Fire (Beautiful Ashes Series, Book 2) (16 page)

He stopped breathing for a moment. She got it. Keeley understood what he’d been doing. “Fuck, Beautiful. I do love you.” He pulled out of her body and hit his knees where he worshipped her pussy with his lips, tongue, and teeth, bringing her right to the precipice. He sat back before she came, admiring her most intimate body parts. “You’re so gorgeous, Keeley. Everywhere. But this,” he traced along the side of her clit and back around her folds and dipped inside, “pussy is breathtaking.” He latched on to her clit and sucked, taking her right over the edge.

Keeley screamed and screamed as the orgasm tore through her. God, it was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Tar was now sitting on the couch with her and moving her astride him. She eased down on his engorged dick. He made quick work of releasing her wrists. Her hands went to his hair as she took over and moved up and down his long, thick cock. He grabbed her hips and held her tight against him, grinding against her clit. “Yes, fuck, yes Tar.”

He moved her up and slammed her back down. They came simultaneously. His mouth hungrily on hers as he continued to thrust up again, riding out the glorious climax. His breath ragged as he peppered wet kisses around her mouth. She was panting heavily but matched his hunger. There would never be enough. He’d just given her the greatest gift of all…freedom.

Mitch sat in the nightclub waiting for E to join him. He had to hand it to the civilian, Even Strand could get information some of the best trained men on his team couldn’t access. Shit. He should offer him a job. And his wife, Lacey, was becoming just as invaluable. She was able to talk to a young woman who gave them the lead they were waiting for. How she pulled it off he couldn’t fathom, but damn did she come through. Thank fuck. Those scumbags they apprehended back at the warehouse were suicide plants. Not unlike a suicide bomber, these people were willing to die for their cause, their god, whatever the hell they were brainwashed to believe.

“Hey,” E greeted as Lacey joined him at the table with Mitch.

Mitch couldn’t help but notice once more how striking the couple was. But there was more. Like the other Strand brothers and their wives, love was actually a force you felt when they were around. He wasn’t necessarily a sentimental man, but being around this family made you crave it, want it for yourself. Not covet, just want to share in the experience too. “Is one of those for me?” he asked, eyeing the bottles in E’s hand.

“Hell yes, I think we all deserve a cold beer.”

Lacey shook her head as she took a seat next to her husband. “Like you need a reason?”

He kissed her cheek. “I didn’t bring out the vodka.”

“Why is that?” She patted his face before turning her attention to Mitch.

Mitch shot E a shit-eating grin. “Because this right here is my beverage of choice.”

E took a big swig. “Damn good pilsner.”

Mitch nodded. “Became my favorite years ago.”

Lacey giggled. “You may have missed your calling, E. Perhaps being a professional taste tester was for you.”

Mitch did not miss the mischievous twinkle in E’s eyes as he licked his lips while staring at his wife. He also didn’t miss the beautiful blush on Lacey’s face. His mind wandered and Shelby took up residence. She was intriguing, gorgeous, and feisty. Fuck, his cock was waking up. Back to business. “Lacey, how the hell did you gather this intel?” He tapped the notebook sitting in front of him.

She dragged her eyes away from E’s and answered, “She’s one of our dancers and is more than willing to go on record.”

Mitch stroked his jaw. “Why’s that?”

Lacey’s entire demeanor shifted. Gone was her flirtatious glances at her husband. She’d even lost the seriousness of a minute past. Now, he saw anger and sadness mixing together in a macabre display. Dear God, how could he have ever forgotten Lacey’s connection in this mess? Yes, she met E—her Mr. Right—but she’d paid her dues. The cost was almost too high. Lest he ever forgot Keeley’s life lay in the balance. Braxton was still after her. And Mitch’s gut told him, she was hiding at least one skeleton in her closet. All of that added to a young woman reeling from drug addiction, alcoholism, and masochistic tendencies. He worried daily that her penchant for self-harm would result in suicide. She was a shattered girl in need of a savior. Once again, he wondered if Tarius McNeil could really handle that kind of responsibility. And as soon as that thought crossed his mind, memories answered it for him: Hell yeah, he could. Yet Mitch was a man of faith, and he
knew
who and what she really needed. He glanced back at the couple across from him, knowing full-well they too were praying for Keeley to see things clearly.

Lacey pulled him from his musings. “Her best friend went missing a couple of years ago. On her search she stumbled onto things she wished she never knew existed.”

“And the friend?” Mitch was trying his damnedest not to get emotional. Hard, considering Lacey Kincaid was speaking through a clenched jaw and tears were flowing.

E put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You’ve got this, Søta.”

She bobbed her head. “Her body was recovered about six months ago.”

“Who had her?”

Lacey shrugged. “Unsolved.”

E’s gaze was intense as he said, “This has to stop, Mitch. And that girl gave up some important names for you. Key people that you’ve been investigating.”

“Where the fuck is she?”

Lacey stood. “I’ll go get her.”

“Let me give Leith a call to get down here. He needs something to get his mind off Sheridan,” Mitch added.

“I’m so sorry she didn’t pull through,” E affirmed.

“Me too. She sure as hell didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Mitch finished his call watching Lacey walk toward them with a striking woman at her side. The closer she got the more he realized how beautiful she was. Raven curls framed her sweet face and the bluest eyes met his. They weren’t that deep sapphire like Lacey’s or light like any of the Strand brothers. He searched his mind trying to find a shade that matched them, but came up blank. “I’m Mitch Rolston,” holding out his hand as he introduced himself.

“Layla Brennon,” she replied.

Fuck me. That voice of hers was husky and screamed erotic pleasure. His wide eyes met E’s, who only nodded. Yeah, he noticed. Thank God. Mitch was not sexually interested in Miss Brennon any more so than Even Strand was, still, he could appreciate the whole package standing in front of him. “Bring me up to speed,” he said, pulling out a chair for her.

Mitch listened carefully and took notes as Layla gave him missing pieces to the puzzle behind this cartel. She did not know who was running it but was familiar with Braxton. Her hunch was that he was behind her best friend’s death. Mitch agreed with that assumption, but they needed proof. She definitely fit what Braxton was into. According to Layla, Christy looked a good five years younger than her actual age of twenty-one when she disappeared. He learned that the deceased would’ve just celebrated her twenty-fourth birthday last week. “So, you were a stripper?”

Layla nodded. “Exotic dancer sounds better, but yeah, a great way to pay for college and not interfere with a class schedule.”

“And you stopped when Christy went missing?”

“No. That’s how I got all this information.” She pointed to his notebook.

“Private parties,” he filled in the blanks.

“Yes. But I
neve
r sold my body.” Her jaw held an adamant angle.

“Your friend did?”

Tears were threatening to spill as Layla nodded.

“More money,” again filling in the rest of what she couldn’t say.

Another head bob.

He glanced over at E. “She was working in one of the underground clubs as a…”

“Submissive,” E finished, but there was anger in his eyes.

Mitch knew why. Even wasn’t okay with people playing at BDSM for the purpose of harming another. This was why Tar and him became such good friends a few years back. Also why Mitch liked the guy so much. E respected the hell out of women. “Okay, let me see if we can get one of our girls into this place.”

Layla spoke up. “I’d like to do it.”

Mitch cocked his brow. “You do realize there’s a good chance you’d have to have sex with one or more of these scumbags.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. But odds are I can provide services that wouldn’t require intercourse.”

He studied her. “You’re not properly trained.”

She slapped down a conceal carry permit and followed it with, “I’m a third degree black belt in American Kenpo.

Well damn! Why the hell wasn’t she working for the team? “Let me get you clearance.”

Leith entered and stopped short, openly gawking at Layla. Mitch mumbled, “unprofessional,” just as Layla squealed, “Oh my God. Leith Turner is that really you?!”

Mitch, E and Lacey watched the two hug tight and all shared glances of what-the-hell.

Leith spoke over Layla’s shoulder. “I’ve known her since we were kids. Our parents were best friends until they moved away.”

Shit. Mitch shook his head. This really was a small fucking world.

*****

Dr. Thompson was building the bridge of trust with her patient. Chase was still recovering and asking to go home. She kept searching for good reasons why that wasn’t possible. Biggest one was, “Look, Chase, I know you’re having a hard time wrapping your brain around the fact you are still being held captive.”

He glanced up. “For what? Humiliation has been done.”

“Yes. And all on video feed.”

He grimaced. “And with the splicing that can be done, I’ll look like a more than willing participant.”

“Unfortunately.” She reached forward and squeezed his hand. “I am sorry.”

“Price I pay for trying to do something good,” his gaze held bitterness. He’d been stupid to think his position would save him from the ruthlessness of such men. Too much power. Too much money. He just wanted to go home and hold his beautiful wife and son. Chase looked down his body at his flaccid cock.

Carla didn’t miss where his gaze went and inquired, “Have you had an erection, yet?”

He shook his head but wouldn’t make eye contact.

Men didn’t really like to discuss such things. And though her methods were corrupted, she really did have some sense of compassion for this man. “Have you tried flipping through the magazines I brought you?”

“No,” his answer adamant.

Okay, so he had an aversion. She could work with that. “How about you and I forget we’re doctor and patient.”

His gaze shot to hers. “I can leave here?”

She stood and clasped his shoulder. “Not really. But I have an idea.” With that promise hanging in the room, she left with the knowledge that anticipation would help her more than anything else she could say.

Chase stared straight ahead. Fear seized him with every turn his thoughts took. Lisa wouldn’t want to be with a man who couldn’t perform. His son wouldn’t respect him. Where was the honor in being kidnapped and raped? God, how could he let that happen? His mind was set on repeat: worthless, dishonorable, fool, no longer a man. Fuck. There was no point in being rescued or set free, he could never go back to who he once was. “Death would be kinder,” he whispered, turning over and praying for just that.

Dr. Thompson shut off the camera hidden in Chase’s room. She’d seen this before. Granted it was female victims but still, degradation didn’t know gender. Where was this empathy coming from? She turned, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her hand tracing her face, one she did not recognize any more. Gone was her mother’s nose, her father’s chin. Tears began to ruin her makeup. What kind of monster had she become?

The apparition stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. “You became me,” Caleb crooned in her ear.

She shook her head vehemently. “No. That’s not true.”

“Aww, but it is, Viviane,” he cackled and leaned forward to kiss her.

Her scream ripped through her body as she tore at him. “Get off me!”

The door flew open. “Doctor! What’s wrong?”

Her mad gaze met his. “You can’t see him?”

He approached with caution. “See who?”

Again, she looked in the mirror. There was nothing but herself and the minion who just walked in, yet she felt the evil all around her. Dear God, what had she done?

The maniacal voice replied, “You gave me your soul when you let vengeance have your heart.” His icy fingers clamped her jaw. “And I will never let you go.”

The young man stood in complete bewilderment watching the beautiful doctor fight some invisible thing. He backed away, wanting no part of this level of crazy. Making his way outside as quick as possible, he needed to tell the authorities. Unsure of who that man was inside, but fairly certain, he wasn’t there of his own free will. He did not know what role Dr. Thompson played in any of it, and he didn’t care. He slid behind the wheel of a car but only made it to the front gate. A huge truck plowed into the driver’s side, killing him instantly.

The large man behind the wheel hopped out to examine his mess. “Stupid kid,” he mumbled while cleaning up the remains. They never learned. Once you were part of the organization, there was only one way out…death. Clark would have it no other way.