Clare's Secret

Chapter One Betrayed “How long has it been Chuck?” Half listening to his partner, Deputy Sheriff Chuck Meadows is busy staring out of his driver’s side patrol car window concentrating in the fading light of the evening at what appears to be an abandoned timber and brick building across the street. “Wha…?” Straitening her glasses and twirling her hands in frustration, Deputy Sheriff Clare Mortimer focuses on Chuck’s handsome aquiline features and repeats the question. “How long has it been?” Not letting on that he knows what she means, Chuck releases a heavy sigh of agitation, as he hones onto her instead of the suspected building. Now biting his bottom lip to keep his impatience in check, he glares out of the front windshield. “How long has ‘what’ been?” Her frustration mounting, she tightens her hands into balls and scowls at her partner. “How long has it been since we made love, screwed - orgasmed together?” Rolling his eyes in despair, he turns his head to face at her. “I don’t know! Last week? Two weeks ago? I don’t keep count like you do. Remember we’ve been pretty busy lately with all these young women going missing!” Knowing he is right, but not wanting to admit, she releases the tightness from her hands and grips hold of his face. “By your casual attitude you wouldn’t think we are supposed to be getting married in a month - even though nothing has been booked yet.” His response is to offer her an amiable grin. “That near?” “Yes, that near!” Suppressing his annoyance, he takes hold of her wrists and continues the grin wondering at the same time how he is going to get her to concentrate on the job at hand. “My, how time flies. Let’s talk about it later.” “Later? How much later? I’m pushing thirty! I can’t wait forever.” Still with her hands gripping his face, she leans forward and plants her soft lips on his tense mouth. No obvious reaction coming from him, she withdraws. After searching his eyes and finding nothing, she delivers a kiss that should stir any man out of his complacency. While her soft lips part and her tongue probes for an opening, there is a little reaction, but not the intensity she needs. Even though this stakeout is supposed to be important, I find it a waste of time compared to what I’m feeling. Frustration taking over, she glances at her wristwatch. “Our shift finished ten minutes ago!” “So? After you’ve let go of my face, we’ll go back to the station, report to the boss, and then talk about your problem.” Her discontent mounting, she removes her glasses, and with determination begins to unbutton her pale green shirt. My problem? “Before we go back, take me out to the desert, lay me down, and thrust that c**k of yours up me until your balls ache.” Suppressing the urge to reprimand her for lack of discipline on the job, he bites his bottom lip. “Clare! For Chrissake….” “At least touch my boobs. Do ‘something’?” He can’t help but notice her emerging generous cleavage. Having seen it many times before, the excitement is not there. With most of her ample breasts staring him in the face, his thoughts have a tendency to relate to the smutty comments his work buddies always rib him about. He rolls his eyes. “Not now Clare! You’re a police officer. Act like one.” As tears of exasperation and righteous anger sting her eyes, she punches his shoulder. “You son of a b***h! Do you love me or not? If not, it’s all over.” All he feels right now is sympathy, as she tries to hang on to her dignity while fumbling with her shirt buttons. Witnessing her managing to stuff that bulbous flesh back behind the shirt fabric, he leans across to help her. “Allow me.” Her reaction is to slap his hand. “Don’t touch me, you bastard.” Controlling his dwindling patience, he admits there has always been a bone of contention between them concerning her emotional and s****l demands. Thinking that the promise of marriage would temper her somewhat, she is worse than ever. Leaving her to contend with her buttons, he goes to turn on the ignition when a movement near the old building catches his eye. “There’s someone out there.” Her reaction is to turn her back to the windshield and continue to button up her shirt. A sharp crack from somewhere outside followed by a loud shattering of the windshield being damaged, Clare experiences a painful burning sensation as a bullet enters the muscle below her right shoulder and exits just above her right breast. To her horror Chuck’s head is forced backwards. In her red haze of pain she witnesses that his left eye has become a crimson crater, and the headrest of his seat is covered with a mixture of blood, bone and brains. “Chuck? CHUCK!” Through her tears and pain she leans against his chest. Not feeling his heart beating, she sobs. “Oh my god, the bastards! I’m so sorry Chuck; I didn’t really mean you’re a son of a b***h. It’s my entire fault. I just wanted your love…” Snapping out of her self-pity and guilt, her police training comes to the fore. Her hands tremble from the shock as she retrieves her glasses, grabs hold of the vehicle’s radio and presses the talk button. “Car five to base - one man down - one wounded - needs immediate assistance….” She blacks out.