“Monica,” Jake cried. His voice was filled with desperation.
“Jake?” she finally answered.
“Oh, thank God. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not,” she replied, and a sob caught in her throat. “I want to get down. Please get me down from here, Jake. I just want to go home.”
“I’m going to pull you up to me,” he said. “And then I promise I’m going to take you home.”
She looked down to the ground, surprised by a half a dozen patrol cars that shone their bright searchlights up to where they were.
Where was Matt? Had he gotten away? Was this not the end but rather the beginning of a new cat-and-mouse game? She moaned as the pain in her upper arm intensified as Jake began to pull her up to the beam where he now stood.
It wasn’t until they were both in the cage that she collapsed against him. “Where’s Matt?” she asked.
“Dead.” Jake pulled her closer into his arms and then gasped. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”
She followed his gaze and was shocked to see blood running down her arm. “I... I think I was shot. It hurts, but I’m okay.” She pressed closer to him. “Are you okay?”
“I am now. I... I thought you were dead. I thought he’d killed you.” Emotion was thick in his voice. She looked up at him and she couldn’t tell if his cheeks were wet because of the rain or because he’d been crying.
When they reached the ground the police were waiting. “She needs medical attention before we talk to anyone,” Jake told the man who had identified himself as Sergeant Ben Wallace.
“I have a dead man on the ground and I need some answers,” the sergeant replied.
“She’s been shot. Right now that’s more important to me than a dead man on the ground,” Jake said gruffly.
He didn’t leave her side as she was led to an awaiting ambulance. He stood by silently as the medical team cleaned the wound. Thankfully it was only a graze. She was bandaged up and then they were ready to speak to the officers, and Monica wasn’t about to let Jake incriminate himself in any way.
“The dead man is Matt Harrison, the real Vigilante Killer,” she said. “Jake met him in a grief group and had some suspicions about him. He came to me with those suspicions and we were trying to find out if those concerns were true. Tonight he tried to kill us to keep his secrets safe.”
The two of them were taken to a nearby police station where they were questioned for hours. Jake said nothing about the murder pact, but he did say that there were six men who had become friends during their meetings at the Northland Survivor group.
They had been in the sergeant’s office for about two hours when another officer walked in to tell them a search warrant had been executed and in Matt’s house they had found evidence that supported the fact that Matt was the serial killer Monica and Jake claimed him to be.
It was nearly dawn when they were driven back to the job site and Jake’s car. “It’s finally for sure over,” she said in exhaustion.
“And now you know it was all Matt...no gangs and no Larry Albright. Matt did it all.”
“I’m just so tired I feel like I could sleep for a month,” she replied. She stared out the passenger window, where lights had begun to appear in homes as people got out of bed and readied themselves to face another day.
Even though she was tired, there was still a streak of residual fear that had a grip on her. Although it was over, she had a feeling it was going to take her a while to put this night behind her.
She turned back to look at Jake. “I’ve never been as scared as I was when you shoved me off that beam. Swinging in the air sixteen stories high was terrifying.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry. It was the only way I knew to make you less of a target. Unfortunately, it didn’t completely work. How does your arm feel?”
“It hurts, but not too bad. I’m sorry you had to kill a man you considered a friend.”
“Yeah, me, too. But when he started shooting at you I saw red and I knew he had to be stopped immediately. He was so busy shooting at you he didn’t see me shooting at him.” He released a deep sigh. “It’s been a hell of a night.”
That was an understatement. They didn’t speak again until they reached his house and walked in through the front door. “I think we could both use at least a couple hours of sleep,” he said.
“I definitely second that,” she replied. Her eyes itched with tiredness, and a slight headache had begun to pound across her forehead. Her arm hurt and it was going to take some time for her brain to unscramble and process everything that had happened.
“I’d say you have a pretty riveting story for your podcast tonight. You not only helped in identifying the killer, but you were shot by him and survived. You’ve got your big story, Monica.”
“Maybe I’ll be excited about the story later after I’ve slept. Right now I’m just too exhausted to care.”
“Then I’ll just say good-night for now,” he said.
Together they went down the hallway where she went into her room and he walked on down to his. She peeled off her clothes and pulled a nightshirt over her head. She then went into the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth.
Minutes later she was in bed, but the minute she closed her eyes she was flying in the air...in the dark...with nothing to hold on to. Gunshots echoed in her head and fear closed up the back of her throat and iced her body.
She gasped and opened her eyes. Fear still pounded through her veins and she knew she’d never get to sleep in this bed by herself.
She needed...she wanted...Jake. Without any other thought in her mind, she got out of bed and walked down the hallway to his bedroom.
He was in his bed, covered up by a sheet, and his eyes were closed. “Jake?” Her voice trembled.
His eyes opened drowsily and he looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, but can I...can I sleep in here with you?”
He held her gaze for a long moment and then raised the sheet, a silent invitation for her to join him. She moved quickly across the room and slid into the bed.
He immediately pulled her back against his chest and his arm went around her waist. His warmth took away the ice inside her. The strength of his embrace comforted her.
Her last thought before she fell asleep was that neither of them had mentioned the fact that just before Matt had appeared on that beam, she’d told Jake she was in love with him.
Chapter Eleven
Jake woke slowly, and instantly all his senses came alive with Monica. Her soft curves were tight against his body and her scent surrounded him.
He’d been asleep for about two hours. Monica was still soundly sleeping in his arms. He knew he wasn’t going to go back to sleep, but he remained in the bed anyway.
He’d love to wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life. She fit so perfectly against him, as if she had specifically been made for him. He’d definitely love to have her in his arms all night long for every night he had left on this earth and then wake up each morning and see her across the breakfast table from him.
But that wasn’t going to happen. What was going to happen was that this was probably going to be one of the worst days of his life. It was the day he had to tell her goodbye.
He drew in the scent of her and remained perfectly still, wanting to savor these last moments with her in his arms. He wished things were different. He wished he were the kind of man who could welcome her love with open arms. He wished they could get a black schnauzer and have a couple of children and live happily ever after. But that just wasn’t going to happen.
With this thought in mind, he eased away from her and out of bed, grateful that his movements didn’t wake her up. He grabbed clean clothes and then padded down the hall to the guest bathroom. He didn’t want to shower in his own bathroom where the sound of the water might dis
turb her.
When she’d appeared in his bedroom doorway and had asked to sleep with him, he knew it had been residual fear that had driven her into his arms for the last time. One thing he had learned about her was that she tended to process events long after they happened, and then she got emotional.
Standing beneath a hot spray of water, he felt as if he needed to scrub himself clean of the scent of her and wash away the feel of her body against his.
When he was dressed, he went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. It was a gray day. It was as if the dark clouds from the night before had decided to stick around and might at any moment spit down more rain. The gray day mirrored the condition of his heart.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and then moved into the family room, where he turned on the television and searched for any news stories concerning the events of the night before.
While everyone was reporting on the death of the serial killer, nobody had the story of the life-and-death struggle that had taken place high on the beams of the building. Monica would be able to report that story.
However, the news reports did let him know Grant Timmons had been released from custody. He was not the killer, but he was a troubled man who had professed to be. There was no question that there had been a rush to justice where he was concerned.
He and Monica were both mentioned, him as a respected architect and her as a podcast reporter. She would be pleased by the publicity the news would generate for her. She was definitely going to gain new viewers.
Several reporters spoke about the issue with Grant Timmons, finding it inexcusable that the police had trotted him out at a news conference before fully investigating him. The reporters called for an investigation into the release of Grant’s name.
Then there was Matt.
A picture of him appeared on the television with the reporter talking about the murder of his mother and the evidence police had found in his home. It not only included a hit list of sorts, but also pictures of his victims taken right after their murders and tacked to Matt’s bedroom wall.
Pictures... Jake’s mind couldn’t comprehend that the man he had once considered a friend got up every morning and went to bed every night with pictures of the heinous murders he’d committed on his bedroom wall.
Jake turned off the television and went back into the kitchen and sat at the table. He didn’t need to see any more news. What he needed to do was prepare himself for telling Monica goodbye.
I’m in love with you, Jake. Her words whispered over and over again in his head. It was the last thing she’d said to him before he’d shoved her off the beam.
He hoped he didn’t hear them again today. Dammit, he’d warned her from the very beginning that he wasn’t interested in any meaningful or lasting relationship. Even after they had made love she’d indicated they were both on the same page and it hadn’t meant anything emotional between them.
He released a deep sigh and swallowed hard against his own emotions as he thought about what the rest of the day would bring once she woke up.
Walking down the hallway toward his bedroom, his mind told him to go back to the kitchen, but his heart wanted just a moment to gaze at her while she was unaware.
She was curled up facing him as he stood in the doorway. Her hair was a silky spray of darkness against the white pillowcase. He’d never seen her animated features at rest. She looked peaceful and achingly beautiful. Her eyes were closed and her long dark lashes dusted her upper cheeks. Her mouth was slightly open, as if awaiting a lover’s kiss.
He clenched his fists, stepped back from the doorway and then went down the hallway to the kitchen. He poured himself another cup of coffee and once again sat at the table to wait for her to wake up.
An hour later she walked into the kitchen. Clad in her navy robe and with her hair tousled, she looked as beautiful as he’d ever seen her. His heart squeezed tight.
As usual she beelined to the coffee and poured herself a cup and then sat at the table across from him. A sleepy smile curved her lips. “It seems odd to say good morning at this time of the day, but good morning.” She raised the cup to her lips and took a deep drink.
“Back at you,” he replied. “Did you get enough sleep?”
“For now.”
“We made the news.”
“Tell me all.”
While she drank her coffee, he told her everything he’d learned from listening to the various news reports on television. All the while he talked to her he was already starting the grieving of her absence.
There would be no more shared coffee in the mornings or cuddling on the sofa in the evenings. He would no longer hear the sound of her laughter or see the tiny frown line that occasionally danced between her eyes when she was thinking.
By the time he’d finished telling her everything he had heard on the various news reports, she had finished two cups of coffee. “I’m going to go take a quick shower and get dressed.” She stood. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
When she left the room he cleaned up the coffee cups and then went back into the living room. Rain had started to patter against the windows.
He stared out the window and a knot of tension twisted in his chest; it was tension based in grief. This would be the second time he’d had to tell a woman he loved goodbye. He would never, ever put himself in this position again.
He was still standing at the window when Monica came in the room. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a deep blue T-shirt that made the color of her eyes pop.
“Let me know when you’re ready to pack up your equipment and I’ll help you,” he said.
She didn’t move. She stared at him with an intensity that threatened his breath. “Please, don’t send me away, Jake.”
“It’s over, Monica. It’s time for us each to go back to our own lives.” The pain of his words reflected in the blue depths of her eyes.
“But it doesn’t have to be over.” She took several steps toward him. “Jake, did you not hear what I said to you last night? I’m in love with you.”
He stiffened his shoulders and tried desperately to erect a mental defense against her. “I’m sorry, Monica, but that changes nothing.”
She took another two steps forward, now standing so close to him if he leaned forward he’d be able to capture her lips with his.
And heaven help him, that’s what he’d like to do at this very moment. He wanted to draw her against him and take her mouth with his. He needed to tell her that he never wanted her to leave, that he needed her to be here with him forever. But he did none of those things.
“I believe you’re in love with me,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I thought we were both on the same page and knew that when the killer was no longer a threat, we’d go our own separate ways.”
“I believe we’re still on the same page.” She now stood so close to him he could smell not only her dizzying perfume, but also a minty scent from her toothpaste. “Jake Lamont, you look me in the eyes and tell me you aren’t in love with me.”
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie to her. “It doesn’t matter what I feel or what you feel.” He desperately tried to hang on to his emotions, but he already felt them slowly spiraling out of control.
He stepped back from her and sought anger rather than the killing pain that caused hot tears to press behind his eyes. “Dammit, Monica. I warned you that I intended to live my life alone. I warned you that I didn’t want love in my life.”
“But why? Tell me why you don’t want love. Don’t you want to grow old with a partner? Do you really not want any children or a family...a safe place to fall in a world of chaos?”
“Monica, please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.” He hadn’t expected her to fight him...to fight for him.
“I’m not trying to make it difficult, I’m trying to understand. I love you and you love me so why does this have to be so complicated? Why does this have to be the end?” Her features were taut with both pain and confusion. “Surely after everything we’ve been through together I deserve an answer,” she added softly.
“You know what the answer is?” The guilt that he’d carried around for two long years came crashing down on him. “I don’t deserve any happiness or laughter or love in my life because I’m the reason why my sister was murdered.”
* * *
MONICA STARED AT HIM. His entire body trembled and his shoulders slumped forward. His eyes misted with tears and he looked like he was on the verge of a complete breakdown. “What are you talking about?” she asked softly. “Max Clinton murdered your sister.”
“She would have never been at her house that night if I hadn’t been so damned selfish.” Tears trekked down his face and he swiped at them angrily. “She was murdered because of me.”
“I can’t imagine you doing anything terrible, Jake.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “Really? Maybe you just don’t know me well enough to realize what kind of man I am.”
“What kind of selfish thing do you think you did on the night your sister was murdered?” She reached out to touch him, but he brushed her away and took several steps backward. “Tell me, Jake. Tell me what happened that night.”
He collapsed on the sofa, as if his legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. He dropped his head in his hands. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were nearly black with torment.
“Even though it had been two months since the last time Suzanna had spoken to or seen Max, she still believed he was stalking her. She’d go to work every day but when dinnertime rolled around she’d show up here and she stayed every evening here, more times than not falling asleep on my sofa.”
He raised his head and looked beyond her shoulder. His voice was flat and weary as if he’d gone over this a million times in his mind. And in replaying it, someplace along the line he’d broken.
Desperate Measures Page 15