Buried Horizon: Ghosts Of Nowhere Town, #3

Prologue

Fall Out

Years before the fog

Ryan Wilson

Running my fingertips over the smooth teak desk, my lips twitched. To any passing assistant, the gesture might have been described as a sneer, or a smirk at least, but I intended it to be a smile. Life was good and everything was going according to plan. I had reasons to smile.

I’d been leader of the Conservative party for a little over two years, and every poll for the last nine months had my party at least twenty points ahead of its rivals. Barring an act of God, there would be a general election in the next six months, and I would become Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

Prime minister!

Pressing my palms against the wood, I imagined how sweet that day would be. As prime minister, I’d finally have the respect and accolades I deserved. I already led a life of extraordinary wealth and privilege, but my premiership would be the icing on the rather delectable cake. I couldn’t wait.

The jarring pitch of the phone on my desk diverted my attention from the pleasing mental image to the shrill-sounding device. Reaching for the receiver, I lifted it to my ear.

Wilson. My voice was gravelly as my free hand lowered between my thighs.

Ryan. Sam Stanton’s dulcet tone was instantly recognizable and invited my lips to stretch wider. Sam was one of my oldest friends. He was knowledgeable, sane, and above all else, he was loyal. I appreciated dedication above almost anything else. Can you talk?

Sam! My fingers curled in the soft hair of the woman forced onto her knees beneath my desk. She’d been there a long time, but at least her incessant sobbing seemed to be over. Perhaps she’d remembered what she was useful for. Good to hear from you.

I said, can you talk? Sam’s tone dismissed any pleasantries.

Not on this line. I shook my head as though Sam should have known better. Frankly, he should have. He might not have been in politics, but he was bright enough to know our conversations needed to stay off the record. If it’s important, we can speak on our mobiles. The secret service has got me an encrypted line.

I knew enough people who could delete the records of my private chats, or, if it came to it, men who could make the correspondence disappear altogether.

It’s important. Sam’s curt response might have grated a less self-assured man, but it barely affected me. The warning laced in Sam’s tone held no fear. I was Ryan Wilson, after all. I was basically untouchable.

So, call the mobile. I sighed, my digits stiffening in the folds of silky gold hair by my knees. Why was Sam wasting my time?

Fine.

The monotonous whirr of the dialing tone assured me that the line was dead, and placing down the receiver, my hand slipped to the mobile in my shirt pocket. By the time I’d whisked it from the fabric, it was already vibrating with Sam’s incoming call.

What’s the problem, Sam? My gaze lowered to the blonde between my thighs, and edging my executive chair back a few inches, I took in her red face and swollen eyes. I’m busy.

I remembered how attractive she’d been when Eddie had dragged her into his office, but the haunted eyes blinking up at me now revealed only the shell of the woman she had been. Fortunately, I’d never been burdened with much of a conscience. The state of the woman’s make-up was not my problem. Once I was finished with her, she’d be hit with a gagging order, along with a number of photographs that would disclose her in various compromising positions. I was sure she’d cooperate and vanish into the ether without a trace.

They always do.

Emelia’s pregnant. Sam spat the words down the line.

Well, congrats, old man! I realized Sam’s marriage was far from perfect, but I might have expected him to be a little more enthused at the prospect of fatherhood. God knew I’d feigned my enthusiasm well enough when my new bride, Susan, had delivered our so-called ‘good news’. I’ll send a magnum of champers your way and—

I don’t want your champagne. Sam’s disdain echoed through the phone.

Well, what then? Fisting the woman’s hair, I directed her lipstick-smudged lips toward the organ still requiring her attention. I’d given her sufficient respite and expected her end of the bargain to be met to my satisfaction. She whimpered, trying in vain to pull away as my cock throbbed with urgent anticipation.

I don’t know if the baby’s mine, Sam hissed. "After what happened, it could be anyone’s."

My memory flitted back to the night I’d had the pleasure of getting to know Sam’s lady, Emelia. If truth be told, the mouse-like woman wasn’t really my type. I preferred them to have a little fight in them where sex was concerned, or, if a longer-term arrangement needed to be made, to be more demure, like my lovely Susan. Emelia, though, had played the temptress well enough on the evening Sam had hauled her backside in to meet me.

As I recall, it was only you and I who had her. I pushed at the back of the blonde’s head, reveling in the heat of the back of her throat. I wondered in passing if Sam would realize what I was doing while we spoke, but then I remembered I didn’t care. So, there’s a fifty percent chance it’s yours.

Great. Sam sounded unimpressed at my verdict.

What did you expect? Snorting, I held the blonde in place as my passion burgeoned.  You should have put her on the pill.

It’s too late now, Sam growled.

So, get rid of it. I glanced down at what was going on between my legs, temporarily transfixed by the ballooning pleasure. Considering how long the blonde had been on her knees and that her wrists were bound behind her back, she was doing a decent job. It wouldn’t be long before Sam’s baby woes were the last thing on my mind.  If you don’t want the kid, you know what to do.

Yeah. Sam’s tone was pensive. I thought about that, but then I thought, if she has a kid, I can use it to keep the bitch exactly where I want her. The shrewd knowing spiked in Sam’s tone was the epitome of the man I’d come to know.

There you go! My hips rose as my crescendo beckoned, and based on its looming power, it was going to be a big one. Good thinking! Who cares if it’s yours or mine? I don’t want anything to do with an illegitimate child, so I won’t challenge you for paternity, and based on what you’ve told me, poor little Emelia doesn’t remember much about the night we all shared.

No doubt that was something to do with the large number of tranquilizers she’d been given. I was surprised she remembered her own name after the ill-advised dose.

That’s right, came Sam’s reply. She doesn’t recall anything so far and that’s the way I like it. I brought her to you as a favor, but I don’t need constant reminders that she’s had your cock.

Excellent. I couldn’t decide if I was praising Emelia’s amnesia or the blonde’s persistence.  There’s your answer, then. She pops out the kid and you use it to your advantage. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the payments I send cover any additional costs. All you do is raise the kid.

I’d send the money without qualms. Cash was no issue, after all. I regularly used it to push potential problems away, and that was the deal Sam and I had struck. The whingy bastard was already a regular recipient of my payments. The money ensured Sam kept his mouth shut about the numerous dubious deals I was involved in and guaranteed his unyielding commitment to the political cause.

I would run for PM and Sam would round up his less-sophisticated pals and take care of anyone who offered serious competition. It was a system that had worked well since university, and I would gladly increase the monthly amounts to reflect the new baby. Frankly, I’d have done anything to get Sam off the phone and finally be able to relish the feel of the back of the blonde’s hot throat.

Fine. Sam’s reply was a long sigh. Emelia can have the kid. It might give her something to focus on when I’m not ordering her around.

I smirked at Sam’s reaction. Or more like, it will give her a reason to stay.

I’d seen the disinterested expression on Emelia’s face before our liaison. Sure, she’d been in love with Sam once, but I didn’t have to be a psychologist to see that emotion had waned. Based on what I’d witnessed, Emelia could hardly stand being around him. It was only her seemingly perpetual need to please that kept her running in circles for Sam.

Glad I could help. My breath caught as the blonde swallowed me over and over. Anything else because I’m kinda busy here?

Another whore? Sam’s tone was suddenly dry, as though he could see what was transpiring below my desk.

Right. My eyes fluttered closed as my peak approached, my jaw tight as I hissed the answer. There’s never a shortage of those.

Chapter One

The journey onward

After the fog

Emelia Reynolds

Blinking at the countryside rushing past the window, my brain tried to rationalize the scrambled events of the day in much the same way as my eyes attempted to focus on one tree after the other. All of the pieces of the puzzle were there, each tree registering in my brain as it whizzed past, but however hard I tried, I couldn’t concentrate on a single damn one.

Straightening in my seat, I forced my thoughts to slow down and recall each significant moment, one by one. First, there had been the satisfying sex with Nathanial—when he’d still been known as Ewan. That had been unexpected, especially since I’d half feared he’d been shot at Laurel’s school, but I had no regrets. The man in the driver’s seat was still an enigma, but despite everything, he’d been there for me. Hell, that made him unique as far as men in my life were concerned.

I swallowed down the perturbing realization. No promises had been made between us, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to wish we’d never met. Nathanial had awoken something in me, something that reminded me I was still a woman. My heart picked up its pace at the exciting acknowledgment. However stoic I’d been about independence after Sam, I knew I’d accepted deep down that I wanted more of what Nathanial had to offer.

The new man in my life would never be the most important person, though. That accolade belonged to my daughter, and after everything we’d been through together, it always would.

Laurel.

My lips twitched as a mental image of my gorgeous girl sprang into my head. I’d agreed, against my better judgment, that Laurel could go to her friend’s house for the day. After the trauma of the fog the day before, it had pained me to consent to the separation, but on some level, I knew it was necessary. Laurel needed a dose of normality in her life, however meager it was. Years of Sam’s toxic behavior followed by uprooting us to a new place had been understandably challenging for her. Now, it seemed I was going to have to rip my daughter from yet another life—but this time, we weren’t on our own.

I glanced around to acknowledge Sally in the back seat before my attention returned to Nathanial. Gripping the wheel, his focus was on the road ahead.

How the hell am I going to explain this to Laurel?

Are you okay? Nathanial peered my way. You’re suspiciously quiet.

Yeah. I pulled in a breath and threw Sally a nervous smile.

I was quiet. Probably because I couldn’t stop overthinking every lurid detail of what had happened. It was strange that, in the end, only the three of us had made it out of the small house I’d been renting. Ironically enough, Sally and Nathanial had been the only two I’d had any time for before the fog had captured us there, and aside from Laurel who had thankfully been with Chloe, we were the only survivors.

Apart from Cilla.

Tension seeped into my muscles at the memory. Cilla was still alive. We’d left her with the corpses of Maureen and Mary, but she’d been fighting fit and would have her own story to tell.

I don’t know. I shrugged. It’s just... today has been a lot.

That was an understatement. The last few hours had revealed more about the dark side of humanity than I’d ever believed possible, and I’d experienced more darkness than most.

It’s been crazy. Sally’s voice was hardly even a whisper.

We move forward. Nathanial’s tone was clipped. There’s no choice.

Wh-what do you mean? Sally pulled in a sharp breath.

What I said. His hands blanched as they gripped the wheel tighter. We’ll have key members of the British government zeroing in on us. Cilla already contacted Eddie O’Hearne before we fled, remember? They’ll be onto us.

Onto us?

My throat dried at the terrifying prospect. We need to get to Laurel.

Laurel will be okay. He stared at the road. We’re not far from the address you gave me, and you’ve already messaged her to say we’re coming.

Right. A part of me was still cringing at the spiteful tone of Laurel’s reply, my gaze falling to the phone in my hands. She didn’t seem very pleased about the change of plan. And she’ll loathe what has to happen next. I held my breath at the final line, unable to bring myself to vocalize the words.

She’ll get over it. Nathanial sounded very certain. She’ll also have no choice.

"She’ll always have a choice, I snapped, regretting my snide tone in an instant. I hadn’t intended to take my angst out on the only man who might ever have cared for me, but I had to be clear about the boundaries Laurel and I had put into place. God knows we worked hard to erect them. I promised her that much when I left Sam. No more being forced into corners. She has a choice and the right to stand up and be counted."

You know what I mean. His attractive gaze slid fleetingly to me. I agree with everything you’ve said, but we have to be sensible. Wilson might be prime minister, but it doesn’t make him reputable, and it sure as hell won’t stop him from taking us out if we prove to be suitably bothersome.

Bothersome? Sally laughed at his choice of vocabulary. Is that what we are?

No. He stretched the word into a long sigh. What we are is a threat, and Wilson’s government has a proven track record of eradicating those.

They do? My brows knitted.

Being so cossetted and down-trodden by Sam for so long meant I hadn’t been exposed to news or the politics of the day. I hadn’t even known the man who’d abused me all those years ago had gone on to become the country’s leader until it