Tombstone studied
her. She had slender legs with ankle high boots and shorts that hugged well
shaped thighs. Her breasts were heaving nervously, stretching her tee shirt so
her cropped jacket opened. Her fingers left the door and threaded through her
spiked black hair, and she slowly turned to face him.
Felicity sensed him
standing in the darkness, though she could not see him. Her nerves were
tingling with warning, but the fear merely served to excite her. Something drew
her towards him, though she was certain it could not be her own power. That was
gone, banished to the back of her mind and sealing tightly behind banging,
locking doors with each step she took.
Her hand reached
into the shadows and he struck like a snake. He gripped her wrist and slammed
her into the wall, crushing her into the rough planks, clasping his hand around
her throat and forcing her to look into his incredible eyes. Felicity only gasped
in helpless surprise, an yet she felt a deep arousal as he held her.
Tombstone knew that
she would not scream. Something within him told him she would not struggle. He
looked into her eyes and saw fear, but it was an excited fear, dripping with
desire. He released her and drew back his hands as if he had been scalded, but
his body kept pressing her into the wall. Breasts heaved, panting against his
chest, and their eyes remained locked.
Tombstone heard
footsteps behind him, and then Jude said quietly, “We need to go. There was a
bar on the back door, but someone forgot to put it back.”
“Me,” Felicity
whispered. She left that way at dawn, as soon as she knew that the maintenance
workers had disarmed the security system. Over the years, she figured Ike
replaced it to cover for her.
Tombstone grabbed
her wrist, and Felicity followed them on stiff legs. Tears began sliding
silently down her cheeks, and the empty hollow feeling from years of waiting
seemed to disappear. No matter what the man had planned for her, she knew that
it was for him she had waited. Felicity had finally recognized his eyes.
When they were in
the cool air of the ally, she stared at the opened trunk of the black car. She
felt something jab into her arm and her mind began to fog. The steel grip was
still on her wrist, and as her legs began to buckle an arm wrapped under her breasts.
She looked up into the man’s eyes. “Jerald Fry,” she murmured.
As her eyes closed,
she heard a deep voice whisper, “Tombstone.”