The Vigilantes Collection

by Lake, Keri

  36

  Aubree

  I walked into the bathroom, Nick following behind. Candles had been placed along the tiles. Petals drifted across the top of the steaming water. Warm jasmine pervaded my senses, the calm scent attempting to overpower the tremor in my muscles.

  The ambience should’ve been beautiful and perfect. Instead, I stood trembling, my heart beating like a hummingbird, as I stared into the depths of the tub. It was huge, the size of an outdoor hot tub that could’ve easily fit three, and probably about three feet deep.

  My fingers curled into Nick’s, and my gaze flitted from the tub to his. “I … I can’t.” I took a step back, and his grip tightened, inciting a panic that had me twisting my wrist free from his grasp.

  I’d feared deep water since I was twelve years old.

  “Talk to me?” he asked.

  I couldn’t help the frantic shake of my head. “I … I don’t …” I’d always had a hard time admitting a fear—particularly one that made me feel truly vulnerable. Weak. Ice crawled up my spine, a wake of shivers following its path.

  His finger hooked beneath my chin, and he tore my focus away from the mesmerizing placid water. “I’m not going to force you, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  My gaze trailed down to the irregular jagged skin climbing my wrist.

  “Something happened to you. It’s why you cut yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

  I nodded, not wanting to elaborate, for fear I’d break down in front of him. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t stop the words. “Um. When I … When I was about twelve years old, I ventured down to the river with some kids from the neighborhood.” I cleared my throat. Instinct had me swinging my attention back toward the door, in the event I had to run. “River Rouge is where I grew up, and we often played and swam down by the bridge. Some bigger, older boys showed up and jumped in the river. They were horsing around. They …. They pushed my friend and me underwater. I hadn’t taken enough air. I panicked.” Dryness crept up my throat at the memory, and I had to suck in a breath as I recalled the terror of seeing sunlight blur the water’s surface. It’d seemed too far from reach. “And that’s when my mother showed up. Looking for me.” I smiled at the memory of my beautiful savior. “She raised some hell with those boys and told them if she ever saw them down at the river again, she’d cut their balls off and feed it to them.” Laughter hummed in my chest, wanting to escape, but in the next breath, I frowned. “I developed a fear of water from that day forward. Had nightmares, imagining what would’ve happened if my mother hadn’t shown up. Three years later, my family and I were staying with my grandmother, who lived on the water.” Fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, I drew in a breath against the crushing of my chest, which always preceded the next part of my story. “My mother decided to swim out to a small island in the middle of the lake, like she’d done when she was young. She got tired on the way back and slipped beneath the surface. By the time my father reached her, she’d drowned.” The puffy line of my scar passed beneath my fingertips as I rubbed over it, back and forth. “I remember wanting to jump in after her, but I was paralyzed. Too frightened to go into the water. I couldn’t save her. She was a great swimmer, taken by my greatest fear in the world.” Wiping a tear from my cheek, I sniffed, staring down at the red halo surrounding my scar where I’d rubbed too hard. “I felt useless. Worthless. A coward.”

  “You’re not a coward.” His palm cradled my cheek, the warmth of his skin penetrating my bones, and I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back the tears.

  “My mother was ... amazing. I so desperately wanted to be like her.” I glanced up, comforted by the silent sympathy in his eyes. “But, beauty isn’t meant to be coveted. It’s only to be admired.”

  He seemed to study my face for a moment.

  “What?” I asked.

  “In that case, I’m in complete awe.” The pad of his thumb brushed across my lips. “I don’t like to see fear on your face. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Aubree. But I want to prove to you that you can trust me.”

  Unable to hold his gaze, I looked away. He could probably convince me to do just about anything with those intense eyes—even something that terrified the shit out of me. “I can’t get in the water, Nick.”

  “Will you get in with me?”

  My muscles tensed, and I frantically shook my head. “I can’t.”

  “I won’t force you.” He removed his briefs and stepped down into the bath, patting the edge of the tub. “Just sit with me.”

  Reluctantly, I walked over to the edge, staring at my reflection on the surface for a moment before taking a seat beside him. Even there, so close to the water, my hands turned cold and clammy, the nausea gurgled in my stomach, itching to eject the last meal I’d eaten. I choked it back, in my best attempt to hide the fact that he’d stumbled upon a weakness so crippling, it’d nearly killed me.

  Legs dangling over the edge of the tub, away from the water, I sat beside him. “So, what about you? What was your childhood like? Anything traumatic?” A hiccup of nervous laughter flew from me.

  His lips curved into a half smile. “Not really traumatic.”

  A few seconds passed, and I raised my brow, tipped my head forward, nausea still churning in my gut. “You gonna tell me?”

  He scratched his chin, the smile on his face shriveling. “My parents ignored me, mostly. It’s why I got into gaming. Lot of time by myself.” Lifting his knees up onto whatever invisible ledge I couldn’t see down inside the water, he wrapped his arms around them. “I grew up in a trailer in Highland Park. My dad worked a lot. Mom drank a lot. So, I stayed away from home a lot. I wasn’t a bad kid, you know, I was just doing what kids do.” He scooped water up onto his arms, and I zeroed in on the glisten it created across his skin. “My mom, she ditched us when I was about ten or eleven. ‘Nother dude. My dad always blamed me for it.” Shaking his head, he clasped and submerged both hands in the water, swishing them around, like he needed the distraction to keep telling his story. “So, at sixteen, I hit the streets and didn’t look back. Got into some bad shit with kids who rolled with gangs.” He bowed his head, and his lips tightened with a smile. “And that’s about when I met Lena.”

  “She kept you out of trouble.” An air of amusement hung on my words, mirroring my thoughts of a young girl whipping the troubled boy into line.

  He nodded. “She did. Her dad hated me at first. Thought I’d corrupt his baby girl.”

  “Did you?”

  A shrug of his shoulders brought a smile to my face. “Maybe.” He twisted until facing me and set his warm hands on my thigh, making my muscles tighten at the sudden fear that he might pull me in. “Tell me more about you.”

  The tension eased, my body sagging with relief.

  We talked for what must’ve been a half hour, mostly about my childhood, growing up with my mother, and he never once coaxed me inside, though every bone in my body wished I could be in that water with him. The longer I sat beside him, the more at ease I felt being so close to my greatest fear, to the extent I almost dared to submerge my foot inside.

  He pushed up from the tub, as though preparing to get out.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s no reason to stay in here if you’re not joining me.”

  I didn’t know why I suddenly felt the need to prove I could trust him, the same way he’d proved to me he wouldn’t betray my trust. It was a beautiful juxtaposition—what I wanted submerged in what I feared.

  Something overpowered me, and I gripped his arm. “Wait.” I couldn’t look at him, in case I changed my mind. “I want to try.”

  “I promise I won’t hurt you, Aubree. I won’t let you go.” He reached out a hand to me.

  It must’ve taken a good five minutes to slip out of my clothes, while he patiently waited, never rushing me.

  Naked, I stood at the edge of the water, staring down at the space he’d made for me to sit down beside him. From the depths of my stomach
, a sickness churned, a betrayal to my mother. How could I so easily slip into the water with him, when I hadn’t brought myself to save my own mother from drowning?

  “Why’d you try to kill yourself?” Nick’s question was a faint sound to the noise beating inside my head.

  “Because I was tired of feeling helpless. And of the endless nightmares.”

  The words of my father drifted through my head, and bless him, he’d tried to spare me of my self-loathing. He’d tried to ease my guilt and teach me to face my fears in a different way.

  I’d have never let you in the water, Bree. I couldn’t have lost both of you that day.

  In my heart, I knew I couldn’t have saved my mother, but that was the shit thing about feeling helpless—the mind searched for blame. Irrational blame that could possibly justify the weakness of feeling unable to do anything, and perhaps erase the horror of what I’d seen that day. My father, as strong a swimmer as he was, brought her lifeless body back to shore, and not even he could save her.

  I hated her for dying. Hated her for enjoying something I feared, something I couldn’t save her from. Something I couldn’t save myself from. The more I thought about it, the more furious I became that something had such a fierce hold over me for so many years. It’d given Michael something to use against me.

  Taking Nick’s hand, I stepped down into the warm water, cringing at the surface line against my shins as it separated the warmth from the cold. My heart beat against my ribs, and I realized, when the room spun, that I’d been panting.

  He rose up from the water until towering over me and pulled me into his body. Hot, slick hands wandered my skin, down my sides and back up my spine, until he gripped me tight and pressed his lips to mine.

  The dizziness of before kicked up, and I gripped his arms to steady myself in his embrace. When I closed my eyes, the room spun out of control, as his hand gripped my nape and his kiss turned fierce, demanding. The sudden violence and passion consumed me, stole away my preoccupation of standing in the tub. Against my stomach, his erection told me what he wanted, and as the heat of his body spread into mine, my muscles softened, melting into him.

  I opened my eyes.

  The water level sat at my breasts as I straddled Nick’s body. Sucking in a breath, I wrapped both arms around his neck, holding him for dear life, and his arms enveloped me, clutching me to him. My muscles shuddered, locking my lungs. Cold blanketed my chest, and I drew in short bursts of air, crawling higher onto his lap.

  “Shhh.” His hand stroked my hair, and he kissed my ear. “Relax, Aubree. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

  Those three words again. I’ve got you.

  Clamping my eyes shut, I tensed, batting away images of my mother’s blue skin, her lifeless brown eyes, and her gaping mouth, into which my father had attempted to restore her soul with part of his. I saw the sunlight reflecting off the water’s surface and my small hand reaching for it, fighting against the pressure at the top of my head. I hated the vulnerability—the place inside someone could reach me.

  So, I let go.

  I opened my eyes to a calm blue staring back at me. Nick stroked my temple with his thumb as he held my face in his palms. Exhaling a shaky breath, I relaxed my muscles, taking long, easy breaths, just letting him hold me.

  “That’s it. Just breathe.” His whisper echoed in the vastness of the room.

  Submerged in the water, pressed into his body, I stilled. Just breathing.

  His lips skated down my throat to my collarbone, distracting my intense concentration until all I could feel was want. I desired him so strongly, needed to feel his calm inside of me.

  He shifted beneath me and slid into my body.

  I eased myself over him, knees against the seat of the tub, and slowly ground myself until he glided to the hilt. My quiet moan echoed off the walls, and I rocked my hips, circling, before slamming down on him with each thrust.

  His mouth claimed my nipple, and I cried out when his teeth pinched the sensitive nub. Tingles shot beneath my skin with each slick glide of his body against mine. The tension of before, wound so tight inside of me, unraveled, transforming into a new kind of pressure that built toward battling my fears.

  His moans bounced off the walls in a sound so beautiful, I craved it while he was silent. I needed to hear those small confirmations of his pleasure. Nick’s moans, grunts and growls brought forth a primal need to sate him. Please him. Upping my pace, I rode him fiercely, wantonly, while the water splashed around us in an exhilarating celebration of passion.

  His tug of my hair tipped my head back, and he continued to torment my swollen nipples. My body came alive in the water, and in spite of my exertion, each movement felt like slow motion. The euphoria of conquering my fear, alongside Nick’s touch, his voice, sent me to the edge.

  I dug my nails into his scalp, my body tensing, easing, tensing, tensing, holding onto fringes, until I opened my mouth to a scream ripping through my chest and his name reverberating inside my head.

  His mouth slammed against mine, and he pulled me into him. Deeper, deeper, I fell into silence and came to a distant awareness that I’d gone below the surface. As I slid against his body, riding out the last of my orgasm, with his kiss staking its claim, I didn’t need air. I didn’t fear the silence. My desire for him transcended my needs and what terrified me more than anything. I could’ve stayed underwater with him forever, straight into certain death, safe and comforted by his arms while we fell into eternal sleep.

  When we breached the surface, I felt his smile against my mouth, and I opened my eyes to those beautiful blue irises pulling away from me.

  He captured my face in the palm of his hands once more.

  “That was fucking amazing.” A chuckle escaped my heaving breaths, and I wrapped my arms tight around his neck, kissing him as if I’d devour him right there.

  “You’re amazing,” he murmured at my ear, before his teeth grazed my jawline. The smile in his eyes withered to something serious, pained. “You make me dream things I shouldn’t dream. Crave things I shouldn’t crave. My weakness.” His lips slanted over mine in a kiss that stole my breath. “You’ll destroy me, Aubree. And I won’t stop you.”

  I felt the same, like we’d breached a dark place, from which there was no return. I was trapped in the arms of a killer, as vulnerable as a kitten to a lion and, yet, stronger than I’d ever felt in my life. Nick didn’t take from me, he infused me, showed me the woman I could be—the one I wanted to be.

  Sexy. Fierce. Shameless.

  One who took what she wanted without apology.

  Without fear.

  He may have found a weakness in me, but in him, I found strength.

  The experience didn’t cure me of my fear. In fact, even then, my body trembled as the water level bobbed at my chest. It merely proved that I wouldn’t let my anxieties stand in the way of what I wanted.

  37

  Chief Cox

  Tucked inside his office, Cox read through the file for Julius ‘Casanova’ Malone. He’d known the kid from the time he could walk. Julius happened to be the baby brother of the most ruthless drug lord in the city, with connections all over the world, so whoever it was that’d fucked with him could pretty much kiss their ass goodbye.

  A man Cox had known for years had raised both boys. He’d been at the center of an investigation a while back, involving a missing girl from their neighborhood. Christ, it was no surprise that Julius would grow up prostituting them. The shit his father had been into, it was a wonder he didn’t eat them afterward.

  Julius had gone missing after the shakedown at the Pantheon, and Cox had a pretty good idea that another murder was about happen. Big brother, Brandon, had threatened to have every cock-sucking gangbanger in the state track down the bastard who’d kidnapped him—just what the city needed in the thick of a serial-killing spree.

  At a knock at the door, Cox scrambled to deposit the file in the drawer beside him. “Yeah!”

  Burke p
eeked in. “Corley got a tip. Found Julius.”

  “Corley? Where the fuck did Corley get a tip?”

  “He’s connected to all the homeless bastards. Apparently, one of them was drunk, going on about a dead dude he found in the sub-basement of the old train station. He’d taken some kids from the suburbs urban exploring for cash. Found the poor bastard.”

  “Poor bastard?” Cox crossed his arms. “I take it he’s not among the living anymore?”

  “No. I’m on my way to check it out.”

  Pushing up from the desk, Cox slid the drawer beside him the rest of the way closed. “I’m coming along on this one.”

  “Sure, Chief? I’ll get ya the report.”

  “No, I want to be personally involved in these cases.” His thinning hair slid between his fingers, as Cox rubbed the top of his head. “The city is going nuts over these murders—I don’t need to be the dipshit reading about it, like everyone else.”

  * * *

  A growl rumbled in Cox’s throat, when they arrived in the sub-basement below the old Michigan Train Station, to where the tip on Julius had led. Forensics, the District Attorney, Deputy DA, the coroner and his assistant, FBI agents, including Jim Riley, and Corley had already arrived. The flurry of bodies danced around the bloodied remains of Julius Malone, who’d been propped on a chair in the center of the room. The pungent scent of piss and rotting flesh overpowered the mold and stagnant air of the aging building.

  No doubt, Corley had been the one who’d gotten in touch with Riley, and anger simmered in Cox’s bones, as the two of them chatted with a forensics specialist scouring the crime scene that’d been lit like a goddamn football stadium.

  “Looks like a fuckin’ party in here.” Water sloshed beneath Cox’s boots as he made his way across the room.