Say You're Sorry

by Karen Rose

  He didn’t want to stop touching her. Fascinated with the way her body was moving, he withdrew his finger and added a second.

  With a snarl she grabbed the strip of condoms from his hand and ripped one off herself. She fumbled the packet, cursing again. She finally ripped it open and, with an upward glance that promised retribution, she lifted up on her elbow and managed to slide the condom down his length, stroking him as she’d done before.

  He closed his eyes, letting himself steep in the sensation. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. Like this? Maybe never.

  “Please,” she said, so quietly he nearly missed it. Opening his eyes, he saw she was on her back, her arms open. “Now, Gideon.”

  He pulled his fingers from her and brought them to his mouth. His tongue gathered up the flavor that was all her. “Next time I want to taste you.”

  “Next time you can do whatever you want. This time I need you down here.”

  He moved between her thighs, sliding down so that he could suck on her pretty breasts. Her fingers were in his hair again, her head thrown back, her hips pressing against his chest in a rhythm that was slowly driving him insane.

  He gave each of her nipples a lick before bracing his hands beside her head, lifting his body so that he hovered at her entrance. “Look at me,” he demanded.

  Her eyes opened and his chest squeezed so hard that it almost hurt. There was hunger in her gaze, but also trust. They mixed with the yearning that had been there before and he knew that, whatever happened between them, he’d never forget the way she was looking at him now.

  “Tell me you want this,” he ground out, needing to hear her say it once more.

  Her hands skated down his back, gripping his ass. “I want this. I want you.”

  He let go of his control and slid inside her, groaning at how amazing she felt around him. Tight, wet heat. Shuddering, he dropped his face to her neck. “God.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “So good, Gideon. I can feel you . . . throbbing inside me.”

  Her words were like an electric shock. “Fuck,” he growled, the rest of his words nowhere to be found. He began to move, pushing up so that he could see her face.

  Her eyes were still open, still hungry. Watching him. She licked her lips and dug her fingers into his glutes, meeting him thrust for thrust as their eyes locked in a way that was more than simple sex.

  He’d known she’d be perfect. But she was better than his wildest imagining. Tighter, hotter. Like she’d been made for him. For me. No one else.

  Mine. She’s mine. It might be a foolish thought, but he wasn’t dismissing it because this was the best he’d ever felt. Ever.

  This was pure pleasure. But it was also comfort and affirmation. That this thing between them was very, very right.

  Her legs wound around his, holding him to her, drawing him impossibly deeper, and his train of thought jumped its rails. He began to thrust harder. Faster. He hooked his hands under and around her shoulders, trying to pull her closer. And still she watched him, her gaze never wavering, her hair spread on the pillow, golden in the low light.

  “More,” she mouthed, and he lost the last of his control.

  He pounded into her, his mind wiped of everything but how she made him feel. She made him feel. She made him alive. “Come,” he hissed. “Come for me. Now.”

  Throwing back her head on a fractured cry, her eyes closed as she went over, her wet heat spasming around him, pulling him with her.

  Burying his face in her hair, he followed on the most powerful release he’d ever experienced, the shout in his throat completely silent.

  Boneless, he collapsed, his lungs unable to take in enough air. Gradually he became aware of the scent of almond cookies. Her hair. And gentle fingers stroking up and down his back. He pushed up on his elbows to find her face relaxed like he hadn’t yet seen it. Eyes closed. Lips smiling. She looked . . . serene. Blissed out. Well loved.

  He kissed her forehead, trying to think of something to say, but no words would come. Her eyes opened and he couldn’t look away.

  “Don’t go yet,” she whispered.

  “Okay.”

  Her hands continued to stroke his back and he wished they could stay like this forever. But he had to deal with the condom, so he reluctantly pulled out of her. He kissed her mouth softly. “I’ll be right back.”

  When he rounded the corner after leaving the bathroom, she was exactly where he’d left her. Watching him with a smile that made all the pieces of his heart come together.

  He climbed under the sheets, holding his arm out. She rolled over, her head on his chest, her hand over the tattoo on his chest.

  And he realized he hadn’t seen her tattoo yet. He curved his arm around her, bringing her even closer. “You never showed me your tattoo.”

  She laughed. “Tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay.” He twisted, reaching for the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.

  She sighed, a sweet sound. “Thank you, Gideon.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “It was my pleasure. Really.”

  She laughed again, sleepily. “Good. Sleep now. I set an alarm for us to go to the bus station.”

  The bus station. Right. The reason they were here. He held her a little tighter, hoping the morning would bring them answers.

  REDDING, CALIFORNIA

  SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2:30 A.M.

  He turned into the hotel’s parking lot, holding his breath, then letting it out on a rush when he saw the Fed’s black Toyota exactly where it had been before. He pulled into the adjacent parking slot and got out of his car, relieved to find the Toyota’s engine cold to the touch and frost spreading over the windshield. The car hadn’t been moved. Both the Fed and Daisy were still in the hotel, the light still out in their second-floor room.

  What they were doing at the moment . . . he didn’t want to think about.

  Earlier, he’d seen the Fed standing in front of the window, his head against the glass, staring outside. At first he’d been afraid, worried that the Fed had seen him. He’d had his gun in his hand, aiming for the man in the window, when he’d glimpsed Daisy coming up behind him, sliding her arms around the man’s waist. They’d stood that way for some time, and then they’d both disappeared from the window. They hadn’t seen him at all.

  So he’d put his gun away, feeling unsettled and angry because the relationship between the two was obviously more than bodyguard and victim.

  But he’d also been feeling hungry. And cold. And needing to use a restroom somewhere. So he’d left the hotel, for just a little while. Long enough to grab a bite from a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s drive-through and run into Walmart for a blanket, some thermal socks, and a few snacks.

  And a tracker. He’d been surprised to find one there, but he’d snatched it up and put it in his cart. He didn’t delude himself into believing that the tracker was anywhere near the top of the line, but it should suit his purposes. He didn’t want to fall asleep and miss the Fed and Daisy’s departure to whatever had brought them to Redding.

  Walking between his car and the Fed’s, he crouched and hid the device in the Toyota’s wheel well, frowning a little. He doubted the adhesive holding the tracker to the metal would last long, but he didn’t need it to. He just needed it to stick there until morning.

  Climbing back into his car, he moved to the far side of the lot where he could still see the Fed’s car, but where they wouldn’t notice him. He downloaded the tracking app to his phone, wincing because he’d likely just overshot the limits of his data plan, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He was pleased to see the blinking dot on the app’s map, exactly where it should be—exactly where the Toyota was. Then he pulled the blanket from its package, put his seat back, and fell asleep.

  EIGHTEEN

  REDDING, CALIFORNIA

 
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 7:30 A.M.

  Daisy woke slowly, reaching for Gideon, but the bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. The first time she’d woken had been at her normal four A.M. to find that they’d shifted in sleep. She no longer lay with her head on his chest, but they’d been on their sides, him spooned behind her, his arm around her. Protecting her even in sleep.

  Or claiming her. Either was completely acceptable, she thought, stretching her very well-used muscles. Remembering the way he’d held her. The way they’d come together.

  Daisy wasn’t inexperienced, but she hadn’t been with that many men. A few at college when she was able to ditch a class and meet up somewhere close. Jacob had been her bodyguard back then, hers and Taylor’s, accompanying them to their classes. He sat with Taylor in hers, though, giving Daisy a few free hours a week.

  She’d made good use of them.

  There’d been a few men in Europe, but she’d been picky. And always safe. She was grateful for every one of those meager experiences because they’d enabled her to pleasure Gideon last night. And she had pleasured him. She could still feel the resulting twinges and she was grateful for every one of them, too.

  He was here. She could hear the soft rumble of his voice in the sitting room and it settled her, down deep where she shoved all the chaos. Right now there was a lot of chaos.

  Trish was dead and her killer might have killed others. He’d have killed me, too. Her stomach gave a sick twist every time the thought entered her mind. She’d only gotten away because her father had made her into a soldier. The skills she’d so resented being forced to learn had saved her life.

  Thank you, Dad.

  She reached for her phone to check the time. Seven thirty. Less than twelve hours before her father arrived in California. Because I said I needed him. That Frederick Dawson loved her wasn’t in doubt. She needed to make things right with him. Except she wasn’t sure where to start. I’ll figure it out later, once we’re done at the bus station.

  The sun was up and her stomach was growling. She needed coffee desperately. She was usually on her fourth cup by this time of the morning.

  Swinging her legs to the floor, she checked her texts and blinked. There were a lot of texts. Most asking how she was doing. Some were from her and Trish’s mutual friends, asking if it was true. If Trish was really dead.

  Daisy shoved away the memory of Trish’s battered and bloody body. Her eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. The bruises around her throat.

  Yes. Trish was really dead. But Daisy didn’t answer those texts. She wasn’t in the frame of mind to deal with their friends yet. There was a text from her father, saying all of his flights appeared to be on time. And telling her that he loved her.

  She swallowed hard at that one, not even hesitating before texting back. Love you too. Because she did. Nothing had changed that. Nothing could.

  The final text was from Sasha, sent just a few minutes before, probably the buzz that had woken her up. Checking on you. Everything ok?

  Not really, she texted back. But it will be, right? How are you?

  Sasha’s reply was immediate. Couldn’t sleep. Went to office to do paperwork. Needed to be busy.

  Daisy sighed. Poor Sasha. She was grieving Trish on a whole other level. I get that.

  The dot-dot-dot bubble appeared and hung there, indicating that Sasha was typing a long reply, but when the answer appeared it was quite short. Get busy w/G. And was followed by a gif of a man winking exaggeratedly.

  Daisy wondered what Sasha had really typed and deleted but let it go. Yes ma’am, she texted back, then smiled when Sasha’s reply was about fifty question marks. That would at least give Sasha gossip material when she next saw Irina and Karl.

  She got out of bed, brushed her teeth, and went in search of Gideon, but when she approached the door to the outer sitting room she heard two voices—Gideon’s and a woman’s. Daisy assumed he was talking on the phone but cracked the door to be sure before she barged in there stark naked.

  Sure enough, he sat on the sofa with his back to her, hunched over his laptop, which sat on a coffee table. His phone was next to his laptop, on speaker.

  “—Redding bus station,” Gideon was saying. “But I doubt you called for an update on my plans for the morning. Especially since I sent them to you in an e-mail already.”

  “No,” the woman admitted. Gideon’s boss, Daisy assumed, trying to remember if Gideon had ever said her name. “We got hits when we ran the search you requested.”

  What search?

  Gideon’s back stiffened. “How many?”

  “So far, three,” the woman’s voice said. “There is an open investigation on these three. It’s being led out of the Seattle field office.”

  Gideon’s shoulders sagged. “Three,” he said, sounding defeated. “Including Trish Hart?”

  Daisy opened the door a little wider. She should make herself known, but this involved Trish and she needed to know.

  “No,” the woman said softly. “Three additional. All were strangled, two were found with bleach-cleaned butcher knives in the dish drainer. All had letters carved into their skin. One had an ‘EY,’ one an ‘N,’ one had a ‘D.’”

  “Like Trish Hart,” Gideon said grimly.

  Daisy gasped. Letters? Carved into her skin? Trish had letters carved into her body? She thought about all the blood, how it had covered Trish’s stomach. Which meant she’d been carved up while she was still alive, she realized.

  Gideon twisted around, his eyes widening in dismay when he saw her standing there. “Shit,” he muttered. “I have to go now,” he said to the woman on the phone. “I’ll call you when I’m done at the bus station.”

  Ending the call, he rose, coming around the sofa to take her hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry you heard that. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

  His face was blurry when she looked up at him, clearing when she blinked, only to grow blurry again. “He carved her up?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  Gideon’s eyes closed. “Yes.” He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her and she realized she was shivering.

  “When she was still alive?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Yes,” he said again. “I’m so sorry, Daisy. I should have made sure you were still asleep.”

  She wished he had, but not really. “I needed to know.”

  “No, baby. You didn’t.” He let her go long enough to pick up her phone from the carpet. She didn’t remember dropping it. Then he was guiding her back into the bedroom. He sat on the bed, his back to the headboard, and pulled her into his lap, holding her as her tears started anew.

  “Did he . . .” She clutched at his T-shirt, barely able to breathe, wondering how she hadn’t thought to ask this question the night before. You were in shock. She felt like she was again. “Did he rape her, too?”

  “We don’t know. The coroner is supposed to start the autopsy this afternoon.”

  God. Trish. Her jaw clenched as a wave of fury layered over the shock. “I want to kill him, Gideon,” she hissed fiercely.

  “I know, baby. I know. I wanted to just for putting his hands on you. Now . . .”

  “He’s killed four women. Maybe five if he got Eileen, too. So far.”

  “Yes.” Because his gut was telling him that Eileen was dead. He kissed Daisy’s forehead. “I know this is hard, but try not to visualize what happened.”

  She huffed bitterly, not sure how not to visualize it. “I’m trying. But . . .” She closed her eyes. “She died all alone. Scared and in pain and all alone.”

  “I know.” He gathered her closer. “Visualize him behind bars. Scared and alone.”

  She pressed her ear to his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. Trying to let it calm her. But her anger was a live thing. She wasn’t practiced at handling it. Her skin bristled f
rom it. “And in pain?”

  “Yes. If that’s what you need to do. It’s how I survived after I found Mercy. Pictured the man who’d hurt her in great pain.”

  She wiped at her eyes, sore from crying. “Were you inflicting the pain?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, very quietly. Very earnestly.

  She nodded then, picturing exactly that. It helped a little, but it still hurt. So much, Trish. But she was also so very angry. Use it. Channel it. And when you find him, end him.

  Visualizing him behind bars? To hell with that. When she got the chance, she was going to kill the bastard. She drew a breath, finding a measure of peace in her resolution. “All right. Let’s get breakfast and go to the bus station.”

  He drew back, studying her face, wiping her cheeks with gentle fingers. His frown was troubled. “Daisy?”

  She met his gaze head-on, lifting her chin. “Yes?”

  “I don’t want to lose you. Don’t do anything that puts you in his sights. Please.”

  “I’m already in his sights. Look, I won’t take any unnecessary chances. How’s that?”

  He sighed wearily. “That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

  “Probably.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Short of locking me away for my own protection, anyway.”

  His surprise was genuine. As was the hurt in his eyes that she would suggest it. “I would never do that to you. We both know what it means to be confined.”

  Her heart eased, just a little. Just enough for her to breathe. “Thank you.”

  He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I had other plans for this morning, but it’s getting late. The bus station opens at nine.”

  REDDING, CALIFORNIA

  SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 9:00 A.M.

  Daisy gripped Gideon’s hand when his step faltered in front of the Redding Greyhound bus station. “Come on,” she urged softly. “You need to know.”