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“What are you doing?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“I love you,” I say, looking down at him.
“I love you too,” he says as I jump into his waiting arms with my legs wrapping around his waist.
“Fuck me, husband. I need you,” I say as I am kissing him.
He leans down with me still in his arms and comes down on top on top of me kissing my neck. My legs are wrapped around his waist. He moves my legs in order to pull my bikini bottoms down. I watch as he unties his board shorts and his cock pops out, already hard and ready for me. Gripping it, he drags it through my folds wetting it with my juices before surging forward in me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “So tight. Always so tight.”
“So good. So good.” I chant over and over until we come together.
Roughly thirty hours later we land at Logan Airport in Boston and make our way to the police station in a cab. I head inside while he pays the cab driver, since it’s pouring down rain.
“Ms. Gentry,” Detective O’Brien says from behind me. I plaster on my best ‘fake it, until you make it smile’ and extend my hand to him.
“You are looking very beautiful,” he says smiling. I pull my hand from his. Before I can correct him, Sven is by my side.
“That’s Mrs. Jorgensen to you. What have you called her in for?” He demands impatiently.
“Mrs. Jorgensen? That was quick,” the detective says.
Sven starts to say something, but I grab and squeeze his hand instead. We don’t need a brawl in the police station.
“It was, but when you are in love the length of time doesn’t matter. Shall we get to the matter at hand?”
“Very well. This way,” he says leading us to a small nicely furnished room. Have a seat.” We do so.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to bridge the awkwardness and not succeeding in the least.
“We have completed our investigation. Kent Richards has confessed to hiring a Bryson Hodges to tamper with your brakes, subsequently hit your car and ran you off the road. Do you know Mr. Hodges?” He asks after I gasp. I swallow before answering.
“Yes,” I whisper. “He is or was, my mechanic.” I say in a stronger voice.
“The only thing Kent let me keep from my childhood was the 1973 Stingray I inherited from my maternal aunt Sally. Lucy needed a lot of work. Bryson is the best vintage car mechanic in Boston.”
“Lucy?” The detective asks.
“The car. My aunt named it Lucy and I thought it was cute,” I say laughing.
“Anyhow, Bryson was the only person I spent any time with who wasn’t family. He’s an old man. Why would he do this? How did he get access to my normal car the Land Rover?”
“Mr. Richards let him into your garage it seems. As for his reason, money. Mr. Richards found out Mr. Hodges granddaughter, the granddaughter he raised, got into Harvard. He needed money to pay her tuition. Apparently, your husband thought your death was worth roughly $70,000 dollars.”
“So, what happens now?”
“Well, since both of them confessed and pled guilty there is not going to be a trial. Mr. Hodges was sentenced to twenty-five years a few days ago. Mr. Richards’ attorney keeps delaying his sentencing hearing.”
“I see,” I say.
“I just wanted to keep you informed and let you know that the case is closed. Hopefully you will now be safe”
“And that couldn’t have been done over the damn phone?”
“Sven, please,” I say quietly. “Thank you, detective. Is that all?”
“It is. I don’t think we will have any reason to be in touch about this case anymore.”
“No reason,” Sven says under his breath. Once out on the street, he pulls me into a hug.
“That was interesting,” I say.
“And how does all that make you feel?” He asks.
“Well, it’s a bit anticlimactic. Honestly, I thought there would be more to it. I don’t know why he did it. It couldn’t have been to keep his secret. I found him minutes before the accident. Why did he want to be rid of me so badly, like that? I would have divorced him.”
“We may never know, baby.”
“I just want to move on. Can we go home now?” I ask as a phone rings.
“Are you going to answer that?”
“What?”
“Your cell phone is ringing.” It didn’t work on the island, so I haven’t heard it ring in a while, I didn’t recognize the ring tone.
“Oh shit,” I say looking at the phone. I answer it. “Hey Mom,”
“Where are you?”
“In Boston,” I say without thinking.
“Oh, thank God. I need to see you. Where are you staying?”
“Where are we staying, Sven?” I ask.
“Boston Harbor Hotel,”
“Mom,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“I heard him. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Thank you for taking my call, Cymion. I love you, dolly,” she says hanging up.
