CHAPTER 3—PLUNGE INTO INSANITY
It had been several years since he had thought about her. Her image was buried deeply within his memory banks. He had tried to tell himself time and time again that he had blocked her out to push back the pain. However, he was simply lying to himself. He had done so for many years. He shoved her way back because he was subconsciously the biggest bastard who ever walked the planet. He blamed himself for her breakdown, even though he had no way of knowing that she was never completely sane. All he could see was the crazed look on her face as she tromped on the gas pedal and urged the car forward. He had even ducked behind a statue like a coward. He should have taken whatever punishment she had wanted to dole out. He should have done something. He hadn't. He had run away from the memories, from her, and had tried to run from the guilt, but it wasn't easy. Thoughts of her came to the surface at night, in the occasional nightmare. He had longed to apologize for what he had done, but it was no use. She would haunt him forever.
* * *
Donovan came awake suddenly. What the hell, he thought as he sat straight up in bed. His movements hadn't disturbed Loralei. Her body was tucked beneath the covers, but her naked shoulder was peeking out, seemingly begging to be kissed. He vaguely remembered dreaming, but he couldn't remember what or whom he had been dreaming about. He held up his wrist in the moonlight filtering through a nearby window and peered at his watch. It was a quarter to three in the morning. He felt apprehensive and on edge, and attributed it to the visit he and Loralei would make later in the day. However, something was amiss, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
The discussion about the mental hospital visit was a week old, but Donovan hadn't been able to get away. There was too much going on at work. He couldn't count the cases that had poured in during his absence. It was a struggle just getting a day off. Of course, he didn't mind the delay. He didn't like this idea, didn't like what it would do to his wife, or to him. Why could they not leave the ghosts behind and look forward to their future? It wasn't just Loralei. It was the same with him. He couldn't put Black Heart to rest, couldn't stop wondering what her next move would be. Giving up on sleep for the time being, Donovan crawled out of bed carefully and looked back over his shoulder to ensure that Loralei hadn't awakened. He grabbed his robe and shrugged into it. He then padded into the living room and picked up a briefcase that had been resting under an end table. He sat down on one end of the couch and laid the briefcase on the other end. He popped the case open and dug out a small steno pad.
Once Loralei had left his office a week ago, he had conferred with Monica and Cody about the envelope. He wanted to know what type of person would send something so hideous. He specifically recalled telling them to eliminate the thought of Black Heart. He didn't want to believe that 'Carly' had tracked them down. This is someone who holds a grudge, but not a typical one, he had written [this was a direct quote from Monica]. Too similar to Black Heart, he thought, time to move on. He skimmed the page and found: You know this person, and probably know her well. Her? Who said it was a woman? Was that what Monica had said, or was it something he had written out of pure instinct? The printing on the card was distinctly female [again, according to Monica, and Cody agreed]. Since when does handwriting have a gender? He shook his head as if trying to clear it. He was afraid he was losing his edge. Of course, he supposed that handwriting analysts could differentiate between the writings of a man and a woman. Still… No, no, no, his mind screamed. He refused to believe it, to accept it. Tomorrow would put an instantaneous end to the nonsense.
Donovan didn't feel settled. His nerves were jumpy. There was no other person he could point a finger toward, but that didn't seem altogether right. What is it? What is going on? He could almost feel it, could almost feel the words popping up on his tongue, but he couldn't quite spit it out. His memories were buried too deeply in a safe locked far back into his psyche. Sighing, he closed the steno pad and placed it back into the briefcase. If he didn't put it away now, he'd brood over it for the rest of the night.
"Frank?"
He looked toward the bedroom. Dressed in one of his shirts, Loralei stood leaning against the doorframe and gazed at him curiously. "What are you doing up?"
She stifled a yawn behind her hand. "What are you doing up?"
He smiled a little and shook his head. "Couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?"
"Once you become accustomed to sleeping with someone, you miss him when he's gone," she said.
Donovan slid the briefcase to the end of the couch before crooking his finger at her. She didn't hesitate to join him. She sat beside him and drew her legs up under her. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she inhaled his scent, and felt a shiver running through her body. She loved his scent and the warmth of his body most of all.
"Are you okay," she asked suddenly.
His hand reached out and his finger lightly traced a circle around a nipple straining against the fabric of the shirt. "I'm all right. I think I'll be better after tomorrow. I think we'll both be better."
"Mmmm," she sighed. The gentle movement of his finger was somewhat distracting. "You're right. I'm sorry I insisted on going, but I have to do this," she nearly whispered. His touch was electrifying.
"I know," he said. "It's okay. I love you, Loralei."
She smiled. "You'd better."
He leaned toward her and kissed her gently, but the kiss quickly deepened when her lips parted against his. During the kiss, he tried to pull her over to straddle him, but she backed away from his grasp. Bewildered, he gazed at her with a look that said: What the hell? He liked to have control over everything, even in the bedroom. Sometimes, though, she enjoyed taking that control away from him. She could do it, and did it quite often, but at times she was an insufferable tease. He simply didn't know if he liked it a little or a lot. She smiled and took hold of his robe's belt. What in the world was she trying to do to him? Not making one move to stop her, he continued to gaze at her with the same puzzled expression as she slowly untied the belt. His robe opened now, she noticed with a feigned look of disappointment that he was still wearing the sexy black briefs she loved seeing him in. Yet one more barrier to remove, she thought as she ran her tongue over her lips.
She leaned toward him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He tried to pull her toward him again, but she backed off a second time. She shook her head and wagged her finger at him in a 'tsk tsk' motion as if he were a child caught misbehaving. Frustrated, he wanted more of her, to touch and taste the flesh that she had hidden so well beneath his shirt. His impatient puzzlement never left his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed her finger over his lips and shook her head again. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she straddled one leg, inserting her knee between his thighs. She was painstakingly close to his aching groin. She placed very gentle kisses on his lips, but wouldn't give him any more than that. During her brief, teasing kisses, her hand drifted from his shoulder, down his chest, and eventually ventured lower. He took in a deep breath as he anticipated her touch, as he needed her touch. It didn't come right away, and he groaned against her lips.
"Loralei," he whispered huskily.
"Shh." She kissed him again, this time giving him more, allowing him to slip his tongue between her lips before she pulled away yet again.
"Don't do this to…" His words were cut off abruptly as her hand finally went down where he needed it most. "…me," he spat as she began a maddeningly slow caress.
She stopped as abruptly as she began, and he groaned again. His pulse boomed at his temples. She shifted her body slightly, pulling it into a slight crouch beside him. Her lips moved over his chest and slipped down onto the taut muscles of his stomach. Every ounce of blood in his body began to rush down below his waist. She slipped her hand inside his briefs and ran a finger along the length of him. He bit his bottom lip as her feather light touch drove him further and further over the edge of ecstasy. It was almost painful. He wanted to ask that she stop before he burst, but he couldn't speak. She slipped her hand out, and he exhaled a heavy, but shaky breath. He couldn't stand much more of this. She slowly pushed his briefs down and freed him from the increasingly uncomfortably tight garment. He closed his eyes and bit his lip again as he felt her warm breath so close, yet still so very far away. There seemed to be absolutely no blood flowing to his brain, and he felt quite incapacitated.
"What do we have here," she asked softly, her voice lilting seductively.
"What you have," he spat, finally able to force actual words out of his mouth, "is something that cannot withstand much more of this. Do the terms 'explosive' and 'pyrotechnic' mean anything to you?"
"Mmm, yes," she whispered as her hand fell on him.
A moment after she touched him, her wet tongue teased the tip of him. He closed his eyes ever so tightly and his hand went into her silky hair. Once again, he found he couldn't speak or move. He was totally and completely enslaved by her touch. He then decided he liked letting her have the upper hand…sometimes. A few teasing strokes later, she drew away.
Donovan groaned deeply and audibly. "Goddamn," he sighed, "you must stop this," he whispered harshly.
She ignored his words for a moment as her lips made a path from his stomach to his chest. After teasing him so shamelessly, she finally settled her body right where he wanted it. She sat almost completely astride him now. His pulsating erection was right against her. It would take only a tiny nudge to be inside her, to feel her warmth, to experience mind-bending release. As he was about to make his move, she lifted her body upward.
"Not," she said as she placed a gentle kiss on his left cheek. "So," she said, placing another kiss on his right cheek. "Fast." Her lips met his briefly.
He slipped his hands down to her legs and moved them up under the shirt. In the process, he managed to shove it a bit past her hips. He rested his hands on each side of her waist. Her body was hot and fevered and her nipples strained desperately against the material of the shirt, begging to be freed. She was halfway over the edge herself, but continued to play her erotically cruel game.
"Not so fast, she says," he whispered, his voice quite shaky. If she didn't let him come inside her soon, he thought he might die. "Not so fast. Incredible. You consider what you've done to me fast?"
"Mmm, oh yes," she said against his lips. "Very fast."
He chuckled the slightest bit. The low rustling quality of the sound escaping his lips penetrated her entire soul. He certainly knows how to work me. She felt silly and dumb, but she couldn't help it. At times, it didn't take much for her to attack him without provocation. If he looked at her a certain way with a lifted eyebrow, she'd immediately feel that familiar fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. She'd either have to turn away or jump his bones. Hundreds of tiny chill bumps [or 'thrill' bumps as she liked to call them] had begun to break out all over her body. He smiled a little as he recognized this as one of a dozen cues indicating that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The game was just about over. Slowly, she lowered her body again, and this time, he was ready for her. She would not escape. Without taking his eyes off hers, he slipped into her deeply, deliciously. For a short span of time, their only thought, their only concern was their love for each other. Nothing else mattered.
* * *
Loralei was obviously in the midst of a wonderful dream. From his vantage point beside the bed, Donovan could see a little smile framing her lips. It would be such a shame to wake her, but if they didn't get on the road soon, they'd never make it to the hospital and back before nightfall. He leaned over her and lightly smacked her luscious bottom with the back of his hand. She moaned and spat out an incoherent curse. With a smile, he shook his head and did it again.
"Come on, Loralei. Let's move."
"No," she groaned. "Five more minutes."
After their heated little episode on the couch, he took her to bed and they fell asleep in each other's arms. That had been…oh…about an hour ago? He had trained his body to function with little sleep, but he couldn't say the same about Loralei. "Nope." He climbed onto the bed and leaned even closer to her. His breath fell on the nape of her neck. "Would you like me to do the ear thing again? I don't mind, you know."
She rose up suddenly, comically, nearly popping Donovan on the jaw with her head. "No, that's okay. Maybe we can do that later."
"After what you did to me last night," he said as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, "it might be a long time before I do that again."
She looked at him with a lifted eyebrow, intentionally mocking him. "I didn't hear you arguing about it," she said with a smile.
He shook his head again. "You're not doing it to me now. Uh uh, no way, Loralei." He grabbed her hands and pulled her up to her knees. "You can be flip all you want," he said as he gazed at her intensely. "I know you're scared. After today, we put her behind us. We were free of her for eight long months, and we can be free of her for the rest of our lives."
She nodded. "I want that. I want that more than anything. I made a promise to you, Frank, and I'll keep it. When I lay my eyes on her, it's done."
"Fair enough." He dropped his serious expression and glanced at his wristwatch. "I'm giving you fifteen minutes to get dressed. If you're not finished, we're leaving anyway," he said with a grin.
She gave him a mock salute. "Fair enough, my good Lord. I do pity your team sometimes."
"I mean it, Loralei. The clock is ticking," he said before turning away and leaving the room.
Loralei got going. She didn't know whether he was bluffing or not. It was best not to fuck around too much with Frank Donovan.
* * *
They had been driving for a little more than two hours. Loralei was particularly quiet and hadn't said much at all. She gazed blankly out the window. Every now and then, he caught her clutching at her stomach as if she were sick. This trip had more of an effect on her than she wanted to admit. His wife was a brave woman; she had gone through so much pain and torment. He wasn't sure he could have made it if their situations had been reversed. Even those who were brave had weaknesses, and the Black Heart was her weakness. He hoped that this journey would end her torment once and for all.
Donovan took an exit off the freeway and coasted the car onto a narrow two-lane road. If he recalled correctly, the hospital was out in the country, isolated from society. If he had gotten the directions right, this road would take them there with little fuss and muss. Since Loralei was so distant, he caught his mind wondering to various other things. He didn't want to focus solely on thoughts of the widow. They would be dealing with her soon enough. Suddenly, Loralei moaned, bringing him out of his self-absorbed daze.
Concerned, he focused his eyes on her. She was clutching at her stomach again. "Are you okay?"
She shook her head. "No," she moaned. "Pull over, Frank, I think I'm going to be sick."
Looking out for traffic behind them and seeing none, he coasted the car over to the side of the road. The car had barely stopped before she had the door open. She darted away like a shot and a few moments later, he heard the horrible sound of her retching. As he got out of the car to approach her, his eyes noticed a sign: Rockbridge Hospital 60. He sighed and shook his head sadly. Loralei probably saw it before he did. The thought of being so close to the institution, so close to Black Heart, had finally pushed her stress addled body to the max. By the time he neared her, she had recovered and was making her way toward him.
He caught her by the arm before she could get to the car. Her face was flushed and pale; her eyes were watering, and beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead. "Loralei?"
"I'm okay," she said. "It just got to me." She shook off his arm without malice. "I don't think you should be so close to me right now. I'd hate to have to puke on you. I feel yucky, I need to find a bathroom."
He smiled a little and followed behind her. Her strength amazed him sometimes. She would be fine.
Donovan found a convenience store ten miles up the road in a small 'if you blink your eyes you'll miss it' town. He stayed behind as Loralei went into the bathroom. Her upset stomach refused to leave her alone. She was sick again. She leaned over the toilet bowl for what seemed like an hour and waited for the sensation to pass. When it finally went away, she washed her face and blotted it dry with a sand papery-like paper towel. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and noticed that she looked terrible. Get a grip, Loralei. After today, you can breathe easily.