Relentless (Bertoli Crime Family #1) by Lauren Landish (28)

My friend's concern touched me, and I couldn't help but smile. Daddy confiscated my phone as if I’m still a teenager. I'm still not okay, but I'm doing better than when I left The Nook. U?

I had to wait a minute while Shawnie typed out her reply, during which I pulled up the Wikipedia on the Battle of Agincourt. If I was going to cram as much as I could last minute, going through the textbook just wasn’t going to work. Besides, I only needed a B on the test.

Finally, Shawnie's reply popped up. I got home okay. Wish I'd have been able to bum a ride like I'd planned, but the bus was cheap. I was thinking about calling the cops though. He was so mad . . .

It wasn't that bad, Shawnie. And before you start, I know I'm 22, I'm an adult, yada yada yada. I threw in a couple of emojis, a shrugging one and a sheepish grin, then hit enter.

Okay, but it's true. Actually, I had another question for you.

Go ahead, I wrote. I'm just perusing Agincourt.

Good, I hear it's always on the test. Anyway, I'll be blunt. What were you about to say before your dad yelled out? I hope you weren’t going to say that you love him.

It was my turn to sit back, thinking. Finally, I decided it was too late in Shawnie's and my relationship to lie. I don’t know.

Ok. Well, if you need my help, you got it.

Good ol' Shawnie. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Thanks. But for now, the main thing I need is to study. See you tomorrow morning.

Good night, Abby.

* * *

It took nearly a week, but eventually Daddy started to calm down and relax. I think part of it was when I showed him the results of my History final, an A minus that ensured that I would get on the Dean's List for my last semester as an undergrad. I got my phone back and was even allowed to attend my last few days by myself, without Daddy or Brittany taking me to campus like some sort of junior high school kid.

During that time, I texted Dane three times, the first to say that I was sorry about what happened, the second as a reply to his asking how I was doing, and the third just to see how he was doing. I didn't want my bad luck to rub off on him. I wanted to text more, but more than that, I wanted to hear his voice again. I just couldn't take the risk though, as desperate as I was. I wasn't sure I could control myself if I did.

The fact was, other than when I was studying or in the tests themselves, I was constantly thinking about Dane. I’d just finished my last final, the defense of my capstone project with the head of the biology department when my phone rang and I saw that it was an unknown number. A wild idea flashed through my mind, and I answered the phone, hoping that it was Dane calling from a new phone or something. "Hello?"

"Hi, Abby, it's Chris Lake," Chris said, disappointing me, but at the same time setting loose a wild idea in my mind. "How're you doing?"

Chris sounded like he hadn't heard about my little incident at The Nook, so I assumed that Dane hadn't told him, nor had his uncle. If they hadn't, I figured there was no reason for me to either. "I'm doing okay, Chris. Just finished my last final. How about you?"

I could hear him chuckle, but again, there was that sense of something different that I'd felt when I saw him smile the time I'd given him my phone number. It was like I was listening to a stranger, and not the guy I'd dated five years earlier. Most disturbing, though, was that whoever Chris had become, he wasn't exactly someone I was interested in. "I'm doing well. I just closed a pretty big investment property deal and was looking to celebrate. I was thinking of getting together with some people, and wondered if you'd like to come with me. Nothing major, it's not a date or anything, but just a bit of a party out at the site of the deal."

"Oh? What sort of site?" I asked, curious if nothing else. It wasn't that I didn't like Chris. I just wasn't interested in him. Besides, while it’d require my lying to Daddy, seeing Dane would be worth it.

"I just closed the deal on a housing development on Blalock Reservoir," Chris said. "It's a little south of Atlanta, near Jonesboro. Do you know it?"

"I've been down there a few times," I said honestly. It had been years, but Daddy had taken me down there to do some fishing, just for fun. "It's a nice little area. I think the last time I was down there, we went to Lake Spivey. That's nearby, right?"

"Right. Well, we just signed a deal with the Clayton County Water Authority that's going to allow us to put in a whole development down there. The land actually already has a lake house. That's where the party's going to be."

My idea started to sound more and more plausible, and I couldn't help it. I smiled. "Sounds like fun. When's the party going to be?"

My smile must have come through in my voice, because Chris sounded a lot more excited than he had at the beginning of the call. "Saturday at noon. What do you say?"

Wild hope flared in my chest, and I answered quickly. "I'll see what I can do. Can you text me directions? Daddy's been a bit protective, and he's not going to like a man coming around the house and calling on me right now."

"That sounds like the Patrick I remember. Okay, I'll send them to you. And bring your swimsuit if you’d like. I think someone's going to bring their boat, and there might be some tubing at least."

“I might do that. See you later, Chris."

"See you later, Abby. Bye."

I headed toward my car when I heard Shawnie call my name. I turned around, waving. "Hey, Shawnie! What're you doing here? I thought your last class was yesterday."

My friend came closer, shaking her head, the long ringlet curls of her hair bouncing with every motion. "You're right, but did you really think I was going to let you defend your capstone without me at least checking on you? Besides, in the last week I've barely seen you. At least, not without a parental shadow. How're you doing?"

I took out my car keys and unlocked the door. "Tell you what: we can talk while I give you a ride back to your place or something. I owe you that much after The Nook.”

"I'll always take a free ride," Shawnie said, going around and climbing into the passenger seat. She hissed when her mostly-bare legs hit the dark leather seats of the Camaro that I'd gotten as a high school graduation present, and I noticed she was wearing kinda short shorts. She pulled her knees up and rubbed the backs of her legs. "I keep forgetting about these damn seats.”

"Don't worry, my A/C is super blasting," I replied, turning on the engine and cranking the cold air. Within seconds, we could already feel a difference, and I put my car into reverse and backed out of my parking spot. "Hey, I just had a call and a crazy idea, and I was wondering if I could run it past you."

"Go ahead, I love crazy ideas. The Wright Brothers were batshit insane for their day," Shawnie said, slowly lowering her legs to the leather with a contented sigh. "After all, so were a lot of the most famous aeronautical engineers."

I was stunned for a second, not sure what the hell to say to that, when I just waved it off. “Well, I just got a call from Chris Lake. You remember the name, right?"

Shawnie nodded as I turned right and headed north toward her apartment. "Yeah, your ex-boyfriend who also knows Dane, and you ran into a little while back. By the way, you're beginning to sound like a soap opera with this love life of yours. What's up with him?"

"Well, he invited me to a lake party this Saturday, and I was kind of thinking of doing a little rope-a-dope. Shawnie, I've really got to see Dane, but with Daddy all up in my business, I need some help."

Shawnie grinned and tapped a quick beat on the dashboard of my car in front of her. "I like it. What's your idea?”

* * *

When Daddy got home from the office that night, he found me relaxing in the TV room, stretched out on the couch. He gave me a smile, something that I hadn't realized I missed until we went days without his being anything but angry at me. "Well now, Abby girl, how did it go?"

"I'll find out in two days. But I think it went really well. If it did as well as I think, I'll be sure to get into the GT Master's program. Also, I had an interesting phone call."

"Oh?" Daddy said, unable to contain his excitement. He had always been supportive of my academic pursuits, as he felt that education was the key to a better life than what he'd built. "And what was that?"

I sat up, trying my best to put on a cute expression for him. I don't normally turn on the charm on him, but I just had to this time. "Well, Daddy, do you remember Chris Lake? You know, of Lake Automotive?"

"Of course, baby. You and he dated back when you were a senior in high school. If I remember right, you were pretty down when you guys broke up. I never understood why either."

I shrugged, playing it off. I didn't have time to explain it, and besides, it didn't matter. Chris was my past. I was more interested in my future. "I dunno. But, I ran into him the other day, and he's doing really well for himself. He's taken over half of Lake Automotive, and he's got his own real estate company now too."

He looked impressed, though he probably already knew that, and if I wasn't so focused on my plan to try and meet Dane, I would have been upset. "Good for him. I always thought he was a good boy. Although he'd be what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine now?"

"I think twenty-nine," I said quickly, trying to advance the conversation. "Anyway, I got a call from Chris today. His real estate company just closed a big deal out on Blalock Reservoir, and he invited me to a company barbecue party to celebrate the deal this Saturday. I thought if I went, maybe he would keep you in mind when it came time for the actual construction of his project."

"Wheelin' and dealin' for me, baby? I don't need that," Daddy said, but I could see him smile despite himself. He tried, but he worried too much about me, including the size of my bank account once he passed on. A good marriage, in his opinion, was essential to that. "What about Chris himself? Like I said, I remember you two were pretty sweet on each other."

"That was a while back, but yes, I liked Chris a lot. Besides, I thought a bit of a lake party would be fun, and let me de-stress after all of this. And it's not like its going to be some sort of wild college party or anything. Probably a lot of polo shirts and khakis, I bet."

He sat down in his easy chair and started to sit back, then stopped. "Wait. I remember when I was talking to Hank Lake—Dane Bell is living with Chris."

"Really? I didn't know," I lied through my teeth, pretty convincingly. Inside of me, I felt a little twinge, but that twinge quickly went away. “I just wanted to go to the party, that's all."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. You're a big girl now. I'll give my permission. But, there’s one condition."

I rolled my eyes but tried my best to hide it. He’d just said I was a big girl, then followed it up with he’ll give his permission with a condition. “What's that, Daddy?" I asked, trying not to get up and cheer.

"Chris is a good man, but he's loyal to a fault. If he goes all noble or anything and invites that traitor, Dane Bell, you are not to hang out or even talk to him. If he approaches you, you politely inform him that you are not to speak with him, and you go on your way. I will not tolerate you and him spending time together, Abby. Understand me?"

I nodded and prepared to give him a big lie for the first time in my life. "I promise. If Dane Bell is at the party, I will not speak to or hang out with him."

I was sitting in the park on the grass overlooking the pond, relaxing after a long day at work, content if not wildly happy. After the incident at The Nook, I’d worried about three things. First, that Abby was okay. Second, that she still wanted to see me. We'd had such a great conversation and connected at the end. I needed just a few more minutes, and to be honest, I was actually angry about it. Thankfully, before I went to sleep, I saw that Abby had sent me a text message that she was okay and that she would talk to me when she had the chance.

However, there was a third concern that left me sleepless for the rest of the night. I just couldn’t help but think I was going to walk into work at Lake Ford and find myself terminated. When Hank Lake called me into his office the next morning, I was sure of it. I hadn't even started my shift yet.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Lake?" I asked, mentally debating if I was willing to debase myself enough to beg for my job, or at least ask to finish out the day. I could have used the money.

Hank looked up from his chair, noticing that I was at least in clean clothes, my coveralls freshly washed and still actually smelling slightly of fabric softener. "Yeah, Bell. I just wanted to tell you that what I saw last night, stays last night. To be honest, I was impressed at how calm you stayed."

I was stunned. Recovering quickly, I found my voice. "Thank you, sir. I apologize if I caused any trouble."

Hank shook his head. "Not at all. I've met Abby Rawlings before. She's a beautiful young woman. Of course, I assume you know that she and Chris were involved before."

I nodded. "Yes sir. But when I met Abby, I didn't know that. When we were in the service, Chris never told me her name. It wasn't until later that the connection was made."

Hank tapped his desk, pondering for a moment before shrugging and continuing. "I see. Well, that's not here nor there, I’d prefer to stay out of that issue. In any case, I just wanted to let you know. By the way, I saw you weren't scheduled for the weekend this week. Planning on enjoying the time off?"

It was my turn to shrug, as I was still flummoxed from the past thirty seconds of conversation. "I was thinking I might look at some apartments if I get the chance. I'm not quite ready yet, but I'm itching to stand on my own. I looked in the paper and saw a few cheap places that don't need a big deposit."

"Most likely in neighborhoods where you're going to be putting that military training of yours to daily use," Hank said with a laugh, tossing his pen onto his desk, where it clattered before coming to rest on his blotter. "All right, I'm not going to tell a man not to be a man. If you need a reference or anything, give them my number."

That conversation had calmed my last fear, and the rest of the week went well. Now, on Friday night, I was in the park relaxing after work not because of lack of funds, but because when I came back to the Tower, I found a tie hanging on the doorknob of the apartment. Holding my ear to the door confirmed that Chris did have some female companion over, a quite vocal one at that. I figured tonight would be a good night to just chill out, and backed away from the door, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my evening. From the sounds of it, Chris and the lady were enjoying each other's company, and I'd need plans until at least midnight, if not morning.

Thankfully, unlike some of the guys in the shop who wore their work clothes to and from work, I used the locker room. So while my clothes weren’t exactly dressy, they wouldn't get me kicked out of an Applebee’s either.

The sun was still low on the horizon and the sky was golden when my phone rang, and I opened it up to see Abby's name on the caller ID. "Abby?"

"Hi, Dane," she said, her voice sounding a bit nervous. "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good, but the past five seconds have been the best part of my day," I replied honestly. "It's good to hear your voice again."

"You too," she said. "I know this sounds weird and all, but I was really hoping I could see you again tomorrow. Daddy won't know."

I should have said no. I knew it. I should have said that if we were going to see each other, then we had to be honest with her father, even if it meant that he would be pissed off. I should have, but I didn't. Instead, I let my lust do the talking, which said that if I had to make my way through a mile of rabid pit bulls to see this woman, I would. "Of course. I have the day off, lucky for me. What do you want to do?"

"How about you meet me at the Midtown MARTA station?" Abby asked. "And dress casual. It'll be a surprise. I'll be honest, I'm kind of making this up as I talk."

"Deal," I said, leaning back and just relishing the sound of her voice in my ear. "Abby, are you going to get in trouble for this?"

"Sometimes things are worth getting in trouble for," she said softly. "I didn't understand that before . . . but I think I do now."

"I know what you mean," I said, sitting up on the grass and watching a couple of kids throwing a Frisbee back and forth. "Abby, you're causing a lot of emotional changes in me. Some of them are pretty scary, actually."

I could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, but still, a trace of nervousness clung to her honeyed tones. "Really? Like what?"

"Like for the first time since I can remember, I think there might be a chance that I could find real happiness in life," I said. "Like maybe I'm not just a barely tolerated dog in the world, to be kicked and smacked around until I lose it and bite back. Like maybe there is someone for me, and that there might be a chance at . . . well . . .”

"At what?" she asked, her breath caught in her throat. I could tell she wanted me to say it, but I didn’t want to say it prematurely. We still had a while to go.

"At love," I finally said in a whisper. I ran my hand through my hair and laughed. "Is that too much to hope for?"

"No." Abby's answer came back at nearly the same level of whisper that I had used. "I feel the same way. I don’t know if that’s what this is, but I have hope.”

* * *

The next day, I waited outside the Midtown MARTA station when a white Chevy Camaro pulled up and Abby waved. I hurried over, jumping in on the passenger side. Looking around the interior, I ran my hand over the real leather, impressed. Maybe it was living in the Mayfair Tower, maybe it was that I had a job of my own now, but I had come to be able to appreciate the trappings of Abby's economic status without being too worried about my position relative to them. "Wow, this is a great car."

"Thanks," Abby said. I couldn't help it—I stared at her as she pulled out. She was wearing jean shorts, not quite short shorts but damn close, with what I was sure was about a mile and a half of toned, beautifully tanned leg sticking out, along with a blue tank top and her hair pulled back into a thick, braided ponytail that completed the package. I could feel blood begin to rush to my cock, and I could only sit there like an idiot. When we got to the stop light, she looked over at me and smiled shyly. "You're staring. And not wearing your seat belt."

"Sorry," I replied, jerking my eyes away and putting on my belt. "Just . . . you look beautiful today. So what is on your agenda?"

Abby's smile was contagious, and she jerked a thumb behind her. I looked and saw the folded bulge of a blanket and a picnic basket. "I guess you can tell, but I'm an outdoors-type girl, and I couldn't think of anything better than having a picnic with my boyfriend."

"Is that what we are now?” I asked. I tried to think back to the last time a girl had called me her boyfriend, and I realized it was nearly a decade prior, back when I'd just gotten out of high school. Of course, I’d had plenty of hookups since then, at least before Iraq, but never had I been someone's boyfriend. “Are you sure about that? I’m not the most popular guy around here.”

Abby got on I-85 and headed north, letting the horses under the hood of her car walk it out some. I wasn't sure exactly what she had, except that it was one of the newer Camaros, but I doubted she was running a factory standard motor under the hood. I'd heard enough engines in the near month that I was working at Lake Ford to know a tuned up car when I heard it. “I’m positive,” she said as she smoothly merged. “After today, I was thinking that no matter what, I’m going to tell Daddy we’re going to see each other. He’ll be so pissed off at me that I lied to him, but I don't care. After last week, I have to follow my heart, and it’s time for me to put a stop to him controlling my life. I’ve let it go on for so long that it has become second-nature to him.”

"So what did you tell him, anyway?" I asked, curious. I wanted to say something else, but didn't have the words just yet. "Just so that when he kicks in my door with his twelve-gauge ready, I’ll know what to say."

"Oh, he doesn't have a twelve-gauge," Abby said, then looked over at me. "He's got a ten-gauge."

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Even worse. Although I guess it means more mess for the coroner to pick up. It's worth it, though. So what did you tell him?"

"Well, I was invited to a party by Chris Lake," she said, "down near the reservoir. Anyway, I didn't tell him flat out yes, but I did arrange for Shawnie to go in my place. She's going to say that I invited her too, and that I would meet her there. If Chris asks, I'll tell him that I had car trouble or something. Daddy doesn't need to know more about it, except that you and I were together instead of at the party like I'd originally told him."

The way she said together sent shivers down my spine, and I hummed, half nervously. "So, we're lying to both your father and to the man who is giving me a place to stay. This sounds like a dangerous game.”

"I'm willing to take the plunge if you are," Abby said. It was easy for her to say. She had never really experienced any consequences in her life. Not that I wasn’t in—I was all in—but I wasn’t sure if she would stick to it once the going got tough.

"Dane . . . my feelings for you are hard to put words to."

"Then let's wait until we get to wherever it is you're taking us," I said. “It's probably safer to drive when you're not searching for words."

We left Atlanta, heading out into the suburbs, until Abby took an off-ramp and drove me down a few winding roads to the side of a river. "I thought about a park. I even thought about us going to Six Flags, but I decided that I wanted something more private."

“Even better,” I said amiably as I got the picnic basket and blanket out of the back. "Ooof, this thing weighs a ton. What all do you have in here?"

"You're a big man, with big appetites," Abby teased, her meaning very clear. "I wanted to make sure we were both satiated today."

Abby led me down a narrow path to a clearing, where I spread out the blanket. "What is this place?"

"Just a fishing spot that Daddy and I would sometimes go to when the creek at the house was boring," Abby said. "It's special to him because it's the spot where he and Mom got engaged."

Abby spread out the blanket underneath a huge magnolia tree, the shadows from the wide leaves giving us plenty of shade. "It's beautiful today," she said as I took a seat.

"Abby, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. Shoot.” Abby opened the basket and took out a sub sandwich wrapped in butcher paper. It was easily a foot long, and about as big around as my forearm. It looked like it could have fed a horse. "Sorry. I would have come up with something more homemade, but it would have looked funny. Thankfully, the picnic basket was in the garage, or else we'd be eating our picnic out of a plastic shopping bag."

"This is just fine," I said, unwrapping it to find a turkey sub with bacon and cranberry mustard dressing. Easily a half pound of turkey slices, probably an entire pack of bacon, and just a bit of cheese complimented the whole package. "It's a little Thanksgiving, isn't it?"

"You can always enjoy a good Thanksgiving," Abby said, taking out a can of Pringles and a bottle of Cheerwine. She handed them to me, then got her own, much smaller sandwich and sides out, along with the same Cheerwine. When I looked at her bottle, she raised it in a salute. "A Southern tradition, you know."

“I love it,” I answered, toasting her and opening both bottles. "I guess my question is, what happens next?"

"What do you mean, next?" Abby asked carefully, setting her bottle down. "Do you mean with me going to grad school? Well, I'm planning on going to GT for my Masters too, and after that, well, we'll just have to see. What do you think of North Carolina? Duke and UNC both have great Ph.D. programs."

"Last time I went to North Carolina, it was on leave," I said, thinking back into my memories. "I ran into some boys from the 82nd. When they found out I was 101st, we had a friendly discussion that ended up with my getting a black eye."

Abby laughed and sighed. "That's what I like about you, Dane."

"What?" I asked, taking a huge bite out of my sandwich. It was juicy and delicious, and I reminded myself to get the address of the shop from Abby, no matter what. "That I got my ass kicked? I mean, I gave as good as I got against three other guys, but that’s beside the point.”

"No, that you're secure enough in who you are and in your maturity that you’re willing to admit that. Any other man I've ever met, after the way we met, at least, would have told me a litany of lies that made him look like the world's biggest badass," she said, laying back on the blanket and letting her body stretch out. She looked so sexy, I couldn't have taken my eyes from her anyway. “You’re the real deal, and you don’t try to flaunt it. It’s refreshing. And you know what else?"

"What?" I asked.

"I'm hoping that you’re going to take advantage of our privacy and this blanket," she purred, cupping her breast. "I've not been able to get that night out of my mind for six weeks. If that's what you meant by what's next."

It wasn't, but I damn sure wouldn’t turn something like that down. Setting the delicious food aside, I lifted the basket out of the way, making sure it was clear of anything before I lay down next to Abby, pulling her into my arms and softly kissing her lips.

I tasted the sweet wine on her mouth and tongue. Her breasts pushed up into my chest, and her legs were warm and strong under mine. Abby's kiss was tender and loving, her fingers running through my hair and pulling me in tighter.

With a giggle and a squeal, we rolled until she was on top, kissing me with her hair dangling over our face. Breaking our kiss, she traced my forehead and eyebrows, looking down on me. "Dane.”

“Yes, Abby?” I asked as she wiggled her body, rubbing against my now raging hard on.

"Call me Abs. You're the first person to ever do that, and . . . well . . . I kinda like it."

My answering combined chuckle and moan was more than enough of an answer, and we kissed again, my hands going from caressing to demanding, hungry to feel the silky smoothness of Abby's skin and to see her nude in the shaded afternoon light. "Abs." It came so naturally.

She lifted her body enough for me to pull her tank top up and off, leaving her in just a lacy bra. I repeated the name over and over, kissing down her throat and finding her pulse on her collarbone. She mewled and gasped, struggling to form a question. "Please, can you take off your things too?"

"Please? I like that," I teased, letting her get off me while I sat up. I'd dressed casually, but still more than she had, with a light cotton, button-down shirt to go with my own cargo shorts, five years or more out of fashion, but what I was still comfortable with.

She reached for the button on her shorts at the same time, and I noticed that her bra had a front clasp this time. I wondered if she had planned on seducing me even as we had talked the evening before. I couldn’t complain. I’d hoped for it either way. She saw where my eyes were fixed and raised an eyebrow, unclasping the bra and letting her perfect, heavy teardrops expose to the air and to my view. I reached up, cupping one of her breasts and letting it rest in my hand. "You certainly like these."

“How could I not?” I replied, taking my hand away and undoing my shorts. I pushed them down, glad I'd worn the Nikes instead of boots, as I could pull my shorts off easily. "Sorry, forgot the shoes."

"I don't care," Abby said, reaching for my cock. "This is what I've been desperate to have."

"I'm just a big cock life support unit then?" I teased, causing her to stop and smile.

“Oh you’re a little more than that,” she teased. “But yes, you sure know how to use it,” she said with my dick in her hand. “And there's something I've wanted to do that I didn't last time."

"Oh?" I asked, thinking back to the night in the apartment. It was hard to concentrate when I had a beautiful woman stroking my cock with her small, perfect hand, and my thoughts were totally blown away when she quickly knelt and took the head of my cock in her mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive tip.

Abby's lips sealed around my shaft added to the sensation, and I knew if she kept that up, I was going to fill her mouth with my come before she even got all the way down. Reaching forward, my hand traveled over the smooth curve of her backside, noticing that she'd lost a few pounds since our first night. It must have been the stress of studying, I thought, but I didn't mind. She was perfect no matter what, and as my fingers reached between her butt cheeks to find the warm moistness of her cleft, I shuddered as she groaned around me.

I stayed there for as long as I could, Abby slowly bobbing her head on my cock while I rubbed my fingers over the edges of her lips. Finally, I couldn't resist it anymore and I pulled back, grabbing her ponytail and pulling her up into a searing kiss. Our lips were hot and liquid, flowing over each other and sucking hard while we growled. Our inner feral natures were coming out, and this beautiful woman was more than willing to match my inner nature with her own passion.

"Give it to me, Dane,” Abby hissed at me as her fingers pulled at the muscles along my shoulders and neck. "Show me what you can do."

Her words stirred my passion to flaming heights, and I pushed her back onto the blanket, her legs wrapping around me as I claimed her mouth with mine again. Reaching down, I aligned myself with her wet entrance and pushed in, not too fast, but unrelenting. If she wanted to be my woman, she would be my woman.

Abby didn’t make a single sound of complaint as I sank my entire length into her. A warm moan started deep in her chest as I pushed farther and farther in, until my balls rested on the curve of her ass below me. Pulling back, I looked into her sapphire eyes, which were wide with amazement and pleasure. Tracing my hand over her heart, I let loose the words of my heart. "You're going to be mine—forever."

She smiled, bringing her hand up to rest over my heart, her voice thick and syrupy with desire. I pulled back and drove into her again. Shudders rippled through her body with the feeling. We fell into a fast, hungry pace, demanding from each other everything the other had. My right hand was still wrapped with her ponytail as I drove into her over and over, our eyes locked on each other as our passion built. I'd never found a woman like Abby before, whose genuine desire matched my own in perfect harmony, rising to meet me and pulling me in for more and more.

My orgasm built quickly within me, and I didn't care. I could tell she was on the edge as well. I knew it—and knew there would be other times for gentleness and tenderness. This was about laying claim to each other. I was determined to make her mine.

Faster and faster, my hips rose and fell while I pinned Abby to the blanket, my hand tight in her hair and her fingers raking down my back. I felt the steely fire of my skin tearing as her fingernails cut furrows in my back, but the pain fueled my passion even more, and my hips pounded into her even harder. "Yes, yes, yes," she cried, biting her lower lip. "Fuck me!"

We raced each other toward our orgasm, my body trembling and covered in sweat from the exertion and the heat of the early summer day. With a trembling growl, I plunged my cock into her one more time, her legs tightening as Abby's orgasm swept through her, her fingers digging in harder than they ever had. The feeling of her pussy clenching and massaging my cock that last time was the trigger I needed, and I exploded, letting out a powerful, feral growl.

When I was finally done, and my body relaxed into the boneless happiness that is the wonder of a post-orgasm glow, I leaned down, kissing Abby tenderly and rolling both of us onto our sides. "I think I’m falling in love with you, Abs."

“Me too, Dene," she said. When I cocked an eyebrow, she smiled and traced my face with her fingertips. “In my studies, I ran across the word that the old English used for the Viking warriors. They called them Dene, or what eventually became Dane. I thought it appropriate for you.”

I kissed her softly, my heart warming. “It’s fitting, given what I’ve turned to religiously. I'll treasure it, Abs. Maybe I can get it tattooed on my body somewhere."

"I was thinking of maybe having it tattooed on mine," Abby replied with a smile. “And what do you mean? Are you into Norse mythology or something?”

I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know—kind of. I started looking for something to believe in after my conviction. But it started a little before that.”

"Tell me about it," Abby said softly, rolling back and pillowing her head on her arm. "I want to know everything about you, even the dark parts."

I nodded and rolled onto my stomach, tenting my chin on my hands and looking out at the river beyond. "I guess part of it was my upbringing. My family was one of those weekly churchgoing families—every Sunday, like clockwork. But there was nothing happening despite all that praying. It continued in the Army, as some of the biggest assholes I knew were also some of the most churchgoing. Still, I tried to keep at least a little bit of faith, but after what happened in Iraq, I practically gave up on it. So I thought about it, and I picked Norse mythology because it seemed to fit what I was going through. It's a religion where everything pretty much goes to hell, and the good guys get screwed in a major way. Kinda fit in with my outlook on life back then."

"And now?" Abby asked. "Do you still think that life sucks and then you die?"

I rolled to my side and kissed her nose, shaking my head. "I don't know for sure, but things do seem to have taken a turn for the better.”

Unfortunately for our desires, regardless of how long we wanted to stay there, I had to go home eventually. As it was, we stayed until the sun started to go down, then had a casual dinner at a little country barbecue place. "I never realized just how voracious an appetite you have," I said as he came back from the buffet with his third plate. "Have you been starving yourself or something?"

Dane grinned and shook his head. "No, but I did work up quite an appetite this afternoon. And it’s a bit of an old habit that I've not quite worked past yet."

"What's that?" I asked, enjoying the rich pork myself.

"Until recently, I mostly just ate to live," Dane said simply as he used his plastic fork to split a biscuit in half. He took forkfuls of the spicy barbecue and put it on the halves, making an open-faced sandwich that he started consuming in efficient, neat bites. Despite it being his third plate, and the barbecue being soaked in nearly an obscene amount of sauce, his shirt was spotless, a far cry from my own.

"Luxury for my family was getting eighty-twenty ground beef to go into our mac & cheese casserole. The Army was the same way, and Leavenworth . . . well, you can guess what that was like. In any case, during all that time, I ate enough to not be hungry, but I hated a lot of what I had to put in my mouth. On the rare occasions that I was able to have delicious food, I ate as quickly and as much as I could. I never knew when I'd get another chance to indulge in it again."

"Well, now that you won't have that issue, it’s a habit I suggest you look at breaking unless you want to end up the size of a small elephant," I teased.

Dane immediately set his fork down and pushed his plate away. “Well, I’m still going to have some Key Lime Pie.”

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Dane, I'm not saying don't enjoy tonight. It's actually kind of cute to watch. You act like a man, a real man. I've spent too many meals surrounded by frat boys who worry about their six-packs and their haircuts. So enjoy. I guess what I was trying to say, not too successfully, is that your life isn't that way anymore, and you don't have to worry about it."

Dane thought about it, teasing the pile of barbecue with his fork. "Abs, we seem to have something going here, but I don't want to be a kept man. I never have been and never will be.”

I blushed and looked down, twisting my napkin until it started to tear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that either. I'm just trying to say, money isn't important to me. And I’m not going to live off of Daddy for the rest of my life—something I should have started already. I’ll admit, I'm self-centered, I'm greedy, and I'm spoiled rotten. In other words, I'm your normal girl."

Dane laughed and pulled his plate closer. "You are far from normal. In fact, you're pretty exceptional."

* * *

When I got home, Daddy and Brittany were enjoying a movie together in the family room, looking comfortable together. I hadn't seen them like that often before, and I had to admit that it was nice to see. They looked like a normal couple. "I'm back."

"Did you have fun, sweetie?" Brittany asked, leaning against Daddy.

"I did. The water was nice," I lied. "How about you guys?"

"We had a good afternoon," Daddy said. "You want to join us? Blazing Saddles is coming on in a few minutes."

I shook my head, tired after the warmth and the day's exertions. "No thanks. I'm pretty worn out. I think I'll get a bath and go to sleep, if y'all don't mind."

I rarely let a y'all slip out. Brittany usually corrected me on it, but this time she was content, and I think our conversation a few days earlier helped. She waved from the couch, not even looking up from her position nestled next to Daddy to worry about it. "All right, Abby. See you in the morning."

Up in my room, I noticed that my phone was blinking, meaning I had some messages or missed calls. I'd ignored it all day, in fact leaving it in my bag in the car while Dane and I spent the afternoon together. I turned it on, surprised to see over a dozen missed calls.

Checking my call log, I was a little worried to see that ten of the missed calls were from Chris, with two from Shawnie. Also, there were three messages from Chris to my phone.

Party's just getting started, I hope you get here soon!

Hey, where are you? Your friend got here, hope you can join us!

At least give me a call, or tell me what's going on.

It was the tone of the last message that concerned me. I just got a sense that Chris seemed to expect something, and I thought about giving him a call to clear things up. I hope he didn’t get the idea that I wanted to see him again. It was nearly nine, though, and I decided to give Shawnie a call instead. She picked up almost any time of the day or night.

Shawnie's phone rang over and over, and I grew concerned. She usually turned her phone off if she couldn’t answer. This time, though, her phone just kept ringing, until finally it kicked over to her voice mail. "Hey, Shawnie, it's me. Just wanted to see how you were doing. I saw you tried to call. I'm a bit concerned—you normally have your phone set differently. Gimme a call if you can and tell me how the party went. Talk to you later, bye."

I repeated the message in a text and put my phone on its charger. Yawning, I realized I really was tired, and I changed out of my clothes into some sleep shorts and a pajama top and climbed into bed. Dreams of Dane and me making love on the side of the river warmed me throughout the night, and I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. I knew that my dream had to have good meaning for the day ahead, and I planned again how I was going to approach Daddy about everything involving Dane.

Taking my phone from the charger, concern swept back over me when I saw that Shawnie hadn't messaged me back. It was already nearly ten in the morning, and she had always been a notoriously early riser—to the point of annoying me more than once with her seven in the morning perkiness. I enjoyed sleeping in when I didn't have to be up, and after the physical exertion of the night before, I was more than ready to crash for a whole day.

I quickly showered and changed clothes, pulling on some jeans and a t-shirt. Going into the kitchen, I saw Daddy drinking his morning green tea as he read a spy novel, a habit he had picked up at my urging. Considering the time, it was probably his second cup of the day before he enjoyed his Saturday morning. "How did you sleep, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine, Daddy, but I need to go run an errand," I said, grabbing my car keys. “I hope it won't take too long.”

"What is it, honey?" he asked, setting his tea and book down to look at me. "

"My friend, Shawnie. She didn't answer her phone or the text message I sent her last night. I'm just a bit worried about her, and I want to make sure she's okay."

I had expected him to protest, but he waved it off. Instead, he picked up his paperback and took another sip of his tea. "I was a bit too harsh on her, I think. You two have been friends for a long time, and I shouldn’t have taken out my concerns on her. Besides, from what you said the other night, you won't be seeing much of each other soon, and I don't want to stop you from having some good memories."

"Thanks, Daddy," I said, going over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in a bit.”

Jumping in my car, I thought about calling Dane, but I decided I was being silly. Instead, I sent him a text message. I didn't have a chance to talk to Daddy yet. But I will.

He replied quickly, and I snuck a look while waiting at a red light. It's okay. I know it needs to be done, but I’m not looking forward to that one anyway. I'm going to go out apartment hunting. Talk to you in a while.

His reply made me smile, and I turned left toward Shawnie's neighborhood. Being on a scholarship and not exactly coming from means, Shawnie's apartment wasn’t in the best part of Atlanta.

Pulling up in front of Shawnie's place, I didn't see her car at all. Not answering her phone was one thing if she were home, but Shawnie was as much a smartphone junkie as I was—she never left without it. Still, I parked my car in her space and went up to her apartment, knocking on the door. "Hello?"

A young woman, about Shawnie's age, opened the door. "May I help you?"

"Hi," I said, a bit confused. I hadn't met the girl before, and I felt a bit taken aback. Then again, Shawnie frequently changed roommates, letting anyone who wasn't doing drugs, and had the money, crash to share the rent. "My name's Abby. I'm a friend of Shawnie's. Is she home right now?"

The thick accent of the girl was something that I'd heard a lot of, and told me that while she was staying in Shawnie's apartment for now, she probably wouldn't be for long. "Naw, Shawnie ain't been back since yesterday. Said she had some lake party or somethin' she was goin' to."

"Oh, okay. I guess I'll try her phone again," I said. "It was just something to do with classes. Thanks."

The girl nodded and closed the door quietly, leaving me standing on the walkway in front, still confused. I pulled out my phone and tried Shawnie again, but hung up when she didn't pick up after the fifth ring. Going back to my car, I thought about what may have happened. "Maybe Shawnie followed my lead and found a cute guy," I said to myself while the air conditioning blasted. "I mean, she's single, cute, and likes men. No reason she can't have a little summer lovin' before heading out west."

Still, it didn't jive with me. Shawnie having a hook-up, I could understand. After all, I'd basically done the same thing. But Shawnie having a hook-up and not sending me a message or replying to what I sent her? That I didn't see happening.

"I should check in with Chris," I said to myself again. "He may be pissed that I ditched his party, but maybe I can find out who was there, and if Shawnie hooked up with someone."

Nodding at my logic, I stopped to send another little text to Dane asking about the apartment search. He replied almost immediately. I've got one more to check out, then I'm going back to the apartment.

His words let me calm my nerves enough to call Chris, who picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Chris? Hi, it's Abby Rawlings. I am so sorry about yesterday."

There was tension in Chris's voice, but I figured he was just still a bit miffed about yesterday. Part of me understood. I mean, Daddy did have business connections that he could have used. If anything, Daddy's construction teams needed at least one or two new trucks on almost a yearly basis, and if he made a good connection with me, he'd have an easy hundred thousand a year in fleet sales ready to go for Lake Automotive, never mind the actual construction itself with Chris's real estate investments. "Abby, it's good to hear from you. I was worried when you didn't show up yesterday. What can I do you for?"

I hated that turn of phrase, but I never let it show as I put my phone into the hands-free dock and started up my car. "Well, first off, I really wanted to apologize about yesterday. I was getting ready to go when Daddy kinda flipped out on me."

Chris's voice sounded relieved, and there was a chuckle in his reply. "Still a daddy's girl, I take it?"

"Forever and ever," I answered with a laugh. "Anyway, Chris, I was calling because of my friend, Shawnie. I saw in your texts that she made it to the party. I hope that wasn't a problem?"

"No, Shawnie was great,” Chris answered. "I had a good time talking with her—she's quite a firecracker. Of course, it would have been nicer to have both of you beautiful ladies here at the same time, but I guess that'll happen another time."

"Maybe," I demurred, still not liking the weird undertone to his voice, "but I got a bit worried about her. She never came home last night, and she's not answering her phone. Do you know anything?"

"Hmmm, let me think," Chris said. "You know, she was hanging out with a few of the people at the party . . . you know, I can't remember their names. Let me check my—"

"What?" I asked, a tinge of panic creeping in.

"I was going to check my digital camera. I took a bunch of photos for the party, and I knew there were a few with your friend in them," Chris said. "But I think I left the camera at the lake house. If I had it, I’d remember who she was hanging out with."

"Chris, I know this is asking a lot, but do you think there's a way we could get that camera and take a look at the photos? Shawnie's not the sort of girl to go on a wild night without telling at least one person. I'd really appreciate it."

Chris hummed, and I thought he was about to say no, when the hum changed. "Okay. I'm a bit busy today, though, Abby. Do you mind if we just meet up at the lake house? I'm out that direction right now, and I can be there in a few minutes. And you could help me search for the camera. I think it’s in the kitchen, but I’m not sure, and I don’t have time to go around looking for it.

"Sure," I said. "That's more than fair."

"Okay. You know, Abby, I can pretty much figure out from your skipping out on the party that you're not really interested in seeing me again, at least not the way we used to be," Chris said. "But I'd like to think that we can at least be friends. We had some good times together."

"Yeah, we did,” I answered, relieved. Maybe Chris had just sounded weird because he still carried a bit of a flame for me and didn't know how to say it. That could make anyone sound a little weird. "Thanks, Chris. I'll see you at the lake house. Can you send me a text with the address? That way I can put it into my GPS."

"Sure, I'll send it right away. It won't be hard to find, though. You shouldn't have a problem. See you in a bit."

Chris hung up, and my phone beeped a minute later as a new text message came in. I pulled over and read the text, copying the information over to my GPS system. A second later, I had my route, and I thought Chris was overestimating things a little bit. While the house wasn't exactly in the backwoods, the development was a decent distance from the other housing developments near the reservoir, and I wondered how long it would take for him to build all the infrastructure needed in order to get a good return on his company's investment. Even if he only put in a two-lane drive, it was nearly a half-mile from the nearest blacktop.

Pulling back out into traffic, it took me about a half-hour to make my way to the house. The last mile or so was over a washboard dirt road, and I was somewhat worried about the suspension in my car as I drove. The Chevy Camaro is meant for city streets, not dirt paths. I slowed down, taking my time and ensuring I'd make it out to Chris's lake house.

Pulling up, I saw that the house was a boxy two-story affair, like it had been prepared by someone to use as a quick vacation getaway on the lake and not as a permanent or long-term sort of domicile. I saw a Jeep parked in front of the house, which I figured was Chris's, although the house did have a garage. "Probably where the old owners kept their boat," I said, looking at the way the driveway sloped all the way down to the lake. "That's where I'd keep it when I wasn't on the water, at least."

I parked next to Chris's Jeep, honked my horn and got out, waving when Chris appeared in the window. There was something about the way he looked, like he'd been surprised at my appearance. His face was a bit flushed, and a light sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead. "Hey, Abby!"

"Chris, thank you for meeting me," I said, walking toward the back porch. Chris came out, his face pink with an excited but naughty gleam in his eye. I swear it looked like I'd just walked in on him reading a porn mag and enjoying himself to it. "Are you okay?"

"A bit of a hangover, and I was looking around when you pulled up," he said, wiping his face before scrubbing his right hand on his shorts, blinking then letting out a big breath. "I didn't realize just how much of a big ol' mess we left yesterday."

Chris offered his hand and we shook hands. Chris moved like he wanted to give me a hug, but stopped about halfway, backing away a bit awkwardly. "Sorry."

"It's all right," I said, half apologetically. Even though he'd been the one to break it off with me, there were obviously lingering feelings. "So did you find the camera?"

"It's not in the kitchen, I can guarantee you that," he said, shrugging. "That was half the reason I was looking in the dining room. Unfortunately for me, there is a lot of junk there. Mind giving me a hand?"

"I guess not," I said, heading inside with him. I saw what he meant immediately, as the clear aftereffects of a good party were littered all around the place. "Sheesh, how many people did you have here yesterday?"

"Only about a dozen or so," Chris replied. "Not as big as some of the parties I threw back in my college days, but I'll admit I was pretty well buzzed by the end of the night. That's probably why I can't remember where I put my damn camera. Heck, part of me is a bit worried about what you'll find once we do find it."

"Sure it's not in the lake?" I teased, and Chris laughed.

"No, nobody brought any swimming gear, despite what I'd told you,” Chris replied.

“Well, I'm just worried about my friend,” I said, sighing. “I hope she's okay. There's just something that doesn't feel right.”

Chris nodded and reached up, rubbing his temples. “I understand. I’m sure she’s fine though. Hey, you mind if I grab a drink?”

“I thought you were busy?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Chris waved me off with a relaxed laugh. “I am. I didn’t mean alcohol. I just meant some fruit juice. There's still some orange juice in the fridge from last night. Would you like some?”

“Sure,” I replied, trying to be polite. Besides, the day was warm, and I hadn't really had anything to eat or drink except for a mouthful of water when I'd quickly brushed my teeth. I could use it, and my grumbling stomach could use the calories. “If you have a big glass, that would be great.”

“I'm sure I do,” Chris said, heading into the kitchen area. He rooted around in the fridge for a moment, then came out with a glass pitcher of juice. “Here we are. I had to double-check that this wasn't one of the ones that are spiked.”

Chris poured a large glass of orange juice, emptying the pitcher. “Oh. Well, there's some other stuff in there, and I think the carton of milk is calling my name right now. Here, go ahead.”

I brought the glass to my lips, taking a deep drink. Chris watched me, smiling. His grin creeped me out, and I set the glass down. “What?”

“Nothing,” Chris said, turning back to the fridge. He opened it up and took out a half-gallon jug of milk, breaking the seal. “Nothing at all.”

It was the best weekend I'd had in over five years, I thought as I lounged back on the couch. After getting home on Saturday night, I'd used the Internet to look at a few apartment listings online, and I was interested enough in two of them that I made plans to go see them on Sunday. The second complex was by appointment only, and while not great, it was pretty close to the Georgia Tech campus, had reasonable rent, included utilities and even a shared Wi-Fi connection that I could use. I booked an appointment to see one of their open units for Sunday afternoon, then went to bed.

Waking up, I enjoyed my morning workout and a shower before eating a light breakfast. As I ate, I pondered how best to talk with Chris about Abby. It shouldn’t too much of a problem. After all, they’d been split for a while now, but still, there would probably be some weirdness that I wanted to minimize. Even if I was going to move out, Chris really helped me, and I didn’t want to do him wrong. And frankly, bringing your friend's ex-girlfriend back to his place while you’re crashing with him is just too weird—even for me.

When Abby first messaged me, I was a bit disappointed, but I understood. In the little bit of checking around I'd been able to do, Patrick Rawlings had struck me as the sort of guy who had gotten his success via a lot of hard work and a deep-seated stubborn streak that you didn't want to mess with. If even his own daughter had to sit back and think about the best way to approach him about our relationship, then I had to respect her point of view.

Besides, Abby constantly impressed me. Of course she was beautiful, as even the memory of us having sex on the side of the river, with the hum of the insects in the background, had caused my cock to stir lazily in my shorts. There was no need to do anything about it, though, as I knew that soon enough, Abby and I would be together again.

After lunch, I went over to the apartment and met the landlord. She was an Asian woman named Lynn, and when she looked over my application, she was reservedly impressed. “Well, Mr. Bell, it looks like you at least have a job,” she said. “We get some folks in here who can't even claim that.”

“Can I ask you, what percentage of your clients are students?” I asked, thinking that was what Lynn was talking about. “My girlfriend is going to do her Master's at Tech, and I was kind of hoping she might be able to crash here every once in a while.”

“Not a lot of Tech students around here, but there are still quite a few students,” Lynn answered with a shrug. “When I said no job, I meant nothing at all. The only way I take those folks is with two months’ deposit up front in cash or money order. Then when their section eight comes in, I get our money. Still, sometimes it's not worth the hassle.”

“And you don't have a problem with my background?” I asked incredulously. “No offense, just a lot of people have.”

“Hey, you gotta stay somewhere,” Lynn said. “I'll be honest with you, Mr. Bell. I'm not going to say you're going to make the wall of fame for this place. But I deal with some bad folks every week. If you pay your rent, don't destroy the place, and generally don't raise hell, I'll be happy. Then again, people like that rarely end up staying around here. They move on up and out.”

We shook hands and I returned back to the apartment, stopping at a bookstore and picking up an interesting book. It was just a book on architecture, but it looked intriguing to me, and despite the rather hefty price tag of forty bucks, I didn't mind paying. I got home and decided that the best thing to do on such a relaxing day was just lounging on the couch. I sent Abby another text message and plopped down with my new book, intrigued almost immediately as I read about some of the great designers of the late twentieth century.

I was just reading about the background of Zaha Hadid when the door to the apartment opened and Chris came in. He was out of breath and sweating, but he looked happy, excited. In fact, I hadn't seen him this happy in a long time. “Hey, Dane! Great fuckin' day, ain't it?”

I realized what had gone on—Chris was drunk. I figured after the party he'd had Saturday, and with him not even coming home the night before, that he'd had enough. Apparently not, though, much to my disappointment. “Hey, Chris. Yeah, great day. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, this and that,” Chris said with a laugh. He came in and took the chair opposite of the sofa, kicking his muddy shoes up onto the coffee table. “I see you got a new book. Good story?”

“Kinda,” I said with a shrug. “It's a book on famous architects. So there isn't exactly a lot of plot to the thing. Still, the story about some of them, it is kinda interesting to see where they drew their ideas from, stuff like that.”

“Sounds boring as shit,” Chris dismissed with a laugh. “Tell you what, let me tell you a story instead. I promise—you're going to love it.”

I knew that in this condition, Chris wasn't someone I wanted to fool with. Even drunk, I'd seen him fight three men and kick their asses like it was nothing, walking away without a scratch. While I could probably take him, I didn’t want to hurt the one man that had given me a lifeline. Better to humor him, let him get it out of his system. Then I could look at maybe deflecting his attention somewhere else. Besides, getting into fights with my roommate was not the sort of person I wanted to be anymore. I set my book aside and sat up, paying attention. “Sure, go ahead, man.”

“Well, it's about these two boys, so it's kind of a buddy-buddy story,” Chris began, leaning back in the chair and crossing his hands over his stomach. “These two boys, oh, let's call them Tris and Boyd, they grew up together and raised a lot of hell together back in the day. Now, both Tris and Boyd were from well-to-do families, but deep down inside, both of them were disgusted by the boring nature of their lives. They tried the normal stuff that boys do, sports and games and toys and whatever, but life was just bleh and in tones of gray to them. It was only in each other that they were able to find some real fun.”

I had a growing sense of disquiet as I listened to Chris talk. He was obviously talking about him and Lloyd, telling me about them growing up. There was something else he was trying to say, but I couldn't tell what yet. I decided it was best to listen carefully. “Go on.”

“Well, starting in high school, Boyd and Tris found something that could at least partially relieve some of the tedious boredom that was their lives. That was sex. Now, before you start thinking anything, it wasn't with each other—they weren't into that. On the other hand, both of them absolutely had high interest in women. They developed this sort of game of one-upmanship, seeing who could score the greatest accomplishment. Oh, the two boys, they ran through the normal gamut. Boyd was the first to get a girl to give him a blowjob, Tris was the first to do some ass fucking, Boyd had the first threesome, stuff like that. By the time they were juniors in high school, they had reached a sense of boredom again. So, one day Tris said to Boyd, we need to up the game. Now, Boyd was an adventurous spirit, so he was more than willing. They started betting each other, seeing what the other one could pull off. At first, the bets were for real money, a hundred bucks or so, but soon enough, that same hundred-dollar bill had been passed back and forth so often that it became a symbol, a trophy more than an actual bet amount. The first challenge that Tris gave Boyd was to see who could screw their math teacher—a soon-to-be married young woman of twenty-four who'd just started teaching the year before and gave just about every boy in her class a nice set of blue balls along with his homework. Tris was able to bag that one, along with video proof, of course.”

Chris grinned, and I was starting to feel sick to my stomach, not liking where this was headed.

“Even after Boyd had to move away, the two boys kept up their little game, emailing proof back and forth. Some of the proof ended up on the Internet, of course, but the boys were careful, making sure that their faces or voices were never identifiable in the videos. Some of the games were dangerous, but both of the boys eventually found a prize that they both enjoyed. That was in finding a woman or girl who at first would say no, then with some convincing, whether a little or a lot, would end up on her knees, begging for it. Then . . . well, then it went up a notch.”

“Like how?” I asked, my throat dry and parched as I saw the true Chris. I'd seen him before, of course, but it’d been in firefights—in combat. I thought it was just the side of him that every soldier had. As Shakespeare wrote so much better than I could think of putting it,

I knew that separation, and I thought that I'd only seen that in Chris and Lloyd in those times. Little did I know that the side I saw in combat was the real man, and the joking, easy-going guys I'd called friends were the false side of their natures. “What did you guys do?”

He seemed to ignore that I knew he was talking about him and Lloyd. “Oh, they started with alcohol, which is after all pretty easy to get their hands on and so effective more often than not. You see, Tris and Boyd were both handsome fellows. A lot of the early women, they didn't need much more than a little encouragement, something to help them let go of their inhibitions.”

“Later on, with some of those women whose morals either refused alcohol or just couldn't be pried by other means, they got their hands on some of the little helpers that are so mislabeled in the media. A vial of this stuff in their drinks, whether it be water, beer, or even, say, orange juice, and the girl was out like a fucking light in about two minutes.”

“Date-rape drugs? Fucking sick,” I said, getting to my feet. “I don’t know if this is just fiction or a true story, but I think I've heard enough, Chris.”

“Oh, we’re just getting to the best part, Dane. It’s just getting good. You see, Tris and Boyd, they reunited when both of them joined the Army, although by then Boyd had picked up a battle buddy. Big, tall, handsome fucker, but dumb as a goddamned stump. Let's call him . . . Bane, why don't we? Anyway, Bane had the potential to be as much a player as Tris and Boyd—he certainly had the tools for it. Bane would have been a great player in the game, except for this little problem of his noble streak that ran bedrock deep in him. Tris and Boyd didn't mind, though. Bane was good in a fight, and like I said, he was as dumb as a rock. But reunited, the two friends were able to take their game to whole new levels. They’d finally reached the nearly penultimate level of their game, which they somewhat mourned, but knew it had been a shitload of fun anyway. You see, Tris and Boyd were both going to try and get a fresh, un-plucked cherry and turn her into a total mind-numbed slut. I mean, straight up ruin the bitch. Tris thought he had the edge. He'd found a total hottie who hadn’t even graduated high school. She was stacked like a goddamned porn star, but as innocent and sweet as a Disney character. Nobody could have topped that, Tris was sure. He sweet-talked her, of course, pretending he was willing to wait for her. After all, this one would’ve sealed a victory. She was just about to give it up to him when the Army came calling, sending the boys to the big sandbox called Iraq. The thought of getting that precious cherry when he was back was what got him through it. Little did he know that Boyd had his own plans.”

“You're a fucking psycho, Chris,” I seethed, still not moving and not really understanding where this was going. Chris was nearly at his point, and his face twisted into a gleeful rage as he kept talking.

“Perhaps. Anyway, this one night, Tris thought he would play a trick on Boyd, so he slipped a quarter-vial of the assistance drug into Boyd's beer, just to knock him out. Maybe fuck with him a bit and make him think he’d shacked up with another man. He didn't realize that doing so would make Boyd drunk off his ass while still leaving him conscious and able to function. Tris found out later that not only had Boyd not gone back to the tent to sleep it off, but had in fact left camp, grabbing some local girl and hauling her back for a little fucking behind some supply tent. Now, you'd think that because the girl was saying no that it wouldn't count, but that didn't matter to the two boys. However, Boyd was stopped by Bane, who actually, get this, shot Boyd dead as a goddamned doornail. Total accident, of course, but Bane still went to jail for five years over it. Tris felt bad about the whole thing, so he decided to help his stupid ass buddy out. After all, Tris had given Boyd the quarter-vial, and Bane hadn't done anything more than defend himself. Anyway, during that time, Tris somewhat lost interest in the game for a while, and Miss Teen USA slipped away. Probably better in the long run, since it would protect him from any connection with the string of adventures the boys had. Little did he know that the girl would end up back in his life.”

“Abby,” I whispered, my fists clenching. Chris slapped his knee and sprang up, full of manic glee.

“Yep, that was her name! See, I just forgot, I guess. You must have heard this story before. Anyway, after Bane gets out, Tris sets him up, gets him a job, all of that. Then one day, he finds out from his uncle in passing that Bane stabs him in the back by fucking none other than Miss Teen USA! In fact, from what Tris could tell, Bane was probably fucking her three ways from Sunday! So Tris invited Abby to a fake party, hoping that he could get a little sugar through the right convincing. If anything, it'd kind of close out the game with a final score. But instead, Abby was so fucking love-struck that she sent her big-titted bitch friend in her place while she went off somewhere, probably fucking Bane and draining his balls of everything worthwhile. So, Tris got a little angry.”

“What the fuck did you do?” I hissed, stepping forward. “And stop with this third person Tris shit.” Chris brought his hands up, his eyes flashing with fire as he got to his feet, smirking as he dropped all the smoke screens and told the bare-faced truth.

“It's what I'm going to do that you should worry about. A vial to the friend, a vial to sweet Abby, and both of them are sleeping it off. When they wake up, they're going to find themselves in my nice, new little play room. Then it's going to be play time—all the time.”

I couldn't resist it anymore. I swung. Unfortunately for me, I forgot the first rule of hand-to-hand combat as I was lost in my anger, which is don't let your emotions get the better of you. I should have kicked out straight, or thrown a jab. Instead, in my anger, I let loose with a huge, looping overhand right that Chris stepped inside of, catching my arm and attempting to judo throw me over his shoulder. I hung on, though, the two of us crashing to the floor in a tangle of bodies, arms and legs as I tried to pummel him. Curses and grunts filled the air.

Chris got a shot into my ribs as we rolled, a tight elbow that drove the wind out of me as I felt something inside me let go. Coughing, I hung on as best I could, trying to avoid the punches he began to rain down on my head and shoulders. While he punched, he was yelling. “Man, I so tried to get you into the game, to have some fucking fun. I figured if anything, prison would have made you more understanding. Instead, I come to find that you're fucking the one that I let get away? You probably even love the stupid stuck up cunt too.”

“Fuck you!” I screamed, slipping my head to the side. Chris's punch, which had been aimed at my nose, slipped by, just clipping my ear before I could push the elbow up and over my head, allowing me to escape out the side. I wanted to try for a choke hold, but Chris was fast, scrambling to his feet and grabbing a small statue from the coffee table. He brandished it at me, the dull pewter-like metal gleaming in the afternoon light, suddenly deadly.

“Get out,” Chris said, raising the statue up. I was on one knee, pain flaring through my body as my most likely separated rib sang out inside me. “Get out—you're on your fucking own. I tried, Dane. I gave you a place to stay, got you a job, I even took you out to get some pussy. But you just wouldn't go along with the program. So fuck you. You're on your goddamned own.”

“I'll take this to the cops,” I hissed, backing away slowly. “I'll call the cops, and I’ll find Abby and Shawnie. You won't get away with this.”

Chris laughed, breathless and with a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. “You stupid fuck, you're even dumber than Lloyd. Who's going to believe you? The cops? You're a convicted killer, dipshit. You go to the cops, and you'll be the one arrested. Stalking, sexual assault, murder . . . oh, I'm sure they'd love to find everything. Because I bet if the cops did a rape kit on sweet, sweet Abby's corpse, they'd find your DNA, wouldn't they?”

I could see it in Chris's eyes; he would have a backup plan. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd been the fall guy. He knew that if he ever got into a jam, he could use me as a convenient excuse. After all, Chris was the upstanding member of society, from one of the best families that had served his nation honorably. I was just his fuck-up friend who he'd given a second chance to, the most noble of gestures that would be regretted sorrowfully.

“I will stop you,” I gasped, backing away. I grabbed my phone from the counter as I approached the front door, glad that I still had my wallet in my pocket. “I don't know how, but I will.”

“I don’t think so, lover boy. By the time you figure things out, those two will be dead, and I'll be sitting here as free as a fucking bird. Get the fuck out. Next time I see you, I’m calling the cops myself.”

Chris darted forward and shut the door in my face, throwing the lock. I knew from months in the apartment that the door was steel core, and the deadbolt could probably hold back a motivated gorilla if it needed to. I turned and limped as fast as I could toward the elevator, hoping that Chris's bragging had been in haste.

As the elevator descended, I tried to think of someone, something I could use to save Abby and Shawnie. Chris was right, the cops were useless. They'd believe him, and most likely I'd end up arrested. Instead, I had to find someone else. I racked my brain, trying to think. Hank? No, Hank Lake might have been a good man, but Chris was his family. I didn't really know anyone else at work well enough—I didn't even have anyone's phone number.

The bell to the lobby dinged at almost the same time that the answer came to my mind. Daddy. Patrick Rawlings might have wanted to shoot me, but he loved his daughter more than life itself or his dislike of me, warranted or not. If there was anyone in the world that could help me, and had the social influence to get the cops to believe him instead of Chris, it had to be Patrick Rawlings.

Of course, that left me with one major problem. Other than his name, I knew nothing of Patrick Rawlings, or even how to get in contact with him. I left the Mayfair Tower, then turned around. I walked into the concierge area, where the person on duty looked up at me in surprise. After all, I'd been living there for four months now, and other than snatching old newspapers, I'd never said a word to them. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to put as casual a look on my face as I could. Rule number one in a firefight: don't panic. If you panic, you’re dead. “I'm trying to get a home phone number for someone. It's a business emergency, and nobody's at the office. Think you can help me out?”

I felt consciousness come back slowly, achingly fighting its way back from the blackness that seemed to be smothering me. My mouth felt like it was lined in cotton, and my pulse pounded in my ears. I swore I could even feel the air resting against my skin, and everything was in pain.

I tried to move my arms to scratch the itch that had developed in my hip, and found that I was restrained somehow. I forced my eyes open, pain chasing away the last of my cobwebs as even the dim light of wherever I was sent stabbing needles through my eyeballs, directly into my brain. I mewled, trying to turn my head away.

“You're awake,” someone said in a near whisper, which still sounded like I was at a rock concert. “I was getting worried.”

I blinked, trying to get my eyes to focus. After a minute, I thought I could see a little bit, and recognized that I was in what looked like a garage, with a bit of dim light filtering through the one window that was in the corner. I guessed that it was nearly sundown, but that was all I knew. There was also a little light coming from what looked like maybe a twenty or forty-watt light bulb suspended from a socket in the middle of the room, but it cast more shadows than anything else.

I looked toward the voice that had spoken, and was shocked to see Shawnie trussed up, her clothes hanging in ripped rags from her body. “Shawnie? What the hell?”

“Don't worry, you look about the same way,” she said softly, her voice dry and raspy. “Although I think I might be a bit more dehydrated.”

“What happened? Where are we?” I asked again, still muddled. I looked up and saw that my hands were chained to a thick eye bolt in the beam that supported the ceiling. While the chains weren't super thick, and I wasn't exactly hung up like a side of beef, there was no way I was breaking that chain. It looked like the sort of chain you might use to hang a kid's swing or something, easily capable of supporting three or four times my body weight. “What the fuck?”

“We were drugged, we're in the lake house garage as best I can tell, and I have no fucking clue,” Shawnie rasped, her voice gaining strength when she paused and forced herself to swallow whatever spit she could work up to lubricate her throat. “You certainly have interesting taste in men.”

“Hey, I wasn't dating him anymore,” I replied, wincing as my brain tried to kick off the rest of its cobwebs. “What happened to you?”

“I arrived at the house at the exact time that you told me,” Shawnie said, rolling her shoulders. She was trussed up like I was, about six or seven feet away from me. I looked at her chains and guessed that if she stretched her arms overhead, she might be able to sit down, but that was it. Her clothes hung in tatters, and I felt a rush of shame as I noticed that I could see her left breast hanging out through a cut in her shirt, and that she was only wearing panties. I looked down and realized with a shock that I looked about the same way, although I was still wearing my shorts.

“When I got here, Chris was surprised as all hell, but he invited me in. He told me that he must have given you the wrong time, as the party wasn't supposed to start for another two hours. He seemed relaxed, and since it was hot as hell, when he offered me a drink, I accepted. Before you ask, no, it wasn't supposed to be alcoholic. I just asked for a glass of Coke. I was about halfway through my second cup when I started getting woozy, and it hit me. I woke up here this afternoon while he was chaining you up. What day is it, anyway?”

I blinked, tears coming to my eyes. “Shawnie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know that I was putting you in danger.”

Shawnie shook her head and tried to wave it off with her fingers. “You didn't know, that's for sure. Can I ask, did you have any suspicion about this guy when you were dating?”

I shook my head, the pain lessening with each second. “No. But we didn't really spend a lot of time together. I mean, he was already in the Army when we started seeing each other. A lot of our courtship was done by phone calls, letters, emails, stuff like that. He was really sweet and charming at the time. He seemed like a normal guy when we were together though.”

“So what day is it?” Shawnie asked, rasping. “I know it has to at least be Sunday, but I figure not Tuesday. I haven't had anything to drink, and while I'm pretty sure I pissed myself while I was out, I can't be sure.”

“It's Sunday,” I answered. I sagged, letting my head fall forward. “Shawnie, what are we going to do?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. Like I said, I've only been awake a bit longer than you. He must have dosed me a lot more. What brought you here?”

“I tried to text you last night, see how the party went. When I called Chris, he said that you were at the party, but that he didn't know who you'd left with. Where is your car, anyway?”

“I don't know,” she said. Shawnie didn't drive her car often, it was a third-hand used thing that had a barely-working air conditioner, but it was all she had. “I drove it over here, but I heard Chris start up a car after he chained you up, driving off before he came back. I guess that was your Camaro?”

“Even drugged, I don't think you could confuse a beater Honda and a Camaro,” I said with a mirthless chuckle. “I’m guessing he drove my car off to the same place that he took yours. Considering the area, that could be anywhere.”

“It couldn't have been too far, he was gone only twenty minutes or so,” Shawnie said. “I mean, I guessed it was twenty minutes. I can't see my watch very well. When he came back, he taunted me a bit, then left.”

“What did he say?” I asked, chilled at the idea.

Shawnie shook her head, not wanting to relive the memory. Still, the information was important, she thought, and she swallowed thickly before continuing. “He didn't give a lot of details, but basically, he plans to rape us both and then kill us.”

The calm, simple way she said it convinced me that Shawnie was pretty certain that she was going to die. I wasn't going out like that. I knew it for sure. Taking a deep breath, I screamed as loud as I could for help, until my breath was gone and a harsh, jagged pain racked my throat, like I'd swallowed a bone or something.

“Don't,” Shawnie said when I stopped, forced to hack and cough to ease my vocal cords. “I already tried that. I stopped a while before you woke up.”

“So what do you want to do?” I replied angrily. “Just stand here until it's time to be raped and killed?”

“I plan on surviving,” Shawnie said simply. “I've just been trying to figure out what to do. Chris at least made a few mistakes.”

“What's that?” I asked, getting my heart under control. It was hot in the garage, and while there was a trickle of cool air coming in from the currently open door to the rest of the house, sweat was beading on my forehead and trickling down between my breasts.

“The eye bolt isn't all that strong,” Shawnie said, “and I don't think it's an actual full eye bolt. I think he used a U-shaped hook. If he can put it on there, it can come off too.”

I looked up, moving around in the limited amount of space the chain's slack gave me. As I moved, I studied the beam above my head more closely, wondering if Shawnie was right. It was about six feet over my head, and from my angle, the shadows made it look solid, telling me nothing. Instead, I looked over at her bolt, and saw what she meant. What I'd originally taken to be a full circle was in fact a mostly closed U shape, like Chris had taken a hook and bent in the top. “Still, that looks like a pretty hefty hook. What's your plan?”

“Depends. How much do you weigh?” Shawnie asked. “Real weight, not Facebook weight.”

“One fifteen, last time I checked,” I said, thinking back to when I'd stepped on the scale. “I might be a bit heavier now. That was during the two-a-day spin classes.”

“I'm one thirty-five,” Shawnie said, “so I guess I get the painful one.”

Before I could ask Shawnie what she meant, she looped the chain through her hands and dropped, jerking on the chain when her body came to a jarring halt an inch or so above the floor. She yelped in pain but got back to her feet. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Seeing if we can unbend the hook,” she said before dropping again. The beam above her groaned but looked as strong as ever, and if there was any change to the hook itself, I couldn't tell. “I'm hoping that Chris knows more about cars and sexual torture than he does construction materials. And I'm hoping he's a cheap bastard.”

“If the hook is soft enough, you might be able to get it to open some,” I said, understanding her point of view. “But you might just jerk your arms out of socket at the same time.”

“I'll take a surgery or two to avoid dying,” Shawnie said, her breath coming fast and hard as she dropped again. Tears rolled down her face as she climbed slowly back to her feet, her head drooping. She shook her head, trying to repress the pain, and looked up at me, desperate for support, or at least a distraction. “Tell me something, Abby.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked, looking up at her hook. Maybe there was a way I could do something instead of stand there like a damsel in distress, waiting for some hero to rescue me. I suck at that sort of thing—it doesn't fit my personality.

“Tell me about Dane,” she said, taking a deep breath and tensing her forearms before dropping again. Blood trickled through her grip and down the chain looped around her left fist, and her face was a near mask of pain as she stood up. “Tell me that at least he was worth all of this damn trouble.”

“I don’t know if anyone is worth this shit,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “No, but really, beyond that Bad Boy exterior, he’s got a good heart. We’ve really only had a few days together spaced out over nearly a month, but I really like him.”

Shawnie stopped her dropping, looking at me in wonder. “Well, I hope something comes of it after all of this.”

“He's not perfect, but he’s perfect for me.”

Shawnie grinned and flexed her hands painfully. “When is your and Mr. Perfect’s wedding?”

“Well, let’s not quite go there yet,” I said, shaking my chains and looking up. “Hold on. You rest while I try something really, really stupid.”

When I was a kid, I used to go to Gymboree after kindergarten. After Mom and my sister died, Daddy still had me going for a few years, at least until my body started to shoot up and he worried that I was getting too tall for becoming a gymnast. I’d tired of the class by then anyway, but I still did cheerleading in high school, although our squad was more of the dancer type than the gymnastics type. I had a pretty mean booty roll back in high school, if I do say so myself, although that didn't do much for my shoulder and back strength.

So it had been a few years since I tried anything like what I was about to do, but I figured there was no time like the present, and I couldn't think of any greater source of motivation, unless there were poisonous snakes or huge, ugly spiders in the garage as well that I wasn't seeing yet. The light through the window dimmed, and I thought the sun was nearly gone outside, night approaching. At least that would let some of the heat fade from the garage. That was something I could at least hope for.

I first tried my maneuver the strict way, grabbing the chain and pulling it tight enough to take away the slack. Chris had used a pair of handcuffs that he'd separated and then apparently welded to the main chain, so there was some pull on my wrists as I wrapped my hands through the chain and pulled up. The pain was immediate as the links tightened around the bones in my hand, and I gritted my teeth, trying to pull my feet up and to the chains. I was able to reach the cuffs, but the next phase of my plan fell apart as I couldn't get the strength to straighten out my legs and extend my body to the point of hanging upside down. Falling back, I gasped, flexing my aching hands. “Well, that version didn't work.”

“Are you trying what I think you're trying?” Shawnie asked as she prepared herself mentally to drop again.

“I pulled it off when I was seven,” I defended myself, sounding stupid even as it left my mouth. “It's worth a try.”

Shawnie didn't have a reply, but dropped again instead, a scream tearing from her throat as she jerked to a stop. This time, she didn't get up so quickly, but pulled with her right arm only as she stood up. “Shawnie, what happened?”

“Left arm,” Shawnie cried pitifully as she regained her feet. She tried but failed to stifle a sob, burying her mouth in her shoulder. “Maybe my elbow. It hurts, and I felt something pop in it.”

“Then stop it,” I said, looking up at the beam over my head. “I'll try to get us out of here. I'll try the cheat way this time. I should have the first time, except I'll be swinging like an idiot the whole time. Last time I did that on rings. I puked hanging upside down.”

“I wouldn't, if I were you,” Shawnie said. “Puke, that is.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I said, trying not to laugh despite the serious situation. I stepped back, and was just about to launch myself forward and up in the short amount of slack on my chain when the sound of a truck approaching came through to our ears. “Shit. Better hurry.”

“No,” Shawnie said sharply. “There's no way you can get that maneuver pulled off in time. Better to stay where you are. Maybe he gets stupid and we can kick him in the balls or something.”

I stopped, nodding at the wisdom of Shawnie's words. “Okay, but promise me one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Regardless of what happens, we fight this asshole until the end.”

Shawnie clenched her fists and nodded. “Oh, you can guarantee that. Georgia boy's gonna learn what it's like to fuck with a Sandhills girl, that's for damn sure.”

I heard the truck stop, and the door opened. Boots crunched on the dirt and gravel as someone approached. “You know, your accent gets stronger when you get angry,” I commented, trying to calm the fear in my heart. “You really need to work on that.”

“I love you too, Abby,” Shawnie said, her smile disappearing as the back door to the house rattled and the heavy tread of the boots came inside.

“Honey, I'm home!” a slightly unhinged voice called, giggling crazily at the end. “And I've got such a surprise for you!”

I looked over at Shawnie, who nodded. We were going to fight, no matter what.

Chris came in, flipping on another light that momentarily blinded us before settling in and letting us see better. He'd had some sort of rough time, his shirt partially torn and a little crust of dried blood on the edge of his mouth. He had his right hand behind his back, and a gleam in his eye that sent chills down my spine. “Hey, baby, did you miss me?”

“Like I miss the bubonic plague,” I spat back, literally, as I followed my words with the best loogie I could work up. Sadly enough, the garage was far too big and my spit was far too weak to reach the whole way across. It fell pitifully to the dust about two feet away from me, and I immediately regretted it as a waste of precious bodily fluids. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Well, I have some good news and bad news,” Chris said as he crossed the garage. He stayed just out of my kicking range, even when I darted forward and tried to lash out at him. He laughed and jumped back, his hand still behind his back. “My, my, my, such fight in you still. That's not going to be useful at all.”

“I don't plan on being useful to you, you sick, demented fuck,” I hissed. Suddenly, Chris pulled his hand out from behind his back, holding what looked like a pistol. He pointed it at me for a second, then turned and fired. I screamed, sure that he had just killed Shawnie, but instead, the gun made a hissing, spitting noise and suddenly, Shawnie had a red dart sticking out of her left thigh.

“He shoots, he scores!” Chris taunted us both. Shawnie stumbled back, her cry of pain fading as the drug in the dart took effect and she sagged down to her knees, unconscious. “Too bad. She's not going to be able to feel it. Ah well. You know, they say you should never eat chocolate before having your main meal, but in this instance, I'll break the rule.”

“What the fuck are you going to do?” I asked as Chris walked toward Shawnie's body, squatting down and pulling the dart from her leg. “Get away from her, you psycho fuck!”

“Patience, my sweet. There's plenty of me to go around. But I want you to get a preview of what you're in store for, and I needed little Shawnie here to be . . . compliant.”

I shook my chains and tried to kick him again, but he was still too far away. “What did you do to her?”

“Oh, nothing much. You see, I happen to have a rather fond interest in pharmaceuticals. It's what led me to making that little spike for your drinks, by the way, even though I got it on the Internet. Cheaper that way. But this baby,” he said, holding up the red dart, “is my own special cocktail that I developed through a lot of experimentation. Little bit of Ecstasy, little bit of LSD, little bit of some other stuff . . . it's quite the ride, I've heard. Fact is, if I shot you up with this, Abby, I could fuck you three ways from Sunday, and not only would you not remember it, but during the whole thing, you'd be begging me for more and more. Too bad you two won't be getting a repeat performance though. Your boyfriend ensured that.”

“What?”

Chris turned and threw the dart at me, bouncing it off my chest. His voice broke into a high-pitched, wheezy scream, the last vestiges of his sanity disappearing as his voice jumped an octave. “Knowing that stupid noble fuck, he's probably trying to convince the cops right now that I'm doing what I'm doing. So, I can't have any evidence left behind. Damn shame, though, what'll happen tonight afterward. Two young women, so close to graduation and chasing their dreams, decide to go camping up in the Chattahoochee National Forest. Of course, being unprepared, they both disappear, only to be found later badly decomposed near Blue Ridge Lake.”

“You're a monster,” I gasped. “A real monster.”

“You have no idea,” Chris said with a chuckle. “But at least I'm honest about it. I know I'm a monster and relish the fact. Now, the monster must prepare for his first lesson.”

Chris turned and walked back into the rest of the house, humming to himself as he went.

I started to pray. First to God, and then I took something from Dane’s Book. In a last gasp of desperation, I said a quick one to Odin. Maybe the Norse deities could bring Dane to me. Something or someone had to—I was all out of ideas.

My heart was in my throat as I got out of the taxi, giving the driver twenty bucks. “Keep the change,” I told him. “Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem, man. It ain't my business, buddy, but you want me to wait? You don't look like you're expecting to be received too well.”

“No, I'm good,” I answered, waving him off. “One way or another, I'm not leaving for a while.”

“Your choice,” the driver said, looking around. I could understand his concern. I looked like shit, with a half-torn shirt, my hair all messed up, and a mouse growing under my left eye. Still, I wouldn't be stopped.

Smoothing my hair back as best I could, I for the first time wished I'd kept the short hair I'd had in the military. At least that way, I wouldn't look like a total lunatic.

Approaching the door, I squared my shoulders and rang the front doorbell. There was a long chunk of silence, and I reached for the doorbell again when I heard steps coming toward the door. “Coming!”

The door rattled, locks being thrown back before opening, and I saw a woman standing in the doorway. She was about forty-five, or maybe a well put together fifty, with a certain coldness to her features that told me that she was from upper crust society. I guessed I had just met Brittany, Abby's stepmother.

I cleared my throat and spoke in my most polite voice, regardless of the hurricane of emotions roaring through me. “Mrs. Rawlings, I need to speak to your husband. It’s very important.”

Her look told me everything I needed to know. I'd seen it over two hundred times before, applying for jobs before starting at Lake Ford. It was the look that said fuck off. “I'm sorry, but Patrick is not available right now. I suggest trying him at the office on Monday.”

She closed the door in my face, but before she could lock it, I stepped back and kicked as hard as I could. I wished I had on my work boots, but the running shoes were enough to do the trick, and the door flew back, Mrs. Rawlings tumbling to the floor from the force. “Can't wait,” I said, stepping over her and walking inside. “I’m sorry.”

“Brittany?” a man called from the back, followed by the sound of rushing feet. “What the hell was that?”

Patrick Rawlings came around the corner into the main hallway, stopping dead in his tracks. “You.”

“Me,” I said, dismissing the venom in his voice. I couldn't deal with his bullshit right now. I needed his help. If he wanted to hate me after that, I wouldn't stop him. “We need to talk.”

“I'm calling the cops,” he said, stepping back and heading down the hallway. “Your ass is going back to jail.”

“Fine, call the cops, but tell them to rescue Abby first!” I yelled after him. “She's in trouble, and I need your help!”

Patrick's footsteps stopped, and I heard Brittany start to get up off the floor. I waited for Patrick to return, and in the meantime I held out my hand to Brittany, offering her assistance up off the floor. “Sorry about that. I just couldn't waste any more time.”

She didn’t respond, but took my hand and let me help her up. “I need your help,” I repeated to her instead.

“You said that already,” Patrick replied as he came back into the room. “Tell me what you mean.”

I wasn't sure where to begin, so I started from the day before. “Yesterday, Abby and I spent the day together,” I started, pausing when I saw the expression on her father's face. I'd mentally punched him in the gut, or maybe a few inches higher, right in the heart, but I couldn't afford the pity right then. “She knew you'd object, so she told you that she was invited to a party.”

“Yes, with Chris Lake,” Patrick said. “They used to date, back when she was in high school.”

“I know. To try and make up for it, Abby asked her friend, Shawnie, to go in her place, with an excuse and apology. This morning, she was supposed to tell you the truth.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, nodding. “When she found me this morning, she said that her friend hadn't replied to a text message, and she just wanted to check to see if she was okay.”

“I got a text saying that she had to do something,” I said. “We exchanged a few more messages, the last a bit after noon. Then, about an hour ago, Chris came home to the apartment. Mr. Rawlings, I know this is crazy, but Chris kidnapped both girls. He plans to drug them, and I think . . . well, I don't want to say it.”

“How do you know?” Brittany asked. “How can we trust you?”

“Does this look like a fucking joke?” I hissed, pointing to my eye. I pulled up my t-shirt, showing her my already bruising rib. “What about this? That fucking psycho has Abby and Shawnie, and you're doubting my word?”

I was angry, breathing hard and trying not to scream at her. Patrick watched it all, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll believe you. What do you need?”

“Abby said the party was out by the reservoir. What did she mean?”

He nodded again. “Blalock Reservoir. She said that Chris had signed a big real estate deal out there. At least half of the shoreline is undeveloped.”

“That must be it,” I said. “I need you to get the cops out there, somehow. I couldn’t go to them—that’s why I came here. Tell them whatever you want, but you have to get them out there. They won't believe me. I'm a fucking felon with a dishonorable discharge to my name. Even you hate me. But I swear by everything I hold dear in this world, I am telling the truth.”

“Okay,” Patrick said without a second's hesitation. He turned around and went to the back, returning a moment later with his phone and the keys.

“You drive,” he said, tossing me the keys. “I'll talk to the cops and the phone company while you drive. Follow my directions. I know where the reservoir is. Brittany, you stay here in case we're on a wild goose chase. I pray that we are.”

“Be safe, Patrick,” Brittany called. “And get her back. I love you.”

He stopped in the doorway, turning to his wife. “I love you too, sweetheart. Don't worry. If this is true, we'll get her back.”

His vehicle was a heavy duty Chevy Pickup, complete with off-road tires. I felt about twenty feet tall sitting in the driver's seat, and a small part of my mind flashed back to the time I'd driven an armored Humvee on patrol in Iraq. It was about the same size.

Patrick mistook my momentary flashback for a question about his choice of vehicle. “I have another, but this should be better for our needs,” he said, sliding into the shotgun seat. “Think you can handle it?”

“Quite,” I said, starting the engine and putting it in drive. I jammed the accelerator to the floor, heading out toward the main street. Old habits die hard, and while it had been five years, I could still drive well. “Where do we go?”

“South, along 75,” Patrick said. “I think the exit is 224. It's the Hudson Bridge Road exit.”

“Gotcha,” I said, gaining speed. A terrible dread settled in my stomach as I pushed the truck past sixty, shooting through a red light and earning a few honked horns. “Hope your insurance is paid up.”

Patrick didn't reply, instead calling the cops. He talked with the dispatcher for a few minutes, explaining the situation. When he hung up, he was pissed off. “Fucking cops can't do much without knowing an address,” he said. “And Abby has only been missing a few hours. Shit!”

“Calm down,” I replied, my fingers tight on the wheel. “Abby told me you've had heart problems in the past. I don't need you having a fucking coronary on me while trying to help Abby.”

Patrick glanced at me, then shook his head. “What is it with you, Bell? You kill your friend, but now you're trying to save my daughter?”

“I killed my friend because he was trying to rape a teenage Iraqi girl, and he was going to stab me with a bayonet,” I answered, not taking my eyes off the road as I shot up the on-ramp to the Interstate, already going seventy-five. “As for Abs, she’s a special girl, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Patrick replied. “Hold on, let me try something. I gave Abby a Camaro as a graduation gift from high school.”

“Yeah, I rode in it yesterday. Nice car. You got it tuned up, too.”

Patrick grunted in acknowledgment, then continued. “I had it equipped with OnStar. Her phone is under my contract, and that damn gadget has every gizmo on the planet on it.”

I saw where he was going. “You can have those tracked. The car's OnStar and her phone's GPS. One of them should still be working.”

“That's what I figure,” Patrick replied. He dialed his phone again, talking to an OnStar rep. As the official owner of the car, he was able to get the car's location and have it sent to his truck, where it popped up on an in-dash navigation system. “Finally, a use for that hunk of junk. Abby insisted I get it though. Never have used it for more than a fancy clock and CD player until now.”

“More importantly, now you can tell the cops,” I added, watching as the route to the point was laid out over the navigation.

He shook his head. “OnStar is doing that for me right now. They can feed the cops the exact GPS coordinates. I'm going to try and get an aerial shot of the area though, just in case.”

He tapped at his phone, cursing occasionally as he fiddled with the unfamiliar technology. “After this, remind me to learn how to use this goddamn thing,” he finally said. “I just let Abby do most of this for me.”

“I will,” I replied, pushing the truck faster. Above ninety, it started to shimmy some. The high tires and boxy exterior were meant for rugged low speeds and not aerodynamics, so I kept the speed down at eighty-five. “Four miles until the exit.”

“Do you love her?” Patrick asked randomly, his head still buried in his phone. “You're not just trying to seduce her?”

“I'll die for her if I need to,” I answered grimly. “I came to your door—hell, I kicked it down, knowing there was a decent chance I'd end up catching a shotgun to the chest. Does that answer your question?”

“I think it does,” Patrick replied. “I knew you two were still talking, by the way.”

“How?” I asked.

He pointed to his phone. “I get a detailed bill on the phones by email every second of the month. That includes every number that she's called or texted in the past thirty days.”

“She was angry with me when she found out who I was. I wasn't trying to mislead her, but that first night, I didn't really know who she was either.”

I got off the Interstate and kept following the navigation. I knew at some point soon I'd have to keep my eyes open. The way Abby had described the house, the road likely wasn't going to be well-marked or even paved.

Patrick looked out the window, seemingly lost in thought before he spoke up. “After her mother and sister were killed, I only had Abby,” he said softly, looking out on the rapidly dimming evening sky. “If I was overprotective, it was because I couldn't stand to lose her too.”

“You won't,” I promised, turning right. “I think this is the right road. I see a house up ahead—see the lights?”

“No,” Patrick admitted. “You must have better eyes than me.”

The road quickly became rough and bumpy, and I wondered if we were on the right track. Still, the house grew closer and closer, and we were getting closer to Abby's car, too. I gunned the engine, not caring if we tore up the shocks on the truck. Patrick said nothing, putting his hand on the dash and hanging on grimly while we bounced our way down the washboard road.

The house was on the edge of the lake, a two-story job that looked like it wasn't quite good enough to be a permanent house, but had when it was originally built been a pretty good vacation getaway. On our left, I could see blue lights approaching, and I knew the cops were approaching on another road, probably one that ran along the edge of the lake. Still, they were a good distance away and weren't rushing the way we were. I couldn't trust that they'd get there in time, and I pushed the engine harder.

I skidded to a halt in front of the house, still a quarter-mile from the readout for Abby's car. Still, the house was the best chance for her location, and I was desperate, spraying gravel from the tires and leaping out. I immediately heard a sound that made my blood run ice cold, as Abby screamed as loud as she could. Running, I headed for the back of the house where I heard the sound coming from. It sounded like the garage, but there was no visible front door, with the garage door itself firmly padlocked shut. I went around and up the short stairs to the back porch, finding the rear entrance. This time, instead of kicking, I lowered my shoulder, hitting the door like I did back when I was on the high school football team. The old frame nearly exploded as I bulled through, looking for someone or something to fight. There was an open door leading down to the garage, and then a sound that again sent chills down my spine, as Abby's scream was cut off like a switch with a harsh, slapping sound. “Shut up, bitch.”

Ironically, what should have driven me to even greater levels of rage, instead pushed me all the way past my emotions, drawing me into the cold, calculated place that I had last touched nearly five and a half years ago in Iraq. The killer inside me, the one that had actually shot at people with intent—and been rewarded, not sent to jail—was loose, and glad to be out of his mental cell. Almost unconsciously, I reached out and scooped up a kitchen chair, brandishing the wooden legs in front of me like a lion tamer as I jumped the short three steps down to the floor.

The first thing I saw was Abby, trussed up and bound like a side of beef, her arms cinched above her head and her eyes half-shut, bruised and battered but still conscious, if only barely. She was alive at least, and I had to secure the area, so I turned my eyes away, scanning the rest of the room.

The next thing I saw was Chris, a knife in his hand, brandishing it toward me. Next to him, sagging in her bonds and moaning, was Shawnie, who'd been cut numerous times, the blood dark on her skin in the overhead fluorescent light.

“One more step, and I cut her fucking throat,” Chris said, quickly stepping behind Shawnie and pulling her hair, exposing her neck. “Don't think I won't do it, hero boy.”

“Drop the knife, Chris,” I said, lowering the chair. It wasn't an effective weapon anyway. I had used it just to shield myself as I came through the door. My killer side knew that right now, the best thing to do was to get him to talk. Killing could come later. “The cops are right behind me, and you don't want a murder rap on top of it all. Trust me, I know.”

Chris chuckled and pulled Shawnie's hair harder. She was obviously drugged, her eyes rolling in her head. Somewhere, deep down, I think she knew what was going on. “Don't think I can get any worse than this, Dane, my boy. Two kidnappings, assault, and of course, the testimonies you and Abby there will give against me? No way, that’s not looking too good at all.”

“You let them go, I let you go,” I said simply. “On my honor.”

Chris's knife faltered, and he looked at me in slight distrust. “Why would I trust you?”

I shrugged and sat down on the chair, even though it took everything in my power to do it. “You trusted me, gave me a place to stay. You could have turned me out, let me fucking hang. You didn't. I owe you my life. I think this makes us even.”

Chris's knife faltered, drawing away from Shawnie's throat, which is what I wanted. What I didn't plan on, however, was Shawnie. Seemingly trapped in a drug-induced state, she threw her head back, her skull smashing into Chris's nose and mouth, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

I was out of the chair and on him in a flash. Driving low, I hit him hard with my shoulder in his stomach, lifting him and bouncing him again off the side of the garage. The knife fell from his hand to clatter on the ground, out of his grasp and temporarily out of my concern.

Not giving him a chance to recover, I threw him to the side, bouncing his body off the floor before nailing him under the chin, snapping his head up and back with a kick that would have put a football through the uprights at a good distance. I stood over him, trembling while the killer inside me warred against the better half of my nature, until finally a compromise was reached.

“Never trust a convicted killer.” I spat at the unconscious body. I kicked him as hard as I could in the ribs, feeling something give way under my foot with a satisfying crunch. “Sick fuck.”

I heard a whimper behind me and I turned, seeing Shawnie's desperate and half-lidded, drugged out eyes. “Sorry, Shawnie. I'll try and be gentle.”

I stood up and looked at the bonds Shawnie was being held with, trying to figure out what to do, when I heard a choked gasp behind me. “Abby?”

Patrick's body hit the floor before I could even get to him, his hands clutching at the left side of his chest. His face was paper white, except for two bright red blotches on his cheeks. He looked like a porcelain doll in a perverse way. “Heart . . .”

“Don't you fucking die on me,” I growled, pulling him up and out of the garage and back into the kitchen. I lifted his feet up and grabbed the other kitchen chair, elevating his legs and hopefully helping his heart. You're supposed to do it for shock, but I had to do something. “Hold on, the cops will be here in a second.”

I could hear the car approaching, far too slow for my taste. “Move it, you fucking Deputy Dawgs!” I screamed before loosening Patrick's clothing. “I can't do all this shit by myself!”

“Abby?” Patrick whispered, reaching up and taking my hand. I squeezed his fingers, staying next to him. “Where's Abby?”

“She's fine,” I said, lying through my teeth. I had no fucking clue how Abby was, except that she was alive. “I don't think Chris touched her.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. His head sagged back, and I leaned down, checking him. No heartbeat.

“Shit!” I grunted, tearing open his shirt to double check. “Don't you fucking die on me, old man!”

I heard Abby stirring in the garage, just as the cop car stopped outside. The doors to the car closed, and I heard the scrape of boots on the dirt. “Move your asses, boys!” I yelled even as I interlaced my hands and looked for the compression point. It’d been years, but the basics of giving CPR were still there in my mind. “I've got a man in cardiac arrest in here!”

I came to slowly, groggy from the slap Chris had hit me with. When I did, the first thing I noticed was that I was lying on the ground with a woman kneeling above me. “Miss Rawlings?”

“Who are you?” I muttered, blinking. The light was now dim, but I had a pounding headache. “Where is Shawnie?”

“Your friend is being looked after,” the woman replied. “I'm Debbie Morgan. I'm a cop.”

“What happened?” I asked, rubbing my head.

“Mr. Lake has been arrested. He's in an ambulance as well,” the cop said. She helped me sit up, making sure I kept my head down and between my knees. I noticed that I'd been covered with a blanket, which helped explain why I was so warm. “Your friend and your father are also on the way to the hospital.”

“Daddy?” I asked, jerking my head up and sending a lightning bolt of pain through my head. “Is he all right?”

“Your father was taken to the hospital with chest pains,” the cop replied. “We're going to take you there as soon as a car gets here. We had to get the others out of here first.”

“Dane?” I asked. “I heard him before Chris knocked me out.”

“Mr. Bell?” The cop asked, then pointed. “He's been arrested too. We'll make sure he won’t hurt you again.”

I shook my head, struggling to get to my feet. When the cop tried to restrain me, I pushed her hands away. “Let go of me! Dane didn't do anything. He's my boyfriend. He was trying to save me.”

The cop stopped, looking in my eyes. I rolled my eyes, despite how much it hurt, and got up. “I'm not loopy, and I'm not on drugs. Dane is my boyfriend, and if he’s here, it's because he saved us.”

“That's what I keep telling them,” I heard Dane say from the other room, grunting when someone shoved him. “Just nobody believes me.”

“Shut up, traitor,” someone in the other room grunted, and I heard a loud smack and the thud of a body hitting the floor. The cops around here weren’t exactly the most understanding nor the most likely to follow the rules in terms of use of force, especially against convicted felons.

“Stop it!” I yelled, wincing at the pain in my head as I made my way into the other room, which turned out to be the kitchen. Dane was lying on his side, his hands cuffed behind his back while his eyes stared holes into a cop who was standing over him. “I'm telling you, he wasn't involved! What's your name? I'm going to sue your ass!”

The cop looked at me, surprise registering in his face for the first time before turning and walking away. I looked at the other two cops in the room, who both looked sheepish at the ferocity in my voice. One of them, the cop who'd helped me wake up, went over and helped Dane to his feet. “Okay, I'm going to go by her word,” she said softly to Dane. “On the promise that you don't go anywhere. We'll ride over to the hospital together. How's that sound?”

“I'm good,” Dane said, shrugging off the cop's arm and sitting back down in the chair. “And tell your buddy out there he's lucky that I'm more forgiving than Abs is.”

The cop nodded and stepped back, gathering her fellow cops and leaving us alone. “Are you okay?” Dane asked as soon as we had a bit of privacy. There was still a cop in the room, but we lowered our voices. I wanted to reach out to Dane, but at the same time, I knew if I did, the cops would get interested again. “Are you hurt?”

“I should probably get checked for a concussion,” I replied, “but if you mean am I in the same boat as Shawnie, no.”

The female cop came up to us again, this time looking less concerned. “Miss Rawlings? We have an ambulance coming to take you to the hospital.”

“And Dane?” I asked. “Can he come along with me?”

She looked at us, then nodded. “Yeah, we can do that. Come on. Mrs. Rawlings is supposed to already be at the hospital.”

* * *

One of the nice parts about living in a city like Atlanta is that there are a lot of top-flight hospitals throughout the city. When the ambulance pulled up, I’d already been checked out by the paramedic, who confirmed that while my clothes had been torn, Chris hadn't done anything else. “You've probably got a low-grade concussion,” he advised me before we pulled up, “but I'd let the docs give you a full check out. No offense—I don't know if you need it or not, but you've got one hell of a civil lawsuit on your hands.”

“Not my style, but I'll still let the doctor look,” I said, not mentioning the fact that Daddy had enough money that he didn't need to worry about the frivolity of a civil suit. “Do you know anything about Shawnie or my dad?”

The medic shook his head, and the ambulance stopped. Dane, who had been allowed to ride in the front seat next to the driver—the cops still weren't trusting him—called back. “We're here.”

I found Brittany immediately inside the emergency room, the paramedics still insisting that I ride on the gurney. “Come off it, guys, I can walk,” I complained, pushing them away. Brittany put her hands on my shoulders, pushing me back. “Brittany . . . Daddy?”

“They have him upstairs,” Brittany said, trying to maintain a calm outer demeanor. Still, I'd known her long enough; her emotions were a total wreck. “Abby, how did it all happen?”

I told her the story while we waited for the doctor. The whole time, Dane didn't leave my side, reaching out and taking my hand and holding it gently. “It's my fault, Mrs. Rawlings,” Dane said softly. “I should have seen what was wrong with Chris before all of this happened.”

“You weren't the one who lied and tried to get Shawnie to cover for you,” I said, tears coming to my eyes. “This is all my fault.”

I’d expected anger from Brittany, or at least derision. Instead, she leaned down and hugged me, then hugged Dane. “It is neither of your faults. Neither of you truly knew what kind of man he was. I remember him from five years ago, and he seemed like a normal, fine young man then.”

“Regardless of whatever else you've done in your life, know that you redeemed yourself with what you did today,” I added.

“I agree,” Brittany added. “The ambulance driver told me when they brought Patrick in that you most likely saved his life.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “What did you do?”

“I attempted CPR,” Dane said simply. “It was only for a minute or two until the cops got there and took over.”

“Don't forget the thirty seconds you continued even after they pulled their pistols on you,” Brittany said.

I gaped at Dane for a moment, then shook my head. “That would be like you. No wonder the cops were pissed at you after I woke up.”

“So how is he?” Dane asked, “And Shawnie?”

“I don't know about the girl,” Brittany said, “but they took Patrick upstairs. The doctors looked . . . not too worried. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad one, but I’m praying for the best.”

Just then, a doctor approached me, a professional smile on his face. “Miss Rawlings? I'm Doctor Jones. I just got done talking to the paramedics who brought you in, and I thought I should come over here and see how you're doing.”

“Can Brittany and Dane stay?” I asked, leaning back on the gurney. “And can I at least get up?”

Dr. Jones looked around, then nodded. “Just stay back, if you could. I don't think this should take too long.”

“Don't worry, I'll be right outside the curtain,” Brittany said. “I've seen the inside of those exam areas. They're tiny.”

Dr. Jones had a nurse wheel my gurney to an exam room, where the bed was at least reclined rather than flat. “Okay, just look into the light . . . pupils look good, pulse is good . . . any pain?”

“Some, but mostly in my jaw where he caught me,” I said. “I'm not going to be eating meat any time soon.”

Jones nodded and touched my jaw gently, humming when I winced. “You've got a pretty good bruise forming there. All right, as a precaution, I'm going to order an x-ray. Also, I'm going to admit you overnight, mainly to see if you've got any side effects of whatever it was that you drank that knocked you out.”

“Doc? What about Daddy?” I asked, worried.

“I'll go check. If you can talk, I doubt your jaw is broken, but your dentist would probably feel better if I did it anyway. The nurse should be by soon in order to get your information and take you up to get an X-ray.”

The doctor left, leaving me and Dane alone. I could hear Brittany shuffling back and forth outside the curtain, but I took the moment to enjoy it with Dane. “Thank you. I know I was only out a few minutes, but you saved my life.”

“You saved mine,” Dane said. “You renewed my purpose in life.”

We held hands for a few minutes, just looking at each other, and despite the background noise of an emergency room, I felt peace dropping over me, soothing the panic that was gnawing at my mind about Daddy and his health. I heard the curtain pull back, and I turned, hoping it was the doctor. Instead, it was Brittany, who was looking at me in a way she never had before. It was like she finally had recognized me for being an adult, and not just a child. “If you need anything, just let me know, and I’ll make it happen,” she said simply. “I'm sorry, Abby.”

“It's okay, Brittany. Let's wait for Dr. Jones and see what is going on with Daddy.”

“Actually, I do have a request,” Dane asked, a bit sheepish. “The cops took my wallet, and I'm kind of homeless right now. Can I borrow fifty bucks for the night?”

“Dane, you can stay at the house,” Brittany immediately said. “You saved my husband's life and Abby's life. I'm quite sure that deserves a decent bed and a hot meal once we get out of here.”

A man in a dark suit walked up, flashing a badge. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Rawlings. That might be a while. I'm Agent Morgan of the Atlanta FBI. I'd like to talk to your stepdaughter about her kidnapping.”

Doctor Jones came back, tapping his pen on a clipboard. “Not for at least twelve hours, Agent Morgan. Testing and observation. In the meantime, though, a bit of good news. Mr. Rawlings is going to be just fine. Mr. Bell's quick thinking turned what could have been a major, if not fatal, heart attack into a minor incident. He'll be here for a few days, but according to the guys I talked to in the cardiac unit, he should make a full recovery.”

I nodded, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. “Then let's get my X-rays done too. After that, regardless of what you say, Doc, I'll be happy to talk to the cops. That piece of shit needs to pay.”

* * *

The FBI agents who accompanied Agent Morgan the next morning were your pretty typical group. One of them, who introduced himself as Agent Jacobi, came straight from FBI central casting. White, nondescript, but with an intensity to his eyes that spoke of his dedication to his work. I saw a plain gold wedding band on his finger, but there was something about it that made me think it was mostly there for show. He was married to the Bureau, not to any other person.

The other one, Agent Leeds, was a woman in her mid-thirties, and from the first time she opened her mouth, I could identify her for what she was—a lab geek. As a biology major, I've dealt with plenty of them in my studies. They're generally a good group of people, but they normally have social skills that are a little lacking. The little pink streak in her hair gave it away.

Agent Jacobi opened up the questioning. He asked me about my history with Chris Lake, including our dating history. “So you never had intimate relations with him?” he asked, all business. “Just to be clear.”

“Never,” I said clearly. “Previously, we went to second base, but never any further.”

Jacobi made a note in his notebook, while Leeds tapped at her tablet. I assumed she was recording the whole conversation using the computer. She had arranged it very specifically to point the back toward me. Besides, it struck me as just fitting her personality.

We moved on to the actual details behind Shawnie’s and my kidnappings, Jacobi asking a few questions related to the symptoms that I felt. “No, I didn't notice any sort of taste about the juice at all. It just tasted like normal orange juice.”

“And how fast did it take to kick in?” Leeds asked, the first time she had said anything since they had introduced themselves.

“I'm not sure, but I'd say fewer than five minutes,” I said. “I don't think I even finished the glass.”

Agent Leeds put her finger to her lips, nodding thoughtfully. I jumped at the chance. “Can you guys tell me what I was dosed with?”

Leeds shook her head. “Right now, we're not too sure. The problem is that your blood tests all came back pretty clear. Whatever it was, it gets filtered out very quickly.”

“Have you searched his apartment?” I asked, feeling dumb as soon as I did. Of course they had. They were the FBI.

“And his office,” Agent Morgan said. “Miss Rawlings, you're probably wondering why this is being handled by the FBI and not the Atlanta Police.”

“Not really,” I said. “Daddy is a fan of those procedural cop shows, and I know that while they're normally full of junk, there's some information that jives. I'm guessing you have investigations over multiple states?”

Morgan nodded, impressed. “Good catch. That, and the kidnapping gives us the ability to take the lead on this. Miss Rawlings, I'm not going to lie. We suspect Mr. Lake in a series of sexual assaults stretching back at least five years. If the statement Mr. Bell gave us holds water, it may even go back further, although the ones before the use of any drug would be nearly impossible to prove. You're quite lucky, Miss Rawlings.”

“Why?” I asked, a chill sweeping over me as I thought about all those victims, all those women who'd been seduced or assaulted by Chris for his sick game with Lloyd.

“Because a pattern was emerging in our investigations,” Leeds said, geeking out and not realizing how fast her mouth was running away from her. “We think he was getting ready to graduate from taking his thrill from sex to murder.”

I shivered, hugging my knees, and Leeds realized what she'd said. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking around sheepishly. “I shouldn't have said that.”

I shook my head, looking down. “It’s okay. Tell me, is Shawnie okay?”

“She's going to need a little more recovery time, but she’ll be okay,” Agent Jacobi said simply. “Mostly uninjured, but there are a lot of superficial cuts and a separated shoulder from her escape attempt.”

I nodded. “Then how about we wrap this up, and let me go see my friend and hopefully my dad?”

It was Agent Morgan's turn to look sheepish, and he ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. “Actually, Miss Rawlings, you might need to wait for your clothes. Uhm, unless you mind wearing a pair of scrubs or something. I'm sure your stepmother or Mr. Bell will bring a pair as soon as they’re done.”

“Where are they, anyway?” I asked. It was already mid-morning, and I had thought they'd already have been at the hospital. “With Daddy?”

Agent Jacobi shook his head. “No, wrapping up things with Atlanta PD,” he said. “I believe there is a little situation of someone putting cuffs on Mr. Bell that needs to be cleared up. Also, they'll take another statement from him, although we talked with him last night. His story and yours are pretty clear. It all matches what your friend said as well.”

“Then let me get some scrubs, and I'll go see Shawnie. Is there anything else you need?”

Agent Morgan looked at his coworkers and shook his head. “We might be in touch soon. For sure, the prosecutor will want you to be available to testify, but that might be a long time off.”

“That's fine. Right now, I want to see three people: Daddy, Shawnie, and Dane. In that order.”

The doctors were actually super conservative with both Shawnie and Patrick, keeping both of them in the hospital for over a week. I kept myself busy during that time, going into Lake Ford two days after the attack to clean out my locker. As soon as I walked in, I could feel the uncomfortable silence from everyone. Chris's arrest had made not just local but national news, and most of the details that could be released already had been. Of course, the effect on Lake Automotive was immediate and crippling. The lot was as empty as a ghost town, and the repair shop had only one vehicle, an out-of-state Fiesta that looked like it had a blown tire up on the racks.

I felt for the guys in the shop. They knew what had happened wasn't my fault, but at the same time, they couldn't help but blame me just a little bit. After all, Chris had been my friend, and I'd been the one to take him down, which indirectly hurt them. Sure, it's a side of people that we don't like to talk about, but I didn't fault them for it. The negative press would most likely cost them their jobs.

I found Hank Lake in his office, sipping a cup of coffee and looking about twenty years older than I had seen him the week before. The sales manager was with me, mostly to make sure there wasn't a scene. It was the last thing anyone needed. “Mr. Lake? I just came by to turn in my resignation and to hand in my keys.”

Hank looked up and held out his hand, his fingers trembling as I handed over the keys. “Also, sir, um, I'm not sure how to do this, but this other key is to the apartment in the Mayfair Tower. It's only for the main door. I don't have a deadbolt key.”

I set it on the desk and pushed it closer, Hank's hand recoiling as if the metal were poisonous. The sales manager shifted from left foot to right, not sure what to say or do, and looking like he wanted to be somewhere else at the moment.

Hank swallowed and looked up at me for the first time. “Thank you, Bell. I know that it'd be impossible for you to come back to work here, but . . . I'm sorry. Chris is family, but what he did was wrong.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Lake. Neither of us recognized what Chris was up to, and I spent years closer than a brother with him. I'm just glad that it's over now.”

Hank sighed, then looked at me. “So what now?”

“Take care of your family,” I said. “If it were me, after the blow this causes, I'd sell the group, or at least rebrand it. Take the money and make a nest egg for the next generation. As for Chris . . .”

“He'll stand on his own,” Hank said with only a hint of venom. “He gets no help from me. I've got two kids of my own to protect.”

I nodded. “Then I guess this is it. I'm sorry it didn't work out, Mr. Lake.”

Hank stood up and offered me his hand. He may have been hurt, his faith in himself and in his own perceptions shattered, but he was a true man. We shook, and Hank tried to smile. “You're a good man, Dane Bell. Don't ever let anyone tell you different.”

* * *

A few days later, I went to the McCamish Pavilion with Brittany, dressed in a suit that I still felt uncomfortable in. Brittany was on my arm, holding a video camera like a young parent at a kindergarten or something.

“If Patrick can't be here in person, I’m going to make sure he can at least see the video,” she whispered to me. We had good seats and could see the whole stage where the ceremony would take place. “And stop fidgeting.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, then laughed. “I guess now, you have someone else you have to teach the social rules to other than Abby?”

Brittany blushed slightly, then patted my arm. “Maybe. It’s just a bit of a habit. And if my stepdaughter is going to see you, I'm going to do my best to make sure you’re a good influence.”

“By the way, they're webcasting this thing too,” I said as I looked at the program. “Didn't you know?”

Brittany nodded and adjusted the camera just a bit on its tripod. “I don't care. This is for posterity. Do you think I’m too uptight?”

I thought about it a bit, reflecting that for a woman who I had literally kicked to the floor less than a week earlier, she and I had come to find a common ground rather quickly. Though if it wasn’t for a near tragedy, I don’t know if that would have been the case. It’s weird how it works like that. As we still had some time before the ceremony started, I took my time before answering. “I think you have good intentions. But I do think that the idea of them fitting in with the culture club has pretty much sailed. As for me, you could work with me for the next thirty years, and I still wouldn’t fit in. No matter how I talked or acted, one look at my tats and I’d be an outcast.”

Brittany thought, then made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh. “I guess you're right. Still, if Patrick wants it, I'll keep doing my best to open doors for him. And I’ll at least drag Abby to at least one social event a year.

The graduation ceremony itself was actually pretty long and tedious, a lot different from the ones I'd attended before. Then again, my high school graduating class was only a hundred and thirty-five people, and graduating Basic Training was quick as well. Both of those ceremonies could have been started, completed, and probably cleaned up in the amount of time it took for Georgia Tech to graduate the five thousand students who were scheduled to walk the stage that day.

The students walked the stage according to a complex system that left me baffled, until I finally had to lean over to Brittany for help. “When is Abs walking again?”

“She’s still got a while.”

There was one disruption, when during the College of Engineering's ceremony, Shawnie was announced. She had just been released from the hospital that morning, just in time to make the ceremony. As she made her way across the stage, summa cum laude, a wave of applause broke out. She was shocked, but recovered and stood tall, waving to her supporters as she crossed the stage to shake hands with the Dean of the College before walking off stage.

“I underestimated that girl. Abby was right about her,” Brittany commented.

When Abby walked, she paused to hug Shawnie when she came off stage before retaking her seat, and the ceremony continued. I had to admit I tuned most of it out, nodding off about halfway through the College of Liberal Arts and having to be woken up with a polite pat on the arm in time for the final playing of the alma mater.

Outside, in the craziness that was the post-ceremony group celebration, I found Abby and Shawnie hugging and exchanging farewells, with lots of people in their graduation robes. Seeing me, Abby ran over, jumping into my arms and an embrace. “I saw you up there,” she said, kissing me with a wet smack. “Thanks for staying awake through my part at least.”

“How could I not?” I asked with a grin, spinning her around before setting her down. “Although I know you're going to be doing the same thing in a few years again anyway when you get your Masters.”

“And what about you?” Abby asked with a grin. “You could do a lot of things if you set your mind to it.”

I raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. Me, college? Until I met Abby, I would never have thought of it. “I don’t know about that one.”

Shawnie finished shaking hands with a professor and came over. She seemed in a good mood, but I wondered how long it would be before the vivacious, wisecracking woman who'd impressed me with her wit and her insight the little bit we talked came back. I didn’t know the extent of the details of what she’d been through, and honestly, I didn’t want to know. But she seemed to be doing okay, and that’s all that mattered. “How're you doing, Shawnie?”

She pointed with her chin, where a small group stood looking at us. “My family's here, so I'm doing okay,” she said with a smile. “Dane, I haven't had the chance before, but let me just say thank you.”

I shook my head, holding up my hands. “I should have been faster, Shawnie. Trust me, I think about that every minute.”

She nodded, then shrugged. “We move forward, big boy.”

“So what are your plans?” I asked, putting my arm around Abby's shoulder. A well-wisher came by, greeting Abby and Shawnie as they passed, and Shawnie paused before answering.

“I'm going to take a month or so,” She finally said. “Then I think I'm going to head out West, get a jump on settling in.”

“In the meantime, you know that I've got all the time in the world on my hands,” Abby said. “Maybe a girl's weekend out somewhere?”

“As long as there are no lakes involved, I'm fine with that,” Shawnie said. Someone in her family called her name, and she turned and waved. “All right, guys, I have to get going. Family party and all. I'll give you a call tomorrow or something.”

As she walked away, I looked at Brittany, who was still smiling broadly. “So, how about the three of us changing clothes and getting over to the hospital? I bet Patrick wants to see that video as soon as possible.”

Brittany nodded and patted her camera bag. “Sounds good. I'll drive.”

I was barely able to contain my excitement when Daddy came home, assisted up the steps by Brittany and the occupational health nurse who'd been hired to help him during his rehab protocol. Monica was a former Marine drill sergeant who’d gotten into occupational health after an injury cut her time in the Corps short. She was tiny, just over five feet tall, but built like a truck with a ripped six-pack that rivaled Dane's. I'd met her one time before when she came over to stake out her room, as she'd be living with us for the next month. “We're running out of guest bedrooms,” Brittany said in a good-natured complaint. “Pretty soon, Abby, we're going to be kicking you out to live on your own.”

“I guess she can move in with me then,” Dane teased as he helped him down into his easy chair. “Since you can't chase me off right now.”

“I can still use a shotgun,” Daddy growled in good humor. “Besides, I bet that Monica could kick your ass. I always heard Marines were tougher than Airborne.”

“We'll settle that at some point,” Dane laughed, looking over at her.

We got Daddy settled, and Dane gave me a look that I'd become familiar with over the past few days. “I think Dane and I will take a walk on the back forty,” I said, getting up off the couch. “We won’t be gone long.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning back and getting comfortable. “But when you two get back, I'd like to talk with you both about some things I've been thinking about during my time in the hospital.”

Dane and I left, heading out the back of the house. While Dane had been living with us for over a week, we hadn't spent a lot of time together alone. I'd needed my time to recover, after all. I’d spent a lot of time with my own thoughts, although I'd also talked with a counselor as well, something I figured I'd continue for a while longer at least. Now, though, I felt like life was finally getting back to normal. “So what's on your mind?”

Dane just shook his head and took my hand, walking with me through the back yard. We reached the point where the manicured lawn gave way to the natural grass and kept going. “How do you feel now that your dad is home?” Dane asked. “I know you've been looking forward to it.”

“I have,” I said excitedly, “but I know you've been worried. It's one thing to stay in a man's house with his daughter when there's plenty of room, and Brittany told me this morning she appreciates how much of a gentleman you've been. I have, too, by the way. But now that Daddy's home, you're worried.”

“I still have enough saved for that apartment I was looking at before,” Dane admitted, “but not much else. I kind of feel like I'm back where I was a few months ago. Although I do have one thing that’s better than any job or home.”

“What's that?” I asked, pausing. We were close to one of my favorite sites on the property, a field that in summer was filled with wildflowers. Even in the light breeze of the day, I could smell it, but you did have to be very careful about the fire ants. They liked that field too.

“I have you,” Dane said. “And in all honesty, I don't ever want to let you go.”

“I love you too,” I answered. “I know we haven’t been together long, but everything seems so right.”

“Good,” Dane said, taking my hand. “Because I was kind of hoping—after we go back, that we could tell your father that I asked you to marry me, and that you said yes.”

“Is that what you call a proposal?” I asked, trying hard to hide my joy.

“I love you,” Dane said simply, pulling me into his arms. “During my time in prison, I’ve learned if you want something, you’d better not waste any time. If you want it, go get it. Now, I’m not saying we go get married tomorrow. We can give it some time, but the heart wants what the heart wants.”

It was my turn to wrap my arms around Dane, pulling him down for a deep kiss in the summer sunshine. “Is that a yes?”

“Oh, that is certainly a yes,” I said. “But we really should get Daddy's blessing first. You know, me being traditional and all.”

* * *

When we got back a half hour later, Daddy saw it first, probably from the look in my eye. “You know, I hoped you would’ve waited until after I said what I had to say.”

“Sorry, Mr. Rawlings,” Dane said. “I just couldn't let a good thing go.”

He sat up, and with the help of Monica, struggled to his feet. “I didn't expect you to move this quickly. So I take it you said yes?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I said, pausing while Brittany clapped in joy, “but we also wanted to have your blessing.”

He came over and looked Dane in his eye. Sizing him up, Daddy stood nearly eye to eye with him, pausing before looking at me, a small smile on his face. “You know, for so long, it was just you and me. Then I found Brittany, and I knew the day would come that you would also want to find someone of your own. I have to say, this isn’t how I expected it would be, but I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” I said, taking Dane's hand. “I always will.”

“Which is why I have to say, in response to your request for my blessing . . . no.” Daddy turned and made his way back over to his chair, sitting down carefully.

“What?” I cried, tears in my eyes. “Why?”

He grinned and laughed, unable to contain his humor. “Oh, I got you, didn't I?”

I blinked, stunned. “What?”

I looked at him, anger replacing my hurt. “You joke?”

Daddy held up his hands defensively. “Now, Abby, I'm sorry, it was just a quick one. I’d be happy to give you both my blessing . . . when you've earned it. In that, I’m being serious.”

“And how would I do that?” Dane asked, his voice heavy with threat and repressed anger. “Haven't I done enough?”

“Oh, you’ve done enough to prove you're a good man, and that you care for my daughter. Of course you have,” Daddy said, smiling. “But I've always been a father who has thought the world of my daughter, and to be honest, while I’m perfectly willing to accept that she won't be marrying a society boy, I do expect her husband to have a job. So, before I give you my blessing, there are a few things you need to do. First, you're going to have to enroll in college.”

“I . . . I don't think I'd qualify any longer,” Dane said, stupefied. I heard in his voice the surprise at some of his own thoughts that he'd shared with me reflected in Daddy's statement, but he was still taken aback. “I mean, I'm nearly thirty.”

“Oh, I can pull a few strings. You won't be in Georgia Tech like Abby, but I can get you into SCAD, the Savannah College of Art and Design. I did a lot of the recent renovation work on their student housing, and I’ve maintained a good relationship with the Dean. She owes me a favor or two. I’m sure you can find something there that interests you. Brittany told me that you were reading a book on famous architects a while back, and well . . . I was thinking perhaps Rawlings Construction might want to become Rawlings Construction and Design in a few years,” Daddy said.

“Of course, I understand your financial situation, so you'll be going under a work-study program. You maintain a certain average, and I’ll take care of the rest. You’ll work as a management intern at Rawlings Construction. It's not much, but it beats sweeping floors at Lake Auto.”

“That's very generous of you, sir,” Dane said. “I don't really know what to say.”

“Oh, it's not going to be all fun and games,” Daddy said with a chuckle. “I plan on working you very hard. But I think you’ll handle it fine.”

I couldn't help it. I laughed, seeing the genius and the generosity in Daddy's plan. I hugged Dane's arm, looking up at him. “What do you say? Think you can go back to school?”

Dane only had to think for a second. “Damn right I can. One thing, though—does that mean we can't get married until I graduate? I mean, I planned on waiting a while, but not years.”

“Oh, no,” Daddy said, leaning back. “Whenever y’all think the time is right. Just that my blessing won't be conferred until after your first day of classes. So should I have Brittany give a call to SCAD, or do you need to think it over?”

Dane shook his head and looked at Brittany, his eyes eager and glimmering with excitement. “Can you call them now?”

* * *

After a celebratory dinner in which Daddy granted his approval, if not yet his blessing, to our engagement, Dane and I were alone in the living room.

We sat on the couch, me leaning against him. I still felt thunderstruck, and I was sure I'd had a goofy smile on my face the whole time. “Pinch me.”

“Hmm?” Dane asked, rubbing my shoulder. “I wasn't sure I heard that correctly.”

“I asked you to pinch me,” I said with a small laugh. “Because I'm still not sure I'm awake.”

“Well, you're talking, and I know I'm awake, so I’m pretty sure you're awake,” Dane answered. He kissed my temple, pausing to inhale the scent of my hair and to whisper in my ear. “But I’m happy to pinch you. Any place you prefer to be pinched?”

I chuckled and rubbed his chest, leaning against him. “For sure, that comes later. I feel a bit strange about it, though.”

“Because of what happened at the lake?” Dane asked, immediately stiffening and giving me space. “Sorry, I got caught up in the moment.”

“No, silly,” I answered, getting onto my knees on the couch and kissing him. “I feel strange because of being here and how mortified I’d be if Brittany or Daddy walked in on us.”

“They don’t seem like the type that’d cheer us on or give suggestions,” Dane joked in reply, kissing me back. “Your dad has warmed up to me a bit, but he’d still probably contemplate on grabbing his shotgun.”

His humor was exactly what I needed to relax enough to do what we both wanted to do for too long. Dane pulled me into his lap, humming in appreciation at the slick texture of my nylon sleep shorts. “You wear those every night?”

“Most of the time,” I said, my hips rubbing back and forth across the hardness growing beneath me in his pants. “Except in the winter. Then I might wear flannel pants.”

“Well then, I guess we're going to have to make sure our home is warm year-round,” Dane replied, reaching down and cupping my ass. “Because this is far too good of a feeling to give up because of some damn weather.”

I had to agree, as the slick fabric let his strong hands roam as he pulled me in closer, our lips meeting softly with long, gentle caresses. I could feel the desire within him, but he restrained himself, his hands more tender than he had ever been. I leaned back, breaking our kiss, and stroked his hair. “Dane, you don't have to hold back,” I whispered, kissing his forehead. “There's nothing I want more than to make love with you right here, right now.”

Dane's feral grin thrilled me, and he fiercely pulled me into him, our lips crushing together as he gave vent to his passion. He pushed my thin t-shirt up and over my head, freeing my breasts at the same time. Holding me like I weighed just a feather, he feasted upon my nipples, alternating from left to right in a chaotic pattern that never let my body adapt, each switch bringing fresh waves of pleasure through my body and shooting all the way to my pussy. “Dene . . .”

“Abs,” Dane mumbled between my breasts, looking up at me.

I shifted back, slipping down Dane's thighs slightly in order to be able to find the clasp of his pants. His cock was already hard and hot under my fingers as I undid the clasp and pulled the zipper down. Dane jumped in my hand as I reached into his underpants to take his long, thick cock out and hold it between us, pulsing with life and hunger.

“I want to ask you something,” I said, leaning in and kissing him again. “And you can give me an honest answer. It won't change a thing about what we're about to do.”

“What?” Dane asked, his breath hissing from between his teeth as I stroked him while my breasts pressed against his chest.

“What do you think about having children?” I asked, sitting up and wedging his cock between us. My pussy was aching, needing him inside me, but I had to have the answer to this question all of a sudden. “In general, I mean.”

“Well, I think we'll need at least ten months,” Dane teased, sliding his right hand inside my shorts to caress the skin of my ass again. “Seriously, though, I think having a baby with you would be the greatest thing in the world, and if it happens, I’d welcome it. But I think after your schooling would be best.”

I smiled and reached down and pushed the leg of my shorts and panties to the side. There would be time for gentleness later, but my initial urge for tenderness had been replaced by the white-hot passion of going so long without Dane. For a week, we'd been in the same house, spending time together but not being intimate as he gave me time and space to let my mind heal. Now, the slowly building fire inside me was at nuclear levels, unable to be contained. “One more thing.”

“What?” Dane grunted as I took his cock in my hand again and rose.

“I need you, as powerful and wonderful as you can be.” I chuckled as I lowered myself onto him. Dane's cock would forever be a wonderful experience, each time leaving me feeling like a newly discovered virgin, thrilled and a bit frightened by the first sensations of his huge cock spreading me open, stretching me and filling every nook and cranny of my body.

Dane lifted me up and down on his magnificent tool, letting my body adjust and stretch until the fear was replaced with wave after wave of delicious pleasure, my breath catching in my throat every time my body lowered itself onto his shaft. To add to the feeling, the position of our bodies meant that my clit dragged over his stomach with each movement, making me nearly insensate. I was getting pleasure with each up and down stroke, never ceasing, just building.

My eyes drifted closed. I couldn't focus any longer, when I suddenly felt a sharp pinch on my right nipple, painful and arousing at the same time. My eyes flew open to see Dane grinning up at me. “What? You did ask me to pinch you earlier.”

Dane wrapped his arms around my hips and stood up, still impaling me on his huge cock as he laid me down on the living room carpet. Pulling out, he stretched his arms and legs, then laid down beside me, a confident grin on his lips. “Now I can move some. Turn over.”

I couldn't help but obey the loving command in his voice, each tone dripping with desire. When I was on my side, Dane lifted my knee, spreading my legs before he drove forward again, this time mostly from behind, filling me all the way with one sure, mind-blowing stroke of his cock. I couldn't help it. I grunted and cried out softly. The hammering beat of his cock drove me wild, my body flushing over and over again with the explosion of pleasure that came from deep inside me. I turned my head, burying my mouth into my forearm to stifle my cries of pleasure.

The only sound I could hear was the rush of my pulse in my ears and the sound of Dane's hips slapping against my ass. Other than the soft whistle of his breathing through his nose, he kept totally silent as my man fucked me hard and fast on the carpet. My pussy clenched around him and my body rippled as my first orgasm shot through me, my teeth clamping down on the meat of my forearm hard enough to leave marks as I moaned and cried out. Dane held me, his cock throbbing inside me. He was so close, letting me ride out my orgasm in my own pace, comforting me and letting me know he would be there.

When the wave passed, I turned and kissed him softly. “You didn't come yet,” I said, feeling him still hard and pulsing.

Dane grinned as he readied himself again, pushing inside and sending fresh waves of pleasure up my body. My fingers clutched at Dane's back as he pushed in and out of me, driving me down into the pillow as his body rubbed against my clit. I felt something building inside me in a deeper place, someplace that I'd never felt before. I wasn't sure what it was, but it kept growing, larger and larger, until I was nearly frightened out of my mind. It was too large, I was feeling too much, but at the same time, I couldn't refuse it even if I wanted to.

Somehow, Dane knew what I was feeling. “Let it go,” he whispered in my ear. “Same time as I do.”

I bit my lip and nodded, untrusting of my voice as he kept pounding into me, strong and confident. I felt him swell, and with a strangled gasp, he thrust into me one last time, his cock erupting. His orgasm triggered an explosion inside me, so strong that I couldn't hold back, burying my mouth into his shoulder and screaming, it was so strong. I tasted the rich, coppery flavor of Dane's blood, and I blacked out for a moment, my mind unable to deal with all of the input at once.

Dane held me, nestling me on his right leg while stroking my hair. “Welcome back,” he whispered. “I was wondering if I could sneak you down the hall to your room without someone noticing me carrying you.”

“Well, that wouldn't be good, now would it?” I asked, reaching for my t-shirt. “On the other hand, if we walked down the hallway together, we might be quiet enough that you could join me.”

Dane smiled and took my hand, stroking it tenderly with his thumb. “I don't know,” he said with a smile. “Your Daddy might still have that shotgun around. And now he's got a Marine, too.”

It was a rarity in Atlanta as snowfall dotted the winter landscape. It was a rare gift to get the day after Christmas, and one that I appreciated. “You're probably one of the few people who aren't freaked out by this,” Patrick said to me as I looked out the big glass window of the rented hotel ballroom area. “Think you can get us all home without a problem?”

“Patrick, it's less than a quarter-inch of snow,” I said with a light laugh. “I think even you Southerners could drive home in this. The most dangerous thing out there right now is the other drivers, panicking and acting like idiots.”

“Never underestimate the ability of mankind to act like idiots,” he replied, taking a sip of his whiskey. He was looking remarkably well for a man after his second heart attack. Part of that was due to his month with Monica, I was sure. She’d imbibed a bit of Marine spirit into him, and he took up jogging, working himself up to two miles a day over the ground in the back yard. I'd even paced him once or twice, and he did pretty good for his age. “By the way, congratulations again on the first semester. You did well.”

I turned away from the window and took a sip of my own whiskey and soda. “I'll be honest. I was scared stupid for about the first week or so. It was only because of Abs that I was able to get my head out of my ass and recognize that I actually enjoy learning.”

“I'd say a 3.2 GPA for your first semester back after a decade off from school is more than cause for celebration,” Patrick said. “Come on, let's enjoy the rest of the party. Those from the company who showed up, at least.”

“Hey, more for us then,” I joked. “You know, besides the bar.”

“This is my month's ration of fried foods, so don't make me regret it too much,” Patrick joked in reply. We left the entryway and went back into the party, where the place was only about half full. We hadn't expected a big turnout. After all, the party was being held the day after Christmas, but with everything else going on in our lives, it was about the only way to fit it in.

“So you really won't mind that I'm taking a few weeks off?” I asked as we made our way through the room. “I mean, three weeks right after the beginning of the year isn't exactly easy for the company.”

“You know, Dane, I've watched you carefully the past six months,” Patrick said, stopping about a third of the way across, near a large cake that was shaped like an excavator and festooned with a fondant banner that read Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Rawlings Construction. “And I'll admit that I've been more than a little tough on you. I've given you enough rope to hang yourself more than once, and each time you keep busting your ass and working hard. So let me give you a little bit of advice.”

“What's that?” I asked, curious. While I didn't think that he’d ever let me out to dry, I do know that he consciously avoided giving me the rub around the office. He wanted me to stand and become respected on my own, not because I was his daughter's fiancée. It had taken a fair bit of work, but I felt like I was fitting in around the place now and could hold my own with some of the regular workers.

“You're getting married tomorrow,” Patrick said, pointing to the table where Brittany and Abby were chatting. Their relationship had grown closer in the past six months, and while I doubted that she would ever call her Mom, Abby had certainly come to understand and appreciate more about Brittany than I think she had in the nearly twelve years prior. “The one thing that I value most, looking at that table now, is the time that I spent not building properties. It's the time I spent playing with my little girl. I'm prouder of the fact I could make Barbie's horse whinny than the fact that I can buy a couple of real horses.”

“So you think I should back off?” I asked, incredulous. “After all you've pushed me toward in the past half-year?”

“I think you should work just as hard as you have every moment since they let you out of Leavenworth,” Patrick retorted, giving me a half-grin at the end. “Just make sure you're working on the right things, that's all.”

One of the company vice presidents came up, wishing us a happy holiday, and I used it as an opportunity to part ways with them. I'd come to admire Patrick, and while our relationship got off to a rocky start, we got along well enough. There was, of course, the unstated but obvious tension as his daughter let him go and became closer to me, but I think every man goes through that when he gets engaged.

I headed over to Abby and Brittany, who were laughing as Abby described in detail our new apartment. We'd moved in just after Thanksgiving, after the neighbors in the first apartment complex we'd tried had turned out to enjoy partying a bit too much for our tastes. “Yeah, I know it's still nowhere near what I had at home with you and Daddy, but it's ours,” Abby said as I approached. I figured she was telling Brittany about our upstairs neighbors, who had a slightly disturbing habit of turning their nightly yoga sessions from Iyengar to Tantric, if you know what I mean. Still, better than listening to Flo Rida all weekend long. “We figure it'll keep us going for a while though. At least until I finish my Masters.”

“You ladies make this party a lot better looking than any decoration or band could,” I greeted them as I came within greeting distance. Abby got up and we kissed, laying her head on my shoulder. “Hey, Abs. You miss me?”

“Not too much,” she teased me, rubbing my chest. “Just enough that I can't wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, you can wait another few hours,” Brittany laughed, sipping at her champagne. “After all, it isn't like in my parents' day when the couple would have to spend every night apart until the wedding ceremony.”

“Good for us, then.” Abby laughed. She reached down to the table and took a sip of her ginger ale, something I'd noticed earlier. Abby had never been a big drinker, but then again, neither was I. I used to be, but I’d seen firsthand what nastiness alcoholics could do. In the apartment, we didn't have any alcohol at all other than a bottle of Malbec that we'd been given as a gift for moving in. “Say, babe, are you sure you'll be good for picking Shawnie up from the airport tomorrow?”

“Yeah, this is my last one,” I replied, taking the final sip and setting the glass down on the table. “I don't want to have my nuptials marred by a hangover or anything.”

Brittany smiled in approval and finished her glass of champagne as well. “A wise decision. Well, you two enjoy yourself. I need to powder my nose, as the saying goes.”

She left us, and I led Abby closer, away from the table, and took her out to the dance floor. The live band wasn't the best in town, but even a second-rate band in a city like Atlanta can beat the pants off anything a lot of other places can offer. We found an empty spot on the dance floor and I pulled her into my arms. “Think of it as practice for tomorrow.”

“You know, I think Brittany is expecting at least a little bit of Viking tomorrow with all of that Norse stuff you talk about,” Abby said as we danced. “She's going to be highly disappointed.”

“Well, I guess I could rip off my shirt, grease myself up, and try to wrestle a bear, but those are kind of hard to find this time of year,” I joked. “I guess she'll have to settle for the roasted meats and maybe a song or two. You know I just take it in stride anyway.”

“I know. It's why I love you so much,” Abby said. “Enjoying the party?”

“Better than listening to the Washingtons upstairs,” I replied. “Trying to watch The Charlie Brown Christmas Special while they were having sex was not the experience I was hoping for.”

“We've kind of given them a concert or two as well,” Abby reminded me. “Or did you forget Monday night?”

“How could I?” I chuckled. We turned on the floor, moving in gentle circles, not really following any one pattern but just moving together. “Hey, Abs, I don't want to pry, but you seem to be a bit off tonight. Worried about tomorrow?”

“No,” Abby replied. “I'm excited, yes, but not worried. Why?”

“I just noticed you're only hitting the ginger ale. You don't think we'll get too drunk and oversleep, do you?”

Abby leaned back, her honey blonde hair shimmering in the soft light, her blue eyes twinkling like twin sapphires, and laughed, long and loud. If it hadn't been a party, or if the music had been softer, she would have garnered a lot of attention, but as it was, she barely registered. When her laughter was over, she pulled my head down and kissed me. “I’m not worried about that at all,” she whispered in my ear after the kiss was broken. “I wanted to wait until we were alone tonight, but I have a late Christmas gift for you.”

“Oh? What's that?” I asked, flummoxed. We hadn't exchanged too many gifts, so a late one seemed strange.

“You get to find out in about nine months,” Abby whispered, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “Merry Christmas . . . Daddy.”