“Sarah?” Dana said, answering the call.
Sarah made a sound. A hoarse sob, and Dana’s heart went to her knees. “Are you okay?” Dana couldn’t ask it fast enough. My God, had the killer come after Sarah?
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I tried but I couldn’t save it. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Dana asked. Her breath was racing. The bad thoughts, too.
“The Purple Longhorn,” Sarah finally answered. “It’s gone, Dana. All gone. Someone set fire to place.”
Dana looked at Jack. “He burned my pub,” she managed to say.
Oh, God. My mother’s pub.
If Jack hadn’t caught onto her arm, Dana would have dropped the phone. He took it from her, put it on speaker.
“I’m a close friend of Dana’s,” Jack said to Sarah. “Are you all right? Was anyone hurt?”
“I’m okay.” Though the shakiness of Sarah’s voice proved otherwise. “No one was inside, but someone wrote something on the sidewalk. Well, maybe the arsonist wrote it. Maybe it was some kind of prank.”
“What did it say?” Dana asked. She braced herself for a soul warning.
“It’s smeared in spots,” Sarah went on, “but here’s what I think it says. Are you smiling that pretty smile now, Alyssa? Well, you won’t be for long.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jack sat at the desk in the top floor suite and studied the reports that Rusty had given him. Well, that’s what he tried to do, but his mind was fully on Dana. She was in the bathroom, trying to soak away the tears, something she’d been at for a while now. However, Jack knew it would take more than a long bath in a Jacuzzi tub to do that.
The pub had been her mother’s, and that meant it was Dana’s last physical connection to the parent she’d loved. The loss had cut her to the core, probably in the same way that losing the gallery had been for Grace.
Jack cursed the killer.
This sick sonofabitch had to be stopped. But how? Vince, Grace, Dana and he couldn’t hide out forever, and Jack wanted to put a time limit on all these reports, DNA tests and suspect interviews. He wanted action. Because this wasn’t going to stop until the SOB was dead. That meant figuring out a way to keep Dana and Grace safe while he drew the killer out into the open.
Somehow.
The somehow was still repeating in his head when Jack spotted the movement on the monitor. It was Vince on the stairs. And he wasn’t going back to his room. Or Grace’s. With a glass of something, whiskey probably, dangling from his hand, he was coming up to the top floor suite.
Now, what the hell did he want?
Yet another question, but maybe he could get a quick answer to this particular one. Jack went to the door and threw it open.
“It’s late,” Jack greeted.
“You’re up,” Vince pointed out. The corner of his mouth hitched into that semi-cocky smile, and it was an expression that Jack sincerely hoped he never had. He hated that damn smile.
“What’s the latest update from your man, Rusty?” Vince asked. “And I know there must be an update because he never stops working.”
Jack would have liked to say there wasn’t an update, but Vince was right. There was. “The DNA has been collected from Dr. Hartwell’s hairbrush. Rusty’s also trying to track down the woman’s psychiatric records. Seems she spent a stint in a mental health facility when she was a teenager.”
“That shouldn’t surprise anyone.” He took a sip of his drink and glanced around the room. For Dana, no doubt.
“She’s taking a bath,” Jack mumbled.
Vince just flexed his eyebrows and leaned against the doorjamb as if he had no plans to move anytime soon. “Any other reports I should know about? And by the way, I should know about all reports. You ass isn’t the only one in danger here.”
“Never said it was.”
And since Vince was right about that, he should just tell him what else he'd learned. Besides, what Vince didn’t find out from him, he’d just go digging for, and he might alert the wrong person. They still didn’t know what kind of resources this killer had.
“Rusty found out a little bit more on the car accident that maimed Eric,” Jack said. “His father was driving drunk, and that’s what caused the accident.”
“Well, that’s just dandy,” Vince grumbled. “Our likely biological mother was a fuckin' loon and sperm-donor daddy was a drunk who nearly killed his test-tube perfect son. I guess it’s occurred to you we don’t exactly have a stellar gene pool here.”
Yes, it had occurred to him. “I’m pretty sure I’m sane. Reasonably so, anyway. Can you say the same?”
Vince chuckled. “Not even on a good day.” He tipped his head to the bathroom door. “You fucking her yet?”
Shit. “That’s none of your business.”
“Probably not. But if it were you, I’d fuck her.”
“Have you fucked Grace yet?” Jack countered.
Vince smiled, sipped his whiskey. “No, but not from lack of trying. I’m definitely gravitating in her direction and not just her genetalia.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jack snarled.
“I have a three-fuck rule. I’m with a woman a maximum of three times, and I’m outa there. I’m not exactly relationship material.”
“Because you’re a CIA killer.”
Vince acknowledged that with an unruffled nod. “But I’m rethinking my rule because of Grace. I’m thinking of fucking her and then seeing just how far this could go with her. You know how much that scares me?”
“I do,” Jack answered honestly. He was battling something similar. Except he was scared because he wasn’t scared. Well, not scared of falling hard for Dana anyway. That seemed natural. Inevitable. And that made it all the more unsettling.
“You know how much it scares me to admit that to you?” Vince asked.
“I do,” Jack repeated.
“Fuck,” Vince growled. “I don’t need a drinking buddy or anyone to listen to me whine about breaking my own rules.”
“Probably for the best. I wouldn’t make a good drinking buddy for you. Not enough ties to the CIA, and I’m definitely not a hired killer.”
A single muscle flickered in his jaw. “But you’ve killed.”
Jack hadn’t thought for a minute that Vince hadn’t managed to get his hands on Jack’s background check. Yeah, he’d killed twice in self-defense and to protect clients who’d hired him to keep them safe.
“I’d do it again to save them,” Jack insisted.
“Good,” Vince declared. “Because it’ll come down to one of us killing this sick fuck. You know that, right?”
Jack nodded. He’d known that from the moment he set eyes on Dana.
“What about Rusty?” Vince asked. “You trust him?”
Jack tried not to be insulted with that insult. “Completely.”
Vince looked him straight in the eyes. “And you trust me?”
“Not completely.” He couldn’t help it. Jack smiled--probably that half-assed smile, too--when Vince did. “But then you don’t have complete trust in me, either.”
“No.” Vince coupled that with a headshake. And then extended his hand. “But we need a truce. I can’t keep looking over my shoulder for both the killer and for you.”
“Ditto.” Jack shook his hand. A gentleman’s agreement, but he wondered just how much that was really worth since neither of them was a gentlemen. “Now, what about your reports? You’ve no doubt learned something that you’ve withheld from me.”
Vince lifted his shoulder. “Only that a friend at the FBI is doing some computer sketches to give me an idea of how Eric might have looked with some cosmetic surgery.”
Jack hadn’t forgotten about that, but he’d tied up his men with all the other pieces of this puzzle of an investigation.
“We can’t rule Eric out,” Vince continued. “Even though Patricia was raped and Eric is supposed to be, well, nut-less, he could have used a foreign object or had surgery to
correct that problem.”
Yeah. Jack hadn’t needed a reminder that they were dealing with a sicko, but there it was.
Vince scratched his head. “This friend is also trying to figure out who had access to the files for Dr. Hartwell’s now dead attorney.”
Jack’s men were working on that, too, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a different set of eyes.
“Your guys are digging into this PI, Samuel Wright?” Vince asked.
Jack nodded. They were digging deep and hard. “The possible surrogates, too. One of them might know of someone who wanted to stop Dr. Hartwell’s project.”
“Good. I’m also trying to get my hands on Dr. Hartwell’s autopsy. Just in case.”
Yeah. Just in case she’d been murdered. On the surface it looked as if she’d died from natural causes, but Jack knew surface details were often misleading.
“One more thing,” Vince had. “How many security cameras are you watching up here?”
“A lot. Why?”
Vince peered around the corner, and his attention landed on the screens. “If there’s one in Grace’s bedroom, kill it. She’ll freak out if she knows it’s there.”
“Modesty issues?” Jack asked.
“Mommy issues.”
Jack had read her background report so he knew of Grace’s tyrannical insane mother. “There’s no camera in her bedroom. Or yours. Don’t give me any reason to regret that.”
Behind them, the bathroom door opened, and both of them turned in Dana’s direction. She was dressed, thank God. She was wearing a white above the knee robe that Rusty had brought in with his last delivery of supplies. Her hair was wet, combed away from her face. Her face was rosy and warm, no doubt from that marathon bath.
Jack felt the kick in his stomach. The overwhelming feeling that the love of his life had just stepped into the room. Unfortunately, Vince made a sound to indicate he might be thinking the same damn thing.
Her eyes widened a little. Probably because she was surprised they weren’t in their usual bark and growl mode.
“Did something else burn?” she asked.
“No,” Vince said, but he sounded thunderstruck at seeing Dana. Maybe he was already forgetting the rules he wanted to break with Grace. Or maybe he had his sights set on a different kind of rule breaking.
Jack shot him a back-off glare. Vince chuckled, finished his whiskey and walked away. Jack shut the door. Locked it, too.
“Are you okay?” Jack went to her, eased his arm around her, but he also kept an eye on the surveillance screens to make sure Vince was making his way back down the stairs. He was.
“Really?” Dana said, following his gaze. “Are you sure something else didn’t burn?”
“I’m sure.” And maybe it would stay that way. Jack started her moving in the direction of the bed.
But Dana stopped, stared at him. “I promised you a blow job.”
Instant erection. But Jack tried to keep it in his pants. Dana didn’t need this now.
“Promises keep,” he assured her.
She stepped back and scrubbed her hands down the sides of her robe. “What if I don’t want it to keep?” She frowned, cursed and waved that off. “That didn’t come out right. What if I want it to happen now? And what if I want to do more than just a blow job?”
Oh, this was going to be hard, and he wasn’t talking about his erection now. That’s because while Dana was definitely offering him sex, he saw something in her eyes.
Doubt.
And not just doubt of the normal variety. This was serious.
It was the adrenaline talking. Maybe even the need to be with someone just so she could forget that she’d just lost one of the most important things in her life. Maybe the most important.
“I know you want this, too,” she said, her gaze sliding to the front of his pants.
“Yeah,” he settled for saying. “And if I thought for one minute that you were ready for this, I’d be on you.”
She shook her head. “You’re turning me down?”
“No.” It was a risk, but Jack went to her, slid his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. “I’m just postponing it.”
Dana pressed her hand over his erection. “Doesn’t feel like you want to postpone anything.”
“I don’t. Believe me, I don’t.” He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted her. But there were rules here. Jack just hoped he remembered that at the moment Dana didn’t need his body nearly as much as she needed him. And some sleep.
He moved her hand away and slipped his own hand into her robe. On her bare stomach. He was about to offer to take off the edge for her. Using just his hand. Maybe his mouth, too. After all, he’d gotten her off with oral sex earlier. But the soft sound stopped him.
A catch in her throat.
“I’m falling apart,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s like being stalked by Trey again. It’s like being stabbed a thousand times.
Jack moved his hand from her belly to her waist and pulled her to him. Before his chest landed against her breasts, the sob came. So did the tears. And Dana collapsed into his arms.
Chapter Eighteen
Even in sleep, Dana knew something was wrong.
Her eyes flew open, and it took her a moment to orient herself in the suite. It was dark outside.
And Jack was next to her.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, and he brushed a kiss on the top of her head.
It felt so natural, as if this were the way she woke up from all her nightmares, but it was the first nighttime nightmare with Jack in her bed.
She was still groggy but totally aware of their positions. He was wearing boxers, on his back, and she had her robe-clad body and leg slung over him. She was using the crook of his arm for a pillow. Again, as if she slept this way every night.
Other than her being in bed with a man, nothing seemed out of place. But it felt it. The images of the nightmare stayed with her. The hands on her throat.
Where’s your soul?
Maybe she was subconsciously reliving Patricia’s murder, but this felt more immediate than that. And different.
“Sleep,” Jack insisted. “You need to rest.”
Yes, he did also, but Dana was betting he hadn’t gotten any sleep or rest. Maybe he was still a little shell-shocked from her demanding that they have sex. That was a first for Dana. She usually took the more submissive approach when it came to being with a man. But there had been something inside her.
And no, not from the heat.
There’d been an impatience to get past the next step with Jack. Of course, that implied there were many steps to come. Maybe there were. But she’d also been experiencing some shell-shock of her own. The grief that went all the way to her bones. Losing the pub, losing her mother. Losing the only thing that’d kept her grounded.
Well, until now.
Jack certainly grounded her, and he’d held her until she’d cried every last tear in her body. He’d been there for her, and she wasn’t going to forget that.
Dana snuggled closer, got another comforting kiss on her head, and then she heard the sound. Some kind of vibration.
“My phone,” Jack told her. He snatched it from the nightstand, and that’s when Dana noticed the clock. It was two a.m.
“Rusty,” he answered after glancing at the screen.
That made Dana snap to a sitting position because Rusty wouldn’t have been calling at this hour if something bad hadn’t happened. She’d been wrong to dismiss that eerie feeling. That’s what falling hard for a man could do. It could cause her to gloss over things, some warnings, that she needed to hear.
“How many?” Jack asked, already jumping from the bed and grabbing his clothes.
Dana did the same, and she listened. She prayed, too. Her gaze zipped to the security monitors when she saw movement there. It was Rusty, and with his phone sandwiched by his ear, he was at the front door.
And he had his gun drawn.
“Keep watch,” Jack said, and he ended the call. He looked at her while he finished dressing. “Someone phoned in a bomb threat to the neighborhood, and the cops spotted a suspicious vehicle parked just up the block.”
Dana heard her own sharp intake of breath. Felt her legs turn wobbly. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
“The cops will want to evacuate us,” Jack added.
And that was no doubt the killer’s plan.
“I’ll tell Grace,” she insisted.
“We’ll tell them,” Jack corrected. “You’re not leaving this room without me.”
Dana pulled on her jeans, a top and stepped into her shoes. However, before she could make it to the door, she saw more movement on the monitors. It was Vince, racing out of his room and toward Grace’s, and he was armed.
“Vince knows,” Dana mumbled.
“Then, maybe he knows where the killer is,” Jack said, adding some profanity.
The moment that Jack was dressed, he strapped on his shoulder holster, drew his gun and started for the door. He positioned Dana behind him before he opened it.
Vince and Grace were already hurrying up the stairs toward them. Vince was shirtless, wearing just his jeans, and Grace had on a white robe that looked identical to the one Rusty had given Dana.
“A friend just called,” Vince said.
“Yeah, there’s a bomb scare,” Jack finished. “More likely a ploy to get us out in the open.” He slapped off the lights and went to the windows.
“Please tell me they’re bulletproof,” Vince said. He went to the opposite of the room where Jack was heading.
“They are. And no one can see inside.”
Well, that was something at least, but it wouldn’t stop the cops from trying to force them out of there.
“Keep watch on the monitors,” Jack told her, and both Grace and she hurried to them so they could do that. Rusty was still the only person on any of the screens.
“How many men you got out there?” Vince asked, his attention nailed to the backyard.
“Two. One in front, one out back. But I’m sure Rusty’s already called for more backup.”
Dead Ringers Page 15