by Marie Force
Forcing himself to think like a prosecutor, Brian pressed on, knowing his father would need the answers. “Why every five years?”
“People forget a lot in five years’ time. I have to give your old man credit, though. He figured out the pattern.”
“I guess he’s not as much of an idiot as you give him credit for being.”
Matt took a fistful of Brian’s hair and pulled hard. “Stay quiet or I’ll gag you, got me?”
Brian nodded and had to bite back a scream when Matt turned and approached Carly. She inched back on the bed.
Matt tugged roughly on her arm. “Get up.”
“If it’s Chief Westbury you hate so much, then what do you want with me?” she asked.
Matt’s eyes glittered, and Brian realized he was staring at true evil. The shock of it was almost debilitating.
“What do you think I want with you?” He ran his hands over Carly’s bare arms and cupped her breasts. “Take off your clothes.”
“No!” Brian cried.
“Shut the fuck up! The only reason you’re still alive is so you can watch your whore get it on with a real man. So shut up!” He turned back to Carly. “I said to take off your clothes, and hurry up about it, or I’ll tie you to the bed and cut them off like I did with the others. Is that how you want it?”
Carly shook her head and reached for the top button to her blouse.
“When was the last time you did him?” Matt asked, nodding at Brian.
“Earlier tonight.”
“How did you do it? Was he on top or were you? I know you like to be on top. I used to watch you under the willow.”
Brian strained against the rope, which cut into his wrists. It was tied so tight, there was no way he could free himself. As he watched Carly’s hands shake as she unbuttoned her blouse, Brian wished Matt had shot him. He’d rather be dead than have to watch this.
“He was on top,” she said.
“Did you do it just once?”
“Twice. The second time in the shower.”
He grabbed her hair and pulled hard to tip her face up. “You’re as much of a whore as you always were, aren’t you?”
“I’m not a whore. He’s the only man I’ve ever made love with.”
“He was the only man. Tonight you’re finally going to have a real man.” Kneading her bottom with a bruising grip, he lifted her against his enormous erection.
Carly swallowed hard. “Why are you doing this? What do you have against me?”
“You remind me of someone I used to know. A long time ago.”
“Who was she?”
That’s the way, Carly, Brian thought. Keep him talking.
“Someone just like you—a pretty cheerleader who went around acting like her shit didn’t stink and giving it up to a jock in the back of his daddy’s car.”
“You loved her,” Carly said.
“I hated her. She was the first person I ever killed. Melissa Spellman back in Milwaukee. Funny how she became a whore when she figured out I’d kill her if she didn’t give me what I wanted. She looked just like you—right down to the curls. It was a great pleasure to take what I wanted from her and then kill her.”
“Why did you kill Alicia?”
“Just like Melissa and that girl in Pawtucket, she didn’t respect me, so I didn’t have any choice. The others respected me, so I let them live.”
All Brian could think about as he watched Matt Collins’s hands roam all over Carly was where the fuck are the cops?
Matt squeezed her breasts. Hard.
Tears filled Carly’s eyes. “Why do you have to hurt me? I’m not fighting you or disrespecting you.”
“You will. They all do eventually.”
“Is that why you became a police officer? For the respect?”
Matt seemed startled by her insight. “That’s exactly why. You’d be surprised how people fall into line when it’s a cop telling them what to do.” He unbuttoned his white uniform shirt and pulled it loose from his pants. After putting his service revolver and handcuffs on the bedside table, Matt unbuckled his pants. He caught Carly staring at his rampant erection. “Feel it.”
She reached out to put her hand on him.
“How does that measure up to the jock over there?”
“It’s impressive.” Her voice was dull and impassive. “I’m sure you’ve left many women well satisfied.”
“A few.” He started to ease the top off her shoulders.
Carly stiffened. “Don’t. Please.”
Tears blinded Brian. Where the fuck are the cops?
Matt stared at her breasts. “Nice, perky tits. Bigger than I remember from the willow, but I like them this way. Melissa had great big tits she let that asshole jock suck on for hours.” Matt licked his lips in anticipation.
She finally looked over at Brian, and the pleading in her eyes tore at his soul.
“Matt!” Brian cried. “They’re going to find us. Why don’t you just stop this and get the hell out of here before you get caught?”
Matt turned eyes filled with hate toward Brian. “They won’t catch me. They’re too fucking stupid to realize only someone on the inside would know how to commit the perfect crime—over and over and over again. They’ve got nothing on me.” With his eyes still fixed on Brian, Matt gripped Carly’s arms.
When she cried out in pain, Brian had no choice but to look away.
Matt’s laughter echoed through the small room. “Look at the golden boy now. The great and powerful prosecutor can’t even take care of his own fiancée. Must be a terrible disappointment to find out that despite what your asshole father thinks of you, you’re as human as the next guy, huh?”
As Brian fought against the ropes, a warm trickle of blood pooled in the palm of his hand.
“How do you like it?” Carly asked.
Brian’s head whipped up to find her focused on Matt, running her finger through his thick chest hair. The only sign of the tension that must have been coursing through her was her other hand, which was curled into a fist behind her back. His heart racing, he strained for a better look at her hand. Holy shit! She’s got the pepper spray!
“Do you like to be on the bottom or the top?” she asked Matt.
“The bottom,” Matt said, all but panting for her.
“Then get on the bed.”
Oh God. Carly! Do it now! Spray him! Brian struggled fiercely against the ropes and almost passed out from the pain of them ripping into his bloody wrists.
With her top hanging open, Carly crawled onto the bed and straddled Matt.
His eyes lit up with unrestrained lust. “You’re not what I expected,” he rasped.
“I’m a whore,” she said in a low, throaty voice. “Isn’t that what you said?”
Good, baby. That’s good. Distract him.
Matt reached up to cup her breasts, and Brian fought back the urge to howl. “All you cheerleader types are whores. There’s not one of you who’s different.”
“Then why are you surprised I want it as much as you do?” she asked, positioning a hand on either side of his head.
“What about him?” Matt asked.
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of him.”
“I don’t want to have to kill you, Missy.”
Brian almost stopped breathing.
Matt’s cheeks were wet with tears as he combed his fingers through Carly’s long hair. “I want you to love me. Why can’t you love me? Why do you have to give yourself to someone who doesn’t care about you? He only wants your body.” He pulled at the Carly’s shorts. “Take them off so I can make love to you. Let me love you, Missy.”
Carly brought her hands back to do as he asked.
In the next instant, Matt let out a wild shriek.
Carly leaped off the bed and grabbed Matt’s handcuffs, her hands shaking wildly as she secured one end to his wrist and the other around the brass bedpost.
With his free hand, Matt clawed at his eyes. “You fucking whore!�
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Glancing over her shoulder to make sure Matt wasn’t going anywhere, Carly dashed to Brian, knelt before him, and went to work on the knots at his ankles. Her hands were trembling so hard that she was all thumbs.
“Hurry, honey.”
“I’m trying,” she cried, “but they’re so tight!” She looked around the cabin in desperate need of something to cut the ropes. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
Matt’s screams faded into sobs.
A burst of adrenaline made Brian’s heart pound so hard he was certain it would explode.
Carly grabbed a candle and rushed to a dark corner of the cabin. “There’s a kitchen over here!”
He heard her rattling around before she came running back, carrying a butcher knife.
She put down the candle, quickly cut his legs loose, and then scooted behind him. “Oh, Bri. Oh, God, look at your arms!”
“I’m fine.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“You fucking whore!” Matt screamed, the handcuffs clanking against the brass headboard. “Just like all the others!” He dissolved into tears. “Just like all the others.”
Brian and Carly dashed into the darkness.
She screamed when strong arms embraced her.
“It’s okay,” Nathan Barclay said, holding her tight against him. “The place is surrounded by SWAT. You’re safe.”
“Brian needs medical care. His wrists are bleeding.”
“What I need first is this.” Brian reached for her. “You saved our lives, Carly. You were so incredible in there. So incredibly brave.”
Carly clung to him and finally fell apart.
They stood like that for a long time, both trying to absorb that their long nightmare was over. The monster had been caught, Sam’s name would be cleared, and there was nothing—and no one—left to fear.
“Where’s my dad?” Brian asked Nate.
“He was right here a second ago.” Nate turned on a large flashlight and shined it at the cabin.
Michael stood in the doorway, his back to them.
Nate bolted toward the cabin. “Mike! Wait! Don’t!”
A gunshot pierced the night.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carly rested her head on Brian’s shoulder.
“Do you think it’s over for now?” He ran a damp paper towel over her forehead. “We can take a later flight if you don’t feel up to going.”
“That should be it for today,” she said, weak and depleted after a vicious bout of vomiting.
“How long did you say this went on with Zoë?”
“Three full months.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“I feel so bad,” he groaned. “I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“Just hold me, Bri. That’s what I need.”
He tightened his arm around her and ran his other thumb over her sparkling new wedding ring. “What you need is ten days in Jamaica.”
“Are we really married or was yesterday a dream?”
“Married, pregnant, the whole nine yards.”
She reached for his hand to study his new—plain white gold—ring. “It’s a dream come true.”
“Even the vomiting?” he asked with a chuckle.
Running her fingers gently over the bandage on his wrist, she said, “I’d rather be sick for ninety straight days than spend one more minute of my life wishing for all the things I have now.”
He brushed his lips over her curls.
“I meant to tell you,” she said. “It was nice of you to apologize to Luke and invite him to the wedding.”
Brian shrugged. “When I’m wrong, I say so. He was a good friend to you when I wasn’t here.”
“Yes, he was.”
The TV in the gate area was tuned to one of the network news programs, which had run nonstop coverage of the events in Granville over the last week. Carly and Brian watched, transfixed, as a broken-looking Matt Collins was led into his arraignment wearing an orange jumpsuit, a bulletproof vest, leg chains, and handcuffs.
Eventually, they would have to testify against him. But the trial was months away, and they had agreed not to spend their time thinking about him or the realization that the only reason he had told them everything he did was because he’d planned to kill them and skip town.
“I look at him, even all these days later, and I still can’t believe it,” Brian said, his eyes fixed on the television. “That my brother is dead because of him.”
“I wonder if your dad will ever be able to get past it.”
“He was telling me how Matt went out of his way during the investigation to ‘discover’ things about the perp that made them all sick—like his need for respect from his victims, for one thing. With hindsight, Dad can see he was showing off—he wanted them to know why he killed some of them and let the others live. He wanted to be sure they knew he did that carjacking, too.”
Carly shuddered. She had trembled for three full days after the encounter with Matt. When she thought about what those other poor girls had withstood at his hands . . . Well, it was better not to think about it, because when she did, the trembling returned.
“It’s a bitter pill for Dad to swallow, that’s for sure. All those years he spent working with and confiding in a psychopath. Oh, look, there he is now.”
Michael appeared on the courthouse steps, still wearing a sling over his left arm.
The reporters chased him down, and he stopped to answer a few of their questions.
Carly winced when she saw the chief’s face pinched with pain that she knew was both physical and emotional. “I still can’t believe I didn’t do something with Matt’s gun when I had the chance,” she said.
“Are you serious? You were like freaking Wonder Woman in there. Don’t obsess about the gun, honey. He got off a lucky shot, considering he was still blinded by the pepper spray and fired erratically. We’re lucky he didn’t take Dad’s head off.”
“I just keep seeing it over and over again, the blood on your dad’s back . . .” She shook her head to clear her mind of yet another image that would haunt her forever. “All I could think about in that moment was what am I going to do if we got through this nightmare only to lose him?”
“Fortunately, we don’t have to think about any of it for a while. We can focus on each other, our baby, our new house, my new job.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Carly smiled with contentment. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned recently that Carly Westbury loves Brian Westbury.”
“And you said it wouldn’t roll off the tongue as easily as the earlier version. I have to say I disagree.”
She laughed, and when she looked up, an older heavyset woman sitting across from them smiled at her. The woman wore a bright red Hawaiian shirt.
“You two are so cute,” she said. “You have to be newlyweds.”
Carly cringed as she lifted her head off Brian’s shoulder. “Are we that obvious?”
The woman clapped her hands with delight. “I knew it! Tell me everything. How did you meet?”
“We, um, we went to high school together,” Brian said.
“Oh, that’s so wonderful, and now here you are, back together and married.” She nudged her husband, who pretended to be bored by the whole thing. “Isn’t that something, Lou?”
He grunted in agreement.
“Let me guess: You met up again at a reunion, and all the old sparks were still there. Am I right?”
Carly smiled as she looked up at her handsome husband. “Yes,” she said. “That’s exactly how it happened.”
Turn the page to read Everyone Loves a Hero!
For Dan, truly one of the good ones.
Chapter One
Cole opened the eye that still worked and struggled to figure out how he had ended up on the floor. Pain radiated from his face and shoulder. All he’d wanted was a roll of Mentos to get him through his next flight. What he’d gotten,
though, was a fist to the face. His shoulder throbbed from smashing into a display of Washington Redskins souvenirs, and his face pulsated with pain. That big dude had one hell of a left hook.
He tried to open his other eye—which was swelling shut after being on the receiving end of Big Dude’s meaty fist—and blinked into focus a striking young woman hovering over him. She had long dark hair, porcelain skin, and big brown eyes. Over her shoulder, he took in the crowd of whispering, pointing people that had formed around him. No doubt they recognized him, which meant the press would show up any minute. He also saw two airport police officers arguing with a large man in handcuffs, presumably Big Dude.
Cole hadn’t seen it coming. One minute he’d been standing in line minding his own business behind a guy having a heated discussion on a cell phone. Then he’d watched Big Dude throw a wad of money at the clerk. Cole had tapped him on the shoulder to tell him he was being rude to the girl behind the counter.
“She’s only doing her job,” Cole had said.
The next thing he knew, he was looking up at an angel.
“Are you all right?” she asked, hands coasting lightly over his face.
Cole was appalled by his predictably male response to her touch. Before his little problem became noticeable, and before the media could show up and turn his life into a circus—again—he quickly tried to sit up. Too quickly, he discovered when he was hit by a wave of nausea that caught him off guard and snuffed out the situation in his lap.
He lay back on the sweatshirt someone had rolled into a pillow for him, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath to ward off the nausea. “How long was I out?” he asked the woman.
“About two minutes or so. It felt like longer, though.”
“Shit,” he groaned, imagining how the press would blow the incident out of proportion. “I need to get word to my airline that I can’t fly today, and I gotta get out of here.”
“The airport police called someone from your company. They’re on their way, along with the paramedics.”
“I don’t need paramedics,” he protested, making a second attempt to sit up.
Her hands on his shoulders stopped him. “Stay still. You might have a concussion.”
