“Of course not. He’s just a friend,” she said, irritation creeping into her voice. Glaring at him, she asked icily, “Or do you think I’m incapable of having male friends, too? God knows these girls do.”
Picking up her Diet Coke, she pulled the tab on the can, opening it. Taking a deep swig, she silently counted to ten, refusing to let Lyn get to her. She knew her friend was trying to cause trouble between her and Ben. She wouldn’t let her.
“Hey,” Ben said, reaching out to take the can of Diet Coke from her. Gently sitting it on the table, he did the same with their plates. He twisted around to look at her, reaching out to stroke her cheek gently before his hand slid down to cup her face. “I trust you babe, more than anyone in the world. I know you would never cheat on me. It’s not who you are. Never doubt that.”
Leaning closer, he dipped his head, his mouth taking hers in a slow, languid kiss.
“I think this is our cue to leave the room,” Gena muttered, grabbing the carton of steamed rice and Black Bean Beef and standing. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room listening to loud music to block out any noise.”
Ben’s lips left Stephanie’s and he pressed his forehead against hers, laughing softly when Gena and Angel left the room before Lyn teasingly murmured, “If you need a hand.”
“Get lost,” Stephanie growled, glaring at Lyn as she sashayed out of the room. “God, she’s unbelievable.”
“Ignore her. I do,” Ben murmured, his mouth capturing hers again. He gently pushed her until she was lying on the sofa, his body covering hers.
Stephanie kissed Ben back, sliding her hands down his chest and underneath his T-shirt, briefly touching his abs before she hooked her fingers into his jeans loops and pulled his hips tightly against her own.
Pushing Ben’s T-shirt over his head, Stephanie kissed him fervently, smiling when he reached for the hem of her own T-shirt. Sliding her hands up his bare chest, she locked her arms around him, determined to forget everything, but Ben’s lovemaking.
Stephanie closed her eyes when an image of Dominic popped into her head. Pressing into Ben, she slid her hands into his hair, kissing him. There was a hint of desperation in her kiss, and Ben drew back, studying her intently. She opened her eyes, looking into his.
Smiling at her, he leaned onto one elbow, trailing his fingers down her throat and onto her shoulder. Brushing one of her bra straps out of the way, he placed a moist kiss on the hollow of her throat, before lifting his heated gaze to hers.
“I love you,” he said hoarsely.
“I know,” she murmured, sliding her hand over his jaw.
“Do you love me?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
He smiled at her, and she smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes as his mouth covered hers. She clung to him, wanting to forget about everything, especially Dominic Delaney and their kiss. And she would she determined as she pulled Ben closer.
Even if it were the last thing she did.
STEPHANIE SHOT UP in bed, her body shaking and drenched with sweat. Half turning to look at Ben sleeping peacefully beside her, she closed her eyes, and silent tears fell down her cheeks. She brushed them away with the back of her hand, drawing her knees up to her chest. That had been her worst nightmare yet.
She took gasping gulps of air, but the sobs still erupted from her as she wrapped her arms around her legs and rocked back and forth. This time she’d been lucky; she’d been able to wake up before she woke the whole house with her screams.
With trembling legs, she got out of bed and moved to the end of it. She picked up Ben’s T-shirt and slid it over her head, then moved unsteadily to her bedside drawers to pull out a pair of panties.
As she slipped them on, she turned back to glance at Ben. When he murmured her name she froze, but he rolled onto his stomach, and his hand slid underneath his pillow.
She hadn’t lied tonight when she’d said she loved Ben. She did. She just hadn’t told him in what way.
Opening her bedroom door, she padded into the living room, picking up the folders she’d left on the table. Sitting down on the couch, she balanced the folders on her knees, staring at them contemplatively. He was killing again. She knew it. She was certain he’d never stopped. Picking up the first folder, she opened it, pulling out the articles she already knew off by heart.
Studying the first article, she read the headline Cheerleader Slain, and shuddered. She didn’t need to read the article. She knew what it said. Casey Fielding, a nineteen-year-old cheerleader from USD, had been raped and murdered. Her body had been found—dumped on the university football field with her throat slit—by the Toreros football team, when they’d shown up for an early morning practice run.
Her murder had been almost identical to Katrina’s. She picked up the next newspaper article, closing her eyes. Tears slid down her cheeks as she thought about the two girls who were found butchered in their dorm room—raped with their throats slit, and positioned on their knees before God.
Casey Fielding had been murdered a month after Katrina, and Sue Ellen Johnson and Abigail Marque’s murders had happened two months later. She’d seen the same signature each time, and had shown the articles to the LAPD who’d dismissed her ideas as irrational. They’d told her she didn’t know what she was talking about, and that she didn’t understand police procedures.
One detective even told her she was a frightened college girl with paranoid delusions. It hadn’t mattered to them that she’d seen a pattern; that she had already been able to see the signature of a serial killer developing. That same detective had told her she was damaged goods. He’d read about her parents and labeled her as screwed up, just like everyone else who knew who she really was had. Detective William Foley hadn’t wanted to hear what she thought. He hadn’t wanted to know the LAPD was dealing with a serial killer, one who wouldn’t stop.
Touching the scar on her hand, she shuddered. He’d spoken her name. He knew who she was. He’d been waiting for her; she was sure of it. She had been his intended victim, and Katrina was just collateral damage. Closing her eyes, she let her tears fall freely. He would never stop until he’d claimed her completely. She knew it, deep within her heart. He was in no way finished with her. She was certain that this was just the beginning of her nightmare.
Her breath hitching in her throat, she opened her eyes wearily. She was so damn tired. She was tired of the demons plaguing at her, the nightmares that never went away, and of being alone. All her life she’d had nightmares, and she was always alone.
How stupid she’d been to believe she could be a normal girl, especially in LA. She’d never be normal; not with her history. Not with what had happened to her parents. Not when she had watched them die.
Unable to be alone with her thoughts anymore, she stood up and moved swiftly into her bedroom. She picked up her discarded jeans off the floor and yanked them on. Looking at Ben still asleep, she smiled bitterly. Once upon a time, before her parents’ death, he would have been her Prince Charming. She would have fallen in love with him, and they would have lived happily ever after. Walking to the bed, she leaned down and kissed his cheek, smiling when he didn’t stir. He was still her Prince Charming in some ways.
Picking up her phone and her runners, she walked out of the bedroom without a backwards glance and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the wall, smiling bitterly. Ben had saved her from herself, but it wasn’t enough; not anymore. She’d woken up tonight, in the throes of her worst nightmare yet, and it hadn’t been Ben’s arms she’d wanted around her. She’d wanted Dominic. She’d needed him.
Putting her runners on, she grabbed her car keys from the foyer side-table and walked out the front door. She knew where she was going. She knew she was probably making a colossal mistake and that her judgment was impaired by the impact of her nightmare, but she didn’t care.
DOMINIC STRETCHED OUT in bed, his arm tucked underneath his head. He turned to look at the naked blonde sleeping beside him. When he’d calle
d Sandra tonight, he’d had every intention of breaking up with her. Then he’d started thinking about Stephanie and that kiss, and he’d thought about what Tyler had suggested. He’d used all his energy on Sandra while his thoughts had been completely on Stephanie.
He groaned softly, the memory of their kiss making him hard. Damn, she could kiss. She’d blown his mind when she’d slid her mouth over his. It had taken every ounce of control he had not to make love to her then and there on that damn Ferris wheel. She’d tasted so sweet, and one kiss had definitely not been enough. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. The woman was potent, and more dangerous than he’d realized.
Contemplating waking Sandra up again, he quickly discarded the idea. He didn’t want to make love to Sandra and pretend it was Stephanie. It wasn’t fair to Sandra, and if he were really honest with himself, he wanted to make love to the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind. He wanted to make love to Stephanie Carovella.
Pulling the covers back, he got out of bed. Picking up his jeans from the floor, he slid them on, then grabbed a T-shirt and tossed it over his shoulder as he walked down the spiral staircase of his open loft.
Padding downstairs, he smiled. He loved his apartment. When he’d first bought it, it had been nothing more than an old storage loft. He’d designed the apartment layout and shaped it into his own bachelor pad. It had been his gift to himself after Outlaws had become a success. It was his home; the sanctuary he came to when he needed a timeout from the bar and everything else in his life.
Moving to the liquor cabinet, he poured a shot of whiskey before sitting down on the black leather couch. Leaning back, he took a sip of his drink, relishing the feel of the fiery liquid sliding down his throat. His thoughts turned to Stephanie again. He wondered why she ordered the same drink, but never drank it. The question was plaguing him, and he wanted to ask her, but instinct told him he might not like the answer.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering the look on her face when she’d told him about her friend Katrina. She’d let him in; not her boyfriend but him. He smiled. It showed she trusted him more than she trusted anyone.
Hearing the sound of someone slamming their fist against his front door repeatedly, he scowled, quickly looking up to his bedroom. He was relieved to see Sandra was still asleep. Yanking open his front door, he was stunned to find Stephanie standing in front of him.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” she began, swallowing hard. “I just needed to see you.”
Dominic took in her shattered expression and the way she was shaking and opened the door wider. “Come inside,” he urged, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“You said if I couldn’t sleep, I could come here and hang out,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off his bare torso. Her gaze slid over his toned chest, then lowered to his stomach. Running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, she took a step forward. Dominic’s hot gaze met hers, and he closed the distance between them as he wrapped his arm around her neck and brought his mouth down.
Leaning up onto her tiptoes, she clutched his left shoulder and placed her other hand on his chest. Swaying against him, she moaned softly as his tongue met hers, and they dueled together. Dominic wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him, and slid his hands from her waist to cup her backside. Her hand moved from his shoulder to tangle in his hair, holding his mouth to hers. Breaking apart finally, they both struggled for breath, their chests heaving rapidly.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured, pressing her forehead against his. “You have a girlfriend, and I have . . . you know what I have.”
“A boyfriend you will never love,” Dominic rasped, his eyes dropping to her mouth. With a groan, he slid his thumb against her bottom lip, groaning again when she took his thumb into her mouth. “Here’s the thing. I don’t care that you have a boyfriend you don’t love, and I sure as hell don’t care that I have a girlfriend because I don’t love her either. The only thing I care about is you, here with me, now.”
SANDRA STRETCHED LUXURIOUSLY, touching Dominic’s side of the bed. She frowned when she felt a cold, empty space, an indication he’d been out of bed for a while. Hearing voices, she wrapped the bed sheet around her body and silently tiptoed to the edge of the open bedroom, pressing against the column, obscuring her from downstairs. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Dominic holding a statuesque redhead in his arms. She clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes flooding with tears when Dominic dipped his head down to kiss the redhead passionately.
Narrowing her eyes, she watched the woman step away from Dominic. Reaching up to touch his face, the woman stretched up and kissed him again, before turning around to walk to the door. Sandra’s bottom lip trembled when Dominic grabbed the woman, twisting her around again and kissing her hard.
Stuffing her fist into her mouth, she tried to stop the distraught sobs escaping from her. Dominic had never kissed her like that. He’d never pulled her so tightly against him, as if he were afraid to let her go. He’d never cupped her face so tenderly. Seeing the emotion glittering in his eyes as she looked down at them, she closed her own eyes. And he’d most certainly never looked at her that way.
Like a man in love.
Her eyes snapped open, and she clenched her jaw in anger. The redhead had no right. Dominic was hers. She’d chased him for months before she’d gotten him into her bed, and she wasn’t letting him go.
Ever.
Hatred flooded through her as she clenched her fists at her sides. She didn’t know who the woman was, but she’d find out. She’d find out, and she’d destroy her.
STEPHANIE SILENTLY WALKED into the house, closing the door quietly behind her as she slipped off her runners. Picking them up, she held them between two fingers as she headed to her room.
She walked past the living room, jumping when Angel said quietly, “Are you okay?”
Stopping in the living room doorway, Stephanie shrugged, giving her a shaky smile. “Not really, but I will be. Why are you still awake?”
Angel massaged her ankles as she undid the strap on one of her stiletto heels. “I just got off work,” she said, sighing heavily. “I thought my night was hell, but you look as if yours was worse. Did you have another nightmare?”
Stephanie stepped into the room, sitting on the couch beside Angel. Smiling humorlessly, she said, “When don’t I have a nightmare?” Not waiting for Angel to answer, she dropped her runners onto the floor and leaned back on the sofa. “Tonight was bad, Angel. It’s the worst I’ve had in a while.”
“Was it—” Angel started, hesitating before she continued softly, “Was the nightmare about him?”
Stephanie laughed harshly, unconsciously banging one of her fists against her thigh. “Isn’t it always about him?”
Angel grabbed Stephanie’s hand and slid it into her own. Stephanie clutched her hand gratefully, whispering forlornly, “Angel, I’m so sick of these nightmares, but they never stop. I close my eyes and see blood and death everywhere. It’s as if I can see him, but I can’t. I feel as if he’s chasing at my heels, and breathing down my neck. I just want the nightmares to stop.”
“Oh honey, I wish I could ease the pain,” Angel murmured sympathetically, leaning her head against Stephanie’s shoulder. “I wish I could shoulder some of the load.”
“You can’t,” Stephanie said bitterly, her eyes filling with tears. Wiping them away hastily, she added, “I don’t ever want you to go through this hell. You went through enough.”
Smiling brightly at Angel, Stephanie squeezed her hand. “You know your support means everything to me. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you’ve taken it all in your stride.” Taking a deep breath, she added quickly, “You’re my best friend, Angel, and I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”
“You won’t have to,” Angel said, bumping her arm gently. “You’re stuck with me, Stephanie, forever. We’re going to grow old together.” Falling silent
, she studied Stephanie’s worn-out expression. She hated seeing the shadows underneath her friend’s eyes, and the constant pain she’d become too much of an expert at concealing. She knew her friend craved the stability she’d never had, and wanted someone who would love her—demons and all.
Angel cursed the man who had turned their lives upside down. It had started with little notes at first. Harmless letters sent to Katrina, Lyn, Stephanie and herself. The letters had graphically described what he wanted to do to them. When they started receiving flowers, they’d still thought of it as harmless pranks their boyfriends were playing on them. Then the heavy breathing phone calls had started, quickly escalating to threats, and the constant feeling they were being watched. More than once, she’d heard someone walking behind her. She’d never told anyone, dismissing it as her overactive imagination. Now she knew differently. Katrina’s murder had shown them all. She swallowed down her fear.
Stephanie thought no one knew what she was researching, but Angel did. She was looking for a pattern. She was looking for him, and Angel knew she wouldn’t stop until she found him. Stephanie was obsessed with bringing Katrina’s killer to justice. Angel just hoped she didn’t pay the ultimate price in the process.
Hesitantly, she asked the one question constantly on her mind. “Do you think he’s still out there, watching us?”
Stephanie’s expression was savage when she lifted her head to look at Angel. Angel swallowed hard again, cursing herself for bringing up such a sensitive topic, but she needed to know.
“Do you want me to lie to you?” Stephanie asked stonily, moving her eyes off Angel’s face to concentrate on the cracks in the wall above the fireplace.
“God no, Stephanie, you never have to lie to me. Tell me the truth. I need to hear it,” Angel whispered, watching Stephanie rein in her emotions, her face suddenly a blank canvas. She didn’t know how her friend did it. She managed to control every emotion she was feeling and push it deep down within herself.
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