Passions in the North Country (Siren Publishing Classic) (29 page)

The orgasms lasted an impossibly long time and they clung to each other, his cock still fully inside Jenny’s pussy-quiet sanctuary. For a long time he twitched, and his whole body would jerk as if shocked. He held her with love, as if never wanting to lose this beautiful butterfly. She held tightly, their eyes locked, their bodies still fully joined at the hips. She rubbed her cheeks across his face, kissing his forehead and whispering that she loved him. He told her he loved her as well as any man has ever loved any woman. Their chests still heaved and they were damp with sweat, but still she held him inside her. Minutes later he softened and slowly started to slip out of her cream-filled cavern. When his cock came out, it was saturated with her juices and spent. Jenny lightly squeezed it and felt his honey dripping from her hive. She slowly turned over and he hugged her, their naked bodies tightly pressed. She loved the warmth, the security, the warm glow in her pussy.

The other room was silent. “They have been released,” Devon said. “Their anguished wanderings are over now.”

“Yes,” Jenny whispered. “They are free.”

* * * *

With that they fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. In the morning the phone awoke them. Jenny, looking slightly irritated, picked it up. “Yes?”

“Jenny,” said a frantic male voice. “It’s Arnie!”

Right away she knew something was wrong. “What is it?”

“I found a bug.”

“What?”

“A bug. A listening device.”

“What!”

“Ivan hired a private detective and he must have gotten close to me without me knowing it. There was a bug on my shirt. It was so small I didn’t even see it.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. When I called you on the pay phone, my words were overheard.”

“You mentioned where I was,” she said, feeling incredibly frightened.

“Yes. I remember.”

Jenny looked frantic. “Oh, no!”

“I’m sorry, Jenny. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Arnie,” she replied pensively. “Did you contact the police?”

“They went to arrest him, but he wasn’t there. Apparently he cleaned out his account and left. No one knows where he is.”

“Oh, no,” Jenny said. “I think we both know what that means.”

“They’re looking for him. I don’t think he’ll fly. I think he’s going to drive. It’ll take him a few days but he can slip across the border as if he’s a tourist.”

“A tourist with a plan,” she said. “And, more importantly, with the intention of using it.”

“I’m sorry I had to give you this news, Jenny.”

“No, thanks for telling me. I’m going to have to be careful.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he could be there at any time. You will really have to watch your back. Notify the authorities.”

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “Thank you, Arnie.”

She hung up with a frightful look.

“He will not harm a hair on your head,” Devon assured her. “That is my promise to you.”

She hugged him and started to cry really hard. Devon kissed the top of her head and rubbed the back of her neck, whispering, soothing, calming. He was her rock and she knew, knew beyond all doubt, that he would not desert her in her time of need.

“He’s going to try to kill me,” she said, understandably agitated. “I can guarantee you that.”

“We’ll call the police. They can keep an eye out.”

“I’m not running anymore,” Jenny said with firmness in her tone. “I’m tired of running. I’m going to face the bear like you did.”

“We’ll face it together.”

Jenny phoned a friend back in Florida. The friend already knew about Ivan leaving the state and heading for Canada, though no one knew Jenny had hidden in Nova Scotia. The word was that Ivan had been talking about a suicide mission, and he was quite prepared to end his own life, so long as he ended hers first. The words sent chills down Jenny’s spine, but there was nothing to be done except to be careful and alert the police.

Jenny had the friend fax the local police a picture of her and Ivan when they first met. The chief looked it over, handed it out to everyone on the force, and explained the situation. In his discussions with the police in Florida it was explicitly stated that Ivan was extremely dangerous, both homicidal and suicidal. It was not a matter of if he would come, but when he would come.

“I don’t have the staff to assign someone twenty-four hours a day,” the chief told her, “so all we can do is swing by when we can and have someone there in an instant if you call. If you spot him or if he contacts you in any way, we’ll be there as fast as we can. I don’t know what else to tell you, Ms. Ashbury. Maybe you should consider leaving and hide somewhere until he’s caught.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not running anymore.”

“All right. We’ll be watching, but be careful.”

She thanked him and hung up. “What if he shoots me in the back, Devon? Or what if he catches me alone somewhere?”

“We’re going to stick together,” Devon said, “and I’m going to be your bodyguard.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get,” she answered, trying to laugh. Jenny’s expression looked pained. “What if he injures me, puts me in a wheelchair or something?”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

She hugged him and they shared an intimate moment. Then it was back to normal, at least as normal as could be. They continued working on the inn, perfecting everything, and day after day the tide was turning. People came to the restaurant in great numbers and on many nights the rooms were full. Jenny persisted with her promotions and tried to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but she constantly scanned the area every time she moved. It was like being a game animal on the African savannah with lions and leopards all around, waiting to pounce. The prey knows the killers are there, but they have to live their lives.

Day after day the tension increased, but having Devon with her constantly was impractical. There were times when they had to be apart, and though he always resisted leaving her, even for short periods, she did not want him resenting her. At first there were minutes, then, after a week or so, even hours when they were apart. Jenny always tried to be in a public place when Devon was not with her, but once she was out in the driveway and a car backfired. She jumped and thought her heart might literally stop. When she realized what it was, she felt embarrassed and relieved at the same time.

At night they would lock their doors and sleep side by side in Jenny’s bed. She felt a great sense of comfort with Devon there, and his big, strong arm became a protective blanket around her. Beside them, in a closet, was Devon’s gun. In a drawer was the ammunition. If Ivan tried to come into the room, or if he threatened Jenny in any way, Devon was more than prepared to do what he had to do.

* * * *

A week after receiving the warning, Jenny was in bed with Devon. It was two in the morning and very windy outside. Jenny could hear branches tapping at the window. She got up to use the bathroom, but when she returned, she thought she heard something. She walked to the window and folded back the curtain. There, only inches from her, was Ivan standing on a ladder, his face on the other side of the glass. He had a big—a very big—knife in his hand. He looked at her in confusion, as if not recognizing the woman with short red hair, then, in an instant, suddenly realized Jenny had cut and dyed her hair.

“Ahhh!” she screamed, jumping back and letting the curtain fall back into place.

“You slut!” Ivan exclaimed, breaking her window, glass shattering all over the floor.

Devon leapt out of bed. “What the hell!” he shouted, still half-asleep.

The sound of his voice scared Ivan and he quickly climbed down the ladder. By the time Devon got to the window, Ivan was running out the driveway, but he looked back and Devon could clearly see his face as he hurried past the post of a streetlight. Devon quickly ran to the phone and called the police. Jenny stood in a corner, trembling, terrified.

Immediately the police arrived, talked to Jenny and Devon for a few minutes, then started scouring the area. They found no one and returned to the inn. Jenny showed them the broken window and the ladder leaning against the Captain’s house. They walked round back and saw that Ivan had cut the lock to the shed to get the ladder and had, before leaning it against the wall, taken a can of spray paint to Jenny’s car. Written on the inside of the windshield was the word
slut
in capital letters. It was written backward so that anyone looking from the front could easily read the message.

On the back window were the words
Die, whore, die!
The paint was red and in some places it had been made to look like dripping blood. The young female officer also found the neighbor’s dead cat with its entrails hanging out. It was in the backseat of Jenny’s car propped up in a sitting position with a cigarette in its mouth. Constable Henderson took it out, made a strange face, then placed it in a large bag as evidence.

“He’s obviously unhinged,” she said.

“This is so creepy,” Jenny stammered, leaning into Devon.

“We have to find this guy as soon as possible,” Constable Henderson said. “No doubt about that.”

“We have his picture,” her partner noted. “We’ll go around to the different hotels and motels and see if he’s staying there. We’ll check campgrounds and any areas where he might be living out of his car.” He nodded and gave a reassuring smile. “We’ll get him, Ms. Ashbury.”

After the police left, Devon asked Jenny what she wanted to do. He suggested going for a little trip together and hiring a private investigator to search for Ivan.

“I’m staying in my room,” she said, “and I want you to stay with me.”

“All right. But we stick together like glue now.”

Devon strapped a long hunting knife to his belt and allowed his shirt to fall freely over it. Then he and Jenny put the ladder back into the shed and he found a new, stronger lock. Devon used a plywood board to cover the broken window, using screws to tightly secure it. That done, they sat up until dawn, holding each other and talking. When the light appeared on the horizon, Jenny fell asleep in Devon’s arms. He held her, lightly stroking her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. She slept for hours, mumbling, turning restlessly, but the whole time he held her and watched over her. In his mind he could see Ivan’s face, the face of a man intent on murder. There was no doubt in Devon’s mind that had Jenny been alone in that room, she might well have had her throat slit from ear to ear. The thought tortured him as he looked at the pretty woman with the soft features, her beauty and compassion evident in every feature. She had come into his life. She had become his life. He valued her more than everything else. She was his anchor, his soul, his joy. The thought of that man, that evil little bastard trying to hurt her made him grit his teeth.

“You little fuck,” he said, his eyes narrowed in cold anger. “You come near her again and I’ll kill you!”

Jenny slept unaware of the drama in Devon’s eyes. He was ready—more than ready—to defend the woman he loved. No pissant of a man, no vile little spider was going to take her from him.

Around nine Jenny awoke and soon oriented herself, realizing what had happened. “Take me to the gun range,” she said.

“Okay, good,” he said.

“I want to learn how to use your gun.”

“Let’s do it.”

Devon encased the rifle and a box of shells and they walked down the stairs. The whole way, Jenny was waiting for Ivan to step out at any moment. He would do it in a cowardly way, she was sure, probably leaping out from behind a bush and shooting her in the back. The mere thought of him made her cringe, and visualizing his hate-filled face in the window made her feel almost sick to her stomach.

Near the bottom of the steps she found a piece of paper that had been slipped under the door but was previously unnoticed. She picked it up. Devon noticed writing on it and Jenny turned it over, seeing words literally written in blood.

“He cut himself to write this note,” Devon said, shaking his head. “This idiot is a lunatic.”

Jenny swallowed hard and read the bloody words.
I’m going to cut you into little pieces, slut
.

That was all it said. That was all it needed to say. Jenny closed her eyes for a moment and her bottom lip quivered. She wanted to rest, to feel safe, to marry Devon and raise children with him. She wanted love and peace, warmth and tenderness. Instead she got Ivan. And there was nothing she could do to get rid of him. He was a disease and that disease was intent on claiming her life.

Devon was fit to be tied. If he could have gotten his hands around Ivan’s neck at that moment, he would have willingly ripped his head clean off his shoulders. Devon folded the paper and put it into his pocket, then walked outside first, the gun case in his hand. Jenny followed, but she looked extremely agitated by the open spaces. Devon scanned the area as if he was a security guard, then led Jenny to his truck. He put the gun behind the seat and opened the door for her. He was just about to climb in when the police drove up the driveway in an unmarked car. Jenny got out of the truck.

A middle-aged man got out of the driver’s side and the young female officer, Constable Henderson, joined them. Devon handed the man the note, which he read with his partner, then bagged for evidence. Jenny suddenly started crying. Constable Henderson put her arm around Jenny and spoke in a consoling voice.

“It’s all right,” she comforted. “We’ve checked all the hotels, inns, and every bed and breakfast in the county. We showed the picture and no one recognized it. That means he must be staying in his car.”

“We’ve got people in for overtime to try to catch this guy,” the senior officer said. “We’ll get him.”

“Thank you,” Jenny said, trying to be strong.

The police left. Devon and Jenny got back into the truck and pulled out of the driveway, turning right. They passed a small compact with Nova Scotia plates, a rental car from the nearby city. Behind the wheel was an old man, his hair gray, his spectacles thick. On the seat beside him was a bag from the drugstore where he bought the hair color and the heavy reading glasses. The car pulled out and followed the truck, staying back far enough not to draw attention.