by Kris Norris
Gil sighed and took a step forward. He looked reluctant to get too close to her. Good! She didn’t want him close. He was too tempting in his faded jeans and cocky half smile. And she’d already caught the scent of his cologne on the breeze drifting through the trees. It was a mixture of spice and pine, and it was all she could do to keep her ass in the chair instead of pouncing on him like a hungry animal. Even angry and hurt, she wanted him. But it wasn’t just the sex. She needed to confide in him. Share her secret. But he’d only laugh, or worse, turn away. And she didn’t think her heart was up to another disappointment.
“Fallon.”
“There’s nothing to say,” she said, tipping the bottle up, needing to drown her pain in the cold liquid.
Gil moved forward and placed his hand over hers, gently lowering the bottle. “The alcohol won’t help, darling. Believe me. I’ve tried.”
Fallon stared at where his hand touched hers, trying to ignore the heat that flowed between them. It was as if her body was tuned to his, always accepting and ready. He simply needed to touch her, and her juices collected along her slit, preparing her body for his penetration.
She pulled her hand away, spilling some of the drink on her arm. “I believe I asked you to leave.”
She watched Gil sigh, stepping back from her. “We need to know what The Priest said to you. Just tell us about the conversation, and we’ll leave.”
“Don’t you think I’d tell you if he’d given me anything remotely useful? Do you really think I enjoy being part of his little masquerade?” The image of the bastard raping the woman flashed in her head and she turned away. There were aspects she hadn’t shared, but she knew they’d never believe her.
Gil stepped back over to her and knelt down. “No. And I know you wouldn’t hold back anything you thought was important. But we’ve got nothing to go on. And sometimes the small details are the ones that mean the most.”
“Meaning…”
“Meaning, maybe you know more than you think.”
Fallon huffed and stared out at the night. The rain had passed, but the clouds were still thick and dark. “What do your profilers think?”
Gil shrugged and stood back up. “Nothing other than the usual. Caucasian male anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Sexually assaulted as a kid, probably hates his mother and is trying to make his mark as a man by carving up women.”
“That’s it?” she asked.
“It may be slightly transparent, but it’s all we’ve got.”
Fallon shook her head and took another drink. The Bureau was so far off on this guy, it was no wonder they didn’t have a clue how to track him down.
“What’s the matter?” asked Gil. “Disagree with the profile?”
She snorted and looked up at him. “Other than you’ve got it all wrong, not really.”
Gil smiled at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Think you can do better?”
Fallon rolled her eyes and looked away. “Let’s start with the fact that the guy is much older, say mid-fifties, and that this has nothing to do with his mother.”
“Is that so? And what makes you so sure?”
Fallon sighed, so damn tired she blurted out the truth before she had time to consider the consequences. “Because most psychos don’t rape their victims if they think they’re their mother.”
She barely had time to gasp before Gil crossed the small space and lifted her from the chair. He locked his hands around her shoulders, giving a firm shake that made her head spin. “How do you know that? Did the bastard tell you?” Her head bobbed again as he shook her even harder. “Damn it, Fallon. What the hell is going on? First you talk about all the blood at the scene and how the church has stained glass windows. And now you know he rapes his victims before he kills them. How do you know all this?”
“Easy, Gil.” Wade was at Gil’s side, trying to pry his fingers off her shoulders. But she could only glance at him before Gil shook her again.
“Answer me, Fallon!” Gil shouted. “We didn’t tell anyone outside the Bureau. So how do you know?”
“I…”
“He told you over the phone?” prompted Gil.
“No…I…”
“How?”
Tears stung her eyes and fell down her cheeks before she could blink them away. She’d never seen Gil so upset, other than the first day in the hospital when he’d regained consciousness and realised Charlie hadn’t made it. Her shoulders felt numb where he’d clenched his hands around them, and her head was still spinning. She met his stare, watching something flicker across his expression as she drew a deep breath. “I saw him.”
Gil released her, whether because she’d answered him, or he’d finally noticed she was crying, she didn’t know. But as soon as his hands fell away from her shoulders she backed up, putting as much space as she could between them.
Gil watched from the edge of the porch, his expression unforgiving. “What do you mean, ‘you saw him’? You were at the scene?”
“Yes, no.” She sighed and crossed her arms around her chest. She felt cold and vulnerable, and didn’t want Gil to see how badly her hands were shaking. She looked up at him. “You won’t believe me.”
“Whether I believe you or not, isn’t the issue here. Now explain what you meant by, ‘you saw him’.”
Fallon huffed and couldn’t resist stomping one foot on the floor. “What good is explaining everything if you think I’m crazy? Can’t you just accept what I tell you without questioning it?”
“You know I can’t. Now quit stalling.”
Another tear tracked down her skin, but didn’t have the strength to wipe it away. She took a deep breath and stared at the floor as she spoke. “I was at the church, but not in the way you think. I have…visions.”
Both men stifled a moan, and she could only close her eyes. She’d known they wouldn’t believe in her ability. Hell, she sometimes wondered herself.
“You have visions?” asked Gil.
Fallon nodded and forced herself to meet his glare. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, his doubt mirrored in the twitch of his hands. “Yes, Gil. I have visions.” She held up her hand, stopping any questions before he had a chance to speak. “Look, I know what you’re both thinking, but I’m not crazy and I’m not making this up. I’ve had them before, but never this intense. Or with someone I don’t know. They’ve always been with people I’ve had a personal connection with.” She shook her head and stared at the floor again. “I don’t really understand why it’s happening.”
Gil stood on the porch, silently watching Fallon toe the floor as she huddled against the wall. She looked lost and scared and he would’ve gone to her if she hadn’t completely unnerved him, Visions? What the hell was she talking about? They’d been together for two years and she’d never mentioned anything about having visions.
He shifted his feet, not sure what to say to her. “Fallon.”
Her head snapped up as his voice seemed to fill the night air. It’d sounded suspect in his own head, let alone how it must have sounded in hers. She glared at him and palmed her hips. “Don’t even start with me,” she sneered.
Gil took a step back, not sure what she thought he was intending to do. Hell, he was far too confused to think of anything remotely intelligent to say. He cleared his throat and hoped to hell he could sound convincing. “I wasn’t going to start with you. I just don’t quite understand what you’re trying to tell us. Exactly what do you mean by visions?”
Fallon just snorted and shook her head, her eyes blazing with heat. If he didn’t know she was furious with him, he’d have sworn she was aroused. She’d had the same black rage this afternoon when she’d begged him to fuck her. He sighed, wishing her intensions were more along those lines. Fucking he could deal with.
“Don’t patronize me, Gil. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not…”
“Visions!” she yelled at him, her hair bouncing across her shoulders as she stomped her way towards him
. “Good, old fashioned, full-fledged, lock you up in a padded cell visions! You know, the kind of stuff that makes you cringe whenever some lunatic saunters into your office and claims they’ve seen where the body is buried, or where some bastard has taken a kid. Those kinds of visions, Gil!”
He watched as she crossed her arms again and dared him to question her. Shit, she was mad. If it wasn’t for the sick feeling rising in his stomach, he would’ve shoved her down and fucked her until she’d channelled all that energy into him. Lord knows he could use the distraction right now. But he could tell from the glint in her eyes, fucking him was the furthest thing on her mind.
Gil raised his hands, palms forward, compelled to show her he wasn’t trying to fight with her. It seemed an inane gesture, but some of the tension eased from her brow and she lowered herself to the chair again. He stepped in front of her, keeping an arm’s length away. “So you’re saying you get images of the dead women?”
She looked up at him, exhaustion replacing the anger in her expression. “Not images. It’s more like…” She paused as if searching for the right metaphor. “I’m watching a movie. I can see, hear, and even smell, but I can’t change anything…or help anyone,” she added quietly. “I feel like a ghost.”
“So you’ve seen the killer?” asked Wade.
Fallon jumped and turned her head towards the man. Her lips pulled tight, as if she’d forgotten the other man was still in the room. “No. It’s part of the curse. I only get to really see the victims.” She looked pleadingly at Gil. “But I can give you a more accurate description. He’s tall, with blonde hair and large shoulders. He seems to be in his late fifties…”
Wade nodded, though Gil could see the uncertainty in the man’s face. “But you can’t identify who’s doing this?” interrupted Wade. “You’ve never seen his face.”
Fallon sighed and shook her head. “No.”
The answer was soft and distant, and Gil knew Fallon had seen Wade’s scepticism. Gil reached out and brushed his fingers along her shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest, and we can discuss this more tomorrow.”
“I’m not crazy. I know you both think I’ve lost it, but everything I’ve told you is true.”
“I never said I didn’t believe you.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d never said the words out loud, and he didn’t think she could hear his thoughts. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for everything you’ve experienced.”
Fallon huffed and stood up. “Believe what you want.” She grabbed the remaining bottles off the floor and headed to the doorway. Her shoulders sagged as she stopped and glanced back at him. “I’ve told you everything I know. I can’t make you act on the information, but at least I’m not hiding it anymore. I can tell you that he told me talking to me helps him quiet his demons, so you should get a day or two reprieve.” She looked over at Wade. “Gil knows the way out. Lock the door behind you.”
Gil watched her leave, a tight feeling gripping his chest. He didn’t know if it was the desolate look in her eyes or the pain that seemed to radiate from her body in visible waves, but the image of her small frame stepping through the kitchen door slammed a stake through his heart, resurrecting the love he’d buried. He’d forced her to reveal a secret she’d kept hidden for years, and then done little to soothe her fears.
“Well?” asked Wade, stepping over to his side. “What do you make of her claim?”
Gil shrugged his shoulders and stared at the empty space. “To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s not like Fallon to make shit up, but…” But he didn’t believe in psychics or mystics or whatever you called them. He’d always believed they were usually just desperate, lonely people who needed to feel valued. But Fallon?
Gil turned to Wade. “Let’s let her rest until morning. Maybe she can explain it better then.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “Here. Take my truck and get some sleep. I’ll call you in the morning for a pick-up.”
Wade took the offering, a knowing smile kicking up the edges of his lips. “You’re going to stay? You’re braver than I thought.”
“I just don’t think it’s safe for her to be here alone. This bastard seems to be getting pretty attached to her, and I’m not convinced he’ll be satisfied with just talking to her.” He motioned towards the door with his hands.
Wade nodded and stepped into the kitchen. “Just do me a favour? Make sure you apologise before you seduce her this time, or I’ll be the one getting visions,” he crooned. “Of your death.”
Gil sneered at his partner as the man bolted for the doorway and left the house. And while he’d never admit it to Wade, the man was starting to grow on him. Gil sighed and stared at the hallway off to his left. Fallon was probably tucking herself into her bed as he spoke—that or plotting his murder—either way, the image flickered in his mind and he smiled at the clarity of it. He could see her, his shirt still draping her body, only she’d be completely bare underneath. Her hair would be soft around her face and her skin would shimmer in the pale light filtering through the window. She’d smell warm and womanly, the faint trace of her perfume still lingering on her skin. She’d slide into the sheets, not bothering to pull the shirt down as it rose over her hips, exposing the curve of her buttocks and the vee of her thighs.
Bare.
He still couldn’t believe she was bare. He’d loved that she’d kept her pubic hair short before, but having none at all was more than he’d hoped for. Feeling every inch of that undiscovered flesh with his tongue had been like opening the sweetest gift.
Gil felt his body move and had to grab the doorframe to stop himself from stalking down the hall and into her room. She needed space, and after all the times he’d pushed her away, it was the least he could do. He took one last glance and moved over to the couch.
Chapter Eleven
It was just past four as Gil lay on the couch, listening to the wind pelt rain against the window. He’d been trying to sleep for hours, but just couldn’t seem to quiet his mind long enough to drift off. He’d even found himself standing in the hallway a few times, staring at Fallon’s closed door, but couldn’t bring himself to open it. He kept remembering the pained look in her eyes when she’d asked them both to leave. Regardless of how he felt about her confession, he knew his reaction had hurt her.
Visions. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was she really serious? He sighed and closed his eyes, willing his body to relax. But it didn’t work. His muscles clenched along his back, straining up his neck until he was forced to snap his teeth together. He was tired and frustrated, and sporting an erection that just wouldn’t die. Ever since he’d stepped into the house and sensed Fallon’s sweet, womanly scent, he’d been hard and thick. Based on the ache between his legs, it wasn’t going away anytime soon.
“Maybe I should call 9-1-1,” he jeered, squeezing his shaft in hopes of finding some relief. “Tell them I’m in need of emergency, medical attention because my cock won’t get soft.”
He smiled, thinking about how the operators would deal with him, when a soft sound penetrated his haze. He straightened. There was a hushed shuffling noise followed by a gentle click.
Fallon’s door.
Gil held his breath, waiting. The house was silent. He cursed, knowing she’d returned to her bed when a loud creak echoed down the hall, followed by a muted curse. Gil chuckled. The door had needed oiling several months ago, and it seemed Fallon hadn’t gotten around to it after he’d left.
He eased his body back against the cushions, listening to the soft pad of her feet across the wood. She paused at the hallway, her startled gasp floating across the room. She’d obviously expected him to leave with Wade and hadn’t planned on finding him sprawled out on her sofa.
He angled his head over, and watched her lean against the wall. He smiled when he noticed she was still wearing his shirt, just as he’d envisioned. It hung just below the top of her thighs, allowing him to see every inch of her legs, but nothing of the bounty that awaited him bene
ath. He swept his gaze upwards. She’d crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them against the fabric. Either she was cold or the sight of him on the couch had aroused her, because even several feet away he could see her nipples pointing out from the shirt. They looked long and hard, and he had to clench his fists into the cushions to keep from launching his body forward and ripping the damn thing off her body. One taste was all it’d taken to renew his addition and he had every intention on fulfilling his cravings.
Fallon sighed, drawing his attention to her face. She looked confused, and when she turned, he could see tears glistening in her eyes. He clenched his jaw and called to her as she turned to leave. “Trouble sleeping?”
She stopped, her hand resting against the wall, as she turned back to face him. “I thought you’d left with Wade.”
Gil tried not to smile at the relief in her voice. She hadn’t wanted him to leave. He pushed himself up and ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”
Fallon snorted and leant back against the wall. “Since when are you worried about my being alone? You left months ago and never looked back.”
Gil sighed and kept his teeth locked shut to keep from blurting out anything rash. She had every right to be angry with him, and it appeared she wanted to pick up their discussion where he’d left it earlier. He swung his feet to the floor and stood up, hoping to use his height to his advantage. “I see you still want to discuss this, darling,” he said, taking a step towards her. “Just tell me where you want to start.”
“Where to start?” she snapped, cringeing as a tear cascaded down her cheek. She wiped it away, daring him to challenge her, and Gil knew he’d made another mistake. Fallon pushed her shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Why don’t we just start with good-bye?”
Gil cursed as she marched into the kitchen, her back stiff, the muscles in her shoulders bunched. She’d brushed him off earlier, but he wasn’t about to let her walk away so easily this time. He took a fortifying breath and followed her through the door.