by Rita Herron
Tinsley knocked the candle from Hinke’s hand; then Hinke reached for her throat.
Wyatt didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger. The bullet hit home, piercing the man’s temple. The impact knocked Hinke backward, and he collapsed beside Tinsley, blood spurting from Hinke’s wound.
“Tinsley? Carrie Ann?”
Carrie Ann lay on the floor, half-conscious, blood on her hands. Tinsley was dragging herself toward her sister. She looked shell-shocked and terrified, but she was alive.
He stooped to make sure Hinke was dead. Wood popped and cracked, the fire spreading. He rushed to Tinsley and helped her lift Carrie Ann to stand. Carrie Ann draped her arms around his shoulder on one side and Tinsley’s on the other, and they ran outside.
He coaxed them far away from the building, and they sank down beneath a giant oak tree. Carrie Ann roused, and Tinsley wrapped her arms around her. The two of them hugged and rocked each other as he ran back inside to retrieve the Skull’s body.
He beat at flames as he entered, covering his mouth to stifle the smoke. He could let the man’s body burn.
He wanted to see him in the ground instead.
Tinsley dabbed blood from Carrie Ann’s forehead with Wyatt’s handkerchief.
Wyatt looked down at them, his expression dark. “Police and ambulance are on their way. Are you hurt, Tinsley?”
She shook her head. “Just banged up. Carrie Ann needs stitches.”
He nodded, then stepped away to answer his phone.
“I’m so proud of you for coming out of the house,” Carrie Ann said as she looked into Tinsley’s eyes. “That took courage, Tins.”
Tinsley shook her head. “No, it took rage.”
Carrie Ann squeezed Tinsley’s hand. “He’s dead. That’s all that matters.”
“What matters is that you and I are alive,” Tinsley said. “And we won’t have to worry about him anymore.”
They hugged again, but when they broke apart, tears filled Carrie Ann’s eyes. “Don’t cry,” Tinsley whispered. “We’re free. We can get a place together now and make up for these last few months. If you want to stay at the cottage, we’ll take long walks on the beach and sip wine at sunset and dream about the future like we did when we were kids.”
Carrie Ann gave her a sad smile. “I want that more than anything, but I have to take responsibility for what I’ve done. If I don’t, I can’t start with a clean slate.”
Tinsley cradled her sister’s hands in hers. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing to—”
“I was so upset these last few months that I became obsessed with your case and all the injustices in the world. I joined that group, the Keepers.”
“No . . .” Tinsley shook her head in denial.
Carrie Ann lifted her chin. “I met Milburn in the bar that night and let him buy me a drink. When he came onto me outside, I was prepared.”
Wyatt had walked over and was listening. Panic seared Tinsley. He was an FBI agent, sworn to uphold the law.
“Please, Wyatt—”
“I’m sorry, Tinsley,” Carrie Ann said. “I have to stand up for all the women who’ve been victimized by men, both in bars and on the job or in schools.”
Tinsley’s heart ached. She couldn’t get her sister back only to lose her to prison.
Wyatt didn’t like the latest turn of events. Carrie Ann could go to jail. He might have to arrest her. She could do hard time.
That would be another blow to Tinsley.
But if he didn’t do his job, he’d be no better than the vigilantes.
He waited for the fire department and paramedics to arrive, along with the ERT and medical examiner, then followed the ambulance to the hospital.
He wanted Tinsley examined, too. She might have internal injuries, and those bruises needed tending to.
His heart was still racing from the terror that had driven him to this place. If Tinsley had been dead, he . . . didn’t know what he’d do.
He was in love with her. He didn’t know when it had happened. Maybe the first time he’d met her.
But he could no more deny his feelings than he could have denied the call to law enforcement. That was in his blood.
And now Tinsley was in his heart.
What the hell was he going to do about it?
He parked in the emergency room parking lot and hurried inside. At Tinsley’s insistence, she was wheeled to the same exam room as her sister.
He paced the waiting room while they were examined, then phoned Kendall James. She was the attorney who’d represented Cat and had helped Korine when Mrs. Davenport confessed that she’d shot Korine’s father.
Ms. James agreed to represent Carrie Ann, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Carrie Ann still might not get off. Milburn’s asshole father was determined to make his son’s killer pay.
And Carrie Ann had killed him. But self-defense and a history of PTSD would work in her defense. James would also use that as a defense in relation to Dr. Ferris’s death.
A nurse led him back to Tinsley. “They want to keep Carrie Ann for observation tonight,” Tinsley said. “She has seven stitches and a concussion.”
“All right. I’ll drive you back to the cottage.” He raised a brow. “That is, unless you don’t want to go back there.” Too many bad memories of being locked inside.
“You’re right,” she said with a sad smile. “I don’t want to go there tonight.”
“Then a hotel?” He hesitated. “Or I could take you to my place. You’ll be safe there.”
She slid her hand into his. “Your place would be nice.”
Before Tinsley left with Wyatt, she assured Carrie Ann that she wouldn’t go to prison. Marilyn Ellis wanted the story, and she and her sister would give her one. Ellis had made Cat look sympathetic. Hopefully, she’d do the same for Carrie Ann.
In fact, Carrie Ann had wanted to talk to the reporter. Tinsley wondered about those skulls from Seaside Cemetery. She’d told the police that she’d heard some old-timers in a bar talking about that graveyard and one of them had said graves had been uprooted. Still, something about her sister’s story bothered her.
But the Skull was gone and Carrie Ann was safe, so she hadn’t pushed for more information.
Maybe she didn’t want to know . . .
She’d wanted to stay with Carrie Ann, but her sister insisted she go home and get some rest. The silence between them was over. They would see each other the next day when Tinsley came to pick up Carrie Ann.
The beach was calling both their names. But this time she’d be outside, strolling with her sister, collecting seashells, and looking for sea glass. They were going to attend the fund-raiser for the rescue center together as well.
She owed it to Dr. Ferris.
Still, as much as she wanted to believe that everything was going to be normal, she still had scars, and so did her sister. It would take time to recover from all that had happened. The guilt over Dr. Ferris’s death was eating at both of them.
But this time they would work through their pain together.
“Do you want to stop by your cottage and pick up some things?” Wyatt asked as they left the hospital.
“Not tonight.” She’d finally broken free and was terrified that if she returned, she’d never leave again.
She was not going to lock herself away anymore.
They rode in silence, the tension thick with uncertainty. When they arrived at his cabin, she admired the rustic atmosphere of the exterior. “This place looks like you.”
He chuckled, a deep, hearty sound that warmed her insides. “It’s a fixer-upper, but I haven’t gotten to the fixing yet.”
She smiled, grateful for his attempt at a joke. He parked and came around to help her out, but she managed on her own. A low quarter moon hung in the distance, the sunset long gone. The wind whispered with the scent of the marsh and promises of a life that she’d forgotten to live.
No more.
Wyatt took her arm, and they walked inside
. The dark-brown tones of the leather furniture, the thick wood farm table, and the stone fireplace looked masculine. But it was cozy and inviting, a home.
The pictures on the mantel drew her eye. Wyatt smiling with a Little League team. Then another of him and a man in uniform. “Your father?”
Wyatt nodded, a bittersweet look in his eyes. “He was on the police force.”
Then another of him and a woman and two men who resembled him. “Your family looks close.”
“We are. Mom demands we all come for dinner every week.” He shrugged. “But the truth is, we don’t mind.”
Her heart squeezed, her thoughts turning to her sister. “I’m worried about Carrie Ann. I . . . can’t lose her, Wyatt.”
He turned her to face him. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to help her.”
After her ordeal with the Skull, she thought she’d never trust another man. But she trusted Wyatt with her life. And her sister.
And her heart.
She wanted to be with him tonight. But the scent and feel of Hinke lingered on her skin. “Do you mind if I shower?”
“Of course not. I can probably dig up a T-shirt for you to sleep in.” His smile returned. “It’ll swallow you whole, but it should be comfortable.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He showed her to the bathroom and linen closet, then hurried to find her a shirt. She smiled at the sight of the big Georgia bulldog emblazoned on the front.
One of the bars on the island catered to the Georgia fans. She imagined Wyatt there, having a beer with friends as they watched the game.
It had been so long since she’d been out in public or to a restaurant that it seemed foreign, but she ached to do it.
One step at a time. She’d left the cottage today. That was a start.
Staying with Wyatt tonight would be another.
Wyatt heard the water running and imagined Tinsley naked inside his shower. His body hardened, his hunger for her returning full force.
He could not act on that need, though. Tinsley had been through hell tonight, and she’d taken a big step in leaving that cottage. Pushing her would be selfish.
Besides, she hadn’t come home with him because she’d wanted to sleep with him. She’d come because she’d been beaten and mauled by that sadistic son of a bitch, Hinke.
He found a bottle of wine he’d bought some time ago and opened it, then poured two glasses. Tinsley might want something to help her relax.
Hell, he could use a drink himself.
He walked to the back deck and looked out at the marsh. There were still details to tie up. The three skulls hanging in that clinic needed to be identified and their families notified. But they had the rest of the remains, so at least the women could be buried intact.
Dr. Patton had sent word that the remains he’d found in the refrigerator definitely belonged to Hinke’s father.
The door creaked open, and he sensed Tinsley behind him. Desire shot through him as he saw her standing barefoot in his big T-shirt.
With her hair hanging damp over her shoulders and her face scrubbed clean, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“My turn.” He had to get a cold shower to tamp down his libido. “There’s wine on the counter if you’d like a glass.”
She nodded, her blue eyes huge. He rushed into his room, stripped, quickly showered, then dressed in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.
When he was finished, he found her standing on the back deck with a glass of wine, her look pensive as she stared across the marsh.
“I’ve missed so much.”
“You’re free now,” he said gruffly.
She turned toward him, her eyes flickering with emotions, then something akin to desire. “I want to live again. To really live.”
“You’re strong and brave. You have time.”
She stepped toward him, tilted her head, her gaze locking with his. “Maybe. But one thing I’ve learned is that all you can really count on is today.”
He swallowed hard at her husky tone. “That’s true.” He’d almost lost her today. He wanted to savor every minute in her presence now.
She took his hand, lifted it, and kissed his palm. He licked his lips, aching for a taste of her. But she had to make the first move.
Then she did. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her hand to his cheek. His body went still, heart pounding, blood racing.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Wyatt closed his mouth over Tinsley’s, the sweetness of her touch more arousing than anything he’d ever felt before.
She trailed her hands into his hair, and his heart hammered as he drew her closer. Her breath caught, and then she looked up into his eyes. Hers were dark with hunger.
He knew damn good and well that she hadn’t been with anyone since that monster had violated her. That humbled him more than anything.
He kissed her again, tenderly this time, his hands gently stroking her back. He wanted her naked in his arms, her body writhing beneath him as he pleasured her.
But if a kiss was all she wanted, he’d take it.
She gingerly traced her tongue over his lips until he opened for her. Pleasure rocked through him when she clasped his face in her hands and coaxed him into a mating dance with their tongues.
He lowered his hands to her hips, his cock hardening when she rubbed her body against him. He held her tight, kissing her with all the pent-up emotions he’d held at bay, and was rewarded when she emitted a soft moan.
That simple sound of pleasure was almost more than he could bear.
He had to slow things down. Wrangle in his libido, which was quickly spiraling out of control.
Slowly, he ended the kiss, then leaned his head against hers. Their erratic breathing filled the silence, the tension palpable.
“You should go to bed,” he said gruffly.
“You’re right.” She took a step back but shocked him by taking his hand in hers. “But I don’t want to go alone, Wyatt.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right out here.”
A wariness flashed in her eyes. “You don’t want to be with me? I know I have scars—”
He shushed her by kissing her again, deeply, tenderly. When he pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing shaky.
“Don’t misunderstand,” he said. “I want you with every fiber of my being. I don’t care about your scars. When I look at you, I see a beautiful, desirable, strong woman.” He cupped her face between his hands. “But I don’t want to hurt you,” he said in a low voice.
“You could never hurt me,” she said softly. This time she kissed him.
When she pulled away, she took his hand again, and he followed her to the bedroom.
Nerves knotted Tinsley’s stomach as she pulled Wyatt to the bed. For a moment, she feared he wouldn’t find her attractive.
Although his sultry looks, and the way his body hardened when they were close, had given her hope. And courage.
She trusted Wyatt. He wouldn’t hurt her. But he might break her heart.
Because they had no future together. He wanted a family, and . . . she couldn’t give him that.
They had tonight, though. And she was going to make every minute count.
She’d closed herself off from the world, from people, from feeling for so long that one touch of his fingers stirred her passion.
She turned in his arms and saw him watching her. He was worried.
His concern made her want him even more.
She pulled his face to her for another kiss.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, this time more urgently. She raked her hands over his back, need building. His hard muscles bunched beneath her touch, and his heated breath bathed her neck as he trailed kisses along her throat. She threw her head back in abandon, offering him free rein.
His lips and tongue teased her; he kissed her again, a kiss filled with passion. She moaned and reached for his shirt. He helped her remove it, then tossed it to the s
ide.
He was beautiful. A soft dusting of dark hair covered his broad chest. He was muscular and strong, but he used that strength to protect others, not to exert his power or hurt anyone.
His patience and tenderness and protectiveness had ignited a flame inside her. She was in love with him. She’d fallen hard.
She pressed her lips to his chest and leaned her head against him, savoring the warmth of his skin and the sound of his heart beating. He rubbed her arms, then kissed her forehead and threaded his fingers in her hair.
“We can stop anytime,” he murmured.
She nodded. “I know.” She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. “I don’t want to stop. I want you.”
He made a low sound in his throat, part pleasure, part pain, then kissed her again. By the time he broke the kiss, her legs felt weak.
“Remember what I said,” he whispered as he gently eased her onto the bed.
She raked her hands down his chest and pulled him on top of her. His weight should have felt suffocating.
Instead it felt comforting. And sensual.
She wrapped her legs around his, and they twined their bodies together, kissing and stroking each other until he reached for the bottom of her shirt. She held her breath, hating that she bore scars.
“I wish I was perfect for you,” she said in a raw whisper.
“You are.” He tilted her face so she had to look into his eyes. “You are beautiful.”
She licked her dry lips, aching for more of him. “You make me feel that way.”
A sexy smile curved his mouth. “And you make me humble.” He kissed her throat, then inched the T-shirt over her head, exposing her breasts and belly and a pair of black bikini underwear that nearly made him lose control.
“God, you’re sexy.”
She closed her eyes and let him pleasure her. His tongue and hands roamed over her body, bringing her back to life with titillating erotic pleasure. He tugged one nipple into his mouth and gently suckled her, and she wrapped her legs around him, lifted her hips, and felt his thick erection bulging against her heat.
He teased one breast, then the other, then trailed kisses down her stomach to her inner thighs. He tugged at her panties with his teeth, then dragged them off her and threw them to the floor.
