“Fuck! Oh, shit, please do that again!”
Grace was happy to oblige. When she lifted her head again, she tongued the ‘V’ just below the head of his cock. Her eyes met his when she released him. “Cum in my mouth.”
“Is that an order, Mistress Grace?”
“Damn straight, lover boy.” She took him back in her mouth and increased the pace. Sean’s hand tightened in her hair again, and she loved the erotic sensation that shot through her. She was horny as hell, but right now was all about Sean. Harder and faster she bobbed her head, sucking and licking as she went.
“Oh, baby. I’m close. Mmm. Please, don’t stop. Oh, God! Fuck, yes!”
Sean roared his release as multiple spurts of cum exploded into Grace’s mouth. She swallowed as much as she could but a lot seeped from her lips and rolled off her chin to the floor of the shower. Panting, he reached over and wiped her mouth after she freed him. “Damn, woman . . . that was fucking . . . incredible. Please tell me . . . I don’t have to get hit by a car again . . . to get a repeat of that sometime.”
Grace kissed the inside of his thigh. “If you get hit by a car again, then you’ll never get another one of those.”
CHAPTER
19
“What the fuck, stud muffin?”
Sean shut the bedroom door behind him so he wouldn’t wake Grace. Suki had called the minute she’d heard what happened and she wasn’t happy.
“I told you to piss him off, not get run over by the guy.”
“Trust me,” he responded. “Getting run over was not in my playbook. But apparently our UNSUB has a different one.”
Suki huffed. “Apparently. Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” He sat on the couch ignoring the glare Rico was giving him from the recliner. The cat was still pissed off he’d been evicted from the master bedroom. “But despite my bruises and road rash, we’re no closer to IDing this guy. Any new suggestions?”
“Yeah. Get eyes in the back of your head.”
He snorted. The shrink loved to bust his chops, and he gladly took the comic relief. “I’ll add it to my to-do list.”
The doorbell rang, sending Rico scurrying down the hall to the spare bedroom. Sean stood and peeked through the front door’s peephole. Sighing, he unlocked the door and opened it. “Suki, I’ll call you back later. My oldest brother is here with his very pregnant wife . . . after I told them not to come.”
“Don’t blame me,” KC told him as Sean disconnected the call. Moriah looked him up and down, evaluating the injuries not covered by his sweatpants. “When your pregnant and hormonal wife demands to see her brother-in-law in the battered flesh to reassure herself he’s okay, you hop to it.”
“I’m fine. See?” He did a 360 degree turn, keeping his injured arm tucked against his ribs. “I wasn’t lying to you earlier.”
“Stick it, both of you,” Moriah chastised as Sean kissed her cheek while KC shut the front door. “Our baby only has two blood uncles, and he or she is not losing one of them to a deranged psycho if I have any say about it.”
KC helped his wife sit in the recliner Rico had fled from. “Trust me, the baby is due in two days. If I could’ve convinced Moriah you were okay, we’d still be up in Little Creek.”
Moriah waved her husband away. “Stop hovering. I’m pregnant, not a priceless antique.”
“Well, not an antique, but definitely priceless.”
Taking a seat on the couch, Sean watched his sister-in-law melt at the compliment before turning back to him. “Where’s Grace?”
“Sleeping. We both passed out for a bit after we got home from the hospital.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. We’ll come back later.” The woman struggled to stand again, hampered by her wide baby-girth, and KC helped her up, rolling his eyes in exasperation. There was no way he was going to say his wife was driving him nuts, and knowing that, Sean bit back a chuckle. “We’ll bring dinner.”
Sean shook his head. As much as he loved his brother and Moriah, he didn’t want everyone hanging out here later. At least if they met somewhere, he and Grace could leave when they wanted to. “Why don’t we meet you at Sassy’s for dinner? Tell Brian, Bonnie, and Uncle Dan to meet us.”
“Six o’clock?” KC asked while escorting Moriah to the door.
“Perfect.” Sean held the door open for them. “The beach house is all yours, which you probably already knew since you came here. I assume Bonnie gave you the address.”
“Actually, Dan did. He’s already written you off as taken and headed for wedded bliss, by the way, so you might as well go engagement ring shopping, because it’s inevitable. Which also means Brian is next in line for the old man’s matchmaking. Can’t wait to see that boy go down—hard.”
Snorting, Sean had to agree. “That’s going to be very, fucking entertaining. And I’m going to sit back, watch, and laugh my fucking ass off.”
“So am I. Later, bro.”
“Later.”
Sean shut the front door then ambled down the hallway to the master bedroom. Rico was sitting outside the closed door meowing, so Sean let the cat into the room and lowered his voice. “Fine. You can join us now. Just stay away from my balls, you little homo-cat. If you want a boyfriend, I’ll get you one that’s feline.”
* * *
George pounded the steering wheel of his mother’s car as he drove past the address he had for Special Agent Sean Malone. He’d switched vehicles and planned to hide his for a few weeks, until he could get the damage fixed without raising any flags. It’d been three days since he’d hit the bastard, and Malone still wasn’t at the beach house. Finding out his address had been as easy as hitting a few computer keys. However, the night of the incident and the next morning, there had been another guy and a pregnant woman at the house. No one had been there since, as far as George could tell. The fucking bastard was probably staying with the blonde slut.
Doing a U-turn, he rethought his strategy. Maybe the sheriff’s department would be the best place to find the fed again, then follow him. Yeah, that would work. But right now, George was itching to acquire a new whore to be turned into art. Something to tide him over until he could get his hands on the fed’s girlfriend. But where to leave his new masterpiece? He pondered a few places as he drove past the beach house once again.
“That’s it! That’s how to lure that prick back into the open!” Formulating a plan, he steered toward home. Tomorrow he was off from work so he’d have plenty of time to make sure everything was perfect. There were things to do and sluts to kill. The karma gods were shining brightly today!
* * *
“How does that feel?”
“Hmmm,” Sean moaned. “Like heaven. But I think it needs to be lower, please.”
Grace adjusted her hands on his back and shoulder. “There?”
“Uh-uh. Between my legs.”
Chuckling, she continued to knead his injured muscles. “I know for a fact that area is working just fine. Besides, my first patients are due any moment and I don’t want anyone thinking a ‘happy ending’ is part of the therapy we offer here.”
“Ha! No, definitely not.” He reached back with his good arm and squeezed her ass. “That’s a specialty for your lover boy only.”
The front door of Pro-Care opened and Sean released his grip as Tim walked in with two patients on his heels. It was a few minutes before 8:00 a.m., and after Grace finished the therapy on Sean’s shoulder, he was heading back to work. Brian and the others had kept him up-to-date with the case, but he’d had to wait to get clearance from an orthopedist, which he’d gotten late yesterday afternoon, to officially be back on the clock. Agency rules.
Tim helped an elderly, male patient climb onto a therapy table. “How’re you feeling, Sean?”
“Good. Got the best physical therapist there is working on me.”
Finishing his massage, Grace retrieved a moist heating pad from a steamer and placed it on his shoulder. “Not that he’s biased at all.”
&n
bsp; “No, not at all,” Tim said with a chuckle.
Sean had filled the other therapist in on what had happened so the guy knew to keep an eye on things at the clinic. With Tim here, Uncle Dan across the street, and a steady stream of patients throughout the day, Grace was as safe as she could be without being in a plastic, bulletproof bubble.
As she went to set up the other patient, Sean’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the number, he saw it was Brian and answered it. “Hey, bro.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
Startled at the anger in his brother’s voice, Sean responded, “I’m at Grace’s PT clinic and almost done. Heading to the sheriff’s department in a few. What’s wrong?”
“Don’t bother going to HQ. Meet me at the beach house as soon as you can.”
He pulled the heating pad from his shoulder and stood. “The beach house? Why?”
“This sadistic bastard left you a fucking present. Victim number six—or nine if you count the ones in Pennsylvania—is on the patio.”
Fuck!
Within minutes, Sean parked his Mustang behind a state BCI truck that had just pulled up to the curb in front of Uncle Dan’s beach house. He rushed past the two techs gathering their equipment and ran up the driveway to the patio. His gut clenched when he saw the naked and mutilated victim perched on one of the outdoor loveseats that surrounded a stone fire pit. Shit! He and Grace had been sitting on that exact piece of furniture after Easter Sunday dinner. KC had started a fire, and they’d all enjoyed sitting around it waiting for their bellies to digest the huge meal Bonnie had served.
Behind him, one of the crime scene techs, pulled out a camera and began taking pictures for evidence. Sean looked at Brian, Matt, Brad, and Rafe, searching for answers that, obviously, none of them had.
His brother pointed at the house next door. “Mrs. Zielinski’s nephew, Andre, is using her cottage for the week and spotted our vic when he came out to have his coffee on the porch. He went to bed around ten last night and didn’t hear a thing.” He lifted his chin toward the dead woman. “The killer left you a note.”
What? Sean’s gaze returned to the victim and he pushed aside his anger that a place he loved and had lived at during his teenage years had been pulled into this mess. That was the least of their problems right now. The worst being the poor, unidentified, blonde woman who hadn’t deserved to die and be posed like a macabre Halloween display. She’d been placed in a sitting position, but that didn’t hide the word “slut” carved into her torso. The ligature marks were prominent on the pale, blue skin of her neck, wrists, and ankles. She appeared to be in her early twenties and was similar to all the other victims with one exception—there was a white envelope on her lap with cutout letters spelling “Federal Pig.”
Sean turned to the photographer. “Get pictures of the note so we can open it.”
“Done. You’re good to take it.”
Brian handed his brother a pair of latex gloves. “It’s your mail.”
“Gee, thanks.”
After donning the gloves, he picked up the envelope by its corner. “Anyone have a knife?”
The second BCI tech reached into his open box of trade tools and retrieved a Leatherman multi-tool. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Sean opened the blade and slid it carefully under the sealed flap. He didn’t disturb the glued area in case there was DNA evidence, but instead cut the top edge of the envelope to reveal its contents. Pulling out a folded piece of paper, he dropped the envelope into a clear evidence bag the tech held open for him. The others gathered around as he unfolded the single, white, standard piece of printer paper. Again the bastard had used cutout newspaper letters.
Hope you enjoy your get well present. Next time you won’t be so lucky. S.S.
With sarcasm dripping from every word, Sean said, “Aw, and here I thought he didn’t care. Son of a bitch.” He resisted the irrational urge to crumple the paper up, and placed it in another evidence bag the tech handed him.
The ME and two attendants stepped onto the patio and Dr. Hansen shook his head. “This guy is really starting to piss me off, Sheriff.”
Crossing his arms, Matt grunted. “I’m way past ‘starting to’ get pissed off. Can BCI take some fingerprints before you take her? I want to find out who she is as fast as possible.”
Hansen nodded at one of the attendants. “Make sure you scrape under her nails before doing the prints.”
As everyone did their jobs, Brian stepped over to Sean and lowered his voice. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“For what?”
“Winner sits in on the autopsy. Loser gets to tell Uncle Dan his beloved beach house is now a homicide crime scene.”
Fuck.
CHAPTER
20
Grace waved goodbye to Elsie Whitmore as Tim finished up with Mr. Berkeley. The day had been filled with a steady stream of clients in need of rehab. She hadn’t expected the patient volume to rise so quickly and she was already considering hiring another physical therapist for part-time hours.
Glancing at the clock, she wondered if Sean was running late. He’d hoped to be here at six for when she closed and then he’d follow her home. If he wasn’t on time, she was to walk across the street to Dan’s apartment above the hardware shop until he arrived. She thought he was being over-protective, but this was his field, and after he’d gotten hit by the car, she understood his caution.
Sean had come back in after informing Dan about the crime scene at the beach house. Grace felt bad because she knew how much the little cottage meant to the older man. And now it was sullied because of a madman, and no amount of good memories would erase the fact that a woman had been brutally murdered and left there.
Sean had filled her in as much as he could, and her heart broke at the frustration he was going through. There were evil people in the world, and being in the FBI, he’d come across many of them, she was sure. But this case was eating at him, and she prayed they got a break soon so the task force and the residents of Dare County could breathe easier again.
Gathering up the top of a plastic garbage bag, she pulled it out of the can it was in and looked around to see if anything else needed to be thrown away. Tim was doing an ultrasound treatment on Mr. Berkeley, which would last several minutes, so Grace started for the back door leading to the alley where the employees working in the few stores on either side of her parked. Most of them would be gone by this time, but a few would still be there. The dumpster for the businesses in her complex was back there.
Opening the door, she made sure it didn’t shut completely behind her, locking her out, by putting a small wedge between it and the door jamb. The dumpster was two stores down to her right, and Grace swung the bag of garbage as a silly tune popped into her head. Maybe she would find a comedy on Netflix tonight for Sean—after the day he had, he could probably use some comic relief.
When she reached the dumpster, she pushed up the lid and threw the bag inside, then let the lid drop again. Before she had a chance to turn around, two arms encircled her from behind. One hand grabbed her waist while the other clamped a cloth over her mouth and nose. A sickeningly, sweet smell filled her nostrils as she reached up and tried to pull the cloth away from her face, clawing at the hand holding it. Grace struggled against the assault, kicking and trying to break free, but her mind began to fog and the strength drained from her limbs, rendering them useless. As she gave one last, futile kick of her leg, her slip-on sneaker flew from her foot. Her body went limp as a heavy darkness overtook her. The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was a male voice say, “Sleep tight . . . slut.”
* * *
Parking the Mustang in an empty spot in front of Grace’s business, Sean glanced at his watch—6:02. Not bad. With the horrendous day behind him, he was looking forward to cuddling on the couch with the woman he loved, some takeout, a funny movie or show, and Rico purring loudly in the middle of it all. When the cat wasn’t being moody, he loved to lay on the back of the
couch behind them and purr in their ears.
He climbed out of his car just as Dan was locking up the hardware store. The older man held up a finger and Sean waited for him to cross the street with Jinx at his side. Tail wagging, the dog sniffed Sean with earnest, probably smelling Rico on his clothes.
“How was the rest of your day?” Dan asked.
Leaning against the hood of the car, Sean crossed his arms. The weight of his frustration and anger apparent on his face. “It sucked. This morning’s victim was the niece of Congressman Holloway, Natalie Bowers. She went to a bachelorette party at a club in Elizabeth City last night and never made it home. Her friends said she met them there and they didn’t see her leave with anyone, but the place was packed. She left early—around 11:00 p.m.—because she was supposed to run in some 5k fundraiser for veterans this morning, but her car was found in the club’s lot this morning. The ME estimated the time of death was sometime between midnight and 2:00 a.m. Her prints were in the system from when her father was a US ambassador to Belgium while she was in her teens. Her parents are on vacation in Hawaii so her name isn’t being released until the morning while they fly back tonight. The congressman notified them by phone a few hours ago.” He shrugged his bad shoulder and grimaced. It had felt better most of the day, but now his neck was stiff with stress and that was affecting the still healing muscles. Grace was planning on massaging it again tonight before putting a heating pad on it. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else. How was your day?”
“Good. Bonnie and I are going out to eat and then to see that new Russell Crowe movie. Want to join us?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I just want to go home, kick off my shoes, and order take-out. I’d probably be asleep ten minutes into a movie.”
The Devil's Spare Change 2 Malone Brothers Page 17
