by Abby, S. T.
I slide the paper closer, my eyes moving over all the facts. “We interviewed all employees and did background checks,” I say absently. “And we considered the cleaning so thoroughly bit to be a case of OCD but ruled it out based on the fact there were different amounts of stab wounds, and they didn’t clean anything other than the kill room.”
“A lot of custodial services pay cash under the table because it’s hard to keep workers. Some of them have a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy because they have to hire whatever walks in needing a job. The company keeps the majority of the money. Workers make crumbs in comparison. So cash under the table that isn’t taxed is a big way to draw in more workers, and also keep from having to supply benefits to said employees. It’s likely they never mentioned them because they didn’t want to have to tell you that.”
“You’re a fucking genius,” I groan.
I grab her face in both my hands and kiss her hard, even though I also want to throttle her at the same time.
“But now I have a call to make,” I grumble, feeling her smile against my lips.
“Make your call. Catch a bad guy. Maybe the lead is solid and you can catch him before he kills again.”
Reluctantly, I pull up my phone, and dial Hadley. She’s going to fucking kill me.
Chapter 12
We have to do the best we can. This is our sacred human responsibility.
—Albert Einstein
LANA
I won’t lie and say it’s not hypocritical to hope he catches the sicko who raped and killed all these women. It’s hypocritical because I’m also hoping he never catches me for torturing and killing a string of men.
But it also feels good to listen to him animatedly tell someone this amazing new lead. I’m worried and shocked when he tells Hadley it’s me who inspired this new lead. He shouldn’t tell them he let his girl give him that info on a case I was never supposed to see.
Maybe the fact he called me his anything has the butterflies stirring. It’s definitely something. The fact he sounds proud of me also makes me feel…good. That word again.
My phone rings as he continues to talk to someone else, and I head outside to answer it when I see it’s Jake. My eyes stay on the window, keeping up with Logan.
“Hey. Any luck?”
“Lots of luck. I hate rushing this date the way we’re going to, but I’m going to help you on these.”
My eyebrows go up in surprise.
“Like in person? You’re going to do this too?”
“Just this once, and only for the securing part.”
“No. You can’t. You threw up when I tried to give you details, Jake.”
“You have no idea how much I wish I had your ability to kill without hesitance,” he says quietly, an edge to his tone.
“But you don’t,” I remind him, still watching to make sure Logan can’t overhear me.
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t risk you taking on something like this alone.”
“I can’t talk about this right now,” I say on almost a whisper when I see Logan hanging up his phone and running a hand through his hair.
“Shit. You’re with him? That’s still a discussion we need to have.”
“I moved my murder room in that secret room you built me years ago.”
“You think that’s enough to keep a profiler from figuring out you’re slowly killing off a list of people?” he asks dryly.
I heave out a heavy breath as I continue to watch Logan through the window. He looks around, then moves to grab a glass.
“You know how it’s easy for me to do what I do?”
“Because of what they did to you two,” he says, his voice barely above a broken whisper.
“No, Jake. It’s because there’s nothing but hatred inside of me that’s been driving me since I was able to do something other than curl in a corner in fear of them finding me again. I never thought anything else would drive me. I thought after this was over…I had nothing to look forward to after I killed them all. Now… Now there’s hope. I never realized the power of hope until he suddenly appeared in my life as though the universe was giving me a gift at the wrong time.”
He exhales harshly, and I sag backwards a little.
“I’m glad to hear you have hope, Lana. Really. I am. Just… Just couldn’t you have found it with someone who couldn’t toss your ass in prison?”
His tone ends on a joking note, but the seriousness of the situation is still present.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we have to. Trust me to be cautious.”
“If anything ever feels off… If he ever asks you questions… Just listen to the questions he asks you. You know what to look for. Promise me you’ll get the hell out of there if that ever happens.”
“Promise,” I tell him, grinning.
“You’re going to make me go bald with worry,” he groans, as I start walking back inside.
“I’ll call you later.”
As I hang up and make it back to where Logan is in just a pair of boxers and working diligently on making some type of drink in the blender, I lean against the island, soaking in the sight of him.
He turns and catches me ogling him, and he waggles his eyebrows.
“Do you have to leave?” I ask him, desperately trying to keep any neediness out of my tone.
“Not tonight. Possibly tomorrow, but not tonight.”
I smile, even though it’s masking a certain level of disappointment. I wanted at least two days, but I’ll take what I can get, since it’s more than I thought this cruel life would ever allow me to have.
“You’re incredible, you know?” he asks, coming closer.
The blender gets forgotten as he reaches me, and I tilt my head back, giving him access just as he bends forward and kisses me long and hard and deep and… There aren’t enough words to explain how each kiss gets closer to touching my soul.
I almost think it can knock away some of the blackness there, maybe even spread around some light.
His arms come around me, pinning me to him as he lifts me, giving him a better angle on my mouth instead of having to bend over so far.
The guy is just too tall and I’m just too short.
I grin against his lips as my legs come up to wrap around his waist. The only reason I break the kiss is to absorb some of the normalcy of the situation, revel in each second of it.
“So we’ve made it to the level where you just walk around in your boxers in front of me?”
He winks while sliding me onto a countertop, and I frown as I release him with my legs as he backs away. When he turns around to put his back to me, I take notice of some scars I never noticed the last time I had him naked.
“What are these?” I ask before I think about it.
My fingers immediately dart out to touch one semi-circular scar near his shoulder, and I grimace. I hate for people to touch my scars, and here I am touching his.
He doesn’t flinch away the way I do as my finger skims over the marred surface.
“Bullet did that two years ago. Just barely missed the damn vest. Half an inch over, and I’d have had a bruise instead of having a bullet removed. A rookie cleared the scene and missed a guy who had a gun, hiding in a closet. He shot through the door, and I was one of the ones hit.”
Another scar is jagged and long, moving from his other shoulder blade to his spine. When my fingers skate across it, he backs into my touch. I wish I could let him touch mine. Maybe he could pull away the painful memories laced inside the scar tissue.
“That one is from a knife.” That answer has me swallowing down a painful knot. “It was when I was fresh in the field and the guy I was arresting had a friend that came out of nowhere. He caught me off guard.”
“They only get you when you can’t see them coming,” I say quietly, feeling a twinge of pride. “Because you’re too strong for them.”
He chuckles while turning back around. My breath hitches when he grabs my hips and jerks me against him, standing firml
y between my legs as all our best parts line up.
“I like that you think that way,” he says, grinning as he toys with the hem of my shorts.
I run my hands over the muscles in his arms. He flexes on purpose, and I roll my eyes playfully while looking back into his eyes. “You are strong. You’re intimidating. People don’t see you as weak, so they strike when you’re most vulnerable.”
“The guy shooting from the closet was shooting blindly,” he points out.
“So you’re not big and strong?” I ask, then burst out laughing when he lifts me up and starts walking with me.
“Strong enough to handle you,” he quips, then slaps my ass with one hand.
“I bet I could take you,” I say jokingly, but wondering if I really could or not.
“I’ll let you show me your fighting skills later,” he says before kissing me again and moving toward a room.
I decide I don’t want to know if I can take him or not. I just want to pretend like I’m a normal girl with a normal guy in our normal relationship for one normal night.
***
The sun is creeping up, and I’ve laughed so much my sides hurt. Neither of us has slept. We’ve eaten a couple of times, had a lot of sex, and laughed more than I’ve ever laughed, but sleep hasn’t been high on the list of priorities.
I think we’re both afraid to close our eyes and lose this fleeting moment of perfection.
Now I’m sprawled across the couch as he tells me about his very happy childhood that isn’t filled with dark memories.
My eyes flit around the room, taking in all the pictures of this alleged family he only speaks about in the past tense.
“So what happened? Or is that none of my business?” I ask him, lifting my head up to peer at him.
His smile slowly falls, and I hate myself for asking.
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay, Lana. Stop apologizing for trying to get to know me,” he says, grinning again. He brushes my hair away from my face before resting his hand on my shoulder. “I like you wanting to know more about me than my condom preference.”
I snort. Actually snort. Kill me now.
It just makes him laugh again.
Shaking my head, I shrug. “I know I can’t seem to tell you much about my past, so it’s not fair for me to ask about yours,” I say on a sad sigh, killing the light moment again.
His face grows serious, and his hand starts running up and down my back as I lay my head down on his chest.
“Tell me what you want to when you’re ready,” he finally says, kissing the top of my head. “I get that not all pasts are as easy as mine was. As for my parents… My mom got a little wild in her mid-thirties, and she divorced a good man in pursuit of wild sex and rich men. Things were fine until then. I never actually knew my real dad, other than knowing he was in the military. He sent a few pictures to me with letters, as though I wanted to see his face. My stepdad was always my true father, in my opinion. He came into the picture when I was two and raised me like his own.”
I run my fingers along his chest.
“Any exes I should be worried about?”
He strangles on air before laughing. “No. Not at all. All the relationships have ended on really bad terms. I sort of suck at being a boyfriend since I’m married to my job.”
He groans while running his hand through my hair, and I lift my head, staring into his eyes.
“Just don’t let me fuck this up, because I kinda like you,” he says, smirking at me.
Gah. All I do is grin like an idiot no matter what he says. “I kinda like you too.”
He thumbs my lower lip, settling in more comfortably while pulling me over on top of him completely. Despite the firm body, he’s surprisingly comfortable.
“What about you? Any exes I should worry about?” he asks, studying my face.
He studies all my expressions. Fortunately I’ve trained against them. But this is one question I can answer honestly.
“I’ve only ever had one truly serious relationship, and I would rather set him on fire than speak to him ever again. Other than that, nothing serious since then, and that was over ten years ago. The rest have been…experiments?”
Okay, I need to shut my mouth because I’m talking too much.
“Experiments?” he asks, reminding me to learn when to stop.
“Wrong word. Um… Hopeless and pointless attempts at having something, then learning no spark was there.”
Good recovery, Lana.
“There’s a spark here,” he says reverently, still running his hands over my bare back.
Smiling, I nod. “There’s definitely a spark.”
He pulls me forward, running his lips along mine. Just as I decide to deepen the kiss, he gets a call.
Cursing, he snatches his phone from the floor. It’s stayed in whatever room we’ve been in all night.
“Bennett here.”
The phone is so loud that I hear the woman on the other end.
“Hey, we have a list of people to look into, but a couple of guys popped. There was one custodial service outsourced to all the apartment buildings. While we looked into them, we dismissed them quickly. When I called them and asked for a list of all payroll employees, I reminded them they were impeding a federal investigation if they didn’t also include the occasional under-the-table gigs. The list miraculously got a lot longer. Two names have priors that make these guys look good for it.”
So I might have been right?
“We’ll meet up in two hours and make a trip out to Boston. Bring all the names on that list, and we’ll go through them on the flight over.”
And that’s all the time we have.
I can see by the look in his eyes that he hates this too.
He covers the mouth of the phone as the girl curses him for being too good at his job.
“If I get him, we’ll have more time together for a little while,” he says, frowning as he studies my face.
Apparently I’m wearing some disappointment, so I mask my expressions and curl into him, kissing his jaw.
“Go catch more bad guys.”
The girl on the other end goes silent.
Logan presses his lips to my forehead, and I soak in his scent one last time before he’s gone. Last time was a brief trip. Maybe I’ll get lucky and things will go that smoothly again.
“You with your profiling girlfriend who helped bring up this lead?” the girl on the line asks.
I really hope she isn’t secretly in love with him, because I detect an edge to her tone that I hope I’m overanalyzing.
“Yeah. I’ll see you guys in a couple of hours. Don’t forget to keep that between us.”
“You know it, boss man. I just hope it helps us get this bastard before another woman is hurt.”
I breathe out in relief, because that edge is gone. Apparently I was definitely reading into it.
He hangs up, and his arms come around me in one of those awesome hugs I love so much.
“As soon as I get back, I swear to take you on that damn date I promised so long ago. You’re better than a sex-a-thon with whatever food I burn.”
He totally burns pizza. But it was sweet for him to attempt to cook. It might have gone better if we hadn’t forgotten it was in the oven and ended up in the bedroom.
“I’ll eat burned food every single day that I get to have you to myself. I’d rather not waste time having to go out in public and lose all our privacy.”
He chuckles, but I’m not kidding.
I’m greedy. I want him all to myself.
He hurries through the motions of getting ready, and I kiss him much longer than necessary before he leaves.
Since he’s going to be gone, there’s no time like the present to get back to work and skip the second day of the break.
As I climb into my car, I pull out my phone and call Jake.
“You still with him?”
“I’m on my way to grab Lawrence. You can handle
Tyler.”
He’s cursing as I hang up, and I smirk as I start the long drive to New York. I haven’t studied him in his daily life. But fuck it. I’m stronger than all of them.
Chapter 13
We cannot despair of humanity, since we ourselves are human beings.
—Albert Einstein
LANA
New York isn’t prepared for me when I arrive. It’s dark when I finally set about the task of planning my ambush. My sweatshirt is on, my head is covered, and I prop up in an alleyway.
This place gets dangerous in dark alleyways, but after slamming a guy’s face into the brick wall hard enough to knock him out, most of the regular thugs give me a wide berth for the rest of the time that I wait.
“Hey, sweetheart,” says another stupid thug who is holding a knife at me as he grins a rotten-tooth grin.
I say nothing.
I guess he missed my earlier demonstrations, unfortunately for him.
He takes a step closer, and that’s when I smirk at him. He looks confused for a split second before my hand darts out, colliding with his throat. A pained wheeze escapes him, and he swings the knife.
Midair, I catch his wrist, spin under his arm, and listen with pleasure as a satisfying cry pierces the night. The knife falls to the ground, and I slam my foot into his spine, still wrenching his arm behind him so tightly that I feel it when the bone crunches in my hand.
A shudder of pleasure ripples through me, listening to the way he screams and begs for mercy. It’s not as satisfying as it is to hear as the ones I want dead, but it’s still a high to punish someone like him who preys on the weak—or who he thinks is weak.
With a hard thrust, the knife slices through his back, the skin tearing, and his screams grow louder. People scatter by us, pretending they don’t see anything in typical city-alley fashion.
As he starts gurgling on blood, I release the knife with my gloved hand, and let him sink to the ground with a hard thud. Right beside the dumpster, all that’s visible from the streets are his feet. The city is too loud for the sidewalk dwellers to overhear him.
