Say You're Sorry

by Karen Rose

  Daisy wanted to rail at his grandparents for kicking his mother out to begin with, starting the spiral into homelessness, prostitution, and despair.

  But she said none of those things, because she didn’t think he needed to hear any of that tonight. She loosened her hold on his neck enough to kiss his cheek. “Come to bed with me, Gideon. Let me hold you there.”

  SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

  SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 11:40 P.M.

  Zandra Jones stifled a sob. Don’t cry. Do not cry. Her nose would get stuffed up and she’d suffocate.

  He’d left her tied and gagged, and as hard as she pulled, she couldn’t get free. Each tug merely tightened her bonds. Her wrists were bleeding now and they burned like fire.

  She wasn’t thinking about the cuts. The way he’d carved letters into her body. They hurt, but it was more a dull throb. The cuts weren’t going to kill her. She knew that now.

  He’d tended her wounds. Even stitched up a few that had gone deeper than he’d intended. The suture supplies had been in one of his drawers, his hands steady and horrifyingly practiced as he’d closed the worst of the wounds made by his fine-tipped detail knife.

  He’d done this before. Many times. One of his victims was still here. In the freezer behind her. He’d taken a photo of the woman’s body and had shown it to her to frighten her. And it had. The body, all wrapped in bedsheets. The woman’s face wasn’t visible in the picture, but Zandra had seen her hair. Dark and long. He’d strangled her, the dead woman in the freezer.

  He’ll strangle me, too. He’d already done it several times, but he’d let up right before she passed out, allowing her to suck in air that felt like knives scraping her lungs and throat. One day soon, he wouldn’t let up.

  And I’ll be dead.

  I’m not supposed to be here. She’d lost track of time, but he’d said it was Saturday. I’m supposed to be getting married today. To James. In Vail. But she’d run away so abruptly that no one knew where she’d gone. If James traced her to the airport, all he’d know was that she’d gone to a nearby bar and left too intoxicated to drive. She’d told both James and Monica to go to hell after finding them in bed together, that she was leaving and never coming back. To not come looking for her, that she didn’t want to hear anything they’d have to say.

  All this as they had lain there, watching her wide-eyed. And coitus-interuptussed.

  Stupid James. Stupid Monica. Stupider me. She’d trusted the bastard, only to have him sleep with her “best friend”? Yeah, right.

  They can both go to fucking hell. At this point, she’d be seeing them there soon enough. Because no one is looking for me. Everyone at work thought she was on her honeymoon. Everyone at her wedding figured she’d flounced off to lick her wounds.

  No one would miss her. Tears pricked at her eyes again and she ruthlessly held them back. Not gonna cry.

  Instead she focused her attention on the interior of the cabinet he’d left open. Trying to freak her out. It was working.

  After studying its contents for hours on end, she now knew that there were all kinds of trinkets and jewelry mounted on hooks—a number of necklaces, a few bracelets, an old rabbit’s foot, a few coins, and what looked like dog tags. All were small enough to fit into a pocket. Each was mounted beneath a driver’s license. There had to be thirty of them. Maybe more. Each was a woman. A person.

  A dead person.

  Not me. I’m not going to die.

  But she wasn’t sure how to make that happen. She was an attorney, not an escape artist or a magician. Her only superpower was the ability to talk her way out of anything.

  Except this. Unless something radically changed, she wasn’t going to talk her way out of this one. She’d seen his face. He was never letting her go.

  There has to be something I can do. There has to be. I’m not ready to die.

  SEVENTEEN

  REDDING, CALIFORNIA

  SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 12:05 A.M.

  Come to bed with me, Gideon. Let me hold you there. He’d obeyed and she’d been as good as her word, holding him much as she had the night before, his head between her breasts, her fingers gently sifting through his hair, one arm curved protectively around his shoulders. Giving him comfort when she was the one who’d suffered the loss.

  She had a generous heart and he wanted it. He wanted her generosity and gentleness for himself. You have it, he told himself. For tonight at least. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that one night wouldn’t be enough.

  She stilled him somehow. Calmed his mind. Filled the spaces he hadn’t known were empty. She understood him in a way that no one had ever understood before.

  To be fair, you didn’t give anyone else a chance. He’d shared things with her that he’d never shared with Rafe. Never shared with Karl and Irina and they were as close to family as he had.

  But he’d spilled his story to Daisy in just days and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was how she made him feel . . . normal when he was with her. They’d both grown up prisoners, in a way. Maybe that was it. Whatever it was, he knew that he wanted more.

  He knew that he wanted her. So much so that he’d angled his body away from her so that she wouldn’t know how hard he was. She didn’t need demands tonight. She needed comfort.

  Pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat, he lifted his head, propping himself up on his elbow, their faces only inches apart. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m being selfish.”

  He could see her eyes widen in the semidarkness. “What?”

  “You’ve lost your friend, but I made it about me.”

  One side of her pretty mouth lifted slightly. “But it is about you. That’s why you’re here, Gideon. Whoever killed my friend connects to your friend.” She cupped his cheek, brushing the lines of his beard with her thumbs. “Don’t apologize. Besides, I like comforting you.” She shrugged. “It makes me feel useful.”

  “Like you’re doing something,” he said softly. “Because being helpless sucks. I get it.”

  Her small smile faded as she held his gaze. “I figured you would.”

  “What can I do for you?” he whispered.

  Her gaze flickered away and she bit her lip. “Nothing. I’m . . . I’m good.”

  With his forefinger on her chin, he turned her head so that she faced him again. “Tell me, Daisy.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Or I’ll feel helpless, too.”

  She swallowed hard, then slid her hands into his hair. And pulled him down, taking his mouth in a tentative kiss, a mere ghosting of lips that sent his heart instantly pounding in his chest. She ended it far too soon, releasing her hold on his hair. But he didn’t retreat.

  “Is this what you want, Daisy?” he murmured against her mouth. “Me to kiss you?”

  Breathlessly, soberly, she nodded.

  “Like you kissed me? Or more?”

  She closed her eyes. “More,” she answered, but it was barely a whisper. She looked . . . ashamed and that made his heart hurt, even though he thought he understood why.

  “Daisy, look at me.” He waited until she’d opened her eyes. “You’re feeling guilty because Trish is gone?”

  She nodded again, her eyes filling with tears. “It feels wrong to want to feel . . . good, I guess, although Trish would have been the first person to tell me that was stupid. It’s just that . . .” She blinked once, and the tears streaked down the side of her face, into her hair.

  She was quiet for so long that he felt compelled to help. “Do you want to just forget for a little while?” Which made him feel even more selfish, like he was trying to convince her to do what he wanted when she was in a vulnerable place. But to his surprise she shook her head hard.

  “I’m not going to forget. Every time I close my eyes I see her . . . lying there.” She shuddered and he tightened his hold around her waist, drawing her tighter to his body.

&
nbsp; He kissed her temple. “Then it’s just what?”

  “It could have been me,” she said, and he sucked in a breath.

  “No.” The denial was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  “Yes, Gideon. That man tried to drag me away on Thursday. I would have ended up like Trish.” Her hands were back on his face, stroking his skin, his beard, as if to soften her words. “It could have been me.”

  He dropped his head until their foreheads touched. “Please tell me that you aren’t thinking that it should have been you.”

  She reared back into the pillow, her eyes blinking wide as she stared up at him. “No! Of course not. It shouldn’t have been anyone, Gideon. But it was. And I just . . . I guess after everything that’s happened, I want to feel . . . not scared for a little while. You know, to feel good. You make me feel good. But I feel selfish asking. Like I’m . . . using you.”

  It was his turn to blink. “Oh. Well.” That was honestly not what he’d expected. He’d thought she’d say it was because she needed to wait for a mourning period. Or worse, that she feared she’d be next and didn’t want to die without having one final fling. That she’d be using him? Wow.

  Part of him wanted to tell her that he’d be happy to be used by her anytime, but that wasn’t true. What he was feeling was more than an itch to be scratched. He’d scratched itches in the past and he’d been satisfied. But this was different. She was different.

  “Tell me this,” he said, because she still looked troubled. “If someone else were here guarding you, would you still want to do . . . whatever?”

  She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No.” She traced his lips with her fingertip. “It’s because it’s you. I like you. I can let my guard down with you. I . . . trust you.” Her gaze flicked away for a few seconds before resolutely returning to his. “And I want you. More than any man I’ve ever met.”

  His pulse went into overdrive, even as he wondered how many men that had been. Ruthlessly he shoved the thought away. It didn’t matter. Tonight she was with him.

  “Yeah?” he asked, feeling almost shy, for God’s sake. Like a goddamn teenager. Which he’d never really been allowed to be.

  Her mouth curved as she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her touch tender even as her eyes invited. “Yeah. So if you’d kiss me again, I’d be very grateful.”

  “That I can do.” He took her mouth in what started as a simple kiss but quickly heated when she opened to him. He tasted her, a little minty, a little sweet, and so hot. He still lay on his side, his erection a safe distance away. At least until he knew how far she wanted this to go.

  A moment later—or maybe minutes, he wasn’t sure—he had his answer as one of her small hands came up to grip the back of his neck, the other clutching a handful of his shirt. She tugged and, schooling his features so that his disappointment didn’t show, he lifted his head, breathing hard.

  Her mouth was red and wet, her eyes glazed, and the breasts that had cradled his head rose and fell with her panted breaths. She looked slightly dazed. And so beautiful he had to force himself to back off.

  Suppressing a shudder, he pressed his lips to her temple, then kissed down to her ear. “Too much?”

  She tugged on his shirt again. “Not enough. You’re too far away, Gideon.”

  He shuddered again, a full-body shudder that he couldn’t hide. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. “Thought you wanted to stop.”

  “No,” she whispered, the hand on his neck sliding up to pet his hair, the hand on his shirt sliding down to grip the waistband of his sweats. “Don’t stop.” She tugged again. “Please.”

  He shifted, settling between the legs she parted in welcome, his cock finding her softness, and he couldn’t stop his hips from rolling against her. Humming, she arched her body, pressing her head back into the pillow, exposing the line of her throat. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he kissed up her throat to her jaw.

  “This okay?” he asked.

  “Very okay.” Her voice was huskier than normal, sending shivers over his skin. She closed her eyes on a throaty sigh. “You feel so good.”

  He brushed her mouth with soft kisses, gratified when she tried to follow him up when he lifted his head again. “What do you want, Daisy?”

  Her lips curved wryly. “More than I’m going to get. I never did get a chance to stop by the drugstore. But this is nice, too.”

  Nice was not what he wanted her to feel. Over the moon and out of her mind with pleasure is what he wanted her to feel. “I did,” he admitted. “Stopped at the drugstore.”

  Her eyes blinked open. “You did? Whe—” She stopped herself before she could finish asking him when. Realization flickered in her eyes and she drew a deep breath, because the only time they’d been apart was when he’d gone to the morgue. She nodded once, a grim acknowledgment. She closed her eyes again. “Thank you.”

  “We don’t have to do anything,” he whispered. “I didn’t expect anything. I just figured . . . Well, I hoped we’d need them sooner or later.”

  “Tonight.” Her eyes opened and he saw desperation mixed with raw yearning. “Unless you don’t want this.”

  He barked out a laugh. “No, that’s not a problem.” He rolled his hips again, drawing a gasp from her lips. “In case you didn’t notice.”

  She arched into him again, her eyes drifting closed. “I noticed.” She hummed more. “I totally noticed and I want this. I want you. Inside me. Is that clear enough?”

  His hips jerked, a groan rumbling from his chest. “God. Yes. That’s plenty clear.” He pressed a hard kiss to her now-smiling mouth. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He knelt between her legs, not wanting to tear his eyes away from the sight of her body, spread out before him. Her nipples had grown hard and were now starkly visible through the camisole that would have been completely modest otherwise. Her hips undulated, lifting to where he’d been seconds earlier. Where he couldn’t wait to get back to.

  Forcing himself from the bed, he dug in his duffel until he found the box of condoms. Hands trembling, he ripped at the plastic, then at the top of the box, sending strips of condoms.

  Behind him, she laughed, a purely joyful sound that he hadn’t heard nearly often enough. She eyed the strip he’d snatched in midair, one brow lifting. “I’m not sure if that’s optimistic or ambitious, Gideon.”

  He looked at the strip of three in his hand and grinned. “A little bit of both?” He tossed them to the nightstand and started to take off his shirt, but she scrambled to kneel at the edge of the mattress, stopping him.

  “Hold on. I want to do it.” Then she surprised him by switching on the lamp. “I want to see you.”

  God. He fisted his hands at his sides so that he didn’t rush her. “Okay.”

  She came up on her knees, her teeth biting into her lower lip as she pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. She made a sound of appreciation as she looked at him for long seconds that had him growing even harder.

  “Touch me,” he managed in a guttural voice that he didn’t recognize as his own, shuddering when her hands spread out over his skin, caressing him with a slow reverence that tested his control. She dragged her fingertips through the hair on his chest, tracing the wings of the phoenix tattoo before following the line of hair to the waistband of his sweats.

  He sucked in a breath when her seeking finger dipped below his sweats and the boxer briefs he wore beneath. “Daisy,” he rasped.

  She lifted her eyes to his. “You’re beautiful.”

  He couldn’t hold back any longer. He thrust his fingers into her hair, dragging her to him as he plundered her mouth until they were forced to break apart for air. He dropped his hands to his sides again. “Take your top off,” he gritted out.

  Keeping her gaze locked to his, she did so and he groaned wh
en her breasts came into view. “You’re the beautiful one.” Gently he cradled them in his hands, his thumbs softly flicking the nipples he couldn’t wait to taste.

  Her head fell back, her mouth falling open on another of those throaty sighs that made him want to plunge inside her. But he held on to his control. This would be good for her. For them. He’d take his time. He’d—

  “Fuck, Daisy, fuck,” he snarled when she delved under his briefs, her fingers closing around him. He pulled her to him again, this kiss openmouthed, primal, and absolutely raw as she pumped him, squeezing on the upstroke. And then her hand was gone, but before he could protest, she was pushing his sweats down his hips and wriggling from his hold. He wanted to drag her back, wanted to throw her on the bed and suck on her breasts.

  But all those thoughts were driven from his racing brain when she took him in her mouth and all he could do was stand there, his legs shaking as he was enveloped in hot, wet . . . heaven. He watched her blond head bobbing up and down, the sight the most erotic he’d ever seen, until the pleasure became too much and his head fell back.

  He was close. Too close. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her off him, kicking off the sweats and briefs. Carefully he pushed her to the pillow, stripping her shorts and panties down her legs.

  And he stood there and looked his fill, wishing he had a better word than “beautiful.” Bracing one knee on the mattress next to her hip, he drew a line from the hollow of her throat, down her chest, between her breasts to her stomach, feeling it quiver. Watching the goose bumps spread across her flesh. Watching her arch expectantly when he paused.

  “Gideon.” His name on her lips was both plea and command. Her knee bent, falling to the bed, leaving her open to his hungry gaze. “Do it. Touch me.”

  He trailed his finger down, dipping his fingertip into glistening . . . perfection. She cried out, her back and hips coming off the bed as if he’d shocked her.

  He’d known she’d be this responsive. Somehow he’d known.

  He explored slowly, deliberately, earning more curses and pleas. When he slipped his finger inside her she writhed helplessly. “Please, please, please,” she chanted in a whisper. Impatient, her arm flung backward, blindly searching the nightstand for the strip of condoms. When she had them in her hand, she shoved them into his. “I need you. Now.”