Saint and a Sinner
Chapter 28

Copyright© 2005 by Daniellekitten

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 28 - Novel size story of a serial killer who terrorizes a small community and the detective and sheriff's deputy who hunt him.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Rape   Violence  

"Oh, hell." The room tilted when he tried to sit up. "What the hell did I do?" he muttered. Pain, streaks of shooting pain, surged from his shoulder and his back. He reached up with his right hand and touched his shoulder, feeling a little nausea at the sight of sticky blood coating his fingertips.

It came back in a rush. Michelle, being shot. Michelle was gone. He tried to shoot to his feet but fell back, gasping in pain. He had to move. He had to get up and get out of here.

He looked down at his side, at his shoulder. They were covered in dark red blood. Okay, he wasn't going to be running out of here right this minute. He managed to make it to his knees and using the bed, crawled slowly around to where his phone was on the dresser. He grabbed a hold of the cord, pulling until it fell on the floor. He grabbed the hand unit and stared at it for a second trying to remember the number to the station. Speed dial. That was it, use the speed dial. Allie's voice was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

"Allie, this is Nick. I need you to send a unit out here, now. The killer's been here, he took Michelle." Even saying the words sent a thrill of panic through him. It jolted his shoulder and he gasped in pain.

"God, Nick. Are you okay? You sound weird."

He could hear the concern in here voice and concentrated on it instead of the wall that kept going in and out of focus making him dizzy.

"I've been shot." He didn't know how bad, but it wasn't going to stop him from going after Michelle. He glanced up at the mirror to see if he could see his back, instead the writing, bold and black, caught his attention. And held it in a flood of horror. Game over. It wasn't over yet, you bastard. Not while he could still breath.

"Allie, call the fed at his motel room, get him out here too." He could hear her typing on her keyboard.

"Okay, Nicky. I'm gonna put you on hold for just a minute, you stay on the line though. Hang on."

He heard the switch and reached out, snagging a pair of jeans out of a drawer. Struggling into them almost made his pass out and he had to concentrate on the mirror again until the room steadied and was still. He heard Allie come back on the phone, barely heard the words through the cotton in his head. There was an incessant buzzing in his ears and his eyes didn't want to stay open.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here," he said. But even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak.

"We got people coming, Nicky. You got to hold on until they get there. Keep talking to me."

"Whacha wanna talk about?" he mumbled, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

"Nicky, tell me where you're hurt." She could hear him slipping away. "Nicky! You need to keep talking to me. Just until they get there. Okay? Nick!"

"I'm here. Just kinda tired, Allie. If I don't make it, tell Michelle that I love her, okay?" His voice was thick, his head was so heavy. Sleep would be so sweet right now. He tried to force himself to concentrate but the thoughts kept slipping away from him.

"Nick, I don't want to hear you talk like that. You can tell her yourself when you find her."

"How far away are they, Allie" He could feel the blood still flowing down his shoulder.

"Not far, Nicky. You should be able to hear the sirens anytime now. Listen for them, Nicky."

"Kay." He kept his eyes closed and felt the pain beginning to ease. "Doesn't hurt so much anymore." His voice was far away.

"Nick!"

He didn't feel like talking anymore so he let the phone rest against his shoulder. His head lolled against the wall. He felt warm. Warm and quiet, oh so quiet.

"Nick! Answer me! He's not talking to me anymore. Nick!" Her voice came through to him, but he ignored it, instead letting himself float.

"There's the sirens, must be a parade," he mumbled. "I like parades." He was so tired. All he wanted to do was sink into the soft blackness that no longer seemed so threatening. But there was something he had to do. What was it?

 
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