Continuing down the stairs, she made sure to make enough noise that the two could hear her. When she came within view, the two of them were standing together. Raquel had thrown her Atlanta Police Department jacket over her running clothes, and she looked tiny standing next to Ryan.
Chris stopped on the next-to-last step. The evidence response team had finished their work, but the lobby and likely the outside perimeter were still marked off with tape.
“I don’t suppose we’re going anywhere for dinner?” she suggested, trying to act as normal as possible, which probably wasn’t very normal at all.
Raquel snorted, but Ryan just looked at Chris and shrugged. “You’ll be eating with a herd of reporters. They’re interviewing your neighbors, your students, your high school classmates.”
Chris shrugged. “Awesome. Luckily, my best friends won’t say anything, and no one else really matters.”
“For once I’m glad you don’t have a TV, girl.”
“Me, too,” Chris agreed.
“I need to get back to Atlanta. The detective on the Martin Hays case wants me in on it.” Raquel looked at the both of them, her mouth twitching a little in spite of the circumstances. “I can grab you two some food before I go, though.”
“Okay. You have to keep me posted on the case. Tell me what you find.”
Raquel nodded. “You know I will. What do you want for dinner?”
“Actually,” Ryan interrupted, “I made arrangements for a delivery.”
“You did?” Chris was floored. “From where?” There was a pizza place, but it was on the outskirts of town, closer to the college.
“Midaugh is picking up fried chicken and dropping it off for us.” He checked his phone. “He should be here any minute.”
“All right, then.” Raquel walked over and hugged Chris. “I’m going to grab my stuff and head home and then into the office. If you need something, call me or Tavey. She’ll probably be with me. We’re using her search dogs for the coordinates you gave us.”
Chris nodded. “I figured. Tell her I love her. Wish I could be there.”
“I know, honey. We’ll find whatever there is to find.”
Chris nodded. That’s what they did. Search, trap, find. Chris suddenly realized that George Mills had been right all along when he’d named the friends the Mistresses of Fate. They were the mistresses of fate, working constantly to make sure that the stories of the missing were told, that those whose fault was solely in the stars were not forgotten, and that those responsible were punished.
“I know we will,” Chris replied, and looked in Ryan’s eyes as she said it, including him in the group. She was counting on him finding her when it came down to it, though she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. She hoped that a lot. She also hoped that he still wanted her after tomorrow, because she knew he wasn’t going to trust her again anytime soon.
33
HE WAS GOING TO meet his Creator. Joe didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain. The time was coming. Policemen had canvassed the town today. He’d seen them talking to people downstairs; he was glad he’d told the woman to park her car in the garage downstairs. It was only a matter of time before it was recognized.
The woman would be recognized soon as well, but he had lost interest in her. Her strings were fading and flickering; sometimes he didn’t sense her at all. She’d done as she was told, though. Now, even if his Creator changed her mind, his insurance would force her to cooperate.
Leaning forward, he peered through the binoculars from the windows, wishing he could come closer, wishing he could see his Creator’s face.
He would see her tomorrow, though. He’d given her something she wanted. They were alike, the two of them. He wanted to find the strings; she wanted to find the missing. They both needed to fill the holes left by others. Like for like. They were meant to be together. Meant to find strings together. She would help him.
He picked up his phone and called the woman. She answered, her voice husky as if she’d been crying.
“I’m watching you,” he told her. “Do as I say or you will be punished. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” she choked.
“Do you have them?”
“Yes, I held the knife to the throat of one and the other two obeyed, just as you said.”
“Of course they did.”
“They’re cold. There’s no food here.”
“You tied them?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t want to hear about anything else.”
He hung up the phone, satisfied that she would obey. He would cut her string soon, though. He was tired of playing with her.
34
RYAN WAS ON the phone with someone at the task force when Christina came downstairs. She gestured to the bag of chicken. “Are we going to eat that chicken before it gets cold?”
Ryan, his gaze sliding to her lips, shook his head no, holding up the bag, which smelled heavenly and already had grease spots showing through the paper. “I think this chicken will be seriously cold by the time we eat it.”
Chris laughed out loud. “Well, that’s good news. I love cold chicken.”
“Good.” He stalked toward her. “Get your ass up the stairs, then.”
“My. My. My. FBI. Getting forceful.” She stood, though, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans. “Race ya.”
She took off up the stairs, pink boots flashing. He followed her slowly, methodically, anticipation rising in him with every step.
For tonight, all that mattered was being with Chris, finally letting go and letting the strange connection he felt to her bind and hold him.
CHRIS’S HEART WAS racing by the time she reached the top of the stairs. She fumbled with the keys to her apartment, pulling them out of her pocket. She could hear his footsteps on the stairs and grinned in nervous anticipation.
He reached the landing just as she opened the door and threw it open. Following her, he closed and locked the door behind him.
Chris held her hand out for the chicken, taking the bag into the kitchen. He removed his jacket and holster, setting them over the back of the armchair next to the couch. When she turned around, he was unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing his tanned throat and the top of a well-muscled chest.
Chris fastened her eyes on his chest and waited as inch by inch his chest became visible. It had been a while since she’d had sex, since she’d even kissed or touched a man. She stretched her arms, pulling first one and then the other across her chest.
“Nervous?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.
“No,” she argued.
“We probably shouldn’t be doing this. I should be focusing on the case.”
And yet he kept unbuttoning his shirt, leaving it hanging open, showing off a lean build with tightly sculpted muscles.
Breathless, panting slightly, Chris let her arousal roll through her, dampening her panties and making her press her legs together. Ryan had his gray eyes focused solely on her, as if she were the only thing he saw.
“I’m going to touch you,” he told her, his voice soft and husky.
“Good,” she told him.
“But you have to take off those ugly shoes.”
She chuckled, bent down and removed a boot, and threw it at him. He caught it easily and dropped it to the floor, holding out his hands like he was ready for a pass. She tossed the other one at him, unsurprised when he caught it deftly.
“Did you play in college?”
“Only freshman year,” he confessed, as if he’d done something wrong.
“You still play?”
“Sometimes with the other agents.”
“Hmm . . .” She was staring at his chest as he came closer. He was lean and muscled and gorgeous, and part of her couldn’t believe he was in her living room.
“T
ake off your top,” he ordered, tugging off his shirt and coming closer. Chris happily obeyed, stripping off the soft cashmere, listening to the crackle as the static electricity made her hair stand on end.
He smiled tenderly at her, as if amused, and Chris was sure she looked crazy in her bright pink bra and jeans with her hair standing on end.
Stepping closer, until he was nearly touching her, he reached out and smoothed down her hair. Chris’s face was near his throat, which smelled delicious as usual. He was so close, within inches, and Chris felt herself lean forward, as eager as a puppy to be petted.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at the mounds of her breasts. His hands slid from her hair down to her shoulders and over her back to her bra. The room was silent and still but for their breath as he carefully unhooked the clasp and tossed it aside. Breasts heavy and taut, Chris gasped in relief when he took them in his hands, weighing them before stroking her nipples with his thumbs.
“You like that?” he asked. Chris assumed it was a rhetorical question. Her face was flushed; she was panting, and her hips were moving as if she were listening to an eighties song.
“Fuck, yes,” she gasped. It had been a while, and Ryan had a deliberate, methodical nature. She was not a patient person.
He slid his hands up to her collarbone and beneath her hair at the back of her neck, stroking her jaw and behind her ear.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and bent down to press his lips to her temple, “so sexy.”
Chris liked that. She didn’t often think of herself as sexy, but she felt sexy when he was with her. Shit, she felt fucking irresistible when he was near.
She moved fully into his arms, squashing her breasts against his hard chest to relieve the ache, tilting up her face for a kiss. He obliged, taking her mouth fiercely, his tongue entwining with hers.
His back was firm and muscled; she sank her fingers into him, rubbing up against the hard length of him while he kissed her, wanting to twine herself around him.
He backed her up until she was pressed against the door to the linen closet. Taking the opportunity, Chris wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted up her legs, wrapping them around his waist.
He gripped one of her thighs and hitched her up against him rhythmically, rubbing against her in just the right spot. Chris, her body aching, wished she’d had the foresight to strip off her pants as well. Instead, she was left gasping and frustratingly covered when he used his man-strength to lift her up until her breasts were within the range of his lips.
Ducking his head slightly, he bent and took her left nipple in his mouth, rubbing lightly with his tongue before suckling, his mouth drawing firmly, creating an aching line of tension that seemed to run from her breasts down between her legs. She had a death grip on his hair and her legs were tightening around him like a python, but he wasn’t complaining. In fact, his grip tightened on her as well, and he switched breasts, sucking on the other, leaning into her with his body.
Chris felt close to climax just rubbing against him, but before she thought she was going to come, he pulled away from the wall, carrying her toward the bedroom. Chris was glad she had the tape over the computer cameras, but the idea of the unsub cooled her off a little, enough that when he set her down on the bed, she noticed little things like the slight tightening of his lips when he saw the bank of tables covered with computers, the wall covered in pictures of the missing.
He didn’t say anything, though, just unbuttoned his pants while she sat on the bed watching, fascinated, thoughts about his inner feelings drowned out by a wave of lust.
He stripped down, his erection fierce and long, pointing toward his stomach. He was pale all over, freckles scattered on his legs, which had a sprinkling of red-gold hair. His thighs were runner’s thighs, well-defined muscles bunched as he stood in front of her.
She leaned forward, tugging his hips toward hers and putting her mouth on the head of him. He froze, his hands on her hair as she opened her lips and let just the tip slide into her mouth.
“Okay”—his voice sounded strained—“I’m a little too excited for that route. Why don’t you lean back, sweetie, so I can pull those jeans off of you?”
She did, unbuttoning her jeans for him so he could pull down the zipper.
He rubbed her feet as he pulled off her socks, throwing them behind him before tugging on the legs of her jeans, whipping them off so she was left in nothing but her panties, her sensitive legs bared for his pleasure, something he seemed to enjoy enormously, rubbing his hands from her thighs to ankles, his face rapt, long fingers delicate and searching.
Spreading her thighs resolutely with his hands, he bent down and tugged her panties to the side with his teeth, seeking the heart of her with his lips and tongue.
“Oh, fuck, yes.” She eased up on her elbows so she could look down at his head between her legs. He used his left hand to hold her panties aside as he kissed her in earnest, his tongue probing and licking her delicate sea-scented flesh.
“You are delicious,” he told her, the vibration of his voice thrumming over her most sensitive part, making her moan and arch upward.
“I don’t think I can wait,” she gasped as he bent and gently suckled, making her cry out.
He straightened again, tugging her panties off almost roughly. Motioning with one finger, he indicated that she should turn so that she was lengthwise on her small bed, climbing directly after her and settling himself between her thighs. He didn’t enter her, though. Chris punched him in the shoulder. “Damn it, Helmer, fuck me.”
“So impatient.” He laughed and kissed her, holding her head still when she tried to turn away.
“I want you inside me,” she growled at him, curling one leg high over his hip. “Now.”
His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark as he obeyed, reaching down to position himself between the slippery eager flesh that waited for him, sliding into her slowly, inch by inch, the pleasure so intense that Chris wanted it to slow down so that she could mentally record how amazing it felt.
“God, that’s good.” She laughed breathlessly.
He was long, going deep until she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to take him, but he was careful—she was starting to really appreciate a careful man. When he was all the way inside, he kind of sagged, like all his bones had melted with pleasure.
Biceps bunched, he held himself slightly above her, his chest muscles tight and rock-hard to her touch as she stroked him.
After a moment of recovery, she undulated against him, tightening the inner muscles of her hot, wet clasp, imagining that she was in class, breathing deeply as she slowly tightened her core.
“Oh, fuck.” He stared at her. “What are you doing?”
She grinned a little wickedly. “You like it.”
“Honey, if I liked it any better, this would already be over.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” She slid her hand into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss.
He laughed and began matching her motion as their tongues tangled. Chris felt her climax rising, and amazed delight had her smiling fiercely as she climbed closer and closer, her body rising easily toward fulfillment. He was the first time she’d ever tasted ice cream, the first time she’d dived in a pool on a summer day, the first time she’d ever run through the woods with her three best friends. Being with someone had never felt so effortless before, never felt so natural and right, as if his smell and taste had always been hers and she’d rediscovered him after a long absence.
When she came, he came with her, his body arching deep and shuddering with the force of his climax.
In the aftermath, they lay together, breathless, their bodies entwined on her small bed. He shifted slightly to the side so she could breathe and wrapped an arm around her so she didn’t fall off the bed.
They lay without speaking for several minutes, th
e only sounds their breath and the patter of a light rain outside. The muted glow from her monitors and indicator lights outlined his face as she turned her head to look at him.
“We should do this at my house next time,” he informed her, stroking her arm lightly, as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her.
“What, you don’t like working on a twin bed?”
“I feel like I’m at work a little, with all the computers glowing.”
Chris glanced to the side. She hadn’t really thought about it, but she supposed it was odd that she surrounded herself with her search, even while she slept. She certainly hadn’t planned the room with another person in mind. She’d been thinking of convenience. When she couldn’t sleep, she simply got up and started working.
“I could move them into the living room if I rearrange some of the furniture,” she offered.
He nodded. “Maybe I can help you after all this is over.”
Chris’s eyes stung. He wanted her . . . enough to plan for what would happen when the case was over, enough to ask her to his house, enough that he expected her to rearrange her life to make room for him. No one had ever asked Chris for these things; she’d never been willing to even consider it for anyone else.
“Can you sleep like this?” She slid her leg into a more comfortable position on his hip.
“I’m so tired I could sleep naked on a park bench,” he murmured, “but sleep doesn’t seem likely.”
“Really?” Chris did a little investigation. “Well, maybe we should explore this insomnia a little further. Figure out a root cause.”
“Check a few inches to the left.”
“Why, Mr. Helmer, I do believe I’ve discovered some localized swelling.”
“Does it seem serious?” His voice sounded more gravelly, a little breathless.
“Oh, I’m afraid it’s very serious.” Chris laughed and tilted her head.
35
RYAN’S PHONE RANG at six-thirty in the morning, waking him from an unusually deep sleep.
Strings of Fate (Mistresses of Fate) Page 20
