Violets Are Blue

by Velvet Vaughn

  The flare of panic that usually consumed her when touched was shockingly absent. In Jake’s arms, she felt safe.

  He ran his hands up and down her arms, leaving prickles of awareness in their wake, before finding her face and tilting it, allowing for deeper exploration. "God, Violet, I want you so much." He ground the words against her lips before he continued the sensual assault.

  Violet was lost in a vortex of sensation. His kiss was devastating. Rational thought flew out the window. Her arms wound around his neck. With a rough growl, he picked her up and carried her to the king-size bed dominating the middle of the room. He placed her gently on the mattress and followed her down, stretching out on his side next to her. One hand rested on her stomach, the other he propped beneath his head.

  He must have picked up on her apprehension. Tilting her chin to face him, he said, "Sweetheart, are you having second thoughts? If you are, just say so. I can rent another room. I won’t think any differently of you."

  "Not second thoughts." She inched away from the heat of his body and scooted until her back rested against the headboard. Reaching over, she clicked off the only lamp in the room. Light from the neon "vacancy" sign outside outlined his strong profile. "It’s just…I’m not very good at this," she admitted softly. "I don’t have much experience and what little I do, the guys didn’t get…you know, turned on by my body."

  Jake didn’t speak for a moment and she feared she'd said too much. Then slowly, he bared his teeth. "The men you were with were idiots," he growled harshly.

  Rolling off the bed, he flipped on the overhead light before sauntering to the mirror attached to the bathroom door. He crooked a finger in her direction. "Come here."

  She stared at him, his finger calling to her. Slowly she inched to the edge of the bed and padded to him. He framed her face in his hands. "You are breathtaking." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "The most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out." Another butterfly kiss. "Now turn around."

  He guided her until her back was flush against him and she stood directly in front of the floor length mirror. His fingers grazed her arms and then fanned her long, ebony tresses around her shoulders.

  When her gaze dropped to her feet, he commanded, "Look in the mirror." Tentatively she stared at her reflection. "See how beautiful you are."

  It was hard for Violet to look at herself, especially at a distance of less than a foot. Instead, she focused on the reflection of the man behind her, the man she had stupidly fallen in love with. "You are the beautiful one, not me." She reached a hand up to caress his cheek and when she tried to turn, he grabbed her shoulders, anchoring her in place.

  "Nuh-uh. I want to show you what I see in you."

  His hands sifted through her hair. "You have the most incredible hair, spun silk, as dark and glossy as a raven’s wing." He brushed the strands from her shoulders and lightly massaged. "Your shoulders, so delicate, yet so strong. They carry the weight of the world."

  She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. His fingers stilled. "Open your eyes and keep them open," he ordered softly. She knew better than to argue.

  He resumed caressing her, gliding his palms down her arms until they reached her hands. He entwined their fingers. "Your arms, so slender, yet they are large enough to encircle anyone who needs comfort." He squeezed before letting go. Violet tried to keep the grip but he met her gaze in the mirror and shook his head. "I’m not finished."

  Her hands dropped to her sides and when her head meandered down, he used his fingertips to propel it back up. He gave her a mock stern look in the mirror and she smiled. He smiled back.

  "Now where was I? Oh yes, here." His hands trailed up her arms, across her shoulders and down her back. "For such a small woman, you have more backbone than any person, man or woman, I’ve ever met."

  She had to fight to keep her eyes open. She didn’t want him scolding her again but her bones melted under his touch, every nerve ending tingled with anticipation. The heat emanating from his body wrapped her in a blanket of comforting warmth. Circling her waist, he popped the bottom button of her sweater. Her hands flew to his in shock. He stared intently into the reflection of her eyes and moved to the next one. When he reached the last button, he slowly peeled the sweater off.

  Violet looked at the mirror image of the woman wearing only a lacy bra and skirt. There was nothing special about her, except the expensive underwear. Judging from the look of appreciation on Jake’s face, Chris’s selection was dead-on.

  His warm hands glided down the planes of her back and the feel of his calloused palms against her sensitized skin caused liquid to pool between her thighs. The feelings he awakened in her were unfamiliar, incredible. She didn’t even realize he'd unbuckled her bra until he drug the straps down her shoulders. His husky voice ordered, "Look at me, Violet."

  She met his stare in the mirror and he held it as he removed the garment. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders to her breasts. She heard his sharp inhale of breath.

  "You are so damn beautiful."

  He cupped her breasts, the round globes filling his large palms. His thumbs caressed the dusky pink nipples and she let out a low moan, her eyes drifting closed again. She shifted on her feet, trying to somehow ease the burning ache between her legs. Her nipples, already pebbled and responsive, surged at the intimacy of his touch. She needed more…

  He removed his hands and her eyes snapped open in disappointment. She didn’t remember closing them. She jumped when his palms settled across her ribs, then drifted down her stomach and over her hips. They moved to the back and she heard the unmistakable rasp of a zipper. His fingers slid under the waistband. Slowly he began dragging everything down: skirt, panties and stockings.

  Somewhere in her mind, she knew she would soon be standing naked in front of the only man she had ever loved while he remained fully clothed. She knew she should be embarrassed, but Jake’s honest adoration of her body gave her the strength she needed to stand still under his worshipful gaze.

  #

  Angie Warren’s eyes swam with tears, the light green pupils shimmering like the Caribbean Sea. He thrust roughly, grinning when her back bowed and those watery eyes widened in pain. Poor thing. She tried to yell beneath the gag but at this point, it was only a muffled groan. She’d screamed herself hoarse.

  Each time she squealed, he slapped her. But apparently Kim—no not Kim—Angie had a low tolerance for pain because she inevitably shrieked again. He slapped harder. She lost her voice in the minutes after he had fired up the torch and applied the blistering brand to her slightly rounded belly. But now, with the burn still fresh, her body resigned to his penetration, he was superhuman. He smacked her again, forcing her eyes open. He wanted her to see his euphoria, wanted her to remember his face as the last she would ever see in this lifetime. Her pain was visible, tangible and he grew harder. He palmed the bruises already forming on her breasts and squeezed. He was close…

  Knock, knock. "Angie, are you home?"

  The killer froze, his head swinging to the door.

  Knock, knock.

  There it was again. Shit.

  He clutched Angie’s chin and she flinched. He forced her to look at him. "If you make a sound," he whispered, reaching down to grab his dagger, "I will stick this in both of your eye sockets before I slit your throat. Got it?"

  Water poured from the corners of her wide eyes and she nodded rapidly.

  Knock, knock. "Angie? Your car's here. Are you okay?"

  He waited, afraid to even breathe. He was fast. He could drag the girl inside and kill her before she even realized it.

  Footsteps retreated down the hall. The bitch had left. He sucked in a much-needed breath, a drop of sweat rolling down his cheek. That was close. Withdrawing, he looked down at himself. The two condoms bunched and gathered, dangling off his limp penis. He eyed the words burned into Angie's stomach, always the guarantee to excite him like nothing else. He felt nary a twinge.

  "Dammit," he r
oared as the back of his hand smashed into her cheek. Even the sight of her head violently slamming to the side, the instant mark forming on her flawless skin failed to elicit a response from his body. With a roar, he wrapped his hands around her neck, his thumbs pressing into the recesses where her carotid arteries rested and he squeezed. He felt cartilage give and the hyoid bone snap seconds before her pretty green eyes glossed over and the last breath left her lungs.

  The killer removed his hands and sucked air in raggedly, his chest heaving. He felt out of control, edgy. He'd been denied the euphoria of sexual release. His carefully constructed plans had been altered.

  With an unsteady hand, he picked up the dagger and snapped the blade into place. The weapon shook violently in his grip. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, but he still had to use both hands to drag the tip of the blade across her neck.

  Deciding to alter his routine this once, he reached into his bag and grabbed the lingerie first. Usually he constructed the poem before he dressed the girl, preferring the blood to be warm from her body. But with his trembling fingers, the words might not be legible and they had to be…he had to show the cops how inept they were, how great he was and always would be.

  He managed to unlock the cuffs, rip the tape off, remove the damp panties from her mouth and drag them up her legs. The bra was more difficult but he finally snapped it into place.

  His hands had steadied somewhat so he extracted paper and a brush from his bag, dipped it into the pool of blood and finished his prose, the letters shaky but still legible. He had just reached for the aluminum foil to wrap around the brush when he heard keys jangling.

  His head swung to the door. The knob turned!

  The killer sprung from the bed, stuffing his materials into the canvas bag. He scarcely had time to drop the note on her body before he bolted into the bathroom naked.

  Plastering himself against the wall, knife in hand, his chest heaved, his heart stopped as the door creaked open.

  "Angie? Are you home? I thought I heard you moving around." Footsteps and then a tentative, "Angie?"

  A loud scream echoed throughout the apartment. The killer fumbled for his black sweatshirt pulling it over his head as he stepped into his sweatpants. The girl fled, presumably going for help. He ran back to Angie to quickly arrange her arms over her chest and snap a picture before he fled back to the bathroom. He shoved at the small window above the toilet. It didn’t budge.

  "Come-on, come-on," he chanted. Using all his strength, the dried paint sealing it closed finally released its grip and the window creaked open. Knocking the screen out of the way he stuck his head outside. It was dark in the back of the building, the burned out floodlights a boon to his cause. He tossed the bag to the snow-covered bushes and eased himself out the window. It would be a good drop, but thanks to some fun-loving kids, the lopsided snowman would make a perfect cushion.

  He hated deviating from his plans, but the expired light bulbs and the snowman seemed to be telling him that it was okay.

  Pushing off from the side of the building, he released his fingertips and aimed for Frosty. He landed with a thud, the carrot nose digging into his stomach. He leapt off, grabbed his bag and disappeared as a siren wailed in the distance.

  #

  Jake tugged the last of Violet’s clothes down her hips. When the dark triangle of curls appeared, he bit back a growl and closed his eyes to keep himself from exploding in his jeans. It took every ounce of willpower to resume what he started when all he wanted to do was lay her down and bury himself so deep inside her that he would need a map to find his way back out.

  Once he had tossed the remaining clothes aside, he stood behind her, his hands stroking her arms. "My God, Violet, I knew you would be gorgeous, but nothing could have prepared me for this. You are perfection."

  She shuddered.

  "Your body was made for me, for this." He cupped one breast in his hand while the other trailed down her belly. She stiffened. "Relax, baby," he cajoled, sifting through the damp curls. Violet’s cry caused his erection to throb against her back, beg for release. He let his finger glide through the slickness, back and forth, until finally he slid it inside her core. She cried out his name and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Keep your eyes open."

  When she was looking again, he inserted a second finger. Her hands gripped his thighs as she fought to keep her eyes open. "Please, Jake."

  His other hand fondled her breast, lightly squeezing the nipple with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes intently glued to the mirror. His tongue traced the shell of her ear.

  "I-I can’t stand more," she cried, her fingernails leaving half-moons in his legs.

  "Yes you can, sweetheart," he urged. Then his thumb stroked the sensitive nub and she came apart, crying his name. He kept up the pressure, letting her ride the wave until she went limp in his arms. Then he picked her up and kissed her before carrying her to the bed.

  He eased down the covers and carefully arranged her on the sheets. Thinking she had fallen asleep, he started to draw the blanket over her when her hand clutched his arm.

  "Please don’t leave."

  He couldn’t if he tried. Kicking off his shoes, he slid in beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. He gathered her in his arms and she molded against him.

  "I have never felt anything like that before in my life."

  He stroked her hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent of wildflowers.

  "Jake…I need to tell you something."

  His cell phone rang.

  "I’m sorry baby, hold that thought. I’m on call…I’ve got to get that."

  Gently easing her to her side, he slid out of bed. He scooped up his tangled pants, the phone hitting the carpet with a thud. He bent to pick it up. "It’s Turner," he told her. He listened for a moment, his gut clenching. "I’ll be there as soon as possible," he said, snapping the phone closed with more force than necessary.

  "Plans have changed," he informed her as he gathered their clothes. "We need to go back now…there’s been another murder."

  CHAPTER 20

  January 18

  It was well after midnight when Jake pulled up to the address Turner had provided. He raced back using the flashing lights in the unmarked car, cursing himself the entire way. While he'd spent the evening almost making love to Violet, another innocent girl had been murdered, strangled by the maniac terrorizing the city.

  And then there was Violet. She'd just come apart in his arms and the next thing she knew, he was throwing clothes at her, ordering her to dress as he hustled her to the car. Not the best way to treat the lady who had just given you the best sexual experience of your life.

  He took the small flight of stairs to the apartment two at a time, ignoring the reporters who swarmed like blood-thirsty vampires. A female officer standing guard outside the door nodded as he approached and held out a clipboard. He signed his name and checked his watch before recording the time. She tucked the clipboard under her arm and stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

  Forensics was finishing up and a gurney with a black body bag waited for its cargo. The photographer was disassembling his camera, the grisly details of the murder recorded on the disk inside. Jake slipped on a pair of disposable shoe coverings and walked over to study the victim. Young, maybe twenty, long dark hair. Her face was severely battered—a change in the killer’s MO. Her throat was bruised. It looked like she put up quite a struggle.

  "Kincaid." Nick walked over, notebook in hand. He flipped it open and began reading. "Angie Warren, age twenty one, junior at LMC. Initial diagnosis is death by cerebral hypoxia."

  "She hasn’t been dead long," Jake noted. Rigor mortis had yet to set in, meaning she had probably been dead less than three hours.

  Nick shook his head. "A neighbor found her." He checked his notepad. "Erin Hessman. She said they were going out tonight and when Angie didn’t show up like planned, she became worried, so she came looking for her. She found Angie’s car in the lot an
d when she knocked, she heard a noise. The door was locked but she had a key so she went to get it. When she opened the door, she saw Ms. Warren on the bed. She came closer and when she realized what had happened, she ran to her apartment to call us."

  "Any other neighbors see anything, notice suspicious activity?"

  "We haven't found anything yet. No sign of forced entry so it looks like Angie knew her killer." Nick jerked his head for Jake to follow. "He jumped out the window to escape."

  "Well, this lets Glasgo off the hook," Jake remarked as he padded to the window. "Seeing as how he’s under sedation and hooked up to a thousand machines in the hospital." He stuck his head through the opening, watching as technicians combed the area. Bright spotlights pierced the heavy darkness. Too many people had already contaminated the crime scene so it was impossible to tell which footprints belonged to the killer.

  "Erin obviously threw him off his game." Nick padded to a table and lifted a baggie. "We found this under the bed."

  Jake tore the sides of the bag open and sniffed. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "Chloroform."

  "He talks his way inside and knocks them out before tying them up, raping and strangling them."

  "It’s not much, but it’s something."

  "There’s more." Nick held up the other bag.

  Jake’s eyes widened. "Is that what I think it is?"

  "We found the knife in the bushes beneath the window. He must have dropped it when he jumped."

  "He’s getting careless." Jake noted the white dust on the handle. "I don’t suppose he forgot to wear gloves?"

  Nick tossed the bag to a technician and shook his head. "That would have made it too damn easy."

  "What about the note?"

  Nick lifted another plastic bag from the evidence team and handed it to Jake.

  Roses are red

  Violet is great

  I’ll have her soon

  And I can’t wait

  Are you getting closer?

  Can you change fate?

  Here’s one last clue