Step Into My Web

by Cynthia Eden

  “Wait.” His mind was spinning. “You said you got a card from him tonight—when I first came in, that’s what you said.”

  “Yes.” She reached into the loose pocket of her shorts. Pulled out a tarot card.

  The Magician.

  “He wrote my name on the envelope that contained the card. I recognized his handwriting. I’d suspected he was the one leaving the cards all along. This case—something about it drew him out.”

  Joel wasn’t so sure it was the case. “He wants you.”

  She met his gaze. “When he left the Death card, I thought it meant we were done. That he was severing ties to me.”

  “I don’t think that’s what it meant.” He took the Magician card from her. Their fingers brushed. He didn’t even try to ignore the lick of electricity that shot through his blood. “What does this mean?”

  “Depends on the way the card is positioned. If the Magician is upright, it can refer to a determined, powerful man.”

  A stalker dick of an ex.

  “If the Magician is inverted, the card is about confusion and deceit.”

  “Was the card upright or inverted?”

  “I have no idea. Marie found the envelope.”

  “Marie…” A whole new topic. “That’s an interesting friend you have.”

  “How so?” A cautious response.

  “She told me, Chloe. About her past.”

  Her eyes widened. “That means she trusts you.”

  He looked down at the Magician card. Ripped that bitch in half and tossed it away. “She does, so why don’t you?”

  “I do. I—”

  His hand slid under her chin. “I’m not going to run because you have some crazed ex out there who should be rotting in a jail cell.”

  “I-I can’t prove what he did. And Morgan will have changed his identity so thoroughly that no cop will believe he’s the man I say. I didn’t have proof before. I guessed, I—”

  “Baby, you don’t guess.” He lowered his head. Brushed his lips over hers. “You make educated deductions.”

  “Y-you remembered I said that.”

  “I remember everything you tell me.” Another slow kiss. “I’m not scared of your ex,” he breathed against her mouth. “He needs to be scared of me. I’m not going to let him get anywhere near you. And you and I—we will find a way to get his ass locked up.”

  “He’s probably long gone now. He wanted to see you. To get close to you. But if you broke his hand, he will run. He’ll plan for another time and—”

  “And we’ll be ready for him. But the prick needs to get in line. We already have one killer to catch.”

  Her hands rose. Curled around his shoulders. “You’re not…leaving?”

  “Not ever the hell again,” he swore. “But things are going to change.” His hand slipped around to the nape of her neck. Sank beneath the thickness of her hair. “New deal. From here on out, I know everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “That’s a pretty fucking important point. Non-negotiable. I don’t want lies.”

  “And I don’t want to hurt you.” Her gaze searched his. “Can’t you see that?”

  “I see that you try to protect everyone else, but, sweetheart, you seem to forget, I was the one hired to protect you.”

  “Joel…”

  He couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d been desperate to return to her. Desperate to see her. To hold her.

  His mouth took hers once more, but this kiss wasn’t slow or gentle. It should have been. He should have been. But he wasn’t.

  Her lips were open. His tongue thrust inside her mouth. She met him eagerly, hotly, and her body pressed to his. She kissed him with the same hunger that he felt. A hunger Joel knew would never end.

  He wasn’t going to magically get enough of her. One time in bed—a dozen times in bed—wouldn’t be enough. With Chloe, he’d never have enough.

  “I won’t lose you,” he said before he scooped her into his arms. He’d finally found someone who mattered to him. She’d gotten into his heart, and when he’d stood in that alley facing off with Morgan, Joel had come to several important conclusions.

  First, Chloe was his. Lies, truths—whatever she’d given him in the past—she was still his.

  Second, he would kill to protect her. No one would hurt Chloe, not on his watch. And I will never hurt her again.

  Because the third thing that had burned through him? It was the realization that Joel couldn’t handle Chloe’s tears. They’d wrecked him.

  He carried her back into his bedroom, kissing her while he walked. He loved her taste. Loved the way she responded to him. The heat of her body. The eagerness of her touch.

  He lowered her onto the bed. His dick was hard and eager as it thrust against the front of his pants. He wanted inside of her. Right the hell then. No preliminaries. No waiting. He just wanted to sink into her as deep as he could. Wanted to mark her.

  Possess her. Completely. Always.

  But he wasn’t that uncivilized. At least, not yet.

  He grabbed the edges of her shorts. Yanked them down—the shorts and the small pair of panties that she’d worn. Her bare sex met his hot stare. “Have I told you…” He hardly recognized his own voice. “How good you taste?”

  “Joel…”

  He spread her legs. Put his mouth on her. He wanted her to come against his mouth. He wanted her to go wild so that he could let his last bit of control go. His tongue lapped at her. Licked. Stroked. His fingers slid into her core.

  Her fingers shoved into his hair even as her hips rocked up against him. “Joel!”

  Her taste was making him drunk. Her thighs were trembling around him. Her body quaking.

  And she was coming… against his mouth, his tongue, just like he’d wanted.

  Yes.

  He eased back, grabbed a condom, and returned to her as fast as possible. She was slick and eager, and when he put his cock at the entrance to her body, Chloe immediately arched toward him. She took him in, all the way, and he was lost.

  No holding back. No being gentle.

  Only frantic thrusts. He gripped her hips. Held her too tightly. Thrust and withdrew. Sank into heaven again and again. She was moaning. He growled her name. She was so hot around him. Squeezing so perfectly that he thought he’d lose his mind. He was probably bruising her. He shouldn’t bruise her. He…

  She bit his shoulder.

  God, that was sexy.

  He bit her. A sensual bite on the curve of her shoulder, and she came. He felt the contractions of her sex around him, and he followed her into oblivion. Joel sank into her one more time and exploded as the pleasure consumed him.

  ***

  Cinnamon’s bags were packed and waiting in the trunk of her old car. She’d come back to the club just so that she could get her stash of cash. Sure, she’d been promised payment for the job that she’d done, but unease had settled heavily within her.

  I can’t trust him.

  She’d done what he’d ordered. Followed his directions exactly. She should have been able to trust him. He was supposed to be one of the good guys, after all. She’d even thought of him as her hero once.

  But now I’m not so sure.

  So she’d come back to the club. Snuck in the back door and gone for her room. One of the old planks in her floor was loose. She’d discovered that plank during her first week of work. So she’d lifted it up and made herself a little hiding spot. Whenever customers had given her a big tip, she’d put some of the money in that little hole. The club’s owner believed in taking half of her tips. Half. She’d decided to cut him out of the mix. Just a little.

  She scooped up the cash. Shoved it in her purse. Then slammed that chunk of wood back into place. It was time to go.

  Cinnamon was dying tonight.

  The persona was gonna vanish. She’d be Coreen or maybe even someone brand new. She crept down the hallway and went straight for the back door. Cops had been there earlier, getting blood samples an
d other creepy shit. All because of Chloe Hastings and her partner.

  They were trouble.

  I don’t want any trouble.

  She opened the door. The hot air hit her. Freedom. No one would ever know she’d come back to the club. She’d take her stash and get out of town.

  He wouldn’t have to know. He could just keep the money he’d promised her. She didn’t need it. Didn’t need him.

  She rushed forward.

  “Hello, Coreen.”

  Her breath caught. He was there. Near the dumpster. Waiting. Her heart fluttered in her chest even as she had the sudden flash of a frightened bird. Wings flapping too fast. That was her heart. Flapping.

  “I have something for you,” he said in his warm, kind voice.

  The flapping eased. He had her payment. He was keeping up his end of the deal. She hurried toward him. Her high heels wobbled. “I will never tell anyone.”

  “I know. I’m going to make sure of it.”

  Too late…she realized he wasn’t holding her money. That wasn’t the something he had. She tried to turn her head away.

  Even as she felt the blow hit above her ear.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “My brother didn’t go missing when he was fourteen. He was sent away.”

  Chloe had her hand on Joel’s chest. His heartbeat raced beneath her fingers. Her breathing was still unsteady because she was just recovering from the pleasure he’d given her—the pleasure they’d given each other.

  The bedroom was in darkness, but moonlight spilled through the glass over the top of the bed. That wonderful glass section of the ceiling that she had gotten installed just for Joel. She’d have to tell him that story soon. Have to tell him so many things.

  But she’d start with her past. Because she needed Joel to see that she did trust him.

  “Who sent him away?” Joel asked.

  Her fingers slid over his chest. She could feel the patchwork of scars on his skin, and when she thought of the pain he’d endured, tears burned her eyes. She always used the victims to help her hunt the killers. But Joel wasn’t a typical victim. He was hers. “My parents did. They knew what he was becoming, and they wanted to stop him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No.” She knew he didn’t. Not yet. “Because when you did your research, this part wasn’t in the stories you found. This part wasn’t anywhere. They made sure of it.” Maybe they’d still be alive if they hadn’t tried to cover everything up.

  Maybe not.

  “What was he becoming?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Macdonald triad?”

  “No.”

  “It basically says there are three indicators that a person may grow up to engage in violent behavior. Or to become a serial killer.” She carefully traced another scar. “My brother killed my cat in front of me. Took a knife and—” She stopped. “That’s sign number one. Being abusive to animals, especially pets.”

  Joel’s body had gone tense. “Sonofabitch.”

  Yes, he would see where she was going with this story. “Arson is the second part of the triad. My brother set fire to the barn. Animals were inside—I supposed that would be circling back to sign number one—but…my mother was also inside.”

  “Oh, my God.” He caught her hand as she traced his scars. Held tight.

  “She got out. Two of the horses didn’t. You know, sometimes, I can still hear their screams.” That last part had slipped out. Something she hadn’t told anyone before. Their cries haunted her. She’d tried to go in and save them, but she’d been so little. Her father had held her back. His hold had been unbreakable. Tears had slid down her cheeks.

  I didn’t cry much after that.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “The third indicator is bed wetting. I know, seems mild compared to the others, doesn’t it? Sort of an odd add-along. Honestly, if you’ve got the other two, they seem far more worrisome to me.” She swallowed. The sheet covered most of her body, but it didn’t give her any warmth. The warmth came from Joel as she pressed against him. As he held her hand. “My brother met all of the requirements in the triad. When he was fourteen, he took things a step further. He snuck into his best friend’s house and put a knife to the boy’s throat.”

  “Fuck.”

  “His best friend fought him off. My parents managed to stop the family from pressing charges. They were good at keeping things quiet. Hidden. Always so good. They promised to take care of my brother. Swore he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. A few days later, the tabloids started reporting that my brother had disappeared.”

  “Are you telling me they faked a whole missing person’s case with your brother? Chloe, that’s not normal.”

  “My family was far from normal.” She was pretty sure he understood that by now. “They sent him to a psychiatric facility. They thought he might get help. Or, at least, that’s what I heard them say to my grandfather one day. I think…I suspect they just wanted my brother locked up so that he couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

  “And what about you, Chloe?”

  Her head shifted on the pillow so that she was staring at him. “What do you mean?”

  “What did they do to you?”

  She licked her lips. “I didn’t show the signs of the triad.”

  “Baby, I never thought you did.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What did they do to you? Why were they afraid of you?”

  The breath she took seemed to chill her insides. “Who told you they were afraid?”

  “Reese.”

  She nodded against the pillow. “I didn’t show the signs of the triad but as I got older—as I noticed more things…as I understood more—I realized that one of them did.”

  He pulled her closer. Not just holding her hand now. Holding her tightly.

  “It’s not just the triad signs that should worry you. There are other signs. I was always so curious. Always reading and studying everything, and I learned that there were other signs that you needed to look out for that could predict violent behavior in adults. I was reading so much because—” But Chloe stopped.

  “You don’t need to hold back. I want to hear everything.”

  “I was researching so much because I thought I might be able to help my brother. By then, I was this thirteen-year-old kid, and I thought I’d find some miracle to help him. To change him. To stop him from becoming what I heard them whisper about.”

  “You didn’t find a miracle.” Sad. Soft.

  No. She hadn’t. “So many signs can warn of trouble. Showing no remorse. No empathy. Repeated lying. They’re all signs. God, I’m guilty of the lies, aren’t I? But it’s because I learned from the best.”

  “Chloe?”

  “Manipulation. Another sign. Always using others to get what you want. Having no regard for rules. Narcissism. Being so fast to anger. To fly into a rage. But also appearing charming. So charming. You can charm anyone, but if things don’t go your way, then the truth will show. The monster will show.” Her lips pressed together. “I saw her monster.”

  “Her?” Joel’s question was hesitant, and she realized…he’d figured it out.

  “My mother. She was the one who wanted my brother locked away because she knew what he’d become. It was something she already was. I was putting the pieces together. I was realizing the truth about her. And I even discovered that two of her friends had died within the last year. Violent, mysterious deaths. My mother was visiting both of them when they died. How could the cops not see that pattern? How could they not care? Could her money really just keep hiding everything? I knew I had to stop her. I knew I had to do something. I knew.” Pain roughened her voice. “I asked her if she was guilty, and she told me that those women hadn’t been good friends to her. That was her answer. No guilt. No sadness. And then she went and threw another party.” She’d thought it would be easier to tell him everything while she was in his arms. But…

  It somehow felt wrong. Like she was bringing the dirty, dar
kest parts of her life into a place that should have been special. Safe.

  That was how she felt when she was in Joel’s arms.

  Safe. Special.

  She pulled away from him. Tugged one of the sheets with her and wrapped it around her body as she stood by the side of the bed.

  Slowly, he sat up. “Why did you leave me?”

  “Because when you hold me, I wish that everything had been different.”

  “You didn’t kill them, baby. Morgan told me—I already know that your brother did.”

  Shock rolled through her. “I never told Morgan about my parents. Or about who killed them.” If he knew the identity of their killer…

  “What?”

  “If he knew, then he figured it out on his own.” Just as she’d figured out his past. He knew about the lies that surrounded her. And she knew his. Mutual destruction. Hadn’t he promised her that once? “I’ve never trusted anyone enough with the full story.”

  “But you’re telling me.” He climbed from the bed. Yanked on his pants. Didn’t button them all the way as he closed in on her. “Is it because you think you have to do it? Because you don’t.” His hands closed around her shoulders. “It’s hurting you to go back there. I can see it. I don’t want your pain.” His voice was gruff. Ragged. “That is the last thing I want. I should never have made you tell me. I should never have pushed. Baby, you can stop. You don’t have to—”

  “My brother did kill them. He escaped from the psychiatric facility. He came back to the house. He snuck inside. And first, he went for my mother. I know because of the security footage I saw later.”

  “There was security footage? Shit.”

  “My grandfather made sure it vanished.”

  “Of course, he fucking did.” His hold tightened.

  “He went for my mother, but my father woke up. So my brother stabbed him. Over and over. My mother tried to run. She never stopped to help my father. She just ran. She screamed at my brother and told him that I was in the house. I suspect she wanted him to go after me. She probably thought it might give her time to escape.” Chloe bit her lower lip. She’d found those videos in her grandfather’s study months later. Until then, she hadn’t known that her mother had tried to make her a victim, too, and that her brother hadn’t gone after Chloe.