Devon’s questing hand made her lose focus as it brushed Jordan’s breast, then closed around it. She deftly flicked Jordan’s nipple.
“I need you inside me,” Devon gasped. She nipped at Jordan’s neck, laving the skin she’d just bitten. She exhaled hotly in Jordan’s ear, traced the shell of it with her tongue, tugged at the earlobe with her teeth. “Please.”
Oh God.
Jordan was helpless to resist. She shifted slightly and trailed her hand down, pushing past the thin cotton, her fingers tickling the edge of soft curls. Devon inhaled sharply, spread her legs wider, pulled Jordan’s head down to claim her lips again.
Jordan felt the earth move. It took her several moments to realize it wasn’t her doing.
Catching her breath, she pressed her forehead to Devon’s. “I’m gonna kill him.”
Devon kissed the corners of her mouth. “You can’t kill him,” she said. “He’s a good boy.”
Jordan turned her head. Max was standing on top of the bed beside them. He barked. “He’s a fucking cock block is what he is,” Jordan grumbled.
Devon laughed, the sweet sound taking the edge off Jordan’s frustration. She caressed Jordan’s cheek, turning her head. She took Jordan’s lips once, then again, less urgently than before but just as passionately. She leaned back into the pillow.
“He probably just needs to go out,” she said with a glance at her watch. “It’s nearly nine.”
Jordan hadn’t realized they had slept so long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much sleep.
“Yeah, well,” she said, rolling up and out of bed, “he needs to learn to take himself out.”
Devon laughed again. It was a sound Jordan would never tire of hearing.
Now that his humans were up and paying attention, Max bounded off the bed and darted out of the room toward the front door.
Jordan yanked a pair of sweats from the dresser and pulled them on over her thin sleep shorts. She tugged on a sweatshirt and grabbed a pair of socks. She couldn’t really be mad, but damn, Max’s timing absolutely sucked.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Devon stood before Jordan and caught her before she could sit on the bed. She took Jordan’s face in both her hands and kissed her soundly. The socks fell limply from Jordan’s fingers, her arms wrapping around Devon’s waist. The kiss was intense but unhurried, telling Jordan everything she needed to know.
This is for real. She doesn’t regret it. This is only the beginning.
Whatever excuses Jordan had made before for holding back were just that: excuses. They were distinctions without meaning, barriers without reason. The hesitancy Jordan had felt before about giving in to her feelings, the conviction to not get involved until the danger was over, vanished at Devon’s touch. They were already involved.
Jordan leaned back, brushing an errant hair from Devon’s face. “You okay?”
“Other than the interruptus of our coitus, I’m fantastic.”
Jordan chuckled. “How’d I get so lucky?”
Devon traced Jordan’s cheek and gave her a soft, brief kiss. Then she slipped out of Jordan’s embrace.
“Hey, where are you going?” Jordan whined.
Devon laughed. “You have a dog to walk. And I have a shower to take.” She sashayed—actually sashayed—over to the door. She flashed Jordan a seductive smile over her shoulder. “And as for lucky, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Jordan’s heart stopped as Devon peeled her shirt over her head, stretching her arms high and thrusting out her chest, and flung the shirt at her. It fell helplessly to the floor, Jordan unable to do anything but stare at the curve of Devon’s breast peeking at her from the side. Devon slipped Jordan’s robe off the hook on the back of the door and slid into it. She tied the belt loosely at her waist, the flaps of the robe gaping just enough to give Jordan a tantalizing hint of flesh.
“If you’re good, perhaps I’ll leave you some hot water,” Devon taunted. Jordan didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure she’d even blinked. “Well, maybe a cold shower would be better for you.”
With a flip of her hair, she was gone, leaving a stunned Jordan in her wake.
Damn, that woman can flirt. Lucky me.
*
Devon sighed as the water cascaded over her skin. While the steamy spray was doing nothing for her overheated body, it still felt amazing.
Wow, that woman could kiss.
Devon’s hand wandered down, tangling in the curls Jordan’s hand had only skimmed. She throbbed at the memory. She could still feel Jordan’s hands upon her, touching her, pressing into her. She longed to feel those hands again, caressing her. Stroking her. Making her come.
Her fingers traced her sex, dipped inside, found the pool of wetness that was all Jordan’s doing. She flicked her index finger over the tight bundle of nerves, just once, and she nearly orgasmed.
She had never felt like this before. No one had ever made her feel like this.
So erotic. So carnal. So wanted.
Knowing that Jordan wanted her, and that she wanted her despite her past, despite what she had done, shredded the last of Devon’s doubt. She was falling in love with Jordan, wholeheartedly, overwhelmingly, absolutely and completely. Mind, heart, body, and soul.
Devon shivered, moving her hand away from temptation and reaching for the shower gel. Self-gratification wasn’t what she wanted, no matter how much her body thrummed. She wanted Jordan. She would wait for Jordan. Hopefully, she would not have to wait too long.
Disappointed as she was with the abrupt end to their activities, she was also relieved. The videoconference was set for eleven, and it was already after nine. They would have had to stop even if Max hadn’t interrupted, or else they would have had to rush, and Devon had no intention of rushing. She wanted hours. She wanted days. She wanted to start and end and begin again, to hear Jordan cry out her name and then beg her for more, to shudder and shake by Jordan’s hands and mouth and tongue and then do it all over again, over and over until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion.
Devon’s eyelids slammed shut. The thoughts running amok in her brain were not helping. She soaped her body and washed her hair, trying to think of anything but Jordan. It proved impossible.
She dried off quickly and slipped back into Jordan’s robe. She smelled Jordan’s perfume, sandalwood and vanilla and something entirely, uniquely Jordan, and it made her shudder. In the bedroom, she slipped into jeans and a blue V-neck sweater. These clothes did not smell like Jordan, for which Devon was grateful. She needed to focus, and she couldn’t do that while her head was filled with her almost-lover’s scent.
She found Jordan in the living room.
“Leave me any hot water?”
“A little,” Devon said. She walked into Jordan’s outstretched arms.
“You smell good,” Jordan whispered, kissing Devon’s neck. Devon hummed, her temperature rising at the first touch of Jordan’s lips.
“You better cut that out,” she playfully admonished, leaning back to gaze at Jordan, “or we’re going to be late for the meeting.”
Jordan’s face paled.
“What?” Devon asked.
“You’re not going.”
Devon stepped out of Jordan’s arms. “What do you mean I’m not going?”
“You’re going to stay here with Max.”
Devon crossed her arms. She wasn’t sure what incensed her more—the idea of Jordan going without her, or that Jordan had made this decision for her like she was some preschooler in need of daycare.
“Listen, I just think it’s better this way,” Jordan said in a rush. “Safer. There’s no sense in taking unnecessary chances, and you leaving this cabin is unnecessary.”
“Seriously, Jordan? What possible risk could there be in me going with you?”
“Billy could be there,” Jordan said, like it was the most logical thing in the world. It only angered Devon further.
“Really?” Devon said hotly. “And how would he know you’re going
to be at Mel’s at eleven o’clock. ESP? Henry doesn’t know that’s where you’re going. Hell, even Mel doesn’t know!”
Jordan started to speak, but Devon wasn’t finished.
“And if by some crazy chance Billy is there, you…what? You thought you’d just leave me here while you face God knows what out there, by yourself?”
“I won’t be by myself. Mel—”
“Not what I meant, and you know it.”
Jordan roughly ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what you want from me here.”
Jordan’s plaintive expression doused some of Devon’s fire. She stepped closer and cupped Jordan’s cheek. “I know you want to protect me, but this is my life. It’s all a crapshoot. All I know is that, whatever happens, I want to be by your side. Don’t make decisions for me. Don’t treat me like a child.”
Devon stood silently as Jordan searched her face—for doubt? for hesitation? But Devon was resolved. It was time for her to stop hiding. She wanted—she needed—to take control of her own life.
“Okay.”
Devon kissed her. “Good. Now, do you want to tell me about this plan of yours that you were concocting last night?”
“I will, I promise. Let me get showered and I’ll tell you in the car. Okay?”
*
Jordan pulled into the parking lot at Mel’s. A light snow had begun to fall on their drive in, the granules so fine they were barely visible, the first gasps of the threatening winter storm. Jordan knew it wouldn’t be long before the weather turned wicked—a knowledge clearly shared by the locals, for the parking lot was empty.
Still, Jordan took no chances. She was vigilant as they exited the car, taking Devon’s hand and ushering her quickly inside. Her other hand fell to the gun at her hip. It was almost unthinkable that Billy would be here, but he had surprised them more than once. She swiftly scanned the room, her focus landing on Mel, whose smiling face slipped to confusion as Jordan ushered Devon inside and locked the front door behind them, flipping the Open sign to Closed.
“Jordan?” Mel asked from behind the counter. “What’s going on?”
“No one else is here, right?” Jordan asked, ignoring Mel’s question.
“It’s just me. Haven’t had anyone in all morning. Storm’s coming,” Mel said slowly, her forehead creasing. She looked from Jordan to Devon and back again. “What’s going on?”
Jordan left Devon standing next to Mel and quickly checked out the back storeroom, making sure the back door was secured. Satisfied, she returned to the front counter next to Devon. Mel had her arms crossed and was tapping her fingers impatiently. Jordan knew that look. Mel didn’t like being ignored.
“Jordan—”
“Mel, I’m sorry for barging in here like this.”
“For heaven’s sake, spit it out already!”
“We need to use your Internet.”
“You swoop in here like the damned Secret Service because you need to use my Internet?”
Jordan tried to interrupt, to explain, but Mel was having none of it.
“Don’t even try it, honey, because I’m not buying. I’ve known you too long for that. I’ve let it slide until now, but don’t think for one second that I bought this whole bad-breakup-college-friends-getaway thing. And now you barge in here, hand on your gun, locking the door, clearing the place like you’re Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2. So I’ll ask again. What is going on?”
Jordan looked to Devon, who nodded her assent. Mel’s discretion had never been a question to Jordan, but it hadn’t been Jordan’s story to share. Now the endgame was near, and Mel was no fool.
“It’s a very long story, which I promise to explain when this is all over. But this”—Jordan took Devon’s hand—“is Devon James, she’s been running from her serial-killer father for more than a decade, and a few days ago he killed two people at the diner where Devon works, and he nearly killed me, and now we’re hiding her while we try to stop him.”
It sounded insane to Jordan, like some crazy movie plot dreamed up by a sleep-deprived screenwriter who’d lived on nothing but coffee and peanut butter for days, and she was living it. She could only imagine how it sounded to Mel.
Mel stared at Jordan, unblinking. Her eyes shifted to Devon, then back to Jordan, then down to Devon’s hand, which was clasped firmly in Jordan’s. Jordan didn’t even remember taking it.
Finally, Mel spoke. “Well, holy shit.”
Devon burst out laughing and Mel followed suit, breaking the tension in the room. Jordan felt her own laughter bubbling up. As usual, Mel had a way with words.
“Promise me when this is over…” Mel said, trying to catch her breath, “the three of us will get bombed off our asses and you’ll tell me everything.”
“Absolutely,” Devon answered for them. “I’ll need a good blackout by then.”
“Atta girl,” Mel said approvingly.
“Linda Hamilton, huh?” Jordan asked.
“I always had a thing for her,” Mel answered with a sad shrug.
The implication made Jordan wince. She at once understood that Mel’s feelings for her ran deeper than she had ever suspected.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mel said, as if reading Jordan’s mind. She offered a bittersweet smile. “Seems like you found what you really needed. I’m glad for that. You’ve been alone too long.” Mel turned on her heel before Jordan could respond. “Now then,” she called over her shoulder, “why do you need this broadband of mine?”
She led them to her PC and brought the screen to life.
“We need to talk to Henry face-to-face but can’t risk an in-person meet.”
“Gotcha. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll be up front if you need anything.”
Jordan stopped her. “Mel, I…thanks.”
Mel tilted her head. “You’re okay? You said he—”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Do you think he’ll come up here?”
Jordan knew Mel wasn’t worried for herself. Another pang of guilt worked through her at the thought she might be putting Mel in danger.
“I hope not. But I’m going to e-mail you his photo. It’s old, but I want you to be careful.”
“Always am. You just watch your own fine ass.”
With that, she was gone. Jordan looked over at Devon, who was grinning. “What?” she asked, a little surprised Devon wasn’t displaying any jealousy, faux or otherwise.
“She’s right,” Devon said, her grin broadening. “You do have a fine ass.”
Jordan rolled her eyes, willing away the flush she could feel rising. Now was not the time. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly eleven.
She logged into the website. Devon sat next to Jordan so they were both in the webcam window. At precisely eleven o’clock, Henry and Lawson’s faces filled their screen.
Henry was disturbingly punctual. Ella had once told Jordan that Henry had arrived two hours early for their wedding because the newspaper had said there was a 10 percent chance of rain showers on their wedding day, and he was afraid the road might be slippery.
“Jordan,” Henry said, his eyes matching the relief in his voice. “It’s good to see you two.”
Seeing Henry filled Jordan with an unexplainable peace. She hadn’t known it, but she had desperately needed to see her partner’s face. “You, too.”
Jordan recognized one of the police station conference rooms. “You’re secure?”
Lawson spoke. “We’re hardwired in and alone. We won’t be overheard or interrupted.”
“You’ve got a plan?” Henry asked.
“The outline of one, yes. But there’s something we need to talk about first.” Jordan felt Devon stiffen beside her. They had talked about this in the car, and Devon had agreed Henry and Lawson needed to know everything about Billy and about her, but that didn’t make the telling of it any easier for Devon.
Jordan wrapped her arm around Devon’s shoulders, uncaring what she was revealing to Henry and Lawson. If Devon was goin
g to bare her soul, then Jordan was damn sure going to hold her while she did it.
“It was my thirteenth birthday…” Devon began, recounting every terrible detail, omitting nothing.
“We were right about him, Henry,” Jordan said once Devon had finished. “He’s been killing for years.
Henry addressed Devon first, his eyes brimming with compassion. “It wasn’t your fault, Devon.” Lawson nodded his agreement. Devon sagged into Jordan, some of the anxiety leaving her body.
“I’ll give this to Coleman,” Henry said.
“Tell him to look in Wisconsin through 2000, then nationwide.”
“I’ve already given him the cities Devon’s been in and corresponding dates.”
“Yes, but we need to go back further. He’s been killing for nearly forty years. His MO changed twelve years ago. What he does now isn’t his preferred way to kill—he’s fighting his instincts. He’s driven to hunt, and to do it well, without rushing or worrying about discovery, he needs someplace he knows and is comfortable. The Wisconsin bodies will be different from the ones over the last twelve years. They’ll be clustered and buried. He’ll have taken his time selecting his prey, stalking them, killing them. After 2000, he was killing outside his comfort zone. He picked victims of opportunity, which made him more vulnerable to detection, so he’d be more cautious, more controlled. Those earlier victims, the ones he thought no one would ever find, those are the key.”
“He might have left evidence behind,” Henry said, understanding.
“Precisely.”
“We need to look around West Virginia, too,” Lawson added. “Billy’s father was a Baptist preacher, a good God-fearing man who also happened to head up the local branch of the KKK.”
Jordan leaned back in her chair, taking in the news. It explained so much. Billy was raised by a violent man who taught him to fear God. To Billy, God and violence were intrinsically linked.
Season of the Wolf Page 20
