“What is that supposed to mean?”
Lund could go into a diatribe on how Val liked to punish herself, even for things beyond her control. But the last thing she needed right now was a lecture. “Listen, there’s a very important rule about pulling people from a burning building. Have I ever explained it to you?”
“Lund, I don’t have time to…”
“You never let someone else use your respirator. Not for one second. Do you know why?”
Lund didn’t give her a chance to answer. Or interrupt.
“Because if you don’t have oxygen, you’re not going to be saving anybody. If you can’t breathe, not only do you die, not only does the person you’re trying to save die, but the firefighters who have to go in to rescue your sorry ass could die as well.”
He paused, willing his words to sink in. “Val, you are working without a respirator.”
Val looked away. “I caused this, and now you’re asking me to—”
Lund held up a hand, cutting off her protest. “I’m not asking you. And I’m not coddling you. As the partner who is going to go into this burning building with you, I’m damn well insisting. I’m taking you to my place, and you’re going to eat something and get a couple hours of sleep.”
Val stared at the floor. “Okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But before we go, I have to see Cheyenne.”
Val
Val knew that Lund was right. She needed to take care of herself if she was going to be any good to anybody. But it felt wrong all the same. In the end, however, he’d given her little choice but to go along. She’d lost Oneida. She might lose Grace. And if she ignored what Lund was saying and as a result lost him…
She wouldn’t let that happen.
Val could barely remember offering her condolences to Oneida’s sister. The woman seemed to be handling things better than Val was, and yet, when Val hugged her, Cheyenne clung to her with such desperation it was as if she was being forced to give up Oneida all over again.
It was four o’clock by the time they left the hospital and Val climbed into the passenger seat of the car that was no longer hers. Each moment seemed shrouded in a haze, as if it were a dream, one she wanted desperately to wake from.
Lund turned off the highway and onto a small road winding through the bluffs.
Val had known Lund for years now, but she’d rarely visited his home. The first two times she’d crossed the threshold, he’d been a suspect in his wife’s murder. She’d picked through his belongings, his life, searching for what he was hiding, trying to prove he wasn’t who he said he was.
Trying to prove he was a monster.
Since then, in fits and starts, she’d learned who he really was. And tonight, all Val could think about was the time she’d wasted suspecting him, pushing him away. Time she would never get back.
Lund turned into his forest-lined drive. Flicking a button, he raised the door to the two-bay garage. Inside was neat, tools hung on walls, floor swept. He pulled the car inside, turned off the ignition, and closed the overhead door behind them. “I haven’t gone grocery shopping for a while, but I know I have eggs. Every good bachelor has eggs, right?”
Although Val hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast, the last thing she felt was hungry. “That sounds delicious.”
Lund’s home was exactly as she remembered. A cozy little ranch-style cabin tucked in the woods. The interior was neat but sparsely decorated. A place to rest, to eat, but not one that reflected its occupant.
Lund set about slipping bread into the toaster and cracking eggs into a bowl. Val perched on a stool and watched, arms wrapped around herself, whether to keep herself together or stop shivering, she wasn’t sure.
Lund had cooked for Val many times before. Bratwursts on the grill after he’d spent the day horseback riding with Grace. Eggplant Parmesan for Grace’s birthday dinner. Breakfast just this morning.
Val needed to hold on to those memories. She needed to believe those simple pleasures could happen again. That all the joy in her life wasn’t about to end.
“Why don’t you take a hot shower? Warm yourself up. I can hold off on the eggs.”
A hot shower sounded nice. Letting the warmth soak into her bones, wash the day away, make her feel that she had some control.
Too bad she would have to settle for lukewarm. “Hot is out.”
“The MS. I forgot.”
“I like it when you forget.” She tried her best to give him a smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate.
Lund abandoned the eggs. He circled the counter to where she sat and slipped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to her feet. “Shower, food, sleep.”
When Lund had insisted she go back to his place, it had seemed so wrong to worry about food and sleep, not when Oneida was on her way to the morgue and Grace was who knew where. Now Val was beginning to understand. She might want to fight on, but that didn’t mean she was able, any more than a firefighter with no oxygen.
He guided her to the master bathroom. “There are clean towels on the shelf. And feel free to use the robe on the back of the door.”
Val eyed the thick terrycloth of towel and robe. Warm, comfortable, safe. She didn’t deserve any of it.
“Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll start the eggs.” Lund placed a kiss on her forehead, as if caring for a child, then turned and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Val turned on the shower and started stripping off her clothes. As she folded each piece and set it on the vanity, she filtered through all that had happened. The bus crash. The frantic search for Grace. The mystery ambulance. The ferry. The horror at the police station.
Oneida…
She stepped under the spray, letting the tepid water douse her hair, watching her wavy reflection in the textured shower door.
She had seen all of it coming. Not the precise events, but the threat. The monster. And she hadn’t been able to do a single thing to stop him.
A sob shook her. Then another. Val’s legs felt weak, her whole body numb. Unable to stand any longer, she slid down the wall, crouching naked on the tile floor. The spray pattered on her head, dripped from her hair, and mixed with her tears.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that. Wasn’t sure when she started shivering. Wasn’t sure of anything until she heard Lund’s muffled voice through the bathroom door.
“Val? You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m just…” She wiped her face, struggled to stand. Halfway up, her bad leg gave out, and she plunged back to the floor.
The door opened. Then Lund was inside the shower, turning off the water, gathering her into his arms. “I got you.”
Lund cradled her against his chest. He dried her with a thick towel, then, wrapping her in the robe, he carried her out, tucked her into his bed, and crawled in beside her.
The tears came in waves and Val let herself cry until her eyes felt as if they were bleeding sand. Then slowly the sobs faded as Lund held her close, his body warming her the way a shower never had.
“Why do you want to marry me?” Val asked once she was reasonably sure her voice would function.
Lund frowned. “I love you.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that I couldn’t give you an answer when you asked?”
“It’ll wait.”
“It’s not fair that you’re here for me, and I can’t give anything back.”
“Where is this coming from?”
“She took care of me, too.”
“Oneida? She took care of everyone.”
“And Grace… I don’t know how I deserve any of you.” Val shook her head. “And now… now I’m afraid I’m going to lose you all.”
“You’re not going to lose me. You’re not going to lose Grace.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I won’t accept the alternative, and neither will you. Now sleep. I’ll make eggs in the morning.”
“It is morning.”
Val put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, kissed him deeper. She needed him. Now more than ever. To fill her up with something besides worry, something besides grief.
Val wasn’t good at needing anyone. She wasn’t good at accepting help. As far as those things went, she was a major pain in the ass, she knew. But with Lund…
Not willing to stop kissing him, she fumbled blindly with the hem of his shirt, the buttons on his jeans. Her right hand was worthless. Her left impatient. “Lund…”
He chuckled. Then, breaking away from her for only a moment, he ditched his clothes. A second later, he was slipping under the covers beside her, warm skin on warm skin. He was already hard, ready for her, and she could feel him flex against her thigh.
“Better?” he asked.
“Better.” Val spread her legs, wanting him closer, wanting him inside her.
Another chuckle. “You’re in a hurry.”
“You just figured that out?”
“Then I’d better get busy.”
She spread her legs wider, nestling him between. But instead of taking her hint this time, he moved down her body, littering kisses over her neck, her collarbone, teasing her nipples with his tongue. His hand slipped between her thighs, and he feathered his fingers over her, then dipped inside.
His movement was slow, gentle. As if he were coaxing the heat out of her, kindling the most delicate of fires.
She was already an inferno.
Yet with each stroke, she felt more than the heat, the building up of desire. She could feel herself coming together. The brokenness, the pain… bit by bit, they receded, grew dim, distant like a shattering dream fading in the morning light.
Val focused on Lund’s fingers, his mouth, the weight of his body as he moved down hers. His lips skimmed her belly, and chills raced over her skin. He settled between her thighs, and Val tangled her fingers in his hair.
When he took her with his mouth, a strangled sound squeaked from her throat, as if she hadn’t used her voice in far too long. He moved against her, his tongue fondling then plunging. Gaining a rhythm, then punctuating with a nip. The stubble on his cheeks rasped against her sensitive folds, amplifying each stroke, turning a caress into an electric shock.
She wasn’t sure how long he teased her—but though heat spread through her muscles, through her bones, and the pressure built—more was just out of reach.
She cupped his head with her hand and coaxed him up to her.
He looked up, his hair disheveled, his lips glistening. “You don’t like this?”
“I love it.”
He dipped his head, ready to resume the feast.
“But don’t you want me to…”
“I want you to enjoy yourself, Val. I want you to soak this in.”
They’d had this discussion before. “Aren’t you tired of it never being about what you want?”
“Val, making love to you is always about what I want. Trust me on that.”
Val felt embarrassed. Here Lund was taking care of her. In the shower. In bed. All she had to do was accept it, and even that seemed beyond her. “You must think I’m neurotic.”
“I know you’re neurotic.” He shot her a crooked smile. “I think you like to be in charge. But you’re not. Not tonight. And you’re not going to be. So you might as well let go.”
Val did. And this time when the pressure built and the blood crescendoed in her ears, she let herself go over the edge, crying out full volume. When the wave receded, she pulled Lund up her body, kissing him, tasting herself on his lips. He sank into her, making her feel full, making her feel whole. And when orgasm overtook her again, and Lund finally gave in, too, she held him tight. They lay there still, intimately connected, and Val would give almost anything to never have to move from this position again.
Val hadn’t understood, at first, why Lund had chosen this morning to pop the question. After all, they hadn’t been together for more than a few days. Really together. The whole idea seemed rushed. Crazy. But now?
Now she understood. He’d wanted to hold on. To her. To the happy moments they had. To something safe in the face of the coming storm. She understood, because she felt the same way. She’d lost so much today—family, home, career—and she couldn’t help but fear that tomorrow would be worse.
Because to face Hess this time, Val knew things would have to be different. She would have to be different. If she was going to protect the people in her life, she would have to be willing to cross a line she’d never crossed before.
“You okay?”
Val forced herself to nod. “Better.”
Lund studied her for a long time. Finally he kissed her and stretched out at her side. “The sun will be up soon. We’d better get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
It only took a few minutes for his breathing to become steady and deep. Val was awake far longer, running endless scenarios through her mind. They started out different but ended the same. Over and over. And each time it seemed easier to pull the trigger and drill a cold-blooded bullet between the eyes of Dixon Hess.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Lund
When Lund awoke, morning light was streaming through the window. Unwilling to risk waking Val, he stayed put and watched her sleep.
Val had asked earlier if it bothered him that she hadn’t given him an answer to his proposal. He’d said it hadn’t, and he guessed in a way he was telling the truth. He would always love Val, and he was pretty sure she loved him. Nothing could change that, definitely not a small delay.
But it made him feel unsettled. Uncertain. Not about his feelings or even Val’s, but about… everything else. He wanted to stay in this bed with her forever. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go. But now the sun was up, and his time was over, and they were about to tumble into a brittle future.
And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Val sat up, blinking against the rays. “What time is it?”
“Still early. I’ll mix up another batch of eggs.”
“We need to—”
“Kasdorf will wait until you eat.”
They took a quick shower, and Lund scrambled the remaining eggs at record speed and brewed a pot of coffee. But when Val sat down, instead of eating, she just stared at the yellow mass on her plate.
“Something wrong with it?”
“No.” She picked up her fork but still refrained from digging in.
“I wonder if she’s eaten. If he’s fed her anything since yesterday.” She shook her head. “I mean, it’s stupid, right? He’s going to kill her. He might be doing all sorts of terrible things to her. And yet, all I can wrap my head around is whether she’s eaten or not, if she’s warm enough.”
Lund reached over the counter and ran his palm along her arm. “Eat. Force yourself if you have to.”
They ate. Lund watched her. And he made a promise to himself.
If Grace and Val and he came through this, they would have a big dinner at the supper club. With brandy old-fashions and wine, fried cheese curds, stuffed potato skins, and prime rib. Or maybe they’d go on Friday night for the fish fry. All you can eat. And they would talk and laugh and top it all off with something chocolate for dessert, even though they were far too full to ever find room.
Grace
When Grace woke, the scent of coffee tinted the air, almost strong enough to drown out at least some of the mattress’s lingering vomit smell.
It was morning.
She couldn’t see the sun. She couldn’t see anything but the unrelenting gloom that had been with her every time she was left alone. But her stomach was past hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, after she’d finished feeding the horses. Then she’d gone upstairs to pack. She’d watched the school bus through the snow from her window. She’d talked to Brad.
Her breath caught in her
throat, and tears pressed at the backs of her eyes.
She couldn’t afford to think of Brad. Not now. She couldn’t afford to think of anything but getting away from Hess. Every minute that ticked by brought him closer to killing her, to destroying Aunt Val, to getting his revenge.
Grace had to figure out a way to stop him. A way to help Aunt Val.
The door opened, and light streamed into the room. Hess entered and set the lantern on the ticket counter. “I hope you thought about last night.”
Grace had. But probably not in the way Hess wanted.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“And you see now that you can’t outsmart me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve done a lot of thinking. Reading and thinking. Even so, I don’t expect people to understand. They rarely understand those who have insight.”
“And this is how you’re going to make them understand? By killing people?”
He frowned at her. “The killing was necessary.”
“For justice.”
“Yes. And to bring attention to injustice.”
Grace started shaking her head before she caught herself.
“Your aunt understands. I think she’s beginning to realize what she did.”
“Then let me go. Aunt Val can make others understand, too. But only if you let me go.”
“My, you’re simple. I had hope for you, but in the end you’re as provincial as the rest.” He turned to the door. “Carla?”
No answer.
He grunted, an impatient sound, then turned back to Grace. “I said your aunt was beginning to realize. She needs another reminder.”
A nervous quake seized Grace’s stomach, wiping away any sensation of hunger.
“Dixon?” Carla’s voice came from just outside the room.
“What is it?” Hess ducked out of the door.
Grace let out a shuddering breath, but she felt far from relieved. She pulled against the handcuffs, even though she knew they wouldn’t give.
Voices reached her from outside the room. Hess and Carla, their tone low and tense.
“Where were you?”
“Burke said you were expecting his call.”
Dead Too Soon: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 3) Page 13
