HOSTAGE (To Love A Killer) (7 page)

              “The shell casings at the sugar factory were also a match for a number of shootings around the Gowanus, at the same sites, the same cases,” he said, allowing Sarah to fill in the blanks on her own.

              “Gang related?” She asked, piecing the information together.

              “That’s right.”

              “This isn’t a gang hit,” she said, more so to herself. Then Sarah made the leap, understanding. “They sold the killer the weapons.”

              “That’d be my guess,” said the forensics officer, getting to his feet.

              “Hey Linden!” Sarah shouted to no avail. After a moment, she acquiesced and walked over to her partner. She didn’t have time to wait for him to eventually waddle back to her. “Can you work with forensics and call in those shell casings? We need to see which gang or gangs had been pegged for the prior list of shootings. Those will give us insight as to who our killer is here.”

              “You got it, Sarah,” he said.

              His willingness to be helpful nearly took her breath away. Maybe all that air had done him some good.

              “Thanks, Charlie,” she said with a smile.

              Sarah looked out the window. It wasn’t a bad view, considering this was in the heart of the ghetto. The city, Manhattan, seemed to sparkle across the water. How many years had Sarah lived in shit holes like this until she’d finally worked her way up to Detective and was at long last able to afford a decent place near the park? Was Hunter on that track? Did she have a plan? Was this girl going to make something of herself? What had happened that she shot all that to hell?

              Sarah had no idea, but she was determined to find out.

              Her only complication was the New Hampshire aspect. If she discovered Dale Williams in fact resided outside of the five boroughs, if he really did live in New Hampshire, then this case could get turned over to the Feds. Sarah didn’t want that. Hunter Mann was important to her.  

              The sharp orange glare of the rising sun pierced through the rolling hills that lay on the distant horizon as Hunter drove north. She watched the broad sky lighten from deep purple to soft gray, as night shift smoothly into morning. Her window was cracked, causing a loud whistling rush to fill her ears. The air was cool, unlike anything she had experienced in the city for the past three months. It had to be from all the trees. The countryside was always cooler than the city. It was a fact she’d known but had forgotten. Hunter inhaled each breathe deeply, filling her lungs with fresh air that calmed her mind. Her racing thoughts had thankfully slowed the farther outside of the city they went, but a sense of dread still lingered. There was no way to anticipate what lay ahead. At least the picturesque scenery was distracting her from her own dark imagination and horrific anticipation.

              Hunter’s eyes floated closed. They had grown heavy, and it felt so good to let them shut. She savored the darkness, her head growing heavy as well. Sweet sleep was luring her and it felt delicious. A small voice in the back of her mind shouted, and Hunter lifted her lids, startled.

              She was getting too tired to drive, but they had only reached Connecticut. They had to get further north. They had to cover as much ground as possible. They could sleep when they got to New Hampshire; that was the plan. And the plan should’ve been a simple idea, but Hunter found her thoughts overlapped in complicated and confusing ways that exhausted her. Her eyes felt sore. She couldn’t keep them open much longer.

              She drew in another deep breath and resolved to smoke a cigarette to alert herself while she immediately started looking for a rest stop or motel, anywhere she could sleep for a few hours.

              After lighting a cigarette and cracking her window wider open, Hunter glanced in the rearview. There, in the mirror’s reflection, she saw Twitch. His head was cocked back, his mouth open. He was fast asleep, splayed across the back seat. Hunter couldn’t believe that that had been Carolyn, but as Hunter glanced between the open road ahead and her friend in the back seat, she started to pick out the remnants of her childhood friend from the face of the stranger back there. Carolyn had had delicate features, a straight mouth, a narrow jaw, all of which Hunter recognized in Twitch’s face. That’s what life at the farmhouse would do to you. There were no lengths a girl wouldn’t go to forget who she had been there, the awful things she had been made to do. If Carolyn had needed to become a boy, rename herself Twitch, and live a solitary life on the streets in order to forget, Hunter couldn’t judge him and wouldn’t blame him. How many questionable things had Hunter done, how many sleazy people had she clung to during long lonely nights that would’ve otherwise devoured her with painful memories?

              She took a drag of her cigarette, listening to the tobacco crackle under the loud rush of wind in her left ear, then glanced over at Ash. He was fast asleep as well.

              His chin was tucked on his chest, but Hunter could see his full lips, his straight mouth, or his dark mop of shaggy hair. His shoulders looked especially broad, his arms especially thick, the slouch of his abs and how they met his hips, taut and muscular, oozed with sexuality. He was sexy even in his sleep.

              There was a sign up ahead for a motel followed by a few more advertising fast food. Hunter flipped on her turn signal. Thank God, she would be in a bed in no time.

              There was no doubt she loved him. It scared her to face that fact. It helped that he had told her he loved her as well. It was real, almost too real to believe, too real to trust, but she had to at this point. She had no choice. She had never been loved by a man. It really meant something, but his bullet story didn’t add up. His explanation for how he had gotten the bullet key chain was nagging at her.

              He had killed his sister. He had received the bullet as a reward, but only Grizzly gave out bullets. Was Ash more closely connected to the farmhouse, the barn, and her father’s sick operation than he had let on? He had to be. Why couldn’t he just come clean with it all and tell Hunter everything? There was still time, but it grated on her trust that he hadn’t already. Who had his sister been? More importantly, who had his father been, the man he had said he killed to free himself from his own tortured childhood?

              Why was it that the more she learned about Ash the more questions she had? Would she ever truly know the killer who slept beside her?

              Hunter followed the signs to the motel down a series of long and winding country roads until she pulled to a stop in the dirt parking lot. A large neon sign glared, “Super 8”. She killed the engine and hoped it wouldn’t take long to get a room.

              Ash lifted his head, waking from the absence of forward momentum he had gotten used to, even in sleep. In his groggy state, which was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he realized Hunter had pulled over and stopped the car.

              “I’m falling asleep,” she whispered. “It was getting dangerous.”

              “Okay,” he said, his voice raspy with exhaustion.

              Ash looked at Twitch in the backseat, who now lay curled up in the fetal position. He was snoring.

              “Let’s not wake him,” said Ash.

              Hunter nodded as she popped her door open and climbed out. Ash followed suit and they walked to the manager’s office together.

              As they waited at the receptionist’s counter, Hunter felt Ash’s warm fingers slide across the palm of her hand and lace through her long fingers. He held her hand tightly in his and Hunter realized that they were about to be alone together, behind a locked door, and between crisply pressed sheets. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. Was he thinking the same thing?

              An older man, reeking of cigarette smoke and booze, stepped out from a back room and took his time getting behind the counter. He said nothing, but smeared his greasy palms over the belly of his button-down shirt. They must have interrupted his breakfast. Hunter was too tired to hold back her smirk. The button-down shirt was such a feeble attempt at professionalism. This guy clearly had other interests when it came to running a motel off the beaten path. Ash squeezed her hand, silencing her.

              “How many rooms, how many nights?” The man asked in one breath without bothering to look either of them in the eyes.

              Ash began counting a wad of cash, as he answered, “One room, one bed. We’re only going to crash for five hours or so then be on our way.”

              “We rent by the ‘night’, so the minimum is a one night stay,” said the man, finally making eye contact, “and I’m afraid we don’t take cash.”

              “What?” asked Ash, surprised.

              “For security purposes,” said the man, vaguely.

              “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Hunter.

              “We use cards only. We have to put a hold on your card for two hundred dollars. That’s in addition to the room charges. We do this for insurance in case you do damage to our property,” he said flatly.

              Hunter was catching on to what the man was doing. He didn’t want them staying here, period. They probably looked like a pair of street kids who were planning on doing drugs all morning and trashing the room.

              “What if all we have is cash?” asked Ash, raising his voice to a confrontational tone.

              “It’s fine,” Hunter interrupted, too tired to waste any time on a petty argument when she had a perfectly good debit card. “I’ll use my card.”

              Hunter handed the man her debit card.

              “I’m too tired to argue,” she told Ash quietly, as the man ran the card and had her punch in her PIN number.

              She could feel Ash’s eyes on her and sensed his concern, but eventually the tension shifted. Ash seemed to hold his gaze for other reasons now. Hunter looked up just as his lips began to curl at the edges, hinting what thoughts were emerging in his mind.

              She wanted to kiss him, but the manager handed her the card back followed by their room key.

              “Room #201,” he said, already turning away from them and heading towards the back room. “Take the stairs at the far end.”

              The only thing on Ash’s mind as they walked outside to the far end of the motel and up the stairs to their room, was how badly he wanted to be behind closed doors with Hunter. He watched the shape of her, the angles of her shoulders, her delicately sloping back, her narrow waist, and the sexy curve where her waist joined her wide hips as she led the way through the door and into their motel room. Ash wanted to grab those hips from behind and gently brush his lips up and down her neck in soft kisses until she moaned for more, but he held himself back, closing the door and locking them inside.

              Hunter turned around, checking out the room. It was small and bright now that it was morning. First she drew the blinds closed as far as they would go. It helped. The room was considerably dimmer. Then she pulled the covers back, ready to fall into bed, but didn’t get that far. Ash was watching her with a certain look in his eye that told her he was ready for bed as well, but not for sleep.

              She gave him a coy smile, drinking in his smoldering expression. It was true she was exhausted, but a distinct excitement was stirring up inside her. It seemed sleep would be a missed opportunity for alone time. Hunter didn’t want to say no to the brief respite from the stress and heartache of their journey that would come with falling into Ash’s arms. The way his jeans clung to his thighs in a tight but relaxed fit was incredibly sexy. His height, the manner in which he gazed down at her as he approached, seemed predatory, dominating in all the right ways.

              Ash took hold of her waist, slipping his hands under her smooth arms, and felt her breath quicken under his touch. She was so petite, yet tall for a girl. Her long limbs, her legs especially curved and lengthened sensuously, as if she had no idea. He had always noticed it, but it was only during these quiet moments alone that Ash felt like he couldn’t hold back. He needed to have her. Now was no exception, no matter how tired he was.

              The way his hands felt around Hunter’s waist, the way he gripped her, squeezing in a hungry pulsing rhythm had an enthralling effect on her. She melted into his touch, legs weakening as her arms caressed his, moving upwards until her hands reached a resting place around his neck. His steel blue eyes seemed bright, more vivid than usual, as though something inside him was coming alive. Or was it that something about her was bringing it out? The very thought of Ash becoming turned on by her made Hunter’s loins warm, desiring of him.

              “Don’t tell me you’re tired,” he whispered into her ear.

              The breeze of his warm breath across her ear and down her neck, sent tingling shivers down her spine.

              “You know I am,” she said in a whisper through her smiling lips. “You are as well.”

              But she knew it didn’t matter. There was something about her sleepiness that was arousing, as though being overly relaxed would enhance the pleasurable play they were about to engage in.