The room danced dizzily around him and he grinned. Should have gotten drunk before he fucked her earlier. Would have helped a little.
Climbing out of bed, Bryce scratched his chest as he left his room. Bright light flashed in his eyes and he flung his arm up, squinting through the glare to see her standing by the front door, wearing his shirt, staring at him. Whiskey splashed on his arm and chest from the bottle he had thoughtlessly tipped sideways as he blocked the light.
“You called me Darci,” she said, her voice husky.
Bryce scowled. “So what? It’s not like I’m taking you back,” he muttered, raking his hand through his tumbled hair. “You’re a good fuck, but you’re too damned clingy.”
She swallowed, a sound so loud he heard it from several feet away. “Well, I’m sorry I’m so clingy,” she whispered. “I’ve gotten a lot better. But I guess it isn’t good enough.”
He flopped onto the couch, lifted the remote, and stared at the tube as he took a swig from the bottle. Tuning her out, he settled on the porno channel, his hand closing over his semi-rigid cock. Behind him, he heard her moving around and he just wanted her out of there. Maybe he’d dig out a few of the pills he’d hidden away and…
“Bryce,” she whispered as she leaned over him.
“Wha-” Something cold, icy…then a hot liquid spill. He saw red fountaining out from him… What was…
Behind him, she watched as Bryce’s head slumped, blood pumping from him with thick, liquid gushes of crimson red. His hands lifted, trying to close over the gash in his throat. She laid the knife down on the table behind the sofa before she walked away. In the bedroom, she knelt down and reached for the case under the bed. Pulling it out, she studied the labeled tapes closely. She’d watched them, unwillingly, a hundred times. She took the two that were stacked haphazardly on the top. One she needed. The other, she hadn’t seen before. Better make sure he hadn’t been running the video camera some night when she hadn’t realized it.
Then she carefully wiped the box clean and pushed it back under the bed, grabbing her purse and tucking the tapes inside it before returning to the living room. She eyed the knife for a long moment before she picked it up, staring over the edge of the couch at Bryce’s still body.
“Later…bitch,” she whispered as she wiped her fingerprints off the knife before tossing it down. She’d already wiped the room down and with quick, economical motions, she shed his shirt and got dressed. Dropping the shirt by the door before she slid through, she tucked her head low as she headed down the alley behind his house.
Chapter Four
Darci’s heart stopped.
Somebody was outside her house. She had lifted her lashes, just barely, and stared at the window, trying to wake up.
It was unnaturally silent outside and her mouth went dry with fear.
The moon shone silver, reflecting off something white-something that didn’t belong there.
A face.
But before Darci could take a closer look, the person was gone.
She jerked upright in bed, her heart slamming in her chest, breath rushing out of her shakily. “Damn it…”
The house was quiet-too quiet. Darci couldn’t tolerate that sort of silence. Slowly, she swung her legs around and put her feet on the cool wooden floor. The chill in the air raced up her back, tightening her nipples, her skin roughened with goose bumps. Her heart slammed against her chest as she walked across her darkened room and reached for the light switch. Nothing.
Her breath started to wheeze in her chest as she rushed out to the hall and tried the light switch there. Nothing. With her back pressed flat against the wall, she walked along it back into her room, closing the door silently behind her. Licking her lips, she reached for the phone by her bedside, suppressing a sob as it came up dead.
Nothing. Damn caller ID-why in the hell had she ever replaced her regular land line with a portable? Because she liked knowing who was on the other line, liked being able to carry the phone with her to the basement as she developed her negatives.
My cameras-
Get a grip, there’s probably somebody in the house. Call the damned police , her common sense demanded before she could fly out of the room to run and check on her equipment.
Okay. Cell phone. Where is the damned cell phone…purse ! The purse was lying on the chaise lounge under the window where she had thrown it as she slid out of her shoes. With shaking fingers, she turned it on, and then she stifled a cry as she couldn’t remember the number she wanted to call. Swallowing, she pushed the buttons 9-1-1 and hit send, sinking down into a darkened corner and waiting, staring at the door with unblinking eyes.
As the call came through, Kellan was just waking up from a sweet, hot dream…and the call was like a splash of icy water, clearing his head and tightening his gut with fear.
Rolling out of bed, he grabbed his jeans and shoved them on, stepping into an untied pair of work boots on his way out of his room. The T-shirt he had tossed aside the night before was still hanging on the doorknob to the laundry room and he grabbed it with one hand as his other hand scooped up his weapon, which he had left hanging on the back of the barstool at the breakfast bar.
Under his breath, prayers he didn’t even realize he still remembered were being spoken. Damn it. Not her. Don’t let me find her…
As he sped down the highway toward her house on the river, he cut off that train of thought. In his rearview mirror, a pair of headlights appeared, and sirens flashed on top of the patrol car. He heard their distant wail. One of his deputies. God, please let somebody already be there…don’t let her-
Snarling, Kellan slammed his fist on the leather seat, rasping out, “Stop it!”
The sirens behind him went silent just as they turned onto her road. He slammed on his brakes in front of her house and jumped out, running up to the house as he drew his gun, swearing and praying from one breath to another. The front door was unlocked. Gritting his teeth, he pushed it open, some subtle tension inside him relaxing as he breathed in the soft, vanilla-scented air, like potpourri-or candles.
And paint?
But there was a distinct smell that simply wasn’t there… Thank You, God.
“This is Sheriff Kellan Grant…”
Darci heard his voice and sobbed in relief, rising from the floor and stumbling out into the hallway. She swallowed a scream as she came against a hard, hot body. Big hands came up to cup her arms as she slammed her foot down on his, hearing a muffled grunt, followed by…
“Damn it, Darci, why in the hell do you need the police? You’re dangerous.”
“Kellan!”
“Is there anybody still here?” he asked, moving up against the wall and pulling her with him.
“The lights are out,” she whispered, stuttering, her body starting to tremble. “I woke up…saw somebody…”
“Okay…okay. Take a deep breath. Calm down, listen to me. We have to check out the house. I want you to go back in your room and stay there,” he said, his voice changing to a firm, no-nonsense tone as he guided her back into her room. The broad band of light from his flashlight moved over the room and he checked the entire area out before he urged her down on a chair, snagging the blanket from her bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Stay here, sweetie. Okay?”
And then he was gone. She muffled the sob that rose in her throat as the door clicked shut, then the doorknob shifted a little as he checked the lock.
She couldn’t take her eyes off that door. The brass glinted ever so slightly in the dim light of the room and she stared at it, fascinated.