Onyx
My eyes are still closed when I slide a lazy hand over my breast and down my belly.
My fingertips brush the bumps and ridges marring his scalp, as his mouth and tongue wake up my body. When I peer down, his hungry eyes are blazing up at me.
“Morning,” I mumble breathlessly, only to lose my voice completely when his fingers join the magic his mouth is creating between my legs.
When he hums against my highly sensitized flesh, the deep vibrations cause my hips to buck off the bed. He capitalizes on the moment by sliding his hands under my ass, lifting me to his mouth like I’m his personal breakfast buffet.
Not that I’m complaining—far from it—as his fingers spread me open for his tongue to explore. With one hand clamped on the back of his head, I use the other to play with my breast, plucking at my nipple when I feel the tension coil low in my belly.
I’ve never been devoured quite like this before, voluntarily relinquishing all control over my body to the man who is making it sing. Right now, Jacob holds all the power and I’m perfectly okay with that.
When I come, it’s a full body experience: heart-stopping, mind-blanking, limb-shaking, and breath-stealing. The French call it la petite mort—a little death—which seems appropriate as it feels for a moment like I’m leaving my body.
My eyes snap open when his cock fills me in one smooth stroke, and I see his hazel ones only inches away. The gold flecks in his eyes sparkle, and his labored breath fans my face, while he pumps inside me. I watch him lose control, his mouth going slack and his eyes glazing over, as his hips buck erratically.
When Jacob finally pulls from my body, I feel bereft, like losing a part of me.
I’m falling in love with him.
I’ve probably loved him on some level for a while already. Although, that was more intuitive, without the benefits of my senses. Having now touched, heard, seen, smelled, and tasted him, only confirms what I somehow knew instinctively.
There was only once before I’ve felt this deeply connected to someone, this visceral sense of belonging. Only one time when I looked into another set of hazel eyes and saw my own soul reflected.
There have been a few unfiltered moments where I allowed my mind to drift unchecked, and decades-old memories would begin blending with current experiences. But then I force myself back to reality, where those memories are nothing more than ashes, spread out over the grounds of a building long since burned down.
“Are you coming?”
Pulled from my thoughts, I turn my head to find Jacob leaning against the doorpost to the bathroom. I hear the shower running in the background.
I fling back the sheets and swing my legs out of bed.
“Coming.”
Last night we did all we could dealing with Jose’s abrupt departure.
We filled the authorities in on what we discovered, and provided them with copies of the video files. Then we asked Joey to join us for some of Bernie’s outstanding lasagna so we could discuss short-term solutions and long-term options for the stables.
Jacob wanted to get that out of the way, so we could put it out of our mind and spend today and tomorrow concentrating on the upcoming event at Grandview Estate.
I’ll admit, my first thought this morning of what might be waiting for me in Russell Springs had my stomach in knots, but I recognize it’s lack of strategy and planning that makes me nervous. We’re going to change that today by gathering as much information as we can, making a plan of attack based on that knowledge, and then creating several alternative strategies as a back door.
Kate had offered to come here but, at Jacob’s urging, I convinced her to work from the office instead. I suggested we might need her to collect some of our tech equipment, depending on what we end up planning. Having her here would make things complicated for Jacob.
He is currently on the phone with Lee, hammering down details on how he’s going to get inside the lodge with the catering crew.
I’ve been reviewing some of the trail camera feed Janey sent us, along with satellite images of the property, to get a feel for the grounds. I’ve paid particular attention to the cabins, but there doesn’t seem to have been more activity than what Janey had already reported. She did mention this morning she hadn’t seen any sign of whoever the three were who arrived by helicopter earlier in the week.
It makes me sick to think of what might be happening to the two brought to the property at gunpoint. Wheeler is a deviant, a pervert of the worst kind, and I have no doubt a murderer too.
For many years I’d believed him dead as well, perished in the fire that took down Transition House, along with his two equally sick accomplices. Except—as we’ve discovered in recent years—they didn’t die in that fire. None of them. I suspect Jacob has somehow always known.
I, on the other hand, had been living under the impression the man who took more from me than any other whose uninvited hands had violated me, was already doing his penance in the afterlife. For me it had been a form of closure; a lock on the box of memories I no longer had the power to influence or change.
Discovering he is still breathing the same air I am, hearing his voice, has brought everything to the surface. The fear, the anger, the pain, but also the need for justice and even revenge for what was so brutally taken.
I wasn’t equipped back then to stand up for myself, but I am now, and I have Jacob to thank for giving me a chance to take my power back. With force, if need be.
“I’d love to know what is going on in that mind of yours right now.”
I swing my desk chair around at the sound of his voice.
“I’m not too sure about that. I’m imagining all the things I’d love to be able to do to Wheeler.”
“Are you kidding? Revenge fantasies used to be one of my favorite pastimes,” he jokes with a grin.
I raise an eyebrow. “Used to be?”
He nods as he pushes away from the doorway and steps up to me, bracing himself with his hands on my armrests.
“Touching you, kissing you, watching you…those all are now at the top of my list.”
Jacob
Over the course of the day, as the plans are coming together, I can feel the tension building for the whole team. Myself included.
At my request yesterday, Mitch contacted Matt Driver, his former boss and the commander of the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team. We’ve worked with Mitch’s former team a few previous times, but in those cases minors were missing. We’re not actively searching for any missing kids this time, but after Janey described what appeared to her to be two young males being led at gunpoint, I wanted to have the CARD team at least alerted.
The truth is, we don’t have anything concrete to tie Wheeler to at this point. Hell, we can’t even prove Morton Ackers is, in fact, David Wheeler. What we do have are suspicions, so this whole operation is nothing more than a fishing expedition. Not interesting to law enforcement perhaps, but GEM works with much different standards. We aren’t limited by the letter of the law and tend to apply our own criteria and measures.
“Is that the guy?”
I follow Raj’s gaze out the front window where I just catch sight of a pickup truck driving past the house.
“Looks like it,” I tell her, leaning over to brush her lips with mine. “I’ll head over to the stables.”
I leave Raj sitting at the dining table, where she’s sewing a small microphone and transmitter into the trim of a colorful kimono she’s decided to wear to the soiree.
The fall air is cool and refreshing when I step outside. I use the walk to the stables to get back in the role of Hamish, the horse trainer. These past few days it’s been harder and harder to keep the two identities separated. Another reason why I’m eager to bring this to an end, because I’m bound to screw up sooner or later.
That said, I feel we’re in good shape for tomorrow.
I’m driving to The Posh Palate in Richmond early in the morning. Jeremy Lancaster, the chef and owner, has agreed to let me come as part of his crew, but insisted I be at his kitchen to help with the prep at nine in the morning. Since he can only bring a skeleton crew as it is, he wants to make sure I can at least pull my weight in the kitchen. Not exactly my comfort zone, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes if it means I can be in close proximity to Raj.
I’ll be hitching a ride in the catering van with Jeremy to Grandview Estate.
My only concern about this arrangement is that someone at Grandview might recognize me. I will need to alter my looks as best I can. I’m afraid a baseball cap won’t cut it, so Bernie is going to be here just after dawn to help me with some makeup and a wig. I’m not exactly looking forward to it, even though Bernie was almost giddy at the prospect.
Mitch is on his way back here and will rent a suitable vehicle, since the Lincoln is a write-off. Then tomorrow he’ll be driving Rajani and Opal down to the Marriott hotel in Somerset, where Raj booked a suite. They’ll check in there and use the room for Raj to get ready for the evening, but will actually be sleeping in adjoining rooms at the Holiday Inn down the road under a different name.
Anyone who might be trying to find out where Onyx Baqri is staying will be sorely disappointed. The subterfuge is probably not necessary, but it’ll help me sleep better.
I haven’t quite figured out where Lee is going to be, he’s been rather close-lipped about his plans, but I have no doubt he’ll be close. Lee has his own reasons for wanting to see some justice come to Wheeler. He firmly believes Wheeler is guilty of killing his mother.
Needless to say, motivation is high for everyone, even though not all for the same reasons.
The woman standing next to the silver pickup with Joey is a surprise. I could’ve sworn she mentioned her friend’s name was Hunter Sinclair. I guess it’s my mistake for assuming Hunter referred to a man, especially since we already have a female Joey.
“You must be Hunter.”
I brace myself for her reaction to my appearance, like I always do. Although these days it’s more of an annoyance than it is hurtful.
To her credit she barely flinches.
“That would be correct,” she returns, offering me her hand.
She’s older, with a helmet of short gray hair, and a heavily lined face. I’m a little concerned this work may be too physically demanding for her.
“And I can assure you I’m up to the job,” she adds with a smirk.
She must’ve picked up something in my expression.
“I have no reason to believe otherwise,” I concede, taking her hand. “I’m Hamish.”
I take Hunter into the stables, observing her as she seems to check the building out carefully. She approaches the horses with a casual ease that betrays the level of comfort you’d expect to find in someone who has spent a lot of time around them.
She honestly answers my questions about her work history, and admits she has left several places of employment as a result of what she considers to be workplace harassment. I don’t doubt her claim of harassment. I imagine as a woman in a role more commonly associated with men, you get all kinds of feedback, and little of it positive.
And here I am, no better than anyone else silently questioning her abilities. However, in all fairness, that was more about her age than her gender.
“I’m used to working with women in different roles,” I share. “I don’t care about your gender as long as the job gets done.”
“Sounds reasonable,” she replies, nodding.
Next, I confirm she’s okay working with Joey in charge, which she is. Then when I lead her back outside, I ask her about her availability, to which she opens the gate of her truck, revealing a couple of duffel bags, a saddle, and a collection of small appliances.
“I took a chance,” she says with a grin. “Joey mentioned you’d need someone right away. I figured if things worked out, I’d save some time.”
“Give me a moment with Joey.”
I gesture for Joey to step aside with me for a moment.
“You’re sure you’re good working with her?”
She nods. “I am.”
“Okay, because we’re not going to be around for the next day or two, and I’d feel better if there are two of you here.”
Fifteen minutes later I walk into the house, leaving the women to move Hunter’s stuff into the staff quarters.
“And?” Raj asks as she looks up from her handiwork.
“Turns out Hunter is a woman. I think she’ll work out—Joey seems to think so—but I guess time will tell.”
“Of course,” she scoffs. “Now that the changes to the staff building are done, we don’t need them anymore.”
The contractor left less than two hours ago.
“I’m sure the second bathroom is welcome regardless,” I point out.
“I guess.”
Raj gets to her feet and shakes out the kimono before slipping it on over her clothes.
“Can you see anything?” she asks.
I step closer and check the seam along the neckline.
“No.”
It’s not until I run my fingers along the edge, I feel a slight bump. Not enough for anyone to notice.
“It looks good. Are you done? Ready?”
I grab the other side of her kimono and pull her close.
“I just need to pack my stuff, but that’ll take two minutes tomorrow morning. What about you?”
“Yeah, I think I’m ready. I feel a lot better knowing we’re not leaving Joey in a lurch.”
I slide my hands under the kimono and around her waist.
“I know we’ve had our hands full,” Raj brings up. “But we haven’t really addressed Jose, or his motivation for wanting to get rid of me.”
“I have,” I admit. “I’ve been in touch with a private investigator I’ve worked with before, and asked him to put surveillance on Gordon Chen.”
She leans back and eyes me with a hint of disbelief.
“You really think Chen has something to do with it?”
I pull up my shoulders. “I’m not sure, I can’t see what Chen’s beef would be, other than he’s pissed at you for showing him up at the auction, but…he’s the one who put Jose in contact with you. I’m not ready to brush that off as coincidence and besides that, he’s the only connection we know about. I feel better knowing he has eyes on him.”
I tug her toward me again, locking my hands in the small of her back.
“Is that everything? Nothing else on your mind?” I inquire. “Because I think it’s time to relax a little.”
She grins up at me, sliding her hands up my chest.
“Relax? We haven’t even eaten yet.”
“We can—”
“Is that Bernie?” Raj interrupts me, looking over my shoulder out the window.
I groan and turn my head. Sure enough, there’s Bernie walking up to the front door with, if I had to guess, more food in her hands.
Swallowing a curse, I reluctantly let go of her so she can rush to the door and open it.
“Are those your cinnamon rolls?” I hear Raj ask.
Of course, she shows up with those. There’s no way I can send her packing now.
So much for my relaxing plans.