Hold Fast (14 page)

His-- his
cock
brushes against my belly and thighs as he kneels between my legs again, and I strain to lift my hips toward it. Sean laughs softly and pulls away, pulling my hands higher and tighter, pinning me to the mattress with a hand just above my mound.

“Please, Sean,” I whimper. “I need you.”

“I, uh, bought these for something else originally,” he says wryly, shaking his head with a chuckle. “They’re not lubricated. Have to make sure you’re ready,” he finishes, and his hand slips through my soft curls. I arch my hips up at him again, trying to make the right contact, and moan as his middle finger swirls a quick, hard circle around my clitoris. A shudder runs through my whole body at the contact, and before it’s even subsided, his finger dips lower, pressing carefully inside me.

“I don’t-”
gasp
“-think that-”
pant
“-will be a problem.”

“Still,” he says. “Best to make sure.” He smirks at me again, slipping a second finger alongside the first.

I feel so full, so stretched, just from his fingers, but I’m so wet right now that he’s able to slide them slowly in and out of me almost effortlessly. I know that his cock is much thicker than they are. He’s going to split me in half, and
oh God I want him to!

“Sean,” I moan. “Please-” My voice is strangled to a gasp, my head spins, and a fresh new warm rush floods around his fingers as he curls them inside of me.

“You’re right,” he says, with a smug look on his face. “It’s probably not going to be an issue.” I almost want to sob with frustration and loss at the empty feeling when Sean takes his hand away, but now there’s something else pressing against me. Something much bigger, and I can’t wait for it any longer.

“Don’t tease me like this,” I tell him, crying out in frustration at the delay. He’s right
there
. Just
push!

“Courtney--” Sean’s brow is furrowed in a look of sudden concern. “Is this really what you want? Are you really ready for this? I mean, in your heart?”

“Sean Patrick Pearse,” I snarl. “This is the moment I’ve
wanted
with you, been
waiting
to have with you, ever since I was old enough to understand what it meant.”

His eyes soften, and I take advantage of the moment to jerk my hands free.

“So, yes. This is what I want. And I’m ready for this.” My arms go around his neck, pulling him down, close to me. Into me. “I love you, Sean.”

“I love you, Courtney.” His eyes never leave mine, not even for a moment, as his entire length enters me slowly. He’s so careful, so gentle. This moment is perfect. It’s everything I’d ever dreamed it could be. A steady rhythm of slow, easy strokes grows faster and harder as we find a pace that suits us, lost in a mindless animal passion. I’ve been holding this all inside for so long, never daring to hope this dream could come true.

It doesn’t take long for him to push me to the brink. Sean’s thrusts are short now, deep and fast. Every square inch of my skin is on fire, a roaring inferno of ecstasy, and if I try to hold this inside any longer, I’m going to be completely consumed. I scream his name, over and over, as I go over the edge, and Sean follows closely behind. He freezes at the end of a thrust, and I feel his muscles tense under the strain of his own release.

When it’s over, when we’re spent, both of us shattered and drained, I lay in his arms. I’m not naïve enough to believe he learned about all this in a book. So there’s been another girl—or several girls—out there he practiced with, and I smile to myself thinking how odd it is that I don’t feel any jealousy. If anything, I feel gratitude. He’s mine now. I’m glad one of us knows what we’re doing!

“Is it always like that?” I whisper the question.

“I hope so. I guess we’ll find out, though.” He pauses, and his eyes grow serious. “How are you?”

“I’m… good.” I smile at him, softly kissing the edge of his jaw. “No, I’m better than good. I was serious before. Sean, I’ve wanted to have this with you for so long. I’ve loved you for as long as I remember, and I’ve been
in
love with you since I knew there was a difference.” My vision is starting to go misty, and I turn my head away. I don’t want him to see the tears forming in my eyes. How can I explain them to him? I don’t even understand them myself!

“Hey! Hey, now! What’s wrong, Courtney?” A callused finger ever so gently catches a droplet from my cheek, and all the years of pent up terror and sorrow and loss and anger and hatred pour out of me in heaving, racking, and above all
purifying
sobbing.

“Nothing’s wrong, Sean,” I tell him, through the tears. “There’s nothing wrong at
all
anymore. You’ve come back to me. You’ve taken me away from that—
place.
We’re here, together, and soon we’re going to be home. But promise me, Sean. Don’t run away again.”

“I won’t.” Sean’s lips are soft on my forehead, and then he kisses away a tear before it has a chance to fall. “I’m here, for as long as you want me to be.” He squeezes me tightly, and long, lean muscles in his arms make a tanned skin and bright ink ripple around me.

There’s an answering quiver in me, somewhere low and deep inside, and my crying turns to laughter instead.

“I love you,” I tell him, nestling my head against his shoulder, lightly kissing the place where bullets had torn into his body in the ambush he relives in his dreams.

“I love you, too.”

Perfect morning sun streams through the window of the cabin, and though we both had most of a full night’s rest we drift lazily in and out of sleep in each other’s arms. Twice more, I pull him on top of me, on fire with long-forgotten desire for him. The feel of him is glorious, the weight of him pushing down on me. Pushing into me. Setting me on fire wherever he touches me. The second time, he rolls us over and then I’m on top, clumsy and uncoordinated at first, but quickly finding a rhythm, reveling in the brazenness of it all, and collapsing in an exhausted heap after.

Sean lays a possessive hand on my belly, pulling me close again, and laughs when my stomach growls.

“We need to get some-- What time is it, anyway?” Sean pauses, looking around for a clock, then out the window at the sun. “Breakfast? Lunch? It’s getting close to noon.”

“You have those bar things,” I say. “They’re not too bad.”

“Those are emergency supplies,” he says. “They’re not anything you’d want to live on, if you don’t have to. Trust me on that.” He rolls away for a moment, lying on his stomach and rooting around in the bag. “There’s another emergency supply that we’re about out of, too.” He grins ruefully, holding up the last two foil-wrapped condoms.

“Oh. Well, we don’t want to run out of those,” I say. “We’ve got lost time to make up for.”

“Okay, then.” Sean’s voice is gentle, but decisive. “Get dressed, my love. It’s about thirty minutes to Belfast. We can have some lunch and do some shopping.”

“What’m I going to wear?” I nod at where my old dress and horrible undergarments lay. “Sean, I will
never
put that stuff on again. You took it off me, and it’s going to
stay
off me. I want to burn it.” I’m surprised at the adamancy in my voice, the venom, and Sean’s eyebrows lift.

“Let’s see,” he says, digging in another bag. “A shirt, at least, that’s no problem.” He pulls out a well-worn dark blue T-shirt with a gold emblem on it, and hands it to me. Sean’s much taller than me, and the shirt easily falls below my hips. “Pants, though, and shoes? Those might be a problem.” He holds out a pair of jeans, but I’m skeptical.

“I, ah, don’t think this is going to work,” I tell him, after I try and fail to pull them on. The jeans simply won’t make it over my hips.

“Hm. Well,” he says, giving me a sly grin and running a hand over the curve of my hip where his pants won’t quite make it past. “Myself, I think I like you without the pants, but I can see how it might be a bit of a problem in public.” He pauses for a quick kiss. “So. What do we do?”

“Do you have any longer shirts? Anything that might work almost like a dress?”

“Let me look. I don’t think I do,” Sean says, digging in his sea bag. “No, doesn’t look like I do.” He straightens, frowning. “What if you just stay in the truck while I run in, get you something? Nobody would know you were only wearing a shirt,” he offers.

“Sean?” I laugh. “Two words for you:
vinyl seats
in August
and
my bare legs and ass.
Okay, fine, it’s more than two words,” I finish, and now it’s Sean’s turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, I see your point, there,” he says. “Not the most comfortable thing.”

“Just go. Be quick. Bring food, and some sweatpants and sandals for me. Flip-flops, or something. We can find something nicer later.”

“What size? I’ve never, um, bought women’s clothes before.” Sean looks nervous at the prospect.

“Oh, big tough Navy SEAL? Scared to go into the women’s part of the store?” I laugh.

Sean just shakes his head ruefully, but it’s a good question: the last time I had store-bought clothes I was only fifteen. Since then I haven’t worn anything new, anything with a size printed on a tag. Anything that hadn’t been hand-made, not to mention handed down through at least two or three previous owners.

“Just do your best,” I tell him. “Something stretchy, maybe, so if the size isn’t quite right, I can at least wear it to pick out something that
does
fit.”

“Okay. I can do that. Stretchy pants, food, and some more… emergency supplies.”

“And Sean? Come back home to me soon,” I tell him. “I don’t want to be away from you any longer than I absolutely have to be.”

After the rumbling sound of the truck fades into the distance, I have a look around the small cabin. It may be small and spare by Sean’s standards, even after his time in temporary barracks and tents in Iraq and Afghanistan, but to me, it’s a palace after the hovel I shared with Daniel on the farm. And it’s dusty, too. If we’re spending a couple days here, then I’m going to make good use of my time while Sean’s away. Finding a rag and some cleaning supplies in the small bathroom, I set to work.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror over the sink, and I stop to have a longer look at myself. There weren’t many mirrors back
there
, and even when I found myself in front of one, I hated to look in them. I couldn’t stand to see the haunted look in my own eyes, but that’s all over now. The girl who stares back at me from the mirror is a much different version of me: free, happy. Full of hope.

Sean’s shirt is big on me in most places, but it’s stretched tightly over my chest, emphasizing the gold logo. It’s an eagle perched on a crossed trident, pistol and anchor, with a big number
3
behind. There’s a motto on it: “I KNOW I’M GOING TO HEAVEN BECAUSE I’VE SPENT MY TIME IN HELL” in blocky letters.

I’m not going to Heaven. I’m already here.

I lose myself in cleaning, lose all track of time, but I’m getting the cabin into some sort of order. The small shower is cleaned, the dust is mostly gone from the flat surfaces, and I’ve set wildflowers gathered outside in a vase on the small table where we’ll eat.

I smile to myself at the familiar rumbling sound of a truck pulling into the driveway, and tuck away the rag I’ve been using. After a quick look in the mirror, I wipe away a smudge of dust or fireplace soot from my nose and cheek, and tie my hair back in a ponytail with a ribbon I found in a drawer in the small kitchen, and rush to the door to meet Sean.

My hand has already turned the knob, and the door is already open just a crack when I realize why the truck sounded so familiar.

It’s not Sean.

* * *

H
oly shit
.

What a weekend.

Just a few days ago, I was bored, wondering what I’d do with my life now that Uncle Sam had decided I was too broken to keep on killing people for him, and now here I am on my way to buy lunch and clothes for the girl of my dreams. And of course, more condoms, also for the girl of my dreams.

Life is looking up. Just add a job and a place of our own, and it’ll be perfect.

So, clothing first. There’s not a Walmart or K-Mart or a Sears or anything within a reasonable distance of the camp in Belmont, but Belfast is close. When my grandpa was young, Belfast was referred to as the “Big City” by folks who lived in the small communities of Waldo County. I suppose that a city of less than seven thousand people is pretty huge when you have to walk a mile and a half to find your nearest neighbor, but it feels tiny these days.

Still, there’s shopping there. The tourist boutiques are a non-starter. I don’t know enough about women’s sizes to even think about shopping at one of them. Ah! That’s perfect, a Reny’s, that pillar of the Maine retail industry. Selection might be a little hit-or-miss there, but I’m sure there’s something that will fit Courtney.

They say it’s always best to buy a woman clothes that are too small rather than too large, so I buy a few copies of each thing in different sizes. I’ll give them to her smallest first, and stop when we get the right fit. A couple pairs of stretchy pants, some panties. Sandals. I don’t even bother with bras-- I might not know much about women’s clothing, but I know that a guy picking
those
out without knowing the right size is just begging for a disaster.

Just down the street there’s a Walgreen’s, and item number two on my list. There’s a good selection, and-- what the hell, let’s be adventurous. I’m definitely looking forward to trying out some of these with Courtney. How did I get this lucky? There’s some basic food stuff here, too-- junk food, mostly, but we’ve only got to hide out for a short while. We can start eating healthily when we get back to civilization.

Speaking of eating healthily! There’s the McDonald’s. She’d mentioned missing it on the drive south yesterday. The fries won’t be exactly
hot
anymore by the time I get them home to her, but it’s been so long since she’s had a french fry that I don’t think she’ll mind too much. And there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts behind it, so that’s breakfast tomorrow taken care of as well, and I could certainly use a cup of coffee, right now, anyway.

Shopping is over as quickly as I can manage, and I set out on the drive back Route 3 and down the Lincolnville Road. It’s a good time to think, to take stock of where I’m at.

All those daydreams I’d had, imagining a life with Courtney while I was at war? I’d never expected to see them come true, but here I am driving home with her waiting for me. Sure, it’s only just her waiting for me, but a family can come in time. It’d be nice to have time to ourselves, too. Just for a while.

A family. I think back to the other night, watching over Courtney through the binoculars at the compound. Watching her playing with that little girl. She’s good with kids. Every movement she made spoke of a deep caring for that child. Back in the war zone, I’d never dared to even think too loudly about the idea of a family, but now? I look forward to having serious conversations on that subject with the woman I love, and soon.

It’s impulsive, sure, but I have to talk to my mom about this. I know Courtney and I had agreed that we’d wait and surprise Bill when we went back to Portland, but I want to give my mom a little time to prepare. She’s got a flair for the appropriate, and she deserves some advance warning.

I’ve only got a few miles before cell coverage runs out—it’s insane, to me, that there’s perfect coverage at Moosehead, but it’s so spotty here within a few miles of civilization, but I guess, that’s what happens when you have a paper company that’s willing to spend money in order to stay in touch with their logging crews. She picks up on the third ring.

“Sean! I was just talking about you to one of the other nurses. How are you?” She’s bright, cheerful. Happy to hear from me.

“I’m fine, Mom. Listen, I only have a minute, I’m on my way back to the camp, and you know how the reception is there.”

“Sure do. Bill uses that as an excuse whenever he goes up there,” she says, laughter in her voice. “I know your father- God rest his soul- would have, if he’d had a cell phone.” There’s genuine warmth and care in her voice when she speaks of Courtney’s father, but there’s still plenty of sorrow for my father, too. I’m glad she found someone, though, and Dad would be as well. “So how’d your wild goose chase go? Did you find anything up there to Greenville?” Mom has no expectation that I’ve found anything. She’s just making conversation.

“Yeah, listen, Mom. About that.” I pause, take a deep breath. “I’ve got something for Bill. A surprise package, so to speak. Special delivery.”

“No way!” Mom’s excited, now. “No kidding? That really was them in that picture?”

“Yeah,” I tell her. “It was really them, and Courtney’s with me at the camp now--”

“When are you guys coming home?”

“Not for a couple days. There’s… safety concerns. Pretty serious ones, in my opinion.” No way I’m telling her just
how
serious I think they are. “Look, I don’t have much time. I can’t really tell you any more, right now. I just wanted you to be ready. Keep it to yourself, though. Don’t tell Bill yet. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Or you.”

“Mum’s the word, Sean. I won’t tell him anything at all.” At least, I think that’s what she said: her voice is statical now, cutting in and out.

“Okay. Good, thanks. Look, Mom? Signal’s getting lost now. We’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

Dead air is the only answer. I’m out of the coverage area. Maybe we ought to invite the paper companies to do work out here, just so they can put up more cell towers.

There’s still another five minutes’ drive left after losing the signal. It feels like an eternity before the turnoff for Camp Road comes up, and at least three more ice ages could have come and gone in the mile or so from there until I pull into the driveway.

A cardboard drink carrier full of coffee in my left hand, donuts, McDonald’s and clothing in my right, I kick the Blazer’s door shut and fumble the cabin door open.

“Hi, honey, I’m ho-”

My sixth sense urges me to duck and something heavy flies over my head. There’s movement to the right, and instinctively I pivot toward it. The shopping is dropped, forgotten, and the coffee in my left hand is an impromptu weapon swinging up.
What the fuck is going on here?

Even before the coffee – hopefully still hot enough to hurt – takes the first target in the face. I see, at least, three more sources of movement.
Sploosh!
The coffee is still apparently hot enough. The guy to my right screams. Two quick punches to the gut, duck to avoid something behind me, elbow to the balls to keep him out of the fight. Pivot. New target.

Whenever I’m in combat, time seems to slow. It’s like watching the world go by in slow motion. I have plenty of time to recognize the stringy, greasy black hair, patchy beard and acne scars on the face of the young man I labeled Target Alpha just a couple days before. Jeremiah, Courtney called him. He’s the asshole they intend to marry her off to. He’s off balance now, reeling, having unexpectedly missed my head with a baseball bat.

Alpha starts his backswing, but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. In half a heartbeat, I’ve taken the bat from him and given him a couple sharp love taps in the stomach, and a quick – but very hard – shot to the nuts. I spin again, checking the first guy – I recognize him now. Brother Lucas, the wife-beating cocksucker. I watch for any sign of threat, while digging in the small of my back for the Beretta. He’s still down, but there are other people here, too. I’ll come back to him in a moment, finish the job, but first I need to scan the room for other danger.

And find Courtney.

It only takes a moment.

Three other people are in the room. Courtney, dressed again in the threadbare dress she’d worn when she ran away from them, stands between that old prick Emmanuel and her mother. Courtney stands unnaturally straight, her head back, as if someone’s pulling on her long hair from behind. Her face is streaked with tears, her lip is split and swollen, and she has the start of a truly spectacular black eye. Emmanuel has a rusty revolver pressed hard into her right breast.

Someone’s going to pay for that. In blood.

I hold the big Italian pistol in a two-handed grip, the front sight blade centered between his eyes, below the saintly halo of frizzy white hair. What a load of bullshit that image is.

“I strongly suggest you let go of her,” I say. My voice is calm, even. He has to know this is a no-win situation for him. He watched me plow through the toughs he brought along.

“I’m sorry, my son,” he says. “But I’m afraid that’s just not possible. You see, Sister Courtney belongs to God, and he has called upon us to bring her home.”

“Called upon you?” I ask. “Personally?”

The old man’s only reply is a half-smile and a small shrug. He’s amused.

“I think you should request a verification of your orders. I can arrange for you to speak to God, one-on-one, if you’d like?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” the old man says. “The New Revelation is quite specific about many things, and I’ve never yet been wrong about The Lord’s Will.” The good cheer drains from his face, and there’s iron in his voice when he continues speaking. “Now, my son, you need to submit to The Lord’s will, or it will go very hard on the young woman here. Put. Down. The. Gun.”

“Right,” I say. “About that.” My pistol doesn’t waver from his face. “The way I figure this, you fucks didn’t drive all the way down here from your little let’s-drink-Kool-Aid-and-play-farmer bullshit just to
kill
her. She’s valuable to you for some reason. You want her alive.”

“I do want her alive,” Emmanuel says, nodding. “Very much so. But, I’m afraid that her life is less important to the success of The Lord’s plan than is my own.” He jabs harder with the muzzle of the revolver, and Courtney gasps with pain.

“If you want to live to keep on carrying out your plan, then you need to let her go and get the fuck out of here.” My voice is cold, and utterly sincere. “And I think you’re rational enough to understand what’s going to happen to you. And that means that you’re not going to kill her.”

“You know what?” He smiles thinly, nodding again. “You’re right, my son. I absolutely couldn’t kill this beloved girl. She’s going to be my daughter-in-law, after all. She’ll be mother to my grandsons.”

“Oh, right. Of course. You’ll have to wait a while for grandchildren. Your boy’s not going to be doing much with his dick for a while.” Okay, what’s his play now? He’s not giving in, not this easily.

“You do certainly have quite the talent for digging to the heart of things, don’t you, Mister Pearse?” He pulls the gun away from Courtney’s breast, holding it upside down by the trigger guard. “You’re right. I won’t kill her.” He sets the gun on the floor.

“Courtney, come away from them.” There’s the briefest flash of hope in her eyes, and she takes a hesitant step toward me, but Courtney is hauled up short by her long hair, held tightly by her mother, a straight razor in her hand. Heather yanks on Courtney’s hair, jerking the girl’s head back, and lays the blade against her daughter’s throat.

“Whore!” Heather’s voice is shrill. “You’re not going anywhere.” I shift targets.

“You see, Mister Pearse?” The old man is smug, satisfied. “You’re right. I am rational. You and I both know that were I to kill the girl, I’d never be able to continue The Lord’s Work on this sinful, fallen Earth. But Heather?” He shrugs eloquently, gesturing to the woman. “You are, I believe, fond of Kipling? I saw his book on your nightstand. ‘The female of the species--’”

“Is more deadly than the male,” I interrupt, finishing the line. “Yeah. I get the reference.”

Until now, I hadn’t paid a lot of attention to Heather, but now that I have a reason to look at her I see that the old son of a bitch is right. Heather Dwyer – or whatever her last name is now – has lost weight. Never a heavy woman, now her skin is stretched grotesquely tight over her skull, and a fey light shines from her eyes.

“You can’t have her, Pearse!” Heather spits my name as if it’s the vilest curse in the English language. “Her father’s sin cannot touch her!
Your
father’s sin cannot have her! I won’t allow it!”

Oh, fuck.

“Heather?” I’ve never been good at the whole soothing thing, but I’m trying my best. “Please, put the blade down, let her go. You don’t want to hurt your own daughter, do you?”

Heather’s eyes go wide and she howls wordlessly. I can’t take my eyes off the glittering edge of the razor in her trembling hands. There’s a faint red line beneath the blade now.

“Look, I get that you don’t like your ex-husband, and I’m sure you have some perfectly good reasons.” Reasons that make sense in your fucked up reality.
“But I don’t know what my father ever did to you, and Courtney? She’s a good person. She’s…” I trail off.

I have no idea what to say here. My normal method of dealing with armed crazy fucks isn’t going to work here. I could easily disassemble her head with a bullet, but the way she’s holding that knife? Gravity would take over, and Courtney would be just as dead.

“You see, my son?” The asshole’s voice is gentle, his hands spread in a gesture of peace. “We will be leaving here, with Courtney, and you will remain here. Alone.” He smiles now. “Unless you’d prefer that we all remain here, together.”

For a moment, I consider it. God help me, but I consider it. There’s no good outcome here. Either she goes back with them to a life of hell, and I’ll be the one that allowed it to happen, or she dies. And I’ll be the one that allowed it to happen.
Fuck.

“You see, Mister Pearse, now we’re in a much different position.” Emmanuel slowly approaches me, step by deliberate step. “I hope you understand the severity of your situation. Of her peril?”