Ever.
He sways and dips so that her back arches over his arm. Her long hair flows in a tangled river of satin that nearly touches the floor. He follows the movement, his mouth finding her breast through the camisole. He slips his hand beneath the material against the silk of her stomach. She gasps and presses against his fingers, tilting her hips, urging his fingers lower, gratified when they slip inside her panties where she awaits them already full and wet. He slips inside and suckles a nipple through the satin camisole. Within seconds, unable to control her reaction to his erotic strokes, she cries out. Boneless, she would fall to the floor without his arm supporting her.
His mouth on hers, he lays her on the bed. Over her, he strokes her with his body so the passion never ceases. Regaining her power, she flips him on his back and climbs on top of him, slipping her panties to the side to make room for his entry. With a sucking sound that cuts through her, she surrounds his tip and slides down his length, then rides him to the music…
Gasping at the memory, Camille frantically pushs Drago away from her.
“What’s wrong? Did I step on your foot or something?”
From his amused expression, she knew the memories had him in their grip, as well, and that he was merely baiting her. “If you’re going to game the clientele, we’d better split up before everyone thinks we’re together.”
His smile faded. “We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”
The moment Drago stepped away from her, Camille took a relieved breath. And realized that women all over the room had him in their radar. Female eyes from every corner were glued to him.
Not that it should bother her…
Shrugging off the idea that it did, she turned her back on Drago and forced her mind to finding Noreen. Rather Tara Hunter, as the woman now called herself. As if a name change could really protect her against Angel. Better that she’d physically removed herself from his sphere. This area was out of Angel’s hunting ground.
Now to find the woman who’d escaped him and convince her to talk.
Camille played the casual club patron, wandering back off the dance floor and slowly touring the room, her gaze sliding across every table, penetrating every corner. No familiar face. She stood at the edge of the dance floor. The beat was decidedly hot, and she couldn’t help imagining being in Drago’s arms again, her body pressed against his.
The victim! she told herself. Forget Drago and concentrate on finding Noreen Butler!
So many people filled the area, twisting, turning, hair flying, hiding faces, that identifying anyone from the sidelines was pretty much impossible.
So when she felt a tap on her shoulder and heard a male voice say “Dance?” she automatically nodded, gave the guy wearing a manufactured smile a quick once-over—pleated pants, an elegant long-sleeved, buttoned shirt, shoes with Cuban heels—and elbowed her way toward the center of the dance floor.
“Hey, whoa. Where you headed?” her partner asked.
“I like being in the middle of the action.” The only way she was going to get a good look at some of the dancers. Earlier, she’d had no eyes for anyone other than Drago.
“Okay.”
He pulled her into his arms and started moving. She let her body follow, but her attention was all over the place as she searched for the escapee who might help break the case. If her partner noticed her inattention to him, he didn’t make a big deal out of it, not until she misstepped and tromped on his toes.
“Hey, pay attention!”
“I am,” she insisted. Just not on him or what he wanted from her. “Sorry. My first time here. Just taking it all in.”
He moved in closer. “You came alone?”
“I’m supposed to meet someone.”
“Oh.” He loosened his hold on her. “You’re meeting a boyfriend?”
“Not exactly. A friend of a friend.” As close to the truth as she could manage under the circumstances. “Her name is Tara Hunter. She hangs out here. Maybe you’ve met her.”
He shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t collect names.”
Nice.
Camille went back to scanning the dancers to no avail. And then suddenly the music ended, and her partner let her go. By the time she turned back to ask him if he wanted to keep dancing, he was gone. Apparently he’d realized she wasn’t into him.
An old rock tune had everyone moving fast and with more than just a single partner. Everyone seemed to be dancing with anyone in touching distance, so Camille simply kept dancing, switching partners, winding her way through the morass, checking faces, finding not one that looked familiar. Not even Drago. She suddenly realized she hadn’t seen him since she’d basically told him to take a hike.
Which made her wonder if he had found Noreen.
Spotting the closest bar, she let the music move her toward it and away from the dancers. No Drago, but the bartender was free for the moment, so she stepped up to his station.
She had to raise her voice to be heard over the music. “Seltzer with lime!”
“Coming right up.”
When he set it in front of her, she slipped him a five. “I’m looking for a friend.”
“Good luck.”
“Maybe you know her. Name’s Tara Hunter.”
“Yeah, sure I know Tara. She’s on shift tonight.”
On shift? An employee! Camille’s pulse suddenly thrummed unevenly. They hadn’t even considered the woman might actually work here.
“Do you know where I can find her?” she asked.
“Over there.” The bartender pointed to a dark-haired waitress serving a tray of drinks at a table not twenty feet from where she stood.
Dark hair? Alleen Peyton hadn’t said anything about her daughter dying her hair. Maybe she hadn’t known. No wonder Noreen had been impossible to spot. Camille had been looking for a redhead.
“Thanks.”
But the bartender was already busy with another customer.
How to approach Noreen was the question. Trying to make some rational explanation as to why the woman should speak to her while competing with this noise seemed impossible. Maybe she could follow her, corner her at the bar. Or Noreen would have to go to the restroom sometime, and Camille could follow her there, though more than likely, the place would be crowded with women.
Caught up in trying to make a plan, she wasn’t aware that she was no longer alone until she heard “No luck, either, huh?” directly in her ear.
She jumped back. “Drago!” Heat flushed through her middle to her limbs.
“You were expecting someone else?”
“You just startled me.” It was more than that, of course, but she tightened her hold on herself. “And yes, I’ve had some luck but don’t know what to do with it.” She glanced to where she’d seen the waitress. Holding her empty tray, Noreen/Tara was heading toward them. “That’s her.”
Drago’s double take was as genuine as hers had been. As the woman drew closer, Camille stared directly at her face. The same face as in the photo her mother had given them, but experience had aged her, and her expression had darkened. She’d grown wary with good reason.
“How do we get her somewhere we can talk?” Drago muttered.
“Just what I was wondering.” If she tried to get Noreen away from all this, she might freak on them and run. “Maybe direct is best.”
“That worked with her mother,” he reminded her.
The DJ chose that moment to switch to something slow and sweet. Camille could actually hear herself think. Her nerves calmed and her stomach settled. “Let’s do it.”
“I’ll follow your lead.”
That was a change in attitude, one Camille appreciated. She stepped in front of the other woman. “Excuse me?”
The wariness didn’t leave Noreen’s eyes, but her lips curved in a deliberate smile. “What are you drinking?”
“Seltzer with lime.”
She glanced at the glass in Camille’s hand. “Something wrong with that one?”
&nbs
p; Thrown for a second, Camille opened her mouth but nothing came out.
“Is something wrong?” Noreen asked again, her brows furrowing, the wariness deepening.
“Something is very wrong.” Camille sped through it. “This time, he took a fourteen-year-old girl. He’s already had her for two nights.”
Was it the lighting or did all the blood drain from the other woman’s face? Camille hadn’t even named Angel, but Noreen knew. Not saying anything, she started to back away as if afraid. Of them.
“Please…”
If she’d done this wrong and they lost Sandy, she would have no one but herself to blame. Again.
Drago put a solid hand in the middle of her back and said, “We have to find the girl before it’s too late.”
Camille quickly added, “You’re our only hope.”
Seconds of silence. Noreen’s expression changing from fear to disbelief to determination. Not daring to breathe, Camille waited her out.
“Not here.” Noreen indicated they should follow her.
Camille locked gazes with Drago even as they set off toward a door in the back wall to the left of the DJ. This was it, then, the break they’d been praying for. Surely Noreen would give them the lead they needed to get to Angel and rescue Sandy before it was too late.
Once they got behind the scenes, the noise level cut in half. Quite a jolt. But Noreen kept going down a long hallway, didn’t stop until they reached a room filled with lockers and benches and a mirrored wall. No other employees. And no noise.
It was obvious that though she was still uncertain, Noreen was calling on an inner strength. “Tell me.”
Camille gave it to her in shorthand. Two women dead. Her taken off the case but working on her home computer to find Angel. Him finding Sandy instead. Drago stood at her side in silent support through her account.
Noreen’s eyes filled with tears that overflowed. “Poor kid.” She swiped at her cheek and sniffled.
Camille’s eyes stung in response. She could only imagine the things Angel had done to the other woman. She couldn’t think about what he was actually doing to the fourteen-year-old. Not and stay strong.
She said, “At least Sandy’s still alive. Like you are.”
“Me? I live in the shadows. Every time I go out, I expect to turn a corner and he’ll be there, waiting for me, wearing that horrible grin…”
If only she’d reported her abduction to the authorities…not that Camille was going to so much as mention it. She was certain Noreen already knew she’d made a serious mistake by not doing so.
“When we get him…” A promise, Camille thought. “…you can come back into the light.”
“I-I don’t understand.” Noreen looked from her to Drago. “How did you even know about me?”
“Through a friend,” Drago said. “He put the word out on this Angel and your name came back to him.”
He then explained how they’d found her. LaShonda. Her mother. The book of matches.
“What do you think I can do? If you were hoping I could tell you where to find him…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a clue.”
“Anything you can tell us might help.” Camille took a chance and took the other woman’s hand. She felt its slight tremble. “Did you ever see him without that wig and makeup?”
Noreen shuddered. “Once.” She pulled her hand free. Arms wrapped around her middle, she began to pace. “Dark eyes. Dark hair shaved short. Tats on the right side of his face.”
Drago jumped on that. “So that’s what he’s been hiding with makeup! What kind of tattoos?”
“Mostly teardrops.”
“How many?”
“I-I’m not sure. Three maybe?”
“And were they outlines or filled in?” Drago asked.
Noreen thought about it for a moment. “Outlines.”
Drago locked in on Camille. “So he’d already killed three people.”
She nodded. If the teardrops had been filled in, that would have meant people he cared about had been killed.
“Three other women?” Noreen sounded horrified.
“Not necessarily. The teardrops are gang markings,” Drago explained. “Could be gang kills.”
“But he’s killed women since.”
“Two,” Camille said. “That we know of.”
Noreen put a shaky hand to her mouth. “Their deaths are my fault.”
Camille shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe if I had gone to the police, they would still be alive.”
True, but…“There’s no guarantee we would have gotten him.” After all, they hadn’t gotten him in time to save Leanne. Even as she said, “You can’t blame yourself,” Camille felt a little two-faced. She’d never gotten over the guilt she lived with for her friend Emily’s murder. “You didn’t kill those women. He did.”
“How long did that bastard have you before you escaped?” Drago asked.
“I don’t know. Days. I lost track of time. He lived in some kind of abandoned building, windows boarded up. A real old place with old lighting fixtures and weird knobs on the wall to turn them on. Kept me locked in a dark closet when he wasn’t there.” Noreen squeezed her eyes shut. “Better than when he was there.”
“How did you get away?”
“I didn’t plan it. I kept thinking maybe he would let me go. And then I realized he wasn’t going to. I think I knew on some level that he was getting ready to end me. He didn’t care anymore, but he made me curl my hair and put on disgusting makeup, made me dress in cheap clothes, like he wanted me to look like someone else. That’s when I knew I had to do something.”
Camille’s breath caught in her throat. What she was describing is the way they found the other victims. No doubt Noreen had been justified in thinking Angel was ready to kill her. Probably that very night.
“What happened?” she asked. “How did you get away?”
“He’d been drinking and got careless. I guess I was always so scared he didn’t think I had it in me. But I was desperate, and he’d left empty beer bottles all over. I told him I had to go to the bathroom. He got distracted by a text and I swiped one of the bottles and took it in with me. I wrapped it in a towel, and when I flushed the toilet, I used the noise to cover. I smashed the bottle against the sink and broke it.”
“You used the broken glass on him?”
She nodded. “I practically ripped out his right cheek. I ran. His screams followed me out of the building, made me run faster. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. I ended up in the park. Some woman with two kids saw me and asked if I was all right. She let me use her cell phone, and my mom came and got me. She wanted to take me to the police, but I wouldn’t go. Now those other women…”
Noreen started crying, loud sobs that cut through Camille. She put her arms around the other woman, her gaze locking with Drago’s. Even as she comforted the woman who had escaped death, Camille thought about the things she would like to do to Angel herself. Now they had their lead, but even if they learned the killer’s real identity, he could go into hiding, and they had no clue as to where to find him.
As if they were in tune to the same problem, Drago asked, “What park?”
Noreen sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “What?”
Considering Drago knew the Humboldt Park area far better than she did, Camille let go of Noreen and let him take the lead.
“The park where the woman loaned you her cell.”
“Humboldt. Near the lagoon.”
Where Angel had left the first victim’s body, Camille thought.
“Which direction did you come from?”
“I d-don’t know. I was panicked.”
“Think about where you came in. Was it near the boathouse?”
Noreen’s forehead pulled tight. “No. That was on the other side of the road.”
“The field house, then.”
“I remember seeing it…but it was the beach. I remember passin
g the softball field to my left. The woman and her kids were coming from the beach. Does that help?”
“That tells us you were running east. So you were being held west of the park. North of Division. When you ran, did you go around corners? Change blocks?”
“A couple of times, so I could get off his street. But I-I think I was still running in the same direction.”
“Any idea of how far?”
“Until I couldn’t breathe. A mile, maybe? I-I don’t know.”
She was starting to sound panicky, so Camille stepped in. “You did good, Noreen. Really good. But there’s someone else I want you to talk to.”
“Who?”
“His name is Detective Eli Jackson. He’s officially in charge of the task force.”
“But I just told you everything I know.”
“Yes, but the more people who hear your story, the more minds we have thinking, trying to outsmart that bastard. Jackson will have the area crawling with officers looking for Angel.”
Though she appeared panicked, Noreen nodded. “Whatever you say.”
Chapter Eleven
“I still can’t believe she just disappeared like that. I was sure I had her.”
In a dark mood himself, Drago felt Camille’s keen disappointment. By the time Jackson had arrived at the club to talk to Noreen, the young woman had been gone.
“How on God’s earth did you let her get away?” Jackson asked.
“She said she had to use the toilet. When she didn’t come out, I went in to look for her. Of course she wasn’t there. The window was open.”
“She’s terrified.” Drago didn’t blame her after what she’d been through. “I’m going to guess she’ll be in hiding until the headlines tell her she’s safe. If then.”
They’d looked everywhere for her, had asked all the other employees, but no one had seen “Tara.” Or at least no one was talking. Now with the manager’s blessing, they gathered in his office off the back hall to reconnoiter, the raucous noise of the club muffled so they could hear each other speak.
Jackson sighed. “So what did you get from the vic?”
Dangerous Page 12
