Don't Cry Part 46

They tore at each other's clothes, pus.h.i.+ng up, shoving down, ripping apart until she felt the tip of his p.e.n.i.s pressing against her mound.

"G.o.d, Audrey, I need to protect you." He growled the words against her ear.

"It's all right. I'm protected," she told him as she dug her nails into his firm b.u.t.tocks. She was still on the pill even though she hadn't been involved in a s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p for several years.

Her a.s.surance snapped the final, tenuous threads of his control. He slid his hands beneath her hips, lifted her urgently, and thrust into her hard and deep.

Within minutes, she climaxed, the fury of her release shocking in its intensity. She had never reached an o.r.g.a.s.m so quickly. His climax followed hers within seconds, his masculine roar of triumph sending aftershocks of pleasure through every nerve in her body.

Chapter 37

What could have been an awkward moment after they made love on the sofa, especially with both of them still partially dressed, became instead a romantic interlude. J.D. lifted himself up, shucked off his s.h.i.+rt, tossed it onto the floor, and then stood and dropped his pants and briefs. He kicked them aside and stood there in front of her completely naked. Without missing a beat, he reached down, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her wrinkled dress over her head and off. After going down on his knees in front of her, he kissed her belly. She s.h.i.+vered. He stuck his tongue into her navel. She moaned. He buried his face against her mound. She cried out. And then he kissed her hips, her thighs, her knees, and finally looked up at her and smiled.

"You're even more than I thought you were," he said.

"More what?" she asked as she reached down and urged him to stand.

He revisited the trail he had taken on his way down, only this time he took his time to maul her b.r.e.a.s.t.s on his ascent up to her mouth. With his lips almost touching hers, he told her, "You're more beautiful, more giving, more exciting, more woman in every way."

"Oh..." She was on the verge of telling him that he was responsible for her being all those "more" things when he unexpectedly swept her up into his arms. She gasped and then laughed as she draped her arm around his neck.

"I'm spending the night," he told her. "I just wanted you to know, in case there were any doubts in your mind."

No doubts, she told herself. she told herself. Not about being with him tonight. Not about being with him tonight.

When he carried her into her bedroom and tossed her in the center of the bed, she looked up at him, and suddenly second thoughts did creep into her mind and she wondered if she was crazy for doing this. J.D. Ca.s.s was probably more man than she could handle. There was a primitive masculine streak in him a mile wide, and that frightened her. She would never be able to tame him or control him. But would she really want to do either? On some purely primeval level, wasn't that part of what attracted her to him?

"I'm glad you want to stay," she said, pus.h.i.+ng aside all doubts.

He crawled into bed with her, inching his way slowly toward her like a large, powerful animal stalking his prey. When he covered her body with his, bracing himself over her with his hands on either side of her head, she reached for him, her fingers exploring his wide, muscular shoulders.

He gazed down at her, his eyes black with desire. The moment her lips parted, renewed hunger plain on her face, he swooped down and kissed her.

She returned the kiss and was amazed that she could be aroused again so quickly.

He lifted his head and smiled. "Don't plan on getting much sleep tonight, honey. I've had a few erotic fantasies about you and I'm planning on fulfilling every one of them."

"If we're playing true confessions, then I have to admit, I've had more than a few fantasies about you, too, Special Agent Ca.s.s."

"Mmm...If we're going to fulfill all of your fantasies and mine, maybe we should get started right away." He circled her ear with the tip of his tongue. "The only thing we have to decide is who goes first."

"We can take turns," she told him. "Who knows, we may share some of the same fantasies."

"One way to find out." He rolled off her and onto his back. "Ladies first."

With a feeling of incredible feminine power surging through her, she tiptoed her fingers up and down his semi-erect p.e.n.i.s and smiled when he moaned. Moving upward, she found his nipples and rubbed them with her index fingers.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and urged her head down to his chest. When she licked first one nipple and then the other, he moaned again, deeper and louder.

"Honey, I'll give you an hour or two to stop that."

"Oh, I don't think you'll last an hour," she told him, feeling quite sure of herself.

Hart sat alone in the dark room. He couldn't go on this way, knowing what he knew. Not now. It was only a matter of time before someone started asking questions, before someone stated flat out that Regina Bennett had not kidnapped Blake.

All these years, everyone had believed that Blake was one of the Baby Blue toddlers, abducted and probably killed by an insane woman who kept ending her terminally ill son's life again and again by murdering other little boys. If only it had been true. If only twenty-five years ago, Regina had sneaked into their house on a warm summer day and taken Blake from his bed.

If only...

He had tried to forget.

He had pretended it never happened. He had halfway convinced himself that Blake really had been kidnapped.

He had lied the day Blake disappeared. He had lied to his stepfather. And he had lied to Audrey.

He wondered if she had suspected the truth, at least back then, before the lies had replaced the reality, before everyone believed that Regina Bennett had taken Blake.

He shouldn't have lied. He should have told the truth.

Hart knew what had really happened to his baby brother.

Garth downed another hefty gulp of whiskey, coughed, wiped his mouth, and set the gla.s.s in front of him on the table. Peggy Ann came into the kitchen, her housecoat open all the way down the front, revealing her large, drooping b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her still-flat belly, and her dark furry p.u.s.s.y. He had left her in bed a few minutes ago, after he'd hammered into her until he came. He had no idea if she'd had an o.r.g.a.s.m or not and he really didn't give a rat's a.s.s. He had gotten what he needed and that's all that mattered tonight. But the short-lived oblivion had lasted only as long as his d.i.c.k stayed hard. After that, all his troubles came rus.h.i.+ng back, bearing down on him, crus.h.i.+ng the life out of him.

Peggy Ann eyed the open bottle of Jack Daniel's on the table. "Save a little of that for me."

He reached out, ran his hand inside her housecoat, and squeezed her b.u.t.t. "I'm going to get stinking drunk tonight, drunk enough to pa.s.s out," he told her.

"Go right ahead." She pulled her housecoat together and tied the belt, effectively concealing her naked body. "It won't be the first time you've slept one off in my bed."

"You're a good woman, Peggy Ann. A good friend."

She took a gla.s.s from the cupboard, sat down at the table across from him, and picked up the whiskey bottle. "You're beating yourself up for no good reason."

"What do you know about it?" He glared at her as she filled her gla.s.s halfway with Jack Daniel's.

"I know you're carrying around a load of guilt and pain because of what happened to your little nephew. I know because you've cried in your beer and mumbled in your sleep a few times over the years. You think there's something you should have done or could have done to save Blake."

Garth stared at Peggy Ann, wondering if she actually knew the truth. Had he ever been stupid enough during one of his drunken blackouts to tell her what had happened that day, the day Blake disappeared? Surely to G.o.d, he hadn't.

"Blake wasn't one of Regina Bennett's victims," Garth said and waited for her response. "It's only a matter of time until everybody knows."

"Yeah, but you couldn't have known that before now. n.o.body could have. It made perfect sense to a.s.sume that the Baby Blue Kidnapper had taken Blake the same way she'd taken those other little boys."

Garth breathed easier. Peggy Ann didn't know the truth.

No one else knew the truth. Only he and Hart.

Chapter 38

Hart had been awake all night. Thinking. Praying. He needed a drink, needed a fix, needed the courage to do what he should have done twenty-five years ago.

But you were just a kid. Only eight years old.

Kids do what grown-ups tell them to do, especially grown-ups they love and trust the way he had loved and trusted Uncle Garth.

He did what he thought was best for everyone, didn't he?

But lying had been wrong then and it was wrong now. If he had told the truth back then, would his life be any different now? He'd never know for sure. It was too late to change the past. But it wasn't too late to change the future.

I can't keep this secret any longer. If I do, I'll lose what little hold I have on my sanity.

He got up out of the chair where he had been sitting all night, walked to the windows facing east, and drew back the curtains. Dawn light spread across the horizon, where golden-tinged pink tentacles heralded a new day. A new beginning. A chance to right old wrongs.

Tears swelled up inside him, gathered in his eyes, and seeped steadily down his stubble-rough cheeks.

Before his courage evaporated like the morning dew, Hart picked up the phone and dialed his uncle's cell number. The phone rang and rang and rang. The call went to voice mail. Hart hesitated, then said, "We need to talk. I've made a decision that will affect us both. Call me as soon as possible."

Hart returned the phone to its base and then glanced at the wall clock in the dimly lit living room. He would give Uncle Garth until noon to return his call before he contacted Audrey. If he was going to do this-finally do the right thing-he would need to rely on his sister's strength to see him through the ordeal.

She had come into the house to get some Kool-Aid. She had mixed two packages of her favorites-lemon and orange-that morning before breakfast, so the gallon jug should be nice and cold by now. The back storm door shut behind her as she entered the kitchen. Immediately, she heard someone screaming and then someone else shouting. What was going on? Could Enid be having another one of her sick spells? No, probably not. Enid always cried. She never screamed. And the shouting voice belonged to a man. But not her father. Her daddy was at work.

Forgetting about how thirsty she was and how delicious the Kool-Aid would taste, Audrey left the kitchen and followed the sound of the voices. By the time she reached the foot of the stairs in the foyer, the screaming had stopped and had been replaced by hysterical sobs.

She took a hesitant step up the stairs and paused when she saw her stepbrother on the landing, his face pale, his eyes wide, his lips quivering. What was wrong with Hart? He looked funny. Odd funny. Not ha-ha funny.

Audrey raced up the stairs and when she came face-to-face with Hart, he stared right at her, but it was as if he didn't see her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He just kept staring at her.

And then behind them, the nursery door closed, but not before she saw Uncle Garth. Her gaze had connected with his for a split second.

Reaching out, she gave Hart a gentle tap in the center of his chest, thinking that would snap him out of whatever was making him act so odd. His only response was nonverbal. He began trembling as if he were very, very cold.

She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "What's wrong with you?" She called out, "Uncle Garth? Help us. Something's wrong with Hart."

"It's my fault," Hart said. "It's all my fault."

"What's your fault?"

"Blake...my fault...all my fault."

"I don't know what you're talking about. What about Blake? What's your fault?"

Everything began to spin around and around. Audrey and Hart were swept up into a whirlwind, a dark tornado that twirled them around and around, deeper and deeper into its vortex. And inside that same tornado, the violent wind took Blake higher and higher until he finally disappeared.

Audrey's terrified cries woke J.D. instantly. He shot straight up. Then he turned and looked down at the woman beside him as she thrashed and moaned. Tears dampened her face.

She was having another nightmare.

J.D. caressed her cheek before cupping her chin with his hand. "Audrey, honey, wake up."

She struggled for breath. "No, please, no. Don't take him."

J.D. ran his hands down her throat, over her shoulders, and curved them around her upper arms. He gave her a gentle shake. "Audrey. Audrey, wake up. Whatever is frightening you isn't real. You're dreaming. You're having another nightmare."

Her eyes flew open. She stared up at him. "J.D.?"

"Yeah, honey, it's me."

"Oh G.o.d. It was awful."

He pulled her up and into his arms, holding her naked body against his, soothing his hand over her back, whispering comforting words to calm her. "It was just a dream. You're all right. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you." He placed a tender kiss on her shoulder.

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his. "Hold me, please, J.D. Hold me."