Even Clete's devious reasoning told him that his aspirations for making love to the lovely blonde music teacher and voice student were completely out of order, wrong, and impossible to bring to fruition. But it was an obsession, a romantic and sexual fantasy he lived in, made all the more concrete by his memories of that night, just days ago, of having the lovely blonde tripping on LSD, braced on all fours, and taking his big, black cock into her tender, pink cunt from behind. He had bathed her womb in his virile seed, in his own eyes making her his forever, whether or not she knew it or liked it. But he had to have her again soon or he knew he would begin taking his frustration out on Nancy in some way.
"You wanted the reward posted, Clete, so now that we've raised it and posted it and it's hanging there in front of your greedy nose, why haven't you caught the raping bastard?" Mark's eyes were blazing with a vehemence and fire that the black police chief had never seen. Why? Had he somehow found out about the night a month before their wedding when Lobo had broken in on the Canning gang's rape party and taken the pristine – or nearly so – maiden for himself? Or – and the thought filled him with a jealous fury even as he relished Mark's discomfort – had it happened again somehow? Had Lobo again taken his pleasure with that angel of the earth and temporarily turned her into a raving sex fiend with his giant canine cock? Yes, that was it! It must be! And Mark had walked in on the scene, had witnessed it somehow. So that he believed – finally – the threat posed by the dog pack. And wanted his own bloody revenge.
Clete shook himself. That must be it, and Lobo had defiled his beloved again. It was strange that he should have a common bond with the councillor he so hated, for the sake of the white man's wife. He had to grit his teeth to restrain himself from running amuck with a vengeful rage. No, it had to be done right, so that the kudos and the money would be his, all his, at the proper time, when DesirЋe would appreciate him as her protector and savior from a fate worse than – yes, let's face it – worse than death.
"I'm bringing in a tracker from Tennessee that can lead us to him next time he's spotted. He'll have to be paid out of the reward money, but we'll have to pay his expenses while he's hanging around waiting for his chance. Once we find him, I'll shoot Lobo."
"That's it, Clete," Mark said. "Slaughter the dirty, raping son of a bitch." And brought his fist down on the desk. At that moment, Clete could see his enemy's real anguish, and could almost feel sympathy for him.
Almost, but not quite. The chief of the police still intended to use his huge black cock on the man's new bride to vanquish the enemy that had made his job difficult and almost devoid of respect since he, Mark Denning had come to office and pushed his own ideas of law enforcement through the council. Clete fully intended to vote for Denning as state senator, just to get rid of him. Then with the help of the money he could make from his control of the two remaining members of the Canning drug "cartel", Clete would have no trouble rising to prominence and property in Pickford's Meadows.
The police chief stood up with a thin smile. "You got it, Councillor," he said, adjusting his gun belt. "One dead pack of dogs coming right up. I wouldn't want what happened to my Nancy to happen to anyone else, would you?"
Mark Denning answered with a silent, granite-like face, and Clete knew at that instant that, yes truly, Lobo had been back to DesirЋe for an encore and that her husband, Mr. Cool-Invulnerable of the Pickford's Meadows Town Council, had somehow found out or witnessed the event.
"Yeah, you got it, Councillor," Clete reassured him, fighting not to laugh in the young white man's face, even as he wept inside for DesirЋe. The girl would need some serious purging after a visit from Lobo, and Clete had every intention of helping her with it.
Yes, he sure did.
CHAPTER THREE
"Let's not be late, DesirЋe," Mark said dryly as he tied his tie before the bedroom mirror. "Sid Buchanan is the last obstacle to my nomination and I don't want anything to go wrong with this deal. He's got to be satisfied that I'm the man he wants in the legislature. From there, I've got all the funding I need and then the sky's the limit."
"Marvelous," DesirЋe said softly but without enthusiasm. Mark was still cold toward her and avoided looking directly at her. And since the night with Lobo, he had not shown the slightest interest in making love with her. Not the slightest, and she needed it so much. Not just any sex, but sex with him, Mark, the only man she had ever loved in her life. If only she could now clasp his hot body between her thighs, his penis in her vagina, to milk the creamy, life-giving fluids from his body, to give him the baby he wanted, to make them a complete family! But now he seemed so far away, and her womb burned with desire for him, to make her whole again, to show her that he forgave her for what the vile dog Lobo had done to her. Politics meant so little to her while she was hurting so badly inside.
DesirЋe applied her usual light make-up so as not to dull the natural healthy pink glow of her skin and lips, glancing frequently at Mark's cold profile. When would he learn to forget so that she could forget?
It was early afternoon and soon they would be leaving to go upstate to see this Sid Buchanan, about whom she had heard so much lately, one of the state's premier fat cats and kingmakers. The tentacles of his wealth and influence spread all the way back to Washington. The influence grew from the money and the money grew from his business interests in banking, defence, food, and real estate. There were few politicians brave enough to tell him no, and Mark was not among those few, not yet. So when his time came to meet Buchanan and do what was necessary to curry favor, he answered the call dutifully. The time had come to show Big Sid how the powers that be would feel about Mark Denning in the state legislature and what prospects there were for his becoming a US Senator some time in the future, near or far.
DesirЋe looked at her beloved. She really was proud of him, so why couldn't he be proud of her? She had dedicated her life to him; why couldn't he forget something that had been forced on her against her will?
Putting the finishing touches to her make-up and shaking out her thick, blonde, and, for tonight, iron-curled hair, she smoothed the blue satin of her dress down over her perfect figure, her fingertips lingering on her flat belly. Was there, perhaps, a baby in there? Oh, she hoped so. Mark's baby! It would bring them together again like nothing else could, she just knew it.
Mark led her outside and put her into the Mercedes he would be driving. It would be a late night and they would not have to drive back but would stay in a guest room in Big Sid's opulent mansion. They had packed their overnight things. There would be other people there as well, other influential men. DesirЋe prepared herself for a long night of being on her very best behavior. Glancing at Mark's cold profile, she prayed for respite for the pain and deprivation she was feeling. Oh, Mark, I love you so much! Please make love to me the way you used to!
At that moment, as the big car pulled away from the lovely, new home, two pairs of eyes watched from a parked car a short way down the street. One of them, Billy Canning, lowered his binoculars and spoke through his teeth to his companion. "That's her, Sam," he said, taping on Sam Quaid's knee. "That's the little bitch that got my brother murdered."
"Who, sweet little DesirЋe Mitchell? She wouldn't hurt anybody. Couldn't even fight us off that night."
"Not her. It was Anderson, that black son of a bitch. John fucked her and Clete found out about it. I saw the wounds at the morgue. No dog could make tears in a body like that. Looked more like a bear. But there's no bears hereabouts, even though somebody – Clete – planted dog hair all around. Any idiot could tell it was all phoney, but Clete was investigating his own crime and that means no one was looking too damn fucking close."