Bound by the Past (6 page)

“Are you sore?” he asked as he climbed on top of her and gently nudged the head of his penis into her wet entrance.

“I’m fine.”

Slowly, he pushed his thick erection inside, taking the time to savor each little gasp of pleasure from her lips, each subtle clenching of her muscles. She wasn’t accustomed to a man of his size and he marveled at her ability to accommodate him without complaint. Regardless of the demands of his inner Dominant, he needed to be tender this time, to show her he could love her in every way she deserved.

Like a boat adrift on a calm ocean, he rocked inside her gently, taking the time to learn the secrets of her body. Soon he found her pleasure points and in each retract and return, he made sure to stroke them. His lips worshipped hers while one hand tenderly fondled her clit. Wrapping his free hand lightly in her hair, he sensed how close she was.

“Together, Carly,” he whispered against her cheek. “Always together.”

Accompanying his words with the movements she most needed, he wrapped his arms around her as they dove into the abyss as one.

It was late Sunday night when Jon finally returned to his own townhouse. He and Carly had spent the entire weekend in her bed, neither able to pull away from the other. Finally, with the thought of returning to work in the morning, they’d been forced to rise and separate.

He entered his house with a grin on his face and was so preoccupied he failed to notice Reilly sitting on his couch until he was halfway through the living room.

“I could have killed you seven different ways by now, my boy. What’s wrong with you?” Reilly studied his face. “Ahh, I see. Did you and Ms. James have a nice weekend? I’ve been here for hours.”

“Dammit, Reilly. I could have you arrested for breaking and entering.”

Reilly laughed at his empty threat. “You haven’t changed
that
much, Jon. You wouldn’t call the police if you were bleeding to death.”

“You obviously haven’t changed either. You still don’t understand the meaning of the word
no
.”

“Cassie has upped the ante.” Reilly didn’t even acknowledge his continued refusal. Picking up a file from the coffee table, he pulled out a photo of a young girl who attended Jon’s school. “Trisha Jackson, seventeen. I believe you know her?”

“She’s in my third period.” His face felt frozen as he looked at the photo of the shy girl who sat in the first row, third seat back. “What’s happened to her?”

Jon held his breath, terrified as his mind drew a picture of what his mother and her followers were capable of.

“So far, nothing.”

Reilly’s answer caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Night will be here soon. He’s been observing the comings and goings on the compound from a secure post on the side of the mountain for nearly two weeks. As far as we can tell, Cassandra has changed the game plan.”

“So she isn’t reorganizing the Commitment Church. I told you.” He felt as if he was finally able to take his first deep breath since Reilly’s appearance in his classroom on Friday.

Reilly sighed heavily. “I never disagreed with that, and simply because she isn’t claiming religion as her cause doesn’t mean her actions aren’t highly suspect and just as dangerous.”

Reilly was unable to add more as the door to Jon’s townhouse slammed open and Night tromped in. He was covered in dirt and smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks. Neither fact stopped Night from crossing straight to him and wrapping him up in a bear hug that would have crushed the ribs of a smaller man.

“Good Lord, Night. You smell as if you’ve been sleeping in a sewer. Let go of me, you idiot.” They stepped back, laughing. “God, I’ve missed you.” Jon found the fact easy to admit. For ten years, they’d served their country and attempted to make their amends for past crimes together. They’d been partners, never apart, each man trusting the other with his life.

Deciding to quit the CAA to go to college was one of the hardest decisions Jon had ever made, especially as he knew Night wasn’t finished paying his own personal dues. Only seeing Night sporadically over the last few years had been tough. He missed the close companionship.

“I suppose Reilly’s been filling you in on your dear old mom.” Night’s easygoing grin was not what it appeared to be. Jon could see the dark circles beneath his friend’s eyes. There were new, clearly defined lines in his forehead put there—no doubt—by stress.

“What the hell were you thinking? Taking on this mission?”

Night scowled at his words, didn’t appreciate the comment. “That’s funny,” Night said. “I’m wondering why the hell you
aren’t
taking on this mission.”

Jon ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Dammit, Night. I’ll tell you what I just told Reilly. I’m through with that life. I’m not going back.”

“Not even if it means finally seeing Cassandra put behind bars where she belongs?”

It had always bothered Night that Cassandra had escaped without paying for her part in the cult’s crimes. While Jon had cut his losses and attempted to put the past behind him, Night seemed to take some perverse pleasure in wallowing in the memories.

Jon sighed. This was going to be a long night. “Not even then.”

“Did you tell him about that girl?” Night was looking at Reilly and pointing at the picture of Trisha Jackson.

“Not everything.” Reilly appeared more than happy to turn the reins of this discussion over to Night. Once again, Jon was taken aback by how much his mentor had aged. How tired the tireless man suddenly seemed.

Night started to plant himself on the couch but Jon halted him with a strong grip on his shirt. “You can stand up and tell me what you’ve come to say now, or you can shower and then sit down to talk. You sit on that couch and I may as well take it to the dump in the morning.”

Night grinned and took a quick sniff of his shirt. “Can’t smell myself anymore. Fine. Your student and her mother arrived at the compound this morning with all their belongings in tow.”

“I thought you said Cassandra wasn’t starting the Commitment Church back up again?”

Night grimaced. “If you can believe it, I think what she has planned this time is even worse.”

Jon shook his head. Quite frankly, nothing could be worse than the cult’s practices.

“A sign was hung up at the front entrance of the house today.”

“What does the sign say?” Jon asked.

Night seemed to struggle over the next words. “Olson Mountain Women’s Retreat Center.”

He tried to grasp what Night was saying, but he was obviously still missing several pieces to the puzzle. “Sounds innocuous enough.”

Night’s frown deepened. “She’s advertising the place as a safe haven for women in trouble. Wives suffering from domestic abuse, penniless young widows, runaway teen girls. Are you getting the picture, Jon?”

Unfortunately, he was. Cassandra didn’t have an altruistic bone in her body. She was luring the women there for some unsavory reason.

“You must have more than this. What’s she doing to the women?”

Night slammed his hand against the wall. “Fuck if I know. I’ve watched the place for weeks and I can’t see anything illegal happening. I’ve watched over twenty women check in—some with kids—but that’s it.”

“That’s it?” Jon felt a vague unease as he considered what could be happening within the compound.

“That’s it. They go in and they don’t come out again. It’s not like last time, Jon. No one is ever outside the main house except the guards who, by the way, are armed to the teeth. I’ve seen women walk in with small children, but the kids are never outside playing. No one’s tending the gardens or working in the outbuildings. It’s like they all go inside and drop into a black hole. And I’ve never, in two weeks of surveillance, seen hide nor hair of Cassandra.”

“They could be using the inner courtyard. That would explain why you don’t see them outside.” The compound was reminiscent of a medieval castle. The main building formed a square with a small courtyard in the center. He struggled against his next words, fighting not to utter them but losing the battle. “So what’s your plan?”

Reilly answered his question. “Cassandra has no idea the two of you were involved in the cult’s downfall last time. As far as she knows, the state took you into custody along with the other rescued children. I’ve been feeding her the same false intelligence the rest of the world has received about your whereabouts these past few years. She knows you’re teaching here at the high school.”

“And what has Night supposedly been doing all these years?” He fought against the nausea attacking him.

My mother knows where I am.

Night laughed. “I always knew you were the cult favorite. While you get to be a big college boy, I’m a lowly auto mechanic with a bit of a rap sheet.”

“We don’t know what Cassandra’s plans are, but we do expect—well, let’s say we hope—she’ll contact one or both of you. After all, she’s moved back here knowing you live in the area, Jon.” Reilly pulled yet another folder from his briefcase. “We thought it might be best to give her two options.”

Night slapped him on the back. “She can either go for the golden boy, AKA you, or she can pick the bad boy standing behind door number two—me.”

“What makes you think she’ll call us?”

Reilly grimaced. “It seems Cassandra is quite proud of the way she raised you. Brags about you and Night and the
special training
you received from her. She seems to think you both had a promising future among the BDSM set.”

Jon glanced up quickly.

“Yes,” Reilly continued, “her sexual preferences still run that way and we know it, but you can’t arrest a woman for being a Dominatrix if she’s surrounded by willing slaves. And believe me, the men who come to her are all too willing to do her bidding.”

“And you think she’s luring these women in for what?”

“Prostitution. Sex slavery. The market is there, you know that. If that’s her game this time, you can be damn sure she’ll want you and Night by her side as she establishes this new business.”

“Just think, Jon. You and Mommy and your new family business. You’re right up there with the Rockefellers. Enterprising Americans.”

Reilly disregarded Night’s joke without a glance. “I’ve set Night up as an employee at a local garage. Story will be that Night was getting into too many fights and running with a rough crowd in the city and you convinced him to move closer to home.”

Jon choked at the word. “This place isn’t really
home
.”

Reilly gave him a sympathetic smile. “Son, I’m afraid it is. Seems neither you nor your mother could stay away from that damn mountain when all was said and done.”

“Home,” Night muttered. “Always wanted one of those. Think I’ll go get that shower now.” Night stumbled up the steps before halting at the top and yelling back down. “Hey, how about we order some pizza? I’m starving.”

Jon shook his head at Night’s casual attitude toward the case. Of course, he’d had weeks to get used to the idea of seeing Cassandra again.

“Teachers are supposed to help their students. That girl needs your help.” Reilly gestured to the picture lying on the coffee table.

Glancing at it, his vision went hazy as he remembered another young girl, much like this one. The image of her face replaced Trisha Jackson’s in the photo.

Sarah.

Sarah’s face was the one he still saw in his nightmares even though it had been nearly two decades since her brutal murder.

Shoving the painful thought away, his anger bubbled up to full boil. He struck out at his mentor. How dare Reilly shove all of this in his face?

Home? What the fuck does he know about home?

“This won’t work. Take your fucking pictures and get the hell out of here.” He was furious at having his past mistakes thrown back in his face by a man he looked up to like a father. For God’s sake, it was Reilly who had dragged him out of that hellhole and given his life a purpose. Taught him to forgive himself for the past and move on.

“Ah Jon, I thought you’d gotten past that,” Reilly said softly. “That girl’s death wasn’t your fault.”

Jon sat down heavily on the couch. “You’re wrong.”

“How many years are you going to carry Sarah’s death on your shoulders?”

He glared at Reilly. “As long as I live. For as long as I fucking live.”

“Rex killed her.” Reilly’s frustrated tone proved this conversation was only too familiar. “You weren’t in the room. You weren’t there.” Reilly’s voice was full of concern. “You were eleven years old when your mother dragged you into that snake pit. How were you supposed to understand what was really going on?”

Jon grimaced. Reilly’s question was one he’d asked himself a thousand times before. Every time, his mind answered with a resounding, “I should have known.”

“You were a young boy, simply following the examples set by the adults in your life. Adults who should have been protecting you.”

“Not corrupting me.” His voice was dull, lifeless. He’d heard it all before.

Suspected of money laundering, gunrunning, prostitution and drugs, Reverend Thomas’ cult came to the attention of several high-ranking officials in Washington who thought perhaps they needed to take a closer look. Posing as a believer, Reilly had managed to dupe not only Rex, but Cassandra as well. He’d become involved in every aspect of the cult, attempting to gather the evidence needed to close it down and put the leaders in prison for the rest of their lives.

What Reilly hadn’t expected to find was Jon and Night. Two teenage holy terrors. Reilly had befriended them while slowly exposing the boys to the seedy underside of their cult life. Their parents had brainwashed them in insidious ways—keeping the illegal aspects of the organization hidden and using them to do their dirty work by feeding their over-inflated teen egos with delusions of grandeur.

“Jon, you need to get past this. I need you on this case, but only if you can keep your head in the game. You were a young, trusting kid. The minute the truth about Rex’s and Cassandra’s activities was revealed, you did the right thing.”