Southern Spirits (24 page)

‘
What
?'

He'd walked over to the couch and picked up the disconnected camera and microphone, showing it to her.

Cat suddenly felt exposed, recalling the times Nathan and she had talked in here, when they'd made love, when she'd masturbated. She mouthed, ‘Is it clear?' When he nodded, she asked, ‘
Dios
, how did you find this?'

‘Faye mentioned it. Don't worry, she said they couldn't hear us. That's how Wheeler knew about the phone, but didn't know what was said.'

Relief sapped Cat's anger, a welcome substitute for the earlier mortification that their mission may have been compromised from the start, not to mention their integrity. But she couldn't shake off the acknowledgement that Nathan was right to be angry with her, that she had concealed things from him. She had her reasons, and she still stuck by them, but it didn't detract from the wrongness of it all.

Now, however, she felt more confident in her situation and her knowledge of it. Besides, if she kept silent any longer about what was going on, she would explode, or Nathan would come up with something far worse.

They had to trust each other again.

‘Hound,' she finally breathed out, feeling her anger and anxiety subside, not leaving entirely but falling into a
manageable state, ‘if I tell you what's going on, will you promise to believe me?' It was a stupid question and she knew it. How can anyone promise something like that? Especially what she had to say to him.

Yet, Nathan nodded and replied immediately, ‘Of course.'

It bolstered her confidence, a little. She breathed out again, and chose her words as carefully as possible. ‘Nathan, I know this is going to sound like something out of
The X Files
, but . . . this train has a spirit of its own. It carries the memories of people who have ridden in it, like echoes. What's more, people today can experience those memories, in the form of dreams or visions. I've been experiencing the memories of a woman from fifty years ago, named Valentina. She was married against her will to a mobster named Mickey, but her secret lover Enrique travelled with her. At first, I put these down to dreams, and then hypnosis or hallucinogens Wheeler might have slipped me. However, I was wrong. They're real. And I think I'm seeing them in order to solve the mystery of what happened to Val.'

She ran out of breath, and felt herself much better for finally getting it off her chest.

That feeling lasted all of three seconds, before Nathan spoke. ‘Cat . . . this is your first assignment. You've been under a lot of pressure –'

‘
Dios!
' she snapped. ‘I knew it. I knew you'd say that.'

‘Of course. What did you expect? That I'd swallow some story of spirits and visions? Wheeler clearly has you brainwashed.'

‘But I've talked with other people, and they've experienced the same things. The Olivers, Tara –'

‘Oh, your fuck partners, well, that convinces me now.' Nathan paced around in disbelief. ‘You ask me to believe what you say, and then shovel me something so patently unbelievable?'

‘Yes. That's when I need you the most.' Frustration welled up within her, and she paced in the opposite direction, then
stopped and stared out the window at the rain-lashed countryside speeding by. Damn it, she knew it would be difficult to tell him . . .

Don't tell, show
. . .

She looked him over, an idea sparked inside her, one that was still blossoming as she sniffed the air around him. ‘Pretty Persuasion. Cheap perfume on you, a scent Faye wears. And there are smudges on your trousers.' She was lying, of course, but it didn't matter. Her face went dark with a sudden fury. ‘So, nothing happened between you and her, huh?'

Nathan frowned. ‘What? I never said –'

‘How dare you lecture me when you've been off fucking that tramp?'

Nathan's face was a picture of disbelief at the tangent their talk had taken. ‘This isn't about me.'

But Cat was in the throes of a genuine tantrum, a Latin storm to match the one outside – and only partly affected for the benefit of her plan. ‘Was she good,
pendejo
? Nice juicy ass on her? Did you get off?'

‘I'm not gonna play this game.'

He started to turn away, but she reached out and pulled him back, desperate for him not to make the wrong move and leave. ‘Don't even think of going to her, bastard!'

‘I'm not interested in her.'

‘Lying pig! Don't deny she's hot. Hell,
I'd
fuck her.' She grunted. ‘Bet you'd get off watching that, wouldn't you, like you did watching me with Tara?'

His patience snapped at that. ‘You little hypocrite! You have some nerve, after all you've got up to. You've been a bit of a
puta
yourself, haven't you?'

Cat snarled, pulled her hand back, ready to land a blow, knowing he would see it and stop her before she inflicted any real damage.

She was right. Nathan blocked her swing, and then another, pushed her up against the nearest wall and pinned her arms behind her as she tried in vain to pull free. Well, she tried a little, mostly struggling vocally with him, cursing and snapping. A few manoeuvres, and she could put up a better fight. And both of them knew it. But it wasn't about having a serious scrap with him.

She craved feeling him close against her, smelling him, feeling his erection pressed against her. Her breath was hissing hard and fast, and she gasped as he leant in and growled, ‘I never wanted her. I never wanted anyone as much as I want you, you stupid little bitch.'

‘Prove it,
pajiero.
'

Anger – and passion – blazed as he dipped his head and kissed her, hard and rough, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Cat kissed him back, matching his fury, arching her body against his as she still tried to pull her hands free from his grip.

Suddenly she bit his lip until he yelped and pulled back from her mouth, and she panted, ‘Is that . . . Is that the best you can do,
pajiero
?'

‘I haven't even started yet.' Nathan's free hand moved to the front of her blouse, yanking until fabric tore, and he dipped his head and captured one of Cat's now bared breasts between his lips.

She cursed as she felt his teeth clamp down, and a sharp burst of pain-pleasure shot through her. Fucking hell, this was delicious! It was reawakening her hungers, as her body responded to the feeling of his hard cock pressed against her hip.

Then Nathan withdrew, releasing her hands but holding her by the hips, watching her intently, ready for the next move she might make. ‘Cat, what the fuck is really going on?'

‘Shut up!' she snapped and, not trusting him to do that, pulled him back into another frantic kiss, tearing at his own shirt until she felt buttons fly like candy from a broken piñata. Then she was at his chest, biting hard on his flesh until he grunted and did something about it.

He pushed her back against the bed, Cat yelping as she landed on the mattress, smiling up at him, her breasts heaving inside her torn blouse, her panties pulled tight against her puffy sex. ‘
Vete a cingar.
'

‘I'd rather fuck you instead.' He was upon her, tugging roughly on her panties. Cat struggled with him again, as if to escape, in reality to help him get them off her, and she was half onto her stomach when he'd succeeded. Nathan practically pinned her to the bed as he removed the remains of his shirt and kicked off his shoes. ‘So, is your precious Wheeler this rough with you?'

She looked up at him from under tousled hair, feeling feral, feeling desired, her own desire overpowering, a driving force as unstoppable as the pistons driving the train or the forces sculpting the storm outside. ‘You call this rough, dickhead? You're a
choca.
' She laughed, not with derision but with delight, until Nathan reached down between her cheeks and stroked the strip of fur between her inner thighs, grunting at finding hot wet flesh. Then his thumb found and teased her clit.

Cat ground her teeth and tried to move against his hand, but he remained enticingly relentless, rough without abuse, an unspoken agreement on the rules of the game woven between them. Little bursts of climaxes shot through her and she caught them all, enjoyed them all. She relished this. It was as if Nathan was fuelling her with each kiss, each nip, each time his fingers delved deeper into her. And he kept watching her, as if he would never be able to touch her again after this day, and wanted to remember the way she was, using all his
senses. Maybe he genuinely thought that way. Maybe he thought that things would change irrevocably after this mission.

He might be right.

Now, though, Cat bit her lip with another mini-climax, and then looked up, panting. ‘You said . . . You said you'd rather fuck . . . fuck me . . . so where . . . where is it?'

‘Here,' he growled, easing off her a little as he withdrew his hand. He unzipped his trousers and moved faster as she helped him. The anticipation and excitement swelling within her seemed to fill her chest, making it harder to breathe. He kicked off his trousers and briefs, and his cock, now freed to extend to its full hard length, bobbed from side to side as he raised himself up to position Cat on the mattress beneath him. She opened her thighs and lifted her hips so that her pelvis was touching his, and the wiry hairs on his legs brushed against her own delicate skin.

She looked up into his eyes, seeing hunger and horniness as strong as her own, and at that moment didn't care if her ulterior motives for this act bore fruit. ‘Fuck!' Nathan's first eager thrust made Cat suck in her breath sharply, and she tightened her thighs against his body and wrapped her arms around him until he was fully upon her, unable and unwilling to stop the thrusts he now made into her with his hips alone. She saw his eyes shut, his thoughts set aside to sate his passions, as he pushed himself into her, repeatedly.

She let her mind drift, their bodies knowing what to do, taking their cues from the actions of another couple from the past, in this very berth. She thought of them, thought of what they'd felt and what they'd did, half a century ago. She couldn't take any more . . .

. . . Val couldn't take any more. She lay there, blindfolded, her hands bound above her – the only way Mickey would fuck her
since he'd learnt of her mother – and kept as still as she could, unwilling to react to the hands running over her body.

Both pairs of hands. Mickey's, and those belonging to his new mistress, Yvonne. ‘I don't think she likes this, Mickey.'

Beside her, Mickey grunted. ‘She's not gonna complain.' The hand he had at Val's hip now slapped her there. ‘Isn't that right? You like this, don't you?'

‘Yes, Mickey.' Amazing how hard it was to push two little words from her mouth. And it was amazing how quickly their relationship had degenerated. The sex had grown rougher, but at least it was less frequent. In addition, her suspicions that he would be just like the other wise guys and get himself a mistress were soon confirmed. This, though – bringing the woman into the bed, a bold display of his contempt for her – was new.

She listened to them kiss above her, while she fought the urge to lash out, verbally or with her legs, no matter the provocation.

It was almost a relief to hear Yvonne suggest, ‘Let's go back to my room, Mickey.'

‘Mmph.' Val heard him pull back, could almost feel his eyes burn into her. ‘What do you think, Valentina?' She started as his hand moved between her thighs, suddenly pinching her sharply when she didn't part her thighs for him. His fingers stroked the outline of her sex. ‘Do you mind waiting here while Yvonne and I go away for a while?'

Val's whole body grew as taut as a piano wire. ‘No, Mickey. I don't mind.'

‘Good.' She felt him and Yvonne rise, gather their coats, and leave the berth.

Val lay there, wishing that if they were going to leave her tied up again, they could have covered her. Oh God, how long was this going to go on?

The door opened again, and she tensed once more, losing control only as she heard a far more welcome voice. ‘Val?'

Oh God. ‘Enrique.' It was as if his presence allowed her to be more honest with her feeling. ‘Help me.'

She felt him rush to her, remove her blindfold. She gasped as she looked up into his face, saw his concern, his anger. He untied her hands and pulled the abandoned bedsheet up to cover her.

Val sat up and fell into his arms, clutching him almost manically, wanting his arms to stay around her, forever, shielding her. Her limbs shook and her breath seemed to rush from her twice as fast as she could take it in, her relief palpable.

Then she heard Enrique mutter, ‘I'm gonna kill him. I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him now.'

‘No!' She pulled back, reached up and held his broad face in her hands. ‘You're not going anywhere. You're not doing anything but being with me now.' She kissed him. ‘Erasing the touch they left on me.'

Enrique tried to protest, but his will weakened with each subsequent kiss, with her hands unbuttoning his shirt.

The clothes lay in a tangled heap on the floor, as the couple kissed and embraced and fucked, Val feeling her spirits rise once more, feeling better than she had in a long time. She knew that they couldn't be long, and that Enrique would eventually have to leave her tied up like before. That was later. She clasped Enrique's buttocks, clenching her fingers into his firm flesh, and making him respond with a deeper thrust, a longer moan.

And a question. ‘What the hell is this?'

Val had been staring up at the ceiling fan, twirling away like a hypnotist's wheel from some cheap horror movie. Now she glanced to her side, as Enrique pulled something from under one of the pillows. ‘Tooth fairy visit?'

She glanced at the large silver coin. ‘That's Mickey's hundred– dollar piece. Throw it onto the table.'