Captive, Mine (23 page)

I looked at him, taking in the words he’d chosen, trying not to allow the disappointment to show on my face, not sure at all why I felt disappointed. It was the last thing I should have felt, wasn’t it? I mean, I would be free again, free of Lake, at least. I did not entertain the delusion that I’d go back to my New York City apartment and pick up where I’d left off. That life was over. And I was sure as hell not going into the witness protection program, even if they put DeSalvo away with Randall. There were probably a hundred like that asshole, a hundred pricks who could easily be bought. I would disappear too.

I guess I just hadn’t expected to have to do it alone.

“Where’s the phone?”

He studied me for a minute, and I wondered if he, too, felt disappointed, but trying to read Lake Freeman was an impossibility. The man was like a vault, any emotion buried deep down, the tiniest glimpses of their physical expression fleeting at best.

“Inside.”

“Okay. Let me get dressed first.”

He nodded, picked up the empty coffee mug, and walked out of the room.

I snatched up the jeans and pulled them on. They were a near-perfect fit but for being a little short at the bottom. The navy-blue hoodie he’d chosen still had the tag on it. I tore it out and slipped it over my head, making a stop in the bathroom before heading into the living room.

Lake stood leaning against the counter, drinking coffee. On the kitchen table, he’d laid out two revolvers, one smaller than the other, both deadly. A few days ago, I might have made a run to grab one, but that thought didn’t even cross my mind. Instead, I picked up the phone that sat next to the guns and looked to him for the okay.

“You don’t tell him where you are, not the tiniest description, understand?”

I nodded.

“Tell him you’re with me and that I’ll keep you safe until he testifies. The sooner that happens, the better.”

“Okay.”

I dialed the private number my dad had given me, pulling out a chair and sitting down as I did. It rang twice, and a male voice came on the line. Although my dad was behind bars, he had different privileges than the other inmates. Different rules to live by.

“This is Lily Cross.”

I didn’t have to say another word before my dad came on the line, his relief almost palpable from this side.

“Lily?”

“It’s me, Dad.” Emotion I’d not expected to feel flooded me and I sat at the table suddenly sobbing, holding the phone to my ear, listening to my dad thanking God on the other side, laughing pitifully in relief. “I miss you, Dad.”

“Are you okay, honey?”

I nodded, sniffling. Lake handed me a tissue and I took it, wiping my nose. “I’m okay.”

There was a pause. “Where are you, Lily? Is there someone there with you? It’s not safe for you to call me.”

“You don’t know what happened, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” A longer pause where I could almost hear my dad thinking.

“I’m with Lake Freeman.”

“What the hell?”

“He saved my life, Dad. DeSalvo works for Randall. He was going to hand me over to him to keep you from testifying.”

There was a pause while my dad processed. “You with him now?” he asked more calmly.

“Yes.”

“He’s not hurting you, honey, is he? I’ll fucking kill the bastard if he touches one hair on your head.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. My dad, my hero. Always coming to my rescue. “I’m okay. Listen, Dad,” I began when Lake gestured for me to get on with things. “I need you to testify. Randall’s looking for us, obviously. We don’t know how close he is. The sooner you testify and he’s prosecuted, the sooner this is over.”

“Where are you? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know where you are. Put Lake on the phone for me.”

“Okay. Hold on.”

“Honey, I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

“I know, Daddy. I love you, too.”

I held the phone out to Lake and took another tissue.

Lake’s conversation with my father was brief, a lot of “yes, sirs” and “I understands.” The conversation was one sided and I smiled through my tears thinking about how Daddy was probably threatening him with all kinds of awful things if anything happened to me.

If he only knew.

Lake hung up, shoving the phone into his back pocket.

“Ever shot a gun, Lily?”

* * *

I
t took us about an hour to walk to a clearing after a quick breakfast. Lake had determined I needed to learn how to shoot a gun, and I figured that wasn’t a bad idea. We now stood with Lake explaining the various parts of the handgun to me while I listened, taking in as much as I could.

“Here, this one’s yours.”

I looked at him, still surprised at this change. Not too long ago, I was his prisoner. Now, he was handing me a pistol.

I took it from him, the metal cool in my hand. Although it didn’t weigh much, it felt heavy to hold.

“All right, can you take the stance I showed you?”

I nodded and moved into position with Lake watching, my right leg slightly back, holding the pistol like he’d shown me and raising it, my right elbow locked, the pistol at eye level, taking aim.

“That’s good, very good,” he said, stepping closer, his body pressing against mine to adjust my position, the thick length of his cock unmistakable against my hip. I rubbed against it, unable not to. It had become my body’s natural response to complement his arousal with its own.

“Pay attention, Lily,” he said, squeezing his hands around mine.

I groaned my displeasure, his breath at my neck only making me want him more.

“Ready to fire?”

“Yes.”

He held me close from behind while explaining how to take aim before pulling the trigger.

The sound startled me even though I knew it was coming and I wasn’t prepared for the recoil. Lake chuckled at my response and set me up again, making me do it on my own several times until I got used to it, or at least as used to it as I was going to get. He moved off a little ways and watched, instructing me from a distance to adjust this or that. I had to admit, I liked the feel of it, I enjoyed the weight that had intimidated me at first. I could do this. I felt powerful holding the revolver, and I could protect myself. I wouldn’t have to rely on Lake or anyone else.

“You’re doing really well, just one more thing,” he said, coming up behind me. “Hold it right there, a hair higher.” He adjusted the level at which I held the pistol before his hands roamed down to undo the button of the jeans I wore. Without undoing the zipper, he pushed his hand inside, cupping my sex. I gasped in response as he ground himself against my back.

“There’s something about a beautiful woman holding a deadly weapon in her hands that makes it possible for me to think about only one thing.” He licked my neck then kissed it, his fingers working inside the jeans, making it difficult for me to hold any position at all.

“I think you’re always…thinking…about only one thing.” I turned my face, licking my lips as I looked at his before locking eyes with him. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me more than I wanted him to fuck me and I wanted that badly. I’d never been a shy girl. I took what I wanted, at least I used to, but with Lake, it was different. Maybe that was why I wanted it so badly.

Eyes wide open, I kissed him, tasting his lips, his breath, and, to my surprise, he opened to me, letting me slip my tongue inside his mouth for a moment before everything shifted and he took over. Our bodies pressed against each other, my breasts crushed against his chest, one hand cupping my ass, the other at the back of my head while with his mouth, he took.

His cock stood like a steel rod between us and he walked me back a step, two, before we both fell to the ground, breaking the kiss. His eyes dark and lustful on mine, he wasted no time pushing my sweater up, baring my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them hard before scratching short fingernails over the nipples. It hurt but it aroused at once and I reached for the crotch of his pants as he pulled the zipper of my jeans down and tugged them to my knees.

I took his cock into my hands, smearing the pre-cum on its head, but when Lake’s hands came to my hips, lifting me, turning me over onto my hands and knees, I resisted.

“No. I want you to kiss me. Please Lake, kiss me.”

Without a word, his body fell heavy on top of me and his mouth once against crushed against mine. All the while, he shoved my jeans farther down my legs until he could position himself between them. He pulled back a little, his breathing hard as he lined his cock against my entrance. I reached to pull him back down. I wanted him to kiss me again, I wanted him, needed him, not to stop kissing me. But he held me down and watched as he thrust once, deep and hard, into my pussy.

“Ah. Again.”

He didn’t speak, only watched me while pulling out then driving into me again. “You like it like this, don’t you, Lily,” he said, kissing me again between words. “You like it when I fuck you hard. When I make it hurt.”

I could only groan, holding onto him, lifting my mouth to his when he pulled away. The heat between us had me sweating even in the cold morning air. When I felt the slight change in rhythm, the thickening of his cock, I knew he was close, and when he gripped a handful of hair and forced my face up to his, I looked up at him watching me, watching me as he fucked me, watching me bite my lip hard enough to draw blood as I came. His fist in my hair only tightened when, with an almost animal sound, he, too, came, burying his cock as wave after wave of pleasure sent his seed deep inside me.

Chapter 16

H
e never imagined it would ever come to it, but Lake walked the perimeter. It felt good to have the M4 back in his hands again, even with the ghosts it brought back. The M4 was a chance, a choice, and maybe, just maybe, survival.

Down the last two hundred meters of the driveway he looked for fresh tracks, knowing that if he was lucky, the only two sets of tracks he’d find should be the fresh ones from his truck, and the old ones from the propane delivery he’d had a couple weeks before bringing Lily up there.

His luck had held.

Taking a right off the driveway, he plunged deep into the brush, then turned and dropped prone, scanning the driveway through his sight. If someone was going to move on the house, they’d do it now. If someone was there.

Randall was rattled, that much was clear. The rage Lake had heard in the drug dealer’s voice said one thing above all — frustration.

The bastard still didn’t have a fix on them.

True… until it isn’t.

They still had time, but there was no way of knowing how much. The cabin was essentially off the grid. No power connection, no water connection, the driveway not marked on any map. It had, decades ago, been a hunting lodge, nothing more than a shack in which to get out of the snow for a few hours.

But it was a shack only his family knew about. An ideal fallback position. He never thought he’d actually
need
it.

Tracking along through the forest, he kept to a ridge line that had been thinned when Lake was still a young boy. It had filled in again somewhat, but the canopy had only grown healthier since then, leaving the understory little sunlight to work with. Consequently, the sight lines were quite good down the ravine. He didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to approach the house from such an obvious direction, but he knew paid goons weren’t renowned for their intellect either.

DeSalvo wouldn’t be that dumb.

Lake cut back to the north, the cabin to his south directly between him and the driveway. The terrain there was rocky, the brush much thicker, fit only for elk — and the suicidal. The ridgeline formed a long arc that encircled the cabin on three sides, leaving open only the gentle slope to the south from which the driveway approached. He hadn’t realized it until he’d had the cabin built — they’d always hunted to the south as kids — but it had been a welcome discovery, making the site that much more defensible.

He took a knee at a game trail he knew led south, back to the cabin. The trail terminated at a sunken area at the edge of the ridge, a giant fallen log lying across the southeastern stretch providing good cover from anyone approaching from the direction of the cabin. It would have to do.

Skirting around to the eastern side of the cabin, he humped it as far as the brush let him, only turning back when the ridge disappeared into impenetrable brambles and fallen trees about 150 meters east of the cabin. Too close for comfort, but it was also the least likely avenue of approach.

Moving directly west, he came out on the driveway a hundred meters from the cabin. The terrain was exactly as he’d remembered it — far from perfect for bottlenecking any approaches, but better than it could’ve been. He had all the advantages — except the advantage of time.

Good enough.

As he double-timed it along the driveway back toward the cabin, he brought the carbine up, checking both sides through his sight. He didn’t expect to find anyone, but he needed to know how many seconds he’d have for an enemy approach once Randall’s men zeroed in.