Officer out of Uniform (Lock and Key Book 2) (7 page)

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Randy hunched down to stare into the ancient little refrigerator. “More cans in here than in the trash. Surprise, surprise.”

He reached inside and pulled out a beer. It was barely cooler than room temperature, but it beat the hell out of trying to figure a beer run into his plans.

It was risky enough being in Riley County without showing his face at the grocery store. Here in the trailer he was making himself at home in, he had beer and enough food to last a couple days. Mostly just bologna and white bread, but still. It was a goddamned buffet compared to what he’d had to survive off of most days he’d spent on the run.

He pulled back the tab and took a long swig of the beer. The familiar taste was a balm to his frayed nerves. His head and muscles still ached, but at least he’d gotten shit done. Turning away from the dirty kitchen and toward the living room area, he approached the recliner.

The upholstery was covered in stains and a few cigarette burns, and there was still an indentation in the battered cushion where the last guy had sat in it, before Randy had walked into the trailer and dragged him out. A half-eaten bag of potato chips lay spilled on the carpet, and Randy had a sudden memory of greasy fingers reaching for him, clawing at his arms as he choked the life out of Joseph Reynolds.

He’d had to choke him, to keep things quiet. The trailer was only a safe home base for Randy so long as everyone thought Joseph was still alive and living there.

He’d watched the guy for days, hiding out in the woods behind the dumpy little lot, confirming what he’d suspected: the man had practically been a recluse. In his fifties, he’d spent his days in front of the TV, chain smoking, drinking cheap beer and pigging out. Given another few years, he would’ve been dead via a heart attack or diabetic coma, to be sure.

Randy had simply helped things along. Now, Joseph Reynolds was at the bottom of an inlet, greasy fingers and all, and Randy had a place where he could relax a little, rest and plot while he wasn’t directly implementing the steps in his flexible yet specific plan.

It was unlikely that anyone would look for him here. The police would search places where they’d expect him to be: the woods and fields, bus stops and abandoned buildings. Maybe even shitty motels. They’d never guess that he’d offed a sack of shit like Reynolds and was currently enjoying all the comforts of home.

As he flipped on the TV, he emptied the beer can and burped, loud. Some movie he didn’t give a shit about was on. He watched it anyway, eyes fixed on the screen and occasionally darting toward the curtained windows while his mind was elsewhere. It was dark already, but he needed to kill some time before he moved out.

The best thing about the trailer was that it wasn’t far from the home of the officer who’d stumbled upon the warden that afternoon. Randy had noticed the same blue pick-up truck in the driveway of a little house by the edge of the woods that afternoon, when he’d been driving back from the trip he’d made to dispose of Joseph Reynolds’ sorry carcass.

When it was late – real late – and Randy was sure the guy would be asleep, he’d leave the trailer under the cover of darkness. Out here, beyond the edge of town, the only lights were the ones up in the sky, millions of miles away.

The moon was nothing more than a sickle tonight, a sliver of distant light that would keep Randy safely hidden in shadow. He’d be free to go where he wanted, do what he wanted. He’d be a ghost in the darkness, and no one would be able to stop him.

* * * * *

Sasha’s heart beat hard and fast against her ribs, just like Henry’s pulse did just inside his hip, near the crease of tight muscle that arrowed down in a sexy V shape. Her knuckles brushed that area as she wrapped her hands around his shaft, thickness standing hard and tempting between the split teeth of his jeans zipper.

Just having her hands on him that way gave her a thrill. And it wasn’t only her heartbeat, or her body’s sudden demand for more oxygen, either. It was the way her nerves buzzed, the way she could feel her body aching for impending satisfaction, like an addict’s system preparing for its drug of choice. She was going to love this.

And so was Henry.

The dark green comforter creased around her knees as she leaned down, steadying herself with a hand on his thigh as she kept the other on his cock, fingers wrapped tightly around his heat and hardness. Her mouth watered, and when she exhaled, he tensed visibly as her breath hit his skin.

Like him, she wasn’t wearing anything above the waist. They’d gotten each other halfway undressed, but hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other long enough to finish the job. He cupped one of her breasts with one hand while he buried the other in her hair, guiding her down until her lips touched the head of his dick. The pressure of his knuckles against the back of her skull, tangled in her hair, sent a frisson zipping down her spine.

Henry wasn’t usually much of a talker – it’d taken her weeks to get to the point where they had actual conversations – but actions definitely spoke louder than words. And she definitely had a thing for the strong and silent type, now more than ever.

He breathed hard when she parted her lips, dragging the tip of her tongue over the crown of his cock as she took half a second to catch her breath. Holding back was a sweet sort of torture, but she liked the feeling of him growing more tense beneath her. Every muscle in his body seemed to firm up, and she even thought she could feel his dick getting harder against her open mouth.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but God, what a thought. He was already standing at full attention and everything about his erection was on par with the rest of his extremely masculine, extremely impressive body. Physically, he was perfect.

He had scars, but she didn’t consider those imperfections. Not when they only seemed to add to the rugged, rough around the edges appeal of his body.

A slight pull made her scalp prickle as he tightened his hold on her hair. One by one, his knuckles pressed a little harder against her skull, inciting a delicious ache that spread through her whole body. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to reign himself in or spur her on, but either way, she found herself finally sliding down over the head of his dick, lips slipping over the thick ridge and down the smoothness of his shaft.

She braced herself for the depth and breadth of his invasion, determined to take him all the way on her first descent. As much as she loved the feel of his cock in her mouth and his hand in her hair, she was only human and still had a gag reflex. And it wasn’t like he was small. She worked past it and took him deep, her entire body tingling as she waited for his reaction.

His hips bucked, rising up off the mattress in one smooth, powerful motion. His jeans slipped a little lower and she moaned – in surprise and delight – as he released a ragged breath.

Her pussy drew up so tight it hurt, and suddenly, she ached desperately to have him inside her. Only the feeling of his powerful body being wracked by slight tremors in response to what she was doing kept her from straightening, tearing off her jeans and panties and throwing herself on his dick.

She drew back and went down again, taking him all the way.

He rocked his hips again, thrusting against her lips, pushing a little deeper. Her mouth was watering around his hardness, but she still tasted a faint hint of saltiness. A sudden vision from their last time together struck her: the sight of a pearl-white bead of moisture at the head of his cock, gleaming there just moments after she’d gotten him out of his jeans.

The sight of it had made her wonder how long he’d been anticipating sex with her – if he’d wanted her, bad, ever since he’d first met her, just like she’d wanted him.

“Fuck, Sasha, you’re killing me,” he said. “I’m going to come in your mouth if you don’t slow down.”

There was a ragged edge to his voice that made her believe him.

She pushed the envelope, pulling back slowly but maintaining deliberate pressure, running her tongue down the underside of his shaft, tracing a thick vein. His jeans were low enough now that she could get a hand inside them, and she did just that, cradling his balls.

He swore again. “I mean it. Don’t keep pushing me like that unless you’re ready for it.”

A little thrill raced through her. She liked that he wasn’t trying to stop her. On the contrary, actually: he’d warned her verbally, but his hand was wrapped more tightly than ever in her hair. It hurt a little, in a good way.

He’d be able to get it up again before long; her first time with him had left her with no doubts about his stamina, and the fact that he was ready to come in her mouth after a few deep strokes was clearly a promise that that wouldn’t end things.

Not that she’d done this then. Things had happened too fast, too hard – all around, it’d just been too intense to pause for something like this. The next day she’d left with an ache between her thighs and a mouth that watered with curiosity when she wondered what he’d taste like.

She played with his balls, not bothering to be delicate with her touch. He wasn’t delicate with her, and she didn’t want him to be. They seemed to be on the same wavelength in that respect.

He arched beneath her, maintaining pressure on the back of her head, threatening to wrestle control away from her completely. He was strong, but she
did
have his balls in the palm of her hand. And while she was so eager for more that she could actually feel how wet her panties were, he was the one lying half-reclined on the bed with his jeans around his hips. She was still the one in control … for now.

His breath came hard and she could just imagine how hot it would’ve been against her skin, if she’d been close to enough to feel it. With her head in his lap, she could feel the heat radiating from his body – tensed muscles and skin that always felt sun-warmed, hot because his natural body temperature seemed to run a little higher than hers.

Or maybe he was always just that turned-on when he was around her. The thought was appealing, and added a sharper edge to the desire tearing through her. She kept taking him deep, kept pushing him that much further toward a climax. He was a hard mess of barely held-in energy beneath her – his thighs felt like granite against her breasts, and his breathing had grown suspiciously quieter, like he was fighting himself for control now instead of her.

He was definitely close.

She took him all the way in again, and her lips were touching the heated skin at his groin when a low moan rose out of his throat. Her panties got a little wetter, and she braced herself for the hot rush she could almost feel running over the back of her tongue.

A loud noise tore through the house, so sudden and sharp it actually hurt her ears. She jerked and so did Henry.

“Motherfucker!” He used his hold on her hair to ease her back – well, maybe ease wasn’t exactly the right word for it, but considering how quickly he was moving, he was fairly gentle. Once he was free of her mouth, he leapt up before she could so much as rise from her knees.

The noise was Wolf; he was barking and the sound was sheer insanity. He was a great dog, but when he barked like that, he sounded like he was a millisecond away from ripping someone’s head off.

Sasha scrambled into a slightly less ridiculous position, unable to help staring as Henry fought to wrestle his dick back into his jeans. He was still hard, and his erection clearly wasn’t going down without a fight. After a few desperate seconds, he managed to get his pants buttoned and zipped.

Sasha was just relieved he hadn’t caught himself in the zipper – there would’ve been blood, for sure.

Henry reached beneath his bed and pulled out a handgun. It was black and tactical looking – surely it had a name, though Sasha couldn’t identify a gun at a glance.

Finally, Henry looked at her again. There was a hard gleam in his eyes that might’ve been regret, but mostly, he looked like Wolf sounded: like he was ready to kill someone. “Stay right here.”