The Kidnapping

                        by Tempest

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The material herein is fictional and is intended as ADULT entertainment. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. It contains themes of incest and underage sexual activities. If you are offended by (or it is illegal for you to read) sexually explicit content or language, please DO NOT read any further. All characters in the story are fictitious; any similarity to any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone nor endorse any of the activities described in this story.
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MF, Mf 15, ff 15/14, con, ped, action, slow, romantic.

Jack Norris ex British Army SAS soldier, accepts a job as head of security for the Barrett family. Events, some beyond his control, others of his own making lead him on a whirlwind adventure. He makes decisions he never thought he would make, and a kidnapping turns his life upside down.

Word Count: 35,688

Published: July 16 2018

Proofread and edited by rhimshot415

Chapter One

Jack Norris had apparently made a good impression in the one hour interview he'd had with David Barrett three months ago since he was now two weeks into his new job as the Barrett family's security specialist. Jack liked the family—liked them a lot since they seemed to have clicked when he first met them.

Barrett's wife Megan, was a stunning woman, with ash-brown hair, the most gorgeous azure-blue eyes he had ever seen; she had finely chiseled features and full lips. She was tall at five-seven, lithesome with long tapered legs, classic hourglass figure with small breasts, narrowish hips that flared out from a slim waist. And she had a smile that could ignite a wet woodpile.

Jack was not surprised when he found out that she had been a fashion model since she most definitely had the package of goods. The daughter Charlene, who preferred to be called Charley, was just a younger version of her mother, full of spunk, and inquisitiveness—more so than your typical fifteen year old. She was playful, mischievous, and she was a little bit of a flirt.

"You related to Chuck Norris?" she had asked when he introduced himself—a question that got asked nine times out of ten when people found out his name. Jack had replied that Chuck was his uncle—a reply that had caused a slight questioning look on Charley's face until she broke down into a fit of girlish giggles.

"No you're not," she said.

Jack liked Charley, liked her a lot and knew from the minute they met, that they were going to get along just fine. He thought it cute that she only called him by his last name. He breathed a sigh of relief after first meeting Barrett's wife and daughter since he had been told at the interview that the position was available because the last guy didn't get along with the daughter one bit. Oil and water was the metaphor used.

Jack Norris had an unusual upbringing. He was born in the small town of Kendal on the eastern edge of the Lake District in Northwest England to John and Nancy Norris. His father ran a small corner store, and his mother was a schoolteacher. As a boy, he was always getting into trouble—mainly fighting boys—much older boys since Jack was large for his age. At the age of sixteen he was a big as he was ever going to be at six-three, and almost two hundred pound—two hundred pounds of pure muscle. His hands where large, and his knuckles were scared from much use on other boys' faces or bodies.

At the age of eighteen with four O-levels and three A-levels under his belt, he was bound for university. Even though he had been accepted into three universities, he changed his mind at the last minute and joined the British Army. After two years the British Army saw Jack's potential, and he was transferred to the Special Air Services—known by its acronym SAS. The SAS is somewhat equivalent of the US Army's Delta Force.

Jack Norris served with distinction and took an honorable discharge at the age of twenty-seven. A good friend who he had met while on a joint training session with Delta Force, called him as he was apt to do every month or so just to shoot the breeze, and asked if he was interested in private security work. He jumped at the chance to go back to North Carolina and worked freelance for a year or two before the opportunity arose for a more permanent position with the Barretts.

Chapter Two

"Jack, go and tell my wife that we need to be out of here in the next ten minutes," David Barrett said, exasperated. "Damn woman has no sense of time." He headed out to their limousine which was idling under the porte cochère. The family chauffeur who was also the secondary security guy was standing at the open rear passenger door.

Over the last two weeks, it had become apparent to Jack that Megan Barrett was a trophy wife. David Barrett was a very successful businessman, and at forty-nine years of age, Megan was his second wife. He wasn't sure if Megan loved her husband—she must have at some point since they had a child together. But he could see a hint of unhappiness in her eyes from time to time. Also, Jack noticed that Charley acted differently when she was around her father than with him or her mother or any of the other members of the Barrett household. It seemed to Jack that she was a little scared of him. He wanted to know why but had to tread carefully.

Jack went to the Barrett's master suite, knocked once and walked in. He stopped dead as he saw Megan Barrett standing there in a pair of black, lacy, bikini-cut panties and black thigh-high stockings.

And no bra.

Her petite breasts stood high and proud on her chest, with dark pink—almost brown areolas and small beaded nipples. She made no attempt to turn away or cover her breasts with her hands. There was no embarrassment, and it appeared to Jack that she was happy he had come into the bedroom without waiting for permission since there was a hint of a smile on her face. She had just stepped into a black sleeveless cocktail dress. She wiggled her hips as she pulled it up.

"Sorry Mrs. Barrett," Jack said, "I should have waited outside." He started to turn.

"That's okay Jack," she said. "Help me zip this up would you," she added, as she pulled the dress all the way up and put her hands through the armholes.

Jack walked to where Megan was standing and pulled the zipper all the way up. He closed the hooked fastener at the top and said, "Please don't tell Mr. Barrett that I saw you undressed. I don't want to get fired."

She squeezed his arm, smiled, and replied, "Don't worry about that Jack. I'm not about to get the only male friend I have fired."

Jack left the room with a puzzled expression on his face. He wasn't sure what that last remark meant, but the sight of her perfect petite breasts caused his cock to twitch.

"Mrs. Barrett will be right out sir," Jack said to his boss who was sitting in the back of the limousine.

Jack waited in the foyer; Megan Barrett came out of the bedroom and walked to where Jack was standing.

"I must say, Mrs. Barrett," he said, "you look stunning tonight."

"Thank you, Jack," she replied, "I wish my husband would pay me compliments. She squeezed his left arm that he offered, and they walked to the car. She got in next to her husband, and Jack closed the door and tapped the roof indicating to the driver to go.

The drive from Tega Cay to downtown Charlotte took all of forty minutes, and Tiny, the chauffeur, could sense the tension in the back seat—something that had gotten more frequent the last eighteen months. The vehicle wasn't a stretched limo, and there was no partition separating the rear passenger area from the driver's and passenger's seats. No words were spoken between man and wife during the whole forty minute drive.

Tiny wasn't just the family chauffeur; he was ex-army and provided another level of security for times like this. His real name was Trevor, but because of his size at six three, he had always been called Tiny. Jack would stay home and make sure Charley was safe and Tiny would make sure no harm came to either Mr. or Mrs. Barrett.

Jack found out through Tiny that Mr. Barrett had made many enemies in his business dealings, so it was not inconceivable that someone would like to see him dead. There was also the possibility of either Mrs. Barrett or Charley being kidnapped and held for ransom since David Barrett was a very wealthy man.

Tiny pulled up at the curb outside the Sheraton on South McDowell Street. He patted his shoulder holster—something he always did before leaving the vehicle. He was carrying a Glock 17. It held eighteen 9mm rounds—one in the chamber and seventeen in the magazine. The Glock had a trigger safety which meant it wouldn't fire unless the secondary safety on the trigger was engaged first. It wasn't a compact gun by any means, but like Jack, Tiny was a big guy with large hands.

He got out of the limo and looked both ways. There was a gaggle of cameramen and television reporters waiting to take photos of the guests as they arrived for the charity gala. They were always a problem for security personnel so Tiny quickly scanned the crowd. Satisfied that there was no threat, he opened the door; David Barrett was first out. Tiny took Megan Barrett's hand, and she slid her long legs out first, and he helped her up.

She smiled at him and said," Thanks Tiny."

"You're most welcome Mrs. Barrett," he replied.

He got back into the limo and drove away, parked it and went to the front desk. He checked in, got his key card, sat outside the ballroom and waited. Waiting was the biggest part of his job. He didn't see the black Cadillac Escalade parked a block from where Tiny had dropped off the Barretts a few minutes earlier. As Tiny passed by, the driver of the Escalade hit a speed dial button on his cell phone.

"It's me," he said. Their bodyguard just dropped them off."

There were words spoken on the other end of the call.

"Yes, I'm sure they didn't hire anyone yet."

More words were spoken on the other end.

"Okay will do." The driver ended the call and put the phone in his pocket and drove away.

The man who the Escalade's driver had been talking to, got into his Crown Victoria outside his apartment complex on the south side of Charlotte, drove to the nearest cloverleaf and up the southbound on-ramp of I-77. The South Carolina state line and Tega Cay beyond were ten miles away.

Chapter Three

Back at the Barrett's house, Charley came downstairs and looked for Jack. She found him in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea—Typhoo his favorite brew.

"There you are Norris," she said. "You up to be beaten at a game of Scrabble?"

"In your dreams Miss Charley," Jack replied.

"Norris, how long have you been with us?" she asked.

Jack put his cup down and rubbed his chin, feeling the seven-hour stubble and replied, "Going on two weeks now why?"

"Why do you call me Miss Charley? You sound like that butler in the Batman movie. You know, calling Batman Master Bruce."

"Oh, I don't know, out of respect I guess," Jack replied.

"You're not just my protector, you're my friend as well. Will you please call me Charley?"

"Okay, if you call me Jack."

"No way Norris, that's never going to happen," she said. Jack chuckled.

She set up the Scrabble board on the sizable Persian rug in the large family room off the kitchen. They sat cross-legged facing each other across the Scrabble board. Jack looked at the white cotton shorts Charley was wearing. They had loose leg openings, and he could see her lime-green panties. And every time she reached over to place her tiles on the board, he could see her small breasts down the gaping neck of her over-sized tee-shirt.

Jack put down five tiles, a G, an M, an I, an N, and an E. He place the G against an A of another word and the M, I, N, and the E after the A to make the word GAMINE.

"That's nine points," he said.

"That's not a word," Charley said.

"Yes it is," he replied, "look it up."

She opened the dictionary and looked it up. "Huh, it says it's a girl who hangs around on the streets or a small playfully mischievous girl."

"Describes you to a tee," Jack said; he chuckled.

"I don't hang around the streets!" she said indignantly.

"But you are a playful and mischievous girl," he replied.

"Just for that, I'm not only going to beat your ass, but I'm going to beat you big time," Charley said with a smug expression on her face.

"In your dreams Charley," he replied.

"See, you can call me Charley."

Charley looked at her tiles, picked out three and leaned in to place them on the board. Jack looked down the front of her tee-shirt again at the tops of her breasts. His cock stirred inside his chinos.

She looked up at him and said, "You looking at my tits?"

Jack didn't say anything; he looked away and blushed a little.

She smiled. "You were looking at my tits, weren't you? I can tell because you're blushing. If you wanted to look at my tits Norris, all you had to do was ask."

At that she hoisted the hem of her tee-shirt up, exposing her breasts. Jack caught his breath as he looked at her. Her breasts were the same size as her mother's, the size of half-lemons. But Charley's areolas were puffy—like small breasts on top of breasts with beaded nipples.

"Like what you see Norris?" she asked.

"Exquisite," was all he said.

"I bet you've been looking at my panties as well," she said; she giggled as only young girls can.

Jack picked up three tiles, an L, an M, and an E and put them on the board sandwiching the existing I tile.

Charley looked at the word he'd made.

"LIME?" she said.

"Green," he said smugly.

She threw the bag of tiles at him, and said, "You're a smartass, Norris. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Lots of people, but none as beautiful as you Charley."

Half an hour later the game was over, and Charlie had indeed beaten the pants off him. She put away the game and plonked down on the sofa. It was nine o'clock. Jack took the top off a bottle of Bass ale and sat down beside her; he turned to look at her. She had her legs curled underneath; he could see a small delta-shaped piece of lime-green material.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Jack said.

"Sure," she replied. "And I'm not a virgin if that's what you want to know," she added.

Jack filed that bit of information away in the back of his mind.

"I've noticed that you and your father don't seem to be on good terms. You seem a little afraid of him—well afraid may be the wrong choice of word. Wary maybe?"

Charley thought for a while, trying to figure out how much to tell him. She swallowed and said, "He's not my real father, my last name is Jennings. He married Mom when I was five years old."

"Hmm. I didn't know that" Jack replied.

"Not that you would. I mean unless you asked, no one was going to tell you—no need to really."

"But that doesn't explain your wariness."

She thought for a long while. Jack was about to repeat the observation when she spoke.

"When I turned eleven he started to take more—how shall I put it—more interest in me."

"Well that's not unusual is it?"

"It is if the interest was physical. He was never the sort of huggy-feely kind of stepdad while I was growing up. But when I entered puberty and started growing tits, he wanted to hug me and wanted me to sit on his lap. I mean c'mon, what grown man wants an eleven-year-old girl on his lap? And what eleven-year-old girl wants to sit on a man's lap? He really creeped me out."

"Did he . . . you know molest you?"

"He came up behind me one time, and put his arms around me and cupped my tits and squeezed them. I told him that if he ever did that again, I was going to tell Mom." Charley visibly shivered as she remembered the incident.

"Did he?"

"No, he didn't."

"So Mrs. Barrett doesn't know?"

"No, and she doesn't have to know, Norris."

"That's okay Charlie, it's our secret. Oh, and one other thing."

"What's that Norris?"

"If you ever feel the need, you can sit on my lap any time you want."

She giggled and said, "I like you, Norris. I like you a lot. I think I'll keep you around."

"So you can beat me at Scrabble?"

"That and a few other things I could think of.

At ten, Charley said she was tired and was going to bed. She got off the sofa and planted a delicate kiss on Jack's cheek."

"Goodnight Norris," she said.

"Night Charley," he said.

Jack watched as she bounced away and upstairs to her room. He was happy with their conversation and their new-found intimacy. He turned out the lights except the one in the foyer. There was an elevator door that led from the basement housing an underground garage, a home movie theater, and a swimming pool. He set the security alarm.

There were sensors on all the external doors and windows. After Jack had settled into his new job, his new routine, and met all the staff. He did an audit of the premises from a security standpoint. He checked all of the exterior doors and windows to ensure they had sensors. The Staff wing had its own system, but the only entrance from that wing to the main house was off the kitchen, and it had a sensor connected to the main house system.

Just the previous day, he had gotten through checking that all the sensors were working. He found two that were not—the outside door to the garage and the door from the kitchen to outside. He had called the security company, and they had promised to send someone out to fix them the next day.

Jack temporarily disarmed the door off the kitchen to a long hallway that led to the staff quarters and stepped through. The alarm system automatically reset the sensor when the door closed behind him. He headed to his quarters, where he showered, turned out his bedside light, and got into bed. He lay there with the image of Charley's petite breasts in his mind and remembered her words. "I'm not a virgin if that's what you want to know." He wondered why she had chosen to tell him that. She was a very desirable young woman, that's was for damn sure. But he reminded himself that she was also his boss's step-daughter.

Chapter Four

Jack was about to drift off to sleep, but something caused him to come back to full consciousness. That something had saved his life on many occasions when he was on a mission. Jack got out of bed and walked to the window. The landscape lighting illuminated the planting beds and trees around the large house. They would automatically turn off at one o'clock in the morning. He looked around but saw nothing.

That niggling something was still there, so after putting on a pair of jeans, lacing up his shoes and grabbing his Glock 17 out of its leather pancake holster, Jack headed back to the main house. He disarmed the door to the kitchen and stepped through. He saw that the kitchen door to the outside was wide open, and the glass was busted out. The same door with the defective sensor. His automatic reaction to danger kicked in, and he ran outside.

There were two men dressed all in black hustling across the rear lawn fifty feet ahead one in front of the other. The trailing guy had Charley over his shoulder fireman style, and she was kicking and beating the guy on his back, but it was of no use since the guy was probably six-three and close to three hundred pounds. Jack could hear muffled words coming from Charley. He figured they probably had put duct tape over her mouth to keep her from shouting. He raised the Glock but couldn't risk a shot as he might hit Charley.

Jack decided to outflank the men. He figured they had parked at the turnoff to the gravel road that led to the water tower and pumping station. The turnoff was a hundred yards away from the private drive to the Barrett's house. He was glad of the shrubbery since it provided cover and the freshly mowed grass hid the sound of his footfalls.

He reached the turn off ten seconds before the two guys. A black Crown Vic was sitting in the turnoff with the trunk lid open. Jack crouched beside the passenger door, keeping the vehicle between him and the two men.

"Throw her in the trunk," the lead man said to the other.

Jack stood up, put his right hand holding the Glock on the car roof, steadied it with his left and shouted, "Hold it right there."

Both men froze. The man holding Charley whispered to the other, "Who the fuck is that?"

"I don't know, the second man replied. "They said they hadn't hired a replacement yet."

Jack heard the comment and said, "Your bad luck I guess. Now slowly put the girl down and lie face down on the ground."

The big guy stood there not knowing what to do. Most of the time Jack spoke a command he got a response. It appeared that the big guy was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, so Jack repeated his commands. The big guy bent forward and dropped Charley to her feet.

She tore the duct tape off her mouth, kicked him and said, "Asshole." She ran around the car and stood next to Jack with her arms around his waist.

"Wait here Charley," he said. Jack walked around the hood of the car. As he cleared the driver's side headlamp, he saw the glint of a weapon. It was Smith and Wesson stainless steel model 642 chambered for .38 S&W Special, and it looked tiny in the big man's fist; it had just cleared the man's jacket and was rising through an arc to bring its short barrel to bear on Jack's torso.

The short-barreled revolver was not an accurate weapon, but the big guy was only ten feet away. Jack managed a semi-circular turn to his left as he saw the big man's finger tighten on the trigger. That half turn saved his life.

The bullet missed his center of mass, but hit him in his left arm and passed right through but nicking his biceps brachii. It hurt like hell, with an intense burning sensation. Charley screamed, but Jack didn't hear it since his adrenalin was pumping, and he was concentrating on the two men in front of him. The Glock in his right hand barked four times. A double tap to center of mass of the big guy; he was the first priority since he was holding the revolver.

Then a double tap to center of mass of the second, smaller man who had reached behind, and was just bringing a black Beretta 92F up in a low arc from his right thigh. He went down—dropped like a sack of Idaho's finest.

The big guy was still standing and was raising the .38 to fire again. A single 9mm bullet to his head killed him stone dead. A pink mist sprayed out behind him, coating the bushes with blood and brain matter. Jack stood there holding his left arm. Charley ran around the hood of the car. She gasped when she saw the blood running down his arm. She didn't hesitate; she hoisted her nightshirt over her head and wrapped it around the two bullet holes on his upper arm—an entry hole and an exit hole, and tied it off.

"Are the keys in the ignition?" Jack asked her.

She ran to the driver's door and peered in. "Yes," she said.

"Close the trunk and get in the passenger seat," Jack said. He got into the driver's seat and drove the mile and a half back to the house.

His adrenalin now drained, Jack sat on the floor of the kitchen while Charley, naked except for her lime-green panties called 9-1-1 and explained briefly what had happened. She then disarmed the security system on the keypad next to the front entrance.

Chapter Five

Twenty minutes later, they heard the sirens of at least two sheriff deputy's cars and an ambulance coming down the long driveway.

"Charley, as much as I love looking at your tits, you may want to go and put something on," Jack said. She scurried off upstairs and came back a few minutes later wearing a tee-shirt its neck was snug—there was no gape—no chance of seeing her tits.

By now the noise of the sirens had woken the staff, and they started coming out of the door leading to their quarters. First the chef, then the housekeeper who promptly fainted when she saw the blood-soaked tee-shirt around Jack's arm. The maid was last. She was a little more resilient than the housekeeper since she remained standing.

Except for the housekeeper, who fortunately didn't hit her head on the way down, they stood in a semi-circle watching the EMTs administer to Jack's wound while Jack told two of the four deputies what happened and where they could find the bodies.

"The big guy had a Smith and Wesson .38 special, and the smaller guy a Beretta 92F," Jack said. The big guy has two rounds to the center of mass and one to his head. I guess he decided that two wasn't going to put him down. The other guy only needed two."

One pair of deputies disappeared to locate the bodies, to secure their firearms, and to put yellow POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape around the crime scene.

"We had better find those weapons, or you're in a world of hurt," the ranking deputy—a sergeant, said.

"You'll find them. Miss Barrett here can confirm that they had guns, and how the hell do you think I got this hole in my arm—shoot myself?"

"So let me get this straight,""You gunned down two men just like that? What are you, some kind of ex-military?"

"Nine years in the British Army seven of which were in the SAS," Jack replied.

"SAS?" the sergeant said.

"Special Air Services. It's a regiment of the British Army; sort of like your Delta Force."

"Badass huh?" the sergeant replied.

Jack didn't say anything.

"You have a CCW for the Glock Mr. Norris?" the other deputy asked.

"I wasn't carrying it concealed when I ran after them. But to answer your question, yes I have a concealed carry permit. Would you like to see it?"

"That won't be necessary," the sergeant replied.

"We need to get you to the hospital," one medic said.

"No I'm staying," Jack said, "The round missed an artery so clean it up and put a bandage on it."

"But it's a gunshot wound," the second medic said.

"I've had worse, now bandage it up as I'm not going anywhere."

The first medic sighed and finished putting on a bandage, and they both left.

"One of our detectives will want to talk to you in the morning. I assume you'll still be here," the sergeant said.

"Like I said. I'm not going anywhere. There could be more coming to kidnap Miss Barrett."

"So you think this a kidnapping?" the sergeant said.

Jack was getting tired of the sergeant's stupid questions. "After breaking in through the kitchen door, hauling Miss Barrett from her bed, running away from the house with her over one guy's shoulder, they weren't kidnapping her, they were going on a date, you moron. Now if there are no more asinine questions, I suggest you leave."

The sergeant bristled; he was angry and embarrassed that he had been chewed out in front of the other deputy.

"You better hope we find those guns," the sergeant said as they were leaving.

"Better leave the searching to the other deputies as you couldn't find your ass if it was handed to you on a plate," Jack shouted after them.

The housekeeper was now up and awake and no worse for wear. Jack sent them back to the staff quarters.

Jack looked at Charley who was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island and said, "Thanks for bandaging me up and not panicking."

"You're welcome Norris, and you got to see my tits again," she replied.

"I wished it had been under different circumstances," he said. "I'm sleeping on the sofa tonight as there's no way I'm leaving you alone in this house."

"My bed's comfier," she said with a wicked gleam in her gorgeous azure-blue eyes.

"I couldn't do that Charley. It would get me fired if Mr. Barrett found out, and I'm wounded."

"I'm not telling, and I'm sure you aren't either. I could take care of you-you know like your nurse. And another thing, you'd be close by if anyone else came to grab me."

Jack threw caution out the window and followed Charley to her room. She quickly shed her tee-shirt and tugged her panties down and kicked them off. Jack stood there slack-jawed looking at Charley's beautiful body. He has already seen her exquisite breasts—twice.

She had filled out nicely with curves in all the right places. She was tall and willowy like her mother; her long slender legs had a sexy two-finger gap at the top that was filled with her equally exquisite pussy. Her prominent mons was a delta-shaped pad with a smattering of straight blonde hairs that formed a natural triangle with its apex stopping at the start of her slit.

Charley had the plumpest labia Jack had ever seen, and he'd seen a few. They formed a tight slit with just her clitoral hood and her inner labia showing. His cock rose to the occasion, forming a bulge in the front of his jeans.

She came over and unsnapped the fastener at the top and drew his zipper down. Since he had not stopped to put on underwear, his erection sprang free. Charley gasped as she saw it. She let go of his jeans, and they fell to his ankles. He awkwardly kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans.

"God you're big," she said. Jack had heard that comment before, but he had never failed to penetrate anyone's vagina, and he'd never had a woman refuse to let him. Almost all said the stretching was incredibly arousing.

They were now both naked. Charley got on tiptoe and put her hands on the back of his neck and kissed him on his lips. Jack felt her soft lips part, and her tongue touched his teeth. Both of their mouths opened, and they kissed passionately. Jack could feel Charley's breasts pressing into his chest, and Charley could feel his penis pressing against her stomach, hard, urgent.

He broke their kiss after two whole minutes. They both were panting hard, both with passion and to fill their lungs with fresh air.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said.

"I know," she replied. "We should stop shouldn't we?"

"Yes, we should."

"I agree we should."

"Do you want to?" Jack asked.

"Do you?" Charley replied.

Neither answered. They both got on the bed and Charley went to work sucking his penis. It wasn't the best blowjob he'd ever had, but she was good. She kept her tongue over her bottom teeth so as not to rake his frenulum. She took his penis out of her mouth with a loud POP occasionally so she could run her broad tongue up and down his shaft.

Charley was kneeling next to his hips, so he slipped a finger along her slit. She was quite wet. It was fortunate she was on his right side since his left arm was pretty useless at the moment. It had stiffened some since he was shot, now it ached like crazy, and the Percocet the EMT had given him hadn't kicked in yet.

She was moaning with her mouth full of his cockhead as he found the opening to her vagina and slipped his finger inside her. When his finger was well and truly wet, he slid it back out and began to rub her nubbin. The more he rubbed, the larger it got and the more she moaned.

Jack could feel the stirrings of his orgasm deep within his bowels. It was spreading through his groin. Charley was feeling hers forming. Her pussy ached, and her breasts felt full, and her nipples tingled like crazy.

She lifted her mouth off of his penis, and said, "If you keep that up I'm gonna cum real soon."

"Likewise," Jack said.

She lay on her back, and Jack sat on his haunches between her legs. He draped them over his thighs and let the bulbous head of his penis rest on her mons.

"How many times have you had sex?" Jack asked.

"Half a dozen," she replied.

"With the same guy?"

"What do you think I am Norris—a slut?" she said indignantly.

"Sorry Charley, I didn't mean it that way. I was trying to figure out if your body had time to adjust to having a cock inside you."

"Oh, okay. It was just the one when I was thirteen. Mom had me fitted with an IUD when she found out I was going steady with this guy. He was seventeen at the time."

"Then he committed statutory rape as you were underage."

"I still am," she reminded him.

"Touché," he replied.

That made it doubly worse for him if anyone found out. Not only would he be out of a job but would move into a jail cell. Too late to back out now he thought—not that he wanted to. Grasping the shaft of his penis, Jack swiped it up and down her very wet and slippery cleft. He was leaking copious amounts of precum, which served to make her trench even more slippery.

The head of Jack's penis rested on her perinea—at the entrance to her vagina. He moved the head around in small circles, dilating the tight ring of skin at her opening—pushing in causing more dilation. With a final push and a slight whimper from Charley's lips, he slipped inside her. Jack left it there, letting her vagina adjust to its giant intrusion.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Gawd you're a lot bigger than my boyfriend, but it feels so good to be stretched so much."

Jack started pushing slowly into her very tight, very wet vagina. He could feel the folds of flesh on the head of his penis, being moved aside. After a good minute, he finally hit her rubbery end—her cervix.

"Gawd that feels good," Charley said. "It's like I have this itch and the end of your cock is scratching it. My boyfriend wasn't as long as you are."

Jack tried to support himself but his left arm was useless, and he didn't want his two hundred pound bulk lying on top of Charley.

"You need to go on top, as I can't use my left arm for support," Jack said.

"I've never done that," Charley replied. "Done the sixty-nine thing though." Jack filed that admission away.

Jack put his arms around Charley, and in one continuous movement, he rolled onto his back clockwise to keep his weight off his wounded left arm. His penis stayed buried deep inside her vagina. Charley's knees were on the mattress either side of his hips, and her hands were palm down on his pectoral muscles.

"I think I like this Norris, it puts me more in control," Charley said.

She started lifting up and lowered herself on Jack's hard shaft, slowly at first as she acclimated to its thickness, then faster. Jack lay there enjoying the sight of Charley's breasts moving up and down as they made love. He could feel the onset of his orgasm deep inside his bowels, spreading through his lower torso.

Charley was enjoying being on top. She had her hands on Jack's muscular pecs, and he was playing with her nipples. She could hardly believe that here she was with the cock of a very sexy, and damn good-looking Englishman buried inside her pussy. He had dashed to rescue her; he was her knight in shining armor. She couldn't wait to tell her best friend all about this exciting evening.

As she moved faster and faster, Charley was getting sensory overload. One part of her brain was getting signals from where Jack was squeezing her nipples, and another part of her brain was getting other signals from her clit and vagina but much more intense. The signals combined into a single intense stabbing pleasure that took her over the top.

"Gaaaawd Norris," she cried. She dropped to his chest. Jack could feel her breasts squashed against his chest and puffs of her hot breath on his neck; she was panting hard. He cupped her compact buttocks in his hands—he could almost span both with one hand. They were firm, and cool, and as sexy as heck.

Charley was moaning, and her body was shaking as she experienced the most intense orgasm of her life. Then Jack climaxed. It hit him unexpectedly. He was sure he was at least another minute away from cumming, but the sheer intensity of penetrating a fifteen-year-old was too much. He felt his cock swell, and the first rope of his pearly-white semen spurted inside Charley's vagina, flooding her with his teeming fluid. He hoped her IUD would do its job.

Four more spurts of cum inside her vagina and Jack was done, empty, sated, happy. Charley's orgasm lasted another minute, small ticks and jerks came and went like aftershocks. Then she was done. She collapsed on top of him, her whole body felt like a bowl of jelly.

She pushed up off his chest and opened her eyes, and said, "Gawd Norris, that was incredible. I think I'm leaking, you spurted so much inside me."

"Lift up and let it run out on me, I can shower so we don't have a wet bed to sleep in, and I intend to go to sleep with you and wake up with you."

"Aww Norris," she said. "Here I was thinking you were a badass, but only to find out you're an incurable romantic."

"Guilty as charged," he replied. "Any idea what time your parents will be back in the morning?"

"They do this charitable gala thing half a dozen times a year. They spend the night at the hotel, and after breakfast, they stop off at South Park mall at ten so Mom can go shopping. So best guess—around three o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Why?"

"I want to revisit your fellatio, that's why."

"My what!?"

"That exquisite blowjob you started but didn't finish."

"Okay Norris, I think you earned it, now let's go and take a shower because I've never showered with a guy before or slept the whole night with one. I'm getting to like these new experiences. What do you think of anal sex?"

Jack groaned and got out of bed. He joined Charley in her shower where they had sex one more time before they both fell into bed totally exhausted.

Chapter Six

Jack was awake before Charley the next morning. He left her sleeping, did his morning ablutions, got dressed, and went downstairs to the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. He moved his left arm on circles, trying to work the stiffness out of it. He was glad that the Percocet had finally kicked in last night. The house phone rang; he picked up the cordless handset.

"Hello," he said.

"Is this Jack Norris?" the voice on the other end said.

"Yes, who's asking?"

"This is detective Emily Nice," the voice said. "I'm the detective assigned to the attempted kidnapping last night."

"Well detective Nice, you're starting with the right attitude, which is more than I can say for that bloody idiot sergeant who was here last night. He all but accused me of murdering those two guys."

"Yeah, I apologize for that. You have to understand he's the sheriff's cousin."

"Nepotism, that explains everything. What can I do for you detective?"

"I'd like to come by this morning and ask a few questions."

"I just started a pot of coffee, would you like to come by now?"

"I'm at the crime scene at the moment, I'll be there in ten minutes, and I'd love a coffee right now," she said and hung up.

"Who was that?" Charley asked as she walked into the kitchen naked. Jack hugged and kissed her. She tasted of mint toothpaste.

"A lady detective who's on her way here. She wants to ask me a few questions. She might want to talk to you, so perhaps you should get dressed."

"You don't like me naked?"

"I do, but the detective might not," Jack replied. He smacked Charley's bare bottom. "Off you go gorgeous, and don't forget, you owe me a blowjob."

"Maybe the lady detective will give you one," Charley replied. She giggled and ran back to the bedroom. Jack watched her buttocks moving seductively. His penis twitched.

"I'll make sure to ask," he shouted after her.

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jack turned off the alarm system and opened the door. Detective Emily Nice was a tall and willowy woman with dusky-blonde hair that was cut short with lighter-blonde streaks. She had pale-blue eyes and an oval face with full very kissable lips and an engaging smile. She was dressed in a light-gray pantsuit over a cream-colored shirt, black open-toed pumps; a light-gray pocketbook was hung over her right shoulder by its thin strap. She had a Beretta APX Compact in its black plastic holster clipped to her belt on her left side near the side of her stomach.

"Thanks for letting me come by," she said as she stepped inside.

She looked around the impressive foyer and followed Jack to the kitchen.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"Please," she replied. "Cream, no sugar."

With a cup of coffee in hand, she sat at the kitchen island and said, "I was called out last night, and got to the crime scene just after ten-thirty."

"Excuse me detective Nice, but why are you referring to it as a crime scene? The crime scene was here at the house—the location of the kidnapping."

"Sorry, Mr. Norris— a force of habit. By the way, are you related to Chuck Norris?"

"Sorry but no I'm not," Jack replied.

"I'm satisfied that you acted in self-defense. We found both weapons, and they were as you described them to the deputy. And we found five 9mm shell casings on the shoulder of the gravel road."

"Which deputy? Surely not the sergeant."

"No, not that idiot. The other deputy. He pulled me aside and told me what you had said. I will, of course, need to get a written statement from you and maybe Miss Barrett as well."

"Miss Jennings," Jack said. "Her name's Charlene Jennings; she's not Mr. Barrett's daughter. Mrs. Barrett is his second wife."

"Oh, alright. My mistake."

"Understandable, and please call me Jack," he said. "So your name is pronounced like the town in France, and not as in 'you've got a nice arse'?"

Emily chuckled and replied, "Yeah, like the town in France, and thanks for the compliment."

Jack smiled. He was beginning to like Emily Nice with a nice ass.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

"Go over the events of last night."

Jack went through what had happened the previous night ending with the shooting.

"May I see your weapon?" she asked.

Jack took the Glock out of its leather pancake holster clipped to the right side of his belt and handed it to her butt first.

"Glock 17," he said. "9mm Parabellum. If you check the magazine, you will find that five hollow-points are missing. The big guy needed three."

She pushed the ambidextrous release button and caught the magazine as it fell out. She examined it, put it back in, and handed the gun back to Jack butt first. He put it back in its holster.

He nodded toward the Beretta on Emily's side, and said, "The APX is a damn fine weapon, but you should get a Glock, they're a better sidearm."

"I agree," the detective said. "I've fired the Glock, but the Beretta is department policy I'm afraid."

"Okay. I see that you cross draw," Jack replied.

"Yes, I like to have it near. I can rest my right hand on my belt buckle. Looks less menacing than putting my right hand on its butt if it's on my right side, and being a cross draw it's available more quickly."

"Good reasoning," Jack said.

"Was the head shot really necessary," she asked.

"I was taught to make sure a threat was taken care of as soon as possible. He didn't go down with two shots to his central mass. I could have emptied the magazine into his body, and even if I hit his heart or a major artery, he could still be left standing. It doesn't take much effort to pull a trigger of a weapon that was still pointed at me. A headshot takes care of all muscle movements."

Detective Nice was quiet for a few moments as if she was digesting what he had just told her. Then she changed the subject and asked, "How's the arm?"

"I've had worse," he replied.

"Yes, I understand you were in the British SAS."

"You know about the SAS?"

"My Dad's English and my Uncle Tony is still in the British Army. He told me stories all about the SAS and the SBS. 'Bunch of badasses' he used to call them."

"Hmm, so you're a fellow Brit?"

"Kinda. I was born here, so I guess I'm half and half—sorta like the creamer. Do you have any theories about the attempted kidnapping?"

"I would start with the security alarm company employees," Jack replied.

Detective Nice had a quizzical expression on her face. "The alarm company employees?" she said.

"Yesterday, I checked all of the alarm sensors and found that two were defective—the side door to the underground garage, and the outside kitchen door. I called the alarm company and informed them about the two sensors, and they promised to send someone 'round today to replace them. It's no coincidence that they chose the kitchen door to break in. They must have been told which one would not set off the alarm."

"Hmm, very interesting," detective Nice said. "But why not the garage door?"

"You can't get into the house from there. The door at the top of the stairs is locked and armed, and the elevator is disabled when the alarm system is armed. The only way you can use it is to enter the alarm system code on the keypad next to the elevator. That's the way you can disarm the system after coming home in a vehicle. You have ten seconds to get out of your vehicle and punch in the four-digit code."

"Wouldn't the security company have the code?" the detective asked. She was admiring Jack's physique and was not concealing the fact that she liked what she saw. Jack smiled inside and wondered if she was married. She wore no wedding band. He tucked that fact away in the back of his mind.

"No, I made sure the code was changed the first day on the job," Jack replied.

At that moment Charley came walking into the kitchen. Jack introduced her to the detective who proceeded to ask her for her side of the story. Detective Nice said that Jack needed to come down to the station to make a written statement. She said that Charley may have to as well but would let them know ahead of time.


"She seemed as though she was happy with what I told her," Charley said after detective Nice had left.

"No reason not to," Jack replied, "it was the truth."

"Okay Norris, back to bed," Charley said.

Charley wasted no time in hoisting her tee-shirt over her head. She was naked underneath, and her breasts jiggled slightly as she ran to the bed. Jack quickly stripped off his clothes and got into bed beside her. She grasped the shaft of his penis and lowered her mouth over the bulbous, helmet-shaped end and started to suck.

Jack watched her cheek indent as she sucked just his cockhead. Her right hand was stroking the shaft, and her other hand cradled his testicles. He lay back with one arm behind his head, his other was tweaking her nipples. They started to grow as he played with them. He looked at her areolas and noticed that they too had gotten larger with her arousal.

She glanced sideways at him and said, "Am I doing it right Norris?"

"Bloody right you are," Jack said.

Charley continued both sucking and stroking his rock hard penis. She now had about half of the length of his cock inside her mouth. Jack could feel its end against the back of her mouth. He felt his ball sack tighten, drawing his balls up against his body. The nice warm, sensual feeling started to spread throughout his nether regions. It was apparent to Jack that she had performed fellatio before, and he wondered if she'd let him cum in her mouth. That triggered the question of would she swallow if she did let him unload into her mouth.

Jack's question was answered five minutes later. He felt his cock swell as did Charley. She started to lift her head up. Jack's disappointment that she wasn't going to let him cum in her mouth lasted only three seconds; she left the end inside her mouth and clamped her lips around the underside of his cockhead.

"Charley baby," Jack cried as the first spurt of cum blasted the back of her throat, then a second, then a third, then he was done. Charley had taken the whole load of his cum inside her mouth. She lifted her mouth off his cock, clamped her lips together and swallowed twice.

She licked her lips, smiled, and said, "Mmm, yummy. I let my boyfriend come in my mouth one time. I didn't like the taste, so I never let him do it again."

"So how did you know my semen wasn't going to taste any better?"

"I didn't. But you'll never know how warm the lake is until you dip your toe in it."

"I'm glad you liked the taste. It's the second best thing to intercourse, and not many women will perform oral sex."

"You wanna perform some more magic with your tongue Norris?" she asked.

Just that second the doorbell rang. Jack quickly got dressed, clipped his gun and holster to his belt, and left a very unhappy Charley lying on the bed. Jack checked who it was through the front door's sidelights. It was the alarm company technician.

Chapter Seven

At three o'clock Jack heard the car pull into the underground garage. A few minutes later the elevator doors slid open, and Megan came out followed by her husband, David. Tiny was last carrying three shopping bags. He immediately took them to the master suite. When he returned, Jack was just getting started telling the Barretts all about the attempted kidnapping.

"What!?" David Barrett said.

"The two guys were walking across the rear lawn. The bigger of the two had Charley over his shoulder."

"My God!" Megan said with her hand over her open mouth.

"I figured they had to have parked their vehicle somewhere," Jack said, "and the turnoff for the water tower was the logical spot, so I outflanked them and got there before them."

"Then what happened?" David asked.

"I got the big guy to put Charley down, and she came around to the side of the car where I was standing with my gun trained on them. As I walked around the front of their vehicle, I saw that the big guy had a revolver."

"They had guns!?" Megan said.

"The big guy fired and his bullet went through my left arm."

"Oh my God Jack, was it a bad wound?" Megan asked with real concern in her voice.

"I've had worse. I managed to turn away, and it just nicked a muscle that's all. I managed to take the big guy down with three shots. The smaller guy had his gun out by now, but I took him out with two shots. They were pretty amateurish if you asked me."

"Good God Jack, you could have gotten yourself killed," Megan said.

"Just doing my job Mrs. Barrett," Jack said.

Megan put her arms around him and hugged him. "Thanks for saving my daughter," she said. "I'm forever in your debt."

David Barrett shook Jack's hand. "Thanks, Jack, you did well. I knew I'd hired the right guy for the job. Chet, the guy you replaced, would have been sound asleep while this was happening."

"You're welcome sir," Jack replied.

Chapter Eight

Two days later David Barrett said he had to leave on a business trip for three days, and that he had to leave the next morning. It was the first time he had been away from the house since the attempted kidnapping. He told Jack to stay since Tiny would drive him and provide security. Jack thought the attempted kidnapping had rattled David which is why he wanted Jack to stay. David and Tiny left just before nine o'clock the next morning.

At nine-thirty Megan Barrett came out of the master suite in an emerald-green string bikini. Jack was in the kitchen eating toast and marmalade and drinking a cup of Typhoo tea. He had on a white, sleeveless, crew-cut tee-shirt and a pair of dark-blue cargo shorts.

Jack admired her body as she walked into the kitchen. She saw him checking her out and smiled at him and said, "You can use the pool today if you want."

Staff was not allowed to use either the pool in the basement or the outdoor one without permission, and according to Tiny, permission was rarely granted.

"Thank you, Mrs. Barrett," Jack replied.

"You can call me Megan when my husband or the staff are not present if you want."

"Okay, thanks Mrs. . . . I mean Megan."

Jack watched Megan walk through the great room, out of the French doors to the terrace that was next to the pool. He admired the way her cheeks moved in counterpoint inside the thin cotton of her bikini bottoms. The crack of her butt was visible underneath the material. His cock swelled a little; he liked what he saw. Then he sighed deeply as he realized she was his boss's wife—off limits big time. But there again so was Charley. He went back to his quarters in the staff annex and replaced his boxers with a pair of speedos.

After putting his cargo pants back on, Jack returned to the main house and out to the terrace. Megan was reclining on a chaise lounge that was covered with a large beach towel; the back of the chaise was raised some, and she was reading a book. She had on an oversized pair of sunglasses. It was apparent she had put sunscreen on as her whole body glistened in the mid-morning sunlight. He wondered if part of his job description involved putting sunscreen on the boss's wife. He thought not, but the thought was nice nonetheless.

Jack sat in a chair at the table next to Megan. The table was made of teak, and it was maybe four feet in diameter and had a large umbrella in the center. His fair Northern European skin would burn too easily—sunscreen or not.

Megan put her book in her lap and turned to him and said, "Charley really likes you—she may even have a crush on you. And I can't really blame her, after all, you are tall and handsome, and you have that British accent. The fact that you rescued her like a damsel in distress certainly helps."

"I'm flattered. She's a beautiful young woman, just like her mother. The two of you could be twin sisters."

"Thank you, Jack. I don't get any compliments from my husband anymore, so yours are most certainly welcome. But be careful when you give them."

"Understood. Did she tell you that she beat me at Scrabble?"

"Yes, she did. She said you cheated with a word. It was gamine. I had to look it up. A diminutive or very slender girl, especially one who is pert, impudent, or playfully mischievous. I think that describes my daughter rather well don't you think?"

"That's what I told her."

"She's off limits you know?"

That last comment startled Jack. "I would never . . . I mean she's only fifteen, and she's my employer's daughter," he said trying to sound convincing.

"I might get jealous though," she said casually, "but my husband is not a very forgiving kind of man, and although Charley's not his daughter, he's very protective of her. And Charley is very tenacious. If she makes up her mind to get something she doesn't let up until she has it. Don't get me wrong, she's a very caring person, but I remember what it was like when I was her age. I had a big crush on the single guy who lived next door, but he wasn't interested. I guess he was afraid of being labeled a pedophile."

Megan went back to reading her book, and Jack wondered if she had an inkling that he and her daughter were already having sex. Since that first time after the attempted kidnapping, Jack and Charley had managed to get away for a few hours on a couple of occasions. Charley would tell her mother she was going shopping. They would swing by the mall so Charley could buy something and then spend an hour or two in a hotel room exploring each other's bodies.

A few minutes later Jack took his Oakleys off and laid them on the teak tabletop, turned to Megan and spoke, "Can I ask a personal question, Megan?"

"You can, and I may or may not give you an answer."

"I know I've only been here a few weeks, but I'm a good read of people's frame of mind. I don't want to be out of line here, but you and Mr. Barrett don't seem to be—how can I put it, a happy couple."

Megan put her book down once more, took her Ray-Bans off, and turned to look at him. Her gorgeous azure-blue eyes seemed to show a certain sadness.

"Do you know what a trophy wife is?" she asked.

"Yes I do," Jack replied.

"Charley is not David's daughter. When I was in my early twenties, I was a successful model—not as well-known or as successful as the ones who grace the covers of the high-end fashion magazines. Most of the work I did was being photographed modeling clothing and swimsuits for catalogs, and mass mailings.

"It was good steady work and paid reasonably well. Then I had a brief affair with a photographer—a well-known and well-married photographer. I got pregnant with Charley which didn't put a complete stop to my career since there was still a need for photographs of models wearing maternity clothes.

"I had enough money saved up to work part-time and raise Charley. Then I met David. It was a charity event, and I was wearing expensive clothes. The men would bid for a date with us women. It was all above board—nothing shady. David outbid the others for me, and as they say, the rest is history."

"That's an interesting story. Did you marry for love?"

"Yes and no. David can be very charming when he wants to be, and he swept me off my feet with expensive jewelry, exotic vacations. I guess if I was brutally honest with myself, I saw a way to raise my daughter in an environment better than the one I had. You see my Mom was an office cleaner and my father was drunk most of the time. When he wasn't, he was abusive toward Mom and me.

"He sexually assaulted me one time when I was Charley's age. He tried to rape me, but I managed to get away. I packed my case that night, left and never looked back. I was fortunate that a photographer saw me in a shopping mall a few days later since I had been sleeping rough. He approached me and asked if I wanted to do modeling work. I was naïve I guess. You have to understand I was only fifteen."

Jack nodded.

"It wasn't what I expected. He offered me two hundred dollars to pose nude. I wasn't like Charley is now. I mean she looks her age whereas I wasn't as well developed. I looked to be about twelve years old—you know no breasts, no curved hips. I guess he wanted to take photos of a girl looking like she was eleven or twelve years old."

She stopped talking. Then she said, "God I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I've never told anyone before."

Jack didn't say anything but put his hand over hers.

Megan carried on. "I didn't realize at the time that the photos he was taking were considered child pornography. I guess there's a market out there. Guys like to jerk off to pictures of little naked girls. The first ones he took were just that—photos of me posing naked. Then he started offering me more money to pose more provocatively—you know showing my pussy—spreading my lips.

"I needed the money to survive. As it was, I was sharing a small apartment with an older girl I'd met. We split the rent and utilities fifty-fifty. Then one day, an older boy was at the photographer's studio. I was sixteen at the time and had filled out some, so I looked to be about thirteen. I guessed the boy was around seventeen. The photographer asked me to perform some acts on him, and I'm letting you figure out what they were.

"Two months later, the local mall was holding a modeling competition. It was open to girls over the age of sixteen. I was fortunate to have taken my birth certificate with me since they needed proof of age. I won and was immediately signed to a contract with an agency. After that things got easier. The woman who ran the agency heard that I had run away from home, and was sharing a dingy apartment in a not very nice side of town, so gave me a place to stay."

"Wow Megan, you've had a tough childhood."

"Tell me about it. Now you know why I married David, and no, I don't love him anymore. That went away years ago. He's happy to have me hang on his arm at the charity events, or cocktail parties, or at dinner with potential clients. I think he should declare me as an asset on the company books."

Megan went back to reading her book. Jack stood and tugged his cargo shorts off and jumped in the pool. He swam a few laps then climbed out. He was toweling off as he noticed Megan looking at his body through the anonymity of her Ray-Bans. He figured she liked what she saw since it wasn't just a passing glance.

Chapter Nine

Later that evening, Megan got up from the couch. Charley had already gone to bed. Megan called Jack's quarters on the house phone.

"Everything okay Megan," Jack said.

"Yes, everything's fine. Can you check in on me later, and make sure I'm okay. I mean that's your job—right? I'll be in bed," Megan replied. She didn't wait for a reply and hung up the phone.

Megan went to her suite and left the door partially open. She waited to see if Jack would come. The hint was subtle, but Jack's a smart guy, and she really wanted to fuck him. But she knew it was a risk since Jack was her husband's employee, and she didn't know how much he wanted her. She had seen him checking her out at the pool that afternoon.

Jack sat in his room for a good fifteen minutes debating whether to take Megan up on her subtle offer. Did he want to make love to her? Damn right he did. He weighed the downside against of a night in her bed. What could his boss do if he found out? The worst was to fire him. After all, this wasn't the guy's underage step-daughter so there would be no police involved. He decided it was worth his job.

Jack took a quick shower, threw on a pair of shorts and a Carolina Panthers tee-shirt, no underwear. He went to the main house, pushed Megan's bedroom door open, stepped inside and shut and locked it behind him. Megan was lying in bed with her head propped up on two pillows. The sheet covered her to her waist. She wasn't wearing any pajamas.

Jack quickly shed his clothes and slipped under the covers. Megan had left the bedside lamp on, so he lay there propped up on his elbow admiring her breasts. He reached over and cupped one in his hand. It was nowhere near a handful since he had large hands, and it would have taken a DD cup-sized breast to fill it. He felt her turgid nipple in his palm. She was trembling.

"I didn't know if you'd come. I saw you checking me out at the pool."

"You have a gorgeous body, Megan. That day I saw you getting ready for the gala night, I knew I had to have you, but I didn't risk making the first move. And I saw you checking me out today as well."

"You're a very handsome man Jack, and any woman would be happy to share your bed. My husband hasn't made love to me in quite a while, and I have needs. So you can expect a tiger in this bed tonight."

Megan took his hand, brought it to her mouth and kissed each knuckle in turn. She felt the hard welt of an old scar that ran across the heel of his left hand from almost where it joined the wrist to the base of his index finger.

She looked at him and said, "How did you get cut?"

"That was from a scuffle in a bar in Fayetteville North Carolina. I was at Fort Bragg for some joint exercises with Delta Force. Some local wannabe wanted to let his mates see what a hard arse he was by beating up a SAS squaddie. But he didn't want to fight fair, so he pulled out a switchblade. He cut me as I grabbed the blade and twisted it out of his grip. He spent the next three weeks in the local hospital."

"You grabbed the blade!?"

"Yes, they don't expect you to do that, and the handle isn't like a sidearm; it doesn't have checkered grips, so it's easy to pull out of their grip because they're usually sweating some. Since there are no major arteries in the palm, it's better to be cut there than anywhere else."

"And this?" she said. She rubbed her index finger around a small circular indent in Jack's left pectoral muscle. It was about 9mm in diameter.

"That was one where I almost bought the farm. My squad was on a top-secret mission deep inside a country where we weren't supposed to be in. We were surprised by a couple of the country's military police. One of them got a shot off before we could take them out. I got lucky, the 9mm slug hit the webbing of my backpack before it got to me. My medic had to dig it out while I held a flashlight."

She touched the two still inflamed round scars on his left arm. "You lead a charmed life Jack Norris and an interesting and adventurous one as well," Megan said. "And I need to reward you for saving my daughter from those men. If they had succeeded and a ransom paid, who knows what they would have done to her while they had her."

"We going to spend all night while you explore my many scars or am I going to explore your gorgeous body?"

She pulled Jack's mouth down onto hers, and they started a long, electrifying passionate kiss that lasted a good three minutes. About halfway through, her hand found his hard member under the sheet and proceeded to stroke it.

"You're cock's fat," she said after they broke their kiss, and had gulped in lungfuls of air. "And I'm not very big."

"You've had a baby," he replied.

Megan took his hand and guided it to her flat tummy. She took his finger and traced the small scar from left to right.

"I had a C-section," she said. I was too small to deliver vaginally."

"You got any K-Y?"

"Of course," she replied.

Jack shuffled down between Megan's legs and inhaled the aroma of her sex. It was a musky smell that almost made him light-headed. She tasted even better, and he lapped at the creamy liquid that was leaking out of her vagina. He found the little nub of her clitoris and teased it out of its hood with the tip of his tongue.

As he worked on her clit, he inserted one finger into her vagina followed by two, then a third. She was indeed small, but he was sure she could stretch enough to allow him to penetrate her. If he could penetrate her fifteen-year-old daughter with relative ease, he was sure he could penetrate her.

Megan was breathing hard, it was fast—panting almost as Jack ministered to her clit while he finger fucked her. Then she climaxed. Her back arched, her butt came off the bed, and she stopped breathing for what seemed to Jack like an eternity. Then she dropped back to the mattress and started shaking and jerking all the while crying out.

"Oh God Jack, oh God, oh God."

She had his head clamped between her slender thighs; his nose was pushed into the small blonde bush of her pubes. Finally, she began to calm. Her raspy breathing settled to a steady but heavy pant. Small jerks in her body came and went, and finally, she released his head. Jack lay there with his head resting on her tummy and his right hand on her thigh.

At last, she spoke. "That was one of the most intense orgasms I've ever had. I don't get orgasms with David, I have to fake them. He's usually in and out in less than two minutes. All he wants to do is pump his cum inside me hoping he'd get me pregnant. What he doesn't know is that I was told that I can't have any more children after I had Charley—not that I would want his child anyway."

He kissed her soft lips and said, "You ready to make love?"

"It's been quite a few years since I've been made love to," she replied. She reached over and opened the drawer in the bedside table, and retrieved a well-used tube of K-Y gel. She handed it to him. "Be gentle with me," she said.

Jack got back between her legs, and sat on his heels; he draped her slim calves over his muscular thighs and swiped his cockhead up and down her very wet cleft. Her labia, red and plump oozed aside. After removing the cap, he squeezed a generous dollop of the gel on the end of his cock and dropped the tube and cap on the floor.

After smearing the gel, all over his cockhead. Jack wiped his hand on the sheet and guided the bulbous end toward the small red opening of her vagina. He moved his cockhead in small circles at her opening, gradually pushing in, stretching the tight ring of skin. It took a few minutes, but he was rewarded as she finally dilated enough to admit him. Megan was tight alright—as tight as a virgin he had once had sex with—tighter even than her daughter Charley.

He slowly pushed in and withdrew a little, pushed in and withdrew a little, pushed in and withdrew a little. Finally, after another few minutes he had bottomed out, the end of his cock had bumped her cervix.

She put her hand to his cheek and smiled at him, and said, "Thanks Jack for being so gentle. David's not as big as you are but sex with him is still uncomfortable—not that we've had much lately. It seems as if he gets his highs from his business deals, and he's had a few recently."

Jack rested for a few moments, letting her vagina adjust to its new intrusion. Then he began thrusting in and out of Megan's vagina, faster than before and a little harder. She had acclimated to the size of his penis and was still tight but not so much as when he first penetrated her.

"Yes that's it, Jack," she moaned as he bottomed out, bumping her cervix causing little "uhs" to escape her lips. Jack was squeezing her breasts, and tweaking her nipples. Unlike her daughter, Megan had regular flat areolas, but they had darkened from breastfeeding, and never regained their pre-pregnancy pink color. They were about the size of a half-dollar with tiny, tiny bumps scattered randomly. Her nipples were large and turgid.

Jack was near his climax as Megan strode toward hers. He backed off a little, drawing himself back from the edge of his orgasm and waited for Megan to have hers. He didn't have to wait long.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she cried as she tumbled into an orgasm more intense than the last one.

She was thrashing around on the bed, and Jack dropped on top of her, put his hands on her toned buttocks, squeezed them, and humped her faster. Jack turned his orgasm loose, his cock swelled and spasmed as the first load of his thick pearly-white cum jetted into Megan's vagina. He unloaded more of his teeming fluid inside her womb until he was spent.

They both were breathing hard; sweat clung to their chests and pubes—trapped between their heaving bodies. Jack let go of her exquisite buttocks and pushed himself up, feeling the cool air begin to evaporate his sweaty front. He looked down into her gorgeous azure-blue eyes. She had a look of love on her face.

Megan reached up, stroked his cheek and said, "I wish I had met you years ago Jack Norris."

Her mien and words should have told him that things were starting to get out of hand. He should have seen what he was getting into. She was a married woman. Her husband was wealthy and ruthless. She had a daughter who he was having sex with. He had been trained to see the pitfalls of any course of action he might take.

But he ignored them anyway and wondered what his life would be like if he gave up bachelorhood and settled down. He still wasn't entirely convinced that was what he wanted, and she was a married woman. His penis was softening; she tried to keep it inside her, but Megan's tightening vaginal muscles expelled it instead. She quickly cupped her pussy and got out of bed.

Jack heard the bidet running. A few minutes later, she came back out of the bathroom wearing a pair of royal blue, bikini-cut silk panties. They coddled her plump vulva nicely. Megan got back into bed and snuggled up to him. She put her leg over his and her hand on his chest. She rubbed around the old 9mm bullet wound.

"I had to go and clean up," she said at length. "Wouldn't want the maid to find semen in the bed with my husband a hundred miles away."

"How can this work?" Jack asked.

"David goes away a lot on business, but we have to be careful just like you are with Charley."

That sent a chill through his body, and Megan felt him stiffen up.

"Jack, you underestimate a mother's intuition."

"But . . . how?"

"When my daughter goes shopping for clothes she doesn't come back with one bag containing a couple of bras or panties or one pair of shoes. Even if she did just buy those, she wouldn't take three hours over it, that's for sure."

She leaned up and kissed his mouth. "Don't worry Jack, I'm not the jealous type, and I'm glad it's you and not some kid from her school. The one boy she got serious with was okay but immature. There was no way he was ever going to keep up with Charley."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. They lay in each other's arms and fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Ten

The next day, a Monday, Jack dropped Charley off at the private academy she attended and returned home. He had just gotten out of the elevator when he got a call from detective Emily Nice on his iPhone.

"Could you come down to the station and give me a written statement?" she said after introducing herself.

"Sure," Jack replied. "What time?"

"How about eleven?" she asked.

"See you at eleven," Jack replied. "Do I need to bring Miss Jennings because she's at school right now?"

"No, I don't think we need her statement, yours alone will be sufficient."

"Okay," Jack said.

"I'm looking forward to it," Emily Nice said. Jack thought that last comment somewhat unusual, but he was intrigued.

Jack left Tiny in charge of security and climbed into his Atomic Silver Lexus LC that was parked in the underground garage. The LC was Lexus's top of the line coupe with a 471 HP V8 under the hood. The short drive to Fort Mill where the state police had a regional office didn't take long. He pulled into the parking deck and slotted the Lexus into a bay marked POLICE VISITORS. Inside the reception area, he asked for detective Emily Nice. He told the older woman receptionist that she was expecting him.

A few moments later, Emily Nice came through a door behind the reception desk and strode over to greet him. She was wearing a medium gray pantsuit over an emerald-green silk blouse with a string of pearls around her neck.

She stuck out her hand, smiled and said, "Thanks for coming by."

"No problem," Jack said. He followed her back through the same door she had passed through a few moments before. Emily walked like a model, one foot partially in front of the other. The clack of her heels on the stained concrete floor echoed down the hallway.

She stopped at the third door on the right. The nameplate that was slid into its holder said:


Jack followed her into her office. It was a ten-foot-square room with a desk, three chairs—one on casters, two tall light-gray filing cabinets, and a credenza. There were three framed photographs on the credenza. One showed Emily receiving her diploma at the police academy, a second showed her standing between two men; one was wearing a British Army uniform with a single crown on both shoulders indicating the rank of Major. Jack assumed the men were her father and uncle. The last photograph was of Emily standing next to a horse, there were a stone farmhouse and a barn in the background.

"Please sit," Emily said.

Jack sat in one of the guest chairs; Emily turned on a small recording device, and said, "Please describe in your own words what happened Saturday night the sixth of June at the Barrett residence. Jack spent the next thirty minutes explaining what happened. When he was done, Emily turned it off and stood up.

"I'll give this to an assistant to type up for you to read and sign. In the meantime can I buy you lunch?"

Jack had never turned down a meal with a beautiful woman so he replied, "I'd love to. I'll drive."

Jack held the Lexus's passenger door open for Emily to get in. He got in the driver's side and stabbed the button to start the big V8.

"Gorgeous car," she said.

"Thanks," Jack replied. "Where to?"

"Take a left out of the parking deck."

Emily gave him turn instructions, and ten minutes later they were parked in the lot of a small Italian bistro. The maître d' seated them at a table for two.

"Tell me about yourself Jack," Emily said after the waiter had taken their lunch order; a tuna melt for Jack, and a small bowl of lentil soup and a garden salad for Emily.

"What do you want to know?" Jack asked.

"Tell me about what you did in the SAS."

"If I did, I'd have to kill you, and I make it a habit not to kill beautiful women."

Emily laughed and replied, "So I guess your missions were hush-hush."

"There were no missions, they never existed, and I was never there," Jack said.

"A man of mystery. I like that, I like that very much. What are the Barretts like?

"Mr. Barrett is a very wealthy businessman. Mrs. Barrett is his second wife, and Charlene is Mrs. Barrett's daughter by a previous marriage."

"Do you know what happened to the first Mrs. Barrett?" Emily asked.

"No I don't, and I never asked as it was none of my business."

"Well I do," Emily said. Now Jack's interest was definitely piqued. "I did some digging and found out that she was kidnapped for a five million dollar ransom. The FBI was involved, and it went pear-shaped. They were watching the location where the money was to be dropped. A man drove up in a panel van and picked up the bag containing the money that was sitting out of sight behind a low stone wall.

"The agents stopped the van, but it turned out he wasn't the kidnapper. He somehow had stumbled on what was going on—the FBI seemed to think he was some sort of acquaintance of the kidnapper and saw an opportunity to get rich. Mrs. Barrett's body was discovered three days later with her throat cut. The kidnapper was never found. Mr. Barrett blamed the FBI."

"Wow!" Jack said. "What a tragedy."

They ate lunch with lots of small talk, Emily told Jack that she was not married and was not currently dating anyone; two unsolicited statements that Jack found interesting. She said she had a horse that she kept at her parent's place. Jack remembered the photograph on her credenza. She said she lived in an apartment on the south side of Charlotte. When lunch was over, Emily paid the bill, and Jack drove back to her office. He read the statement and signed it. Emily witnessed it. After escorting him back to the lobby, she shook his hand.

"Can I buy you dinner one evening Emily?" Jack said.

"That would be nice," Emily replied.

"How about next Saturday? I get every other weekend off. I alternate with Tiny. He technically reports to me, but he's a good guy— ex-army."

"I'm free," she replied. "I'll text you my address."

"Okay, how about seven o'clock?"

"Seven it is."

Jack had dinner with Emily on that Saturday evening. They had lunch on the following Wednesday, and then again the next Friday. He really wanted to sleep with her but decided to take it easy. He liked Emily a lot. They loved the same food, the same movies, and he was starting to have feelings for her. But she was guarded, and he guessed that maybe she'd had some bad relationships, so he decided to let her make the first move. He was on duty the next weekend but asked her if she would have dinner with him the following Saturday which was his next weekend off.

The strange thing was, Jack had a couple of opportunities to have sex with Megan but didn't. He wasn't sure if it was because he was starting to have feelings toward Emily or not. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to both women, and sex with Megan was great. But a relationship with Emily was going to be miles less complicated than one with Megan. Emily was also ten years younger than Megan—closer to Jack's age.

"I'll go one better," Emily replied. "I'll cook dinner for us if you like."

"You sure Emily? I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's no inconvenience since I love to cook."

"Saturday it is then."

I'm looking forward to it," she said.

"Me too."

Chapter Eleven

Saturday evening, Jack drove to Emily's apartment complex on the south side of the Queen City and parked in the underground garage in a bay marked with her apartment number. There were two bays assigned to her apartment, and the other one contained her Honda Accord. He punched in the four-digit code she'd texted him, and entered the elevator.

Emily greeted him at the door of her apartment. She was dressed in emerald-green capris and a white, silk, sleeveless blouse under an apron that had red and green stains on the front. Her short blonde hair looked as if it had been recently styled, and she had a trace of makeup. Jack caught a whiff of her perfume. He thought she looked stunning.

She kissed him lightly on his cheek, and said, "Hey Jack, come on in."

Jack was carrying two bottles of wine—a Pinot Noir and a Chardonnay. He held them up and said, "I didn't know which to bring so I got both," he said.

"The red is for dinner, but we can sip the Chardonnay while the roast cooks;" she said. "Should be about another hour."

Jack followed her through the spacious living/dining room, furnished in modern but comfortable looking furniture, and into the kitchen.

"Corkscrew's in the top right-hand drawer," she said nodding toward the kitchen island. "Wine glasses are in the wall cabinet.

Jack opened the Pinot to let it breathe, and took two wine glasses out of the glass-fronted wall cabinet illuminated with two, small recessed spots. He opened the Chardonnay and half-filled two glasses. He handed one to Emily and stood with his butt against the island's jet-black granite top.

"Smells wonderful," he said. He sipped his wine and admired Emily's rear as she prepared two salads. The apron didn't cover her rear, and the capris clung to her twin buttocks as if the material had been painted on. Jack was usually a breasts man—small preferably. But Emily's ass was stupendous. He was glad of his loose pants.

Emily took the two salad plates and put them on the dining room table. Jack was still leaning, against the island when she came back into the kitchen.

She stood in front of him and said, "I've wanted to do something ever since I met you, but I wasn't sure you felt the same way."

"And what's that," Jack replied.

Emily put her arms around his neck, pulled herself up on her toes, and kissed him hard on his mouth. She was tall at five nine, but Jack was six-three, and she had to stretch to kiss him. Jack put his hands around her waist, and as they kissed he let them slide lower until he was cupping her firm cheeks through the thin material of her capris. He couldn't feel any underwear seams under her buttocks; he surmised she was either wearing a thong or no underpants at all. The latter caused his cock to twitch.

She felt it and said, "I'm wearing a thong if that's what you were pondering."

"You're a first-class detective Emily Nice, with a nice first class arse."

She laughed. "Thanks and you ain't too shabby yourself," she replied squeezing his buttock.


Dinner of pot roast, fingerling potatoes, green pole beans was delicious. They washed it down with glasses of a well aged Pinot. Jack was sat on one cushion of a two seat sofa, and Emily on the other. She was leaning her head on Jack's chest. They were watching television but weren't watching what was on.

"This is nice," Emily said.

"Hmmm," Jack replied.

"How long were you in the SAS?"

"Seven years."

"You see a lot of action?"

"My fair share."

"You got souvenirs?"

"You mean like captured knives and such." Jack knew what she was referring to and it wasn't knives.

"You know what I mean. My uncle always used to say that every scar, every knot, every broken bone was a souvenir from some action or other."

"I've got some, but less than the other guys'."

"Can I see them?"

"It would mean I have to take my clothes off."

"How many? All of them?"

"Well, I've not got scars on my feet. I have pretty good boots so I guess my socks could stay on."

"How about you Emily? You got any scars?"

"It would mean I would have to remove my clothes."

"You shy?"


"Neither am I. Which way to your bedroom?"

"You good at following?"

"Lead the way detective and let's find out."

Emily giggled, got up and headed for her bedroom. Jack was half a step behind. Undressing wasn't like it was in the movies where the two characters tear their clothes off on the way to the bedroom dropping items of clothing like breadcrumbs for someone to follow. Jack and Emily removed their clothes in a tit for tat situation. Jack pulled his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoned it slowly then removed it and dropped it on a chair. Emily did the same with her blouse. Emily was wearing a satin, sky-blue, B-cup bra that created a very sexy cleavage. It was small; it barely covered her nipples.

Jack unbuckled his belt and dropped it on the chair. He stood there. "Your turn," he said.

"No," she replied, "a belt is not an item of clothing."

"Who says?"

"I say," she replied. She stood there with her arms folded against her breasts, causing them to spill over the bra cups.

Jack gave a good-natured sigh and unzipped his pants. He dropped them to his ankles, stepped out of them, picked them up and dropped them on top of his shirt. Emily couldn't wrench her eyes off his tented boxers, or the wet spot caused by leaking precum.

Emily pulled down the side zipper of her capris and removed them—well it was more like she peeled them off her body. Jack's gaze was locked on her thong. The small triangle of sky-blue satiny material covered the prominent delta-shaped pad of her mons. The cotton gusset of the thong hugged her plump vulva—a two finger wide gap at the top of her slender tapered legs.

Jack grabbed the hem of his undershirt, crossed his arms, and hoisted it over his head. The narrow neck opening snagged on his chin. He finally pulled it loose and tossed it on top of his pants. He stood there admiring Emily's body dressed in just her matching sky-blue underwear. Her body looked toned as if she worked out at the gym, which she told him later that she did. He could see her breasts moving with her breathing which was by now a few breaths higher than normal. She was stunningly beautiful, Jack thought—perhaps even more beautiful than Megan Barrett, and that was saying something.

At last, she put her hand behind her back, unhooked her bra, and let it fall off her arms. Now Jack couldn't tear his eyes off her breasts. They were perfect orbs, the size of half-oranges, spaced close together, barely touching; they rode high on her chest. Her areolas were not really puffed—they were small mounds at the centers of her breasts, the size of half-dollars. They had already changed from a light brown to a darker brown with her intense arousal, and her brown nipples were the largest of any woman he'd had sex with. They were the size of pencil top erasers, and they stood proud dead center of each areola. They were the most beautiful breasts Jack had ever seen.

"Good lord Emily, you've got the most beautiful tits I've ever seen."

"Thanks, Jack," Emily replied. She squashed her breasts and pinched her nipples. She saw his penis twitch inside his boxers.

Emily waited in anticipation of the last of Jack's clothes to come off. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his striped cotton boxers and tugged them down. Emily gasped as his erection sprung to attention as his underwear cleared his hips; gravity took over, and they fell to his ankles. He picked them up and tossed them onto the chair that held the rest of his clothes.

"Now that is the most beautiful and," she gulped, "the fattest cock I've ever seen. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it."

"Oh, I think you'll find someplace to put it," he replied.

That comment caused Emily to have a fit of giggling. Jack watched as her breasts jiggled just a little, they were that firm.

After a few moments, she removed her thong. Jack was surprised to see that her mons was entirely bald. He didn't see stubble or razor burn, so he assumed she had that wax treatment. Jack's preference was for mons covered in sparse hair, but smooth was even better. He had never been a fan of big hairy pubes, they got in the way, and he didn't like stray hairs getting in his mouth. Her light-brown inner labia hung down a good inch from between her plump outer labia in the two-finger gap at the top of her slender thighs.

They both stood there admiring each other's naked body. Jack was muscular at six feet three; Emily was a lithesome, willowy five foot nine, and he looked huge next to her. Emily had always gravitated toward tall, muscular men much like her father and uncle. She liked Jack; in fact, she had taken a liking to him a second after they had met. The bandage around his left bicep told her he was not afraid, and even though at five-nine and a hundred and twenty pounds she could take care of herself, she felt protected by him.

Emily had dated dozens of guys. First boys when she turned twelve years old, then college jocks, and then men older and younger than herself. She had lost her virginity when she was fifteen, and she enjoyed sex immensely. She knew Jack was twenty-seven years old and wondered if he was finally the one. They were going to make love, and she hoped they would be compatible since she had dumped a couple of guys because there was no chemistry between them in bed.

Emily walked toward Jack, put her hands behind his head, pulled herself up and kissed him. Jack wrapped his arms around her small frame and kissed her back—hard. Her breasts were squashed against his muscular pecs, and his penis was trapped
between their stomachs.

Their kiss was urgent—fueled by the sexual tension that had been building since she first kissed him in the kitchen. Jack broke their kiss, panting, gulping in air. He could feel Emily's heart thumping in her chest. She looked up at him with her gorgeous pale-blue eyes.

"I need you inside me so bad right now I think I might die if you don't," she said, and she said it as if she meant it.

Jack knew that this was going to be just raw sex, and he was okay with that. There would be other times when they could linger, and explore and enjoy each other's bodies; when they could lie in each other's arms and listen to stories of their life. But right now, right here Emily needed Jack's penis inside her.

Jack swooped Emily up in his arms, carried her like she weighed no more than a feather to her bed, and laid her down on her back. He quickly got between her legs; she put her long slender legs around his waist and locked her ankles at the small of his back. The action caused the head of his penis to rest on her prominent hairless mons.

Emily placed two fingers on his cockhead and pressed it, forcing it down into her very wet channel. It raked across her exposed clit causing a bolt of pleasure to shoot inside her body. Her pussy ached, and her turgid nipples tingled. She was as aroused as she had ever been before.

Emily kept pushing until Jack's bulbous cockhead was at the entrance to her vagina. She curled her groin up as Jack thrust, and he penetrated her, sliding all the way in with a single thrust.

"Oh God," was all Emily cried, as the end of Jack's cock hit the end of her vagina. It had hurt a little as he penetrated her—something that she expected. But now he was inside her, it felt so good to be stretched so much.

Then things got crazy. Emily pulled Jack down on top of her. Her arms were around his shoulders pulling his weight onto her small frame. Jack thought he was going to crush her, so he rested most of his two hundred and twenty pounds on his forearms, his hands held her shoulder blades.

"Fuck me, Jack, fuck me hard," she said.

Jack started moving his hips, thrusting in and out of Emily's snug pussy as she curled her groin up against his inward thrusts. They were like a couple of animals in heat as they fucked each other for five then ten minutes. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin and squelching noises as a wet cock plunged into a wet pussy.

"Stop, stop, stop," Emily said with a panted breath. Her heart was beating in her chest. "This is so intense, I need to catch my breath."

Emily lay there with Jack's penis buried deep inside her, feeling it pulse like a separate entity. She squeezed her vaginal muscles clamping tight around his shaft.

"I need to be on top," she said.

Jack obliged by putting his arms around her waist and rolling onto his back; their sexual union stayed intact. Now she was kneeling either side of his hips, her plump outer labia hugged the shaft of his penis, and her thinner inner labia and clitoral sheath gave it a second embrace.

Emily placed her hands flat on Jack's pectoral muscles and started to scrub back and forth, slow at first, then faster. Her largish white clitoris dipped and kissed his shaft as she moved forward sending shards of pleasure into her pussy.

Even though the air conditioning was running since it was June in the Carolinas, sweat was gleaming on Emily's breasts as they moved back and forth as she scrubbed herself on Jack's penis. Jack reached up and squeezed each breast and tweaked her turgid nipples. The top of her breasts and chest were flushed with her intense arousal.

Jack could feel his climax nearing. His ball sack drew up tight, and the warm feeling started to spread throughout his nether regions. Emily had her eyes closed and her brow furrowed as she chased her orgasm. When it came, it was intense. She stopped moving and dropped onto Jack's chest. He put his arms around her and held her as she shook and jerked. He felt her vagina pulse on his penis, and her hands were around his neck hugging him tightly.

Jack felt puffs of Emily's hot breath on his neck as she panted. Jack needed to get his sweet relief, but she was not moving to create friction against the shaft of his penis. All he felt were the pulses of her vaginal muscles. After a good minute and a half, Jack felt her begin to calm. Her breathing started to return to normal, and the thumping of her heart slowed to a steady beat. She finally raised up, and Jack saw that what he thought was sweat running down her cheeks was in fact tears. She held his head with her hands and peppered him with kisses.

"That was amazing," she said at last. "I've never had such an intense orgasm. I felt the chemistry between us. I don't know if you felt the same."

Jack had to admit to himself, that what he felt about Emily was unique. He had never felt this way with any other women—not even Megan—not even Charley. His life was now getting complicated, but at this moment he didn't know how much more complicated it was going to get.

"There's definitely a connection between us at a fundamental level," he said.

"I'm happy Jack, and now I'm going to finish you off."

"That 9mm Beretta won't cut it," he said, "I've got a hole in my chest to prove it."

"I noticed that," Emily replied. "And the scar on your left hand. After we're done with sex, I'm going to do a little anatomical exploration."

"You can start with my cock if you like," Jack said with a chuckle. "But you won't find any scars on it."

Emily laughed. She got off him; his penis slapped back onto his stomach. She sat cross-legged next to him and lowered her hungry mouth over his penis. She was able to take almost all of Jack's six inches into her mouth and partway down her throat. He could see the bulge of his cockhead in her neck. As she lifted her mouth off his penis, long thick tendrils of white spittle stretched between its head and her lips; they stretched thin then broke. Emily wiped her mouth and chin with the palm of her hand and went to work.

Emily proceeded to give Jack some of the best oral sex he had ever received—maybe even the best ever. Her head bobbed up and down on his penis while stroking its shaft with her forefinger and thumb. They encircled his thick, engorged shaft; her thumb could barely reach the tip of her finger.

"Emily, if you keep that up I'm likely to fill your mouth pretty soon."

She lifted her head up and said, "That's the whole idea."

Jack was so aroused it only took three minutes for him to feel the onset of his orgasm. First, his scrotum drew up into a tight sack. Then he felt his orgasm developing in his bowels, then spreading throughout his nether regions. His penis swelled, which was her two-second early-warning system—take her mouth off his cock, or make room for the load of semen that she knew was imminent.

She chose the latter and raised her head, leaving her lips clamped around the shaft just under the bulbous, helmet shaped head. Even though she had done this dozens of times, there was always that automatic reaction to the first spurt of cum hitting the back of her closed off throat. Her head jerked a fraction.

"Oh bloody heck Emily," he said. He was jerking his butt in a semi-automatic way like he was fucking her mouth. Emily kept her lips tight around the shaft as he spurted and spurted and spurted. Her mouth was full of his pearly-white liquid. She swallowed as three more weaker spurts coated her tongue. Then he was done, spent, empty. His butt relaxed into the mattress.

Emily squeezed the last drops of semen and licked them off his cockhead and swallowed and said, "Mmmm, I like the taste of your cum."

Jack stroked her face with his right hand. "I'm glad you do Emily because that was one of the best blowjobs I've ever received."

She lay beside him and snuggle up to him with one leg over his, pressing her very wet pussy into his muscular thigh. She touched the small 9mm diameter scar on his left pectoral muscle.

"Tell me how you got this," she said.

Chapter Twelve

Jack was awake first the next morning. He went to the bathroom, peed, washed his hands, and brushed his teeth; he then climbed back into bed. They had both kicked the covers down during the night, and Emily was lying on her back. He looked at her body, and the first thing he noticed was a one-inch long scar on her right shoulder—almost in her arm. She had a nice healthy tan, and the scar was a pale pink. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before now. Then he looked at the rest of her body, and what he saw told him why he hadn't noticed it before.

Emily's breasts were exquisite. Even though she was lying on her back, her breasts stood proud, firm, inviting. Her domed areolas were no longer the dark-brown they had been the night before with her arousal. Now, they were just light-brown—contrasting with the two triangles of white skin where her string bikini had protected her from the sun's rays. Her nipples were small and flat.

Jack admired Emily's flat—almost concave stomach. Her vulva lay in another white triangle of pale skin where her bikini bottoms had been, and he was confident if he rolled her over he would find another one covering most of her buttocks. All in all, the tan lines were as sexy as heck, he thought.

Her flat stomach and her bony hips emphasized how large her mons was. It was a raised, smooth, hairless, vee-shaped pad. Her slit was tight, and the long ruffled ridge of her large clitoral sheath rose up from its top; her inner labia continued down between her slim thighs, splitting her plump outer labia.

It was apparent to Jack that she worked out on a regular basis since the muscles in her arms, thighs, and calves were well defined. But she retained that willowy look. Jack was fairly sure that she could take care of herself in a physical situation. All in all, Emily was the perfect package. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with a body to match, and their brief time in bed had demonstrated to Jack, that she was a sensual and very, very sexy woman.

Jack was torn between two women and a girl—not an unpleasant situation he had to admit. He had a choice of two beautiful women—one definitely married and one definitely not married. But his earlier thinking about settling down was now getting clearer. It was Emily who was stealing her way into his life and into his heart.

He leaned in and kissed each nipple, in turn, feeling them firm up. Emily opened her eyes, smiled at him, stretched her arms out, and put them 'round his neck and kissed him.

"Mmm, minty," she said. "I guess you found the spare toothbrush."

"Morning gorgeous, and yes I did thanks," Jack replied. "That was very presumptuous of you."

"Just covering the bases like a good detective should," she replied.

Emily got out of bed and went to the bathroom. He heard her lift the toilet lid, and a moment later the sound of water splashing into the bowl. She flushed, washed her hands, brushed her teeth, and got back into bed.

Jack touched the small scar on her shoulder and said, "How did get this?"

"I was a rookie cop at the time. I was riding shotgun with my partner, an ex-army corporal. There were a man and a woman arguing outside an apartment building. We both got out. They were husband and wife, and they were having an augment over some sort of ex-girlfriend—the husband had been cheating on his wife. The wife had a kitchen knife in her hand, and she was sort of holding it out in front of her to keep her husband from getting near to her.

"My partner pulled the husband back, and I told the wife to put the knife down. She told me her husband was going to kill her if she did. I tried reasoning with her for ten minutes. She was about to put it down, but the husband twisted away from my partner and rushed his wife. She accidentally stabbed me."

"That scar is almost an inch long," Jack said, "that must have been a large knife."

"Like I said, it was a kitchen knife. It didn't go in very far since the material of my jacket was quite strong, and she wasn't trying to stab me."

"Did she get charged?"

"Had to. Assault on an officer of the law with a deadly weapon is as serious as it gets. I felt sorry for her."

"Does that crime apply to lovers?" Jack asked.

Emily had a quizzical expression on her face. She opened her mouth to say something. Then she smiled, and said, "Well it is pretty big—like a British Bobby's truncheon, so I guess you could call it a weapon, and I am an officer of the law, but I'm not about to arrest you if you use it on me."

Jack chuckled and said, "I'm not that big, but I am going to use it on you."

She laughed and replied, "You mean in me."

He shuffled down between her legs, and she obligingly draped them over his shoulders. He was now the closest he had ever been to her pussy, and it was gorgeous. Her mons showed no sign of stubble, so he had figured right about the wax thing; it was smooth hairless since as she was lying down it seemed more pronounced. It was like a small hillock rising up between the twin peaks of her bony hips.

With her legs open, he clitoral hood was pronounced, and her crinkly, light-brown inner labia showed in the slit between her plump outer labia all the way to the entrance to her vagina which was a dark recess, leaking a little creamy liquid. Jack inhaled the heady aroma of her sex, musky and slightly sweet with just a hint of the pungent smell of urine where she'd wiped after going to the bathroom a few moments ago.

Jack opened her slit with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and began to tease her clit out of its cowl with his tongue. It took all of ten seconds until her white pearl appeared. With her outer labia parted, her inner labia opened like butterfly wings. They were crinkly, light-brown on the outside and bright pink on the inside, and there at the bottom, the dark, moist opening to her vagina.

He dipped down and pushed the tip of his tongue into her vagina causing her to take a sharp intake of breath. Two fingers inserted into her moist tunnel caused a gasp to escape her lips and her hands to tighten around clumps of Jack's hair. Two minutes of ministering to her clit and vagina had the desired effect. Emily's breathing started to increase—she was now panting lightly. Her butt jerked uncontrollably, and her hands tightened in his hair.

Then her body started to tremble and shake as her orgasm took control. She was breathing hard now, and she was holding his head in her hands as he strummed her clit with the tip of his tongue. Emily's head was moving from side to side on her pillow, and she was moaning loudly. After a minute passed with her body shaking and jerking uncontrollably, she started to calm down. She released his head, her hands dropped to her side, and her whole body seemed to melt into the mattress.

"Damn Jack! You know how to please a girl. What are you going to do now—assault an officer of the law with that weapon of yours? Although I don't see it as being deadly. In fact, I think I might like it." Emily giggled like a little girl.

Jack rose up to his knees, sat on his haunches, and pulled Emily by her feet until thighs were draped over his thighs. She sat up, grasped his penis in both hands and guided its head down between her legs. She had to scoot up a little, so his cockhead was resting against the entrance to her vagina.

Emily looked at Jack, smiled, and pushed the head of his cock inside her. She let go of its shaft, put her hands on the back of his neck, and pulled herself toward him. The motion caused his cock to fully enter her. They held each other, Jack's arms were around her waist, and hers were around his neck. Their two torsos were touching, Emily's nipples were being ever so slightly squashed against his chest; her knees were against his hips, and her slender ankles were locked behind him. She kissed him—softly at first—just a brush to lips against his. Then she kissed him harder and started to move her pelvis back and forth. Emily was making love to him, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

Emily looked into Jack's eyes as she made love to him. She kept her rocking movements slow at first, then increasing their pace as they both became aroused. They were breathing hard, and the sensation of Emily's nipples rubbing against his chest sent sparks of passion throughout her body. Her pussy was throbbing as she moved faster and faster.

Sweat was running down her neck and onto her breasts. Their pubes were soaked in sweat as Emily kept up the pace— rocking back and forth, back and forth. Jack had never been made love to in this way before with so much passion, and so much emotion. He could see it in Emily's eyes, and at that moment his decision on a life's partner just got easier—Emily was in love with him.

Emily came a split second before he did. She hugged him tightly, her breasts squashed against his chest. Her vagina spasmed as he spurted his teeming fluid inside her, filling her up. He could feel her whole body shaking and jerking as her intense orgasm coursed through her. Jack was done long before Emily's orgasm ran its course. They sat there hugging each other as their breathing slowed. Jack could feel small jerks in her butt come and go like small aftershocks.

Emily held Jack's head in her hands, kissed him and said, "That was the best sex I've ever had. I think I'll keep you around."

Jack rubbed the sides of her breasts with his thumbs. He could feel his penis deflating inside Emily's snug pussy.

"Try and run me off," he replied. "That was incredible sex."

Those last comments thrilled Emily. They lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath, then headed for the shower.

Chapter Thirteen

Half an hour later, both of them were dressed. Jack was tucking into a plate of eggs and sausage with a cup of tea and toast on the side.

"I'm surprised you have English tea and marmalade," Jack remarked.

"Well, I am half English, and when Daddy comes over, he expects his cuppa, as he puts it."

With breakfast over, and the dishes in the dishwasher, Emily said, "I usually go visit my parents on a Sunday, would you like to come with me?"

"I'd love to Emily," Jack replied.

They took the elevator to the parking garage. Emily's eyes lit up again when she saw Jack's Lexus coupé.

"God I love your car," she gushed.

Jack tossed her the key fob and said, "Go ahead, you drive."


"Sure, you can."

Emily got in, adjusted the seat, mirrors and steering column. She buckled her seatbelt and pressed the start button. The big 5.0 liter V8 roared into life. Emily looked across at Jack, smiled and snicked the shift lever into reverse. As they exited the garage, the noise of the V8 echoed off the concrete walls.

Thirty minutes later, she pulled into a long asphalt driveway that ended in the courtyard of an old stone farmhouse. There were a couple of tobacco barns that looked to be in decent shape, a fenced in pasture with a couple of horses grazing. Jack guessed that the horses were stabled in one of the barns. It was the same farmhouse and barn in that framed photo on her credenza.

"You ride?" Jack asked as Emily pulled to a stop. She put the car in park and killed the engine.

"Not as much as I'd like," she replied.

A man appeared at the farmhouse door. It was one of those doors that was split in two, and he had opened the top half. Another man was standing behind him.

Emily was first out of the car and ran to the door. The man, who Jack assumed was her father came out to greet her followed by the second man.

"Uncle Tony!" Emily said as she hugged the second man.

"You didn't tell me Uncle Tony was here Daddy," she said, as she hugged her father.

"I wanted to surprise you," her father replied. He nodded toward the Lexus. "New car?"

By that time Jack had walked over to where the three of them were standing.

"No, it's my friend Jack's," Emily replied. "Jack, I'd like you to meet my Daddy Trevor and my Uncle Tony."

Jack shook both men's hands and said, "Nice to make your acquaintance."

"You're a Brit," Trevor said. "You didn't tell me you were dating a Brit Emily. How did the two of you meet?"

"It's a long story," Emily replied. "Maybe over a cup of tea."

The four of them sat around a large, old wooden kitchen table. Emily's mother, Lisa, served tea and joined them. Lisa Nice could have been Emily's older sister they were that much alike. She was a local woman who, as a girl, was on an exchange program with an English family. The best friend of the family's son was Trevor Nice. Trevor and Lisa had fallen in love.

She went back to America with him, and they got married a year later. They settled in the Charlotte area where Trevor Nice had built up a business over the years that was very profitable. He had retired early, and they had purchased the farm with the intent of Trevor becoming a gentleman farmer as Lisa had put it. It turned out that he didn't much care for the hours, so he hired someone to run it for him.

Emily related the story of the attempted kidnapping and the shootings. Emily's Uncle Tony was here with his regiment. They were doing combined training with soldiers at Fort Bragg, and he was on a forty-eight-hour leave pass. Tony and Jack traded stories about life in the British Army. They asked about his mother and father. He told them that they were both killed in a car accident six years ago.

When the tea was drunk, Lisa Nice took Jack's arm and walked him outside.

"I'm glad Emily's found a decent man," she said at length. "My daughter's had her fair share of poor choices, and has had her heart broken a few times." She stopped walking, turned, looked him straight in the eye and said, "You may be ex-SAS, but if you break my daughter's heart, I'll break your arm."

Jack was shocked for a moment since she seemed dead serious. Then she smiled, and said, "Just kidding Jack, and I don't think you are the kind of person who would do that."

"I care about your daughter a great deal Mrs. Nice, and I think I'll stick around."

Lisa got on tiptoe and kissed Jack on his cheek, and said, "I'm glad to hear that Jack, I really am. Don't be a stranger now. Come and spend the weekend with us. You and Emily can sleep in her old room."

"But . . . I . . . "

"Jack, never underestimate a mother's intuition. I've seen the glow in her face and the jaunt in her step. She's madly in love with you, and she would never fall in love with someone if they weren't compatible in bed."

Jack said nothing.


Two hours later, Emily and Jack said their goodbyes and Emily drove them back to her apartment. She parked next to her Honda, and they headed inside.

"You know your mother threatened to break my arm," Jack said when they were inside the apartment.

"She did what!?"

"Said if I broke your heart she'd break my arm."

"Mom's very protective of me. I haven't made too many good choices with the men I've dated. You'd think being a detective I'd be more selective. You want to spend the night?"

"As much as I'd love to Emily, I'm back on duty at five this afternoon."

"You got time for a quickie?" she said with a gleam in her eye, and a smile on her lips.

"Sure," Jack replied. They walked to her bedroom, and this time they were acting like a couple in a movie. They left a trail of quickly removed clothes like a breadcrumb trail from the front door to the bedroom. Emily was first on the bed since Jack had lace-up shoes and socks, whereas she had sandals.

It mattered not, since Jack was going to be the one on top. Emily was ready, she had wetted three fingers of her right hand and had rubbed her pussy. Jack spit on the head of his penis, rubbed it up and down her furrows, around the opening to her vagina. He let it come to rest on her perineum.

"Yes Jack, I'm ready," Emily said, "Assault an officer of the law with a dangerous weapon."

She giggled. Jack spit on the head of his penis some more and pushed into her. Her plump labia parted, and he entered her. He pulled back an inch and pushed in again, getting her used to his penis inside her.

"Go ahead I'm ready," she said.

Jack made one continuous thrust and was rewarded with a loud "Gawd," as he bumped her cervix.

This was not going to be a long, languorous drawn-out affair. This was going to be a bam-bam-thank you-maam. But Jack was considerate of his bedmate. He waited for Emily to climax first—which took all of three minutes.

"Jeez Jack," she cried, as she shook and jerked.

Jack was close behind. He felt his penis swell and jerk, as the first of six ropes of his creamy-white semen splashed against her cervix. Then the thought of pregnancy hit him between his eyes causing a quick softening of his penis. It quickly deflated and slipped out of he vagina.

She felt his sudden change of attitude, and asked, "What's wrong Jack?"

"We've never talked of birth control," he said.

"Don't worry Jack, I'm on the pill, and I'd never ever try to trap you. I hope you know that."

Jack withdrew from her snug, moist embrace, rolled to her side, kissed her and said, "No Emily, I know you'd never do that. I want to settle down someday, and the thought of children is in my future—but not right now."

"I get it, Jack. I'm not here to push you into something you don't want. If I told you I'd not thought of a future with you, I'd be lying, and that's something I'll never do to you."

"Thanks, Emily I'm glad to hear that from you."

"Works for me," she replied. "But I want you to know that I've had feelings for you—ever since our first lunch date."

Jack kissed her and said, "I have the same feelings. Let's take it one day at a time, okay?"

"Okay," she replied. He kissed her, got dressed, and drove home where a shit storm was brewing.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning at eight o'clock, Jack was sitting at a small round table by the window in his room cleaning his Glock when there was a soft rap at his door. Before he could get up to answer it, the door opened, and Megan stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She was holding a plain manilla envelope, and there was a look of abject horror on her face.

Jack got up out of his chair, hugged her and said, "What's the matter, Megan?"

She handed him the envelope. "This came by UPS this morning," she said. "When you look at them, please don't be judgmental."

"Them?" he said inquisitively. "I would never be judgmental of you Megan." He took the envelope from her.

He looked inside, There were four eight by ten color photographs; he could see the diagonal words KODAK repeatedly printed on their backs. There was also an eight and a half by eleven piece of paper with a message on it. The words were either cut wholesale out of a newspaper or formed with individual letters also cut from a newspaper or magazine. Jack knew immediately that it was a blackmail letter. It read:


Jack looked at the photographs. It was immediately apparent they were shot by a professional photographer because of the lighting and framing—in his studio maybe. The first was of very young-looking Megan kneeling in front of an unidentified man or probably a boy Jack thought judging by the size of his penis. Megan was looking at the camera and had the boy's erect penis in her mouth, and she was holding its shaft in her hand. Jack looked up at Megan; there was a look of shame on her face.

The second photo showed Megan on her back. A man this time was straddling her hips and was obviously masturbating since he had his fist around his penis. The camera had caught the rope of semen in mid-air headed for Megan's face. The third photo must have been taken a second after the last one since it was the same penis, and the man's cum had just splashed on Megan's face. She had her eyes closed tight, and her head had started to turn away.

It was apparent to Jack that the camera was set to take bursts of shots one after the other in split-second intervals. It had to be an expensive camera because there were no iPhones with fancy optics when these photos were taken. It confirmed to Jack that these were undoubtedly taken by a professional photographer. The fourth photo was one of Megan on all fours with a boy behind her with his cock in her ass. The boy's penis was small—about the size of a sharpie. Jack figured the boy to be around twelve years old. A grown man had his penis in her mouth.

The photographer must have been positioned a little to the left and at a shallow angle to Emily since the boy's penis could clearly be seen half-way inside Emily's butt. The photo didn't show the man's penis in Emily's mouth since he all that could be seen was the bulge in her right cheek. Her face wasn't shown except in profile, but it was Megan alright unless some other girl had the same small horseshoe-shaped birthmark on her right shoulder the same birthmark that he was looking at right now. The one in the photo looked large, but the one he was looking at on Megan seemed smaller. Jack figured birthmarks stayed the same size; the part of the body it was on just got larger.

All the photos showed the same plain light-blue mattress and had a plain curved white background like photographers' studios used. Jack now knew what these were.

"These are the photos you told me about aren't they?"

"Yes," she whispered. I've no idea where he got them from. And why now? What am I going to do Jack?"

Jack put the photos and letter back into the envelope and dropped it on his small table next to his stripped Glock. He hugged and kissed her.

"I'll take care of it, don't you worry. And please try and act naturally. We don't want your husband, or anyone else for that matter to get wind of this."

"Okay, thanks, Jack. I knew I could rely on you, but I'm sorry you had to see those photos. I'm so ashamed of myself."

"Don't beat yourself up over this Megan. This was when you were young and vulnerable, and you were in a desperate situation."

"Okay, I'll try."

"Let me know what this guy tells you. He's going to have to set up a time and place to get the money. Can you lay your hands on this much cash without raising Mr. Barrett's suspicion?"

"Yes, I have my own bank account. David automatically transfers three thousand a month into it for my personal expenses—clothes for Charley and me, Charely's weekly allowance, lunches with my girlfriends, tennis lessons and such. I'll have to check, but I think there's close to thirty thousand in there."

"Good. I'm going to burn the photographs, but I'll keep the letter—the envelope too. I don't hold out much hope with UPS as to the sender's address, but it's worth a try."

To Jack, it was apparent that the blackmailer had the negatives because he has said he would send copies of the photos. That implied negatives which begged the question.

"Do you think it could be the photographer himself," Jack asked.

"I don't know; could be. He was in his early forties so that would make him—what in his early sixties now. Or he could have sold them, in which case there might be other prints out there. My God Jack, this could just be the start."

"You remember his name?"

Megan thought deeply for a while. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she tried to recall his name. Then it was if a lightbulb went off in her head.

"Emmett Photography," she said, "it was Emmett Photography, I'm sure of it. I think the guy's name was Bill."

"Was he located in Charlotte?"

"No, I was living in Spartanburg South Carolina at the time. That's where his studio was. I don't recall the location."

"That's okay, I'll find it."

Chapter Fifteen

A half-hour later, Jack was about to set light to the photos but stopped himself. He needed them to jog some guy's mind. Later that day, Jack was sitting in his Lexus in the parking lot of a Dairy Queen. Across the street was the storefront of Emmett Photography. It was in a small strip mall in a somewhat run-down part of Spartanburg South Carolina. There was a dry cleaners next door, and an income tax preparer's place on the other side. It was not one of the big boys; the sign in the window said: TAX TIME.

The cardboard sign on the door of Emmett Photography said OPEN. It was a little after one o'clock.

Jack got out of his car, touched the door handle to lock it, and walked across the street. He heard a mechanical bell tinkle as he stepped inside the premises of Emmett Photography. The room was about fifteen feet square, and the walls were covered with portraits and wedding photos and family groups and graduations.

There was a long coffee table to the left; it had two padded side chairs on either side. It was presumably used by clients to review their proofs. The guy behind the long glass counter was in his early forties—obviously not Bill Emmett.

"Can I help you?" he said.

"I'm looking for Bill Emmett," Jack said as he walked over to the counter.

"That would be my Dad," the guy replied. "I'm Larry Emmett."

"Your father took some photographs about twenty years ago."

"Well, that wouldn't surprise me since he was a photographer—has been most of his adult life."

"Yes, but these photos were of a young underaged girl in very suggestive poses."

"My Dad would never do that, I can assure you. He used to be a deacon at the local Baptist church."

Jack pulled the four photos out of the envelope he was carrying. He had already visited the UPS store nearest to Emmett Photography and had determined that indeed the envelope had been sent from that location. The person who sent it was a John Smith and the sender's address was false—Jack had checked it out; it was a vacant lot in another part of town. He placed the photos side-by-side on the counter facing away from him and observed Larry Emmett's mien.

Larry Emmett's first reaction was one of shock, Jack could see it in his face. Then it was one of denial.

"My Dad would never take photos like these," Larry said. "He couldn't, he's not that kind of man. Like I said . . . "

Jack cut him off. "Yes I know, a church deacon. But I'm a private investigator hired by the lady in these photos, and she assures me that your father did in fact, take them. She remembered his name and the name of the studio. She was fourteen at the time but as you can see she looked like she was eleven or twelve."

Larry stood there with his mouth open. He didn't speak for a while. Then there was a look of resignation on his face. He slowly shook his head and said, "I must admit, I'd had my suspicions. I was nineteen at the time, and I was helping Dad . . . you know setting up the studio or getting a wedding group set up right—shorter people at the front—taller ones at the back. Making sure the bride's train was spread out just right. I was going to take over the business someday, and Dad wanted me to learn the ropes.

"Then there were times when he said he didn't need my help and to take the day off. I didn't think much of it at the time. But thinking back, I remember going into the studio the next morning, and it looked as if he had been shooting. The lights had been left where they had been positioned—something we never did. We always put things away afterward.

"Then there's the green mattress in those photos. I remember that mattress we used it for baby shots. I can hardly believe Dad would do something like this."

It was apparent to Jack that Larry wasn't the blackmailer, so he decided to enlist his help.

"Someone sent these photos to my client with a blackmail note. The note said that he was going to send prints to my client's husband if he didn't receive a certain sum of money. That indicates to me that he has the negatives. Can you ask your father if he sold them to someone?"

"Dad's in poor health, I'm sure the idea that someone knows what he did twenty years ago might make him worse."

"Please try. If I can find this person, I can make sure these never see the light of day, and your father's reputation is intact. Tell him the girl's name is Megan. The alternative, however . . . "

Larry sighed and picked up the phone. Jack listened to a one-sided conversation. After a few minutes, he put the phone back on its cradle.

"At first he denied it, but when I said the girl's name and age he relented. I think he was crying. Then he said something that didn't make any sense. He said the negatives were still here in a file cabinet that held negatives and prints that he had taken over the years—he said they were his personal collection. But I certainly didn't send that note."

"I know you didn't Larry. Anyone else work here?"

"Oh my Lord!" Larry said. "Jimmy, he's my assistant. He's been with me for about six months now."

"Where's the file cabinet?" Jack asked.

"Follow me," Larry said. He walked through a door behind the counter into a fifteen by twenty foot studio. On one wall was a collection of props, sofas, giant teddy bears, a throne even. In the front-left corner was a changing room and in the front right a small office. The whole back wall was filled with a curved white canvas backdrop that blended seamlessly with the white canvas that covered the floor for ten feet.

Larry went into the office. "Dad said it was a small three-drawer file cabinet painted green. He said it was locked."

There was indeed a three-drawer, green file cabinet, and it was locked. Jack looked at the lock and saw no indication that it had been jimmied—not that you could jimmy a pushbutton lock.

Jack asked, "Who has the key?"

"Just me," Larry replied, "it's on my car keyring."

"Does this Jimmy guy have access to your studio when you're not here?"

"Yes, he has a key so he can come in and start prepping for a shoot. But he doesn't have the key to this cabinet."

There were some markings on the floor—green marks in a sort of arc. Jack pulled the back of the cabinet away from the wall.

The sheet metal cabinet back had been pried away from the top and was flapping loose. Jack peeled the metal back with his left hand, reached in, and tugged on the locking bar. The pushbutton lock on the front popped out. Jack moved the cabinet back in place.

Larry opened the top drawer. It contained envelopes containing negatives and prints of families.

"Those are my cousins and aunts," Larry said.

The rest of the top drawer was filled with similar prints, as was the middle drawer. The bottom drawer contained identical envelopes full of negatives and prints but was almost empty, there were about half a dozen envelopes in there. They were child pornography with boys and girls aged from six to fifteen having sex. Some showed older men fondling girls and boys. Each envelope had first names and dates. Larry threw up on the office floor.

Jack looked through the envelopes until he found only one with Megan's name on the outside. The envelope was empty.

"Okay Larry, I'll leave you to dispose of these safely. Are any of these traceable back to this studio—a marking on the negative or the prints?"

"No, but the envelopes have the name of the studio and address printed on the top left corner."

"Okay, tell me where this Jimmy lives and how old is he.

Chapter Sixteen

Jack found the apartment easy enough. It was a block away from the UPS store he had visited earlier. He knocked on Jimmy's apartment door. There was the distinctive aroma of marijuana coming out of the apartment. Smoke hit Jack in the face as the door opened. It was on a chain, which offered little resistance to Jack's over two-hundred-pound bulk. The chain snapped, and the door slammed open a hundred and eighty degrees against the wall. Jack pushed Jimmy backward; he fell onto a sofa. Jack kicked the door closed behind him.

Two naked girls emerged from the bedroom to see what the commotion was all about. They didn't bother to cover up when they saw Jack. They looked like sisters—both blonde with blue eyes and small breasts.

"Oh goody," one said, "a foursome."

The big guy's mine," the other girl said.

"Get dressed girls and beat it," Jack said.

The two girls looked disappointed but went back to the bedroom.

"Hey dude, you can't just go busting into a guy's place like that."

It was now apparent to Jack why the misspellings on the note. Jimmy was poorly-educated dope-head. He looked to be about nineteen, and Jack wondered why Larry even hired him—Christian charity case maybe. Jimmy went to speak again.

"Shut the fuck up," Jack barked. Jimmy went quiet—he didn't need telling twice.

A few minutes later the two girls, now dressed, came out of the bedroom. One grabbed Jack's crotch.

"You sure honey, I give great blowjobs," she said.

Jack grabbed the girl's wrist and twisted it. "Beat it," he said.

"Hey, you didn't have to do that," the girl said, rubbing her wrist. The two girls left.

"Where are the negatives and the prints?" Jack demanded.

Jimmy was so dumb or stoned that he was genuinely confused because he replied, "What negatives. I don't have any prints?"

"The negatives and prints you took from the file cabinet at Emmett Photography."

"Oh, those! Yeah, I like to jack off to those. The little girls are kinda cute dontcha think. I'd love to get my hands on a little girl—think of all the fun we could have together."

Jack unfolded the blackmail letter and put in front of Jimmie's face. The same face quickly drained of all color.

"Show me," Jack demanded.

He followed Jimmy into the spare bedroom. There were fifteen or so envelopes and a bunch of prints scattered across the floor, similar to the ones in the file cabinet. Jack checked them, they all contained child pornography. He found the negatives and prints of Megan and put them in an empty envelope. He collected all the other envelopes.

"Is this all there is?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Jimmy replied nervously.

"You sure? Because if I find out you're lying, I'm going to come back and beat your face to a pulp." Jack pulled open the flap of his jacket showing Jimmy his Glock. "And you really don't want to mess with me now do you?"

Jimmie went into his bedroom and pulled out one more envelope from the nightstand drawer.

"Something to beat off to in bed," he said sheepishly.

Jack emptied the photos on the bed, took the envelope and left but not before slapping the side of Jimmie's head. Jack climbed back in his car and found the nearest drug store where he purchased a pay-as-you-go phone. He called the Spartanburg police department and asked for the detective dealing with crimes against children. He got a detective; his name was Nice. Jack wondered if he was related to Emily and whether he pronounced his name like the town in France.

"How can I help you?" detective Nice asked.

"If you go right now to an address I'm going to give you, you will find a man called Jimmie, and in his spare bedroom you will find child pornography—negatives, and prints of children having sex with each other and with men."

"Who are you sir?" detective Nice asked.

"Just a concerned citizen detective. I suggest you get a warrant as soon as possible." Jack gave him Jimmie's address and shut down the phone. He tossed it into an open dumpster on the way out of the drug store's parking lot. He stopped in a secluded spot and burned all of the envelopes, and prints. The negatives shriveled up to nothing.


Chapter Seventeen

Jack made it back to the Barrett's house shortly after two o'clock. He found Megan in the kitchen eating a sandwich.

"Where's David?" Jack asked.

"He's still in his office," Megan replied. "I took him a sandwich at noon. Where have you been, I've been worried? No one called about the note."

"And no one is going to call either," Jack said. "I've been taking care of our little problem. It wasn't the photographer—he's retired, and his son took over the business, but an assistant found them in a locked file cabinet. I found the little weasel. He's probably in a jail cell right now with no chance of bond."

"Did he sell any?"

"No, apparently they were just for his own enjoyment. I destroyed all of them."

"So you saw all of them," Megan said with a look of shame on her face.

Jack had seen every one of them, including the one of her kneeling on the same mattress with four men standing around her and cumming in her hair and face and small breast buds. Her eyes were shut tight. He wanted to avoid embarrassing her more than she already was.

"No, I didn't. I just piled them all together and set fire to them."

Megan breathed a sigh of relief. She asked what had happened, and Jack told her the whole story. She hugged him. "I can't thank you enough," she said.

"You're very much welcome," he replied.


Jack picked Charley up from school at three-thirty the next day. "How was school today Charley?" he asked.

"S'okay," she replied.

She sat there not saying anything for a while Jack drove. Then she said, "When can we have sex again Norris? I've been so horny these last few days, and Dad's out of town."

Jack didn't want to just dump Charley, but his feelings for Emily was making him feel like he would be cheating on her if he had sex with Charley—or her mother for that matter.

"Norris," Charley said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I don't know Charley, it's awfully risky, and I don't want to be on the wrong side of your stepfather."

Charley shot him a look as if she could kill him and said, "It's because you're fucking Mom isn't it. I know you are so don't try and deny it." She said it with venom in her voice. This was a side of Charley that Jack hadn't seen before, and he didn't like it. He pulled off the road into a parking lot and stopped the car.

He turned to look Charley in the eyes and said, "I'm not going to lie to you, Charley. I care for you too much to do that. Yes, your mother and I have had sex, and it's not because of that, that I don't want to have sex with you. The truth of the matter is, I've met this woman who I like a lot, and it would be like cheating on her if I had sex with you—or your mother for that matter."

Charley's temperament calmed, and the pained expression on her face changed to a smile.

"Sorry I got mad with you Norris," she said at length. "I was jealous that's all. You forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive Charley."

"Can I get a kiss?" she said.

"Of course you can sweetheart." Jack leaned over and kissed her on her lips. "Come on, let's get you home before your mother starts to worry."

Megan was waiting for them as Jack and Charley exited the elevator.

"Hi Mom," Charley said.

Megan gave Charley a kiss and asked how her day had been.

"S'okay Mom. I have homework to do," Charley said and hurried off upstairs to her room.

Megan looked at Jack with a worried expression. "We have to talk," she said.

Jack followed her into the kitchen. He sensed something was up. She sat on one of the island bar stools.

"What's troubling you Megan?" he asked.

"I'm pregnant," she said with a big sigh.

"But . . . but how's that possible? I thought the doctors said you couldn't bear any more children."

"I know, I know. I don't know how. What am I going to do Jack?"

"I know you said you didn't want to have a baby with David. So get an abortion."

"I can't do that Jack."

"Why? Is it because you're against abortions?"

"No, it's not that."

"I'm sorry to be so dense Megan, but why not?"

"Because it's your baby, Jack, and I'm not going to kill your baby."

Jack put his hand on the granite countertop to steady himself. He said nothing for a while, letting what she had just told him to sink in.

"You sure it's mine?" he asked at length.

"Positive. David and I haven't had sex for two months. I first thought it was a mistake. I thought maybe the pregnancy test was wrong. But I went to my OB-GYN today, and she confirmed it."

"David's going to have a fit when he finds out. What do you think he'll do Megan?"

"Fire you for one."

"I'm not worried about that. What about you?"

"He'll probably divorce me and kick me out on the streets. I can't raise Charley like that. I've been through that, and it's no life for a fifteen-year-old."

"Surely you'll get alimony."

"You don't know David. He'll have a paternity test done to prove it's not his and we have a prenup, so no child support, and no alimony. You've got to help me, Jack."

"I have an idea. Do you and Charley have passports?"

"Yes, why?"

"Don't get mad, but I've been dating the detective who was on the attempted kidnapping case. She told me that David's first wife was kidnapped and apparently something went wrong and she ended up dead. The kidnapper was never found. David blamed the FBI for her death."

"I always wondered what happened to her. He never mentioned it, and I never asked," Megan said. "Oh, and by the way, I'm not mad at you for dating someone—miffed a little maybe at not having sex with you."

"I think, if we stage a kidnapping of you and Charley, David's probably going to insist that I not contact the FBI. You could demand say ten million dollars for your return. You think he'd pay that much to get the two of you back?"

"Ten million is a drop in the bucket for David. But where would we go?"

"You fancy living in England? My sister lives there. She could help you settle in. Ten million dollars is around seven and a half million British pounds. You could buy a nice house and live a good life for that much money if you invest it wisely. My sister's a financial planner so she could help with that too."

"I didn't know you had a sister. Is she older or younger?"

She older and her name's Veronica, she's thirty-four, divorced with a fourteen-year-old daughter Stephanie."

"I don't know Jack. The passport thing doesn't make sense. If we use them to travel, won't David see that they're gone and start making enquires?"

"No, the passports are necessary. They have to stay in the house to show him that you haven't left the country and the kidnapping was a setup."

"But, we can't travel without passports."

"I still have a lot of contacts in the SAS as well as British Intelligence. I'll call in some favors and get you and Charley British passports. I just need yours and Charley's birth certificates, and you need to get new passport photos. Can you get those without David getting suspicious?"

"No problem. But how will you stage the kidnapping?"

"I'm the security expert, let me figure that one out."

"But what about our baby. Are you just going to not see her or him ever again?"

"I've been toying with the idea of moving back to England one day. I still own my parents' old house together with Veronica. It's rented out, but I can move back in with a month's notice to the existing tenants."

"What about your detective friend?"

"Her Dad's English so I just have to convince her to move back with me."

"We need to move fast Jack. Another month or two and I'll start to show. I don't have any loose fitting clothes, and David would notice if I started wearing them."

"Six weeks max," Jack said. "Get me the birth certificates and photos as soon as you can. Also, I believe Charley has a one-mile cross country run in her Phys-Ed class this month. Can you find out what day it's on?"

"I've got her class schedule right here. Just a sec."

Megan searched in one of the kitchen drawers and dug out Charley's class schedule.

"It's a week from this coming Tuesday."

"Great, that gives me enough time to make arrangements."

Chapter Eighteen

The next Friday night. Jack picked Emily up from her apartment, and they drove to her parents' farmhouse to spend the weekend. They were greeted by her mother who fussed over them and showed them to Emily's old bedroom. Jack looked at the photographs of Emily next to her horse showing the ribbons for events she had won.

"How do you feel about sleeping with me in your old bed?" Jack asked after her mother had left.

"Nervous," she said. You're the first boyfriend I've brought home for a weekend, so consider this something special."

"Anything I do with you is special Emily, I hope you know that."

She hugged and kissed him on his lips and said, "Thanks, Jack. This weekend means so much to me."


Dinner was amazing. Jack had never eaten such an amazing chicken pot pie.

"That was amazing Mrs. Nice," he said, as he put down his knife and fork.

"I'm glad you liked it, Jack," Mrs. Nice replied, "and please, call me Lisa."

Jack and Emily went to bed at nine-thirty, leaving Emily's parents sitting by the log fire in the inglenook fireplace.

"I'm nervous," Emily said. "I've never bought any other boyfriend to my bedroom."

"I'm honored," Jack said. "I know how much I mean to you, and I want you to know that you're special to me as well."

They quickly got undressed and into the bed. It was just a double which meant they were on top of each other, which was okay with Jack. Emily still had on her underpants.

"Sorry Jack, but I started my period this afternoon," Emily said.

"You don't have to apologize sweetheart. I guess I'm the lucky guy this weekend. You know how much I love your blowjobs."

Emily smiled and said, "And you know how much I enjoy going down on you."

Emily took Jack's penis into her mouth and started sucking it. He watched her cheek indented as she sucked just its head. Her thumb and forefinger were around its shaft, stroking up and down. Occasionally she would look up at him and smile with her eyes. Emily felt Jack's butt jerk, an uncontrolled reaction to the sensation he felt as she fellated him.

She was moving her fingers faster now as she stroked his penis. Her other hand was fondling his ball sack that had now drawn up into a single tight mass. Jack could feel the onset of his orgasm as Emily's masterful ministrations to his penis was having the desired effect.

"Oh God baby," he cried, as his penis swelled and the first rope of semen spurted into Emily's waiting mouth. She stopped stroking and held his shaft with her lips clamped around the underside of its head feeling his penis pulse as ropes of his cum spurted into her mouth. It sent tingles into her pussy as her lover filled her mouth with his pearly-white teeming liquid, which someday would make her pregnant.

Jack's whole body shook with the orgasm that coursed through it. He was breathing hard as its remnants left, and his body turned to jello. He collapsed back into the mattress in a warm post-coital bliss. Emily heard his light snores and smiled. She lay beside him and hugged his chest. She too was soon asleep.

Chapter Nineteen

As arranged, Charley faked a twisted ankle at the furthest point from the school during her cross-country run the following Tuesday afternoon. Twenty yards away, on the other side of a chainlink fence, was a quiet, rural two-lane road. When the last of the runners had passed her by, she made her way to the chainlink fence that bounded the school property—some thirty acres.

There was a thick undergrowth next to the fence, and it took Charley five minutes to find where Simon, Jack's Special Forces pal, had cut a three-foot diameter hole with a pair of wire cutters. Simon was on a forty-eight-hour pass from Fort Bragg a three-hour drive away. Charley climbed through the hole in the fence.

She saw the car twenty feet away. When she got to where it was parked, Simon was waiting for her. Charley got into the left rear passenger seat. After buckling up, Simon drove away.

At the school, Mary the Phys-Ed teacher was checking in the runners. When the last two stragglers came in, Mary knew she was missing one runner, so she went into the locker room and asked if anyone was missing. One girl said she had seen Charley at the half-mile mark sitting on the grass rubbing her ankle.

Mary stood outside the locker room for a good ten minutes waiting for Charley to come back. At that point she figured Charley must not be able to walk, so she called security and asked them to go find her. She told security where to look. Gordon Evans, the head of security for the school, got in the golf cart and headed off. Ten minutes later, he found the hole in the fence. He pulled his cell phone off his belt and called the school principal.

"We've got a problem," he told Jennifer Poole. "I've found a hole recently cut in the fence, and there's no sign of the girl."

"We're missing a girl?"

"Yes ma'am, the Phys-Ed teacher called me and said that Charlene Jennings hadn't come back from her run.

"Oh my God!" Jennifer Poole said. She hung up and called the local Sheriff's office and reported a missing student and the possibility of a kidnapping since she was aware of the previously attempted abduction of Charley. The Sheriff agreed to dispatch a deputy right away to search the area.

Jennifer hung up and called Megan and told her what had happened.

"I'll be right over," Megan said. She got into her car and headed out. Jack was watching from the window in his room, and smiled.

"So far, so good," he said to himself. He waited five minutes, went down to the basement garage, got into his Lexus and followed Megan.

Two miles down the country road leading from the Barrett's driveway to the main highway, Simon was parked in a turnoff. He saw Megan's car approaching in his rearview mirror. Megan stopped behind him, shut off the engine. She left the keys in the ignition, and her pocketbook on the passenger seat and exited the vehicle.

She got in Simon's car next to Charley. "Everything go according to plan?" she asked Simon.

"Like a well-planned military operation Mrs. Barrett," Simon replied. He pulled back onto the two-lane road and headed off for Charlotte-Douglas International airport. Simon parked outside departures on the lower level at four-thirty and opened the trunk. He pulled out two, brand new roll-aboard suitcases with new clothes inside that Megan and Charley had purchased a few days ago. He removed a carryon bag and a pocketbook and handed them to Megan.

"There you go Mrs. Barrett," he said. "Inside the pocketbook, there are five hundred dollars in cash, a credit card in your name from Jack's bank, two First Class tickets to Manchester England via London's Heathrow airport, and yours and Miss Jenning's new British passports. And I'm not going to ask where Jack got them, but he had to have cashed in a big favor with someone in the British government. You both should familiarize yourselves with your last names since it's now Thompson. Your first name is still Megan—but spelled differently, and Miss Jennings' first name is Charlotte. First names should be fine since Charley could be a short form of Charlotte and Megan is pronounced the same."

What neither of them knew, is that a week ago Jack contacted a guy in MI6, whose ass Jack had saved when an operation the MI6 guy had planned went pear-shaped. It was only Jack's quick thinking that saved the operation and saved the MI6 guy a great big problem. Jack had sent the man Megan's and Charley's birth certificates and recent passport photos via overnight courier. The man personally handed Megan's and Charley's passport photos and birth certificates to his contact in the United Kingdom Identity & Passport Service.

Three days later, two brand new UK passports together with the birth certificates and new National Insurance numbers, were sent via UPS next day service to the post office local to Tega Key with instructions to hold them for pickup. They were in the names of Meghyn and Charlotte Thompson. It was not unusual for the UK IPS to do this kind of thing since MI6's work often involved providing false passports to their agents or civilians deemed necessary for one of their undercover operations.

Megan thanked Simon who drove away and headed back to Fort Bragg. Megan and Charley walked into the airport. They checked in at the British Airways First Class desk. Their flight was due to depart at seven PM and was expected to arrive at London Heathrow at eight o'clock the next morning where they were booked on a connecting flight to Manchester later that morning.

In the First Class lounge, Megan and Charley went to the restroom where Megan freshened up while Charley took a shower, and changed into clothes that came out of her suitcase. Megan dumped Charley's soiled clothes into the trashcan since there were no identifying marks. The only item of clothing with an identifying mark was Charley's running shirt that had the school crest embroidered on the left breast. She put it in her carry-on bag.

Back on the country road, Jack made sure Megan's car was secured, and her pocketbook was on his passenger seat. He then returned to the Barrett residence. "Now the hard part begins," he said to himself.

Chapter Twenty

Back at the Barrett residence, his iPhone warbled. He saw that it was Principal Poole's phone.

"Can I help you?" Jack asked. He already knew what she was going to say.

"This is Jennifer Poole Mr, Norris, school principal."

"Is this about Charley and Mrs. Barrett? Jack said.

"But, how do you know?"

"I saw Mrs. Barrett leave in a big hurry, and she normally lets me drive her. I figured something was up, so I got in my car to catch up with her. I found her car a few miles away. It was abandoned. Has something happened to Miss Jennings?"

"She didn't come back from her run this afternoon, and security found a newly cut hole in the fence not far from where a student had seen her sitting in the grass. Charley apparently had twisted an ankle. We think Charley has been kidnapped."

"That makes sense why Mrs. Barrett's car was abandoned. Someone must have forced her to stop and took her away. Did you notify the Sheriff's Office?"

"Yes, and they sent a deputy out, but I haven't heard back from them."

"This is a matter for the FBI so if the sheriff calls back and says they haven't found her, tell them the FBI have been notified."

"Okay. I hope they find her soon."

"I'll take it from here," Jack said and hung up. "He didn't call the Sheriff's office and report the kidnapping since he didn't want the Sheriff calling the FBI. He needed to get David to pay the ransom, and if the FBI got involved, they would give a dozen reasons not to do so. After Megan had the money, he didn't care if they were involved because they wouldn't find anything.

Next Jack called David Barrett and told him what had happened.

"Do you want me to call the Sheriff who'll call the FBI since they have jurisdiction over kidnappings?"

"Absolutely not," David Barrett replied. "We're going to handle this ourselves."

"As your head of security, I wouldn't recommend that course of action, Sir."

"Jack, I'm instructing you to sit tight and not call anyone. Don't tell any of the staff, and if they want to know where Megan and Charley are, tell them they're on vacation. I'm on my way home."

Jack walked the two miles to Megan's car and drove it back to the house. Later that evening, he checked the departures, and at seven fifteen Megan's and Charley's Boeing 747 had taken off. Jack's sister Veronica was scheduled to meet their flight at Manchester airport the next day, and drive them to her three bedroomed house near Knutsford twenty miles south of the city.


David Barrett arrived home at eight-thirty the next morning. Tiny had driven through the night to get him there. David sat down with Jack and went over all the details of the kidnapping. Jack was apologetic the whole time, telling David it was his fault for letting her go alone.

"It's not your fault Jack. Megan should have come straight to you. That's what you're here for."

"But if I have gotten to my car sooner, I might have stood a chance of catching up to her before she was snatched."

"But they already had Charley. One hostage is as good as two where I'm concerned. I didn't much care if Megan got snatched, it's Charley I'm concerned about."

Jack thought that last comment very cold and uncaring but said nothing.

"You think they got hurt when they got taken?" David asked.

"I don't think so, Sir. Apparently, Miss Jennings had twisted her ankle which is why no one saw anything; the last of the stragglers had already passed her. She doesn't weigh a whole lot so a couple of guys could easily carry her away. They apparently cut the fence ahead of time.

"I looked at the area where I found Mrs. Barrett's car, and didn't see any sign of a struggle. Her pocketbook was on the passenger seat, and the key was still in the ignition. Maybe they showed her a photo on a phone of Miss Jennings. There would be no way she would not have gone with them if she knew they had her daughter. We really should let the FBI handle this Sir."

"No way Jack. You didn't know it, but my first wife was kidnapped for ransom, and the FBI screwed it up, and she was found dead a few days later."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know that. All we can do now is to sit and wait since I have no idea where they might be or who might have taken them."

Chapter Twenty-One

The next morning David's phone chirped to tell him he had a new text. Jack and David looked at the phone as David opened the text. The text read:

"Proof of life. More to follow. No cops."

Attached was a photograph of Megan and Charley sitting on a sofa against a white wall. They both had their hands tied behind their backs and were gagged. Charlie had her running shirt on, running shorts, long socks, and running shoes. Megan had on the same clothes as she wore the previous day.

"Mrs. Barrett's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and they both look unharmed." Jack had taken that photo in a hotel room a week ago.

Before David got the text, Jack had just turned away for a few seconds, giving the excuse he needed a drink of water, and had sent the text from a pre-paid phone in his pocket. Its number untraceable. It took twenty seconds for the text to transmit to the nearest cell tower, to be sent back to the phone company's central switching station, then sent back to the same tower, and finally to David's phone. So Jack was standing next to David when David received the text. Perfect timing.

"I guess we wait," David said.

David made a few phone calls while we waited for the next text. It came at two o'clock in the afternoon. It said:

"Ten million to be transferred to the following bank account in the Cayman Islands. If we don't receive notification by close of business tomorrow that the money has been transferred, they both die but not before we make the mother watch her daughter get gang raped by four guys."

"What are we going to do Jack?"

Jack was about to tell David that they should call the FBI, but stopped himself. He didn't want to push his luck.

"I guess there's not a lot we can do. There's no drop off location to surveil, and there's no suitcase filled with hundred dollar bills to follow. With the use of small tracking devices kidnappers don't want cash in a suitcase, and banknotes have numbers that can be traced."

"I'll get Tiny to drive me to the bank this afternoon to transfer the money. We then wait in good faith."

Then the shit hit the fan. When Charley hadn't showered after Phys-Ed class the day before, and when she didn't turn up for school that morning, the rumor mill started. One of Charley's classmates had called her father, who was a detective in the Charlotte PD, and told him that there was talk that Charley had been abducted. The detective came ringing the Barrett's front door at noon. Jack let him in. His name was Sam James.

"You understand that I have to check these things Mr. Barrett, and more so after the attempted abduction of Miss Jennings a while back. Is there any truth to the notion that Miss Jennings has been abducted?"

"None whatsoever Detective James," David replied. "It was my wife's fault for not notifying the school that she was taking Charley on a trip to Disney World. It had been booked for weeks, and my wife must have forgotten to tell the school."

"I've spoken to the school," Detective James said, "and they say she didn't come back from her run, and no one saw her in the showers."

"They must have made a headcount mistake," David replied. "I was told she had twisted her ankle and was the last one in. maybe the showers were empty when she finally returned."

Jack had been half listening, he made himself scarce after showing the detective to David's office and was standing outside. He saw where he had made a bad mistake. The headcount thing could be written off as a simple mistake, but Charley's school uniform still in her locker would raise the alarm. He had to think fast. He walked back into the office carrying a cup of tea.

"I heard the last of your conversation, and I think I can explain that Jack said. "I was waiting outside the school to pick Charley up at my usual time. When she was late, I got worried. So I got out of the car and went to go inside when Charley came limping out. She was still dressed in her running clothes. I helped her to my car, and she got in. She apologized for being late, said she'd twisted her ankle and knew I'd be worried where she was—the prior attempt at kidnapping and all. So she skipped showers and came right outside."

"Okay, that clears up everything. I wished you had told me that earlier."

"Sorry, but I was making a cup of tea. Care for one?"

"No thanks, I have to go," the detective replied. "Thanks for your time Mr. Barrett."

The detective was walking to the front door when he stopped, turned and said, "The school principal told me over the phone that she had called Mrs. Barrett and told her that Mis Jennings was missing and that Mrs. Barrett said she was coming right over, but she never made it. Why was that?"

"Simple explanation detective. Mrs. Barrett called me to say she was going to the school since she had been told Charley was missing. I told her that Charley was with me. She said she would turn around and meet us back at the house."

"Okay, thanks, Mr. Norris. You any relation to Chuck Norris?" he asked.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tiny drove David to his bank, and twenty minutes later ten million dollars showed up in a bank in the Cayman Islands in the name of M Thompson, although David's bank didn't know the owner's name, all they had was the account number. Jack checked the account on his iPhone then texted his sister Veronica to pass on the good news to Megan who was sitting next to her in Veronica's Range Rover driving back to her house in Knutsford.

David didn't get any texts the rest of the day. Nor did he get any the next day. As time wore on David was getting more and more concerned and agitated. He turned to Jack and said, "What's your take on this?"

Jack scratched his chin. "Doesn't look good I'm afraid Sir. We should have heard something by now that's for damn sure."

"What can we do?"

At this point, Jack didn't care if the FBI got involved since Megan and Charley had tickets, and had traveled on passports with different spelled first names and different last names. The passports weren't forgeries, they were legitimate, and only the officer in the UK IPS who had issued them knew the names were false, and he was subject to the Official Secrets Act.

"You want to call the Sheriff and tell him they have been kidnapped? That will involve the FBI, and they won't be happy campers. Then there was the issue us both making false statements to Detective James."

David sighed heavily and said, "We made false verbal statements. I don't think any DA would prosecute."

"So what do you want to do Sir?"

"I guess it's time to fess up, maybe they can find out what happened to them. I can't believe this is happening again."

Jack looked at David's face. All the blood had drained out, and he looked older than his years. Jack called the local sheriff and told him what had happened. An hour later two very pissed FBI agents showed up at David's front door. Four hours later they left, promising to start a manhunt for the two women, which Jack knew would be fruitless.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The weekend came with no news. Emily called Jack and asked if he wanted to come by on Friday evening and spend the weekend with her. Jack wondered if she knew about the disappearance of Megan and Charley which he thought she probably did. Jack knocked on Emily's apartment door. She opened it and immediately threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"God I've missed you, Jack," she said. "Come in, I'm cooking dinner again."

Jack fixed a gin and tonic for Emily and a Manhattan for himself. They stood in the kitchen, and Jack was waiting for her to ask the million dollar question.

"I heard about the kidnapping," she said at length. "How's Mr. Barrett taking it?"

Jack was quiet for the longest time. He knew there would be a reckoning and knew he couldn't lie to Emily. That would be starting their relationship on the wrong foot—something he promised himself he would never do.

He took a good swig of his martini and a deep breath, and said, "They weren't kidnapped."

Emily looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face. "What do you mean there was no kidnapping? The FBI put out a BOLO for them five days ago."

Jack was quiet for the longest time. Emily came over and took hold of his hands. "What aren't you telling me Jack?" she said.

Jack took another deep breath. "There's something you should know Emily. I care for you deeply, and I don't want to start our relationship with lies. I'm not that kind of person. There was no kidnapping, I staged the whole thing. Megan and Charley are at my sister's house in Cheshire in England."

Emily was now even more confused. She said, "But why would you do that Jack?"

"Megan was pregnant."

"So," Emily said.

Jack didn't respond. Then the lightbulb went off inside her head.

"The baby wasn't her husband's was it? It was yours."

Jack's silence told her the truth.

Emily beat Jack on his chest with her fists shouting, "How could you do that to me, Jack. I thought you cared about me, yet you had sex with your boss's wife behind my back."

Emily was sobbing. Jack shook her and said, "I didn't cheat on you. I would never do that. I love you, Emily."

She looked up into his eyes. "But . . . "

"I slept with Megan before I even met you, Emily. I didn't cheat on you. I love you, and I want to be together with you forever. I want to marry you—have children with you."

Emily dried her eyes on her apron and put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I love you too Jack," she said. "I didn't quite know how you felt about me. Tell me all about what you did.


"Ten million dollars is a lot of money," Emily said after she finished eating. "Why so much?"

"Charley wasn't David's daughter so no child support, and he would have insisted on a paternity test, so no child support for the baby. Megan had signed a prenup, so no alimony. Megan would be out on the street pregnant with a fifteen-year-old daughter and no means of support. Megan confided in me about her childhood and how, at the age of fourteen, she posed for pornographic photos to get enough money to live on. She said she couldn't do that again—not with two mouths to feed."

"So what are you going to do Jack. The woman bearing your child is in England with false passports, and I still have no idea how you pulled that off, and as Simon said, I don't want to know."

"I have to ask you a very important question Emily, and I want an honest answer."

"You'll get nothing less from me Jack. You know, total honesty."

"I've been thinking of moving back to England for a while now. My sister and I still own my parents' old house, and I was hoping you might want to come with me."

"I'll go wherever you go Jack. I hope you know that."

"But how would you feel about me with another woman's baby?"

"Okay as long as we have a baby. They would be sorta stepsisters. I'm okay with that."

"God I love you, Emily."

"Were you serious about getting married?"

"You want me to prove it?"

"I may be a detective, but I'm a romantic at heart."

Jack got down on one knee and said, "Emily Nice, will you marry me?"

Emily took his hands and pulled him up. "Yes Jack Norris, I will marry you."

"Sorry, but I don't have a ring to give you."

"Well, tomorrow you can take me shopping for one. But in the meantime, I've finished my period. You wanna fool around?"

Ten minutes later they were naked in bed. Emily was on top of Jack on her knees with his penis buried deep inside her pussy. She was moving up and down, slowly at first, letting her natural juices lubricate Jack's penis. Then she increased the pace. She had her hands flat on his chest, and Jack watched as her breasts moved up and down in a sensual motion.

Emily liked being on top. She wanted to control the pace, and if she was going to climax too soon, she could slow or stop moving. Her pussy was throbbing, and her body cried out for sweet relief from the intensity of her desire. She was moving up and down faster now, her crotch slamming into Jack's, squashing her clit against his pubes. Then she climaxed.

"Oh my God Jack," she cried, as she dropped on top of him.

Jack could feel her vaginal muscle clenching and relaxing around the shaft of his penis that was buried deep inside her. Her breasts were squashed against his chest, and he could feel her heart pounding inside her chest. He held her tight as her body jerked and shook from her intense orgasm. After a minute or so, she had come off her orgasmic high and pushed back up. Both their fronts were covered in sweat which the cool air-conditioning soon evaporated.

"I always seem to cum first," she said. "That's not very democratic of me is it?"

"I don't mind," Jack replied. "I love to watch you cum. You have the most intense orgasms of any woman I've slept with."

"I've never had orgasms like this with any other man. It's you, Jack, you somehow light me up inside. I love the chemistry between us."

She started moving up and down again, but Jack stopped her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I've wanted to do something quite naughty ever since I saw your stupendous tits."

Emily gave him a sly smile. "What naughty thing do you have in mind Jack?"

"I'd love to cum all over your gorgeous tits."

"That is naughty, but I'd love for you spurt your cum all over them."

She got off and lay beside him. Jack straddled her waist, grasped the shaft of his penis in between his thumb and forefinger and began to masturbate. Emily fondled his scrotum with her right hand and squashed her left breast with her other. She was staring into his eyes that narrowed with his excitement. It didn't take him long to climax.

"Cumming baby," he said.

Emily moved her hands away and watched excitedly as the first large rope of his pearly-white semen spurted out of the end of his penis and splashed on her left breast. It was quickly followed by a second equally large rope that hit her right breast on its nipple. Three more ropes of cum splattered her breasts. As Jack squeezed out the last of his cum, he shook it off his penis. It landed on Emily's chin.

She giggled and licked it off and said, "I hope you're a better shot with your Glock than you are with your cock. Ooo, that rhymes doesn't it?"

Jack chuckled and watched as Emily rubbed his cum all over her upper body. She licked the palms of her hands clean.

"That's a lot of cum Jack."

"I've always spurted a lot," he replied.

"C'mon, let's shower," Emily said, as she got out from under him, and head for the bathroom.

An hour later, Emily was coming down off another orgasm high at the tip of Jack's tongue. He lay beside her, and she snuggled up to his side with her arm across his chest, and her finger touching the 9mm diameter scar.

"To think, a piece of canvas strapping stood in the way so that we could find each other," she said. "I love you very much, Jack."

Jack turned and kissed her. "I love you too darling."

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was eight o'clock in Knutsford England. Charley woke up, yawned and stretched. She looked over at her new best friend Stephanie Jackson still asleep. The two of them had hit it off straight away. Steph, as she preferred to be called, had introduced her to some of her friends and had even taken her to her school, that was a ten-minute walk away from the Jackson's house.

Charley got out of bed and went to the main bathroom where she peed, washed her hands and brushed her teeth. She was just about to leave the bathroom when Stephanie appeared.

"Morning Charley," Stephanie said sleepily.

Charley stood there as Stephanie hoisted her nightdress, pulled her panties down and sat on the toilet.

"No school today Charley," Stephanie said as she urinated. "What do you fancy doing?"

"Shopping of course, what else is there to do on a Saturday," Charley replied.

Stephanie wiped her pussy, pulled her panties back up and flushed the toilet. After washing her hands and brushing her teeth, the two girls headed back to their bedroom. Downstairs, Stephanie's mother Veronica and Megan were sitting at the kitchen table talking.

"So how much money is there to invest?" Veronica asked.

"Jack said there's around seven and a half million pounds. But I'm going to transfer a million pounds worth of dollars to Jack's account I'm going to set up in the Cayman Islands bank. He would refuse if I offered it to him, but if it's in his account, he can't do anything about it. He deserves it since he helped me out of an awful situation that happened twenty years ago—not to mention the situation with our baby."

Jack had told Veronica all about the baby and how he was going to stage a kidnapping. Veronica had offered to take Megan and Charley in until they could find a house. They had already started to look for one.

"First thing Monday morning, I'll take you to my bank to set up an account so you can start transferring funds from your bank in the Cayman Islands."

"Thanks for taking us in Veronica and for your offers of help. I need to find a house soon so I can get Charley enrolled in school so she can start attending when the summer break is over."


Six hours later, Jack awoke, got out of bed and did his morning ablutions. He was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee when Emily came padding in. She kissed him.

"Morning Jack," she said sleepily.

"Morning darling," Jack replied.

"Hmm, I think I'm going to like being called darling," she said.

"How about Mrs. Emily Norris?"

"I like that better. Can we get married in England? Mom and Dad could fly over for the wedding."

"Suits me," Jack replied. "But first we need to get you an engagement ring and then go give your parents the good news."


Chapter Twenty Five

Mr. and Mrs. Nice were over the moon when Emily and Jack told them about their engagement. Lisa Nice said she wanted to fly ahead with Emily and start making arrangements after Emily had worked her month's notice at the police department which was okay with Jack since it gave him time to tie up a few loose ends.

"You think we're rushing the wedding Jack?"

"No darling I don't. The sooner we get married, the sooner you can get a work permit. I think you'd go stir crazy sitting around the house all day long."

"Hm, I hadn't even thought about a job. I think I'd like to open a private investigations firm. Do I need a license for that?"

"Yes, you need a license from the British SIA. But with your background in law enforcement and your police academy diploma you should have no problem getting one."

Jack headed back at the Barrett house. When he got there, he received an email from the bank in the Cayman Islands where the ten million dollars had been deposited. The email had his name and an account number and a balance of some one point two six million dollars. David did the sum in his head and came up with close to a million pounds. He called Megan and asked her why she had opened an account for him. She explained that it was her way of showing her appreciation of all that Jack had done for her.

Jack knocked on David's office door.

"Come in," David shouted.

Jack walked in and stood in front of David's large mahogany desk.

"Got a minute, Sir?"

"Sure Jack, what is it?"

"I've thought about this. I'm quitting as of today. I'll have my stuff out of here by this evening."

"But why Jack?"

"Three things really. You don't need two security guys, and Tiny's a good guy and can take care of your safety. Also, every time you look at me you're going to remember the kidnapping. The third reason is that I'm engaged, funnily enough to the female detective who handled the attempted kidnapping case. We're going to live in England where my parents' old house is still available."

"Is there any way I can change your mind, Jack?"

"Sorry, Sir."

David shook Jack's hand and said, "Thanks for all you've done Jack. Congratulations on your engagement."

With that, Jack went back to his quarters, packed all of his clothes and personal effects, and left never to return. He unloaded his things at Emily's apartment and called his sister.

"How are Megan and Charley settling in, Veronica?" Jack asked.

"They're doing just fine Jack. Charley and Steph have become good friends. They're sharing her bed right now. I get the impression that Charley's not a virgin judging by what she tells Steph."

Jack almost lost his composure. He hoped Charley had kept her promise to her mother to keep secret the fact that Charley and I'd had sex.

"I think Megan told me something about a boyfriend when she was thirteen."

"Megan is one beautiful woman, I can see why you had sex with her. I know it's water under the bridge and all, but why didn't you use protection, Jack?"

"Because Megan was told that she couldn't have any more children after Charley was born."

"Oh, I see. Then it's a miracle baby."

"I guess it is. You got her in with your OB-GYN?"

"Yes, she's already seen her."

"I need you to give the tenants on Mom and Dad's house a month's notice as Emily, her mother, and I will need a place to stay for a while."

"Not necessary as they told me they had bought a place and were in the process of moving."

"That's good news. Did you know that Megan put the equivalent of a million pounds into an account she opened for me?"

"Yes, she told me. You gonna buy a house?"

"I think we need to as Mom and Dad's house is a little small."

"See you soon Jack. Love Ya."

"Love you too Sis, and thanks for all you've done."

Upstairs in Stephanie's bedroom. Stephanie and Charley were lying in bed talking.

"So you lost your virginity when you were thirteen?" Stephanie said. "What was it like? Did you enjoy it?"

"Not the first time since it hurt and I bled. After that sex was okay, but my boyfriend wasn't experienced. It was much better when I had sex with this older guy. He was much more experienced, and he knew how to pleasure me."

Stephanie put her hand over her open mouth and said, "You had sex with an older man?!"

"Yeah, and if you decide to do it, I would suggest you do it with an older guy not some kid at school."

"You're very beautiful Charley, just like your mom."

"You're pretty too Steph. I see how the boys look at you—men too. You wanna fool around?"

"Fool around?"

"You never fooled around with a girlfriend—you know French kissed and stuff?"

"No, I've never kissed a girl."

Charley put her hand on the back of Stephanie's neck and kissed her on her lips. Soon they were kissing like crazy. As soon as Charley's tongue had found its way between Stephanie's lips they were French kissing. Charley put her hand over Stephanie's breast under her cotton nightdress and squeezed, feeling her nipple harden.

"Let's get out of these clothes," Charley said.

They both pulled the nightdresses over their heads and tugged their panties down. They threw them in a pile on the floor. Charley looked at Stephanie's cone shaped breasts with red puffy areolas and small red nipples.

"You've got nice tits Steph," she said.

Charley started to suck Stephanie's nipples and squeeze her breasts. Stephanie just lay there enjoying the attention her new American friend was paying her. Charley took Stephanie's hand and put it between her own legs.

"Put your fingers in my pussy," she said.

Stephanie did as Charley asked, tentative at first since this was the first time she had done anything with another girl. Then after Charley started rubbing Stephanie's clit, Stephanie threw herself into the sexual encounter wholeheartedly. Soon the room was filled with squelching noises as each girl had two or more fingers inside the other's wet vagina.

Charley broke off their kiss and got between Stephanie's legs.

"What are you doing Charley?" Stephanie asked.

Charley didn't answer, she proceeded to suck and lick Stephanie's clit while finger fucking her. Stephanie had been masturbating since she was eleven years old, and had been fucking herself with the handle of her hairbrush, but this was a whole new sensation, and she was loving every minute of it. It only took a few minutes for her to have the most intense orgasm she'd ever had.

"Now it's your turn to do me," Charley said after Stephanie had calmed.

Veronica looked in on the two girls on her way to bed later that evening. When she saw the two girls naked, and the pile of nightdresses and panties on the floor she smiled and remembered her sexual experimenting when she was Stephanie's age.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emily worked her month's notice at the police department. There was another month to go on the lease on her apartment, so she packed up all of her clothes and personal effects and stuff from the kitchen. She called a moving company to come and collect her's and Jack's stuff and have it crated up and shipped to his sister's house.

"I have a revolver," Emily said. "It's a 38 special. Should I ship that as well?"

"Sorry Emily, you won't be able to get that into the country without a permit."

"How about your Glock?"

"When I left the SAS, I obtained a firearms permit since I was doing high-value client protection for a few months before coming over here, so I'm okay."

Jack sold his Lexus to a private individual for a fairly decent price since that model was in high demand.

Jack booked three first-class tickets to Manchester England on Delta via Atlanta. They were due to depart the next day at four o'clock.

"Tonight's our last night in this apartment, so I think we should celebrate don't you think," Emily said with a twinkle in her pale-blue eyes.

"What did you have in mind?" Jack asked.

"I think I'd like to try it doggie style. You up for that darling?"

"You can always get me up, you know that."

That evening after eating out, they showered, dried off and got onto the bed.

"Okay Emily, assume the position," Jack said.

Emily got onto her knees and rested her weight on her forearms with her head on the pillow. Jack was knelt behind her admiring her rear end. Her legs were parted, and the gap at the top of her legs was filled with her gorgeous peach-shaped vulva. Her inner labia hung down from her tight slit, and Jack could see the dark opening to her vagina. The pink rosebud of her anus appeared to be winking at him. He kissed it.

"Wow!" Emily said. "That felt nice. You like my butt hole?"

"It's beautiful, so is this," Jack said as he slipped a finger into her vagina, feeling how tight, and hot, and moist she was.

Emily giggled. She said, "You going to mount your bitch in heat?"

"You bet I am."

With that, Jack took his penis in hand and wiped its head up and down her slit, pushing aside her plump red labia. She gasped as his cockhead rasped across her clit. He rested his penis at the opening to her vagina and put his hands on Emily's hips.

"You want to do the honors?" he asked.

Emily slowly pushed back at him, and the head of his cock entered her vagina. As it did so, she gasped.

"You would think that the number of times we've made love, I could accommodate you more easily. It doesn't hurt, but it stretches me a lot."

"Do they have penile plastic surgery? You know, some women get bigger tits, some have them made smaller?"

Emily had a fit of giggles. When she regained her composure, Jack's penis was buried all the way inside her. He started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, letting her vagina accommodate his girth then speeding up a tick. He leaned forward, put his hands around her chest and cupped her exquisite breasts with his hands. Jack could feel her raised areolas and nipples pressing against his palms.

Emily had her hand cupping her pussy, her middle finger was strumming her clit as Jack fucked her from behind. She was starting to breathe hard as he thrust into her. Jack wasn't slamming into her by any means, but the room was filled with the sound of his ball sack hitting Emily's buttocks.

Jack felt his orgasm rushing in. "Can't wait baby," he cried.

His penis swelled, and he spurted hard inside Emily's vagina. The feeling of his hot fluid hitting her cervix pushed her over the top.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, good God yes Jack," she cried as she climaxed. Her body jerked, and she dropped to the mattress, pulling Jack with her.

Jack lay on her back with his penis still buried inside her, spurting load after load of his hot teeming liquid inside her. When he was done, he pulled out of her. A flood of his cum came out and puddled on the bed.

"Now we have to change the bedclothes," Emily said.

"We can't," Jack replied. "Remember, this is the last set, we sent all the others to England. We'll just throw a bath towel over it since we'll be doing laundry for the last time tomorrow."

After grabbing a bath towel and covering the wet area in the bed. Emily snuggled up to Jack and said, "Last night in America and a new life awaits us in England. I can't wait."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Are you related to Chuck Norris?" the woman behind the Delta first-class check-in counter said after Jack handed her his drivers license.

"Sorry 'fraid not," Jack replied for the umpteenth time.

After checking Lisa's and Emily's IDs, she put tags on their baggage and handed them their boarding passes. Jack handed the woman the locked plastic case that contained his Glock. Satisfied that his UK firearms permit was in order, she put the case in Jack's checked luggage and Jack snapped the lock shut and twirled the four digits.

"Enjoy your flights," the woman said.


In Atlanta, the three of them settled into their seats in the first-class cabin, Jack in the window seat on row three, Emily beside him in the aisle seat, and Lisa across the aisle. After a lovely dinner, Jack and Emily watched a movie for a while, then reclined their seats to the sleeping position. With two blankets covering them side by side, Emily put her hand over Jack's groin and felt his penis get erect.

"Feels naughty doesn't it?" Emily said.

"Stop that, or I'll have to take you to the bathroom and do stuff to you," Jack replied.

Emily kissed him and said, "Promises, promises. Goodnight Jack."

"Goodnight darling."

They both fell asleep as the big Boeing cruised at an elevation of forty-nine thousand five hundred feet, and a speed of five hundred twenty knots rushing toward the rising sun.


Jack got in the driver's seat of a large four-door Ford. He was not familiar with that particular model. All he'd reserved on the phone with Hertz was a large four-door sedan. With their luggage in the trunk, and Lisa and Emily fastened in. Jack exited the rental car lot and headed west and got onto the M56. Twelve minutes later he exited the motorway onto the A556. He joined the A5033 and five minutes later pulled up in the driveway of his sister's house.

Jack's sister, Veronica, opened the door and gave him a big hug, and said, "Come on in Jack, great to see you again."

Jack stepped into the hallway and was followed by Emily and Lisa.

"Veronica," Jack said when they were in the large living room, "I'd like you to meet my fiancé Emily Nice and her mother, Lisa."

Veronica hugged Emily and Lisa in turn. "Nice to meet you," Veronica said. "I've heard all about you Emily, but Jack's description didn't do you justice—you're more beautiful."

"Thank you," Emily replied.

"Cup of tea?" Veronica asked.

"Yes please," the three of them said.

"Where's Megan and Charley," Jack asked at length.

Megan borrowed my car and took Charley and Steph into town to do some clothes shopping. They should be back early afternoon. I told them about a nice place for lunch."

After they'd finished their tea, Jack drove them the twenty miles to the small village of Adderley Edge and found his parents' house. It was a small, quaint, two-story, three-bedroom one bathroom stone cottage with a slate roof. He unlocked the door, and the three of them went in. Veronica had had the whole place cleaned after the tenants moved out and the place was spotless.

The front door opened into the living room which was sparsely furnished with a couch, two wing chairs, side chairs and a sideboard. There was a small inglenook fireplace, and a door to the left side opened to a staircase to the second floor. The door to the right of the fireplace opened up into a quite large eat-in kitchen with an oblong wooden table and four chairs around it. The appliances were relatively new with a fridge-freezer, gas range, and an electric oven.

A door led to the attached double garage which had the crate Emily had shipped from America sitting on the floor. The lid was off, and Veronica had removed the essentials and put them in the house. Such things as mattresses, pillows, bed linen, towels, china, cutlery, cooking pots and pans. The countertop electrical items that Emily now realized were no good as the voltage in the UK was 220 whereas it was a 120 in the US were still sitting in the crate.

Emily looked around, and then went upstairs where she checked the three bedrooms and the solitary bathroom that had a clawfoot tub with a chrome shower curtain rod hanging from the ceiling. A two-basin vanity and a toilet completed the fixtures.

"It's awfully small," Emily said when they were back downstairs.

"It's just temporary Emily," Jack replied. "We're going to buy a house."

"But with what? I have around thirty thousand dollars. How much do you have?"

"I haven't told you yet, but Megan opened an account in the same bank in the Cayman Islands and transferred the equivalent of a million pounds into it."

"That was very generous of her," Emily replied, "I can't wait to meet her."

"You will soon."


Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jack, Emily, and Lisa were back at the house when Megan, Charley, and Stephanie returned with shopping bags full of clothes. Charley was the first to see Jack. She came running over and gave him a big hug and a kiss. Next came Stephanie who did the same.

"Hiya Uncle Jack," she said.

"My you've grown a lot since I last saw you," Jack said.

Megan stood back as Jack introduced Charley and Stephanie to Emily and Lisa. Jack looked over at Megan, who smiled and came over and hugged him and kissed him lightly on his lips. Jack could see Emily staring at them nervously.

"Glad you could make it over here," Megan said.

"Me too," Jack replied. "But you shouldn't have put that money in my account."

"It was the least I could do for you," Megan replied, "after what you did for Charley and me."

Megan let go of Jack, walked over to where Emily was standing and put her arms around her and hugged her. She whispered in her ear, "You're one lucky woman Emily. I'm jealous that he chose you over me. Jack is quite a catch."

Those few words put Emily at ease, and she was starting to warm to the woman who was carrying her fiancé's child. The whole situation was bizarre, but Emily was okay with it. She was after all, who Jack had picked to be his wife. The two of them stood there talking quietly to each other. Realizing the situation, everyone gave them space.

"Thanks, Megan. I'm happy to meet you. That was quite a stunt Jack pulled. I could have arrested him for it." Emily chuckled.


"Didn't Jack tell you? I was the detective on the attempted kidnapping of your daughter. That's how we met."

"I know this whole situation must seem very strange from your perspective. I want you to know that I would never try and get between you and Jack. I hope you're okay with the pregnancy thing."

"Yes it's a very unusual situation, and I've given it a lot of thought. And, yes I'm okay with you carrying my fiancé's baby. I guess somehow the three of us will be in the child's life for a long time. I would hope I could be your friend Megan."

"I hope so too Emily. And congratulations on your engagement. When's the wedding?"

"Soon, my mother Lisa came over with us to help me make arrangements."

"I saw her, and the resemblance is striking. This may sound strange, but if there's anything I can help with the wedding, please let me know."

"Thanks for the offer Megan, I'm sure there will be something."


Jack took everyone out to dinner that evening and afterward drove Emily and Lisa back to the house in Alderton Edge. At nine o'clock, Lisa said she was tired and was turning in for the night. Jack and Emily followed an hour later. Emily filled the bathtub and took a bath while Jack sat on the toilet and watched.

"How did things go with Megan when the two of you first met? You seemed to have a lot to say to each other."

"It went fine. I like Megan, and I can see why you were attracted to her, she's gorgeous. She told me I was lucky that you picked me. I think over time we're going to be good friends. I may even ask her to be my maid of honor if you're okay with that."

"Of course I am darling. To say I was worried that the two of you wouldn't get along is a gross understatement. Megan's having my baby, and it would be awful if you weren't involved in its upbringing."

Emily stood up in the tub and said, "Come on, get in the tub with me and we can wash each other."

That night they made love. It wasn't passionate love. For one thing, they were tired from jet lag, and the walls of this old cottage were not insulated, and Lisa's bedroom was right next door. The made slow, almost languorous love. Emily had a quiet orgasm—well quiet by her standards. She brought Jack to his orgasm with his penis inside her mouth. Then they dropped into a deep sleep. The first day of the rest of their lives.



Jack and Emily were married in the large and beautiful Saint Phillip's Church in Alderton Edge on a warm August morning. Megan was indeed Emily's maid of honor, and Charley and Stephanie were her bridesmaids. Trevor, Emily's father, had flown in the week before, and her Uncle Tony drove up from his barracks the day before.

The reception for twenty people was held at the nearby Alderton Edge Hotel and Restaurant. Afterward, Jack and Emily had driven off in his rental car back to their house, where they got changed. They drove to Manchester airport where Jack turned in the rental, and they took a late afternoon flight to Paris. They spent a week's honeymoon in the City of Lights, hitting all the tourist spots like the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, and the Palace at Versailles.

In the meanwhile, Megan and Charley began shopping for a house. To get around without keep having to borrow Veronica's car, Megan visited the local Mazda dealership and snagged a good deal on a new Sonic Silver CX-5. They spent the next three weeks touring the surrounding towns and villages.

They settled on the small village of Winkham, seventeen miles from Knutsford. It was midway between Manchester and Macclesfield. Both Megan and Charley loved the quaint four-bedroom, four and a half bath, two story house. It had just over five thousand square feet, and was built in the nineteen forties but had been extensively modernized three years ago. It had an outdoor heated swimming pool, a long gravel driveway and both formal and informal gardens.

There was an excellent private academy nearby that Charley would attend. After purchasing the house, Megan enrolled Charley since the new school term started in just three weeks. Megan found an excellent interior designer in Manchester and spent a small fortune furnishing the whole house. However, having paid just under a million pounds purchasing the house and another hundred and twenty thousand on furnishings and other essential she still had a sizable sum sitting in her bank in the Cayman Islands or her bank in Manchester.

Stephanie was a regular visitor to the house for sleepovers with her best friend, Charley. Stephanie now initiated sex with Charley, and they enjoyed each other's bodies every chance they could get. Their favorite position was the classic sixty-nine position.

Back from their honeymoon. Jack and Emily started their house hunting. It took over a month, but they finally found what they were looking for in the small village of Penover. They purchased a large, four bedroom, two bathrooms, two-story detached house on a quiet street. It was only ten minutes by car to Megan's house and just twenty-six minutes from Macclesfield.

Emily easily passed the British SIA test to become a private investigator. Her business card said:

Offering Discrete Investigative Services
Emily Nice - Principal

She leased office space in a building in Macclesfield catering to small businesses, and hired a secretary-receptionist and went to work. Being that she was one of a very few female private investigators in the north of England, a graduate of the North Carolina police academy, and an ex-detective in the US, she soon got her share of work.

At first, it was mainly women with suspicions that their husbands were cheating on them. Then a large American Insurance company opened a branch in Macclesfield. She was put on retainer to do background checks of potential employees. Then later she was hired to investigate insurance fraud. Emily was very proud of what she had accomplished. Jack picked up security work from time to time, and when he had some downtime, he did the legwork for Emily's company.


Megan gave birth to a healthy baby boy that Jack and she named John Michael Thompson. Jack participated in his upbringing, and he and Emily spent weekends at Megan's house. Emily and Megan had, in fact, become very good friends.

Not wanting to be outdone. Emily pestered Jack for them to have a child. Since Emily's business was doing so well, she had hired two more investigators—both females. That, together with Jack's involvement allowed her to stay busy up until she was seven months pregnant. She gave birth to a very healthy six pounds seven-ounce girl they named Madelyn Lisa Norris. When she and Jack resumed their sex life, Emily was happy that at last, she could now easily accommodate the girth of Jack's penis.


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