Love You Always (12 page)

That just about makes me want to push that finger deep inside me, but I let him lead this seduction, so his fingers gently rub the lips of my vulva, and oh dear Lord, if he continues to do that, I’m going to come.

My hips writhe and a soft moan escapes my lips—I’m delirious with the pleasure he’s invoking.

“I’m going to come if you continue much longer,” I warn him, and I feel his fingers pause, but instead of pulling back, he glides them down my inner thighs, then with some force, he spreads them further apart, and another moan leaves my lips as his fingers once again touch me on the moist entrance of my pussy.

“You’re so wet and ready,” he whispers in my ear as he pushes a finger into me. Oh God, I just about squirt my juices as he moves in and out, making me go crazy.

I squirm, and moan, and I want to squeeze my thighs together so I’m no longer tortured with such teasing pleasure.

“I’m going to give you what you’re waiting for this time, because I need it so badly too right now, but next time, I’m taking my time with you.”

Next time? He’s already making plans to make love to me again? Oh my God, my mind reels with the sexual excitement my body is experiencing, and I turn my head, biting down on my lip.

He stops and reaches into his nightstand to take out a condom. While he readies himself, I touch his back and trace his scars with my fingertips. He turns his head to look at me.

“Not too pretty, are they?” he says.

“They’re not so bad,” I reply as I continue to touch them. “They’re a part of you, so they don’t bother me. They’re a reminder of the hero you are.”

He smiles at me, appreciative of my acceptance of his marred body, but his smile disappears fairly quickly.

“I’m no hero,” he says, his tone somber.

“Yes you are. You saved Angela. You took these burns on your back to prevent her from getting burned.”

I put my arms around him and hug his back. “You’re a hero. Angela knows it, and I know it. Don’t take that away from yourself.”

He turns his body towards me and he embraces me, squeezing me tightly to him as though he’ll never hug anyone again.

Then his lips are on mine, and there’s so much fervor in his kiss, that my body aches with unbearable passion and lust.

He gently pushes me back on the bed while his hands roam me, explore me, sending currents of electricity throughout my senses. Then he hovers over me, his lower body pressing against mine, and with a gentle thrust, he’s inside me, stroking me, filling me up with his hardened shaft, while sending me to sexual heights that make my thighs quiver.

My arms and legs wrap around him, working in tandem to his rhythm as he thrusts all the tension—all his anxiety that he’s been enduring—into me, and I’m caught up in his fervor because it’s mine too. And we make love with everything we have in us, until we’re panting with the fulfillment of our amazing climax.

He rolls off me and cuddles me in his arms. He holds me lovingly to him and whispers, “Thank you,” in my ear.

I turn to face him, and I see a drop of tear fall from the side of his eye. He’s thinking about his sister again. Oh God, he has to save her. Please let him save her.

We lie in each other’s arms, and my heart knows, yes, it undeniably knows—I’m falling in love with him.

~* Marcus *~

I’m falling for this woman. She’s amazing—strong, intelligent, insightful, great sense of humor, and beautiful, inside and out—what more can a man ask for?

She cares about people—she cares about Angela, and she cares about me, even if she’s only been in our lives for a short time. I’m glad she’s here, with me, throughout this ordeal, because she gives me comfort—her company makes my stress and anxiety tolerable.

I hope I didn’t take advantage of her by making love to her. But I so needed her in that way at the moment, and I sensed she needed me too. Her embrace, her kiss, giving me her body and soul, and doing the same for her, released so much tension in me, and filled a hole in my soul that was so deep, I was feeling buried in it and struggling to get out.

I hate to admit it but sex does help and it sure beats punching a wall.

But I didn’t make love to her just to relieve my tension—I’ve wanted to make love to her since we were at the lake. Laura moves me—she invokes emotions in me I haven’t felt in a long while. It took several months to fall in love with Sheryl—with Laura, I’m falling fast.

Laura’s sleeping in my arms while I spoon her. She breathes so quietly that I have to listen closely to hear it. I’ll let her sleep for a bit more and when she awakes, I’ll want to visit the FBI again. I hope they’ve made some progress.

After we got back from the bank this morning, I called George Cartwright about selling most of Angela’s and my shares in my father’s corporation. He said it would take a few days to draw up the paperwork, but he’ll get back to me as soon as it’s done so I can come in and sign them. I didn’t tell him why I was selling, because the less people know the better. If the press gets a hold of it, the publicity may make matters worse.

Thoughts of Angela pervade me now, wondering how she’s holding up, praying she’s okay and they haven’t hurt her. She’s been through so much in her life already, with losing our parents and David, and dealing with her agoraphobia. She must be terrified. Fuck. This shouldn’t be happening to her, she doesn’t deserve it. I’d trade places with her if I could.

Laura stirs and I squeeze her tight. She turns her head to look at me.

“Oh my, did I fall asleep?” she asks, seeming embarrassed.

“You must’ve been tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“I’m afraid not. How can I, with Angela being kidnapped?”

“Yeah, I haven’t slept much either.”

“I know,” she says in a tender and sympathetic voice.

“I’m going to see what the FBI has so far. Do you want to come?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

I smile at this lovely woman lying next to me.

“I don’t want to assume. You’ve been more than generous of your time.” I snuggle my face to her neck.

“I’m at your disposal, Marcus. You and Angela are well worth my time.” She puts her arm up to embrace my head.

“How did we get so lucky to have you come into our lives?” I whisper in her ear.

“It’s me who’s the lucky one,” she replies.

She turns her entire body around to face me, and her hand touches my cheek in the most affectionate way. And with just the look in her eyes, I know what she wants. I move in and kiss her lips—it’s a kiss that says to her . . . thank you, and that she’s important to me, she’s a part of my life now, and I don’t want to ever let her go.

* * *

“Agent Crowley will be right out,” the receptionist says with a smile.

Within thirty seconds, Agent Crowley greets us. He’s a tall man, about three inches taller than I am and I’m 6 foot 2 inches. He wears the stereotypical black suit and conservative tie, and gel probably keeps his black hair groomed and kept in place. He looks in his early forties, he’s trim, and seems in good physical shape. I shake his hand and he beckons us to his office.

As we sit, he asks, “Do you want some coffee or anything to drink?”

“No thanks,” I reply.

“I’m fine,” says Laura.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t trace the call or zero in on their GPS location because the kidnappers aren’t using Angela’s cell anymore,” he says. “They probably used it only for the initial call so you’d answer. After that, they either destroyed her cell or removed her SIM card and battery.

“Looks as though the second call might’ve come from a prepaid cell. Those can easily be bought and used anonymously. Most likely they’ll use a different cell for each call they make to you to ensure they’re untraceable.”

“Sounds as though these kidnappers are pros,” I say.

“What bothers me is the size of the ransom,” Agent Crowley says. “The kidnappers would have to feel confident you can get that kind of money, otherwise, they’re just looking to fail with their demands. One mill, I can see, but five mill is high, especially since you aren’t high profile people.

“I hadn’t heard of you, or your father, or his corporation, so we did some research and the type of business his company is in, the average public would know about it or about you.

“These kidnappers either have an inside connection and know what you and your sister are worth, or someone within the company hired them to extort it from you.”

I can’t believe any of my father’s associates would do such a thing. This sounds incredible.

“Can you think of anyone who your father might’ve had differences with?” he asks.

“No. My father seemed well-liked. He didn’t have any enemies that I know of.”

“And you? Or your sister?”

I think for a moment who might want to do this to me, or to Angela.

“No, there’s no one.” I finally say.

He leans forward and clasps his hands, resting them on his desk. “Was there an investigation for the boating accident that killed your family?”

“They didn’t find anything suspicious, if that’s what you mean. It was deemed an accident. They said it happens. I remember reading about one in the U.K. not too long ago. The way the boat blew up and caught fire was very similar to ours.”

I look at him curiously. “Do you think there may be a connection, and it wasn’t an accident?”

“I don’t know, but there’s always a possibility. We have to look at all angles and connect the dots. It may lead us back to the kidnappers.”

I lean back in my chair as a sick feeling stirs my gut. Could one of my father’s associates have done this? But who?

“When are you getting the ransom money?” Agent Crowley asks.

“I’m having papers drawn up but it may take a few days.”

He looks at me with concern. “Go home and get some sleep, son. You’re not going to do us any good if you get sick. The local police are working with us around the clock, so we’ve got a lot of manpower behind us to get your sister back.”

He comes around his desk towards me, so I stand.

“Call me when you’ve got the ransom money ready to go. When the kidnappers set the drop off location, we’ll take it from there.”

“Thank you,” I say and shake his hand.

Laura and Agent Crowley exchange smiles and we head out the door. Laura was silent the entire time, sitting patiently, and listening attentively to the conversation. There’s really nothing for her to say to the FBI—she’s basically just keeping me company. It’s sure nice to have her with me.

“You hungry?” I ask her.

“Starved,” she answers.

“Let’s go have some lunch.”

~* Angela *~

I don’t know if it’s something I ate or I’m coming down with a bug, but I don’t feel very well. I’m cold, and shivering, and my body aches.

In the distance, I hear the cabin door open and footsteps on the porch.

“I should be back by nine tonight,” I hear the older kidnapper say. “You need anything?”

“Nah.”

“Call me if you do.”

There are more footsteps, but this time walking on earthy ground instead of planks of wood. An engine starts and then I hear the sound of tires crunching over small rocks and branches until it fades off in the distance.

I wrap my arms around my waist as I lie on the ground in a fetal position. My body quivers uncontrollably. This isn’t a panic attack; it feels more like having the flu.

The door unlocks and I hear his footsteps as the young kidnapper approaches.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asks. “Are you having another panic attack?”

My eyes can’t see him because they’re closed and my head is tucked under, but his voice is clear.

I don’t answer, I can’t answer, because my teeth are chattering, and I feel too weak, too sick to even move or utter a sound. His hand is on my forehead. He then swipes it to the back over my hair, almost fondly, as though I were a child he takes care of.

“Shit,” he says, but it’s not an angry curse, it’s one of worry.

I feel his arms scoop me up, and he carries me. Although I’m feeling some deliria, I’m still aware of what’s going on. I brace myself for a panic attack, but nothing, seems when he carries me, I’m okay outside.

He takes me to the cabin and lays me down on a bed. He leaves the room and I hear him opening and closing cupboards, then I hear ice cubes being moved around, and the water faucet running.

He’s back in the room and puts a large bowl down on the nightstand. He leaves again. Now he’s back with a washcloth. He dips it into the bowl and wrings it out.

I must have a high fever, and he’s going to try to cool me down. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I turn my head to face the ceiling. When he places the towel on my forehead—his eyes look into mine.

Although he looks at me caringly, I’m not going to smile at him; he doesn’t deserve my smiles. He’s a bad person and no matter what he’s doing to help me right now, I can’t forget that.

He places his hand on my cheek.

“You’re burning up,” he says with alarm in his voice.

He throws the washcloth into the bowl, then his fingers start to undo my buttons, and instinctively my hands rise up to stop him, but I’m so weak, and he’s determined, so he grabs my wrists and pulls them away and I let my hands fall to my sides.

When my dress is unbuttoned all the way to the hem, he removes it from me.

Please leave my underwear on, my thoughts yell out, as I watch his eyes scan down my body.

But he doesn’t hear me and removes them too until I’m bared naked.

Oh God, his eyes gaze over me again, and even in my fevered state, I’m aware of what’s happening and I try to cover myself. I moan with the misery of my illness, and as if reminded of the task at hand, he immediately wrings out the washcloth. Holding my arm in his hand, he wipes the cold cloth over its entire length, down to my hands, and to my fingers.

Another drench into the icy water and he does my other arm, and then my face and neck.

He pauses for a moment, staring at my breasts, and then wipes the washcloth slowly, deliberately, over my flesh. I can’t help but watch his eyes as they reflect his indulgence of my supple breasts as they jiggle with each motion he makes.