Lincoln sat in the office area of his room, laptop open, rubbing his tired eyes as he tried to ignore the clock on the bottom corner of the screen. He’d already tried to sleep, but every night it was a little harder to ignore the woman in the other room. After hiding out with her for a little over a week, he was starting to go stir-crazy. He needed to put some space in between them and give himself some time to cool off before he returned. Luckily, the construction crew had finished the cabin and all that was left was to get it furnished and stocked. Then he could hole up in his remote cabin in the woods, leaving Charity at the hotel where she was safe.
He shook his head and went back to work, touching up the last of his edits and trimming out a sixty second teaser video for Instagram. Finally done with edits, he loaded the video onto Instagram, tagging his location but leaving out the date.
Even knowing it was a little paranoid, he decided to err on the side of caution. It had been over three weeks since George’s death, and there was no reason for anyone to assume that the videos had been taken during that time. Even if he’d had more material to edit, he could have done it in a few days if he’d pushed himself.
Chuckling under his breath, he shook his head.
“She’s one hell of a distraction,” he thought, grinning ear to ear.
She was a huge distraction, but he wouldn’t give up the time they’d spent together for anything, even if he had spent most of the time fighting his attraction. Charity had no idea how sexy she was, and having her around the suite in her pretty bare feet, shorts, and form fitting t-shirts was almost more than he could handle. Charity could make a paper sack look good, and it took all the self-control he had not to flirt with her all day.
When the video finished loading, Lincoln double-checked it for typos and glitches, then set his phone down on the desk and shut down his laptop. It was almost morning, and he needed a bit more sleep before he left for the day. Now that he’d spent half the night working, he was finally starting to feel tired enough to rest.
He was about to close his phone when Will’s account popped up, and he cursed the algorithm that forced days’ old posts to the top of his feed simply because Will had been in the same place that Lincoln had.
The picture was innocuous enough, but when he read that caption, his breath caught.
Anyone who was in the Mount Rainier National Park the week of Labor Day and took pics, please send me a DM ASAP for a project.
Lincoln read it again and again, trying to explain away the feeling of dread that was building within him. It wasn’t like Will to ask his followers for pictures, and the timeline had Lincoln on edge. Was it possible that Will had heard about the reward for finding George and had decided to look near Mount Rainier? If so, why there of all places?
Cursing under his breath, he opened his web browser and groaned aloud. George’s car had been located and towed, though the short news story buried in the local section said that foul play wasn’t suspected. But there was no way it was a coincidence. He couldn’t prove it, but he was sure that Will was looking for anyone who might have photographed George accidentally. And if they had George in a picture, they likely had Charity, too.
He could feel the net closing in, but he tried to talk himself down. It wouldn’t do any good to panic. Charity was finally starting to relax. She was less jumpy, and it almost seemed like she was enjoying their time together. If he freaked her out now, she might start to feel trapped, and he didn’t want that.
Running his hands through his dark hair, he sighed.
It didn’t matter what he wanted to do, he didn’t have a choice. Charity needed to know there was a possibility that Will knew something, and it was only a matter of time before their phones would ring, demanding they come in for questioning.
He was still running through his options when he thought he heard a low moan from the other room. He paused, waiting until he heard it again. This time, the sound was unmistakable. Heart in his throat, he ran out of his own room and into the common area, skidding across the tiles toward her door just as an ear-splitting scream shattered the silence.
Lincoln burst through the door and was at her bedside in an instant, ready to fight whoever was hurting Charity.
But the dim light for the nightlight in the bathroom revealed that Charity was alone, tangled in the bedsheets, obviously trapped in a horrific nightmare.
She screamed again and his heart broke in two as he made his way to the bed, working her free from the sheet first, then gathering her into arms as he sat down on the edge of the bed. She fought as he held her, but he held tight, talking to her in soothing tones until her eyes fluttered open and she jumped.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said.
She shuddered, nodding her head and looking down at her hands.
“It was about him,” she said.
“If he hadn’t died, he would have killed you,” Lincoln began, but Charity stopped him.
“Not about his death. About life with him.” She shuddered again. “And about him turning up alive and showing up at my doorstep.”
“I understand. I’m sure that was terrifying, but you’re alright now.”
He set her down on the bed, but before he could stand, she reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t leave,” she said quietly. “Please.”
“Alright,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Thank you.” She looked at him in the soft light, and he could just barely see her wrinkle her nose. “Why are you dressed?”
“I was working.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“No,” he said.
“I have a hard time sleeping, too.”
“I’m sure this is traumatic for you,” he offered. “A woman with a heart like yours feels compassion for even the worst of us—”
“That’s not what I mean,” she interrupted.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
He waited, giving her a moment as she straightened her back, sliding her bare arms around his neck then sighing.
“I know that this isn’t the time or place for this,” she began. “But if I don’t say anything, I know I’ll regret it the rest of my life. I’m tired of living with regrets, so I’m just going to come out and say it. Lincoln, I want you. I’ve wanted you since that day, but I tried to explain it away as adrenaline or something else. I didn’t want to admit that I could watch a man die and then turn around and just keep living my life as if nothing had happened.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” he offered.
“I guess. It’s really hard to think that something good can come out of that nightmare. I tried avoiding it, ignored the dreams, and I didn’t contact you until I had no choice, but it—”
“Ignored what dreams?”
She ducked her head, tilting her face down and biting her lip in embarrassment. Her expression tugged at his heart even more.
Does she have any idea how sweet she is? Lincoln wondered. But he knew she didn’t, not right now. George had extinguished that light inside of her, and it was going to take a lot of work and the love of a man strong enough to love an even stronger woman to make that happen. Lincoln knew in that moment that he’d wanted to be that man for some time.
“Sex dreams,” she finally said.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Wow,” he said. “I never would have guessed that.”
“I’m full of surprises,” she teased.
“I can agree with that. So, what exactly did you dream about?”
Her voice was low when she put her arms around his neck again, looking into his eyes in the low light and smiling seductively.
“You were sitting like this,” she began. “And I slid onto your lap like this.”
When she moved to straddle him, he sucked in a deep breath. His hand went to her hip and he felt the bare skin beneath the hem of her jersey-style nightshirt.
“You’re not wearing any panties,” he said, almost choking on the words as he struggled to control his need.
His erection pressed painfully against his zipper, but Charity made no move to get up.
“You said that in my dream, too,” she said with a sweet little laugh that tugged at his heartstrings. “With almost that exact look on your face, too.”
“I’m sure you know why,” he said, his voice slightly strangled by a need that was quickly overpowering him. “And if you don’t want to do this, now would be a good time to show a guy some mercy.”
She surprised him, kissing him roughly instead of moving from his lap. He leaned into the kiss, sliding his hands up to cup her round ass.
“What if I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, her hot mouth inches from his ear.
“Whatever you decide, I’m onboard. You’re in control here.”
She was grinding against him when he spoke, but as soon as the words hit her, she stopped.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” she said, kissing him again. “You said everything right.”
He nearly groaned in anguish when she slid off his lap, but before he could react, her hand was on his zipper, undoing his pants and pushing them down when he stood. Her eyes were hungry when she took him into her hands for a moment, then pushed him onto the bed.
He was reeling when he clumsily asked about protection, but she just shook her head.
“You can’t get me pregnant,” she reassured him, then slid onto his shaft, the raging heat of her body almost more than he could handle.
He held her while she moved against him, hands on her hips, falling into her rhythm as if the intimacy between them was the most natural thing that either had experienced. She was breathing hard, the excitement and adrenaline from her earlier nightmare driving her arousal to the breaking point.
Lincoln pulled the shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor, capturing one taut nipple in his mouth. She moaned, hips moving faster, her orgasm looming. He could feel her body tensing and shuddering around him, and he knew that she was maddeningly close to climax.
He switched to the other nipple, sucking harder this time until she let out a little cry of delight. Digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her bottom, he quickened her thrusts until he could feel his own pleasure building.
When Charity suddenly paused and stiffened, he knew she’d reached the pinnacle. His hands went to her breasts, squeezing the hot flesh and stroking her nipples with his thumbs until she called out to him.
He let go then, filling her with his own need while she fell apart in his arms.
When she collapsed against him he rolled them both until he was on his back in the bed and she was sprawled across his chest, and he was still inside her.
She trembled, heart racing, gasping for breath.
“That was amazing,” she said when she could finally talk.
“Better than your dreams?” he teased.
“A million times better.”
“That’s a good starting point.”
“Starting point?” she gasped.
He laughed.
“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”
“I guess not,” she said, her expression already changing as her body geared up for more.
“Good,” he said, rolling so she was under him and kissing her when a giggle escaped her lips. “Because I’m just getting started.”
***
Across town, Will clicked through the hundreds of photos he’d been sent over the past few days, but he was coming up empty. He was exhausted, his legs sore from hiking hours each day, only to come up empty and return home defeated.
He sighed, running one hand over his face and trying his best to stay awake. All these photos and not one picture that he could definitively say was George. His father had no idea what he could have been wearing that day, and the heavily edited studio picture looked more like a wax figure than a real human being.
And then, there was the photo of the ex-girlfriend. Even with her full name, it had taken him some time to find her online, and her social media presence was almost nil. He had found her website, leading him to the Instagram post full of pictures of her work and a handful of selfies. Charity was in her mid-twenties, just a couple years younger than Will, yet she had the social media presence of someone twice her age.
All her selfies were the artistic shots of the painfully shy, showing one honey colored eye against caramel skin, a perfect ringlet of dark hair with artificial red highlights dangling just short of her lashes. Another showed only her nose, eyes and forehead, with the hashtag “stressed” in the caption. There were only two pictures that showed her full face, and even those were useless. From the neck up, there was no way to tell her body type. She could be tall or short, curved or petite. The only thing he knew was she was a light-skinned black woman with shoulder length, curly hair. That was it.
“This is pointless,” he growled, his voice echoing in the empty office.
Half the women in the pictures had deep tans and hats pulled over their faces to block out the sun. With nothing but her face to go on, he might as well not have a picture.
He closed his eyes, letting out an angry breath and looking at the clock. It was after midnight, and he needed to get some rest so he could set out early in the morning.
Grabbing his phone, he shut his computer down and left the office, headed straight for bed. He couldn’t look at another picture, and the next day promised to be another brutal one. He was spiraling outward, and he’d already covered all the popular trails. Tomorrow marked the start of his exploration of the permit-only trails, and the trails that were closed for the season.
He didn’t think George would have gone to either of those places, and a discreet call to the ranger’s station had told him that George had never pulled a permit, but he had to check regardless. The terrain was so grueling that he’d decided to set up camp, and each day he would cover one section, bed down for the night and start again fresh in the morning. His supplies were packed, permit pulled, and away messages set on all his accounts.
The last thing I need is a search party looking for me, he thought, shaking his head and falling into bed.
He rolled over and put his phone on the bedside table, burrowing into his covers and enjoying the last night in his comfortable bed.
“How did all those people hike Mount Rainier and not one person saw him?” he wondered aloud, starting to drift off to sleep.
Something tugged at his consciousness as he did, and all at once, he sat up.
What about Lincoln? Will thought. He’d completely forgotten that he’d seen Lincoln there with a friend on Labor Day. He had enough bags that Will was sure he had his equipment with him, which meant hours and hours of unedited feed. It was possible that Lincoln had accidentally caught a glimpse of George, if he was even there that day.
“He’s not going to tell you shit,” he grumbled, rolling over and grabbing his phone anyway.
He opened his direct messages, scrolling down until he got to the last conversation he’d had with Lincoln. It had been over a year before, and it wasn’t a good one.
He cringed when he saw some of the things that he’d said in anger, but maybe he could appeal to Lincoln’s sense of duty. He wasn’t asking for the feeds, just for Lincoln to let him know if he’d seen George or captured him on camera at some point.
It took him a few tries, but he finally composed a message that he was sure would get him what he wanted.
Lincoln. Not sure if you remember, but I saw you at Mount Rainier on Labor Day. I’m not asking for your videos or anything, but I’ve attached a picture of a man that I’m looking for. Is there a chance that you or your friend saw him that day? He would’ve been with a woman named Charity Derrick, or he may have been alone. I would appreciate any video stills you have with him, or any information on his location if you saw him. I know we’ve had our differences, but this man’s life may be in danger and his family is worried about him. Thank you for your time.
He closed the phone and rolled back over. It was a long-shot, and there was a real chance that Lincoln was going to tell him to go to hell. But it was worth more than a million dollars to Will, and that kind of money was worth making nice with your enemy.
Hopefully, Lincoln would grace him with an answer before he left for his week away in the morning, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. He’d burned that bridge long ago, and Will knew that Lincoln would never admit to owing him a thing. He’d learned that the hard way.