by Dee Davis
The door behind them opened, and Hannah walked in, her expression so grim that Harrison was instantly on alert. “Has something happened?”
“No, thank God.” She shook her head, dropping down into the chair beside Avery. “But I just came from Tina’s, and she’s a wreck. And even though there’s no way this is her fault, I think she’s blaming herself for what happened. If she hadn’t sent Jasmine to her house…”
“He’d probably have found her somewhere else,” Avery said. “Remember, these guys pick their victims.”
“Yes, but we’ve already established that our killer is coloring outside the lines when it comes to behavior. He’s not following a script. He’s organized and disorganized. And he seems to have been targeting Tina, at least to some extent. I mean, he sent her two videos.” Hannah ran a hand through her hair, the spikey ends sticking up every which way. “I just wish there was something I could say that would make it better.”
“Well, at least she’s safe,” Harrison said. “The CIA guys are still there, right?”
“Yes. Reid is still stationed outside the apartment, and there are two more men situated outside the building. Not to mention Sunderland security’s eyes and ears all over the campus.”
“Good. If she is a target, I just want to be sure she’s protected.”
“Actually, we were just discussing the fact that it’s looking more and more likely that Tina was only a conduit—possibly to get to Harrison.”
“Then why not use Harrison’s TA?” she asked, her face scrunching up as she considered the idea.
“Mainly because I don’t have one,” Harrison said. “I haven’t been able to find anyone I want to work with on that regular a basis. Yet.” He added the last for Avery, who’d been on him for a while now to find a suitable candidate. They were gone so often it was important to have someone who could maintain continuity in class. “I’m working on it, I promise. And in the meantime, other members of the department have been picking up the slack. It helps when you’re the chair.”
“Okay, so that still doesn’t explain why the killer would have picked my TA. She’s not even remotely connected to the IT department.”
Avery sat back, eyeing them both, his message crystal clear.
“Oh, please,” Harrison said, before he had the chance to think about his words. “Not you, too. Why is everyone so damned determined to link Hannah and me together?” Hannah shot him an indecipherable look, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t anything good. “I’m sorry that came out wrong. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. What I meant was that there seems to be a consensus that there’s something going on between the two of us. And there isn’t.” God, he was rambling like a schoolboy.
Avery was looking amused, and Hannah—well, she was staring at her hands, her expression clearly now one of complete horror.
“I’m just saying that maybe the killer connected the two of you somehow. As friends.” Avery’s emphasis on the last did little to cover Harrison’s gaffe, but hopefully he’d be able to heal the rift he’d caused with Hannah later. He’d tell her the truth. That he was a total ass.
“Well, I suppose it’s possible,” Hannah said, lifting her head with a nod, clearly delighted to be on safer ground. “We do work together a lot. And Harrison does teach the advanced criminology classes in my department. So I guess there’s a connection to Tina indirectly that way. But wouldn’t it have just been easier to go after Harrison directly?”
“Maybe the guy wants him to work for it,” Avery suggested. “I don’t know. Hell, this whole thing is just conjecture. But I don’t think we can afford to ignore the possibility that there’s some kind of connection between Harrison and the killer.”
“So does that mean he’s not a serial killer?” Hannah asked. “And that Sara and Jasmine got caught in the cross fire?”
“Jesus,” Harrison said, past and the present colliding, the pain over his sister’s death augmenting the rage he felt now. “How the hell am I supposed to deal with that?”
“The same way you did nine years ago,” Tracy said, walking into the room, Simon and Drake behind her. “Look, this unsub is definitely playing some kind of mind game with all of us. But that doesn’t make him any less a serial killer. His goal is to fulfill his fantasy. And unfortunately that includes manipulating authority figures to make himself feel powerful.”
“And by authority figures—you mean me.” Harrison dropped down into his chair again.
“I mean all of us,” Tracy said. “I do believe there’s some kind of connection to Harrison. But it isn’t as cut and dried as his just having been involved with the cyber killer. It’s more complex than that. This guy has his own motivation. And if I had to call it, I’d say he’s starting to break down. One minute these guys are changing—growing, if you will, and then something happens and they’re losing control.”
“And becoming more dangerous,” Simon said.
“Exactly. As it becomes harder and harder to fulfill the fantasy, he takes bigger and bigger risks.” Tracy crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed in thought.
“You’re talking about his taking Jasmine even though she most likely wasn’t the intended target,” Hannah said.
“That and the speed of the attack and subsequent killing,” Tracy allowed. “The ritual is devolving.”
“Or maybe we were wrong, and the connection to the cyber killer was spurious,” Harrison said, pushing aside his personal problems. There were more important things at stake.
“I’m not sure that it matters anymore,” Avery said. “In fact, I’m not sure there’s any reason to continue comparing the unsub with the cyber killer. He’s gone so far off book now, there’s no real value.”
“He’s right.” Tracy nodded. “The unsub may have used the case as a starting point. But he’s definitely playing his own deadly game now.”
“Yeah,” Drake said. “The key word being deadly.”
CHAPTER 15
We could have just worked at your house,” Hannah said, as Harrison attached cable to the computer he’d set up on her dining room table. The room, formal and mostly unused, was now covered with equipment.
“I know that,” his disembodied voice came from underneath the table. “But you have food and beer here.” He pushed back into view, his smile apologetic. “I tend to run to half-empty bottles of scotch and a stack of take-out menus.”
“Well, you’ve certainly managed to make yourself at home,” she said, her gaze encompassing the growing array of computers and monitors.
“Sorry—comes with the job. I guess I’m never really happy unless I’m wired for sound, so to speak.”
“Beer’s in the fridge,” she said with a smile.
She had to admit, she was happy to have him here. It’s just that between their earlier conversation and his reaction to Avery’s insinuation, she was pretty sure there wasn’t much chance of anything more developing between them. She should have been relieved, but she wasn’t. Instead, she was standing here wondering what it would be like to have something more.
“You okay?” he asked, coming back into the room, holding out a beer. Behind him lightning flashed in the kitchen window. It was late, and with the approaching storm, the night seemed even darker than usual.
“I’m fine. Just kind of overwhelmed with everything that’s happening,” she said, taking the cold bottle. “I know it’s our job to deal with this kind of thing, but Sara and Jasmine—they didn’t sign on for any of this.” She waved at the computer array.
“We’re going to stop this guy,” Harrison said. “I promise.”
“You can’t guarantee that.” Hannah shook her head, taking a seat on one of the dining room chairs. “And even if we do catch him, those girls are still dead.”
“And you think that’s my fault?”
The question came out of left field, and Hannah shook her head. “Of course not. Why would you say that?”
“Because this guy seems to have come here because of me.”
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“We don’t know that for certain. And even if this guy is connected to you—he’s not killing for you or because of you—he’s just trying to get your attention. You’re as much a victim as Sara or Jasmine.”
“Except that I’m not dead.”
“Well, sometimes that’s the hardest part.”
“How do you figure?” he asked, looking up from the monitor he was connecting to a computer.
“For them it’s over. Either they’ve moved on to a better place—or they’ve just ceased to be. Bottom line. They don’t have to live with the pain anymore.”
“Do you believe in heaven?” he asked, sitting across from her, sipping his beer.
“Loaded question.” She smiled, knowing it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I suppose I want to believe. But with the things I’ve been through, the things I’ve survived—I don’t know. Since I’ve been with A-Tac, I’ve seen a lot of bad things happen to good people. Which makes believing in a higher power really difficult. And either way, it’s the living who are left to deal with the fallout. Sorry—didn’t mean to go all cynical on you.”
“I’m not sure my thinking is all that different,” Harrison said, his thoughts clearly turning inward. “When Bree died, I really lost faith. Not so much in God, but in man. And the ability of the good guys to play the winning hand. I guess, the truth is, I lost faith in myself.”
“But you found it again. I mean, look at all you’ve accomplished.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t save my sister. Hell, I couldn’t even find her killer.”
“Well, you’re right about one thing. Sometimes good people do lose. But like I said before, there’ll be other battles.”
“Like the one we’re fighting now.”
They sipped their beers in silence, the only sound the wind in the trees outside. It should have been comfortable, but there were shadows between them. Mostly of their own making.
“So what’s with the anonymity around here?” Harrison asked, his eyes moving slowly around the room. “There aren’t any mementos, no pictures. Nothing to indicate you have a past at all.”
“I just don’t like clutter.” She shrugged, trying to keep her tone even. She wasn’t going to go there. Not even with Harrison.
“No. I don’t buy that.” He leaned forward, his gaze assessing. “There’s got to be more to it. A minute ago, when you talked about bad things happening to other people, you limited it to your time with A-Tac.” He frowned, clearly ordering his thoughts. “But when you said you’d been through some awful things in your life, you said that first and without the qualification. So what is it? What happened to you?”
“None of your damn business,” Hannah said, pushing out of her seat and walking over to the window. “I’m not a suspect. I don’t need to be profiled.”
“I’m not trying to profile you. I was just trying to learn more about you. The truth is, you never talk about anything that happened to you before A-Tac.”
“And now suddenly you’re curious? Why, because you slept with me?” she snapped, her fingers locking around the windowsill as she fought against confusion and anger. She knew she should shut up, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d hit a nerve. “You’ve made it more than clear that it was a mistake and that you’re not interested in a relationship. So why the need to dig into my past?”
“I asked because I care about you. You’re my friend.”
“If I hear that word one more time today…” Her jaw tightened, fingers still clutching the windowsill.
“Look, Hannah, I’m sorry. I know I fucked up earlier. I said all the wrong things. But it isn’t because I don’t care. It’s because I don’t know how to handle what I’m feeling. All right?” He took her shoulders, forcing her to face him. “And now I’ve obviously made things a hell of a lot worse. And I swear that wasn’t my intention. But you need to know that you can trust me. That I’ll always have your back.”
“I don’t know what to think except that I’m starting to feel more for you than just friendship. And I don’t like how vulnerable that makes me feel. And then when you say things like you did earlier about regret and friendship, it hurts. A lot. And that scares me, too. I don’t want to care about you, Harrison. But I do.”
Tears pounded at the back of her eyes, but she fought them off, ashamed of her own weakness. He’d flat out told her there was no chance of anything beyond friendship, and here she was practically declaring herself to the man.
“Hannah, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his brown and green eyes full of concern. “Hell, I don’t want to let you out of my sight. And not just because I’m worried about the madman out there, but because I want you close by. You give me strength. I don’t think I could have faced all of this again if you hadn’t been there. I need you, and that scares me.”
“So what do we do about it?” she asked, her words coming on a strangled whisper.
“I’m not sure… but I know that walking away isn’t an option. At least not for me.” Their gazes met and held, her heart constricting at the raw emotion reflected in his eyes.
One minute they were standing there staring at each other, and the next he was crushing his mouth to hers, his lips and tongue taking possession. The wind increased its fury, wailing down the chimney in the fireplace behind them. And Hannah felt the house shudder as lightning split the sky, and thunder crashed through the silence of the night.
Rain lashed against the window, and she tilted her head back, offering herself to him. He kissed her nose, her eyes, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. Heat rose inside her, echoing the power of the rising storm. And then he was kissing her again, and she opened her mouth, welcoming him inside. A prelude.
He lifted her up onto the windowsill, and she wrapped her legs around him, feeling his arousal against her thighs. God, she wanted him. It was like an obsession. She wanted him inside her. It was a driving hunger like nothing she’d ever felt before. As if somehow in joining they were better—stronger.
He pushed the sweater off her shoulders and licked the soft curve of her neck. She shivered in anticipation as his hands cupped her breasts, his fingers moving in slow circles, his heat penetrating the thin cotton of her camisole. She felt her nipples bud hard against his calloused touch, and she pressed closer—needing more.
As if he’d read her mind, he pushed a strap down, his palm covering one breast, his touch sending spirals of desire coursing through her. Then he began to roll her nipple between his fingers, slowly at first, then harder, squeezing, the pressure making her cry out, even as she squirmed closer, her tongue tracing the line of his lips—tasting, nipping, teasing—wanting to give him the same pleasure he was giving her.
With a groan, he bent his head and took her breast into his mouth, sucking deeply, pulling the nipple between his teeth, the sensation almost more than she could bear. Behind them the night split in earnest as the storm hit in full fury, the windows rattling with the strength of the wind and thunder.
Hannah arched her back, closing her eyes, letting go of all logical thought. There was nothing but the storm and the man. And for tonight at least she wasn’t going to fight it.
He’d bared her other breast, her camisole around her waist, his lips caressing first one nipple and then the other until she was literally throbbing with need, her legs still locked around him, his pulse pounding between her legs.
She reached for the buttons on his shirt, heedless of propriety, ripping it open, the sound of popping buttons only adding to the power she felt surging through her. He moved back to her mouth, his lips slanting over hers, the kiss reaching deep inside her. Touching her soul.
It was a fleeting thought. One that she’d have laughed at if someone else had said it. But here, in this moment, it was truth.
She wrapped her hands around his neck as the kiss deepened, his hands moving lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her sweats. She sucked in a breath, waiting—her body tightening in anticip
ation as she opened her legs for him. Rain pelted the window behind her, the cold glass a contrast to his fingers, hot as they slipped inside her.
For a moment, he was still, his lips moving slowly against hers, and she felt like a bow drawn tight—stretched to the breaking point. Needing release. And then he moved faster, two fingers thrusting inside her, the rhythm matching the motion of his tongue.
Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Until she felt as if she were going to explode. Physically shatter. She was on the edge of ecstasy.
And then he was gone. His fingers still.
She cried out, eyes wide. But he smiled, kneeling between her legs, making short work of her sweats and panties, and then she felt the heat of his mouth as he worked his way up the smooth skin of her inner thighs, his soft hair caressing her as he moved higher, and higher still.
The thunder crashed, the sill beneath her vibrating as he found home, his tongue moving inside her. Tasting and teasing. She arched her back, throwing back her head, threading her fingers through his hair, urging him on. Needing him now with an urgency that couldn’t be stopped.
Hannah shuddered, the pressure building again, the precipice higher this time than before. For a moment she teetered, and then his mouth closed around her throbbing center, sucking deeply. And she was gone, the spasms racking through her bringing pleasure so great she thought she might die of it. Sweet, sweet pain.
The thunder crashed again, reverberating as the glass behind her shimmied in protest. Pushing to his feet, Harrison scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. When they reached her bedroom, he released her, her half-dressed body sliding against his, the friction of skin against skin almost unbearable. In short work, they managed to undress each other, and then he kissed her again. Lightning flashed, and just for a moment, she could see the hunger in his eyes.
With a soft smile, she pulled away. Emboldened by the dark and the storm, she ran her hands down her own body, touching her breasts and her stomach, her gut tightening when she heard him groan, his need as palpable as her own.
