by Anne Stuart
She pushed open the door, and he was standing with his back to her, staring out at the downpour. He turned, a couple of beers in his hands.
“I’m driving,” she said, but he put one in her hand anyway.
“So am I. One beer won’t hurt you. Unless you don’t like beer. I’m afraid I’m fresh out of chardonnay.”
“I like beer,” she said, and took a healthy slug.
“So, have a seat,” he said.
“Where?”
“I’ve got a bed in the other room….”
She slammed the half-empty beer bottle down on the broken table. “I’m out of here.”
“Calm down, princess. Just a suggestion. There’s always the floor.”
He meant for sitting, of course. But she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that he was thinking more than that.
And it didn’t make sense. She had no illusions about herself—she wasn’t the kind of woman that men chased. Her relationships, after her first disastrous one, had been comfortable, friend-driven, with sex as almost an afterthought, which was why she’d gotten along so well with David when he’d showed up, solicitous and caring, while they were dealing with the aftermath of Tessa’s hideous murder.
She didn’t have the slightest doubt that Caleb’s interest had to do with his relationship with his brother and absolutely nothing to do with her.
And it was perfectly reasonable that she would find that annoying. It wasn’t that she was interested in him. She simply didn’t like being manipulated.
“The beer doesn’t taste that bad.”
She looked up. “What?”
“You’re making a face like you’re sucking on a lemon.”
She looked at him through the mottled light. He had electricity up there. A bare incandescent bulb hung from the ceiling, the light glaring, throwing strange shadows on everything. “You know, Caleb, that’s not exactly the right thing to say to a woman while you’re trying to come on like the big bad wolf,” she said, tipping the bottle back.
She’d managed to startle him enough, and he laughed. “If I’m the big bad wolf then who are you? Little Red Riding Hood?”
“No, honey. I’m the practical pig, and you sure as hell aren’t going to blow my house down.”
For a moment he didn’t move. And then suddenly he was closer, moving in on her in a way that was threatening, arousing, annoying. “I could try,” he said, his voice soft and low.
“Give it up, Caleb. You aren’t going to convince me you want me so you may as well stop it.” She moved away from him, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the floor. “So what have you got against your brother?”
He stayed where he was, looking down at her with an odd expression in his dark eyes. “Why do you find it hard to believe I’m attracted to you?”
“Why do you answer a question with another question.” She took another swig of the beer. She shouldn’t be sitting here, trading words with him, she should be in the car, being driven down the muddy road, or hightailing it down there on her own. She would, in just a couple of minutes. In the meantime this was a dangerous game, enticing after so many months of well-behaved safety.
He took a seat across from her, far enough away to give her a false sense of security. And she knew it was false. “Tell me about Tessa,” he said.
It took all the fun out of a risky encounter. “How do you know about Tessa. And why do you want to know?”
“I’m a reporter. I don’t betray my sources. Don’t you think it’s odd that there have been two similar murders in your vicinity in the last six months?”
Again that unsettling knowledge, that thought. “If you know Tessa was murdered six months ago, then I don’t really need to tell you anything,” she said, trying to hide her sudden panic.
“Sophie told me.”
She freaked. “Keep away from my daughter!”
“Oh, please!” he said, rolling his eyes. “I like women, not children. She’s a good kid, smart like her mother. Maybe smarter than her mother—she knows who she can trust.”
“God, don’t tell me she trusts you! I’m going to have to explain a few things to her once I get down from here.”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “Look me in the eye and tell me you really think I’m a danger to your daughter.”
She didn’t bother. He had hypnotic eyes—it was one of the dangers about him, along with his long, lean body and his sinful mouth. Not to mention his history.
“I suspect you’re a danger to everyone you come in contact with,” she said, draining the beer.
For a moment he looked startled. “Sometimes,” he said finally.
A stray shiver ran across her back. “I’m ready to go home now.”
“You still haven’t told me about Tessa.”
She rose, leaving her empty bottle behind. “She died. As far as the police could figure out she was the random victim of a serial killer, one who’s been active all over the Northwest. They grow the biggest crazies out here, you know. Ted Bundy and the Green River Killer and probably others. My theory is all this rain drives you crazy.”
“How did she die?”
“None of your fucking business!” She automatically clapped her hands over mouth. “Damn!”
“You don’t swear? What kind of Mormon are you?” He’d risen himself, taller than she was, dangerous though she wasn’t quite sure why.
“I promised I’d stop saying fuck,” she said. “It’s an ugly word.”
“It’s a great word in the right circumstances. It can, for instance, indicate a very enjoyable way to spend an afternoon. I suppose you promised my brother? He’s an English professor—he should understand.”
“It’s overused.”
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its place.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Rachel exploded. “Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?”
“Why do you suppose they drove me out of town?” he replied. “Oh, sorry, that was answering a question with a question.” He moved closer, and she decided to stand her ground. A mistake.
“Yes,” he said, so close she could practically touch him. “Yes, I’m always such a pain in the ass, yes, I actually do want you, and as for what I’ve got against my brother, it would take too long to tell you and you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me,” she said. Big mistake.
“I was waiting for the offer.” He moved so fast she didn’t have time to react. He cupped her face, pulling her closer, and kissed her.
Her arms were free to fight him, and she punched him in the stomach, but he didn’t flinch, merely moved closer, one arm imprisoning her, trapping her hands between their bodies. “I’m just trying to prove my point,” he murmured, and kissed her again, his mouth hard on hers.
She clamped her jaw together, freezing, since he had her in too strong a hold to shove him away. His hand cupped her neck, his fingers brushing against the side of her face, a calming, gentle touch that slowly began to leach the fury from her body. She could feel his heart beat through the layers of clothing that separated them, and her own heart beat a counterpoint to his. He lifted his head, looking down at her stubborn face. “Kiss me back and I’ll let you go,” he said softly.
“Fuck off.”
He kissed her anyway, and she remained stonily still, as his other hand trailed up her back to the perfect, sensitive spot just beneath her shoulder blades, and she felt her treacherous body soften.
Oh, the hell with it. She kissed him back. She opened her mouth, slid her arms around his waist, pulling him closer still, and kissed him, with all the hunger and need that had been locked in her body for months, years. She kissed him because she couldn’t have him, kissed him because he showed up too late, kissed him until she felt his cock swell against her belly and the fierce need became his own as well.
And then she shoved him away, wiped her mouth with the sleeve of the flannel shirt, his flannel shirt, and said, “Ready to drive me home?”
He loo
ked shocked, which was a triumph in itself. “Where did that come from?”
She wished she could come up with a snappy answer. From her inner Barbie, from her repressed romantic side, from her self-destructive nature. Instead she shrugged. “I just thought I’d give you a taste of what you’re missing.”
He was still staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time, which he probably was. Up until now she was part of some game-playing agenda, and an unsavory one at that. She had no idea what he was trying to prove, but she wasn’t about to play.
“You can drive me home or I’ll take your car,” she said in her most practical voice. He’d have no idea that beneath her blasé exterior her heart was pounding, her palms were damp and she was more turned on than she had been in fourteen years. Not since Sophie’s father. Of course he had ditched her once he found out she was pregnant and she’d been on her own. She ought to know better.
She crossed her arms, partly to hide the trembling, and arched an eyebrow. “Sooner rather than later would be good,” she said in an even tone.
He moved then, and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her again. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he did, but at the last minute he seemed to think better of it. “I’ll get my keys,” he said, his voice equally expressionless.
They went down the outer steps in silence. The rain was coming down harder now, and the rough wood was slick enough that she held on to the rickety railing, being careful to avoid the weak step as she went. He moved past her, around the back of the foundation, and she followed him, only to come face-to-face with the most ramshackle, ancient Jeep she’d ever seen.
“I thought you had a rental car that you didn’t want to get muddy,” she said, glaring at him.
“I lied. The doors don’t work—you’ll have to climb in over the side.”
Great, she thought. His baggy pants were too tight on her generous butt, and she’d probably split them as she scrambled into the car. Tossing her own clothes in back, she reached for the top of the door, ready to hoist herself in, when she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her, swinging her over into the front seat of the Jeep.
It happened so fast she didn’t have time to pro test. She landed in a heap, righting herself before he climbed in the driver’s side with insulting ease.
“No seat belts,” he said. “If we start going off the road you’ll have to hold on to me.”
“Yeah, right.” She glanced at her watch. Twenty to three, and they were three-quarters of the way up Silver Mountain. “You wanna step on it? I don’t want to be late.”
The Jeep started forward with a leap, tossing her back against the seat. A moment later they were careening down the narrow dirt road at breakneck speeds and she was clutching the cracked leather of the seat, holding on for dear life and trying to remember some kind of prayer to ward off certain death.
They all escaped her—she was stuck with muttering “oh God oh God oh God” beneath her breath. Caleb was having too much fun, taking the switchback curves with abandon, and she wondered what the hell Sophie would do if she was left without a mother and no legal tie to David.
Caleb glanced at her every few moments, waiting to see her reaction, but she gritted her teeth and said nothing. By the time they reached her parked car, she was ready to scream, and when he slammed to a stop he turned and looked at her.
“Fast enough for you?”
Hitting him again wouldn’t be a good idea—it would give him an excuse to touch her and she still hadn’t recovered from their kiss. “Fine, thank you.” She slung one leg over the side of the door, planning to use the back of the seat for leverage, when he put his hands on her butt and shoved.
She landed on her feet, a good thing, because another car had just pulled up beside hers. A black BMW, with David behind the wheel.
“Oh, fuck,” Rachel whispered.
“Watch your language, Mrs. Middleton,” Caleb cautioned. “You don’t want him to know you feel guilty.”
She turned on him. “I don’t! I don’t have anything to feel guilty for.”
“Except kissing me.” He looked up. “Hey, David,” he said in a louder voice. “I’m returning your wife. Reluctantly, I must admit. She got caught up at the falls.”
She expected David’s usual look of sad disappointment as he climbed out of the car, but oddly enough he looked quite sunny. “What were you doing up there, Rachel? It’s a rotten day for hiking. Don’t tell me you’re as morbid as the rest of this town.”
“I’d never seen the falls, and I was hoping to get some pictures. But you’re right—a rotten day. I slipped in the mud and almost went over. Fortunately Caleb was there to catch me.”
“Fortunate indeed,” David said. “I was worried when you didn’t come home. Sophie’s school closed early and I thought I’d better make sure you got the message. Clearly you didn’t.”
All thought of Caleb and guilt vanished in her sudden panic. “Where is she? What happened? Is she all right?”
“Of course she is. She went home with Kristen—if she’s not safe in the home of the police chief I don’t know where she would be. I’m afraid they’ve found another body.”
The air around them suddenly seemed to freeze, like a slow-motion horror movie, and it felt like someone punched her in the chest, hard. “Who?” she managed to choke out.
“They don’t know—apparently she’d been dead for a while. They found her body downriver, but Chief Bannister says they’re thinking she may have gone over the falls as well.” He looked past at her at Caleb, an odd expression playing around his mouth. “Have you seen anyone up there the last day or so, Caleb? Anyone suspicious?”
“No.” The word was short, sharp, and she glanced back at Caleb. He looked stricken, guilty, an odd expression for him, a far cry from his usual mockery. A moment later that expression was gone, and he shrugged. “Not a safe town for young women, is it? I think your wife and her daughter should take a nice long vacation until Maggie Bannister finds out who’s doing this.”
David’s eyebrows snapped together. “Don’t be ridiculous, Caleb. There’s evil everywhere, and you, more than anyone, would know it. They stay here, where I can protect them.”
“I’ll be the one who decides where I stay!” Rachel snapped. “You two can argue all you want—I’m going to get my daughter.”
David moved in front of her. “Rachel, she’s fine—” he began, but she shoved past him, heading for her Volvo. He said something else, but she didn’t listen, she simply jumped in the car and sped off, one thing and one thing only on her mind. She had to find her baby and make certain she was safe. And then, if she had even an ounce of brain left her in head, they were getting the hell out of town.
7
Caleb looked into his baby brother’s guileless, pale blue eyes and just managed to meet his smile. “I didn’t touch her, I swear.”
“Of course you didn’t, Caleb. I trust you with my life.” There was no edge to the simple statement, no malice or hidden subtext. “It’s just that you’re so damned romantic, and always have been. The bad boy always gets the girl.” His smile was disarming. “But Rachel’s got a good head on her shoulders. I’m sure even if you do your best to tempt her she’ll be able to resist. She doesn’t have much of a sexual appetite.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t consider that a challenge?”
“You and I both know you’d never go out of your way to take what’s mine. The problem is it comes to you naturally. Every girl I ever liked was head-over-heels in love with you. Even that stupid mutt I found liked you better than me.”
“I remember,” Caleb said softly.
David looked sorrowful. “Such a sad, sad day. Who in the world could have done such a thing to a poor, helpless animal, no matter how stupid he was.” He gave a small shudder of distress. “I just don’t understand human nature, Caleb. Do you?”
Caleb didn’t blink. It had been twenty-six years since he’d found the only dog he’d ever owned hanging
from a tree down by the river. He’d had enough time to get over it. The knot of grief was familiar, even welcome. “I think I understand it better than you think, David.”
He hadn’t expected his words to rattle his brother, and they didn’t. “Even my own mother preferred you, ridiculous as that is. She gave birth to me—you should have been less important to her.”
“David, she loved you.”
David smiled sweetly. “Of course she did. And I loved her. She just didn’t love me enough.”
Caleb felt the grief come again, tinged with the old anger, but he squashed it down. To do what he came to do he’d have to be cool and collected, as cool as his brother was. “Did you want to talk to me about something, David? You could come up back to the house…”
“That monstrosity? No, thank you. I just wanted to make sure my wife was all right. And that she heard about the body they found.”
“And why is that?”
David blinked. “So she’ll be careful, of course. Because just when you think you have all the answers, you find out you’re quite wrong.”
“He’s changing his style, isn’t he?” Caleb leaned back against his Jeep. “He never used to kill so close together. There was always at least a year between each death. And he never killed twice in the same place. He’s getting sloppy.”
“Yes, he is,” David agreed, as calm and measured as always. “But who can guess what’s in the mind of a sociopath?”
“You think that’s it? He’s a sociopath?”
“I’ve done a great deal of research on the matter, and that’s the only conclusion I could come up with. He’s simply without conscience. How else could he commit such atrocities?” David moved back to his car, a wistful expression on his face. “Do keep away from Rachel, won’t you? I’d hate to see anything happen to her.”
It took all Caleb’s self-control not to lunge for his brother’s car. But he’d spent years in war zones, or even worse, newsrooms, and he knew how to bluff and to watch his ass.
“You have my word on it, David,” Caleb said, as the rain began to sprinkle down once more. “No one’s going to hurt Rachel or her daughter. No one.”
