Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

by Brenda Novak

  As she crouched in the middle of the living room and held Makita against her, she could see the shifting beam of Amarok’s flashlight through various windows as he moved around the house.

  He knocked when he got back to the front. “You’re right. It looks like someone cut your phone line, but I can’t tell if they were also trying to peep in the windows. You have a cement pad that doesn’t show any footprints since there’s no mud or snow at the moment.” With a scowl, he rested his hands on his hips and faced the more populated end of the street. “Whoever did it doesn’t seem to be around now, though. Nothing else was disturbed. But why don’t I leave Makita with you and drive around a bit, see if I can find anyone lurking in the shadows?”

  She thought of the graffiti scrawled all over the inside of Hanover House, telling her to stay out of town, to go back to where she was wanted, to shut her “bleeping” big mouth, and felt foolish for getting so frightened. She’d let some disgruntled native who was leery of having a prison like Hanover House in the area reduce her to panic. “I doubt you’ll find anyone,” she said. “Whoever it was already did what they wanted to do—they scared me without even having to confront me.”

  He frowned at her. “The two boys I believe vandalized Hanover House are troublemakers. I could see them thinking a prank like this would be laughable. I’ll talk to them tomorrow, see what I can find out. Until then, let me do some more searching. You can keep Makita here with you.”

  He was gone much longer this time. Evelyn curled up on the couch with his dog while she waited, but soon she couldn’t keep her eyes open. The after-effects of the adrenaline were hitting her hard. Now that she felt safe, exhaustion soon overwhelmed her.

  ***

  He’d go back later, Jasper thought. He’d wait until that cocky young trooper left, then he’d punish Evelyn for ever getting involved with the bastard in the first place.

  Was she sleeping with him?

  The thought of her in bed with that man in particular, the man who’d looked at him with such a blatant challenge in his eyes at the diner, enraged Jasper. Sergeant Amarok, or whatever he’d been called, had no respect. And Evelyn was such a liar. She’d been on TV, telling everyone how terrible it’d been to be a victim, and how the past had cost her the ability to have a real relationship. But if she had young men showing up at her house in the middle of a Sunday night, she couldn’t be struggling too badly. He’d watched her step right into the arms of that cop!

  Jasper had imagined himself as being the only one to have ever been inside Evelyn, and he didn’t like learning that he might have company. It ruined the fantasy. She belonged to him; she always had. He’d been her first.

  But, no matter what she’d done in between, he’d be her last. That much he promised himself.

  Breathing hard even though it had been at least ten minutes since he’d rushed to where he’d hidden his car and returned to the motel, he continued to pace the worn carpet between the bed and the bathroom. He’d been so close to what he wanted! One minute later, and he would’ve been inside her house!

  But he had to admit it was better that the trooper had appeared when he did. Otherwise, they both would’ve had a nasty surprise, and maybe he’d be in cuffs right now. Jasper didn’t plan on underestimating the sergeant, either. He looked strong, and there was no question he was confident. Maybe someone in Hilltop—that someone—would pose a challenge.

  Or maybe not. Jasper wouldn’t let anyone outsmart him. He was lucky too. He was free, wasn’t he? And no one had seen him. That meant he’d have another chance.

  He glanced at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. Had the trooper left Evelyn’s house yet? Or was it possible he was staying over?

  The thought of that drove Jasper wild, especially because tonight was supposed to be his night. He longed to check, to see, but he had to be careful about how many times he drove over there. Someone could get a description of his car and report that it was in the area. The less he risked being spotted, the better. So he had to wait as much as an hour or two before heading back. Then he’d take the chance. He’d park in the secluded spot he’d used before and walk up to see if the trooper’s truck was still there.

  “It better not be,” he grumbled and started to imagine all the things he’d do to make Evelyn suffer for such a betrayal. He’d waited twenty years for this moment; he wasn’t going to have some hotshot cop take his place between her legs.

  Or...maybe he shouldn’t wait until the trooper was gone. Maybe he should break in while they were sleeping. He could hold them at gunpoint, then tie up the cop and make him watch what he did to Evelyn.

  The idea of that excited Jasper beyond anything he’d felt in a long time—even finding Evelyn again.

  Yes, he’d make the bastard watch, Jasper decided. That would satisfy the rage pouring through him. He’d go in another hour or so. He couldn’t imagine they’d stay up even that long. It was already midnight.

  He set an alarm for one-thirty—as if he’d need one—and turned on the TV to distract himself. He’d never been a patient person. He wasn’t easily entertained, either. Quickly growing bored with the drama he’d put on, he flipped listlessly through the rest of the channels before throwing the remote aside and calling to check his messages. He had to use the landline to access his voicemail since there was no cell service in Hilltop, but he hadn’t spoken to Hillary in two days, knew she’d be upset.

  Since he was already angry, he figured this was as good a time as any to hear all the bullshit she had to say.

  His wife had left him several messages. Bitching, bitching always bitching. Chelsea had sprained her foot at recess. Miranda had lost her lunch money. Who the fuck cared?

  He was so sure all her messages would be the same he almost didn’t listen to the last one. His finger hovered over the button that would delete it, like the others, when he heard her say something that made his heart jump into his throat.

  ***

  Amarok hadn’t been able to find anyone around the houses near Evelyn’s. He’d even driven slowly back to town, searching for vehicles that might be loitering about the area—or were carrying the Jennings boys. He didn’t see Chad or Tex or anyone who seemed remotely suspicious, so he went all the way to the Jennings’ house to feel the engine of the only vehicle the family owned. It was an SUV, not a car, but he figured Evelyn could’ve gotten that wrong. She admitted she hadn’t caught a good look at her visitor or visitors.

  But the engine was cold. And the house was dark.

  He stood at the edge of the property, waiting to be sure no one was moving around inside, but nothing changed in fifteen minutes or more.

  If it had been the Jennings boys, they’d sure managed to get themselves home and in bed fast, he thought, especially considering they had no idea he’d be coming by.

  Should he knock? He wanted to see how quickly they’d answer the door. But he took pity on their poor parents and decided he could talk to them tomorrow, like he’d told Evelyn he would. Someone had cut her telephone line. Even if that someone had only done it for kicks, as a scare tactic, he wanted to know if the Jennings were responsible. He also wanted to make it clear that he’d consider it stalking and would act accordingly.

  By the time he returned to Evelyn’s house, it was after one, and he could tell when she let him in that his knock had dragged her from a deep sleep.

  “Don’t wake up,” he said. “Just go to bed. Makita and I will be out here, on the couch. So you don’t have to worry about anything.”

  “You don’t have to stay,” she mumbled, but he took her by the shoulders, turned her around and pointed her down the hall, and she didn’t attempt to argue again.

  “Hey, boy,” he said to Makita and shooed him off the couch so he could lie down.

  ***

  As Jasper rushed back to Anchorage, so he could catch the first flight out in the morning, his wife’s words kept echoing through his head. “Andy? I don’t even know if you’re listening to your mes
sages. You’re probably not. I haven’t heard a word from you since you left. And I don’t have any other number to reach you by. But the police came to our door this morning, while I was making breakfast. They asked a lot of questions about our car, wanted to look in it. Apparently, some teenage girl claims she saw the same make and model not far from where a woman was kidnapped two weeks ago?”

  Hillary had sounded frightened, tentative, which told him that she was afraid the police might have had good reason to ask about him—and that alarmed him more than anything. He needed her on his side, needed her to retain confidence in him. How she made him appear to the authorities could be the difference between being overlooked or examined more closely.

  “I-I told them that you were at job interviews that day,” her message had said. “But they want to talk to you anyway. They said they’d be back. I don’t know when they’ll be coming. I couldn’t even tell them the day you’d be home.”

  He was returning a lot sooner than he’d planned. He had no choice. He had to get back and reassure Hillary, so she’d stand by him and insist that he could never harm anyone. He also had to make sure that he destroyed any and all evidence left in his hideaway, in case they wound up arresting him and went searching in that area because he or his car had been spotted down there, too.

  And while he was in clean-up mode, he figured he might as well do a much better job of burying the last woman he’d killed. He’d grown over-confident, had barely thrown a few shovelfuls of dirt over her body, thinking that she could wait until he returned from having his fun with Evelyn.

  He had a lot to do, and he wasn’t sure he’d have the time or the opportunity to do it. But he’d be an idiot not to at least try and fix what he could while he had the chance. It could mean the difference between getting off—or going to prison for the rest of his life. He had a comfortable lifestyle, someone to pay the bills and provide sex—sex that wasn’t nearly as exciting as what he got elsewhere but sex all the same—and a home. He didn’t want to lose all that, didn’t want to have to provide it for himself. He’d tried that before, and it was a hard and boring existence.

  Still, it bothered him to be driving away while Evelyn was probably moaning with pleasure beneath that young trooper.

  Jasper had had such fabulous plans for them both...

  But he’d catch up with her, he promised himself, gripping the steering wheel that much more tightly. He knew where she lived in Boston, too. Maybe it would be even more satisfying to kill her there, and bring the whole thing full circle.

  Chapter 13

  “I swear I’ve got to buy you some groceries,” Amarok said as he peered into her empty fridge.

  Evelyn turned from where she was standing at the stove. “You’re not excited about another bowl of oatmeal?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Do I look excited to you?”

  “Not especially.” But he did look good. He always looked good.

  “Let’s go out,” he said.

  “I don’t have time. I’ll miss my flight. I have to leave in an hour.”

  “So miss your flight. Stay here.”

  She paused from stirring. “Are you kidding?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t do that! I have meetings and conference calls and... myriad things on my to do list.”

  “Myriad,” he repeated dryly.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you ever act irresponsibly? Do something simply because you want to?”

  “I wouldn’t get very far with my goals if I did that.”

  “Okay. Never. We can work on that too.” He leaned against the counter. “So when are you coming back?”

  “In a few weeks.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, she glanced over and found him watching her with a look that made her catch her breath. “What are you thinking?”

  “I want to try something.”

  This made her a little nervous. “What?”

  “I want to hear you talk dirty.”

  She gaped at him. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Why not? They’re just words. Words can’t hurt you. It’ll be a great place to start.”

  “Start what?”

  He smiled. “Getting to where we both want to go.”

  She didn’t bother trying to tell him she wasn’t interested, because she was. And she was intrigued by his suggestion, in spite of herself. “How dirty?” she asked. “Give me an example.”

  “Ah, so you like the idea,” he said, obviously pleased.

  She felt a flash of embarrassment, and a bit of insecurity too. “I’m not sure I’m capable of it.”

  “Sure you are. It’s not hard.”

  “So you would like me to say...what?”

  The volume of his voice dropped, and his eyes took on fresh meaning. “Are you going to fuck me when I see you again?”

  Her mouth went instantly dry. “Yeah, um, that’s probably not something I’d ever say, but I have to admit that it would probably work for you. With someone else.”

  He slid a little closer. “There’s just one problem with that.”

  His gaze suddenly felt like a laser that could melt bones. “What’s that?”

  “I’m not interested in anyone else.”

  She returned her attention to the oatmeal. “Amarok, you know my story.”

  “We’re not going to discuss ‘your story’ today. That’s in the past. We’re moving forward, and in that spirit I think you could use a few lessons.”

  “On talking dirty.”

  “Yes.”

  She propped one hand on her hip in a challenging pose. “And you’re going to teach me?”

  “Why not?” His grin went a little crooked—not to mention a little lecherous, but endearingly so. “We can practice while you’re gone,” he said. “And don’t tell me you’d rather see how you do with someone else first. That’s bullshit.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. I’ve barely kissed a man since—”

  “Barely?” he interrupted. “Or you haven’t kissed a man?”

  “There’s been one or two.”

  “Dates?”

  “Work associates. I pretty much steer clear of dating.”

  “Did you want to kiss them?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, there you go. That makes a big difference, right?”

  Her gaze lowered to his lips. She wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted to kiss him since the first day she’d seen him pacing like a caged panther in the mayor’s office, angry that she’d even propose an institution like Hanover House be built anywhere near his beloved hometown.

  “Do it,” he murmured.

  Obviously, she’d given away her thoughts. “Do what?” she asked, playing dumb in hopes of a reprieve.

  He wasn’t about to allow her to back off now. “Kiss me. I can tell you’re tempted. I’ll let you, and I won’t do anything, I swear. I won’t even touch you.”

  She studied his square jaw, the slight cleft in the middle of his chin, the razor stubble that covered that area—and his full, soft-looking lips. “I’m afraid of where it might lead,” she admitted.

  “I just told you. It won’t lead anywhere.” He gripped the counter behind him as if to show that his hands would stay there. “One kiss before you leave. That’s it.” He winked. “And maybe you’ll like it well enough to want another when you get back.”

  This was an opportunity she didn’t think she could refuse—and yet she hesitated, trying to summon the nerve. Was she really going to take the initiative and kiss a man—after twenty years? Especially a man as virile as Amarok?

  This wasn’t just his neck. And she was sober.

  “Evelyn?”

  “Be prepared,” she said. “I’ll probably be really bad at this.”

  “There’s nothing to fear. I won’t be grading you.”

  Placing her hands on his chest, she rose up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. She could feel the sudden
intensity rise up inside them both. The power of it frightened her. But there was no refusing the compulsion that prompted her to continue.

  Although his mouth opened slightly, as if he was suggesting a wetter kiss, he didn’t just stick his tongue down her throat like the last guy. He waited until she opened her mouth, too, and licked his bottom lip before he responded by taking a small taste of her. He did it cautiously, gently, as if he was only exploring a little—and he didn’t grab hold of her, as promised. That left her free to withdraw at any moment, and having that “out” made it so much easier to continue.

  Pressing her lips more firmly to his, she deepened the kiss and felt him stiffen—but in a good way. That he liked what she was doing encouraged her. He tasted like the minty toothpaste he’d just used in her bathroom, and he smelled like her soap. “Nice,” she breathed and slid her hands up his arms and over his broad shoulders until she could grab fistfuls of his thick, silky hair.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. Her body seemed to act of its own volition, to override her brain, because soon they were kissing so hungrily her whole body tingled with the desire to be touched. She was pretty sure she even groaned, and he did too. She was having thoughts of slipping her hands up under his shirt and kissing and licking his chest.

  But then she smelled the oatmeal burning and pulled away to take the pan off the burner.

  “It-it’s ruined,” she said while trying to come to grips with the influx of hormones that’d nearly swept her away.

  He didn’t respond immediately. He seemed to be holding himself rigid, trying to rein in what he was feeling, too. When he did speak, he sounded shocked. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be any good at that.”

  “So...I did okay?”

  He caught her face and turned it toward him. “The fact that I can hardly breathe right now should answer that question.” He lowered his voice. “Did you like it?”