I exhale slowly. “I’m glad you are. I’m not. Not at all. I’m terrified, Drake. What if we don’t find these people? We’re losing time. We all know that Robyn won’t be the last. If I’m right and we have nine victims, then we have four days left until the solstice—that’s a victim a day at best. That’s four more people who could lose their lives and four more families to be destroyed. What if we don’t find whoever’s killing people? What if we never manage to solve this case and everyone leaves town and the victims never get justice? What if their families never get what they deserve? What if all of this is in vain?”
“Noelle.” Drake covers my mouth with his hand. “Sweetheart, shush. You’re getting yourself all tied up over questions you know you can’t answer, and as much as I wish I could answer them, I can’t. Work on answering them instead of asking them. I know you. You have one of the most wonderful minds I’ve ever come across. The way you work things out is incredible.”
I tilt my head back so my mouth is free. “It’s just logic. Just apply the facts and come up with the plausible scenarios.”
“So do that,” he implores. “Now more than ever. We need your mind, darlin’. Right now. I need you to stand in the middle of the chaos and figure shit out the way you do, ’cause I’m fucked if I can do it half as well as you do.”
“I really need coffee before I get all fancypants with my thinking.”
“So I’ll get you coffee. But first…” He rolls on top of me and teases his fingertip down my neck to my collarbone.
I shiver beneath his touch.
He drops his mouth so it’s hovering just above mine. “But first, sex.”
“Do we have ti—”
He presses his lips against the pulse point on my neck. I inhale sharply when he flicks his tongue against my skin.
“We always have time for sex. Especially today—when we really don’t.”
“That makes no sense,” I breathe as he explores the curve of my neck and shoulder with his mouth.
Fuck, his mouth. It’s almost as good as a box full of Gigi’s cupcakes, but don’t tell him I said that. I’d never live it down.
“Your mind,” he murmurs against me, traveling down my body. “It’s brilliant but exhausting. I think you exhaust yourself. Sometimes, we have to make time for the things we shouldn’t.”
“Still makes no sense.”
I gasp as he moves down sharply and the covers fly off me. A burst of cold air flutters over my skin as the sheets settle, and he grabs my thighs. His fingers massage my thighs, touching them as gently as if they’d break if he squeezed too hard.
“You’re lost in your mind,” he whispers into the inside of my thigh. “I can’t, in good conscience, allow you to work in this crazed state.”
“That right?”
“So right.” He closes his mouth over my panties and presses his tongue against my clit.
Oh. Shit.
I fist the sheets as he reaches up and slides the fabric of my thong to the side.
“Shut your brain off,” he demands, yanking my feet onto his shoulders. “You’re not getting lost in your thoughts anymore. You’re gonna get lost in me, my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. You’re gonna get lost in me and what I can do to you.”
“We don’t have ti—”
He cuts me off by slowly but forcefully running his tongue over my pussy. Sparks explode in my pussy, ones that flood the rest of my body.
“There’s always time to make you scream my name, Noelle.”
Point well taken.
I guess I can start my day like this.
I reach down and twine my fingers in his hair as he works my pussy with his mouth. His tongue flicks and strokes and licks every bit of me, leaving no part of me untouched. I shiver and shudder and tremble. I moan and whimper. I arch my back and buck my hips until I can take no more and my cries are nothing more than a plea for him to be inside me.
To do what he promised: to make me lose myself.
Because he’s right. I need to get lost, and the only place I want to lose myself is in him.
Drake sees me through my orgasm. He pulls his boxers off while I’m still a gooey mess of pleasure and leans over me. I taste myself on him when he kisses me, and I’m torn between cringing and gasping because that’s exactly when he pushes inside me.
The sweet heat of his entry swamps me.
I give in. I give in to his steady rhythm of thrusts and kisses and caresses. I give in to everything that is Drake Nash. I take every twist and turn known to man and several that aren’t. I take every path and turn back from every dead end until the pleasure takes me prisoner and I forget who and where I am and all I know is him.
I get lost in the maze of pleasure and comfort only he can give me.
And I do exactly what he wanted. I get lost and cry his name like it’s a prayer.
I don’t regret a second of it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Bek hits me with a glare. “I swear, Noelle, I’m fixin’ to kick your ass. I’m fine. I just needed a couple days, but I’m ready to do this. In fact, I’m real pissed some dickhead thought he could break into your house.”
I see her reasoning.
“Also pissed you shot your window and not them.”
“Shhh.” I hold my finger against my lips. “Let’s not think about that. Let’s read up this list Father Luiz kindly handed me this morning and see if anyone we know was at the church on Sunday.”
She purses her lips but takes the list. “I have no idea who I’m looking for,” she admits after a minute of scanning it.
I roll my eyes and snatch it back. “Alistair Carpenter. Jackson Bullock. Eddie Roy. Damien Roy.”
“Why does Jackson have a different last name than Eddie if he’s his adoptive dad? Wouldn’t he have taken their name?”
I shrug. “Maybe Dina gave him his real dad’s name and it was just never changed.”
She pauses. “I guess that makes sense. Still bugs me.”
“Me too.” I glance at the clock. “Demi should be here any time. That’s Annabelle’s roommate. I’m hoping she saw Annabelle right before she disappeared.”
“What are you thinking, Noelle?” Bek asks, tucking her flaming-auburn hair behind her ear. “Who do you think did this?”
I tap one finger against my chin. “I think Alistair Carpenter is involved in the killings. I don’t think he killed Dina White, but I think he knows about the others. I think he’s one of the culprits for those. But Toni was seen with a dark-haired man—only Jackson seems to match that description, but ugh. I don’t see him as a cold-blooded killer. I think he’s more likely to be Dina’s killer. But honestly, I don’t know. It’s super hard. Until we get some kind of DNA back, we’re in limbo.”
She nods, and my phone rings. I sigh and pick it up.
“Noelle Bond.”
“Noelle,” Drake’s voice rumbles down the line. “We have Robyn Torre.”
The tone of his voice, the helpless, pitiful murmur, tells me all I need to know. My stomach sinks. It’s like the balloon full of hope I had has been tied to an anchor and is dropping faster than I can comprehend.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” I ask softly.
“She is. I’m sorry, sweetheart. We hoped she wasn’t.”
“I know.” I bite down on the inside of my lip. “She’s like the others, isn’t she?”
“Yes. Exactly the same.”
“Okay,” I reply. “Call me when you have more, yeah? I have to meet with Demi.” And then I’m going to the fair and I’m going to tear a couple of motherfuckers to pieces with my bare, desperately in-need-of-a-manicure hands.
“All right. Don’t do anything stupid, all right? And, if you’re gonna, take Dean or Mike with you, for the love of fucking God.”I love how well he knows me. “I promise to take a bodyguard with me,” I assure him.
“Noelle? We’re close to this. I know it.” His tone is warm despite the urgency tinging it. “I need you to be smart, babe. Now isn’t the time to be impulsive.”
“I know.”