He kissed her cheek. He’d never talked to anyone about what had happened when he was held captive, but Carina understood. Maybe she was the only one who really could.
“I used to have nightmares about Justin,” she said softly. “I’d wake up and start looking for him. He’d be on my mind for days, I’d replay that night over and over, trying to remember something I know I never heard or saw. I slept through his abduction and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.”
She rolled over and he let her hold on to him. Touch him. He responded by feathering light kisses over her shoulder, her arm.
“The nightmares are few and far between,” she told him. “Just sometimes…”
“Sometimes they come back with a vengeance.” He kissed her lips.
“Yeah.”
She settled into the crook of his arm and in minutes she was fast asleep.
Nick watched her sleeping for the second time and couldn’t imagine holding any other woman in his arms.
Soon he fell back into a deep sleep, this time devoid of bad memories.
He stared at Leah tied naked to his bed, the black bandanna glued to her mouth.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Leah.”
Sound came from her mouth, but no words.
Leah had left her boyfriend’s apartment at dawn. He was waiting. He was patient. And patience was rewarded.
He’d called out to her and she’d turned, smiled even though she’d been surprised to see him there.
“I’ve been looking for you. Maggie’s in the hospital. I’ll take you.”
She believed him. They always believed him because he looked honest and trustworthy.
When you’re a pathological liar, looking like an honest man truly helps.
He’d drugged the coffee he’d had waiting for her in the car. She didn’t like that it was cool, but she drank enough anyway. Yawning, she fell asleep and didn’t wake up until he’d already glued her mouth shut.
The thought of fucking her didn’t appeal to him like he’d thought it would, and he frowned, wondering again why he couldn’t regain the thrill he’d had with Becca, the excitement with Angie. What was wrong?
But when he thought about slowly squeezing the life out of Leah, his blood stirred and his penis twitched. Forget the other stuff, what was important was the finale. He would bathe her and wrap her in plastic wrap. He had latex gloves. Forget the garbage bag. This time he wanted to look her in the eyes, watch her life drain away.
His body responded to the fantasy. No playing around. It had been fun playing with Angie, trying different things to see what would happen. The games now held no more allure. Staring at Leah, all he wanted was to feel her die in his hands.
Controlling life and death was the ultimate discipline. And isn’t that what he did? He controlled his own universe, the people around him, with a focused restraint that few people had. No one knew, no one even suspected, what he’d done. It wasn’t about the sex, it wasn’t about women, it was about victory. The powerful surge he felt when he killed.
It was indescribable. Irreplaceable. Nothing came close to it. Watching the women trapped, squirming, wanting to scream but unable to say a word-all that was part of the delicious package. But the reward was their death.
Anticipation wasn’t watching them fight the pain. Anticipation was the hunt, choosing his next prey. Now that he’d picked Leah, the next thing was her death.
He left the room to start the water. When he returned, he accidentally bumped his computer desk. The mouse moved, and the screen came to life.
Curious, he glanced to see if he had any messages.
1 message.
He clicked on it.
Your MyJournal tracker has logged a message from Elizabeth_Rimes at 8:44 p.m. Click here to read.
Elizabeth. He’d been worried about her, then angry. She had no right to neglect him, to stop e-mailing him. They were friends. That’s what she’d told him.
He logged onto MyJournal, then read the message Elizabeth sent last night. That explained it; her mother was sick. And she needed his help again! Chat room 303. He hoped she was still there.
He almost logged onto the chat area right then.
But he had something else to do first.
“Let’s take a bath,” he said to Leah and untied the ropes.
He looked her in the eye.
“If you even think of running, I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll wish you could beg me to kill you.”
She shook her head rapidly back and forth.
“Good. You understand me.”
He carried her into the bathroom.
“Got him!”
Patrick shook Dillon awake, shoving a cup of coffee on the desk in front of him.
“He’s in the chat room?” Dillon yawned and stretched, the aroma of bad coffee assaulting his senses.
“Not yet, he just read our message.” Patrick stared at the screen as if to will the killer to respond.
“Come on, Scout. Take the bait!”
THIRTY-ONE
CARINA WOKE TO A TERRIFIC SMELL. Had to be a dream. Nothing that came from her kitchen smelled that good.
She grabbed Nick’s T-shirt, pulled it over her naked body, and followed her nose.
Nick stood in front of her stove in his boxers and nothing else. His muscular build took her breath away. He glanced over his shoulder when she entered the room. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
“You must be Merlin,” she said, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “Conjuring up food out of nothing.”
“I found the linguica in your freezer. Canned tomatoes and olives. I threw away the green cheese, but fortunately the eggs were fresh.”
She remembered buying a dozen eggs the last time she went shopping because one of the few things she could make in the kitchen was chocolate chip cookies. But she hadn’t had time since Angie’s murder to even think about baking.
She kissed his bare shoulder. “Great in bed and in the kitchen. I think I’ll have you stick around awhile.” Though she was being flirty and flip, her heart twisted as she realized Nick would be returning to Montana in short order. She admired that he’d stayed on the case even after his brother had been cleared. Nick’s dedication to the job and his desire to seek justice for the victims was as sexy as his physique. But he couldn’t take an indefinite amount of time off, could he? He had responsibilities, more than just to her or this investigation.
A deep sadness shot through Carina. She dropped her arms and poured herself a cup of hot coffee. Nick was a keeper. But she’d thought Jim was a keeper, too, and look what had happened there.
Nick was like Jim in that he didn’t like to talk about himself or his feelings. But when she prodded a bit, Nick opened up. She liked that he wasn’t afraid to share what disturbed him, that he was willing to let her see inside, even when things weren’t perfect.
She couldn’t remember a time when she’d really pushed Jim to talk. If she had, maybe things would have been different. But maybe she hadn’t cared as much as she’d thought she had.
And if things were different, Nick Thomas wouldn’t be half-naked in her kitchen cooking her breakfast.
“Sit,” he said, dishing up something that smelled far too good to come from her stove.
Her stomach growled as Nick served her a plate of scrambled eggs with linguica sausage, olives, tomatoes, and green chiles-hot sauce on the side.
“I’m in heaven,” she said, pouring hot sauce liberally over her food.
“Heaven was last night,” Nick said, sitting across from her and taking her hand. He kissed her fingers, taking a moment to plant a seductive kiss on the tip of her index finger. Hot chills raced down her spine.
“If you keep doing that I’m going to forget breakfast and take you back to bed,” she said.
He smiled, licked her finger, then dropped her hand when the phone rang.
“Hello,” she answered.