Beverly Barton - Silent Killer

She walked toward him, eagerness in her step, and he realized that something was wrong. He turned off the weed eater and laid it on the ground. As she approached, he pulled a rag from the back pocket of his jeans and used it to wipe the sweat from his face and chest and the dirt from his hands. After tossing the rag on the ground, he took several long, quick steps to meet her.

“Hi,” she said, her gaze fixed on his face.

“Hi.” When she just stood there looking as if she might faint, he grasped her upper arms. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you all right?”

She pushed herself against him, her pretty black silk dress absorbing the moisture still clinging to his bare chest.

“Hold me, Jack. Please hold me.”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her. “What happened? I thought you were going to the funeral.”

Burying her face against his shoulder, she clung to him. “I went, but I couldn’t stay. I tried not to think about Mark, about the day he died, but I couldn’t stop the memories.”

He brushed several comforting kisses across her forehead. “You shouldn’t have gone.”

“I know, but I didn’t want Seth to go without me.”

“Is Seth all right?”

“Yes, he’s the one who told me to leave. He’s with his grandparents.” She lifted her head and looked squarely into Jack’s eyes. “My son has grown up a lot since Mark died. He’s becoming quite a young man. I, uh, I want the two of you to get to know each other, to like each other.”

“Honey, he’s your son. I already like that about him.”

She looked at Jack in an odd way, a way that sent a jolt of uneasiness through him. “What is it, Cathy? Just tell me.”

“I need you, Jack.”

He studied her expression for a full minute. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying I want us to make love.”

When he didn’t immediately respond, she asked, “Don’t you want me?”

“Night and day,” he told her. “With every breath I take. But honey, if there’s going to be three in the bed, I’ll decline.”

“Three in the bed?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Suddenly she realized what he’d meant, and she laughed.

Not the reaction he’d expected.

“You have no idea how really, really stupid that comment was,” she told him. “The only time there has ever been three in my bed was when Mark was my husband.”

He stared at her, uncertain if he’d understood her correctly.

“Don’t you get it?” she asked him. “You were always the third one in my bed, the man in my heart and on my mind every time my husband touched me.”

“God in heaven,” Jack growled. Then right there in his yard, exposing them to any passersby, he kissed her with a brutal hunger that he couldn’t suppress.

He swung her up into his arms, carried her across the yard and to the back door, not giving a damn who saw them. They barely made it into the kitchen before he set her on her feet, unzipped her dress and shoved it off her shoulders and down her hips. Seeing that she wore only a bra and panties-no slip and no pantyhose-he shrugged off his jeans and kicked them aside. Then he lifted her up and onto the kitchen table. While he unhooked her bra, she caressed his damp chest and belly before diving her fingers below the waistband of his briefs. When she curled her hand around his penis, he thought he’d die.

Where the hell had he put that extra box of condoms he’d bought at the drug store yesterday? He hadn’t taken them upstairs, had he? No, he’d left them, along with the shaving cream and razors he’d purchased, in the plastic shopping bag that he’d put on the kitchen counter.

He leaned over her, kissed and then suckled each breast. Damn, he felt on the verge of exploding.

“Give me a second, honey.”

“Jack.” She held out her arms to him.

“I’m not quite ready,” he told her as he backed away and hurried to the far end of the kitchen, where he’d left the Dunmore Drugstore bag lying on the counter. He raked through the contents, tore open the box of condoms and retrieved a gold foil wrapper. Within seconds, he had ripped it apart, taken out the condom and put it on.

When he returned to Cathy, he saw that she had taken off her panties and sat there in a partially reclined position, her legs spread wide, revealing the lush, dark bush covering her mound. After slipping between her thighs, he slid his hands under her hips and brought her to the edge of the table. She lifted her arms up and around his neck. He hoisted her hips and thrust inside her.

Moaning with pleasure, she hung on for dear life, undulating to the rhythm of his lunges. He eased his hands out from under her and moved them smoothly up her back. As if sensing that his embrace held her safely in place, she leaned back, tossing her long brown hair behind her as she went wild in his arms.

Within minutes they both came, first she and then he a second later. Panting and trembling, they clung to each other while their bodies enjoyed the aftershocks of their orgasms.

Cathy and Jack spent the afternoon alternating between making love and exploring the three stories and partial basement of Jack’s house. Instead of going out to eat, they grilled steaks and prepared corn on the cob and veggie kabobs on the grill. Seth called on her cell phone around six, and she assured him that she was okay.

“You didn’t go home, did you?” Seth had asked. “I called earlier and didn’t get an answer.”

“No, I didn’t go home. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Are you with Jack Perdue?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good, Mom. I’m glad you’re not alone.”

“Are you okay?” she’d asked him, wishing he didn’t feel obligated to comfort his still-grieving grandparents.

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s been a rough day for Nana and Granddad. Nana’s been crying a lot. They need me, Mom. You understand, don’t you?”

“I understand.”

For now, she would not interfere. J.B. had shown he was willing to compromise when he agreed to allow Seth to spend weekends with her. But eventually, she would have to take Seth away from them, out of their home and away from the daily influence of J.B.’s narrow-minded beliefs. Just not yet. During her hours with Jack, she had forgotten about the Fire and Brimstone Killer and had forgotten about Mark and how he’d died. Sweet relief, even if only temporary.

Her time with Jack seemed surreal, almost as if she were having an out-of-body experience. She was happy, truly happy, for the first time in a long, long time. And it wasn’t just the great sex, which alone was enough to make her ecstatic. No, it was the sense of being accepted for herself, for who she was, flaws and all. And not just accepted, but appreciated. Jack had always had a way of making her feel special.

They had ended their day doing yard work, then showering together and making love again before falling into deep, manual-labor-tired sleep.

When the phone rang late that night, Jack uncurled his arm from around her naked body, reached across her and grabbed his cell phone lying on the bedside table.

“Yeah, Perdue here.”

Because their bodies were so intimately aligned and he was lying halfway across her, she felt it when he instantly tensed.

“Son of a bitch!” He moved away from Cathy and swung his long legs off the opposite side of the bed. “I’m on my way.” Pause. “No, no, I can find it.”

Cathy sat up, reached out and grabbed Jack’s arm. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Get up, honey, and put on some clothes,” Jack told her as he flipped on the overhead light. “You can go with me, but you’ll have to stay in the car. Understand? There’s been another murder.”