Behind the Pines (The Gass County Series Book 3) (9 page)

Sunshine felt stiff to his touch, chained to his hands, absorbing the way his hands trailed from her waist up the sides of her chest and onto her breasts. When he cupped them, he growled low into Sunshine’s mouth and grinded his erection against the apex of her thighs. Hard. If they’d been in bed, Sunshine thought, the headboard would have slammed against the wall.

Someone had yet to say a coherent word, yet no words seemed needed. Brody’s hands found the top buttons of her blouse and while his mouth found its way down the side of her cheek, onto her neck, his hands separated the fabric concealing her chest, allowing him to move down her collarbone and suck a hard nipple deep into his mouth. He cupped the soft skin of her breast in one hand, guiding it into his mouth, while teasing and pulling the other, until his mouth decided it was time to move on. He started to pull away, but Sunshine arched from the floor, trying to push her nipple harder, deeper into Brody’s mouth. Brody’s hand slipped beneath her, holding her against him, ravishing her breasts as a starving man at a full table. Her mind reset, focusing on maintaining its most basic function: to breath.

Suddenly he lowered her back onto the floor and pulled her shirt above her head, only to fold it quickly and place it on the floor next to her head. He pushed himself down her body, his tongue tracing her skin as he went, until his mouth hit the top button of her jeans. They both stopped, and Sunshine dared to look down, to watch Brody’s hands open the buttons of her pants, his eyes asking for permission.

Sunshine closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the floor, feeling her hair spill out from behind her head, and bucked her hips against Brody’s hands and prayed a silent yes.

There was no hesitation as his hands pulled down her jeans and underwear in one quick move. Sunshine moaned and bit the bottom of her lip. Her shoes left her feet and before she could look, Brody grabbed the back of her knees and pushed her legs up against her chest baring her to his face and letting his tongue taste every single inch of skin so recently covered in underwear. As his hands held her legs in place, the tip of his tongue found her opening and tasted her, tickled her, kissed her, until his tongue grew rigid as a sword and drilled itself deep into her pussy, circling, tasting her insides before he placed his warm lips on the inside of her trembling thigh, tasting her skin. She made a mental note of her preference and giggled when he teased her with a small bite.

*              *              *

“Hush,” Brody mumbled against the softness of her skin and placed her legs back on the floor and covered Sunshine’s body with his own.

Her hands skid down the length of back, pulling him harder against her.
This
he could do, clothed. Naked? Not in a million years. Dainty, feminine hands couldn’t handle the roughness of his past. He’d rather please women and let his own hand take care of himself later at home. “If you’re still able to move around underneath me, I haven’t done my part properly,” he breathed into the soft skin of Sunshine’s neck. He moved himself away from between her legs and in his absence his hand found her wet and ready. With a groan he pushed two fingers inside her and found victory in hearing Sunshine gasp as she grabbed the fabric of his shirt and lifted herself from the floor.

*              *              *

Her hands travelled in a leisurely pace down the starched fabric covering his back, tentatively feeling every muscles moving like an accordion where she touched. Her fingertips reached the belt of his pants and the movement above her stopped. As if robotic, she’d found Brody’s off button and had no clue how to turn it back on. Reboot, reboot, her mind yelled, but nothing happened. 

Brody’s warm lips left her naked chest and on strong arms he lifted himself off of her bare body. It seemed he’d developed a fear of eye contact and instead he busied himself with straightening his shirt, tucking it securely back inside the belt of his pants, and straightening his tie before he walked towards the door of the room where his hat waited. In an unexplained haste, he turned around, his eyes quickly scanned her nakedness, a body in shock of his abrupt exit, and gave a vague excuse of a busy morning as perfect justification for leaving.

Sunshine looked back at the man and watched the door close with a faint click behind him, and in a few heartbeats Brody’s footsteps had vanished, just like the heat. Her hands roamed for something under which she could cover all the places Brody had touched. She couldn’t figure out if she’d been used or if she’d used him? Either way, she felt cold, and not from the temperature in the room.

“Jackass!” she shouted and tossed a half-empty water bottle across the room, hitting the wall on the other side, making less damage than her fury had intended.

Chapter Fifteen

“Brody, you need to do something about this guy,” Wendy’s shrill voice shouted from the main hall outside his office. “He looks absolutely ghastly. Have you seen him?”

“Of course I’ve seen him.” He was not in the mood today. Not for talking, not even for capturing criminals. He just wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for. Oh, well, deep down he knew but he did his damnedest to erase the thought of her—Sunshine. Her moans, the way her body had shivered under his touch. How that picture of doing Sunshine hard against the wall didn’t seem at all that bad. But most of all he wanted to erase the face she’d made when he’d up and left her. Like he’d done something filthy then left her to rot. Although it had been deliciously dirty, her face had told him she wasn’t okay. Either way he couldn’t stay. His mind was in a state of chaos.

“Ghastly?” Brody repeated Wendy’s words.

“Oh, you know, Downton Abbey and Foyles War are absolutely splendid, and with this desk job,” she answered and spun around on her chair, “I live my life vicariously through English noblemen and their ridiculously lavish lives in times of war.”

Brody shook his head and went back to taking down another complaint about the lack of speed bumps on Main Street before he rose from his chair and joined Wendy at her desk.

“Show him to me again,” he said and seated himself on the counter next to her computer screen, quietly swallowing a shot of pain stabbing through his bottom cheek.

“Oh, I hope you haven’t forgotten who he is, Brody, or else he might be anywhere here in Gass County, just walking around for all we know.” Wendy smiled and scrolled down to the photo.

“First of all, I remember exactly what he looks like. I also know his criminal background, which I wish I didn’t have in the back of my mind, as horrifying as it is.”

Wendy nodded and waited for the file to open. “And secondly,” Brody continued, placing his muscular arms across his chest and looking down at Wendy. “I’m Office Jensen to you, your supervisor, not Brody.”

Wendy took a sip of her coffee and blew raspberries at him. “Whatever,
Brody
, you went to school with my older brother,” she articulated. “Here is the photo. Please memorize it. I can’t stand staring at him anymore,” she said and left to use the bathroom down the hall.

Brody’s eyes drilled in on the screen. Wendy was right. He was ghastly. Bloody ghastly, for sure. James Hemmerson looked evil. His face weathered not so much by age, but by what he in life had accomplished. Two previous rounds in prison for sexual assault, statutory rape, disorderly conduct, you name it. His last round, that got him for life, was attempted murder of a woman. James Hemmerson had a thing for women. Young women. Preferably under twenty. Brody had seen these types before. On television. Not in the circumference of his district. This town was a hidden pearl and he prayed to God that Mr. Hemmerson had decided to run the opposite way. His blonde hair was combed back in the photo, his face lined with wrinkles. Yet, he barely surpassed Brody in age. It was his eyes that said it. Told his inner secret. They smiled. James Hemmerson—a person with absolutely no regard for human life had eyes of mischief and Brody didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“So, will you remember him now, Brody?” Wendy sat down in the chair, closed the photo, and rolled herself back toward the coffee maker for another cup of diuretic wish-wash.

Brody stood. “I’m going out. Call if you need anything.”

“Sure,
boss
.” Wendy saluted him and then turned on another song on the radio. This one a sure hit from the eighties.

*              *              *

“Rick, I need black coffee.”

“You got it.”

“So, tell me. What do you want me to do here, Brody?” Melanie Orchard was still in town, answering the jungle call from a valley in despair. Or maybe not so much the valley, but rather helping Brody having made no progress at all in finding Mr. Hemmerson.

“I’m not sure how to tackle this. And you’re the only who knows I ever said that, understood?” His tone was furtive because of the eager ears at tables and at the bar.

“I think he might be hiding out somewhere.”

“You think?”
“Hey, don’t be a jackass with me. If you’re mad at someone, keep me out of it.”

Rick had placed the coffee before him, and Brody sipped it slowly and stared at the cold world outside the window.

“Is she bothering you that much, huh?” Melanie smiled and stuffed her mouth with a cheese-covered croissant.

“Nobody is bothering me.”

“Okay, well then this will be interesting.”

The door to the restaurant opened and Sunshine stepped inside, pulling her jacket tighter around her and walking to the bar, where Rick was busy pouring two beers to the regulars in the corner: Wyatt Tessler and his partner in crime, Orward Kline. Drinking buddies since Elvis had had his first hit on the radio.

“No more after that.” Brody’s voice echoed along the walls, catching the looks of the two gentlemen, who stopped chitchatting.

Sunshine turned at the familiar sound and met Brody’s eyes. Brody didn’t say anything but stared at the chuckling woman across the table. “Shut up, Mel.”

Sunshine’s face neared an eight on the boredom scale and it looked like she’d bit into something sour before she turned back to Rick and smiled.

“Your tactic here is that you haven’t seen her to avoid talking, is that it?” Melanie leaned back in her chair and smiled out the window.

“Just . . . be quiet.”

He looked in Sunshine’s direction and went back to admire the dark color of his now-cold coffee. He noticed her hair was tossed up in a high bun and she placed two large bags of what looked like flour on the counter for Rick before she left the same way she had come in without giving Brody another look.

“She probably thinks you’re an idiot.” Melanie smiled and stared out the window.

“Why would she think that?”

“Because of something you obviously did.”
“How would you know anything has happened?”

“I’m a woman, I read female language and that right there was obvious. You made her mad.”

Brody ignored the comment and finished his coffee before he stood up and placed his Stetson back on. “Find out from other towns if anyone has seen or heard anything. And I mean anything.”

“Sure.”

Brody stopped in his tracks out the door and looked back at what seemed to be his new partner. “How old are you, Melanie?”

“Why?” she asked, eyes suddenly dark and stormy. “That right there,” she spit out, “is the reason women think men are idiots. You ask stupid questions.”

Brody rolled his eyes and repeated his question.

“I’ve passed thirty-five, not yet hit forty. Is that good enough?”

“Good. At least Mr. Hemmerson will keep his hands off you should you see him. His taste is singular—young and slender.”

“Are you kidding—”

Brody never finished listening to Melanie, and why should he? He wasn’t asking her, he simply stated a fact. Hemmerson didn’t care for women her age.

The rest of the afternoon felt colder than an arctic blizzard and Brody decided the best he could do to survive the day was to stay in his squad car, crank the heat, and take the few calls that came through. No need to run around looking for clues when he didn’t know where to start. For all he knew, Hemmerson could have already passed them and been in Canada by that time. The thought settled his nerves and made it easier to swallow the hot coffee without extra butterflies in his stomach. He watched the sun settle at the horizon, coloring the icy sky a shade of pink
and blue, before he turned the car back to town and civilization.

Brody drove down the highway leading straight through town. He was after all not on duty, per se, but being the chief of police had its drawbacks. He was never, really, off duty. Who else was there to call if something happened? Juster’s County, where the youngest officers were pushing an average age of sixty? There wasn’t a lot of crime in Primrose Valley, not petty theft, not robbery. Although, there had been a child abduction a few years earlier and it had been cleared up within hours on the same night, and, he sighed, not long before, there had been that one nightly shooting in Wayne’s bedroom. An attempted murder derailed at the last second as Officer Melanie Orchard had pushed through the door and placed a lethal bullet in the shooter before Wayne could meet Christ. “If you could just stay put, Mel.” Brody sighed and chewed the inside of his cheek as he always did when something bothered him, making him starkly resemble a pissed off Wyatt Earp walking the dusty streets of Tombstone. At least according to the female population of Sandra’s senior living facility, a place he visited often in case one of the seniors got ahold of a phone and punched in the direct number to the station. He knew the outcome of the call as soon as the number showed on the receiver, yet it was his duty to respond to any calls, placed by accident or not.