Damaged

by Nina D'Angelo

  “Then yes, I think this son of a bitch is still watching us. I think he’s waiting to strike when we least expect it. I don’t think he’s finished, and I don’t think he will ever be finished until he gets what he wants.”

  “And—and, do you think we’re in danger?” she asked, biting her lip as another shudder ripped through her. She hated this. She hated knowing that this monster could still be watching them, waiting and preparing to strike at any time.

  “No, I don’t,” Stephanie said. Angel didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Stephanie spoke.

  “Are you sure?”

  Stephanie nodded. “I don’t think we’re in any danger . . . yet, but I think we need to be careful. He’s not finished, Angel. He killed Katrina, and I don’t think he will stop. I think he’s planning something big. I don’t know what, and I’m not sure I even want to know. I just know we need to be prepared. I need you to do that for me.” Grabbing Angel’s other hand in her own, she whispered fiercely, “You need to be careful, Angel. If you’re out alone, look around, and watch your surroundings. Don’t take dumb risks, and stay smart. If there’s any indication he’s stalking you again, I want you to run and never stop.”

  “Stephanie, you’re scaring me,” Angel whispered, gritting her teeth when Stephanie’s hold on her became an iron grip.

  “Promise me, Angel,” Stephanie urged, her fiery gaze clinging to Angel’s. “God help me, I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you, Gena or Lyn. I love you girls. You’re the only family I have, and you mean everything to me. If you love me, you will be careful. Please, just promise me.”

  “I promise,” Angel vowed, shaken by Stephanie’s request. It was almost as if Stephanie knew something bad was coming, something that would change their lives forever. It scared the hell out of her.

  Her heart thundering against her chest, she asked, “What makes you so sure he’ll come back? I mean, he killed Katrina. She was his target. What on earth makes you think he’ll come for us?”

  “Because he can,” Stephanie said savagely, releasing Angel’s hands and standing. She moved to the fireplace, picking up a photo of Katrina, Angel, Lyn and herself hamming it up. “Katrina was only one of his victims. He wants all of us. He didn’t just stalk Katrina, Angel. He stalked all of us. Trust me, that son of a bitch is in no way done. I think he’s just getting started, but we’re safe for now. The last murders were in Dallas, but he’ll come back to LA. I know he will.”

  “Stephanie, what makes you so sure he’ll come back?” Angel asked, terror glittering in her eyes.

  “I know he’ll be back because the one person he wants to claim more than anything in the whole wide world is here,” Stephanie said tonelessly.

  “And that is?” Angel asked, instantly afraid of the answer.

  “Me,” Stephanie said bitterly. “The son of a bitch wants me.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Angel chided, watching her friend pace agitatedly.

  “Yes, I do,” Stephanie spat, her body coiled tightly with anger. “I know because while Katrina lay bleeding out, dying, he told me. He wants me. I’m the ultimate fucking prize. He won’t stop until he perfects his killing, and when he does, he’s coming for me, and there’s not a damn thing anybody can do about it.”

  “The police—”

  “Will do nothing,” Stephanie interrupted, fury flashing in her eyes. “They did nothing when Katrina died. They’ve done nothing for the past six months. They don’t give a damn that Katrina was murdered. I thought if I could show them that other girls have been killed the same way Katrina was, they’d investigate it. I stupidly thought they would give a damn. Instead, they told me I was irrational and told me to mind my own business. One detective even called me damaged.”

  “You’re not damaged,” Angel whispered, standing up and quickly moving to Stephanie. Wrapping her arms around her, she said softly, “You survived a horrible crime and you’re still standing. Not many people can say that.”

  Stephanie laughed harshly, resting her forehead against Angel’s. “Who wants to be a survivor when everyone else around you is dying? When everything and everyone you love are cut from your life, and you feel like you’re barely holding it together?”

  “Steph—”

  Stephanie stepped back from Angel, a mask of control slipping onto her face. “I survived a horrible crime. I’m still standing. When all is said and done, and others have come and gone, I’ll still be standing,” she said bitterly. “I’ll survive whatever other hells come my way. Like you said, I’m a survivor.”

  DOMINIC WALKED INTO Outlaws, whistling softly as he strode across the polished wooden floorboards. Breaking into an easygoing grin, he greeted Jax.

  “Well, well, well if it isn’t the prodigal son returned,” Jax teased him with a lazy smile. “That redhead you hooked up with must have been something special. In the five and a half years I’ve worked here, you’ve never taken a day off work, let alone three. Spill the dirt.”

  “I take time off,” Dominic said, giving Jax a mock scowl. “And what makes you think I hooked up with Stephanie?”

  “Come on, Dom, I know you. There’s no way in hell you didn’t hook up with her. I don’t blame you, though. She was sex on legs. Tell me, was she as good as she looked?” Jax joked, raising an eyebrow when Dominic stiffened, unconsciously curling his hands into fists and taking a step towards him.

  “It’s not like that,” Dominic snapped, angry at the way Jax was talking about Stephanie. Fighting the urge to smack the smirk off his friend’s face, he fought for control. “Stephanie’s not like that. We’re . . . friends.”

  “Friends. Riii-ggghhht,” Jax said, arching an eyebrow when Dominic scowled. Moving from the restocked glasses to the bar counter, he began to restock matches in the counter fishbowls. “You got friend-zoned, huh?”

  Dominic cursed as he walked around the counter and behind the bar. Grabbing two shot glasses, he slammed them down onto the counter. Picking up a bottle of Jose Cuervo, he broke the seal and liberally poured it into two shot glasses. Handing one to Jax, he picked up the other one, then leaned against the bar counter and saluted him.

  Jax grinned, watching his boss toss back a shot of tequila. He shook his head in amusement, lifting the shot glass to his own lips and sculling the shot. He breathed deeply as the fiery liquid slid smoothly down his throat.

  Chuckling when Dominic poured them both another shot, he teased, “Man, you’ve got it bad for this girl, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Dominic admitted.

  Jax leaned against the counter, studying Dominic. Dominic Delaney wasn’t just his boss, he was also his friend. He’d offered Jax a job when he was down and out. He shuddered as he imagined where he would be right now if he hadn’t met Dominic. He’d barely been scraping by, and had been one heartbeat away from living on the streets when Dominic had seen something in him that no one else had. He’d offered him a place to crash and a job tending the bar. He owed him his life.

  In all the time he’d known Dominic, he’d never seen him like this. He’d never seen him so wound up over a woman—and there had been many. Much to Dominic’s disgust, he was considered one of LA’s most eligible bachelors. Jax smirked. His friend had the three qualities you needed to make it in this town: looks, money, and charisma. Outlaws had made Dominic famous. Women flocked to him, and the fact Dominic played hard didn’t help his cause. He was a renowned womanizer who, until he’d met Sandra, seemed to have a different woman on his arm every week.

  Recently, Dominic had been restless, which was perhaps why he seemed to have settled down with Sandra Barton. Jax’s smile faded as he thought of Dominic’s on-and-off again girlfriend. He’d been surprised when Dominic started dating her. She wasn’t who Jax expected Dominic to date. Not, that she wasn’t beautiful; she was gorgeous, but only on the outside. From the time he spent around her, he’d found her to be shallow and petty. She was also extremely selfish and came off as sli
ghtly obsessed with Dominic.

  He’d been equally surprised to find out she was straight out of the police academy and had been recruited by the LAPD. What was even more surprising was the fact Dominic had been dating her for three months now—if you could call it dating. Dominic called, and she came running. The woman was enthralled with him, but he knew the feeling definitely was not mutual.

  Stephanie was different. He’d known it from the moment she’d walked into Outlaws, a month ago. He’d been tempted to hit on her himself, but he’d seen Dominic’s reaction when she walked into the bar; Dominic hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Jax was surprised it had taken him a month to approach her.

  “So, tell me about this girl, Stephanie,” he said. “What makes her different from any other girl who has walked in and out of your life?”

  Dominic sighed heavily, his fingers tracing the rim of the shot glass. “Hell if I know. I just know she’s different,” he growled, picking up the shot glass and lifting it to his lips. He tossed the drink down his throat, enjoying the fiery aftertaste of the tequila. Slamming the glass back onto the counter, he said quietly, “We’re friends, but we’re not.”

  “So, you haven’t . . .” Jax trailed off.

  “No.” Dominic growled again, glaring at him. “I told you, it’s not like that with her.”

  “What is it like with her?” he pressed, watching his friend scowl in annoyance.

  Dominic contemplated the question. Stephanie had shown up at his apartment last night, trembling and clearly shaken up. He hadn’t asked her what was wrong because he’d instinctively known she didn’t want to talk about what was troubling her. Instead, he’d held her, and they’d kissed.

  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. God, he was addicted to her mouth and the taste of her. She made him feel like he was slowly spiraling out of control. Every second he spent with her, every time they touched, made him even more determined never to let her go. It was getting harder and harder for him to pretend she was a friend and not anything more.

  Realizing Jax was waiting for an answer from him, he opened his eyes, his voice husky when he spoke. “When I’m with her, time stands still. I don’t want to be anywhere else, and I forget about everyone but her. She makes me feel alive,” he said softly, surprised by his own confession. Swallowing hard, he added, “I want to know everything about her. I want to know her.”

  “But, you’re just friends, right?” Jax said softly, grinning when Dominic groaned and rested his forehead against his arm on the bar counter. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  SANDRA BARTON SAT PARKED outside the Los Angeles Times Building, watching Stephanie Carovella walk out of it. Her eyes narrowed, anger coursing through her veins. She’d been following the redhead around all day, determined to find out who she was and why the hell she had been kissing Dominic.

  She’d discovered who Dominic’s mystery whore was by chance, when the woman in question had walked into the LAPD. She’d approached the precinct front desk just as Sandra had been flirting with Jase Devlin, one of the newest police recruits. She scowled. Jase Devlin didn’t like her. He was always polite, but there was thinly disguised disgust in his eyes whenever he looked at her, and she didn’t understand why. When he’d first joined the force, she’d gone out of her way to make him welcome, and she’d made it clear she found him attractive, yet he’d shot her down.

  She lifted her hand up to tuck a stray strand of her ash-blonde hair behind her ear, scowling again. To hell with Jase Devlin; now she had Dominic Delaney. He was hers, and he would stay hers. Glaring at the woman crossing the road, she watched her get into the driver’s side of a black, beat-up old jeep.

  She smiled slowly. She knew exactly who Dominic’s mystery redhead was. She’d watched Stephanie argue with Detective William Foley before she’d stormed off, her face a thundercloud. Naturally, being the concerned officer she was, Sandra had asked the detective if he was okay. Detective Foley hadn’t answered at first, his own expression filled with anger and frustration, but Sandra had been surprised to also see sadness in his eyes. Pretending to act impulsively, she’d nodded her head to the door where Stephanie had exited, and asked who she was.

  She’d held her breath, so sure she wouldn’t get an answer. Instead, Detective William Foley had let out a drawn-out breath and told her that the woman was Stephanie Carovella. Once she’d had a name, the rest had been easy.

  She’d logged into her own computer and typed Stephanie Carovella into one of their databases, surprised by the amount of information that had popped up. Stephanie was Hollywood royalty—a Hollywood brat. She was the daughter of acclaimed director and former actor, Stephen Carovella, and his beautiful wife, actress Jennifer Carovella. She’d grown up in the spotlight, until her parents’ brutal murder eleven years ago. She was an heiress who was worth millions. Sandra smirked. Not that you could tell. Stephanie’s jeep was more than ten years old, and looked as if it were on its last legs.

  Sandra frowned. She’d found Stephanie’s home address and driven past, expecting her to own some exclusive Hollywood pad. She hadn’t expected an apartment building that on the outside looked as if it had seen better days. She wondered why someone who was born into such wealth would live the way she did, and the only thing that came to mind was that she was hiding from something, or someone.

  She’d only meant to drive past Stephanie’s apartment, but she’d arrived just as Stephanie was leaving, and Sandra hadn’t been able to resist following her. She wanted to know what Dominic saw in the redhead.

  She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, leaning over and turning the key in her car’s ignition. She was beautiful; there was no doubt of that, but she knew that wasn’t what drew Dominic to Stephanie.

  Her hand curled into a fist, and she wrapped it tightly around the steering wheel as she began to follow Stephanie again. She turned her head, seeing a flash of lights from the corner of her eye. Recognizing the man inside the car, she frowned. She’d seen the same man earlier that day at Santa Monica Pier as she’d been trailing Stephanie. He’d been watching Stephanie, his gaze fixated on her. At the time she hadn’t paid much attention to him, her own focus also on Stephanie, but it was too much of a coincidence that they were following the same woman.

  She pushed her thoughts away, telling herself it was just that—a coincidence. Gritting her teeth, she continued her tail, her agitation growing when she realized that Stephanie was heading towards Sunset Strip. Sandra knew exactly where she was heading; she was heading towards Outlaws and Dominic.

  Gripping the steering wheel more tightly, she tightened her jaw as anger coursed through her veins. Dominic Delaney was hers. She’d worked too damn hard to get him into her bed to let some Hollywood princess steal him away from her. She’d even turned a blind eye to the little sluts he slept with when she wasn’t around.

  He thought she didn’t know about the other girls, but she knew everything about him. She’d done her research. She’d played hard to get to begin with, knowing he quickly grew bored with the women he slept with. She’d been determined not to become another notch on his bedpost, and she hadn’t—after three months, she was still in his bed. And that’s where she planned to stay.

  Her eyes closed briefly, and she felt tears prick her eyelids. Opening her eyes, she quickly brushed the tears away. This woman was different. She wasn’t like Dominic’s little sluts who came and went. Recalling the kiss she’d witnessed, she swallowed hard as anguish tightened her chest.

  None of the other women Dominic had slept with meant a thing to him. They were just warm bodies, women to lose himself in for the night, but Stephanie was a real threat who threatened to destroy her chance of happiness with Dominic. Her lips twisted into a sneer. She wasn’t going to let that happen. Dominic was hers, and he was going to stay hers. Nobody tried to steal from Sandra Barton and got away with it. Certainly not some spoiled Hollywood brat.

  Sandra
smiled coldly. She bet Dominic didn’t know who Stephanie Carovella really was. But he would. She’d make damn sure of it.

  STEPHANIE WALKED INTO Outlaws and scanned the room for Dominic. Today had been the day from hell. She’d gone to see Detective William Foley, the lead detective on Katrina’s case. She’d shown him the collection of clippings and notes she’d written, comparing recent murders to Katrina’s, but he’d dismissed them completely and told her she needed to move on.

  She scowled as she walked towards the bar, frustration and fury welling up inside of her. He wanted her to move on, just like that, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She refused to.

  She’d tried to tell William Foley that there was a pattern; that each murder she’d collected had a similar signature. Casey Fielding had been found positioned on the Toreros football field. Sue Ellen Johnson and Abigail Marques had been found in their rooms positioned as if they were praying before God.

  She touched her scar, frustrated with the knowledge that the LAPD saw her as nothing but a nuisance. They didn’t really care if she moved on. They just wanted her to leave them alone. They weren’t interested in Casey Fielding, or any other victims. Casey Fielding had been murdered in San Diego, and Sue Ellen Johnson and Abigail Marques in San Antonio, Texas. As long as their murders weren’t in their jurisdiction, the LAPD didn’t give a damn about them, but she felt different; she’d seen what he was capable of.

  As Katrina lay dying, he had pushed her back onto the same bed Katrina was on and ripped her clothes. He’d held a knife to her throat and expected her to lie there quietly as he did whatever the hell he wanted to her. He’d expected her to be docile, to beg for her life, but she’d refused. She’d fought back, and she’d come out of it alive. She was a survivor. She always had been.

  She’d survived the Jesus Christ Killer when she was eight years old, and was forced to watch him brutalize her parents. She’d survived Katrina’s killer, and she’d survive whatever the hell else was thrown her way. She was determined to fight for each murdered girl, and she was determined to fight for Katrina. The LAPD could go to hell. She wasn’t going away anytime soon, and the sooner they realized it, the better.