by Jaycee Clark
“Well,” he said, more cockily than he felt, “Let’s see what I can do to ease your mind. Shall we?” He leaned, rested his forehead against hers
He caught the glimmer of a twinkle in her dark eyes, the beginning of her one-sided grin as he closed the remaining distance between them and kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft beneath his.
Aiden lay back down and settled her in the crook of his shoulder, his hands always caressing her.
“Did I ever tell you about the time my twin brothers switched places—which they were known to do a lot. But this time it backfired and they still got away with it?”
Aiden rambled on. After a while Jessie relaxed against him, her breathing evened out.
He’d keep watch over her.
Her hair was soft as he brushed it off her forehead, leaning down to kiss the smooth skin. She was so perfect. He hadn’t lied to her. He would protect her and keep her safe. If she’d let him, he’d do it for the rest of his days.
Or would he? There was a thought. What exactly was between them? Was he ready to define it? Was she? And if they were, then what?
Aiden had no idea. He liked being with her, he worried about her, and he loved to see her smile.
Yeah, he would protect her, with his life if he had to.
After all, that was the Kinncaid motto: This I’ll defend.
And for Jesslyn, he’d defend her against her own dreams, the demons that haunted and plagued her—for now. Maybe one day he could do more.
Her words still chilled him. Killers and storms, lakes and blood. What did it all mean?
It didn’t matter.
He kissed her hair and settled her more comfortably against him.
Tomorrow they would talk more about her dreams.
Tomorrow.
Chapter 12
This morning was just full of revelations. He’d heard, of course. Who hadn’t?
What was he to do?
The harlots were never meant to be found. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
Never to be found. SHE had never been found. Others had never been found.
That was how it was supposed to be. Destiny saw to that, had seen to that so many times before. Why now? Why were the whores turning up now, to haunt him from their graves? What was so different?
He could all but hear his father’s disdainful voice, dripping with disappointment at this last turn of events. That cold, calm, instructing voice that often masked the rage that could strike unawares. He’d learned to read that calm, to anticipate its facade. It had been the only way to survive. The loud voice of the past screamed in his head.
“No good, you’ll never amount to anything.”
“You must guard against harlots. God will protect you as long as you’re doing His will . . .”
“Adultery is a sin . . .”
“Marriage a holy sacrament . . .”
The words and phrases careened in his mind, jumbled and sharp scattered fragments of his past, mixing with the present.
He wished he could pace. He needed to pace. But stillness led to calming, and he had to be calm. People noticed strange behavior. He swallowed a laugh. Pacing up and down the sidewalk or around the tables would be strange.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath to alleviate the worry skittering through his nerves.
Perhaps this was a test, a new test, more challenging, to dedicate his faith.
Yes, that had to be it.
Would they find the others? Were they meant to? There was a question.
He wasn’t stupid. The times they lived in made it hard for one such as him to evade forever.
Worry crept upon him, drowning out the voices around him, roaring in his head. His fingers drummed out the rhythm of his favorite symphony on his leg.
Forensic science could find out all sorts of things. Had he been careful enough? What would they find on the bodies? Two. They only had two. He’d been careful.
Always the gloves, the coat, the knife. What else was there?
No fingerprints. He left no mementos except what he took.
The harlots had all deserved death, but no one else was likely to see it that way. Silently, he prayed.
The prayer rolled familiarly through his mind. Calmed him as the words tumbled forth.
A horn blared from the street.
He reached up and fingered the pendant under his shirt.
Courage.
He would need courage to continue and continue he must.
For now his question about her had been answered. It was too much to leave to chance. If none of the others had ever been connected . . . But they had.
The hunger furled in him, coiling tighter, waiting until it could spring. Until the monster could strike.
The roaring subsided.
The beast rested.
The haze clouding his vision receded. Life focused before him. People walked along the sidewalks, talked about the day, drank coffee, ate pastries. Horns blared and cars hummed and whined on the street.
Two women directly in front of him bustled along, laughing and shifting shopping bags as they made their way around the iron tables and through the side gate to the sidewalk.
Did they not see? Blind, they were all blind.
He would have to take more care next time. He picked up his coffee, sat up at the table, and uncrossed his ankles. He needed a plan to get rid of the innocent. There was simply no hope for it. She couldn’t be allowed to stop his mission.
“Can I get you anything else?”
He looked up and this one smiled.
The look in her eyes told him what she was thinking, what she was wanting.
He cocked his head and returned her grin. “I was thinking of some company,” he answered her.
Her pink tongue darted out and licked her lips.
Whores, they were all whores.
“I can’t now.”
He thought for a moment. Was it too soon?
Her expression was one of hope and daring.
“How about tonight?” he asked. “Can you get away tonight?”
She looked around. “I don’t know. My roommate wondered the last time I stayed and talked to you. I was supposed to have gotten home sooner.”
And she should have. Not flirting with him as she had been.
“Well, you only live once.”
She grinned again, her gaze running down him. “Are you certain you can get away?”
“Not a problem.”
He must make certain she was never found. Ravines were no longer an option, too many hikers. They had worked so well before, but apparently he’d have to change.
There were caves and cliffs that were off limits. Lakes.
“Where?” she asked quietly.
Lakes. He smiled up at her. “How about a romantic evening up at Emerald?”
She worried her lower lip. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, I’ll meet you up there about seven or so.”
“Fine.” He watched as she nodded, blew him a kiss and walked away.
A lake.
Perhaps God would align the heavens so he could kill two birds with one stone. Two birds with one stone. He chuckled at the thought. He’d never done two in one night before.
The possibilities were endless.
Endless.
• • •
Jesslyn awoke. Her eyes were gritty. Damn, she’d forgotten to take out her contacts. But then again, with everything she and Aiden did, who the hell would have remembered contacts?
She turned her head. Aiden slept quietly beside her. In sleep, he was as intimidating and as handsome as he was awake, but in slumber there was a softness to the edge that surrounded him. Long black lashes lay spiky against his cheeks. Her fingers itched to trail down the strong, straight nose, to rub against the rough stubble darkening his jaw. Raven locks stood up from his head, disarrayed from her fingers running rampant through it.
On a contented sigh, she slipped from the bed.
Coffee. She n
eeded coffee. In the living room, she pulled on Aiden’s blue silk shirt. Shivering as the soft material slid over her skin, she buttoned up a few of the buttons. It looked like a hell of a party had gone on in here. One of her stockings draped over the lamp. Lord only knew where the other one was, or the rest of her clothing. She started to pick it up, but decided she’d get the coffee started first. After all, there were priorities in life. Coffee first, clean later.
Jesslyn fiddled in the kitchen, hunting up a breakfast of strawberries, bagels, and cream cheese. Her coffee was a bit on the strong side, but she didn’t care. In a minute she’d wake Aiden.
Balancing the tray with the food, juice and coffees wasn’t easy, but she was a talented soul. Halfway up the stairs a knock sounded at the door.
Well, hell.
Sighing, she carefully set the tray on the steps and hurried down to the door. She should probably put on some more clothes, but what was she supposed to do? Yell for them to hang on through the door?
The knock was harder this time.
To hell with it. She was showing a little thigh, but other than that, she was covered—sort of.
Jesslyn opened the door, and leaned against it.
An older couple stood on the threshold.
“I told you this wasn’t the right house,” a large man grumbled to a shorter woman.
“This is the address,” the redheaded woman answered.
“Can I help you?” Jesslyn asked.
“Oh.” They turned to her
Jesslyn cocked a brow and waited, crossing her arms over her chest. Better not to reveal too much.
“See, Kaitie lass, I told you this was the wrong damn house,” the man said on a frustrated sigh. He was tall, taller than Aiden, and had the shoulders of a lumberjack. The shadows didn’t allow for her to make out his definite features, but it was hard to miss his white hair, streaked with gray.
“We’re sorry to disturb you so early. We’re looking for a house,” the woman replied. She had red hair and stood a bit taller than Jesslyn did.
“And whose house are y’all looking for?” she asked.
“Aiden Kinncaid’s,” the woman answered.
Who were these people?
“I doubt she knows who the hell it is, Kaitie, he’s just renting it,” the man growled.
“Jock, will you be quiet?”
Jock? Kaitie? As in Kaitlyn? Oh God.
“You’re um—um. I didn’t get your names.”
It wouldn’t be them. It could not be his parents.
“I’m sorry. I’m Kaitlyn Kinncaid and this brute with me is Jock.”
Jesslyn closed her eyes, licked her lips and stepped back.
“This is the right house.”
As they stepped into the entry, she didn’t miss Jock’s shocked gaze as it ran over her. “Well, if this is the house, then who the hell are you?”
That was a very good question. And her mind went utterly blank.
“Jock, we’ve woken the poor girl up. Leave her be,” Mrs. Kinncaid said.
“Poor girl is about right.” His gaze raked over her again. “My son isn’t going to have to worry about prison is he?”
“Wh-what?” she stuttered.
“How old are you, Missy?” Jock asked, bushy white brows furrowing.
Jesslyn finally found her voice and her brains. “Almost a decade past eighteen, but thank you, Mr. Kinncaid. I’m Jesslyn Black. The owner of the house. I’ll . . .” She backed towards the stairs. “I’ll just go get Aiden. Please, make yourselves at home. It was nice to meet you.”
At the stairs she stepped over the tray and kept going up to her room.
His parents. Oh, God. And she was only wearing his damn shirt. She’d met his parents practically naked.
Slipping quietly into the room, she ran and pounced on the bed.
Aiden bolted, but she sat astride him.
“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me your parents were coming today?” she said right in his face.
His glower did not deter her.
“Or better yet, why not tell me they were coming this morning? I might have put on something other than this.”
His gaze ran over her.
Aiden’s heart slammed against his chest at being jarred awake. Blinking the sleep away, he noticed Jessie looked delectable wearing nothing but his shirt. His heartbeat would never be the same after her waking him up by bouncing him awake, but that was okay too, he liked where she landed.
“What are you talking about? I thought you said you weren’t a morning person?” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down for a kiss, but she planted her hands on his chest and pushed back.
“Will you pay attention?”
He looked at her. She was clearly upset about something.
She leaned down and her cascading hair tickled his face. “Your parents are downstairs sitting in the living room.” She sat straight up, her hair sliding over the silk shoulders of his shirt. “Oh my God. They’re in the living room! Great. Contact me for a tour of Black’s Whorehouse.”
What was with her? His parents? Here? Whorehouse? “Will you calm down? I knew they were coming yes, just not today. They must have changed their minds and come early.”
She wiggled against him and the sheet didn’t do much to separate her warmth from his groin. Aiden jerked her down across his chest.
“What’s wrong with them being in the living room?” he yawned.
Her brow quirked. “You haven’t seen the living room this morning.” She stacked her hands atop his chest and rested her chin on them. “Do you happen to remember what we did downstairs last night?”
How in the world could he not remember? Like he’d ever forget Jesslyn in garters and hose.
“How bad is it?” he ventured.
As red as her face was, the answer was obvious, but he wanted to know what to expect.
“Well, let’s just say, they won’t have to use their imaginations to figure out what went on downstairs. There’s a stocking thrown across a damn lamp!” Her voice rose on the end, mortification clear even to his tired self. Aiden couldn’t hold his chuckle in. To have seen the look on his father’s face.
“Yes, I remember what we did. It’s the same thing we’re fixing to do right now.” Aiden rolled and pinned her beneath him.
“Will you stop and think for five seconds?” she asked him.
He kissed the side of her mouth, his hands slipping beneath his silky shirt she wore. “I am. One.”
“I’m serious.” She wriggled.
“Two.” He licked her earlobe and she shivered against him.
“Aiden.”
“Three.” Her neck was as sweet and tangy as he remembered. He loved the taste of her.
Her sigh filled the air, but she was softening under him.
Aiden propped on his elbows. “What is the problem? You met my parents, so what?”
Her brown eyes rounded. “Practically naked. This was all I had on. Your dad looked at me like I was a gold-digging Jezebel.”
A laugh threatened out, but he managed to halt it. She was actually worried about what his parents thought of her? This was different coming from her.
“Did you not want to meet them?” he asked, fishing, hoping. “I had planned for us to have a nice sit-down dinner to get acquainted.”
Her eyes rolled. “Yes, I would love to meet your parents. Or rather, I would have loved to have made a better first impression with a bit more clothing.”
Her look told him she thought he was stupid.
“Does it matter to you what they think?”
She opened her mouth, then smartly shut it. Her eyes held his before skirting away. Shrugging, she answered him. “I don’t . . . That is . . . Ah, hell.”
Aiden chuckled. He loved to rile her. “Jessie girl, Jessie girl. You walked right into that one.”
Her lips were soft under his as he kissed her. “Don’t worry so much,” he whispered.
“That’s easy for you to say.
The living room needs picking up and I’m not about to traipse back down there to get my garters. Your dad—”
“I’ll take care of Dad. And I’ll go get your dress, but not just yet.” He kissed her hard, letting his hands roam over her warm body. “Right now, not my father, nor the living room, is foremost in my mind.”
There was that one-sided grin he loved. “And what is?” she asked, licking her lips.
He claimed her mouth again, showing her who, rather than what, was occupying his thoughts.
• • •
Kaitlyn looked around the living room and tried not to laugh aloud. Her son was busy, and with a blushing girl, no less.
Jesslyn Black. Kaitlyn knew of Ms. Black, she talked to her son several times since he’d been here. For the first time in months she could hear a smile in Aiden’s voice.
Maybe he’d finally found her.
“Would you just look at this?” Jock muttered.
Kaitlyn chuckled. “Jock dear, our son is thirty-five years old. Surely you didn’t think a son of yours would still be an unwed virgin at that age, did you?”
He turned a glare on her, which didn’t faze her in the least.
“What in the world will Brice think?” he asked.
She shook her head. How many times had she told the man the wedding was really off and not just postponed as Brice had told everyone? Of course part of the blame lay in Aiden’s field, as he had yet to tell Jock the whole story.
“Jock, I’ve told you and told you—Brice and Aiden are through. Through. It’s over between them. Leave him alone to find his own happiness.”
Her husband grabbed a black stocking off a lamp and flicked it in the air. It slithered down like a satin snake. “This is his happiness? What is he thinking? The girl simply knows his name and went after him.”
That was enough. “Jock Kinncaid, you listen to me.” She had his attention now. He propped his hands on his hips, his eyes shooting arrows, but she continued. “Aiden is a grown man who will choose his own path, not one you mapped out for him. Brice is a self-centered, coldhearted bitch. To put it bluntly. And I’m damn glad she’s not going to be marrying our son. You were always blinded by her. Do not do anything to rock this boat.”
His sigh was strong enough to fell a tree. “Kaitie lass.”