She met his gaze. “Remember when you said you wanted to be the bait?” She paused. “I’m ready to draw him out now. Me. I’m the one he wants. I’m who he’ll get.”
His heart slammed against his ribcage in violent protest. “No way, Callie. Absolutely not.”
She jerked away from him. “I have to do this. If not . . .” Her voice faded out. She stared out the large bay window that overlooked the front lawn.
“If not, what?” he demanded.
She turned back to him. “You’ll be next. And he’ll make it even worse. Because somehow he knows how much I love you.”
His stomach clenched in fear. For Callie. For himself. He’d just found this amazing woman. He couldn’t risk losing her. He would do whatever it took to protect her. And he’d racked his brain for the past two days, trying to figure out a plan himself. Nothing had materialized.
Nick took Callie’s hands in his, his own determination to end this nightmare equal to hers.
“What do you have in mind?”
Chapter 30
He was so proud of himself. He believed this was his best work yet. He’d filmed the entire incident on his phone, as well as done a separate audiocassette for back-up purposes. Ah, the joys of technology!
It had been so easy. Just like every time before, no one ever suspected him. He appeared so average. So trustworthy. Waggoner hadn’t seen what hit him.
He hated to brag, but to do what he had done, especially to a seasoned NYPD detective? It made him float as if on air. Of course, the Rohypnol helped accomplish part of the plan. He had to give credit where it was due, and roofies ruled his blueprint of pain.
Naturally, he’d shared with Paul—he guessed they were close enough that he could use the man’s first name—who he was once he came to his full senses. Too bad he’d hollered himself hoarse, screaming obscenities in that lovely Brooklyn (or was it a Bronx?) accent. He didn’t have much of a voice when the fun really began.
But fortunately, he’d gotten every lovely moment. He just loved the ease of using his iPhone. And after downloading it to his laptop, with a few minor shifts through the magic of editing, he’d had a nice little condensed snippet to play for Jessica. Oh, she’d sounded beyond frightened. He’d gotten under her skin. Figuratively. Not literally, of course.
That fun was yet to come.
He was ready now. Ready to take on his most important work. It would be his crowning achievement. He’d learned a lot about a person’s threshold of pain while he’d diligently practiced.
And all that practice would now make for the perfect kill.
No—kills. He couldn’t forget about Nick.
Chapter 31
Both Callie and Nick met her aunt, Essie, and Gretchen as they arrived home from their visit to Aurora’s only beauty salon.
“What do you think of my new cut?” Gretchen twirled in front of them, her hand primping her hair. “It cost a third of what I would pay in New York. And look at this shade of pink.” She held out a hand for Callie’s inspection as she peered over her shoulder. “Did she call this shell pink, Miz C?”
Essie wheeled Callandra Chennault in. Her aunt immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
Gretchen stopped admiring her new manicure. She glanced around, spying the patrolman standing inside the front door.
“Something’s happened.” Callie tried to keep the tightness from her voice. “He’s . . . Eric will be here soon.”
Gretchen took her hand. “Are you okay? Is it Lipstick Larry? Has he sent another note?”
Nick spoke up. “We’re not sure yet. Eric will be getting back to us really soon. Why don’t we go sit in the kitchen and see if Essie can rustle us up something sweet?”
She fought the urge to blurt out what she’d heard to Gretchen. After all, it was her uncle. But maybe Eric would prove her wrong. Maybe this maniac had only toyed with her. Made her believe that Detective Waggoner was dead.
But in her heart, she knew that wasn’t the case. She tried to keep the guilt at bay. She had gotten Paul Waggoner involved in this case.
And now he was dead. How on earth would Gretchen handle this horrible truth?
The shrill ring of the phone interrupted her thoughts.
“I’ll get it.” She walked over to the table by the front stairs and lifted the receiver, trying not to show any hesitancy in case it was him again.
“Noble Oaks.”
“Cal? It’s Eric. I’m on my way over.”
“Is it . . . what we thought?”
“Yeah. We pinged Waggoner’s cell and found him inside that abandoned gas station out on Route Thirty.”
She knew the answer but asked anyway. “Was it bad, Eric? Did he suffer?”
Her friend’s silence spoke volumes. Finally, he said, “Try not to think about it, Cal. You don’t want those images in your head. That’s exactly what this bastard wants.” He paused. “Is Gretchen there? If she is, don’t say anything about Paul till I get there. I’d like to break it to her in person. She seemed to really think highly of him and his wife. They really stood by her after her divorce from that jerk Phil.”
“All right. Why don’t you come around to the back? We’ll be in the kitchen.”
She turned. Everyone had already left the foyer. She counted on all her acting skills now. She didn’t want to cry. She certainly didn’t want to reveal anything to Gretchen.
Instead, she let the Jessica part of her take over. The part that could keep a cool head in a hot situation. The part that could let anger burn inside while she appeared composed and collected to anyone observing her.
She entered the kitchen. Essie had opened Tupperware containers of oatmeal raisin and chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Nick was pouring iced tea into tall glasses. She shared a knowing look with Aunt C, who probably knew something bad was afoot but was smart enough to wait for Eric and not press the matter further.
They didn’t wait long. Aurora’s sheriff arrived within ten minutes of his call. Callie spotted him park his car and stride across the yard to the back door.
Gretchen jumped up. “I’ll let him in.” She punched in the code and opened the door and spoke to Eric a moment before murmuring, “All right.” She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
Callandra motioned for Essie to sit and join them. “What is this about, Callie?”
She maintained her air of calm, though her insides churned. “Lipstick Larry phoned my cell while you were out. He had Detective Waggoner with him.” She paused. “Paul is dead, Aunt C. Eric is telling Gretchen now.”
Callandra took her hand. “Are you all right, dear?”
She nodded grimly. “I’m holding it together.”
They all turned to look out the window. Gretchen sobbed, holding onto Eric with whitened knuckles.
Callandra glanced at Nick. “Have you thought about eloping? And staying away for a very long time?”
Nick sighed heavily. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it, Miz C. And not around the world in eighty days, either. More like five thousand and eighty. Moving to Paris or Rome or Timbuktu permanently. At this point, I’d be willing to enter the witness protection program.”
He shrugged. “But Callie didn’t like any of the names the marshals picked out for her. Myrtle. Eloise. Maybelle. Can’t say I blame her.” He shook his head. “No, seriously. We will definitely hang around to see this S.O.B.’s hide nailed to the wall.”
He took her free hand in his. “And we will see this creep brought down. Else we’ll be looking over our shoulders the rest of our lives.”
The door opened. Eric and a shaken Gretchen, her face stained with tears, entered. Callie immediately went to her friend and enveloped her in a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Gretch. I feel it’s my fault since he came down
here to help me.”
Gretchen pulled away, shaking her head. “Don’t ever say that, Callie. Uncle Paul loved you like his own kid. He would’ve done anything to see you safe.” Her voice broke. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to go call my aunt and see about making the arrangements to take Uncle Paul back to New York.”
“Of course, dear.” After Gretchen left the room, Callandra turned to Eric. “Please. Sit,” she commanded. “Tell us what you can.”
He took a chair at the table and absently reached for a cookie. “You don’t need to hear details.” He looked at Callie. “It was similar to what was done to the girls in New York, the ones who resembled you. Although the coroner believes Paul died early this morning. He’s doing the autopsy now, so we’ll know more after that.”
Eric frowned as he chewed. “Could it have been a tape you heard, Cal? A killer of this caliber would think nothing of recording his crimes and playing them back multiple times for his pleasure.”
She thought a moment. “It’s possible. I heard Paul in pain. He called my name and told me to hang up. Then . . . he . . . came back on the phone. It very well could have been recorded previously. Or somehow edited and spliced together.” She shuddered. “I cannot comprehend the diabolical cruelty, though.”
Eric stood. “I have a lot to do. I’ve already alerted NYPD. The FBI is totally in charge at this point. They had one field agent on the case, but we’re about to be overrun by them. Things will pretty much be out of my hands at that point.”
“Thanks for everything you’ve done, Eric.”
He hesitated. “I don’t want you to think I’m bailing on you, Cal.” He swallowed. “But the FBI does things their way. I may be cut out of the loop as far as details of the investigation go. I didn’t want you to think I was letting you down in any way.”
She stood and gave him a hug. “I would never think that. Besides, I don’t know how much I really want to be apprised of. At any rate, I have Nick to watch over me.”
Eric laughed. “That’s like letting the wolf in to guard the sheep, Cal.” He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for understanding my position—or lack of it now. And tell Gretchen I’ll call later, as soon as I can. I’ve got to get over for the autopsy.”
“Will do.” She let him out and reset the alarm.
“I am feeling drained,” she declared. “I think I’ll go lie down for a while.” She looked at Essie. “I’m not really hungry for dinner. If I want something later, I’ll just make a sandwich.”
“I’ll walk you upstairs.” Nick pushed back from the table and let her lead them up the back staircase to her room without a word.
He opened the door and did his usual once-over before allowing her in. She sat on the bed, her hands absently twisting.
Nick joined her. “Are you going to be okay? I know you’re made of strong stuff to withstand everything you’ve been through up till now, but Waggoner’s death is a pretty severe blow.”
Callie knew in that moment what she needed. She was ready. She wanted to lose herself and find salvation the only way she knew how.
She looked at him with clear eyes, knowing her face held a determined expression.
“Make love to me, Nick. Take me away from all this if only for a little while.”
Chapter 32
Callie’s words took Nick aback.
“Are you sure?” Even as he asked, he knew the answer. Resolve reflected in the depths of her darkened green eyes, burning into his.
He cupped her face between his palms. Her fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists.
“I want to live, Nick. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want him to force me to hide from my own shadow.”
Her hold tightened. “I can be weak and give into terror and fear. Or I can be strong and meet him head on.” She smiled. “But I need you by my side, no matter what happens.”
She gazed into his eyes, hers shining with love and a heat that seemed to scald him. “You are my other half, Nick. You are my soul mate. I can do anything . . . if you’re with me. I want to show you how much I love you. I need to cement that connection between us. I need to draw from your strength. Now.”
He didn’t miss a beat. The bond he already felt with her was stronger than anything he’d experienced. He was ready to move their relationship to the next level.
But despite the yearning inside him for that physical consummation, he knew he needed to take it slowly. Callie’s words might say one thing, but he suspected a little fear of men still lingered inside her.
Nick drew her close to him. He softly brushed his lips against hers. Her hands slid up his arms and locked around the back of his neck. He continued his kisses, his thumbs gliding back and forth across her cheekbones. The heady scent of honeysuckle on her skin heightened every breath he took as he drank her in. He inhaled the richness, his hands sliding to her throat. One hand slipped around the nape of her neck, while the other moved lower.
He sensed the rightness of the moment. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Her moan assured him he wasn’t rushing her. He had explored her mouth thoroughly before, but this time it sent his pulse racing out of control.
And not just his pulse.
He sensed her confidence growing with each kiss. She began to answer the stroke of his tongue with her own. A low whimper in the back of her throat made him smile. As her body relaxed, Nick understood without words that she’d told him she knew she would always be safe in his hands.
Their kisses became deeper, brandishing a fire unbeknownst to him. With each one, they became longer, more possessive, more demanding than anything that came before it. He lost all track of time. Only now, with Callie, this moment existed. No past. No tomorrow. Only the constant assault of his mouth on hers, taking, giving, sharing, loving.
Nick tore his lips from hers, burying them against the slender column of her throat. If someone lit a match in the room, he’d go up in an instant and take her with him. He’d never known such heat, such need, such passion. He leaned her back onto the bed, nibbling his way along her jaw as one hand worked at the buttons on her blouse.
He opened it and pushed it aside. He sensed the slight tension now running through her, a slender thread that he was determined to unravel. His mouth moved back to hers, demanding her attention as his hands kneaded her shoulders. He would make her forget her attacker. Forget the scars left behind from the assault. He wanted her here with him, in this moment, this magic moment of fire and heat and desire.
His hands slowly dropped to her breasts, where he continued his touch. His heady invasion of her mouth never let up. He wanted her breathless, totally focused on their lovemaking. Her nails dug into his clothed back. He realized he needed her flesh touching his. He leaned up and tore the polo shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
Callie’s eyes were closed, enjoying every ripple of emotion running through her. Nick’s mouth left her suddenly. Before she could protest, he was next to her, his chest hot against her, causing her to throb out of control.
He murmured against her mouth, “This has got to go,” as he pulled down her bra straps. His lips trailed over her bare shoulder, sending thrills of pleasure shooting through her. He unhooked the bra and slipped it from under her. It went sailing across the room.
Now skin met skin, sending her heartbeat racing wildly. She knew even with the curtains drawn in the late afternoon light, he would be able to see the start of the scars.
And suddenly . . . it didn’t matter. It never would again.
Nick entwined his fingers with hers, pushing them up onto the pillow by her face. His eyes held a look of love and passion that warmed her to her core.
“I love you,” he whispered. Then he grinned. “And I’m just getting warmed up.”
He moved to her breast and began teasing her nipple with his tongue.
She gasped in pleasure. Her hips rose of their own accord against him.
He lifted his head and smiled that heartbreaking smile. “Oh, I’ll get there, honey. It’s just going to take some time. I want us to enjoy every second of this.”
Nick lingered over first one breast and then the other as she writhed urgently under him. Everything about this man revved her engine—every look, every scent, every hard plane of muscle that danced under her fingertips.
And the best was yet to come.
He released her hands and slid his mouth down to her belly as he unzipped her khaki capris. She felt him slide the espadrilles from her feet and then gently tug the capris and her thong off. He quickly shed his jeans and boxers. His hands then moved back up her calves.
Callie watched as Nick’s eyes fell over her naked body. They paused a moment along her right side, trailing along where the scars descended from under her breastbone down to her upper thigh. Her breathing stopped a moment as he studied her.
But she didn’t see pity. Or revulsion. That’s what she’d most feared. Instead, she witnessed an overwhelming love shining in his eyes. And she felt it in every feather-soft kiss he planted along the row of blemished skin. His gentleness, his concern, moved her to tears.
His kisses continued up her body till they reached her chin. He frowned at her, his eyes going wide.
“Why the tears? Did I hurt you?”
She framed his tanned face in her hands. “No. I’m just so happy. Don’t you know women cry when we’re deliriously happy?”
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