Desired in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

Or he could be somewhere else entirely. He could have deliberately driven this way, thrown the tracker out the window, and then turned around and gone in the opposite direction. We could be completely wasting our time here.

  But if that was the case, we would be back at square one, with nothing to go on. We had to assume he had come to this area. And if he did, I was certain he didn’t plan on staying. Which meant we were running out of time.

  There was, of course, one other possibility—one I hadn’t allowed myself to consider until now. Brooke could already be dead.

  I refused to believe that. Brooke meant something to Harrison. He didn’t want her dead. He wanted to control her, to possess her. He desired her intensely. If he’d wanted to murder her, he could have done so long before now.

  That’s what I had to believe.

  I traced the line of the road from the spot where the earrings were lost to where we pulled over—the spot where I lost my shit at the entrance of the neighboring farm—and then on to the entrance of my own farm.

  “What are you doing?” David asked, sidling up beside me.

  “Could we be missing something obvious?” I asked.

  Dimitri appeared on the other side of me. “Talk it through.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know. I’m just grasping.” She has to be out there. Somewhere close. I can feel it. I didn’t say that out loud because we had to rely on facts, and the facts told us she could be anywhere.

  “So grasp,” Dimitri said. “Just talk. See if something shakes loose.”

  “Okay, “ I said. I pointed at the map. “Here’s where we got off the interstate. And here’s where we lost Brooke’s tracker. And…” And what? We already knew this. Staring at this stupid map wasn’t going to get me any closer to finding Brooke. “And basically, they could be anywhere,” I growled. “Eight hours driving from here could put them in Chicago, Pittsburgh, Atlanta, anywhere!”

  “Or he could be right under our noses,” Dimitri countered. “We’re going to find her, Declan. Don’t let me hear you give up again.”

  “The choppers will be in the air within the hour,” Ty said behind us. “They’re going to come here. I’ll go up with them. And they’ve got a team searching for the minivan. If it’s on the interstate, they’ll pick it up.” He sounded way more upbeat than the situation called for. But Ty was a professional. He and Brooke had worked many cases together. He wasn’t about to lose hope while his partner was out there.

  The alarm on my front gate sounded at the same time that my phone buzzed in my pocket. “See who that is,” I said to David. It was probably just farm workers coming to meet Aidan.

  David looked at his own phone. “Can I help you?” he said to whoever was at the gate.

  “We have the flowers you ordered.”

  David and I traded looks. I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t order any flowers.”

  “We didn’t—”

  “Wait!” Dimitri interrupted him. “Ask him what the flowers are for. What kind?”

  “What?” I asked. “Why?”

  Dimitri waved me off. “Just ask.”

  Ty came around the table. “I’ll call you back,” he said to Agent Marshall, or whoever was on the other end of the phone.

  “Just to verify,” David said into his phone, “what kinds of flowers do you have?”

  “Come on, man,” the delivery man whined. “I just deliver them, I don’t pay attention to what kind they are. They’re for the wedding. We were told to deliver them first thing this morning.”

  “Open the gate,” Dimitri ordered. “We’ve got him.”

  Chapter 39

  Brooke

  “Good morning, Brooke.”

  I curled my shaking fingers into tight fists at my sides. My heart nearly exploded as I stared into the face of this man who had killed so many innocent people. His appearance had changed so often since I had discovered his identity that I couldn’t be sure what he truly looked like until now.

  His entire head was clean-shaven. His eyes were the color of ice. He was tall, and though I’d always thought of him as a puny man with no strength, he was anything but.

  “I’ve made us a lovely brunch.” His voice, though hoarse, was gentle. He stepped forward, and his burly chest brushed against mine. I immediately took a step back. He gestured toward the dining room. “Come.” He walked past me into the house.

  I glanced out the open front door at the drugged people sweeping the porch. I thought about making a run for it and seeing how far I could get before Romeo shot me in the back.

  “There’s no use trying to escape, Brooke,” he said, reading my mind. “I promise it will only cause you unnecessary pain. Now please, shut the door. We have a full day ahead of us. And we’re running out of time.”

  I did as I was told. I closed the door gently, allowing my hand to linger on the cold wood, still wondering how far I would have gotten.

  I turned and walked into the dining room. Romeo lit two tapered candles in the middle of the table.

  “What is this, Woody? Shall I call you Woody?”

  “Woody is fine. Better than Romeo. I always thought your fellow agents were rather trite for coming up with that nickname.”

  “What are you hoping to accomplish with all of this?” I asked.

  He smiled across the table at me. “Oh, Brooke. You always did like to ask a lot of questions. Sit. Eat. You’re going to need your strength.”

  “For what?”

  His jaw hardened, and he pinned me with a severe look. “Sit down and eat, Brooke,” he commanded.

  I stood there a moment longer, debating whether to sweep everything on the table to the floor and start fighting. He could always drug me again, and he probably would.

  And what was the point in antagonizing him? He was most likely going to kill me eventually—punishing me like he’d punished the others he thought had hurt him. Why speed up that process? After everything I’d been through, I would fight to the very end, but I would fight smart. I would give people time to find me. Give Declan time to find me.

  Besides, I thought as I glanced at the muffins and biscuits on the table, starving myself wasn’t going to do me any good. If I did manage to escape, I was going to need the strength to run fast in the cold.

  “If you’ll sit,” Romeo said, “I’ll answer your questions over this delightful brunch.”

  I angled my head, studying him. Would he really answer my questions? All of them? He’d always been truthful with me before.

  I stepped forward, pulled out a chair, and sat.

  “Great,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He winked at me, and I resisted throwing a plate at his head as he left the room.

  He returned a moment later with a platter of eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes, and a bowl of fruit. “I know how much you love breakfast, especially fresh fruit.”

  Ignoring this pointless display of his knowledge about me, I launched into my first question. “I once asked you why you had picked me, and you told me that I was meant to be yours. What did you mean by that?”

  “Get some food,” he ordered.

  I scooped some eggs and bacon onto my plate. Only when I had taken a bite of the bacon did he begin speaking.

  “You and I never got the chance to get to know each other at UVA. I wanted you to be my date at our fraternity’s senior formal, but you turned me down. It wasn’t until later that I realized I hadn’t given you a proper chance to change your mind.” He spoke as if I had regretted turning him down. As if I had given it much thought beyond a two-minute conversation. “And then when I learned that you’d gone off to join the FBI, at the same time I was being recruited to join NSA, I knew we were meant to fight crime together.”

  I blinked several times at him, remembering all the cases that Romeo had helped me solve, as an unknown and confidential source. Looking back, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t tried harder to learn his identity sooner. Why hadn’t I?

  But I kne
w the answer. Because I was young, an inexperienced agent, and he was helping me solve cases. And as a result, I was climbing the ranks. He was helping me, so I didn’t question it.

  “Did you kill those men?” I asked. “Did you kill Bart, Tony, and Anderson?”

  “Yes.”

  I nearly lost my breath at his swift, brutal honesty. I swallowed hard. “Did you cause Madeline to overdose on pain meds?”

  “She killed my child,” he said, his voice climbing an octave.

  “Oh, so when someone kills a person’s unborn child, they deserve to die,” I said, then added, “That’s good to know.”

  He shook a finger at me and smiled. “You’re sneaky, Brooke. I will forgive you just this once for accusing me of murdering your child. Accuse me of it again, and the question-and-answer session is over.”

  The desire to climb across the table and stab him in the eye with a fork was overwhelming. I glanced around for something sharper than a fork, but no knives had been set out.

  “But you did kill Madeline,” I said.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were purposely trying to anger me. Or that you were wearing a wiretap. But since I know that’s not true…” Romeo smiled as his eyes wandered away from my face. He stared down at my chest as if he could see straight through the robe.

  I followed his line of sight. “You undressed me last night. Did you do anything else to me?” Bile rose in my throat at the thought.

  “Are you asking me if I raped you?” He narrowed his eyes. “I should punish you severely for even suggesting such an atrocity. What kind of person do you think I am?” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “No, I didn’t rape you. You and I will be married tonight, and only then will we make love.”

  Over my dead body, I thought. “What about Mark Gentry? Madeline’s brother. Did you kill him?” I was settling into a line of questioning, and despite the throbbing headache left over from the drugs Romeo had given me, I was feeling more like myself. Like I had control over the situation. Even though I knew deep down that was just a lie I was telling myself.

  “No, Mark is still alive and well.” Romeo leaned back in his chair and yelled toward another room. “Mark! Can you come here, please?”

  I shifted in my seat, tensing at what might come through the swinging door.

  A few seconds later, Mark entered. He was tall and thin. His dark hair curled around his ears.

  “See?” Romeo said.

  Mark was alive, but he was far from well. He had that distant walking-zombie look in his eyes.

  “Which drug are you giving him?” I asked in a low voice. “The same drug you gave me?”

  “What? Of course not. I would never give you scopolamine. I want you to remember our time together. You’ll see eventually that I don’t mean you harm. I want to spend my life with you.”

  “You gave me borracheromine,” I said.

  “Only because I want to help you transition into your new life a little more easily, and I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

  “My new life.”

  “Why yes.” He shrugged. “You and I will be married this evening.”

  “Like hell we will,” I said before I could stop myself. “You might as well kill me, because I’ll never willingly marry you.”

  Romeo stood abruptly, knocking his chair over. “Brunch is over. You will return to your room until I come for you.”

  I scooted back from the table and stood. I was breathing rapidly at his sudden movement and had only a split second to decide what to do next. And in that split second, I decided that I owed it to Declan to resist.

  I turned and ran.

  I got to the front door, turned the knob, and threw it open. I ran out of the house and down the front porch steps. I went for the taxi first, thinking maybe, just maybe, the keys were in it. They weren’t.

  I glanced back. Romeo was walking slowly, almost casually, in my direction. He wasn’t holding a weapon. His confidence was jarring—and irritating.

  I sprinted away from him.

  In front of me was nothing but farmland, but I knew if I followed the long driveway, I would end up at the road. It was a flawed plan. Romeo was toying with me. I was running in a flimsy pair of slippers with no tread. He would catch up to me whenever he wanted.

  And that’s what he did. I made it only about fifty yards before I felt a hand to my back. I tripped over my own feet and tumbled on the cold, hard ground. I grunted and groaned from the pain that shot through my body.

  “Now look what you made me do.” Romeo rolled me over onto my back and stared down into my face. “You’d better hope that’s only dirt on your face, and that it doesn’t leave a mark, or I will punish you for messing up your beautiful face before our wedding.”

  I breathed hard through the pain. I didn’t think anything was broken.

  He pulled one of the packets from his pocket and blew the drug into my face. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t make me do this to you. I didn’t want you to be drugged for the ceremony.”

  I turned my head side to side and blew air out of my nose and mouth. But I wasn’t fast enough. I felt the drug enter my system.

  Romeo cupped my chin harshly with his hand. “Brooke, look at me.”

  I looked up into his face and tried to form coherent thoughts before the drug could take effect. “One more question,” I said.

  He sighed. “Fine. One last question.”

  “Why did you kill my husband?”

  Romeo stood abruptly and yanked me to my feet. “That part of your life is over. You will forget about Teddy and the FBI and Declan and everything else. No more questions.” He wrapped his fingers around my upper arm and dragged me back toward the house. “The flowers and the pastor will be here shortly. We’ll be married, and then you and I are leaving. You will be happy, Brooke. I promise.”

  The drug was starting to kick in, and I nearly believed him.

  “Wake up, my dear Brooke,” sang a voice softly in my ear.

  “Declan?” I whispered. “I had the most horrible dream.”

  I felt the bed shift, and warmth left my side. “Get up, Brooke!”

  My eyes shot open. It hadn’t been a dream. I was stuck inside a living nightmare.

  I remembered now. After my failed escape attempt, he had ordered me to shower, clean myself up, and take a nap until he came for me. And I had complied—willingly.

  Romeo waved a hand through the air, then backed away. I smelled the earthy smell of the borracheromine. He was going to keep me drugged. I was going to be trapped inside a fully aware mind with no choice but to do exactly what he told me to—again.

  “Get up,” he repeated.

  I stood before him in the flimsy gown and met Romeo’s gaze. “You can keep me drugged, but every time it wears off for even a second, I will remind you that you are nothing but a murderer. You killed my husband and my baby—and all those other people.”

  Romeo raised a hand and looked like he was about to backhand me across the face. I tensed, but he stopped himself.

  “If I didn’t want your face to look pretty for our wedding pictures, I would teach you a lesson. Now tell Woody you’re sorry.” He touched a hand to my waist and pulled me to him.

  “I’m sorry, Woody. Please forgive me.” Just like that, the drug took full effect. It was like I was inside someone else’s body and mind and no longer had control over my words or actions. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

  “Now close your eyes, Brooke.”

  I did as I was told. I could feel his breath against my face, could smell the stench of stale coffee. I willed myself to fight the effects of the drug, but it was no use. It had moved into my head and taken over my actions.

  “I would kiss you, but I think the wait will be worth it. When we are husband and wife, you and I will… well… you’ll just have to wait and see.” He nuzzled his cheek against mine, and I could feel the light stubble there. “Now, let’s get you ready.”

  I op
ened my eyes. “Okay,” I heard myself say.

  “Oh, dear,” he said, looking down the length of my body. “We’re going to need to take care of that first.”

  I looked down and saw a patch of dried blood on my gown. I had apparently skinned my knee when I fell outside, and despite my shower, the wound still bled.

  Romeo leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  I sat on the bed. Romeo went to the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit and a wet washcloth. He pushed the hem of my gown up past my knee, letting his cool fingers linger along my legs. He looked up at me with lust in his eyes.

  I knew that look, and seeing it on Romeo’s face terrified me. And I was powerless to stop him.

  With the washcloth, he cleaned the dried blood off of my leg, then put a large bandage over the wound. I braced mentally for what was coming next.

  But instead of violating me, Romeo took a deep breath and lowered the hem of my gown. He reached out a hand. “Now, let’s get you dressed.”

  He led me to the armoire, where a wedding dress now hung. The wedding dress. The one he had left for me in my childhood bedroom. The one he had not torn to shreds. But it couldn’t be the same one, could it? I was so confused.

  “Take your clothes off, Brooke.”

  I slipped out of the thin gown without hesitation, exposing my body to him. He sucked in a breath at the sight.

  He took the wedding dress off of the hanger and helped me step into it. When it was pulled into place, he motioned with his hand for me to turn around. I did, and he pulled up the zipper in back. The dress had a sweetheart neckline, leaving my shoulders bare. The skirt was made of layers and layers of organza. I hated the dress even more now than I did when I was in Virginia.

  A knock sounded at the front door, and I tensed.

  “It’s about time,” Romeo said. “That had better be the flowers. They were supposed to be here two hours ago. The minister will be here soon, for crying out loud.” He placed a kiss on my bare shoulder. “Now turn and face Woody.”

  I did, keeping my eyes glued to his chest.