To Hiss or to Kiss (17 page)

He drops them on the ground, looking down at me with such heat in his eyes that I can’t even remember why I was so mad at him. I’ll worry about that later, I decide as he licks up my leg, spreading them wider as he nears my core. “I think my patience has ended.” He swirls a finger around my entrance and then slides two fingers in roughly. I buck and just about orgasm right then and there, but his pause brings me back down.

He begins a slow rhythm that rapidly builds. He flicks his tongue over my clit, and I begin to writhe, my hands going wild in his hair. He latches on and I’m exploding, screaming out my ecstasy. I barely come down from the high before he kicks into high gear again, sending me over the edge. I lose track of what I’m doing, where I am. It’s a good thing we’re in the country so no one can hear me scream and swear.

I fall back to the bed, lazy and slack, but Jorge isn’t done with me. He effortlessly flips me over, pulling my hips up and taking me from behind. I balance my weight on my elbows. My voice is rough from screaming, but I feel another orgasm building as he pounds into me, his hands holding my hips firmly in place. Sweat trickles down my back toward my neck as we both move toward release.

And then he is roaring, his jaguar in control of his vocal cords. His cock pulses in me as my inner muscles spasm. My scream blends into the echo of his roar. He holds me in place for a few seconds as our twinging muscles relax, then we collapse to the bed, both of us breathless.

“Now that is what I call being.” His voice is lazy and cocky.

I want to punch him for his smartass remark, but I’m too sated to move. “Glad you enjoyed your own object lesson so much.”

“I think I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it.” He wraps me in his arms and pulls me close.

Snuggling into his muscled body, I don’t argue. For once. I’m too damned tired and drunk on dopamine to make the effort.

Chapter Twelve

“Chloe!”
I hear in my head. I groan, fighting to stay asleep, but I hear my name again. This time it is almost a scream.
“Chloe!”

I sit bolt upright. Gracie. It’s Gracie. Oh God, something is wrong.
“Gracie, what’s going on?”

“They just came back. They’re going to take us in the morning.”
Her voice in my head is full of despair and fear. I can feel her shaking.

“OK. OK. I’m coming.”
A quick glance at the clock shows it’s one in the morning. Jorge is snoring softly. I consider waking him up, but the fear that he will try to stop me creeps into my brain and won’t let go. Despite how far I’ve come in trusting him, I can’t get past the fact that I’ve really only known him for a week. Not even that. I’d be crazy to trust him, my head whispers even as my heart feels a twinge of guilt as I get out of bed and quickly dress in black. He has, after all, tried to talk me out of going after the dogs over and over.

It’s a good thing we just had the fuck of all fucks. Otherwise he’d probably hear me with that damn feline hearing of his. As it is, Sashi jumps up on the dresser, giving me a very judgmental look.

“What?”
I swear she shakes her head at me in disapproval, but maybe I’m just projecting. Either way, there’s no time to think about this right now. I look away, pull my hair back in a ponytail, and cover it with a black knit cap.

Shooting one last, guilt-fueled look at Jorge’s sleeping form, I tiptoe down the hall to the kitchen to retrieve Jorge’s bag of gadgets. Guess my gut was right when it prompted me to get the lowdown on how to use it all.

Near the front door, I don my dark sneakers, then open and close the door slowly, grimacing at each groan of the hinges. When it clicks into place, I dart off the porch and down the driveway. I don’t breathe until I make it to the road and blend into the shadows away from the outdoor light on Jorge’s house.

I give myself a moment to let my eyes adjust to the hazy moonlight. The urge to puke has me bending over. Instead of giving in, I stand, breathe slowly in and out to focus and center, and concentrate on Gracie during the half-mile walk to the neighbor’s. Funny how I’m starting to think of them as my neighbors and not Jorge’s after such a short time. And then I remember his sleeping form and how pissed he’s going to be when he wakes and finds me gone, and I almost stumble. At least I didn’t drug him. I feel plenty of guilt for having that in the back of my mind if worse came to worst. Now focus, Chlo! I admonish myself, and resume my rhythmic breathing and concentrate on making my way down the darkened road.

I reach out to Gracie, and it isn’t hard to find her. I’m too amped up on adrenaline to stop and think about how I can finally communicate with her all this way.
“Gracie, is it OK to come in?”

“Yes. I waited until they stopped moving around to reach out to you.”

“Good. I will be there soon.”

At the edge of the property, I pull up my momentum, taking a few moments to slow my breath and survey the property. As Gracie said, there is no sign of movement in the house. All the interior lights are off. Reassured, I turn my focus to the yard. Between the porch light and the moonlight, I can make out the outlines of trees I can use as cover. I dart from shadow to shadow until I come up to the window Jorge identified as clear of surveillance.

First, disable the video. Good thing Jorge’s family is full of rich, paranoid security freaks
.
Oh, he’s going to be pissed I came without him. Ignoring the wrenching in my gut, I set the bag on the ground and fumble with the zipper. Finally getting it open with my shaking hands, I paw through the gadgets. God only knows where Jorge got them all. It’s not like you need tools to disable security systems if you’re just trying to keep yourself hidden. And why am I just now questioning this? The thoughts zip through my brain, but I don’t have time to let them go anywhere, and my attention returns to my search.

I find a slim flashlight, flip it on, and hold it in my mouth while I pull out and activate the video scrambler. Once it’s set up, I get the alarm deactivator. The flashlight helps me place the alarm sensor on the window and line up the deactivator with it. I flip it on.

After a short wait, a green light and the three beeps of the alarm disarming give me the all-clear. I didn’t realize the alarm pad would make a sound inside, and I hold my breath, praying the assholes don’t wake up. I count to one hundred, and when there are no sounds or lights flicking on, I try the window. Sure enough, it slides open. Arrogant assholes. I flick off the flashlight and put it in the bag, zipping it up and swinging the strap over my shoulder so the bag rests on my back.

My natural flexibility and the large window help me drag myself into the house. Too bad I couldn’t add graceful to my list of qualities, but I make it in with relatively little sound. At least I didn’t end up sprawled on the floor. Just to be cautious, I count to one hundred again, straining to listen and not breathe. I hear nothing. Gracie must’ve gotten through to the other dogs because they are silent—no barking, no growling. I try to reach out to them. They don’t respond, but I sense their cautious curiosity.

It’s much darker in the house than it was outside, so when I finish my countdown, I cautiously pull the flashlight from the bag and click it on.
“OK, Gracie, I’m in. Where to?”

She sends me the image of a path from the back door leading to a door off the kitchen. Luckily, the kitchen is visible when I venture out of the room, so I can orient myself to Gracie’s “map.” A quick look around and I find the door to the basement. I place my shaking hand on the knob and take a deep breath before opening the door. It’s going to take more than that to calm me down, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m doing this for Gracie, I tell myself. For Gracie and her companions.
“I’m coming, Gracie.”

I step gingerly onto the stairs, cringing on each step that squeaks or groans and trying not to think about what the hell it is I’m stepping in. It is an old house after all, and it smells to high heaven of dog piss and shit. At least I hope it’s only dog piss and shit. I’m so not letting my imagination take that thought any further.

When I’m on the basement floor, I quickly survey my surroundings as best as the flashlight allows. What I see makes me gasp. Five dogs sit in crates, two on each side of the basement and Gracie at the end. All the dogs have thick chains around their necks and their cages are filled with filth. No food or water is in sight. As I flash to each dog, I see they are scarred, their ears cropped—or worse, bitten off. The cages are all padlocked. The four dogs on the sides eye me warily, just as they did when I tried to communicate with them, but they are silent and bear no malice toward me. If anything, they emanate a cautious hope. I tell them they can trust me and that I am here to help.

I look at Gracie last and almost start crying. Her black fur is patchy at best and her scars are deep and wide. Her muzzle is completely bare, and I catch a glimpse of people coming at her with duct tape. She whines softly when she sees me looking. “It’s OK, girl,” I whisper, rushing to her cage and dropping down. “It will be OK.” I scan the area, looking to see if there are keys anywhere, and sure enough I see them on a nail at the top of the stairs. Dammit, I should’ve looked before coming down. Nothing to do about it now but creep back up the stairs, which I do, cursing my lack of foresight the whole way up and down.

Once I reach the floor again, I race to Gracie’s cage and start undoing the locks. She wags her tail eagerly as I work, and when the door finally opens, Gracie wiggles herself toward me and begins to lick my face. “Good to meet you in person, too, sweetie,” I whisper, petting her head. “Hold on, girl. Let me get this chain unwound.” She settles enough for me to remove the heavy chains. “Now I gotta get the others. You keep watch.” She snaps to attention.

I have the second dog’s cage open and am reaching for the chains when I hear a creak from above. I freeze
.
Shit, shit, shit. I’m too busy swearing to count to one hundred, so I just have to wing it.

Just when I almost feel that I can breathe again, another sound comes from above, and then I’m sure I hear footsteps. Fuck. I try to keep working, but now my hands shake and the keys fall. I recover fairly quickly, all things considered, and help the dog out of the chains as I hear the door open.

“What the fuck?” An overhead light flicks on, and then a man is running down the stairs. Gracie leaps from behind me, fangs bared. She lunges into the man as he hits the basement floor, and he goes down with a
hrumph
.

Before I can catch a breath, another man appears, gun drawn. The second dog I’d just freed takes off up the stairs, but the man has already aimed and fired. I watch in horror as the bullet screams into Gracie’s side, blood spurting from an area way too near her heart. A strangled cry comes from her as she falls, then a whine as she tries to get up, fangs still bared. Another shot hits her in the head, and I have to close my eyes to avoid the gore splattering across the man on the floor and the nearby wall.

The other dog attacks the second guy, followed by the rattle of the gun sliding down the stairs, but it doesn’t seem real.

Oh God, Gracie. I rush to her despite the man she felled starting to move dazedly. The three caged dogs are howling now, lunging at their cage doors, their chains rattling.

The roar of a jaguar enters the scene as a sleek black cat races down the stairs and pounces on the man Gracie tackled. On some level, I know it’s Jorge, but my focus is all on Gracie.

“Chloe?”
Gracie whispers.
“Thanks for getting me out.”

I realize I’m crying as I reach her side.
“Oh, Gracie. Please don’t die.”
I know it’s futile to say that. She’s already dead, the remains of her brain scattered, the floor soaked in her blood.

“It’s OK, Chloe. This is what’s meant to be.”
She sounds so peaceful in my head. I place my hands on her body, stroking her fur and trying to quell the rising sobs I feel in my chest. I close my eyes and go deep inside. I can feel Gracie’s spirit sliding from her body and see it floating to the in-between. Her spirit body is no longer scarred. She now has perky ears that slightly flop over, reminiscent of a border collie’s. She looks strong, and I feel peace and joy radiating from her.

“Oh, Gracie, you are so beautiful.”

She wags her spirit tail and looks downward, drawing my gaze back to her body. And then I know she is gone from this earth. Her body is already getting cold and slightly stiff under my hands. Even though I know that she is free now of the pain she endured, I can’t help the sobs that break free as I hug her bloody body and mourn that I never got the chance to really know her in this life.

I jump when a hand comes to rest on my shoulder, breaking the spell of grief. I realize it is Jorge. Good thing I didn’t drug him. A choked sob/laugh escapes my throat. I turn and see the grim look on his face as he stares at me clutching Gracie’s body. Relief and panic war in me, and I bite my lower lip as I await his ire, but it doesn’t come. Instead he gently disengages my arms from Gracie’s body and pulls me up into a tight hug. His tears fall softly on my head.

We stand like that for what feels like forever as I get my sobbing under control. The three caged dogs are silent in the aftermath, but I hear them begin to stir and rattle their chains, pulling me back into the moment and action. “We must attend to the other dogs.”

Jorge grunts and reluctantly releases me. He rushes past me and beats me to the keys I dropped by the last dog’s cage in a flurry of inhuman speed. Almost as quickly, he unlocks each door and releases the hounds. I help one get out of his chains, while Jorge gets the other two. They all surround him, jumping up to lick at his hands.

“Who says dogs don’t like cats?” I jest halfheartedly.

Jorge gives a weak smile as he tries to fend off the dogs’ exuberant affection. “Amazing creatures these are. So much abuse and yet still so much love.” His face is soft with wonder, and my heart hurts.