by Karen Rose
‘You do realize,’ Deacon continued in that same low tone that dripped with sarcastic contempt, ‘that a serial killer whose killing spree has escalated beyond anything I’ve ever seen wants to kill her? You do realize that?’
Adam’s expression grew dark. ‘You are no closer to finding him right now than you were last night or the night before. Each hour you’ve wasted is another hour that Roza has suffered.’
Deacon flinched. ‘You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I hear every one of those hours chiming in my head like a goddamned funeral bell? I hear every damn second that ticks by, but the answer is not to endanger more lives. This man will stop at nothing to kill her.’ He threw an arm out, pointing at Faith. ‘He will kill anyone who is around her to get to her. And you know what? You’re right. I’ve been chasing this guy for two days and I don’t know where he is or who he is. But I’m not willing to put innocent lives in jeopardy to find out a few seconds faster.’
A muscle in Adam’s cheek twitched. ‘Roza—’
‘Is not the only factor here!’ Deacon exploded, his control visibly shattering. He slammed his hands on the chair in front of him. ‘He kills people for a front-row seat to wherever Faith is going to be. You know how he knew about that Renzo punk’s knife? Because he invaded the home of my neighbor and used his house as a sniper post. And you want to know how he knew which house to pick? He looked for the one that once had my name on the deed.’
Adam faltered, confused. ‘What?’
‘He chose my old house. The one I inherited after Bruce and my mother died.’
‘Oh God,’ Bishop murmured. ‘Deacon, he targeted you.’
‘He already targeted me the night he tried to put a bullet in my shoulder. This time he targeted a man whose only crime was to buy my old house fifteen years ago. His name was Mr Lazar and he was a nice man. But now he’s dead. He killed him, Adam, brutally. Then he watched from his window until that punk walked by my new house one too many times. And then he killed that boy. But not before he took a few more souvenirs. That’s what he does. That’s what he’ll do to Faith and anyone around her.’
Faith sank into a chair, the blood draining from her head. Two more dead. Brutally.
‘What do you think he’s doing to Roza?’ Adam countered quietly. Accusingly.
‘I know what he’s doing to her. I saw what he did to the others. I stood in the cold room and I looked at them all.’
He hadn’t just looked at them, Faith knew. He’d let their suffering into his mind and it had destroyed a piece of his heart. She’d seen the after-effects of that herself.
Adam shook his head. ‘No, you don’t. You don’t know. You’ve never seen.’
The table jolted as Deacon shoved the chair he’d been holding in a death grip and leaned forward, gripping both sides of the table. His body vibrated in anger and fear and hurt. ‘He cut them apart! Both Lazar and Renzo. He cut them into pieces and dumped them into garbage bags. He used Lazar’s own cleaver to do it.’ His voice broke. ‘He cut off his head, Adam,’ he whispered. ‘He cut off both their heads and stuffed them in the freezer.’
Faith’s stomach heaved even as her heart ached for him. His neighbor. He’d known him. Liked him. And then to have found him . . . like that. Oh Deacon.
Adam shuddered out a breath. ‘I’m sorry, Deacon. I’m sorry that happened to your neighbor, but his ordeal lasted a few hours. Arianna’s lasted days. He’s had Roza for years. Years. Do you have any idea what he could be doing to her right now?’
‘Yes,’ Deacon said, quietly now. As if he had no strength to say more. He still gripped the table, but his head fell forward, his pose no longer one of menace, but defeat. ‘I know.’
‘No, you don’t.’ Adam took a step back, his breathing too shallow and too fast. ‘You only see them after. After it’s over. You haven’t seen. I’ve seen.’
Deacon lifted his head. Exhaustion had etched lines into his cheeks, around his mouth and eyes. ‘What have you seen?’ he asked with a gentle sadness that brought tears to Faith’s eyes.
‘No. I can’t do this. I won’t do this. I won’t one-up you. I am sorry you found your neighbor dead and . . . mutilated. I am sorry that you probably saw Faith that way, in your mind. I am sorry if you think I put her in danger, but I can assure you that she was never in any peril. And I’m especially sorry if you think I’d deliberately put her in harm’s way. Because I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I . . .’ He let out a breath. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Adam closed the door quietly behind him, leaving them in silence. Faith thought Deacon would face her then, but he shuddered out a breath and turned for an open bedroom door.
‘I’m going to sleep,’ he said woodenly. ‘Faith, try to rest. We’ll figure out your situation in the morning.’
Your situation. Not our. Faith could only stare at him as he disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door.
‘He’ll come around,’ Bishop said. ‘He was scared for you.’
‘I know. I should have listened to him.’
Bishop pushed herself to her feet. ‘I didn’t say that. He did expect blind obedience, but only because he wanted to keep you safe. I’d planned to go home tonight, but I find I’m too tired as well. I think I’ll stay, just to help cover you if something were to go wrong.’
‘Thank you, Detective.’
‘Go to sleep, Faith. It’ll all look different in the morning.’
‘You didn’t say “better”,’ Faith murmured.
‘No, I didn’t. Because I can’t ensure that it will be and I never make promises I can’t keep.’ She grabbed her gym bag and set the condo’s security alarm. ‘Good night, Faith.’
‘Good night, Scarlett.’ Faith waited until Bishop had closed the door to the bedroom she’d chosen before going into her own room – the one that shared a bath with the room she and Deacon had slept in the night before.
I need to fix my part in this. Squaring her shoulders, she went through the bathroom and knocked on Deacon’s door. ‘It’s me,’ she said softly. ‘Can I talk to you?’
The silence stretched so long that Faith thought he wouldn’t answer. Then she heard his voice, muffled and defeated. ‘Sure. Come in.’
North of Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 10.00 P.M.
He sat the bag of first-aid supplies on the card table he’d set up in the basement of his house.
His house. No one else lived here. No one else knew about it other than Jade, and she knew better than to tell. She didn’t know where it was, anyway. No one would search here. No one would find his captives until he was ready for them to be found.
Dr Dani Novak stared mutinously at the bag of supplies as he slipped off his jacket. ‘You really expect me to put you back together after you fucking kidnapped me?’
He’d only allowed her to do a temporary dressing while they were in her apartment because he’d been antsy to get away. She’d been much later than he’d expected – apparently having visited all his victims who’d ended up in the hospital instead of the morgue. It had given him a chance to rest, although he hadn’t actually slept while he’d waited. He didn’t want her coming home to find her brother bound and gagged on the sofa and himself sawing z’s on the floor.
He was tired, far too tired to take her lip. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I expect you to put me back together, or I start shooting children. Who should die first? Your brother or Roza?’
‘Roza might die anyway,’ Dr Novak said. ‘She’s not responding. She needed to be in a hospital, not the backseat of your SUV all day. Especially the way you drive.’
He backhanded her, knocking her to the floor. She sat there for a moment, seething, then licked her bleeding lip. ‘You killed the Renzo kid, didn’t you?’
‘I did,’ he said with a smile.
‘I assume you tortured him for information.’
He grinned, pleased at the memory. ‘I did.’
‘Then you know you shouldn’t be making me bleed.’
His grin disappeared. He threw her a box of latex gloves. ‘Suit up, Doc. Fix the bullet wound and be gentle about it.’
He gritted his teeth as she cleaned the wound and packed it with gauze. ‘You need actual stitches,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t get the supplies for that. This superglue will have to do.’
He moved his arm experimentally. ‘I guess it could be worse. Sit down and keep your mouth shut or I’ll have to drug you. I don’t want to have to drug you.’
‘Will you let me clean Roza’s head wound?’
‘Just don’t use up all my supplies.’
She rolled eyes that made him look twice. ‘Your eyes are different from your brother’s.’
She said nothing, just bent over the still form of the child and began to work.
As quiet enveloped his house, he started to feel the overwhelming need to sleep. He couldn’t do that until he’d tied up the doctor and the child. With his bum arm, he couldn’t hold the gun and tie them at the same time. Dani Novak was the kind to fight dirty.
Finally she finished working on the kid.
‘Tie her up with the zip ties.’
‘No. I will not restrain this child.’
Furious and exhausted, he aimed his gun at Greg, trussed up on the floor. The kid stared up at him, terror in his mismatched eyes. Good. At least one of them has the sense to be scared.
‘Don’t push me,’ he snarled. ‘Tie up the girl. And make it tight. If she escapes, I am holding you personally responsible. When you’re done, tie your own feet.’ Glaring at him, Dr Novak complied. ‘Now, on the floor on your stomach, hands behind your back.’
He secured her wrists with another zip tie and gave a good tug to make sure she wouldn’t be able to slip free. Finally he slapped a strip of duct tape over her mouth to shut her up.
He backed out of the basement, locking them in. His basement was secure – no doors or windows to the outside. This door was the only way in or out. He set the alarm panel and then lay down on his living room sofa to sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 10.00 P.M.
Faith found Deacon standing with one hand planted on the dresser, his bare back bowed. The mirror reflected the white peaks of his hair as his head hung low. His phone was buzzing on the dresser as he conversed with someone by text. Faith gathered her courage, crossing the room to brush her fingertips against his warm bronze skin.
He shuddered once, but didn’t tell her to stop, so she stepped closer and began rubbing his back in firm, wide circles. His phone buzzed again, a new text popping up. ‘Do you need to answer that?’ she asked.
‘No. It’s Dani. I was going to send a security detail to her apartment tonight, but she’s been at the shelter all evening. She’s just going to stay there. She’s got a couple of off-duty CPD officers with her. She just said that she’s fine.’
He’d spoken with a bone-deep weariness that made her feel even worse. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’ he asked on a sigh.
‘For the loss of your neighbor. That you were the one to find him. That now you feel responsible for leading a killer to your neighborhood, just like I felt responsible for all the people who died because of me.’ She stroked up and down his spine, feeling him shudder again, his back rounding up to meet her touch, just like the great cat she thought he resembled.
‘Thank you. But none of those things are your fault.’
‘I didn’t apologize, Deacon. I can be sorrowful without apologizing.’ He stiffened under her hands. ‘But I do apologize for hurting you by going to the house. I never meant to hurt you.’
‘I know,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry I shouted. I . . . I guess I hit my limit tonight. I just wish you’d waited for me, or at least that someone had told me where you were.’
‘I’m sorry for that too.’ She found a tight muscle just under the shoulder bruise he’d gotten saving her life and focused her attention on loosening it. ‘But I did help.’
‘So I heard. Vince showed me the cabinet that hid the dumbwaiter and the jars. You found his souvenirs. Unfortunately they don’t bring us a single step closer to knowing who this guy is. And for that you might have been killed. I’m sorry, Faith. I don’t consider it a fair trade.’
‘More than just souvenirs. Each jar was labeled with a name. We’re using the names to identify the victims. And matching them to the Foundation’s scholarship list.’
‘Tanaka would have found that cabinet. He’s good at his job.’
Her hands stilled and she swallowed the sudden lump of hurt that was stuck in her throat at his flat dismissal of her contribution. ‘I needed to do something,’ she whispered fiercely as she stepped back, letting her hands fall to her sides. ‘Surely you can understand that.’
‘I understand the need to do something.’ He straightened slowly, the muscles in his back flexing and flowing. But when he turned, the stark bleakness in his eyes shattered her hurt and her pride. ‘But I need you to understand that the only thing that kept me going tonight as I held my neighbor’s severed head in my hands was the belief that you were safe.’
The picture he painted with his quiet words was more devastating than if he’d shouted. He’d been afraid. For me. ‘I was safe,’ she said softly. ‘I am safe.’
He was unmoved. ‘This time. What about next time, Faith?’
‘What next time?’
‘The next time you make a sex offender angry enough to slit your throat. The next time you climb an embankment in your bare feet after hitting a tree. The next time you step between an out-of-control two-hundred-pound federal agent and a fifteen-year-old boy who outweighs you by fifty pounds.’ He glared. ‘The next time someone asks you to help them solve a crime.’
She considered her answer, trying to see it from his point of view, then finally settled on the truth, even though it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. ‘That’s who I am, Deacon. I promise to be careful, but I can’t promise to sit still if someone needs me. Nor would I expect it of you.’
‘But I’m a trained federal agent. The level of danger isn’t even close to being the same.’
‘No, it’s not,’ she agreed soberly, all too aware that his life might be taken at any time. ‘But for me this is a special circumstance. You face danger every single day.’
Which was all the more reason to resolve this. Life was far too short.
Tentatively she laid her palm on his chest, feeling his muscles clench. His gaze flicked down to her hand then slowly rose, his eyes instantly heating, arousal driving his fear far away.
She let herself stare at his eyes for just a few seconds, watching the brown and blue grow darker, the colors blending together until she no longer saw them at all, only his hunger, wild and intense and urgent.
Her body responded, her pulse kicking up its tempo as her breasts grew heavy, her skin too tight. Her panties were already moist. And he’d only looked at her.
She pressed her other palm to his heart, feeling his pulse accelerate. ‘I’m sorry I scared you,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to. I’ll try very hard not to again.’
He covered her hands with his, holding them in place on his chest. ‘If you’d waited, I would have gone with you. You didn’t have to face that basement again alone.’
Her heart turned over. ‘But I wasn’t alone. I imagined you with me every step of the way. It’s the only way I got down the stairs.’
His chest expanded on a sudden swell. He freed her hands, inspecting her palms before lightly kissing each one. Then he leisurely lifted them to his neck, running his fingers down her arms, flattening his own hands on her back. Pulling her so close that she could feel his erection against her abdomen. His eyes never left hers. ‘You’re tired.’
‘So are you.’
His lips curved, drawing her gaze to his mouth. ‘I’ll never be that tired,’ he murmured in that black velvet voice, sending a shiver across her skin and a bolt of lust straight to her core. She lifted on
her toes to press against him, wriggling to ease the pressure between her thighs.
He huffed a low laugh and a quiet groan. ‘I need a shower.’
‘Is that an invitation?’ she asked.
The fingers of one hand clenched, digging into her butt, her only warning before he . . . pounced. The fingers of his other hand shoved through her hair, cupping the back of her head in the same moment that he took her mouth with a ravenous voracity that left her stunned. Swept away. He pushed his leg between hers, pulling her higher and rocking her hips so that she rode his powerful thigh, all while he ate at her mouth like he could never get enough.
This. This was what she’d waited for all day long. This was what had kept her going. To be in his arms and . . . feel. She threaded her fingers through his hair and cradled his head in her hands, pressing her aching breasts against that beautiful bare chest that was hers. All hers.
He pulled back far enough to draw a breath. His fingers kneaded her butt and his thigh kept just enough pressure between her legs to tease. His eyes glittered with desire, fanning to life every fantasy she’d ever dreamed. ‘What do you want tonight, Faith? Decide quickly, because I’m on fire here.’
‘Do you have condoms?’ she asked calmly, even though her heart was beating through her chest. ‘Because there are no more in the drawers.’
Balancing her astride his thigh, he reached in his pants pocket and drew out a strip of at least six, holding them up for her inspection. He tilted his head, his white brows lifting. Waiting.
Faith laughed breathlessly. ‘Then let’s get clean, Agent Novak.’
Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 10.30 P.M.
Deacon wasn’t sure how he made it to the shower, he was so hard. He ran the hot water, then turned to Faith. ‘I want you. Now.’ He grasped the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head, leaving her bared to his eyes. ‘You are so damn pretty.’
She was. Her breasts were the perfect size for his hands. For his mouth. Supple and firm. He tugged her forward, taking a step to meet her halfway.
