Elias #2
Her soft curves writhing underneath me. Trying to get away from the sheer weight of me, yet trying to pull me in deeper, wrapping her thighs around my waist.
She’d probably cry out. My fingers squeeze harder, the motion turning brutal, punishing.
She’d probably scream my name so loud the birds would fly away, the sound reaching the deepest parts of the woods.
Her previous experiences hadn't been with someone twice her size.
Not as ruthless. Not as cruel when the possessive heat takes over.
My hips thrust faster against the air, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. I bet she’d take me so good. Those pouty lips. Those full, flushed cheeks. That theatrical girl could take all of me. She could swallow it whole.
A heavy groan rolls up my throat, tearing at my ribs.
Or she’d do her best, her small throat constricting tightly around me as she gagged trying to hold the length.
Her dark eyes would stare right up into mine, tears of pure submission rolling down her cheeks, her expression tight with a wild, beautiful terror, wondering if I’ll let her breathe.
If I’ll give her a break or if I’ll just shove it all the way down to the root-
My cock jumps violently. My orgasm tears through me like a physical rupture, a hot, blinding explosion that makes my knees buckle against the marble. I splash my release across the white wall, my chest heaving as the steaming water immediately begins to wash the evidence down the iron drain.
I lean my forehead against the cold stone, my pulse drumming a frantic, metallic beat behind my ears.
Bzzzz.
The phone vibrated against the porcelain sink, the sharp buzz cutting through the steady rush of the shower.
I stared at it for half a second. Nobody called me at two-thirty in the morning unless somebody was dead. I reached over, twisted the shower handle shut and grabbed the towel hanging beside the vanity. Water dripped from my hair onto the cold tile as I swiped the screen.
"Reed."
"Elias."
Mason.
No greeting. No small talk. His voice was flat, but I'd worked beside him long enough to hear what lived underneath it. Something was wrong.
"Yeah."
"Get dressed."
I glanced down at the towel wrapped around my waist.
"I'm already halfway there."
Another pause.
"You and Derek need a lift?"
"No."
His answer came immediately.
"You need to pick us up."
I frowned.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"South gate."
"Mason-"
"The south gate."
The line went dead. I stood there for another second, staring at the black screen. Mason didn't hang up on people. Unless there’s something he didn’t want to speak about over the phone. Which meant whatever this was…Mason didn't want discussed over the phone.
That alone worried me. I dressed in less than four minutes. Dark jeans, boots, black thermal, brown leather jacket. Badge, holster, magazine, knife, wallet and keys.
By the time I stepped outside, the mountains were still asleep. The valley was wrapped in thick blue darkness, the stars barely visible beyond a blanket of cloud rolling over the ridge. My truck growled to life beneath me.
The clock on the dashboard read 02:41.
The Sheriff's Department sat at the edge of Blackridge like every other government building I'd ever worked in. Square, practical, ugly. Usually. Tonight...it looked like somebody had kicked a hornets' nest.
Red. Blue. White.
Emergency lights painted the entire parking lot in violent flashes, crime scene vans, county cruisers, state Police SUVs, forensics trailers and the Medical Examiner's transport.
Hell even Search and Rescue had two trucks parked near the loading bay.
Nobody was laughing, nobody was smoking, nobody was leaning against patrol cars pretending to be busy. They were waiting. Every deputy I passed looked tense enough to snap.
My stomach tightened.
Something was very fucking wrong.
Walker spotted my truck before I'd even finished pulling into the lot, his eyes locked onto mine, his jaw hardened. He looked...
Angry.
Not surprised, not relieved. Angry.
Good.
The feeling was fucking mutual.
I shut the truck off, before I'd even opened the door… Mason and Derek were already walking toward me. Neither of them looked like they'd slept. Mason climbed straight into the passenger seat. Derek threw himself into the back. Neither one spoke. I looked between them.
"Morning."
Nothing. I started the engine again.
"Alright."
I looked at Mason.
"Somebody wants to tell me what the FUCK is going on?"
"Drive."
"Where?"
"I'll tell you."
I looked back toward the station. Walker was already climbing into his cruiser. The old man slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame. A second later… His headlights came on. Following us.
I pulled out.
Walker stayed exactly three car lengths behind. Watching. Always fucking watching. I checked the rearview mirror again.
"What the fuck did I miss?"
Nobody answered. The silence inside the truck became unbearable.
"Mason."
He sighed.
"Another body."
Everything inside me went cold.
"Victim?"
"A woman."
My grip tightened around the steering wheel.
"Where?"
"Logging road twenty-three."
"The old timber yard?"
He nodded.
"About four miles east."
I stared through the windshield.
"No identification?"
"No."
"Wallet?"
"No."
"Phone?"
"No."
"Vehicle?"
"No."
"Nothing?"
He looked out the passenger window.
"Nothing."
Derek leaned forward from the back seat.
"Same as the last one."
My jaw flexed.
"What does that mean?"
"They stripped everything, no driver's license, jewellery, clothing labels, fingerprints. They even removed dental identifiers."
I looked at him.
"How?"
"They destroyed the teeth."
Silence filled the cab. The heater hummed quietly beneath the dashboard. Walker was still behind us.
"What'd they leave?"
Mason reached into a sealed evidence bag sitting on the floor.
Inside...
Cream-colored stationery. Folded perfectly. He handed it over.
"A welcome note."
I stared at the envelope. No fingerprints. No smudges. No blood. Just elegant handwriting. Like somebody sending an invitation to dinner.
"This sick bastard..."
I muttered.
"...is playing games."
"He wants our attention."
I handed the evidence back. Anger settled into my chest like wet concrete.
"Why the fuck wasn't I called?"
Mason laughed once. Short. Humourless.
"The fuck should I know?"
He rubbed a hand over his face.
"Walker locked everything down."
"He wanted confirmation before he woke you."
"I've been awake."
"I know."
"Then somebody should've called."
"I agree."
Another long silence. The road disappeared beneath the headlights, nothing but pine trees, fog, darkness. Then Mason spoke again.
"There's something else."
I glanced sideways.
"What?"
"I've been hearing things."
"About?"
"My CI called an hour ago."
I frowned.
"The biker?"
"No."
"The dock worker."
That got my attention.
"What'd he say?"
Mason looked straight ahead.
"There are whispers moving through the valley."
"What kind of whispers?"
"Cartel."
The word settled heavily inside the truck. I didn't answer. He continued.
"They're saying women have been disappearing further south."
"Not one, not two but enough that neighbouring counties have started comparing reports."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Trafficking?"
"Maybe, maybe not."
"No proof?"
"Just rumours."
He looked over at me.
"But every rumour starts somewhere."
Derek finally spoke.
"I checked the missing persons database while we waited, three neighbouring counties, eight women in each county. All disappeared within the last six weeks."
Fuck.
Ten women. One unidentified female and male. Two murders displayed. A serial killer leaving welcome notes. Rumours of trafficking either we were looking at two monsters...
Or one who wanted us chasing the wrong one.
I looked into the rearview mirror. Walker's cruiser was still there.
Still following, still watching.
And for the first time...
I had the sinking feeling this investigation had just become a hell of a lot bigger than Blackridge.