Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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His grin faded, his expression becoming the same one that had made her kiss him up against that SUV. ‘Come here,’ he said quietly, and she walked to the open shower door while her legs shook like jelly. He ran his finger under the scalloped lace edge of the bra, teasing her. Tempting her. ‘So damn pretty.’ He met her eyes. ‘I like it. Take it off before I tear it off.’

It was a front clasp, and he groaned when she popped it open. ‘That’s all I had to do?’

She laughed and let it fall to the floor, gratified at his sharp intake of breath.

‘My God,’ he whispered, then stole her breath by taking a breast in each hand reverently, measuring their weight. He kissed the slope of each one, then dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them into fists. ‘Keep going, but hurry. You’re killing me here.’

She didn’t comply, taking her time in pulling out all the pins that held her braid in place. He watched silently, his eyes missing not a single movement as she removed the last pin, her braid falling to the middle of her back as she dumped the pins in a pile on the vanity. She started to loosen the braid, but he stopped her.

‘Let me,’ he said quietly. He began untangling her hair and running his fingers through it. ‘I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you. I’ve fantasized about your hair spread all over my pillow.’ He smiled. ‘Spread all over me.’

Her arousal growing exponentially now, she kicked off her shoes and pushed her slacks to the floor, leaving her clad only in her matching pink lace panties, along with socks and an ankle holster.

His chest expanded as he inhaled. ‘Very nice,’ he said gruffly. ‘The ankle holster is hot. Makes you look very badass.’

‘I think the pink lace cancels any badass-itude,’ she said, hooking her pinkie in the string that held the front and back triangles together.

‘It’s a synergistic effect. Trust me on this. Are your panties wet?’

She drew a deep breath. ‘If they hadn’t been already, they would be now. But they’ve been wet every time I’ve been around you today.’ She dropped to one knee to take off the ankle holster, then came to her feet. ‘I’ll be right back.’

‘Hurry.’

She obeyed, quickly putting the backup gun next to her service weapon in the nightstand drawer, but when she returned, Marcus was leaning back against the shower wall, slowly stroking himself.

Scarlett couldn’t have looked away if someone had threatened to shoot her on the spot. ‘You started without me.’

His dark brows lifted, making him look like a smug Greek god. ‘I told you to hurry.’

Yanking off the socks, she shimmied out of the panties and kicked them aside. She joined him in the shower, closed the door and turned on the spray.

He pulled her under the water, playing with her hair as it grew soaking wet. He squirted shampoo into his hands and began to wash her hair, strong, long strokes on her scalp. She moaned and leaned her back against his front, letting him drive some of the tension from her shoulders and neck even as he built a sweeter tension between her legs.

‘You have a lot of hair, Detective,’ he said, his mouth next to her ear. His soapy hand slid down the front of her body, lightly caressing one breast before darting between her thighs, one wicked finger delving deep into the part of her that had already been wet for him. Her gasp made him chuckle. ‘This could take a while.’

She wasn’t sure if he meant the washing of her hair or the slow stroking he was doing with that finger of his. She didn’t care. Didn’t think. Just leaned into him and savored the contact after so many months alone. He wasn’t rushed, didn’t hurry. He just stroked her, languidly working her into a delicious froth until she began thrusting against him, urging him to go faster. Harder.

She protested when he withdrew the finger, using both his hands to rinse the shampoo from her hair, then casually sniffing the various bottles of body wash in the caddy hanging from the shower, as if they had all the time in the world. ‘Marcus,’ she said, her voice husky. ‘Hurry.’

‘This is the one I like,’ he announced, picking the honeysuckle-scented body wash and pouring it into his hand. He washed her thoroughly, torturing her with touches that were far too light and far too fast, chuckling when she cursed him.

‘You’re enjoying this,’ she accused when he went down on his haunches to soap up her legs, massaging her calves and feet.

He picked up her handheld sprayer and started rinsing her body with warm water, a teasing smile on his face. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘Yes, but– Oh God.’ She choked on the words when he abruptly rocked forward to his knees, slid his hands up the backs of her thighs to grab her butt and buried his face between her legs, licking up into her. ‘Oh God. Yes. There. Please.’

In seconds he had her whimpering, moaning, her legs threatening to fold beneath her. She clutched his hair, her hips thrusting to get closer, get him deeper. She was close, so close. Then . . . ‘No!’ she cried when, as abruptly as he’d started, he lurched to his feet, leaving her on the edge and ready to claw his shoulders to make him go back down. Until she saw his face.

He was no longer smiling, his eyes dark and glittering with need. Without looking away from her, he turned the water off, backed her against the wall and kissed her so hard she saw little white lights floating behind her eyelids. He broke off, letting her gulp air into her burning lungs, then lifted her arms around his neck, curved his hands over her butt and shoved the shower door open with his shoulder. He picked her up, and she wound her legs around his hips, wiggling to get his erection up inside her folds, rocking against him as he carried her out of the bathroom. Once in the bedroom, he carefully laid her down on the bed, both of them still soaking wet, the overhead lights blazingly bright.

But she didn’t have even another second to think about the wet, because he followed her down, sliding down her body until his mouth was between her legs again. He didn’t lick, but went straight for her clit, sucking it into his mouth, making her scream. He didn’t stop, sucking her hard, and then his finger was back inside her, then two, stroking her faster and harder and higher.

The orgasm exploded inside her. Hands clawing at the sheets on her bed, her body arched like a bow and she tried to breathe, but the air was stuck in her lungs. And still he didn’t stop, sucking and stroking until the wave broke and she collapsed, shuddering and gasping.

And crying. She was crying, tears pouring from her eyes, a sob pushing its way out of her chest. Instantly he was there, hovering over her, brushing the tears away.

‘Scarlett,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No.’ Unable to stop the tears, she let go of the sheets and ran her hands up his chest, feeling the hair tickle the flesh between her fingers. ‘It was . . . God, Marcus.’ She drew a breath and let it out, feeling her body settle, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to ebb. ‘I’ve never . . . not like that. Never like that. Just . . . intense. Give me a second to come down.’

But he didn’t, shoving his hands into her hair and taking her mouth with a fierceness that bordered on pain, but wasn’t. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him back, the taste of herself on his lips making her shiver violently. His hips thrust and rolled, his erection hard as iron against her inner thigh.

Blindly he groped under the pillow and pulled out a foil wrapper. ‘When did you put that there?’ she asked.

‘Before I got in the shower.’ He kissed her hard again, then pushed himself to his knees between her legs and ripped the packet with his teeth, almost snarling when she reached to help him. ‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘If you touch me, it’ll be all over.’

‘No, don’t let it be over. Not yet.’ Watching as he rolled the condom over himself, she licked her lips, a new thought surprising her. Going down on a man was never something she’d enjoyed, but seeing Marcus so huge and . . . beautiful, she knew she would. Not now, but later. She wanted to make him groan and beg the way he’d done to her.

She looked up and realized he’d been watching her stare at him, and that it had stoked him even higher. ‘Later,’ he growled, not even a hint of his normally smooth voice remaining. ‘I need to be inside you. Now.’ Bracing his weight on his arms, he thrust up into her in a single hard stroke, making her moan at the pleasure of being filled. Being taken.

It took her a second to realize that he’d stopped. ‘Are you okay? Did I hurt you?’ he asked with a frown. He was breathing hard, his arms trembling from the strain of holding himself immobile.

‘I’m fine,’ she breathed. ‘Better than fine. Don’t stop. Please.’

‘Thank God,’ he muttered, and began to move again. ‘You feel so good, I’m not sure I could have stopped.’

But he could have, and they both knew it. Because he was still in total control of himself. And her. He knew exactly what to do, how to move. All the right spots to make her moan. He aroused her with his body, but also with the expression he wore as he watched her. It was primal and possessive, proud and lustful, but also . . .

Reverent, she thought, emotion rising to fill her throat once again. He handled her carefully, utterly and completely focused on her every reaction, her every sigh. He made her buck and squirm beneath him, beg and curse and beg again until she wanted to scream from frustration. But still he held back.

He was making sure she felt pleasure even as he took his own, but suddenly that wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel him lose control. Wanted to feel the storm she saw in his eyes suck her in and draw her under.

She cupped his face in her hands, caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs. ‘Let go,’ she whispered. ‘Take what you want. I won’t break. I promise.’

He shuddered. ‘I can’t. I want too much. I’ll hurt you.’

This was an important moment – she knew it instinctively. One that would set the tone for all the moments to come. She hooked her foot around his calf and, using her other foot as leverage, flipped him to his back so quickly that he lay there, still deep inside her, staring, his eyes wide and stunned. And then darkly aroused. His jaw tightened, his hands gripping her hips so hard it hurt. But it was good hurt, especially when he yanked her hips down on him, driving even deeper up into her.

She leaned over, bit his lip. ‘I won’t break,’ she repeated, enunciating every word, then sat back and rode him hard.

A groan ripped out of his chest and he arched his back, digging his feet into the mattress so that he could push himself higher. Then he rolled them again and drove into her over and over, his thrusts bordering on savage. She met each one, locking his gaze with hers, daring him to slow down.

‘Not a chance, Detective,’ he muttered, and she laughed.

This, she thought, this is the way it’s supposed to be. The way we’re supposed to be.

They said nothing more, gazes locked. Marcus took her hands in his, threading their fingers together, the connection a tender one in stark contrast with the way their bodies were coming together everywhere else.

While the first orgasm had been an explosion, the second hit her like a storm surge, slowly and powerfully pushing every conscious thought out of its way, leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake.

She came down sighing his name, somehow knowing he’d been watching her the whole time, waiting until she could watch him. She squeezed his hands with her own, squeezed his erection with her inner muscles. ‘Now,’ she whispered. ‘Let me see.’

He did, and he was as beautiful as she’d known he’d be. Muscles straining, his erection throbbing and pulsing inside her, his body shuddering as he came. He exhaled once and shuddered as an aftershock kicked in. He released her hands, lowering his body from the push-up position he’d maintained throughout to rest his weight on his forearms. He dropped his forehead to rest gently against hers.

‘Scarlett.’ It was barely a murmur, but delivered in the velvet voice she’d heard in her dreams for nine long months.

She lifted her hands to stroke his face, her fingers tracing his lips. ‘This was more.’

‘Yeah. I knew it would be, but I still didn’t expect this.’ He kissed her then, long and lush, leaving her breathless once again. ‘I don’t want to move. Ever.’

‘Then don’t.’ She spread her fingers over his chest, sweeping her hands back and forth to feel the hairs tickling her palms. ‘Stay here with me, just a little longer.’

Twenty-six

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 12.30 A.M.

Marcus came out of the bathroom and stopped in his tracks. Scarlett was standing next to the bed, bent over the mattress, her shapely butt pointed straight at him. His cock stirred and stood at attention as his mouth watered, and it took him a few seconds to realize that she was stripping the bed.

He crossed the room to cozy up behind her, chuckling when she startled and cursed.

‘Dammit, Marcus, stop sneaking up on me.’ But she didn’t sound angry as she straightened and leaned back into him, resting her forearms on his when he wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened in surprise when his cock pressed against her lower back. ‘Wow. You’re . . . already . . . again. Wow.’

His ego preened. ‘It didn’t hurt to see you bent over the bed. It gave me ideas.’

‘Oh really? I’d like to hear them.’

He brushed his lips over her ear. ‘I believe in show, not tell.’

She hummed, interested. ‘We need to finish changing the sheets first.’

‘I guess we did make them a little wet.’

She looked over her shoulder and laughed up at him. ‘More than a little. Do me a favor and go to the hall closet and get another set. The ones on the top shelf fit this bed.’

He kissed her smiling mouth and reluctantly let her go. The king-sized sheets were exactly where she’d said, the closet meticulously arranged. It appeared that his detective was a bit of a neat freak, which was a relief to see. He was a bit of a neat freak himself.

He took the sheets back into her room and stopped cold again. She was kneeling on the floor beside the bare mattress, her head and one arm under the bed. And her butt pointed straight at him once more.

‘Woman, are you trying to kill me?’ he whined.

‘Zat’s under the bed,’ she said, making tsking noises. ‘Come here, sweetie. Come out.’ She sighed and stood up. ‘I think we scared him.’ Then she shrugged. ‘He’ll get used to it.’

Marcus dumped the clean sheets on the bed and helped her put on the fitted one. ‘He got used to the purple,’ he said blandly.

She laughed. ‘Poor Zat. But if you think this is bright, you should see the other rooms. I’ve been working on fixing the outside first. I’ll redo the paint inside later. One task at a time.’

‘You could hire someone to do it.’

She frowned at him. ‘Unlike you, I’m not rich. Plus, it’s more mine if I do it myself.’

‘I could do it for you,’ he offered slyly. ‘I can do all kinds of repairs for you. I don’t need the money, so you’d have to find other ways to pay me.’

She tried to decide if he was serious. ‘Do you know how to repair stuff?’

He tried not to be offended. ‘Who do you think builds the houses we use to relocate the families we told you about tonight? Elves in a hollow tree?’

Her eyes widened. ‘You build houses?’

‘I help. Diesel does, or did before he got busy at the paper. He’s built some low-rent housing in the past. I’m mostly just an investor, but he lets me swing a hammer sometimes.’

She lifted a brow. ‘Seems like Diesel has a number of diverse talents. Building, hacking, gentle coercion, philanthropy. Where did you meet him?’

‘In the army. He saved my life a few times, I saved his. When we got out, we parted ways, but the next thing I knew I’d inherited the paper and needed someone I could trust to help me with my . . . side business. At that point, Stone was working as a freelancer for other papers and was always on assignment out of the country. I knew I could trust Diesel. He hadn’t found a job that interested him yet, so he signed on.’

She’d been changing the pillowcases while he talked and now plumped the pillows invitingly before she sat cross-legged on top of the covers and started braiding her hair. ‘He sounds like a good friend. I’m glad you have him.’

He sat beside her and captured her hands in his. ‘Don’t braid it. Leave it down.’

‘It’s still wet. It’ll be all tangled in the morning.’

‘So I’ll brush it.’ He swept his lips over hers. ‘Leave it down. It’s my fantasy.’

‘Oh,’ she breathed, then swallowed hard. ‘Okay.’

He’d been all set for another round, but right now he just wanted to hold her. He switched off the lights and climbed under the covers, patting the pillow beside him. ‘Come here, Scarlett,’ he said, intentionally pitching his voice low. The deep breath she sucked in told him that he’d tickled her fantasy too.

‘I thought you had ideas.’

‘I do, but they’ll keep for a little while. I never got to hold you before.’

‘Just a minute. Let me check my messages.’ She looked at her phone, her brows furrowing. After a moment’s hesitation, she put it back down on the nightstand and climbed under the covers with him, snuggling against his side, her head on his shoulder.

‘What was that?’

‘What?’ Her fingertips idly brushed across his chest, playing with the hairs. Even though it sidetracked his focus, he couldn’t make himself tell her to stop.

He rubbed her forehead with one finger. ‘The message that made you frown.’

She sighed. ‘It’s about the guard in your condo.’

Fear squeezed his heart. ‘Edgar. What about him? Is he . . . ?’

‘No, no,’ she assured him. ‘Last I heard he was still in recovery. This is about the attack. I saw the security tape while I was in Isenberg’s office earlier. Edgar had a gun and pulled it on the shooter, but he hesitated, probably because he didn’t want to miss and hit Phillip. The shooter was holding a gun on Phillip using his right hand, but in a very smooth move he whipped his right hand around and pushed the gun up under Phillip’s chin, then grabbed the guard’s gun and shot him with it – using his left hand.’

Marcus didn’t want to visualize it, but his mind wasn’t giving him any choice. ‘Ambidextrous, with some martial arts experience.’

‘I thought either martial arts or military. Or both. Bottom line, he was smooth. Amazing reflexes. Almost like he’d practiced it or at least had it planned.’

‘You think he expected Edgar to pull his gun?’

‘I don’t know, but the way he held the gun under Phillip’s chin gave the camera a perfect view of the make and model.’

‘He wanted us to know what he was carrying.’

‘Seems like it. After shooting Edgar, he pocketed Edgar’s gun and forced Phillip into the elevator. It would have been more efficient for him to keep his left arm around Phillip’s throat and use the gun he came in with to shoot the guard rather than the big switch maneuver.’

‘But he didn’t want to leave a bullet behind.’

‘Right. I wasn’t going to tell you about it. Didn’t think you needed the images in your mind, but Isenberg wants you to look at the video and see if you can ID the shooter. She sent me a link. You probably have a message from her asking you to call her or me.’

He sat up and turned on the light. ‘Why did she wait so long to send it to you? They’ve had that video for hours.’

‘In her email she said that they had to clean it up. The video was poor quality. Truthfully, she was probably debating with herself whether or not she wanted you to see it.’ She sat up and found the message on her phone. ‘I’m not supposed to forward this to you because it’s evidence and we can’t let it leak to the press yet. Sorry.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘What do I have to do to get your boss to trust me?’

‘Be a cop and work for her for a couple years. She didn’t trust me right away either.’ Scarlett winced. ‘Sometimes she still doesn’t.’

He sighed. ‘Just play it.’

She cued it up and handed him her phone. He hit PLAY quickly before he could manufacture a reason to put it off. He flinched when the clip started, his attention riveted to the fear on Phillip’s face.

Scarlett rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Start it again,’ she murmured. ‘I know it’s hard, but don’t look at Phillip. Look at the man’s face.’

He watched the clip from beginning to end, focusing on the shooter’s build, his gloved hands, the way he moved, and his eyes, his only visible feature. There was nothing recognizable, so he made himself watch it again and again, his jaw clenching tighter every time the bastard fired at Edgar.

Finally Scarlett pulled the phone from his hands. ‘Enough. Your teeth are about to crack. Did you recognize anything about him?’

He clenched his fists helplessly. ‘No.’

‘Then I’ll tell her that.’ She slid her hand over his fist, holding him while she called her boss. ‘It’s Scarlett,’ she said when Isenberg picked up. ‘Yes, I got it. I showed it to him, but he doesn’t recognize the shooter . . . Yes, ma’am, I turned your request around quickly.’ She listened for a moment, then closed her eyes, her cheeks turning red. ‘Yes, ma’am, he’s with me.’

Oh fuck. His outing them to his team was one thing. Her outing herself to her boss was quite another. Part of him wondered if that wasn’t the reason Isenberg had waited to send the email. She’d known Scarlett wouldn’t delay her response, because a murderer was walking free. What a fucking bitch.

He wanted to grab the phone and tell the lieutenant exactly what he thought about her, but he bit his tongue. This was Scarlett’s world. Her battle.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said after listening for a full minute. ‘Your office, nine sharp. I’ll be there.’ She hung up and dropped her chin to her chest. ‘Well that was fun.’

‘What can she do to you?’

‘Give me a lecture or put a note in my file. Worst case is I get suspended.’ He tugged her to his lap, settled her between his thighs and massaged her scalp, making her sigh quietly. ‘But if she really wants to get mean, she’ll tell my dad.’

He blinked. ‘She’s going to tell your father? Why?’

‘Because he works in the commissioner’s office.’

‘Oh. You said he was a cop. You didn’t mention he was so high up.’

‘You mean you didn’t have Diesel check me out?’

‘Not really. I did search for your address and run your Land Cruiser’s plates, but everything else I wanted to find out myself.’ He kissed the curve of her neck. ‘I’m sorry she might make trouble for you, but I’m not sorry I’m here.’

‘I’m not sorry you’re here either. It’ll be all right. Why don’t you turn out the lights? We should get some sleep.’

He did as she suggested and then pulled her close. To his relief she came easily, resuming her place on his shoulder and her lazy petting of his chest. But she didn’t sleep. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind.

‘What’s your brain thinking now?’ he asked her.

‘That I need to ask you a favor.’

He curled her still-damp hair around his fingers. ‘Name it.’

‘I need you to lock that gun of yours away. Isenberg knows that Deacon and I suspected you had a second gun in the alley. If she gets annoyed enough at me for sleeping with you, she might find a reason to confiscate your gun.’ She hesitated. ‘And I’m not sure you’d like that.’

‘Why do you think that?’ he asked, a little too sharply.

‘Because of the way you held BB on your lap when the uniformed officer arrived at your condo tonight so that he wouldn’t search you. And . . .’ She was silent for a long moment, then drew a breath. ‘And because the serial number’s filed off.’

She’d shocked him. ‘How do you know that?’ he asked.

‘I saw it this morning when you were loading up that shoulder holster like Rambo.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything then?’

‘Because I wanted to find out why it was filed off and why you continued to carry it.’ She lifted her head, propping her chin on his shoulder to look up at him. ‘You’re not the only one who wants to find things out for yourself.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe you got it in the Gulf, like the knife you’re so attached to. Maybe you used it for some gentle coercion and things got out of hand and you don’t want to risk a Ballistics match.’

‘That didn’t happen,’ he said flatly, not sure if he was offended or not.

‘Which? You didn’t get it in the Gulf or you didn’t use it for gentle coercion or things didn’t get out of hand?’

‘All of the above.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘If you thought I was capable of using it to hurt someone, why am I even here with you? In your bed?’

She continued to regard him calmly. ‘Because I didn’t really think you did, and even if you did, the other guy probably had it coming.’

He shook his head. ‘You confound me, Scarlett.’

‘I don’t mean to.’ She rested her head on his shoulder again. ‘Maybe it’s just that I understand more than you think. Maybe I’ve gently coerced once or twice myself.’

She said it so softly he almost didn’t hear her. ‘Did you get written up?’ he asked.

‘No. I’ve never crossed the line. Well, not with both feet. The few times I’ve toed over it, my partners covered for me. It hasn’t happened that often. It gets harder to control it every day, though.’

He remembered what she’d said that morning, when they’d talked about his grandfather. ‘Because you see things you can’t unsee.’

‘Every goddamn day.’ She exhaled quietly. ‘Tell me why you keep it. Please.’

‘I’ll put it away,’ he promised. ‘I’d already planned to.’

‘You’re evading the subject again.’

He stared at the ceiling, his heart beginning to pound. ‘Only because it’s hard to talk about. The truth is, I don’t know what would happen if it went through Ballistics. Have I ever fired this gun at anyone? Yes. A few times as a warning. Have I ever fired it into anyone? No. But I can’t promise that my father didn’t because I simply don’t know.’

‘Not Jeremy,’ she said softly. ‘You mean your real father.’

‘Jeremy is my real father as far as I’m concerned. I mean my biological father. The man with the sperm. And not much else,’ he added in a disgusted mutter.

‘He wasn’t a good man?’

He laughed bitterly, remembering his father so very clearly. ‘No.’

‘Yet you carry his gun.’

‘No. It’s not his. It belonged to my grandfather.’

‘Okay,’ she said reasonably. ‘You loved your grandfather, so it has sentimental value.’

He shook his head. ‘No, that’s not really it either.’ It was hard to talk about because he didn’t like to even think about it. ‘My grandfather never carried the gun. He kept it in a gun safe. My father . . . took it from time to time, mostly to show off. He probably never killed anyone.’

‘“Probably” is not very reassuring,’ she said. ‘I can test it myself, if you want. Off the books. You’ll at least know for sure if it ties to any crimes.’

No way in hell. ‘That’s okay. I’ll put it away and carry one of my other guns.’

‘That’s fine, but I still want to know why you’re so attached to it.’

He sighed. ‘I thought you wanted to get some sleep.’

She sat up abruptly, frowning at him. ‘Marcus.’

He stared up at the ceiling, then met her eyes in the light of the moon coming through the window. ‘Can you come back down here? It’s . . . hard to talk about.’

Her frown changed from angry to concerned. ‘That’s the second time you’ve said that,’ she said, but slid back down beside him, her head on his chest.

‘Because it is.’

She splayed her hand over his heart. ‘Your pulse just skyrocketed.’

‘Yeah.’ He focused on bringing it under control, then gave up when he couldn’t concentrate enough to begin. ‘Did you Google what I told you to?’

‘Yes. I read a few of the articles that came up. I’m sorry, Marcus. You endured what no child should ever go through.’

‘Stone had it worse. I only heard it. He saw it.’

‘You mean your little brother being killed?’

He nodded, his throat constricting. He was having trouble breathing. Goddammit. ‘Yeah.’ He forced the word out. Gritted his teeth and beat back the panic. ‘Afterward, even after we were safe, I couldn’t sleep. Weeks and weeks went by and I still couldn’t sleep. I can remember staring at the ceiling for hours on end.’

She was stroking his chest, trying to calm him. ‘Understandable.’

‘I . . . got my grandfather’s gun and I . . . slept with it. Under my pillow.’ The stutter he’d suffered for years after the attack tried to come back, shaming him.

‘You were only eight years old,’ she whispered, pained.

‘Old enough to fire a gun if I needed to.’

‘Did having the gun keep the nightmares at bay?’

‘S-some. Not all.’

‘So the gun is a talisman.’

‘Yes,’ he said, relieved. That much was true. Everything else he’d said was also true, just not complete.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you for trusting me. I won’t betray your trust.’

He winced internally every time she said ‘trust’, but it wasn’t enough to make him say more. Not now. Not when she was in his arms. Not when she was believing him. He’d have to tell her. She deserved to know and he knew she would understand. But he wasn’t going there tonight.

She leaned up and pressed kisses to his jaw, his chin, his mouth. ‘Sleep now.’

If it were only that easy, he thought bitterly. He pulled her a little closer, stroking her hair, and she cuddled up to him. Within minutes she was asleep.

But he wasn’t. His heart continued to race as he stared up at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to find the words to tell her the truth.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 2.30 A.M.

Ken could hear Burton’s furious shouts the moment he opened his basement door.

‘Sweeney! Goddammit, Sweeney, you little fucker! What the fuck is this? Sweeney!’

Ken strolled down the stairs, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt. The nap hadn’t been enough to completely recharge him, but it would be enough to get what he needed out of Burton.

His basement was tidy again, no sign of the blood that had pooled on the floor after he’d slit the throats of Chip and Marlene Anders. Stephanie Anders sat on the floor in her cage, her arms hugging the knees she’d pulled to her chest. She wore a plain black shirt now. Pity. She’d been so pretty when he’d ripped off her top. Her eyes were shrewd as she watched him approach Burton, who had been tied to a chair. Hog-tied, actually, in a way that if he struggled, the rope would tighten around his throat like a noose. His jaw was bruised, his eye already black.