Shackled to the Night, page 6
“I want to be inside you, Emily,” he growled into her neck.
“Oh, yes,” she practically whimpered. “Please.”
He took her quickly and forcefully. Her hands traced over his back, feeling his muscles move as he slid in and out of her, each penetration a violation, a violation that she relished in.
“Thaddeus,” she moaned, getting closer to an epic release.
Emily awoke, coming off the pillow as if it were on fire. Thaddeus? Yes, that had been him in the dream, but… where the hell was she? She looked around the room. The walls were painted a light, sky blue and housed paintings of different kinds of flowers.
The king size bed had a forest green silk comforter, and the pillows were a beautiful mixture of both the sky blue walls and the cozy comforter. She sat up and swung her feet over the bed, absently admiring the light hardwood floors. She remembered going to that guy’s house last night, where she met … oh shit. Was she in Thaddeus’s house? He was supposed to wake her so she could drive home. Obviously, that hadn’t happened, and she struggled to remember the night before in her post-sleep haze.
When he had busted in that door, she thought for sure she was in big trouble, but he hadn’t made a move to hurt her in any way except when she pointed the gun at him and he pinned her against the wall. As she stared up into his face, her fear surged, but then she had the oddest thought that he was beautiful. The whole thing was ridiculous. She was trapped up against a wall by a stranger and the only thing she could think of was his beauty. Smooth skin covered the hard bone structure. His sheer size—he had to be at least six foot eight and two hundred and seventy pounds—overwhelmed her. The way he held her hands above her head brought her into instant submission, and she could feel the heat from his body.
When they heard the police sirens, panic set in. Her instincts were screaming at her to trust him, so she did. And really, at that point, what choice did she have? If she ran to the street, she might as well put the handcuffs on herself and walk down to the jail. She did a quick checklist of the crimes she had committed. Breaking and entering? Check. Assault with a deadly weapon? Check. Threatening to kill someone? Check. There were probably more she wasn’t even aware of. She couldn’t end up in jail—it was that simple. She needed to be free to look for her son.
As they drove out of the neighborhood, it seemed she had an ally in her search for her son, and she could sure use one at this point. She knew she had been very fortunate that she hadn’t been hurt the past few nights while making her visits to the local pedophiles. She also knew that she was way out of her league. Maybe a little muscle behind her would help to get better results. She knew she could threaten to shoot people all she wanted, but it was an empty threat. She simply didn’t have it in her. Thaddeus looked like he would be an expert on making threats, and delivering on them without the slightest hesitation. Not a bad thing to have in her corner, especially with the people she had been dealing with.
She closed her eyes and thought about her son, Brandon. She saw him as if he were in front of her. She was desperate to run her fingers through that shaggy brown hair and see her own eyes staring back at her. She could hear his laugh and see his smile as if he were in the room with her. He had grown so much in the past year, and it wouldn’t be long before he was taller than her, even though he was only ten. She felt the constant ache in her chest tighten, an ache that had bloomed six weeks ago when he went missing.
Emily felt a tear roll down her cheek. She was tired of crying. She wasn’t a crier, and now she felt like she had been crying for weeks. Well, she had been. She felt as if her whole world was collapsing in on itself—one big life implosion that would bury her. Her reason for living had disappeared six weeks ago, taking her heart and soul.
At first, after Brandon was taken and she had contacted the police, she fear and panic had paralyzed her. Then the crushing sorrow came that had made it impossible for her to even get out of bed. When the police contacted her and said they didn’t have any leads but were still looking everywhere, she became angry and decided to take matters into her own hands. Her anger fueled her, but the sorrow was always there right on her heels. If she was idle for too long, she was afraid it would overtake her again.
She had to take another deep breath to keep from losing it. She could cry later, not now.
Her mind calmed. She told herself she didn’t fear being in Thaddeus’s house, and went through the reasons why. She had only been with him for a few hours, but her instincts were telling her that it was okay to trust him, and she did. He hadn’t hurt her, and at this point, if he had wanted to, he would have done so. Instead, he had put her in this beautiful room and let her sleep. He had helped her get out of the house and away from the police. He hadn’t agreed to help her find Brandon, but she could persuade him.
And he certainly wasn’t bad to look at either. She thought back to her dream. Wow. That had been something else, and her body’s response had been real as well. She felt the wetness between her legs, and the receding orgasm she had been so close to having. She cleared the dream out of her mind. For all she knew, she would go out that door and meet his wife and five kids.
She stood up and stretched, walked across the room to a door she assumed was the bathroom. Bingo. She used the toilet, ran some water over her face and took her hair out of its braid. She looked down at her clothes. She felt dirty, which wasn’t a surprise considering the pigsty she had been in last night, and she wanted out of them immediately. She stripped quickly and helped herself to the shower.
The water echoed on the white marble, and the spray of hot water felt wonderful. She used soap that had just a hint of lavender. The shampoo was some fancy French stuff she had never heard of, but it too smelled wonderful. She thought about her bar of Jergens and her bottles of Pantene shampoo she used at home, and decided she would need to think about an upgrade. This was nice stuff! She stayed under the spray longer than normal, letting the little jets work into the muscles in her back. She made a mental to-do list of things she wanted to get done in her search for Brandon. She wondered how long it would take Thaddeus’s brother to get into the phone records and get information on that number. That could really be a good lead for her. She also got her thoughts in order so she could convince Thaddeus that them teaming up together was a really brilliant idea for both of them. She didn’t have much to offer him in the way of help, but at this point she was a step or two ahead of him, so perhaps that would be good enough.
When she turned off the water and got out, she realized that she was going to have to put on those nasty clothes again. She sighed, picked them up off the floor and took them into the bedroom. On the bed lay a big white terrycloth robe with a note. She picked up the note and read the scrawl:
I heard the shower and figured you wouldn’t want to put your clothes on again. I’m having some lunch. Please join me. Out your door and to the right. Thaddeus.
She put on the robe, feeling its warmth and coziness. While she brushed out her hair, she walked around the room studying the paintings on the wall. The artist had painted all flowers, everything from roses to tulips to stuff she didn’t recognize. She had never been too interested in flowers. As long as they were pretty and smelled good, she didn’t care what they were named.
The paintings were beautiful, no doubt about it. Yet, there was something off. The coloring wasn’t quite right. The sun always seemed too bright, or not quite bright enough. The coloring of the flowers was also off in the same way, as if someone tried to paint the pictures without ever having seen the flowers. Maybe whoever painted these was colorblind or something.
Finally the rat’s nest she called her hair ran smooth. She debated going out to see Thaddeus, but what else would she do? Stay in this room? Until when? She took a deep breath, opened the door to the hall and looked to the right. A huge wooden door stood slightly open. The smell of food cooking wafted through the crack, making her stomach howl. She looked to the left, and noticed other doors, for a total of eight, including hers. She imagined they were all bedrooms. Did he have a huge family or what? At the end of the corridor was another large wooden door.
He had told her to go right, but curiosity got the best of her and she went left. The large wooden door at the end of the hall wouldn’t open, but then she noticed a keypad on the wall next to it. Obviously you needed a code to get into the room. What was in that room? She found it beyond a little strange that a room would require keypad access, and she began to second-guess her instincts on trusting Thaddeus. But then again, maybe it was a room full of priceless wines or a gun collection, or stacks of gold bars. God knew it looked like he had enough money so that any, or all of those, could be possibilities. She turned, deciding a locked room in someone else’s house wasn’t really any of her business. She walked down the long hallway to the door she was supposed go through, and what smelled like a delicious breakfast.
The plush carpet felt wonderful under her bare feet, and the lighting in the long hallway was soft, giving the hallway a feeling of peace, almost like she was in a day spa.
She reached for the handle on the wooden door pushed it open.
The room was brightly lit, and a huge area done in warm brown tones. To her left, two dark brown leather couches faced a large screen TV, making an L. To her right, there were leather chairs and a leather couch making up a sitting area, as well as a pool table. Light jazz softly played in the background. Directly in front of her was the kitchen, and Thaddeus was standing in the middle of it, his large body looming over a frying pan. As he heard her enter, he looked up, and she inhaled sharply. The man and the room were one in the same: huge, beautiful and comfortable. He belonged here.
“Hi,” he said, smiling at her.
“Hi,” she said back. Her thoughts went back to her dream, and she felt herself flush a deep red.
“I see you found the robe to your liking,” he commented as he took her in from head to foot, his eyes traveling slowly, as if he were doing an inspection on her. Emily felt like she were a prized horse being looked over, and the guy doing the looking really liked what he saw.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have any clothes for you, but I don’t have many women staying here.”
Emily considered the comment, and realized that not having any women around meant no wife or significant other, unless he was gay. But the way his eyes raked over her when she had come into the room made her think that it wasn’t a possibility. But what were all those rooms for then if not family?
She took a chair at the bar area across from where he cooked. “What are you whipping up?” she asked.
“I don’t have much in the house, but I have some eggs and bacon. Is that okay with you?”
“Sounds wonderful.” To make the point, her stomach let out another howl at the smell of the bacon cooking.
“What time is it?” she asked.
Thaddeus turned, and she saw the clock on the microwave. Noon! She hadn’t slept that long in weeks.
“Lunchtime. But sometimes I like breakfast for lunch,” he said with a smile.
They fell into a silence as she looked around the kitchen. Everything was state-of- the-art. The shiny silver appliances looked new, all labeled Viking. She ran her hand over the countertop, which was light brown Caesar Stone. She looked around the Great Room. It was really a work of art. Dark wooden beams ran across the high ceiling, the rugs covering the dark hardwood floors looked worn, but nice. She had a feeling that they were actually very expensive rugs meant to look like they had been walked on for a number of years. The room was huge. She could probably fit two of her houses in it, and have a couple feet to spare.
She thought of her little house, her bottom-end Home Depot appliances, her Formica countertops, and although she was surrounded by beauty here, she longed for familiarity. She decided she would eat, and then get home to continue her search. She would look for an opening to broach the subject of them working together, and they could get together later this evening.
She stared at the man in front of her. His large hands confidently held a knife as he chopped up some onions for the eggs. Just like in her dream, they were strong, yet soft, and large. His shoulders were huge, his muscles rippling under his white t-shirt. As he walked over to the refrigerator, she noticed his shoulders narrowed down to a tight waist, and, nice ass, she thought, as her gaze traveled down his long legs that were covered in a pair of gray nylon warm-up pants. She hadn’t looked at a man and admired his body in a very long time, and thought it very strange that she was in the middle of a very serious personal crisis and she was checking out her host. She felt a twinge in her lower belly and crossed her legs.
As she watched him wield the knife on some green peppers, she imagined he could also be lethal, and she needed some lethal on her side.
She got up and walked around the room, taking in everything. She had always liked to play pool in college, and the memories made her smile. Thaddeus’s vast bookcase contained a little bit of everything—some literary classics, finance books, a couple of books about painting. She idly wondered if Thaddeus had been the one to paint the pictures in her room. Judging by the books, he was a man who had an array of interests.
“Breakfast is served,” he said a moment later.
They ate in a comfortable silence, him standing by the stove, her sitting in the barstool. When she had finished eating, she stood up, walked around the island, and took her plate to the sink.
“Thank you,” she said, “that was delicious.”
As she began to rinse the plate, Thaddeus went up behind her and lightly touched her hand, startling her. “Please,” he said, “leave it in the sink. I’ll take care of it.”
She went back to her chair; her skin felt hot where his hand had been. As she absently rubbed the area, she thought about getting back to her house and continuing her search for her son. Guilt poured over and through her. She had just finished a good meal. What was her son eating? She had just woken from sleeping in a big, beautiful bed. Did he have a bed to rest in? Was he able to take a shower today, as she had? She hated the questions that had no answers as they flew through her mind at almost every second of every day. They drained her, but also kept her from curling up in a ball and dying on the inside. They made her move.
“Well,” she said, “I guess I better be leaving now. Thank you so much for everything.”
He stared at her and his face got serious. “We need to talk,” he said quietly, coming over to her side of the island and sitting in the stool next to her. He motioned her to sit back down, and she did.
“Look,” she said, “I’m hoping we can work together to find my son and the boys you are looking for. You didn’t say anything last night when I mentioned it, and if you don’t want to help me out, that’s okay. However, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I could really use the help. I think you will be a big asset. But…”
He cut her off. “You’re right. You don’t know what you’re doing. And now the police are looking for you, and most likely so are the people that our friend from last night works for.”
She looked at him stunned. “How would the police know about me?”
“Because last night you left your cell phone there.”
The color drained from her face. “I did what?” she whispered. “How do you know?”
He took her hands in his, his touch warming her icy fingers as dread and fear spread through her. He explained how he watched the news coverage earlier that morning, and the story came on. The police responded to a call from an anonymous caller stating that he was worried about a friend. The police found the cell phone lying on the desk, and wanted to talk to her, just as a person of interest in the breaking and entering, as well as assault of the piece of shit who lived there, whose name, he found out, was Harold Newmaker. The whole story probably would not have made the news if it weren’t for the whole pedophile angle. If it hadn’t been on the news, Emily would have walked out of his house and right into the cops clutches, because sure as shit, they were waiting for her at her house.
Because her face had been on the news—the picture pulled from her Department of Motor Vehicles file—it was safe to assume that Harold’s employer would also be looking for her to make sure she didn’t ruin their operation with her knowledge.
She stared at him, and then she groaned, placing her head in her hands. She distinctly remembered taking the cell phone out of her jeans when she sat down in front of the computer. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself. What was she going to do now?
“I’m scared,” she whispered, as he reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek.
He chuckled lightly. “You have nothing to worry about,” he said to her softly. “You’ll stay with me until we get to the bottom of this. No one is going to find you here, and you’re safe.”
Emily looked into his sky blue eyes and found herself once again trusting him. She felt safe with him. She also felt heat on her skin where he had wiped away her tear. Despite the sleep, she was exhausted. She slumped in her chair, feeling hopelessly defeated. In a quick turn of events, she had become the hunted instead of the hunter. Not that she was really any good at the hunter role. She hated violence and cringed at the people she had been dealing with the past few nights. She was a teacher, for God sakes, not a gun toting, bone crunching, threat throwing Annie Oakley wannabe.
Thaddeus gently held her hands. His fingers swallowed hers, and it gave her comfort. She felt as if in the short period of time they had been together, she could lean on this huge man, and he would be sure to hold her up if she needed. And right now, she felt like if she were to get up from her chair, she would collapse to the floor. She needed someone to prop her up for a while.
