Protect (27 page)

Once she’d stopped resisting kissing him she
seemed to take it with all the enthusiasm she could muster. One of
her hands clenched at his back, the other found its way to his
hair, grasping the same way his were. And her tongue—so warm and
sweet. Jesus he loved the taste and feel of her. He could spend all
day in that kiss. He nibbled at her bottom lip, sucked at it, and
she fought against the playful stuff; pulling his head to hers
harder, closing her mouth on his, her tongue seeking and
demanding.

On its own his cock found its way to her wet
heat, nudging against the opening as she tried to bear her hips
downwards. He resisted that, smiling as she grunted. Without
breaking the kiss he inched in slowly, but every time she tried to
speed him along he stopped, withdrew and started his slow progress
again. It was taking all his control but it seemed to be costing
Sharon her sanity.

When she realized what he was doing she
stopped trying to control the situation though, letting him fill
her slowly. When he was buried to the base he had to part their
mouths to groan, blinking down at her.

She was flushed again, which he loved. Her
lips were parted as she breathed erratically, and her eyes were
wide.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed, kissing
along her jawline. She tilted her chin up to let him do it.

“Fritter,” she whimpered.

He pulled out, just a bit, then slid back
inside again. She made another impatient whimper. “You feel
beautiful.”

“Fritter.”

He pulled nearly free, then stared down at
her. She was breathing harder, blinking faster. Out of control, the
only time he’d seen her like this. He shoved his cock into her
harder and faster and she bellowed, eyes clamping shut, head going
to the side. He did it again, and again, not mindlessly pounding
into her but timing it. Regular intervals, completely fascinated at
how she squirmed and shifted, bit her lips, cried out, threw her
head from side to side with each thrust.

Out of his body, totally in his head, focused
on her, he bore out her orgasm, feeling the flutters of her body
along his cock as though it was all for someone else, issuing that
adorable squeak again. Then when she was done she gave a pitiful
gasp, staring up at him with water in her eyes, clasping his face
with both hands.

“Jesus, Sharon,” he muttered, not sure what
he
could
say.

“Amazing,” she moaned, still shaking. “Oh my
God.”

He nestled his face into the side of her
neck, letting her collect herself. Gradually his hips started
moving again, and with a soft gasp hers rose to meet each motion.
When he shifted up to his elbows she grasped his face again and
pressed her mouth to his. He growled, tilting his hips upward
slightly, making her gasp into his kiss. He swallowed it, and all
the ones that came after.

Limbs entwined, they writhed together until
he was close to finishing. At that point he realized he wanted her
from behind. He withdrew, which made her moan, then he tossed her
over onto her stomach. There was no way he should be able to
manhandle her that easily but she was limp, letting him do it. He
pulled up on her hips and slammed into her again, staring down at
her back, running his hands along her spine and sides, eventually
gripping her hips to pull her back and forth against his
thrusts.

She crested again, squeaking and tensing. He
watched the muscles in her back bunch, her arms as they clutched at
the sheets. The sight of it made him come, and with a loud grunt
that cracked his jaw he slammed in deep, bottoming out which made
her squeak again. He held her in place as the orgasm raged through
him, impossibly long, then he backed off. She collapsed onto her
stomach, limbs askew, panting and shaking.

Such a great view. The best. But he had to
get rid of the rubber.

When he returned to bed she still hadn’t
moved. He flopped down on his back, hand at the center of his
chest, knowing he was grinning as he let his eyes slide closed.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, face half
obscured by the bedding.

He checked his watch. “Holy shit. It eight
o’clock already. We spent all day in bed.”

“What?” she reared up on her elbows, eyes
wide.

“Eight o’clock.” He grinned, reaching out to
tug on a lock of hair. “What’s wrong?”

She flew off the side of the bed, grabbing a
pair of pajama pants and pulling them up over her long legs.

Fritter sat up, frowning and scratching his
head. “What’s wrong, Sharon? What’s going on?”

“I have to go check in at the station. I need
to release the body and ...” she trailed off as she clasped her bra
and turned it the right away around, pulling it into place, looking
for her shirt on the floor.

It was like a cold wash of water.
Mickey
. Fuck, he’d forgotten. For a couple hours, he’d
completely forgotten his brother.

Without another word he went on the same
clothing hunt, in his jeans as she pulled her bedroom door open. He
just got his socks and sneakers on, then carried his T-shirt and
kutte as he went after her. “Sharon, look. I’m sorry for keeping
you.”

At the bottom of the stairs she froze and he
nearly plowed into her. Then he saw what had stopped her in her
tracks; her kid, Brayden, was on the sofa with headphones on, a
video game on the TV. He looked to them, then away immediately
while giving a distracted nod.

Sharon looked to Fritter, and he had to grin.
“Shit,” he said, not able to tamp down the chuckle that rose in his
throat.

She yanked him by the arm, right into the
kitchen. “Oh my
God,
” she was hissing, face pink again.

“Think he could hear over the video
game?”

“You saw his face. Of course he did!”

The laughing didn’t stop, but it wasn’t
contagious. Unfortunately. She was glaring up at him, hands on
hips. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“No, it’s not.”

He placed his hand on her side, and she let
him, falling still. “Hey. He’s old enough to know his mom has had
sex, and is still getting laid.”

“That is so disturbing to hear.”

“It’s true, though. I’m sure he’s dipped wick
by now.”

“Yeah, he has. That’s not the point.”

Fritter felt his eyebrows rise. “Really? You
two talk about that?”

“He tells me about
him
, Fritter. I
have never had anything to really contribute to the
conversations.”

With a grin he bent down. “Well, now you do.
You’re welcome.”

She smacked him in the chest, but she was
starting to smile. He backed away and handed her his kutte. She
took it in both hands, then watched as he pulled his shirt on. He
took back his leather and slid that on, too. “I’ll go out the same
way I came in. I won’t be seen, I promise. I’ll head to the
clubhouse.”

“Okay.”

After a moment he dipped his head, and she
stepped into him, hands on his hips, rising up on her toes a bit to
give him a quick kiss. Shit, that was nice.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

“You too.” Then with a wink he was out the
back door.

“Major trauma to the brain, and blood loss.
Those are your causes of death.” Chad McTavish rubbed one temple,
pushing away from the morgue wall with a deep sigh. “It was
definitely the shot to the head.”

Sharon nodded, crossing her arms. “I
figured.”

“If you don’t need me any longer, Sheriff, I
really need to get back to bed.”

“Sure. Thanks, Chad.”

He nodded and with a weak wave he was off
down the hall. She waited a moment then headed the opposite way to
the waiting room outside the hospital morgue’s doors. On the other
side Jayce and Jolene were waiting, and she was not looking forward
to this. The last time she’d seen Mickey’s wife she’d tried to
punch her, and she’d hate to have to put the woman on her ass to
defend herself.

Jolene stayed sitting but Jayce was up on his
feet immediately. She waited until he was about two feet away
before speaking. “Cause of death was definitely the shot to the
head. After I left last night Deputy Sheriff Troy assessed the rest
of the garage and left his report for me. It wasn’t just the safe.
Someone went through the entire place, opening every cupboard and
tool tray in the entire shop. No prints, but they were looking for
something. Do you have any idea what it might have been? You don’t
have to tell me, obviously, but it’s something to keep in mind when
you’re figuring out who did this.” None of that was her staging a
crime. Someone had honestly been hunting for something.

As she had spoken Jayce’s face went from
grief, to rage, to honest confusion. She believed every change.

“Okay. Thanks, Sheriff.”

She nodded, then her eyes went to Jolene. The
woman wasn’t wearing make-up for the second day in a row and Sharon
found that to be the single most telling aspect of her appearance.
She’d done her hair but somehow Jolene still looked destroyed. “Is
she going to be okay?”

Jayce followed her gaze then nodded. “Yeah.”
He turned back to her. “She got something to help keep her calm.
She’s still ... in shock.”

“If anything else comes up I’ll let you
know,” Sharon promised, voice low. “As much as I can without
sticking my neck out too far, Jayce.”

He was already nodding, taking her arm in his
hand. “I know. I know, I understand the shitty spot we put you in
here. Thank you, Sharon. I mean it.”

She looked down at his hand, then pulled
free. “It’s Markham,” she reminded him. “Everything we’ve done is
for Markham. Isn’t it?”

Jayce shoved his hands in his pockets, his
own veil of calm falling back into place. “Yeah, it is.”

“So don’t thank me. Just find them and end
them.”

“Plan on it.”

She’d never been in a position where she was
sanctioning and discussing a murder. If it hadn’t been a resident
that might as well have been a born-and-bred member of the Markham
Club, she might be bothered by this. But for Mickey, she’d ignore a
few laws and ethical cornerstones.

Jolene approached them then, and her hand
went to Jayce’s elbow. He let her hold it, his eyes going to Sharon
with a flare of worry.

“I’m sorry for what I did yesterday,” Jolene
said slowly, almost in a slurred way. Her eyes were fuzzy, her
pupils pinned. “That wasn’t fair of me.”

“It’s okay,” Sharon assured her,
uncomfortable with apologies. “You had reasons.”

Jolene snorted. “Yeah, I guess I did. Can I
go home now?”

Jayce was nodding just as a cell phone began
ringing. Sharon knew it wasn’t hers, and Jayce pulled an
ancient-looking flip phone, turning away from her. Jolene went with
him, and Sharon took her chance to get the hell out of there.

She went up the stairs to the entrance to the
emergency administration desk of the hospital. As she did her phone
went off and she slowed to answer it. “Downey.”

“Sharon, are you able to get to the Sheriff’s
office in about ten minutes?”

It took her a couple seconds to place Agent
Hogan’s voice. “Um, I suppose. What’s this about?”

“Press conference.” Then he hung up on
her.

She paused, looking down at her phone. What
the hell? A press conference at
her
office? Without her?

With a few slammed doors and muttered curses
she made her way back to the department, the sun long gone as she
pulled into her spot. She shoved the door open with more force than
it really needed and stopped, totally surprised to find two
three-team news crews in her lobby as well as Dylan Prescott, the
local news reporter that put out his own weekly newspaper in
Markham. She checked her watch. Yep, it was nearly nine
o’clock.

The TV crews were both from Bakersfield.
Markham did not have a TV station, nor did it usually garner the
kind of attention that would bring two different stations out for a
press conference. Then again, it wasn’t a country sheriff calling
for the conference. It was a fancy-ass DEA agent, and when Hogan
saw her, he gave her his widest smile and motioned her over.

Too stunned to do anything else, she made her
way through the small crowd and stood next to him. Without a word
to
her
Hogan cleared his throat loudly, which brought the
three microphones in attendance even closer. No sound system for
this press conference.

“Thank you all for attending at this late
hour. I’m Agent Terrance Hogan, Drug Enforcement Agency. This is in
response to the multiple requests we’ve had for a statement on the
bloodshed experienced lately here in Markham. The most recent
incident is being investigated by the Federal Bureau of
Investigations, and we will be assisting them with that as
well.

“What I
am
prepared to discuss tonight
is last month’s shoot out on the Lion Gate freeway here in Markham
County. Nine people were killed, and we have officially connected
them all to the Galiendo drug cartel, which have recently gone
through an upheaval in Mexico from a rival cartel. A lieutenant in
the Galiendo cartel was taken hostage and flown here for unknown
reasons. It appears a faction still loyal to the Galiendos
attempted to retrieve him and he was accidentally shot in the
process. That is where our investigation stands. I will now take
questions.”

There was a clamor of voices and Sharon
wondered why it was so damn important for her be here. Then she
clued into the questions being asked.

“What can you tell us about the twenty-seven
homicides carried out here in Markham just three nights ago?”

“The recent synchronized killings at various
homes in Markham have people concerned. Is there any reason to be
afraid?”

Hogan held out a hand as he replied. “As I
stated, the most recent incident is under investigation by the FBI.
I am not here to comment on their case, only the one I’m working
on.” His smile turned to Sharon, wide and way too fucking sincere.
It reeked of practice. “I’d also like to thank the Markham County
Sheriff’s Department for their cooperation with our
investigation.”