Just a Taste Part 18

Ch 18: Fugitive

Dylan

December 23rd, 2024- Woodside Motel- 10:02 AM

Two days passed in a flash. Christmas is on the horizon; I had repaired my radio, and Isabella and I were still hiding out at the motel. Comfortably, in fact. 

Since ravaging her, our dynamic has changed significantly. First off, we spent most of our time together naked. After shedding the physical boundary of sex, it made no sense to be clothed. Especially when it was just the two of us.

On the plus side, it allowed us to fuck whenever we wanted. Which was nonstop, it seemed.

It's an absolute privilege to sheathe my cock with her impossibly tight cunt. Over and over until neither of us could breathe. 

Another change was Isabella's behavior. She wasn't timid of me anymore. Or rather, she didn't show those emotions. Part of me wondered if it was a permanent change, or a mask that she donned to conceal her reality. To hide from the lingering threat.

Honestly? I didn't blame her. Jerald hasn't shown his face, but there's not an obituary about his death, either. Not to mention, 'The Man' has been deathly quiet as well. 

Which was highly suspicious. 

Surely Jerald's boss would retaliate once he heard of my betrayal? And what about Isabella? What the hell is her role in all of this?

Hopefully, these questions would be answered before one or both of us is imprisoned or murdered. 

Of course, neither scenario was preferred. 

Isabella and I were having a modest lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when a pounding at the door disrupted our peace.

This time, I didn't grab my knife, as the visitor had to be Margaret checking in on us again.

With a naive smile, I opened the door and said, "Afternoon, Margaret, why dont-"

My greeting is cut short by the barrel of an 18-gauge shotgun pointed at my face.

"Back up!" Margaret shouted, pushing me back into the room. She slammed the door behind us. "Now, I want the truth. From both of you!"

"Margaret," Isabella gasped, raising her hands in surrender. "I don't understand, we're being honest with you."

She pointed the shotgun at Isabella. "Bullshit! The news said your name is Isabella Montgomery, and that you died days ago!"

What the fuck? She's reported as dead?"

"Listen," I interjected calmly. "We don't know anything about the news report. Elise and I have been in our room for days, remember?"

Margaret chewed her lip. No doubt contemplating my answer. "I know you lied about your names. Plus, you never gave me any identification for the room."

My heart stuttered. Fuck, this isn't good.

"I ignored all of that because you two needed help, but I refuse to help imposters or murderers!" Margaret asserted, stomping her foot. "So tell me the damn truth! Who are you?"

Sighing heavily, I gestured for Isabella to stand next to me. "Fine. We'll tell you. Just, please, lower your weapon."

Eyeing us suspiciously, Margaret nodded, lowering her shotgun to the floor.

Isabella spoke first. "I am Isabella Montgomery, but I have no idea why the news said I was dead. Obviously, I'm right here. My... family abused and tortured me for years, before I 'died', I was held prisoner in a basement. Freezing and starving to death." Isabella looked at me. "If he hadn't saved me, I would be dead."

Grabbing her hand, I joined her in the explanation. "We met by chance and I discovered how the Montgomery's were mistreating her, so I took her. And I have no intention of returning my darling to that life."

A faint blush dusted Isabella's cheeks.

Tears filled Margaret's eyes. "So then, you're Emma, right? My sweet Emma?"

"Yes, I am. Did we know each other?" Isabella asked, a curious smile tugging at her lips.

"I helped the Montgomery's adopt you, years ago..." she sobbed, lips trembling with emotion.

Margaret dropped the shotgun onto the floor and dashed into Isabella's arms. "My sweet girl, I had no idea they would hurt you like that. I'm so sorry!"

"Don't apologize. Daddy's evil and a filthy liar, you didn't do anything wrong!" Isabella insisted, rubbing Margaret's back softly.

The two ladies awkwardly embraced, releasing their adoring, yet complicated emotions.

We watched the news recap with baited breath. If Isabella's death is faked somehow, then she's free. The two of us can start over from scratch.

After a few minutes, Margaret's claims rang true. The news reporter announced that Jerald had called off the search for Isabella, as her body was found in the family basement.

Raped brutally, maimed beyond facial recognition, and burnt to a crisp. The coroner identified her via dental records.

Isabella gasped. "Oh my God, he used Mommy's body to fake my death!"

My arms wrapped around her silently as we finished the program.

Jerald appeared on the screen, covered in bandages and sobbing like a baby.

Fucking coward.

"Whoever is willing to help me, I know who killed my daughter. He's a monster who also murdered my wife, and long-time housekeeper in their sleep!”

That motherfucker!

Clearing his throat, Jerald declared, "His name is Dylan Aldridge, and he's currently running around South Carolina with reckless abandon! He's armed and dangerous. Do not engage alone!"

An outdated picture of me as a teenager popped up on the screen.

Go figure, I finally meet a wonderful, sexually delicious woman, and I'm marked as a damned fugitive!

If I ever get my hands on him again, he’s fucking dead.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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