“So, what you’re saying is that we have nothing?” she stated.
“Pretty much. The report isn’t in yet on what was found in the carvings on Aimee Jo’s body.”
“Yeah, that’s not much.”
Quinn closed both files and sat back drinking his margarita. “What about the profiler’s perspective? What do you think of what we know?”
She thought about it, praying that the margarita didn't dull her mind. “I’m going to say that the person doing it is egotistical. It takes a big set of balls to walk around judging people. If I had a few more victims, it might be easier. For now, I can say that it’s going to be an older person who’s doing this. I know what that look on your face means. I’m not talking Crypt Keeper old, but forties and up.”
“Why?” he asked curiously.
“That’s easy. Look how well planned this is. They take the victims to some secret location, carve them up, and then transport them. That takes careful planning to not get caught. So far, except for a little bit of DNA, we haven’t exactly been left a lot.”
“That means it might be a person familiar with a crime scene,” Quinn added.
She agreed. “It could be. Who better to minimize the amount of DNA found than someone in law enforcement? We haven’t found one single sperm, but yet, there has been violent sex. That tells me that they’re being careful.”
It bothered him that it could be someone who he worked with on a daily basis, but she had been right so far. This could be another one of those moments.
“How about the killer? What can you tell me about him?” he inquired.
“I’m going to say he’s Caucasian, only because the two victims are white. There’s something that he’s fixated on with the victims. Maybe it’s their age. Both women are very young.”
“Could it be the women in general?”
She leaned back and sipped her drink. “It may be. The women don’t look like they have much in common. Sissy Parker came from an entitled family, where her daddy has power. Aimee Jo comes from a family where they barely scraped by, and her father is the town alcoholic.”
“Yeah, big differences.”
“They certainly are,” she said.
“What about the killings, Callie?”
Again, she pondered it, placing all the snippets together in her mind. Profiling to her was like a big puzzle. She would put it together one little piece at a time. Each profiler had their own methodology on how they figured things out. “They’re ritualistic and most sacred rituals are based in religion.”
He nearly choked on his drink. “Are you trying to tell me that this is a church slaying? You do realize we’re neck deep in the Bible Belt, right?”
That made her laugh because she was definitely aware that her beliefs didn't fit in there. “Yeah, I think I figured that out already, darlin’.”
“Hell. I have a feeling that this is going to be a giant pain in my ass.”
“Well, it’s a cute ass,” she answered, and then realized what she said. “Shit! This drink is way too strong.”
Quinn heated up. It turned him right on when he thought that she was admiring his body. It meant that she was most definitely interested.
Then, he remembered the earlier phone calls.
Callie tried to push on, covering for her inadvertent slip up. “We’ll have to wait and see what comes from the FBI tomorrow morning and go from there.”
Quinn got really quiet.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, putting her drink down.
He mimicked her actions, and then stared at her. Quinn could only hope that his face or eyes weren’t giving away too much emotion. “Can I ask you a question? It’s been bothering me all night, and I need an answer.”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“Is he really your fiancé?”
Callie looked confused, and then she remembered the conversation. “Luke was busting my ass, Quinn, nothing more. We aren’t getting married and never were.”
“Have you ever had a sexual relationship with him?” Quinn knew that was pushing it, but why not go for broke?
“I had one date with him, and it never progressed. I don’t shack up with just anyone with a penis, Quinton.”
Relief flooded him.
“Okay, that’s all I needed to know before I did this,” he warned, right before pulling her across the couch so she would fall into his lap.
“Quinn,” she said, before he brought his lips down to hers, kissing her thoroughly.
Both were fully immersed in the mating of mouths.
Callie couldn’t help but explore how strong he was beneath his shirt. His body was all hard planes and beautifully sculpted muscle. Yeah, sexy cowboys and tequila were a very dangerous thing.
Quinn couldn’t believe how perfect she fit against him. Her body tucked into his like it was made to be there. While some women might try to fight for control of the kiss, Callie didn’t. She allowed him to set the pace, and it was amazing. She tasted like margarita, and everything else his body craved.
This was something that he had never experienced before. She was perfection in his arms.
“Mmmm… Callie you taste so damn good,” he said, deepening the kiss as her hands slid into his hair. Her fingers played with the blonde streaked curls and it made him want to go so much further with her.
He brought his hand down her back until it rested on her hip. Quinn moved his lips from hers and began nibbling down her neck to her throat. When he heard her moan, it made his already hard body throb in need.
Callie could feel the light exploration of his hands, tracing her flesh, as he held her against his hard, lean torso. Callie was giddy with the way his muscles beneath his polo shirt responded to her gentle caress.
Then, she brushed his gun holster and reality returned.
Regretfully, Callie pulled away from him. “I’m sorry, Quinn, but we have to stop.”
“I know,” he said, putting his face in the crook of her neck to memorize her incredible scent. “Well, I think we’ll have to have margaritas every day.”
Callie kissed him on the cheek before sliding off his lap. “Do you feel like dessert?”
“No, I had all the sweet things that I can take for tonight. I think I’ll pass. I want you to be the last thing that I taste, so I can relive this over and over again.”
God, that was so damn romantic.
In fact, it made her want to do something stupid.
Like ask him to stay.
Sleep with him.
Callie walked the glasses into the kitchen and placed them in the sink. “Thank you for having dinner with me, Quinn,” she said, when she could feel him not far behind her.
“Callie, I need to ask you something.”
She almost hoped he asked to spend the night. Then, she’d say yes. Him bringing it up would mean something, right?
“Okay.”
“Please go with me to the Fourth of July picnic on Friday. I really want to take you.”
Callie chewed on her cut lip as she gazed deep into his gorgeous green eyes. “Okay, Quinn. I’ll go.”
He fought hard to not celebrate then and there. “You won’t regret it. The fireworks are spectacular and if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have some of my cotton candy.”
Callie didn't doubt that for a second. At the door, she spoke, “If you don’t share, then I won’t let you lay next to me while we watch the fireworks.”
He replied teasingly, “You drive a hard bargain, Doc, but I’ll behave and share.” He leaned down and kissed her again. “I’ll call you tomorrow to make some time for us to go over the info you get from the FBI.”
“Yes, sir,” she saluted mockingly.
Quinn grinned wickedly, as he hopped up into his truck. “Sweet dreams, baby.”
At the words, she flushed. Somehow, she didn't believe that the tequila had anything to do with it this time.
It was official.
She was screwed.
* * *
> It was probably the most peaceful night’s sleep that she had ever had in her entire life. That was until the uninvited visitor made his arrival known.
Callie sat up straight in her bed as something crashed in her downstairs living room. The noise could have woken the dead. Whoever wanted her attention, most certainly had it now.
Opening her nightstand, she quietly pulled out her nine millimeter Ruger. She loaded it as she picked up her cellphone and headed down the stairs.
At the bottom, Callie stood there scanning her moonlight swathed house. It was too shadowy, and she couldn’t tell if anyone was there.
“I have a gun,” she said, the fear filling her voice. Since the incident, this scenario of being stalked scared the hell out of her.
Stepping down, her foot was pierced by a piece of glass. “Shit!” she hissed, as another noise filled the night.
Glancing toward her window, there was a shadowy figure who appeared to be wearing a robe.
Suddenly, she jumped as something was slammed into her front door. The sound echoed followed by her startled gasp.
“I’m warning you,” she yelled. “I’m calling the police!”
Dialing nine-one-one, Callie prayed as she aimed the Ruger at the door. Any second, the intruder was going to kick it in.
Chapter Four
Wednesday
Early Morning
Q uinn barely heard the phone ringing. When it registered, he cursed its horrible timing. Before it rudely awakened him, he was having a very erotic dream about a very sexy, naked Callie.
“Yeah, hello,” he barked. If this wasn’t a life or death emergency, someone was going to be in a great deal of pain.
He could promise it.
“Sheriff, we got a call a while ago, and we thought you’d want to know about it,” said Deputy Swartz.
“Okay, what is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. He didn't know why he was surprised. Wakeups like this happened all the time.
“We got an emergency call for a house invasion,” he began.
“And?” he interjected, starting to get annoyed. “Send out a few deputies, and I’ll read the report in the morning.”
“Sheriff, it’s at Doctor Carter’s house.”
Quinn jumped out of bed, almost falling over Zeke. “Is she hurt?” he asked, feeling sick to his stomach.
“The ambulance is there, and she’s real scared.”
“I’m on my way.”
Quinn jumped into his clothes, grabbed his keys, and whistled for Zeke, who came charging out of the house right behind him.
He made the eight-minute trip in half the time.
Slamming on the brakes, he jumped out of his truck and raced toward the house where deputies’ vehicles and an ambulance were parked. His stomach knotted as he thought of all the possible things that could have happened to her. Barreling past three of his men, Quinn desperately needed to get into the living room. When he saw her alive, his heart began beating once more. Sitting on the couch, surrounded by doting men, was the doctor. She was in an oversized t-shirt, and her hair was a riotous mess.
“Callie, are you okay?” he blurted, squeezing onto the couch beside her before dragging her into his lap.
The ambulance attendant gave him a dirty look.
“Oh God, Quinn! It was horrible,” she whispered, clinging to his body for dear life. When she buried her face in his neck, the scent of cologne helped offer her some calm.
“Are you hurt?”
“I stepped on glass,” she answered.
He turned his head, seeking out the closest deputy. “What the hell happened?”
“It appears that about an hour ago, someone threw this rock with a note, through the doctor’s front window. Then, the person attempted to try gain entry by kicking in the door.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, running his hands down her back, as she stayed attached to the front of his body. Callie was holding on so tight, that she had a fistful of chest hair through his shirt.
“Doctor Carter dialed for help, and then proceeded to sit inside with a loaded Ruger, ready to kill whoever came through the door.” The deputy held out the weapon for the sheriff to see.
Quinn glanced over at Callie. “A gun?” Yeah, this woman was one surprise after another.
“Yes, Quinn. I have a permit to carry a concealed,” she said, wincing as the EMT pulled a piece of glass from her foot.
“We checked the house and the surrounding area. There were prints, but nothing else to tell us who did this.”
“What did the note say?” Quinn asked, kissing Callie on the lips, to the surprise of the deputies standing near them.
When the man handed it to him, Quinn read it, and immediately his blood pressure went through the roof.
Stop helping the cops or you’re dead.
“Well, shit.”
“Sir, what would you like us to do?” Deputy Swartz asked. He was still a little surprised that the man was openly kissing the doctor.
That was so unlike his boss.
“Give me a minute,” he said, as he turned back to Callie. “You can’t stay here tonight. I want you to pack a bag and come back to my place with me.”
“Quinn, I have to stay here. This is my house! Besides, whoever it was won’t come back here tonight. This was just to scare the hell out of me.”
From the looks of it, and how she was clinging to his body, they had done a damn good job of it too.
“Fine,” Quinn said, glancing over at his deputy. “Send a patrol around every thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir! Are you sticking around for a while?”
“Yeah, go take care of everything,” he said, as the EMT finished his patch job.
“Keep off it for a few hours, and no hard shoes tomorrow. It should be fine if you baby it a little.”
“Thank you.”
“Night, ma’am,” he replied, and then nodded to Quinn.
Picking her up in his arms, he carried her into the kitchen and placed her on the counter. “Where’s your aspirin?” he practically growled.
“They’re in the cabinet over the dishwasher.” Callie noticed that he was three days passed pissed. “You know, Sheriff, you didn’t have to come here. I’ll be fine,” she said, hurt by his anger.
“Yeah, well since you didn’t bother to call me, I got that picture loud and clear,” he said, handing her a glass of water and the three aspirin.
She swallowed the pills as the tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call, Quinn, but the funny thing was, the intruder wouldn’t let me stop and Google your home number. The only number I could manage, as someone was trying to break down my door, was nine-one-one. When the deputies arrived, I couldn’t get to the phone. One of them promised to call you when I asked them to.” The tears started to fall, and she was feeling her own anger rising.
Quinn went to snap something back, but he saw her crying. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I was just so damn scared. I can’t imagine what would have happened if they got through the door.”
“I would have shot them,” she said matter-of-factly.
Quinn picked her up in his arms, carrying her back to the couch. After carefully placing her on the cushions, almost like delicate china, he went to the front door and whistled. “We’re staying here, and tomorrow night, you’re coming to my place.”
“Quinn, I can’t. This is my house.”
“You can and will, or I’m calling your momma and telling her what happened,” he threatened.
“You wouldn’t,” she countered. “Seriously? You’re going to blackmail me? Some law man you are!”
“I would and will. If you don’t think I’ll do it, then try me.” What wouldn’t he do for the woman in his lap?
She stared at him with her mouth open but said nothing. Somehow, she didn’t think he was bluffing.
“Here comes my dog. He’ll sleep in your room, and I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, as the mountain of a dog barreled into her home.
Call
ie screeched, as the beast known as Zeke bounded right for her. As he skittered to a stop, he dropped two big paws on her bare legs. “What the hell kind of dog is this? He’s the size of a bear!”
“I have no idea. I got him at the pound. The vet thinks a cross between an Irish Wolf Hound and a Saint Bernard.”
Callie stared at the gray black monstrosity covered in white patches. “He looks like a science experiment that went amuck.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s why I love him. A big man needs a big dog.”
The giant beast watched her with unblinking eyes, and she prayed he wasn’t hungry.
“I have to go move my truck.” He snapped his fingers and immediately, the dog turned his big head toward his master. “Guard, Zeke,” he said, and closed the door.
Callie sat still as the dog laid its big head on her lap and lifted a furry brow. She reached for his ears, scratching them cautiously. When his long tail thumped, Callie relaxed.
“Well, at least you’re friendly,” she said, rubbing his head more. Immediately, he tensed, only to begin growling at the front door. Callie yelped as the beast snarled even more, preparing to lunge.
“Down, Zeke! It’s me.”
Instantly, the dog’s demeanor changed, and he went back to babysitting her. “What a cute dog, Sheriff. What do you feed him? Small children?”
He laughed, calling the mutt to his side. “Zeke, come.” Man’s best friend ignored him and instead stayed by Callie.
Could he blame him?
Taking a seat beside her, he held out the Ruger and waited expectantly. “You really know how to use this?”
“Yes, I used to spend a lot of time around cops. They got edgy if you have a permit to carry a gun and couldn’t shoot it,” she said with a touch of hostility to her voice.
“Why do you have a permit to carry?”
“Look, Quinn. I’ve had a really bad night. I don’t feel like telling you about my past right now. What I want to do is head to bed and get a few hours of sleep. I’m exhausted and have back to back appointments this morning because I cancelled to help you yesterday.”
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