Bought (8 page)

He stopped swatting her and moved behind her
and between her thighs and she watched him in the mirror. He
grabbed her by her ponytail and he pulled her head back. She felt
the press of his cock against her and then he drove into her.

She watched in the mirror as he fucked her
hard, slamming up against her, so hard that she felt as if the
motions could break her bonds. He rode her, holding onto her
ponytail.

Harder. Harder. Harder yet. It felt so good,
so intense as he took her and being able to see herself like this
added to it all. She felt the slide of him inside her, his
thickness and his length and felt the butt plug filling her up. She
felt all of him and she didn’t want him to stop.

But her orgasm was coming. It charged toward
her faster than she wanted. She tried to hold off but she
couldn’t.

She climaxed hard, her whole body vibrating
beneath him. He kept on fucking her, causing her body to shudder
with aftershocks.

His shout was muffled through her hood as he
came. She felt him throb inside her, felt him pump in and out a few
more times. Then he relaxed, bracing his arms so that he was over
her, his cock still inside of her. She felt the sweat of his skin
over her own hot flesh.

She sighed with exhaustion and relief and she
watched him as he unfastened her wrist cuffs and removed the
spreader bar from between her ankles, and removed the plug.

When she was free, he brought her into a
sitting position on the ottoman and pulled off her hood.

She felt dazed for a moment as she returned
to the present and the real world, and a sense of euphoria overcame
her, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She looked up
at him and smiled.

He sat next to her, brought her into his
arms, and held her.

It wasn’t possible to get tired of sex like
this. How would it ever be possible to settle for plain old
vanilla?

Roni smiled to herself as she rolled out of
bed around ten. Before dawn John had received a call and he’d had
to leave his apartment for some kind of emergency. She had lain
around in bed for a while after waking up, enjoying the pleasant
afterglow of great kinky sex before she had to decide how she was
going to spend her Sunday.

Decisions, decisions.

She headed into his bathroom and took a
shower, enjoying the feel of warm water pounding down on her skin.
His shampoo and shower gel reminded her of him and she loved the
scents.

When she climbed out of the shower she
toweled herself off in one of his thick burgundy towels, then used
his brush on her long wet hair. If she had known she was going to
spend the night, she would have packed a little bag.

After she was dressed, she wandered from the
bathroom and through his apartment. It was comfortable and homey, a
feeling that wasn’t always possible in an apartment, especially for
a guy, from her experience. It had three bedrooms, one of which he
used for an office and the other for an exercise room. That
explained his ripped body.

She wandered to his exercise room and
pictured him working out on the weight machines or jogging
bare-chested on the treadmill. Very nice visuals accompanied those
thoughts.

As she was passing by his office she noticed
the door was open. It hadn’t been yesterday. She wasn’t planning on
going into his office because she didn’t want to invade his
privacy. Even though the door was open she didn’t intend to look,
but something caught her eye. She pushed the door open and her
heart started thundering.

There were pictures on a corkboard on one
wall.

Pictures of dead women. Women who looked like
her.

She couldn’t stop staring at the pictures
even as her stomach churned. Almost in a trance, she walked closer
and saw the sightless eyes, the naked bodies bound in white
ropes.

Her whole body trembled as she held her hand
to her stomach and started to back out of the room. Before she
could get through the door, she noticed the large map with red dots
on an adjacent wall. She paused and looked more closely. Dots
punctuated the map in areas across three states. Her mind spun
through it all as she mentally notated the cities where the red
dots were. All cities where women with her description had been
murdered.

Slowly her gaze moved to the desk. On it was
John’s iPad. Her hand shook as she reached for it. She wasn’t sure
why she had to look at it but something compelled her to pick it
up. When she powered it on she saw what he had been looking at the
last time he used it.

On it was a picture of her.

Chills rolled over her body and she held her
hand to her chest. According to the date on the digital photograph,
it was taken sometime before she had met him. The image was of her
leaving the building of the manufacturer that she worked for.

Everything fell together.

John had known exactly who she was before he
met her.

He had pictures of dead women who looked
similar to her.

He had an aerial map showing the three states
where the murders had been committed with red marks signifying the
location of each killing.

She clasped her hand over her mouth, holding
back a scream.

John was the serial killer.

Terror ripped through her and a crawling
sensation went up her spine. She dropped the iPad on his desk and
slowly turned around, praying that he wasn’t behind her.

He wasn’t. She bolted for his bedroom where
she had left her purse. Her hands trembled as she tried to find her
phone. When she finally located it, she was shaking so badly that
she fumbled with the phone and dropped it on the floor and it
bounced under the bed.

She looked to the doorway and then got down
on her knees and reached for the phone. When she picked it up she
saw that the screen had cracked from having hit the floor hard.
Still on her knees, she punched in 9-1-1 and prayed that it would
work.

A tiny measure of relief when through her as
an operator answered and asked what the nature of her emergency
was.

“I know who the serial killer is, the one
killing women with red hair.” She felt herself hyperventilating.
“I’m in his apartment. I’m afraid he’s going to come back
soon.”

“What is the address you’re at?”

“I—I don’t know.” She looked around
frantically, like it would suddenly appear. She couldn’t think,
couldn’t remember what his address was even though she had driven
to it multiple times since meeting John. Then it came to her. “I’m
in an apartment at 555 Bal—”

The phone was suddenly ripped from her hands.
She looked up to see John standing over her as he pressed the
OFF
button.

“Don’t kill me.” She scrambled away from him
and her back hit a corner wall. “Please.”

A concerned look overcame the grim expression
that he’d just had. He crouched in front of her. “I’m not the
serial killer, Roni.”

She shook her head. “I saw all of the
pictures and the map on your wall. Women who look like me.” She
pressed herself farther back into the corner. “And you have a
picture of me. From before I even met you.”

“I can explain all of that.” He held his
palms down, like telling her to calm down. “I’m FBI. It’s my job to
track down the killer. What you saw was my work.”

“FBI?” She looked at him, her mind not able
to process what he was saying. “You said you’re in security.”

“You could say I am.” He moved a little
closer and she tried to push herself back. He held his hands up to
tell her he didn’t have anything in them and that he wasn’t going
to hurt her. “I protect people and eliminate threats. Working in
security is my cover.”

She shook her head trying to shake her
thoughts in line. “But you have a picture of me, taken before I
even met you.”

“I can explain that, too.”

“Was I an assignment or something?” Things
just weren’t computing. “I didn’t think someone in a law
enforcement career could spend twelve grand in a charity
auction.”

“It depends,” he said. “As for me, I had an
inheritance about three months ago. It’s more than I can ever do
anything with, so I like to spend it on charitable causes.”

“Why would you be working then?” She was
still having a hard time processing.

“Because I like my work.” He sighed. “Come
out from there and trust me, Roni. If I was going to hurt you I
would have by now, don’t you think?”

Her fear was starting to lessen. It was
true—if he was the killer she’d probably be dead right now and be a
picture on his wall.

She flinched as he reached into his back
pocket and pulled something out.

“Shhh.” He drew out a wallet. “I’m just going
to show you my credentials.”

She watched as he opened the wallet and she
saw a badge and his picture along with his name.

“Come on, honey.” He stood, pocketed his
wallet and held out his hand. “Let me explain everything. We’ll sit
down and I’ll get you a drink and we’ll talk.”

Her legs trembled as she stood, using the
wall for support as she rose. When she was standing she still
didn’t want to go forward and didn’t want to take his hand.

“Come on, honey.” He extended it further.
“It’s okay.”

Her pulse was slowing and reason was starting
to come back to her. She trusted John. She knew in her heart that
he would never hurt her. Just seeing those pictures and that map
had shocked her. It never occurred to her that he could be in law
enforcement and be working on the case.

She took a deep breath and reached for his
hand. When his hand grasped hers he drew her to him and enveloped
her in his embrace. At first she stiffened but then she relaxed and
pressed her face against his shirt and breathed in his comforting
scent.

“I don’t blame you.” He rocked her a little
as he held her. “Those pictures are shocking and not just anyone
would have them on his wall.”

“I guess you’re not just anyone.” Her words
were muffled against his shirt.

He drew back and her gaze met his. “No, I’m
not.”

With his arm around her shoulders, he
escorted her to the door of his office. “Stand here. I don’t want
you to have to see the pictures again but I want to show you a
couple of things.”

She remained in place, a part of her still
wondering if she should run. Her heart was still pounding but the
adrenaline rush that had powered her fear was starting to
subside.

He returned and he showed her an FBI award
certificate and a plaque, both with his name on them. “These are
just a couple of things. If you want more, I can show you
more.”

“That’s fine.” She took a deep breath. “I
think I’m okay now.”

“Good.” He put his arm around her shoulders
again and guided her to the kitchen and then to the table where he
helped her sit down. “First things first,” he said as he drew his
phone out of his pocket and then he punched in a number.

“This is Special Agent John Taylor,” he said
to whoever was on the other end of the line. “I need someone to
contact Baltimore police and let them know that a call that came
from my home address to 911 and it has been taken care of.”

He listened to whoever was on the other end
of the line then proceeded to give more detailed information. When
he was finished, turned off his phone and pocketed it again. His
gaze met Roni’s. “How about that drink now?”

She gave a deep, shuddering sigh. “I don’t
care how early it is, that’s exactly what I want.”

“It’s almost noon.” He took a bottle of vodka
out of the pantry, along with a few other things, and tomato juice
out of the fridge. “Good enough time as any.”

He made her a tall bloody Mary and handed it
to her then fixed one for himself.

The glass was cold in her fingers,
condensation already forming on its surface. “Can you start from
the beginning?” she said after she took a long drink and felt the
burn of alcohol as it made its way down her throat.

“The beginning?” He leaned back in his chair
and pushed his hand through his hair. “I was called in after the
third murder was committed. It became an FBI matter once the
killings extended to three states.

“I specialize in serial killers,” he went on.
“I have a pretty good record, but this one has been a bitch.” He
shook his head. “Not that they aren’t all bad.”

She swallowed more of her bloody Mary before
she asked, “How did you end up with a picture of me?”

“You were in the auction pre-program as being
one of the women and men who were to be auctioned off.” He gripped
his drink. “Two of the women murdered were in KC, the only
connection we’ve been able to find so far. If the other three were
involved in any way, we haven’t been able to determine the links.
You did match the profile of the woman he likes. Red head.
Mid-thirties. Curvy. The only things that are a constant are what
you’ve read in the paper.”

“So you followed me?” She gripped her glass
with both hands. “Or had me followed?”

“Yes.” He gave a slow nod. “I followed
you.”

“So what was this?” She held her hands out.
“You bought me to protect me? And had sex with me to keep track of
me? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“No, that wouldn’t make sense.” He looked at
her with the same kind of expression he’d had when she’d met him,
when he’d looked like he’d gotten over his head. “Something about
you made me want you and I didn’t want any other man to get his
hands on you.”

“And then you didn’t know what to do with
me.” She couldn’t help a little smile. “But then I showed you.”

“Yes, you did.” He shook his head. “This—you,
me—went places it never should have gone.”

“How do you feel about that?” Her voice
softened. “Do you think it was a mistake?”

“No.” There was a fierceness to his tone.
“Nothing about you is a mistake, Roni.”