by Rita Herron
Finally he fell asleep, dreaming of Lisa and a life that didn’t exist, of babies and laughter and a real home, one that he’d never known and never would.
* * *
DUSK WAS SETTING when Brad awakened. Beside him, Lisa lay looking up at him, that beautiful innocence in her eyes shining like a star.
“Brad?”
She smiled, then lifted a hand and brushed it along his beard stubble. He hadn’t bothered to shave before he’d showered, had been too tired to think straight, and his coarse face hair rasped across her delicate skin.
He turned to get up, but she caught him and traced a finger along his chest, teasing his nipple with her finger. Then her hand slid lower, lower until she contacted the skin on his thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath and moved to pull away, but she pressed him back on the bed with one hand, then leaned on her elbow and looked down at him.
“Why do you keep pushing me away?”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he said gruffly.
She laughed, a soft throaty sound that was so utterly feminine it only heightened his desire.
Then her expression turned serious. “Are you sure? Or do you just not want me?”
He froze, wondering why in the hell she’d think something like that.
“Lisa—”
“We’re both rested now, so I’m thinking clearly,” she whispered, gesturing toward the soft light filtering in through the window. “Now, tell me the truth, Brad. After everything we’ve been through together, you owe me that.”
He stared into her eyes, read naked longing, but a vulnerability that cut him to the bone. Except for the time she’d been with Brad by the lake, she hadn’t made love with anyone since her failed attempts with William. Had never had a man really make love to her. She’d admitted that after the trial. She had to have dug for courage to ask him this now.
And he desperately wanted to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much he did want her.
If that was all she was asking.
“A man would be a fool not to want you, Lisa.”
She feathered back his hair. “I’m not talking about any man, Brad. I’m talking about you.”
God help him but he had to admit the truth. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I met you,” he said in a husky voice. “And I’ve wanted you every day for the past four years.” He licked his lips, saw a spark of surprise light her eyes. “In fact, I’ve wanted you every night and day since you’ve been back in my life.”
She flattened her palm over his chest again, playing in his chest hair. “Then make love to me, Brad.”
He caught her hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed it before looking into her eyes. His sex throbbed, bolder, harder now, and his breathing had turned erratic. He wasn’t ashamed of the strength of his desire. Didn’t care now if she knew it. “I’m no good for you, Lisa. You—” his voice cracked “—deserve so much more.”
She stared at him for so long he thought he’d crossed the line, jaunted into unknown territory. After all, what did he know about women?
He was on the brink of apologizing when she finally whispered, “Why don’t you let me decide that?”
He grabbed her other hand before she could close it around his sex. “Just know that I want you, but I can’t promise you more than tonight,” he said in a gruff voice. “That’s not who I am, Lisa. I…don’t want to hurt you.”
Sadness tinged her eyes for a brief second, then she blinked and it disappeared, the undeniable ripple of desire and heat flaring again. Without hesitating, this time he threaded his hands in her hair and brought her face down to his, claiming her mouth with his kisses as his resistance shattered.
* * *
LISA MELTED INTO Brad’s arms, grateful he’d finally abandoned whatever reservations had been holding him back. The two of them were meant to be together.
Didn’t he feel it when he held her?
She pushed all fears of rejection and insecurities aside, relying on her instincts. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and she parted her lips, inviting him to take her however he wanted. Fast. Hard. Passionate.
She wanted it all. Wanted to know what it felt like to be thoroughly loved and sated.
Brad didn’t disappoint her.
He flipped her to her back, then rose above her. From there, he trailed kisses along her neck and the sensitive skin of her earlobe, made light sucking sounds along her collarbone, then dipped his head and flicked her nipple with the tip of his wet tongue.
She arched her back, aching for more. Praying he wouldn’t stop this time until he’d filled her completely.
He teased her nipple to a hard peak, then grasped it in his mouth and held it between his teeth until she cried out and begged for him to hurry. His hands stroked her sensitive places, the rise of her hip, the indentation of her spine, the insides of her thighs until she thought she would die from the pleasure. Then he switched to the other breast and continued the torturous ministrations.
“Brad, please…” She clung to the muscles in his arms, felt them bunch and his body grow slick with heat. His hands were bold, big, tender, hungry as his fingers gripped her hips, then he buried his leg in between her thighs, the raspy hair stroking her sensitive flesh as he moved above her. She clawed his back, then slid one hand down to find his erection, a flash of satisfaction filling her at the look on his face. His eyes went wild, his breathing tormented as he tried to pull away.
But this time she refused to let him. She liked the feel of his sex in her hand. Felt moisture wet her legs as he pulsed between her fingers. Felt heady knowing that she could make this strong, courageous man quiver this way.
He groaned her name, then grabbed her hands, pushed them above her, pinning them down. His breath rasped out while he nipped at her flesh and licked his way down her belly. She cried out his name, wanting him inside her.
He placed his tongue there instead.
Licking. Teasing. Tasting. Smiling up at her as if he enjoyed the pure essence of her response.
She nearly came at the erotic feeling.
“Brad, please, I need you,” she whispered raggedly.
He shook his head, dipped his head lower. His hair brushed her legs, his tongue lapped her juices and she bucked upward, her hands digging into his hair as sensations spiraled through her. In a heartbeat, he rose above her, rolled on a condom and thrust inside her.
She grabbed his arms, clung to him as fire shot through her. Moaning his name, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and thrust upward as he rammed inside her, over and over, deeper and deeper, his guttural groan of pleasure triggering an even longer, more intense orgasm to rip through her as he spilled himself inside her.
* * *
INTENSE EMOTIONS ROCKETED through Brad, the feeling of euphoria mind-numbing. But even as the tidal wave of his orgasm slowly passed, he wanted Lisa again.
He always would.
For him, it had always been Lisa.
But he couldn’t confess his feelings.
He pressed her into the curve of his embrace, closing his eyes and memorizing each tender moment they shared. The way she clung to his arms. The throaty moans she made in the aftermath of love. The sweet way she kissed his neck and traced a fingernail down his spine.
God, he never wanted to let her go.
But he’d promised himself and her father that he’d protect her. And he had done so by keeping her with him.
Now he would do so by setting her free.
Only he’d never expected the sharp pang that knifed through his chest at the thought.
But he could endure any amount of pain if it meant Lisa was safe and alive.
“Brad?”
He closed his eyes, his body pulsing with pleasure at the sultry sound of her voice. Laden with the sweet bliss of satisfaction, it sounded like a cat’s purr, beckoning him to make love to her again.
“Yeah?”
She slid her hand beneath his arm and scraped her fingernai
ls down his back. “Make love to me again. All through the night.”
Unable to resist her, he lowered his head and kissed her, delving into the recesses of her mouth to taste her. He was so hungry. Starving for this woman.
One taste led to another and another until he joined their bodies again, taking her over and over through the rest of the night, stopping only long enough to sleep, eat and shower together. Then they’d made love once more, until she quivered and cried beneath him. He had to sate himself, memorizing every inch of her body and imprinting her voice and her touch into his mind forever.
* * *
AS LISA AWAKENED, muscles that she’d never used before ached. But the heavenly euphoria of being with Brad negated any discomfort. He had made love to her until she’d thought she had melded with his body, until she was nothing but a puddle of satisfaction. Yet the longing still persisted, a constant craving that would never go away.
She had been empty without Brad. A broken shell of a woman who had never known joy.
Now, she wanted to lie here in his arms, drowning in desire, forever.
He rolled over and opened his eyes. Looked at her with a longing that spoke of the hot sultry night they’d just spent together. Whispered memories of the decadent things they’d done together in the heat of the night.
Things she’d never forget.
Things she desperately wanted to do again.
And other things she’d yet to try…
“Lisa, I need to go to the precinct and question Curtis Thigs.”
She nodded, settling back on his arm, using it as her pillow.
“And I want to see if Hanks has regained consciousness. As soon as I get a confession, I’ll drive you back to Ellijay.”
The elation she’d felt moments earlier dissipated into fear. A long silence stretched between them.
“Lisa?”
She licked her dry mouth. “I don’t know if I can go back there now.”
He sat up, dislodging his arm from behind her. “You love the town and the mountains, Lisa. Your job, your friends, they’ll all be waiting.”
“My picture, the story about this Grave Digger killer—it’s all over the papers and news now. I can’t go back there as Lisa Long.”
Brad sighed, standing and rubbing his hand over his chest. She reached up, captured his hand and clung to it. She couldn’t go back to Ellijay yet, not when they’d just made love. There was so much more she wanted with Brad. More lovemaking. Talking. She wanted to find out everything about the man, his favorite color, the types of food he liked, what he enjoyed doing for pleasure.
“You can explain to them what happened,” Brad said, oblivious to her thoughts. “And in a few weeks, the talk will die down.” He caressed her arm with his finger. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”
“You don’t understand,” Lisa whispered. “I want to be with you.”
He suddenly turned away from her, grabbed his jeans and shucked them on, and she felt utterly alone. Brad hadn’t made any promises. Had warned her he couldn’t.
But how could she return to Ellijay when home meant being in his arms? When her heart would always belong here with him?
* * *
WAYNE NETTLETON YANKED surgical scrubs over his clothes, pulled on a lab coat he’d found in one of the doctor’s lounges, then tied a surgical mask around his neck. Next came a stethoscope and a pair of square glasses with nonprescription lenses. A perfect disguise.
Oh, and he couldn’t forget the name tag.
Dr. Wickerbottom. He chuckled. The name was as good as any. After all, he would only be Dr. Wickerbottom for a short while.
Jutting his chin up to emulate the air of a doctor, he strode down the hall, smiling at a few of the nurses who turned his way. Hmm. Not a bad disguise. Might earn him a night with the ladies. He might have to try it after hours.
But tonight was about work.
Of course, he could talk to a few of the nurses later, see what information he could glean. After he spoke with Vernon Hanks.
Determined to complete his act, he grabbed a chart from the vacant nurses’ station, then sauntered to Hanks’s room. The cop on duty, some chubby guy who was half asleep at the switch, grunted as he approached.
“Dr. Wickerbottom. I’m here to check Vernon Hanks’s condition.”
The man gave him a once-over and a half-witted smile, then nodded and stepped aside. Nettleton nearly chuckled out loud at the man’s ineptitude, but bit the inside of his cheek instead and slipped into the room.
Vernon Hanks lay in a hospital bed with stark white sheets, making his pale but bruised face and body look purple beneath the fluorescent hospital lights. Tubes were hooked up to his arms, machines monitoring his condition whirred and worked in the eerie quiet.
Nettleton had never liked hospitals. His recent stay had made him even more paranoid of the health care field.
The guard cop’s incompetence only heightened that fear.
Hanks still lay unconscious, but his eyelids flickered sporadically. Nettleton was on a time clock. Booker had refused to talk to him, and so had the locals. He couldn’t afford to let another press member outscoop this story before he did. He had to know if they’d gotten Hanks to make a confession.
Knowing his career depended on it, he removed his pocket camera and snapped a couple of photos, then shook the patient’s arm. “Wake up, Hanks. Talk to me.”
He jerked, an almost inhuman response. His eyes twitched, and machines bleeped as if his blood pressure had risen.
Nettleton shook him again. “Listen to me, you puny shit. I might be your only defense. If you want to get out of this alive, you’d better wake up and talk to me.”
The man’s eyes fluttered open, then shut, and a screeching sound ripped from his lips. Nettleton slammed a hand over his mouth, afraid the cop would wake up and charge in.
Hanks’s eyes blinked open again, terror registering.
“I’m from the press,” Nettleton said. “Now, tell me what happened, and I’ll print your version of the story.”
Hanks coughed and sputtered, his voice rasping out, “Dr. Langley…he tried to k…kill me.”
Nettleton’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Hanks choked, trying to yank out the oxygen tube. “He was going to k-kill me….”
“You attacked his daughter, you sick son of a bitch, that’s why.” Nettleton spat out a curse. “Now tell me, did you confess to murdering those other women?”
“No…I love Lisa, would never hurt her…” The heart monitor suddenly went wild. Shit. Hanks was going into cardiac arrest.
Knowing the staff would rush in any minute, he turned and fled. The cop outside the door must have been half-dead, either that or he was asleep again, because he blinked and jerked up as if he’d nodded off, mindless of the catastrophe inside.
Good. Nettleton could get away without being spotted. If Hanks died, he didn’t want questions turning to him.
He sneaked down the hall and ducked inside a linen closet to rid himself of the disguise.
He’d heard that Booker had beaten the man into unconsciousness. But Hanks claimed Langley tried to kill him—maybe at the hospital?
Other pieces of the case that he hadn’t connected started gelling in his mind. Booker had requested an exhumation of White’s body. Langley worked at the same hospital where White had died.
Was it possible that Langley had killed William White?
* * *
HE HAD A LIST OF WOMEN who had wronged him.
One by one he was making them pay.
He had wanted to do so much more with his life. Had tried to make a success. Had struggled through classes and tests. Wanted to be a federal agent, but hadn’t made it. And a cop, too. He was there at the crime scenes now. Had seen the police and feds chasing their tails, and laughed. They deserved it for not letting him in.
The women’s faces came to mind…he’d struggled there, too. How many times had t
hey laughed at him, rejected him, turned him away?
But that was way back when.
When he was weak. Scrawny. When he’d lacked the strength and courage to take control.
Not anymore. None of the women laughed now.
He pressed his hand to his chest, the jittery thump of his heart a reminder of the new life he’d been given. The new person he’d become.
A chuckle bubbled in his throat, heady and full of self-deprecating humor.
He’d never imagined the surgery would do this to him.
Had fought it at first. Hadn’t wanted to accept that it was true.
But he couldn’t fight it anymore. He was a different man.
At night, he could feel them carving out his organs. Feel the scalpel slicing through bones and tissue. See the blood dripping from open skin. Taste the beauty of living on and the stench of dying.
Now they must pay.
Plunged in shadows, he let himself into Gioni Kerr’s apartment through the second bedroom window, slipping soundlessly down the hall toward her room. He’d been in her complex earlier. Knew the layout of the place. Knew exactly where her bed was and how many steps it took for her to reach the door to escape.
She’d never make it in time.
Grinning in the dark, he flexed his gloved hands. He was an expert, knew how to cover his tracks. His past self and the new one blended well together, grew into one more clearly each day. Into a new man who took what he wanted and never felt defeat.
The whistle of the air conditioner helped to camouflage his breathing as he stepped inside Gioni’s bedroom. She lay curled on her side asleep, her hair disheveled, her slender leg poking out from beneath the dark green bedding.
One step. Two. Three.
He hovered over her. Waiting for her to wake. To feel his presence. To see him clearly.
Just as he’d seen her the day she’d written his death certificate by helping Liam Langley cut into his body.
His breathing grew more erratic as she rolled over. Her gown slipped open, revealing breasts that Liam Langley had touched. Ones that would give him pleasure, if he wanted. But Langley’s darling daughter would be so much better.
