CORE Shadow [1] Shadow of Danger

by Kristine Mason

  She smiled against his palm.

  He moved his gloved hand away, then reached for the rag. “What the hell are you grinning about? You like the idea of me killing you?”

  “Can’t...kill...me,” she said, between short, gasping breaths. “Already dead.”

  “What are you—?”

  Her body went taut again as her words sank in and penetrated his brain. Already dead. She was dying. Holy shit, she was dying right in front of him. Dying before he had a chance to kill her.

  Dropping the rag and knife, he grabbed her purse. He ripped it open and spilled the contents on the cement. He quickly picked up two pill bottles and read the labels. Nitroglycerin and Coumadin. Both medications were used on people with heart conditions, and neither would do him any good now. The Coumadin was a blood thinner and the nitroglycerin worked to prevent heart attacks, not as treatment.

  As her breathing grew shallow, he rushed to her and knocked the chair back. She thudded to the floor without a grunt. Worried he might be too late, he began pounding on her chest, over and over, hoping to jumpstart her heart. Sweat soaked his body. The ski mask grew damp from his exertions and made his face itchy. He stopped to check her pulse, then didn’t bother.

  Her head rested against the cement, her eyes wide, lifeless, her mouth gaping open without a sound or a single breath released. He sagged next to her in defeat and tried to calm his own racing heart.

  The bitch had won. She’d died before he had a chance to kill her.

  He caught the glimmer from the knife across the room and the anger inside of him swelled to the point he couldn’t see straight. Without rising, he crawled toward the shiny blade, picked it up, then closed his eyes. Every fantasy that should have taken place flashed in his mind and only added to his outrage.

  Tearing off the suffocating ski mask, he scrambled over to the scrawny, half-naked, lifeless body lying on the cement and still duct taped to the chair. He raised the knife high over his head. “This is what I should have done from the start,” he shouted, and sent the blade straight through her dead heart.

  The utter disappointment, the memory of Ugly Evie’s mocking smile fragmented his mind into shards of raw fury. He stabbed her again, then again, and again. Rage consuming him, filling him and unleashing his hatred for her, for the bitch living under his roof. For Garrett. God, for Garrett.

  As the image of his brother’s lust-filled eyes permeated his brain, he sagged to the floor and wept. When he tasted a salty tear, he moved to wipe his face dry, but noticed the blood coating his gloves. He looked to Evie, to the knife sticking out of her chest, and laughed. Laughed and then cried some more. Over the irony of the situation, the loss of the only person he’d ever loved. While Garrett wouldn’t die tonight, he was still dead to him. As dead as Ugly Evie. Figuratively, of course, he chuckled again as he peeled off his gloves and looked around the room.

  He sighed, and realized that while Evie had robbed him of the prelude to the fantasy he’d play out with Celeste tomorrow, she gave him a different kind of release. With her death, he’d let loose his control. Something he’d done only once, twelve years ago when he and Garrett had first killed together. The memory of that whore still lingered. He might not remember the faces of the others that he’d killed, but he’d always remember hers.

  She’d woken something inside of him, something he’d denied since the night he’d killed his mother. Something he’d sought to control ever since. Allowing emotions to play into any part of what he and Garrett had done led to loss of control, which led to sloppiness.

  He shrugged out of the bloodied mechanic’s suit, then dropped it into the steel barrel in the corner, along with the gloves — no amount of bleach would remove the stains. Sloppiness was what had led to Garrett’s arrest. That and arrogance. Garrett had always considered himself the one who held the power. He’d considered himself unstoppable, uncatchable.

  Dousing the suit and gloves with lighter fluid, he reached for a pack of matches. He lit the match, tossed it into the barrel, along with the entire matchbook. As flames swept over the clothing, he shook his head. Garrett used to laugh every time he wore the mechanic’s suit, ski mask and gloves. How he’d spend hours washing the suit and gloves in bleach. He’d made fun of his numerous cell phones. The reminder of them had him moving to his tool chest, then dumping them into the burn barrel.

  Garrett had been a stupid fool. Leaving evidence of what he’d done behind, because he was arrogant, because he thought he was unstoppable. Not him, though. He watched the flames lick at the clothes, the phones, let the heat from the small fire warm his naked body.

  As he stood there, waiting for the fire to consume the evidence, he ran through what he had to do tonight to prepare for tomorrow. While making a short, mental list, his thoughts strayed to Celeste. To the fantasy that would become a reality. He began stroking himself, then stopped. He needed a release, but not here. Not where they might find traces of his semen. The shower would have to do. Again.

  He used the fire extinguisher on the barrel. Once satisfied that the embers wouldn’t reignite, he locked the room, without giving Ugly Evie’s dead body a final glance.

  Dead is dead.

  In the closed garage he quickly dressed. As he buttoned his shirt, he grinned when he caught the scars on his fingertips. The pain he’d endured when he’d taken battery acid to his fingertips the day he’d decided to kill Tobias Haney, and resurrect himself as someone else, had been well worth it. They had none of his DNA, or a usable fingerprint.

  They’d never catch him, he assured himself, not with arrogance, but with something Garrett had always lacked. Confidence.

  And he was more than confident that by this time tomorrow, Celeste would be dead. By the time they found her, he’d be long gone.

  Sipping a Corona and seducing senoritas.

  *

  Celeste finished filling the salt and pepper shakers, then placed them on the tray, while Rick and Karen wrapped up the rest of their closing duties. The rain that had been forecasted for Sunday had hit early, and had been more like a torrential downpour. Due to the weather they’d been slow for a Friday night, and since they hadn’t had a customer in over an hour, she’d decided to close early.

  Will had already left, Rick and Karen were looking forward to an early night, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. Glancing at the clock, her stomach twisted into a knot.

  Lack of customers had given her too much time to think. John had called earlier, briefed her about what had happened at the hospital, then went on to tell her Roy had managed to gather a search party for tomorrow morning. She still worried that she was sending them on a wild goose chase, but as John had assured her, they’d rather make the attempt to find the third victim than do nothing at all.

  Shortly after she’d spoken with John, Dan had called. She’d figured he was looking for another order of kalachkis for his sick wife. Instead, he’d asked if she wouldn’t mind staying at his house until the hospice nurse arrived around noon while he helped with the search.

  She didn’t mind, but the thought of sitting in Dan’s home with his terminally ill wife didn’t settle well. Although it had been three years since her mom had died, being near someone knocking on Death’s door still hit too close to home. Will promised to open the diner in the morning after she’d let him leave early tonight, and if she couldn’t be part of the search, at least she was still helping.

  Thoughts of her mom had lingered after Dan’s call, which had led her to spend the next few hours thinking about Ian and what they’d talk about tonight. Last night’s trance? Most definitely. Maybe he could shed some light as to how it had happened, and better yet, give her suggestions on how to control them in the future. They’d likely spend no more than an hour together tonight. The trance would hopefully take up most of that time. But what if he wanted to discuss other things?

  Ian had planned to leave tomorrow. The next time she’d see him would be when she moved to Chicago. Should she tell him that
she’d decided to live with John? Or that she was actually considering working for CORE?

  No. Not yet. She finished replacing all of the salt and pepper shakers, then dropped the tray to her side. Maybe instead of discussing the trance, she should use this short time to know the man her mom had once loved. Give him a chance at learning more about her.

  She stacked the tray with the others and decided she was, once again, completely over-analyzing things. She’d go with the flow once Ian arrived and let him take the lead.

  The bell above the front door rang, and her stomach did a somersault. So much for going with the flow. She glanced up, expecting Ian, then froze.

  John stood in front of the door, wearing a sexy, crooked grin. Wet from the rain, his dark hair appeared even darker. His shirt stuck to his chest, revealing those perfect pecs she loved to hold onto when she rode him hard. The thought, the image made her hot, and brought heat to her cheeks as well as between her legs.

  Then she noticed the time.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, rounding the counter while her skin prickled, her stomach flipped, and her head buzzed. Ian would be by any minute, any second, and John would realize she’d held back on him. After how honest he’d been with her, she’d owed him the same. Regret ate at her. She should have told him everything about Ian last night. Why the hell hadn’t she?

  Because Ian had asked her not to. Because she wanted to start her relationship with her biological father on the right foot. Because she figured she had more time. Ian would be gone tomorrow, and that’s when she’d planned on spilling everything to John.

  She should have gone with her first instinct and told John from the start. When, though? She’d learned about Ian being her father yesterday. Then there was the trance. The whole let’s move in together and...damn. She should have just told him. In a matter of minutes Ian would waltz through the door and John would be completely sucker punched.

  “I finished early and thought I’d swing by for some dinner, then give you a ride home. I see you’ve closed the place down though.”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at the clock again. “But I saved you tonight’s special.”

  “Great. How long before you’re ready to leave?” he asked, brushing droplets of water from his shirt as he approached her.

  “Soon, but—”

  “Is Will still here?”

  “No, he—”

  John wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. He nuzzled his damp head against her neck, brushed his lips at the hollow of her throat. “Are we alone?” he asked as he kissed her chin, then her cheek. “I’ve fantasized about taking you against this counter. Bending you over, spreading you—”

  “Stop,” she said, even as the wicked image ran through her imagination and heated her body. “Just stop.” She pressed a fist against his chest. “We’re not alone, and I’m expecting...someone.”

  Still holding her, he leaned back and snared her gaze. “Someone?” he asked, his voice holding a hint a jealousy.

  She laid a hand on his cheek. “John, there’s something I should have told you about yesterday. I planned on telling you tomorrow when he left.”

  Releasing her, he took a step back, leaving her suddenly cold and insecure. “He? And who would that be? ”

  She crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the chill in his voice. “My—”

  The bell chimed as the front door opened. Wind and a few dead leaves whipped into the dinner.

  Along with Ian.

  Chapter 26

  John stared at Ian, who had the audacity to smile at him as he brushed rain from his coat. Ian had dumped him in Wissota Falls then had ignored his calls. After five days, now he was standing in the doorway of The Sugar Shack?

  Confused as to why Ian was there, and whether or not this was the “he” Celeste had been referring to, he turned to her. Her cheeks bloomed scarlet, her wide eyes held shock and...familiarity.

  When she met his gaze, a slow burn seeped into his chest making him wish he hadn’t left the antacids in the car. She had been expecting Ian, but he’d guarantee she hadn’t planned on him finding out that she actually knew Ian. The knowledge of it was clear on her face, with the way her pulse beat quickly at the base of her throat, and how she twisted a curl around a shaky finger. She knew his boss and hadn’t bothered to tell him?

  Ian had kept him in the dark for nearly a week, not returning his calls, and instead kept apprised of the investigation through the sheriff. Had he also been talking with Celeste? From the beginning?

  He ran a hand through his damp hair as his stomach sank with a betrayal he hadn’t felt since...Renee.

  Two for two.

  Twice now he’d allowed a woman to pull one over on him. Only this time the betrayal hurt worse. He loved Celeste. Trusted her. He’d told her things he’d never told anyone else. He’d given her his heart, his soul. Hell, he’d asked her to move in with him with the thoughts of marriage and babies.

  What had she done in return? Like Ian, she’d kept him in the dark, and now he wondered what other secrets she had hidden beneath that pretty smile and her bright blue eyes.

  “I see this is rather awkward,” Ian said as he approached, offering him his hand.

  John didn’t bother shaking the other man’s hand. As far as he was concerned, his days with CORE were over. He’d rather flip burgers or bag groceries than have to deal with Ian and his bullshit.

  Ian dropped his hand, then gave Celeste a kiss on the cheek. The affectionate gesture took him over the edge. “You’ll have my resignation in the morning,” he said to Ian, reached into his pocket, then set the key to Celeste’s home on the counter.

  She placed her hand over his, the warm metal from the key stuck to his sweaty palm. “What are you doing?”

  He snatched his hand away. “Leaving. Tonight.”

  “What about the investigation?” Ian asked. “You’ve never quit anything in your life.”

  “Please don’t,” she said with exasperation, and narrowed her eyes at Ian. “This has nothing to do with the investigation. Does it?” She looked back to him, her eyes imploring, uncertain. “I should have told you about Ian.”

  He moved away from the counter. He couldn’t stand being near her, catching her scent, the warmth radiating from her body, knowing that their relationship had all been a lie. Angry and upset, he didn’t trust himself not to draw her into his embrace and pretend none of this was happening. But then Renee’s image surfaced and the painful memory of her duplicity renewed the fight in him.

  “I’m all ears now,” he said with sarcasm.

  Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her arms and shivered. “Before you came over Wednesday night, I read through some of my mom’s old journals hoping to find something to help me with my trances. Instead I found out that my mom had been a psychic advisor for the FBI and had also been in love with a man named Ian.”

  Her mom had been in love with Ian? He couldn’t imagine anyone loving Ian. Self-centered, egotistical, and a downright ass on most days, the man didn’t have a sympathetic or compassionate bone in his body.

  “Let’s cut to the chase before steam starts coming out of his ears.” Ian dropped into a chair. “Although I have to admit, I like seeing this side of you, John. It’s good to know you’ve got more than ice running through your veins. You sometimes worried me.”

  “Worried,” John echoed. “That must be why you didn’t bother to return my calls this week, because you worried so much.”

  Ian chuckled. “In less than five days you’ve become not only insolent, but sarcastic. You’re starting to remind me of someone else.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Ian glanced at Celeste, his eyes holding a glimmer of pride. “My daughter.”

  John jerked his head as if he’d been slapped. He hadn’t seen that one coming, and turned to Celeste for confirmation.

  She nodded. “I found out yesterday morning. I wanted to tell you—”

  “B
ut I asked her not to,” Ian interrupted. “You needed to stay focused on the investigation, not concern yourself about the ramifications of dating the boss’s daughter.”

  “Ramifications? You really thought I’d care one way or another?”

  “I did, and stand by my decision.”

  “Of course, because you’re a manipulative son of a bitch,” he said to Ian, then looked to Celeste. “And you went along with him. After everything we’d talked about, after...” After he’d told her he’d loved her, that he wanted to be with her. “How could you keep this from me?”

  “I didn’t want to, and it was hard not to tell you after...” She blushed and tossed her hand in the air. “I know you have trust issues, and I planned on telling you everything once Ian left tomorrow. Please, let’s go home and talk about this. I don’t want what’s happened tonight to come between us. I love you, John. I still want to come to Chicago with you.”

  “Chicago?” Ian smacked his hand on the table, and they both swung there gazes to him. “This is wonderful news. Does this mean you’re considering joining CORE?” he asked, grinning at Celeste.

  “He offered you a job?” John shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from knocking the grin off Ian’s face. “You find out yesterday he’s your dad, he offers you a job and you didn’t think you should tell me?”

  “I wanted to,” she said, her voice rising. “I told you, he asked me not say anything to you and I didn’t want to start our relationship off by betraying his trust.”

  “But you had no problem betraying mine?” He pushed a hand through his hair again. “I can’t do this.”

  Tears swelled in her eyes as she frowned at him. “You can’t do what?”

  “Be with you.”

  Her breath caught on a sob. “John, you don’t mean that. We can work through this. Please, come home with me and let’s talk.”

  “You were more worried about starting off your relationship with Ian, than you were about ours.” He shook his head. “You would have always come first, Celeste. Always. Over my family, my friends, my career.” He took another step away, distancing himself, his heart, from her. “I need the same in return. You proved where your loyalties lie, and I’m not willing to take the chance that it won’t happen again.”