“A bad deal,” Rafe murmured, giving Annie’s fingers a squeeze as she was tormented by the memory of a young woman with blond hair running through the darkness.
“We’re waiting to see if they want to do a search,” the man said, leaning forward to peer into the shadows of the truck. “You’re Vargas’s grandson?”
“Yeah.” Releasing Annie’s hand, Rafe straightened in his seat and gave a nod toward the man. “Hope Cindy turns up soon.”
Taking his foot off the brake, Rafe barely waited for the man to step back before he was turning the truck around and heading back into town.
“Accident or deliberate?” he growled in low tones.
Annie studied his hard profile in confusion. “What?”
He glanced in the rearview mirror before turning onto a narrow street, and then another. As if he was trying to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“This is the first time a car was found.”
“What does that mean?”
“He might have been interrupted before he could get rid of it,” he said, coming to a four-way stop. “Or Cindy might have escaped and he had to chase her on foot.”
She was beginning to know him well enough to suspect he didn’t believe either of those explanations. “Or?” she prompted.
His gaze was on the rearview mirror, scanning the empty street behind them.
“Or he’s telling us he knows we’ve made the connection to the gas station,” he explained, at last pushing on the accelerator to send them rolling forward. “If that’s it, he won’t use this place again.”
Oh God. Had the stalker been watching them when they were at the station?
Was he watching them now?
Or worse, was he busy cutting the throat of poor Cindy Franklin?
She shivered, her hands clenched in her lap.
The quiet town that’d just minutes ago seemed peaceful was now dark and cramped and oddly menacing. “Will he move from where he’s been hiding?”
His expression tightened. “Impossible to say.”
He took one last turn and Annie suddenly realized they were pulling to a halt in front of his grandfather’s home. “Why are we here?” she demanded in confusion. “I thought we were going to try and search for the missing woman.”
He shut off the engine and turned to meet her confused gaze. “For whatever reason, the sheriff is looking for an excuse to get you out of town. If he catches us around a crime scene he might start pointing fingers.” He waited for her to grimace before shoving open his door. “Besides, half the town of Newton will be out roaming the fields. The kidnapper is smart enough to disappear for a few days.”
They exchanged glances, both knowing it wouldn’t be just “a few” days. It would be precisely two days.
The amount of time the Newton Slayer preferred to put between his killings.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite the late night, Rafe woke early, running to the local diner to pick up coffee, doughnuts, and the latest gossip. Then, returning to the house, he gave up on his futile effort to send a weary Hauk back to the motel and instead slipped into the bedroom.
He’d closed the venetian blinds the night before, leaving the room in darkness, but he didn’t have any trouble finding his way across the floor and gently settling on the edge of the narrow bed.
Reaching out, he ran his fingers through the honey strands of Annie’s hair, spreading them across the pillow. In the shadows she looked young and vulnerable and incredibly fragile.
Christ. All he wanted was to lie down beside her and pull her into his arms. It was the only time he felt he could keep her truly safe.
Resisting the urge, he watched as her lashes fluttered upward and she regarded him with a sleepy confusion.
“Rafe?”
His fingers continued to stroke through her hair. “Morning, sweetheart.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after nine.”
Her eyes widened as she scooted up on the pillows, the sheet tumbling down to reveal the tiny, white eyelet nightgown that barely covered the sweet bounty of her breasts.
Instantly he was hard, the urge to protect transforming into a sharp-edged hunger.
He still wanted her in his arms, but his desire now included sweaty naked bodies and soft groans of pleasure.
Pushing her hair behind her ears, Annie gave a small shake of her head, as if trying to clear her mind. “I can’t believe I slept so long,” she said, her voice husky.
Rafe shifted, the press of his erection against the zipper of his jeans downright painful.
“You had a restless night,” he pointed out.
She frowned, studying his grim expression. “Something happened.”
He nodded. He’d already fought his inner demons that urged him to try and keep the unpleasant news hidden from this woman.
She would eventually learn the truth, unless he handcuffed her to the bed. An option that was far more tempting than it should be.
Besides, she was the one who’d endured the vision.
She deserved the truth.
“Nothing that we didn’t already suspect,” he admitted with a grimace. “Cindy never turned up.”
Annie bit her bottom lip, her eyes darkening with horror. “He has her.”
“That’s the assumption.”
Leaning forward, she reached out to grasp his forearm. “We need to try and find her.”
He covered the fingers she’d laid on his arm with his hand, bending his head so they were nose to nose. “After breakfast,” he said in firm tones.
She frowned, but he was close enough to see the sudden dilation of her eyes.
He wasn’t the only one thinking about sweaty naked bodies and groans of pleasure.
She licked her lips. “Are you always so bossy?”
“Yeah.” His fingers trailed up her bare arm and over her shoulder. “I’m also stubborn and I can be bad-tempered before my coffee,” he continued, his fingers toying with the narrow ribbon that held up her nightgown. “On the plus side, I’m half-civilized. I can throw a steak on the grill. And I have a ranch that’s just begging for a woman’s touch. Is there anything else you need to know?”
She sucked in a startled breath, instantly pulling back. She might be willing to indulge their mutual attraction, but she wasn’t prepared to discuss their future.
“Do you have doughnuts?”
Rafe forced a smile to his lips, squashing his flare of frustration.
Eventually she would accept that she belonged to him.
Until then he would have to be patient.
Okay, maybe not entirely patient, he conceded, unable to resist the temptation of skimming his fingers down the plunging neckline of her gown.
“I’m beginning to suspect the way to your heart is through the pastry aisle,” he teased, satisfaction blasting through him at the sight of her nipples hardening in anticipation.
Her cheeks heated as his finger slid beneath the thin fabric, brushing over the tightly furled nipple.
“Rafe,” she choked out.
Bending his head, he pressed a kiss of stark hunger to her lips.
“When this is over I’m taking you to my ranch and locking the door,” he growled against her mouth. Unlike Annie, he had no problem talking about their inevitable future. “I want you to myself for the next year.”
She shivered, her arms lifting to wrap around his neck. “I haven’t said I’m going.”
He gave her lower lip a punishing nip. “You will.”
“You’re right,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair as he circled the tip of her nipple with his finger. “You are stubborn.”
He dipped his tongue into the warm welcome of her mouth. “You have no idea.”
Intent on the arousal that had exploded between them, he ignored the sound of the front door opening. Hauk was still on guard duty. He wouldn’t let anyone slip past who didn’t belong.
Unfortunately, there was no denyin
g the sharp knock on the bedroom door, or Teagan’s impatient voice.
“Rafe.”
His hand cupped her breast, a groan wrenched from his throat. “Christ,” he growled, forcing himself to pull back as he met her darkened gaze. “A year, sweetheart,” he at last said, rising to his feet. “I get you alone for a year.”
“We’ll see,” she hedged, tugging the sheets up to her chin.
“I’m not the only stubborn one.” With a half dozen steps he was at the door, opening it just far enough to glare at his friend. “This had better be good.”
Teagan was wearing the clothes he’d had on the night before, his expression wiped of emotion. “You’re going to want to see this,” he said.
Damn.
Rafe already knew he wasn’t going to like what Teagan had to say.
Turning his head, he sent Annie a warning frown. “Stay here,” he commanded.
A waste of breath.
The words had barely left his lips before she was leaping out of bed and grabbing a robe that matched her nightgown.
“No way.” She moved forward. “I’m coming with you.”
He blocked her path, his gaze narrowed as he took in the robe that hit her mid-thigh and was thin enough to see through.
“Not like that, you’re not,” he growled. He might not be able to halt her from hearing Teagan’s news, but he’d be damned if she was going to waltz around half-naked.
He loved his friends enough to avoid having any reason to punch them in the face.
She looked puzzled. “What?”
Walking to the small closet, he pulled out a robe that had belonged to his grandfather. Returning to Annie, he efficiently wrapped her in its thick folds.
With an expression of disbelief, she glanced down at the hem that fell to her ankles and the arms that entirely covered her hands. “Are you kidding me?” she demanded.
“I only claimed to be half-civilized,” Rafe reminded her, firmly tying the belt around her waist. “The other half is pure male.”
She waited for him to step back, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Happy now?”
He swooped down, capturing her mouth in a short, sizzling kiss that promised all sorts of delayed pleasure.
“Sweetheart, the only time I’m going to be happy is when this shit is over and I can get you back in that bed,” he informed her.
He could see the pulse race at the base of her neck, but she fiercely refused to be distracted.
“We should go.”
“Fine.” He claimed one more lingering kiss before he pulled open the door. “Until later,” he whispered in her ear as she walked past him.
Following her out of the bedroom, they headed into the kitchen where they found Teagan standing beside the stack of papers arranged on the table.
The man’s gaze shifted from Rafe to Annie before returning to Rafe with a rueful grimace.
Teagan was intimately familiar with recognizing a woman who was still flushed with a lingering arousal.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“What’ve you got?” Rafe asked.
Teagan tapped the stack of papers. “A name.”
“For Don White?”
“Yep.”
Annie stiffened at his side, her brows drawing together. “What are you talking about?”
Rafe reached to pull out one of the wooden chairs. “I think we should have a seat.”
“And some coffee,” Teagan muttered, grabbing one of the two Styrofoam cups that Rafe had left on the counter before sliding into the chair across the table. “I’m in dire need of caffeine.”
“Did you pull an all-nighter?” Rafe asked, scooting his seat close to Annie.
If she freaked at the news Teagan had to share, he wanted to be able to pull her into his arms.
“It took a while,” Teagan admitted.
Annie sat rigid in her chair, her fingers peeking from the arms of the oversized robe to clench the edge of the table.
“This has something to do with my father?”
“There was something sketchy about his background check,” Rafe admitted, grimacing as the color drained from her face.
He didn’t like having to rip open old wounds, but he didn’t know any other way to get to the truth.
“Background check?” She gave a shake of her head. “Why would you run a background check?”
Rafe shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
There was a long pause as Annie studied him with a narrowed gaze, no doubt realizing he’d run a similar background check on her.
Then she gave a small shake of her head, no doubt filing away her annoyance to toss in his face later.
“What do you mean sketchy?” she instead demanded.
It was Teagan who answered. “There was no history of Don White until he arrived in Newton.”
Annie blinked, clearly confused. “Rafe?”
“As I’ve mentioned before, Teagan is a computer god,” Rafe said, ignoring his friend’s snort of humor. “He quickly realized that your father’s past was bogus.”
Her confusion remained. “I don’t understand what that means.”
“The previous jobs and addresses he listed when he opened a bank account don’t exist,” Teagan said. “Even his birth certificate is forged.”
“Forged? But . . . why?”
“My first thought was that he was hiding from the law,” Rafe reluctantly confessed.
Her eyes widened. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why he was concerned that Don White would be using a fake name.
“You suspected he’d killed other women?” she breathed.
He nodded. “It was a possibility.”
Annie’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Rafe reached to pry one of her hands off the table, wrapping it in his fingers.
Damn. He hated this.
“Your father wasn’t on the run. At least not from the law.” Teagan swiftly jumped in to end Annie’s growing panic, his voice forceful enough to command her attention. “I think he was trying to protect you.”
Annie took a second. Actually she took several seconds.
Drawing in a deep breath, she squashed the urge to slap her hands over her ears.
She’d been the one to insist on being a part of this meeting, hadn’t she? She couldn’t act like a child just because she didn’t like the direction of the conversation.
Of course, that didn’t ease the nervous tension that twisted her stomach into knots.
“Protect me from what?”
“Your father was a naval officer,” Teagan said. “Captain James Emerson.”
Annie stared at Teagan in confusion. “That’s . . .” She was forced to halt and clear the lump from her throat. “You’ve made a mistake.”
“I’m sorry, babe, it’s no mistake,” Teagan said, his voice remarkably gentle as he grabbed a stapled stack of papers and slid them across the table. “This is a record of his service. He was a highly decorated veteran who was well respected and in line to become an admiral, until his sudden retirement.”
Feeling oddly numb, Annie glanced over the documents. She didn’t have Teagan or Rafe’s skills, but they looked official.
“Why would he try to hide this?” she asked. “Most men would be bragging about this sort of career every chance they got.”
Teagan held up his hand. “I’m not done.” He slid another stack of papers across the table. “Thirty-seven years ago he married Virginia Cole, better known as Ginny, the daughter of a diplomat. They had a son one year later.”
“Marty,” she muttered, her mind struggling to keep up. She’d known her mother’s name was Ginny, but she hadn’t known that she was the daughter of a diplomat.
Her father had told her that her grandparents had died when her mother was just a child.
“Actually, your brother was officially named Martin Jacob Emerson,” Teagan corrected, saying each name with a deliberate emphasis.
Rafe frowned. “Why is that name familiar?”
Teagan g
rabbed the top sheet of paper and tossed it toward Rafe. “Because of this.”
Rafe’s hand tightened on her fingers, his gaze locked on the copy of an old newspaper clipping. “Shit,” he breathed.
Dread clenched her heart as his face paled. It had to be bad. Really bad.
“Tell me,” she commanded.
Rafe grimaced. “Annie—”
“Tell me.”
He shared a worried glance with Teagan before turning back to meet her impatient glare.
“He killed your mother.”
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting.
But it sure the hell wasn’t that.
Barely aware she was moving, she reached to grab the top of the paper, snatching it from Rafe’s hand before he could prevent her.
Nausea clutched her stomach as she read the lurid headline.
FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD SLICES THE THROAT
OF HIS SOCIALITE MOTHER
“Oh my God.” The paper dropped from her hand, drifting onto the table. “My father . . .” She shook her head. “He told me they’d died in a car wreck.”
“Your father was a good man who wanted to protect you from—”
“Murder,” she finished for him.
A shudder raced through her. God almighty, was there anyone in her family who hadn’t been accused of some hideous act of violence?
“Not murder,” Rafe denied, grabbing the paper to quickly read the article. “Self-defense.”
She studied his bleak face. “He killed my mother in self-defense?”
He nodded. “That’s what the judge ruled.”
“Long-term emotional and physical abuse,” Teagan added, sipping his coffee. The morning sunlight slanted through the kitchen window, emphasizing his dark beauty at the same time it revealed the shadows of weariness in his gorgeous honey eyes. “There were a number of witnesses who came forward during the trial to claim they’d seen Martin with bruises and broken bones throughout his childhood. And there’d been more than one friend of the family who said that your mother often locked your brother in a closet for hours, even days, at a time.”
Annie surged to her feet, instinctively slamming the door on the image of a young, helpless boy with swollen, black eyes and broken arms.
Kill Without Mercy Page 17
