But did she want to know? Did she really want to know how he felt about her? Before the DVD arrived, she had her life in order. The Network job was hers. All she had left was to sign the contract, which she’d planned on doing next week. Damn, she’d almost forgotten about the trip she’d scheduled to New York City. She’d also forgotten about the realtor she’d planned to use to sell the townhouse. Shit, Celeste had planned the grand opening of her new bakery next week, too.
Considering she had a sudden case of the stupids, she realized she needed her smart phone to review the following week’s upcoming events. With the killer sending her DVDs, the last segment of her series coming up in a few days, becoming sick, and…Hudson, she hadn’t been as on top of things as she liked. Probably because all she kept thinking about the past couple of days was having Hudson on top of her.
In her.
Behind her.
Between her legs.
“You’re awake,” Hudson said.
Cheeks burning from Hudson catching her deep in wicked thoughts, she mustered a smile. “Finally,” she responded. “How long have I been here?”
“Not long. We brought you in around four this afternoon. How do you feel?” He set the laptop on a nearby table, then stood.
“Good,” she said, and watched him approach. Even with all that hair, and dressed like a thug, she couldn’t help herself from wanting him.
Naked.
In her bed.
Sliding into her body.
He touched her cheek. “You look good. I’m glad to see color returning to your cheeks.”
If only he knew why. What would he say, or do, if she told him this particular truth? That she’d been blushing because instead of worrying about her health, or the case for that matter, she’d been thinking about sex?
“What did the doctor say? I can’t believe I’ve been admitted for a flu bug.”
“The flu wasn’t the problem. Well, it didn’t help.” He shrugged. “The real problem is that you don’t eat.”
Her face grew hot again. This time it had nothing to do with thoughts of sex. Only moments ago she’d considered Hudson a nonjudgmental person. She suspected that was about to change. He’d brought up her eating habits before. Even when they’d been dating he’d commented on how little she had eaten. In her opinion, strict eating habits were better than bulimia. She controlled what she ate, and control had always been important to her. At one time in her life, during a long ago night she’d spent half her life trying to forget, she’d been left without the power to control what happened to her body. Never again.
“My eating habits are none of your business.”
“Yeah, they are.”
The I.V. pinched her skin as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What I put between my lips is not your concern.”
He dropped his gaze to her mouth. “I can suggest something you could put between your lips.”
Thoughts of taking him into her mouth caused a throb between her legs. “Pig,” she muttered, despite her desires. Until she knew where they stood, she refused to let him know how much she—or rather, her body—had missed him. “I can’t believe you would even think about sex when I’m lying in a hospital bed.”
“Dirty girl,” he said, and sat on the edge of the bed, his hip touching hers through the blanket. “I never said anything about sex.”
True. Damn it. “You insinuated it, though.”
He shook his head. “Nope. But sex with me is obviously on your mind, considering where your thoughts went.” He reached across the bed and took her hand off her chest. With a gentle caress, he stroked the pad of his thumb near the I.V. “What I was going to suggest is that if you’re going to deny yourself meals, at least find a supplement you can take. You need something to help make sure you’re getting the proper nutrition.”
“Badass investigator turned nutritionist? What an interesting combination.”
Smiling, he stroked her cheek. “Before I joined CORE I was with the CIA. During my last mission, I ended up being held prisoner by this Russian jackass. Before the Marines came in and helped me escape, the Russian kept me locked in a basement cell for weeks. During that time, my daily ration was a shitty bowl of broth and, believe it or not, one of those milkshake supplements you can buy at the grocery store.”
He held her hand again, and looked to where their fingers twined. “I was in the middle of a Columbian jungle, and this crazy Russian somehow has a lifetime supply of these milkshake things? I’m not saying they taste all that great, but I will tell you that if he hadn’t been feeding them to me…things might have ended different.” He looked at her now, the pain and anguish in his eyes reflecting the memory of his experience in the jungle.
She tightened her grip on his hand, then reached to smooth his rough cheek. “Is this where we stop avoiding the past and tiptoeing around the truth?” she asked, nervous and yet excited at the prospect of finally having something real with Hudson. Although the move to New York loomed in the back of her mind, she wanted something real. Even for a short period of time. The memories they could make would last her a lifetime, and maybe erase those lingering, terrifying memories that still gave her nightmares.
He turned his face, kissed her palm, then cupped her cheek. “I just don’t want to ever bring you to the E.R. again. You scared me today.” He sighed, then smiled. “I just tiptoed, didn’t I?”
“A little bit.”
“Okay, then. Yes.”
“Yes, we’re going to actually start talking?”
“We’ve never had a problem talking.”
She gave his cheek a soft pinch. “Talking about our past.”
“I’m game,” he said, then kissed her forehead. “I want to know you, Eden. I always have.”
She wished she’d had an opportunity to brush her teeth. Right now, all she wanted to do was kiss him. Yes, she’d talk. But damn, it had been way too long since she’d had his lips on hers.
He pulled away, and held both of her hands. “I told you a little bit about me, now it’s your turn. Those flowers on the window ledge...”
“Yes. I saw those. Thanks for being sweet, but you didn’t have—”
“I didn’t. I assumed they were from your brother, Will, or maybe your sister, Celeste. You know, Ian’s daughter.”
She winced. “I guess I kind of tiptoed around that one, didn’t I?”
“I’ll admit I was disappointed when I realized you hadn’t bothered to tell me that you have a brother and sister. I mean, c’mon, Eden. Your sister was actually in your townhouse the first night I came to see you, and you couldn’t even introduce us?”
Shame coiled through her. “I don’t know why I didn’t introduce you to Celeste, or tell you about my family. I’m sorry.”
He stood, then retrieved the flowers. “It’s hard not to accept your apology when you’re lying in a hospital bed.”
Not interested in fighting with Hudson, but more interested in understanding how the man ticked, she said, “How chivalrous of you.”
After handing her the flowers, he said, “Looks like there’s a note tucked between the stems.”
She pushed the flowers apart, then retrieved the note. “It’s probably from Will. My sister would have sent something with a gnome on it.”
“Gnome?”
“Celeste’s a bit…eccentric,” she said, then opened the note.
She dropped the bouquet. Hudson caught the glass vase before it hit the tile, then set it on the floor.
“What’s wrong? Who’s it from?” he asked, and gripped her trembling hand.
She passed the note to him. “It’s from the killer.”
Chapter 11
HUDSON STOOD IN the corner of CORE’s evidence and evaluation room, frustration tearing through him like a bad Mexican meal. Moments ago, during a conference call with Ian, he’d learned that the hospital security cameras hadn’t identified who had delivered the flowers to Eden. While cameras had been positioned in the main corridors of the hospi
tal, there hadn’t been one near Eden’s room. Plus, the people who were filmed by the cameras on Eden’s floor either worked at the hospital or were visiting patients. When hospital volunteers, who brought flowers and gifts to patient rooms, had been questioned, not one remembered making a delivery to Eden’s room. Another dead end.
“Quit pouting,” Rachel said from across the room.
He shoved off the wall. “I’m not pouting. I’m pissed. The killer could have been in Eden’s room. He could have…” He didn’t want to think about what the sick son of a bitch could have done to Eden, or how the threat of his presence mirrored the Winters case. At least then there had been CORE agents in place to protect Eden. Damn it, he should have had Lloyd at the hospital to help keep her safe.
Last night they’d had a breakthrough, maybe even a second chance at a real relationship. Whether things between them worked out or not, he cared too much to let anything happen to her. “I’d only left the room for a few minutes. I should have never left you alone,” he said, and looked to Eden.
She’d been released this morning, and while she’d said she felt better, the purple smudges of fatigue under her eyes, and the hollowness of her cheeks worried him. In his opinion, Eden needed to go home, have a big meal and then sleep for the next twelve hours. Not that it mattered to her. She wanted to come along with him to CORE to hear about Rachel’s new leads. He just hoped being hospitalized for dehydration had been a wakeup call to make her realize she needed to take better care of herself. A body can only take so much…
He began pacing. “Damn it.”
“It’s not your fault,” Eden said.
He stopped and turned to her. “It’s not that. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll beat myself up for letting you down for the next hundred years. I…had a thought.” He looked at Rachel. “Keep the smartass remark to yourself.”
“He knows me too well,” Rachel said, then pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “What are you thinking? And make it fast. I’m dying to show you what I’ve found.”
“Remember when the killer said that Eden was tough, but a body can only take so much?” he asked.
Rachel nodded, while Eden looked away.
He walked to Eden, and placed a hand on her shoulder. He hadn’t meant to upset her. He only wanted to brainstorm a few ideas. Knowing Eden liked her privacy, he decided to leave this discussion until they were alone.
“Never mind,” he said, sat next to Eden, then nodded to Rachel. “Before you burst, tell us about your new leads.”
“Wait,” Eden blurted, and reached for his hand. “It’s okay. I remember the killer saying that, and not understanding why. Now I get it.”
Rachel tapped the pencil on the table. “Maybe I’m a bit slow today, but I don’t get it.”
Eden tightened her hold on his hand, and some of his earlier frustration disappeared. While a strong woman, she’d let her guard down and reached out to him. For support? For strength? He didn’t know. He just hoped this meant her trust in him had started to grow. He’d meant what he’d said at the hospital last night. He didn’t want to tiptoe around their past anymore. Not if they had any shot at a future.
“I didn’t dehydrate from the flu. It didn’t help, of course. The main reason is because I don’t eat…much.” Eden paused, then cleared her throat. “Rachel, can you go back to that second DVD, to where the killer addressed me?”
“Hang on,” Rachel said, then a few seconds later she had the DVD running.
“Here,” Eden said. “Listen.”
“You demand perfection from yourself,” the killer said. “Yet surround yourself with flawed people and animals. And yes, I realize you have flaws of your own, but you don’t let anyone else see them, do you? You’re tough, but a body can only take so much. Of this I know too well. It’s also the reason why I’m here.” He raised his hands and slowly spun in a circle. “In my private OR.”
“Of this I know too well,” Eden echoed after Rachel paused the DVD. “Either he’s had an eating disorder or someone he knows has gone through the experience.”
Hudson nodded. “Possible. But what would that have to do with torturing and killing those two men?”
Eden shrugged. “Maybe nothing at all. Maybe he just worries about me. You read the note he left.”
He had, enough times to memorize the damned thing. “Look at what you’re doing to yourself,” he quoted. “I watched someone very dear to me suffer from the perception of perfection. Don’t make yourself the victim. Be happy with who you are, and take good care of yourself.”
“This ‘perception of perfection’ thing is starting to annoy me,” Rachel commented as she reset the DVD. “I’m beginning to think it’s a bunch of BS.”
“Why’s that?” Hudson asked.
“Check this out,” she said, then hit PLAY on the remote. The start of the second DVD began, then just as quickly, Rachel hit PAUSE. She tapped at the keyboard a few times, then looked back to the now enlarged still shot. “Do you see it?”
Hudson squinted at the screen. “I see a close-up of the victim’s duct-taped ankle.”
“Oh my God,” Eden gasped. “I see it.”
He rose, then moved closer to the TV. “What the hell are you two looking at because I don’t…holy shit.” A portion of a tattoo peeked from beneath the victim’s pant leg where the duct tape had hiked up the material.
“It gets better,” Rachel began. “The little bit that we can see of this guy’s tattoo matches…” She tapped the keyboard again, then pointed to the adjacent screen. “This one.”
The hairy, tattooed calf of the first victim filled the TV.
Hudson glanced back and forth between the two screens, then rested his ass on the table. “Our victims knew each other.”
“They could have been in the same fraternity together,” Eden suggested.
“True,” Rachel agreed. “But through my research of the Sigma Alpha Mu fraternity, I’ve found hundreds of alumni in the Chicago area alone. We couldn’t see our second victim’s face, and the way he’d been…mutilated, there’s no way of knowing his identity let alone his age. He might be younger than our first vic. They might have gone to different colleges and don’t know each other. This is why I’m beginning to think our killer’s ranting about perception of perfection is crap.”
“Maybe I’m the slow one,” he said with a deep sigh. “Because I’m not following.”
“I think I am,” Eden said. “You think this is a hate crime.”
Rachel bobbed her head and waved her pencil. “Exactly. Both of these men had, at one time, belonged to a Jewish fraternity. Isn’t it possible that the killer is targeting either the fraternity alumni or Jews in general?”
“Not all Sammys are Jewish,” Eden countered.
“True,” Rachel responded.
Hudson folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t buy it.”
Rachel shrugged. “It would probably help if you had the name of one of the victims. You could ask their family if they’re associated with any fellow Sammys or if they’d received any threats recently.”
After spending hours comparing drivers license photos to Rachel’s composite of the first victim, and continuously coming up empty, he’d begun to think they were running into another dead end. If anything, they were moving backward instead of forward on the case, and the killer was already two steps ahead of them. At this point, all they had to work with was the suspicion that the killer’s OR was in the country, matching tattoos, and a disturbing as hell film festival. Without a solid lead, he worried they wouldn’t be able to stop the killer from torturing and murdering his next two victims.
More frustrated than when he’d first arrived, he walked over to Eden, then grabbed his coat off the chair. “I’m taking Eden home. She needs her rest.”
As he helped Eden with her coat, Rachel waved a piece of paper. “You might want to make a phone call first.”
“To who?” Hudson asked.
“Rita Elliot, ex-wife to Doctor
Thomas Elliot, a former Sammy and, drum roll please, a practicing plastic surgeon specializing in breast augmentation.”
*
Eden held her gloved hands in front of the heater. “Rachel’s a piece of work. Why wouldn’t she tell us she’d found out about Elliot’s identity when we first arrived?”
Hudson turned the Trans Am onto the busy street. “Because she lives for drama and because she’s a pain in the ass.”
She smiled. “She’s good at what she does, though.”
“No doubt. I don’t know what any of us would do without her.” He reached over and took her hand. “Warm yet?”
“Getting there.” Instead of pulling away, she held his hand. After their talk last night in the hospital, she liked the idea of lowering her guard and opening up to him. Considering she’d never allowed herself to dwell on emotions such as really strong like, taking baby steps with their relationship was a must, though. After spending years shouldering her demons and secrets alone, she needed to be sure she could fully trust Hudson, and her own feelings for him.
“Why don’t I take you home so you can rest?” Hudson asked. “I can have Lloyd hang out with you while I pay Elliot’s ex-wife a visit.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want Lloyd babysitting me again. Actually, I’m embarrassed to see him.”
“Because he held a trash can while you puked?”
Rolling her eyes, she stared out the passenger window. “So, we’re going to try and be open and honest with each other, right?”
“I thought that was the plan.”
Her cheeks burned with mortification. “I…ah, after I started singing the Pina Colada song to Lloyd, I kind of said something about him banging my brother.”
Hudson burst into laughter. “That’s hilarious. I’m sure Lloyd realized you weren’t yourself.”
“Um, yeah. Except he really is banging my brother.” She looked at him when he didn’t respond, and began to wonder if she’d pegged him wrong. Maybe he was more judgmental than she’d thought. If he had issue with Lloyd and Will being gay, their relationship problems would be solved. There wouldn’t be one. She might not have been the best sister, but she refused to associate with a bigot. “I take it you’ve got a problem with that,” she finally said.
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