MacNamarasLady (14 page)

Naked now, except for her thigh-high
stockings, she reached for his cock. Her fingers had barely skimmed the velvet
soft covering when he caught her wrist and pulled her away.

“Can’t, babe. I’m on the edge here.”

His admission made her feel her femininity,
her power as a woman. “Really?” She walked the fingers of her free hand over
his chest, which was slick with perspiration. His jaw was clenched tight, his
eyes hot.

“Oh, yeah.” He slipped his fingers between
her thighs and found her slick folds. He slid his fingers from front to back
and forward again, finding her clit and stroking it. “You want me. Say it.”

“I want you,” Missy gasped out when he
angled two fingers into her sheath, pushing deep.

He pulled back, reached down and dug a
condom out of his pocket. When he was sheathed, he turned back to her. “Kneel
on the bed.”

Missy climbed onto the mattress, facing
away from T.S. His strong hands wrapped around her hips and dragged her close
to the edge. He wedged himself between her legs, spreading her thighs wide. His
cock pressed against her pussy and he rubbed it against her swollen flesh.

She was panting hard now. She needed him in
her. She ached with a need only T.S. could ease. Her skin was slick and damp.
His hands hard and sure.

He leaned forward and his cock sank several
inches into her channel. His hands slid up her sides and around to her breasts.
He cupped them and rubbed her swollen nipples between his thumbs and
forefingers. His chest covered her back, surrounding her. He flexed his hips,
driving his cock deeper, filling her completely.

Nothing else existed. There was only T.S.
and the way he made her feel—sexy, hot, cared for, powerful, needy. So many
emotions swirled inside her but all that mattered was finding completion.

“Fuck me,” she demanded.

He stilled and then he blistered the air
with curses. She didn’t mind at all. She liked knowing she broke through his
control, shattering it. He started pounding into her, his hips jack hammering,
driving his cock in and out of her slick channel.

“You’re so tight. So fucking hot.” His
voice was hoarse with need. His lungs were working hard as he continued to
thrust hard and fast.

Her skin was so warm she wouldn’t have been
surprised to see it blister, but all she felt was a growing need that kept
getting larger with each inward stroke of his cock. He filled her, stretching
her. Her clit throbbed. Her breasts ached. Her nipples tingled.

Every inch of her body was in tune with
him, with what he was doing to her.

He released her breasts and banded one arm
around her. He eased her upper body off the bed so she was kneeling in front of
him, she on the bed and he standing behind her. The angle pushed him even
deeper, stimulated nerve-endings inside her pussy that sent off a shower of
sparks within her.

Missy cried out. His fingers brushed her
clit and she exploded. Her entire body jerked and spasmed. The only thing
holding her upright was T.S.’ arms as he wrapped them around her and continued
to thrust.

She heard his roar as he came. Then they
were both falling forward, tumbling onto the bed. Her legs hung over the edge
and only his upper body was actually on the mattress. She struggled to drag air
into her starving lungs. Her body continued to pulse, her inner muscles
spasming around his still-erect cock.

Missy was stunned by the experience. It was
as if T.S. had reached inside her and stolen something vital. Her heart. She
bit her lip to keep from crying at her stupidity. She’d gone and fallen in love
with the man.

“You okay?” T.S. maneuvered his big body
off of hers and slid his cock free. She wanted to protest, wanted to keep him
inside her a while longer.

“Fine. Good. You?”

He kissed her shoulder. “Better than good.”
He rolled off the bed and sauntered to the bathroom. Missy made herself move.
She stripped off her stockings and grabbed her sleep shirt. It reached her
thighs and provided her some physical armor, if not emotional. She crawled into
bed trying to make sense out of her tangled thoughts and emotions.

She’d fallen in love with T.S. She needed
to think.

T.S. padded back into the bedroom. He
raised one eyebrow but didn’t say anything about her sleep shirt. He rolled
into bed behind her, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into the curve
of his hard body.

She loved this part of sex, the closeness,
the quiet after orgasm. But tonight she couldn’t find peace or comfort in the
act.

She was still awake hours later when he
eased out of bed, dressed and left. As the front door of her apartment closed
with a snick, a lone tear rolled down her cheek and disappeared onto her
pillow.

What was she going to do?

Chapter Nine

Missy gripped the strap of her purse tight
as she walked down the busy hallway in the police station. The floor tiles were
dingy gray and the paint was peeling from parts of the wall. Phones were
ringing and people talking. In the distance someone was yelling.

“Nothing to worry about,” the officer
reassured her. Detective Stark. That was his name. He’d told her that twice in the
past five minutes, both times with quiet patience. He must be used to witnesses
being nervous.

Her hands were cold as he led her into a
small room with a two-way mirror. There were two uncomfortable-looking metal
chairs and a scarred wooden table. Missy couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to
spend much time here. Although, that was probably the point.

The overhead light was bright, illuminating
the dull gray of the room. She would be able to see everyone in the other room
but the people in it would not be able to see her. Taking a deep breath, she
peered toward the mirror. There was no one in the room across from her. Yet.

“We’re going to bring in a group of eight
men and I want you to tell me if you see your other attacker there.” His eyes
were tired, but kind. “No pressure.”

Easy for him to say. The attack had taken
place almost a month ago now, but it was still fresh in Missy’s mind. At least
the nightmares were fading. She only had them on the rare night, usually when
she slept alone. When T.S. stayed over, she slept like a baby.

Missy was surprised their affair had gone
on as long as it had. She kept expecting T.S. to walk away. Heck, she talked
herself into getting out of their relationship at least twice a week but always
changed her mind. They had much more in common than she’d believed. There was
more to their arrangement than just fabulous sex.

He made her laugh. He’d reopened doors to
her life that she’d closed years ago and she’d found they weren’t all that
painful to go back through. She’d rediscovered her love of football, for one.
They watched bad action movies and critically acclaimed dramas. They shared
their music interests. They had friends in common.

T.S. might be blue collar, but he was
driven to succeed. He owned his own business, which was doing well in spite of
the recession. He talked to his mother several times a week.

Just because she’d never met the woman
didn’t mean he was hiding their relationship. After all, she wasn’t lining up a
trip home to introduce him to her folks. If she never saw them again it would
be too soon.

“Ready?” Detective Stark’s voice startled
her, bringing her back to reality.

“Yes.” She wanted this done.

The officer walked over to a wall intercom
system and pressed a button. “Bring ’em in.”

The door opened and Missy’s grip on her
purse turned into a stranglehold. Eight men trooped in along with two guards.
The men all lined up facing the mirror. They all knew someone was in here
watching them. Some of them glared. Others looked totally bored. Only one
appeared scared, fidgeting and glancing nervously around the room.

A shiver raced down her spine and she found
herself wishing she’d asked Candy to come with her. Her friend had offered.
Missy hadn’t thought she’d find the task as difficult as it was.

“Take your time.”

Missy nodded and started on the right side.
The man was tall with a large beer gut. Not him. The next guy had a scar
running down his left cheek. She would have remembered that.

Her eyes hit the third man and she froze.
Brown hair and blue eyes. He seemed harmless until you looked deep into his
gaze. His wiry build was deceptive. He was much stronger than he appeared. She
knew that firsthand.

“Him.” She pointed to the suspect. “The
third man from the right with the blue T-shirt.”

“You sure?” Detective Stark was studying
her, not the man she pointed out.

Missy rubbed her hands up and down her
arms, suddenly frozen in spite of the fact she was wearing her coat. “I’m sure.
I’ll never forget his face.”

Stark nodded. “Wait here. I’ll be right
back.”

He left the room closing the door behind
him. Her attacker chose that moment to glance up at the mirror and smile. She
jerked away even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

She sucked in a breath. She’d have to face
him in court when the time came. And not just him but her other attacker as
well. She could do this. Besides, there was T.S.’ statement. He’d gotten a good
look at both of them, had seen what they were doing.

The men filed out of the room. The door
closed behind them. The silence closed in around her and she was grateful when
the detective came back for her. “Come with me.” He motioned her out and she
was more than happy to leave it behind. “You sure I can’t get you some coffee?”

“I’m sure, but thank you.” She wanted out
of here as fast as possible. She also didn’t think her churning stomach could
handle coffee.

Stark led her into his office and motioned
her into the chair across from his desk. It was an old wooden one and slightly
battered. Like all the furniture around here, it had seen better days. Missy supposed
it was functional and that was all that mattered.

“You’ve confirmed that Milo Hawkins is your
second attacker.”

“That’s his name?” Somehow it felt
different knowing his name. Silly, but true. It made him more real and less of
the boogeyman.

The detective shuffled some files before
pulling one out and opening it. “Yup. Milo and his good buddy Henry Banks have
rap sheets a mile long. They started young and never stopped.”

Henry Banks was the man who’d been arrested
on the scene that night.

Stark closed the file and studied her. “It
will probably be a while before this goes to court, if it goes at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Once again she was struck by how tired the
detective looked. His graying hair was cut short and his face clean-shaven, but
beneath the clean-cut exterior was a man who was weighed down by life. Not
surprising when you considered what he did for a living.

“They might plea down to avoid a trial.”

“That can happen?” She was shocked and
slightly appalled, but at the same time relieved that she might not have to
confront the men in a courtroom.

“Yeah, it can, and most likely will. Look,”
the detective got up and came around his desk, perching on the edge. “We got
Henry on scene. We’ve got Milo, who still had his fancy knife on him.” The detective
shook his head. “He should have ditched it. But it matches the weapon used on
scene. It was distinctive.”

Missy remembered the long blade with the
distinctive silver skull on the pommel and the black carved handle.

“The guy who rescued you—MacNamara—he gave
us a very accurate description of the weapon.”

Missy nodded. T.S. had remembered a lot
more about the knife than she had.

“Not surprising, though.”

Missy frowned. “Why do you say that?”

The detective shrugged. “He did time. I
figure he’s seen his fair share of blades.”

A strange whirring sound filled Missy’s
ears. “What did you say?” Surely she must have heard the detective wrong.

“Hey, you okay?” He touched her shoulder.

She sat back in the chair, thankful for the
uncomfortable wooden back. It was the only thing keeping her from slumping to
the floor. “Explain what you just said.”

Stark tugged at his jacket and rubbed his
hand across his chin. “I figured you knew, you two being friends and all.
MacNamara got five years back when he was eighteen. Didn’t serve them all. Good
behavior and no previous record.”

T.S. had been in jail. He was no different
from the men who attacked her.
That’s not quite true
, her conscience
screamed. He’d protected her. “What did he do?”

The detective looked pained now, but he
answered. “It’s public record. He drove the getaway car when his older brother
knocked over a liquor store. The clerk was shot in the robbery. A cop was shot
trying to apprehend them. Luckily no one died.”

She had to get out of here. Missy stumbled
to her feet. “I have to go.”