“Then you two know each other?” John asked.
“You can say that,” Hudson replied with a smile. A smug, satisfying smile that snapped her out of her sexual spell and reminded her exactly why breaking things off with him had been the right decision. Her body might not have thought so at the time, and those urges to have him in her bed right now might still be strong, but her head knew better. Hudson was an arrogant jerk who exuded less emotion than she did.
After she’d slipped on her coat, Celeste squeezed her hand. “Think about what I said. If I can help—”
She tore her gaze from Hudson’s and looked to her sister. “I’ll call you. For lunch,” she added to make her stance regarding the psychic reading crystal clear.
With a tired smile, Celeste nodded, then she and John left the townhouse. Hudson followed them out to the front stoop, giving her a chance to gain some composure.
First she’d find out what Hudson had to say on Ian’s behalf, then she’d kick his ass out the door. She wouldn’t have to tiptoe around him like she had with her sister and John. Niceties weren’t necessary with Hudson. He’d never expected them and besides, she’d given up playing nice the night he’d treated her as if she were a rotten, spoiled brat. The fact that they’d had sex only hours before didn’t help his cause, either.
“Callous, crass bastard,” she said as she finished cleaning the kitchen.
“And who might that be?”
She jumped, splashing running water over the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Swearing under her breath, she shut off the water and reached for a towel. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Don’t avoid the question. Am I the callous, crass bastard? ‘Cause if that’s the case, then that makes me think you’re still mad at me.”
She shrugged. “I’d have to care, which I don’t.”
The corner of his mouth slid up in a slow smirk. “Suppose not, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you ever did.” He gave her a once over. “You look pretty good.”
Pretty good? Had she known Ian planned to send Hudson tonight, she would have made sure she’d looked damn good. She might not want anything to do with him—relationship wise—but no woman wants an ex-whatever to see them at their worst, either. “And you look as if you’re a front for some eighties big hair band,” she shot back with a raised brow, quite proud of her comeback even if it was immature.
His smirk slid into a sexy smile. “Then that explains all those hot groupies following me around and throwing their g-strings at me.”
“You wish,” she said, and dropped the kitchen towel on the counter. “Look, I’ve had a bad day. Let’s put aside all the bullshit baggage and get to the point of why you’re here.”
“Good enough,” he said, and headed into the living room. He plopped himself on the center of the couch, forcing her to sit on the oversized chair in the corner. “Did you watch the entire DVD?”
She shuddered and hugged herself. “Unfortunately.”
“Why call Ian and not the cops?”
“There was a note with the DVD that said no police.”
“What about that homicide detective, Mallory? Are you still chummy with him?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. Until today, Bob Mallory had not only been her source with the Chicago PD, he’d been her friend. “I’m not sure,” she began, fighting the hurt tightening her throat. “He said some pretty harsh things to me tonight and accused me of leaking information that shouldn’t have been made public.”
“What about?”
“Last week a nurse was killed in her apartment. Today, another woman…another nurse, was found dead in her condo. The media are calling the killer Dr. Dread.”
“Stupid name.”
“No kidding. Anyway, Bob had confided the details of both murders to me and asked that I keep the information confidential. I did. Went to Buckstown where the latest murder occurred, and reported what I could about the case. Unfortunately, Kyle one-upped me and went ahead and revealed every gory detail about both murders on live TV.”
“Kyle Edwards, the anchor?”
“You got it,” she confirmed.
“That doesn’t make any sense. Don’t you two work for the same TV station?”
Ever since Network had offered her a contract to host her own investigative reporting show, out of childish rivalry, Kyle had been finding ways to make her life miserable. She wasn’t about to tell Hudson this, though. She’d been taking care of herself for a long time and had learned the hard way that she didn’t need to lean on him, or anyone else, for support. Besides, she’d only have to endure Kyle until the end of the month, then she’d leave for New York and begin the next level of her career.
“Yeah,” she answered. “Although you wouldn’t know it with the way he acted on air. What he did was reckless. I mean, he might have jeopardized a murder investigation.” She shook her head, still stunned by the entire situation. “What’s crazy is that Kyle has writers who are paid to give him the news to read, not sources with inside information. He hasn’t done beat reporting in the ten years since becoming lead anchor and yet he somehow knew details only the homicide detectives or the ME would know. And what’s even crazier is that both nurses had been killed with surgical instruments and tonight I wind up with a DVD showing...” She waved her hand. “I’m assuming you saw it for yourself.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well? Don’t you think it’s possible this so-called doctor in the DVD and the guy who murdered the nurses are one and the same?”
“It’s possible,” he replied, but she caught the doubt in his eyes.
“But you don’t think so.”
“Mallory’s worked both crime scenes and knows how the victims were killed. Let’s let him decide if they’re related.”
“The note said no police,” she reminded him.
He shrugged. “I’m not suggesting we waltz into the police station where everyone will notice the famous Eden Risk. Call Mallory in the morning and ask him to come here.”
“I’m not sure if he’s taking my calls. You’d better do it.”
“Done.”
“What about airing the DVD on tomorrow’s six o’clock news? There’s no way in hell the station manager would allow it. I certainly wouldn’t want to see that aired, either. Otherwise every idiot with a cause will think it’s—”
“Other than Mallory, I don’t want you telling anyone else about this.”
She shivered when the image of the mocking buck-toothed smile drawn on the surgical mask mingled with the poor man strapped to the operating table. She’d never seen anything so grotesque or cruel in her entire life and wanted to do everything possible to prevent another person from having to endure such horrors. “But that...doctor. He said that if the DVD wasn’t aired, to expect another. I can’t, as a responsible journalist, justify airing the DVD, but I don’t want to be the reason another person...dies.”
“Doesn’t matter what you do,” he said with a shrug. “This guy’s going to keep on keepin’ on regardless of what he says. I’m guessing he didn’t go through all the trouble to build himself an operating room for just one surgery. I’m thinking this thing is bigger than that and driven by revenge.”
She wiped a hand over her face, then rested her chin in her palm. “Maybe I should watch it again. I...it was hard to take in every nuance when—”
“I’ve got a copy with me, but let’s watch it tomorrow. I can’t stomach another viewing tonight,” he said with disgust. “Ian’s having the original and the case it came in dusted for prints. He’s also having our computer geek go through the DVD to see if she can pick up any additional information about the victim, his tormentor and where this had taken place.”
Although she doubted they’d find any prints, Ian putting his team to work gave her a sense of relief. Because his agency was privately owned, and Ian had more money than God, his resources were limitless.
Hudson shifted and leaned forward, drawing her attention. “How w
ell do you know your neighbors?” he asked.
She frowned and shrugged at his sudden change of subject. “The guy who lives in the townhouse to the right has a condo in Naples and left a few weeks ago for the winter.”
“On the left?”
“A young couple. Both are attorneys, I think.” She shook her head. “I don’t know any of the other neighbors.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She didn’t miss the sarcasm and laid on her own. “And how often are your neighbors stopping by and borrowing a cup of sugar? Pardon me for liking my privacy.”
He raised his hands as if surrendering, but she knew this man better than that. He never surrendered to anyone and was the type who had to come out the victor no matter what the cost. She knew this above all else considering his need to win was what had ended their relationship.
“I’m just wondering if we should bother asking your neighbors if they’ve seen anyone hanging out around your townhouse. I noticed none of these places have security cameras, so that’s a wash. And while we’re on the subject of security, I also noticed your system sucks.”
“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I paid top dollar—”
“For a piece of crap. I’ll take care of it myself in the morning.” He glanced at his watch, then rubbed a hand along his face. When he finally looked at her she realized his exhaustion mirrored her own.
“How late is it?” she asked.
“One and I’ve been up since four this morning,” he said, then propped his boots—his scuffed up, filthy boots—on her suede couch and laid back. “Go get some sleep. We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”
She knocked one Doc Marten off the couch. “And what do you think you’re doing?”
Sitting up, he reached down and unlaced his boots. “Sorry. After a month in Detroit, I’ve gotten into the habit of wearing my shit kickers to bed.”
She refused to allow sympathy and worry to rule her mind. If Hudson wanted to take on dangerous assignments that could possibly send him to the morgue, it was none of her business. Not that it had ever been. He’d made his feelings abundantly clear years ago. He’d been with her for the sex. Nothing more.
“So wear them to bed, just do it at your place.”
He set the boots aside, then lay back on the couch again. Resting his head on the crook of his arm, he closed his eyes and said, “Not gonna happen tonight.”
She fisted her hands. “I can’t have you sleeping here. What will the neighbors think?”
“More importantly, what will your stalker think?”
*
From the darkened family room the TV blared an old rerun of Three’s Company. Considering the lazy bitch detested Don Knotts, that meant she was likely asleep. Good. Maybe tonight there could be a moment of peace.
Time to think. Time to create a new plan. Time to remove the wig, make-up, and evidence.
With a smile and a gentle push, the door closed with the softest click.
“That you, Pudge?”
Damn it. The bitch was up after all. Frustration and anger slithered slowly inside. “Yeah, Mama.”
dont let her call you that
Ignoring the seductive whisper, Pudge slipped down the short hall of the dilapidated, small ranch to the only bathroom in the house.
“Wait. Where you off to?” Mama shouted with alarm. “And why don’t I smell no Happy Jax’s? I told you to pick me up two double bacon cheeseburgers and them hand cut fries I love.”
“They were closed by the time I got off work,” Pudge replied from the threshold of the bathroom.
“Then put a frozen pizza in the oven. I’m starving. And when you’re done, I need you to get a new battery for the remote. I’ve been stuck watchin’ this stupid show for twenty minutes. Can’t stand that goddamn Mr. Furley and his—”
Pudge closed the bathroom door drowning out anything else Mama had to say, then quickly moved to the sink. The putty needed to be removed, along with the make-up, wig and clothes. Mama couldn’t suspect. She couldn’t know.
so what if she does so what so what so what
“Because,” Pudge said, and tossed the putty in a protective case to keep it from hardening. “Just leave me alone until I take care of Mama.”
i know the perfect way to take care of mama just let me just let me just let me show you how good it can be
“No,” Pudge whispered while applying cold cream. “I’ve told you before. I can’t kill her.”
you didnt have a problem killing daddy
“I wasn’t the one who killed him.”
no you only helped hide the body
Pudge stripped off the bloodied clothes, then shoved them into a garbage bag. “It doesn’t matter. Once the bitch dies, of natural causes, we’ll inherit half a mil and will be able to leave this dump. Maybe even Chicago.”
why would we leave when theres so many opportunities here for us youre not giving up on us yet are you are you
“No. But you saw what happened tonight. This plan of yours isn’t going to work.”
but i sure had fun slicing up that nurse didnt you doctor dread
Playing Dread had been powerful, invigorating, freeing. Pudge stared at the mirror, at the high-wattage smile reflecting back. “Oh yeah.” The smile faded. “But killing didn’t help us any. Instead it only made her look better.”
but the killing was fun fun fun
“Yes.”
then maybe we should just kill her
“What?” Skeptical, Pudge gaped at the mirror. “No way. She’s too high profile.”
scare her
“We tried that before.”
not hard enough try harder
“She went to the cops before for help. What if they linked those calls back to—”
they didnt they wont because they wont help her anymore remember
“Yes.” Pudge nodded. “Thank you for helping me with that.”
my pleasure always my pleasure i love you precious
Precious, not Pudge. The name stroked over the senses like a lover’s caress. “I love you, too.”
will you let me love you touch you taste you
“Yes,” Pudge hissed and pinched a nipple. Loving the pain and anticipating the pleasure to come.
will you take care of her for me
“Mama? Yes. Just give me a half hour.” Feeding Mama’s fat face and changing her colostomy bag normally brought the gag-reflex into full force. But the desire overrode the disgust.
not mama youre right she must die naturally
“Then who?”
eden risk
Chapter 3
Smothered.
His chest heavy, his arms numb, a blanket of weight pushed the air from his lungs, while the tickling under his nose drove him bat shit. Orlov, the crazy Russian, had proven to be unpredictable and full of surprises over the days he’d held him captive, introducing new torture techniques that had made him wish he was dead.
His nose twitched. Whatever the hell Orlov was doing to him made him want to scream. He’d never experienced anything like this, the infuriating, irritating tickle, and wished to God for the chance to rub the itch from his nose.
Something rough and wet suddenly swept across his cheek, followed by that maddening tickle. He cringed and when he shifted his head, sharp, tiny daggers pinched his nose. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to fight. He had to keep his control. He had to—
Hudson snapped open his eyes, then froze.
Memories of last night hit him full force. He was in Eden’s townhouse, not a cavern basement in the jungles of Columbia. His arms weren’t tied behind his back, but sleep numb. And the weight on his chest wasn’t some sort of torture device but a...cat.
A very large, very menacing looking cat.
As big as a dog, with long yellow hair, the cat sized him up with one eye. The other looked as if it had been sewn shut. A scar ran from the damaged eye to the top of its head were there should have been an ear.
>
Damn the thing was ugly. And heavy as hell.
“Shoo,” he whispered, his nose still itchy, likely from the cat’s fur brushing against his face. And to think he’d been having a nightmare about Orlov. It had been years since the Russian had invaded his sleep.
The images from the DVD he’d watched last night with Ian ran front and center through his head. The torture, the cruelty. No wonder the Russian had come for a visit. Now he had to deal with another nightmare. Some crazed doctor who was into slicing and dicing, and...Eden Risk.
Last night he’d told her she looked pretty good, but that had been a lie. Just a way to needle her, and maybe crawl under her skin. Her looks were important to her. She wasn’t the type to flaunt them, and she wasn’t vain. But she always had to look perfect. How he’d ended up in bed with her he’d never understood. She was class, and he was...crass. Hell, last night was the first time he’d ever seen her in a pair of sweatpants. Given the choice, he’d live in them or jeans every day.
She had looked kinda cute, though. All rumpled...sexy.
Shit. He had to focus. Not on her, but on whoever had been behind that DVD. Christ, then there’s the potential stalker, which they’d never discussed. Tired as he’d been, he’d wanted to, but he’d seen the strain, the shock of the evening’s events etched on her face. Seen how hard it had been for her to maintain control. And control was something she lived for.
They’d talk soon enough. About the stalker, about a few rules he expected her to follow while he was stuck on this case. But first he had to find a way to remove the lion cub from his chest without it clawing off his face.
The cat winked its golden eye, then yawned, revealing a hell of a set of sharp teeth.
Yeah, easier said than done.
“Okay, big guy, I need to move. So why don’t you—”
Slippered feet shuffled against the wood floor. “Fabio, where are you?” Eden sang—terribly—as she entered the living room. The cat raised its head and purred.
The shuffling suddenly stopped and Eden burst out laughing.
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