Muffling any smart-aleck comment, he claimed her mouth as he rolled on top of her. He pulled away and cupped her face between his palms. “Before we go any further, I want to say I have fallen completely in love with you.”
He wished he’d turned on a lamp or had a night-light. The moonlight didn’t pierce the shadows surrounding his bed. Jo’s eyes mysterious pools in the darkness.
“The key must be magic.” Jo lifted her lips to kiss him again.
Instead of meeting her lips, he pulled further away. “I’m not joking, Jo.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he tried again. “I wanted to say it, not in the heat of passion, and in case something happens to you on this damned case.”
“I love you, too, Rhys. And I swear nothing is going to happen to me. As Sullivan says, I’m too mean to die. Now, can we get to the damned sex before we have another argument?”
He laughed. “See many of them in our future, do you?”
A foot slapped against his thigh. “If you don’t fuck me like you mean it . . . then yeah I do.”
“You’ve been hanging out with cops too long, Jo. I won’t fuck you, but I’m going to make love to you.”
Another kick. “Then do it and quit all the yammering. I told Sullivan I was getting laid, but jeez by the time—”
The only way he could think to shut her up was kissing her. Her taste, the feel of her soft skin, the smell of her all drew him deeper, pulled him under. Drowned him.
He let his worries go, trusting Jo to do the job she loved, and immersed himself in her.
~ ~ ~
Sullivan came to rest next to Jo as they watched their section of the cemetery. “It’s creepy how much you’ve smiled tonight.”
She huffed. “Nah, that’s not creepy. What’s creepy is how much you’ve been watching me if you’ve noticed it. I’m not the perp . . . the perp is out there.”
A soft chuckle before he responded, “Smart ass.”
“Yep, but that’s what everyone loves about me.” She squinted in the semi-darkness. A pair of the night vision goggles would come in handy right now, but with everyone converging on this cemetery there hadn’t been enough to go around. Instead, Jo relinquished hers to Karma since Karma and Maker patrolled a denser wooded area to the North. “Sullivan, have you heard who’ll be partnered with Abe until Terry comes back?”
“Yeah, some guy from vice. He’s moving over from the South precinct.”
She nudged her partner. “Just make sure you don’t get hurt. I don’t have the personality to deal with a new partner . . . nor the patience.”
“Same goes.”
“We’ve got movement up here,” Karma whispered. The earbuds were much easier to coordinate their movements than using cell phones.
Shots rang out. The sound caused her to freeze as she immediately relived Terry getting hurt. For a few precious seconds, memories took hold of Jo, plunging her back to that night. Shaking them off, she hurried to catch up to Sullivan as they both ran to backup Karma and Maker.
“Dammit, Karm,” Maker shouted over the earpiece.
“I’m fine, he got my vest. He’s moving east . . .”
Jo tuned the rest out as she and Sullivan stopped. East was their section. Sullivan scanned right and she took the left, keeping Sullivan in her periphery as they circled each other.
“Confirmed, the guy’s running east along the tree line,” someone else added amidst the overlapping calls as the group coordinated to surround the man.
Why hadn’t one of their teams seen a car? The perp hiked in from the North which shocked Jo, since wisteria, bramble bushes and kudzu covered the entire area. Even though she’d been doubtful of the guy coming in from that direction, they’d still put units on that road to call in any activity. Had something happened to the unit stationed on that one? Had the perp discovered them and killed them?
She took another step further into the woods, cursing at handing over the goggles now. The second the trees closed around her, blocking the moonlight, visibility became tricky. Yes, she was a hunter, but in an urban setting not in the woods.
“There,” Sullivan whispered.
She followed his line of sight and tipped her chin in acknowledgment.
Her standard issue gun fit seamlessly in her hand as she searched for a clear shot. But trees and foliage blocked most of the man giving him too much cover. They separated, Sullivan going right and Jo left. Anticipation curled into her as she and Sullivan fell into their familiar perp-hunting-pattern.
“I hear something,” Sullivan said.
“Shit! Sullivan he’s between us.” She aimed her gun as she struggled to get the hulk in her sights. Between the darkness that surrounded them, the trees and scrubby bushes, she hesitated. If she shot and missed she could hit Sullivan. “I don’t have a target. Repeat. I do not have a clear target.”
The man barreled through the underbrush as if the tangle of vines and bushes weren’t even there. Spinning on the balls of her feet, she sprinted after him.
“Jo, wait for me,” Sullivan commanded. “Jo! Are you listening? Wait . . . shit! This is Krane, we’re headed south by southeast in pursuit.”
She didn’t slow down. Her partner wasn’t far behind her and with Sullivan spouting their location, backup would follow. She focused on not losing sight of the subject in front of her.
The man darted right, between several trees, and disappeared. Heedless of the danger, since Sullivan was on her tail, she followed the perp into the dense foliage. A heavy fist slammed into her side. Her breath left her with a whoosh as she flew through the air and bounced off a tree. Shaken, she scrabbled to her feet, her gun still clutched in her hand.
Before she could rebound and shoot, the man had her wrist. Instead of allowing him to get her gun from her, she flung it to the side. A roar was her reward and a fist to the face. Staggering into a tree, the rough bark scraped over her ear as she righted herself and dove for him when he turned to run again.
She slammed into his back, the tackle having the effect of a mosquito hitting a windshield, and that was none. Her chest heaved, battered and sore as if she hit a brick wall. Unfortunately, this brick wall was one that had no problem hitting back.
The asshole reminded her of every giant movie she’d ever seen. If anyone else in the department confronted the guy, she would’ve laid odds on the perp winning. But she’d been training for years and knew how to take a punch.
Jo scrambled back when he lunged at her, but she wasn’t quick enough. His plate-sized hand wrapped around her throat. Pain radiated through her body. Christ, she would be black and blue from this and Rhys would be pissed.
The goggles the perp wore made him look sinister, as did the curling lips. Though strong, his face held the haggard appearance from not eating regularly. Sunken cheeks, bony fingers all reinforced her impression.
“You’re not the singing doll,” he stated, lifting her by the throat. Her hands clutched his wrist. “You don’t bring my daughter!” he shouted. Spit flew from his mouth as rage twisted his face into a wild, feral mask. “Only the doll brings my daughter! Not you!”
The man punctuated each word with a bone-jarring shake. She worked to find the nerve in his wrist to loosen his hold but couldn’t exert enough pressure for the move to work. Panic set in as she dangled above the ground. Her feet scrabbled for purchase but had no luck. Where the fuck was Sullivan? He had been right behind her heels.
Unable to grab a breath, she kicked out, her boots bouncing uselessly off the man’s legs. She punched at his chest, but he wore some sort of body-armor. Her fist slid off him like water off a duck’s back. Black dots swam into her vision. She released the hold she had on his wrist and fumbled at the small of her back with one hand. Please, let it still be there.
Grinning in triumph, she pulled her taser. Darkne
ss encroached at the edges of her vision, and she knew she only had one shot. Fingers going numb, Jo prayed as she aimed low hoping to catch the meat of the perp’s leg. She braced herself because as soon as she tased him, the charge would flow into her.
Ready, she pulled the trigger. The lunatic released a scream as he tossed her away from him. Then nothing but air and the sensation of springing from a cliff.
Shock waves of rolling pain traveled through her as she fell. From somewhere above her, Sullivan screamed her name. But Jo’s mouth didn’t work, her voice gone from the jolts of electricity rocking through her. Christ, did she shoot herself and miss the asshole altogether? Tumbling end-over-end, her head slammed into the ground and blackness swallowed her whole.
Chapter 21
The steady drone of a machine annoyed her. Wanting it to stop, Jo opened her eyes. Sharp light pierced her retinas, then was suddenly gone, replaced by the softer light recessed into the wall behind her. Her gaze darted around the room.
Hospital.
She hated the hospital almost as much as the woods at night.
“About time you woke up. Swear if I didn’t know better I’d think you were milking this.” Sullivan’s annoyed tone came from her right.
A turn of her head showed her partner sprawled in the uncomfortable plastic visitor’s chair. His bony form barely filled the bulk of the chair. Sullivan looked as if he’d just arrived. Clean gray slacks, a button-down blue shirt offset with a sunset orange tie covered in singing frogs. A brown takeaway cup of coffee perched on his knee. The haggard worried expression on his face gave Jo pause and made her unsure of what upset him. The last time she’d seen Sullivan with this expression Arabelle had been admitted with a hundred-and-two temp.
“Rhys?” she croaked passed her raw, swollen throat.
She thought he’d been there. Maybe she dreamed it. Christ, if Rhys didn’t know she was hurt, he would kill her. She needed to see him. Touch him. Make sure he wouldn’t leave her because of this.
“I sent him home a few hours ago. He’s been camped here for two days—”
“Days?” She’d been out for days? Shifting, she froze when only her right arm worked. Her gaze dropped to see her left arm in a cast and wrapped against her chest.
“Yeah, days. Between the concussion, broken arm, and your throat swelling almost closed, they needed to keep you sedated.” Sullivan ran a trembling hand through his hair, and Jo realized in that instant how upset her partner truly was.
Floundering for a change of topic to give him a chance to calm down, she settled on Rhys again. “Will he be back?”
“Of course, he will. Didn’t think I could pry the guy out of this room. But he had a dead rat growing from his face and bags deep enough to fit an entire five-piece luggage set under his eyes.”
“Screw you, Sullivan. I bet that stubble on his face was sexy, you should’ve let him keep it.”
“Jesus, Jo, I don’t wanna think about that. Rhys is not sexy. Now Elle, that teacher at Arabelle’s school, she’s sexy. And Arabelle likes her because their names match.”
“Okay, truce. I won’t talk about Rhys’s sexy ass and you don’t mention the hot teacher you’re dating.”
“Deal.” A deep breath and then Sullivan blurted. “Why the hell didn’t you wait?”
Taken aback, she thought he’d lay into her for losing her gun. “Hey, it’s not my damned fault you eat too many donuts.”
“Fuck you, Jo. I hate donuts.” Sullivan’s palm ran over his flat stomach.
She knew that, just as she knew Sullivan ran as fast as her and could keep up easily when she chased down suspects. “What took you so long to get to me? And why didn’t we get a heads-up on any cars?”
“Because I spotted your damned gun and thought you went one direction and you ended up going another.” The scowl on Sullivan’s face deepened. “What’d you do? Throw it?”
“Yeah.” She tried to sit up again, but the stupid hospital bed kept sucking her back down. “He had my wrist. I’d rather lose the gun than him take it from me.”
“Well, next time throw it in the direction you’ll be running—”
“That doesn’t even make sense, Sullivan.” She refrained from leaning out of the bed and shaking her partner. Not that she could curl her fingers, or grab him, with how banged up she was, but she was game to try with that stupid remark.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re right. Sorry, just scared the ever-loving hell out of me. By the time I got to you, you were going over the ravine with him.”
“Ravine? We went over a ravine?” She didn’t remember that. No wonder everything hurt.
“Yeah, it’s not like in those westerns, but more like a sharp incline covered with bushes and dirt. You slammed into a tree and slid into the ditch behind the asshole.” A sharp laugh that held little humor. “You did do one thing right.”
“What’s that?” Jo couldn’t think of anything that had gone right in their plan.
“You tased him in the nuts. Otherwise, that fucker would’ve probably gotten away.” Sullivan laughed after sharing that piece of information while fishing out the remote that’d gotten tangled in her blankets. With a few clicks, he raised the bed, allowing her to recline more comfortably.
She winced. “I was aiming for his thigh.”
The remark made Sullivan laugh harder. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your aim was off, kid.”
“Hey, sis, you’re awake.” Karma stepped into the room, Maker not far behind. “Nice taser work. Guys are still talking about it at the station.”
Both looked to be well-rested. Karma dressed in tight black pants, the cuffs tucked into her black laced-up combat boots. A black button-down shirt and leather jacket completed her ensemble.
Maker was Karma’s opposite, dressed in a dark green button-down and faded jeans. His fawn-colored boots held a steel-toed insert the same as Karma’s even though his didn’t look as badass.
She flipped Karma off and focused back on Sullivan. “How did we not get the heads-up? Because someone had to have seen the guy parking on one of the backroads.”
Maker leaned against the wall closest to the door and crossed his arms. He looked like an intimidating bouncer.
“The uni for that road was called away, and because we were on a different channel we didn’t hear it.” Sullivan shrugged.
“And no one clued us in?” She scratched around the tape keeping the IV in her vein.
“On the plus side, that dude was all kinds of crazy. Probably put the ‘Z’ in crazy,” Karma stated, flopping into the only other chair in the room.
“You mean the ‘C’,” Jo sniped back, her sister already getting on her nerves.
“Nope, the ‘Z’ as in zany, nuts, cray-cray. You choose.”
“Anyway,” Sullivan cut-in before she and Karma got off topic. “His truck was chock full of interesting things.”
“Like?” Jo met Sullivan’s gaze.
But Maker was the one who answered her, “He had a freezer built under his bunk. Made from some sort of glass. That’s where he kept the bodies. Apparently, the case kept the bodies from decomposing.”
“Holy shit.” Bile rose in the back of her throat at the morbid picture of the perp lying over a decaying corpse. Nightmares would haunt her for months at the image. “He slept on them?”
Several beats of silence passed before Sullivan took up the conversation. “Yeah, he used the women as conduits to talk to his daughter, who died a few years ago. Evidently, when she was alive, he bought her dolls.”
“Not just dolls, but the creepy ones with themed outfits,” Karma stated. “That was why the women had on different clothes and their nails done.”
“But why?” Jo didn’t understand.
Karma ran a hand over her pon
ytail, her usual irreverence absent. “Because a voodoo priestess he met on one of his hauls to New Orleans told him in order to commune with his daughter he needed to open himself up to the spirit world. Seems he took the suggestion literally. Had his daughter’s ashes bolted into the wall above his bunk and the dead women in that freezer thing underneath him.”
“That’s what he meant when he said I wasn’t a singing doll and I didn’t bring his daughter,” she murmured. Her gaze returned to Sullivan to see if he heard the perp saying that.
Her partner shook his head, then shrugged. “I’ve no idea. All I know is he’s in the psych ward under heavy sedation. Took four guys to subdue him when he finally shook off the taser jolt.”
“Now what?” Jo hoped Sullivan would tell her he’d bring her a laptop from the precinct. She could at least do some reports, paperwork . . . or something.
Unfortunately, Sullivan burst that bubble with his next words. “Now, you get to enjoy these lovely accommodations while we write up all the damned reports. Then the captain is giving us a week off, says we’ve been in too many incidents lately and we need a break.”
“I think it’s more he needs a break,” Karma chimed in, a bright smile on her face.
“Maybe.” Sullivan bobbed his head from side to side. “I’ll be with Abe until his temporary partner comes over and you get that damned cast off.”
A rap on the door drew their attention. “I need to examine my patient, so you all will need to step out.”
“We’re leaving, doc.” Sullivan pointed at Jo. “I’ll be back later this evening if you can have normal food text me and I’ll pick up Italian.”
Karma stood. “Maker and I are headed back to Atlanta, but your mom invited me, Juliette and Jenna to the family reunion. And she’s added us to the family email she sends out monthly.”
“Oh Christ.” Jo wasn’t sure if she should be happy her two families were coming together or worried.
Gravedigger (The Rayburn Mysteries Book 1) Page 20
