by Kaylea Cross
“Yeah. I needed that.”
Apparently. He lifted her legs and sat beside her, laying her thighs over his lap and tucking the throw blanket around her.
She sighed and let her eyes close again, that little smile still on her lips. “I could stay like this forever.”
Her face was angled toward the glow of the fire. Her breathing deepened. It wasn’t fair. He was rock hard and in bad shape, and she was falling asleep on him. The rain pattered against the windows as he gazed down at her longingly. She was fast asleep now, her breasts rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. What would she do if he leaned over and kissed her awake? He almost gave in to the need, only managed to resist the urge at the last second.
Forcing the tension to leave his muscles, he rose and carried her to her bedroom. She was so exhausted she didn’t even wake up when he laid her down, but rolled to her side and curled into a fetal position, trapping his hand between the supple weight of her breast and the mattress. He swallowed a moan.
Oh, sweetheart, don’t do this to me. I’m only human. Before he could stop himself his hand tightened around her, fingers stroking briefly as the hunger roared inside him. She sighed and arched closer. It hurt to do it, but he forced his hand away, still feeling the warm softness of her on his palm. He stood there watching her for a moment longer until he could finally move then left her room, his whole body throbbing.
****
He was whispering things he meant to do to her, terrible things. Laughing at her, an ugly laugh, icy. As glacial as the gray eyes boring into to her. His bald head lowered and his sharpened teeth sank into her shoulder ...
Christa bolted upright in bed, checking her wrists and ankles for bonds. Okay, okay, it’s just a dream.
She sagged against the pillows, trembling, wiping the sweat from her face. This was getting out of hand; she had to start getting over it somehow. She would feel so much safer if Rayne were in the room with her. That warm, strong body was lying in bed right there on the other side of the wall.
After debating the issue for another few seconds she got up, grabbed a blanket and closed the bedroom door behind her, wincing at the squeak it made before padding down the hallway toward the front room. Jake’s toenails clicked on the hardwood and she hoped they wouldn’t wake Rayne as she tiptoed to his door.
“Christa?” he called from inside.
After a moment’s hesitation, she opened his door. “Uh...hi.” Jake wagged his tail feebly in support. “Did we wake you?” She felt badly for disturbing him again. He clicked on his bedside lamp, illuminating his bare chest and tousled hair. His sculpted, mouthwatering chest. Her mouth went dry.
“Another nightmare? Come lie down with me.”
Her heart leapt. She edged into the room and closed the door behind her, keeping an eye on him as she approached the bed. God, he wasn’t naked under that sheet, was he? Her heart picked up its rhythm as he held up the corner of the sheets for her. Steeling herself, she slid in beside him, her back to him. Jake was staring at her from the foot of the bed, his head cocked to one side in shock. When Rayne’s arm snaked around the curve of her waist to pull her against him her heart pounded so madly she was sure he must have felt it.
She must have flinched because his arm tightened. “Relax, darlin’.”
Oh God, the way his voice rolled over that endearment damn near made her toes curl. With effort, she relaxed against him and he snuggled closer, tucking his thighs beneath her hips. She swallowed when she felt the hard length of his erection pressed against her bottom. Arousal flared to hot, desperate life inside her. How many times had she dreamt of this?
Sweet God he felt good. Safe. Secure.
Touch me. Touch me all over. She almost blurted it out, dying to feel his hands and mouth on her aching body.
“Comfy?” he whispered. She nodded, her neck so stiff she practically heard the joints squeaking. His hand reached up to brush the hair away and he rested his forehead against her nape, inhaled deeply against her skin. “Night, darlin’,” he murmured, sending goosebumps the length of her spine.
His hand tightened on her waist, holding her still. He cuddled her close until she fully relaxed against him before easing the pressure of his hold, and she drifted off, safe in his arms.
Chapter Thirteen
Seth couldn’t get his pulse under control. Where the hell was she? He’d already checked her house, her boyfriend’s place, the old lady’s apartment on the beach, even her mother’s penthouse condo in West Vancouver. Nothing. He circled her blonde friend’s house again, on the off chance he’d catch a glimpse of Christa or her black truck. Nothing. She hadn’t been there last night. Must have stayed with her new boyfriend, that arrogant piece of shit cop.
He drove aimlessly down the street. He had to get to her, redeem his failure. If that nosy old man from next door hadn’t interrupted him he could have finished what he’d started. Now she’d escaped, must be away somewhere with that goddamn cop. They hadn’t flown anywhere, or he’d have found out about it by hacking into the airline databases. Maybe he could find the cop’s cell phone records, track them down that way. How many Rayne Hutchinsons could there be in the area?
Rayne, he scoffed. What a pansy-assed name.
Had he taken her out of town, thinking it would avoid the inevitable outcome? Delay it, that’s all it did. The idea of her being comforted by the son-of-a-bitch made him want to smash his fist through something. He imagined her looking up at her lover with her big blue eyes, all fragile and helpless when nothing could be further from the truth. For a woman she was damned strong, had shocked and impressed him with her will to fight.
Turning the corner, the steering wheel sliding beneath his slippery palms, he glanced into the rearview mirror at his swollen, broken nose, at both eyes, puffy and bruised, the furrows she’d raked across his cheek.
He’d been so close to having her. Everything had been perfect, as if they were following a script in his head, but then his body hadn’t cooperated and it had all gone wrong after that. The memory of not being able to enter her needled him like a shard of glass burrowed under his skin. He’d never had a problem getting hard before, and the humiliation still crawled through him. What the hell had gone wrong? His lust for that strong, sleek, struggling feminine body beneath him should have sent him over the edge, as it had time and time again in his fantasies. Instead he’d wilted like a shriveled carrot.
And then, in the throes of rage, he’d bitten her creamy skin. The mark had to be deep, and they would have made sure to document and analyze the precise puncture wounds his teeth had made. He’d left a similar mark only once before, on his last target, and if the cops ever thought to cross reference the two bites or found his dental records... Careless of him, to duplicate such an action. He was usually more careful.
No matter. Even if they did match the two cases they still had to catch him, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. No way would he go back into the prison system, where every kind of repulsive deviant licked their lips at the thought of screwing him in the shower room. Never again. This time, he called the shots.
A wave of fury pulsed through his veins. Wherever she was, did she think she was safe? That it was finished between them? Oh, no, that little demonstration he’d given her would merely plant the seed in her head of what he’d do to her for the finale. The fact that her boyfriend was an ERT officer didn’t worry him. He’d simply have to make sure she was alone.
The last kill had been this exciting for him, but she hadn’t given him this much trouble. Those terrified brown eyes pleading with him as he choked her, hands flailing against the rope...he could still smell the blood, taste the terror. She had been the best, but also the riskiest. Leaving one minute later would have had him arrested, but he’d trusted his instincts. They’d pulled him in for questioning, raising his blood pressure, but had no hard evidence to pin on him. This time the result would be the same, the payoff even bigger. He would have to be patient, wait for the righ
t moment. He still had time to perfect his plan, get it right. He had to. His life depended on it.
Back in front of his glowing computer screen, he went straight to work. Almost a half-hour passed before he found the record of phone calls. Hmm. Interesting. Four calls made to the same number in Lincoln City, Oregon. Two received from the same number. Another received from Charleston, South Carolina. He checked further back, noted that same number coming up every week or so. Must be someone significant to the cop.
Satisfied he was close to finding Christa, his pulse began to slow. A sense of calm flowed over him. They had to be in the States, he reasoned. Lincoln City seemed the obvious location, but he’d check the Charleston number too, just to be thorough. He was nothing if not thorough.
He reached across his meticulously organized desk for a pad of paper and pen, wrote down the numbers. Now all he had to do was find out whom the numbers belonged to, so he could set the wheels in motion.
Christa was still out there somewhere, but she’d be coming back. And when she did he’d be ready.
****
“So,” Bryn chimed as she backed out of the driveway, “Where do you want to go first?”
When Bryn had stopped by for coffee and offered to take Christa shopping with her, it had seemed like a good idea. Now she was questioning her decision. She glanced in the side mirror, spotted an old lady driving a Cadillac, her blue-rinsed head barely visible over the steering wheel. No threat there, except maybe a rear-ender looking for a place to happen. “I want to get something for Rayne. You know, something to thank him for everything he’s done for me.” Like holding her throughout the night without trying to make a move on her, even though his erection had been pressing against her.
“Nice idea. Like what?”
“I don’t know. What do you think? I mean, you obviously know him better than I do. After all, you’ve been friends for years—”
Bryn laughed. “We’ve never slept together.”
Her mouth hung open. “I never th—”
“Oh, yes you did. I knew from the first moment I met you that you thought Rayne and I were an item.”
Embarrassment coursed through her. Damn, she hated being so transparent.
“Well, anyway, we haven’t. Rayne’s like a brother to me. If we had sex it would be tantamount to incest, y’know?”
Uh, okay. “He told me he used to scare the crap out of your dates.”
“Exactly what a good brother would do, right?” She grimaced. “He saved my butt once though. This one guy wasn’t taking no for an answer and I was shoving him off me in the backseat of his car when Rayne reaches through the window and drags the guy out.”
“That’s him, all right.” She took another glance in the side mirror. The ocean gleamed silver-blue in the late morning sun, waves crashing on the golden sand. After a few blocks with no sign of a tail, she began to relax.
“You’re safe with me, girl.” Bryn patted her hand. “I’ve got a black belt in karate and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Rayne would never have agreed to let her go with Bryn unless he felt confident of her safety, so she figured she should try to relax and enjoy the day. Had he told Bryn she’d been attacked? Surely she’d been curious about the bruising. She shifted in her seat. “I guess you can tell from my face that ... I’m not sure if Rayne told you, but—”
“I know the gist of it.”
The crushing sense of shame vanished, maybe because Bryn didn’t make a huge deal out of it. She was a social worker after all, must be used to working with battered women. “Do you—have you had to deal with this kind of thing before? In your work?”
Bryn’s expression hardened. “All too often, I’m afraid. Though usually it’s the woman’s partner who attacks them.”
...I’m not even as big as your boyfriend. Imagine the damage a guy his size could do. The words came out of nowhere, the photo of her and Rayne witnessing the scene flashing through her head in a disjointed series of snapshots. The glint of the knife, the taunts. She closed her eyes.
“Unfortunately there’s no shortage of sickos out there,” Bryn continued.
“I wondered if the women you’ve dealt with...if they recovered fully afterward. Had normal lives, got married, had kids. That sort of thing.”
“Most of them, with the right help.” She cast her a skewed glance. “You are getting help, right?”
Christa shook her head. “Not until I go back home. For now I’m writing in a journal about it. The social worker at the hospital told me it would help.”
“No counseling, no therapy, nothing?”
“Not yet. It seemed more important to...get me out of town for a while.”
Bryn pulled over and parked, swiveling around in her seat to face her. “So let me guess—you’re not sleeping? Having nightmares? Jumping at shadows, having anxiety attacks?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “The dreams are the worst thing. I wake up feeling like I’m choking to death.”
Bryn’s eyes filled with sympathy. “You’re strong. If it weren’t for the bruises I’d never know anything had happened to you.”
Strong? She didn’t feel strong. Not anymore. She had been strong, before the psycho ruined her life, but not now. Now she feared one good crack in her emotional armor would shatter her into a thousand pieces. Having fallen apart once already, after Cameron, she couldn’t afford to let it happen again. “Without Rayne, I wouldn’t function at all right now.” Bryn’s steady, understanding gaze gave her the courage to say it aloud. “I’m trying so hard not to be clingy with him, but it’s tough not to. He makes me feel so safe...I can’t put it into words. But I’m afraid of becoming dependent on him. If I do, he’ll feel smothered, and when he walks away I—”
“What makes you think he’ll walk away?”
Uh...his reputation? His track record? The reality that he could have any woman on the earth, so why would he pick one that was freaked out and neurotic?
“Look, I can’t read the man’s mind, but I can tell you he’s letting you lean on him because he wants you to. As for being clingy, I think you’re entitled to be after what happened, and I can’t think of anyone I’d want watching my back more than Rayne—except maybe his dad. You didn’t seem clingy at all to me the first night when you left us at the bonfire. If anyone’s being clingy, I’d say it’s him. When you went back to the cottage that night he jumped up like someone had stabbed him with a cattle prod. I’ve never seen him like that with anyone else, and I told his mom that. Told her he’s got it bad this time.”
A thrill raced through her, the seed of hope she’d tucked in her heart taking root and blooming.
Bryn took hold of her cold hand, giving it a squeeze. “Rayne’s being protective of you, and rightly so until this guy is caught. If Nate has anything to do with it, he’ll find him. And if you want to talk about what happened, you can come to me anytime, okay?”
Her heart constricted, the words meant so much. “Thank you.” She leaned over and gave her new friend a hug.
Bryn eased back with a big smile. “So whaddya say? You ready for some retail therapy?”
She let out a deep breath. “God, yes. By the time I’m done, my Visa card will be melted around the edges.” They shared a laugh, then headed along the sidewalk.
“About this gift for Rayne...” Bryn prompted.
“I want to get him something he’ll really love.”
“A watch?”
“No, but I’ll know it when I see it.”
Bryn stopped to browse through a rack of purses. “So, how are things with you two, anyway? You slept with him yet?”
Christa’s mouth fell open.
“Oh, don’t be such a prude. Have you?”
Technically she had slept with him, hadn’t she? But not the way Bryn meant. “Rayne and I are just friends—he hasn’t even kissed me. He only invited me down here to stay with him to help take...to get me away from everything.”
Bryn rolled her eyes. �
��That’s what he told me, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight for God’s sake.”
“Oh.” Her heart leapt at that, but how could she be sure it wouldn’t be physical and short-lived?
Bryn gave a reassuring smile. “Take it from me, hon, he really cares about you.”
She really cared about him too. Did he know that? He would once she found him this gift.
Within an hour she’d found the perfect thing, and when they pulled into Bryn’s driveway Jake was watching them out the window, his flapping tail swishing the curtains from side to side. “There’s my guy,” Christa gushed as she stepped inside, stooping to play with his ears. Bryn bent to gather the newspaper and mail on the front step on their way in.
“Package for you,” she said, handing over a flat white box tied with string. It had Christa’s name on it. She frowned. At Bryn’s place? Had Rayne left her a surprise? She pulled the string away, opened the box.
And dropped it with a gasp, hands flying to her mouth.
“What?” Bryn demanded, pushing past her to see.
“It’s from him,” she quavered, stricken. Her heart thundered in her ears, panic raking its icy claws over her chilled skin. He’d found her. How the hell had he found her? Was he watching her now? She stared down at the hideous thing, unable to look away.
A gingerbread man, its eyes missing, holes punched through the body by something sharp. A bite was missing from its right shoulder.
She could almost hear that raspy voice whispering in her ear: You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man.
Gagging, she stumbled into the bathroom and threw up.
****
As he left the gym, his cell phone vibrated against his hip. Bryn.
“Hi,” he answered. “You guys done—”
“Get over here right now.”
The fear in her voice hit him like a fist. “What’s the matter?” His pulse quickened.
“Someone left Christa a special delivery here while we were away. A gingerbread cookie with a bunch of holes in it, and she freaked out.”
