Reclaimed Haven: Murder on Second: Reclaimed Haven, #2

Introduction

HEY FABULOUS READER!

Beth here with a quick recap in case you didn't catch Reclaimed Haven: Murder on First. Here's what's going on:

Once a sleepy town, two violent murders rocked the fair city of Crossroads within the space of a couple weeks.

Covering the action is the Crossroads Herald's newest reporter, Ashley Stone. She's accompanied by one hit wonder pop sensation, Ace Chase, better known as Ned Stevens, the Herald's official photographer. With his rock star looks, keen eye for detail, and naturally protective personality, it isn't long before Ashley and Ned strike up a quiet romance.

One problem, though. Ashley is dealing with cancer.

Oh. And there's a whole terrorist thing going on, too.

Unbeknownst to Ashley and Ned, but knownst to various members of Crossroads, this tiny town became a haven for retired terrorists (or freedom fighters depending on which side you're on) employed by the infamous, global terrorist network, the RNF (Republic National Forces). It has since exploded. (See Reclaimed Hope: Her Truth is a Lie, His Lie Holds the Truth for more information on that fascinating story.)

Near as anyone can tell, a new global network is emerging and its leaders are looking for something very important. Hence, one by one... former RNF members are getting murdered. And by murdered I mean viciously killed. Knocked off. Slain.

While at the first murder site, Ned happened upon a mysterious object... a very odd key. They figure it's important, but getting information on what it actually does is difficult. Then, while trying to unravel this mystery, Ned and Ashley discover long time friends aren't what they seem. They also find out Crossroads life isn't as quiet as they believed. Then they're forced to develop friendships with shady people they would have avoided before all this madness hit.

Can their newfound affection survive the stresses of this twisted story? How will they manage the quirky people they encounter? Will Ashley's cancer rear its ugly head?

Read on. Things are about to get wild.

— Beth :)

The Setup

THE BOX FELT SQUISHY and a most acrid smell squeezed through the tape. The scent assaulted the his nostrils. He wasn't sure if he should investigate this most odious event, or whether he should just deliver the damn box and get done with it.

He decided on the latter. But, he'd definitely earn his substantial pay for this delivery.

With the odor wafting through his van, he hightailed it to its destination, whipped open his sliding door, and grabbed the offending parcel.

Damn, he thought, I'm gonna be glad to get this fuckin' stink bomb outta my truck.

The cardboard felt like burlap under his fingers. His step quickened, he knew that sucker could pop open any minute.

As he trotted to the door, his middle finger popped through the soft cardboard. He felt a fluid filled plastic bag press against his fingertip.

Fuck. He retracted his finger. Fast.

His pace quickened, although he was relieved to realize he hadn't punctured whatever horrible object was inside the package.

Finally, he approached the door. He paused as he verified the address.

The Crossroad's Herald. Nobody was inside. But, he knew the drill, having observed more than one delivery person enter the building after hours. He lifted the welcome mat and pulled out the key hidden beneath. Once inside, he placed the messy, squishy object on Ashley Stone's desk.

Job done. Time for coffee. Assuming he could get the stench off his clothes.

Midnight Love

THE NIGHTMARES STILL haunted him. Although time had passed since that fateful day, Justin couldn't cope. He was plagued with nightmares, night sweats, and uncontrollable fits of frustration that leaped on him when he least expected it.

Most nights he avoided sleep and wandered the dark house. He barely dared peek out windows, afraid of conjuring another nightmare. He wished his parents could afford a decent computer so he could immerse his thoughts in a virtual world... one where blood puddles didn't exist, where the odor of death didn't invade his waking nightmares.

Tonight was no different.

Justin wandered his house, wondering if he had energy to start a new Classic Zoom campaign. The thought of imaginary monsters and pixelated blood tamed his memories of the real thing. In that world, he could engage God mode, and with glowing gold eyes, become an unstoppable force of justice.

Let the enemy descend upon me, he growled in a hushed whisper, I am invincible!

That scenario seemed rather attractive as he eyed the ancient laptop his dad used to watch vintage porn. He thought better of firing up the old machine, not wanting his parents to suspect aging naked women sparked his interests. He had better things to do.

He pondered trying to sleep but realized either way he was screwed: if he tried to sleep, he'd toss and turn; if he played Zoom, he'd spontaneously fall asleep during school.

Either way, he lost. As usual.

Damn reality. He decided to game.

As he stepped towards the sticky computer, a flash of light caught his eye. Two dim headlights trawled down his street.

A neighbor, he thought, Wonder what they're doing out so late.

Against his good judgement, he stepped towards the picture window and peeked outside, careful to remain hidden in the deep shadows of his home. He narrowed his eyes.

A grey sedan rolled by. License plate looked unfamiliar. Justin grabbed a pencil and scrawled a few numbers onto a scrap of paper.

Nobody screws with Justin T., he mumbled, imagining himself as the Zoom hero, Wynn Taggert, hot on the trail of a demon. If his sanity could survive what he endured these past few weeks, he was truly a top notch demon slayer. He grinned. Then it immediately faded into his best imitation of Taggert.

Pew, pew, pew, he whispered, forming his hand into the pea shooter revolver. You're mine, you bastard.

The car slid to a stop. Justin froze. His heart pounded in his ears. He watched as a dark figure exited the vehicle. Justin stepped backwards towards the cold kitchen as the figure approached his front door. A gasp caught in his throat.

A whirring squeal deafened him as the pressure in his head ratcheted upward. Yet, thick silence enveloped him as he heard clanky jiggling as someone fiddled with the door knob. He would have screamed if he hadn't lost his ability to breathe.

Then he heard a dull, Whap, whap, whap, whap, whap.

Justin figured he'd faint at any moment. But he didn't. At this moment, he felt like a rat in a trap... not powerful Wynn Taggert, super Marine.

He watched as the figure sauntered down the walkway, the slow gait of someone celebrating a job well done. It turned left towards the grey vehicle, and entered the passenger side. The car slid away. The whole ordeal took less than two minutes.

Shaking from head to toe, Justin knew he should probably examine the damage to his house. But he didn't. Wynn Taggert evaporated, leaving little Justin T. quaking in his bare feet and flannel jammies.

He scampered to his room, dived into bed, and clenched his eyes shut. He'd never wander the house again.

He decided to deal with this new nightmare tomorrow.

NED SET THE ENVELOPE on the table... the one from her oncologist.

I love that we're both Ned. He smiled. No Evidence of Disease. N.E.D. That's so cool.

I'm NED for now, she said, breathing a sigh of relief. You realize it can come back at any time, right

I know. But statistically speaking, your recurrence odds are pretty decent. Right?

Yup... but there's always a chance. After all, cancer generally wins.

Ned laughed. Yeah. Death always wins. So let's not be happy. Ever. His hand brushed her shoulder. Let's go sit on the couch, hang our heads in shame, and cry awhile.

Ashley chuckled.

Either way, he whispered, I find you incredibly hot. Sexiest survivor alive.

Ashley felt her cheeks warm.

Ned continued, At this moment, we're both alive. We're both Ned. And I want to celebrate. A slow smile spread across Ashley's face.

He continued, I can think of a way to make this moment memorable. How about if I touch you here. His hand touched her cheek. Electricity buzzed onto her skin through his fingertips. And here. His other hand slid to her back. And how do you like this? His warm breath brushed her cheek. Then his lips pressed against her temple. She felt his tongue tickle her skin. She closed her eyes.

You know I'm crazy about you, he whispered.

You know I'm pretty nuts about you, too, she answered.

He stepped back and gazed into her eyes. I didn't know that, he said.

Well, she laughed, I guess you know now.

You've been pretty cool about it. His lovely eyebrow arched upward.

She laughed. I don't know what to say.

He grinned. How about you say it again. Tell me you like me.

Maybe... she replied.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. She melted into his embrace.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to float in the warm safety of his touch. The heat of his torso penetrated her shirt, melting the memory of the evening's events, causing all unease to descend through her limbs, and drain into the floor.

Just as she thought the moment couldn't feel better, his fingers slid upward, gently tickling her spine.

She arched her back just enough to press his fingers tighter against her shirt. When she felt his breath brush against her ear, she turned her head, allowing her lips to touch his.

She didn't know if she dared open her eyes. It had been a while since their magical night at the farmhouse and she wasn't sure if she could, or wanted to, try to recapture such a splendid moment.

But there he stood. Gorgeous as hell. Hotter than hot. Perfect beyond all perfection.

The thickening in his groin told her everything she needed to know at that exact moment.

She almost stepped away, knowing entangling her life further into his was likely a stupid idea. But she hadn't died yet. Heck, she might even beat the ugly specter growing inside her. She heard stories... lots of stories of people who lived many years after a cancer diagnosis. She also read gruesome accounts of disfigurement, starvation, fates worse than death.

She stiffened at the thought.

But Ned kept touching her, wrapping his arms around her, stroking various stretches of bare skin. With him near, she felt invincible. Cancer didn't exist. Nightmares vanished. The unruly voice in her head ceased its cruel monologue.

His lips nibbled the nape of her neck. She smiled. His hand reached under her shirt. Her fingers tangled in his hair.

In one, insane moment, she threw caution to the wind and pulled his face towards hers. She pressed her lips on his, abandoning all good sense, forgetting cancer, and allowing primal lust to pour into her veins.

Ned swept her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom where he gently set her on the bed. He didn't say a word, instead gazing at her, touching her face, caressing her hair. He paused long enough to pull off his shirt and unbutton his pants. He slid them over his thighs and stepped out of them.

The sight of Ned's bare body took Ashley's breath away. She paused a moment, wondering if she should proceed, unsure if she could reveal her scar laden torso to him again.

Last time was spontaneous. It had been so long since anyone outside the medical profession touched her body, she felt like a volcano filled with lust, passion, yearning. But this time? This time felt different. It felt real... like they could actually become a couple.

Dare she deepen the relationship like this? What if things didn't work out? What if Ned wasn't who he claimed to be? What if the cancer came back? Was she fair to drag him into her unpredictable life? Was this good?

Questions... a million of them... ricocheted through her mind. She attempted to squash each and focus on the eternal, warm, pleasant moment.

Ned leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear. Quit thinking so much, he whispered. Then he smiled his dazzling grin and pulled her face towards his.

I'm not thinking, she countered.

Sure you are, he answered, fingers tracing a line from her clavicle to her waist, pausing slightly over the swell of her breast. Sure you are,' he repeated, lips descending to her neck, arms gliding behind her, slipping under her shirt, and deftly unclasping her bra. But I'm about to make you forget everything."

Oh God, she moaned.

He didn't reply, instead lifting her shirt and sliding it over her head. We had to go fast last time, he said, this time... we slow down. Way down.

Morning Aftermath

HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW they would handle the call. Witness count was high, although death toll very low. He didn't figure anyone could identify him, but Trinity could be tough. Very tough. And if she didn't like you... well... Dick could vouch for the outcomes of her anger.

It's not as bad as it looks, said the dark figure next to him.

I know.

I mean really. This whole assignment has gone tits up.

Agreed.

And it's not our fault.

That's how we see it. He added, But is that how they'll interpret events?

Hope so.

Know what happens to operatives who fuck up?

The dark figure sighed. I have my suspicions.

Know why we offed that operative?

He fucked up?

Yup.

Silence enveloped them. The digital clock clicked past three numbers before he spoke. I suppose I should phone in my report.

I suppose.

He grabbed his disposable cell phone and dialed a number. He didn't realize it, but he held his breath as he counted the rings. His heart leaped when the recipient picked up.

Hot July days amuse me.

Not as much as cold Decembers.

He glanced at his partner as a long pause ensued. Finally the other person on the line spoke. Report?

Mission accomplished.

I'm delighted. Details.

Incompetent operative extinguished.

Witnesses?

His heart leaped to his throat. Yes.

How many?

The pressure in his head increased by ten fold. A few.

How many. Tension oozed through each word.

Half a dozen... give or take.

Give or take? You don't know how many? Didn't you conduct surveillance beforehand?

Some. But the operative was already in their custody. He appeared ready to talk. We extinguished him before he could inflict damage to the organization.

Are you certain he didn't speak?

Tension stretched across his chest. I am not certain.

The voice said, Duly noted. Irritation tinged each word.

He paused, carefully constructing his next sentence. Things got a little... intense. There were people at the farm house. Operative entered. There was some kind of fight. He was subdued. We extinguished him before I could see him reveal any information. I assume he didn't speak much during the altercation. He heard typing on the other end of the line.

Was the hit clean?

Yes. Very.

Did you verify all your assumptions?

No. I cannot do so without risking further exposure.

Long pause. Then, Which of you extinguished him?

Uh... it was me.

Artifact?

No. It hasn't been located.

He heard typing on the other side of the line. Finally, Fine. Remain in contact. I'll be in touch with your next assignment. In the mean time, continue patrolling. Then the voice added, Get a new vehicle. Cops are searching for a grey sedan. I can't believe you'd use the same vehicle for so long, nor can I believe I'd have to give you such elementary instructions.

My apologies. Thank you for your patience, Trinity.

The other end of the line went dead.

HIS FINGERTIPS SENT waves of electrical shocks up and down her legs. Her back arched. Their bodies entwined, legs tangling together; arms clasping, pulling the other closer. At that moment, nothing existed except the two of them.

He flipped her to her back, mouth possessing hers. Primal passion rose, moist sweat dampened her forehead.

She felt completely possessed, thoroughly loved, completely safe.

She eagerly awaited his entrance, unable to stand one more moment before he completely took what was obviously his.

But he made her wait.

True to his word, tonight he took his time, instead caressing, stroking, probing... until she thought she'd go mad.

Then came the waves of ecstasy. Throngs of pleasure rolled through her body, carrying her to heights she'd never experienced before. She barely clung to sanity so she grasped Ned, holding tight, barely able to endure the ride.

Finally, he entered. Slow and methodical, deep and firm. Her body embraced primal mode as they united, engaging in the dance of the ancients, the rite of love.

Reality melted into darkness as their rhythm intensified. Prehistoric drum beats filled her mind as their bodies combined, their love magnified, as they approached the apex of sensation.

Wave upon wave of pleasure overwhelmed her as he worked his magic.

And with a shudder, Ned melted into her, body glistening with perspiration.

Ashley had never felt so loved, so thoroughly possessed... so content.

She lay connected to him, hoping against all hope that they'd rest like that forever. He nibbled her neck, stroked her arm, whispered sweet words into her ear. Contentment washed over her as her muscles relaxed and breathing eased.

Then cancer reared its face. It started with a shudder, an unpleasant sensation. Then it intensified.

Holy cow, she gasped. A sharp stab pierced her belly. She could barely push the words from her lips. My incision. Holy hell.

Ned lifted his head. Huh?

My incision, she choked. Dear God, you've got to get off me.

He jerked his torso upward. Shit, he gasped, I'm sorry. He added, I didn't hurt you, did I?

Ashley slid from under him, pulling the sheet over her. No, she lied, Seriously, no. I'm fine.

You don't look fine, he said.

I am, she gasped, a droplet of sweat rolled down her temple. She added, Except now I'm embarrassed. Waves of discomfort washed over her, punctuated by sharp stabs all along her belly. Then her ears reddened. I'm mortified, she sighed. 

Don't be embarrassed, Ned said, eyes examining her, it was all my fault. He added, You're perfect.

Ashley sank into her pillow. Hardly perfect. She composed herself. Sorry 'bout that. She said, You're incredible. I may have overreacted. She relaxed into the sheets and observed the dull thudding in her abdomen. She tried to change the subject. Holy cow, she breathed, That was amazing.

Ned's eyes looked dreamy. "It