Bombshell: A BWWM Billionaire Amnesia Romance Suspense Novel (7 page)

Chapter Ten

Holly drove Jimmy to the last place she’d seen her best friend. They parked in half empty parking lot and walked up the steps.

“Whoa!” Jimmy said as they walked inside. They took in the scene of the wrecked bar. “It looks a lot worse in day light.”

Holly noticed several townspeople in the room, armed with dustpans and broomsticks, starting the cleanup. Holly stomach turned at the sight. Seeing the damage reinforced that the whole thing really happen. Shit had in deed gone down last night and Jana had been in the thick of it.

“There’s the light,” Jimmy said. Holly followed him as they stepped over debris. “Damn it, the lens is cracked.” Jimmy bent down and flipped a switch and it powered to life. He sighed with relief, and turned it off. “Thank God it still works. You gonna help me pay for the lens? It was your idea to bring the spot.”

“I’ll try to, of course,” Holly said. But, she didn’t care about that right then. She wanted to find clues about Jana.

“What are you doing here?” came a harsh female voice. Holly and Jimmy both turned to see a sour faced women coming towards them, her hands covered in yellow dishwashing gloves, and apron tied around her bony waist.

Jimmy wasn’t easily intimidated. He raised his shoulders and chin up and Holly decided to let him speak. “I’ve come to get my spot light and check on something my friend left in the dressing room.”

“Who are you?” the woman asked, still sounding hostile.

“I’m Jimmy and this is Holly. We’re actually looking for a friend. She was here last night, one of the performers. She was the one singing when the fight started.”

“She never came home last night – she lives with me,” Holly added. “We’re super worried about her. We just came here to find any clues – because this was the last place anyone saw her.”

“There’s no clues here,” the women snapped. “You should leave.”

Holly bristled at the woman’s unpleasantness, but Jimmy just ignored her and started walking towards the stage.

“Where are you going?” the woman demanded. “I thought I told you to get out.”

“Whoa nelly. What’s going on?” said a man’s voice. Holly was relieved to see Sam, the owner of the bar. She knew him from his visits to the diner, where he become much beloved because he also had free drink and food tickets to pass out whenever he came into the diner. He was the nicest guy, everyone always said.

“They’re poking their noses where they don’t belong,” said the woman.

“Now, now, dear. I’m sure they’re not hurting anyone. Why don’t you young people come to my office and tell me what’s troubling you?”

“You shouldn’t do that,” the woman said, a threat more than a warning in her voice.

“Don’t be silly, Florence,” the man said with a nervous laugh as he escorted Holly and Jimmy towards his office.

Holly looked back at the woman, who she now knew must be Fish-Face Florence. The women glared at Holly then gave her the bird. Holly’s mouth fell open a little and she was torn between laughing and running away. She caught up with Sam and Jimmy and remembered what she’d heard about Sam’s wife. She now she understood why everyone in town hated her. She was the total opposite of her kind and beloved husband.
How such an odd couple had ever gotten together?

Inside the cramped office, Sam pulled out the security footage from the night before and rewound it. He then fast-forwarded it until he got to the point where the parking lot was filling up for the ten o’clock show. He kept fast-forwarding, when Holly shouted, “There, and stop.”

The security footage showed a view looking out from the front of the bar, down towards the entrance, and a portion of the parking lot.

“That’s my car,” she explained. Sure enough, the top of Jana’s body could be seen as she got out of the car. A moment later, Jana’s head disappeared off screen. Sam fast-forwarded until about the time of the incident in the bar. People were running out of the bar, and what could be seen of the parking lot was emptying fast.

“Stop,” Holly said again when Jana reappeared on screen. She was running alongside a man who was clearly dragging her by the arm. Then they ran off camera. “Shit,” Holly said. Sam continued to run through the footage, slowing it down.

“There’s the sheriff,” Jimmy shouted, pointing to the bottom of the screen. The sheriff had his arm out in front of him, the gun clearly visible. The gun suddenly rose slightly, then fell. There was no sound. “He just took a shot!” Holly said.

“You’ve got a video of the County sheriff firing a gun without provocation. Wow.” Jimmy said.

A moment later, part of a car backed into the top part of the screen, just for a second. Then a part of another car appeared on camera as if thrown into the shot. “Hey, that’s my car,” Jimmy said. “The bastard hit my car.”

“Back it up,” Holly said. Sam ran the tape back in slow motion until Holly told him to stop. “There,” she said, “see that white car – there’s just a part of it. Do you think that’s the car Jana left it?”

“Maybe,” Sam said.

“Can you guys read the license plate? Can you magnify that image?”

Sam stared at Holly. “Uh, sorry, miss - this isn’t some fancy equipment you find on some a TV show. This is just a basic recording. I’m afraid.”

He was being so nice. Holly felt guilty for asking too much.

“Of course, I’m sorry to be such a pain. Can either of you make out the numbers?”

The all stared at the image. It was fuzzy, but in the end they all agreed on the first few letters of the partial plate.

Sam wrote it down on a yellow sticky, and handed it to Holly. “I’m sorry about your friend, I hope you find her. Is there anything else I can do?”

Holly thought about something. “Hey, when we saw Jana leaving with that man – was she carrying anything?”

“No,” both Sam and Jimmy said together.

“Then, her stuff – her purse, her bag of clothes – must be still in the bar. Do you have a dressing room or somewhere – where we can look?”

“Sure, follow me.”

Holly and Jimmy followed Sam to a backstage area. They searched the entire room and came up short. No sign of Jana’s purse or clothes. Nada.

“I wonder what could have happened to her things,” Holly said to Jimmy after they thanked Sam for his help and went back outside to see how bad Jimmy’s car had been hit.

~~*~~ 

After the young people left, Sam locked himself in his office and berated himself for being such a coward. He had evidence now – evidence that could put the sheriff down. The SSB was in the building. He could show the security footage to the group and surely that would give them the courage to reach out to some higher authority. They could make their move – put the Sheriff out of commission – get back to their former, easy going lives. But, he couldn’t do it.

He was always the one dissuading the group from taking any drastic action. Why? Because Florence ordered him not to rock the boat. She told him he wasn’t meant to be a tough guy. She told him he was a coward. She fucked around on him and flaunted it in his face. And even though it killed him knowing she was screwing other men, it was also the only thing that made him feel alive.

She rarely told him who she was screwing, mostly she just gave him the physical details. She loved describing the hardness and the power of her lover’s thick cocks. His own cock had no power, no ability to satisfy her. Soft and impotent since the hunting accident, it was the constant target of her scorn. The only thing she let him do to her was spank her. She liked to be spanked. Sometimes she’d let him eat her out after he spanked her, but that hadn’t happened now in years. Now all she was willing to do, was masturbate in front of him with that giant black cock ordered from China. She’d pound it in and out of her pussy and tell him about her most recent fuck. Sam, didn’t even have the balls to walk over to her and squeeze her tits. He’d just sit there, on the chair by the bed and groan with pleasure as she cuckolded the fuck out of him.

He took the security footage out of the player and made a decision. He shoved it under the desk and scooted it out of sight. If the kids said anything to anyone about the footage, he’d claim not to recall anything and act surprised that the video had been lost.

He called for his wife, but she wasn’t around. Some of his friends still worked on cleanup.

“You guys, go home – I’m not opening tonight. Maybe not for a few days. I’ve got this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah – thanks, I’m sure.”

Sam locked the bar and headed out. Florence’s car was gone. She’d be out screwing someone, he had no doubt. She come home afterwards and make him dinner. Then she’d tell him all about her latest fuck, and if maybe if he was lucky, she’d let him spank her.

~~*~~ 

As soon as her husband took those nosey young people back to this office, Florence hurried backstage. After a moment of hunting, she found a plastic bag, stuffed behind a chair in the corner. Inside the bag, she found some clothes and a woman’s purse. She looked inside and opened the wallet. The ID showed the black women, the one who thought she was such hot shit, she didn’t need to use her real name on the form. What had she called herself? Bombshell?

Florence stared at the name again. Why did that ring a bell? Then it hit her. The last time she’d seen Harold, he’d dropped by her house – not to give her a quickie, but to show her a picture of a black girl. He’d asked if Florence had seen her. Something about needing to ask her questions about some police business.

Florence licked her lips, excited to have a reason to encourage Harold back into her bed. They’d had an amazing fling for several months, about a year ago - but then he’d lost interest in her.

She gathered up the bag and headed back towards the front. Remembering that the young people were looking for their friends things – she made the bag smaller in her arms and turned her body so they wouldn’t see what she was carrying.

But as she approached the partially opened door to Sam’s office, she heard something that made her stop in her tracks.

“That’s the sheriff pointing a gun. You’ve got it on tape!” She recognized the faggot’s voice. She needed to warn Harold.

She’d hurried past them unnoticed and almost ran to her car, anticipation coursing through her body. She stashed the women’s thing in her trunk, then drove out of the lot. Away from the bar, she pulled into a turn out and slowed to a stop.

She called Harold.

“What?” he said, he sounded annoyed.

“I’ve got something important to tell you about that woman you were looking for, and I wanted to warn you about what happened at the bar last night.”

“Can you meet me, in an hour?”

“Yes,” she said, breathlessly.

“Good, I’ll send you the text.”

“Where is it?”

“Out of town a bit. Oh, and Florence, wear something special for me – alright.”

“Yes, Harold.”

Thrilled beyond measure, Florence sped home to her house in the heart of Misty Falls. She showered and shaved then dressed in an outfit, she was sure he’d enjoy. She switched cars, opting for her convertible. She used her GPS to locate the house. It was farther in the mountains than she’d expected. The dirt road, took her into a part of the mountains with very few homes. She went past a boarded up home with several dilapidated and rusted out school busses parked out, then followed the signal until she came to a small wooden cabin nestled in a stand of pines. She saw not the Sheriff’s car, but another vehicle that she thought might be his. She checked her watch as she rolled to a stop. Good, she was late. “I hope, you plan to punish me,” she said out loud, as she added another coat of lipstick to her thin dry lips.

Chapter Eleven

After Merrick left, Bombshell was confused. She’d wanted to make love to him, but he’d rejected her. Why? They were supposed to be engaged, which meant they were in love, right? And people who were in love made love to each other. She didn’t get it.

Frustrated, and not tired enough to sleep, she nevertheless had no desire to run into him anytime soon, nor experience his rejection again. She looked in the mirror and gasped at the sight of herself. Her hair was a mess, and the ugly bandage didn’t help. She was wearing a clean but stained stretched-out t-shirt and no bra. The sweatpants did nothing for her figure, too tight in the waist and too short in the legs. No wonder he didn’t want to kiss her, or touch her.

She got out of bed and explored their bedroom. Or maybe it wouldn’t be their bedroom much longer. Maybe he was planning on dumping her. She looked in the mirror again and flinched. She wouldn’t blame him if he did. She had to do something about her appearance.

She looked through the room and checked the closet. He had a suitcase zipped up in the corner, but she had no luggage. She couldn’t understand how she’d lost her purse, her luggage and her memory, but he still had his suitcase.

She lifted it up. It felt pretty light. There were a few shirts hanging in the closet, so maybe he’d already unpacked it. Still, curiosity got the better of her, so she opened it up. It was empty except for some dirty clothes stuffed in a plastic bag. When she touched the bag, a shiver ran down her fingertips. Something about the plastic feel made her immediately drop it from her hand.

She shook her head, trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling. Maybe it was guilt. Just because they were engaged didn’t give her the right to go through his things. Did it? She zipped up the suitcase and put it back where she’d found it. Then she went to his jacket and put her hand into his pockets. The first pocket turned out to be empty, but there was a paper napkin in the other.

It wasn’t crumpled like a napkin used to wipe one’s hands, but folded neatly as if it had a greater meaning. She pulled the napkin out and carried it out of the dark closet into the light of the well-lit room. She read the handwritten words on what was clearly a cocktail napkin.

Tina Sanchez
951-555-5512
I have a twin sister.

She blinked. Why would her fiancé have a woman’s phone number written on a cocktail napkin in his pocket? She might not remember who she was or anything about her life prior to one day ago, but she knew she hadn’t just fallen off a turnip truck either. Heat prickled up her neck. That’s why he wouldn’t touch her. He was cheating on her. The bastard.

After memorizing the telephone number, she stuffed the note back where she’d found it, then closed the closet door behind her, leaving it the way she’d found it. She walked over to the window and looked at the beautiful view, but even the light bouncing off the creek at the bottom of gently sloping wildflower encrusted hill couldn’t stop the depression from settling in on her and crushing away all her happiness.

She found a blanket in a closet and lay on top of the bed, curling up in the blanket and trying to hold back the tears. It wasn’t fair. How could she be happy? She couldn’t remember anything. She’d somehow landed a rich and handsome guy, but he was a jerk, a philanderer, a cheater. She couldn’t possibly love him, or if she did, she’d have to let that go.

A new set of emotions blossomed. Anger, determination, revenge. If he was trying to shut her out, to end the engagement, to leave her with nothing – she’d make that darn hard. He wouldn’t dare dump her as long as she was still suffering from the injuries caused by the accident, would he? He couldn’t leave her alone to fend for herself when she didn’t know her former address, or what she did for a living, or the name of a single friend?

Having determined to do whatever it took to hang on to him and the protection he offered, until such time as she could say, “I do,” and then milk him in a divorce, she felt the pain throbbing at the back of her head subside, and she fell into a restless sleep.

~~*~~

MERRICK’S POV

Merrick almost didn’t go back to check on Bombshell, but she’d been asleep for almost two hours, and he was beginning to worry about her. Determined not to let himself get that close to her again, he had a plan, an explanation for being standoffish.

“Bombshell,” he said as he walked into the room. He expected to see her curled up in bed, or sitting in a corner reading one of the books from the shelves. He didn’t expect to hear her voice calling to him from the bathroom.

“Oh, Merrick, I’m glad you’re here. Can you help me?”

“Of course,” he said and walked into the bathroom. She was in the tub, naked. “Sorry,” he said, averting his gaze as he walked away.

“Don’t be silly, Merrick. We’re engaged, aren’t we? I’m sure you’ve seen me naked before.”

Merrick didn’t move.

“I need you to lend me a razor. Do you have one I can borrow, please?”

“Oh, of course.” Merrick went to his kit bag and rummaged for his Mach III. He handed it to her without looking at her.

“Why are you being so shy, silly? Come closer.”

Merrick inched towards her, his hand out. She pulled her breasts out of the sudsy water and leaned forward to take the razor. He turned his head and dropped it into the water.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong, silly?” she said. “Come back.”

“Bombshell, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until I shave my legs?”

“Well, yes, I suppose.”

“Then you better get that razor for me,” she said. Bombshell could tell by the sweat breaking out on his brow that she had him by the short hairs. “I can’t reach that far. Can you get it for me, please?”

Bombshell had used her hands to move the razor under her butt.

Merrick knelt down next to the tub, and she saw him gulp as he put his hand in the water. He started at the far end by her feet and felt around. It was so sudsy, considering she used almost a full bottle of shampoo, that he couldn’t see it.

“Where is it?” he asked, still looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Farther up. I thought I felt it just below my knees.”

Bombshell held her breath as he took the bait. The water sloshed as he moved his arm around, and they both gasped a little when his arm brushed against her lower leg.

“A little higher,” Bombshell said, her voice coming out in a rasp.

He stopped averting his eyes and let them fall onto her breasts, which rose proud and large above the foamy peaks of suds. His discomfort faded away, and his eyelids closed halfway as his blue eyes turned stormy grey.

He turned his body to get a better angle and, without taking his eyes off her, leaned over her and moved his hand slowly up the tub. Bombshell felt herself going wet, deep inside where the bathwater couldn’t penetrate.

“You’re getting warmer,” she said with a coy and sexy smile. “Warmer, hotter, hotter, oh God, so much hotter.” She licked her lips and held her breath, lifting her ass slightly off the porcelain. He was almost there, his fingers so close to her entrance. She watched his eyes spark and saw his lips part.

He pulled his hand away suddenly, sloshing water over the rim of the tub. “Oh, guess it’s not here,” he said. He was teasing her.

“No, colder, colder, freezing, please.”

“You mean, more this way,” he said. His hand landed on her wet knee, and he didn’t let go, moving his fingers slowly until the heat grazed the sensitive skin under her knee.

She sucked in a breath. “Warmer,” she said, her voice ragged.

He smiled and moved his hand so it cupped the inside of her thigh. Slowly, inexorably, he slid his fingers down her leg, inching closer, ever closer to her sex.

She stared at him, completely overcome with lust. If he loved her even a little, she could forgive him any transgression, past or future – so long as he didn’t stop. Her sex ached for contact, for his contact, and when it came, she gasped. Just his hand, resting on her opening, cupping her, warming her, made her crazy with desire.

“Am I getting warmer?”

“Yes, oh God, please, stop teasing me.”

His body now loomed over her, one knee on the edge of the tub.

She lifted her chest out and threw her head back, willing him to take a breast.

“You’re beautiful, Bombshell,” he said, and then his mouth found a nipple. She pushed her chest against his mouth. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub and she pushed her body higher, moving into him, rocking her hips against his hand between her legs. He was killing her, driving her mad, making her want him so bad. She couldn’t take it anymore. She moved her hand around his neck and lifted her face. His mouth sucked on the other nipple, so she found his neck and latched on. His head moved, and then their lips were together. His mouth on hers. Her mouth on his.

His tongue probed past her willing lips and teeth and met up with hers. They battled and danced and sucked. He pulled away slightly, so she groaned, her arms going tighter, pulling him back. Her teeth nibbled his lower lip. He moaned, then pulled away.

“No, please don’t stop,” she begged.

He put his arms around her and pulled her to her feet. She slipped as water dripped all around them, but he didn’t drop her. He placed his arms behind her back and legs, then lifted her up and carried her out of the bath. She leaned into him, her mouth seeking any part she could find, to lick and kiss and suck him. He carried her as if she was light as air, as she dripped all over his wooden floor.

When he placed her onto the bed, she was naked, wet and starving for more. She propped herself up on her elbows and followed him hungrily with her eyes.

“You’ve had a rough couple days. Interested in a little relaxation.”

“Oh, please,” she said, groaning as she lay back against the bedding. Slowly, he spread her legs apart.

He knelt on the floor, and she groaned with pleasure as his hot breath grazed her sex.

“Please, please,” she begged, and shifter her hips towards his mouth.

She moaned when his lips made contact.  Slow and blazing, he kissed her inner thigh, nipping at her entrance, probing and testing her edges. Moisture rushed to her pussy s she shimmied her hips, willing her sex onto his tongue. When his tongue dipped inside her, she almost came right there. Her hands fell to her breast, she kneaded and squeezed at the base, as if trying to bring forth milk.

As his tongue dipped and probed, and his mouth sucked and sipped, she heard hiss groan of desire.

“Your finger, inside me, please, Merrick, please.”

“Yes, Bombshell,” he said, and then he did it. His finger now, inside her, swirling the juices that had built up for so long.

“Oh God, you’re so wet.” Two fingers replaced the one finger, and he moved them in and out of her, slow and deep and bending around, finding her sweet spot.

“Suck me too,” she begged. He obliged. His mouth found her clit as his fingers probed and fucked her. A tension built deep in her stomach, the waves were coming.

“Oh, oh, God!” she said.

Merrick’s cock hurt so badly in his pants, but he ignored it. She was so close. He sucked and batted her clit with his tongue as his eager fingers delved as deep as they could. When he felt her body stiffen and clench around his fingers, he knew she was coming even before she cried out.

“Yes, Merrick, oh God.”

When her body finally stopped quaking, he removed his fingers from her soaking center. Her legs collapsed beneath him, still vibrating, and he breathed in her scent. God, she smelled like heaven, sweet and spicy with a touch of summer. He loved how she looked at him, her brown eyes hooded with desire. He lifted his head to return her gaze and gave her a mischievous little smile.

“Feeling good?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” she replied, nodding her head as she chewed on her lower lip.

“You want more?” he asked, teasing her. His face dropped down and he flicked his tongue along her inner thigh. She spread her legs apart, then straightened one leg out, pointing her toe above his head. He gripped her ankle. “I like this,” he murmured as he slowly kissed and nipped his way up her inner leg, stopping to suck on the sensitive skin behind her knee, waiting for her to moan.

“Oh God, Merrick, please.”

“Please, what?” he asked as he made a U-turn and drove his mouth back down her leg.

“Please fuck me,” she said.

Merrick’s cock was already hard as a rock, but it got even harder at those words.

He put his face back on her clit, hoping to distract her as he reached down out of her line of sight and shoved his pants and boxers down. His cock launched itself, like a missile, creating a divot on the edge of the bed.

“Please, please.”

She was begging for it. He wanted to give her everything. But she didn’t know what she was asking for. He should show her, give a chance to change her mind, give her a chance to say no, but somehow he couldn’t do it. Every fiber of his being wanted her, wanted to be inside her, wanted to be surrounded by her.

How many times had he gotten to this part of the night, only to see the girl’s eyes grow wide with fear before she’d inevitably say something like,  “Sorry, Buddy, but there’s no way that thing will fit.” Even though he knew it wasn’t right, he pushed away the thoughts. He had to have her. She was begging him, wasn’t she? She started to sit up on her hands, her face curious. It was now or never.