Oceans of Fire (42 page)

He swore she laughed. Sensations rippled through him and need clawed at his gut and tightened his groin until he was certain he would explode. He took a deep controlling breath and pulled back, wanting the haven of her body again. He dragged her head back and caught her around the waist, lifting her. “Straddle me.”

Abigail widened her thighs and settled over him with a slow, seductive wiggle that sent deep shudders of pleasure through his body. She was hot, hotter than he’d ever known her to be, so tight he had to work through the velvet soft folds, and each push sent a roaring through his head and tightened the knots in his stomach. His fingers bit into her waist and he began to force her body to ride him hard and fast, setting the brutal rhythm with his surging hips. Her muscles convulsed around his almost immediately. She cried out, her head back, long hair brushing his thighs.

He slammed into her, driving deeper, that edgy need claiming him, taking him over, as she arched back, giving him better access to her most sensitive spot. Her muscles clamped down on him like a vise; liquid heat surrounded him. His entire body felt the building hunger, a painful contraction of every muscle, waiting, anticipating.

She climaxed again, so hard this time her body shuddered and her small muscles gripped him like a hot fist, milking him dry, taking everything from him until there was no choice but to lose his control and empty himself into her.

Abigail collapsed over him, her head on his shoulder, her hair everywhere in a wild tangle of red silk. Her breath came in the same rasping gasps as his did. He could feel her heart pounding through her soft skin. Aleksandr brought up his arms to enclose her, to wrap her tightly against him. “I need to hear you say it, Abbey.”

“I just showed you.” She licked his throat, a small flick of her tongue.

He was enjoying the aftershocks rippling through her body and that little flick only heightened his pleasure. His fingers shoved her hair aside. “I still want to hear you say it.”

“You’re so greedy. You want everything.”

He loved that drowsy, sexy note in her voice as she teased him. He reached down and pulled the comforter over their bodies. This was how he remembered so many nights with her. Making love so many times, so many ways they were both exhausted and covered in sex and each other. Neither could move. Neither wanted to move. They could only lay wrapped in each other’s arms trying to find a way to breathe and calm their pounding hearts.

“Say it,” he insisted. “I tell you all the time. I think there should be a rule you have to tell me at least once every time we make love.”

“Then you’d be spoiled.“ Her eyes were closed. He could see the dark fringe of lashes on her cheek and the faint smile curving her mouth.

“I need to be spoiled.”

She yawned and snuggled closer to him. “I love you very much, Sasha.”

Satisfaction swept through him. He held her to him, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. His body had slipped from hers, but he lay snug in her nest of curls. He shifted her gently until she was on her side with him curled around her, his favorite position to sleep. And he knew he would sleep. She’d managed to calm his mind and soothe whatever demons had held him in their grip.

He held her to him, listening to her breathe. When she was almost asleep he whispered into her ear, “If I touch you again, will you come alive for me? Will you let me have you, Abbey?” He slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her feminine mound. “As tired as you are, will you still give yourself to me?”

She turned her head toward him, smiling, her green eyes looking straight into his. She reached behind her with one hand to cup his neck, to arch back and find his mouth with hers, kissing him with every bit of passion and hunger and surrender she’d shown earlier. “Do you think anything has changed in ten minutes?”

She was laughing at him. He bit down on her lower lip, tugged for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. “Go to sleep.”

“Will you be able to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“If you wake up in the middle of the night…”

“I already know exactly how I’ll wake you,” he promised.

Chapter 17

THE pounding on the door of her family home brought Abigail to her feet, and the research paper she was writing slid to the floor and the notebooks scattered in all directions. She knew something was wrong before she opened the door, but the last person she ever expected to see was Sylvia Fredrickson.

Abigail stared at the woman, shocked by her appearance. Sylvia’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her clothes were disheveled and she sobbed wildly. “Sylvia!” Unable to think what else to do, Abigail drew her into the house. “What is it? Were you in an accident?”

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Sylvia’s eyes were wide with shock as she stared around the living room, as if afraid something would jump out and attack her. “I had nowhere else to go.”

“Let me call Libby. Do you need an ambulance? The police?” Abigail could see the red and black aura surrounding Sylvia. “Sit down. Are you going to faint?”

“No! Don’t call the police. Whatever you do, don’t call them. You have to help me. I don’t know what to do.” She began wringing her hands together. “I don’t know what to do. You’re smart. All of you are really smart. You have to tell me what to do.”

Abigail glanced down at the torn nails, the bruising on Sylvia’s wrists and arms. “All right. Just sit down. Take a deep breath. I’ll help you. I will, Sylvia. Please sit down.” She could feel the woman trembling as she assisted her into a chair. “Just tell me what happened and we’ll figure it out together.”

Abigail waved a careless hand toward the mantel to light several candles and aromatic diffusers and fill the air with the scents of roman chamomile, geranium, and lavender to aid in comforting Sylvia.

“I know you hate me, and I shouldn’t have come here, but there’s nowhere else to go. I don’t know what to do and you always do.” Sylvia took the tissue Abigail handed her and blew her nose. “You won’t believe me, but I really love Mason. I do. I would never have cheated on him, but we had this terrible fight and I was angry with him and Bruce was at the bar complaining and we both got drunk. I was just so drunk.”

“What happened tonight?” Abigail prompted.

“They’re going to hurt him.” Sylvia leapt to her feet and began pacing, twisting her hands together again in agitation. “They might even kill him. You have to help him. You have to do something.”

“Who’s going to kill Mason? Why?”

“Chad Kingman.” Sylvia spun around. “He’s doing something terrible. Illegal. And he’s mixed up with some very bad people. Chad looked awful, his face all black and blue and swollen.”

“Sylvia, is Mason in trouble right now? Where is he?” Abigail hung on to her patience. “I know you’re upset, but if you don’t calm down and tell me everything, I can’t help either one of you.”

“Sylvia,” Libby greeted the woman as she entered the room, the other Drake sisters following. Libby took the woman by the arm and led her back to a chair. “Please sit down. I’ve brought you a cup of tea. Take a couple of sips and you’ll feel much more able to tell us what happened.”

“You can’t go to the police,” Sylvia said anxiously. “I know if you go to the police they’ll kill him. I overheard them talking. They want the Russian, Aleksandr Volstov. Abigail knows him. She was with him all evening at the Caspar Inn.” She reached out again to Abigail and gripped her hands hard. “Please talk to him. Tell him he has to go and get Mason back.”

“Why do they want Aleksandr?” Abigail made eye contact with Joley, who nodded and left the room to make the call.

Sylvia took the teacup from Libby and inhaled the soothing aroma. She was obviously struggling to get her breath back. Libby sat beside her and very gently wrapped her fingers around Sylvia’s wrist. The trembling lessened and Sylvia dragged air into her lungs.

Abigail crouched in front of the disheveled woman. “Tell us what Mason’s involved in.” She wanted to keep Sylvia calm until Aleksandr arrived.

“Chad called me at home yesterday and told me Mason was going to the big party at the art gallery. He knows how I feel about Mason. We’ve always been good friends and he knew I wanted to patch things up with Mason.” She touched her face. “I ran out and bought a new outfit and went, even though I knew it would be awful and no one would talk to me. I just wanted Mason to see I was serious about being with him, but everything went wrong.”

“And you were angry with me,” Abigail said.

Sylvia nodded. “I thought it was your fault. He found out about the affair because of you and every time he saw the rash on my face it just reminded him of what I’d done.” She ducked her head. “I was so desperate to get rid of it I even went to see Lucinda, the voodoo lady over in Point Arena, but nothing she did worked. I was talking to Ned Farmer and the stupid rash was suddenly all over my face and I turned around and Mason was standing there. I could see his disappointment in me. He walked away without saying a word.” Tears filled her eyes all over again.

“I’m sorry, Sylvia,” Abigail said gently, “but where is Mason now? You have to tell us what happened to him. What happened to you?”

“I’m trying to.” Sylvia took another sip of tea. “Mason went into the back where Chad works. I waited and waited for him to come back out so I could talk to him, but he didn’t. And then I ran into the Russian, the one you were with at the Caspar Inn.” She swallowed convulsively several times. “I was so angry with you. I wanted you to hurt the way I was hurting and I asked him to go in the back room. I though Mason would be there, but he wasn’t.”

“It’s all right, Sylvia,” Abigail soothed. “I understand.”

Sylvia shook her head. “No, you don’t. Mason never went home. I sat on his porch all night and he never came home. I went by his boat and he wasn’t there either so I decided to go ask Chad where he was. They’re such good friends.” Her voice broke. “I thought they were good friends.”

“I’m sure Aleksandr will help,” Abigail offered. She’d known Sylvia since the third grade and she’d never seen her so broken.

“Mason really loved me. He didn’t think I was stupid or a slut, or any of the other things everyone else thinks. I can’t believe how stupid I was to ruin everything over a dumb fight.”

“Sylvia, where is he? What happened to you?”

“When he didn’t come home, I went down to Chad’s place to ask him if he’d seen Mason. Chad was just getting into his truck and he didn’t see me waving him down. I followed him to that old abandoned barn just past the turnoff to Caspar. You know the one that looks like it might fall down any minute? It’s overgrown all the way up to the house. I parked my car a distance away and sneaked up on him.”

“Why?” Abigail looked at Sylvia’s dirty jeans, the knees torn and black.

“I don’t know. He was acting strange and he was beat up like he’d been in a terrible fight. He kept looking around like he expected to be followed and I was afraid. I thought maybe he’d gotten into a fight with Mason. I hid in the grass and crept up on the barn until I could look through one of the cracked boards.”

“Sylvia!” Abigail was horrified. “You could have been killed. What were you thinking?”