Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
King
Josie and I lie in the bushes as we attempt to catch our breath. We both knew it was a mistake the moment we came in unison, but it couldn’t be helped. Putting our focus anywhere other than our next orgasm would have proven too difficult.
We had to take care of this.
“No more fucking until we hash out the details,” she says. “Seriously, what is wrong with us?”
I shake my head and sit up. “Not us. Just you.”
“Bull-fucking-shit!” She sits up and clutches her shirt to her bare chest. “I seem to recall someone not even wanting to compete in the event. At least I made it that far. And you were the one to proposition me after it was all said and done. I was fine with watching the others.”
“I propositioned no one. We shared a look.” I drive my fingers between her legs before she can slam her thighs shut. When I pull them out, they glisten in the moonlight. “Yes, you weren’t needy at all, were you?”
Her jaw falls open.
“Close your mouth before I put something in it.” I lick my fingers clean and smile at her. “Just admit it. You can’t get enough of this old cowboy.”
“Are you trying to lose the bet?” She grimaces and pulls her shirt over her head before easing into her shorts and standing. She sets her hat on her head and flicks her fingers at me, urging me to join her. “Come on, cowboy. Everyone is probably wondering where we’ve run off to.”
Yes, I imagine there’s one particular person who’s a bit unhappy with our absence.
I can only hope things can be smoothed over, though I fear not even the reason for my disappearance will assuage Jim’s fury this time. He’d have been fine with me disappearing after or during dinner, but missing the end of the event wasn’t my smartest decision.
Once our clothes are straightened and we’ve plucked the last of Mother Nature’s pubes from our hair, we head toward the smell of smoke in the distance. We round the farmhouse and find a large bonfire tucked behind the structure.
It didn’t feel like we were away long enough for the event to finish, but I suppose time flies when you’re having fun.
The group surrounds the massive fire. Dinner hasn’t yet been served, judging by their empty hands, but it won’t be long. I can see Chef waddling toward the conflagration with a large silver cart bumping along before him.
“Where’d you get off to?” Ezra asks as the fire’s glow reveals our presence.
I don’t have time to answer. Jim bolts to his feet and grabs my arm before leading me away from the others. Gary can’t even look me in the eye, the poor bloke. I shouldn’t have put him in the line of fire.
Josie tries to follow, but Jim gives her a smile and a shake of his head.
“We’ll be right back, dear girl,” he says. “Just take a seat, and we’ll return quicker than . . . something very quick.”
His knickers must be in a twist of epic proportions if he can’t even come up with one of his silly sayings.
Josie nods and turns back for the fire. For her sake, I hope she doesn’t opt for the seat Blayne offers beside his Wranglers. I’d hate to piss off Jim even further by killing one of the participants, but that ramen-noodle-headed twit has nearly batted his lashes at her for the final time.
“Earth to King,” Jim says with a snap of his fingers as he stops walking. “Anyone there?”
“Snap your fingers in my face again and you won’t have fingers to snap with.” I yank my arm out of his hold and brush the feel of his clammy fingers off my skin. “Let’s not forget who decided to throw temptation into my face. You can’t be angry with me for giving in to my baser instincts.”
Jim glances behind him, then pulls a small paper bag from his suit coat. He shoves it against my chest and doesn’t pull his hands away.
“I’ll make your excuses,” he says, “but I want you to go and begin your part of the mission right now. If we expect any sort of positive conclusion, you must do your part. You’ve missed enough.”
I shove the bag back at him. “I never thought this was a good idea. It’s been your brainchild from the start, Jim. I merely supplied—”
“What? You merely supplied what?” He shoves the sack against my chest and pulls his hands away.
“We both merely supplied the bare minimum at the start, but things changed. The initial shift might have been my fault, but we’re both on shaking ground now.
There is no putting the chaos back inside Pandora’s box.
What we’ve started in motion must be seen through to the end, and you know that as well as I do. ”
With a sigh, I shove the paper bag under my arm. “So I’m just supposed to go into the RV and look at these things? Then what?”
“Glean what you can from them. You missed their speeches, but they’ve chosen these photographs for a reason.
” He places his hand on my arm, though his touch is much gentler now.
“They’re trying to connect with their father, even if they don’t realize it.
Help them. For their sakes, if not for ours. ”
I glance at the fire. Josie sits between Eve and Quinn, far enough away from Blayne to keep me comfortable. The others are close at hand, and Chef has nearly arrived with the weenie cart.
“This may change nothing,” I say, my gaze returning to Jim. “This plan may be a waste of everyone’s time.”
“We have to try,” Jim says.
Saying nothing more, I head toward my RV with the Carter children’s childhood photos tucked beneath my arm. It’s time to go relive other people’s memories.
The weight of what Jim and I have done presses on my shoulders as I trudge toward the bonfire. I looked at those pictures—a means to send a message to their father—and I can’t help but feel the sting of regret for looking at them at all.
I have no right.
Bennett chose an image of him and his mother. He couldn’t have been older than three. He was seated on her lap, both of them covered in mashed potatoes as they smiled at the camera.
Frankie’s picture featured her, standing all alone as she received an award at some school function. She wasn’t smiling. She was so small.
Ezra’s and Aven’s photographs might have been the most heartbreaking. Being so far from their native lands, they were unable to provide a photo at all. Their lives have been so tumultuous that no evidence of a childhood remains. In their places, they provided a drawing.
Two sketches featuring small, sad stick figures.
Ezra’s picture depicted him and his father on a set of cliffs. That would be the Dover trip, if I had to guess. Aven’s picture showed one stick figure stabbing another, much larger figure. I guess that’s supposed to represent his father.
This is going horribly.
These four were handed a sorry lot in life, and none of them is to blame for how they turned out. Not even their mothers or stand-in fathers are to blame.
The blame lies with Jim and me and that stupid experiment.
As I near the fire, I look for my redheaded distraction. She’s easy enough to spot as she prepares a body shot for Ice Pick. Right between her breasts.
I think the fuck not.
Before he can lower his lips to her cleavage, I grab his arm and ease him away from her. “Why don’t you go fill your mate’s ass crack with liquor? This filthy crack is mine, I’m afraid.”
“I didn’t mean nothing,” he says with a sheepish grin.
“Yes, which is precisely why I’ll let you keep your tongue this time. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Lighten up, old man,” Josie says as she continues to cup her breasts together, forming the perfect shot glass in the middle.
I lied. Her tits aren’t at all filthy. They’re what my most delicious dreams are made of. I’d eat every meal off them if I could.
I bend and slurp the clear liquid from inside, then look up at her. “Don’t let it happen again.”
She rolls her eyes and releases her breasts. The cleavage drops back into her halter top, where it belongs. For the time being, at least.
“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Ice Pick asks. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
So much for Jim making my excuses. I make my own, telling the group I needed to use the facilities. Let them think I was off taking a healthy shit for thirty minutes. Then I take a seat beside the fire. That’s when I notice the two strangers seated on a log beside Ezra and Kindra.
“What’s all this bother now?” I whisper to Josie.
She doesn’t need me to elaborate. She leans closer so that no one else can hear her. “The Halloween Harvesters. Ezra needed to deliver something from a friend of theirs.”
Ah, yes. That Samuel chap. “Do these people lack cell phones?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but they seem nice enough. Rayna even brought a surprise for all of us.”
I’m about to ask what that might be when the woman in question stands and raises a plastic shopping bag. She gives it a wiggle, quieting the group. All except for Chef, who’s begun passing out sticks and hot dogs.
“As a way to say thanks for letting us crash at your farm tonight, I brought a few party favors. Just pass the bag around. There are enough gifts for everyone to take one.”
“I apologize in advance,” the strange man says.
Josie leans closer and whispers, “That’s Dalton.”
The bag begins its journey around the circle. I can’t see what Quinn and Aven pull from inside, but it makes the former giggle and the latter grimace. The bag moves to Frankie and Maverick next, and they both seem more disgusted than anything.
“Do you know who they are?” Josie asks, and I give her a tight nod.
I’ve seen their files. They’re a bit sloppy as killers go, but our special division cleans up after them and protects them from detection.
We’ve taken a special interest in them. There aren’t many documented cases of folie a deux, and far fewer which were allowed to continue to their natural end.
I wanted to see them carry on for a bit longer at least.
The files lacked pictures, however, and they aren’t at all what I expected. I always imagined them as country bumpkins or creepy backwoods people. They look like your average alternative couple—dark hair, band tees, and . . . taxidermy?
“Is that a bloody squirrel?” I ask.