Keeping Ava

by Elena M. Reyes

  The him is a serial killer.

  The same son of a bitch I’ve been chasing for over a year.

  The same murderer that somehow managed to escape captivity during a routine transport a few days ago after his hearing.

  “This bullshit…” I run an agitated hand through my short hair “…wouldn’t be necessary if they’d just handed him over like the District Attorney wanted. It started in San Diego and should end here. Those two families—all of those girls—deserve equal justice and not to be an afterthought.”

  “I agree, but Texas as a whole has a larger body count than us and won the toss. Nothing I can do after California was denied the right to extradite and process.”

  “Then send me back out into the field,” I beg through clenching teeth. “I can find him…know how he thinks.”

  “That’s why you’ll be a bigger asset to me here. Protecting her.”

  “I’m sorry, Cap, but I don’t agree with this.” Keeping my eyes on his, I bring a bottle of water to my lips and take a deep pull. He’s my superior, and I need to remember that. No matter how hard I want to knock the sense into him with my fist, I can’t. “Everyone…every single person that worked this case wants this man’s head, but we’re being blocked because of a compromise between states that changed the route of his future. A few shaken hands and a promise decided that Texas will charge and process while attaching our victims to their already thick file. Each murder—ten in total—will now carry the maximum allowed. Am I correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “That isn’t enough, and you know it.”

  “And what would you like them to—”

  “He should die.” Plain and simple.

  His victims will never hug their families again.

  They’ll never have a chance to get married and have kids of their own.

  My phone vibrates then inside my pocket, and I’m glad for the small break in conversation. Pulling it out, I see it’s a text from my mother and I don’t open it, choosing instead to put it on vibrate as I school my expression. Mask how much the guilt eats at me every single day that bastard is on the loose.

  Those bodies haunt me. Every life taken could’ve been prevented had I caught him.

  However, after a year of following leads that led me to just within reach, he disappeared out of sight. Not a trace. It’s as if the ground opened up and swallowed him, hiding the son of a bitch, only so he could reappear in their neck of the woods after leaving a string of death at his heels between three large cities.

  This is a motherfucking mistake.

  “... and because of this, she’ll be staying with you.”

  Those words stop my train of thought, and my eyes refocus on him. The fuck. “Sir, I don’t think I heard you right. Repeat that one more time.”

  “You did.” He pushes a plain manila folder across the desk, then sits back in his chair. There’s an edge of exhaustion in his tone that matches the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Take that with you and study it front to back; it holds new sensitive-to-the-case information that not many are privy to. I trust you, Ford. I know that you’ll keep her safe no matter the cost. She’s too important—the only person that can identify him from that night.”

  “Can’t Meyers or Anderson take this instead?” I try one last time. “I’d be more useful—”

  “I want you alone to handle this. Very few people…” he points at me, his tone serious “...know of her whereabouts outside of the Texas Ranger delivering her to your home in four hours, and we’ll be keeping it that way.”

  “From San Antonio?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why not a transport from LPD?”

  “She was already in San Antonio’s protective custody while they prepared for his trial; an advantage since I know people there. I personally asked the ranger for help. I’ve known him for a few years and the men he works with…they’re all trustworthy.”

  “Why personally? Why are you getting to choose where she goes?”

  “San Antonio and Lubbock are on the manhunt.” That’s all he says. No further explanation. Captain Perez evades the first question, but for now I let it go.

  Choosing instead to fight a different battle.

  “We don’t know if he’s heading this way, sir. He doesn’t know she’ll be here.”

  “Unfortunately, we have reason to believe Jason has a tracker on her. Someone trailing her movements. That, and both departments are stretched thin looking for this asshole.”

  “Then plant a decoy and send her far away. Alaska if necessary.”

  “That’s another area I have no control over.”

  “What does that mean?” There’s an icy edge to my voice, and I flex my jaw to keep in a few expletives.

  “It means that we do our job and keep that girl safe,” he says, matching my tone. We know how this goes. To what lengths officials will go to catch a criminal, even using someone as bait if necessary.

  “Understood.” This is utter bullshit, more so knowing nothing I do will change her coming here. So instead of losing my temper, I grab the file. Flipping open the first page, I read the basic information on the perp, and at once, that same feeling of unease fills me.

  The new details give me a small glimpse into her nightmare.

  Accused: Jason Ripley

  Age: 25

  Born: Lubbock, Texas.

  Occupation: Owns a small lawn company.

  Lives: Lubbock, Texas (Prior address is from San Diego where he resided for eight months and then moved back while evading the SDPD.)

  Currently Lives: One street from the witness’s home. (Shrine found in the master bedroom’s closet with pictures of Ava Perry in various scenarios: some in public, and others in the privacy of her home.)

  Closing the folder, I sit back and meet his stare, fighting to control the sudden rush of ire that’s flowing through my system. I’m angry for her. “They have to know he’s desperate—that he’s coming for her in a place he’s familiar with, and that having lived here and escaping our chase, gives him an edge.”

  He gives me a pointed look. “Yet on the same note, it has a few advantages. The first being the detective that almost caught him and knows how he operates.” Perez reaches over and picks up his cup of coffee, taking a quick sip. “That’s what makes you the only person I trust with her life.”

  “I still don’t like it—”

  “He has to get through a few states and a lot of people, including you, to get to Miss Ava Perry. Those women—all those young lives taken—deserve justice, Ford. And this is our best chance to do just that.”

  Nodding, I scratch the two days’ worth of stubble on my jaw. “They’re going to need all the manpower available to track him down. Jason Ripley is conniving and resourceful; thinking this capture will be easy is a mistake. Will be everyone’s downfall.”

  “Agreed.” A moment of silence follows. He seems to want to say something else but remains quiet, and I take that as my cue that he’s done. No point in arguing anymore. Once he makes up his mind, it’s set in stone.

  “I’m out.” Rapping my knuckles twice on his desk, I push my chair back and stand. I make it a few steps, the handle of the door just within my reach when Captain Perez clears his throat, stopping me in my tracks. I don’t turn around but tilt my head to the side, so he knows I’m listening.

  “I chose you for a reason.” A heavy sigh follows. “Keep her safe, Elijah. Nothing else matters. No matter the cost.”

  I’ve been home a few hours now, and I’m restless. Worse than inside the captain’s office.

  There’s a nervous energy flowing through my veins, keeping me on high alert as every line inside the folder runs through my mind on a constant loop—a movie reel of information that’s affecting me on a personal level.

  Something about her is affecting me.

  Maybe it’s the need in me to serve and protect. Maybe it’s knowing how close she was to being another name on his list of fatalities.

&nbs
p; Maybe it’s because I know that I failed his victims. Her.

  Over and over, I read the information and catalog the moments of pure fear she must’ve lived. The torture of not knowing what will come.

  If he will catch her.

  Of being taken from her home because of harassment and then moved once more when the killer escaped.

  It’s a lot to take in for anyone. However, something in my gut tells me this is different and that she’s not just another assignment.

  It’s fucking with my head and I close my eyes for a few seconds, focusing on the soft breeze coming from the balcony doors I have open. The smell of salt water in the air soothes me—lulls me into a state of calm where I can think.

  My mind pulls to the forefront the few details that stood out the most from the file...

  Witness: Ava Perry

  Age: 22

  From: Lubbock Texas

  Occupation: Owns Bakery (Cherry On Top)

  Lives: Childhood home. Parents deceased.

  Phone Number: None at the moment. Call Weston King (Texas Ranger) if needed.

  *Ava went to school with the accused. Three years younger than him, they didn’t run in the same circles, but he was close friends with her childhood neighbor, Anthony Salcedo.

  *Ran into him again as a customer at her shop. He came in daily after the first encounter; 7 a.m. (February to the end of September) ordering the same thing: a coffee and blueberry muffin.

  *Asked her out every other week and she turned him down on each occasion.

  *The first body was found a mile from her home after the first refusal; a twenty-year-old brunette he picked up at a bar and choked to death. Examination of the body concluded that there was no sexual assault, just physical.

  Page after page, it’s full to the brim with notes on the both of them. His fascination with her is plain to see within every line—morphing into a sick obsession the older she became.

  Something tells me this started when they were kids.

  There are pictures from every crime scene along with his mugshot when taken into custody, and yet, Ava’s is missing. It nags at me. Unsettles me.

  Forces me to take a metaphorical step back and analyze the why. Why hide her physical appearance?

  That’s when Perez’s words from earlier today smack my subconscious. The seriousness in his eyes show more than the sternness of a command; it’s a plea. A warning.

  “Very few people know of her whereabouts outside of the Texas Ranger delivering her to your home in four hours, and we’ll be keeping it that way.”

  “Who are you, Ava Perry?” I whisper aloud, opening my eyes as the doorbell rings. A few seconds tick by, and that ring becomes four quick raps against the wooden surface. They are loud, but not as annoying as the continuous pressing of the doorbell that follows after.

  Standing, I grab my gun from the coffee table and make my way over. I’m more than halfway there when whoever is on the other side knocks again. Just a little bit harder. Inpatient or in a rush to...

  My eyes shift left to a clock on the wall, and I realize just how much time has passed since coming home. Two hours that I’ve been lost inside my head while breaking down her file and putting the pieces together again.

  Another knock. Softer this time.

  I don’t look through the peephole, knowing it’s her, and I pull the door open. Problem with that, is that I didn’t think things through. I’m not prepared for what greets me, and in that minuscule second where my eyes meet a pair of light blue ones, I curse Perez for my demise.

  I’m caught. Can’t look away.

  My eyes scan her face, memorizing everything from the freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks, to the small scar over her right eyebrow. It’s tiny, a crooked line partially hidden beneath the hair there, and I find it cute.

  Lowering my eyes, I settle on her plump lips. Their natural berry color is appetizing, even more so as this tiny beauty bites down on her bottom lip while looking up at me through long, thick lashes.

  She’s simply gorgeous.

  The blood throbs within my veins and my cock hardens; it pulses with each rise and fall of her chest. With the way her own eyes look at me with curiosity.

  “Detective Ford?” she asks, and as those lips slightly pucker at the end, I know why I’ve been feeling off. Why I knew taking this assignment was a mistake…

  All women. All young. They were between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five with the same physical attributes: chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, and short in stature.

  Ava Perry is the physical embodiment of a delicate doll. A fucking danger to my psyche.

  Moreover, it becomes crystal clear to me why he chose each victim.

  They resemble her.

  His muse.

  Chapter 3

  Elijah

  “And you must be Miss Ava Perry,” I say, voice dropping into a husky cadence, tasting her name on my lips while a soft touch of pink grazes her cheeks.

  “Yes.” Her pretty eyes close as her chest expands, rising and falling with each deep inhale. My eyes take in her body—posture—the way she cocks her hip on the right, and how her tiny hands clench.

  She’s nervous. Maybe a tiny bit intimidated. Unsure.

  However, that didn’t stop her from doing an exploration of her own first. Right before they shut, her eyes swept over my face and lower, down my broad chest and then stomach…

  I couldn’t stop the clench of my abs, nor the way my cock gave a jerk beneath the confines of my pants, something she noticed, and the hint of longing that flashed through those baby blues is proof of how fucked we are.

  It’s why she’s refusing to look at me now.

  This sudden attraction is mutual. Palpable. Tempting me.

  She needs my protection, not my dick.

  Still, my feet carry me closer without permission, aching to touch her. Comfort her. Tell her that everything will be okay, but I stop just before the heat coming off her skin seeps into my pores. Before she can innocently test my control.

  Instead, I bring her sweet scent into my lungs and then take two steps back. It rocks me. Makes my mouth water, and I swallow hard. Fight the pull. Son of a bitch, what is wrong with me?

  After this is over, I’ll kill Captain Perez myself. Fuck old age getting to him.

  She doesn’t move, not so much as a tiny shift, and it isn’t until I clear my throat a few times that she looks at me. “Where’s your luggage?”

  “Down in my truck,” a male answers, coming toward us and stopping a few feet from a quiet Ava. At once, I move past her while reaching for the gun tucked into the waistband of my pants, but the gleam from his badge stops me. He’s tall, muscular, and giving me a grin that borders on cocky as he tips his cowboy hat—as if he’s privy to information I’m not. “Nice to meet you, Detective Ford.”

  “It’s Elijah, and likewise…” I trail off, knowing nothing of this man past the fact he’s been responsible for Ava up until this point. She’s my responsibility now.

  Someone I’ll save from the lunatic stalking her. Nothing more.

  It’s just another case. Another job.

  Bullshit.

  He extends a hand for me to shake, and I do so. “Weston, but my friends call me Wes.” A few seconds pass, and his eyes shift over to the woman now standing beside me. “And I believe you’ve already met Miss Ava.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Why is that?” He arches a brow, looking between us.

  “Better yet, why was she left alone on my doorstep?” Because that deserves an explanation, more so than my sudden attraction for my temporary ward. More than the conflicting thoughts running through my mind.

  Ava holds a hand up, her cheeks still that delicious rose color. “Weston was just around the corner, answering a phone call from his wife. I wasn’t alone, Detect—”

  “Call me Eli,” I interrupt with my eyes on hers, asking that she use a nickname that with everyone else I hate.

  “I was
n’t alone, Eli. You were here, too.” Christ, the way my name sounds coming from those pouty lips is indecent. Provocative. Another mistake on my behalf. Keep it impersonal.

  Wes gives a loud cough then, breaking our moment. He’s looking at Ava. “Why don’t you come help me bring your things up? I’d like to have a word about—”

  “Sure.”

  “No.” We answer in unison. At once, his subtle grin turns into a full smirk at my flat-out refusal to let her leave with him. Weston is enjoying this, and I’m becoming more tense by the second.

  “I need my belongings, Detective.” Ava doesn’t share his amusement. She looks perplexed by my reaction. “Promise it’s not much, and—”

  “I’ll get them for you.”

  “But—”

  “Go inside, sweetheart.” Fuck. The term of endearment slips past my lips before I can stop it. The ranger opens his mouth, while she just looks, but I carry on as if I’m not tripping over her arrival. “I need to have a word with the ranger—”

  “That might be best, actually.”

  I give him a nod, but my eyes stay on hers. “We’ll be right back.”

  “Are you sure?” Gone is the blush and embarrassment. Now, there’s a hint of panic in her voice, and my heart clenches. Assuaging her fear will be my new priority.

  Taking the remaining steps between her body and mine, I grab her hand and walk us inside my condo, ignoring Weston. We don’t stop until we’re outside on the balcony overlooking the bay. Standing side by side, our eyes survey the beauty all around us:

  The busy city.

  The water.

  The clear blue sky.

  And it’s in this moment of silence, fingers intertwining, that her body loses its rigidness. That she lets out a shuddering breath, and her lips quirk up into a soft smile full of relief. “This is beautiful.”