Abigail

The rain was back. It whipped hard against the windscreen of the car. There was a loud static ringing in my ear as I hung in the back seat, looking at the two shadowy figures in the front seats before me.

Except this time, the shadows were getting clearer. It felt like a fog was slowly clearing away in my head and I could see my father’s smashed-in head. Blood and bones, spilled and broken, dripping down the car, tap, tap, tap.

A loud scream tore from my throat, my parent’s dead bodies hung before me. Then the sound of footsteps approaching cut through my scream. A man dropped near the broken glass, staring at me. He reached through the window and wrapped his hands around my throat.

I woke up screaming, jumping upright on the bed, my heart slamming so hard I could hear it. My hands flew to my hammering chest, I could feel bile rising in my throat.

I saw their bodies. I saw their dead bodies so vividly. The therapist Meemaw made me see when I was younger had said my brain had blanked out those images every time I dreamt of my parents to protect me.

Was it done protecting me then? Why the hell was it so dark? The light coming from the bedside lamp did not feel enough. The phantom hands around my throat tightened.

"Abby?" His voice cut through my head, his hands finding my arms in the dark. "Hey, hey, baby, I’m here,"

"Help," I gasped out, barely able to say anything asides from that. My breaths came in shallow gasps, each one scraping my throat raw making my body shiver like a leaf in autumn wind.

Finnegan reached behind him to increase the lamp’s glow, before cupping my face. "Breathe, baby. Breathe,"

I blinked rapidly and his green eyes came into view, gazing softly at me. The nightmare faded away.

I drew in a shaky breath and dropped my gaze into his chest. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"It’s alright," he rasped, pressing a kiss to forehead. "Will you tell me what it was about? Did you have another attack?"

I nodded against his chest, hugging him tightly, rubbing my cheek against his heated skin.

"My parents died when I was nine. It’s been over fifteen years since they died..." I told him about the accident and all I could remember. "The murderer is out there,"

"Hmm, how do you know?" He asked, running his fingers through my hair then down my back.

I told him about detective Raymond Cole then and how I had been trying to get the case of my parents death reopened by searching for evidence. I was halfway telling him about Gavin when he snapped.

"How the fuck was all that happening, and I had no idea?"

"Finn-"

"Christ," He pulled away slightly, cupping my face so our eyes could meet. "What were you thinking, Abigail? You could have died!"

"I didn’t, okay? I mean I’m right here, aren’t I?" I mumbled.

"You tried to lure a murderer in...Shit. Was that why you had marks on your neck back at the club?"

He remembered that? I thought we had forgotten all about it.

"Uhh, maybe?"

He let out another strings of curses before he grabbed my shoulders. "Never ever do that again. How could you jeopardize yourself like that? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I had to protect my friend. Stop snapping at me like I had a damned choice. The police wouldn’t help-"

"What about me?! You could have told me,"

"Like how you told me you were married?" I retorted.

We both stared at each other, breathing heavily and for the life of me I couldn’t even remember why the argument had started.

He dragged a hand down his face, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Come here," He grumbled softly, holding a hand out to me.

I eyed it pensively before taking his hand, gasping when he yanked me into his chest. "There are a lot of things that are wrong with my family. I’ll tell you all when I can, but it’s not like this, Abigail. It’s not like playing detective all on your own. You’re my woman. I’ll handle this-"

"I can take care of myself,"

"I know," He murmured. "Humour me. I know someone in the Department of Justice. He owes me several favours. I’ll make the call and set up a meeting okay. If the police won’t help, the ministry of justice can make them."

"Okay," I grunted, feeling too exhausted to argue anyway. If it worked out, no problem, if it didn’t, I would get justice for my parents any other way.

"Thank you," He replied and my chest warmed. Maybe I was being a bit too difficult?

I leaned forward and kissed him, smiling when he sighed against my lips. His hands moved up my back and pulled me in against him. A breathless chuckle left my lips when his back fell flat on the sheets and I fell on top of him.

I traced the tattoo on his forearm with one finger, following the line of it up toward his elbow.

"Tell me about this one,"

His green eyes flickered to mine. "I don’t know why I got it. I was twenty and dumb, I guess,"

"It’s a very sexy tattoo," I purred, pressing my tongue over the black line, tracing it up.

"My mother didn’t think so when she saw it,"

"Oh please," I scoffed, moving my hands down his body under the sheets until my fingers found his thick and hard cock. "Don’t bring all that negative energy in here. What if she pops in here because you summoned her?"

"I’m sure you could take her-"

I wrapped my hand around his shaft, sighing when I felt him rapidly thicken against my palm.

"You were saying?" I teased, watching his eyes glaze with pleasure.

"I was..." He hissed through locked teeth . "Abigail,"

"Mm." I stroked his cock slowly, feeling him pulse against my palm. "Keep going?"

"I can’t fucking do that when you’re doing that," he bit out, grinding his teeth harder when I cupped his balls.

He rolled over then making me squeal while he pinned me under him in one swift movement. My wrists were caught above my head, his cock settling between my thighs.

"Enjoy teasing me, don’t you?"

"I have no idea what you’re-"

My words died down as he drove into my cunt.

"That," he groaned against my mouth, his hips slamming forward, "...is what happens when you tease me,"

"I’ll keep that in mind," I gasped, pulling him impossibly closer.

***

We arrived at the Department of Justice the next day at twelve pm after seeing Meemaw and Gramps off to Finn’s private jet.

He had arranged for his man, Benjamin Smith to meet us in a private meeting room on the fourth floor. He was slender in his mid-thirties with a round silver glass perched on his noes.

He shook Finnegan’s hand first. "Mr Wolfe, it’s an honour to be in the same room as you."

"Thank you for making time to meet us," Finnegan said, gesturing at me standing next to him. "This is Miss Kellerman."

"Of course, of course." He turned to me and shook my hand warmly. "Please take your seat, miss. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"I just need you to hear me out and then tell me if you can help me," I replied curtly, narrowing my eyes at him in suspicion.

I mean the police didn’t help me, what were the chances that he would?

Finn stepped out to take a call, and the smile on his face dropped completely.

"I’ll be honest with you, Miss Kellerman. I looked into it. This case will be wiped as nonexistent soon."

"What?!"