Mate’s Harvest: Bear Sheriff III Page 3

  I’m so close. So close to freedom. All I have to do is shift. Break these shackles, push the door open, and run. Run… where? Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. Run to Angie.

  Angie.

  “You’re free to go,” the guard said. Marcus felt the hand cuffs fall away from his wrists, though he hardly felt them or heard what the man had said. His thoughts of running were growing by the second…

  “What?” he asked, turning around and looking at the guard who had spoken.

  “I said you’re free to go,” the man said, obviously unhappy with it.

  “What?” Marcus repeated. “How? What happened?”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “Orders just came down from up above. Said we had the wrong guy. That’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it – but I don’t make the rules. Now get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m free?”

  “You’re free,” the man said, then pushed Marcus towards the front door. He found himself walking on his own, opening the door, stepping into bright sunlight that felt wonderful, somehow so much different than the sunlight in the yard.

  The sunlight was beautiful, the freedom was intoxicating, but neither compared to the woman standing in front of him.

  Marcus found himself nearly breaking down when he looked upon Angie Campbell. She smiled at him, the radiance from her enough to make the sunlight seem like a shadow behind her – and then her smile faltered, her eyes searching his face, the bruises on his forearms, and she began to cry.

  Marcus found himself holding Angie, pulling her close, his fingers running through her hair and his nostrils flaring at her scent. He held her, embraced her, never wanting to let her go, whispering shh to her and It’s okay, sweet assurances that he was fine and that they were fine and everything would be fine, even if in his heart he knew that it couldn’t and wouldn’t be so.

  Her tears finally dried up and she looked up at him, giving him her best smile and there was something there, something beneath the surface that did indeed tell him that everything wasn’t okay, but the smile was more than enough at that moment and Marcus kissed her.

  He’d dreamed of kissing her every night for the past two months, dreamed of being with her, and her lips upon his were everything he’d expected them to be.

  Marcus wasn’t sure how long they kissed for but they finally pulled apart, just enough for Angie to bury her head in his shoulder and his arms to wrap tightly around her.

  “I didn’t think you were ever getting out,” she whispered. He stroked her hair and managed not to voice that he’d been fearing the same thing.

  “How did it happen? Did the lawyer finally pull through?”

  She pulled away from him then, distancing herself a few feet, looking unsure if she wanted to say anything.

  “There’s been another murder.”

  Marcus felt his heart drop, then skip a beat. It was a strange mix of emotions. He was free – because someone else had lost their life. It didn’t seem fair, somehow.

  He didn’t know what to say so he said, “No one could have stopped him. He was always bound to kill again. Who was it?”

  “A farmer named Art Fields,” Angie told him. “Do you know him?”

  Marcus shook his head. “Heard the name but never met the man. He’s dead?”

  Angie nodded slowly. “Marcus, there’s more to it than that. The serial killer had only been targeting Shifters. Art Fields wasn’t a Shifter.”

  Marcus knew that the strange feeling he’d been getting from Angie was this. “So he’s changing who he murders. Why?”

  Angie looked hesitant to say anything, then she sighed and threw up her hands. “It’s you, Marcus.”

  “Me?” he asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “He left a note with the body. Telling them that it was past time to release you. He wanted you out, Marcus.”

  “This man… Art Fields? He died… he died because of me?” Marcus asked, hardly believing the words. More blood on my hands. What’s new? Only this time…

  She nodded sadly.

  “It’s not your fault, Marcus. Like you said, no one could have stopped him.”

  “It is my fault. If he wasn’t after me, or didn’t have his eye on me – Art Fields would still be alive. He would be alive, working, living life, laughing and enjoying… living. And now he’s dead because of me.”

  “Don’t do that to yourself, Marcus.”

  He shook his head, trying his best to clear his thoughts. He’d never expected their reunion to be perfect, never expected that he would get out and the killer would be caught and everything would be perfect, but he hadn’t expected this.

  “We need to figure out why he targeted this man. Figure out if there was any reason. Any clues. We have to figure out something.”

  “Marcus…” Angie said, reaching a hand out. A car honked, flying down the road, and Marcus was reminded just how much he hated cities and just how good Charming had been to him.

  “What?” he growled.

  “Look at you…” He closed his eyes with a sigh. “Marcus, you’ve been beat to a pulp.”

  “It’ll heal.”

  “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” he grunted.

  “I don’t mean that in a bad way. But you need a few days to get your feet back underneath you. Let’s get you home, get some good food in you, get you cleaned up. We can worry about everything later.”

  “Angie. There might not be a later. What if the killer decides to go after us tonight? What if he decides to go after someone else and there was something I could have done to stop it? I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “Marcus, it isn’t your job any longer. There are other people out there working the case. They’re drawing closer to finding out just what’s going on, and this murder is going to help them even more.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Angie,” Marcus told her.

  She glared at him and then nodded. “Fine. But it’s still not your job, no matter how well the case is going. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re no longer a sheriff. Most everyone thinks you’re a serial killer. It’s not your place any longer.”

  “I know,” he said. Even saying those words hurt. “Angie, take me home.”

  He climbed into the passenger seat of the car she was driving – and his hackles immediately bristled. He took a deep breath, smelling another Shifter.

  Angie sat down next to him, nonchalant, but when she saw his face she froze.

  “Things have changed since you’ve been gone, Marcus,” she said, reaching over and grabbing his hand. Immediately, he felt more at ease.

  And she explained to him what was going on. She explained that there was another Shifter in town, Branson – a name he didn’t recognize, though that was no surprise. He’d questioned her about the man – his motives, if she was sure he wasn’t the serial killer – and she’d managed to assure him that he was on their side. She told him about the meetings she’d been having with Joanna Rivers and the Copelands when they could, told him that their lawyer had finally fled back to New York, told him that there was a new Sheriff in town and that she didn’t know where he sat.

  She told him all of these things and Marcus took them in the best he could. There were new faces in Charming, she’d said – people that could be friend or foe. She warned him that there were still cameras floating around, journalists looking for a new story. The old woman who ran the Great Southern, Maudette, had passed away due to a heart attack. She’d always been a thorny woman and a pain in his side, but Marcus wasn’t afraid to admit that everything seemed different.

  They drove through Charming and both were silent, though the town was far from it. It was getting to be late evening and the main drag was packed – for the first time ever in Marcus’s life. Angie parked around back of Butchie’s and he brought out food for the both of them that Angie had called in as they were ten miles out of town.

  “How you doin’, Sheriff?” he asked, leaning in to hand them
their food. The smell of a rare steak wafted up to his nose and his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was and how bad the food had been while locked up.

  “Ain’t the Sheriff any more. But I’m doing better, Butchie. Thanks for asking and thanks for the food.”

  “You’ll always be Sheriff to me,” he said with a smile, clapping his hand on the windowsill and standing up. “I still owe you that drink,” he called over his shoulder as he made his way back inside of the bar.

  They drove home, then, and Marcus somehow felt himself relaxing. He didn’t know how it was possible, but just knowing that he was going home, going to be with Angie, was more than he could have ever hoped for.

  The familiar feeling of the dirt road underneath the tires brought a smile to his face, as did the turn up his driveway. He saw his cattle – Angie assured him she’d taken great care of them – and then the little shed, and the barn, and finally the pine trees that halfway hid his house.

  Sitting there, underneath them, was a vehicle.

  “What is that?” he asked, unable to stop a smile.

  “It’s not much. You’ll have to fix it up. And it needs a lot of work. But I figured you deserved it.”

  They pulled up next to a rusted out Bronco – the same make and model as the one he’d totaled what seemed a lifetime ago, chasing down Jimmy Rivers.

  “I love you, Angie.”

  “I love you, too, Marcus. Now let’s get inside. I’m starving.”

  And together they walked into their house.

  Chapter 5

  Angie opened the door to the bathroom and found Marcus standing there, looking at himself in the mirror. He’d taken a pair of clippers to his beard, which lay in the trashcan at his feet. He was lathering his beard with shaving cream. The sink was going, filling the room with hot steam.

  “We still need to do something about your hair,” Angie said, turning and opening up the cabinet over the toilet. She found what she was looking for and turned back to see Marcus watching her in the mirror. He smiled and there was a twinkle in his eye.

  She opened up the case with the hair scissors, most likely long forgotten by Marcus. And then she began cutting his hair. He looked nervous at first; she didn’t blame him. But slowly, Marcus became the man she knew he could be.

  He finished shaving, rinsed his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. He was no longer scruffy, no longer had messy and unkempt hair. Actual real food and being home, combined with cleaning himself up, seemed to make him a new man.

  The man I remember. The man that I fell in love with.

  He’d always been there, of course, though she had worried that he had been somehow broken while in prison. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. He still sported bruises across his body, though they were disappearing quickly, almost as if before her eyes.

  Angie went over to the tub and began to run a bath for him. She turned back around and found Marcus there, wrapping his arms tightly around her. They didn’t say anything, just listened to the sound of the tub filling and their breathing, the beating of their hearts.

  Why couldn’t it have always been like this? Why can’t it be like this now? There’s always something, isn’t there?

  Angie never wanted the moment to end – but she pulled away from Marcus and turned off the tub. She watched as he stripped down, revealing more bruises, and carefully climbed into the hot water. He lowered himself in slowly, then looked up at her.

  “There’s room in here for two,” Marcus told her. Angie didn’t know if she believed that but she didn’t argue. She peeled her shirt over her head, dropped her pants, and kicked off her socks. Marcus watched it all with a look on his face that was almost hungry. Angie undid her bra and let it fall to the floor, revealing her breasts. Then, she dropped her panties and stepped lightly into the tub between Marcus’s legs.

  She lowered herself down into the water and she felt Marcus’s hands wrap firmly around her hips, ensuring that she wouldn’t fall getting into the tub. The hot water felt as if it was washing all of her problems away as she dropped into it inch by inch.

  When she had sat down completely in the tub, she leaned back, placing her back against Marcus’s chest. She could feel his thickness near her butt, thick and long and hard, but his hands came up and wrapped tightly around her again and held her close. She grabbed his large hands in her own, squeezed, and leaned her head back up against his shoulder. He brought his lips down and kissed lightly and they sat there, relaxing and enjoying being close again.

  “I missed you,” he whispered against her skin. Goosebumps exploded across her flesh as his lips tickled her. “Thinking of you. Imagining myself in your arms. You were the only thing that kept me going in there, Angie. I couldn’t have survived without you. I know that without a shadow of a doubt.”

  She smiled and pulled his hand up, kissing it lightly.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “Don’t ever leave me again, please. I don’t think I could handle it.”

  “I promise,” he told her. Angie hoped against everything that he was telling the truth. She honestly didn’t know what she would do if Marcus found himself locked up again. She’d done the best she could while he was gone, but it had felt as if she were only half there.

  Marcus grabbed a bar of scented soap – definitely one of Angie’s – and dipped it in the water, slowly lathering it up. She shuddered in pleasure as his soapy hands came up, sliding over her breasts, massaging and cleaning gently, then went up to her shoulders. He rubbed and massaged, loosening all of the tension Angie had been building up in the months prior. She let out a small moan of pleasure. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d received a real massage.

  Marcus massaged and cleaned, making sure Angie was spotless. He helped wash her head, his large fingers running easily through her hair. When she was clean, the two of them stood up, drained the water, and ran a quick shower where Marcus rinsed his body off. Angie turned him around, grabbing a washcloth and soap, lathering his body from head to toe. It was a sensual act and then she was washing his hair, letting him relax and breath deep.

  They’d just finished cleaning the soap off when Marcus had turned towards Angie, pressing his lips against hers. They kissed hard, lips pressing tightly together, Marcus’s tongue pushing against her lips and sliding wetly into her mouth. She closed her eyes, the warm water blasting over her body, his lips on hers, and she felt his hands slide up against the sides of her head, holding her ever so softly, fingers tickling again. She giggled, pulling away from him for the slightest moment.

  Angie pressed herself against Marcus again, kissing his cheek, his mouth, his ear, his neck, bare shoulder – anywhere she could find. He shuddered and moaned in pleasure. She was just beginning to move downward when he grabbed her gently by the shoulder and lifted her back up.

  Before she could ask why he had stopped her, he fell to his knees in front of her and buried his face between her legs. She gasped in surprise and pleasure, putting two hands against the wet shower wall to brace herself.

  His lips kissed her own and pressed inward. Angie felt his tongue slide wetly into her – dancing just over her clit. She bucked forward in pleasure, almost slipping, but Marcus’s big hands reached up and grabbed her firmly, one hand on her thigh and the other squeezing her ass tightly. She gasped as his fingers came awfully close to a place he’d never been before – but those thoughts faded away as his tongue and lips started to work her.

  Angie found her eyes fluttering closed, her head tilted upward and pressed against the wall, letting the warm water and waves of pleasure Marcus was bringing her wash over her, rinsing away all of the bad that she’d been lugging around.

  Marcus was between her legs for only mere minutes but she could feel herself peaking – she didn’t know if it was the built up lust since Marcus had been gone or just how well Marcus was doing – she reasoned it was a bit of both, and she let didn’t fight it.

  Deep between her legs Angie felt the p
inprick of heat growing and growing, building up and up until it was radiating from her whole body. She let out a squeak of pleasure, felt herself tightening, trying to hold it there, but it was pointless and like a wave crashing over the shore, she came.

  It was so strong – stronger than Angie could have ever imagined, had ever experienced before – and she felt her legs go numb. She would have collapsed onto the floor of the tub had it not been for Marcus holding her steady. Her head swam, her moans drowned out the sound of the water; it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

  Finally, after what seemed like minutes, her pleasure had passed, though the weakness in her legs hadn’t. Marcus kissed upwards, passing over her navel, her breasts, her chest, collarbone, neck and then her lips and they kissed and kissed and kissed, everything else falling away.

  One of her hands reached down and grabbed his thickness. It was rock hard and hot in her hand.

  “I want you,” she whispered, water dripping off of both of them. Marcus nodded, his golden eyes bright, and he put one hand underneath her bottom and effortlessly lifted her up, pinning her against the shower wall.

  Angie wrapped her legs around his midsection. She could feel his penis pressing between her legs. Marcus’s other hand was pressed up against the wall, holding them in place, and she grabbed him, angling him against her, and then Angie lowered herself onto Marcus.

  She breathed out as he sank into her wetness. She’d been soaking wet from when his tongue had brought her to orgasm and he slipped into her with ease, despite his girth. His moans were loud, wet, against her skin, and he pushed deeper into her until he was completely engulfed by her.

  She rode herself against him, legs wrapped tight, arms around his shoulders, and he pushed and pulled at all of the right times. They started off slow at first but then started moving faster, falling into a perfect rhythm that only the two of them could achieve.