by Brant, Kylie
He ignored her interruption. “—I want to stop at the courthouse and trace the ownership on Rose’s place.”
Ramsey frowned. “What does that have to do with . . .” Comprehension obviously hitting her, she rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Stryker. I didn’t see a ghost bouncing around, I saw lights. Don’t go making this into something out of a Stephen King novel.”
“Hard to say what it might be,” he said mildly. He didn’t expect her to share his interest in the paranormal, but it was starting to sting a bit that she discounted his expertise in the area. “But it’s worth checkin’ out. I definitely want to go to Rose’s with you.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Think of it this way. I make a bigger target than you. If she starts sprayin’ us with buckshot, I promise to cover that very fine ass of yours.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll take care of my own ass, thanks.”
“I’d be willin’ to bet you’ve been doin’ so for a very long time.” He didn’t need her “damn straight” response to be certain he was right. There was a guard around Ramsey that would be difficult to penetrate. And he couldn’t help wondering what had caused it.
She rose and began to tidy up, and he was content to sit back and watch her, even as he realized it was a prelude to suggesting he take his leave. Funny how he was becoming able to read her. And a little alarming, too. He made a point to get along with most people. But he didn’t recall ever feeling this instant connection before.
A connection she’d deny if given the chance.
After folding the box in half and shoving it in the trash-can, she crossed to the table again and reached for the leftover napkins. Dev seized the opportunity to take her outstretched hand and gave her a tug, landing her, with some strategic maneuvering, in his lap.
And then he took a moment to enjoy the way those green gold eyes of her heated.
“Do I look like a lap sitter to you, Stryker?”
Honesty forced him to admit, “No, you purely don’t. But I’ve found it’s the absolute best position for a little wooin’.”
It was a pleasure to watch the expressions flit across her face before stunned surprise won out, settling there.
“Wooing?”
“Courtin’,” he elaborated, bringing the hand he still held up to his lips. Pressing a kiss to her palm, he closed her fingers over it, one by one. “It occurs to me that’s an area sorely missin’ in your experience. I’m lookin’ to fill the void.”
“You’re looking,” she said dangerously, “for a broken nose.”
“Too late. My stepdaddy took care of that when I was fourteen.” And had taught him a valuable lesson in the process. If you’re stepping into the ring with someone bigger, you better have some skills to make up for lack of size. He’d learned the skills, and they’d served him well enough over the years. But damned if he’d ever feel grateful to the man for that.
Ramsey stilled. “Your stepfather did that to you?”
He brought her hand to his lips, brushed a kiss to the soft skin beneath her wrist. He’d never noticed before how small-boned she was. Had been too busy looking at those long legs and fantasizing about the curves that just might lie beneath her jacket, if he ever could talk her out of it.
“Mm-hmm.” He could feel her pulse beneath his fingers, the beat a little too frantic to feign disinterest. Because it pleased him, he dipped his head to nuzzle her neck.
“I hope someone threw his ass in jail for it.”
It took a moment to register her remark. “No. It was an ‘accident.’ I was a smart-mouthed twelve-year-old when he started teachin’ me to box. Had a lot of ‘accidents’ durin’ the lessons.” He traced the cord of her throat with the tip of his tongue before gently closing his teeth over it, satisfied when she shuddered. “I was sixteen the first time he suffered an ‘accident’ of his own. That’s when I was sent to live with my granddaddy for good.” As it had been what he’d wanted, there was no regret at the memory. Unless it was the way the incident had altered his relationship with his mama forever.
There was an intriguing hollow beneath her throat, and he explored it with his lips. Traced the surrounding bone with the tip of his tongue. She was a study of contrasts, cold logic and warm skin. Prickly edges and smooth curves. Made him want to discover every one of those contrasts for himself, puzzle over them one by one until he figured out which was real. Which was acquired.
“On our date, you have to wear a dress. Somethin’ clingy and feminine.” Strappy sandals with mile-high heels would be nice, too, but he didn’t want to push too far.
As it was, her elbow came dangerously close to lodging in his gut. “Fat chance. You’re a little late to start adding conditions at this point. I didn’t bring a dress anyway.”
“Okay.” He was nothing if not a reasonable man. “You at least have to lose the gun. And the jacket.”
“Listen, Stryker . . .” Her attempts to rise were placing her hip in painful proximity to his rising interest. “I’ve already told you this isn’t going to happen.”
He drew up one of her hands, then the other, to link around his neck. “What isn’t goin’ to happen?” He dropped a kiss beside her mouth before strewing a string of them along her jawline. “This?” He lingered over the baby-soft skin beneath her earlobe. “Or this?” He felt her hands tighten of their own volition around his shoulders and felt a bolt of satisfaction at her reaction.
“Yes, both. Nothing, I mean.” The last words were muffled as he nibbled at her full bottom lip. And felt the hitch of her breath before she released it in one long stream. “Dammit, Dev.”
Because he thought he read a measure of capitulation in the words, he covered her mouth with his and eased into the kiss.
The taste of her rollicked through his system, and alarms rang dimly in the back of his mind. He had the experience to know that a mere kiss shouldn’t be enough to fire his blood and send a dizzying arc through his brain.
And he was nowhere close to smashing through her famous guard. So reeling in his hunger with some difficulty, he resolved to chip away at it a little at a time.
He lingered over her mouth, taking care to draw out the moment. Enjoyed the glide of her tongue against his. The scent of her hair swarming his senses. The feel of her curves softening against his chest as she leaned into the moment.
She slid a hand into his hair and angled her lips beneath his. Her kiss was direct, much like her personality. And he found he liked that about her. Too much. He held her closer and increased the pressure of his mouth on hers, demand edging in, fierce and sharp as a blade.
He toyed with the buttons of her shirt, undoing the top two, then stroking the skin he bared. She was warm silk beneath his fingers, and the thought of freely touching that sleek flesh everywhere heated his blood like a fever.
Lights speared the room as a car pulled up, spotlighting them like a pair of necking teenagers caught on a gravel road in the beam of a deputy’s flashlight.
And that description, Dev thought, as he painfully dragged his eyes open, tearing his lips from hers, was also from personal experience. Damned if he didn’t feel the same urgency that had pounded through his blood back then when he’d had more hormones than restraint. Another few minutes and he’d have a helluva time taking it easy and slow. He knew instinctively that was the only kind of speed that wouldn’t have her skittering away.
As it was, her eyes were a little dazed when she opened them half-mast to stare up at him. Her lips were swollen and red. And the sight of her all flushed and well-kissed made him want to throw his head back and howl in frustration.
“If you’re plannin’ to send me away tonight, it’d best be soon.” Though he tried for humor, his tone sounded more ragged than anything. “Turns out my patience isn’t as well developed as I thought.”
There was a moment, one crazy instant, when he thought she might tell him to stay. He recognized the desire in her expression. Could almost feel the tug-of-war she waged between it and logic.
/>
In the end though, the sound of a car door slamming outside seemed to help her recover some of that fabled guard he’d done his damnedest to dismantle. She shook her head, pulling away and swinging her legs to the floor. “I need to get back to work.”
Ignoring the blade of disappointment twisting through him, he stood as well. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He didn’t bother to point out that most folks would be turning in at this time of night. Mostly because he didn’t want to think about what that entailed. It would be enough—almost—for now, that she’d wanted him back.
And that the expression on her face when she watched him walk out the door was just a bit regretful.
He prowled along the blacktops, the hunger surging and clawing inside him for release. The last girl had only whetted his appetite. He needed another. One he could take his time with, one-on-one. No sharing. Just him and a soulless whore in need of saving.
One hand dropped to his lap, stroked his cock, which was already going hard. He could keep the next one for a while. No one would ever know. He’d keep her, and he’d do all the things he’d wanted to do to the last one but couldn’t.
But this time, he’d have the time to do it right. Do her right. A silent laugh escaped him. But first he needed to find a bitch deserving of the act.
He found her two counties over, walking along a darkened rural road. Leashing his excitement, he slowed the vehicle and buzzed the passenger window down, trying to get a better look.
Definitely female. She threw him a quick look and walked faster. Maybe a little younger than he liked, but it was hard to tell in the darkness.
“Need a ride?”
“Nope.”
He continued creeping along beside her. “Kinda late for you to be out.”
“Just got off work. I live nearby.”
She was a lying bitch, because there was nothing nearby for at least another mile or so. And if she lied that easily, there was no telling what other sins she needed to atone for. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
Relief in her face now. “Thanks anyway.”
He raised the window and drove off, a Good Samaritan having done his duty. Then he found a place with decent cover to pull off the road, hiding his car from any traffic that might happen by.
His cock was rock hard now, anticipation hammering inside him. But he knew enough not to let excitement get the better of caution. He turned off the dome light before getting out of the vehicle. Left the back door open to ease getting her into the car. Then ran back the way he’d come, staying well hidden in the trees lining the road.
And waited.
She was walking faster now. Spooked maybe by his earlier invitation. Woman out alone at this time of night, she was asking for it, pure and simple. Just like the last one had, with her cold disinterest and sharp tongue.
Sinners, all of them.
He could hear her footsteps coming toward him. If another car came by, he’d have to stay put. But there was no beam of headlights in either direction.
It was a sign.
He nearly creamed his pants as she walked by his hiding place, unsuspecting. The urgency was a fever in his blood when he shot out of the trees, uncaring if she heard him. Wanting her to. Needing the thrill of the chase.
She made the mistake of turning around, wasting valuable seconds before stumbling into a run. Stupid, stupid cunt.
He had her around the throat in two long strides, one hand clapped over her mouth, dragging her back into the trees. She was stronger than she looked, though, slapping and kicking wildly.
He brought up the hand holding the stun gun and gave her a jolt. Her body went limp.
A grin crossed his face as he carried her to his car. It wasn’t the last jolt she’d be getting tonight. He had plans for this one.
He just hoped he could keep her alive long enough to carry out all of them.
Chapter 12
“I finished the ViCAP responses last night,” Ramsey told Agent Powell as he sipped from his glass of milk. Neither that nor the banana he had in front of him looked in the least bit tempting. She wondered if she could convince Stryker to stop on the way out of town for a bag of chips and a soft drink. The breakfast of champions.
“Find anythin’ useful?”
“I put aside a few that were somewhat similar.” She nodded to the neat piles she’d left on the table. All had come from the second request she’d filled out. “None match exactly. Amazing how many sexual homicide victims have a foreign substance discovered in their stomach.”
“One more way to exert control over the victim,” Powell pointed out, taking his time peeling the banana. He didn’t appear eager for the meal.
“I think we’re looking at an UNSUB who includes that as part of his ritual.” Even as she said the words, she cautioned herself not to let instinct blind her to other possibilities. Powell could be right. The substance could be only about exerting control over the victim. If that were the case, any of the hits she’d set aside could tie to the UNSUB. “The ViCAP responses weren’t detailed enough to describe exactly what it was the victims had been forced to ingest. I intend to follow up with the detectives listed on each hit. But first I’ll continue to question the healers in the area to try to get an idea what that substance might be.”
Powell grunted his approval. “And I’ll follow up on the victim’s cell phone LUDs today. Matthews is finishin’ up the resort, but it sounds like the ex-fiancé and sister of the victim have solid alibis. He’ll be drivin’ to Memphis for the statements sometime today.”
She nodded, unsurprised. “From speaking to the woman who’d done the victim’s nails, it doesn’t sound like Cassie Frost was the type to try and make trouble for the couple. More like she was running away, licking her wounds.”
Powell bit into the banana and chewed morosely. “That’s the take I got, too, from interviewin’ patrons at the bar she worked at. Barely spoke to anyone. Did her job but not interested in getting friendly with customers. Hard to see how she landed herself in such trouble.”
A quick shiver slicked over her skin. From an ease born of long practice, Ramsey pushed away the snippets from the past that threatened to surface. She picked up her purse, checked inside for her keys. “Sometimes you don’t have to go looking for trouble. Sometimes it finds you anyway.”
In the end, she had to compromise with Stryker. He agreed to make a stop at the Kwik Serv for breakfast—and hold the remarks regarding her eating habits—if she agreed to accompany him to the courthouse to pursue the line of ownership on Rose Thornton’s property.
And the bag of Cheetos took enough of an edge off her hunger that she didn’t grumble much when he nagged her into going inside with him.
The red brick structure had been built somewhere around the turn of the last century, but the halls were well lit and the floors polished to a shine. He led the way and skirted the elevator to climb a narrow stairway to the second floor.
“Devlin. You’re back.”
Ramsey managed, barely, to avoid rolling her eyes. Of course the Spring County auditor would have to be a woman.
“Didn’t get ’nough of you yesterday, Hannah.”
He turned, took Ramsey by the elbow, and guided her up to the counter. “Have you met Ramsey Clark?”
She froze, hand still in the Cheetos bag, fervently hoping she wasn’t going to be called upon to shake hands. “Good morning.”
The older woman’s gaze met hers, the expression in them amused. “No, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She was tall and still willowy, with brown hair going to gray and a pair of half bifocals perched on her nose. A decorative chain attached to their ends and looped around her neck. In her flowered short-sleeved dress and nylons with close-toed pumps, she reminded Ramsey of the stern librarian in her high school.
“Hannah pretty well runs things ’round here,” Dev was saying, leaning his folded arms against the counter.
“Well, let’s say I keep track of things,” she corrected, h
er polite smile including Ramsey. “Which is lucky, since you’ve been full of questions this week.”
But Ramsey was distracted from the conversation by the woman’s nameplate setting on the counter. “Hannah . . . Ashton?”
The woman’s brows rose. “That’s right.”
Feeling foolish with both the auditor and Dev staring at her, she said, “I recognize the last name. Ashton’s Pond?” Then winced when Dev stepped deliberately on her toes.
“My great-great-granddaddy settled here before the town even existed,” the woman said. “Many things in these parts still bear his name. A street in town, a park, the pond. There used to be a feed store on Main Street fifty years ago run by my granddaddy. Most Ashtons have moved away, but there are still a few of us around.”
