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Brandi really did have to go, but he was looking at her with those dark gorgeous eyes, and his shaggy hair was still damp with sweat from the rave. As all the things they could do in this soft concealing crop so far away from the road occurred to her, Brandi gave him a smile instead of another order to leave. With lashes lowered, she trailed her fingers over the tops of her thighs and played with the hem of her skirt.
“At least turn around. Sheesh.” When his eyes followed her hands the same way her cat followed his laser toy, Brandi smirked with feminine power. “I mean it,” she told him, her voice going soft and breathy. His eyes lifted up to hers at her change of tone, and she lifted the skirt up to her hips and showed him her panties. “I’ll squat right here in front of you.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper now. “Is that what you want? You wanna watch me pee?” Even as she taunted, Brandi lowered her ass toward the ground with a sensuous swirl of her hips.
“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Yes. I want to watch.”
Too turned on to smirk, Brandi spread her knees then ran her middle finger over the satin covering her in a few teasing strokes. He made an impatient sound that gave her ego a power boost, so she quit playing and with her middle finger slid the material to the side until her pussy was wide open to his avid gaze.
The moon was full and bright, and Brandi knew he could see every detail of her parted flesh. She waited until he looked his fill, until he finally lifted his eyes to hers. “Do it.” Brandi emptied her bladder and never took her eyes off him, and he never took his eyes from between her legs.
It was the most erotic moment of her life. Until he dropped to the ground in front of her and started lapping midstream. Brandi screamed her ecstasy to the moon and fell back on the ground gleefully, and within seconds, an orgasm detonated within her like a nuclear blast. It was the first of three, and not even the best of them.
Later, but much too soon to Brandi’s way of thinking, they were rolling to their backs, replete. “I wish we didn’t have to go. I wish we could just sleep out here all night. Under the stars, so we can wake up and do everything all over again.” She stretched luxuriously, her body well used and aching in so many interesting places. Brandi pushed herself to a sitting position. Since he had already stood and was rummaging through his discarded jacket, Brandi guessed she would have to get moving as well.
“Help me up?” She extended a hand his direction.
“Sure.”
She didn’t have time to draw the breath to scream. She never even saw the blow coming. Before she made it to her feet, all the air was driven from her lungs by the sledgehammer of a fist to her midsection. The blow was well aimed and the most vicious thing she’d ever felt in her young life. Brandi folded against him under the tremendous force of his strike. Her arms went around his waist as though in an embrace, and she was helpless to move away. Helpless to do anything except gape up into his handsome, expressionless face. Terror suffused every fiber of her being as she fought to draw a breath.
“Shh, shhh. Just relax into it. It’ll be over soon. There you go. There it is. Nice, deep breath now. Come on. There you go. One more….”
Brandi’s eyes wheeled in horror at the grotesque pain ripping through her stomach and looked down in time to watch the wicked-looking blade at the end of his fist as it slid free from her flesh. Red fountained forward in a hot, wet burst. Disbelief and horror fountained out just as profusely.
“Oof!”The third blow was even harder. This one came up under her ribs, and the pain was as hideous as the sound the knife made when it sliced into her.
“That was a good one. There you go, almost over now. Won’t be much longer. There you go.” She hated that he cooed to her, crooned to her even as he stabbed her yet again. Her knees buckled, and incongruously, he eased her descent to the ground. With hands coated in her bright, hot blood he was grotesquely gentle as he brushed the hair from her face. As he shushed her and cradled her in his arms and continued to stab.
As he killed her.
Chapter 9
“You were out late last night,” Luke told his son as the two of them sat down to big plates of fried ham, eggs, potatoes, cornbread, and about a pint of sausage gravy each.
“Went to a dance.” Logan’s curt reply was uttered around a mouthful, and he never looked up from his plate, just continued to shovel in his food like the bottomless pit he was.
Luke let the rudeness go. Kid was understandably upset. Hell, you’d think if anybody shoulda learned to glove up, it woulda been the dumbass who knocked up the prom queen. But nope. Of course his kid was pissed at him. Luke was pissed at himself. You’d think the second time around he’d at least get to raise the child with its mother.
“Aw shit, kid.” Luke scrubbed at his face as though washing it then lowered his hands to the table in defeat. “You got every right to be twisted up about this. But damnit, I miss you, Logan. Yell at me or break something. Hell, let me catch you sneaking a beer. But don’t freeze me out like this, okay?” He gave his son’s shoulder a nudge. “One of us has to be the grownup about this. The bigger man.”
“Yeah,” Logan told him, and though he still wouldn’t look up from his plate, Luke could see a marked release of tension and animosity in his posture. “It’s obviously not gonna be you.” Then he pushed up from the table and took his now empty plate with him. “I swear, Dad, I’m getting you a vasectomy for Christmas.” The exasperated words held the warmth he was used to hearing in his son’s voice, and Luke let the forgiveness, his son’s understanding, rush through him. It flushed out all the tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying.
The rest of the world could go hang itself for all Luke cared. It was his son’s thoughts and opinions that mattered. He was man enough to admit it’d been quite a blow to have the kid so disappointed in him. Something he had been careful to avoid in the past. And he sure as hell was going to do everything in his power to avoid it in the future too.
At the knock on the door, Luke said, “Your chariot awaits, m’lord.”
“Dad.” Logan’s eye roll was exactly what he expected. “Can you let Abe know I’m takin’ the truck in today?”
“Sure. But why? You going to another dance, Twinkle Toes?”
“Nah,” Logan shouted back as he thundered up the steps like a heard of overfed cattle. “I just gotta run into town after work today, and I wanna head straight out from there.”
Made sense to Luke. He stepped out into the early morning sunshine to see a plain black buggy pulled by a sway-backed mare about a thousand years old and waved a hand in greeting toward the solemn boy holding the reins.
“Morning, Abram,” Luke said as he stepped to the railing. “Logan says you go on ahead without him. He’s taking the truck today so he can head into town later.”
“Thank you, Luke. Tell him I’ll see him there then. You have a good day now.” Abram touched a hand to his Quaker’s hat and clucked softly to his old horse.
Luke was turning to head back in when he saw the sheriff’s cruiser pull up past the buggy while it made its plodding retreat in the opposite direction.
