The Sharpest Edge

by Stephanie Rowe

  Um, not so high on that idea. “How do we know the person is gone?”

  “I’ve been in there. There’s no one here.” He crashed his fist against the hood of the cruiser, swearing as she’d never heard him swear. “Come on.” He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in as he dragged her into the house. He shoved her into the living room and pointed to the wall. “Look.”

  Words were scrawled on the wall in what looked like black magic marker. Jimmy’s blood is on your hands. You die. Cheryl dies. Everyone dies. No one kills my brother.

  There was a knife stabbed into the wall at the end of the sentence, right through the center of a photo of Kim, Cheryl and her dad.

  “John Ramsey didn’t do that,” Alan said, disgust dripping from his voice. “When I find the scum who’s doing this, I’m going to—”

  “How do you know he didn’t do it?”

  Kim spun around to find Sean standing behind her. “Sean!” Thank God he was there! Somehow, she didn’t have faith in Alan’s ability to protect her from a psycho. She believed in Sean, though. Totally and completely.

  His eyes were bubbling with anger as he touched her arm gently. “You okay?”

  Mentally or physically? Because they were completely different answers. “I guess.”

  He nodded, then turned to Alan, who was still muttering about his plans to annihilate the person impersonating John Ramsey.

  “As I said, Alan, how do you know it’s not John Ramsey?”

  “Because he wouldn’t be stupid enough to claim ownership! That’s like asking the police to come arrest him after he kills his victims. Come on, Sean! Don’t you see? Someone is trying to pin it on John so he can get away.” Alan fisted his hands.

  Officer McKeen appeared in the doorway. “I called for backup.” He whistled. “This place is a mess.”

  She hadn’t even noticed the rest of the house, her eyes drawn to the message of death. But pillows were slashed, pictures were thrown to the floor, tabletops were swept clean. Total violation of her world.

  Sean directed his next question to Alan. “How long ago did you get here?”

  “About ten minutes before I called Kim.” Alan ran his hands through his hair and tried to pull himself together. “What if Kim had been here? What if she’d walked in when this psycho was tearing the place apart?”

  Um, nice thought. Not.

  “That’s why she’s not staying here. And I don’t think you should either.” Sean settled his arm around Kim’s shoulder. “Get a hotel.”

  Alan nodded and continued to pace. “Who’s doing this?”

  Sean looked as angry as Alan. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, find out,” Alan shouted, “before Kim gets killed!”

  Sean’s arm tightened around her. “She will not die.” His voice was so icy cold that she actually shivered and Alan stopped to stare at Sean.

  Then Alan nodded. “Good.”

  Her cell phone rang then and both men stared at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You’re freaking me out.” She fished the phone out of her pocket and checked the number. Local, but not one she recognized. “Hello?”

  “Kim Collins?” It was a man’s voice.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Will Ambrose.”

  Whoa. She gestured to Sean, who set his ear next to hers so he could listen.

  “What do you want, Will?”

  “Jimmy Ramsey. That’s who tried to kill you and your sister, right?”

  She tensed. “How do you know that?”

  “I know who tried to murder Max. I know who’s after you now.”

  She almost dropped the phone and Sean caught it and settled it between them again. He nodded at her to continue. Oh, sure. No problem. She took a deep breath. “Who?”

  “Not over the phone. I have to show you something.”

  Oh, sure. Like that couldn’t be a trap. “When?”

  “Once I show you this, I’m taking off. Forever.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. My house. I won’t be there until then, so don’t bother to come early. You set me up and I won’t show.”

  Sean spoke then. “I’m coming with her.” Nice, Sean. Way to scare off Will. She elbowed him to shut up and he gave her a look that she recognized all too well. He would not be listening to her on this one. Stubborn male.

  “Who’s this?” Will asked.

  “Sean Templeton.”

  The phone was silent.

  “Fine. Just the two of you. I see anyone else, and I leave.” He paused. “Tell the Portland police to check out Pete Gibbs’s boat. It’s moored out in the harbor.”

  “They already did. He’s not there,” Sean said.

  “Tell them to check the anchor at the bottom of the mooring.”

  Then he hung up.

  BY THE TIME they made it back to Sean’s house, it was almost two in the morning and Kim was exhausted. After the cops had done their investigation of the house, she’d stayed for a while with Sean and Alan to try to cover up most of the windows to keep bats and other nasties out. They hadn’t even begun to clean up the destruction, which spread through the entire house.

  Her bedroom had been trashed.

  The hatred and desperation had been virulent.

  Once they got to his house, Sean locked the door behind them and she went straight into the bathroom. Not that a shower would erase the carnage of her home, but she had to do something. She stripped down and climbed under the hot stream, making it hotter and hotter.

  But even with her skin burning, she couldn’t get the devastation of her house out of her mind. The words on the wall. The knife through her family photo. She leaned her head against the tile and wanted to cry. Why was this happening? How could she stop it? They didn’t even know who was after her. She almost wished Jimmy was still alive. At least then she’d know who to watch for.

  A light tap sounded on the door. “Kim? Can I come in?”

  She didn’t even lift her head but opened her eyes to check the coverage of the navy-blue shower curtain. “Yeah.”

  The door clicked open, then shut, and she knew Sean was in the bathroom with only a thin sheet of plastic between them. If she weren’t so stressed, terrified and exhausted, she might be tempted to throw the shower curtain back and see how he would respond.

  “The Portland police checked Pete Gibbs’s boat.”

  She held her breath.

  “He was dead. Shot through the head. Chained to the mooring about thirty feet down.”

  “Oh, God.” A gun? What protection did she have against a gun?

  “He’d been dead for a while.”

  “You think…it has to do with this whole thing?” Her legs began to tremble and she leaned more weight on the wall in an attempt to remain vertical.

  “The initial consensus is yes. The only missing file was the one on your dad. They’re working on it, though. Now that it’s a homicide, it’ll get top priority.”

  Dead. Pete Gibbs was the first one who’d actually died. This wasn’t only about threatening her and scaring them and stealing some money from the camp. This was now about death. Someone who wasn’t afraid to kill.

  “Kim? You okay?”

  She shut off the water and Sean stuck his hand through the shower curtain with a towel. “Thanks.”

  She wrapped it around herself and stepped out. He was leaning against the sink, his arms folded, his gun still in its shoulder holster. He was frowning and looked serious. Too serious. He didn’t even seem to notice that she was naked except for the towel. “What I can’t figure out is the gun,” he said. “A knife is personal. The hit on your dad was sloppy. But a gun?” He shook his head. “Three different methods. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “How can I be safe against a gun? I mean, you don’t even have to get close to use it.” Her hair was dripping over her shoulders, the water sliding down her skin like creepy-crawlies. She tried to brush it off, but it kept dripping.


  Sean grabbed another towel, turned her around and started drying her hair. “That’s why I panicked when I heard you’d left the police station tonight. What if he’d been in the woods waiting for you to show up? He could have dropped you before you even knew he was there.” He scrubbed her hair more vigorously. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

  “I promise to be safe for at least a day.”

  He spun her around and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t joke about it! Your dad is in a coma and a P.I. who knows how to take care of himself is dead. You think you won’t be next?”

  “Dammit, Sean. I know the danger!” She tried to shove him away. “I’m trying to keep from totally freaking out about it. I’ve been scared for a year and a half and I either find a way to deal with that fact or go crazy with fear and terror. I’m trying to cope, so back off.”

  He stared at her, then dropped his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  She sighed. “No, I’m sorry, too.”

  They stood in silence for a while. Then Kim said, “I’m worried about my dad. What if someone decides to finish him off?” She got cold suddenly and wished she had clothes on.

  He studied her. “I have an officer on his room. He’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You sound like you really care about him.” He smiled then, a half smile. “Did you mean what you said today in the hospital room?”

  “Mean what?”

  “When you said you loved him?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She didn’t have the energy for this discussion right now.

  But Sean caught her arm as she tried to slide by. “I’ve been thinking about that letter from your mom.”

  She stopped. “And?”

  “And I can see why you left.”

  Kim turned back, searching his face. “Truly?”

  He nodded. “If your mom had been that determined to save me, I would have believed her, too.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly, her shoulders felt so light, so incredibly weightless. “So you…forgive me?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “Thanks.” She blinked. Her chest felt tight, her throat achy. To hear that he finally forgave her… She wanted to hug him. Hug herself. Dance. “I’m so glad.” Could her voice sound any more fervent? She doubted it. He had to realize how much his forgiveness meant to her.

  He was watching her intently. “And I think if we’d gotten married, it wouldn’t have worked.”

  She nodded. “I agree. I mean, I think we both needed to get away. Figure out life away from parents.”

  He touched her face. “It’s just you and me today.”

  “No, it’s not…”

  He set his finger on her lips. “I want to kiss you right now and it’s not because of your dad or because I’ve kissed you a thousand times before. It’s because you’re an amazing woman who nearly died to save her sister, who loves her dad despite some very good reasons she has not to. A woman who is willing to admit she might be wrong about Helen, even as she gets up every day ready to fight off a man who wants her dead.” He kissed her forehead. “You are nothing like the girl I almost married, and yet I want you in a way I’ve never wanted you before. Ever.”

  Oh, wow. Package that and sell it and he’d make millions. “How is a girl supposed to resist that?”

  “I don’t want a girl. I want a woman, and the only woman I want is you.”

  As he bent down to kiss her, she recalled that all she was wearing was a towel.

  Wasn’t that convenient?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kim let her arms slide around Sean’s neck, let her body sink against his, and let his kiss melt her.

  This man wanted her, and she needed him. More than anything. His lips tasted so good, minty and warm, his body firm and cut under her fingers. He wasn’t a boy. He wasn’t a kid. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t bumbling.

  He was heat and passion and talent, and he was all she wanted. It wasn’t sex, though. It was about his soul and everything that came with it. She needed all of him, and she needed him now.

  His lips still caressing hers, he swept her up in his arms, opened the door and carried her to the bed. She was definitely digging the big brawny he-man thing. “When you were eighteen, you would have dropped me.”

  He set her on the bed. “I’m totally offended. Just because I was skinny didn’t mean I wasn’t strong.” He propped himself on his hands and gave her a long kiss. “The difference is that when you were eighteen, you wouldn’t have let me carry you.”

  Was that right? Even though she was so much stronger and independent now, had she also become softer in some ways? “I was just looking out for your health. Didn’t want you to get hurt.” She tugged at his holster and he quickly stripped it off.

  Along with his shirt, his shoes and his socks.

  “Let me.” She wanted this to last. Wanted to enjoy every moment with this man she loved. She’d loved him ten years ago and she still loved him. The love was different, and now it was so much better. Now her love was rough and tainted and imperfect, which is what made it so powerful and strong and intense. Which is what made her so sure she was right.

  She undid the top button of his jeans, kissing a line down his collarbone, over his chest and down his taut stomach. Then she unzipped his fly and he sucked in his breath. She held up her hands. “They’re shaking.”

  He kissed the tip of each finger, then pressed his lips to her palm. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  He trailed his lips over her wrist, along her forearm, up her biceps and across her collarbone and neck, then caught her lips in his. By the time he got there, she was nearly desperate for his touch. For his everything. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, closer, as close as she could, kissing him as if she’d never be able to kiss him again.

  And maybe she wouldn’t. Who knew what would happen tomorrow? Or when this nightmare was over and she went back to L.A.?

  Then she felt his hand on her knee and she tensed. “Maybe we should turn out the lights.”

  “Nope.” He pulled back, then kissed her kneecap, his hands pressed against the sides of her thigh. “I want to see you.”

  She tried to tug the towel over her scarred thigh. “Cut it out, Sean. I don’t want you to see it.”

  “Too bad.” He caught her wrists easily in one hand, then pushed the towel aside, exposing her mangled thigh.

  Too late.

  She groaned and flopped back on the bed, covering her face with her arms. “Not like it was ten years ago, huh?” It was all she could do to keep her voice from breaking. Why had he insisted on light? She could sense that he was staring at her leg, absorbing its grotesque twists, wondering how to get out of having to make love to her now that he could see what she’d become.

  He didn’t answer and she tried to shield herself from caring.

  Except she did care. She cared so much.

  She felt his hand slide along her leg toward the scar and she tensed, waiting for rejection.

  Then he laid his hand over her thigh, over the scar. Touching it. And he didn’t pull away.

  She moved her arms and looked at him. He was watching her face, and as soon as she looked at him, he smiled. “You’re so much sexier than you were ten years ago.”

  “Shut up.” But she couldn’t stop the feeling of warmth from spreading over her.

  “Fine.” He bent down then and kissed the scar. She could just barely feel it, but watching him was all the sensation she needed.

  “You don’t care?”

  He rolled his eyes and held up his arm to expose the scar on his triceps. “Does this make you not want me?”

  “No.” She giggled. “I think it’s hot.”

  “Or this?” He pointed to the scar on his chest.

  “Totally sexy.” And it was. He was all man, and she loved him and every scar on his body.

  “Then why would it be an
y different for me?” He slid his hand along her thigh as he pulled himself level with her face. “You’re brave and strong and bear that scar as proof that you’re a woman who will defend those she loves until the day she dies. I find that scar so erotic I can barely stand it.” He kissed her hard and deep until she believed him.

  He saw the scar as sexy, and he meant it.

  If she’d had any doubts before, they were gone now. She loved him, thoroughly and completely, and there was no going back. She gripped his shoulders and held on as he stripped away her towel and shed the rest of his clothes.

  Nothing between them but skin. He was gorgeous and perfect and she felt as if her heart was going to explode. Never had it been this way between them. Not with all this emotion and intensity and power singeing the air between them.

  “I feel like we’ve never done this before.” She traced her fingers over his chest. With its muscles and contours and the scar on the right side, it was a chest she didn’t recognize. A man she’d just met. And that was how it should be. This was about now. The present. Today.

  “I know.” He kissed her, but this time his kiss was so gentle, almost reverent. “It’s better than before, huh?”

  She giggled as his hands slid up her thighs, drifting to the inside and sending tremors down her legs. “I don’t know. I need more information to decide.”

  He grinned. “My pleasure.”

  By the time he finished providing sufficient data, it wasn’t only her hands that were shaking. It was her entire body. She cupped his face with her hands as he moved over her, sliding his knee between her legs. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Sean Templeton.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you to love me like you did when we were eighteen. It’s not about the past anymore.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I…” How was she supposed to say it? She wasn’t even sure. “It’s different now.”

  He kissed her deeply as he moved his body, slipping inside her. “It’s different for me, too.”

  “Better?” He felt so good. Right. As if she’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment.

  “No comparison.”