Angling myself between her and their prying eyes, I grabbed the lace trying to choke her.
“Eyes on me, angel,” I implored.
Her chest was still heaving when her eyes met mine. A hard tug tore the fabric, and I ripped it right down the center, then peeled it off her body.
When it was off her, she tossed it on the ground and stepped on it, shuddering.
The officers behind me continued on, passing by on their way down the hall. The second they stepped into the room where Callie had been, I heard one of them swear emphatically.
A part of me was mildly amused (though I didn’t show it) because those fuckers had just been watching Zoey like she was overreacting because of a cotton gown. Guess seeing those giant plastic cocoons hanging from the ceiling changed their perspective.
Turning back to my girl, I wrapped an arm (the uninjured one) around her waist, tugging her close. “I know a lot of strong women, but I honestly think you are the strongest I’ve ever met.”
She gasped, straightening away from me. “Callie!”
“Callie’s fine.” I assured her. “I got her out of the house and made sure she was safe. She’s with the paramedics by now.”
“Thank God.” The relief in her voice was unmistakable. But that relief quickly turned into a scowl. Planting her fists on her hips, she glared. “You never should have come back into the house for me.”
I felt my eyes narrow, and I took a step closer to her, practically bringing us nose to nose. “You never should have traded my safety for yours.”
She made a rude sound and pointed at the knife wound in my arm, then at the one in my leg.
“That’s different.” I snarled.
Suddenly, her eyes welled up and fresh tears spilled over. “You could have been k-killed.” Her voice shook. “I’ve never been so scared,” she whispered, swiping at her cheeks. “Not even when I was alone with him.”
My pounding heart fumbled when those words wrapped around it. Butterflies lifted off in my stomach, and deep affection erased any anger I might have felt. Cupping the back of her neck, I pulled her in. I was woozy from blood loss, but it didn’t matter.
Her shoulders shook as she cried some more, and all I wanted to do was soothe her. “I’m not going anywhere, angel. I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t.”
Her fingers tightened against my back, and I kissed the top of her head.
“Mr. Preston, Miss Halston?” the detective on the case called as he came up the stairs. “Are you ready to give a statement?”
Lifting my lips from her hair, I gazed around. “Maybe give us a minute.”
“No,” Zoey asserted, pulling away. As she spoke, her hand reached for mine and our fingers laced together. “I’m ready.”
The second the detective topped the steps, his eyes widened and a low whistle cut through his pursed lips. “That’s a hell of a lot of blood, Mr. Preston.”
“Nick.” I corrected.
He nodded and gestured for us to accompany him. “The statement can wait. Let’s get you seen by the medics first.”
Outside, police were everywhere, and two ambulances were parked close by. Callie was in the back of one, getting treated for a head wound and some minor injuries. She’d been through hell, and I felt partially responsible for that. But she was alive, and that was most important.
“There’s something I need to do,” Zoey said, trying to slip out of my hold.
“Not without me,” I said, pulling her close once more.
“I... I have to see him. I want to make sure he’s dead.” Her eyes were fearful and wary as she looked off in The Moth’s direction.
I didn’t try and talk her out of it. She needed this closure, and I understood why. And yeah, I wanted to look the dead bastard in the face too. I wanted the closure my grandmother and mother never got.
We leaned on each other as we approached the surrounded body. Officers parted when they saw us. Conversations dropped to whispers.
Zoey hesitated before stepping close, and I waited patiently, allowing her to set the pace.
Nodding, she moved forward, her hand gripping mine where I held her waist.
We stood over the dead body of a man who’d terrorized people for over twenty years.
“I want to see his face,” Zoey said.
“Are you sure?” I asked, uncertain it was a good idea.
She nodded. “I want to see him as a regular man... not this faceless creature.”
I glanced at the detective standing close by, and he nodded once.
“I’ll do it,” I said, releasing her.
“No.” She stopped me. “I will.”
Stepping back, I watched my girl squat and reach out with shaking hands. Grasping the edge of the mask, she pulled it up over his chin, peeling it back to reveal his face.
It was just as she said. He was just a man in his fifties with graying hair and wrinkles around his eyes. There was nothing especially striking about him, which I supposed made him scarier. If I were to see a man like this on the street, I would think of him as a neighbor or even perhaps a friend.
The detective cleared his throat and stepped forward, shuffling some papers in his hands. “The information came in before you called this morning. Name is Ronald Valve. He was born in nineteen sixty-four and went to Weston High School...”
“The place where I was held captive,” Zoey whispered, staring down at the man.
“Yes. Turns out he was in some kind of horror movie club in high school, and that’s where he first watched Moth to a Flame. We were able to track down a fellow club member who told us that Ron here was obsessed with the movie. The teacher who ran the club knew someone in Hollywood and told him that The Moth would be killed off in the sequel.” The detective cleared his throat. “He was very angry because he said killers don’t die. Victims do.”
“All this because he didn’t like the end of a movie?” I spat.
“Killers don’t die. Victims do,” Zoey echoed.
I didn’t like the tone in her voice. “Hey,” I murmured, taking her hand. “It’s over. He can’t hurt you ever again.”
Nodding, Zoey sank into my side a little more firmly. I took that as my cue to lead her away. As we turned, a strangled cry burst out from the ground, and the bloody hand of the man who was supposed to be dead shot out, grabbing Zoey’s ankle.
She screamed and jolted back. The Moth turned his head, viewing at her with empty eyes.
I stomped on his arm, breaking his hold on her leg, and wrapped her against my chest, whirling her away from the man.
What was it with this bastard? He really did belong in a horror film because he freaking refused to die.
Seconds later, a gunshot rang out. Zoey forced herself closer against me, and I pressed a hand over her ear, buffering any more chaos that might erupt.
“He’s dead this time,” one of the officers announced.
Still shielding Zoey, I glanced. Yep. He was dead. Unless, of course, he didn’t need half his head to live.
Around us, everyone clapped.
No, probably not very respectful, but dude had it coming.
I picked up Zoey and started toward the ambulance.
“Nick!” She gasped. “Put me down! You have stab wounds!”
“You want to add another to my heart?” I drawled.
She wrinkled her nose. Then panic filled her eyes. “You’re heart! What’s wrong with your heart?”
She was kind of adorable when she worried about me.
“Nothing as long as you let me hold you.”
She smacked me in the chest.
“Oww,” I whined, playing it up a little.
“I’m sorry!” She fretted. “Are you hurt more? What can I do?”
“Kiss me,” I said, not missing a beat.
Realization dawned, and her eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny, Nick Preston! I don’t care if you’re a movie star or not, pretending to be hurt after the day we’ve had is cruel.”
; “My arm really does hurt,” I confessed. Not to mention, I knew I was rocking a concussion.
“Stop!” she commanded.
I stopped.
Taking my face in her hands, she guided it down, pressing her lips firmly against mine. Bleeding or not, I took full advantage of her sweet lips, letting the knowledge that we were both safe wrap around us while we kissed.
A few months later...
My hair was in a ponytail; no makeup graced my face. My eyes were as blue as the day I was born, and more importantly... I was happy.
I didn’t have to hide anymore.
I didn’t have to pretend.
I was free.
I was no longer a prisoner of the bad things that happened. I wasn’t ashamed of everything I’d been through.
“Where’s my blue-eyed angel?” Nick called from the bedroom.
My heart still skipped a beat when I heard his voice. I wondered how many years it would take for that to stop. I kind of hoped it never did.
He appeared in the bathroom door as I turned to meet him, his golden hair plastered to his forehead and his shirt damp with sweat. Still, when he pulled me in, I went to him. I was done denying the way I felt. I was done being afraid.
“You’re smelly!” I laughed, wrapping my arms around his torso.
“It takes work to be this buff,” he said, flexing an impressive bicep for me to check out. As if I hadn’t seen it a hundred times before.
I smiled, rubbing a palm over his defined arm. “Buff or not, I’d love you the same.”
The teasing glint disappeared from his face. Slowly, his arm lowered to his side. The change in the atmosphere was instantaneous, going from playful to electrified in one second flat.
He whispered, “What did you just say?”
It slipped right out without me thinking. And now that it was said, I couldn’t grab it back. Groaning, I let my forehead fall against his chest.
“It just came out. I know—”
His hands closed around my shoulders, carefully but firmly drawing me back. The look in his eyes was so intense that a knot instantly formed in my throat. “Did you mean it?”
Why did that question break my heart and make me ache? The answer was happy.
Because it took so much to get here. And I went and ruined it by blurting it out in the bathroom. He’d waited so patiently for those three words... words I knew he wanted so much to hear.
I felt bad for ruining something so important, for not making it as special as I could. “I planned to tell you in a much better way.”
Nick gave me a small shake. “Zoey. Did you mean it?”
The expression in his eyes dragged me in, wrapped around me, and made everything else slip away. “Of course I mean it. I’ve felt it for a long time, but I finally trust myself enough to give those words.” Lowering my eyes, I frowned. “I wanted to find the perfect way to tell you, but I ruined it.”
“You ruined it?” he echoed.
A thought came to me. I looked up, hopeful. “Forget you heard me. I’ll plan something special and—”
His kiss stopped the words and seared me to the core. My toes curled against the floor, and my hands anchored onto those well-formed biceps for support. As he kissed, one hand wrapped around my ponytail, tugging my head back for him to deepen the kiss.
Our tongues tangled, dancing to a rhythm only they knew, and I pushed closer, plastering myself against his body.
Breaking off the kiss abruptly, I swayed forward, but his body was solid and kept me up. “I will not forget. I’ll never unhear those words, no matter what.”
“But we’re in the bathroom,” I whined.
“It doesn’t matter where we are or who we’re with. The fact that it just slipped out in regular conversation is better than any moment you could ever plan. That means you feel it without thinking, that I’m in here”—he pointed to my chest—“and you’re okay with it.”
Tears prickled the back of my eyes, but I held them at bay. “I’m more than okay with it.”
Taking my face in his hands, he held me in a stare. “Yeah?”
I nodded.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.” No hesitation. No fear. “I love you, Nick.”
His lips were on mine again, kissing me fiercely. Picking me up, he backtracked into our bedroom, and we fell on the bed.
His broad body caged me in, eyes roaming over me possessively like he was reclaiming what he already owned. Reaching around with one hand, he tugged the shirt over his head, tossing it aside, revealing a chiseled body still glistening with sweat.
Barely a minute later, we were both completely naked and his lips were devouring mine once more, our bodies moving in perfect sync.
Abruptly, he pushed up, skin flushed, lips damp, and eyes filled with wild desire. “Again, angel.”
I smiled.
“I love you.” The confession was punctuated by my moan when he thrust deep. I arched off the bed, giving in to every physical and emotion sensation he brought down.
The frenzy in which we went at each other brought us crashing down in a hurry, leaving us both breathing heavy and boneless against the bed.
“You make me so fucking happy,” he said, rolling onto his side and throwing a leg over my body.
Reaching up, I dragged my fingers through his hair as he pressed a kiss against my bare shoulder. “Thank you for being so patient with me. Thank you for never giving up.”
“I’ll always be here for you, angel. Always.”
When I turned my head, our noses bumped together, making me giggle. He swallowed it down with another sweet kiss.
“Let’s go away together. Somewhere tropical where the cabanas float over the water and the only thing I have to share you with is the incredible view.”
“The movie about Deborah starts production next week.” I reminded him. After everything that happened, he signed on to be part of it. He wanted to make sure his family was portrayed truthfully and that our connection to the murder was revealed.
“Guess we’ll have to leave tonight.”
I sat up, propping on one elbow to stare down at him incredulously. “Tonight?”
“We’re going to be busy the next few months with this production. There are going to be a lot of hard moments...” he said, his eyes softening. Carefully brushing my bangs to the side, he smiled. “I want to give you some happy memories to fall back on.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to work on this production with you if I didn’t think I could handle it.” Yes, it was going to be hard, but as I said before, I was free. Doing this movie, adding in my connection to The Moth, and being a voice for all the women he murdered after Deborah was a way to acknowledge all the trauma and move on.
“I know you can handle it. You can handle anything. So how about handling a trip to the Maldives?”
“Seriously?” I asked, biting down on my lower lip.
Plucking it free with his fingers, he rubbed the pad of his thumb along it. “I already booked the flight.”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled.
“Whoop!” he hollered, knowing I was totally going to surrender. Rolling on top of me, he grinned down. “Does this mean I finally get to call you my girlfriend?”
I nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“Oh, I want.” He nuzzled the side of my neck. “And someday in the not so distant future, I’m going to upgrade you to wife.”
My stomach fluttered with a thousand butterflies. “How about we pack first?”
“Throw some stuff in a bag for me, will ya, angel? I need to take a shower.”
“You a tell a man you love him, and he instantly thinks you’re his housekeeper,” I muttered, adjusting the blankets on the bed. “Eeep!” I squealed when his bare arms wound around me from behind, lifting me off the ground and spinning us around.
“I could never think of you like that,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re my everything.”
Leaning back, I kissed
his cheek.
“I don’t need much,” he muttered. “Just some shorts, a couple T-shirts... and you.”
“Go take a shower.” I gave in, totally charmed by him.
“Plane leaves in three hours!” he hollered from the bathroom.
I gasped. “You didn’t even know if I would agree to come with you!”
He peeked around the door, all messy hair, ornery green eyes, and naked torso. “Ah, angel, I knew.”
I lifted my chin. “Yeah? And just how did you know?”
His smile was quick and sure. “Because you, my love, are just as drawn to me as I am to you.”
I didn’t bother arguing... He was right.
THE END
I started this book in 2017. I wrote about six thousand words and started to struggle with it. I’m not really sure why. Then another book took over my brain, and I put this one aside. Fast-forward to now (2019), and it’s been a rough writing year for me. It’s been hard to get into a book and write, write, write. Truthfully, I’ve often been discouraged by this job and everything that comes with writing. It’s easy to let all those things take over and suck out my creativity and motivation to write.
I pulled this book out because I really wanted to write something about a serial killer.
Side note: Is wanting to write about serial killer the same thing as like craving chips or ice cream? I mean, who wakes up and thinks, I want to spend some time with a serial killer today?
Anywho, I thought of this book and decided to expand on my original ideas and add in The Moth. I also decided to add some flashbacks to the past that both Zoey and Nick experienced. Well, really, it was Deborah, but we saw it all through Nick’s eyes.
I really enjoyed plotting out this book. I feel like there were a lot of moving parts and details. I actually had to do MATH—which is my mortal enemy—to figure out dates and ages, etc. I have a lot of notes and scribbled details that I used to keep track of things to help complete this story arc. Also, my friend, Adrienne, was a great help in bouncing ideas around and plotting serial killer things, so without her, the plot wouldn’t be as rich as it is now.
All that being said, this book was a difficult write. It left my brain tired at the end of most writing sessions. Getting into The Moth’s head was challenging, and sometimes when I would write his POV, I would wonder if I did him justice.
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