“Don’t worry about it. It’s—” Whatever Mac was going to say was cut off by an officer running through the tunnel with one of the young men who worked there. They were followed a second later by another officer. Laken watched as Jones took the handcuffs from the officer and attached them to Stewart Hoster’s wrists. Her former boss was now fully conscious and shooting arrows of hatred at her, but he didn’t say anything. He remained stoically silent while they read him his rights, only nodding at the end.
The absence of fear or sickness the Hunter normally gave off was almost a shock to her. With him caught, it looked like the nightmares were truly over. Mac stood to talk to the officers, and Connie took his place beside her, wrapping her arm around her shoulder when one of the officers came over to ask for her statement. He was going over details when Mac finished his side of the tale; Laken could see the tension still radiating through him as he leaned back against the wall, eyeing her in undisguised concern.
As soon as the officer stepped away, Mac came forward extending his hand to draw her up into his arms. He hugged her so tightly it forced the air from her but nothing had ever felt so good. She was free from the nightmare. Free to love him.
“I’ll take you to the hospital to be checked out. Then I have to go to the station to make a full report.”
It was Laken’s turn to pull back. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m not hurt.” She could see his objection coming. “Please Mac. I’m okay. Just a couple bruises is all. I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
He thought a minute before he sighed. “All right, you can come with me, but I’ll warn you, I don’t know how long it will take with the reports and questioning.”
“Why don’t I take her back to our place?” Connie spoke up. “You won’t need her anymore tonight, will you?” As if reading his hesitation, she added, “She can get some rest, and I’ll keep an eye on her in case it looks like she needs to go to the hospital.”
Laken was relieved when Mac finally agreed. Through she wished she could stay with him, she really was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. Sleep that wouldn’t be plagued with nightmares of death.
It was still another half hour before Mac walked Laken to Connie’s car, helping her inside, going so far as to do up her seatbelt before pressing her back into the seat with one final hard kiss.
On the other side of the car, Jones gave Connie a kiss. “It’ll probably be almost morning before we get there. We want to stay for the questioning. Get some sleep.”
“We’ll be okay,” Connie assured him, dropping into the seat.
Laken clearly saw the intensity in Mac’s eyes. He looked at her as if debating letting her go.
“Go.” She smiled reassuringly, and waved him away. His gaze remained on her a moment longer before he closed the door.
Beside her Connie laughed. “You just got to love protective males. They are just so cute.”
A rush of agreement burned through Laken as she watched Mac stare after them until they turned the corner.
The Jones’ house was quaint, a bungalow style in a middle-class neighborhood that screamed of family.
“This is beautiful,” Laken commented as she followed Connie in.
“Thanks. Just make yourself comfortable. It was a fixer-upper when we got it. The person had really let it run down so we got it for a song. Mac’s put in a lot of hours helping us work on it. It’s nice to see him find someone, especially after the shooting. We’ve been worried about him, especially how he’d take the forced retirement.”
“He’s going for a teaching position at a university.”
“I heard. I think that’s great.”
Laken shifted as warmth coursed through her. “Mac asked me to marry him.”
Connie let out a squeal and hugged her. “Oh, my. I presume you said yes?”
“Yes.” Laken about burst with renewed excitement. “You don’t think it’s too soon?” She wondered what her new friend would say, though she seemed happy.
“With Mac? No way. Mac is one of those men who knows what he wants. Besides, I’ve seen the way he is with you. You hit him hard from the very first. I was worried when Marcus first told me. He was real worried because Mac fell hard for a fruitcake. But after meeting you — you guys are perfect together.” Connie gave her another hug.
After a cup of hot chocolate and girl talk, Laken settled into bed in the spare room, at Connie’s insistence, and let sleep come to her through the lingering thoughts of Mac.
****
Mac was at the point he wanted to slam his fist into the wall. He looked at the man who sat sniveling in the chair. No way he was the Hunter. He might be a back-stabber in the business world, but he couldn’t use a knife on a woman. He was the type who broke into apartments and took out his rage, frightening a woman that way because he couldn’t face the confrontation directly.
At first, Mac hoped it was an act, but it didn’t take long to give up on that. The man was drunk. The killer wouldn’t allow that mistake. The killer was cold and ruthlessness. Stewart Hoster was a selfish prig who thought nothing of stealing an underling’s work to cover his own inabilities.
This was a waste of time. He wanted to get back to Laken. The desire was past wanting. He needed to get back to her. If Hoster wasn’t the killer, that meant he was still out there. The knowledge burned in him, and he tried to tamp it down. There was no way the Hunter could know where Laken was. She was safe.
“It’s all her fault,” Hoster whined again. Mac had lost count of how many times he’d said those words. It was the same thing over and over again, almost word for word. “They fired me because of what she did — that grandiose show of hers of handing over the blueprints. Saying how he deserved the best and hers were the best. She staged it all to show us up. I’d given her a chance, getting her designs even considered. She should’ve thanked me. Warner never even would’ve considered showing her plans. It’s all like he said. It’s all her fault.”
The “he” caught in Mac’s mind, snapping his attention to alert again.
“The ungrateful—” the man continued.
“Who said?” Mac snapped, cutting over Hoster’s next tirade. The man jerked, forgetting what he was saying. “What man?” Mac took two steps toward Hoster, startling him back to soberness. Jonesy also came alert, pulling close.
“The g-guy… in the b-bar,” Hoster stammered out.
“What guy?” Mac demanded, the unease in him shooting to fear.
“I don’t know. Just a guy.”
“Where’d you meet this guy?
“At the bar across from the Fun Center. I already told you I followed her there then went into the bar. I was upset. She got me fired. He understood backstabbing females. They’re all worthless, trying to compete with their betters.”
“Did he say that?” Jonesy picked up the questioning.
“Yeah.” Hoster looked at him. “He knew what it was like to lose a promotion to a woman who sleeps and steals her way to the top, then walks over you to get what she wants.”
The urge to hit the guy surged again, but Mac tamped it down. “Laken didn’t sleep her way to the top and you’re the one who stole from her.”
The man still had enough soul to look embarrassed. “She stole the future account, ruined things with Galaxy. It’s still her fault.”
Mac ignored what he said. “Describe this guy.”
Hoster raised his head, obviously surprised by the request. It took him a second and Mac repeated the question before he answered. “A little taller than me, dark hair, but not black. Brown. Twenties, maybe thirty, I don’t know. He was just a guy. I don’t look at guys.”
“And you didn’t ask his name.”
Hoster shook his head. “He just got me a couple drinks and talked. He knew what it was like.”
Mac could see Hoster slipping back into his moaning again and was done with it. Fear flared to life. He needed to get to Laken. He was out of the room, Jonesy at his si
de without a word. They’d been partners too long for him to have to say they were heading to the garage. There was also no need to tell him that, if the man had been at the bar across from the Fun Center, it meant he had either followed them or Hoster there and he could possibly have followed Laken and Connie home.
Mac felt like a fool for not seeing a tail. He fingered Laken’s cell phone in his pocket. One of the officers had found it on the floor in the golf room and handed it over to him after she’d left. He pulled out his phone and dialed. “This is Detective MacDaniels, I’d like a unit to do a drive-by for possible intruder at…” he gave Jonesy’s address as he climbed into the passenger seat. Jonesy had the car headed out of the garage before he hung up. He made the next call to the captain to fill him in as Jonesy sped through streets which were, fortunately, mostly empty that time of night.
****
The Hunter moved from shadow to shadow, irritated at the little, yappy dog barking three houses over. If the thing didn’t shut up he was going to go slit its throat. He froze when he heard a door open and the owner of the dog yelled out, calling the animal inside. Finally, it was quiet. Still, he waited several minutes before moving toward the house that held the two women. He didn’t care about the one. It would be of no consequence if she died, but the other had to die so it would all be right. He could feel her now that he was closing in. Yes, it would finally be right.
****
Laken fought the covers as she tried to fight the dream from coming. He was hunting. She could feel the exhilaration in him. His thrill ran hot, like the temperature that coursed through her body. He skirted the house, pulling back in the shadows behind a huge trunk tree when a car came down the street. It pulled into a driveway halfway down the block, and a teenager wearing a fast food uniform got out and ambled into the house.
Kids and dogs should not be seen or heard. The thought hit Laken’s mind, and even in the sleeping state, she rejected it. She liked kids and dogs. She wanted to get a dog when she had a place where she could have one. Maybe after she married Mac…
Mac smiled at her coming out of the shadows. He stopped, spun, searching the area, alert, like he had when they left the garbage, watching everything. He came toward her striding purposefully then stumbled, his leg going out from under him. Laken tried to run to him, but her legs were too sluggish to move. She ran harder, faster, but Mac seemed to get farther away. She cried out, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
Out of the shadows between them stepped another figure, the dark raincoat and hat pulled down making him a living shadow. She slid to a stop as he came toward her. Laken looked into Hoster’s face. And then it wasn’t his. It fell away into nothingness, a gaping blackness that tore at her soul. The Hunter turned and looked at Mac, and she knew he was going to keep her from ever reaching him. The Hunter was going to deny her love and life with him.
“No!” she screamed. She would not accept that. She fought harder to run. She had to get to Mac. She wouldn’t let the Hunter win.
“You think you’re better than me.” The words cut in her mind like a slashing knife. Laken stumbled and fell. Pain ripped at her. “Women who think they are as good as men don’t deserve to live.” The Hunter stalked toward her. “When I kill you, all will be right again.”
“No!” Laken lashed out with her hand. Real pain cut through the dream, but instead of pulling back from it, Laken clung to it, feeling it move up through her arm. She brought her hand to her lips. Her skin felt hot. She pushed the fever and the throbbing in her head down. “No.” The next scream made it past her lips and Laken jerked awake. Her heart pounded and heat radiated off her. She raised her hand to rub the side of it where it felt like it was bruising.
Laken heard footsteps in the hall and nearly fell in her haste to get out of bed. The door to her room opened but instead of the shadowy form of the Hunter, the hall light illuminated Connie, dressed in a short nightgown, much like the one she was wearing.
The woman’s eyes darted from the bed to her. “Are you all right?” She sounded breathless, maybe from being abruptly awakened.
Laken let her shoulders slump in relief. “Yes, sorry, bad dr-dream.” Laken faltered over the word and knew it wasn’t right. “No. He’s here,” she gasped, tasting the Hunter’s anticipation in the air.
“He is? You mean the killer?” Connie visibly relaxed. “It’s all right. They’ve arrested him. They have him at the police station now.”
“No!” The word erupted from her with certainty. “Hoster’s not the Hunter. He’s here.”
“Hunter?” Connie looked startled.
“The killer.”
“He’s here?”
“Yes.” The blast of fear hit her almost overwhelming her, but she pushed back.
“Laken.” Connie shook her head obviously fighting her own internal battle to accept what Laken was saying. “How could he be here? There’s no way he could know where you’re at.”
“I don’t know, maybe he followed us,” Laken said over her shoulder, searching her clothes for her cell phone. “But he’s here. He’s close. Where’s my cell phone? It was in my pocket when we were bowling.”
She threw the hoodie aside and grabbed her pants. The phone wasn’t there. “Where’s your phone?” She took a step toward Connie and staggered.
“Are you all right?” Connie reached to steady her. “You’re burning up.”
Laken shook her head to clear it, concentrating a second to push the Hunter back from her mind. For an instant, she could see through his eyes clearly, his hand holding a spade, using it to pry a box from the side of the house. “The phones, he got the phone. Your cell phone. We’ve got to call Mac.”
She headed past Connie, who followed her out of the room, obviously not sure what to think. Probably rethinking her sanity, the thought hit Laken, but she didn’t have time to think about that now. “Where’s your cell phone?”
“I… I think it’s in my purse. But there’s a phone right here.” She lifted the phone from the wall at the end of the hall. “If you want to call Mac…” Her voice died out as she pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at it like it was a foreign object. “It’s dead.” She looked at Laken, totally stunned.
The air filled with shocked silence only to be scattered by faint scratching at the back of the house. Both women jerked and spun in the direction.
“He’s here.” This time it was Connie that cried the words.
“Do you have a gun?”
Connie was already shaking her head. “I’m not good with guns. Marcus keeps his with him.”
“Come on.” Laken grabbed her hand pulling her the front of the house. “Where’s your purse?”
“Closet, by the door.”
“Connie, we need to split up,” Laken whispered as they moved. “You need to hide. It’s me he’s after. He won’t go for you.”
“We need to stick together. We’re stronger together.” Connie, now in motion, pushed in front of Laken, pulled open the closet door, and grabbed a large black bag from the top shelf. Instead of sticking her hand in to search, she upended it, dumping out the contents on the floor. The light from the hall glistened off the objects. Connie snatched up the phone and punched nine-one-one.
Laken held her breath waiting for the call to be answered. At the sound of a dull thud from the back door, Laken spun with Connie to look. The light coming down the hallway highlighted a three-foot-long, odd-shaped bag leaning against the back corner of the closet. Stepping past Connie, Laken grabbed the bag, pulling it out. With a quick jerk of the zipper, Laken pulled the heavy aluminum baseball bat free just as Connie spoke into the phone, giving her address then repeating it.
“There’s someone trying to break into the house. We think it’s the man stabbing women. My husband is Detective Marcus Jones. He’s on the case, and I have a witness in the case here with me.” There was a pause. Laken was impressed by her calm when she continued. “Yes, that is correct. There are two of us. He’s trying to ge
t in the back door.”
The words were hardly out of Connie’s mouth when Laken heard the grind and splintering of wood as the door was pried open. Without conscious thought, she shoved Connie into the closet.
“Get help, I’ll try to delay him.” She could see Connie start to object and shook her head. “Please stay here. It’s me he’s after,” she whispered, closing the door quietly.
Her heart pounded as she moved across the room, pressing her back against the wall by the end of the hall. She raised the baseball bat in a batter’s stance and listened. Her heart pounded and sweat broke out on her brow. Her vision blurred as her mind started to slip into the nightmare. She fought it back but not before she caught images of him moving though the kitchen toward the bedroom where she’d been sleeping. The sick wave of his thirst to kill her consumed him. He didn’t care that the lights were on in the hall, or that Connie was in the house too. He would kill her too because she was there, as though she was of no consequence.
She couldn’t let him kill Connie. The thought hit Laken hard. Maybe her facing the Hunter was what was meant to be. Maybe that was why she had the nightmares, but she was not going to let Connie suffer for it. She tightened her grip on the bat. She was not going down without a fight.
The creak of a floorboard in the hall almost shattered her resolve. A second later the dark cloaked form of the Hunter came into view. Laken swung the bat with all her might, registering at the last second her swing was too low. The man must’ve caught the motion because he started to pull back, but it wasn’t in time to keep the bat from hitting him solidly in his chest.
A grunt escaped him and he staggered back but, like the possessed man he was, he came right back. One arm was locked over his chest, and he fought for breath. It did nothing to lessen the blow of the punch he threw out, catching Laken in the shoulder before she could get the bat back around again. She fell back into an end table, tumbling over it onto the couch, and knocking the lamp to the floor.
“Think you can take me? Think you’re better than I am?” The words came out like grinding rocks. He grabbed the leg of the table to shove it out of his way. Laken used the opportunity to roll off the couch to her feet. She staggered a little, making her way around a coffee table. His hat had come off, giving her the first look at the Hunter.
Temperature Rising Page 16
