by Kylie Brant
“You…don’t…play fair,” she gasped. Her muscles tightened as she struggled against giving into the vortex of desire that threatened to draw her toward the inevitable finish.
“Baby…” His kiss was possessive. Primitive. “I’m not playing.”
She couldn’t summon a response. Sensation slammed against sensation. There was an urgency in his touch. An unvarnished command. And while she could fight the sensual onslaught, the conclusion wouldn’t be denied.
He was saying something else, his voice a ragged whisper. but the sound slipped away, as evasive as wisps of fog. Nerve endings formed in a tight waiting ball of urgency. Her control grew tenuous.
And then it snapped, eliciting a cry from her lips as she shattered, falling headlong into a pleasure too long denied.
Her breath panting and uneven, she was aware of his movements on the bed beside her, swift and jerky. She heard a slight sound, realizing he was donning protection, and the realization had reason returning.
But then he was beside her again, the feel of his smooth naked flesh a sensation she couldn’t resist. And the longing, recently satisfied, began to climb again.
She leaned over him, intent on exploring his body with her lips one inch at a time. But now he was the eager one. His muscles shuddering with tension, he urged her astride him, his eyes glittering with passion.
Alexa rose above him, and hesitated for a moment, her senses filled with him. There was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. The skin was drawn tightly across his cheekbones. And the signs of his desire reignited her own. She guided him inside her and the tether on his restraint snapped.
He clutched her hips in hard desperate fingers as he urged her to a faster pace. She braced her hands on his shoulders and met every upward lunge, her movements as urgent as his.
Her blood began to pulse again, scorching rivers under her skin. Need coiled in her belly.
The rhythm quickened. Breath shortened. The climax shook her first, startling in its intensity. Her release triggered his own, and he gave one last violent thrust upward before coming, his fingers hard on her hips. And a sound that might have been her name on his lips.
The lights outside the window were keeping Ethan awake. He should get out of bed. Shut the blinds.
But once he was up, he’d have no reason not to keep moving. To grab his clothes. Go back to his room. The idea was curiously unappealing. So, in the end, he did none of those things.
He stroked Alexa’s hip, one arm looped around her to keep her close. The position felt foreign. He hadn’t slept—actually slept—with a woman since his last marriage. Keeping things casual meant no obligation to spend the night, no awkward morning-afters. He’d gotten used to his own space.
Which didn’t explain why he was reluctant to move away from Alexa now.
There would be time enough in the morning to examine the sneaky little doubts that were circling. The ones that said he’d screwed up big time in a big way tonight. But on the heels of that thought came another; he and Alexa were adults, far removed from the two reckless kids they’d been a lifetime ago. They’d both remarried. Had fulfilling careers. And they were both experienced enough to know that great sex didn’t have to come with strings.
But that thought was oddly disturbing, so he pushed it away. Instead, he thought of every snippet she’d revealed about her past since joining the team. And it was far more, he was coming to realize, than he’d known even while they’d been married.
There’d been hints of course. The “homeschooling” that required her to educate herself alone in the library. The fact that she’d never let him drop her off in front of her house. That she’d purposefully preempted his intention to accompany her to tell her mother about the pregnancy.
She startled a little in her sleep, and he stroked her delicate spine until her muscles went lax again.
After meeting Reisman for the first time recently, Ethan realized that Alexa’s last meeting with her mother had been far worse than she’d ever let on. Somehow, everything was clearer with the distance of time. How a life of solitude and abuse had caused the wariness in her eyes, the guard so at odds with her gut-wrenching beauty. It explained why she’d been slow to smile. Slower to trust. At the time, instead of wondering what had caused her defenses, he’d been focused on slipping beneath them. Each smile he’d teased from her had felt like a reward. Each kiss an unexpected gift.
She’d told him she was leaving him so he could have the life that would have been his before the pregnancy. What he’d never been able to make her understand then was that everything had irrevocably changed once she’d walked into his life. And again, when she’d walked out of it.
It didn’t matter. Not anymore. If all they had were a few stolen moments before they parted again, Ethan wasn’t going to deny himself that.
This time would be different. When this case was over, they’d walk away without regrets. He tucked Alexa closer to his side and shut his eyes. And struggled to silence the apprehension that lingered.
Alexa still woke up slowly. There was tossing and turning involved. At one point, she buried her head in the pillow. The early morning sun streaming into the room had awakened Ethan and would eventually—despite her best efforts—wake her, too.
She flopped onto her back, one arm folded over her eyes. Moments later, she lowered it, a frown marring her beautiful brow. And finally, after several minutes, her eyelids fluttered open.
He smiled, charmed. “Good morning.” Ethan watched the emotions flash across her face. Shock. Confusion. Realization. Embarrassment. Followed by a languid smile that had his blood heating again.
“Ah…hello.” She struggled to sit up in bed, making a desperate grab for the sheet when it slipped below her breasts and pulled it higher. “What time is it?”
“Early.” He rolled to one elbow while surreptitiously tugging at the sheet she held. “Should have closed the blinds last night.”
She lifted a hand to push her hair back over her shoulder, her gaze going to the window. “That would have helped.” She gave another pull at the sheet. He tugged it down another couple of inches, enough to bare one nipple.
Alexa gave a wild grab for the bedcover and found it caught securely by him.
“Then again,” he mused, reaching out a finger to tease her breast, “there’s something to be said for daylight.” He rolled over her, propping his weight on his elbows and kissed her, long and lingeringly.
“Ethan…” she started.
There was a primitive thrill at the sound of his name on her lips, her skin naked against his. And he was beginning to be grateful the dawn light had woken them early. Alexa’s arms slowly twined around his neck, one hand going to his jaw while she opened her mouth beneath his.
In the next moment, he stilled, listening. Then mentally cursed when he recognized the small sound that had interrupted them. “My cell.”
He moved away unwillingly and rolled off the bed, going in search of his pants. Drew the phone out of the pocket, he answered. “Yeah.”
There was a momentary pause and then, “Ethan?” His eyes slid shut for a moment. Jonah Bannon. The jolt back to reality was jarring.
“What’s up?”
“I stopped by your room and knocked, but there was no answer.”
Because he hadn’t been in his room. Ethan cut his gaze to Alexa. She was sitting against the pillows, the sheet neatly in place around her now that he wasn’t there to devil her. “I’m out for a run.” The expression Alexa made at his excuse had him grinning. “DMV send copies of the Tillman licenses yet?”
“Yeah. And you’re going to want to see this.”
Adrenaline zinged up his spine. “I’ll be at your room in a few.” He disconnected.
“One of the driver’s license photos matched?”
“We’ll soon see.” Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his clothes. He’d have to take a few minutes to shower and change, and he counseled himself to patience. They’d thought
they’d been close before, only to have their suspects cleared. His gaze went to Alexa who had apparently forgotten her need for modesty and was swiftly striding, gloriously nude, to the bathroom. He took a moment to enjoy the view as he finished dressing, all the while damning Ian’s timing.
The case came first. It was telling that he even had to remind himself of that. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel a lingering sense of regret when he opened the door to her room and closed it softly behind him.
“Far more similarities to Patrick’s forensic sketch than Fornier’s.” Alexa surveyed the copy of the license photo critically, excitement radiating through her veins. “Take away the gray hair and mustache—and the attempt in the fake ID to make his skin look more weathered—and that’s this guy.”
“No mistake about it,” Ethan agreed. They were all huddled around the desk in Bannon’s bedroom. “And look at the address listed.” He sent Alexa a meaningful look. “Brandon, Manitoba. It’s a couple of hours away from the Assiniboine River.”
The satisfaction filling her had less to do with her correct assumption and much more with the knowledge they were closing in on the offender. He couldn’t know they had descriptions of his vehicles. Or that they knew his name. Where he lived. Those facts were weapons they’d use to track him down. And after the image he’d ambushed her with yesterday, Alexa allowed herself a moment to enjoy their advantage. “What’s next?”
“We went to the online local property records and punched in his name,” Ethan answered. “He’s a property owner. Thanks to Google Earth, we have a picture of his home, although we can be fairly sure he isn’t there now.”
“Did you find anything online about his marital status?” It wouldn’t be unusual for a serial offender like Tillman to have a wife and family who were completely unaware of his activities. But Alexa didn’t think that was the case here. He might be divorced or had a failed relationship in his past, but she was betting he was a loner.
“I’ve got a call in to the Brandon RCMP detachment and the local police department. They can get us all available details about the man and then,” there was a glint in Ethan’s eyes as he looked at all of them, “once we have a warrant, we’re mounting a raid on Amos Tillman’s base of operations.”
“Bet Friedrich is pissed to be missing this.” There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in Jonah’s words.
“He’s on a plane. He’ll be here soon.” Ethan gave the equipment in the Halifax RCMP interview room one final adjustment before stepping away, sliding another impatient look at the clock.
“That’s good.” Ian was bent over his laptop. “He deserves to be here when we take this bastard down.”
They were a long way from that point, Alexa thought. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact to keep her excitement in check. But they were far closer than the team had ever gotten before. The opportunity to stop the notorious killer before he struck again seemed within reach.
“Information I’ve gotten so far is that Tillman is single.” Ethan prowled the room as if unable to stay still. “Neighbors don’t know much about him. His property is twenty acres, and the nearest neighbor is five miles away.”
“The remoteness of the house would have been a draw for him,” Alexa added. Tillman had been isolated throughout his childhood in one fashion or another. First with corporal punishment by his father and then by becoming a nameless, faceless child in the merry-go-round of the child welfare system. Overlooked and underestimated. That was part of the profile she’d written from the beginning. But he’d gained the power he’d lacked as a child with his technical prowess. The finder of secrets. The exacter of punishment.
“Finally,” Ethan muttered as the screen came to life. The Manitoba ERT command center and team members were parked down the road from Tillman’s home, out of sight. “The members are equipped with weapon lights and helmets with cameras and night vision monoculars attached,” he told Alexa. “They probably have an infrared lens over their lights so they can be seen only by someone with a night vision capable device.”
“Or an infrared-capable camera feed,” Ian added, without taking his eyes off the screen. It was divided into five sections, one for each of the cameras’ images. The tactical unit moved carefully up the rutted, tree-draped drive for a quarter mile until a clearing appeared. A small white farmhouse was situated on it with an adjacent garage, flanked by another small structure on the other side of it. The old-fashioned wooden swinging doors on the garage would have to be manually opened.
The members of the team halted while they were still under cover of trees. “Change of entry strategy.” A quiet voice narrated the scene. “There’s a bar placed over the outside of the garage doors. We’ll try that way first.”
Alexa frowned. As far as security went, locking the structure from the outside made no sense. Unconsciously, she leaned forward on her chair, holding her breath as the team crept up to the garage doors. Lifted away the bar. But when they tried one of the doors, it held fast. Comprehension dawned. The doors were also secured on the inside.
One member used the breaching device on the right door, and after a couple of attempts, it swung open. Two men entered first, weapons ready, followed by the remaining three.
There was nothing of interest in the interior. One man tried the doors on the metal cupboards lining one wall. They were locked. Another member opened what looked like freezer tucked into a corner of the space. An officer splintered off to the right, approaching a single door that would lead to the shed. “Touchpad entry here.” His voice sounded on the live feed.
One of the team members picked up the breaching device and used it on the shed door. The entrance held up better than Merkel’s had. It took three tries to knock it down.
No one in the conference room seemed to be breathing. Their attention was glued to the scene unfolding in front of them onscreen. Half the team entered through the battered entrance. Flashlights attached to the men’s helmets pierced the shadowy interior. The only light inside it came from the center of the space. The men spread across the area, and Alexa’s breath caught. “Oh my God.”
The screened-in pen took up most of the room in the area. A strobe of brilliant blue and violet fluttered inside it, a perpetual flash of motion. The scene grew clearer as one of the men approached the enclosure. It was filled with dragonflies.
“He breeds them himself,” she murmured. At some point, he had to have come by a pair illegally, but he hadn’t left his supply to chance. “How does he care for them while he’s gone?” The eggs were probably laid in the child’s wading pool in the center of the pen. But the adult insects wouldn’t live long without a constant source of food.
“Stand up! Arms over your head! Up! Up! Now!”
Her attention snapped to the screen. The other men raced to join the one who’d barked the order. “It can’t be Tillman,” Ian muttered. “No way that bastard got out of the province undetected.”
“It’s a kid,” Nyle said wonderingly.
A flashlight pinned a boy against the wall of the building, his slight figure trembling as he squinted against the beam. His hair was ragged as if someone had chopped it off with a knife. His clothes were too small.
“Are you aliens?”
The men lowered their weapons as one. “Son, what are you doing in here?”
“Anis Tera makes me live here. He’ll kill us if he finds out you broke his door.” His shoulders shook as he started to cry. “I think he’s killed people before.”
“The boy is traumatized, as you can imagine.” Ethan had an officer from Brandon’s RCMP detachment on speakerphone. “He isn’t answering questions at this point. He seems convinced that the man he calls Anis Tera is coming back and will kill him.”
A spike of anger ignited in Ethan’s chest. Tillman’s abuse as a child hadn’t kept him from perpetuating the cycle. There didn’t seem to be any line the offender wouldn’t cross when it came to gratifying his own needs.
“The ERT team found
a cell phone in the shed,” he told the officer tersely. “One of those old Firefly phones they used to make for kids so the parents could program it to receive and call out only one number. There’s no redial function or call history. One of the buttons needed to make an emergency call was disabled. We suspect Tillman used it to keep tabs on the boy, and we need that phone number.”
“A warrant…”
“Is in the works. But it will take hours to get the records of incoming calls, and maybe the boy can help. He might have used the cell at some point to call Tillman. We want to ask him a few questions.”
“I don’t know…the boys’ parents are here. I think they’re ready to take him home until an official interview can take place.”
“We have Dr. Alexa Hayden on our task force, and I think she’s the one person who could coax the boy to answer a few questions without further traumatizing him. Run that by the parents.” Ethan held while the officer conveyed his request.
“You realize the parents are going to believe I’m a child psychologist.” It was clear that Alexa wasn’t comfortable with the deception.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” He was undeterred by her frown. “With your background, you’ll know exactly how to speak to him. And he’s the quickest avenue to the information we need.”
She looked unconvinced, but she subsided. Ethan couldn’t stem his feeling of urgency. If the parents agreed, the boy was unlikely to be harmed by answering a few questions. And if he had the information Ethan sought, it would save them hours of waiting for the cell company to come through with records.
When they were this close to capturing Tillman, they needed to take every advantage they could.
“The parents agreed to a short interview.” The officer had come back on the speakerphone. “I’ll set up a video chat if you give me your information.”
