Tainted

by Dani Matthews

  Holden’s hands leave my face, and he eases back. “I want to focus on the case, and after your father is caught, we’ll focus on us.”

  I mutely nod, still trying to come to grips with this new turn of events.

  Holden eases off the mattress and rises to his feet. “One of us needs to leave this bed, and it’d better be me.”

  Yeah, he’s going to have to be the one to walk away, because I still can’t help but ogle his sexy body. Then, my eyes dart up to his face. “Wait, what were you doing in here in the first place?” I ask curiously.

  Something shifts in his gaze. “You had a nightmare.”

  The knowledge that he’d witnessed me at my most vulnerable brings heat to my cheeks, and I avert my gaze. In the flash of a second, I’d switched from not wanting him to leave to him not leaving fast enough.

  “We’ll hit up the gun range around one,” Holden tells me, and then a second later, the door closes firmly—announcing that I’m alone.

  Eighteen

  Holden

  As soon as I enter my own apartment, I head for the shower. I need a cold one after what had just almost happened in Ren’s bed. Now that we both know how the other feels, it’s going to be a bitch to ignore.

  Just as I’m about to start the shower, my phone vibrates. As I pull it from the back pocket of my jeans, I lecture myself on keeping my pants on when I sleep on Ren’s sofa. No more stripping down from the heat.

  Caller ID shows that it’s Lieutenant Martinez. I frown and put the phone to my ear as I exit the bathroom and make my way to the kitchen. “Lieutenant,” I greet.

  “We’ve got another one,” Martinez grimly informs.

  My hand pauses on the refrigerator door handle. “Another victim?”

  “A teenager was abducted from a local diner. We’ve got blood and a finger at the scene.”

  Shit. I rake a hand through my hair as frustration mixed with helplessness sweeps over me. “I need to see the scene.” It’s important that I refocus on the case and not on how I feel about Ren. “Ren won’t be going anywhere until later this afternoon, so whoever’s on perimeter duty can keep an eye on her for an hour or so,” I add before he can suggest otherwise.

  Martinez gives me the address before ending the call.

  Within five minutes, I’m leaving the apartment and heading to the diner. When I arrive, the usual crowd is there—the first officers that had arrived on the scene, a handful of others to secure the area, and crime scene technicians to gather evidence. As with any unfolding crime scene, bystanders are crowding behind the police tape cordoning off the back-parking lot.

  I flash my badge to one of the uniforms and duck under the tape. The back door of the run-down diner is propped open, and a few uniforms are standing outside while a photographer is snapping photos of something on the ground. As I approach, I see that it’s a pinkie finger with bright purple nail polish. It’s laying in a small puddle of blood just within the doorway.

  Carefully, I make my way past and enter the diner’s kitchen. This is where I find Martinez and Detective Cadara watching the crime scene technicians work. Martinez spies me and nods. “She put up quite a fight,” he says, referring to the pots and pans that are scattered across the tiled floor and broken glass.

  I scan the ceiling corners of the room. “Any surveillance cameras?”

  “No.” He holds out a photo to me. “I had one of the uniforms take the parents to the police department. This is a photo of our victim.”

  I take the photo and go still. The smiling features of a young brunette with blue eyes reminds me of Ren. There’s no mistaking the resemblance.

  Martinez continues, “The victim closes the diner on Thursdays. Her parents didn’t wait up, so they didn’t realize she’d never made it home until this morning. The father drove over and found her car in the lot. When he saw the blood by the door, he called it in.”

  I hand the photo back and feel a headache coming on. This makes victim number two since Ren’s arrival.

  Martinez looks around the scene with a hard glint in his eye. “Donahue must be aware of his daughter, so why the hell is he taking more victims?”

  I rub my face. “Because we’re expecting him to go after her.” If a criminal is too predictable, they’re looking out of a prison cell before they even realize it. The real killers, the ones that scare the public, they’re the ones that thrive on keeping the authorities guessing.

  Martinez’s expression tightens. “We now have two abductions with one resulting in a death, and yet we’re still at square one. The media is having a field day over this, and I’ve got everyone breathing down my neck.”

  “He’s a cop, so he knows everything we’re going to do before we do it,” I say dryly.

  Martinez draws in an aggravated breath. “If we don’t get a break soon to push this investigation further, we’re going to lose it to the FBI. The mayor’s already pushing to contact them.”

  Cadara pulls out a handkerchief and pats his pudgy face. “Sitting around waiting for him to make a move is getting us nowhere.”

  “We need to bait him and set an actual trap,” Martinez agrees.

  I look at him sharply. “There’s no guarantee those go down as expected.”

  He gives me a severe look. “We don’t have much of a choice. I think it’s time you let up on the daughter and let Donahue get closer.”

  This is exactly what I was hoping wouldn’t happen. “She’s not some sacrificial lamb.”

  “I’m aware, but do you see any other alternative?” he asks bluntly, his eyes holding mine expectantly.

  He’s put me on the spot, and we both know my hands are tied on this one. As much as I want to deny it, the next step is to coax Donahue out of hiding—which means making Ren more vulnerable than she already is. “Let me think over our options, and I’ll see about putting something together.”

  “Do it fast,” Martinez orders.

  “Fast calls for mistakes,” I say levelly. “I’ll get her out there, just let me do it right.”

  “Forty-eight hours, Brooks,” he warns.

  I wanted a heck of a lot more than forty-eight hours to prepare Ren for this, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.

  Nineteen

  Ren

  Holden’s distracted.

  We’re at the gun range, and he’s being tougher on me than I’m accustomed to. Something’s bothering him, and I’m hoping that it has nothing to do with what happened between us this morning. If he regrets confessing that he’s as into me as I am him, I’ll be devastated.

  Deciding it’s wise not to bring it up for fear of hearing his answer, I continue my training and focus on my aim. It’s not until we leave the gun range and climb into his truck that those little doubts creep back up on me once more.

  Holden’s unnaturally silent as he pulls the truck out of the parking lot and merges with traffic. From the corner of my eye, I study him. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a visible tension along his jawline, and the skin around the corners of his eyes is strained. Something is troubling him, and I don’t think it has anything to do with this morning. The fact that he’s been like this all afternoon warns me that this is much more serious than I’d originally thought.

  I turn in the seat to face him and ask, “What’s going on?” No matter what his response turns out to be, I’m probably not going to like it. However, I don’t want to be left in the dark, not when it comes to my father.

  Holden’s remains silent a moment and then says, “I’ll fill you in when we get back.”

  His tone brings gooseflesh to my arms, and my heart sinks as I turn and stare out the window. Something’s going on, and I can only hope that it has nothing to do with another victim. I chew my bottom lip and dwell upon the path that fate’s paved for me. My father is dragging this out for some reason. Why continue abducting girls when he should be focusing his attention on me? I’ve been here in Little Rock for weeks, and he’s playing games where I’m concerned.
>
  It’s ironic how things can change. A few weeks ago, I would have been relieved that he’s not focusing his sights on me, but now I’m anxious for this to end. I want innocent girls to stop dying, and I want to believe Holden when he promises me a future.

  When we reach the apartment building, we’re both quiet as we make our way up to the second level. After I’ve unlocked the door to my apartment, Holden naturally checks the rooms before allowing me to settle in.

  We situate ourselves on the sofa, and I face him with questioning eyes. “What’s going on, Holden?”

  He gazes at me with grim eyes as his jaw flexes. “Another girl was taken,” he reveals.

  My tongue darts out as I dampen my suddenly dry lips. Deep in my heart, I’d already known, and it aches for what the young girl must be enduring. “This is happening too fast,” I say softly.

  Holden nods as his expression hardens. “He’s leaving less of a timeframe between victims.”

  “You think it’s because of me?” I ask hollowly.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a tired sigh. “I honestly don’t know.”

  I draw my knees to my chest and ask, “What if we’re wrong and my presence here is just inciting his need to kill?”

  Holden’s eyes swiftly lock on mine, and he shakes his head. “He’s leaving photos of you at the crime scenes. He wanted you to come.”

  “What if he’s hurting these girls to torment me?” I ask thickly as my stomach churns. “He knows each one is like a dagger to my heart. The more he kills, the more I hurt.” I look at him with anguish. “Either way, I’m the reason he’s doing this.”

  Holden lays a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “He’d be killing regardless of your presence, and we both know that.”

  “How do we stop him?”

  Before my eyes, the softness he’d just shown me disappears, and something else replaces it—something that I can’t decipher. “Lieutenant Martinez thinks it’s time we lay a trap for him. One he’s not going to be able to resist,” he says in a careful tone.

  I’d known this was coming. “Me,” I say flatly.

  Holden nods in agreement.

  Knowing it won’t do either of us any good to show my fear, I focus on maintaining my composure. It’s time to play a more active role in this investigation.

  He moves closer and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Ren, keeping you alive is my main priority. I am not going to allow you to go into this vulnerable.”

  “I know,” I say, offering a small smile. “So, how will this play out?”

  He eases away, and his expression turns contemplative. “That’s where I’m drawing blanks,” he confesses. “You know him better than anyone else, and however we set this up, he needs to find it believable. I think between the both of us, we could come up with a plan that meets all the expectations, including your safety.”

  I look at him with surprise. “You want to include me with the planning?”

  He gives a firm nod. “It’s your life you’re risking, so yes. I’m not going to throw you to the wolves, so to speak, and hope you come out unscathed. I want to guarantee you’re well-protected.”

  I believe him, which makes this ordeal a little more bearable. “You must have something in mind.”

  “I have a few ideas but haven’t sorted out the finer points. I thought it best to wait until we could brainstorm together.”

  I am grateful for that. For once, I don’t feel alone, and Holden is slowly making a place for himself in my life.

  “We won’t be far from you,” he continues. “Your car has a GPS for us to track, and we’ll put a tracker on you. We’ll always know your location and be nearby.”

  That certainly helps, and I draw in a deep breath and exhale as I calm my nerves. “I’ve been running for five years without help,” I say tentatively. “If I strike out on my own, he might believe that the lack of success with the investigation has caused me to doubt your ability to keep me safe.”

  Holden’s eyes sharpen. “You need to bail on us.”

  I nod. “He’d probably believe it.”

  His eyes search mine intently. “Are you comfortable with this idea?”

  “It’s the only one I have,” I say truthfully.

  * * *

  That night at Bull’s, I’m more aware of Holden than I’ve ever been before. Some of it has to do with knowing how much he wants me, but it’s not all just physical attraction. He seems to care about me and that eases the fear and anxiety that’s knotted deep within me. He believes that we’re going to take my father down together, and that we’ll have a chance to really get to know one another after I put the past to rest. I’m not to the point where I can comfortably make future plans, but it helps knowing one of us is absolutely certain there will be one.

  Every time I happen to look up, my eyes automatically slide to Holden—and usually—I find his eyes on me. It’s nice not hiding how I feel, and occasionally, I offer him a small smile.

  Tonight, he plans to crash on my sofa again in case I need him. Unfortunately, he’s not referring to my hormones. Although he hasn’t outright said it, I know my nightmare last night bothered him. I don’t even remember it, but it must have been bad if he’d climbed into bed with me. As much as I would love to find him in my bed tomorrow morning, I don’t want him witnessing another nightmare. All too often I feel vulnerable, but with Holden, I feel braver. He makes me feel like I can tackle anything and pull through it, which is why I hate him seeing me at my lowest. I’m just hoping that I was active enough today so that I’ll sleep harder and hopefully not dream.

  When it’s time to close the bar, we work together quietly and clean the night’s mess before heading back to the apartment.

  While Holden runs back to his place to clean up and change for the night, I ready the sofa with a fresh blanket and pillow. When I’m finished, I stand back and grimace. It can’t be all that comfortable for him when he’s taller than the length of the sofa.

  Holden comes back to find me still eyeing the sofa. “Something wrong?”

  I glance at him, noting that he’s wearing different jeans and an old vintage tee. “I don’t know how you manage to get any sleep on that thing.”

  He shrugs and sets a small case beside the sofa. “I don’t need much sleep anyway.”

  “You can always share the bed with me,” I offer, knowing he won’t accept but sure wishing he would.

  Holden’s already shaking his head, his expression amused. “Then neither of us would sleep.”

  “I’m fine with that,” I quip.

  He rubs a hand across his jaw, fighting back a chuckle. “Walk away, Ren. Walk away.”

  I release a sigh and turn, walking back down the hall and entering my room. It’s a comfort knowing he’s not far, so I leave the door cracked and quickly change into my usual tank and flannel pants. Once I’m in bed, I pull the blankets up high around my neck and stare at the cracked door.

  The sounds coming from the living room are very faint, but I recognize them for what they are. He’s cleaning his guns. I don’t know why, but that knowledge is such a turn on. Holden is a man of action and all testosterone. There’s nothing soft or passive about him. What you see is what you get, and I like that.

  My thoughts shift from Holden to the plan we’ll be setting in motion the following night. Tomorrow will be a busy day prepping, and then that evening…

  Unease settles in the pit of my stomach over the thought of being on my own. A few short weeks ago, I’d preferred it that way. Now, just the thought of not being near Holden brings forth a sense of panic, and I know that’s not healthy either. I can’t lean on him and expect him to make all the bad things to go away.

  However, I can yearn for him and miss him when he’s not near. That’s normal, right? Hell, I don’t even recall what normal is. Forget normal. Someday, I hope that I’ll be able to experience life without constantly looking over my shoulder. If I can have that, then that will be re
ason to celebrate.

  As I lie there, listening to the quiet sounds in the living room, my hormones capture my attention. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I’m not a prude by any means, and every now and then, I enjoy sex with an attractive stranger.

  Usually, if I want something, I go after it, but it’s difficult holding back with Holden. The attraction is just too strong, and as I lie here, it begins to frustrate me that our mutual desire is being ‘put on hold’ because of my father. The more that I think about it, the angrier I become. The past five years of my life have been ‘on hold.’ I’ve just been running and waiting, hoping for something to change so that I can go back to actually living. Well, now’s my chance to do something with someone that I’m beginning to care about, but my father’s still standing in the way.

  I sit upright and shove back the covers. Screw that. It’s time to make things happen instead of waiting for them. My heart begins to pound inside my chest as I leave the bed and open the bedroom door. There’s a good chance Holden will reject me, and if he does, I need to resign myself to honoring his wishes. I at least want to try, though. I’d rather not go into tomorrow night regretting this evening. I’m trying to stay positive about our plan, but I know all too well that plenty of things can go wrong.

  Quietly, I make my way down the hall until I reach the entrance of the living room. Holden has rid himself of his shirt, and he’s sitting on the sofa with his elbows propped on his knees as he cleans one of his guns.

  He looks up at me with concern. “Hey, you okay?”

  “That depends.” I walk over and pray that he’s not going to reject me. I touch his bare shoulders, and he looks up at me with surprise as I gently push him back against the sofa and straddle his lap. It feels good to have him between my legs, and I can’t resist rocking against him. The thin material of my lounge pants is no match for the rougher material of his jeans, and I release a small moan.

  Holden quickly sets aside the gun he was cleaning, and automatically grips my hips—bringing them to a halt. The expression on his face causes my lower belly to quiver. “Ren…” There’s desire in his low, gravelly voice, but also a hint of regret.