Hush (8 page)

Near Tangleheart:
Tuesday,
2:00
A.M.

A
NNA TRIPLE
-
CHECKED THE
front door of the cabin, making sure she’d engaged the deadbolt. Luckily, the new property owners never bothered to reset the combination on the electronic lock. The cabin and its contents were of no interest to them—they only cared about the land—and that had saved Anna and Charlie the trouble of breaking a window.

Not counting the thick layers of dust, everything inside seemed just as her family had left it, though she couldn’t be certain until morning. Without electricity, they’d had to search the cabin using the flashlight feature on their cells, and now their batteries were so low they couldn’t afford to use the phones as reading lights. The clippings would have to wait a few more hours—until the sun came up. The part of her brain that operated on logic told her she’d have more luck with the clippings after a few hours rest, but her breath released in a frustrated rush anyway.

“No sign of them.” She hadn’t really expected to find Simone and Bobby at the cabin, but she had
hoped
. The knots in her gut told her she’d been hoping much harder than she’d realized.

At the window, Charlie let the curtains fall back. “Far as I can tell, no one’s creeping around out there. I’m sure we weren’t followed, so unless Boots knew where we were headed—which is impossible since we didn’t know ourselves until an hour ago—we’ll be safe here tonight.” He crossed the room to stand beside her. “I know you’re disappointed Simone and Bobby aren’t here, but Anna, you knew it was a long shot. I’m sure Hawkins has called in outside help by now, so at least we’re not the only ones looking for them.”

“We’ll find them soon,” she said, more to herself than to Charlie.

We have to.

“Stay positive.”

“I am trying.” Closing her eyes, she imagined a fire crackling in the hearth, the smell of cedar filling the room. She licked her lips, practically tasting the hot chocolate on her tongue. This cabin was one of the few places she’d been happy as a child. Her father came up most every weekend during hunting season, plus a fair amount in summer. With no wife at home, he’d been forced to bring his girls along. Simone used to dread the isolation of the cabin, but Anna relished the chance to escape the taunts of the neighborhood bullies.

Freak! Freak! Why don’t you speak?

Sometimes the most hurtful words came from the adults.

Leave her alone, kids. The poor girl’s retarded
.

If Simone was with her, she’d yell and curse and threaten Anna’s tormentors with her fists. But Anna would simply stand there, arms locked at her sides, her knuckles aching to rise up and punch somebody smack in the face. Only she never did. She didn’t fight back because good little girls didn’t curse and run wild in the street. And she
needed
to be good—good enough to make her mother want to come back home.

Of course, Mom never did come home.

Finally, Anna stopped hoping—and that’s when she stopped whispering. After all, she had Simone. And Simone had mothered her enough to drive any child stark raving mad. A small smile lifted her lips. It almost felt good, in a completely devastating sort of way, to know that the tables had turned and now Simone needed her.

At last it was her turn to look out for the sister who had always looked out for her.

Anna placed her hand over her belly and exhaled, willing herself to relax. Her limbs were wired with restless energy. She needed to go for a run to burn this tension. She needed to run and run and keep on running until every muscle in her body released its pain.

Rolling her neck to work out the kinks, she felt a strong hand come over her shoulder. A thumb started to stroke along the side of her neck, making her stomach loop and dive. When she opened her eyes, she got caught up in Charlie’s gaze, marveling at the way the cool blue of his eyes had gone all smoky. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing here daydreaming, or how long he’d been watching.

His knees bent, and before she could protest, he’d swooped an arm under her bottom and lifted her off the floor. “I’m sorry, Anna, but I need you
now
. I can’t wait any more.” His words came out in a low growl that sent shivers racing through her.

As he carried her into the bedroom, she let her head nestle against his chest, cherishing the feel of his cotton T-shirt, damp with sweat, beneath her cheek, cherishing
life
. She pressed her lips against the unyielding wall of his chest. It seemed she didn’t want to protest after all.

Inside the bedroom, still holding her in his arms, Charlie managed to yank open the curtains, causing a glaze of moonlight to coat the room.

“Anna.” He whispered her name, and the fine hairs on her arms rose. On the outside her skin prickled with chill bumps, but inside she blazed, like a carefully constructed pile of kindling that had finally found its match.

“Anna.” This time he moaned her name, mesmerizing her. Her limbs went slack, and she felt helpless to move. Didn’t
want
to move and break the spell. Because right here, and right now, there was no one else in the world. There was only Charlie, saying her name—rubbing his lips into the hollow of her throat, reminding every cell in her body that she was
alive,
and that she needed him too.

He lowered her onto the bed. The mattress creaked when he added his weight to hers, removed his shoes and socks. As she drank in the scent of him—sweat and adrenaline and male musk—prickles of excitement spread down her belly and twitched between her legs. Hurriedly, she kicked off her sandals.

On the nightstand beside the bed, a pistol flickered in the moonlight. Charlie had seen to everything, and right now all she wanted to do was lose herself in the moment. Right now all she wanted to think about was how good it felt to be with him.

Reaching out, he took her hands in his. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s been a wild night,” she replied, even though she knew that wasn’t the reason she trembled. He rolled on his side, facing her. Watching her from beneath hooded lids, he worked his knee between her legs, dragging it up and down until the friction from his body and the tug of her jeans had her aching and wet. Her hand went to her mouth to muffle a soft cry. He pulled that hand down, cupped her palm over his rock-hard length. “This is what you do to me,” he said, his voice low and throaty.

She fumbled with the buttons on his Levis, and he helped her push them down.

“Talk to me, Anna. Tell me what you need
.
”

She dipped her hand inside his boxers, cradled his erection, delighting in the slick, hot feel of him.

“Talk to me, Peaches.”

Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. Talking had never been her thing—and certainly not in bed. But she did know what she wanted. She wanted
Charlie.
She wanted him like she’d never wanted any other man.

“Naked. I want you naked.” Just saying those words felt freeing and conjured up all sorts of ideas of what she wanted to do to him—what she wanted him to do to her.

“That’s no problem.” He wriggled on the bed, twisting out of his Levis and boxers, while she worked his T-shirt over his head.

“Now you.” It wasn’t a request.

She scooted out of her jeans, out of her damp panties, and then sat back on her heels. Charlie lay on his side, never taking his eyes off her as she shed her blouse, her bra—all of her protective layers. Reaching up he caught one breast in his hand. Gently, he squeezed and played and fondled. He teased the sensitive skin around her nipple over and over again, frustrating her, driving her mad.

His eyes met hers. “Tell me, Anna.”

Her heart still fluttered in her chest, but she was no longer nervous. She didn’t know how Charlie had done this to her, but it didn’t matter. She liked it.

She’d never been in so much danger, and yet she’d never felt so safe.

She moved his fingers to her hardened nipples. “I want to feel your mouth on me, here.”

“Not right now.”

She started to complain, but by then he’d pushed her legs wide, and she changed her mind about where she wanted to feel his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, slipping his thumb between her folds, and working it in slow circles over her until she wanted to scream. At last, he put his mouth on her. He pushed his fingers inside her, while he licked and sucked and flicked his tongue.

She writhed against him, wanting more, so much more.

“Please.” She gasped and tugged him up by the shoulders until he lay on top of her.

He snuck his arms around her and rolled on his back, leaving her on top, straddling his hips. She took a moment to let her eyes feast on his body—the honed, hard muscles of his chest and arms, his flat tanned stomach. She loved the way his erection jutted out of the dark hairs that curled in his groin. She started to move down, wanting to taste him, wanting to drive him to the brink, as he’d done to her, but he clasped her wrists and dragged her back up. “Next time.”

Her hands gripped the sheets on the bed. He’d spoken as if he were certain there would be a next time. She couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t think at all.

Charlie spread her open and positioned her how he wanted her, with the head of his cock pressing against her opening.

“Kiss me,” he said.

His words rippled thorough her like tiny shock waves.

Impossible
.

They’d shared so much, been through so much together, and yet they’d never shared a kiss—not a real one. His lips had been on her hands, her neck, her back—her most intimate places, but they’d never…

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

Her heart hammered in her chest
. This
was what she longed for. More than anything, she wanted to kiss him. She bent her face to his, and he dropped his head back in surrender. She relished taking the lead, brushing her lips over his, curling her fingers through his thick, sweat-dampened hair. His mouth opened beneath hers, and their tongues met and tangled, slowly at first, then urgently.

His hands found her hips and guided her back in place. Slowly, she let him stretch her, enter her, fill her. She rubbed her breasts and belly over him and he moved inside her following her rhythm, letting her set the pace. The pleasure built and built. Wanting to prolong the sensation, she paused, but her control was too thin. With her next small movement, his next upward thrust, her muscles clenched around him. One climax ended, and then a second wave engulfed her. He bucked beneath her, and let out a loud, guttural moan. Pressure welled inside her yet again, but it wasn’t only her orgasm, this was something more, something coming from deep, deep inside. While her body trembled around him, her throat spasmed from the effort of containing her cries.

“Let it go, sweetheart. It’s safe here.” His hand found hers.

She looked at Charlie’s beautiful face, and then a series of loud, primal moans came shuddering out of her mouth. Joy poured through her, lifting her heart. She was making
noise—
a lot of it, and it felt so damn good.

Chapter Eight

Near Tangleheart: Tuesday, 6:00
A.M.

C
HARLIE GLANCED IN
the cabin’s bathroom mirror, dragged his fingers through his disheveled hair and shut down the emotion that made it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. Anna had turned away from his kiss when they’d awakened this morning, but now was not the time to dwell on the matter.

They’d taken a few hours to rest, just until the first light of morning began sifting through the cabin windows—it would’ve been futile to work by moonlight, and they needed sleep badly. Grateful the property owners had kept the water on, if not the electricity, he washed his hands, and then exited the bathroom.

He found Anna in the kitchen. The sun’s first rays pinked her skin and floated a halo of light above her freshly brushed hair. Her blood-shot eyes sported dark circles below. She looked like an angel—an angel who’d just pulled a double shift at Billy Bob’s.

A piece of old poster board had been laid out on the picnic-style table, and some colored pens leaned in a jelly-jar glass. Apparently, librarians carried colored pens in their purses. Anna had removed the newspaper clippings from the folder and judging from her assorted piles she’d wasted no time getting started on them.

“Morning, beautiful.” He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.

He couldn’t help himself.

Her shoulders jumped, and she quickly slipped out of his embrace. Clearing her throat, she pointed to the warped piece of poster board on the tabletop. “I thought we’d make a murder board.”

Uncomprehending, and more than a little put off, he turned his palms up.

“You know, like the one Beckett uses on
Castle.
I think it’s a good way to get organized, and I want to—”

“Get our ducks in a row.” He didn’t have a clue what Beckett did on
Castle,
but he was in for a penny already. “So we’re going to stop a killer and find Simone and Bobby by using petrified poster board, colored pens and…your knowledge of television crime shows? Have I got that right?”