“So what now?” I ask the detective.
“You go back to the apartment and do what you want.” He gives me a look and starts the ignition. “You clear every move you make outside of the apartment with me. I mean it,” he warns.
I’m conscious of the cell phone in the back pocket of my jeans. He’d told me that I’m to keep it on me at all times so that I can be tracked and be in contact with him. As he pulls away from the curb, I look at him with a furrowed brow. “So that’s it? I just do my thing?”
His eyes flicker to me briefly before focusing on traffic. “Yes. Your presence alone should be enough to draw Donahue out.”
I eye him, feeling wary with my next question. “I don’t have to meet the squad or anything?”
A low, rumbly laugh escapes him. “Squad? It’s a task force.” His expression sobers, and his eyes slide to me. “You can be as involved in the case as you want, or completely uninvolved. You don’t have to meet anyone, though you should be familiar with detectives Bruggs and Cadara.”
My expression sharpens. “They’re here?”
He nods before his attention shifts back to driving.
I don’t say anything as I think about the two detectives I’d spoken with five years back. Cadara’s an older gentleman in his fifties. Last I’d seen him, he’d been overweight and balding. Bruggs was much younger and a tall, muscular man. Both men had been kind to me, but I hadn’t felt comfortable with them. They’d been very professional, but not for a moment had I forgotten that I was a witness being questioned. If they’d felt any sympathy for me, they hadn’t shown it.
The drive back to the apartment building is silent, and Detective Brooks pulls into my designated parking space behind the building. There is no frontside parking unless you want to park at the curb.
I’m handed the keys once we exit the vehicle, and I glance at my new ride. It’s nice, much nicer than my old.
“You can call me Holden. Calling me Detective Brooks in public defeats the purpose of posing as a coworker and friend.”
I nearly roll my eyes as we enter the apartment building and head for the stairs. “There’s no way it’ll appear random that we work together and happen to live across from each other. This is all an act that he’ll see right through.”
“Regardless, I can’t have you calling me detective at the bar,” he points out. “It’ll make the patrons uncomfortable, and Paul would prefer that no one know why we were both hired.”
“Okay, fine.” I unlock the door and give him a parting glance over my shoulder before stepping inside and closing the door, turning the deadbolt.
At last, I’m alone.
I’m relieved to have a moment to collect my thoughts without Detective Brooks—I mean Holden being present. I toss the keys on the counter and run my hands through my hair.
So now what?
We don’t begin working at Bull’s until tomorrow evening, so I’m free the rest of the day and most of tomorrow. Since it seems that this will be my home for a while, I set about unpacking my belongings.
It takes only about thirty minutes for me to realize that I’m going to need to go shopping before this evening. I can’t sleep while sober. Why hadn’t I thought of this before we’d returned to the apartments?
I spin on my heel and snatch the keys from the counter, striding for the door. Abruptly, I pause, recalling that I’m supposed to clear all my actions with De—Holden. I don’t like the idea of clearing anything with anyone, but I don’t want to die, either. Not that I expect my father to try anything in broad daylight, but it wouldn’t be wise to start my first few days here with the task force being irritated with me.
With a resigned sigh, I pull out the phone and bring up the only number in my contacts list. I don’t want to call him personally, so I text, I have a few errands I need to run.
A few minutes go by, and I frown. I would have thought that he’d respond immediately. The phone chimes in my hand a second later, and a text appears. I’m in the shower. Give me five.
Oh. I repocket the phone and try not to think of him naked…and wet. I may not like the man, but I can’t deny that he’s sexy. There’s never been a specific type or look that I go for, but Holden certainly has my hormones stirring. He’s also here to do a job—and that’s babysit me. The last thing I need is to long for a man that’s using me as bait to get his hands on my father. Not only that, but I didn’t like how he’d manipulated me into coming here.
When a knock sounds on the door, I glance at the phone and note that less than five minutes had gone by. That was quick. I open the door and find him standing in the hall, wearing fresh jeans and a tee, his blond hair damp.
He smiles, bringing attention to the dimple in his chin. “Where are we going?”
This isn’t a friendly outing, so I don’t bother returning the grin. “Groceries,” I reply, turning and heading down the hallway. He falls into step beside me, and we make our way down the stairwell and out the back door to the parking lot.
I pull out the keys and press the unlock button on the key fob. I’m driving because I want to learn my way around the city. Holden doesn’t utter a single complaint as he eases into the passenger seat, adjusting the seat to make room for his legs.
I turn the ignition and back out of the parking space. “Where to?”
He gives me easy directions to the nearest grocery store, and soon I’m pulling into a parking space. Little Rock is very scenic, and I like that it’s located on the banks of the Arkansas River. The River District seems to be busy enough, but it certainly has a different vibe compared to San Diego. Back in California, I’d felt that I could go unnoticed because it was so populated. Here in Little Rock, everything’s so…quaint. Not in a bad way, but I don’t think I can mingle without feeling like I’m drawing attention to myself. If it weren’t for my current situation, I think I’d enjoy the prospect of exploring Little Rock.
Once we’re inside the grocery store, we both grab our own carts. “We can split up, and I’ll meet you at the checkout,” I suggest.
He studies me before nodding in agreement. I think he knows that if he insists on staying by my side, we’re going to have problems. Nothing’s going to happen in a grocery store, and I need space.
Without a backward glance, I stroll away from Holden and make my way through the store. I only put necessities in the cart. I’m not much of an eater, but I should still fit in a couple meals a day. I prefer simple meals that don’t include cooking raw meat.
Lastly, I linger in the liquor department and add a half dozen or so bottles to my cart. When I reach the front of the store and find Holden patiently waiting, his eyes drop to my cart and briefly focus on the liquor before returning to mine. Something lurks in his gaze, and I silently challenge him to say one word.
His eyes remain on mine a moment longer, and then he ambles to the nearest checkout and begins putting items on the conveyer belt.
Seven
Holden
In the seventy-two hours that Ren’s been in Little Rock, I’ve learned a little more about her.
The woman’s a hermit when she’s not working, but I already knew that from my prior surveillance. The only time I see her ‘living’ is when she’s behind the bar. However, I’m still puzzled over why she insists I call her Ren instead of Serenity, and it’ll have to remain a mystery for now. She isn’t the type to willingly share anything about herself, and it’s a struggle just to get her to have a conversation with me.
We’d begun working at Bull’s last night, and she’d immediately fit in. I, on the other hand, needed a little more training. Up until my injury, my world revolved around guns and narcotics, not pouring drinks in a bar.
Not wanting to dwell upon the disappointment of my past, I focus on Ren and her obsession with lights. Her routine hadn’t changed with new surroundings. When darkness approaches, her lights go on and stay on the entire night. She clearly has issues with the dark, not that she’d ever admit that to me or anyone else.
Apparently, she also relies on alcohol much more than she should. I hadn’t been pleased to see all the bottles of liquor in her cart the other day, but it hadn’t been my place to share my opinion.
Frankly, she’s made it very clear that she doesn’t want anything from me and wants her distance. I’m certain she’s still feeling wounded over the way I’d confronted her in San Diego, so I’ve been giving her the space she wants.
Tonight, I’m more adept at my job, but most of the patrons are focused on Ren. Bull’s is no college bar. It’s a dive bar that caters to bikers and the types that expect a good, hard drink without college students causing drama or stirring up trouble.
I slide a beer across the bar to a man, and after he forks over cash, I turn to the register. Things are slow on my end of the bar, and after I close the cash drawer, I grab the damp rag I’d used earlier, wiping down the bar top.
Ren’s been keeping busy, and I watch as she reaches for a bottle on the top shelf. My eyes slide down to her ass encased in jeans. I’m certain my eyes aren’t the only ones noting how fine it is.
I’m immediately thrown back to the first time I’d knocked on her door. She’d answered it wearing a tank that was nearly see-through, and tiny pink panties that bared the undersides of her ass cheeks. I don’t need to have a vivid imagination to know what she’s hiding behind her clothes. I already know she’s a B-cup with little, pert nipples that were begging for attention. Her stomach is flat, and her hips are slim but shaped perfectly—and those legs…
I realize I’m openly staring at Ren, who’s currently smiling at a man as she pours a shot.
Fuck.
As I snap out of my momentary stupor, I toss the rag over my shoulder and reach for the bin of dirty glasses. They need to go to the kitchen in the back. Food isn’t served at the bar, but there’s a small kitchen where the glasses are washed, and garnishes are stored in a refrigerator.
If I don’t get my hormones under control, this investigation could blow up in my face. I’ve never had a problem ignoring my dick when I need to. Sure, I enjoy sex, who doesn’t? But when I’m on the job, I have tunnel vision, and nothing can deter me from my assignment. It’s why I’m still single. After working as a beat cop for three years, I’d pursued a career with the DEA in New York City. I’d worked undercover for four years until I caught a bullet to the chest last year, lodging near my heart. It wasn’t wise to continue with that kind of undercover work that my career demanded, so I’d sought a job that would still keep me busy and content. Homicide was always my second choice, and it was fate that a position opened here in Little Rock where my older sister and her husband live. I’d only moved here two months ago, and so far, I’m learning to embrace the slower pace of the south.
I think of Ellie and wince as I set the bin of glasses down by the sinks. She knows I’m working a case, but it’s tough for her knowing I’m living here in the city and yet unavailable. With her pregnancy hormones, I’m sure her husband, Will, has his hands full dealing with her frustration. Ellie’s only four months along, but damn if she isn’t getting emotional already.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, noting that it’s Clark, the only woman on our task force. I glance around the room making certain I’m alone before answering.
“There’s been another abduction,” Clark informs me.
I go still, my gut tightening. “You’re certain?”
“The pinkie, and the photo of Serenity Donahue says it all,” she replies dryly.
“Where?”
“Hillcrest. The parents found their daughter’s abandoned car about a half mile from their home.”
I mutter a curse. “I’d like to look over the scene myself.”
“You’re supposed to stay with Serenity Donahue. I’m just keeping you updated.”
“He wasn’t supposed to target another girl, not with Serenity being here.” This is bad. He’s abducting innocents even with his target within reach. We didn’t see that coming.
“Well, he has,” Clark says in response to my comment.
“He took another girl?” Ren asks from behind me, her tone flat.
A full slew of curses echo in my head as I turn and find her standing there, her face pale, blue eyes haunted. I end the call with Clark without so much as a goodbye. “It looks that way,” I reluctantly admit, not wanting to lie.
Her expression shuts down before she turns and exits the back room.
I rub the back of my neck. “Damn it.”
* * *
It’s impossible to sleep.
Why isn’t Donahue focusing on his daughter? Why take another innocent girl when it’s Ren he really wants? There are too many thoughts turning over in my mind, and I lie in bed, staring at the dark ceiling as I wait for my mind to unwind.
When a light knock sounds from the apartment door, I sit up, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Three forty-five AM. Either something new has surfaced about Donahue, or it’s Ren.
I quickly slip on a pair of jeans and tuck my gun into the back of my waistband. Before opening the door, I peer into the peephole first. Ren stands there, looking forlorn and lost. I turn on the light and unlock the door, swinging it open. “Ren?”
She’s standing there with messy hair, a navy tank, and a pair of sweatpants that ride low on her hips. I can see the perspiration along her hairline, and I note the thick socks she has on her feet. What the hell? We were told by some tenants that some of the air conditioning units had broken down and had yet to be fixed, so without the cooling system, the air inside her apartment is thick from the humidity outside. She’s a sweaty mess and reeks of alcohol.
I quickly usher her inside and close the door. “What’s wrong?” I ask immediately.
Much to my surprise, she invades my personal space and clutches my arm, her blue eyes glazed but desperate. “You have to find her,” she slurs.
“We’re doing our best,” I try to soothe, noting that she’s completely tanked.
“It’s not good enough!” She bits her lower lip, eyes anxious. “Abandoned. Abandoned properties. He’ll take her somewhere secluded.”
I place my hands on her slim shoulders, hoping to calm her. “We’ve been continuously scouting abandoned properties. We’re doing everything we can, Ren.”
She weaves on her feet, and I tighten my grip on her shoulders. “What about empty houses for sale?” she blurts.
“Yes, we’ve thought of that.”
In the light, her eyes momentarily focus on mine, looking anguished. “My fault, it’s all my fault,” she mumbles.
I peer down at her, urging her to listen to me though she probably won’t recall this conversation in the morning. “None of this is your fault.”
Despair radiates from her in waves. “You don’t understand. I was going to kill him—it was the only way to stop him. But I couldn’t. I…I chose to leave with him…”
I release her and frame her face with my hands. “You left with him to go to the police. You did the right thing—”
“If it was the right choice, no one else would be dead,” she says weakly, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
God, the guilt that must be weighing her down. I draw her into my arms, wanting to ease her pain, but she quickly slithers away from me, backing away as she glares.
“Don’t! Don’t do that,” she says flatly as the tears quickly disappear.
I hold up my hands and remain calm so as not to upset her further. “I’m just trying to help.”
She gazes at me with sad eyes. “You can’t.”
“Ren…”
“I’m so tired,” she says in a hollow voice.
I know she’s not referring to physical exhaustion, but she needs to let go of the pain tonight and get some rest. “I think you need to lie down.”
For a long moment, she says nothing as she gazes at me with luminous eyes that betray a wealth of pain that she hides during the day. Then, she turns and weaves towards the door.
I quickly move into action and open the door. After she enters the hall, I hurry to her apartment door and push it open for her. She walks into the kitchen, and I follow her to the bedroom. She’s beginning to teeter on her feet, and I’m afraid she might tip over.
As gently as I can, I grip her by the shoulders and ease her to the bed. Her entire body crumples as she collapses onto the mattress, curling into a tight ball. The sight causes an ache to build in my chest. Before I can linger any further—something that would not be wise, I move away from the bed and leave the room—making certain all the lights remain on.
Eight
Ren
I have a vague recollection of going to Holden’s last night.
A vulnerable lump has settled deep within my chest, and every time I swallow, I can feel it building. I don’t know what possessed me to go to him, and I’ve been cursing myself since I’d awoken.
I’m still in bed, and I stare broodingly at the ceiling above. I really don’t want to face the day, and I certainly don’t want to have to look, talk, or be around Holden.
For five years, I’ve built invisible walls around myself to keep people at bay. They can’t hurt me if they aren’t allowed close enough, and that’s how I like it. The blame put upon my shoulders when the truth about my father had come out had nearly buried me alive. People judge, hate, and crucify others without ever considering that maybe, just maybe, they might be wrong. Part of me understood at the time that people needed someone to blame, but yet I’m not the one who’d ended those women’s lives. As a child, yes, I’d played a role in how he’d picked his victims, and I will live with that guilt for as long as I live. But I didn’t steal their last breath. That was all my father.
Why the hell did I go to Holden of all people? The memory of our conversation is fuzzy, but I know I’d revealed how upset I am over this happening all over again…and it’s my fault.
My stomach turns over, and I roll onto my side and stare at the alarm clock on the nightstand.
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