He opened the door for her and allowed her inside. Before she got very far, his palm curled around the nape of her neck and he pulled her to him, his eyes dark with heat. Her heart immediately accelerated. His mouth descended slowly, in a way that always said she had the choice to stop him, but only made her burn hotter for him.
Then he was kissing her and everything disappeared but Sam. He could make her boneless in seconds, her body melting into his, her mind fading so there was only feeling, this sensation of free-falling, of fire in her veins and that ball of need building in her stomach and in her sex. He lifted his head and gently kissed both eyes and then the corners of her mouth and her chin, giving her time to find the strength to stand on her own again.
“You must be overheated with all these clothes on. Take them off and wait for me in bed. I’ll just be a minute taking Bailey out.”
That gruffness in his normally gentle voice was the only thing that told her he was as affected by their kiss as she was. That and his hard body pressed so tightly against hers. A little dazed, she nodded up at him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mommy, Daddy’s doing the bad thing again.
Stella could see the climbing shoes and gear, ropes and even the edge of a backpack where it lay against a smaller rock. The shoes moved and the base of the boulder came into view. There was an overhang right at the bottom of the granite that seemed to be hollow for a long distance. She immediately knew she had climbed it—or tried to. The reason her memory was so vague was because she’d only gone there once. The boulder had been far too difficult—and high—for her skill set.
She tried to push her memories away and concentrate on what she was seeing. She needed to catalogue every detail, to make certain she got this right. Colors swept up the rock. Reds and dark grays, light yellows and golds, this rock had all the colors of granite with the early morning sun beating down on it. She even caught glimpses of a deep purple in the cracks as the two men paced across the ground, looking upward.
The boulder was very high. When one of them turned slightly and the lens followed that sweep, she caught sight of a second boulder, almost as tall with a jagged top. Both were wide and long. They looked as if they would be a climber’s dream—and nightmare. Neither would be an easy climb, but few boulderers would pass up the chance to work out the problem of ascending to the top in total triumph. Apparently, that was exactly what the victim had been doing—working on his project for some time.
Stella studied what she could see of the base of the boulder. The overhang was extremely severe. A climber would have to be a spider, going upside down and finding a route to take him up and over the ledge to get to what appeared to be a smooth surface. There were cracks and outcroppings, if you just had the patience to find them. The granite wasn’t smooth at all, but had little fingerholds and tiny places the toes of climbing shoes could find to lever one’s body up.
The shadows thrown by the two boulders in the early morning hours indicated these two boulders would be considered “high balls.” She thought they could be at least thirty or forty feet, if not higher. She didn’t want to think that the climber was considering climbing without rope on his own. It was done. There were a lot of climbers who free-climbed. She didn’t like heights and just the thought freaked her out. Now, knowing that the killer intended to murder his friend made climbing the heights and depending on someone else all the worse.
She could see only portions of the rock as the two men began to prepare for the climb. One was climbing, the other belaying from below. Her heart began to pound. Again, there was that feeling of absolute triumph emanating from the killer. The air felt heavy and oppressive to her, a sinister, menacing shroud the killer created with his twisted glee. He was there with a friend. His friend trusted him enough to put his life in his hands, and all the while he plotted to kill him and make it look like an accident. Stella was uncertain how he was going to manage that and not have suspicion fall on him.
She took in every single detail she could of the boulder and the gear before the lens closed and she found herself once more staring at a black screen.
* * *
—
Stella sat up slowly, not even fighting her way out of the nightmare. The moment she lifted her lashes, she was staring into Sam’s eyes. She knew he would be there, sitting across from her in the chair, his gaze steady on her face. Calm. Her anchor. She definitely was falling in love with him. Just seeing him righted her world.
“I got more details. I’ve been there. I know I even tried to climb it once. It was beyond my ability. I never would have gone there alone, so it was with one of my friends. I don’t understand how the killer plans on making this look like an accident without everyone knowing he was involved.”
Her gaze clung to Sam’s. Even though she was getting so much better at handling the nightmares, she needed that first connection with him, and he never failed her. He was always right there. She glanced at the large crate where Bailey was curled up, his gaze trained on her alertly. He was as devoted as ever. The terrible attack hadn’t in any way diminished their relationship. She had so much to be thankful for. These two and her friends.
“We’re going to get him this time, Sam. I just know it.”
He nodded. “You’ve got one more night. Whatever he plans to do, you’ll see tomorrow night. You always do. By that time, we’ll have the location. We’ll go out there and do some climbing ourselves. It will be natural enough for you to want to climb. The days are beautiful and you really don’t like heights. It sounds like the perfect rock to practice on.”
A little shudder went through her as she reached down to unlock the safe. “He’s here tonight. I can feel him.”
“He is. Whatever prevented him from coming the last three nights is evidently over. Or he just took a break.”
Stella looked at Bailey again. “I would prefer that you didn’t go out without me. I know you like to prowl around at night, but you’ve always had Bailey with you. He might have stabbed Bailey on purpose so you didn’t have him to alert you.”
She twisted her fingers together tightly in her lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She had no idea how she thought she’d get away with that, because Sam noticed everything. His gaze dropped to her linked fingers, and his hard features softened immediately.
“Woman.”
“Man.” She whispered the response automatically, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. His eyes had darkened. Heated.
“Do you remember what I did for a living before I came here?”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m not the kind of woman to pry. I never actually asked you. I know you’re not a ‘ghost.’ Other than that I only know you worked for the government and you were very good at what you did.”
His eyes got even darker and a whisper of a smile turned sexy. “You know what I did.”
“Okay, maybe I do know. Sort of.”
“I’m still alive for a reason, Stella. I walk out your door alone at night, that man watching will not be able to find me with or without his night-vision glasses. I can creep up on him. I know where his camp is. I told you it’s straight across the lake where the bend is. He’s cunning like an animal and he’ll run the minute he can’t find me, but he won’t be able to sneak up on me. I’m the wild card, Stella. He doesn’t know me. He can’t figure out who I am or where I came from. He can do all the research in the world and he won’t find records of me anywhere.”
She sighed. “I still don’t like it, Sam.”
The lines around his eyes crinkled. “That’s because you’re sweet, Stella. And fierce.”
“I can hit what I’m aiming at,” she pointed out. “When I shoot, Sam, I know what I’m doing, and I wouldn’t hesitate to protect you.” She wouldn’t.
“I’m well aware. And thankful. I wouldn’t want you to own a weapon you couldn’t use.”
“The poin
t being, I should be of equal help to you. It shouldn’t just be you always looking out for me. I’m not a damsel-in-distress kind of woman.” She tried not to sound belligerent, but she wasn’t a woman who needed to be taken care of. She was self-sufficient. She’d turned the business around. She’d had the good sense to hire Sam, and over the last two years, she maybe had leaned on him a little more than she should have, but she could stand on her own two feet and, if necessary, take care of him and Bailey.
That shadow of a smile became a flash of his white teeth. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve always been a partnership, Stella. We look out for each other. This is a strange situation. If you recall, at the beginning of it, you were the one diving into a freezing lake to save me.”
That was true. There was some satisfaction in knowing she’d done that . . . except . . . “You did have your knife out and I think you might have managed to kill him right then if I hadn’t interfered,” she conceded.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I did actually hit my head. I wasn’t expecting a serial killer to drag me underwater. I was definitely disoriented. Tell me what else you found out tonight.”
“I could tell the two know each other very well. They’ve been friends a long time. That just makes the crime more hideous to me. I didn’t get the feeling from the serial killer that he had a personal grudge against his friend either. This feels more like a power trip. A kind of rush, like he’s doing it because he can. He’s smarter, so much more intelligent, and no one will ever figure it out. He believes he can stop whenever he wants to stop and then start again when he decides to play his game.”
Sam made a small sound that might have been a curse under his breath. “It’s a game to him? Does it feel that way to you, Stella? I know you’re able to get emotions from both the victim and the killer.”
“This is the most he’s ever broadcast. Before, he’s been somewhat reserved until almost the last moment. He almost felt like a predator hunting and then there would be a rush of euphoria. This feels as though he’s in a continual high, that constant rush. He likes knowing he’ll spend hours with his victim and can kill him at any time.”
“Twice I was sent to hunt a predator within a unit, one in the Marines and one in the Army, four years apart. The men would go out for training or a small engagement with the enemy. One wouldn’t return. They would find a soldier murdered when they went looking for him. The commander began to suspect they had a serial killer within their ranks, but no matter what traps they set, they couldn’t find him. I was sent for. Of course, no one knew who I was. Most of the time they never saw me. I conducted an investigation behind the scenes, so to speak.”
Stella waited, her eyes on his. Sam rarely talked about his past, or any of the assignments he’d had. She found it fascinating to think that he would be sent to investigate within the ranks of the military and yet no one would even know he was there.
“I take it you found both of them.”
He nodded. “I did. They were not turned over for trial.” His gaze continued to hold hers steadily. “That was part of my job. I was to remove them permanently.”
“Have you had to hunt very many serial killers?”
“It depends on whether or not you call terrorists or presidents of drug cartels serial killers. Everyone has a reason for what they choose to do, but if I was sent after them, you can believe they killed a lot of innocent people.”
She wanted to go to him and put her arms around him. Just as she had been pulled back into her past with this horror, so had he. He’d been stoic about it. Matter-of-fact. But there was a reason Sam had ended up in the Sierras in the little town of Knightly. Like all of them, he’d been seeking peace. He wanted away from his job, and although it didn’t show on his face, because it never did, she felt the underlying sadness in him that he thought he would have to be the one to hunt the killer.
“We’ll figure out who this man is, Sam, and we’ll get the proof we need and turn him over to Griffen.” She poured determination into her voice.
“It isn’t easy to get proof against this kind of killer, Stella. That’s why men with my skills exist. That’s why I’m sent in.”
“That’s why you were sent in. Now, someone else does that work. Not you. You’re out of it. You’re here to start a new life, just like I am. Just like Raine and Vienna and everyone else. Sam, you can’t think the way you used to.”
A slow smile heated his eyes, instantly sending her stomach tumbling into a series of loops and somersaults. He was seriously sexy without even trying.
“Sweetheart, I can’t just shut down that way of thinking. It’s who I am.”
“You’re going to have to try harder.” She gave him her sternest look, the one she gave Bailey when she really meant what she said.
“Start drawing, Stella. I’ll go for my walk and then take Bailey out. The look, by the way, is cute. Bailey thinks so too.” Sam stood up, stretching lazily.
She scowled at him, a fierce, black scowl meant to intimidate. “My stern look is not cute. Bailey always minds me when I give him that look. I suggest you do as well if you know what’s good for you.”
His mouth twitched. The corners of his eyes crinkled. They weren’t laugh lines, more like sun lines, but she thought they should have been laugh lines. They always would be to her. She would never get tired of looking at him.
“I’m tempted to see what would happen to me if I disobeyed. I think your hair is crackling, Satine.”
His smile came close to melting her insides. She pressed her hand to her stomach and deliberately narrowed her gaze at him, liking the easy way they could tease each other even under the dire circumstances.
“I don’t think you want to risk it,” she warned.
He walked over to the side of the bed in that fluid way he had and bent his head to hers. Slow. Taking his time. She turned her face up to his, giving him her mouth. One large hand framed the side of her face, his thumb sliding in a caress over her cheek as his head continued to descend.
Her heart stuttered. Her sex clenched. Lashes fell to shutter her sight. The moment his lips claimed hers, sparks erupted over her skin. Goose bumps broke out. His arms came around her and he shifted her against his chest. She slid her arms up so she could link her fingers behind his neck.
When Sam kissed her, there was no room for anything else in her mind. No one else. Nothing else. Only him. Only the feeling he gave her. He could be tender or wild, and it didn’t matter how they came together—they detonated, lit up the world around them, and all the while she felt safe and home. She felt like she belonged.
Sam lifted his head, his lips following the bone structure of her jaw and then drifting down the column of her throat. “You’re so beautiful, Stella.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, Sam. I’ve never thought of myself that way until you came along.”
He tucked hair behind her ear. “Trust me, you are. I’ll be back in a bit. I don’t want you worried about me. I’m locking you in, but you can check the locks from your phone,” he reminded.
“I need a tracking device on you,” she pointed out. “Then I’d know for certain you were okay out there.”
He laughed softly. “He’s going to take off the minute he can’t find me outside. You wait and see. I predict inside of five minutes. He’s going to panic and he’ll run.” The pad of his thumb moved back and forth over her chin in a small caress.
“All right, Sam.” What could she do but concede and let him go off by himself?
“Don’t look so glum, sweetheart. He’ll be gone and I’ll be back in one piece. Tomorrow, the girls are coming over for lunch and you can show all your sketches to them. One of them went with you climbing to this place. They knew the way, so they’re bound to remember it. While they’re with you, I’ll go into town and get us groceries and more treats for Bailey. We went a little crazy spoiling him.”
She m
ade a little face. “You mean I did. I hate that he has to be so quiet in his crate when he wants to be with us. I do sneak him out to lie right with me when I’m in the other room. If he has a large bone to chew on, then he won’t lick his sutures.”
“He’s wearing the cone of shame.”
“He detests that thing. I take it off of him when he’s not alone,” she admitted, avoiding Sam’s eyes. She didn’t want him to think she was weak. It was just that Bailey gave her his big pleading eyes and she couldn’t stand it. She caved immediately, but only if she was right there, watching his every move.
Sam shook his head. “You’re so tough, Stella.”
She tilted her chin at him and narrowed her eyes as he stepped back and headed toward the bedroom door. “I am. Have you ever seen me dealing with those complaining fishermen?”
“All the time, Satine. It’s a thing to behold.” There was admiration in his voice as well as laughter. His dark eyes laughed at her—or with her. Because she couldn’t help laughing too. She could be incredibly tough when she had to be, but not with Bailey. And she probably would never be very tough with Sam either.
She shook out her colored pencils and began to sketch as many details as she could remember before switching to the journal. Her gaze jumped to the clock. Sam was right. Within six minutes, she no longer felt the presence of the watcher.
* * *
—
Stella could bake when she wanted to, but she honestly hadn’t thought about cooking or baking lately. Her mind had been consumed with trying to figure out who the serial killer was and how to catch and convict him. Having her friends come to her home meant feeding them. She’d forgotten that. Before she could panic, Sam had pulled several blocks of cheese from the refrigerator and unearthed a couple of boxes of crackers from the pantry.
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