Authors: Desiree Holt
“Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you for calling me back.”
“What can I do for you?” There wasn’t a note of friendliness in his voice. Ice would have been warmer.
Faith clutched the phone. “I-I’m a writer. You may have seen some of my books.” She rattled off some of the titles. “I’m working on a new one, about Special Ops and I was told you might be able to provide me with some information about how the missions are run. I strive for accuracy as much as possible.” She could feel the chill racing through the connection.
“Can I ask you exactly who gave you my name?” His voice sounded like an executioner’s might—cold, sharp. Emotionless.
No, because my friend found you by hacking into secret databases.
“I’m not sure I remember at this moment,” she waffled. “I’ve been talking to so many people.”
“I see.” Pause. “What is it exactly you’re looking for?”
“I actually have a lot of questions. About how things are run, how the—I believe they’re called units—are put together. What happens if a mission goes bad. Perhaps if you tell me where you are I can fly there and we can meet. Lunch or dinner on me.”
“I see.” The chill escalated but something more had been added in just those two words. Suspicion.
Faith waited through the silence on the line.
“Sorry. I’ll have to think about that. I’m a little busy at the moment. Perhaps if you could be a little more specific, I could suggest someone else.”
No, no, no. It has to be you.
She was losing him. “Actually, you came so highly recommended I’d prefer to work something out with you. Where are you right now?” she persisted.
“I sense something behind this that’s a little more than just research for a book.” His voice still had that frosty edge. “Otherwise anyone might do, right?”
“I—”
“Miss Wilding. Or whoever the hell you are. Can we just cut to the chase?” If the voice was cold before, it was lethal-sounding now. “What is it in fact you want from me? What’s really going on here? You haven’t made this many calls to me just for some interview. There are resources all over the place you could contact.”
“Mr. Latrobe. Rick. I—”
“Faith?” Tia’s voice from the den. Panicky. “Faith, you need to come here right now.”
“Could you hold on for just a moment” she told the disembodied voice on the other end of the connection. “Just one second. Please.”
She hurried into the den where Tia had booted up her computer and was checking her emails. A message in large type filled the screen.
“Drop your story. Don’t talk to anyone else. This is your last warning. Next time you’ll be dead.”
“Oh my God.” The words fell out of her mouth on a gasp. She dropped into the chair in front of the desk, hands shaking.
“Hello?”
She’d actually forgotten the man on the phone. “Oh! I’m sorry. I…Mr. Latrobe.
Rick. I can’t talk to you right now. Is there a number where I could call you back in a few minutes?”
“Something’s wrong,” he guessed. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Her voice sounded false even to herself. “I just have to hang up right now.”
“Miss Wilding? Listen.”
“I told you. I have to go. I have…my email…I just…” She couldn’t stop stammering.
“Email?” The tone of his voice had changed. “What kind of email?”
“I can’t…” She let out a shaky breath. “I have to check this out.”
“Don’t hang up.” He snapped the words as a command. “I’m going to assume you know who I really am so we can cut through all the bullshit. Has someone sent you a threatening email?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Leave it. Don’t touch it. I’ll be in San Antonio first thing in the morning.
Whatever’s going on, will you be all right until then?”
“I don’t… I guess…” Would she? What did this email mean? Was someone even now watching her house?
“I can have someone there in ten minutes if you’re in immediate danger.” Was she? No, the email was just a warning. She had a little while before the threats become physical, didn’t she? Didn’t people like whoever this was always give warnings first?
“No. Thank you but I don’t need anyone right now.” She hoped that was true.
“Lock your doors. Set your alarm.”
“I-I don’t have an alarm system.”
But I sure wish I did now.
The silence that followed was so heavy Faith could almost feel it reach through the connection and wrap itself around her.
Then Rick said in a measured tone, “You don’t have an alarm system. Well isn’t that just great. All right. Then definitely check all the locks. Windows too. Don’t answer the landline. I’ll call your cell when I get in.”
“What is it you know that I don’t?” she asked, trying to stifle the fear overtaking her. “What’s going on and why is someone after me?”
“I’ll explain when I see you. But first you can answer some questions for me and we’ll see where we go from there.”
The line went dead. Faith stared at it before hitting the End button. Then she leaned forward toward the computer. “Can you tell where this came from, Tia?” She shook her head. “It says Admin but that could be anything. It’s got to be a false IP address. Call Andy. He can find out for you.”
“No. Not yet.” She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the screen.
“Well, you can believe you’re rattling someone’s cage. And badly, if they’re resorting to stuff like this.” Tia snapped her fingers. “You haven’t checked your answering machine.”
She pushed the button next to the blinking red light that showed fifteen messages waiting. As predicted, several were from Abigail Loudon. Two were from her publicist about a book tour. There were some from her parents wondering when she’d be home.
Even one from Andy that made her sit up and take notice.
“Curiosity got the better of me, Faith,” his nasal voice droned on. “Most of the stuff I found I can tell you when you call but you should know that Mark Halloran spent a lot of downtime with Joey Latrobe, his brother and their friends. Someone who should know—and who’ll deny they ever told me—said there was even an offer on the table to join Phoenix when Mark’s current hitch was up.”
What did that mean?
Mark surely had mentioned her to them, so why hadn’t they recognized her name in connection with his? Because he only referred to her by her nickname? More than likely. Mark was very closemouthed about things like this. Part of his “keep things separated” philosophy.
She’d have to call Andy and make sure he played this one close to the vest.
The last message made the blood drain from Faith’s face.
“Consider this warning number two, Miss Wilding. Stay out of things that don’t concern you, or you could be out of them permanently.”
“Faith, you have got to call the police,” Tia insisted.
“No. No, no, no. How will I explain this?” She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. “I just need to get through until morning. Rick Latrobe will be here in the morning. Then we’ll discuss it.”
Tia threw up her hands. “Fine but I’m staying here tonight. No way am I leaving you alone.”
“Okay, okay.”
She gathered up all the papers from the kitchen and locked them with her other notes in the wall safe in her den. Upstairs she found an oversized t-shirt for Tia to sleep in and clean towels for her. Then she climbed into bed but her mind was too restless for sleep to come.
Tidbit.
Mark?
She sat bolt upright in bed.
Oh, Mark. God, are you all right?
Hanging…on…love you…
Me too, soldier. I’ll get you out of this, I promise.
Careful…messages…intercept…
The other telepath. He was right. Especially if Rick Latrobe turned out to be an answer to her prayers. She couldn’t inadvertently give anything away.
Okay.
She waited for a response but all that surrounded her was black silence. Then the pain hit her again, so sharp and swift it took her breath away. Sweat broke out on her skin as she tried to ride it out. Eventually it eased enough for her to stumble to the bathroom and find some aspirin.
When she lay down in bed again she was shaking from head to toe.
I’ll get you out, Mark. I swear it.
Faith did her best to stay awake, sure that the fear would keep her adrenaline pumping, but without realizing it she dozed off.
She was on her hands and knees, pillows beneath her to brace her body. Mark knelt behind her, his hands on her hips, his teeth nipping lightly on her ass. Then his tongue licked over the tender places and electricity shot through her with stunning force.
She knew what he was going to do. It was all he’d talked about all night.
“I want that sweet little ass,” he said in a thick, husky voice. “I’ve wanted it forever.”
A dark thrill ran through her, her soaked pussy quivering and her body aching for him to take her. Just take her. All the different ways they’d made love, each new thing he’d introduced her to, had raised her level of need. She wanted it all with him. Every single thing that made them a part of each other.
Something cool settled against the tight puckered skin of her anus. At first she jerked at the sudden sensation, but as Mark’s finger spread it around and around she closed her eyes and let the twin sensations of heat and cool race over her and through her.
Inside,
she wanted to shout.
Let me feel you inside me. There.
More cool gel, more rubbing, and then finally his finger began its slow intrusion inside that waiting dark tunnel. Every muscle in her body contracted as it pushed farther and farther inside her, scraping the tiny embedded nerves along the passageway.
As he worked his finger inside her he murmured softly to her, erotic words that told her exactly what he was going to do to her. His words as much as his touch flamed the heat of rough passion wrapping around them both.
More gel and another finger joined the first, stretching her, stretching, stretching stretching.
“I want you,” she whimpered, pushing back at him.
“And you’ll have me. Right here.” He pressed his fingers deep inside her before slowly pulling them out.
His mouth traced lines over her buttocks, his tongue following the line, licking here and there. Then she heard the familiar crinkle of foil, felt more cool gel at her opening, and the pressure of something much larger than his fingers.
“Deep breath, darlin’.” His voice was strained. “And hold it.” She did as he asked, bracing herself for the penetration. As she let the breath out, Mark’s cock pushed slowly, slowly inside her. Even though he’d stretched her with his fingers and made sure she was well lubricated, she still felt the fullness of him and a burning sensation. Then he was fully inside her, his balls slapping against the backs of her thighs, his hands gripping her hips.
“Ready, darlin’?” His voice was taut with the effort at control.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Now, Mark. Now.”
His movements were long and slow, his shaft pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting deep again. With each movement the ribbon of lust uncoiled more, wrapping itself around every part of her body. She felt the heat rising up from her pussy, the quaking of her pussy muscles pulling him even deeper inside her.
Her breath was trapped in her lungs, every part of her focused on the feelings rocketing through her. Velvet heat enfolded her, caressing her, tempting her, pulling her down and down into a vortex of erotic sensation.
In, out, in, out.
Soon she was rocking with him in a tempo and cadence that drove them up a long, slow climb to something dangling just out of reach.
One of Mark’s hands reached around her thigh to stroke her cunt, spreading the lube of her own juices over and around every inch of her pussy.
“Oh, yeah,” he breathed. “You’re definitely ready.”
Increasing both the intensity and the pace of his strokes, he drove into her again and again.
Almost there, almost, almost.
She closed her eyes and saw streaks of red and blue and gold behind her eyelids. Her entire body gathered itself, every pinpoint of pleasure so intense she couldn’t breathe. And then…and then…
There!
She reached the top and crashed over, dropping in free fall into a whirlpool of sensation. Her body clenched and jerked and spasmed, her hips thrusting back against Mark almost automatically.
Come, Mark. Come now.
And he did. Fingers digging into her hips, his body tightening, shouting her name in pure male triumph, before collapsing forward, his heart beating so hard it vibrated against her back. She crumpled onto the pillows, dragging air into her lungs, so completely spent she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to move again, feeling the fullness of him inside her. Wanting to keep it there forever, wanting…
Faith awoke with a start, trembling from the force of an imagined climax, now fueled by the adrenaline rush of fear. Wildly she looked around, her heart rate settling back when she realized she was in her own bedroom. And the urgency of her situation came rushing back.
Mark! I need you! Help!
But there was no answering voice from him tonight. Nothing but blackness.
She finally fell asleep with her cell phone in her hand, 9-1-1 already punched in, and a sharp carving knife on the nightstand next to her bed. But her night might have been even more anxious if she’d known about the black sedan that cruised by her house every hour or so, the faces of both the driver and the passenger set in grim determination.
“All right, smartass, what now?”
Mr. Brown stared through the windshield of the big Lincoln, eyes narrowed, as they made their first pass of the morning down Faith Wilding’s street.
“We’re lucky someone hasn’t reported us as peeping toms,” he pointed out.
“Shut up,” Green snapped. “Let me think.”
“At least we know she didn’t leave after she got home yesterday.”
“Big deal.” Green slid the car around the corner. “She’s got that woman staying with her.”
“So what?”
“So what, you ask? Are you dense?” His indigestion had returned with a vengeance. “We don’t want witnesses to whatever we end up doing. And we don’t want two bodies to dispose of.”