by Kat Martin
“A copycat,” she said. “Someone who wants to finish the job.”
“Yeah. Or it could be that someone sent Doan into the church specifically to kill you. He shot the others, but you were his primary target. When Doan failed, whoever wants you dead sent someone else.”
She shivered, though the house was warm. “You really think that’s possible? I mean, I’m a school teacher. Who would want to kill me?”
“No enemies?” he asked. “No jealous lovers, someone who wants some kind of payback? Maybe you got a job someone thought they deserved. Anything like that you can think of?”
She hadn’t had that many lovers, and the only one who got hurt when the relationship ended was her. As far as she knew, her job as a middle school teacher wasn’t worth killing her over. She didn’t even work there anymore.
“I can’t think of anyone. I’m just not the kind of person who makes enemies. I’m a teacher. I’m not that exciting.”
Kurt grinned. “So far, you sure haven’t been dull.”
She almost smiled.
Three days later, she was still living in Kurt’s house, sleeping in his bed while he slept on the sofa. Both of them were edgy, waiting for something to break. If Kurt wasn’t sitting at his laptop, surfing the Web for information that might give them a lead, he was working out in the home gym he’d built upstairs.
She was dying to go up and watch him, but she didn’t have the nerve.
The media hadn’t shown up at Kurt’s house. Not surprisingly, they had moved on to another big story. Kurt’s friends, Jonah Wolfe and Chase Garrett, were also working the case, knocking doors in the area around her apartment, following any leads that Kurt came up with.
Wolfe had stopped by to pick up her key and gone over to check on her apartment. Her place was secure, he’d said, but according to Kurt, it still wasn’t safe for her to go home.
Wolfe returned her key and dropped off a disposable phone. “No way to know if they can track you, but you don’t want to take any chances.” Which was the reason Kurt had taken the battery out of her cell.
So she was sharing his computer or using the throw-away phone to dig around on the Net, as he was doing. Having missed her job interview, she was also searching for another teaching position, so far having no luck.
She sighed as she sat on the leather sofa in the living room, reading the news magazines on the disposable cell. It was quiet in the townhouse, just the light tapping of Kurt’s fingers on the keyboard.
Frustration poured through her. So far the police had come up with nothing. She had no home. No job. Not a lot of money, and people trying to kill her.
Add to that was the growing sexual tension that seemed to be building inside her since the morning she had seen Kurt standing in his doorway bare-chested, his incredible muscles on display. She hadn’t realized a male body could be so arousing. Or maybe it was just that the incredible body belonged to Kurt.
She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that Kurt seemed to feel it, too. In the evenings, she could sense those hot brown eyes on her, following her every move.
He wanted her. She wasn’t really experienced with men but she wasn’t naïve, either. Kurt wanted her, but he was too honorable to pursue a sexual relationship as long as she was under his protection.
Last night, determined to get out of the townhouse at least for a while, he had taken her to dinner at a small Italian restaurant where he knew the owner and was sure they’d be safe. Kurt had told her a story about his life on the West Texas ranch where he had been raised, and she had laughed, really laughed for the first time since the shooting. It was the best evening she’d had in a very long time.
Or it was, until she remembered that someone might be lying in wait to shoot her.
Dammit, she wanted this to end.
Chapter Six
Kurt wanted this to end. He wasn’t a guy who could sit around doing nothing except search the Net on his computer. Even the brief time he allowed himself in the weight room—worried the entire time about Erin’s safety downstairs—wasn’t enough to get rid of his restless energy.
Much of it sexual.
He’d felt the pull of attraction the first time Erin had walked into his townhouse. With her fine features and gorgeous auburn hair, she was more than just pretty. She had a petite, sexy figure, and she was smart. He couldn’t stop imagining what it might be like to take her to bed.
Beyond the sexual attraction, he liked her. He looked forward to sharing coffee with her in the mornings, watching a movie or the news on TV.
And he admired her. He remembered the way she had handled the situation in the church, putting her own feelings aside to help victims of the shooting. With everything she had been through, the only time he had seen her close to breaking down was when he had asked if she trusted him.
“More than any man I’ve ever known,” she had said. Words that hit him like a punch in the gut. She trusted him enough to stay in his home. Trusted him to protect her and not take unfair advantage. Which he would never do.
Not that he didn’t want to. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, run his hands over every part of her sexy little body. He just flat wanted her—more every day.
He sighed as the evening came to a close. Erin had already gone up to bed. He glanced up at the ceiling, wishing he was there with her, wishing she would invite him to join her.
Figuring he might as well get some sleep himself, he pulled his t-shirt off over his head and toed off his boots. He heard a sound on the stairs as he popped the button on his jeans and looked up to see Erin. In a short pink nightgown that left her legs and small feet bare, the bodice sheer enough to see the dark circles at the peaks of her breasts, she paused halfway down the stairs.
His mouth went dry. He couldn’t form a single word.
“May I join you?” Erin asked softly, a slight tremor in her voice. She was nervous, he realized, and she wasn’t the only one.
Which was insane, given his usual confidence with women.
“I’d like that,” he said. “Very much.” Finally, he got his brain working and walked over to meet her. Taking her hand, he led her the rest of the way down the stairs and turned her into his arms.
“You sure about this?” he asked, praying she would say yes.
She looked up at him with those big blue eyes. “I’m sure. If you are.”
Everything inside him tightened and his body went rock hard. “Oh, I’m sure. I’ve never been surer of anything.” And then he kissed her, softly at first, letting her get used to him, tasting her the way he had dreamed. She was sweet and tempting. The fragrance of cinnamon and roses drifted up to tease his senses.
“God, I want you.” When he deepened the kiss, Erin gave a soft sight of surrender and kissed him back, a kiss that went on and on and got hotter with every heartbeat.
The next thing he knew he was lifting her into his arms and climbing the stairs, Erin’s head against his shoulder. He set her on her feet next to the bed and kissed her again, long and deep, taking his time, determined not to rush her.
He barely remembered stripping off her clothes and his own, seemed to get his head on straight by the time he was lying beside her, cupping her soft breasts in his hands.
She rested a hand on his chest. “I want you, Kurt. So much. I’ve never felt like this before.”
He kissed her softly. “Neither have I.” It was the truth. Somehow Erin had slipped beneath his defenses, reached inside him, and grabbed hold of his heart. She made him want things, made him want a future that held more than it did now.
He forced himself to take her gently, move slowly, take his time. She was sweet and responsive, trusting him in this as she trusted him with her life. He didn’t want to disappoint her.
She was so much smaller than he was and yet, as he moved inside her, she seemed to fit him perfectly. He was a skillful lover. He didn’t rush her, drove her up until she was crying his name. When she reached a trembling climax, he allowed himself to follow,
his release spectacular, better than he could ever recall.
They slept for a while, but his hunger for her only seemed to grow stronger. He made love to her again, taking her with the demanding need he had kept carefully controlled before.
Erin didn’t back away. He could feel her nails digging into his back as she came, her release perfectly matched to his own. He kissed her one last time. With Erin curled against him, he fell asleep, a deep, dreamless slumber more peaceful than any he could remember since he had returned from the war.
Chapter Seven
Erin sat across from Kurt at the breakfast table the following morning. She told tell herself it was impossible for her to be in love with him. They hadn’t known each other anywhere near long enough. But Kurt was special. Braver, tougher, yet sensitive to her feelings in a way few people in her life ever had been.
Last night had been wonderful. Hot and sweet and erotic all at once. No matter what happened between them, if she never saw him again when this was over, she wouldn’t regret a single moment of last night.
She thought back over the years to other men she had dated, mostly nice guys, just not right for her. She remembered a boy at City College named David Hines. David was smart and ambitious and they had a lot in common. They’d dated for six months, but something was off and eventually they’d parted as friends.
She hadn’t dated much in high school or the first year after graduation. She’d been soured on men by a boy named Randy Thurman.
She frowned as she thought of Randy, the hot-looking quarterback who had chased her until he caught her then treated her like dirt.
Randy had been insanely pissed when she’d broken up with him. He was first string varsity quarterback for the Panthers—with an ego to match. Women didn’t break up with Randy. He had smeared her reputation and never forgiven her for what he considered her betrayal.
Even after he joined the Marines, she occasionally got a letter from him telling her what a mistake she had made. She wondered where he was now, wondered if he was still in the military. It had been years since she had last heard from him.
She frowned as a dark thought occurred and a chill slipped down her spine. The only real enemy she’d ever had was Randy Thurman. She glanced up at Kurt who was watching her over the rim of his coffee mug, keen interest in his golden brown eyes.
“Where are you?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She stared at him, her mind still spinning. “In a way I did. Last night was wonderful. Completely amazing, but...”
His smile slipped a little. “But what?”
“But it made me think of the guys I dated before.”
“I don’t think I like where this is going.”
She laughed and shook her head. “It’s not what you’re thinking. You’re so much better it’s kind of sad.”
He grinned. “Good to know.”
She huffed out a breath. “The thing is there was this guy in high school. His name was Randy Thurman. He was the varsity quarterback.” She went on to tell Kurt about Randy, about his massive ego and how insane he’d been when she had broken up with him.
“We never even slept together, but it didn’t take me long to figure out what a jerk he was. Randy went ballistic when I refused to see him again. He told the guys I put out for him in the back seat of his father’s BMW. He lied about me. He followed me around. Once he ran my car off the road and I nearly wound up in a ditch.”
Kurt was sitting straighter in his chair, his features grim. “What happened to him? Where’s Thurman now?”
“He dropped out of City College after a couple of months and joined the Marines. I don’t know if he’s still in the service or if he got out.”
The intense way Kurt was looking her, she was beginning to feel like a fool. “It’s crazy, I know. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up, but you asked me about old boyfriends and enemies and—“
Kurt shoved up from his chair before she had time to finish and headed for the stairs.
Erin fell in behind him. “It’s probably nothing. It was ten years ago.”
Kurt kept walking, turned into his home office. “Or it might be something.” He sat down at his laptop, typed in Randy Thurman’s name, and his Facebook page popped up. There was a photo of Randy in uniform when he’d first joined the Marines, handsome and smiling. He looked really good, even better than he had in high school.
A more recent picture showed Randy in street clothes, a pair of khaki shorts and a blue knit polo shirt. An unexpected shot of pity rolled through her as she realized one of his legs had been amputated just below the knee. In the photo he was wearing a prosthetic.
“Randy’s out of the Marines,” Kurt said. “Looks like he was wounded in action.” Kurt scanned the page. “He lists his home as Dallas.”
Erin looked at the photos Randy had posted. She didn’t think he was married since none of the pictures included a woman.
“No females in his life,” Kurt said, parroting her thoughts. “If he isn’t gay, maybe he’s got a problem with women.”
“I don’t think he’s gay.”
Kurt looked at her over his shoulder. “Any chance good ol’ Randy blames you for what happened to him in the war?”
“I don’t...I don’t know. It’s been so long ago it’s hard to believe he would still be holding a grudge. Besides, I thought the shooter in the church was an anti-religion fanatic.”
“So maybe Randy is, too.”
She looked back at his Facebook page. “Nothing there to suggest something like that.”
“Maybe he’s got another page. He ever use another name? A nickname, maybe? Something his friends used to call him?”
“Not that I know of.”
“We need to find out.” He stood up from his desk chair. “Get dressed and let’s get out of here.” He flashed her a sexy grin. “If we stay, we’re going to end up back in bed and that isn’t going to solve our problem.”
She flushed just thinking about what they had done last night. Even more embarrassing, she couldn’t wait for it to happen again. “I’ll get my purse.” She stopped and turned back. “Where are we going?”
“Police department,” Kurt said. “I have a hunch we’re finally on the right track.”
***
Kurt clipped his holstered Beretta to his belt behind his back and pulled his dark green t-shirt out to cover it. Leading Erin into the garage, they only made it a few steps before a man’s deep voice stopped them.
“I should have thought of looking here sooner. Should have figured the little whore would find a way to worm herself into your bed.” Randy Thurman stood on the other side of the Chevy, a heavy black semi-auto pointed at Kurt’s chest. “Get your hands in the air. Now!”
He couldn’t reach his weapon without getting both of them killed. He needed time. Easing Erin a little farther behind him, he raised his hands as high as his shoulders.
“You don’t want to do this, Randy. If you kill us, the cops will hunt you down. You’ll end up as dead as your friend.”
“What do I care?” Randy’s aim never wavered. “I’ve been in hell for the last two years. I never would have joined the Marines if it hadn’t been for her. I’ll send the bitch to hell to wait until I get there. I just have to get rid of you first.”
There it was, the look of death in Thurman’s eyes. His grip tightened a fraction on the pistol.
Kurt took a deep breath, praying for a miracle when Erin stepped in front of him. “I’m the one you want, Randy, not him.”
Swearing an oath, Kurt jerked his pistol, shoved Erin out of the way, aimed at Randy Thurman, and fired. Two quick shots dead center. Randy flew backward, his gun careening into the air, crashing against the garage wall.
Kurt ran toward him, his pistol gripped in both hands. It was a kill shot to the heart. The man was dead. He didn’t bother checking for a pulse, just holstered the gun, strode back to Erin, and hauled her into his arms.
“You took one
helluva chance, baby.” He tucked her head beneath his chin and tightened his hold around her. “But you probably saved both our lives.”
Erin’s arms slid around his waist and she just hung on. “It’s over,” she said.
“Yeah. You figured it out just in time.” Kurt tipped her face up and kissed her. Thurman was dead. Both of them were alive and safe. That was all that mattered.
Chapter Eight
By the end of the day, the cops had discovered Randy Thurman’s second Facebook page. It was called the Hand of Satan. The posts on the site were similar to the page belonging to Mason Doan, satanic and anti-religion, and there were even more drawings and pictures.
Friends of the Hand of Satan included a guy named Phil Keeler. Phil had a shaved head tattooed with a pentagram and skull earrings dangling from his ears. He was the second shooter, the man who had come after Erin at her apartment.
Turned out Randy Thurman was the leader of the group, an organization he had formed when he was wounded in action and discharged from the Marine Corps two years ago.
The good news was, it was over. Randy was dead. Mason Doan was dead. And Randy’s five other Hand of Satan followers were all in jail. Apparently, they couldn’t become black circle members until they killed someone, and Randy was in charge of making the deadly assignments.
After all these years, he’d finally seen his chance to get even with Erin for what he’d built up in his mind as the betrayal that had set in motion all the trouble he’d faced in his life.
More good news was that Bobby Allen was going to make it. His condition had been downgraded from critical to serious. He was recovering and doing better every day.
The bad news was Erin was moving out of Kurt’s house.
Unless he could convince her to stay.
He found her upstairs in his bedroom packing her things. Just watching her preparing to leave made his chest ache.
He stood in the doorway, his heart beating dully, trying to think what to say. “I don’t want you to go.” The words just spilled out. Erin froze where she stood, the little pink nightie he loved only half folded in her hands.