Aaron's Kiss Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 7) (58 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“These men are with the police department in your family’s hometown. It seems your whole family has been missing for several weeks now, since we found the body of Hephaestus, actually. And they want to know if you’ve heard from any of them,” David asked her. David had told her that someone would eventually contact her about them and it had finally happened. He was with three men, two of which she did not know, but knew they were human.

Dominic was with her, as were Aaron and Sara. David had called her earlier to let her know they would be coming by tonight just to give her a heads up.

“No, I mean, I didn’t even talk to Heph before...I mean, when he was here. In fact, I’d had nothing to do with my family for many years before this.”

“Yes, ma’am, we’re aware of that. The town said that you’d left about eight or nine years ago. Actually, we all thought they’d...well, we thought you were dead, that them brothers of yours had killed you. It seems your family…well, they were practicing some black arts, magic I guess you’d call it. Never put much stock in it myself, but there are those who believe, I guess. Anyway, just after we were contacted by David here about that one’s brother, we started keeping an eye on the place. You know, seeing if any of them showed up or not. Nothing. But we did get a tip on some missing people and how they might be out around the property. We...well, we brought out the dogs, you see, to help find...then all the FBI showed up a few days ago.”

“FBI? I don’t understand. Did they not file taxes or something? And what does that have to do with a missing person?” She was not fooled.

Detective Shaw was giving the appearance of a good old boy, but she knew he was far from stupid. And she believed he knew just what had happened to them, as well —well, maybe not exactly what happened, but that they were dead.

“Not person, Ms. Bartholomew, persons. The Feds were called in because of the bodies, as in plural. Some of them have been buried on that land for fifteen years. You’d have still lived there about then, wouldn’t you?” Officer Bentley asked her with a sly grin.

“Are you implying that Pete had anything to do with this, Officer Bentley? Because if you are, perhaps she should get a lawyer before this goes any further.” Apparently, Aaron had noticed it as well. She looked at him and smiled.

“No, he isn’t. Simmer down, Jake, we’re only here to ask her what she knows, not accuse her of anything. Ms. Bartholomew, maybe you could tell us what you know. It sure would be helpful to learn something more than we got right now.”

“All right, but it’s not Bartholomew, it’s Marshall now. But call me Pete. What I know...okay, I know that I left home when I was seventeen because they had planned to breed with me. You see, my oldest brother and mother came up with this idea that having a kid with me would create this, I don’t know...powerful something. I got out. I knew they were cruel and mean to others and not just people. I believe I even reported it to you, Officer Bentley. I told you that they were stealing animals and torturing them. I even told you where the animals were tossed when they finished with them. Don’t you remember? You told me that boys will be boys and don’t let it worry my little head about it. Now here you are today and you’re telling me that you have bodies. Well, go figure. Guess they advanced to humans, huh? Still think it was a boyish prank? As for the bodies, no, I don’t know anything about them. How many are there?” She hoped there were not as many as she thought there might be.

Officer Shaw looked over at Jake Bentley with so much distaste on his face that it was easy to see he was in some serious trouble when they got back to their own station.

“So far, we’ve uncovered three hundred and ten. Most of them are so mutilated that we may never find out who they were. We have already begun the process of identifying some of them through dental records, about two percent so far. It may be years before we have even half of them claimed by their families.”

Pete felt sick. Three hundred. Three hundred people had lost their lives to them and their sickness. Dominic reached over, picked her up, sat her on his lap, and held her close. She turned her face into his chest and cried. She cried for those poor people and for the way they had suffered.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Marshall, I truly am,” Bentley said to her as he backed away. “I don’t think we’ll be bothering you anymore. I’d tell you I’m sorry for your loss, but I don’t think that’s what this is. You’re lucky, damned lucky to have gotten away when you did, and you shouldn’t feel the least bit sorry that you did. You have a good life here, it seems. I’d enjoy it and forget about those brothers of yours. Sad to think that your own mother would...I shudder to think what might have become of a pretty little thing like you.”

They walked to the door with Aaron and Sara, leaving Pete with Dominic, who just continued to hold her until she looked up at him.

“I killed them, all of them. But I was too late, wasn’t I? I should have stayed there and—”

He cut her off with his kiss. “Had you have stayed, Pete, I’d of never have met you. If you’d have stayed, they would have had to have killed you, we both know that.You’re much too strong willed and stubborn to have let them do what they wanted you to do without putting up a fight. And no, love, you did not kill them. All of you did. You, Shade, Sara, and Mel, you all killed them and that’s why there are only three hundred and ten and not more. You should feel proud of yourself, baby. I know I am. Now, you are going to tell me how proud you are of me, right?” She laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“So am I,” Aaron said as he and Sara returned to the living room. “You are brave and strong, and I, for one, will cherish you for the rest of my days. Without you and your help, my children would have died, my mate as well. Had you have stayed with them, Eon would have been on the streets when it was time for him to change, instead of having help and support like he has now. He would be dead, Pete. Just another statistic of the streets. You have touched the lives of so many people and made them better because of it.” Aaron kissed both her cheeks and then stood before her. “But you are, by far, the most stubborn, annoying woman I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. You argue about everything and with everyone. I swear to you, if I said it was raining outside and we were both standing in it, you’d swear the sun was shining just to be obtuse.”

“Oh, yeah, like you’d know what the sun shining even looked like, you bloodsucking ass. And me, stubborn! Why, I believe I saw your picture show up when I Googled the friggin’ word. The caption reads, Stubborn, Blood-sucking Idiot who Doesn’t Know When to Back the Fuck Off. Aaron MacManus, a man who is not only stupid, but stubborn as an ass too. I think it might even show up when you look up the words arrogant and dickhead, too! I’m pretty sure I can fix that if it’s not already there. Just give me five minutes and a computer and it will say that.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous. I don’t even think dickhead is a real word. Dickhead...do you have any idea what that word conjures up in ways of imagery? I see this . . .”

The door closed quietly behind Sara and Dominic as they left Pete and Aaron to their arguing. It seemed things were finally back to normal in Aaron’s Kiss.

About the Author

I woke up one morning and decided to give play time to the people in my head who were keeping me awake. Little did I know that they would be so relentless and want their time right now! I wrote for the pure joy of it and to entertain my family and friends. But mostly it was to get more than an hour of sleep without a story playing out. Of course, the more I write, the more they want. So…well, as a result of sleepless days (I work through the night as a gun toting grandma – nope not a vigilantly but an armed security guard) I have lots of stories written.

Hello! My name is Kathi Barton and I’m an author. I have been married to my very best friend Sonny for at times seems several lifetimes – in a good way, honey. And together we have three wonderful children and then the ones we brought into the world - Paul and Dale Barton, Jason and Wendy Barton and Danielle and Ben Conklin. They have given us seven of the greatest treasures on Earth. They don’t live at home seven days a week! No, seriously, seven grandchildren – Gavin, Spring, Ben, Trinity, Sarah, Kelly and Kian.

Table of Contents

Burden of Reckoning

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WCP

World Castle Publishing

Pensacola, Florida

Copyright © by Kathi S. Barton 2012

ISBN: 9781937593902

First Edition World Castle Publishing January 1, 2012

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Artist: Karen Fuller

Photo used on cover from Shutterstock

Editor: Brieanna Robertson

~CHAPTER ONE~

“There’s a guy out there to see ya, Sam. He says he’s been looking for you.” Betty Cramer was in early for her shift, which in her case, was something to remark upon. She delivered her news to the person with their head in the oven.

“I’m kind of busy right now; did he say what he wanted?”

Sam had six more pies to bake, four of them with top crusts that were not cooperating. Finally, after cutting out little apples with left over pie crust dough and painting them to the top with a milk and honey mixture, the pies were ready to pop in the hot oven. There were another eighteen crusts to be filled with custard and two with berries. Now was not the time for socializing.

“Nope, just wanted to talk with Sam Hunter and that’d be you, not me, so I didn’t ask. Told him you were busy, but he said he’d wait. Kind of a squirrely acting, if you ask me. Bought the last cheese and cherry Danish, though, oh, and a cup of mocha delight.”

“Betty, I told you to save that Danish for me, damn it.” Sally Jenkins so didn’t need another Danish to eat. She was a good fifty pounds overweight. But then both women were overweight and didn’t seem to mind. Sam thought it was great that they didn’t let society dictate what size clothing they should be wearing.

Both women had worked full-time for Sam’s Baked Goods for four years. The three of them were friends, but yet neither Betty nor Sally knew all that much about Sam. And that’s just the way Sam liked it. The two women seemed to like working there and usually hung around until closing time at five to walk home together. Sam owned the shop and the building. It worked out perfectly because she could work anytime she needed to and then go up to bed.

“Tell the mystery man I’ll be another ten. And take those cupcakes out to be boxed up please. That lady from Becca’s should be here soon to get them. She might need some help taking them out to her car. Hopefully, it’s not one of those sub compact thingies.”

The cupcakes were why the pies were not done. A place called Becca’s Place had called Monday morning, ordering ten dozen of the suckers for a birthday party and, “oh could you please make them half for a girl and the other half for a boy?” the lady had asked. She was nice and even offered to pay more, but still...who needed ten dozen cupcakes for a kid’s birthday party? Kids must have a lot of cousins with a big friggin’ family, Sam thought with a snort. She couldn’t remember the last kid she’d talked too, much less enough of them to need ten dozen cakes.

Sam was another fifteen minutes before she could go out and talk with the man. The shop was really busy at this time of the morning, as always. People stopping by on their way to work had become a habit, and one that paid off really well for Sam’s little shop. The coffee was hot and the baked goods fresh and really rich and tasty. And the staff was if nothing else, honest about the food—maybe too honest sometimes. She noticed that Betty was sharing a cookie with one of the patrons at the counter again.

“Hello there. Sorry about the wait. What can I do for you?” Sam was just throwing the towel she was drying her hands on to the back room when the front door opened and two very beautiful women walked in.

She glanced their way, but didn’t really register them physically. Mentally, she felt them. They were different than the others in the room, the humans in the room. But she didn’t focus on that, as they seemed to not pose any threat. Yet. But the man waiting to speak to her, he radiated anger, mistrust, and a profound hatred toward women. It was coming off him in waves. Sam took a cautious step toward him to maneuver him closer to the door, and hopefully out.

“I wanted to speak to Sam Hunter. I’ve waited long enough and I’ll not be put off by someone who is certainly not him. Now, this might work on other people, he putting them off and all, but I’m not other people, girly. Not some piece of ass of his that thinks her crap don’t stink.”

Sam looked around the room to see if they were being heard. The women looked like they might be able to hear, but the others didn’t seem to notice. She couldn’t touch the man’s mind; it was filled with too much red haze caused from anger. She gave the others a small push to leave the store quickly. All of them did, of course, except the women. Sam pushed a little harder.

The man was big and imposing, but that didn’t bother Sam. She had been taking care of herself for a while now. Size really didn’t matter to her. Not when you came prepared like she did to every situation, especially with the nice equalizer in the waist band of her jeans. Sam was an expert shot and she kept in shape too.

“First of all and most importantly, I am Sam Hunter, and secondly, I am no man’s piece of ass. Now, you either state your business with me, or you can turn yourself around and leave. Please don’t let the door hit you where the sun doesn’t shine. I’ve got things to do.” Sam moved again, this time toward him.

“No, I don’t think so. You aren’t a man. And if you think that I’m going to take some woman’s word about man’s business then you’d better think again. Women like you give nice, respectable women a bad name. And as far as I’m concerned, women do not work outside the home—”

“Very good, jackass, you get to go to the head of the gender recognition class. You have a very high opinion of yourself, don’t you? Doesn’t matter. Now, if you don’t mind, as owner of this business, I have work to do.” Her voice was low and menacing, not much more than a whisper. But she knew he had heard.

She started to turn away from him. Sometimes, she thought the best way to deal with a bully was to walk away. She got no further than turned around when he spoke again. This time, his voice was loud, carrying to everyone in the room.

“Sam Hunter took my wife, lured her away from her duties to me and my sons. I heard the son of a bitch was a big man, not some sexpot pretending her life has meaning when she ain’t got no man to tell her what to do.” He grabbed for her arm. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me, bitch. Someone should teach you some manners. And by God, I’m just the man to do it.”

Sam tensed up and turned around again to look at the man. With a quick glance at Betty, Sam gave her a small nod. For a big woman, Betty could move like the wind when she needed to. She came around the counter and tried to usher the two women out of the line of fire and into the kitchen. They, of course, wouldn’t budge. Betty went to the phone and made a quick call to the police. Sam knew this was not going to end pleasantly and she didn’t want the law to say she’d done anything wrong.

“Get your filthy hands off me or I’ll move them for you. I don’t know who you’re talking about, but again, I’m Sam Hunter. This is my shop, I bake. I want you to fucking leave, right now. My employee has called the police. And as of right now, I don’t know your name. Leaving would do you a world of good.”

Sam moved to the left so the man had to turn around and keep his back to the women in the shop. If he got violent, then they would be fairly safe from him. At least she hoped so. She knew they weren’t human, as least not full human, but she wasn’t sure if they were immortal or not. But Sam knew that Betty and Sally were, and bullets killed mortals.

“Paula Ship, my wife. You’re gonna tell me everything I wanna know, bitch. I’m betting you know just where she is. You tell me or else, and I don’t care if you are a female. Someone should have taught you manners for a man a long time ago. Right now, you fucking bitch.”

Sam suddenly remembered Mrs. Ship. She had been in the shop several weeks ago buying a cake for her son’s birthday. She’d been nervous and timid everytime someone got close to her. When she moved her arm, Sam had seen the bruises, lots of bruises.

Sam had reached out to the woman mentally and felt her terror of being late and that if she was then she would be beaten for it. Sam also caught glimpses of her being chained to the heater in the kitchen and the length of it being just long enough for her to reach the stove, refrigerator, and the sink. There were other times when one or both of her sons would knock her around. The husband, the man standing before Sam, had taught the sons the way he’d been taught, that women were to be disciplined at all costs.

Sam realized that it would never occur to this man that his wife might have left on her own if she could have. Women like Paula, to his way of thinking, were too stupid to make any decisions of their own. They needed a man, a man like him, to make all the life choices for them. Women like her needed a man to keep them in line and tell them what to do, even if it meant knocking them around a bit now and then just to keep them reminded of who it was in charge. Sam hated this man.

“I don’t know where your wife is. And frankly, I don’t care either. And as nice as I’m sure her life was living with you, maybe she is better off gone. Like I said, the police have been called and they will be here shortly. Why don’t you do us all a favor and leave right now I won’t press any charges.” She didn’t need to press charges. Sam had her own form of punishment in mind.

Sam didn’t lie, ever; it was never worth it. There was always the possibility that you’d get caught and she didn’t want to have to remember what she said to each person. But she really didn’t know where Mrs. Ship was, at least at that very moment she didn’t. When Sam had helped Paula to get away, Sam had taken her to an underground system that hid her and others like her away from the abuse. Once they entered that part of their lives, Sam never saw or heard from them again. She knew it was safer for all of them that way.

When Mr. Ship pulled out his gun and pointed it straight at Sam’s chest and smiled, she didn’t so much as flinch or look at the others in the room. When unfamiliar magic started to flow, Sam threw it back to the sender and felt the immediate withdrawal from one of the women. She didn’t know who had tried, but this was her store and her rules.

“Mr. Ship, did you hear me? The police have been called and I’m asking you again to leave here now. I don’t know where your wife is. I don’t know where you got your information either, but you came here looking for a man and ended up with me. Maybe you should go home and cut your losses. This isn’t worth jail time if your wife left you. I don’t want to have to hurt you, but I will if you don’t listen to me. Now, I’m telling you again to leave.”

Sam knew that he was not going to leave. She also knew that he had full intentions of killing her and everyone else in the room until he got the information he wanted. She watched for the slightest movement, the indicator that said when he was about to shoot. When it came, she moved to counterattack, keep everyone safe, and if all possible, keep herself not dead.

When he raised the gun to fire, Sam lunged toward him, knocking his gun away from her chest with a hand to his wrist, knocking it and the gun toward the floor. She knew that she had to disarm him or he would pull the other gun she knew he had hidden in his back. Someone was going to get hurt. She hoped it wasn’t anyone she knew. Just as she started to throw him to the left and then to the floor, he pulled the trigger, the sound of it like thunder in the tiny room. The slight pain registered, but she didn’t have time right now to deal with it. Sam still needed to get him disarmed and everyone to safety.

Sam brought her foot down hard along his shin, tearing skin and grinding her booted heel across his shin and into the top of his foot. Then she slammed her elbow into his ribs, causing him to drop the gun. When he tried to grab a handful of her hair to jerk her around, she brought her forehead back then forward to hit his jaw, breaking the mandible and knocking him unconscious. He dropped like a dead weight. Sam staggered a little from the impact of hitting his head with hers and then sat down hard on the floor. She needed to lean back against the wall to take an inventory of her own body.

The two women rushed her and she raised her hand to stop them. She was in no mood to meet and greet right now. They stopped dead in their tracks. Sam grinned. Okay, she thought, probably should have dropped the gun and wiped off the blood first. If someone had pointed a bloodied, armed hand at her, she probably would have stopped too. Looking down at her leg, she realized she had been shot.

“Well shit a brick and build a house.” The women moved closer. “Don’t touch me. I ...just don’t touch me. Oh God, I’m gonna be sick.”

Sam backed closer to the wall again and crawled her way up, using it to pull herself to a standing position. Then she staggered her way to the back room, her hand covering her mouth as she went.

Blood was soaking her jeans now. Also, it was all the way down her leg and into her boot. There was a thin trail of it following her as she walked away. The wall she had leaned against had a bloody handprint, as did the counter and the doorway to the back where she had had to stop and steady herself. She knew that people wouldn’t notice, but right now, her late breakfast was coming back for a second appearance. When she had sicked up everything in the tiny bathroom off the kitchen, she made her way upstairs to her apartment.

Lt. David Wolff showed up about five minutes later. Sam could see his cruiser as it pulled into the lot from her bedroom window. The light flashing probably told the entire neighborhood. She went down the stairs and watched from her vantage point just inside the foyer—the area between her apartment and the kitchen.

The man, Mr. Ship, had been tied to a chair in her kitchen with duct tape, and Betty was standing over him with a large cast iron skillet in her hand, arms crossed over her ample chest. Sam wondered where the pan had come from, but realized that was the least of her problems. He was still unconscious, or at least he was now. Sam smiled again. Betty could be a bit overprotective of Sam when it wasn’t really necessary. But Sam loved her for it.