“You didn’t need to get out of the office.”
He looked over at her. She’d moved up beside him by the railing, resting her stack of files on the top rail, her thin fingers ringless and delicate despite her nails being cut quite bluntly, almost like regulations required for female law enforcement officers.
“You think I’m guilty.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He turned, watching her face, which was illuminated by starlight. “Can I ask you one thing, though?”
“What?”
“What would my motive be in killing those women? Why would I target women who were so close to me?”
She shook her head. “Calder’s theory is that it was some sort of sexual perversion. The description of what you did to Detective Hyde . . .” She shuddered a little. “Even you admitted that you were rough with her.”
“I was. And I regret the hell out of it.”
“Why would you do that?”
The memory of it rushed through Durango’s head:
He kissed her again, tasting the day on her, the slight copper taste of blood. He wrapped his fingers in her hair and twisted her head around, making her grunt again. He scraped his hand over her breasts, squeezing one in his hand, her hard nipple taut against his palm. She was breathing hard against him, the moans coming more and more. When he pressed a hand between her legs, he could feel the moisture there, could feel the excitement vibrating through her body. She wanted this more than he did.
And he wanted it desperately.
She reached for the zipper on his slacks, but he pulled her hands away and trapped them behind her back. He deepened the kiss, forcing himself inside of her. She sucked breath when he pulled back, her hands fighting against him as she tried to reach for him. He held her tighter, forcing her body back with the weight of his own. He moved his mouth from hers despite her moves to attempt to keep him close, nibbling hard at her throat, her bared breasts. She cried out when he bit one nipple, but she arched her back, pushing her body closer to his, not pulling away. She was loving every bit of this.
So was he.
He bit her inner thigh when he dropped to his knees to taste her. There was a mark that he was pretty sure would bruise, but she only hissed. She didn’t pull away. In fact, her hands were wrapped around his head, pulling him in deeper.
Durango took his cues from her, enjoying himself, but wanting to feel her need, to feel the pleasure that was rushing through her body, too. She wasn’t shy about letting him know what she wanted. She was more vocal than any lover he’d had in recent memory.
When he stood again, she was tugging at the front of his slacks before he could even attempt to do it himself. He stood still, his hands at his side, and let her pull his cock from his pants, stood still while she stroked him with soft, but firm hands. But he could only stand it for a moment, having worked himself up almost to the same heights he could feel her teetering on.
He shoved her thighs wide apart and moved up, impaling her with one hard thrust. She threw her head back, crying out like a woman who’d gone far too long without the pleasures of the flesh.
He was pissed, and she was in need; it got out of control. There was no other excuse for it.
They weren’t even true lovers. Not really. It was the second time they’d been together, but each time was just circumstance and nothing more. He liked her well enough and might have found her companionable under different circumstances. But Detective Donna Hyde was investigating him as a suspect in his partner’s death. And then she died that night, strangled the same way his fiancée, Sarah, had been, the same way his partner, Kyle, had been.
Someone was setting him up. And they were doing a damn good job of it!
Gracie’s eyes had been on the stack of files she held, but she slowly looked up at him as she waited for an answer. Durango wanted to touch her, but he knew it would be a mistake. It’d been five years since Sarah died. Five years since he’d felt the way he did when he looked at his beloved. He felt that now whenever he looked at Gracie. He knew he could easily fall in love with her if he allowed himself the freedom to do so. But he couldn’t. Not now, maybe not ever.
Someone was killing every woman he loved, and he couldn’t put Gracie in his sights. So, he kept his hands to himself and turned back to look over the city.
“I’m not the man you think I am, Gracie,” he said softly. “I’m not a nice guy, and I’ve never pretended to be.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“But you believe I’m capable of murder. Multiple murders.”
“No. I think someone close to you is, someone who wants to make you hurt. I just don’t understand why you give that person easy material to work with, you know?”
“Like Hyde?”
“Like your reputation with your assistants? Do you really think that helped when the cops found your last assistant murdered? Or the fact that you go around to bars and pick up pretty women who fit the killer’s type perfectly?”
He glanced at her. “Why do you think I do that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I understood you, but when I saw the evidence Detective Fedor had in his house—”
“What other evidence did you find?”
“Pictures of you from security cameras. The night Kyle died, you were out in an alley with a blond, getting hot and heavy, and he had pictures of it all over the cork board at his house!”
“I’m sorry you saw that.”
“You’re not an ass, Durango, but you sure go out of your way to make people think you are.”
“Do you know how I got my name?” he asked, changing the subject so abruptly that she stuttered a little before she answered.
“I don’t, actually.”
He stared off over the city, but he was really seeing a bright home in the Hollywood hills and a dark-haired woman who laughed easily and never ran out of hugs for her small son.
“My mother was born in Mexico, in the state of Durango, but she hid that fact when she went to Hollywood to become an actress. She didn’t want to be typecast, didn’t want people to make assumptions about her just because she was born to poor peasant people who gave up everything to bring her to the United States. By the time I came along, she hadn’t seen her parents in more than fifteen years. They sent her to an aunt she had in Texas. She got lucky, found a good lawyer who helped her with her papers, and she got her citizenship pretty quick. I don’t think she even told my dad about her origins until their wedding night.”
He opened his water bottle, but he didn’t drink from it. He just fidgeted with the top as the water leaked out over his fingers. “Casting directors thought she was Italian or Puerto Rican. A few assumed she was from the Middle East somewhere. Not that it mattered what her exact origins were. She was exotic, and they liked that. She was cast as an ingenue more often than not, the female character who innocently caused trouble for the hero. And she liked that.”
Durango glanced at Gracie. “But then she began to feel guilty about denying her past because she felt like she was denying her parents and her ancestors. To her, that was a terrible sin. When I came along, she named me after her home state and told me every night what the city where she grew up was like, told me all about her parents and her grandparents, about all the people she’d left behind. She even promised to take me there someday.”
He grew quiet for a moment, thinking of some of the things his mother had told him. There was so much, but his memories of those stories had faded. He was only five when she died, and a five-year old’s memories aren’t always concrete. But he remembered enough.
“My mother took an overdose of pills after my father told her she wasn’t strong enough to do such a thing.”
“I’m sorry,” Gracie said softly, reaching over to touch his arm. He stared at her fingers against his skin for a moment, then moved away, desperate not to touch her in any manner.
“For most of my life, I believed it was my f
ather’s fault, and that he should be punished for what he’d done. It drove a wedge between us. I can still remember every word of the fight they’d had that night, can still remember the tears running down her face. That night is the reason I left home the moment I could legally do so; it’s that night that pushed me into a law enforcement career. And it’s that night that still haunts me whenever I set eyes on my father, or anytime I think about my mother. It sullies my thoughts of her.” He brushed a hand over his head, his back to Gracie. “And it’s the same with Sarah. We had years of happiness together, but it’s that final day that I remember the most clearly. It’s the night we spent together and the few moments we had the next morning before I left her before her killer arrived and took her away from me.”
“Durango . . .”
“It’s seeing the evidence that the strangler had been in our apartment. And then Kyle, seeing those same things there . . .” He took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, forgotten things that I should have clung to.” He turned to her then, his eyes moving slowly over her face. “I’m like my mother in the fact that I carry around a lot of guilt for the choices I’ve made. I took solace from anonymous sources because it was easier. I can’t . . .”
He couldn’t finish his point, couldn’t find a way to express to her what it was he’d wanted so desperately to say. He wanted her to know why he’d done the things he had, but when he tried to put it into words, he couldn’t find the right ones.
She came toward him, dropping those ever-present files on a low table set on the balcony for late night cocktails, and slipped her hands over his face, holding his jaw to force him to look at her.
“You’ve been through hell, and it’s not fair. I wish there was a way to make this right for you.”
He shook his head, gripping her wrists. “I didn’t say all that to make you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you.” Her eyes were snapping with anger as she looked up at him. “I’m sorry for the strangler when we finally find him.”
He shook his head. “We’re not going to.”
“We are. Calder already has a couple of leads he’s checking out right now.”
“I’ve been working this case for more than seven years, Gracie. If this guy were going to be found, it would have been five years ago when I arrested the wrong guy.”
“You don’t know that. You can never know what the future holds, Durango. No one can.”
“I know that if we don’t figure this out within the next twenty-eight days, I’ll be arrested for Hyde. And I know that more women will die. And I know that this has to stop.”
He pushed her back, letting go of her wrists after a moment’s hesitation, after squeezing them for a second between his fingers. Then he turned to go, the sound of Zola’s repetitions reminding him of where they were and why.
“What are you going to do, Durango?”
He didn’t answer her. If he told her, he knew she’d try to stop him. And he knew it wouldn’t take much for her to do it. He wanted to cling to her, wanted to cling to the hope she could give him for the future. But clinging to her would just lead to more of this nightmare he was living, and he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t watch anyone else he cared about die. And he couldn’t go to prison.
There was only one way out of this. The strangler wanted to hurt him, wanted to make this personal? Then he would. He’d take himself out of the equation.
Twenty-eight days.
Chapter 4
Chicago, Illinois
The Set of Stranger’s Retreat
Zola set off to one side of the stage, watching as the host of the show, a woman named Susan Eco, prepared to go live with the contestants inside the house—house being a general term that didn’t quite fit this situation. It was actually a set of rooms built inside a television studio that was filled with dozens of remote cameras and opened up onto a small, walled off courtyard that sported a pool and other outdoor accommodations that sixteen strangers might find comforting. Zola had also been told that several of the challenges the contestants were asked to participate in were set up in other areas of the studio grounds requiring the contestants to leave their home studio. However, even when they were shuttled around the studio grounds, they were not allowed contact with anyone outside of the game’s production staff. That’s why a lot of the big contests were filmed at night after the stars and staff of other shows that filmed on the same lot were gone for the day.
Susan’s makeup and hair people moved back, and the director began a countdown. As Zola watched, the camera set up on a moveable arm in front of her began to move, the red light coming on as it focused on Susan’s face.
“Houseguests!” she called as she faced a large monitor in front of her. “If I could have all the houseguests come down to the living room, please!”
As Zola watched, out of range of the camera focused on Susan, seven people slowly wandered into a room that sported several couches set in a companionable horseshoe. Some of them were clearly just waking—it was only seven o’clock in the morning—but a few were clearly in the middle of grooming themselves. There was a girl with half her hair done up in curls, the other half straight and a little frizzy, a guy who had shaving cream smeared over one cheek, but not the other.
“As you know,” Susan began, “Nicole was forced out of the game yesterday after doctors decided her foot would have to be corrected with extensive orthopedic surgery. As a result, one team has been left with only one participant.”
The camera inside the house panned in on a guy about twenty-two or twenty-three, with a messy coif of dirty brown hair and a square jaw. Zola knew this was Brian—a hair care salesman—the man she’d be partnered with the moment she stepped into the house.
“The producers struggled with the decision as to what should be done. They had two choices: either send Brian home without an elimination vote or replace Nicole.”
The camera in the living room panned the room, and Zola could see the anxious looks on a few faces and hopeful looks on a few others. There were only four teams left since the show was at the midway point. Brian and Nicole leaving would have left only three couples, which is where it would have been in a few days after the regular elimination vote. It really would not have changed the show much if they had chosen to send the partnerless Brian home.
But, of course, that was not the plan.
Zola watched the screen closely, looking for an unusual reaction from one of the players, something that would suggest a player had sabotaged the game and caused Nicole’s exit. But either the players were excellent actors, or none of them were to blame.
“As you know,” Susan continued, “Brian and Nicole had been up for elimination this week along with Jessica and Josh. Therefore, sending Brian home now would save Jessica and Josh.”
Again, the camera panned the living room. One girl, a tall blond that Zola was pretty sure was named Lesley, looked as though she were on the verge of tears. But she was the only one showing a definite reaction to Susan’s words.
“However,” Susan announced, “the producers have decided to introduce a new player to the house. And, because this player is at a disadvantage for having not been a part of the game from the beginning, they’ve decided to forego the elimination ceremony this weekend.”
Shocked faces appeared on the screen, a few smiles, but mostly just shock. They had not expected this news. Zola almost felt sorry for Brian, being so unpopular that the entire house had hoped he’d be eliminated simply because his partner was already gone.
“Houseguests, please take the next fifteen minutes to prepare to meet the new contestant.”
The camera’s red light went out, but the screen showing the activity inside the house stayed on. Susan was joined by Felicity who waved Zola over. Together, the three of them stood in the middle of an empty studio and watched what happened in the house as the contestants reacted to the addition of a new player.
Most
of the players moved off to get dressed or finish their grooming, but Brian stayed behind, his face buried in his hands as he leaned forward in his chair. Lesley, the one who looked on the verge of tears, was smiling as she moved closer to him and ran her hand slowly down his back.
“You’re not going home. You’re not even on the block anymore.”
“I’m grateful for that,” he said, sitting up to look at her. “But jumping into these competitions with a new partner? That’s like committing suicide, isn’t it?”
“You’ll be fine. Just make sure you get to know this new player as well as you can.”
“In, what? We don’t know when the next comp will be!”
“Then you better get right on it. And turn on the charm. You’re going to need to win this girl over, whoever she is.”
“With my luck, she’s some Bluto they thought would be funny to inject into the game for a few laughs. What if the producers have sent in a ringer just to get me out? Or to change the game?”
“It’ll be okay, Brian. Either way, you have to just keep playing the game like you’ve been doing.”
He nodded, watching as another player walked into the room. It was Jessica, one-half of the other team that had been up for elimination that week.
“I guess we got lucky, didn’t we?” she asked as she passed through the room.
“You did,” Lesley called after her.
“We all did,” she called back.
“I wish they would switch around the teams again,” Brian said softly.
“Me, too.”
Lesley got up and walked away. A moment later, Brian followed. The camera switched then, showing the players getting dressed in the various bathrooms scattered throughout the house. Four or five were all crammed in one room while a single man was shaving alone in another bathroom. It was the single man who caught Zola’s attention. His name was Gunner, a former Marine who tended to keep to himself in this game.
“Where’s his partner?” she asked.
Felicity shrugged. “They don’t spend a lot of time alone together. But they’ve only been partners for a couple of weeks.” She walked up to the massive screen and touched her hand to one of the many people crammed in the other room. “This was his partner for the first five weeks of the show.”
Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series Page 55