by Debra Webb
Except with you, Bobbie. And even his small lapses with her were guarded.
He’d told her that he never allowed himself to get close to anyone. Yet, here he was in her home. She wasn’t the only one who felt something growing between them. Maybe she would never know what that something was, but it was there. A single, fragile thread that tethered them by tragedy and loss...a lifeline in emptiness. It was need, she decided. The fundamental need all humans felt that neither of them, no matter how hard they tried, could deny.
Rather than answer her, he stepped closer and her foolish pulse reacted. “You’re tired.”
She was. It had been a long day. “I didn’t tell anyone you’re here, but I did brief the lieutenant about Weller’s warning.”
“You did what you had to do.”
Frustration edged into the weariness already overwhelming her. It annoyed her to no end that she was having trouble quantifying their relationship or whatever this was. Particularly when they were alone like this. “Where’s your truck? I don’t even know where you park. I come home and you’re just here.”
The irritation in her voice made her cringe. She was ready for this day to end. Between Hanover jerking her chain and Sage Parker throwing her partner for a loop, she was ready to shut off her brain for a few hours.
“A couple of streets over. There’s an abandoned house with a carport.”
She gave herself a mental kick in the ass. “I know the place.” She had no right to take out her frustrations on Nick. None of this was his fault.
Shifting her attention back to the case, she considered the photo of Hanover. “I don’t think he’s our killer.” She moved to the far side of the wall and studied what was obviously Hanover’s professional bio pic probably found a dozen places on the internet. “He’s far too self-absorbed to put himself at risk for a kill that wasn’t essential to his survival.”
“This is the face he wants you to see,” Nick said. “You might not recognize the face he shows others.”
This was true. She told Nick about the useless video clip he’d insisted she and Devine see. “Why draw so much attention to himself?” She didn’t want to talk about Hanover’s references to her mother. Not yet. It felt too personal.
Bobbie almost laughed at the thought. Nick Shade had seen every inch of her scarred, damaged body. He knew her deepest, darkest secrets. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t possibly hide anything from him. It was only a matter of time until he knew exactly what Hanover was doing to her.
“He makes you uncomfortable.”
See, Bobbie, you can’t hide from him. “Apparently, he knew my mother.”
“He’s done his homework.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone knows what happened to your husband and child. Hanover wanted more shock value than that common knowledge would convey so he went deeper into your background looking for another tender spot.”
“Apparently he did know her.” Bobbie went to the boxes and found the one she needed. She passed the envelope to Nick. “I’m sure you’ll recognize my mother.”
She watched his hands as she removed the photos. The memory of those hands moving so tenderly and chastely over her body made her look away.
“You look like her. Exactly like her.”
Bobbie cleared her throat. “That’s what my dad always said.”
“Do you know where this photo was taken?” He turned the one with the jukebox around for her to see.
She shook her head. “I thought I’d ask Uncle—the chief. He might remember where the photos were taken.”
He passed the photos back to her, their fingers brushed. “Hanover’s not in the photos. He could have gotten them anywhere solely for the purpose of making you uncomfortable. This doesn’t mean he knew her the way he appears to want you to believe.”
Bobbie returned the photos to the box. “You’re right. I’m letting him get to me for no reason. He’s doing the same thing to Devine.”
“Never trust a man who uses the past to lead you in a different direction.”
Bobbie smiled. “Good advice.”
Nick moved closer to her. He reached out and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “He’s playing a game on the backs of the victims in this case. A man who’ll do that is capable of ugly things, no matter the face he shows you.”
They stood staring at each other for a minute or more after he stopped speaking. She wanted to touch him. To feel the strength of his arms around her. There were things she wanted to say. To ask. But it was late. She was tired. Being tired made her vulnerable.
Still, there was one question she couldn’t deny. “What face are you showing me?”
He didn’t answer for what felt like another minute. He reached for her hand, placed it against his jaw. His skin felt hot. The hint of beard stubble set her fingers on fire. “The one you want to see.”
And there it was. The elephant in the room. He would never allow her to know him completely. His self-preservation instincts were far too strong. He would not risk the pain of opening himself up to her or to anyone else. His father’s betrayal had wounded him far too deeply. She was no better. Beyond her medical needs, no one had touched her in almost a year—no one but Nick Shade, and his touch had been about helping her through tragedy and nothing more.
They were two damaged people frantically attempting to survive without suffering further injury.
An impossible goal.
For one endless moment she wanted to draw away and then she understood that was exactly what he wanted her to do. He would never dare to touch her this way or have her touch him except to push her away.
Instead of pulling back, she said, “Show me more.”
He held utterly still for two beats and then he tunneled his fingers into her hair and kissed her. His lips were softer than she’d expected but the rest of him was as hard as stone. By the time he released her she was gasping for air.
“Careful what you ask for, Bobbie.”
She tucked her trembling hands under her arms. “I’ll bear that in mind in the future.”
“If you want an apology—”
“I don’t.” She steadied herself. “I’m glad you kissed me. I...” She licked her lips, savored the taste of him. “We should do that again sometime.”
He held her gaze a moment as if he might say something, but then he looked away.
“So.” She turned to his case map. “If Hanover isn’t our killer. Then who?” She cleared her throat and moved closer to the wall of information. Get your act together, Bobbie. She tapped the photo of Sage. “He saw the killer.” She set her hands on her hips and mulled over all that Sage had told her. “He said the man looked like my new partner. Devine’s all torn up about it.”
Nick joined her, keeping a safe distance. “You said Hanover makes Devine uncomfortable?”
Bobbie nodded. “I think he’s flirting with Devine. It makes him furious. Hanover is a real piece of work.” She stared at the photo of Sage again. The boy desperately needed something good to happen. Please let us find his sister alive. “Devine is rattled. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided he wanted to go back to Birmingham after this. I don’t think he’s accustomed to being doubted.”
She bit her lip, wishing she could just go to bed instead of trying to figure out this crazy puzzle and the man. But this puzzle was the reason Nick was here. The other—the kiss—was nothing more than a way to relieve the pressure from this building attraction or whatever it was. Stressful situations did that sometimes. Normal human reaction.
“Hanover has basically the same build as Devine,” Nick noted. “Dark hair. The boy may not have noticed the scattering of gray. It’s possible he’s the man he saw. Why do you believe Hanover isn’t the killer?”
“Besides having an alibi?” Hanover’s
assistant had happily explained that the two of them had worked until well after midnight both Wednesday and Thursday. “He’s too cocky. As if he wants us to suspect him. The idea of it thrills him.”
“He’s toying with you. Pulling your strings, watching you react. Your initial instinct is probably right.”
Which meant they still had nothing except a vague description that could fit a large portion of the city’s male population.
Twenty
Greystone Place
11:50 p.m.
The doorbell chimed, the Westminster notes resonating through the cavernous entry hall.
Mark Hanover stalled in his retreat toward the stairs. A frown furrowed his brow. An unexpected guest at this hour could only mean misfortune. If there was an abrupt drop or gain in the Asian stock market he would have received notification. The European market was hardly worth worrying about these days and the US market grew more volatile every day.
Perhaps luck was with him tonight and his ex-wife had run off to Vegas to wed her latest lover. The sooner she was married again or dead—either would be quite acceptable to him—the sooner she would stop running through his money. He despised the contemptible bitch. The only thing he loathed more than her was the alimony he was forced to pay. He should have taken care of her already.
Then again, perhaps he had. He’d paid her latest boy toy a small fortune to keep her distracted. A wedding contract came with a sizable bonus.
Mark checked the small monitor next to the front door. Steven Devine. He smiled. He’d wondered when this moment would come. Frankly he was surprised Bobbie Gentry wasn’t with him. Steven stood on the other side of the door, the landscape lighting illuminating the anger and frustration radiating from every delicious inch of him.
Mark hesitated only a moment before disarming the security system and unlocking the door. Since he had nothing to hide from the handsome detective, the fact that he was ready for bed was of no significance. He drew the door open. “Well, well, what have we here?”
Devine took one look at him and turned his head.
Mark smiled. He always slept naked. After a rigorous workout each night he showered and didn’t bother with clothes until he readied to go into the office. Annoyed the hell out of his ex-wife. Apparently his unexpected visitor wasn’t pleased about it, either. “If you’re planning to come inside, I’ll find a robe if that makes you more comfortable.”
Devine still refused to meet his gaze. “I’ll wait here until you do.”
“Very well.” Mark turned his back and started for the staircase once more. He took his own good time. When he reached the landing his penis was fully erect. He wasn’t ashamed of his aging body. He went to great lengths to keep himself fit. Not one lover had ever complained about his physique. As for sexual prowess, Mark had never been better.
He walked across his bedroom and into the closet. He fingered through the choice of silk robes until he found the one he wanted. He donned the exquisite royal blue robe and made his way back downstairs, anticipation sizzling along his nerve endings. Steven Devine had grown into quite a handsome man. But then, Mark had known he would. His gaze rested on the other man’s as he descended the final step. His mouth was as perfectly shaped, his lips as lush as ever.
The detective, still dressed in his sharp suit, stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind him. His stare was menacing. The blue of his eyes burning through Mark like laser beams. He shivered with delight.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Steven said, his voice a low growl, the sound making Mark even hornier, “but it won’t work.”
Mark laughed softly. “It appears it has already worked.” The French clock he’d found years ago in a little place in Avignon began its deep resounding count of the midnight hour. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
Steven sprang like a panther, shoving Mark into the nearest wall and moving in so close he could feel the anger humming through the younger man’s body. “I will not let you get away with this.”
Mark’s heart raced with the deep growl of his voice and the underlying threat of physical harm. “How could you possibly hope to stop me?”
The muzzle of his weapon was suddenly shoved against the soft underside of Mark’s chin. He shuddered with the excitement of it, his cock throbbed against the silk fabric of his robe, nudging the other man.
“You ruined my childhood,” Steven warned. “You will not ruin this.”
“I gave you what you wanted,” Mark whispered, his mouth yearning to taste the saltiness of his skin, the sweetness of his tongue. He was ready to explode with need.
Steven encircled his throat with the long fingers of one hand. “You raped a child, you son of a bitch.”
Mark closed his eyes, remembering how tight Steven had been. He drew in a deep breath, smelling the last traces of the cologne Steven had applied that morning. Dear God, he could eat him alive. “When did you ever complain?”
Steven’s handsome face was twisted with the fury coursing through his lean body. Mark had never wanted to fuck anyone as much as he wanted to fuck Steven right now.
“She sees what you’re doing,” Steven cautioned. “And we are going to get you.”
Mark laughed, loving this more than he ever imagined possible. “You don’t scare me. I will never be caught and you’re not going to be the knight in shining armor who charges in and changes that fact. I’m untouchable. I always have been.”
“You’re interfering with an official investigation,” he said through gritted teeth. “She’ll back me up. Wait and see.”
“She,” Mark said, “is as helpless as you are. I could destroy you with one simple phone call.”
Some of the anger drained from his face. Mark smiled. Oh, yes. This was worth whatever the cost...whatever the risk.
Steven drew back, lowered his weapon and visibly attempted to calm himself. “This is your final warning, back off.”
Mark laughed long and deep as Steven stormed out the door. He wasn’t concerned in the least about the spitfire who’d worked so hard all these years to turn himself into a well-respected detective who fought crime and sought justice for the innocent.
Mark knew his deepest, darkest secrets.
Twenty-One
Atlanta Federal Prison
Sunday, October 23, 9:15 a.m.
“Turn the cameras off.”
The guard named Malcolm appeared startled by the request. “Agent LeDoux, you know we’re not supposed to do that unless Mr. Zacharias visits him. The warden—”
Tony leaned closer to the man. “Unless you want the warden to know about your arrangement with Shade, you should do exactly as I say.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened. “I...don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You shouldn’t use your personal cell phone if you want to keep your communications secret.” Tony gave a half laugh. “Now turn off the video and the audio.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard went to the control box and did as Tony asked.
Malcolm unlocked and opened the door to the corridor leading to the interview room. The two guards who had escorted Weller there waited as per protocol. Tony opened the door between the two and entered the room where Weller waited. Behind him the swoosh of the door closing was followed by the definitive sound of the lock turning.
“My, my.” Weller smiled. “So many visitors in one week. Aren’t I the lucky one?”
Tony dragged out the lone chair on his side of the table and dropped into it. Weller was shackled per regulation. There was always something revitalizing about seeing psychopathic killers like him in chains. Personally Tony would much rather see them dead but this was the next best thing.
“I hear you’re having trouble with the old ticker.” Tony scrubbed at his chin, made a mental note to shave on the
way back to Montgomery.
“They tell me I’ll live,” Weller assured him.
“That’s too bad.” Tony cleared his throat. “I met with your son last night.”
Weller smiled, his evil eyes gleaming. “Is that so? How is my dear son?”
Tony allowed several seconds to pass before responding. He wanted the bastard to worry. Funny, he decided, how a man who ruthlessly murdered and butchered so many could worry about another human. Three or four times Tony had watched each interview in which Weller’s son was mentioned. In each instance the bastard’s expression and posture changed so subtlety it was nearly impossible to note. Unless you watched and watched and watched. This vicious monster had one Achilles’ heel. In whatever way his black heart worked, he cared for his son.
How fucking unbelievable was that?
“He’s determined to get himself killed just to prove he’s nothing like you,” Tony said bluntly. He’d figured out what drove Shade. “Frankly, I don’t see how he stands the idea of who he is long enough to get up each morning. Maybe he’d be happier if he didn’t.”
The fury that lit in those fathomless eyes abruptly extinguished and a slow smile spread across his thin lips. “Watch yourself, Agent LeDoux, you’re sounding more and more like the very monsters you profile. Oh, wait.” He pursed his lips a moment. “That’s right. You don’t do that anymore, do you? You’re being reassigned. Didn’t you get the memo? Your erratic behavior has become a liability to the prestigious BAU. Perhaps you’ll land in North Dakota or some other godforsaken place more suited to your skill level.”
Tony kept his jaws clamped together for a full ten seconds before he dared to speak. “I guess that puts us in—” he shrugged “—a similar situation. You’re stuck here—” he gestured to the room at large “—and I find myself at a not so happy place in my career. What I need is a big sensational splash to get my career back on track.” He cocked his head and smiled at the bastard across the table. “I think I’m going to help your son prove you ordered the murders in Montgomery just to lure him into a trap. You know how badly the Bureau wants to prove he’s not what he seems. I can make sure that effort fails.”