by CJ Ellisson
“Yes, it’s Villa. Gina Torres was murdered in the woods. Not far from here, but I can’t say where for sure. It was nighttime, so it was hard to make things out, but I got the distinct impression he wore a hoodie so she couldn’t see his face. He’s big, strong, and tall. He beat, overpowered, and strangled her. And he enjoyed every minute of it. I caught the outline of his smile under the hood. She’s got more wounds then Lisa. His cockiness grew since we haven’t found him.” Her voice shook with each word. Almost as if she’d been there.
How did she know all that? Usually Brock disseminated only the helpful information to the case, never giving them the full report on what Erica’s profiling was all about. He listened intently as she continued to describe the scene for Brock. Brock only asked case-related questions, but for the most part let Erica speak.
“He really enjoyed cutting her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he added some post-mortem wounds to this one. It was so weird to hear him break out in laughter spontaneously. He seems to get a kick out of hearing them scream when he hurts them... I don’t know how, but I get the feeling he knew both women. We have to find the link.”
Trent listened while she spoke. She was back to the other side of her personality, her no-nonsense persona that everyone in the team had gotten to know and rely on. Gone was her cheeky wit, replaced by the profiler who got the job done and gave their team the edge when they needed extra help to solve a case. But he knew that the other, more vulnerable, Erica was one step away from full-blown panic. His mate needed him, and he didn’t know how to help.
She handed him the phone and strolled off to the edge of the road, staring at the trees across the street.
He jerked the phone to his ear. “Brock? What the fuck is going on?”
“Buchanan watch your mouth.” Brock ordered in a steely voice.
“No, you listen to me.” He growled. Screw asking nicely. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. “I’ve watched her beg for help and sob as if something is hurting her two days in a row without an explanation. I won’t even go into the passing out or how pale she looks. What I want to know is what is going on, and how do I keep it from getting worse?” A sick, jagged sting knifed at his stomach. Was Erica suffering from some kind of illness? “Is she…is she sick?” The knot in his throat turned his question into a low rasp.
He could hear Brock exhale slowly on the other end of the line, as if trying to find the right words.
“No, she’s not sick or dying. All I can tell you is she’ll be fine. She just needs some sleep. Trust me. Take her back to the hotel, and make sure she rests.” Brock sighed, his voice softening he added, “Please…make sure she gets some rest. She needs it.”
Trent shut the phone and glanced at Erica. She had gone back to clenching and unclenching her fists. He finally realized she did that as a way to calm her nerves.
When Ramirez came out of the station he walked up to Trent. “So what’s really going on here?”
“I don’t know, but Brock says she’s fine and she just needs some rest. I think she might be sick, but he wouldn’t say. We’re going back to the hotel.”
Ramirez nodded. “All right, I’ll drop you off and check out Lisa Summers’s apartment again, make sure we didn’t miss anything there. Then I’ll stop by to see where Gina Torres lived. She didn’t live near Lisa, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t know each other. Who knows, I may find something that breaks this whole thing wide open.”
Trent prayed that would be soon, because if Erica got any worse, he didn’t think she’d be able to handle it. He was going to make it his mission to get her to relax without sex. His cock was in disagreement, as was his wolf, but he was going to be a good mate and help her sleep even if it killed him. When they reached the hotel he followed Erica into her room. She lifted her brows high in question.
He shrugged. “Brock told me to make sure you get some sleep.”
“I’m too tense to go to sleep.”
“Don’t worry. I’m here to help with that.”
The flare of interest in her eyes made his decision to keep things platonic for the night an exercise in self-endurance.
“What did you have in mind?” She licked her lips.
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
She needed to sleep, and his body was strung up tighter than a rubber band. “I’m going to give you a massage, and then you’re going to sleep.”
Yeah, that sounded even worse when he said it out loud. He was going to touch her body, her soft, curvy body, and then let her sleep? How the hell he would accomplish that feat he had no clue. But he would do it…for her. And he’d keep his wolf from pushing him to claim her already. He didn’t know why it was so important, but getting Erica back to her usual sarcastic self was his ultimate goal. It didn’t matter that she would tear him a new one with her cheeky wit; he loved that about her.
“Normally I would argue with you, but a massage sounds so good right now I can’t even say no.” She picked up a tank top and pair of cotton short from her open case. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to take a shower.”
She sauntered off to the restroom, her sexy hips swinging with each step, and shut the door.
Trent glanced down at his aching cock. It was begging for relief. Yeah, good luck with that. He grabbed his dick through the soft cotton material of his pants and shifted it into a less painful position. After a few moments of standing there like an idiot and listening to the shower going, he sat down on the bed. And immediately jumped back to his feet.
It probably wasn’t a good idea to wait for her on the bed. No, thinking of Erica and a bed in the same sentence made it hard to remember his objective. What the fuck was his objective? Oh yeah, just a massage. Instead, the cushioned chair next to the bed called his attention. He decided that was a better place to sit…and visualize her washing every smooth curve, water sliding down her breasts, her thighs, and between her legs. Holy fuck. He was going to end up with a severe case of blue balls.
Minutes later the bathroom door opened, and Erica stepped out, her hair in a bun on the top of her head. She wore a tiny tank top and short set. His cock jerked in his pants, reminding him how much he wanted to get a taste of her. The shower had brought back some of her normal flush, leaving her with lovely glowing skin. His mate was gorgeous. She smiled and brought out a bottle of oil.
“I use this oil to help me sleep,” she said, handing him the bottle.
He looked down at the container in his hands, lavender. Not that he’d ever admit it to her, but he loved lavender. The scent turned him on. It was one of the few that didn’t bother his sensitive sense of smell. “This is good.”
She lay down on the bed. Once she was on her stomach, she looped the strings on the tank top down her arms, baring her back and shoulders. He stared at the shoulder he wanted to bite so badly and finally claim her as his. Biting her, marking her, and making her his mate was such a big temptation he had to grind his teeth and haul his wolf back. The animal pushed on his skin, desperate to get out and take Erica for his mate once and for all. He gulped. He glanced over her body, up her legs and took a detour to stare at her ass. A few heartbeats later he met her gaze. She had a flirty grin on her lips.
“I’m ready.”
Shit.
She lowered her head to the mattress and sighed.
Taking a deep breath he walked up to the bed and stared at her flawless skin. He opened the bottle and dropped some oil into his palm. The soothing scent of lavender immediately filled the room. He rubbed his palms together until the oil heated and then splayed his hands over her shoulders. Working the oil into her flesh with smooth strokes and circular motions, he squeezed, molded, and pressed into her muscles. He started to feel somewhat confident in his ability to handle the entire massage without dying of a never-ending hard-on, until she started moaning. At first it was a small hitch in her breath, but then it turned into full-blown moans. And she wasn’t quiet.
“Mmm. That feels so good,” she whimpered.
/>
Imagining her saying the same thing while he slid in and out of her body had him gripping her skin a little rougher than he intended. She groaned, and his erection throbbed. Every time she sighed or moaned his cock swelled some more in his pants. Every breathy groan out of her lips pushed him to continue imparting all the pleasure he could. Her moans torturing his mind and body weren’t much fun, but who cared? Screw sanity, he wanted her to continue sighing in bliss.
“Trent.” She whispered his name so low he almost didn’t hear her over the pounding of his heart in his ears.
He stopped. Before he had a chance to do anything, she flipped on to her back. Her tank top hung precariously over her breasts, looking like it would reveal them at any moment. Goddamn.
“Sweetheart...”
He tried to keep his voice calm, but damn. She looked like a fantasy come to life. Her eyes were dark pools of passion. Her pink tongue flicked out and lavished her plump lower lip with a slow lick. The scent of her arousal was intense, and he knew she was wet and ready just for him. She gave him a smoldering look, filled with need and so much desire, sweat trickled down his spine.
“I want you.” She lifted her arms, and her hands went straight for his hair, gripping the short strands and pulling him down.
The floor could open up and the bowels of hell appear on earth, and he wouldn’t care or be able to stop from tasting her lips again. Hunger for her made him turn rough. Her open lips gave him an easy entry into her sweet depths. His tongue plundered, tasted, dominated, and possessed her. Too much had been worked up between them, and he was beyond thinking. It was time to feel. She pulled him down closer, until his body draped over hers. His cock ended up nestled between the warmth of her open legs.
Passion exploded inside him. The kiss turned wilder, desperate and consuming. He should stop. He should stop right now. Her whimpers grew, and he envisioned ripping off the tank top. He trailed his hands up her sides and grabbed her hands, stopping her fingers from twining with his hair. In one of the toughest battles against his instinct to be with Erica, he pulled away from her. It was hell, but he didn’t want to be a booty call. He’d wanted Erica for a long time and would not settle for some quick tumble as a means to relieve stress. No matter what she believed, he had feelings, and most of them were telling him this was not the right time. Erica was more than a quick lay. She was his mate.
“Erica, you’re tired.”
She moaned and kissed his jaw, ignoring his words. Her tongue flicked over his neck, and he almost forgot why they shouldn’t continue.
“Please… I need you.” She whimpered into his neck.
His cock wanted to kill him for what he was about to do. He lifted off her body and watched her open her unfocused eyes. “You need sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He lowered his face to level with hers, placed a soft kiss on her furrowed brow, and walked out.
He knew she was confused. He’d rather face her anger at this dissatisfaction now than face her anger for having taken advantage of her later. That wasn’t the way he wanted to start his relationship with his mate.
* * *
“So, you look like you got shit rest, Sleeping Beauty.” Ramirez said from the driver’s side when Erica slid into the backseat of the SUV. “What the heck do you do at night? If you tell me you’ve been sneaking out of your room to go clubbing I’m going to be so jealous.”
She growled and placed her sunglasses over her tired eyes, effectively shutting both men out. She was a fool. Trent had been coming on to her for years, and when she finally decided to give in to his playboy ways he walked out! What the hell was wrong with him? He was the biggest player she’d ever met, and he had turned her down.
“Leave her alone, Ramirez. Let’s see Gina Torres’s apartment,” Trent snarled. The vindictive part of her was quite smug over how tired he looked. Good. It made her feel a little better to know she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept well.
“Brock and Donovan will be heading this way tomorrow.” “It seems the two victims may have had someone in common. An ex-boyfriend.”
Erica stared blindly out her window and thought of both victims. Thankfully, their screams hadn’t kept her awake. Her own sexual frustration had her staring at the ceiling fan all night. She’d been torn between knocking on Trent’s door and demanding he fulfill her sexual needs or just hitting him for leaving her in that sad state. She sighed.
Trent had the charm of any man raised as the youngest with four older sisters. He always talked about how they doted on him. He developed a charm that never failed to get him into whatever panties he wanted. Women were drawn to him. He made each one feel like the most important woman alive. He could make the sourest woman smile. That was the reason Erica had worked so hard to keep an emotional distance from him. Although that part hadn’t been too difficult, the sexual interest drove her crazy most of the time.
“Did Brock mention if the ex is a suspect yet?” Trent asked.
“No,” Ramirez replied. “He said that he wants us to view Gina’s apartment, see what we find. Maybe something definite connecting the ex with both victims, but other than that he said there’s no news. He also said Donovan is looking into the victims’ cell, email, and social networking records. Apparently they were both heavy into Facebook, Twitter, and Badoo.”
“What about online dating?” Trent’s question caught her off guard.
Erica jerked her head toward the front and looked at Ramirez. For some reason she hadn’t thought of the murderer as someone from the online dating world, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be. The truth was she wasn’t all seeing, and the more possibilities they took off the table, the easier it became for her to narrow it down.
She watched Ramirez shake his head in a negative. “I don’t know. I guess we can have Donovan check it out, but do you really think these college girls, in a town full of kids their own age, would go on online dates? It seems pretty useless to me.”
Erica nodded in agreement. “You’re right, Ramirez. But a lot of college students use Facebook as more of a dating site than a networking site. So you need to keep that in mind. We need to find specific people they’ve both interacted with that may be connected.”
“Yeah that’s what I thought as well.”
“Ramirez, did you happen to look through Lisa’s date book? Or journal?”
“I did,” he groaned. “I’ve never read so much gushing about a guy in my life. Oh and the petty disputes over her old friends being jealous were exhausting.”
Erica perked up in her seat. “What guy was she gushing about? And what were the friends jealous over?”
“The guy was the ex-boyfriend, Derek Holmes, and she didn’t say what they were jealous over, just that they were.”
She mulled over his words as they reached the place Gina Torres had called home.
Ramirez parked outside the large apartment house. Erica dropped her cell phone in her pocket and moved to open the door, but Trent was holding it open before she had a chance. She looked up into his eyes and saw determination there.
He held out his hand to help her out of the Jeep. “Erica—”
She shook her head. “This is not the time, Trent. We have a case to solve.”
There was enough hurt inside her that she would rather break her neck throwing herself out of a burning building than take his hand. She jumped down from her seat, glanced up at his handsome face, turned her back, and marched away.
Erica made her way up the sidewalk, taking in the area. All of the structures appeared to have been farmhouses that were converted to multi-apartment houses. She knocked on the door to one of the large houses. An older woman with silver-white hair in a bun greeted them. She made five-foot-three Erica feel like a giant. The old woman had to be a little less than five feet tall and weigh around a hundred pounds, if that. Erica knew she wasn’t skinny, but Ms. Lipkin was tiny, and she felt like a chubby amazon next to her.
“You must be the FBI folk I was t
old were coming along to see Gina’s room.” The old woman said. “My name is Hazel Lipkin. Gina was one of my boarders and the sweetest girl in this house.”
Erica was caught off guard by the loud voice coming out of the small body. Ms. Lipkin glanced directly at Erica, offered her hand, and smiled. When Erica shook her hand, she gasped at Ms. Lipkin’s tight grip. The tiny woman was strong.
“Hi, I’m Erica Villa. Yes, we’re from the FBI. These are my colleagues, Trent Buchanan and Tony Ramirez.” She pointed to the men at either side of her.
The old lady smiled, first at Trent and then at Ramirez. “You get to work with these handsome young men over here? I’d never be able to get any work done with this kind of eye candy.”
Erica grinned, glancing from one man to the other. They were both preening.
“They’re not all that.”
“This one over here reminds me of my first husband, Mauricio. He was what they call a Latin lover. What a man.” Ms. Lipkin sighed while glancing at Ramirez. She gave him a wink and then turned to Trent. “But you, my boy, you remind me of my third and final husband, Jack. He was a handsome devil, loved getting on my last nerve, but was the most loving man I ever met, God rest his soul.”
Erica watched Trent’s smile widen. He then turned to look at Erica as if to say, “See? Even this lady can tell I’m awesome.” She rolled her eyes and shifted her attention back to Ms. Lipkin.
“Alright. If you just follow me I’ll show you Gina’s room.” Ms. Lipkin strolled back inside, everyone following behind her. Erica took in the open entryway and looming stairs to the second and third levels.
Ms. Lipkin jerked to a stop in the middle of the foyer like a tour guide would their group. “This was formerly a farmhouse, as I’m sure you already figured out. My parents decided to turn unnecessary bedrooms into small studio apartments and rent them out to college kids. It worked so well they kept it that way for decades. When they passed I took over and continued to work the same system.”