, he easily slipped one finger inside her. Her walls pulsed around his digit, welcoming him in.

  “I love how wet and tight you are for me.” Max curled his finger and pulled out, pressing against her wall. Her gasp of pleasure filled him with masculine pride. He did this to her. He re-inserted two fingers, stroking and mimicking what his cock would do next. She groaned, widened her legs, and rolled against him, her walls pulsed around his fingers. The aroma of her arousal hit him hard, his head spun with desire. After sending a silent prayer of thanksgiving, he rolled over and rammed his whole length into her. He stilled as the sense of homecoming enveloped him, her walls pulled him in further.

  “Nobody feels this damn good, I’ve waited all day to come home to you, to this, thank you, Tam,” he whispered, and started moving. Her legs surrounded and locked him in as he started their dance. In and out he thrust, deeper and deeper, feeling her acceptance as he rocked into her. His mind emptied of everything except her and what they were sharing. The exquisiteness of their joining shocked him. Maybe it was all the unspoken tension and insecurities, or maybe this was the language they spoke best, he didn’t know. But he was determined to show her how much he appreciated her and that she meant a lot to him. Max pulled her leg up, picked up his pace and matched her moan for moan.

  The creaking of the springs in the bed kept beat as he pounded inside her. Her whimpers and moans of pleasure egged him on. He would never grow tired hearing her lovemaking sounds, they teased and tempted him to erase every other man from her memory.

  “So good,” he murmured, as her walls tightened around him. She was close, he was close, and wanted them to cum together. “Cum with me, Baby. Cum,” he growled as he continued to thrust, bringing them both up to the crest where they shattered into orgasmic bliss.

  Satisfaction rolled from the bottom of his feet up his back. He stiffened as his mouth opened wide. He shot his load while she screamed his name, shaking and holding him tight.

  For a moment he couldn’t catch a breath, and then he gulped in air, gasping to breathe as tremors shot through his body. Max tried to lean on his elbows, but instead collapsed against her, causing her to groan and then hold him tight.

  “I’m heavy,” he whispered, too wiped to move.

  “Yeah, but I like you covering me like this.” She tightened her hold. He closed his eyes as post-orgasmic shudders tore through him. Tonight was better than last night and the night before, he was damn near addicted to spending the night with this woman. And that was a good thing. Resting on top of her, his cares and thoughts from the past week didn’t seem as scattered or catastrophic. Peace seeped through his pores, the idea that things would work out made its cursory round in his mind and he allowed it to sit for a few moments. In the darkness, in the safety of her embrace, his fears unlocked and found a voice.

  “I was terrified today when I went to the morgue.” He inhaled a shaky breath as he remembered terror hit. “I kept thinking… what if it’s Kev? What would I do? How would I… survive the loss, the guilt?”

  The warmth of her hand stroked his back, calming and accepting.

  “I swear to God I was so happy that child wasn’t mine that I wanted to sing hallelujah and Oh Happy Day at the same time. What kind of person am I to be happy at someone else’s loss?”

  Tamara’s hand rested on the back of his head, and then she stroked him gently. “You’re a person whose son is still alive, and who celebrates that fact, that gift. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Max rolled to the side and pulled her close so that her head lay on his chest. Her fingertips traced his tattoo, something she did whenever they were in bed, it gave him time to put what happened at the hospital into words.

  “Helen took Kevin to the hospital earlier this week.”

  Tamara’s hands stopped moving, she leaned up on her elbow and met his gaze. They didn’t speak, he watched confusion, surprise, and then sorrow fill her eyes. The flat of her palm cupped his cheek, and she placed a kiss on his lips.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said against his mouth.

  Max accepted her comfort and told her what he'd learned, and the plans in place to go forward.

  Tamara listened as Max explained the differences in meningitis and what it meant to Kevin. Anger boiled in her gut against the woman who stole Kevin and could ultimately be the cause of his death. Max didn’t deserve this, no parent did.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever hurt as bad as I did today listening to the doctor talk about my son’s condition.” His breath hitched, and his chest expanded.

  Tamara’s stomach clenched in shame. He’d been going through this and she’d been mad, had an attitude about him canceling dates and Carin’s people. None of that mattered in the face of losing a child and being helpless. Her heart hurt for him, she placed kisses on Kevin’s name, which was in the middle of Max’s tattoo. From now on, she’d be more supportive.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” Since she had no children she couldn’t relate exactly, but she’d experienced the pain of loss several times in her life. But to have your child stolen by someone you trusted, and then the bitch refuses to allow your son proper care? That was loss on a whole different level.

  Max placed a kiss on top of her head. “I know you are, I’m just glad you’re here, at the end of a fucked up day, we have this.”

  Tamara nodded against his chest and filed Carin’s relatives in a to-be-discussed-later file. Right now the timing was wrong, but they’d need to discuss the women soon. Carin’s sister made Tamara’s spidey senses tingle. Terri wanted more from Max than a platonic family relationship.

  Chapter Six

  Max sat in his office going over the same invoice until he finally put it down. Unable to focus, he went downstairs and sat at the bar. It was noon and the club wasn’t open, but Crystal, Charlie, and Mark were busy prepping for later. Crystal slid him a hot cup of coffee and continued her inventory.

  He sipped the hot brew while his thoughts drifted to his son. Was he still in pain? Could he move? Or eat? Was the bitch giving him Tylenol? His fist curled around the cup and he wanted to throw it against the wall. He’d never felt so helpless.

  “Need another one?” Crystal asked, wiping the counter from the spilt coffee. He hadn’t noticed the dark brew flowing over the brim, across his hand and onto the counter.

  “No. I’m good.” He closed his eyes and counted to ten to pull himself together. Tamara had appointments and would be busy until later. He didn’t want to become dependent on her calming influence, although right now hearing her voice would work like magic. He pushed away from the bar and walked around the club, straightened a few chairs around the tables, picked up a toothpick and a scrap of cellophane from a pack of cigarettes from the floor. When he reached the hall that separated the club and the restaurant, he raked his hand through his hair, grabbed the ends and yanked.

  Just as he was going to check the bathrooms, his cell rang. Glad for the distraction, yet hesitant of what the call may mean, he looked at the caller ID. Skinny. Sweet and Trapp had left last week on an assignment, shrinking the size of his team. Skinny and Jace were near Charlotte following leads on Helen Grant, Helena Moore, or whoever she claimed to be this week.

  “Yeah?” He turned and faced the wall to hide his reaction to whatever Skinny had to say.

  “Got a lead, two, actually. Talked to this guy who says this woman and kid are hanging out in a town a skip from the state line. Jace and I are heading there.”

  “Good. Does it sound like the real deal?”

  “Not sure, he was
sketchy in details, I’m only checking this out because he described the old lady pretty good and mentioned the guard. That’s new and we haven’t put that out there yet.”

  Max agreed. “The other?”

  “Oh, just somebody claimed to have seen an old lady and kid at this house. They couldn’t give a good description or anything.”

  He understood why Skinny dismissed it, but they couldn’t afford to leave that thread dangling. “Where is it?”

  “One sec, let me look.” He paused. Max pulled up his note taker on his phone. “Here got it.” Skinny rattled off an address. “Is Brock with you?”

  Max understood the question, they always went in twos when doing any kind of recon. “Not yet, he’ll be coming soon.” Brock had business meetings most of the day and would be meeting him for a late lunch.

  “Okay, I’ll let you know what we find.” Skinny disconnected.

  Max stared at the address and then pulled up a Google map. Two hours and ten minutes. He tapped the phone against his mouth and added the time. If he left now, he’d be back before Tamara or Brock finished. One thing for sure, he wasn’t doing anything productive here.

  Eager and energized, he strode to his office, placed his pistol and knife in their holsters, took his keys and left.

  Two hours later, he pulled onto a quiet street. The neighborhood was similar to the one in Wilmington where Carin’s body had been found. Lots of for sale and rental signs dotted front lawns. He parked at a convenience store and walked the rest of the way to the address. Max was surprised by the lack of dogs, cars, and people stirring on the street at mid-day.

  By the time he reached the house, he was rethinking his mad dash to check out this lead. The home sat a little further back than the others, he couldn’t see the back yard because of the trees, and the door and windows were shuttered. It looked abandoned except the yard was freshly mowed and the bushes trimmed.

  Overruling his gut, he walked down the long path and pushed the doorbell. Nothing happened. He pulled open the outer door and knocked on the wood door. It opened. He didn’t move fast enough. Hands shoved him from behind. He hit the hardwood floor and saw dots. The sole of a shoe pressed into his back while someone pushed the rest of his body inside. His hands were pinned beneath his body, he couldn’t access his weapons. He cursed and tried to get some leverage for defense and rolled to his side. He was kicked in the stomach, robbing him of breath. Then came a second kick in the same spot, and then another. Someone else rained punches across his face and kicked him in the head. Another kicked one leg and then the other.

  Max kicked out but hit nothing. He tried to reach his gun, but the continuous blows left him in a fetal defensive position. Sons of bitches got the drop on him and worked him over. When they stopped, he heard sounds of slapping and a woman screaming. There were thumps and a loud clap like something hit the floor. And then nothing.

  Max came to. He tried to move but couldn’t. Spots filled his vision. His leg was on fire, he hoped it wasn’t broken again. His body hurt everywhere. He lay still for what could’ve been a few minutes or hours, coming and going in and out of consciousness.

  By the time he could move it was dark outside. The shutters were open and he saw curtains, living room furniture, tables and chairs. So the home wasn’t abandoned. He rolled to the side, grimaced at the pain and remained in that position until his vision cleared. Next, he pushed and made it to one knee. Gasping for air, sweat poured down his face as his body rebelled and demanded he lay back down. He couldn’t. He needed to get out of here.

  After a few seconds, the nausea receded enough for him to attempt to stand. He clutched a nearby arm chair, pulled up and stood, visibly shaking. His leg refused to support him. Anxious to leave before the owner showed up, he noticed a cane in an umbrella stand near the door, reached for it and pulled it out.

  Max thought he heard a noise and looked around. Nothing. The hair stood on the back of his neck. Rather than investigate, using the cane to support himself, he opened the door and left. The cool breeze helped clear his mind as he hobbled back toward the convenience store where he left his car. Once inside, he exhaled and patted his holster. They hadn’t taken his gun or knife or wallet. His phone was missing, it fell out either in the house or on the way from the place. He’d have Brock send someone in to clean. A wave of dizziness hit hard and he couldn’t think. He sat in the car with his head against the headrest until it cleared.

  No way could he drive all the way home. Brock would chew his ass, but he had to come get him. Max looked for a pay phone and found none. After a quick glance in the mirror, he knew he couldn’t walk into a store to buy a phone, not with these bruises. His best bet was to find a pay phone. He did a quick search up and down the street and saw what appeared to be one, a block away.

  It hurt to shift gears, but he backed out of the parking lot and crept down the street to the pay phone. A few minutes later Brock answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Where the hell are you?”

  Max gave him a brief sketch of what happened. “I can’t drive.”

  “I’m walking out the door now. That was stupid to go alone, we always go in deuces.”

  “I know, man. No lectures, I’m too fucked up to deal with it right now.” He paused, caught his breath. “I can’t stay here. There’s a Big Mart down the street, meet me there, I’ll be parked beneath a light.”

  “Got it. Stay put.”

  Max grunted and disconnected. “What the hell else am I going to do?”

  Chapter Seven

  Tamara stalked into the club. As soon as she found Crystal, she motioned her to come closer. The woman looked surprised seeing her again so soon. It couldn’t be helped.

  “Have you seen, Max?” she asked before Crystal greeted her.

  The woman frowned. “Not since yesterday.”

  Tamara nodded and looked around the club as if she expected to see him or his sidekick, Brock, playing a game of chess. Max hadn’t called, hadn’t come by, or returned any of her calls. That wasn’t like him. She’d waited until three this morning for his call, but nothing. Now she was tired and pissed.

  “You okay?” Crystal asked.

  “No. Not really. How can I get in touch with Brock?” As much as she hated being number two in a relationship, she knew Brock would know where Max was.

  Crystal’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “What’s going on? Max okay?”

  “I don’t know. Just tell me how to get in touch with Brock, then we’ll both have some answers.”

  Crystal jerked, held her hands up in a gesture of peace, and backed to the phone. She punched in a few keys and passed the handset to Tamara. She grabbed it and nodded her thanks. Crystal continued to stare at her. After the third ring, Tamara became nervous. If Brock didn’t answer, that wasn’t good.

  “Yeah?”

  “Brock, this is Tamara. I’m worried about Max, he didn’t come home last night. Have you seen him?” she said in a rushed breath.

  “Yeah. He’s here. I’ll have him call you in a few minutes.” He disconnected. Tamara stared at the phone, heard the dial tone, and then looked at Crystal in disbelief. “He hung up on me.”

  Crystal frowned. “Did you talk to him?”

  “Yes. I asked him if he knew where Max was. He said yeah, he’d have him call, and then he hung up.”

  Crystal shrugged. “That’s normal for Brock, he don’t say much. I’m surprised he answered, he don’t always.” She replaced the handset and walked down the bar to serve a customer.

  Confused, Tamara walked to the rear of the club to wait for Max’s call. The last two people she wanted to see walked in just then and sat at the bar. Tamara pushed her chair back into the shadows hoping Terri and Beth wouldn’t see her.

  Lady luck must’ve been on vacation because eagle-eyed Terri waved, picked up her glass and headed in her direction. Beth waved, but remained at the bar talking to an older guy.

  “Can I
join you?” Terri asked while pulling out a chair.

  “I’m expecting –” Her phone rang and she answered. “Hello?” Since she didn’t recognize the number she assumed it was Max.

  “Tamara, sorry I didn’t call you, I’ve been at the doc’s all night. Long story, but I’m on my way home. Meet me at your house in an hour, okay? I have to take it easy for a coupl’a days.”

  Stunned by the raspiness of his normally deep voice, she nodded and then spoke. “Okay.” He disconnected. Transfixed by what he didn’t say, the phone remained next to her ear.

  “Are you okay?” Terri asked, and then touched her arm when she didn’t respond.

  “Huh? What?” She looked at the woman sitting in front of her, and removed the phone from her ear. Max said he’d be at her house in an hour. What happened? Did he mean a real doctor or was that a nickname like Skinny? She had no idea.

  “That must have been some phone call, you look dumb-struck.”

  Tamara straightened and read the question on Terri’s face. “It was. What can I do for you?” “Nothing much, I was just wondering if you could give me any information about the job market, I’ve decided to move here.”

  “What are your skills?” Tamara asked, deciding to go along with the game of charades.

  “I’ve worked in child care and retail, and started online classes for dental assistant.”

  “I don’t know much about your field so I can’t say what the markets like. Look in the paper? Or online? If there are jobs in your field, they’d be posted.”

  Terri gave her a tight smile. “I’ve looked and there’s not a lot close by, but I’m sure I’ll find something. If this wasn’t such a long drive, I’d ask Charlene for a job in the restaurant, I’m a pretty decent cook.”