Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, won’t get money for this.
No beta reader has seen this - be warned, and keep your red
pencil at the ready. First posted on the pretendfic list. (If you haven’t subscribed yet, why not?)
July, 1998
NC-17 ( explicit m/f sex)
Spoilers: Ranger Jarod
Hurts So Good
by
Djinn
It had been a bad day for Miss Parker, and that meant it was
going to be a bad day for everyone, Broots reflected ruefully.
He had tried the strategy of keeping a low profile, with the result
that Miss Parker had ferreted him out and accused him of
goldbricking. What she had actually said was, “Am I interrupting
your nap time, Broots?” It was the way she said it, though, with
venom dripping from her fangs. . .
“Forgot your blankey?” Damn, how could he miss that
distinctive combination of cigarettes and hideously expensive
perfume?
“Uh, no, Miss Parker. I was just thinking.”
“I should have taken a picture.” The silky tone of her voice
belied the viciousness. She dropped the butt she had been
holding and ground it beneath her toe on the linoleum of the
motel room kitchenette floor. “And what is the result of this
deep thought?”
“Uh, I think that Jarod is leading us down the garden path.”
“Really.” She lifted her head and breathed in sharply through her
nose. “Broots, you moron, of course he is leading us down the
garden path. It’s what he does. What I need from you is
information on where to find the shortcut.” She winced and held
a hand to he side as she swiveled her head around, staring at the
unprepossessing buildings of downtown Okmulgee. “And to get
out of this cowtown.”
“They’re going to have the pecan festival here next week.”
The look she turned on him sizzled and arced through he air like
an electric spark. He huddled down toward the monitor, as if it
would shield him from her displeasure. He heard her flip open
her cigarette case and then had to strain his ears for the muttered
curse when it was found empty.
“I’m going out for cigarettes. You keep working on finding out
why Jarod led us here.”
“Could you get me a smoothie?” He wanted to hit himself the
moment the words left his mouth and he felt the bite of her look
even with his back turned. Luckily, the pull of her addiction
outweighed the need to punish him and she stalked out of the
motel room toward the convenience store half a block away.
“Hurry back, Sydney,” muttered the frazzled man at the terminal,
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this on my own.”
Amazingly, almost the same sentence was running through Miss
Parker’s mind, although much more inventively phrased. By the
time she reached the cool shelter of the convenience store, she
had realized why most of the people she saw wore light colored
clothing; the sweltering heat of Oklahoma in June was enough to
wilt even the most starched employee of the Centre. Pushing
through a door festooned with cigarette ads, beer posters, and
advertisements about the upcoming pecanarama, Miss Parker’s
nostrils flared at the assault that only day-old fried goods kept
warm by a heat lamp can provide.
“Yaas, ma’am, kin I hep ya?” The accent that came across the
counter grated down her spine. Purposefully, she kept her
back to the clerk, wanting to have only the briefest exchange
with anyone who spoke so atrociously.
“Cigarettes. Where?” she snapped.
“We gots all kinds ahind heyere,” the gomer commented.
She turned and sneered at the hick, and looked straight down
the barrel of a handgun. Focusing on the face under the John
Deere cap, she met the smiling eyes of - Jarod.
“Well, well, well, a bit of a comedown for you isn’t it, after brain
surgery.” She’d left her gun in the motel room, with Broots.
Damn!
“It’s like rocks, Miss Parker,” Jarod eased around the counter,
motioning to her, “if we were all diamonds, there’d be nothing to
build bridges with.”
“Spare me the down-home homilies. What do you want with
me?”
“Why, Miss Parker,” Jarod smiled as he grabbed her upper
arm with his left hand, pushing the gun into her back with his
right, “I want your blood.”
When Broots eventually looked up from his computer, he
noticed that the air was unusually fresh in the room, which meant
no cigarette smoke, no Miss Parker, and no smoothie. Standing
and furtively peeking out the window, he noticed Miss Parker
outside the convenience store, getting into the cab of a truck
with what looked like the clerk. They both entered through the
driver’s door, and Broots could see that Miss Parker remained
close to the man instead of scooting over.
Broots sat back down, eyebrows against his hairline. Well, she
sure didn’t fool around when she fooled around. He’d thought
her tastes ran to a different type of guy. He tapped on his
keyboard, mentally rehearsing how he was going to let Sydney
know that Miss Parker had been doing it with this fellow she
picked up in a Get ‘n’ Git. Why she just didn’t bring the man
back to the motel and kick Broots out, the computer geek
couldn’t say. This guy, this tall guy - his hands stilled, this tall
slim guy, who was holding on to her elbow. Jarod!
“Uh, oh.” He spoke aloud, wondering whether to summon Sam
first, or to call Sydney. Or maybe, even, to go after Jarod and
Miss Parker himself. For a brief instant he pictured himself
rescuing her, her eyes drenched with tears of heartfelt gratitude,
then he shook his head, shuddering. Not Miss Parker, not even
if he rescued her from Godzilla. Or even from watching
Godzilla. Picking up the motel phone he dialed Sydney’s
number.
Upper lip curled above her gumline, Miss Parker surveyed the
truck, lingering on the decal on the window which depicted a
cartoon character urinating on the name of a rival truck brand.
“Charming, Jarod. I’ll have to recommend this to the Centre
transportation department.”
“I’m glad you like it, Miss Parker. Unfortunately, you won’t be
in here much longer. We’re almost there.” He pulled off the
paved country road they had been driving onto an obstacle
course of potholes, puddles, and rocks. Bouncing on the hard
truck seat, Miss Parker opened her mouth to make another
caustic remark, but her timing was a bit off and the down bounce
caused her to bite her tongue.
Jarod glanced over at her when she grunted in sudden pain.
“Rough ride, Miss Parker?”
“I bit my tongue, you idiot!” Her voice was only a little muffled
by having to talk around the painful bite.
“I’m surprised you finally took the advice I know you’ve been
given.”
She glared at him, disgusted with his jocularity.
Just then he slowed and stopped the car. Turning sideways in
the seat, he looked at her carefully. “Is it really hurting? Let me
see.”
“Go to hell,” he was much too close, she felt the warmth of his
breath on her face. Combined with the sudden caring tone in his
voice, he almost overcame her defenses. Almost. “It won’t be
anything to what you’ll feel when I get you back to the Centre.”
After a long moment, Jarod smiled. “We’ll just have to wait and
see, won’t we?” He put a hand around her upper arm. “Let’s
go.”
After an initial resistance, Miss Parker allowed Jarod to help her
out of the truck. A firm hand on her arm just above her elbow
guided her up the gravel path through a wooded area. Glancing
around, Miss Parker decided to play out the scene - for a while.
She could always overpower him when she had discovered his
plan, she assured herself. But the tall man beside her looked
stronger and more alert than the lab rat she had known.
Anyway, his supporting hand helped her over the rougher parts
of the trail. Her stiletto heels, while serving the double purpose
of fashion and intimidation in Blue Cove, were a detriment to her
in this situation.
She looked at him, noting that the heat of the June day had
caused runnels of sweat to run down his face, pooling in the
hollow of his throat. She fought an irrational urge to touch him.
Instead, she began to look around at the terrain. As their goal
appeared through the trees and underbrush, Miss Parker
stopped dead in her tracks, momentarily wrenching her arm from
his grasp.
“No way. Jarod, no way are you hauling me into an outhouse.”
“It’s a hidey-hole.” Jarod’s lips quirked at her revulsion. “An
underground storm shelter,” he added, “this *is* tornado
country.”
“I don’t care if it’s Xanadu, I am not crawling into some gopher
burrow with you.”
“You don’t have to crawl, Miss Parker.” Jarod pulled her over
to the entrance and opened the door. “There’s a ladder.”
Sydney smiled as he adjusted his cap, catching the sweeper’s
eye in the rear view mirror. The man looked at him in inquiry,
but Sydney was used to keeping his own counsel and returned
the blandest look in his arsenal at the driver. For someone
whose only frame of reference for Oklahoma was the dust bowl,
he found the scenery to be surprisingly green and fertile.
But it was hot. The waves of heat emanated from the road in
front of them as they drove from the airport in Tulsa to
Okmulgee. Even with the air conditioner on full, the rental sedan
wasn’t quite cool enough for comfort.
“We should be getting there soon.”
Sydney nodded and looked out the window. Letting his mind
wander, he pictured Broots and the sweepers frantically combing
the streets, bleating out Miss Parker’s name. Not fair, he
reminded himself, we can’t all face crises with equanimity. He
sighed and crossed his arms, confident that he would be able to
resolve the situation satisfactorily, and maybe, just maybe, be
able to talk to Jarod face-to-face.
“It is damp and smells like a fungus. And the decor is right out
of early Neanderthal.”
Jarod sighed as he picked up a syringe. He could hear Miss
Parker thumping the chair around. “You can’t get away, you
know.” He turned and lifted a sardonic brow. “I learned about
captivity from experts.”
“Spare me your self-pitying whine, Jarod. So you had a rotten
childhood. So what? Join the club. We can’t all live on
Sunnybrook Farm.” Miss Parker leaned her head on the back
of the chair and watched him in the dim light. Although there
was a generator running a small air conditioner unit, Jarod had
said he preferred to save energy by using a Coleman lantern. It
lent an air of mystery to the shelter that Miss Parker was fighting
not to acknowledge.
The duct tape binding her wrists to the arms of the chair was not
so tight as to be uncomfortable, nor was that which fastened her
ankles to the chair legs. Still, she had not counted on being tied
when she had climbed down the ladder. Jarod had leapt down
beside her and taken her in his arms and she had thought for a
moment that he intended to. . .then he had thrust her into the
chair and taped her to it, leaving her furious and frustrated.
Jarod tried to take that into account and didn’t argue with her.
Silently he walked over to her and pushed up her sleeve. He’d
already swabbed the area in preparation of drawing her blood.
He saw her body tense before he slid the needle into her arm.
Both of their eyes were on the syringe, watching the rich blood
fill the cylinder. When it was full, he deftly pulled out the needle
and swabbed the area again with the other hand before he
carried the syringe over to the small lab he had set up against one
wall of the shelter.
“What are you testing for?” Parker swallowed, her mouth dry.
“Jarod?” She could hear him rattling around with something
behind her, filling a container with liquid.
“I’m going to test whether we are related, Miss Parker.”
“What? I thought. . .”
Jarod’s smile was strained as he walked around to look at her.
“I have wondered if our mothers were perhaps related, perhaps
sisters or half-sisters. I would like to know if -”
“We are kissing cousins? Come on, Jarod. This is pushing it
even for you.”
He held out a glass of ice water to her, a straw resting temptingly
against her lower lip. “Miss Parker, you may as well drop the
pretense. You are just as interested in your past as I am in mine.
The difference is you have more access than I do.”
Parker choked on the mouthful of water she had just taken.
“Pretense? Look, Frankenboy, you may know how to perform
heart surgery and put out a forest fire, but you have absolutely no
idea what it is like to be me.”
Jarod stood and looked at her, his eyes in shadow. “You are
right, Miss Parker. I don’t know.” He looked around the small
room, then pulled her chair close to the cot which occupied the
wall in front of her. Seating himself before, so close now that
their knees touched, he looked into her face. “But I will.”
It was too hot for him to be looking for Miss Parker. On the
other hand, no one could make it hotter if Miss Parker found out
that he hadn’t been looking for her. Broots sighed. it was a
quandary. He was a techie, not a bloodhound. He’d reported
her abduction, wasn’t that enough? But no, Sam had him
walking up and down Highway 75, looking for witnesses. Since
Jarod usually fitted himself into the community in some way, it
was only reasonable that someone would recognize him and
possibly know the whereabouts of his lair. And of course, it was
for the sweepers, the men of action, to have the car.
It was just so damn hot. Broots trudged up a hill and saw
nirvana. Wal-Mart. His breath came fast. He could buy a hat.
Some zinc oxide. A cold drink. And there would be lots of
people in that big air-conditioned building to interview. He
could just show Jarod’s picture around until Syd got here.
The automatic doors opened and he felt the cold air like a kiss
on his face. Broots stood for a moment, enjoying the sensation.
The greeter brought him back to himself.
“Welcome to Wal-mart.” The senior citizen rammed a cart at
him and flapped an advertisement page into the child seat. Her
smile looked as if it was held on with just the barest coating of
Elmer’s glue. Broots couldn’t control a shudder. She looked
just like Miss Breedlove, his fifth grade teacher. Miss
Breedlove, who had made him stay after school. Made him
recite poetry. Called his parents when he. . .
No, it couldn’t be. What would Miss Breedlove be doing in
Okmulgee, Oklahoma? Maybe it was her doppelganger, her
identical twin. Oh, god, she was looking at him again. He
pushed his cart rapidly down the nearest aisle, and studiously
examined the offerings of bagged candies. Grabbing several
bags at random, he eased out of the aisle and glanced back at
the door. The greeter was standing there, arms akimbo,
frowning in his direction. He made a squeaking noise and rushed
down the soft drink aisle. Jarod was forgotten at the
resurrection of his own childhood nightmare.
“This is just so interesting, Jarod.” Miss Parker turned
on the sarcasm to cover her discomfort. He took his hand away
from her face, and she felt strangely bereft. He’d been lightly
touching her fingertips to her cheek, so gentle that she had barely
felt the touch. Yet, it felt that his hand had reached into her
thoughts, her heart.
They had been sitting for ten minutes, not talking, his eyes closed
most of the time. Absorbing her essence, she supposed, not that
she wanted her essence absorbed. In fact, she would be happier
if something was absorbing the perspiration that was soaking the
fabric of her blouse and skirt. The air conditioning unit had
coughed its last a few minutes ago and she could feel the
difference. Jarod, of course, was oblivious.
“Jarod?” She tugged her wrists against the duct tape, and found
it had more give than previously. It must be the sweat.
Surreptitiously she began to twist her wrists and ankles,
loosening the bonds, all the time keeping her eyes watching
Jarod’s face. Although his eyes were closed, his ears were still
working - as far as she knew. She really hadn’t paid too much
attention to Sydney when he had tried to explain the ins and outs
of Jarod’s talent.
Suddenly, on an indrawn breath, Jarod opened his eyes and
stared deeply into her own. “I didn’t realize,” he whispered.
“Realize what, Jarod?” Miss Parker’s mouth twisted. “That
you’re a freak of nature? That you belong in a lab? Or that the
air conditioner is off?”
Jarod shook his head. “I know now. I know it all, now.”
“You don’t know anything. You just think if you sit there and
wait all the answers will come to you magically. Well, it doesn’t
work that way, Jarod. You don’t know a damn thing about
me.” Miss Parker was breathing heavily with the force of her
words.
Brown eyes connected to her and she felt her stomach melt. It’s
the heat she told herself, the sweat. . . but she knew better.
Jarod leaned forward and cupped her face between his hands.
“I know.” His voice was deep, resonant.
She turned her face, trying to dislodge his hands, but a gentle
touch turned her chin back so that she was facing him again. A
thumb caressed her bottom lip, and Jarod leaned forward, his
lips barely touching hers. It wasn’t a kiss, there was no
pressure. It was just contact, his mouth adjacent to her mouth,
his breath mingling with her own.
A moan was wrenched from the center of her being, and she
closed her eyes on the tears she couldn’t hold back.
“It’s all right, it’s all right” Jarod was kissing her face, her
eyelids, her cheek, her mouth. And she was kissing him back.
A child’s scream startled Broots out of the reverie he had sunk
into while staring at a bewildering display of dolls. He glanced
over at the toddler having a hissy fit on the floor only a few feet
away from him and flinched. In between asking the clerks and
shoppers if they had seen Jarod, he had been looking for a gift
for Debbie. Barbie doll? Didn’t all little girls love Barbie?
There were just so many of them, and all those little clothes. . .it
was kind of scary. The sweat that had begun drying down the
middle of his back suddenly chilled him.
Then there was the Miss Breedlove clone at the front door, Miss
Parker disappearing with Jarod, and no telling what Sydney was
doing. He heard the sound of a squeaky wheel getting closer,
closer. Mouth dry with fear, he risked looking around the corner
and for a moment his vision blurred.
It wasn’t Mr. Raines. But it could have been, he thought, as he
grabbed a package at random from the toy aisle he was in and
scooted into the automotive section.
Oklahoma was a scary place.
Sydney stabbed the numbers into the cell phone for the
umpteenth time, lips drawn tight in an annoyed grimace. He
hadn’t expected an answer from Miss Parker’s phone, Jarod
would have taken care to neutralize that. But Broots should
have picked up - unless he was out of range. Sam had said that
Broots was on foot, combing the stores on a shopping strip,
asking if anyone had seen Jarod.
They had driven slowly by those stores, looking for Broots. No
luck.
“All right, Sam, let’s go talk to the owner of the convenience
store.” Sydney’s voice was decisive.
“What about Mr. Broots?”
“We’ll let him continue his investigation and pick him up later.
Send the man I brought with me to the airport to watch for
Jarod. If he wants to leave in a hurry, it is the most obvious
place for him to go. Send another man to the airport in
Oklahoma City. That should cover us for now.” It would also
cut down the sweepers to just Sam, and Sydney felt more
comfortable with that. If an opportunity arose for him to get time
alone with Jarod, it would be simpler to lose one sweeper than
to evade three. Broots didn’t count.
Of course, it would be nice to know where he was. And why
he wasn’t answering his phone. Miss Parker’s safety was not a
concern to Sydney. He knew that Jarod would never hurt her.
And he thought he knew why.
The duct tape restraints had gone, and they were both standing.
Miss Parker to stretch after being tied for a couple of hours, and
Jarod because she was and standing was the best way to be
near to her. Although the heat had become sweltering in the
storm shelter, they were close, so close, that it felt like they
would spontaneously combust.
Her hands rested lightly on his broad shoulders, and she knew
that all she had to do was lift her face slightly and he would kiss
her. His hands rested just as lightly on her waist. To a casual
observer, it looked as if they were beginning the first hesitant
steps of a dance. Parker’s eyes closed and she bent her neck,
nestling her head in the base of Jarod’s throat.
It felt surreal. Here she was with her quarry, the one who gave
her the ulcer, who was costing her the freedom from the Centre
that she craved. And she was swaying with him in a hole in the
ground with an ambient temperature of at least 100 degrees
Fahrenheit. And she was content. No, more than that, happy.
It was that last word that spurred her back to reality. “Jarod!”
She broke away from him, edging toward the ladder. “We can’t
do this.”
Jarod’s smile was sad. “You don’t have the keys to the truck,
Miss Parker. It is 25 miles back to town. Those shoes,” he
nodded toward the Ferragamos discarded near the bed, “aren’t
made for walking.”
“You have all the answers, don’t you, Jarod?” Her sneer was a
little off. She took a deep breath, regrouped. “If you don’t let
me out of this hell-hole, I will probably die. Do you want that on
your lily-white conscience?”
His eyes suddenly stony, Jarod shifted visibly. “Miss Parker,
you have no idea what I have on my conscience, although, as an
employee of the Centre, your hands are far from clean.”
Foolish to feel a chill in this oven, but she did. She walked past
him, suddenly conscious how much smaller she felt without her
heels, and retrieved her shoes. She could hear him packing the
lab equipment into a case, and closed her eyes. For as long as
she lived, she would regret losing this moment. But she couldn’t
hang onto it on his terms, and she was too afraid to ask for him
on hers.
She was startled by the sound of his quick steps up the ladder
and the flood of sunlight as he opened the door. “Well, Miss
Parker. Are you coming, or do you prefer to roast a bit longer?”
They had smoothies at the Wal-Mart. Well, maybe they were
called frosties, or chillees, but they were cold and very sweet.
Broots sat at the plastic orange table and watched the shoppers
stroll by with their carts and toddlers. He had purchased a
marker, tape, and a poster board, and had the picture of Jarod
taped to it with the words ‘HAVE YOU SEEN ME?’ printed
beneath. He was getting a fair number of glances, and felt rather
proud of his ingenuity.
It was then that the Miss Breedlove pod creature walked up to
the counter and ordered a coke. Broots hunkered down, hiding
behind his poster. He looked like a small child, chin almost on
the table, straw in his mouth, sucking anxiously on the smoothie.
When she approached and sat down at his table, he closed his
eyes in dread.
“Well, now you have a cold headache, don’t you? Man of your
age, you should be ashamed, squatting down in that chair like
that. Straighten up!” She pursed lips adorned with coral
splendor lipstick around the straw in her coke and indulged in a
ladylike sip.
Broots slowly sat upright in the chair, but cowered away from
the source of his terror.
“That’s better. Now who is this young man you are seeking?”
“Uh, his name is, uh, Jarod. He is a, uh, friend of mine. He may
be in, uh, trouble.”
“What kind of way is that for a grown man to talk? Uh, uh, uh?
You should be able to speak better than that.”
“I, uh, ah. . .”
The body snatcher made a disgusted noise. “I should have
known you would never amount to anything.”
A cold hand grabbed Broots’ heart and squeezed. “Miss -
Miss- Breedlove?”
“Well, of course. Who did you think it was?”
Broots moaned as he slowly lowered his forehead to pound
gently on the surface of the table. Distantly, through the
pounding of his heart, he could hear Miss Breedlove telling him
to straighten up and stop acting like a kindergartner.
The house was much more comfortable than the storm shelter,
Parker had to admit, although it was still scant on the luxuries.
There was a window air conditioner in the front room, and a
couple of ceiling fans helped keep the air moving. It wasn’t what
she was accustomed to, though, and she left Jarod in no doubt of
that. And in no uncertain terms.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you are spoiled, Miss Parker?”
Jarod’s voice was mild, amused. “Would you like some ice
tea?”
“No. . yes.” At his chuckle, she crossed her arms and followed
him into the small bright kitchen, and stood watching him. “No, I
am not spoiled, Jarod.” The clink of ice cubes in a glass made
her aware of the sweat beading her brow, sticking her blouse to
her back. “And yes, I would like ice tea.”
“Sugar?”
“Straight, and on the rocks.” She nodded her thanks as he
handed her the first glass, and took a deep gulp.
Jarod’s swallowed as he watched her drink, then had to look
away as she slid the cold wet glass on her forehead, her neck,
into the v of her blouse. She had to know what she was doing.
He glanced at her and caught her eyes on him. Oh, yeah. She
knew.
She smiled at him. “Did you think you were the only one who
could figure people out, Jarod? I may not be a pretender, but I
know people. I know men.” There was a world of bitter
experience in her last words that hurt him deeply, so attuned was
he to her.
“I, on the other hand, am still learning.” He smiled at her, open
with just a touch of sadness. “But I believe that I am a good
student.”
“A student needs a teacher, Jarod.” Her voice no louder than a
whisper, she continued, “Who has been teaching you?” When
he didn’t reply, she got louder, sharper. “Nia?”
“She helped me find a part of myself, of my life, that I didn’t
know I had. We shared something very special.” He spoke
slowly, wanting her to understand.
“In other words, she was your first.” She sneered the words at
him, her tone hinting that Nia must have round heels.
In sudden anger, Jarod slammed the glass of ice tea in his hand
down on the counter. “I won’t have you cheapen her, or what
we shared, Miss Parker,” he ground out, “even though I know
why you are doing it.”
Her lips quivered on ‘why’, but she didn’t ask. It would be easy
to build the anger between them again. So much more
comfortable to argue, shout, call names, than to actually speak to
each other. In fact, Parker was apprehensive of not escalating
the misunderstanding between them. But for all her faults, she
had never been a coward.
“I’m sorry, Jarod. I guess I was just a little. . .jealous.” Wonder
in her words as she finally identified the feeling to herself. She
closed her eyes, and shook her head slightly. What was she
doing?
She felt warm fingers delicately brushing dampened strands of
hair from her forehead, two hands cupping her face. A voice so
deep that it came from the bottom of his heart resonated through
every fiber of her being.
“You don’t ever need to be jealous of anyone. No one will
ever take your place with me.”
Daring to open her eyes, she looked up at him. “What is my
place with you, Jarod?”
“You know. You have always known.”
Something in his tone broke her. Miss Parker felt the core of
ice she had so carefully tended over the years; the one she used
to shield her emotions, shatter. She was left without defenses,
without anger. She lifted her face trustingly, and he brushed his
lips across hers. So very tender, so gentle. It could have been
the first kiss all over again. The only kiss for either one of them.
Miss Parker lifted her arms up, curling her fingers around Jarod’s
neck and pulled him closer to her, deepening the kiss.
It felt like coming home. Jarod felt a tight hand that had been
clenched around his heart relax. Tentatively at first, then with
increasing confidence, he explored her mouth with lips and
tongue. The sweet taste of her, the textures of tooth and lip, the
answering strength of her kiss, it was all heady and new, and yet
familiar. Coming home.
He pulled his head up, breathing fast. “I want to be with you, I
want. . .” his voice was hushed.
Elegant fingers on his lips stilled him. “I know, Jarod. I know.”
Her eyes were shining. Gone was the hard-edged cleaner, the
terror of the Centre, the daddy’s girl. She felt brand new and
yet more herself than she had ever been before. “Where do you
sleep, Jarod?”
“You want to sleep?” He asked stupidly.
She laughed softly, happily. “No, Jarod.” God, she loved
saying his name.
“Oh.” He smiled broadly. “Ohhhhhh. This way.” He motioned
toward the back of the house.
An answering smile on her lips, she took his hand in hers, lacing
their fingers together. “Lead the way, Jarod.”
“Where are you, Mr. Broots?” Sydney muttered to himself,
mouth tight with annoyance. His accent always became more
pronounced under stress, and if things got any worse he would
be well nigh unintelligible.
Sam glanced at him, but didn’t speak. None of his business if
the Doc talked to himself. He thought most of the eggheads at
the Centre were two bricks shy of a load, anyway. But Miss
Parker, now there was someone he could understand. He had a
deep appreciation for anyone who could kick ass the way she
did. The Doc and the geek he tolerated for her sake. If they
ever showed up at the local bar he frequented, though, and he
got a chance to put ‘em through it. . .
Glancing at the man driving the car, Sydney noted the dreamy
smile. Good to know someone was enjoying himself. He
looked back at his side of the road, searching for some kind of
clue to where Jarod could be, what he could be doing. He had
requested that Angelo be put on the case, so that may offer
some information. He had also asked that someone run a
computer check on recent news reports, but he knew that
Broots was the best at that, and Broots hadn’t been seen for
almost three hours.
Sydney shook his head, reflectively. The man was probably off
somewhere having the time of his life.
Miss Breedlove felt like throwing something at her erstwhile
student. “You were a galoot in the fifth grade, and you are a
galoot now. Sit up straight, when I talk to you.”
‘I’m in hell,’ Broots thought.
“I should have known you would have turned out bad. I could
have told you that. Look at you. What are you doing with your
life, looking for this man?
“Miss, uh, Breedlove, I, uh, work for this place in Delaware
called the, uh, Centre, and I am, uh, looking for this guy.” He
lifted his brows. “I’m a, uh, computer programmer, and I, uh,
have a lot of responsibilities. People depend on me.”
“Not for public speaking, I hope.” Miss Breedlove was not
easily impressed. “What does this Centre place do? I’ve never
heard of it.”
“I, uh, can’t tell you. It’s secret.”
Miss Breedlove pursed her lips, and Broots had to fight the urge
to crawl under the table. “Secrets. You and secrets. Isn’t that
why I had to call your parents in and talk to them? The secrets
of why you and that awful Dennis were always off in the boy’s
bathroom.”
Broots moaned.
“Mmm-hmm. Nasty little boys, the both of you. And now you
work somewhere with secrets. Are they good ones? Worth
keeping?”
Broots looked like her wildly. “I don’t - No. No, they aren’t
good ones, Miss Breedlove.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it, then?”
Broots looked her in the eyes. “I don’t know, yet. But I will,
when I can.”
Sitting back and taking another sip of her drink, Miss Breedlove
gave him a long, measuring look. “It’s about time you grew a
spine.”
He was on the verge of confessing it all to her, laying out the
problems of Raines threatening his daughter, of Miss Parker
possibly being kidnapped, about his fear of Lyle and Brigitte.
Then a voice came from nowhere and jerked him back to reality.
“Hey, whatcha lookin’ for Jarod for? He ain’t lost, he’s rentin’
my cousin’s place.”
The bed was no more than a couple of mattresses stacked on
the floor, covered with tangled sheets and a couple of pillows.
The rest of the room was stark, though clean. A ceiling fan
moved the sluggish air around, creating the semblance of a
breeze. In any other circumstances it would have been
depressing, but now it seemed as if it was a haven created just
for them.
Silently Miss Parker undid the buttons of Jarod’s shirt, revealing
the tanned skin overlaying the muscle of his chest and abdomen.
Although she had been following this man for months; had
known him for years, she had never seen him undressed. She
smiled in a kind of triumph as she eased the shirt from his
shoulders, leaving his upper body bare.
“I know that smile,” Jarod’s tone was teasing, playful.
“Are you sure?” She ran the palms of her hands up his arms to
rest on his broad shoulders and lifted her face for a kiss.
Warm lips closed on hers, and as tempting as it was to continue,
Miss Parker pulled back. “Now you.” She held herself still as
he fumbled with the buttons at her neck. Controlling the smile
that trembled on her lips, she wondered at this man’s uncertainty.
“Little tiny buttons,” he grumbled, and catching her eye, grinned
in spite of himself. “What’s wrong with Velcro?”
“Not the fashion statement I want to make, Jarod.”
He swooped down, kissed her lightly, then returned to the task
at hand. “Do you ever just wear a T-shirt and jeans?”
“No. It’s not the image I want to project.”
“The image. What about the real you?” Having unbuttoned her
blouse, Jarod turned to her cuffs, gently cupping a slender wrist
in his hand and carefully working the button through the
buttonhole.
“Oh, Jarod. I don’t know. I don’t know who the real me is
anymore.” Suddenly she felt close to tears.
Jarod grasped her upper arms, shook her slightly. “I know. I
know who you are. And I. . .love you. I love you and I always
have.”
“I’m not usually so - oh, what did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Jarod --”
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to her slightly parted lips, stilling her
next words. “Don’t speak. You don’t need to say anything.
Not to me.” He peeled her blouse off her slim body, revealing a
black silk bra above her usual miniskirt. He touched her cheek,
ran the finger down to her chin. Bending down, he kissed the
hollow of her throat, and she shivered as she felt the wet heat of
his tongue on her skin.
She could feel the shape of his mouth smiling against the skin of
her neck as he murmured, “Miss Parker, you are beautiful.”
The words surprised a laugh from her, and he flashed her a
wicked grin as he stood back and surveyed her appreciatively.
Taking a deep breath, she unzipped the mini skirt and let it fall to
the floor. She stepped out of the ring of black material and
kicked off her pumps. The sudden gap between their heights
made her feel delicate. Her sole concession to the Oklahoma
summer had been her decision not to wear hose this morning,
thus she was wearing nothing but her silky black bra and panties.
The contrast between the stark material and her creamy skin was
dramatic.
Jarod’s lips pursed on a silent whistle. She really was a beautiful
woman, but even if she hadn’t grown to be so ravishing, he
would have loved her. She had been the little girl at the Centre,
the loneliest valentine, and she had always been the ember he
had so carefully tended in his heart. Despite the anger and the
harshness between them there was always this bond between
them, the promise that had now, at last, been realized.
Her eyes holding his, she unsnapped the front closure of her bra
and removed it, revealing her breasts to his intent gaze. Letting
the bra fall, she ran her fingers along the waist of her panties,
then slid them down her hips until they fell free, a small heap of
black silk on the floor.
Blood pounding in his ears, Jarod caught himself holding his
breath. He forced himself to exhale, to inhale. His skin felt tight
all over his body, and there was a throbbing ache in his groin.
His hands went out of their own volition, touching her breasts,
caressing them, gently rolling the erect nipples between his finger.
He cupped her breasts in his hands and leaned down for a kiss.
As Jarod moved closer to her for the kiss, Miss Parker took
advantage of his nearness to undo the belt at his waist and
unbutton his trousers. She slipped her hand under the
waistband of his boxers, tracing the arrow of hair that grew
downwards from his navel. Her nimble fingers explored further
and caressed the burgeoning erection only nominally concealed
by the boxers. She swallowed the moan he breathed into her
mouth, and gave it back again. Their tongues met in their joined
mouths, tasting the heat and passion that their hands were
causing.
Finally, it was Miss Parker who pushed Jarod away. “Take off
the rest of these clothes,” she ordered, but without a trace of
hardness in her voice. “Then lay face down on the bed.”
Bemused, Jarod obeyed, not even thinking until the side of his
face was pressed into the pillow. Then he felt a stab of concern.
She had pursued him for so long, shot at him, threatened to
return him to the cell at the Centre. What if. . .?
“Close your eyes, Jarod.” Her voice was behind him.
Trusting his heart and hers, he obeyed.
It was sheer chance that Sam was looking at the Dairy Queen as
the drove by. Certainly Broots was not readily recognizable.
He was carrying about four of the blue plastic Wal-Mart bags
and was wearing a gimme cap with an OSU logo on it. The tag
was still hanging down in the back, an unknowing tribute to
Minnie Pearl. Still, Sam saw him, and jerked the car around and
into the parking lot with a loud screeching of tires.
The centripetal motion caused the toothpick, which Sydney was
using to remove an errant shred of chicken from between his
teeth, to stab into his lip. There was real pain and annoyance in
his face as he turned to berate the sweeper. Sam’s nodding
stare towards the Dairy Queen cut the tirade short, and following
the other man’s gaze, Sydney spotted Broots.“I’ll get him,” Sydney swung the door open, and the heat was
like a blow. He gasped and staggered slightly as he walked into
the DQ to retrieve Broots.Sam leaned over and pulled Syd’s door closed. “Geeks,” he
muttered, watching the two in the fast food eatery. Broots was
waving his arms, with attached packages, wildly in the air. “Uh,
oh,” Sam commented. “They must have had a sale on pocket
protectors.”Sydney grabbed Broots by the collar, shaking him.
“And you didn’t get me one? What will I do now?” Sam used a
falsetto, as mimicking Syd’s accent was beyond him.”
As Broots shook his head, Sam supplied his part of the dialogue;
“I don’t know. Maybe you could stick your head up your ass.”Sighing and drumming his fingers on the wheel, the sweeper
looked away. He was supposed to be working for Miss Parker,
not these two goofs. If Jarod had done anything to hurt her, he
would gladly tear him apart with his bare hands. Not that he
didn’t owe Jarod a beating from before. . .“We’ve got them,” Broots crowed as he sank into the back
seat. He scrabbled in the bags, finally finding a slip of paper. He
waved it at Sam’s ear over the seat. “Here’s the address.”Sydney, who had returned to his original seat in the car, grabbed
at it, but Sam was faster. “What is this? Star Route 15? This is
an address?”“We’ll have to stop and ask for directions,” Broots explained.
As one, Sam and Sydney looked at each other and sighed.
How could the technonerd say that so calmly?Didn’t he know that it was a betrayal of all men, everywhere?
Jarod felt the mattress shift as Miss Parker sat down. Her hand
trailed slowly from the nape of the neck to the base of his spine.
“Jarod?”“Mmmm?”
“Why did you take my blood? Are we - ?”
“Oh, that. Just a little something to get you interested.”
Her brow creased. Jarod was a master of misdirection, was that
what this was? She gazed at the tanned width of his shoulders,
the paler skin of his ass, and decided she didn’t give a damn.
Not right now, anyway. “I see. Well, here’s a little something to
get you interested. Don’t move.”“You have my undivided attention.” There was a smile in his
voice.“Don’t talk either. Just be still.”
Jarod could feel her lean over him, the brush of her breasts on
his back, his shoulders, then the feather of a kiss on the back of
his hand. His fingers were kissed and lightly nipped, each in turn,
then he could feel the caress of her mouth move down his wrist
to his arm. Her tongue burned the inside of his elbow, and
Jarod jerked in response.“Shhhhh. Just let me touch you.” She kissed the muscles of his
upper arm, nuzzling her face against them and then nipped the
point of his shoulder. Lying atop him, she pressed her mouth
against the hard bone of his shoulder blade, tasting the salty tang
of his sweat, and breathing the clean soap smell of him
underneath it. There was no substitute for good hygiene in a
man, she thought abstractly, as she bit the nape of his neck
gently. She was straddling his body as she lay against him, and
the brush of her pubic hair on the small of his back caused him to
tremble and moan slightly. Her nipples were erect and aching
with desire and the heat of his body against hers was setting her
afire. She could feel the bones and muscles of his side against
her thighs, and she drew in a breath with the rush of excitement
the feel of him gave to her.As she licked the space right behind his ear, Jarod gasped and
arched his back, rubbing his groin into the bedclothes. His
strength made the weight of the woman prone on his back
negligible, and Miss Parker was reminded of her youthful passion
for horses. It had been this feeling, of the hard muscles beneath
her, the contained power, that had thrilled her. Best of all, it
was under her control. Was this why so many girls were horse-
mad?Maintaining contact, she slid slowly down his body, kissing,
licking and biting her way down his back. She could feel the
change in his breathing. There was a harshness there that
signified his growing desire. The soft skin of his ass covered
muscle, but she still had to swallow an inappropriate giggle as
she thought of the softness comparison to a baby’s bottom. Not
that there was anything childish about Jarod. He was definitely a
prime specimen of an adult male. She nipped at the globe of
flesh, right at the crease where his buttock met his thigh, then
nudged his thighs apart.The lightly furred skin on the back of his thighs was exquisitely
sensitive to Miss Parker’s ministrations. Attending to the right
and then the left thigh, she worked her way down to the hollow
behind his knees. A lick and a kiss there had him groaning again,
and Parker could barely continue herself for the response it drew
in her. Jarod’s strong calves, marvels of muscle on bone, were
skimmed over to get to his ankles and feet. She could see the
tendons flexing and relaxing as he sought to relieve some of the
tension her touch was creating. Sitting on the floor at the foot of
the bed, she grasped one of his feet and brushed her lips against
the side. The moan that this act drew inspired her to treat the
other foot in the same manner.“I can’t . . . can’t take much more,” Jarod’s voice was hoarse.
“Home stretch, Jarod. Turn over on your back. And lie still.”
As he obeyed her loving order, she pushed his legs apart, and
began kissing her way back up his body. Ankle bone first, a nip
and a kiss, then up his legs to his knees. She rubbed her chin on
his knee, surveying the landscape she still had to traverse with a
smile. It just kept getting better and better. She smoothed her
hands down the front of his thighs and grabbed his hips. Pulling
herself up between his legs, she kissed the join between thigh
and torso, right, and then left.Finally, to the accompaniment of soft moans that seemed torn
from Jarod’s throat, she touched his cock. It was rampantly
erect, red shading to purple, almost rubbing his belly in the
extremity of his desire. There was a pearl of pre-ejaculate at the
tip, signifying his readiness to dispense with the explorations. But
Miss Parker wanted to know him, all of him. The sac beneath
the cock was trembling and she attended to this area first, rolling
his balls gently between her fingers, taking first one then the
other into her mouth.When she licked at the base of his cock, Jarod let out a
strangled cry. Mindful of his relative inexperience, Parker took
hold of his scrotal sac with one hand, making sure his balls were
not allowed to draw up. She wasn’t ready for him to come yet.
Her tongue flicked up the shaft, tracing the big vein there, leaving
a trail of fire in its wake. Just below the glans, she throbbed her
tongue against the sensitive nerve bundle there, earning another
cry from the man who was obviously struggling to remain still.He managed not to react too violently until her mouth engulfed
the head of his cock, and he couldn’t stop himself from arching
into that wet heat. She withdrew at once, and when he opened
his eyes he saw her look, mischievous and lustful at the same
time. It snapped his resolve, and he took her by the upper arms
and pulled her up his body to meet his lips in a punishing kiss.The smart retort Miss Parker always had at the ready died
unspoken in that kiss. The heat of it went straight to her groin,
and she pressed herself against him, rubbing on his cock, feeling
her own juices begin to flow. His hands still holding her, he
rolled them both over, using his knees and forearms for support
and to keep from putting all his weight on her. Almost of their
own volition, Miss Parker’s ankles slid up the backs of his thighs
to hook together behind his ass.“I guess this means I don’t get to work you over,” Jarod
whispered.“Next time, dammit!” Parker closed her eyes and wantonly
lolled her head back against the pillow, and didn’t see the
sadness that momentarily clouded the brown eyes above her.
She ran her hand down his side, using her nails to leave a trail of
light scratches. “Come on!” Her hand snaked between them,
and grasped his cock. Jarod arched his body, allowing her to
guide the tip to the moist heat between her legs.“I don’t want to hurt you.” With Nia it had been different, slow,
gentle, awkward. With Miss Parker:“Jarod, so help me, if you wimp out on me I’ll kill you.”
Not so gentle, then. He thrust inside her, faster than he thought
he should, more slowly than she wanted and stopped after a little
ways in.“All of you, I want all of you inside me. Now!” Parker grabbed
hold of Jarod right above the shoulder blades and dug in her
nails, drawing blood.The pain was the spur Jarod needed, and he thrust deep within
her, drew back, and thrust again. Parker arched against him,
and together they set a wild rhythm, their flesh smacking and
sliding against each other in the fury of their need. Holding
himself back with an effort, Jarod could tell when her face
contorted and her muscles clenched spasmodically that she was
near. He was on the brink himself, and with mutual screams they
fell off the cliff together, fell and flew. It was if their
consciousness was divided into two parts, one their bodies,
pumping furiously together, the other their souls, twining,
twinned, soaring, singing, bursting with light and sound and love.Parker felt as if all her bones dissolved, her joints undone, her
entire body melted, and the only thing tying her to earth, to
consciousness was the feeling, the warmth, of Jarod’s flesh
around her, inside her. She wanted to hold him there, keep him,
forever. And for a small eternity, they lay there together, lost and
found again. Body was theirs now, as well as heart, as well as
soul, and a completion, a rightness they hadn’t known they’d
been missing.Eyes closed, Jarod could smell her hair, her sweat, and wanted
to go on holding her, loving her, but his other senses gradually
became attuned to the outside world. It was Jarod who heard
the crunch of tires on the gravel outside, and woke up to reality
first.She made a noise of protest as he pulled his softening cock from
her body, and lifted her face for the kiss that didn’t come.
Feeling the bed shift, she opened her eyes to see Jarod rising and
pulling on his clothes.“They’re here for you,” he said simply, sorrowfully.
She nodded. “You’d better go, then.” She watched him button
his shirt part way, slip on his boots, then got up and began to
dress herself.There was a knock on the door and they heard Sydney’s voice
calling, “Parker, Miss Parker, are you here?”“Here, Sydney,” she shouted, and zipped her miniskirt. Jarod
had disappeared into the kitchen and had returned, carrying the
case with the lab equipment and her blood.“Miss Parker, is Jarod there with you?” Sam’s voice was
deeper, more urgent.Meeting Jarod’s eyes for a long moment, she at last shouted
back.“No.”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Jarod gathered her to him
for a deep kiss. Letting her go, he stepped back and they
looked at each other for a long moment. Neither said anything.
They both knew.Then Jarod jerked open the window, climbed through it and was
gone into the trees and underbrush that grew almost up to the
house.Parker shut the window, turned and surveyed the bed. She
picked up a pillow, held it to her face. It smelled of Jarod, of her
own hair, of their lovemaking. She carried it with her out of the
room.She opened the door, and saw the three men on the porch. Not
speaking, she just nodded to them and headed for the car.Miss Parker’s lips were full, bruised-looking, and without
thinking, Broots burst out, “Miss Parker, are you hurt?”“Yes. I am. I am hurt.” There was heartbreak in her voice, and
she held the pillow to her face, hiding from their eyes. “But it
hurts so good,” she whispered to herself.
The End