First Night of Summer (3 page)

“Where are the girls?”

“Over at the Smith’s.”

“What are they doing there?”

“I asked Anna to watch them for a while.”

Anna Smith was their next-door-neighbor and Jason’s mother. But the fact that Sarah had asked her to watch the kids told Isaac everything he needed to know. The special meal and the alone time, all of it was by design. Indeed, this was going to be a special evening, and he didn’t see any reason to waste time. Being parents with two eight-year-olds in the house occasionally interfered with spontaneity in the sex life department. The running joke between them was to be half-lover, half-ninja. Stealth was the name of the game.

He moved across the floor, scooted up against her, and pressed in close. Both muscular forearms wrapped around her waist and brushed against the bottoms of her breasts. His chin nestled into the crook of her neck.

“Do you mind?” she said playfully. She continued to stir. “I’m trying to cook here.”

“Absolutely not,” he moaned into her ear. “I don’t mind at all.”

One of his hands slid up and caressed her bosom. A firm, round breast filled the cup of his palm. Her chest swayed so sweet, and he tightened up his grip. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the stirring motion drove him nuts.

“Easy, buster.” Her voice was calm, not discouraging. “I didn’t go to all this effort to let it get cold.”

He moved his groping hand out to the tapering tip. “Did you say cold?”

She smiled, almost giggled, but didn’t pull away. The encouragement wasn’t lost, and he pressed his pelvis firmly against her bottom. His other hand went to her free breast. He now had two handfuls, the perfect balance between size, softness, and firmness.
Oh, these are the finest things I’ve ever felt
.

“Okay, okay,” she said and wiggled loose from his grip. “That’s enough.”

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxed and wrapped his arms back around her waist. He knew she wanted it, just not before dinner. But he was fully wound up and willing to work for it.

“I mean it. I worked hard to make all of this. If you wait, it will be worth it.” She turned back to the sink.

Undeterred, he leaned back against her butt and allowed the shaking motion to work its magic. He filled his face with her hair. It smelled like strawberries and cream, so soft. He was about to whisper something when his thoughts were abruptly cut off.

Living alone in DC for several years had prompted Sarah to take self-defense classes. She didn’t know if she had ever become proficient enough to actually stop an assault, but the knowledge made her feel safer. She recalled a move to dissuade an attacker coming from behind and decided to try it out.

Slowly, her hips moved forward. Then, without warning, she thrust them backward, popping Isaac directly in the crotch. It wasn’t hard enough to damage the family jewels, just enough to let him know she was serious.

He immediately let go, stepped back and groaned.

“I told you to knock it off.”

“Dang, baby,” he complained. “I’m burning up here. Do we have to wait? I promise it won’t take long.”

She turned around, mock distaste written across her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want to hear. ‘It won’t take long.’ You started this, and now you have to live with it.” She pointed a wooden spoon at the area below his belly button.

“I don’t want to wait,” he muttered under his breath and sat at the table.

She pouted her lips out. “Oh, poor thing. Did you get all worked up?”

“You think?”

“Serves you right. I told you I was trying to cook and didn’t want the food to get cold.” Again, she used the wooden spoon to point at his crotch. “Looks like more than the food is cooling off.”

“Why you little—” He flew across the room. Isaac had her by a good ten inches and seventy pounds. He wrapped her up and began tickling unmercifully.

She screamed, writhing as she tried to beat him away with the spoon. “No! No!” she protested. She continued to squirm and scream. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

Finally, after he was satisfied with his revenge, he quit and kissed her on the forehead. He spun her around to the sink and smacked her on that fine backside.

The mystery dish ended up being a bowl of made-from-scratch mashed potatoes. She was whipping the hell out of the spuds when he arrived, and the motion of her ocean started the whole ordeal.

The potatoes accompanied a pile of freshly steamed Maryland blue crabs, his favorite. The smell, taste, and task of cracking the shells truly did take him back in time. It was what they ate on their first real date.

The meal was incredible, as was the mess. But that was just part of seafood, especially crabs.

Sarah was prepared to bargain. “If you’ll start cleaning, I’ll get the girls’ beds ready. I imagine they’ll be asleep, and I told Anna we would come get them before midnight.”

“That’s not for two hours.”

“I know.” There was coyness in her words.

Isaac quickly scooted his chair back and got to his feet. “Deal!”

Sarah disappeared into the hallway, and he carried everything to the sink. An ex-military man, and therefore trained to the utmost in efficiency, he removed the trash can from the pantry and placed it directly beside himself. He scraped the trash in the can on his left, rinsed each dish in the sink, and put them into the dishwasher on his right. It wasn’t just dishes he handled this way. It was most things. He didn’t think anything of it, but their friends always got a kick out of watching.

He was turning and burning, laser-focused on the task. The faster he finished, the faster he could go back there with Ms. Plaything and have some fun. But in the middle of his rhythm, he stopped. He could feel a presence, an energy. Someone was there, watching him. He was sure of it. Every ounce of his body could feel it.

He slowly turned to his right, put a plate in the dishwasher, and used his peripheral vision to scan the room. His mind was not playing tricks. Someone
was
there.

Sarah’s slender, delicately curved figure was nothing short of heart pounding. The deepness and clarity of her aqua green eyes never failed to make Isaac short of breath, especially when she put that sultry look to them. And could she ever do that. Her long, naturally wavy hair was let down with one side over the front of her shoulder. It looked like she had taken the time to style it. Her feet were bare. Toned, sun-kissed legs ran all the way up to a black thong. The front piece of satin fabric was so tiny, it barely served a purpose.

A black silk camisole covered her firm, slightly upturned breasts. The fabric was thin, especially in the cool air. Twins had not damaged her body. She had worked hard to get back in shape, but what had once been a knockout figure was actually improved. Childbearing seemed to have put more of the right stuff in the right places. Her silhouette could make a man’s bones ache.

To complement the flowing curves, a flat stomach peeked from under her shirt, just above the hipbones. All her weight was on one leg. The other she had bent and pulled in close. Her arms were crossed, slightly higher than normal, elevating her ample cleavage.

Isaac was instantly back to when the whole evening began. “What got into you?”

She was close now, deeply invading his private space. She bent her knees and ran the satin thong up his lean, rigid thigh. Her pelvic bone pressed into his muscle as the fabric glided along oh so smoothly.

“The same thing that’s been into me all night. Waiting for you to get home.”

He dried his hands quickly on a dishtowel and placed them on her exposed cheeks.

“They’re warm.” She slid herself up and down his leg another time. His hands moved with her all the way. “It feels good.”

“I would have taken it before dinner, but I do believe this was worth waiting for.”

“I told you it would be.”

He grabbed the string of her thong and pulled closer. His leg was between hers. She leaned in with her lower body and back with her upper. The silk-covered mounds pointed directly at his face. He explored the generously presented forms. They had been married for nine years, and it never got old.

“You want to come back here with me?”

“If I say yes, will I sound too easy?”

She shook her head and slowly took his hand. If she was yin, he was yang. She was so smooth and delicate, but not fragile. Isaac, on the contrary, was ruggedly refined. He was well groomed, but had an edge, a roughness to his dark features and olive skin. His eyes were black, fiery, and comforting all in the same.

She led him down the hallway to their bedroom. He watched as the slender string of satin slipped up and down between the cheeks of her firm derriere. Each musical swing of her hips fueled his overwhelming desire.

It was the beginning of a long, long night.

Chapter Four

A
t two o’clock on Saturday morning, Ricky Doors backed his white van into concealment, put it in park, and killed the engine. Kenneth and Joan Howard’s empty carport was perfectly located, adjacent to the Snow’s, assisting in his next kidnappings.

He was not aware of the Howard’s taste for traveling. He was, however, aware that they had left on the rainy Friday morning with two large suitcases. People didn’t pack that much if they were planning to return the same day. It made for the perfect staging ground.

He slipped into the cargo area and prepared for the task ahead. He had rehearsed the sequence of events in his mind to the point of memorization. Now it was down to action. He dampened a handkerchief with a concoction of homemade chloroform. The Internet was so useful. Information truly was a keystroke away, making the obscure ordinary. He sealed the elixir in a Ziploc and stashed it in his back pocket. Two eight-inch pieces of duct tape were torn from a roll and stuck to the thigh of his loosely fitting black jeans.

His long-sleeved T-shirt matched the pants. A pair of thin, leather gloves protected his fingerprints from being left behind, and a black, knitted ski mask disguised his face. Even with the mask, his peaceful-looking eyes appeared innocent. The watery blue irises shone tranquil, but really, they were swirling pools of greed and malevolence draining into the depths of a twisted mind. Since childhood, he was known as the boy with the baby blues. The camouflage served him well.

With everything set, he was ready to go. He had removed the lightbulbs from all dome fixtures inside the van. Nothing could blow his cover like a yellow glow in the middle of a black night. Light showed the truth. Blackness, on the other hand, cloaked and offered assistance to deception. And deception was not just a hobby for Ricky Doors. It was life.

He exited through the side sliding door and left it open. His arms were going to be full when he came back.
Two little ladies all to myself
. The thought was inspiring.

He made his way from under the carport and headed across the few feet of driveway until his boots hit plush, wet grass. From there, he continued forward, striding easily, nearing his targets with each swift step. It wasn’t raining anymore, but he wished it was. Anything that provided background noise was good. He looked up and gauged the conditions. The sky was overcast and starless, but not a drop of water fell.

Josie and Caroline had two windows in their bedroom. One faced the side toward the Howards’ home; the other looked over the backyard, detached garage, and forest beyond. For days he had hidden within the trees, watching every move, learning every schedule and regularity. And on Friday morning he received a lucky break.

It was early when the Howards stowed their suitcases in the trunk of their Lincoln Town Car and pulled out of the drive. Upon their departure, elated at the opportunity and happy to get out of the rain, Ricky left his observation post and went back to a little motel on the outskirts of town. He had to make final preparations.

He leaned against the cream-painted brick next to the side window he planned to use. It was closest to the van and offered the quickest escape. The back window provided more cover from the street, but the girls had a child-sized table and chairs set up just inside. He knew. He had looked through the window and seen it on more than one occasion. If he were to knock it over while entering or exiting, along with all the little plates, saucers, and teacups, the ruckus would ruin everything.

The cool night was damp and pleasant. Sarah let the girls sleep with their windows cracked to breathe in the fresh air. She and Isaac did the same. In the small community of only ten thousand people, many families slept with their doors unlocked and windows open. But Ricky had not noticed many families … only theirs.

A sharp pocketknife flayed the mesh screen and exposed a sliding frame. Ever so gently, he lifted the window. It slid up without squeaking, and he exhaled relief. Windows were tricky business. At any moment, they could grind on the tracks and make a terrible noise. The less he had to move it, the better. Still, it had to be open enough to snake through.

Silently, his heart pumping and perspiration building despite the mild temperature, he crawled inside. Arms went through first; his torso followed. He used his hands to hold the weight of his skinny body above the floor. One leg was pulled through and then the other. His whole body was inside, resting on all fours, completely frozen. On full alert, he allowed himself a smile.

Planning was difficult but safe. Actions, on the other hand, were incriminating. There were always a few moments in any operation when everything had to be put on the line. Now, not daring to move a muscle in the dark space of Josie and Caroline’s bedroom, he was on that line.

He pulled a black aluminum flashlight from a belt holster and shined it around the room.
Piece of cake. Nice and quiet. And don’t wake Sarah
.

On his feet, he went to Josie’s bed. She was lying flat on her back, hair spread across a pink pillowcase. Her mind was at rest, a peaceful, serene look on her face. He slipped the dampened handkerchief from his pocket, deftly placing it over her nose and mouth for several breaths. Contented, he peeled a strip of duct tape off the thigh of his jeans. The adhesive silently relinquished its hold on the denim. He stuck it across Josie’s mouth and pressed down. She was out cold from the chemical, but one could never be too careful.
Details. There was no substitute for the details
.