"Stay with me for a while?" Deborah asked and squeezed Bridgette's fingers.

"You can bet I will. I'm not going anywhere. I'll watch over you while you sleep, sweet Deborah."

Deborah smiled softly and drifted away, feeling safe in Bridgette's protected embrace as her mouth rubbed gently over the nape of her neck.

Bridgette waited until Deborah fell into a deep sleep before she got up from the bed. The storm had lessened to a drizzle and the room had become cool enough that she arranged the sheet over Deborah. Placing a soft kiss on her brow, Bridgette got dressed and went back over to her house. She checked in on Rotquel, who waited by the front door, and took her outside in the backyard to relieve herself while she grabbed her pencils and drawing pad. When Rotquel finished, and she gave her food in her bowl, she went back over to her Deborah.

Instead of joining her dozing lover in bed, she sat at the window seat next to the lamp she turned on, and watched Deborah, who slept on her side, facing her.

Bridgette was struck by how beautiful and peaceful Deborah looked in the muted darkness of the bedroom as the late afternoon fell into evening. The sheet had fallen around her hips where her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were on display, her nipples now flat and dormant, along with her feet peeking out. Bridgette would've pulled the sheet off Deborah, but didn't want to disturb her. She placed her drawing pad over her lap and starting tracing an outline that would eventually become a figure.

Bridgette lost herself in her drawing, and Deborah, who remained asleep until she moved on her stomach and hid her face into the pillow. She moaned and her leg twitched. Bridgette put the pad down at the exact same time Deborah cried out and sat up, shaking and covering her mouth.

"Deb, what is it?" Bridgette sat on the bed and pulled her into her arms.

Deborah hid her face in the crook of Bridgette's neck. She sniffed loudly and groaned. Bridgette cupped the back of her head and rocked her until Deborah came fully awake.

Finally Deborah lifted her head up but kept her arms around Bridgette's hips. She leaned back against the headboard and caressed the side of Deborah's face with her finger. Deborah grabbed hold of her hand and kissed the inside of her palm.

"I had a nightmare. It's the same one I have most nights, where some shadow comes out of nowhere and slashes my throat." Deborah covered her own throat and her lips trembled. "The last thing I remember before I wake up crying is my head being cut off my body."

"Maybe your fears are entering your dreams. Did you have these nightmares back in Nevada?" Bridgette asked.

Deborah pulled away and sat up. She combed her fingers through her hair. "Never. I barely dreamed at all. I usually pa.s.sed out exhausted afterward."

Bridgette stopped from laughing over the noticeable blush staining Deborah's cheeks. s.e.x never made her tired, but quite the opposite. A short sting in the middle of her chest made her grimace. Knowing Deborah's psycho wife had given her such pleasure to the point Deborah pa.s.sed out made her less than happy-perhaps even jealous.

"I guess I'll have to try harder to make sure you're too tired from all the o.r.g.a.s.ms I give you that you won't be able to dream," Bridgette said lightly and ignored the tightening in her chest. She took hold of Deborah's chin in a light grasp and kissed her. Deborah's lips moved slowly against her own. Bridgette lay on the bed and, still kissing Deborah, pulled her down next to her. Deborah broke the kiss and rested her cheek on her shoulder.

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"A few hours," Bridgette replied, kissing Deborah's forehead.

Deborah exhaled softly and laid her hand flat over Bridgette's breast. Bridgette's body started to respond to Deborah's seemingly innocent touch, when Deborah lifted her head and squinted her red-rimmed eyes.

"Is that your drawing pad next to the window?"

Bridgette nodded. "Yup. I couldn't sleep and went back over to my house to get my pad and pencils. I drew you while you slept."

Deborah tilted her face down and hid under Bridgette's arm. "You drew me drooling and snoring?"

A loud laugh escaped Bridgette's mouth and she turned on her side. Deborah did the same and tangled their legs together.

"You looked so beautiful and peaceful sleeping." Bridgette brushed her lips against Deborah's, only to keep them still for a moment, then letting go.

"You have a great way with words," Deborah said and rubbed one of Bridgette's curls between her fingers.

Bridgette stared intently at Deborah's face. She wanted to tell Deborah how special she thought her to be, but held back, since she had issues with that description, thanks to her b.i.t.c.h of a wife.

"Now who's the one thinking too hard?" Deborah asked and swiped her finger down Bridgette's cheek.

"It looks like we both have a lot of things on our minds," Bridgette said, not failing to notice the lines straining Deborah's forehead.

"I was thinking how when I was little and woke up scared in the middle of the night, my Mom would stay with me in my bed and lie next to me just as we're doing now."

Bridgette lifted an eyebrow over Deborah's admission. "I remind you of your mother?"

Deborah covered her mouth with a hand and giggled. "Not at all. What I'm feeling for you is far from that."

Bridgette gave Deborah's chest a quick glance. Her nipples grew hard before her eyes. And what are your feelings for me?

Before she leaned over to give Deborah a kiss that would lead to them both rolling around on the bed and getting sweaty, Deborah nibbled on her thumbnail and looked out the window. "I miss my Mom so much."

"Why don't you give her a call to see how she's doing? I bet she'd love to hear your voice."

"I-I don't think I can. I'm too scared to call her and find out if..." Deborah swallowed and shook her head. Her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. "It's not safe. I can't take the chance that the call may be traced."

Bridgette thought Deborah was overreacting, but didn't speak up about it. She brushed a hand over Deborah's head. "What if we go out for a bite to eat? I know this great barbeque place two hours east of here if you don't mind the drive. There's bound to be a pay phone around. You can use one of those to make your call. Even if the call could be traced, it would lead back to there and nowhere near here. What do you say?"

The way Deborah chewed on her nail and remained quiet made Bridgette antsy. She sat up and tapped her fingers on her knee. Deborah dropped her hand away from her mouth.

"I'd need to take a shower first."

"How about I join you?" Bridgette asked.

Deborah snickered and knelt on the bed, wrapping her arms around Bridgette's shoulders. "That sounds like an excellent plan. But first I have a small problem that needs to be taken care of."

"And what would that be?" Bridgette asked as she cupped Deborah's b.r.e.a.s.t.s and rolled her thumbs over her aroused flesh.

"I need you to take care of my small problem regarding my nipples. I really can't be seen in public like this," Deborah said with mock repulsion and drifted her mouth over Bridgette's.

Bridgette fell on top of Deborah and gladly welcomed her kisses. They spent the next hour or so kissing and touching until they took a shower that led them to washing one another thoroughly. By the time they got into Bridgette's car to take the two-hour drive to dinner, the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared.

When they reached their destination, Bridgette made sure Deborah ate, even though she kept shifting in her seat and bit her nails more than her food. When they finished their dinner and found a pay phone, Bridgette held Deborah close as she called her mother.

The night didn't end with happy tears on Deborah's end from hearing her mother's voice, but sobs of anguish and grief as she was told about her mother's pa.s.sing away a few weeks ago.

Bridgette drove back with a silent and morose Deborah until they arrived back in Woodberry Creek, where Bridgette made Deborah spend the night in bed, holding and comforting her, much like Deborah's mother did when she was a child.

When Deborah fell to sleep with tears marking her pale cheeks, Bridgette promised she would do whatever she could to make certain Deborah was never hurt again by anyone, even if it meant putting her own life on the line.

Chapter Seventeen.

The pictures fell from Genevieve's hands as she growled low in her throat. Berlinoz stood with his arms crossed, a blank look on his face as she dug her heel into the black-and-white pictures of her cheating, lying t.w.a.t of a wife kissing another woman.

Red filled her vision and she cursed loudly, turning away and facing the swirling rapids of the river below her.

"How long ago were these pictures taken?" Genevieve asked, her voice cracking.

"Three days ago. Your wife was easy to locate since she was dressed in almost the exact same clothes she wore to her mother's care facility. She also had a suitcase and a bag with her, as if she was getting ready to leave town. But then she and the woman sat in the park, where they had a long discussion. Afterward, they embraced and kissed, as you can see in the pictures I took."

"f.u.c.king c.u.n.t," Genevieve spat and turned back around. Berlinoz looked bored, but she noticed the strain around his mouth and how his eyes darted around. When she had told him over the phone to meet her near the river, ten miles down from where her car was found without Deborah's body, he'd sounded displeased. She expected him to question why she wanted to meet him here instead of her home. He didn't.

"On the positive side, your wife doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon, now that she has a reason to stay," Berlinoz said. Genevieve curled her lips, the bright red spots growing even larger in front of her eyes.

"Positive? What the f.u.c.k is wrong with you? My wife is s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with another woman, enjoying her new life without me! She's probably having a good laugh at my expense, tricking me the way she did." Genevieve clenched her shaking fists in the air. "If that's not bad enough, my two most trusted servants have vanished as well. They helped her escape!"

Berlinoz scratched his nose and stepped away from his car. "I understand you're upset, but screaming and yelling will get you nowhere."

"Oh, really?" Genevieve said as a bubble of hysteria rose from her throat. "You weren't made a fool of." She grounded her heel into the pictures again. Leaning down, she picked up the one where Deborah and the short, stubby woman kissed pa.s.sionately, and tore it into little pieces.

She would get her revenge and make Deborah pay. Before she was done with her, Deborah wouldn't be able to walk, let alone move, after Genevieve broke every bone in her body.

"I'm going to kill her and her s.l.u.t," Genevieve said out loud, lost in the haze of her anger.

"Mrs. Murnay, I recommend you take a few days to think things through before you do something you may regret. It would be a shame if you did do something rash. I'll be less than pleased if it comes back to me."

Genevieve gave Berlinoz a haughty stare as he cracked his knuckles. If he thought he could control her by his subtle threat, he would be in for a surprise. She pushed back her hair and cracked her head from side to side, remembering to restrain herself. "Yes, you're correct. We wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen where you or I could end up in a precarious situation, now, wouldn't we?" Genevieve gave him a smile and sauntered over to him.

Berlinoz's stance pulsed with tension, his body rigid. Even when she swiped her finger down the front of his shirt, he didn't relax. She pouted and t.i.tled her chin up. "I've been all out of sorts from Deborah faking her death, my driver and housekeeper running away in the middle of the night and not having any time to relieve my frustrations, if you catch my meaning?"

When Berlinoz dropped his arms and shifted his legs apart, she played with the top of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s poking over her silk tan camisole and moved against him. His arousal brushed up against her stomach.

Ah! Not as immune as I first thought. This knowledge pleased her and she arched her back slightly to push out the b.r.e.a.s.t.s that were close to popping out of her tank. She'd worn the tight top on purpose, remembering Berlinoz's reaction the last time he noticed her abundant cleavage.

"Mrs. Murnay, you're not thinking correctly at this moment," he said in a husky whisper and dug his fingers into her hips. "Aren't you a d.y.k.e?"

Genevieve hid her revulsion over his derogatory label and rested her palms over his chest. "I consider myself to be, but sometimes I like to have a different flavor. Since this may possibly be the last time I see you, why don't we have some fun together before we go our separate ways?" Genevieve moved her hand down in between them and cupped his c.o.c.k. "It's been far too long since I had a d.i.c.k inside me. What do you say? Think of it as an extra bonus for a job well done."

Berlinoz's fingers squeezed her hips and pulled her flush against him. His mouth fell on hers and drew on her lips. Genevieve laughed and joined in on the heated yet sloppy kiss. He walked them back and around to the front of the car as he tugged down her cami and sucked on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"I've wanted to mouth your t.i.ts since I first saw you. I can't wait to stick my d.i.c.k in between them," Berlinoz said crudely against her breast and lifted her up until she was spread flat on the hood of his car.

As Berlinoz went to unzip his pants, Genevieve sat up and tugged on his ears. "No f.u.c.king yet, big boy. I want you eating me out until I come all over the hood of your car."

"Ah yeah, you lesbos love to have your c.u.n.t pecked on. I'm down with that," Berlinoz said in a rasping voice and lifted up Genevieve's skirt. His eyes went wide upon noticing her in the buff and his tongue came out and licked over her waxed p.u.s.s.y.

She moaned loudly as he roughly pulled apart her legs and lifted them up to give him better access. His blunt nails dug into her hips, making red marks appear. She threw out her hand to grab her purse and brought it over her chest. Berlinoz gave no notice as he slurped her p.u.s.s.y and flicked her c.l.i.t with his tongue.

"Hector," Genevieve said in a strong voice.

When he glanced up, his mouth hung low as she quickly slammed the heel of her shoe into his shoulder, making him stumble back. Before he could gain his footing, she released all six rounds of her gun into him. He arched back as the bullets. .h.i.t him, no shots echoing in the woods from the silencer on her gun. Disbelief and shock covered his face as he fell to the ground.

Genevieve sat up and pulled up her cami, tsking over the spots of blood on her legs. She tugged down her skirt, took off her shoes, and climbed off the car. Shaking her head, she walked away and went over to a shrub where a medium-sized bag lay hidden. She opened it and pulled on a pair of oversized workman boots and brown leather gloves. When she reached Berlinoz's body, she placed her hands on her hips.

"The reason I prefer women over men is because women don't think with their p.u.s.s.y as much as a man does with his d.i.c.k. You were so predictable falling for my guise, a.s.shole." Genevieve hunched over to roll the body down into the river.

The entire process didn't take that long. She rubbed wax over the hood of the car with a towel to wipe away any of the prints she might have left behind. When she'd finished, she took her purse and the bag and made deep impressions in the ground with the boots Gilberto had left behind.

A fifteen-year-old white Pontiac Sunbird she'd bought at a used-car dealership was parked farther down the path. Simply by dressing as an older, matronly woman with graying hair in a bun and saying she had only retired and needed a car had been too easy. No one thought it odd; they were happy to have the sale. It had been so easy to get fake identification and don a disguise to fool people, much like her Deborah had done.

Ah yes, her lovely, deceitful Deborah, who in a day or two she would be reunited with. Genevieve smiled as she drove away, fantasizing how their precious reunion would go. Each fantasy ended with Deborah motionless on the floor at her feet, covered in blood.

Chapter Eighteen.

Deborah lay on the couch, lightly petting Rotquel, who laid her head on the cushion next to her hip. Bridgette came around and sat on the coffee table in front of her, but she didn't acknowledge her.

"Deb, you've been lying here for hours, staring into s.p.a.ce. You're starting to worry me." Bridgette's finger brushed over her forehead and Deborah sighed, hiding her face into the pillow.

It still was so hard for her not to break down in tears, even a week after her mother's death. Most of the time she lay in bed staring out the window, or took naps. Bridgette had been a great support and spent most nights with her, making love late into the night and listening to her stories about her childhood.

She cried too many times to count as she told Bridgette about her marriage and the fear and confusion over the abuse she suffered. Bridgette held her, whispering soothing words in her ear and giving her kisses that ended up with them naked and making love. Not once did Bridgette recommend they use toys or any other instruments to heighten their experience together.

But the one kinky thing Deborah had enjoyed was tying Bridgette up. When she finally allowed Bridgette to do the same to her, she came so hard that she saw stars. And she never felt dirty or ashamed afterward.

Her lips tilted up as she remembered last night, when Bridgette made her climax by simply licking and sucking her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"I love when you smile," Bridgette said and cupped her cheek.

Love. What they had was too new and too soon for Deborah to feel that way about her wonderful, generous lover with the red corkscrew curls. But it was very close to it.

Deborah sniffed and sat up. Rotquel released a soft bark and left the room. "I haven't had much to smile about lately."

"You did just now. What were you thinking?" Bridgette asked as she sat down next to her and twined their fingers together.

"You," Deborah said honestly. "And how wonderful you make me feel."

Bridgette squeezed her hand. "I hope when you think of me you smile, or at least you're turned on." She gazed at Deborah's chest.

Deborah pressed the back of her head against the couch and weakly chuckled. She closed her eyes, still tired, wondering if Bridgette would take a nap with her, when something brushed her cheek. She opened her eyes. Bridgette held up a bright yellow paper.

"What's this?" Deborah grabbed it and scanned the page. The information listed was for a carnival starting tonight and into the weekend with rides, food, and crafts. She glanced back at Bridgette in confusion.

"We should go."