by Codi Gary
She was better than the others. She was exactly what he wanted. She was perfect.
His eyes followed her as she walked out of the old woman’s house, her stride lighter than it had been in the weeks he had been watching her. The moonlight trailed across her skin, her hair…
His hands clenched into tight fists as his fingers itched to touch her. Stepping out from the shadows, he followed behind her. In a few moments, she would be rounding the corner, and if he planned it just right…
He reached his car and went around to climb into the driver’s side. Moving along behind her, he started to slow down…
Chapter Six
Deep, twisty thoughts raced through Deana’s brain as she walked away from Miz Velma’s.
“Stop caring about what other people think and live your life.”
A simple enough philosophy. What did she want out of life? She had a house and a good job, but she would really love to fall hopelessly, head over heels for a fantastic guy with a stable job. Someone who wanted a couple kids and enjoyed barbeque and going to the movies.
A picture flashed through her mind of her running through the front yard after a little girl with long brown braids, and bright green eyes. She could hear the sound of male laughter and the high-pitched giggle of a baby, and as she caught the giggling little girl in her arms, she turned to smile at the man holding the little baby. Weirdly, he looked a lot like…
Finn.
“Hey, Deana, need a ride?”
Deana stopped, jerking her head toward the voice. Jake Hansen and Miranda Coleman in Jake’s lifted Ford truck, smiling at her.
“Where are you headed?” She noticed a black car revving up and around Jake, then speeding off down the road, and she thought it was a little strange. Most of the people in Loco weren’t in a hurry to get anywhere.
“The Watering Hole. Have some beers, mock people in stupid costumes.” As if realizing what she’d said, Rand stuttered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“What Rand is trying to say is, come play with us.” Jake shot a welcoming smile her way, which should have sent her heart a flutter like every other girl in town.
“Come play with us.” Her mouth twitched as she thought of the spider and the fly.
Unfortunately, Jake didn’t do anything for her libido.
So you aren’t attracted to him. You can still have a beer with them. Aren’t you supposed to be living your life? What are you waiting for?
Deana reached out and pulled open the door with a grin.
“Okay! Let’s do it.”
* * *
Finn, with the help of Gunn, had broken up two fistfights, arrested a couple of teenagers vandalizing some vending machines, and hauled in Lionel Dillard for public drunkenness.
All in all, a pretty uneventful Halloween.
Except for the knife-wielding nutjob that attacked Deana.
But no one else had reported any other assaults, or suspicious behavior and it was almost midnight. Almost the end of his shift.
“So what are you going to do tonight?” Gunn asked over the radio.
Other than going home alone?
“Nothing, just heading home,” Finn said, thinking about what Deana might be doing right now. Home. Alone.
Maybe if he stopped by…
“Wanna head over to the Hole for a drink?”
Maybe a little liquid courage was just what he needed to tell Deana how he felt. That he wanted a date with her; that he wanted to see how their relationship went, and maybe have a future with her.
“Sure. Sounds good.”
* * *
Deana was drunk. Drunk as a skunk and giddy. Very giddy.
She sat on the bar counter of the Watering Hole and let Jake Hansen buy her another shot. Holding it high, she yelled, “To no longer being accident-prone!”
The bar cheered with her, and she tipped back the shot. Lifting her arms above her head, she let out a “Whoo!” before she set the glass down on the counter. Her gaze drifted over the room of costumed patrons and caught sight of a familiar uniform striding through the door.
“Finn!” She waved her arms wildly and giggled as he started toward her, a scowl on his handsome face.
When he finally stood in front of her, he crossed his arms over that wide chest. “Exactly how drunk are you?”
“Hmmm.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pull him toward her. “Very? Yes, I would categorize me as very drunk. Possibly very, very drunk.”
Finn reached up and removed her hands, holding them in front of him. “Okay, well, very, very drunk, you are disturbing the peace, so let’s say I take you home.”
“Yours or mine, handsome?” she quipped, trying to hold a sexy face before she erupted into another fit of giggles. “You are handsome, almost pretty. Do you think he’s pretty?”
The question was directed at the bartender, Gil Thompson, who glared silently.
“Oh, Gil, you know, not every girl gets turned on by the surly, dark hero. Sometimes we like the guy who just wants us to smile. Like Finn.” Jumping off the bar with her hands still in his, she slid down his body. She didn’t care about her short skirt, which must have ridden up in the front, as she looked up at Finn with a smile. “How’s this Finn? Do you like this?”
“All right, that’s enough of that.”
“Aww, what’s the matter? Don’t you like me?” Deana pouted, ignoring the crowd.
Finn’s arms went around her back and below her knees, lifting her high against his chest as he shook his head. “For the love of God, De, shut up.”
* * *
Finn gritted his teeth as he drove Deana home. His gaze flicked over to the woman next to him, lingering on the lush pouting lips, and he gripped the steering wheel harder. He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to do anything but make passionate love to Deana Sawyer and everything else be damned.
Only now she was too drunk, and he had never been the type to take advantage.
He pulled into her driveway and got out first, surveying the area as he went around to open the door and heaved her up into his arms again.
“I don’t understand why in the hell you would get slobbering drunk without a ride home!”
“Why are you yelling at me?” she asked, her dazed eyes tearing. “Do you know what kind of day I’ve had?”
“I’m not yelling at you! And yeah, I know you had a bad day, but—”
“No! No, a bad day is hair that looks like shit or your boss fires you. Not one thing after another. Definitely not knives and dead cats and finding out you aren’t cursed, just crazy. Guess that’s why I live in Loco, Texas, ’cause I drank the Kool-Aid.”
Finn paused on her front porch, studying her tearstained face. “What are you talking about?”
“Seriously, what part didn’t you understand? I broke a pumpkin when I was eleven and stupidly thought that the town librarian had cursed me. I’m an idiot, right? So then, I’ve live the next fourteen years thinking all the bad shit that happens to me is because of her, but no, it’s because of me. It’s all in my head! Except for tonight it wasn’t. Tonight, I get a dead cat and a cryptic message, so I’m sorry if you disapprove of my drunkenness, but you know what? I fucking deserve this, and you…you could have had all this”—she waved her hand unsteadily in front of her body—“but you were afraid of being associated with me. ’Cause I’m a crazy disaster who apparently attracts other crazies.”
Suddenly, she started struggling out of his arms, so he dropped her to her feet, grabbing her shoulders before she could escape. “Stop rambling and explain the cat thing. When did you get a dead cat?”
She swallowed hard, staring up at him. “When I was leaving the haunted house. Someone left it outside the locker room. I thought it was my Salem at first but…” He saw her shake, and she whispered, “Poor little kitty.”
The movie Fatal Attraction flashed through his mind. “What did the note say?”
“What note? Oh, the one that was on
the cat. It just said, ‘Tonight.’” Suddenly, the dopiest grin spread across her face. “You are so hot. Did you know that? Like sexy, yum-yum hot.”
He almost smiled back. Almost. “Deana, is there somewhere I can take you to stay for the night? Anyone who can come be with you?”
As she gave him a siren’s smile, he knew she was up to no good. Slowly, she looped her arms over the back of his neck again, and the press of her breasts against his chest was worse than any torture ever devised.
“You. You can stay with me.”
He couldn’t move as she leaned up on her tiptoes, plastering her body to his, and planted a kiss that had his socks officially trying to jump off his feet.
Wrapping his arms around her, he squeezed her around the waist as he returned the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers as he deepened it. Drunk or not, all he could think about was the warmth and sweetness as he thrust his tongue inside, melding with hers in a slow dance.
Despite the chilly fall air, he was burning up, and he wanted to get her inside, strip her down, and make love to her so well it would melt any leftover grudges she might be fostering.
Picking her up in his arms again, he carried her up the walkway, breaking the kiss only so he could open the door to her little house.
Only he realized he needn’t have bothered. Her front door was already wide open.
Registering the implications, Finn dropped Deana to her feet, ignoring her confusion.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Shh. Your door’s open.” He pulled his flashlight off his utility belt and unclipped the holster on his gun, slipping it into his palm. Positioning the gun under the flashlight, he used his foot to push the door open farther.
“Try the light and stay close, all right?” He stepped into the house with Deana close behind. The entryway light flipped on above him as he assessed the house for any signs of disturbance. There was nothing out of place in the small, cozy living room or the square kitchen with the attached laundry room.
“Does anything look disturbed?” He opened the bathroom door in the hallway, but it looked tidy as well.
“No. Maybe I forgot to shut it when I left? Or didn’t shut it all the way?” she suggested, but he could hear the high-pitched quality to her voice, signaling her fear.
He rounded into the bedroom and was so surprised by the sight that greeted him, he almost lowered his gun. “Shit.”
“What?” She tried to see around him, but he kept blocking her.
Whoever had broken in had dumped her entire underwear drawer on the bed, shredding the rest of her clothes. Her dresser had been tipped over and the drawers flung about the room. White cotton and springs erupted from the hole in the mattress, and across the wall in red was a single word:
Whore.
“Don’t touch anything.”
He went to check her bathroom out, which he cleared along with the closets and under the bed. He hit the button on his radio, watching her wide eyes take in the destruction.
“Yes, this is Officer Meyers, I need to report a break-in at 1236 Lone Star Road. Send backup.” Releasing his radio, he holstered his gun and slipped his flashlight into his belt before he went back to her.
Suddenly, Deana’s face drained of color. “Salem.” Louder, she called out again, “Salem!”
Without warning, she ran down the hallway, screaming for what he could only assume was her pet.
“Deana, wait!” He chased after her and caught her searching under her couch frantically. “Are you sure he’s not outside?”
“No. No,” she whimpered.
“Maybe he escaped when the door was left open.”
Deana dashed at her cheeks as she looked around the living room, shaking her head. “Salem is afraid of outside. I could leave the door open all day, and he just stands in the entryway, meowing.”
Finn had a hard time believing a cat wouldn’t escape outside to hunt mice the first chance he got, but he started looking with her.
Just as red and blue lights flashed in the window, Deana let out a glad cry. “Salem! Oh, baby! I was so worried.”
Finn watched as Deana bent over the base of a potted plant and saw the hole in it. He was briefly distracted by her lacy panties before she stood with a huge black cat that had to weigh damn near twenty pounds.
“Damn, that cat is massive.”
When Deana glared at him, color back in her cheeks, Finn almost sighed with relief. He was worried about her for a minute.
Deana cuddled the cat against her, and Finn could hear the monster’s deep purr. Reaching out, Finn rubbed between the cat’s ears, stroking the short, sleek fur as several officers came inside.
Moving his hand to cup her check, he brought her chin up so he could catch her watery gaze. “I’ll keep you safe, De. No matter what. Do you believe me?”
Slowly, her head dipped in a nod. “I believe you.”
* * *
The officers entered the house, probably to bag and tag anything they thought he might have touched, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew how to clean up his tracks.
How could she get into a truck with another man? And then there was the cop again, touching her. Kissing her. She was his, only his.
His heart pounded so hard, a deep pain settled where he imagined it was hitting his bones. Boom boom boom.
They had to pay. And soon.
Chapter Seven
Deana curled into the blanket in the front seat of Finn’s cruiser, Salem cuddled against her chest as she looked out the window. She was so tired she would have agreed to sleep on a bench in the rain. As it was, Finn had offered to let her stay with him, even agreeing to sleep on the couch if it would make her more comfortable.
Deana was a little concerned that she’d never feel safe again, no matter how much she trusted Finn.
Someone had broken into her house, invaded her personal space, and called her a whore. She hadn’t done anything in years to be able to be considered a whore, yet some asshole had decided it was his right to call her that. Red-hot indignation and anger made her jaw clench. She wanted the bastard to pay for what he’d done. Why anyone would want to scare her, to torment her, was beyond her scope of reasoning. It just didn’t make any sense.
While Salem kneaded her chest, she turned her heavy, alcohol-addled brain toward the man driving the car. The man with the amazing kiss and fantastic arms who’d been her hero all night. Finn Meyers was a good man.
And he was taking her back to his house so she could take his bed and he could sleep on the couch. It was a damn shame.
No. She was taking her destiny by the horns. She was going to forget about her life so far. About the crazy man who’d attacked her and trashed her house. She was going to Finn’s house, and as soon as she could, she was going to jump his bones.
Or boner, as the case may be.
Finn pulled into the driveway of his rental house, and Deana held tight to Salem as Finn parked, then turned off the engine. His fingers brushed against her temple, trailing over her hair, and she tilted her head into the palm of his hand as it slid over her cheek.
“Deana…” he said softly, moving across the seat toward her.
Holding her hand up against his chest, she stopped him. “I think we should get Salem inside and situated before anything else happens.”
The flash of his even, white smile in the dark sent happy, fluttery feelings from her chest to her lower tummy. “Is something else going to happen, Deana?”
Twisting her lips to kiss his palm, she whispered against his skin, “I hope so.”
* * *
Deana walked through the door of Finn’s house, dropped her bag on the floor, and set Salem down as Finn walked into the kitchen with Salem’s litterbox and bag of supplies. He flipped on the light, and she admired the room in the dim lighting. Most of the furniture was wood and leather. As the sound of kibble hit the stainless steel of the bowl, she reached up to unlace the stays of her dress. Loosening it enough to get it over her hea
d, she tossed it over his couch, kicking off her heels as Finn came back into the living room and stopped. His gaze moved over her from her toes all the way up to the top of her pink head.
Before she lost her nerve, she padded toward Finn with a nervous smile, the distance closing slowly until she stood in front of him.
“I’m scared. I’ve been on my own for years, at college, when I moved back here. My last boyfriend was over a year ago, and I’m lonely. And now I’ve got some twisted psycho chopping up my clothes and pretty much making me wet myself, and then there’s you. You are this guy who I thought was shallow and self-centered, and then you had to blow everything I remembered hating about you out of the water by being there for me all night.” Taking a deep breath, she went for it, adding, “I’m not good at this stuff. I’m not very experienced, and I know I’m not the prettiest girl. I’m a mess and a klutz, and I realize you probably get a dozen better offers a day. But I want—”
He grabbed her hand, jerking her against his chest, and an oomph of surprise escaped her lips. She could feel his utility belt pressing against her stomach as he bent his head, his mouth inches from hers.
“I want you. I have wanted you since you first cracked open that math book in high school and tried to teach a dumb jock like me fractions and equations. All night, I thought about you. I thought about what I wanted my future to look like, and it’s you. I want you, Deana Sawyer.”
With a glad cry, she kissed him, her mouth opening wide, and he answered with his own onslaught of tongue, lips, and hunger. Her hands went to the buttons of his uniform shirt, and she slipped each tiny disk from its hole, one at a time, until she could spread the shirt wide, revealing a plain white undershirt.
“You have way too many layers,” she groaned in frustration.
The rumble of his chuckle against the skin of her neck was so freaking good. As he continued licking, sucking, and otherwise causing every nerve in her body to go haywire with electric zings of pleasure, she cried out, unable to hold back.
