Hunting Gorgeous: A Romantic Suspense

by B. B. Hamel

  “A girl found dead in Philly. Cam girl. Fits the profile.”

  “No.” I sat down, buzzing with fear. “That can’t be right. He’s coming for me.”

  “You might be a detour, or maybe she was.” He crouched down in front of me. “Did you see anything else out there?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing else.”

  “We’ll stay locked up tight for now. I’ll get Detective Starch out here to bag up this stuff and they’ll sweep the woods. Might turn him up.”

  “Okay, right. That’s good.”

  He took my hand between his. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I met his eyes and nodded once, willing myself not to cry more.

  The man that kissed me the night before gazed back. But when he stood, that man was gone again. He released my hands and turned to make a call, placing the gun down on the kitchen counter.

  “Wait, Nick.”

  He looked back at me. “Yeah?”

  “The knife. It’s my gramma’s. It should’ve been—” I pointed at the drawer.

  He looked at it, walked over, and opened it. Sure enough, no white-handled knife. “Must’ve taken it when he visited the other night.”

  “I used it yesterday.” I felt my voice catch in my throat.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I remember.”

  If he was disturbed, he didn’t show it. “Don’t move.” He walked into the other room, and I heard him make the call.

  I looked back at the things on the table. Knife and necklace.

  I knew where the necklace was from. The police would confirm it, of course, but it was hers, his latest victim. That was a present for me.

  A wedding present, maybe.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  7

  Nick

  The cops found nothing in the woods, but there were tracks around her property.

  “Could be nothing, could be something.” Detective Starch shook her head and spit. “Lots of people back in these parts riding bikes and such.”

  “Good place for the killer to hide in then.”

  “Seems like it.” She gave me an annoyed look. “Still think it’s a good idea to stay in this house?”

  I didn’t answer and headed back as she returned to barking orders at her underlings. Cal met me in the kitchen while Rose gave a statement to an officer, going over her story for the twentieth time that night. I wanted to tell them to lay off, but I knew that was how it worked: she spoke it out over and over and over again until something new burst forward, or everyone gave up.

  “It looks bad,” he said, arms folded across his chest. “Really bad.”

  “We knew what it was going in.”

  “True, but there’s another body now, and we’re just sitting on this girl. How do you know this is for real? He could be toying with us while hunting right now.”

  I clenched my jaw. I thought of that possibility—but I couldn’t let this go.

  This was the perfect bait for him. Rose and I, right here, together in a single house: it should’ve been too much to resist.

  He was prodding along our edges. He was definitely playing a game. But it was still my game.

  “How’s the situation in the city look?”

  “Not sure. I need to go down there and speak with locals.”

  “Those are the orders?”

  “Straight from the top.”

  “I need to talk to him then.”

  He let out a breath. “Come on, Nick. You’ve got to see how this is blown open. You had your chance. You gave it a couple days.”

  “This isn’t over yet.”

  “Nick—”

  I walked away from him and into the dining room where all my files were spread out. I’d been staring at them all day, trying to convince myself that I was somehow wrong, trying to find a new pattern in the profile, in the crime scenes, that might suggest Rose wasn’t the perfect fucking bait—and found nothing.

  Thing was, I wanted to be wrong. I was goddamn desperate to be wrong, because that way I could send Rose into protective custody and move on with my life. She’d be safe, far away from CGK and anything else. She could start over and maybe be happy.

  She wouldn’t get pulled into my whirlpool.

  But I wasn’t wrong. I knew I wasn’t, deep in my bones.

  Head answered my call on the third ring. I went right for his cell, skipping over his secretary—I didn’t feel like jumping through hoops, not tonight.

  “Nick,” he said, his voice raspy and low, a rumble. “How’s the situation?”

  “Handled,” I said. “Locals sweeping the area. Cal says he’s going into the city now to check on the new victim.”

  “You aren’t going with him?”

  A question, not a statement, not a command. “I don’t think that would be wise, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  Our of the corner of my eye, I saw Rose appear in the doorway. She looked at me, eyes squinted, head tilted. The local cop said something to her, but she shrugged him off.

  I turned my back on them.

  “Because he’s still stalking her,” I said. “He’s toying with us right now, but he wants this, sir. He’s desperate for it after what happened in Texas.”

  “You lost him out there.”

  “I didn’t lose him, that stupid—”

  “That was your case, Nick.” Head sounded annoyed. “You lost him. Don’t make excuses.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and waited a beat to respond. “Okay, I lost him, but I’m not going to lose him again. You know I’m not wrong. You read my reports. You saw the case files. He left another note here, even brought Rose the new victim’s necklace.”

  “Did he?” Head sounded interested. “You think it’s an offering?”

  “I think it’s a gift. You know how he thinks of these girls. He’s collecting them. He loves them.”

  “His perfect sirens, with him forever. He said something like that, right?”

  “Something like that.” It was his fifth victim, a poem written in his hand, shoved down her throat. Sirens in the moonlight, perfect in their glory; Forever in my arms, forever in my story.

  “You think he wants to bring her into his twisted world.”

  “And he wants to hurt me. I’m sure of it, sir.”

  Head was silent for a long time. I could see him, hunched over his desk, grizzled beard and small dark eyes shining as he stared down at the paperwork in front of him, thinking, always thinking, that brain churning over so many layers and problems—

  “No, Nick,” he said, sounding almost regretful. “No, I’m sorry. The risk to the girl is too high. We can’t do it, not with another body.”

  I felt myself go still. “Sir,” I said, “please, you can’t pull the plug now. He’s out there, waiting, and he’s going to make his move. We can take him, we can—”

  “No, Nick. It’s over.” His tone was harder now, and I knew I’d lost.

  I felt a hand on my back. I turned and Rose stood there, the local cop lingering in the hall, looking annoyed. She gestured at the phone. I shook my head.

  “It doesn’t have to be,” I said.

  “Go with Cal to the city. Find what you can there. We’ll catch him, I promise you that. You’re doing good work.”

  “Sir—”

  Rose reached forward and grabbed the phone. I was too surprised to stop her. She yanked it from my hands and turned from me, hunching herself forward protectively as I stepped to try and get it back.

  “Hello?” she said. “Hello, is this Nick’s boss? Yes, hi, this is Rose.” She looked back, waving me off. “Hello, uh, sir. It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you, it’s been very hard. Yes, Nick’s been great. Thank you. But, uh, sir, I know I shouldn’t do this, and please don’t punish Nick, I grabbed the phone from him— but, uh, I want him to stay.”

  I went very still and stared at her. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  She glared at me and put a hand on my
chest to hold me at bay.

  “I know, sir. I’m aware of the danger, and the girl that died. I think I saw him tonight, and I think he really does want me. Nick’s right, he’s going to come soon. I need to do this, sir. I’ll sign something, a waiver—” She listened for a few seconds then seemed relieved. “I’ll tell him. Okay, yes. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  She handed me back the phone. I held it up to my ear, but Head was gone, the line dead. I put it back into my pocket.

  She leaned back against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “What did he say?”

  “You can stay,” she said. “Call him in the morning. Make sure you file a report tonight.”

  “Anything about Cal?”

  “He should continue on to the city.”

  “Just the two of us then.”

  She nodded, met my eyes. “Just the two of us.”

  I held that gaze. She was making a mistake—a stupid, violent, deadly mistake.

  But goddamn, I wanted her. It bubbled in me, and I thought of her kiss, her tongue, biting her lip, and what she said after. The way she sounded almost delighted at the thought of CGK watching.

  This was wrong.

  And it felt good.

  We were going to catch that bastard.

  8

  Rose

  The sun barely rose above the trees when I banged on Nick’s bedroom door.

  To his credit, he got up and yanked it open faster than I expected. His eyes were wild and I stood a step back as he half-raised a gun. “What’s going on?” he barked.

  “It’s okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “What the hell are you doing with a gun?”

  He blinked at me, looked at the weapon, then lowered it down toward the floor. “Rose? What time is it?”

  “I’m going for a run.” I gestured down at myself, heart racing. I didn’t know what I expected—but definitely not a loaded gun pointed at me.

  Nick was a mystery to me. He talked about serial killers like he knew them intimately, but he also acted like he wasn’t really law enforcement. His story seemed to back that up, and it felt as though he’d stumbled into his current position, but he didn’t let it define him.

  I never would’ve guessed he’d show up at his bedroom door like that though, but I should’ve known. He was on edge, waiting for a killer to come back and try to finish what he started—Nick had to be ready at a moment’s notice.

  In the future, I’d knock a little more softly.

  “Run,” he repeated, then seemed to look at me for the first time. I had on running gear: shorts, tank top, sports bra, my hair up in an ugly ponytail. He released the gun with his one hand and scratched the back of his head. “Shit, girl. I almost shot the fuck out of you.”

  I laughed, feeling some nervous energy bleed off. He smiled at me and put the gun down on the top of the bureau next to the door.

  “I need you to come with me,” I said.

  “What? Hell no. It’s barely past— what fucking time is it, anyway?”

  “Six-thirty. I’d go alone, but I thought you said I wasn’t allowed out of the house without you.”

  He groaned. “Can’t you wait an hour?”

  “Nope, I’m going now. Better get changed if you want to come.” I turned and walked to the stairs, trying to show more confidence than I felt. “Hurry up. I’ll give you ten minutes.”

  He cursed again but I was already jogging down the stairs.

  That didn’t go great, but then again, at least he got my heart rate up. I liked to start every day with a five-mile run, and I wasn’t about to change that habit and let myself get lazy just because some serial killer was trying to murder me. Life went on, as they said.

  He made it down with a minute to spare. He wore a pair of dark shorts, a tight blue t-shirt, and beat-up shoes, and although he was gorgeously fit, the clothes suggested that cardio wasn’t his main exercise.

  Oh, well, his loss.

  “Ready to get going?” I asked, heading to the door.

  “Can’t wait.” He grinned at me and followed. “How far are we going again?”

  “Just five.”

  “Five minutes?” He frowned dubiously.

  “Five miles.” I started my watch. “Come on.”

  If he planned on complaining, I didn’t wait around to hear it. I started off down the gravel driveway at a nice, easy pace. He caught up a moment later, looking grim.

  “You run often?” he asked.

  “Every day, so I hope you can keep up.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” But his face looked serious, and I thought I heard his breath coming in fast. “I’m in great shape.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  I went straight across the road and cut right, heading into a nearby neighborhood. It was hilly and I went slow, a bead of sweat running down my body. The sun rose as we went around, and he stayed right next to me, never complaining, keeping pace with no real issues. As we fell into stride, and one mile turned into two, I had to admit that he looked like I had misread him. Running was effortless, and although he had a good sweat going, his breath never went ragged, and he didn’t seem to be struggling.

  “Got to admit, princess, this is sort of nice.” We ran along a paved path that hugged neighborhoods on the left and rolling acres of farmland on the right. “Even though we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “We got corn, we got cows, what else do you need?” I grinned at him and zipped around a corner. “I like the quiet.”

  “Quiet was never my thing. Big cities feel like home. Out here, you’re too exposed.”

  “You’re surrounded by people in the city. That’s almost worst.”

  “I like disappearing into a crowd.”

  We came around a bend, moving a little faster than I liked, and I took an awkward, mis-timed step over a large puddle to avoid getting my shoes soaked. I landed on the other side and stomped down onto a tree root on the side of the path, barely avoiding a turned ankle, but felt my hamstring tweak.

  I let out a gasp and came to a stop. He stopped beside me and his hands were on my shoulders, my arms, tugging me off the path. “Shit, I saw that,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” I grimaced as he helped me sit down in the leaves. “Might’ve pulled a muscle.”

  “Where?” His hands touched my leg, my thigh, my hamstring, moving up toward my ass, then back down to my knee, rubbing hard, massaging the tissue. If it didn’t feel so damn good, I would’ve stopped him, but I had a feeling I needed the help.

  “Back of my leg.”

  He helped me lay back and stretched me, his body close to mine. Both of us were sweaty, and he got between my legs, my leg up on his shoulder. He leaned into me, pressing it back and up into the air.

  “Flexible,” he commented, and although I didn’t think he meant for it to be sexually charged, I couldn’t help but notice how close his body was to me, his crotch inches from my own.

  I grunted in response. My leg hurt, a stinging burn, but the stretch seemed to be working. I was more than mortified by now, and my tank top was pulled up slightly, showing off my stomach. His eyes moved along my body before meeting my eyes, and he pulsed a little, moving my leg closer and further away.

  “How’s that?” he asked. “How bad does it hurt?”

  “I think I can make it back.”

  “We’ll walk. Or I can carry you?”

  “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be okay.” I grimaced as he pushed my leg further then let it go.

  He lingered on top of me, his hands on my leg, and I sat up on my elbows. I tried to smile at him but instead ended up staring into his eyes, wanting his hands to move further up my skin. I had tiny little running shorts on, and all he had to do was brush them aside and kiss me—nobody would find us, not back on these paths.

  “Okay then,” he said, and moved back. I looked away and tried not to let him see the disappointment on my face as he helped me up. I sucked in a breath
as I tried to walk, and ended up having to lean on him as we hobbled toward home.

  Fortunately, we were barely at three miles. The walk back was slow and excruciating, and I was beyond embarrassed. “I swear, I run all the time. This has never happened before.”

  “I saw it go down, don’t worry. It was a one-in-a-million chance landing.”

  “You’re just saying that. You’re going to hold this over my head forever.”

  “That too.” His hand pressed against my small of my back and I felt a thrill run down my spine, and I must have been insane for agreeing to any of this, though suddenly it felt like it was all worth it.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t come out here with a gun.”

  “Don’t think I hadn’t considered it.”

  “Seriously, did you sleep with that thing?”

  “No,” he said, his fingers digging into my top. I wanted him to touch my skin, but I knew that would be crossing some unspoken line. “Although being woken up to panicked banging did sort of set me off.”

  “I’ll take some responsibility there.”

  “Oh, great, thanks.”

  “Seriously, it’s not like he’s going to announce himself when he comes.”

  He nodded and stared off ahead of us as we walked along the side of the road. My leg began to feel better as we walked, though it still gave off a dull ache and I knew I wouldn’t be able to run.

  “It would be best if we slept in the same room.”

  I laughed, unable to help myself. It was so absurd that I almost couldn’t believe he said it—but the way he grimaced only made me laugh harder.

  “Come on,” I said. “If you’re trying to get me in bed, you could be a little subtler.”

  He snorted but smiled back. “Please, if I wanted you in bed, I think I could’ve had you ten minutes ago when I was stretching you.”

  I glared at him. “Don’t be dirty.”

  “I’m only calling it like I see it. You looked at me like you wanted me to keep stretching you, every single inch.”

  “If I didn’t need you to help me walk back, I’d totally kick you in the shin.”

  “Don’t make both of us cripples.”