Amazingly, all her fear had dissipated. The sight of all that rage on Bobby’s face only made her sad. She reached behind her to turn on the lights, never taking her eyes off Bobby’s face. “How do you figure that?” she asked.
“You set me up. You and him.” He jerked his head in Holt’s direction. “You’ve had it in for me for years.”
“That’s not the way I heard the story.” Holt’s voice was carefully expressionless, but Bobby turned on him.
“What do you know, city boy? You thought you could come up here with your city ways and show us all how it’s done, but you haven’t been too successful, have you?”
“Successful at what, Bobby?”
Bobby’s lip curled in a sneer. “Solving those murders, that’s what. How many women have died now, Chief?”
“You tell me, Bobby.”
Bobby opened his mouth to answer, then suddenly clamped it shut. The three of them stared at each other for a moment, then Holt took Bobby’s arm. “Down on the floor, legs spread. And you’d better not move, Duvall. I’m feeling real nervous tonight.”
Bobby’s eyes filled with hatred again, but he clumsily lay down on the floor. Holt picked up his radio and said a few terse words into it, and in a few minutes police cars filled the parking lot. In another few minutes Officer Jack Williams had bundled Bobby into his car and driven away.
Holt led Tory from the clinic as the other officers entered it. They didn’t speak as they walked toward her house. Leaving her sitting on the couch, he walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone. For the next hour he made call after call, talking in a low voice and making notes. Finally he hung up the phone, walked into the living room and sat next to her on the couch.
“What’s happening?” she asked, reaching for his hand. He took it and held on tight.
“Not much right now. His father’s down at the police station raising hell, but Duvall’s staying locked up.”
“Do you think he’s the murderer?”
A muscle danced in Holt’s jaw. “I don’t know. He used his police background to find out about my wife, and he’s admitted sending you that anonymous note. He sure as hell has the knowledge to avoid leaving clues. God knows he has a motive for going after you. But I can’t tie him to the murders. Yet.”
“The fingerprint.”
“Yeah, we got lucky. The fingerprint is in the state lab, along with a set of Bobby’s. We’ll see if they match.”
Tory drew in a long, shaky breath, afraid to hope. “So the murderer could be sitting in jail right now.”
“It’s possible, but I’m not going to assume he is.”
“Who else could it be?” she asked, turning to Holt for reassurance. “I can’t think of anyone else in Eagle Ridge who would know that much about police work. Can you?”
“Bobby does seem like the logical suspect. But I’m not writing anyone off.” He glanced at her, and her heart contracted at the worry in his eyes. “It makes me nervous when things are too tidy.”
“That’s just because you have a devious mind,” she said, pulling him closer. Suddenly she couldn’t handle any more talk about murderers or who had been in her house that morning or what Bobby Duvall had been up to. The stress of the evening had frozen her into a mass of fears, and she wanted to forget about it.
She gripped Holt’s hand as he swiveled in his seat to watch her, and she slowly relaxed, letting him see what was in her eyes. She was alive and with Holt, and right now that was all that mattered. Unexpected desire roared through her body with the force of a flash fire. Shifting her hand in his, she twined their fingers and brushed his mouth with hers.
His eyes were hooded, and when he raised his head to look at her the frustrations of the day were gone, replaced by a different kind of tension. His eyes darkened and smoldered as he curled one hand around the back of her neck. “You think I’m devious? You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“I thought I’d seen quite a bit,” she murmured.
He smiled at her then, a slow, intimate gaze that swept her body and left her throbbing. “The best is yet to come.”
Pulling her close, he locked his mouth with hers. She tasted his anger and frustration and the pent-up energy of the day in the fierce pressure of his lips. His tongue swept into her mouth, branding her with his possession and sweeping her into a dark tunnel of passion.
If he hadn’t wrapped his arm around her and locked her body to his, she would have slid to the floor. Desire pulsed through her, hot and heavy, and she tried to press closer to him. He groaned deep in his throat as she shifted her hips against him.
He slid both hands into her hair, pulling it out of its haphazard braid. Holding her face still, he plunged his tongue into her mouth then slowly retreated, time after time, until need twisted inside her like a knife.
Drawing a ragged breath, she reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he suddenly caught her hands in his. “No,” he muttered, his eyes slowly focusing as he looked at her. “Not tonight.” His breath shuddered out of his lungs. “I want to love you tonight.”
Her hands stilled on his shirt as she looked at him and saw the need in his eyes. His need to give to her, to set the pace, to be in control. And that was something she could give him, she realized as she let her hands fall to her side. Fear rustled in a far corner of her mind, but she pushed it away. Tonight she would give him the gift of herself, the one thing he needed from her right now.
“I’m yours,” she whispered. Forever, she wanted to add, but couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Holt was right, it seemed. It would have to be one night at a time.
He stared at her for a long moment, his face taut and hard. Passion flared in his eyes at her words, but he didn’t say anything. Slowly he touched one finger to her lips, the pad rough against the sensitive, swollen skin, then he took her hand and led her out of the room and up the stairs.
The door to her bedroom stood open, all traces of red paint gone. She barely spared it a glance. Tonight nothing existed but the two of them, standing so close she could feel the waves of desire pouring off his body. Moonlight spilled into the room as he cupped her face in his fingers, then slowly swept his hands down her body.
Aching to touch his skin, to feel his heat and power, she reached again for his shirt. “Not yet,” he murmured, bringing her hands to his mouth and pressing his lips against her palms. “Not yet. I want to savor you first.”
Reaching for her blouse, he unbuttoned it, letting his knuckles caress her bare skin. Once the last button was free, he didn’t pull the blouse off. Instead, he reached out and unclasped the front hook of her bra, easing the lacy froth of material off her breasts.
Then he stood and looked at her. Following his gaze, she saw her breasts hidden in shadows by her blouse, their nipples barely visible. Heat gathered and pulsed deep within her. She wanted him with a desperate physical ache.
“Touch me, Holt. Please.”
He met her eyes, and the hot intensity she saw there only made her ache more. “Like this?” he asked in a low, guttural voice. He used one finger to ease the blouse off a nipple, then brushed it one time with the pad of his finger.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she didn’t try to disguise the shudder that rippled through her. Her body clenched as tight as a fist, her legs trembling as sensation poured through her. “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.”
The soft cotton of her blouse scraped against both nipples as he pushed the material away from her breasts. He reached out and cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs rotating around the tight peaks.
She swayed toward him as wave after wave of need pulsed through her. Blindly she reached for him. “I need you, Holt.”
His hands slid from her breasts to her shoulders, and her blouse and bra fell to the floor. She stood in front of him, naked from the waist up, as he fumbled with the waistband of her slacks. In a moment they, too, fell to the floor.
Then he picked her up and laid her on the bed, following her onto the sheets. She pulled at
his shirt. “I want to touch you, too.”
“Later.” He pressed her into the mattress, his mouth hot and needy on hers. “You can touch me all you want later.”
His lips trailed over her neck, then he found her ear. Sucking gently on the lobe, he found her breast with one hand and pulled lightly on her nipple at the same time.
She writhed underneath him. Need snaked through her veins like a rope of fire, sheening her body with sweat and making her ache unbearably. When he moved down her body and took her nipple in his mouth, she bucked and arched, trying to get closer to him.
He raised his head, his eyes black and wild. “Do you want me, Tory?” he asked.
“You know I do.” She could barely manage to form the words.
“Then let me take you.” He reached for her hands, capturing them in one of his and slowly raising them above her head. His gaze swept her body as she lay stretched out on the bed, completely vulnerable to him. Then he looked in her eyes, and when she saw the vulnerability mixed with hot passion in his, suddenly she understood.
Not only did he need to be the one in control tonight, he needed her to surrender to him, completely and without reservations. He needed her to need him tonight.
She beat back the brush of fear and smiled at him, a slow, seductive smile full of promise. “Take me, Holt. Please.”
His eyes closed, and a noise that sounded almost like a growl rumbled from his throat. Bending his head, he circled one nipple with his tongue, making lazy passes around it without actually touching it. With her hands stretched above her head, she felt exposed and completely at his mercy. But instead of making her afraid, it only heightened the sensations coursing through her.
Holt shifted to the side. Then, watching her, he slid one hand down until it rested between her thighs. When he eased one finger inside her, she tensed and clamped her legs together. Keeping his eyes on her face, he took one nipple in his mouth and tugged gently on it, moving his finger at the same time.
Sensations crashed over her, tension coiling in her belly until she was afraid she would explode. “Holt,” she cried, her body arching involuntarily toward him.
“Let go, Tory,” he said in a thick voice. “Don’t fight it. Give in to it. I want to watch you when you climax for me.”
This was the gift he needed from her tonight, she told herself as she fought the instinctive panic. She looked Holt and felt the fear retreating. This was Holt. She trusted him. She could allow him to have control because he wouldn’t abuse that trust.
Gradually she relaxed the muscles of her legs, watching him the whole time. He moved his finger again, deep inside her, and she swallowed as the tremor rippled through her. “I want you, Holt.” She kept her gaze fixed on his face. “I want to feel you inside me.”
He trembled, and she knew that only his iron will kept him in control of his body. He watched her face as she felt herself trembling on the brink. Suddenly she convulsed, flying over the edge into space, and he let go of her arms and pulled her close.
He held her until her shudders eased, then stood and peeled off his clothes. In another moment he was inside her, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Incredibly, when he began to move she felt the tension building again.
Moments later he groaned her name as his arms tightened convulsively around her. At the same time the shudders of release began to rack her body again, and she wound her arms and legs around him and clutched him to her.
She floated for a long time, the sound of his heart beating against hers the only link to reality. Finally he stirred and raised himself on his elbows.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She smiled at him and let her hands slide down his back. “More than all right. I’m wonderful.”
“Are you sure?” She could hear the doubt in his voice. “I know you didn’t want...”
She laid a finger on his mouth before he could finish. “It’s all right.” She brushed her mouth over his. “I trust you. Completely.”
His eyes darkened as he stared at her. “I don’t deserve a gift like that.” His voice was so low she could barely hear him.
“Why not?” she asked, holding his gaze. “You’ve never shown me any reason not to trust you.”
He shifted abruptly and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I told you before I don’t know how much I have to give. I still don’t know, Tory.”
She looked down at him. “I guess we’ll find out sooner or later, won’t we?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him for a long time. Finally she cuddled into his side. “I have time. I’m not going anywhere. I’m back in Eagle Ridge to stay.”
“How can you be so nonchalant about this?” he demanded. “Why don’t you tell me to get out of your life?”
“Is that what you want?”
“You know damn well it isn’t. But handing me the gift of your trust when I can’t give you anything in return doesn’t seem like a very good bargain to me.”
“That’s the thing about gifts,” she said, closing her eyes and wriggling closer to his warmth. “You can’t always choose when you get them, and sometimes you can’t give anything in return. That’s why they’re called gifts.”
Slowly his arm came around her, and he pulled her close. “All I know is I would die if I lost you.”
And as she fell asleep in his arms, she knew that was enough. For now.
Chapter 15
Moonlight filtered down through the trees, illuminating the scene in flickering light. A woman knelt on the ground. Her features were blurred and indistinct, but the terror that pulsed from her grew until it filled the small clearing. The figure in front of the woman stood in the shadows, the faint light glinting off the blade of the knife he held, highlighting the serrated edge.
The trees murmured with glee and anticipation, the rustlings of their branches the only sound in the still night. Horror and hopelessness shimmered off the woman kneeling on the ground. The figure in the shadows took a step forward, and everything dissolved to red.
Tory woke with a start, her heart pounding, and looked around frantically. Instead of the trees and moonlight she expected to see, she was in her bed. Holt was lying next to her, one arm curled around her waist.
“Holt! Wake up,” she said desperately.
He was instantly alert. In one smooth motion he reached next to the bed and pulled his gun out of the holster. Pulling back the safety with an audible click, he aimed it at the door. “What is it?” he asked softly.
“Put down the gun. Please. There isn’t anyone in the house, as far as I know.”
He searched the shadows for a moment, then listened intently. Finally he clicked the safety into place and lowered the gun. She noticed he didn’t put it on the floor.
“I had another dream, Holt. A different one this time.” She grabbed his arm. “I think he’s about to kill someone, but it hasn’t happened yet.”
“What did you see?” He stared at her, his face suddenly intent.
“A woman in a clearing, with someone else. Someone who had a knife in his hand. It had a wavy edge.” She gestured with one hand, grasping him tightly with the other. “She was afraid, Holt. I could feel it. She knew he was going to kill her, and she was terrified.”
“But she wasn’t dead yet?”
“No.”
He slid out of bed and reached for his clothes. “Could you tell where it was?”
Closing her eyes, she pictured the clearing in her mind. She’d been there before, she was sure of it. Suddenly she remembered. “The place you found Spike. There was a little clearing just off the road that I saw before you got there. That’s where it was.”
“You’re sure?” he asked grimly.
“I’m positive.”
He stood next to the bed, fully dressed, looking at her. “After the last murder, I have to take this seriously. If there’s a chance to save a life, I have to go. Especially since no one knows what kind of knife he used, but
you just described it perfectly.”
“I understand, Holt.” She ignored the tendrils of fear that crept around her chest. “If he’s in the woods with some other poor woman, he won’t be here looking for me. Please hurry and go. I don’t want anyone else to die.”
“I’ll call the station from the truck and get someone out here with you.”
“Fine. Just go now, before it’s too late.”
With one last look Holt clattered down the stairs and into the night. A few seconds later his truck roared onto the highway.
She sat in the bed, soaking up his warmth, until she could no longer hear his truck. When the night was silent once more, she slid out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans and an old flannel shirt, shivering in the cold house.
“Spike,” she said softly, bending to wake the dog. He looked at her instantly, wagging his tail, and scrambled to his feet. He had healed quickly, the smooth pink scar circling his neck the only evidence left of the abuse he had suffered.
“Let’s go downstairs and make some tea while we wait for Holt,” she said, waiting for him to follow her. “And we’ll turn up the thermostat at the same time,” she added as she started down the stairs. An icy draft swirled around her feet as she headed into the darkness.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned on the light just as Spike began to growl. Fear roiled in the pit of her stomach as she froze, staring into the corners of the room. There was no one there.
But the window next to the front door was open. Her heart pounding and her pulse skidding in her veins, she stared at it, paralyzed. Surely Holt would have noticed an open window when he left, she told herself with sick fear. Someone must have opened it after he left. She had to get out of this house.
Spike was still growling, staring at the kitchen. Her palms slippery with sweat, Tory saw her keys on the table next to the front door and grabbed them, then fumbled with the lock on the front door. The new dead bolt needed a key to open it, and her hands shook so much she couldn’t push the key into the hole.
Spike yelped once behind her, then he was silent, but she didn’t have time to look. Drawing in a sobbing breath, she finally managed to unlock the door. She pulled it open, but before she could bolt outside something hard and sharp poked into her back.
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