Jacob
The shower door opens behind me and Raj steps in, pressing her naked body against my back.
“Morning,” she mumbles sleepily, sliding her arms around to my belly.
I’d left her in bed a few minutes ago, hoping she’d be able to sleep in a little. She needs it.
Her nights have turned restless ever since Wheeler’s case went in front of a grand jury last week. We’re waiting for the indictment which could come in tomorrow, or any time up to sixty days from the hearing. Unfortunately, since we found out it’s in the grand jury’s hands, Raj has been waking up from bad dreams nightly.
Rationally, she knows there is no way Wheeler won’t be indicted, but she still worries. I hate to admit, not totally without merit. The man has better connections than I do, although he’s known to make them through blackmail.
The public is already weighing in on this case though. The scandal has been widely reported on in the media already. It would’ve been impossible to keep the lid on a story like this, especially when there are so many well-known individuals involved.
Lee is finishing up his article, which is much more comprehensive than any other material out there, and will span the years from his mother’s time at Transition House to the charges against Wheeler and his cohorts today.
He wants it ready for publishing, so when the grand jury comes back with an indictment, he can lead with that. He’s agreed to keep GEM’s name out of the article, referring to us only as an FBI support agency.
The last thing we want is to have our names or, God forbid, our faces all over the media. It would make our work very difficult, if not impossible. Anonymity is what allows us to get close enough to these sick predators to take them down.
Right now, I’m not thinking too much about work though. Not with Raj’s hands lazily traveling down my abs. It doesn’t take much for my body to respond to this woman and my cock is already hard as a rock.
Bracing my hands against the wall, I look down as her long fingers close firmly around the root, and slide up to the crown. With her thumb, she smooths the bead forming at the tip, and I grunt at the sensation.
Then she ducks under my arm, briefly kisses me with a quick swipe of her tongue, and then holds my eyes as she slides down my body. Letting my head drop between my shoulders, I stare at this gorgeous creature on her knees before me.
Every so often I look at her and am amazed she is right here. I never thought I’d consider myself lucky, but that’s exactly how I feel these days.
Lucky.
A shiver runs down my spine when she slides her lips over my crown and takes me deep inside the heat of her mouth. Awash in sensations, my eyes want to close, but I force them open. I don’t want to miss a second of the amazing view. That deep, coffee-colored gaze aimed at me, the rising swells of her breasts with each breath, and the movement of her right hand between her legs as she plays with herself.
The sight of all that, her mouth working my cock, and her other hand rolling my balls, has my ears ringing as all the blood rushes to my groin. I try to pull free, but she—quite literally—has me by the balls, and helplessly I feel the first streams of semen jet down her throat.
“My turn,” I mumble in her hair, when she rises to her feet and wraps her arms around me.
I can feel her soft chuckle.
“Honey, you can barely stand.”
She’s not lying, my legs feel like rubber, and I’m gasping for air.
“Gimme a moment,” I manage.
She cups my face and kisses me sweetly.
“You don’t have one, Bernie will be here shortly, and the Adrians could be right behind her.”
I groan, because she’s right. Bernie, who moved into the guesthouse, could be in the kitchen as we speak, getting some kind of brunch together for when Hamish and Laura get here.
She tosses me a bar of soap, and turns her back as she starts massaging shampoo into her hair. I do a quick soap and rinse before stepping out of the shower.
The Adrians will be staying here tonight, but tomorrow—when the truck with their belongings arrives—they move to the Falmouth cottage. By their choice.
I’ve had quite a few phone calls over the past month and a half with the Adrians. After a bit of back-and-forth, they ended up opting for a short-term rental instead of moving into our guesthouse. Bernie was able to negotiate a six-month lease for them with the owner of the Airbnb she’s befriended.
Hopefully that’ll be enough time to get their new house move-in ready, because as soon as we can get the permits approved, we’ll start breaking ground on the ten acres I’ve parceled off on the north side of the property. I’m supposed to take them there today. They’ve already seen and approved the plans I had drawn up in record time by a Williamstown architect.
We’re only a few weeks from Christmas, and I’d love to be ready to go with construction the first week of January. With a bit of luck, temperatures will remain above zero to pour the foundation, but even if it ends up being colder, I’ve been assured the concrete can still cure, as long as we can keep it from freezing. According to the contractor I hired to oversee the project, we should be able to get the house finished before June.
I’m going to hold him to that, but I’ll still push for sooner, because Laura is due the second week of June.
I dry off, toss my towel in the laundry basket, and pad into the bedroom. By the time I’m dressed, Rajani walks in, wearing her silky, little robe that shows off her long legs.
She snickers at my pained groan as she sits on the side of the bed, bending over as she removes the towel wrap she had tied around her hair. Then she grabs a brush from her nightstand and begins to pull it through the damp strands.
“Here, let me.”
I walk over and take the brush from her hand, sliding behind her on the bed.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I tell her as I slowly start brushing her hair. “But it allows me to steal another few minutes with you.”
She twists her head around and smiles at me.
“Careful, you’re setting the bar high for romantic gestures. You’re spoiling me.”
I lean in and kiss her mouth before I resume my brushing. She should know by now there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her.
Onyx
“I’m coming.”
Bernie stops by the door and turns around.
“Well, then, let’s go. The longer we wait, the busier it’s going to get.”
She might be right, it’s Christmas Eve day so the likelihood is it’ll be packed everywhere.
I grab my phone, shove my feet in my boots, and put on my coat.
“Alarm,” Bernie reminds me when I’m about to step outside.
Right.
I turn to the keypad and punch in the code before following Bernie outside and closing the door behind me.
Jacob would have a fit if I didn’t set the alarm while he’s away. He had a hard enough time leaving me as it was.
A call came in four days ago. A missing twelve-year-old girl had separated from her friends in a Lexington movie theatre to go to the bathroom and never returned. Staff mentioned one of the emergency exits had been used around the same time the friends claimed Kayla went to the bathroom. Security footage from the theatre showed a man carrying a girl with long hair matching Kayla’s description through the parking lot to an old white or silver Mercury Sable.
So close to Christmas, everyone wants to help on this one.
Even Jacob, who hasn’t worked directly on a search before, wanted to go with the team. I’m not ready for operations in the field yet, I still tire easily, which could make me more of a hindrance than an asset to the team. The last thing I want is to distract them, so I stayed behind. Jacob offered to stay back as well, but I could see he was itching to go.
They’ve been gone for four days, the weather’s been really miserable, and I’ve done nothing but a bit of administration and answering calls. I’m ready to see some action, even if it is just the grocery store on Christmas Eve.
“Have you heard anything more?” Bernie wants to know when I buckle in beside her.
“Nothing.”
This morning Jacob texted me they got a lead. A farmer spotted a vehicle by that description coming out of a dirt road at the edge of his property, which backs onto a golf course that is closed for the winter. They were heading there next.
“Is that snow?” I ask, leaning forward to get a better look.
“Sure looks like it. I didn’t see anything like that in the forecast,” Bernie states.
“Who knows, we might get a white Christmas,” I suggest, eternally optimistic.
Sadly, it’s already stopped by the time we get to Falmouth, where it takes us a frustrating ten minutes to find a spot in the grocery store parking lot. It’s a zoo and I’m seriously regretting my decision to come.
That wouldn’t be fair to Bernie though. It was my idea to do a Christmas dinner here tomorrow, hoping like hell they will have found Kayla by then. With the whole team searching, it’s unlikely anyone will have had an opportunity to pick up groceries or get organized for Christmas.
If they’re not back by tomorrow, it’ll just be Bernie and me, Joey and Hunter, and the Adrians, who we’d invited over before the girl went missing.
We start walking across the parking lot, trying not to get run over, when my phone rings in my pocket.
“You take that. I’m going in,” Bernie tells me, tossing me her keys.
“Hey, Lee,” I answer when I see his name pop up on my screen.
“Have you heard?”
I automatically assume he’s talking about the girl.
“They found her?”
“Not that I know, but I just found out the indictment came through.”
I blow out a breath, releasing all the tension I’ve been holding for the past two weeks.
“Relieved?” he asks.
“You can say that again. I didn’t really think he’d be set free, but I feel better having it official.”
“Understood. The courts are in recess over the holidays, so nothing will happen until after, but he’s safely tucked away.”
I feel a lot lighter a few minutes later when I walk into grocery chaos, and go in search of Bernie.
I find her in the dairy aisle, fighting with someone over the last pint of heavy cream.
“Hey, Sawyer, I’m so glad you could come.”
I greet Mitch’s daughter with a hug and let her go ahead inside, to where most of the others are already gathered.
The team came back late last night.
They found Kayla—alive.
She’d been held in an old maintenance shack in an unused and overgrown section of the golf course. A new maintenance building was put up ten or so years ago, but the old shack was never taken down.
Her fifty-two-year-old abductor had been part of the golf course’s maintenance crew for fourteen years.
Before Jacob crashed last night, he needed to unload, and shared they’d found evidence Kayla may not have been the first girl he held captive in that shack. It’s possible we’ll never know for sure, since the man died as the result of a car crash when he tried to run from law enforcement.
At least Kayla is safe and in the loving care of her family today, which means we have a house full of our chosen family for Christmas.
“Your house is gorgeous,” Sawyer compliments, standing by the large Christmas tree Bernie and I decorated while Jacob was gone.
It’s on my lips to tell her it’s not my house, but I hold it back. It may not have been bought with my money, but technically my name is still on the deed, and I do live here.
“Thank you. We like it.” I look up to see Jacob walk over. “Have you met Jacob?”
He loops one arm around my shoulders and shakes Sawyer’s hand with the other.
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” she says with a smile.
“Sawyer,” Jacob rumbles. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
Mitch joins us when he catches sight of his daughter, giving her a hug and a kiss.
Kate is helping Bernie put out some appetizers in the kitchen, while Laura is sitting at the island, chatting with them. Hamish is deep in conversation with Lee at the dining table.
Janey ended up going to the stables with Ricky, Lee’s daughter Yana, Hunter, and Joey to see the horses.
The house is full—overflowing in fact—and I love it. This is what I always dreamed of but never thought I could have.
“If you’d excuse us for a minute?” Jacob asks, grabbing my elbow. “I just want to borrow Raj for a minute.”
“Of course. I’ll get Sawyer a drink,” Mitch offers.
Jacob leads me down the hall to our bedroom, closing the door behind us. I face him, a little curious what this is about.
“What is it?”
He takes both my hands in his.
“This isn’t something I can share over Christmas dinner, but I can’t wait for you to know.”
I’d worry, but he doesn’t seem at all upset or troubled.
“Know what?” I prompt him.
“Yesterday Wheeler was transported to the correctional facility in Manchester and accidentally placed in general population instead of solitary, where he was supposed to go for safety reasons.”
The media hasn’t stopped buzzing with this case, and yesterday’s indictment would’ve only stirred that up. Some of that news has to have filtered into the prison.
“That was a serious mistake,” I comment.
“Yes, it was. Holiday schedule, limited staffing. Wheeler wasn’t found until early this morning in the showers. Dead. They figure he’d been there since last night.”
“How did he die?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know, but you might have an idea, given what he was in there for. It wasn’t pretty.”
This is probably not appropriate, especially on Christmas Day, but I can’t help feeling satisfaction at the knowledge he suffered.
“Am I an awful person if I say this Christmas is turning out even better than I could’ve imagined?”
“No,” he says, tugging me close and wrapping me in his arms. “I feel the same way. I finally know what freedom feels like.”
I wind my arms around his neck.
“I love you, Jacob.”
He flashes that lopsided grin.
“Yeah, I know.”