by Jo Davis
“Ohh, Austin. Yes.”
The phone rang. He ignored it.
He began to pump his hips, slow and easy. Loving her, driving them higher. Worry and danger fell away, and nothing existed except the woman wrapped around his body. Giving her heart, shielding his. He lost himself to the glorious joy filling his soul, something he’d never hoped to feel again.
They were very, very late to work.
• • •
Two weeks. Two frustrating weeks of no more leads.
Austin spotted Danny waiting for him as he arrived at work one morning, and had a feeling that was about to change. Danny was circling his desk like an angry shark, his frustration palpable. His partner paced, checked his watch, then reached for the cell phone in his jacket. He spied Austin striding toward him and replaced it.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.”
Danny scowled. “Well, you’re looking mighty chipper this morning.”
“I’m great. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re smirking.”
“Am not.” Dammit, he was. He struggled to wipe the smile off his face.
His friend’s brows drew together in suspicion. “Yes, you are.” His mouth fell open. “Jesus, you finally nailed her!”
Austin stilled. Something feral, fiercely protective, surged in his chest. “Careful, my friend. Beating the shit out of you would screw my psych eval.” Little did his friend know he’d “nailed her” many times at this point. Wasn’t any of his biz, either.
“Chill, for God’s sake,” Danny drawled, holding up a hand. “No disrespect intended. I’m behind you guys all the way, remember?”
Austin forced himself to relax. “I know. You hit a nerve, that’s all.”
“Sorry. I’ll watch my mouth from now on. But listen, we’ve got major trouble.”
Ah, shit. “Please don’t say what I think you are.”
“Wish like hell I didn’t have to.” He ran a hand through his dark auburn hair. “We’ve got another dead guy, murdered in his apartment in the Laketree sometime last night. Derek Thompson, age thirty-seven, fits your physical profile to a T. I just got back from the scene.”
Austin closed his eyes. “Fuck.”
“Same scenario, with one big difference. Our killer is losing control.”
He opened his eyes, fighting down the choking misery. “How so?”
“This killing wasn’t as methodical as the others. He didn’t just cut the guy and leave him to bleed out.” Danny blew out a shaky breath. “He tore Thompson to pieces in a pure rage, stabbed him in the groin over and over. Carved the word ‘sinner’ across his chest, too. It’s a goddamn bloodbath.”
Sinner?
A chill crawled down his neck. “Son of a bitch. Where’d he hook up with Thompson?”
“Get this. At Spanky’s, like Blankenship.”
“Damn!”
“Think he’s rubbing our noses in our failure to catch him?”
“No. He’s a psycho who’s pissed at you. A creature driven by emotions that have spiraled out of control. The killer went back there on impulse, because he literally couldn’t take the time to formulate a better plan. That’s my gut feeling, anyway.”
“Makes sense. But what doesn’t is how he’s luring them—and the synthetic wig. We still thinking he’s in disguise?”
“That would be my guess,” Danny said. “Especially based on what Frankie Blair said. He saw Blankenship leave with someone who appeared to be a woman but I’m betting was our man. Where is this bastard? He’s a freaking ghost. He’s fixated on you, but you haven’t heard from him since he got you with the roofie. Christ.”
“I’m going to have a look at the murder scene for myself, then head over to Spanky’s and poke around. You coming?”
“Sure,” Danny said. “Let me get my jacket.”
After his partner trotted off, Austin sat behind his desk and picked up the phone. Another person murdered. Because of his rage at me. Something had to be done. No leads, no options, save one.
The internal battle warred on, his fingers gripping the instrument so hard his knuckles whitened. Every instinct screamed against putting Laura in more danger. But hadn’t he already done that by loving her?
Until he pushed his stalker into making another play for him, another innocent young victim would die horribly. And another.
He dialed Laura’s cell.
“Eden.” She sounded breathless, noise in the background.
“Hi, baby. Where are you?”
“At the scene of a fresh murder in north Sugarland, Laketree Apartments. Male. Nobody’s telling me shit.”
His insides warmed. This was his smart doc. All teeth, all business. “I’ll confirm for you. Another murder connected to me. Derek Thompson, age thirty-seven. Do your investigation, but withhold his name pending notification of the family. That’s all I can say at this point.”
“On the record?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, thanks. Hang on a sec.” More racket as she covered the phone, barked an order at someone. “I’m back. Where the hell are you, anyway?”
“On my way. And, Laura, I need your friend Joan to cover the scene. Make sure she waits and interviews me on camera about the murder investigation, no one else.”
“I’ll tell her.” The frown in her voice was evident. “What are you up to?”
“Afterward, are you free for a late lunch?”
“For you? Any day, hot stuff. Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both. You or Joan got any contacts with the Morning News? Someone who can snap a photo, cause a stir?”
“You bet. I’ll call as soon as we hang up. You want him today?”
“Today. Make sure he gets a cozy shot of us leaving the restaurant. Medical examiner and the police captain mixing the business and pleasure you mentioned.”
“Austin!” She gasped, excitement dispelling the sharp, no-nonsense attitude. “You’re taking me up on my idea?”
“Wish to God I had a better one. Stay put until I get there.”
Off the phone, he looked up to find Danny waiting, arms crossed, an incredulous expression on his face.
“You heard?”
“You’ve lost your frigging mind—you know that?” he snapped.
He turned and stalked off, leaving Austin to follow.
Nice. Thing was, he couldn’t disagree. He was gambling with Laura’s safety, and his own, to provoke his stalker into a jealous rage.
Austin could only pray the taunt didn’t backfire, explode in their faces. A cold promise breathed in his ear.
His next mistake would be his last.
13
Austin appeared beyond exhaustion.
Laura spotted him emerging from the victim’s apartment, stripping off a pair of latex gloves. He fished a small plastic Baggie from his suit, stuffed them inside, then shoved the whole thing into his pocket. Pausing, he swiped a hand down his face.
Fists clenched, he stood gazing into space. Tension emanated from the hard line of his body. Impotent anger.
Danny, Shane, and Chris emerged from the apartment, stopped to speak with Austin, expressions grave. Then Danny clapped him on the shoulder before the men dispersed.
Austin might’ve been the dead man inside. They all knew. All were worried. The reminder made Laura sick.
He turned his head and saw her standing next to Joan and the news van, and started in her direction. Despite his tired smile, there was no mistaking his joy at seeing her, the renewed spring in his step. Laura wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Joan froze in the act of checking her microphone and whistled softly, arching a tawny brow. “Whoa. Laura, girlfriend, that man has it bad for you. I think hell just iced over solid. The earth started spinning backward, birds flying upside down—”
Laura punched he
r friend in the arm, surprised by the steely cord of muscle that met her fist. “Good grief. Give us a minute, please?”
“Anything for you, my friend.”
Laura ignored Joan as she walked around to the other side of the van and pretended to find something else to do. All her attention was zeroed in on Austin. Tall, broad shouldered, mouthwatering in his dark suit. And out of it.
Bad kitty.
He closed the distance between them rapidly. Didn’t stop coming. Laura’s lips formed an O of surprise; then he was pulling her into his arms. Settling her against his chest, head tucked under his chin. Wrapping his strength around her.
“Austin, we’re in public! There are two other networks over there! We shouldn’t—”
“I need you.” He was trembling.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m here, always.”
“Promise?”
“That’s an easy one, Captain. I promise.” Her arms encircled his waist, held him tight. His heartbeat pounded a frantic tattoo under her ear. She couldn’t begin to imagine how horrific the scene inside must’ve been to upset him so badly.
“I intend to hold you to that.”
She pulled back, looked up at him. “What do you say we get the segment over with and get out of here? We still on for lunch?”
He nodded, lips turning up in a weak smile. Green eyes haunted. “I don’t know if I could eat, but anywhere is fine as long as I’m with you.”
“You smooth talker,” she teased, laying a hand on his chest.
Joan cleared her throat. “You two lovebirds ready?”
Reluctantly, Laura let Austin go to ready himself for the segment. Joan smoothed her jacket, adjusted her microphone. All set, she looked at Austin, who was frowning at something in the distance. “Captain Rainey?”
He blinked at her as though waking from a trance. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Here we go,” Joan said. “Three, two, one . . .”
“This is Joan Peterson live at the scene of what the Sugarland PD confirms is another in a string of murders committed by the serial killer who began his spree with the murder of local man Matt Blankenship on April third. With me is Captain Austin Rainey, who’s in charge of the case. Captain Rainey, what can you tell us about the latest victim and the progress of the investigation?”
Expression grim, Austin relayed the barest information, careful not to reveal any details about the killing. He acknowledged that they believed the murder of the newest male victim was the work of the same killer, and little more, concluding by saying the department was doing everything in its power to catch the perpetrator.
“We’re going to catch this animal and put him away,” Austin said in a strong, commanding voice. “Mark my words.”
Only Laura, and perhaps his closest friends, would be able to read the strain in the lines around his mouth. His stiff posture, the total absence of the self-assured cop they all knew so well.
The interview didn’t last more than two minutes, but Austin’s shoulders slumped in relief the instant it was over.
Laura touched his sleeve. “Ready to go?” She followed his gaze to Joan and her cameraman, who were busy returning their equipment to the news van. “Why do you keep staring at Joan?”
Instead of answering, he asked, “How long have you known her?”
“A year or so, I guess. About as long as I’ve known you.” Puzzled by the question, she studied the strange look on Austin’s face.
“Do you consider her a friend, or an acquaintance?”
“We’re on friendly terms, but I don’t know her well enough to call her a good friend.” She slid a glance at Joan, praying she couldn’t overhear. Apparently oblivious, the newswoman paid them no attention as she straightened and then closed the van door.
“Hey, Ms. Peterson,” Austin called, waving her over. “Could you come here a sec?”
“Sure.” She joined them again, running a hand through her short platinum blond hair. Curious blue eyes locked with Austin’s. “What’s up?”
Austin kept his tone casual. “Laura tells me you’ve been at Channel Eight for a year now.”
If Joan thought his interest odd, she gave no indication, merely lifted her slim shoulders in a careless shrug. “About that. I left Channel Twelve and the armpit known as Los Angeles before settling here.”
Austin smiled. Putting the lady at ease. “Can’t say as I blame you. Only a year ago, huh? Funny, I was thinking of all the times I’ve seen you on the news, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen you before that, somewhere else.”
He had? Why hadn’t he mentioned this?
Either Joan didn’t notice that the captain was blatantly pumping her for information or she didn’t care. “I never forget a face,” she said pleasantly. “I sure wouldn’t forget yours. But you could have seen me at the gym or the supermarket or at any of the clubs around here. I like to have a drink on my downtime.”
“Really? Me, too. Where do you go?”
“Oh, the Waterin’ Hole, Junior’s, Twin Peaks, and a place called Spanky’s. That one’s a bit wild.”
A little jolt went through Laura. She looked at Austin. His smile was a bit stiff and his gaze was speculative. The subtle change was confusing, and Laura wondered about it.
Austin’s low voice came out low, raspy. “How about that?”
Desperate to break the weird tension, Laura linked her arm through Austin’s. “Sweetie, I’m sure Joan has a million things to do. I’m starving, aren’t you?”
A weighty pause. Something dark, dangerous flickered in Austin’s gaze. There and gone. “Yeah, starved. Thanks so much for covering the segment for me.”
Joan grinned. “Anytime at all.”
Rainey stared at her hard. “Yeah. Well, we’d better go. Thanks for answering my nosy questions. Old habits, you know.”
“No biggie.” Joan nodded. She turned to Laura. “If you’re in good hands, I’ll see you around. Let’s do lunch.”
“I am, and thanks. Lunch soon.” She waved as Joan ambled around to the passenger side. She waited until the cameraman started the van and began to drive off before asking Austin, “What on earth was the third degree all about?”
“Just what I said. She seemed familiar from somewhere besides TV, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her around. Is she single? Does she date?”
“I’ve wondered myself, but that’s not the sort of question I’ve ever felt comfortable asking her. Oh no—should I be worried about competition for your affections?” Laura deadpanned.
“Ha!” He snorted, relaxing a bit. “I didn’t spend all these months pining for you from afar only to let you go the second I finally have you under my charming spell.”
“Charming! Well, I suppose you have your moments.” Sobering, she dropped the banter and pinned him with a look. “Seriously, whatever line of thinking you’ve got going on Joan, you’re way off base.”
He gave a tired sigh. “I know. I’m grasping at straws. It just struck me that I’ve seen her locally, and she seems strong enough to commit the crimes our killer has done.”
Her brows arched. “Austin, really?”
Pulling her close, he gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. At this point I’d suspect anyone, even the mailman.”
She felt bad for him. The man needed a lead, badly.
A commotion across the parking lot interrupted their banter and she gestured to the crowd. “Whoops. Time to get the heck out of here. You’ve got more reporters making a beeline in your direction.”
“Jesus.” Grabbing her hand, he practically dragged her to his truck. No doubt, tongues were wagging as they made their dubious escape.
Let them wag. At long last, she’d caught her sexy hunk of trouble.
And she would damn well keep him, even if she had to kick some psychotic ass to accomplish it.
• • •
From his dark corner, he watched them having lunch. Grinning at each other stupidly, heads together. Whispering, stealing little kisses.
Laura, you bitch.
“Think you’re so smart, do you?” he seethed. “I warned you, whore.”
Laura would die, and Austin would be punished. Soon. The pair had no idea who they were dealing with.
“You’ll bring me down, will you, Captain?”
No idea. None at all.
• • •
Yesterday had been a howling bitch. The kind of day that makes a weaker man throw in the towel. Jump off a bridge. Walk in front of a speeding bus. After seeing Derek Thompson’s torn, mutilated body, the stark horror fixed on his gray face, and knowing it should’ve been himself, Austin might have given up.
Except for Laura. Without her to steady him—his life raft in the storm—he might’ve drowned.
Holding a mug of steaming coffee, Austin walked into his bedroom and stood over her. She was lying flat on her back, arms spread. Raven hair spilled around her angular face. Her mouth was parted in deep sleep, and a delicate little snore escaped, making him chuckle.
Austin’s T-shirt rode at her slim waist. One slender leg rested atop the bedspread, bent slightly at the knee. Sweet nipples poked at the fabric of his shirt, begging for his tongue. Her sex was completely exposed, inviting his cock to come out and play. Who was he to refuse such a delicious invitation?
His erection strained at the fly of his jeans. She was so soft. Beautiful. One hundred percent woman, and all his. She’d turned his world upside down and made him forget his fears and loneliness.
Setting the mug on the bedside table, he pushed off his jeans and climbed naked into bed. Spooned her from behind. Enthusiastically.
Laura shifted, wiggling her rump against his cock. “Mmm.”
He bent over her, raked her hair aside. Kissed her soft neck, nibbled the tender skin there. Breathed her warm scent, which smelled faintly of him.
He slid a hand underneath the T-shirt, splaying it across her flat belly. He liked the way his fingers looked stretched almost the width of her abdomen. He loved the way she fit against his body, like an all-knowing higher power had handcrafted her perfection especially for him.
