Blood and Sympathy (21 page)

"That's so
hot."

I frowned at him.
"What's hot? Being skinned alive?"

He laughed and
shook his head. "No, you kissing my fingers that way."

We quickly showered
and dressed. I gave him a lingering kiss before leaving him at the marina to
jog down the path toward the bait shop.

Braden Sayer

I was exhausted,
and by mid-morning, I found it hard to stay awake. The ratchet I'd been using
had slipped three times already, making me smash my thumb. I sucked it into my
mouth, getting hard instantly because it reminded me of Claire. Everything
reminded me of her and walking around with my dick straining at my jeans was
uncomfortable as fuck. I stayed behind the workbench to keep from becoming
embarrassed in case someone wandered inside.

I rested my
forehead in the crook of my arm and closed my eyes for a few minutes. Next
thing I knew, Uncle Jeb was blowing an air horn, causing me to jump and nearly
piss my pants. He cackled at the expression on my face and I shot him a disgusted
look.

"Wake up,
kid." He shoved a paper bag under my nose. "Take this down to Claire.
I 'spect she's just as worn out as you look."

I blushed from the
top of my head down to the soles of my feet. I snatched the sack from him and
grunted something about how friggin' funny I thought he was before stalking
out.

The bait shop door
stood propped open, as usual, but when I stepped inside, Carl sat behind the
counter. He was a grizzled old man who thought he owned the place, and
sometimes filled in when Uncle Jeb needed help. He worked all Fourth of July
weekend, but he wasn't supposed to be here now.

"Carl?"

He lifted his
rheumy eyes, studying me as though trying to figure out who I was and how I
knew his name. He'd been around some when I was a little boy, but he'd only
seen me a couple times since I'd been back.

"Whatchoo want
boy?" He spit tobacco juice into a stained styrofoam cup and wiped his
chin.

My eyes skated
around the room looking for Claire. "Where's Claire?"

"'Ell if I
know." He shrugged. "I figured she was takin' another day off when I
got here for some stink bait earlier and the doors was still locked up tighter
than Sister Mary Katherine's knees."

The pulse pounded
in my ears, and I was across the room in two strides and in his face.
"What are you talking about? She's supposed to be working today."

He cocked his head
at me and worked the chaw packed into the side of his cheek. "Well, I
don't rightly know what to tell you, but she ain't 'ere, boy." His
attention drifted to the bag clenched in my fist. "Whatchoo got
there?"

I threw him Claire's
lunch and shot out the door, running all the way back to the marina. A sick
feeling had settled in the bottom of my stomach like oil sitting on top of
water. Uncle Jeb sat on a rusted metal chair tucked beneath the shade of an
awning when I skidded to a stop in front of him.

He lifted the cap
from the top of his head and peered up at me. "What's got into you? You
look like the devil himself is chasing you."

I bent over with my
hands on my thighs to slow my breathing. The words whooshed out of my mouth.
"Claire's not at the bait shop."

Uncle Jeb's
eyebrows dipped together and he pushed to his feet. "Slow down. What do
you mean she ain't at the bait shop?"

I raked my hands
through my hair and started over. "Carl's working. He said when he stopped
to buy some bait this morning, the place was still locked and Claire wasn't
there. She never showed up for work, Uncle Jeb."

"Calm down,
son." He put his hands on my shoulders. "Before you go jumping to
conclusions, let's think this through rationally. I'm sure there's a perfectly
logical explanation."

I threw my hands in
the air and jogged across the driveway to my trailer. I prayed she was there,
but the brick sitting on my chest told me she wouldn't be. I jerked open the
front door, and it was as quiet as Sunday morning inside, except for the
ticking of the old clock on the kitchen wall. Claire wasn't there. I retraced
my steps back toward the shop.

Uncle Jed hollered,
"Anything?"

I shook my head.

"Maybe she
wasn't feeling good and went home."

I knew better. Claire
wouldn't have left without letting me know, and she definitely wouldn't have
gone back to her daddy's. "I think you should call the sheriff."

Uncle Jeb blew out
a noisy breath. "I'll call her daddy first. You go on down to the bait
shop and wait. Maybe she'll show up."

She wasn't going to
just show up. Something was wrong, and my fists curled and uncurled with
tension. And dread.

I went back to the
bait shop to tell Carl he could go on home. He grumbled something about it
being too late to go fishing anyway, and stayed. I paced around the stuffy
room, wanting to pull my hair out or break something. Where the fuck was she? I
walked outside, around the shop, and stood at the edge of the lake. The gnats
swarmed around my face in a buzzing cloud, and I batted them away from me.

The heat was
oppressive, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Fear. Anger. Confusion. You
name it, I was a freaking mess. There was no point in me sticking around the
bait shop with Carl. Imagination filled my head with all kinds of fucked-up
crazy shit.

I trudged back up
to the marina. I'd never felt so helpless in my life.

Uncle Jeb was on
the phone in his office. He saw me and motioned me inside. I dug my hands into
my pockets while I waited for him to wrap up his call.

"I thought you
were gonna wait at the bait shop."

"Carl's
there."

"That old coot
eats all my beef jerky and drinks all the Sundrop. He should pay me to work
there."

I snorted.
"Did you find out anything?"

He shook his head.
"No. Her daddy says she's not home. He's going to call Sheriff Thirtyacre.
He's convinced she's taken off out of spite because of their argument."

"Bullshit."

He narrowed his
eyes at me. "This is a family problem now, Braden. It's best if we stay
out of it."

Brogan Sayer

It's amazing how
dark it was this morning at the edge of the lake. I stood in the shadows near
the bait shop. Watching. Waiting. The thrill of the hunt. I stared into the
parking lot, so I almost didn't see her when she came walking down the path
from the direction of the marina.

I moved fast. I had
to get to her before she unlocked the door and went inside. I was able to
overpower her from behind. I clamped my hand over her mouth right away to keep
her from screaming.

She was a wiry little
bitch, a real wild thing, but nothing I couldn't handle. I figured I'd get her
into the trunk of the car and take her out to the cabin, and then fuck the
fight right out of her snappy ass.

I wore a mask to
cover my face, I didn't want her to know who I was in case something went wrong
and she got away. Once I got her inside the shack, I'd let her see who I was.
I'd let her watch everything I had planned for her.

Her eyes widened
when I took the roll of duct tape off my arm and slapped a piece over her pouty
lips. Fuckin' cunt had bit me in the process. I quickly bound her wrists and
ankles, and popped open the trunk of Aja's car before tossing her in like a
sack of potatoes.

Within a few
minutes, I pulled the car in front of the cabin. As soon as I made sure the
place was still deserted, I slung her over my shoulder and carried her inside.
I threw her onto the rotting mattress on the floor.

"Home sweet
home." I laughed at the look in her eyes. The way they went round as
quarters. My identity was still a mystery to her, and I liked it that way. It
added to the fear pumping through her veins and the lust pooling in mine. I was
one horny motherfucker.

I knelt down so
that I was eye level with her and ripped the duct tape from her mouth with one
swift yank. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked furiously, too tough to
cry. Damn, maybe she was too much woman for that sissy ass brother of mine.
Once she regained her composure, her gaze narrowed venomously.

I worried maybe
when I took the tape off her mouth she'd start screaming. It didn't really
matter if she did. There wasn't anyone around to hear her. Instead, she leveled
me with her eyes. When she spoke, it was quiet and controlled, just like she
was asking a stranger for the time.

"Who the hell
are you?"

"I don't think
I want you to know who I am, Claire. Not yet, anyway." I licked my lips
and palmed her face with my hand. I felt her jaw muscle tighten beneath my
touch, but to her credit, she didn't flinch or cower away from me. My eyes
drifted south to the thin tank top stretched across her firm tits. Her nipples
were hard, proving how much she wanted me to fuck her. I bet if I probed my
fingers into her sweet spot, she would be sopping wet and ready for me.

My cock instantly
hardened to granite. I wanted to fuck her in the worst way.  Instead, I stood
with the bulge in my pants just inches in front of her lovely face. I tugged
down the waistband of my shorts to let her see what she'd be getting later. She
had the guts to pretend she didn't want it and turned up her nose.

That pissed me off,
so I tangled my hand in her hair and jerked her head back to make her watch
while I stroked myself. "You don't have to play, wild thing. I know you
want me to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours. I can smell you from here.
I'm going to make you beg for it first."

"Go fuck
yourself."

I tipped my head
back and laughed. "Don't mind if I do." I spit into my hand and
tightened my fingers around my dick. "And I'm going to come all over that filthy
little mouth of yours."

Claire Copeland

When he grabbed me
from behind, crazy thoughts tumbled through my mind. What if the stupid cops
had arrested the wrong man? What if this was the real person responsible for
Olivia's disappearance? Was he going to take me to where my sister was? Did he
have her holed up somewhere? Was she still alive? Or had he already murdered
her, and was I about to meet the same fate?

He had a roll of
duct tape pushed up his arm and the skin was tattooed with the words "SYMPATHY
FOR THE DEVIL." Before he got my mouth covered, I bit him hard enough to
draw blood, nearly making me gag on the coppery taste.

I broke out in a
cold sweat as soon as he slammed the trunk lid down, enveloping me in total
blackness. I hated small, enclosed spaces, and I despised them more when I
couldn't see anything. It smelled of burnt oil and rubber and with each inhale
my stomach churned. I swallowed hard, knowing if I puked, I'd choke on my own
vomit.

The car fishtailed.
Gravel road dust poured through every invisible crack and crevice, further
denying me any fresh air. I didn't know how far he'd driven before we stopped.
Hour-long minutes passed after he shut off the engine, keeping me in blinded
silence. I took short, shallow breaths, my lungs screaming for fresh air.

Footsteps approached,
followed by a jangle of keys. Light poured in on me, and my lungs screamed for
air. He lifted me from the trunk and put me over his shoulder as though I
weighed no more than a dishrag. He carried me toward a ramshackle cabin.

I needed to clear
my brain, get my bearings, to try to recognize something, anything. I was
positive I didn't know where we were, but that didn't keep me from becoming a
keen observer of the surroundings. It was just after sunrise. The front door of
the shack faced east. We hadn't driven far, so I had to be somewhere near
Devil's Fork Lake, but I had no idea where, exactly.

He dropped me on a
stained--from God knows what--mattress lying on the floor. I scrambled away
from him, pushing my back against the wall with my knees bent in front of me.
You have no idea how hard it is to move when your hands and ankles are bound.

He ripped the tape
off my mouth, and it stung like a motherfucker, bringing tears to my eyes. I
blinked rapidly. That son of a bitch wasn't going to get the satisfaction of
seeing me cry. No. Hell no.

He wore one of
those full-faced rubber clown masks. The only facial feature visible was his
eyes. Hard, cold, and sapphire blue. How the hell did I memorize details when I
was terrified that every beat of my heart might be my last?

I sensed that we
were the only two people around, and from the look of things, no one else had
been here for a very long time. So much for the hopeful theories about finding
Olivia.

He wouldn't tell me
his name when I asked. He just eyed me through the creepy clown mask like I was
going to be his last meal. The bulge in the front of his baggy shorts was
impossible to miss, and I stopped breathing when he pulled his dick out. I
thought for sure the bastard was going to rape me. Instead, he jerked off. He
fisted his hand in my hair, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. He spit on
his free hand and began to stroke himself, slowly, teasing at first. I should
have closed my eyes. I shouldn't have been so fascinated by the way his hand
worked up and down his hard length. He held my head immobile while he came all
over my face.