by Rita Herron
Yet the bitch was not pure.
Those nipples begged for a man’s mouth.
Would she scream when he touched her? Beg him to stop?
She straightened her skirt, long slender fingers running over her ass as she examined herself in the mirror.
He wanted to touch that ass himself. And he would.
She sank onto the stool in front of her vanity and began combing through her dark hair. It was a deep reddish brown, shiny and long, wavy on the ends, curling around her neck. Her hand moved in nice even strokes.
Was she counting them?
His hands itched to thread the strands around his fingers. To wind them so tight she’d cry out in pain as he rammed himself inside her cunt.
Then she twisted her hair around one hand and slid a glittery comb in the bun to hold it away from her neck, exposing the creamy skin of her throat. He licked his lips, hungry to have her.
What would her skin taste like? Salty? Sweet like honey?
Excitement coursed through him.
Did she know he was out here watching? Maybe she did and she was putting on a show for him.
She turned sideways on the stool, slowly strapping on a pair of black-heeled sandals. Her toes were painted a deep crimson red.
Blood red.
Need shot through him, scorching hot. Heady.
Finally she checked her make-up then picked up a tube of lipstick and painted her lips. The same color as her toenails.
Hot, delicious red again.
Smiling at herself, she spritzed perfume behind her ears, then a dot between her breasts.
Hmmm…
Satisfied with her looks, she grabbed her cell phone, jammed it inside a mini black purse, then sashayed from her bedroom to the living area.
He moved around the side of the house, slipping behind the bushes by her front door.
Stupid woman made it easy for him. She lived alone at the end of a street. He supposed she’d chosen the pretty little neighborhood thinking it was safe, that neighbors weren’t far away.
They were far enough.
All tucked in their own houses with TVs blaring or heads buried in computers or their phones. No neighborhood watch here. In fact, his research indicated half of the homes had gone into foreclosure and were vacant.
She stepped onto the front stoop, then turned to lock the door, and he moved like lightning. She tried to scream as he grabbed her by the throat, but he used a paralyzing maneuver he’d learned in prison, and seconds later, she sagged in his arms.
He brushed her cheek with his lips as he carried her to the Honda he’d stolen after that fucking cop had nearly caught him in the truck. He opened the car door and settled Nan inside, smiling as she slumped down into the front seat.
“Soon we’ll be back at my place.” An Internet search at the library had allowed him to find an abandoned house not too far from Lenora that would work. A house just like the one he’d lived in as a child.
Back when the voices in his head had started.
He licked her neck. “Then the fun is going to begin, Nan. So much fun…”
CHAPTER SIX
MICAH JERKED THE MAN BY THE COLLAR OF HIS SHIRT. “WHO ARE you and what the hell are you doing stalking Lenora Lockhart?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. They were set a little too close together, his nose was crooked, his teeth tobacco stained.
“I’m not stalking anybody, asshole. If you’re here to shake me down for some money, I don’t have any.”
“It’s Sgt. Hardin.” Micah tapped the Silver Star on his shirt. “Texas Ranger.”
“Oh, shit,” the man muttered.
“Oh, shit, yeah,” Micah growled. “Who do you owe money to?”
The man shrugged his beefy shoulders. “No one. You just looked like you wanted something. I figured it was money.”
The man was nervous about something. “Why were you running? Someone hire you to find Lenora?”
“I told you I wasn’t watching nobody,” the man snarled. “I was just out for a smoke.”
“Yeah, right. You live in that complex?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend live there?”
The man lifted his chin. “No.”
“Then what?” Micah dug into the man’s pocket, yanked out his wallet, then flipped it open to look at his ID. Billy Willard, forty-five. “Either spill it or I’m locking you up. Probably gonna find a rap sheet, won’t I?”
Willard cursed. “Look, I got into some trouble a while back, but I’ve been clean for months.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Just some petty stuff.”
Micah tightened his hold. “How petty?”
“Jesus. A bag of weed, that’s all.”
Micah studied the man’s eyes. They kept darting back toward the truck. “Is that why you were here? You buying dope?”
“Listen, man, I’m on parole. I can’t go back to jail. They’ve got lunatics and murderers and rapists in there.”
Micah relaxed slightly. “You weren’t here looking for Lenora?”
An angry glint darkened Willard’s eyes. “I don’t know who this Lenora is, but no. I came here to make a deal. Period.”
Micah released him. “Then get the hell out of here.” He had to get back to Lenora himself.
Willard jumped in the Range Rover and roared from the parking lot.
Micah glanced around again, then strode back to Lenora’s door and knocked. “It’s Micah.”
When the door swung open, relief spilled through him. She was safe for now.
He had to keep it that way.
LENORA LET MICAH IN, HER HEART HAMMERING. SHE’D BEEN worried sick that Simpleton had been outside and had hurt Micah. The crazy maniac had probably made friends in prison, ones she didn’t want to meet. Hell, he was probably the leader of his own gang. Any one of them could be following her. “What happened?”
“False alarm,” he said. “Guy ran because he was buying dope.”
Relief whispered through her. “Thank God.”
Micah nodded and squeezed her arm. “Go to bed and try to rest, Lenora.”
His touch made her tingle all over. But that tingle frightened her in another way, so she hurried up the stairs. When she reached the landing, she paused and turned to look back at him. “Micah, you’re welcome to sleep in my office.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather stay down here so I can keep watch.”
The reminder intensified her anxiety. She’d prefer he was upstairs with her, chasing away her nightmares.
But if he was downstairs, he would hear if someone tried to break in.
“There are sheets and a pillow in the closet for the fold out. It’s not very comfortable—”
“Trust me, I’ve slept on much worse.”
His dark gaze pierced her, and he looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead he walked back toward her living room.
She slipped into her room and closed the door, but as soon as she turned off the lights, the images flooded her. Dark images of the room where that monster had kept her, of his hands touching her, his mouth biting at her.
Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. The room was stifling hot, the walls closing in, the sound of his footsteps shuffling as he came nearer echoing in her head.
She flipped the light back on, then moved out to the terrace. Desperate for air, she dragged in several deep breaths, then paced, forcing herself to look at the pale moon. The sky loomed above with glittering shapes that sparkled like diamonds.
Micah was downstairs. Only a few feet away.
Repeating the reminder in her head, she finally crawled onto the chaise, pulled the blanket over her, closed her eyes and let exhaustion claim her.
But in her sleep, the demons came.
Heavy breathing echoed in the silence. The rancid odor of her own sweat and the blood on her fingers where she’d clawed at Simpleton’s arms when he’d tossed her in the cage. The cage that he’d kept her in before he took her to the h
ouse with the basement. A cage meant for an animal.
Bile rose in her throat as his odor permeated the air.
He smelled like sweat and dirty sex. His breath like stale beer. Cigarette smoke.
She gripped the bars of the cage, hating that he’d trapped her like a dog. Hating that she was helpless and weak and couldn’t fight him off.
Hating that she’d begged like a baby for him to stop.
He fed on that weakness. On her tears and cries to release her. On the blood that he’d drawn from her when he’d cut her.
Another woman’s shrill scream rent the air, the sound filled with terror.
Lenora buried her head in her hands and cried for the woman.
She knew what he was doing to her now.
That soon it would be her turn to die.
MICAH TENSED AT THE SOUND OF A SCREAM. HE JUMPED UP FROM the sofa, hand on his gun and raced up the steps. He had no idea how Simpleton could break in upstairs, but the man could have found a way. Maybe a rope or ladder…
His pulse pounded as he glanced inside Lenora’s bedroom. She wasn’t in bed. He ran to the bathroom, but it was empty. The terrace door was open.
He jogged to the door and quickly scanned the area, but he didn’t see Simpleton anywhere.
Relief mingled with an ache in his chest when he saw Lenora twisting and turning in the midst of a nightmare on the chaise.
Except her nightmare was real. Memories that she’d tried to escape. Ones he’d resurrected when he’d informed her of Simpleton’s escape.
Tamping down his emotions, he sank onto the chaise and pulled her in his arms. “Shh, Lenora, it’s all right. It’s over.”
He stroked her hair, her back, her shoulders, gently whispering reassurances until finally she opened her eyes and looked up at him. The big luminous orbs were filled with tears, glazed with the pain of the past.
“You’re safe now,” he said softly. “Safe with me.”
A flicker of something like trust danced in her eyes, replacing the haunted look, then she lay her head back against his chest and heaved a weary breath.
Compassion for her, along with other feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge, filled him. He told himself that she was quiet now, calm, that he should leave.
Instead, he pulled her tighter up against him and held her until she fell asleep.
ROBERT HAD CARRIED NAN INTO HIS NEW HOUSE, A LOVELY OLD Victorian place with a basement that had been deserted years ago. The cobwebs and dust motes gave the place a macabre feel, the dusty abandoned odor that permeated the rooms a reminder of the house he’d once lived in as a child.
Of the basement where he’d spent most of his time.
Ugly words rolled from his tongue as memories bombarded him — memories of his mother scrubbing his mouth with soap until his tongue was raw and bleeding. The ancient Victorian lamp in the corner looked exactly like the one she used to light up the room when she wanted him to see what was in her hands.
A belt. The thick rope used to hold back the heavy dark drapes. A cord she’d wind around his neck and penis.
Then the beating, and she’d close him in the dark.
Nan roused, a scream trying to escape the duct tape he’d stretched across her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.
She’d heard the stories Lenora had told in that fucking courtroom. She hadn’t believed her best friend back then. Or maybe she had, but she’d been so delicate she hadn’t been able to stand listening.
He would show her exactly what he’d done to Lenora. Make her a believer before he killed her.
She kicked at him as he carried her down the stairs, the cold, drafty walls rattling. The wind whistled through the eaves, dust motes swirling in front of his eyes as he plowed down the steps.
Nan was heavier than Lenora, a fighter, too.
That would make it more fun.
But he wanted Lenora here for the party to watch him take his pleasure from her friend.
Nan squirmed and wiggled, kicking and trying to elbow him, but he kicked open the door to one of the rooms and tossed her inside. Her body clunked as it hit the concrete floor, a grunt of pain escaping her.
Darkness bathed the room, the light snuffed out by a lack of windows, the musty scent of age, rotting wood and dead animal so strong that he paused to inhale it.
Home sweet home. Just like when he was young.
He was tempted to stay here and keep Nan company tonight, but he had other plans. He had to find his second victim quickly.
Then it would be time for Lenora to join them.
Hand on his cock, rubbing, stroking, he limped toward Nan, his shoes scraping the concrete.
She shook her head wildly, her eyes huge with horror and denial. He removed the burner phone from his pocket, then punched in Lenora’s phone number. Adrenaline sped through his veins as he waited on her to answer.
One ring. Two. Three.
“Come on, my pet,” he whispered. “Talk to me. I’ve been waiting…”
LENORA JERKED AWAKE, EMBARRASSMENT HEATING HER CHEEKS AS she woke in Micah’s arms. His dark eyes met hers, a softness about them that made desire bubble in her belly.
She hadn’t been close to anyone, especially a man, in years. She’d thought she would hate it, that she’d run from his touch.
But somehow, having Micah beside her, so close, so strong and tough yet so gentle, not demanding but protecting, made her crave more.
He made her want to be whole again. To be able to find love and a future that she’d given up on five years ago.
“Lenora—”
The sound of her phone ringing cut into the moment, and she shoved hair from her face. It was barely dawn. Who would be calling?
“My phone—”
He hurried into her room and retrieved it from the nightstand.
“It’s an unknown number,” he said with a frown.
“Maybe it’s him.”
“I’ll answer—”
“No, he wants to talk to me.” She grabbed the phone, then pressed the answer button. “Hello.”
A tense silence echoed over the line, then a breath.
“Who is this?”
“Lenora,” a woman’s voice cracked.
Fear crawled through Lenora. “Nan?”
“Help me,” Nan cried. “He’s got me…”
A scream followed, then Robert Simpleton’s sinister laugh exploded over the line.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MICAH CAUGHT LENORA AS SHE DOUBLED OVER WITH A GROAN.
“Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…”
“What is it, Lenora? Was that him?”
Tears glittered in her tormented eyes as she looked up at him. “Yes. No…Nan…it was Nan.”
“Nan?”
“My friend…he has her.”
Fury shot through Micah, and he stroked a strand of hair from her damp cheek. “What did she say?”
Lenora’s nails dug into his arms through his shirtsleeves. “That he had her…then she screamed.”
Lenora collapsed in his arms, and he closed his eyes, battling his rage as she purged her emotions. Her body trembled with the force, his own shaking with the effort to control himself when he wanted to punch a wall.
And to kill Simpleton.
He wished to hell that he’d killed the son of a bitch instead of turning him into the police for prosecution.
He rocked Lenora in his arms, knowing she needed time to absorb the shock. But he needed to get to work. To find the bastard.
“Nan…he’ll hurt her,” Lenora cried. “I know what he’ll do…”
“Shh,” he murmured. “We’re going to find him.”
She shuddered against him, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “But how? And how much will she have to suffer first?” She sucked in a breath, sniffling as she worked to regain control. “He’s doing this to her because of me.”
Micah forced her to look at him. “Listen to me, Lenora, this is not your fault.”
“It is,” she said rag
gedly. “He’s punishing me for testifying against him. He’s coming for me, but he’s going to hurt people I care about first just to torture me.”
Unfortunately he couldn’t argue. She knew Simpleton better than anyone.
Which meant she might be able to help.
It would be painful, but she might actually be able to offer insight into the way his thought processes worked.
“Stop. I know you’re worried about her and that Simpleton is a monster, but you need to pull it together, Lenora, so we can find her.”
Her lower lip quivered, then she took another breath and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re right. What should we do?”
“I’m going to call the office and see if the tech department can trace where that call came from.” It was probably a dead end. Most criminals knew to use burner cells and Simpleton was smart. But he had to try.
“I want you to think. Did you hear anything else on the line?”
Her eyes drew together in thought. “No…just Nan. She was crying. Scared.” Her voice cracked. “She knows what he did to me, what’s going to happen.”
“Shh,” he said again, then massaged her shoulder. “Think about it, Lenora. Maybe you heard a siren in the background. A car horn? A train?”
She rubbed her temple and closed her eyes as if struggling to recall the details. When she opened them, she looked defeated. “I did hear a muffled sound…maybe a plane in the distance.”
“So he might have taken her somewhere near an airport.”
“I barely heard it,” she said. “I don’t think it was near a major airport.”
“There are smaller ones in the country, private airfields.” He squeezed her arm. “That’s good, Lenora. That might help.”
“Did Nan have any family we should notify?”
“No,” Lenora said, her voice strained. “She lost her parents in a car accident two years ago.”
He snatched up his phone and pressed the number for the tech department at the Ranger’s office. “It’s Hardin. Did you find anything on Cissy Cornwall’s phone records?”
“Nothing helpful. Just calls to the prison.”