Unbound (Crimson Romance)

by Nikkie Locke

  She woke up before he did. She had laid content in his arms for almost an hour when her stomach started growling. Using some serious sneaky skills, she managed to escape his grip on her and head for the kitchen.

  While she cooked breakfast, the phone rang. She quickly grabbed the cordless off the bar before it could wake up Dean.

  “Hello?”

  No one spoke. Her stomach clenched.

  “Hello?” she tried again.

  “Sorry,” a voice answered. “Wrong number.”

  As her muscles loosened, she smiled. “Luke?”

  He hesitated. “Who’s this?”

  “Definitely Luke,” she laughed. “It’s Payten.”

  “Payten? What are you doing at Dean’s?”

  She hesitated. “I… Umm…”

  “Pretend I didn’t ask. Where’s Dean?”

  “He’s in bed,” she answered.

  “Long night?”

  Payten hesitated again.

  “Never mind.”

  “Do you want me to have him call you when he gets up?” she asked.

  “Nope. Tell him I’ll be in tomorrow.”

  “I can do that. Will I get to see you this time around?”

  “Yeah.”

  She started to answer, but the dial tone cut her off. “Still a man of few words,” she muttered, laying the phone on the counter. Using the spatula she still held, she flipped the pancakes on the griddle.

  She never heard Dean as he slipped up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, but she could smell his familiar scent before he ever touched her. He kissed her below her ear. His lips kissed a gentle path down her neck to the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder.

  “Busy here,” she teased.

  He pressed another kiss to her neck. Letting her go, he moved to grab cups from a cabinet. “Pancakes?”

  “You seem to like them.”

  “I love pancakes. They’re my favorite. Juice?”

  “Apple, please.”

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye. All sleepy-eyed and scruffy, he couldn’t be more deliciously tempting. She noticed him staring at her legs. The shorts she’d worn to bed left her legs mostly uncovered, and he definitely stared at them.

  “Dean?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re spilling that juice.”

  He looked away from her legs to the mess he had made on the counter. “Well, look at that.”

  Laughing, she tossed him a towel that she’d put by the stove in case of spills. “Clean it up.”

  “Who was on the phone?” he asked as he mopped the juice off the counter.

  “Luke. He said to tell you he’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Shit.”

  “What?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “What? No. You’re fine. He usually calls me a week before he rolls in. He knows something’s up and I didn’t tell him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Last time we talked, he was in some shitty little town outside of Baton Rouge. He likes to roam.”

  “Obviously. I haven’t seen Luke since the beginning of last summer.”

  “Yeah?” Dean carried their glasses to the bar.

  She handed him a plate loaded down with pancakes. He set it on the bar while she got out plates and silverware for them. He moved across to the pantry for the syrup while she set their places.

  “You could use a table,” she said, sitting down at the bar.

  He shrugged. “I don’t need one when it’s just me.”

  “What does Luke do?” she asked.

  He sat down at the bar next to her and began to help himself to some pancakes. “He’s a musician. He takes gigs where he can sing and play a little bit of everything. He usually bartends and buses tables too. He loves the bar life.”

  “I just can’t imagine Luke singing.” When he finished, she moved her share of pancakes off the center plate and on to her own. “Kalvin always sings when you guys play. Luke barely even talks.”

  “Luke doesn’t think there’s much worth saying,” he said. “Singing is a whole different matter. Luke says music is all about the things people should be saying.”

  She nodded. That made sense. As they ate, Payten enjoyed the quiet. It wasn’t an awkward silence that needed to be filled. It was comfortable. It gave her time to get lost in her own thoughts.

  “I missed the town board meeting last week,” she realized.

  “So?”

  “I always go. With everything going on, I forgot about it.”

  “Bummer.”

  She wasn’t upset by his one-word answers. She knew it was because he was too busy eating his pancakes to get more out. She had finished hers already, but he ate almost twice as much as she did.

  “Tomorrow night is the betterment committee meeting.”

  He stopped eating. “Do we have to go to that?”

  She laughed. “I do. The Valentine’s Dance is next month.”

  He frowned. “I go where you go until they find your little psycho. Betterment committee meeting and all.”

  “Poor baby,” she teased.

  “Yuck.”

  She laughed. “You’ll survive. I promise.”

  “Only if I’m really lucky.”

  She stood and took her plate to the sink. “Whine, whine, whine,” she teased. “I’m headed for the shower.”

  “Tease, tease, tease,” he mocked.

  She smiled at him. “You’re welcome to follow.”

  “Oh! Not fair! Time-out!”

  She headed for the bedroom, laughing. She still smiled when she came back out with an armful of clothes and went into the bathroom.

  • • •

  Dean had finished putting the breakfast dishes in the sink when the phone rang. Hoping it was Luke, he snagged it up.

  “Hello?”

  No one answered him.

  “Hello?”

  Still, no one answered. He started to brush it off as a dropped call from a telemarketer, then remembered Payten had been getting weird calls.

  “I know you’re there.”

  He waited for a minute, then hung up. If they wouldn’t answer, he wasn’t going to keep at it. He called the police station.

  “Hartsville Police Department. This is Officer Pierce.”

  “Burke, this is Dean. I just got one of those weird calls Payten’s been getting. She’s in the shower right now, and I don’t want this freaking her out. Can you deal with it?”

  “I’ll see what I can do with the phone company, but it’s going to take time.”

  “We’ll come to town in an hour or so. I’ll drop Payten at the diner and come see you. I’ve got to grab a shower first.”

  “Dean — ”

  “The shower just went off. I’ve got to go,” he lied. He hung up before Burke could say anything else.

  He laid the phone down on the counter and stared at it. He was amazed at how one phone call with silence on the other end could make his heart thunder inside his chest.

  Moving quickly, he checked the locks on all the doors and windows of the house. All of them were locked. Remembering the photograph of Payten from outside her house, he pulled the curtains closed on all the windows as well.

  He had finished putting down the blinds on the glass doors in the kitchen when the phone rang again. He hurried to it, hoping Payten couldn’t hear it in the bathroom.

  “Hello?”

  The voice that answered sent chills down his spine. “Hello, Dean.”

  The air burst from his chest, and his mouth went suddenly dry. He hadn’t heard that voice since he was ten years old.

  “What’s the matter, Dean? I know you’re there,” he mocked.

  “They’re going to catch you,” he blurted out.

  “Like they caught me last time, Dean? Do you remember how long it took for them to find me? Do you remember what I did while they looked for me? Or were you too young?”

  “I’m not ten
years old anymore. You don’t scare me.” Even as he said it, he could hear his own voice ringing in his ears. He might not be ten years old, but he sure as hell sounded like he was. He sounded terrified.

  “Always so brave, Dean. Do you remember what I did to your mother? Do you, Dean? Answer me.”

  “Yes.” His voice cracked.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I remember.” Bastard, he thought. You can handle this. Keep him talking. He’ll slip and Dad’ll catch him.

  “I loved Livy so much. She was mine, Dean, and you took her. Do you remember that?”

  “I didn’t take her,” Dean protested.

  “Oh, you did. She wanted to stay with you. Couldn’t just leave you with that asshole father of yours. No. She was going to leave me to stay with you. My wife!”

  “She was my mother.”

  “She was my wife! Mine! And you stole her!” The raging voice on the other end of the phone went silent.

  He could hear ragged breathing for a minute, then nothing. He waited. He knew the other man wasn’t finished.

  “You stole mine. Now I’m going to take yours.”

  Dean heard the denial screaming in his head, but he managed to keep it in.

  “All that creamy, freckled skin and that hair. It’s been a long time for me, Dean. I might have to have her before I kill her.”

  Dean couldn’t stop himself. He felt the denial burst from his chest in an anguished cry and heard the bastard’s sickening laugh.

  “Oh, yes, Dean. I’m going to take her, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You’ll be as helpless as you were when I took your precious mother back. I’ll see you soon, Dean.”

  The dial tone buzzed in his ear. He couldn’t move, frozen in place by panic.

  “Dean,” Payten called. “Dean!”

  He swallowed and tried to sound calm as he called back. “Yeah?”

  “Where are the towels?”

  “Under the sink.”

  “Well, that’s dumb. You have a practically empty closet in here.”

  He had no idea what to say back. He was falling to pieces in his kitchen — on the floor of his kitchen, he realized, staring at the front of a cabinet — and she wanted to discuss where he kept his towels? He shook his head and tried to pull himself together.

  He moved the phone away from his ear. Wondering when his legs had given out, he pushed himself to his feet. Two deep breaths later, he called the police station again.

  “Hartsville — ”

  “It’s me, Burke. He called again. I’m bringing Payten to you. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Dean, what the fuck is going on?”

  “Call my dad. Tell him it’s Kevin.”

  “Who?”

  “Kevin Peterson. Dad’ll know.” He hung up the phone without another word.

  Payten was coming out of the bathroom as he crossed the living room headed for the bedroom.

  “Shoes,” he said. “Now.”

  “Dean?”

  “Now. We’ll talk in the truck. We have to go.” He ducked into the bedroom, careful to leave the door open, and grabbed a clean shirt.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. She sat on the floor to tie her shoes.

  As he traded one shirt for the other, he tried to explain. “He called.”

  “Like creepy stalker dog-murderer man?”

  “Yeah. I know who he is. We’re going to the police station.” He grabbed his shoes and carried them into the living room.

  She took the hand he offered and stood up. “How do you know?” she asked, following him to the front door.

  He didn’t answer. He handed her coat to her instead. She took it from him and put it on while he put on his own. He couldn’t help watching her, terrified he would lose her.

  He reached out and pulled her to his chest. She held on to him tightly and returned his tight embrace. When he finally pulled back, she looked at him with a heartbreakingly sweet smile.

  “It’s going to be okay.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Now, please, put your shoes on before we go outside.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  At the police station, Payten sat quietly at Officer Smith’s desk. It didn’t actually matter that she was quiet. She would have been able to hear Dean and his father screaming, anyway.

  Dean screamed about Kevin Peterson — his former stepfather and the man who’d murdered his mother. Chief Whitley screamed back that it was impossible for it to be Peterson.

  She watched Burke pace across the floor in front of the chief’s office for the billionth time. She could tell it drove him nuts not to be in the room with Dean and the chief. He walked over to her when he noticed her watching him.

  “Can I get you some water or anything?” he asked.

  “I’m good.”

  Officer Smith shook her head at him. “You’re a moron, Pierce. You’ve asked her three times in ten minutes if she needs something to drink. If she said no the first time — ”

  “Shut up,” he muttered.

  “He can’t help himself,” Payten told her. “Burke hates being left out of a problem.”

  “Busybody,” Smith accused.

  “Worse,” Payten replied. “He’s a fixer. He thinks he can fix everyone’s problem and keep the peace.”

  “Martyr,” Smith said with disgust.

  “Yup. That’s our Burke.” Payten smiled. “Out to save the world.”

  “I’m about to fix two of my own problems right now,” he muttered.

  “We love you, Burke.”

  Officer Smith snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

  “I love you, Burke. And no worries. Officer Smith will warm up to you.”

  “Sheesh, what’s wrong with the men in this town? ‘He grows on you.’ ‘You’ll warm up to him.’ Are you women really that desperate?”

  “I’m not dating either one of those types.”

  Burke snorted. “No, you’re dating the slow-and-steady-don’t-make-a-move-until-someone-tries-to-kill-her type.”

  Payten laughed. “Slow-and-steady, my tush. We’ve been on one date, and we’re living together.”

  “After how many years of mooning over you?” he asked.

  “Why do people keep saying stuff like that? What did I miss?”

  “Apparently a lot,” Smith answered.

  The implication pissed her off. Standing, she marched across the room and slung open the door to Chief Whitley’s office. Dean and Chief Whitley glared at her.

  “I’m sick of waiting,” she informed them. “Maybe it is Peterson. Maybe it isn’t. Standing here screaming about it isn’t doing anybody any good. Move on,” she demanded.

  They stared at her like she’d grown horns. She squirmed a little, but refused to apologize. She was right, damn it.

  “Where do we go from here?” she asked.

  Chief Whitley regained his composure first. He sat down in his chair behind his desk. “Whoever this man is — ”

  “It’s Kevin!” Dean insisted. “It was him on the phone this morning.”

  “Shut up,” she ordered. He gaped at her. She did her best to ignore it while she gestured for Chief Whitley to continue.

  “He’s a dangerous man.”

  “Duh,” she said. “Sorry, but I knew that three days ago.”

  “The point is, the two of you need to be protected.”

  “She needs to be protected,” Dean argued. “She’s the focus.”

  “I don’t think so,” Burke said. He slid into the office as if he’d been invited into the conversation. “We’ve put the pictures in order as best we can by the timestamps. He left them on the pictures, so we assumed he did so for a reason. The positioning of the first photographs as well as the progression of them indicates the man was originally focused on Dean. He shifted to Payten later.”

  “So he wants Dean too?”

  “I believe so,” Burke answered her.

  She looked at Dean to judge how he was taking the news. He shrugged. �
��Idiot,” she muttered.

  “Kevin said he wants to take you,” he objected. “He plans on killing you to hurt me. He isn’t going to hurt me.”

  “It cannot be Peterson,” Chief Whitley protested.

  “For argument’s sake, let’s say he was somehow responsible,” Payten said. “What’s that mean for Dean and me?”

  “He’s a dangerous man.”

  “I got that already. He killed Dean’s mom.”

  “It wasn’t just Liv. After Liv, he went on a killing spree,” Chief Whitley said. “You should be old enough to remember.”

  She shrugged. “I really don’t. I only remember Liv because she and Mom were friends.”

  “Kevin Peterson murdered eight women total,” Burke told her. “He avoided capture for three weeks after his first murder.”

  “Eight women?”

  Chief Whitley nodded. “Eight single mothers all from this county. All of them were murdered when at least one of their children was home.”

  “I thought Kevin was a normal guy. Don’t serial killers have like criminal pasts or something?” she asked.

  “You watch CSI, don’t you?” Chief Whitley asked.

  She couldn’t help but smile a little at his disgusted look. “I watch Criminal Minds too.”

  “Ruined,” he muttered.

  “Sometimes people snap,” Burke told her. “There’s all the technical mumbo jumbo you want to add to it, but sometimes people just snap.”

  She nodded. “All right. So whether or not this man is Kevin Peterson — ”

  “He is,” Dean interrupted.

  “ — Dean and I are in danger,” Payten continued. “What do we do about that?”

  “You’ll both need a guard,” Burke said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Payten needs one. Not me,” Dean protested.

  She smacked his arm. “If I get one, you get one.”

  “You both need one,” Chief Whitley stated. “I only have so many officers, though. You’re going to remain together under the supervision of one officer around the clock.”

  “Even at night?” she asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” Chief Whitley answered. “He took pictures outside your window and broke into your house. Twice. We’re still not sure how he did it.”