The Keeper (5 page)

She started calling, gently. Maybe
if a child heard a voice, they would make a sound. Her heart thudded at the
thought of an injured kid lying out here, alone and frightened. "I'm here
to help you. Call out, if you can. Cry. I'll hear you."

Back and forth, she tramped. Her
eyes stung from holding back tears. They wouldn't do any good and would just
hinder the search. Flies and gnats bombarded her face and arms. She fanned them
away. Nipping from bugs was minor compared to the search. Sweat dripped down
her face. The sun was straight overhead, beating down on the stifling
cornfield.

Maybe they're both on the other
side of the road?
Just when she feared she wouldn't find anyone, she heard
the sound. Like a baby bird's chirp. She straightened, turned in the direction
she thought it came from, and closed her eyes in concentration. There it was again.
Clearer. She shoved aside corn stalks, heading toward the sound.

Oh, God.
A small body lying
flat in the dirt. Silent, but with big blue eyes staring up at her. Alive!

She immediately shouted back toward
the highway. "Here! Over here. I found one!" She ripped off her tank
top, to wave above the corn so they could get a location on her. She had a bra
on, thank God, but she would have used her top anyway. Finding the child was
more important than bare boobs. Kneeling at the boy's side, she glanced over
his dirty, tear-streaked face and torn T-shirt.

"Are you gonna help me?"
he whimpered.

"Yes, honey. Be still. The
paramedics are coming." She cupped his face in her palms. He was shifting,
and she wanted him to hold steady. "Does anything hurt?" She glanced
down his torso and legs. They were stretched out straight and didn't look
broken. Same with his arms, but you couldn't tell for sure until he was
X-rayed. She slid a hand carefully under his head to feel for blood, but didn't
feel anything hot and sticky.

"Am I gonna die?"

"Oh, no, honey."
Oh,
God, oh, God.
"You're gonna be fine. I promise you. Help's
coming."
Hurry up.

His eyes started to close.

"Sweetie, what's your name?
Can you tell me?" She didn't want him to go to sleep or lose
consciousness.

"Bradley," he whispered.

"Wow, that's a big name for a
little boy. How old are you?"

He paused, as if trying to
remember. "Six," he finally announced. "And three
quarters."

She smiled at him.
Please God,
let him make it.
"You're not such a little boy after all, are you?
You're grown up to know what three quarters means." It felt like it'd been
hours. Finally, the paramedics crashed their way through the cornfield to them.
She immediately backed off, but kept eye contact with Bradley. His gaze was
ferociously needy. She covered her mouth with shaky fingers to stifle a sob
then quickly bared her teeth in a smile to comfort him. "It's all right,
it's all right," she said, again and again.

The medical personnel got an oxygen
mask on him and an IV started, then transferred him to a stretcher and began to
make their way out of the cornfield. Having put her tank top back on, she
followed.

Just before they put him in the
ambulance, she squeezed and kissed his little hand. "It'll be okay now,
Bradley. You're a brave little boy. They'll take care of you."

Thankfully, Pete came out of the
field on the other side of the road, helping to carry a stretcher. Her heart
turned cold. This one, also a little boy, wasn't moving and his eyes were not
open.

The paramedic glanced at her and
said quietly, "He's alive." Then he jumped in after the boy, closed
the door, and the ambulance peeled out, its siren blaring.

A second later, her knees gave way.
She folded to the ground, covering her face with grimy hands.

"Share, are you all
right?" Pete squatted next to her.

"I'm fine," she said
shakily. "It's just a reaction. Oh, God, what happened?" He helped
her to stand but kept his arm around her waist in case she buckled again.

"Guy in the pickup was drunk,
lost control, and hit the SUV on the driver's side."

She glanced over at the large
vehicle. Its front end smashed almost flat on the driver's side and all the air
bags had deployed. How in the hell were the kids thrown? Then she spotted the
pickup driver. Unbelievably, he was arguing with a deputy. Their voices carried
clearly.

"I'm not drunk. I had one
beer." Hands cuffed behind him and shoved back against a squad car.
"Maybe three, but I'm not drunk!"

"Shut up."

"It's not my fault."

"How do you figure that?"

"They pulled out in front of
me."

"And you were speeding and too
drunk to stop in time?"

"Yeah." He didn't sound
repentant at all.

Sharon had heard enough. Her father
drank too much and nothing was ever his fault. This son of a bitch drove drunk
and caused an accident that could have killed children. For the two kids to end
up so far from the SUV, he must have been going very fast, considering their
auto had practically been at a stand still.

Her breath came in short gasps, and
her heart thumped in her throat. She moved toward him. Someone grabbed at her
arm. It must have been Pete. She shrugged him off and kept going. "You
asshole. You bastard. Who the hell do you think you are to be so
irresponsible?" she screeched. "What if you'd killed them?"

"Share, honey, leave it
be."

"Kids are supposed to be
protected. A guy like this doesn't belong on the road." She yanked her arm
away from him. "That's the trouble with men like him. They think they have
a right to do whatever they want and hurt anyone in their path."

"We've got him, honey. He'll go
to jail."

She stalked right up to the
worthless piece of shit. The worst part of it was that he physically resembled
her father, especially as she'd seen him today. Skinny, ill-fitting clothes,
too-long hair. She stifled a sob. Part of her knew she was attacking him
because of that, but he still deserved it. "He'd better go to jail,"
she snarled, nose to nose with him.

"Lady, get out of my
face!" He tried to twist his shoulders to push her away.

She raised her hands, but before
they landed, Pete picked her straight up in the air, and turned her around to
face the other direction. "Hey," she barked.

He bent his head close and
whispered in her ear, "Share, calm down. We've got him. He's toast."

Chapter Seven

Pete admired her tactics. She'd
insisted on going to the hospital to check up on the kids. The two thrown from
the SUV were holding their own, although in serious condition. She knew how to
bypass the ER admittance desk, casually walking through as if she belonged. The
woman had
cojones
. Even though he was in uniform, he followed her lead,
enjoying just watching her operate. By the time she'd assured herself of the
two boys' well being, he was off duty.

Pete let them in through the front
door of his house. She wandered into the living room, lit by the table lamp he
always kept on, and distractedly drifted fingertips over furniture and across
the spines of books on the shelves. She gazed at photos of his family. He hoped
she noticed not every sibling had a svelte figure.

She turned and stepped into his
arms, offering her lips, still sweet and salty from her dried tears.

He covered her mouth, teased her
lips open, and waited tentatively to learn her mood, to learn how she wanted
this to go. Sweet and loving, or fast and hot? Her fingers fisted on the back
of his shirt, tightened, then she opened her mouth and sucked him home. She
wanted all of the above.

Cupping both hands in her hair, he
angled her head, ravishing her mouth. He was very aware of his height and
breadth towering over her slenderness. Her soft, full breasts crushed against
his hard chest. Shit, he still had his duty belt on. A man can't make love with
all his equipment in the way.

"Just a minute, Share. Let me
take this off. Don't lose the mood." He quickly unbuckled the belt.

"Your gun?" she murmured.

"I usually keep it on top of
the fridge, but this'll work for now," he said as he placed it on the top
of the bookshelf. "I need to see you, darlin'." He trailed his
fingers down her back to her waist then lower to cup her ass and press her hips
against his stiff dick.

Her head rolled back submissively,
her mouth open on a moan.

His brain spun wildly when she
rocked over his cock. Oh, yeah. She didn't have many clothes on, just the thin
pants, tank top, and underwear. He pushed his fingers inside the elastic waist,
inside the band of her panties, and slid them down and off her hips.
Goddamn.
Her bare ass, firm and round, filled his palms. He squeezed.

"Oh, Pete, my turn." She
headed for his shirt buttons, flicking them open from the waist up.

He enjoyed her hands as she took
time to caress his skin between every button. Her fingers became more and more
bold, tugging on his chest hair, plucking and strumming his nipples. She worked
them as a man plays with a woman's nipples. He was totally into it, the spearing
pleasure finding its way deep into the base of his cock, into his balls.

He slid her top and bra straps off
her shoulders, trapping her arms tightly to her body. It freed her breasts,
those beautiful, full, luscious breasts. He lifted her, bringing her nipples
closer to his mouth. "I'd rather do this to you." The tip of his
tongue swirled over the deep rose, distended skin. Her breath came fast.
"Christ, why are we out here?"

"Where should we be?" She
was affected too, her voice a whimper.

He met her gaze. Her eyes sparkled
then fell to half-mast inviting a kiss. "I'll show you, you little
tease," he responded.

She shrieked as he hoisted her,
tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She felt so right, almost
naked compared to his clothed state. Her pants were dangling off her knees, and
his hand landed firmly on her ass. Her smooth and sexy buck-naked ass.

***

The backs of her knees hit the side
of the bed, and Sharon bounced as he came down on top. Before becoming too
heavy for her, he rolled to his side and wrangled her down with a strong,
uniform-clad thigh.

"Share, you wouldn't believe
how much I wanted to get you here—in my clutches, heh heh," he chuckled
wickedly. His fingers skimmed from her waist to palm her breast.

That gentle weight
—her
breath hitched, catching on a moan and her heart opened to him like a field of
flowers turning to greet the sun. She closed her eyes and arched up into him.
Her breasts were sensitive. He tenderly curved his fingers around her soft
flesh, holding her in a delicate embrace.

"Kiss me," she begged.

His lips tipped in a lopsided
smile. "Yes, ma'am." He took her mouth with the same lightly
passionate touch as his hand on her breast, as if he intended to leisurely
enjoy her.

Her skin simmered from the moist
trail of his tongue. "Pete." She clutched his shoulders, cupped his
nape, shivered at the warm swipe of his tongue over and around the shell of her
ear.

He delicately pinched and rolled
her nipple between his thumb and finger.

She lost her breath in the sensations
heating her belly.

His lips wended their way to join
his fingers at her nipple. He stilled over her breast, his fitful, scorching
breath on her bare skin bathing the sensitive nub. He nipped a gentle, firm
compression of his teeth on the tip of her breast.

"Ahh." Her head spun,
dazed by the pleasures.

His steamy mouth had completely
wetted her skin, and he blew a whisper of breath over her nipple. She shivered,
arched, and slid her fingers through the dark strands of his hair to hold him
to her. "Oh, Pete," she moaned.

He nuzzled between her breasts,
licking and nibbling at her while pushing her clothes completely off and
tossing them on the floor. Then he leaned over her, staring reverently at her
breasts. A flush heated her skin; her heart stuttered. She'd been proud of her
breasts since the implants, but a thought flitted through her mind. Would Pete
have cared for them before? She'd been lucky, though. The stitches perfectly
hid in the creases underneath, and her skin, as well as her nipples, had
retained sensitivity.

Instead of kissing her breasts, as
she'd expected, he brushed her lips with his tongue.

"You're so beautiful," he
whispered over her. "Not just your breasts. You. Your eyes, your
mouth."

It was as if he knew her fears.
Oh,
God, he's so sweet.
She touched her tongue to his, setting off a passionate
firestorm.

***

Their lovemaking was fast and
intense. Pete got himself out of his clothes and into a condom. Stretching his
bigger body over her slender one, he nudged her thighs open and rubbed his cock
head in the juices coating her cunt. God, she was so ready for him. Then he
slid hungrily and greedily inside her. "I'm sorry." He groaned the
words. "I want you so bad. Next time I'll take more time."
Jesus,
her pussy's fine.
It held him, pumped and massaged his dick. Heat from deep
inside his belly rippled through his veins and nerves. He found her neck,
sucked the delicate skin between his teeth. Wanted her lips. Found them. Took
them fiercely. Groaned into her open mouth.

He felt it coming, felt it rip up
hot through his cock, boiling, thick, explosive. "Jesus." His spine
stiffened, thigh muscles tightened, and he released deeply inside her sweet,
hot sheath. "Oh God, baby," he gasped.

When he finally came back to earth,
he rolled to his side, pulling her along. Her head rested on his shoulder as he
ran his fingers through her hair, through the curls, straightening them. He
panted, his chest expanding shakily. She quivered. It certainly couldn't be
him
trembling like that.
Holy
… Being inside her had been electrifying. Was
it trite to say it was the best he'd ever had? But it was. Her body was the
sexual home he'd never had before. Something amazing had just happened between
them. She had to have shared it too. Exhausted, he needed to close his eyes
just for a second, keep her close to his side, to cuddle her.