“You are mine,” he growled at her continually. He’d worn her down over the months to be able to get her to agree to marry him, destroying her confidence, isolating her from her friends.
By the time of the wedding—fifteen minutes at City Hall—Romy had been a shadow of her former self. Dacre still wasn’t certain how he’d scared her so much that she’d actually agreed to be legally bound to him, but such was his power, he now remembered proudly. That, and keeping her away from her damn nosy family so they couldn’t run interference.
She’d spoken her vows in such a quiet voice the judge had had to ask her to speak up twice, but when she had seen the barely concealed rage on Dacre’s face, she had quailed and recited them louder, but in a monotone. Dacre had seen the two witnesses, strangers he had wrangled from a bar, exchange concerned looks. The woman with them had slipped Romy her number. If you need anything. He knew Romy hadn’t called her. It would have made no difference if she had.
Dacre killed the woman, Regan, a few weeks later, catching her unawares as she stepped out into a dark alley in the back of the bar where she worked to have a smoke. Hand across her throat, knife in her belly, one, two, three.
Dead. God, the feeling, the rush it gave him, and every single time he imagined his victim was Romy. His cock would harden and he would smell the blood, imagining it to be hers. That sweet gasp of shock and pain as the knife sliced through flesh was Romy’s … she never made any noise when they had sex, would never kiss him on the mouth. She didn’t fake orgasm and it made him crazy. When he’d found out she was back in touch with her family that had been the last straw and when the beatings had started.
That last one, the final one, had begun when she was late home from the hospital and he’d been drinking. Such a normal thing, but he’d heard her coming up the stairs and for a moment, he had just been joking around, hiding behind the door to spook her.
He had hooked his arm around her neck and she had screamed in fright. Pulling away from him, she’d rounded on him with wide, frightened eyes, so beautiful in her terror, and told him she was leaving him for good. Dacre had lost it. He’d beat her mercilessly until she could no longer stand, blood pouring from cuts above her eyes, her nose broken, her mouth bleeding. He’d pulled her hair until she sobbed, then, as she slumped to the floor, he had stamped on her left thigh and they’d both heard the decisive crack as her femur shattered. Romy, choking on her own blood, could no longer scream for help.
Dacre had studied her dispassionately, then, grabbing a knife from the block, had raped his broken wife. He had intended to kill her, he knew that now, but when he’d heard his neighbors shouting, banging on the door, he’d chickened out. Instead, he’d called an ambulance for Romy, turning on the waterworks, apologizing over and over, begging her to live.
At the hospital, the police had arrested him and he’d made a great show of not protesting. Secretly he had been waiting for his lawyer to tell him Romy was dead, that her injuries were too bad. The police had discovered who he was and their whole attitude had changed. His father had friends high up in the NYPD. He had been cautioned and told that if Romy pressed charges, they would have to revisit.
His mother and father had been beside themselves with grief. They had adored Romy and had thought she would be able to tame some of Dacre’s excesses. When it became clear Romy would live and that she would be throwing the book at him, Dacre’s father, Hubert, had paid off the people he needed to drop the charges in return for a plea deal. No jail time for Dacre. Romy and her family had fought back, but they were no match.
In return, Romy had been given her divorce but would not take a penny from the Mortimers. Hubert Mortimer had given his son a check for three million dollars and then cut him off. His parents had disowned him entirely.
And you are to blame, Romy Sasse. You shouldn’t have made me angry.
Dacre parked his car behind the tree line of the forest which bordered Magda Sasse’s property and stepped out to slink closer to the house. He saw a car pull up and saw a dark haired-man and Romy get out. They were laughing and joking. God, Romy looked so beautiful. Dacre’s cock twitched at the sight of her long dark hair tumbling around her lovely face. Who was this guy with her?
The next moment, he watched as the man pulled Romy into a small corner of the house, shaded from the windows, and kissed her. Romy gazed up at the man with love in her eyes and it made Dacre’s insides twist in rage.
Damn fucking bitch. How dare she cheat? Because she was still his in spite of the divorce. She’d vowed forever and she would always be, no matter her whoring ways.
“She’s exquisite, isn’t she?”
Dacre started and turned to find a tall, amused-looking man with piercing blue eyes staring at him. Dacre was lost for words. The man held his hand out.
“You must be Dacre Mortimer,” he said in a friendly tone. He nodded towards the couple who were now disappearing into the house. “And that’s my bastard half-brother Blue Allende kissing your ex-wife. And yes, they’re fucking each other. Sickening, isn’t it?”
“And who the fuck are you?”
“Gaius Eames. Hello, Mortimer. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”
Chapter 8
Romy was beginning to feel really uncomfortable. The meal had started off well. Everyone had been formally introduced, and the food was out of this world. If there was one thing Magda excelled at apart from parenting and sculpting, it was cooking. The turkey was juicy and plentiful, the side dishes of creamy mashed potatoes and yams sweet and heavenly, the gravy well-seasoned. Even the cranberry sauce was made from scratch and Blue grinned at her as she went in for another helping.
She shrugged unrepentantly. “It’s my favorite.”
The worst part of the meal was not giving away that she and Blue were together, not sharing those intimate glances or private jokes between them. They’d slipped a couple of times but had written it off as ‘work jokes.’
Everything had been going really well until Gaius turned his attention to her.
“Nice to see you again so soon, Romy.”
Oh, fuck. “How’s the hand?” She could feel Blue staring at her curiously.
“Much, much better, thanks to you.” Gaius appeared friendly, even if there was an undercurrent. He looked at Blue. “She’s quite remarkable, Blue. Have you noticed?”
“Of course,” Blue smiled smoothly, but the edge in the smile was one Romy hadn’t seen before and it made her cold. “Romy is by far the best resident at Rainier Hope this year. And for many years, come to that.”
“You sound impressed, brother.”
Blue fixed Gaius with a searching stare. “I am, Gaius. When did you and Romy meet?”
Romy opened her mouth to speak but Gaius got there first. “A couple of days ago … you didn’t mention it, Romy?” His face was a picture of innocent confusion.
“Patient privacy,” Romy said quietly. She risked a glance at Blue, who met her gaze steadily. There will be questions later, his eyes said, and she gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, believing with every fiber of her being that he might be upset but would not hurt her as Dacre had done anytime he was enraged.
“The consummate professional,” Gaius said.
Artemis cleared her throat, picking up on the sudden tension. “I actually have some news.”
Romy shot her a grateful smile. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes … well, no, but yes, and I know that doesn’t make sense. Glen and I have decided to break up. Now I know you’ll think this is a bad thing, Mom, but for both Glen and I … we’ve grown apart. Neither of us thinks badly of the other, it’s just we no longer fit as a couple. Glen’s moving out … today, actually, which is why he couldn’t be here. It’s entirely amicable, I assure you, so there’s no need to pick sides, etc.”
“I’m glad,” Juno said immediately, “but you know we’ve always got your back, Arti.”
Artemis grinned at her.
“I kno
w you do, Bubba. But, yeah, so … I guess I’m just saying, I’m single, and happily so for now.”
“As long as you’re happy, darling,” Magda looked a little upset, but smiled at her eldest daughter, always supportive. Artemis leaned over and squeezed her hand.
“I am, Mom, and so is Greg. So, can anybody cheer proceedings up? Mom, Stuart?” She grinned at them. “I hear someone very special is going to marry the two of you?”
Juno beamed as Romy and Blue looked surprised. “Really, Juno? That’s awesome. Hey,” Romy said in a stage-whisper to her sister, “When they get to the kissing bit, can you leave that out? I don’t want to see that.”
Magda threw a brussels sprout at her daughter. “Cheeky girl.”
The rest of the meal passed in easy conversation and laughter, but Romy could feel the tension rolling off Blue’s body. It didn’t help that Gaius, pretending there was a friendship between he and Romy, made jokes with her, flattering her as if they had known each other for more than a few moments. Romy saw her sisters looked confused at the strange behavior and when they got her on her own, clearing the dishes, they questioned her about it. Romy shrugged.
“I don’t get it either. I treated him for his hand wound, that was it. I don’t know the man. Perhaps he’s just trying to, I don’t know, ingratiate himself.”
“Then why isn’t he all pally-pally with me and Arti?” Juno shook her head. “Guy’s a creep.”
“For God’s sake, Juno, lower your voice.” Artemis hissed at her and Juno rolled her eyes. Romy felt a lump of misery settle in her chest. She should have told Blue; that he was pissed was obvious—to her, at least. Damn it. She looked at Artemis and for a moment debated telling her about how she felt about Blue. No, it wasn’t fair to him; they had vowed to keep it quiet, at least until after Stuart and Magda’s wedding. She turned back to the dishes, only half-listening, as her sisters chatted.
Eventually she was alone in the kitchen, making work for herself. She felt a hand on the back of her neck and turned hopefully, expecting to see Blue. She jerked backwards when she saw it was Gaius instead. He held up his hands.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle to you, Romy; it just seemed like you were tensed up there.”
Romy was trembling. “Gaius, please don’t touch me unless I ask you to.”
“Sorry.” His smile was innocent, but his eyes sparkled with malice. “Guess you’re always a little jumpy these days. After what your husband did to you in New York.”
Romy was so shocked that she didn’t see Blue enter the kitchen behind her as Gaius started to grin. It was only when she heard him put down the casserole dish he was carrying that she turned—and saw the hurt in his eyes. He gazed back at her for a beat then turned and walked out. Romy stared after him in dismay.
“Was it something I said?” Gaius asked, and laughed coldly.
Chapter 9
Blue was silent as he drove Romy back to her apartment. Romy sat in miserable contemplation as he followed her into her small apartment and shut the door. In spite of her total trust in him, her nerves were tightly wound, fear unavoidable. She waited for the storm as they walked into the living room, but he just grabbed a bottle of scotch from her kitchen with two glasses and sat her down next to him.
“Now,” he said quietly, calm and patient, the utter antithesis of Dacre, “tell me everything.”
Romy took a deep breath in, pressing her hands tightly together. “It’s true, I was married, although I don’t know how the hell Gaius knew. Incidentally, he’s an asshole for behaving as if he and I were better acquainted than a five-minute consult the other night.”
Blue nodded slowly. “But you didn’t tell me about it.”
“No, and right now, I don’t know why. Blue, he’s a creep, and he came onto me then as well as tonight. He makes my skin crawl.”
Blue looked slightly mollified. “That’s Gaius, all right. But why didn’t you tell me you were married?”
“We weren’t—aren’t—there yet. You’ve never told me about your past lovers either.”
“Don’t do that, Romy. No games. Husband is a lot different from girlfriend. Who was he?”
Romy looked at him steadily. “He was a violent, ignorant spoiled rich boy who tried to kill me. There. Now you know.”
“What?” Blue said in obvious horror.
Romy was glad he was shocked. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I don’t like to talk about it, frankly. It’s a lot more complicated than just ‘I was married.’ He regularly beat me and raped me, then when I told him I wanted a divorce, he assaulted me so violently that I nearly died. He comes from a rich family. He’s arrogant, entitled … Dacre Mortimer is a monster and if he finds me, I’m dead. So, the fewer people that know about him, the fewer people there are both in his firing line, and who can help him find me. Why do you think my photo and name aren’t on the Rainier Hope website or in promotional material? He knows I live in Seattle, he just doesn’t know where.” She sighed and rubbed her face. “Obviously, Gaius has done his homework.”
“Jesus, Romy.” Blue got up and paced around. “Why did you marry him in the first place?”
“That’s a question I still can’t answer fully for myself,” she said softly. “He … cowed me. Separated me from my mother and sisters. I guess after months of nonstop abuse, you get broken down to where a person can make you do just about anything. Even marrying the devil himself.”
To Romy’s great relief, Blue came back to her and put his arms around her, holding her tightly. He buried his face in her hair and Romy was shocked to feel him shaking.
“Blue?”
“The thought of anything happening to you.” His voice was muffled and his arms tightened around her.
“It’s okay, baby; nothing’s going to happen to me.” Romy made him look at her and she stroked his face, wondering how she could ever have wondered even slightly if this man would hurt her. He was such a good man, God. How had she gotten so lucky this time? “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Gaius. I just didn’t want to upset you. That’s clearly want he wants, to drive a wedge between us.”
Blue pressed his lips to hers. “Romy … that won’t ever happen. I won’t let it. I’m in love with you. The thought of anyone hurting you kills me.”
It was Romy’s turn to cry now. “I love you too, Doc,” she smiled through her tears and he kissed her passionately. Romy pressed her body to his. “Take me to bed, Dr. Allende.”
He undressed her slowly, kissing each piece of exposed skin until her whole body vibrated with longing. Naked, she wrapped her legs around him and took him in, his cock thrusting deep into her cunt in long, measured strokes. His lips moved with hers, tender and loving as they made love. Blue’s eyes were intense on hers.
“Let’s tell our family, tell them we’re in love. I’m shocked they didn’t guess.” He began to smile as Romy moaned with pleasure as he buried himself deeper inside. “I want to tell the world about the woman I love, the brilliant, beautiful Romy … I promise you. I’ll keep you safe and loved. So, so loved …”
Romy cried out his name as she came, her back arching up, her thighs tightening as he came inside her, his lips at her throat. “Yes,” she said, as they caught their breath, “Yes, Blue … yes …”
In the morning, Romy was changing into her scrubs when Mac came to find her. “You look different,” he remarked. “Glowing. You’re not knocked up, are you?”
“No, definitely not,” she rolled her eyes in amusement. “What’s going on today? It’s like a ghost town.” Virtually none of the regular staff had been present when she’d walked into the hospital.
Mac’s smile faded. “You haven’t heard? Another massacre. Four women found in the grounds of the Gasworks. All stabbed. They were brought to the ER, but they were all D.O.A. Everyone is cleaning up that mess and/or doing paperwork and/or talking to police. Again. I’m so sick of police.”
“Oh God, not again.” Romy felt sick. She followed Mac out of the locke
r room as he headed for rounds.
“And get this,” he went on. “None of them knew each other. Police think they were all picked for some reason and then left together. One of them had her femur smashed like Yasmin Levant.”
Romy stopped. “What did you say?”
“Left femur smashed. Why?”
A curl of horror was beginning to form inside of her, a doubt, a horrific idea. Murders in New York and now Seattle … smashed femur … no, you’re being paranoid and ridiculous, Sasse. “Can I see the records?”
Mac shrugged. “Sure.” They walked down to the ER, Romy assuring Mac she’d smooth things over with Blue if they were late for rounds. Romy picked up the files from the desk and read through them. There were multiple stab wounds, and all of the women were dark haired and dark eyed, with olive skin.
“Huh.”
She looked up at Mac, who was studying the files with an odd expression his face. “What?”
“I just noticed. Their names. Roberta, Ornella, Margaret, Ynez. Their initials spell your name.”
Romy felt like she’d been hit in the chest by a sledgehammer. No, it had to be a coincidence. She turned to the computer and brought up the case files for Yasmin Levant and the other women who had died with her. Reading through the names, she looked at Mac, whose eyes were now troubled. Drawing in a deep breath, Romy logged on the Internet and Googled the murders in New York. “Oh God …”
All of the victims had names whose initials spelled her first name. Mac put his hand on her shoulder. “You know, Roms, this really could be coincidence—”
“It isn’t.” Romy began to tremble. “I need to talk to the police.”
Mac looked alarmed. “You don’t know who it is, do you?”
Romy nodded grimly. “I do. I have to find Blue.”
The Naughty One Page 6
