Chapter 22

Link Morgan, Crescent Valley's police chief, was more than a little surprised at Lydia Newell's visit to his home that morning. Though saddle-weary and crotch-sore from leading the hunting posse throughout the night, the big barrel-chested, red-faced man found a ready smile for the daughter of the valley's wealthiest and most influential man, Aaron Newell.

The attractive auburn-haired bachelorette with the ravishing green eyes neither smiled nor waited to be invited inside the big man's modest, Cypress Street home, but merely brushed past him into the living room once the door was opened. She felt no obligation toward formalities with this local racketeer whom she'd already formed a corrupt alliance to gain her own vengeful ends. His crooked purposes had made their association a natural, inasmuch as their mutual, ultimate goal was to destroy Mark Blakely... but unsuccessfully to this point.

In the center of the worn carpeted room, the tall, curvaceous girl, dressed in her usual blouse, leather riding skirt and boots, spun to face him. "Well... ? Did you destroy that raping, wild bastard?" she demanded in a sharp, throaty voice. Then, before he could answer, a nasty little sneer twisted her attractive, if, too often vicious mouth. "Of course you didn't! That goddamned brute-animal is too smart for the lot of you drunken slobs!"

"Christ, Lydia, we rode all night and never saw one sign of him or his goddamned wild-pack!" Link edgily replied, though well aware of her logical anxiety after the way the ferocious sonofabitch and one of his pack had attacked and raped her out in the woods the day before.

"I told you I wanted him dead!" she glaringly spat. "You men won't be satisfied until that whole pack sweeps down and gang bangs half the females in Crescent Valley! Damnit, I wish my father would get back from Europe! Then, we'd see some action around here!"

"Hell, Lydia, I'm doing my best," the big man said, trying to control his own anger. "After all, wasn't it my own niece, Annie, the bastard raped first... ?"

"Did Mark Blakely ride with you last night?" she questioned, interrupting his words.

"Hell no! That writer friend of his from L.A. did, hoping to get some sort of story, I guess," the Police Chief grunted, taking several steps toward the kitchen then stopping. "But Blakely stuck to his guns, claiming both the posse and me were off-limits invading his jurisdiction. He tried to order us to lay-off and wait for those tree-planting conservationists he's sent for to handle it, but he could see that the men weren't about to wait one more goddamned minute after what happened to you!"

"And he didn't push the order for you to do nothing?" Lydia questioned, surprised.

Link grinned. "He'd have been a fool too... unless he was prepared to take on the whole goddamned town. Those husbands and fathers were in no mood for his jurisdiction bullshit!"

"Those drunken husbands and fathers you mean," Lydia derided completely aware of Mark's reasoning. Hadn't his own father been shot to death by the very man standing before her while riding in a posse hunting down a sheep-killing cougar? An accident, they said, but she'd heard her own dad question that. Link Morgan had hated the man for publicly beating him to the ground before half the men in the valley, and had often drunkenly vowed to even the score.

Momentarily, then, the green eyed girl progressed to an on- rush of more personal, exciting memories, all of which revolved around Mark Blakely. She knew now, and had known ever since he'd gone to the Police Academy in L.A., unexpectedly returning with a wife, that she wanted him for her own! God, and they had been inseparable... fucking and sucking every, every, every day! Yes, she might have married him if her father hadn't insisted he was beneath her... ! Nevertheless, he still belonged to her, regardless of the legal hold that blonde little bitch of a wife had on him! No one took Lydia Newell's play-things away from her!

Suddenly, she shot at Morgan: "Does Mark know that Caesar and that other sonofabitch dog attacked and raped me?"

"Hell, everybody in the valley knows it, Lydia," the big, middle-aged Chief of Police replied, running a beefy hand through his grey-hair. "Look... come into the kitchen and have some coffee. I've got a bit of choice news you're going to be interested in hearing. Come on..."

The auburn-haired bachelorette followed, but her embittered mind was seething with rage at the new young husband she considered to be a possession of her own. Damn him, she venomously thought, he hadn't even come to the ranch to investigate the vicious attack on her, nor find out how she was... nothing! Goddamn him! If only that raping bastard, Caesar, hadn't stolen the pictures they'd taken of Jean Blakely getting fucked silly by Link Morgan and eating her, Lydia Newell's pussy at the same time... !

She threw herself down at the soiled kitchen table and snapped: "I told you I wanted Mark Blakely's balls to tack up over my bed, Link! Well now I want them more than ever!"

Morgan's red-face broadened into an obscene grin as he dropped down across from her, the coffee-pot in his hand. "And maybe I've just got the secret to that for you, Honey," he said, his mean, lecherous eyes fixed on her full, pointed breasts which had performed a little quivering dance for him when she threw herself onto the chair. Shit, like his sixteen-year old Annie, this hot cunted little bitch preferred the braless feel. It must give them some kind of hot charge when they ripple and sway, he lewdly reasoned... and she had a pair of beauties that he'd already seen naked, along with the rest of her sexy, white curves! Goddamn, he couldn't help wonder if she was as good a fuck as she looked. Not that he'd trade his dead sister's daughter for her, but a piece of that haughty young ass of hers would be nice, he thought, remembering the naked sight of it when she was between Jean Blakely's spread legs licking that luscious creature's pink, wet cunt! "G-Grab a cup there, Doll," he managed, his lecherous brain beginning to follow a thought pattern he'd intended to hold off for a while yet. "Here, we'll spike it with a little of this bourbon, eh?"

Lydia didn't answer, but set the saucerless cup before her for him to fill. As for the bourbon, she welcomed the offer, deciding she needed something to help soothe her. Subconsciously, she watched him spill a heavy measure of whiskey into the black liquid, while her mind filled with flashes of scenes from their salacious compromising of a drugged Jean Blakely and the stack of lurid pictures they'd taken to blackmail Mark. Damnit, it'd been a perfect plan! She would've had him right where she wanted him... if that goddamned brute dog, Caesar, hadn't out-manuevered her, finally making off with both the snapshots and negatives! God, it was unbelievable... the massive dog's uncanny brain... ! It was damned near human! Still, if she hadn't so sluttishly lost her own wits beneath his huge, sodomizing animal-cock... !

"Suppose I tell you that Annie admitted a little secret to me this morning, Lydia baby?" Morgan was saying, shattering her lusty thought pictures.

"W-What... ? What kind of secret?" she questioned, not certain that she liked his use of intimate endearments. Theirs was nothing more than a mutual, working association. "Let's not play games, Morgan. I'm in no mood for it!"

"Okay, Honey... here it is! The other day when you saw Blakely and Annie go into the old quarry... well he did it!" the barrel-chested man said with a gross smirk.

"He did what... and what the hell are you drooling so slovenly about?" the twenty-six year old bachelorette irritably jabbed, taking half of her spiked coffee in two needing swallows.

Link Morgan clenched his big hand into a fist beneath the table, dirty nails digging into its toughened palm. No, he wouldn't let himself get up-tight with her, and Christ knows it would be easy enough with that acid-tongue of hers and him with no sleep for twenty-four hours! But he had other ideas that were a hell of a lot more cock-throbbing as well as securing. He couldn't help but wonder if she would be as good a fuck as Annie, or Jean Blakely had been... even as fiery as she was? It was a gamble. Aaron Newell would destroy him sure as hell if he found out, and he was going to need him on his side if Mark Blakely's goddamned nosing around gave him anything concrete to work with! On the other hand, how would he find out... unless Lydia told him? And that wasn't feasible... not if she willingly put-out for him... ! No, he couldn't afford to get sore at the sexy little bitch. Instead, he broadened his smile and lewdly said:

"He fucked her, Lydia baby! Mark Blakely fucked my sixteen- year old niece... a minor! Now, how does that grab you?"

"Like a saber-toothed tiger!" she hissed at him, his filthy, four-letter word-use having its usual lust-inciting effect on her, while his over-all statement cut through her like a knife. Mark Blakely, the sonofabitch! Damn him! Damn him! Who else in the valley had he dared to fuck? "How do you know it's true?"

"Because Annie told me, Doll... and my sweet little Annie wouldn't lie to her loving uncle," Link replied, his mean eyes narrowing as he let his guttural voice trail off with suggestive meaning.

Lydia's intense, green eyes studied him. Finally, she hissed: "You incestuous bastard, Morgan!" Then, she lifted the cup to her lips to partially hide the sensuous little smile his revelation had aroused. "What've you got in mind, lecher?"