Kill Without Mercy
Page 13
Brody sent her a baffled frown. “I was going to sell them on eBay, of course.”
Chapter Eleven
Annie knew that she’d been overly protected after leaving Newton.
Her foster parents had done everything in their power to shield her from the nastier aspects of the world. Not just because she’d been nearly catatonic when they’d first gotten her to the ranch, but because that was the type of people they were.
They protected. They shielded. And they loved.
Now she found herself floundering to comprehend a man who would agree to arson, steal police evidence, and plan to sell pictures of murdered women on eBay.
“Are you serious?” she breathed.
He hunched a shoulder, his face flushed. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Rafe skimmed his fingers down her back. A light caress that helped to ease the disgust twisting her stomach into knots.
“Why didn’t you?” Rafe prodded.
Brody shifted uneasily, his gaze darting toward the window, then the door.
Did he expect someone to be lurking outside the apartment?
“After I grabbed the pictures I torched the place and headed back to my trailer,” he said. “I was hoping the mystery man would be waiting for me. I’d done what he asked and I wanted to get paid.”
“Was he there?” Rafe asked.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t to pay me.” Brody’s thin face tightened with anger, his hand lifting to touch his earlobe. “The bastard took a shot at me the second I stepped out of my truck. It was only because I’d already downed a six-pack on the drive home and stumbled as I was getting outta my truck that the bullet grazed my ear and didn’t drill me between the eyes.”
Annie made a soft sound of disbelief. Was there something in the water at Newton that caused such violence? “What did you do?”
“The only thing I could do,” Brody groused. “I jumped back in the truck and drove like a bat out of hell to the bus station in LaClede. I bought a ticket to Chicago and didn’t look back.”
Annie glanced around the cramped apartment. She’d done her best to put the past out of her mind, but she hadn’t literally tried to hide from it. “You’ve been on the run for fifteen years?”
“Not entirely,” Brody denied. “For the first year I kept on the move, but eventually I settled here. My cousin runs a meat locker just outside of town and he pays me off the books.”
Annie wondered if he’d ever considered the fact that he was living close enough to Newton to be recognized.
Probably not. Brody Johnson was a weak, cowardly man who’d survived by taking advantage of others. And sheer luck.
She gave a sad shake of her head. “Why didn’t you sell the pictures?”
“After I left Newton I got sober and started thinking clearly,” he said, his voice defensive. “I don’t do shit like that anymore.”
Rafe gave a sharp laugh. “Because you don’t want a target on your back.”
Brody shrugged. “That too.”
Rafe didn’t bother to hide his disdain. “Did you recognize the person who hired you?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Brody snapped, clearly annoyed by Rafe’s reaction. “I had a bag over my head.”
“Which means you knew your employer.”
Brody blinked in confusion. “Why do you say that?”
“Only someone afraid you could recognize him and share the info before you completed the job would feel the need to put a bag over your head,” Rafe pointed out.
“Oh.” Brody shuddered, his expression suddenly guarded. “I never thought of that.”
Rafe narrowed his gaze. “Was the voice familiar?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think. This is important,” Rafe pressed. “There had to be something—”
“I was drunk. And I had a fucking gun pressed beneath my chin,” Brody abruptly burst out, stalking toward the door and jerking it open. “I don’t know who it was, got it?”
Rafe scowled, but obviously sensing that Brody had reached his limit, he leaned down to grab the canvas bag off the floor.
“I need these pictures.”
“Knock yourself out,” Brody muttered. “I just want to forget about that night.”
Rafe used his shoulder to steer Annie toward the open door, keeping the gun in one hand while he clutched the bag with the other. “Let’s go.”
They’d stepped into the hallway when Brody broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Annie.”
She turned to meet his pale gaze. “What?”
“You were right to leave Newton,” he said, his tone harsh. “That place is poison.”
Her lips parted, but before she could speak Rafe was urging her down the hallway. “Come on.”
Annie readily gave in to the press of his shoulder, moving quickly toward the exit and down the stairs.
Every part of Brody’s life, from the shabby apartment to his gaunt, pinched expression, was . . . sad.
Defeated.
She was anxious to put it behind her.
Still, they’d come there for a reason.
Answers.
Remaining silent until they were in the truck and heading out of the parking lot, she asked the question that was bothering her. “Do you think he was hired to burn down the courthouse because of the evidence boxes?”
“There’s a few other possibilities,” Rafe murmured, his profile tight, as if he was disturbed by his inner thoughts. “It could be a simple case of insurance fraud. Old buildings mysteriously burn down all the time.”
“But?” she prompted. Neither of them believed it was insurance fraud.
“But it seems more likely that someone was trying to destroy the files in the basement,” he said, turning onto the wide street that cut through the center of town. “If I’d been charged with a crime, I would do my best to get rid of the evidence against me.”
“So you think it had nothing to do with the Newton Slayer?” she asked. It made sense, but it didn’t feel right.
He gave a sharp shake of his head. “No, I think it has something to do with the Newton Slayer. Either the actual case files of the murders or the death of your father.”
A familiar pain twisted her heart.
Few people ever mentioned Don White in her presence, and certainly none ever discussed his sudden death.
“My father?” she whispered.
He sent her a sympathetic glance. “As far as I can tell, no one bothered to investigate how he was killed.”
“No.” She’d made a few discreet inquiries a couple of years before with no results. The only thing she knew was that her father had been arrested, and less than eight hours later he was found dead in his cell with his throat cut. The official cause of death had conveniently been labeled a “suicide” by the local coroner. “No one cared.”
He slowed, his gaze scanning the tidy rows of businesses brightly lit by street lamps.
Was he looking for something?
Annie hoped it was a bar.
She was in serious need of a drink.
Maybe more than one.
“Perhaps not in the legal system, but there were reporters and real-crime writers poking around,” he said. “If there was something suspicious in his death, then it would be better to have the evidence destroyed.”
“The sheriff,” she breathed.
He abruptly turned his head to meet her gaze, both of them thinking the same thing.
The sheriff’s pregnant wife was among the women found dead in the bomb shelter ...
She shivered. “God.”
Slowing his truck, Rafe pulled into a parking lot. “This should do,” he murmured.
Wrenching her thoughts out of the dark abyss of her father’s horrifying death, Annie glanced toward the three-storied beige brick hotel with large windows and a front veranda that looked like it had been built in the 1800s. There was a small, attached restaurant to one side that was surrounded by a tidy garden.
Typical Rafe.
Switching off the engine, he turned to study her with a somber expression. “I think we’ve had enough of Newton and Slayers for one day,” he murmured, his hand lifting to stroke his fingers down the length of her jaw. “Tonight we’re having a good meal, a bottle of wine, and a night without worry. Okay?”
If Annie had given herself a second to consider the invitation, and what it implied, she might have insisted on leaving.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she squashed her instinctive panic and gave a slow nod of her head.
“Yes.”
Rafe didn’t know which of them was more shocked when Annie agreed to a night away from Newton.
He did know that he was the first to recover. And being a relatively smart guy, he was swift to take advantage of her momentary vulnerability.
Maybe not the behavior of a true gentleman, but screw that.
Only hours ago he’d held her in his arms, his body so tight with need he felt as if he was about to explode. He couldn’t wait any longer to have her beneath him, his cock buried deep inside her.
First, of course, he’d indulged her with a long, surprisingly delicious dinner and a bottle of the local wine that they shared in a private table at the back of the restaurant.
They’d talked about movies and favorite songs, and argued politics. Everything and anything that didn’t touch on the past or the future.
Tonight was about the now.
At last judging the time was right, Rafe had taken Annie’s hand and led her up the stairs to the third floor. Then, using the old-fashioned key, Rafe pushed open the door and steered Annie into the room.
Flicking on the light, he was relieved to discover that it was not only clean but it had high ceilings and a view of the garden that gave it an open, airy atmosphere.
Not that he gave a shit about anything other than the bed that consumed a large amount of the floor, but he didn’t want Annie to feel crowded.
Not yet.
Eventually he intended to push into her space, but first things first.
Closing the door, he tucked the key in his front pocket and watched as Annie took in her surroundings.
“One room?” she demanded with a lift of her brows.
“It’s a suite,” he assured her, moving to push open the door that opened to a small room with a single bed shoved against one wall. He grimaced. “Or at least what passes as a suite in this town,” he amended.
She tossed her purse on a nearby chair, licking her lips.
“I don’t have my nightgown,” she muttered.
Rafe hid his smile. Annie White was nervous.
The knowledge was somehow as erotic as hell.
Stepping forward, he unzipped his sweatshirt and tossed it aside, then pulled his T-shirt over his head and held it out.
“You can sleep in this,” he offered, taking another step closer. “Unless . . .”
Her gaze lowered to his bare chest, her cheeks flushed. “Unless what?”
He tossed the T-shirt on the bed, slowly reaching to wrap his fingers around her upper arms.
“Unless I can convince you to join me in my bed.” He tugged her toward him, groaning at the feel of her slender curves settling perfectly against his already-hard body. “In that case, nightgowns are not only optional, but unnecessary.”
Her hands tentatively lifted to grasp his shoulders, her tension easing and her eyes darkening with arousal.
“Why am I not surprised?” she teased.
Fierce pleasure raced through him. She hadn’t pushed him away.
He reached to grasp her braid, yanking off the scrunchie so he could comb his fingers through the silken tresses.
“You have beautiful hair,” he murmured, tilting his hips to press his erection against her lower stomach.
She trembled, her lips parted in an unconscious invitation. “It’s mousy brown.”
“It’s honey melting in sunshine,” he argued, fisting his hand in the loose strands. Giving a tug, he tilted back her head so he could bend forward and press his lips to her exposed throat. “I want to feel every satin inch sliding over my body as we make love.”
“Oh.”
He chuckled as she instinctively arched against him, her nails biting into his shoulders. “Do you like that?”
She didn’t try to play games. “Yes.”
“Me too.”
He nuzzled down to the pulse that beat at the base of her throat, savoring the sweet smell of cherry blossoms that clung to her skin.
Her soap?
Lotion?
Whatever it was, it had just become his favorite scent.
Desire blasted through him.
They were alone in the hotel room, surrounded by a hushed silence, and best of all, no chance of being interrupted.
He was done waiting.
Releasing her hair, he turned his head so he could crush her lips in a kiss that demanded complete surrender.
Annie tensed, as if caught off guard. Then she released his name as a husky sigh. The sound made his erection twitch with anticipation. He’d promised that she was going to scream his name in pleasure, but that breathy exhale had been just as satisfying.
Not that he didn’t intend to make her scream.
Over and over.
He reached to slide his hands beneath her sweater. She trembled even as he found her lips again.
Slow down, he warned himself.
He could sense her passion, but her nerves had been scraped raw over the past few days. She was too fragile for him to leap on her like an animal. That would come later. After she’d accepted that she was going to be in his arms, and his bed, for a very long time.
Easing his kiss, he pulled back until their lips were just touching, waiting for her to lift her lashes. Then, carefully monitoring her reaction, he scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the nearby bed.
Her hazel eyes darkened, but not with fear.
Lowering her onto the mattress, he planted one knee on the edge of the bed, hovering over her. “Touch me,” he commanded in a husky voice.
She bit her lower lip, a hint of her earlier unease returning. “I’m not . . .”
“Annie,” he prompted softly. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have a lot of experience,” she admitted in low tones. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Rafe released the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, offering her a wicked smile. “Sweetheart, I feel like I’ve waited for you for an eternity,” he assured her. “There’s nothing in this world you could do to disappoint me.”
Leashing his hungry urgency, he skimmed her sweater up and over her head, baring her to his hungry gaze.
And then he . . . froze.
No other word for it.
Holy shit.
A choked sound lodged in his throat as he caught sight of the black lace bra with a tiny red bow in the center.
“Shit, Annie,” he breathed.
She frowned in confusion. “What?”
“You need to warn a man,” he chastised, his gaze locked on the delicate bit of black lace that was specifically created to make a male go crazy. “Do your panties match?”
A slow, astonishingly seductive smile curved her lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
With a low moan, he lowered his head to lick a slow path from her navel to the tiny red bow between her breasts.
“You, Annie White, are a dangerous, dangerous woman,” he growled.
Annie hissed out a startled breath, her cheeks flushed. Rafe gave a low chuckle, lifting his head.
Jesus, she was beautiful.
Goose bumps raced over his skin as she arched her back in silent invitation. In wonder, he savored her honey hair that was threaded with gold as it spilled over the old-fashioned quilt. Her eyes that were for once free o
f the shadows from her past. Her creamy ivory skin . . .
Planting a hand on either side of her shoulders, he was careful not to make her feel trapped as he studied the rounded swell of her breasts that were barely hidden by her lacy bra. He smiled as her nipples instantly puckered beneath his scrutiny, as if begging for his touch.
Not that there was any begging required, he acknowledged. Hell, he was ready, willing, and able to touch this woman whenever she was near.
Refusing to make her wait, he teased the tight nubs that peeked through the lace with the tip of his tongue. She jerked, a groan of pleasure wrenched from her lips. Rafe grasped her hips, holding her still as he used his teeth to tug at the bow holding the bra together.
“Beautiful,” he breathed as her breasts spilled free.
She lifted her hand, sliding it over his bare chest. Rafe clenched his teeth, his entire body shuddering with pleasure.
In desperation he grabbed her wrists to raise her arms over her head. Then he firmly wrapped her fingers around the slats of the headboard.
“Don’t let go.”
Her breathing hitched, her eyes dilating with unmistakable excitement. She licked her lips, watching him as he tugged the button of her jeans. Shit. He forced himself to slowly peel them down her slender legs, ignoring the urge to yank them off. It wouldn’t take much to spook her out of her current daze of need. Besides, there was something unexpectedly erotic about revealing her body, inch by silky inch.
With one last pull he had them off, and tossing them aside, he reached to run his hands the length of her legs, mesmerized by the tiny black thong complete with a red bow.
Who the hell would have expected the shy, skittish Annie White would prefer sexy lingerie?
Mesmerized by the visible proof of her sensual nature, Rafe leaned down to trail his tongue along the edge of her panties. She made a choked sound, her hips instinctively lifting off the mattress as he allowed his finger to slip beneath the thin material to discover the slick heat. Oh, yeah. Rafe felt a fierce stab of satisfaction. She wanted him.
Taking his sweet time, he continued to stroke his finger between her damp folds, lightly teasing her tender nub.
“Rafe,” she pleaded softly.
“What do you need?”