Hidden Currents

by Christine Feehan

  The first wave hit her hard, consuming her. He drove deep, his cock stretching her tight channel. A ripple went through her, from her womb to her belly and up to her breasts. He actually felt it. Another loud moan and her entire body locked around him, a vise that clamped down so hard for a moment he couldn't separate pain from pleasure. She shuddered again as another wave built. He felt the contraction move through her, through him, swelling like the tide, a shock wave jolting outward from her feminine sheath, surrounding him, vibrating through him. He felt her heart beat against his.

  He thrust again, heard her soft cry, her music crashing in his ears, and then there was that moment, that perfect, glorious moment when he felt the power coil in his body, gathering, and his blood roared--the sound of thunder--racing up through his body, his balls tightening, his cock rocketing pulse after pulse of hot seed deep so that his body shuddered with hers as the burning pleasure washed over him and her tight muscles gripped him hard, milking his shaft until he was empty. For a moment, everything blurred around him and he felt spent, deliriously happy, and totally, completely at peace.

  Elle pressed her face into his shoulder while her body trembled with aftershocks, each quake rushing through his body like an electrical current, spiraling pleasure through him. He waited for the air to come back into his lungs and his legs to get their strength back. He kept his body tight in hers.

  "I dreamed about you for years, Elle, of this, taking you over and over. I love hearing your moans and that little whimper you give when you can't talk anymore. Your eyes go unfocused and you have this sexy as hell dazed look on your face. I see you like that every time I close my eyes and my cock gets hard as a rock and I'm desperate to be inside of you--I see you soaring into another place."

  He stroked his hands over the curve of her bottom, reveling in the feel of her soft skin. "I swear, Elle, you really were made for me. We fit. You're so damn perfect I lose my mind when I touch you."

  Elle licked at the hollow of his damp shoulder and then pressed kisses up his shoulder to his neck. She nibbled and bit at him, her body moving in languid circles, still coming down from her powerful orgasm. "You make me feel as if I'm flying," she admitted, her voice drowsy.

  "I'd better get you inside before you catch cold out here."

  "Libby says the cold air doesn't give you a cold. Germs do," she murmured, snuggling closer to him, making no attempt to put her feet on the ground. "Besides, can't you feel? I'm still hot."

  "Scorching," he agreed. "And you'll always be that way to me."

  She moved her hips in another long, slow circle that sent waves of pleasure rippling over him. He was grateful she was so petite. It was obvious he was going to be carrying her inside. He managed to find the door handle and get it open and he staggered in through to the bedroom, collapsing on top of the mattress. Elle kissed his neck again and rolled away from him, her naked body sprawled across the bed.

  "You think you're going to sleep?"

  "Mmm."

  Jackson laughed and went back to retrieve their clothes and the blanket. He stood over her for a long time, wondering at the miracle that had been handed to him. Not once, in the long nights on the bayou, in the humid heat and the utter loneliness of his childhood, had he ever dreamed of someone like Elle. He drew a sheet over her body and tossed his jeans aside before crawling in beside her.

  Those days seemed so far away, yet he could remember them vividly, the utter desolation, trying to fish in the midst of swarms of mosquitoes, afraid to go home without some small thing for his mother to eat. By the time he was ten she'd retreated to some place inside her head, but she'd give him a distant smile and a brief kiss on the cheek when he'd take off to hunt or fish for them. Their mattresses were made of the moss he gathered and dried from the trees and stuffed in the cloth sewn together. He dodged alligators and scrounged for roots and anything pretty and colorful he could bring back to his mother.

  And then his father would return and for a short time, his mother would come alive. Music would fill the house and his father would accompany him into the swamp, showing him how to set traps and run the nets and the better fishing spots. The brief good times would be interspersed with bouts of drinking and violence, screams and thudding fists, nights spent sitting outside bars and shivering in the cold or feeling sick from the heat.

  And later, when he was older, there had been moments racing down the highway on the back of a powerful bike, feeling strong and invincible for short periods of time. His mother grew sicker and his father more violent and distant, but it was the only life Jackson had known and it seemed normal to him.

  Elle's family was the fairy tale. Unreal. Impossible to believe. No one that he had known lived like that. They'd fought for their existence, mostly loners like him, with fathers that came and went. The camps were places of drugs and alcohol and men who were broken from wars looking for camaraderie and finding it in violence. The women were just as hard drinking and sold themselves for a place to belong.

  Maybe his life had better prepared him for his capture and torture. Elle had only known a loving environment. Maybe, in the end, the fact that he'd started alone, spent weeks on end without anyone talking to him, had made him strong enough to survive and in doing so, had shaped his determination and will so that he could find and be there for Elle.

  Elle stirred, turned over and opened her green eyes. Her gaze moved over his face. She held out her hand to him. Elle with her soft welcoming body and a mouth made in heaven. Elle with her loving heart.

  "Turn toward me," he instructed softly.

  She obeyed him without question, without hesitation, uncaring that she was tired, only wanting to give him whatever he needed. She made him humble with her generosity.

  He pushed his pillow away and laid his head level with her breasts. Soft. Warm. Amazing. One arm circled her waist and he pulled her body to his, sliding one leg between hers. His hand slipped over the curve of her bottom, memorizing the texture and shape of her before sliding up her thigh to cup her warm mound.

  He waited, but Elle didn't protest. "God, baby, I love you." He whispered the admission against her throat, kissing his way to her breast. He felt her heartbeat. Her breast was warm and soft as he gently covered it with his mouth, tongue sliding over her nipple. He felt the answering ripple against his hand. "I love how you want me, Elle."

  "Always," she murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. She drifted on a tide of pleasure as he suckled at her breast, his fingers exploring hidden shadows.

  The phone jangled, a loud, unexpected disruption that set her heart racing. "Jackson?"

  "It's all right, baby." He rolled over and snagged the receiver, listened for a moment and then sat up, a frown on his face. "I'm on my way. Meet you there."

  "What is it?" Elle asked.

  "Nothing, honey. Jonas needs some help. I'll take you to your house and leave Bomber with you."

  "No way." Elle sat up clutching the sheet, looking panicked. She shook her head. "I'm coming with you."

  "It's business, Elle." He hastily dressed, pulling on clothes, shoving a knife into his boot, strapping a holdout gun to his leg before pulling on his belt and weapons.

  Elle mirrored him, dressing just as fast in warm clothes, determined not to be left behind. It was odd to her how at times she felt confident, like she was regaining herself. Then in the blink of an eye, she'd realize that she was still curled up in the fetal position in her mind, terrified to move one direction or the other without Jackson.

  As if he knew, and he probably did, that she couldn't bear to be away from him, Jackson didn't argue with her and she ran out to the truck with him and watched as he ordered Bomber to load up.

  "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" she asked as he reversed and sped down the highway, setting a red strobe on the dash to warn vehicles he was going to an emergency.

  "Jonas got a call that a woman was screaming for help and running around the headlands. She was hysterical, claiming s
he'd been held prisoner and that her daughter was being exorcised of demons and something terrible had happened."

  Elle sucked in her breath sharply. "RJ. He had that young girl with him."

  Jackson nodded. "I thought something was off with her. I asked for information, but haven't had time to check on it."

  "If she's in his hands, you know what he's done to her," Elle said in a tight voice.

  "You don't have to do this, Elle. You can stay with your sisters."

  Elle shook her head. "No, I can't. I need to be with you and if you find her, I may be able to help." She moistened her dry mouth. "RJ and that girl were in the store this afternoon."

  He glanced at her pale face.

  "When Death was there." She swallowed hard.

  He reached out a hand and laid it over hers, but he didn't bother to try to reassure her. Nothing he said would make a difference. He could only get there as quickly as possible and hope nothing had happened to the teenager.

  Vehicles were strewn in a haphazard fashion just off the road as emergency volunteers had raced to the site. Jackson parked and leashed Bomber before coming around to help Elle out of the truck. He took her hand and they jogged along the path out toward the edge of the cliffs.

  Jonas looked up when they approached and waved them over. He'd obviously been watching for his deputy. Jackson saw a woman wrapped in a blanket sobbing, sitting on a rock, facing the pounding ocean below. Fire trucks were parked along the fence line and his heart sank. The water was treacherous here. Even on the beach below, one had to watch carefully when the tide was coming in, but if someone had gone over into the rocks, there was little time to get to them.

  "What happened?"

  Jonas glanced at Elle, who tightened her fingers around Jackson's and stuck her chin in the air a bit defiantly, daring Jonas to send her away.

  "That's Lori Robertson. She's a single mother with a teenage daughter. The girl's name is Venita and she's fourteen, a bit rebellious, this is her mother's description, a cutter--the kids refer to them as emo around here. She dresses in black, has multiple body piercings, writes depressing poetry, you know the drill. She wears enough eyeliner for a roomful of people, according to her mother. Her hair is straight black and in her face all the time."

  "I ran into her at the grocery store," Jackson said. "She looked like half the kids we know."

  "Yeah, well this one has a mother who thinks her daughter is possessed by the devil. Her Reverend told her so. First they spent a week on their knees praying together, but Venita continued her demonic behavior."

  "What's demonic about emo behavior? They like to color their hair and write poetry about life being depressing--which it can be at fourteen," Elle defended. "They're referred to as 'emo' because they're sensitive and emotional."

  "I'm not saying anything against her, Elle, just filling you in on what the mother believed. Apparently the Reverend told her that the number of earrings she had in her ear was a sign of devil worship."

  "And she believed him?" Elle said, disgusted.

  Jackson put his arm around her, drawing her under his shoulder. "What happened?"

  "When the prayers didn't work, RJ graciously offered to bring Venita to a house and work with her. They arrived together and the mother planned to leave, but at the last second the daughter fell apart and begged her mother not to go. RJ became angry when the mom decided to take her daughter back to San Francisco with her and he demanded she leave. He told her he'd gone to the trouble of arranging this time with her daughter and the expense of renting a house."

  Jackson shook his head. "The man's such a bastard. He had a taste for the girl and didn't want to give her up."

  "The mother still refused and RJ's bodyguards dragged her into one of the bedrooms and tied her up there. She was beaten and raped."

  "Did we pick them up?"

  Jonas nodded. "We've got the bodyguards. She should be at the hospital so we can have a forensic rape kit done on her, but she won't go. Evidently Reverend RJ had himself a good time with the daughter. Venita overheard RJ calling someone and arranging to sell her along with setting up an accident for her mother. The daughter snuck into her mother's room and cut her loose. They ran and the men caught them here."

  Jackson walked closer to where the firemen were working, trying to get down to the rocks below. "Damn it. The daughter fell over?"

  "Not exactly. RJ had Venita by her hair and was dragging her back. Her mother said she was sobbing and pleading, trying to get away. The mother kicked herself free and tried to shove RJ away from Venita, but the edge crumbled and he went over, taking Venita with him. Jeff Dockins and a couple of others saw the entire thing and held RJ's bodyguards until the deputies arrived."

  Jonas saw the captain motioning toward him. They went over to him. He shook his head. "My men can't get down there, Jonas. We've called in the rescue helicopter and it should be here within ten minutes. She's moving down there and so is he, but they're both injured. The water is slamming that rock. I think the man has a broken back and the girl seems to have a compound fracture of the leg. Maybe one arm broken and there's blood on her face." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry, but I just can't risk my men. That cliff is unstable and we nearly lost one of our guys."

  Elle blinked back tears. All those months she'd put in undercover overseas to stop this very thing and it was happening in her own hometown. She hated that she couldn't prevent any child from experiencing such a terrible fate. Jackson, his mind woven tightly with hers, brought up his hand and curved his palm around the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging gently.

  Bomber gave a short bark, the hair on his body standing up, ears coming forward. A chill slid down Elle's spine and she instinctively took a small step to put her body in front of both Jonas and Jackson. She scanned the crowd of firemen and volunteers under the bright lights they'd set up, seeing familiar faces. Her heart jumped when she saw burly Jeff Dockins. He'd been in the grocery store. Who else? Clyde Darden was there, standing on the edge of the crowd, peering below with binoculars. She silently cursed him under her breath for being so nosy.

  Trudy Garrett busily handed out coffee to the volunteers. Reginald Mars helped her, along with Drew Madison. They moved in and out of the crowd, Trudy closer to the cliffs as she gave coffee to the firefighters and paramedics. Elle glanced down again at Bomber and then followed his focused gaze. Her heart jumped. In the boulders ringing the small picket fence warning people away from the edge, she glimpsed a dark shadow moving slowly, skulking from one rock to the next, his head covered with a hood and a cape flowing around his body.

  Death slunk along the ground, a shadow among the other shadows, weaving in and out of the crowd so that she caught a glimpse of him and then he'd be hidden again. His head was thrown back, although his hood covered him, and he sniffed the air like a bloodhound, searching for something unseen.

  Elle stepped away from Jackson and Jonas, intent on protecting the townspeople. Jackson caught her arm and stopped her.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

  "Death is here," she said. "He's searching for a life. He's chosen someone."

  "It's not going to be you, Elle. You damn well aren't sacrificing your life because you couldn't stop RJ or anyone like him from hurting a child."

  "What use am I if I can't help anyone?" She jerked her arm away from him.

  Jonas hemmed her in from the other side. "Tell us what to do to help, Elle."

  She shook her head. "Not you, Jonas. I'm not risking you, and Jackson was in that store. Death could have his scent."

  Jackson actually pulled her body against his, bringing her up on her toes, his gaze fierce. "You were in that store as well. You're. Not. Doing. This." He bit out each word, enunciating them between his teeth.

  Elle stared into his dark, implacable eyes and felt his iron will pressed against hers in her mind. There was no arguing with him. She wasn't going to win. She had to think of something else. "Fine," she capitulated.
"Jonas, get Trudy away from the cliff. I don't care what excuse you give her, you have to get her away from there. Drew, Reginald and Mr. Darden should be moved into a safer zone."

  "We don't see what you're seeing, but obviously Bomber does," Jackson said, following the dog's gaze. "We'll try to shield the others as best we can, but you stay right with us."

  The sound of the helicopter could be heard moving toward them in the distance. The Huey was flying over the mountain, emerging just above the trees and heading toward the cliffs.

  "Jonas! Ty is on that helicopter. He pulled a double shift." Elle was stricken. "Has he done a rescue since he fell?"

  "Mandatory recertification is required every ninety days, Elle, you know that," Jonas assured her. "He's very experienced."

  "Ty wasn't in the store," Jackson said gently, knowing what she was worried about.

  "He cheated death before," Elle said. "Or rather Libby did. What if he's come back for Ty?" She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead.

  The helicopter flew overhead and headed out to sea to assess the situation. The captain had given them the information and now it was up to the helicopter rescue crew to decide whether or not they were willing to try a rescue. Over water, short-haul rescue was one of the most dangerous maneuvers and each crew member would have to agree the rescue was justified in order to save a life and they could perform it safely or they would return back to base and the victims were lost.

  The helicopter settled in a nearby field to conserve fuel while the crew talked it over and planned a strategy. Jonas, with Jackson holding firmly to Elle's hand, used the distraction of the helicopter to move the crowd of volunteers farther away from the cliff. Jonas made certain that Clyde, Trudy, Drew and Reginald were among those in the center of the crowd, away from any potential harm.

  Elle let her breath out slowly and climbed up on top of a boulder in order to get a better view of the rocks below. She could see the two victims lying sprawled out, Venita's right arm dangling off the rock so that each time a wave crashed against the large mussel-covered rock, the water tugged at her, threatening to pull her into the sea. The rocks were slick and polished from the constantly pounding sea and the life growing on them. It had to be difficult to cling to the surface. RJ moved one leg, but otherwise, stayed still. He was lower than Venita and every few waves the water splashed high and sprayed over him.