The Bone Collector

11

Nestor and Miguel arrived home, late once again and looking defeated. Miguel took the crystal decanter full of whiskey and plodded his way upstairs without even looking in my direction. I looked to Nestor who needed to shower and sleep judging by the look of him. He sat on the coffee table in front of me and handed me a photograph.

I grabbed it and saw Albert swaddled tightly in his knitted blanket but I would recognise his face anywhere. The image was pixelated but it was clearly a woman holding him. She had dyed her blond hair a dark brown in an attempt to look inconspicuous. It looked like an ATM machine she was using.

"When was this taken? Where?" I asked as I scanned the image for any indication it was somewhere close.

"San Jose. Yesterday." He said. "Marcus has associates nearby, they are looking for them."

It was then I noticed the toddler tucked behind his mom's legs and realised why Miguel was so resigned. She took both of his children from him. I gave Nestor the paper back and took the stairs two at a time. He wasn't in the library or our room so I went to the next room and found him sitting with his back against Albert's cot. Half of the decanter was empty and his eyes were red and puffy.

I sat beside him and took a drink from his glass. Whiskey wasn't my poison, I was definitely a vino fiend, but I still enjoyed a nip every now and again. We sat together with our fingers interlocked as we cried silently for the boys. I heard the door shut downstairs and a car leave the driveway. This was the quietest the house had been since we arrived and it was the first time I didn't find comfort in the silence. I stood up and took Miguel's hand and gently pulled until he rose from the floor. I took the decanter from his other hand and placed it on the change table.

I led him down the hall to our room and sat him on the bed before filling up the hot tub in our bathroom. As I watched from the doorway, he looked so lost. The confidence he once had was gone, shattered like his promise he couldn't keep. I should hate him for it but I couldn't, he was too hurt and it wasn't in me to kick someone when they are down.

When the tub was full I began unbuttoning his shirt and threw it in the hamper. I noticed blood splatters on the white material but there were no marks on him so I didn't ask. He stood up so I could push his pants to the floor before I removed my own clothing. I felt self conscious because of the scar across my abdomen but he wasn't paying any attention right now. He was lost in his head.

He sat down in the bath and held his hand out to me, pulling me to sit between his legs. As I laid my back against his chest I felt tears fall onto my shoulder. I didn't know how to help him, I was feeling the pain and grief myself but I needed him to think clearly so he could find our kids. I had no words of comfort, people had been telling us they would be found safe and sound but four days had passed, nothing to show.

Turning around I wiped the tears from his cheeks before wrapping my arms around his neck. His finally looked at me, not just a glance like I had briefly had this last week but really looked at me. I think it finally dawned on him that he wasn't suffering alone as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in tightly. His fingernails scratched my back, as he held on like a drowning man to a lifesaver, and he buried his head in my thick hair.

We held each other tightly for a few minutes and I felt him stirring beneath me. His hands trailed down my back to my ass and he squeezed them, pulling me up higher to straddle him. I felt his erection hard between us as I let him lift me, water sloshing around us. I hadn't imagined our physical reunion after seven months to be like this but we both needed some release after this nightmare.

We both moaned as I slide down the length of him. I needed a moment to let my body stretch, it had been so long and he was very well endowed. His head fell back to rest against the tiles, looking at me from half hooded eyes, until I started moving. His need for control had his hands gripping my hips setting the pace. This was not a gentle, making love moment, no this was a hard fucking.