At first, he ran his tongue over her bottom lip—the lip that she’d bitten earlier. But as his hunger grew, the kiss grew fierce and wanting. He needed this, needed her—more with every breath he inhaled. Her light scent filled him, making him boneless with weakness for her, yet stronger somehow. Sara was fire and heat, but also security and understanding. His fingertips dug into her hips, inhibited from touching what he really wanted by her dress, but he didn’t let go. He wasn’t letting Sara slip through his fingers this time.
* * *
Sara shoved aside any doubts as to the wisdom of her actions and let herself feel something good without overanalyzing it. She’d always maintained a strict hold on her needs. Even when she’d been married, she hadn’t fully been able to embrace her desires. Maybe her body had known her mind was locked on one man, the man she’d fallen in love with years before.
He tasted faintly of the champagne he’d taken a few sips of at the banquet. Crisp and clean. She sensed that he, too, wanted to lose himself tonight. No questions asked. No consequences. Just two consenting adults finding a night of escape, and a reminder that they were alive. Safe. But a niggling doubt insisted she find out whether he’d push her away again.
She took one more taste then pulled away to gulp for air. His hazel eyes glinted with heat and purpose as he scanned her face. “You’re sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to stop this time. I mean, I won’t expect anything later...”
“I’m sure, and you’re talking too much.” He nipped at her lips.
She flicked out her tongue and he took it into his mouth, eagerly sucking on her. She drifted a hand slowly around his waist to the front of his jeans, slipping the hand between their enmeshed bodies so she could cup his erection. Stroking a thumb up and down the hard shaft, she enjoyed the way he shuddered in response.
He hissed out a hot breath against her mouth. “Wicked woman.”
She rubbed her hand against him again. “Teach me the error of my ways.”
“Oh, I didn’t say they were wrong. Bedroom?” The air between them nearly sizzled as he waited for her answer. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Yes.”
She only got a quick look at his bedroom before he pulled her into his arms to bring their lips together again. She was about to wrap her arms around him when he released her and spun her in an about-face so he could unzip her dress.
She laughed as the room swayed and then righted itself. “Trying to knock me off my feet?”
“The sooner, the better. I’ve been dreaming about seeing you buck-naked all night. Ever since that glimpse of lace when I zipped this earlier.” The crackle of the zipper and wisp of his hot breath just before he pressed his lips above her bra clasp weakened her knees.
She reveled in his hunger. Finally, he wanted her. Finally, he’d left his doubts behind.
His hands skimmed her with delicious roughness as he pushed the garment from her body into a sleek puddle on the floor. He turned her to face him again, this time more slowly. His gaze drank her in, pausing on the lace bra and panties. His throat worked as he swallowed.
His fingers moved along her body from her hip upward, lingering at the side of her breast. Sara couldn’t help the way her body reacted, instinctively arching against him so that she filled his palm. His thumb decided it could be wicked, too, flicking against her nipple through the lace. As she sighed with pleasure, his other hand moved to include her other breast. Still cupping her, he nudged her backward to the bed.
Sitting on the mattress put her at eye level with his abdomen. “You’re way overdressed for this party.”
She reached for his belt buckle and undid it, then made quick work of the button and zipper. He tugged his tie and shirt free and, in a flash, they joined her dress on the floor, a swirl of white and black like a yin and yang symbol. Unable to resist tasting his exposed flesh, she pressed her mouth to his bare stomach. The muscles there clenched at the contact and he hissed out a breath. Salty skin and musky male swamped her senses. The dark hairs that dusted his belly tickled her nose and she smiled against him.
“God, Sara, it’s been so long.”
She took another nip at his belly.
With a groan, he shucked the rest of his clothing and gently pushed her back onto the mattress. But he didn’t join her. He stood over her, his gaze heating every inch of her skin. Her nipples tightened beneath her bra. The lace no longer itched, but instead created an arousing friction with each breath.
He lay down on his side and trailed a fingertip from her lips, between her breasts, down to her belly button. He circled there once, then dipped his fingers beneath the edge of her panties. His gaze lifted to meet hers, connected, and held. She let him see everything there—her entire soul laid bare.
He moved his fingers against her moist heat. Hot tension gathered in her core and built and built to an aching need for release. And still his gaze held hers captive, his fingers pushing her to the edge. She hung there, immobile. With one more swipe of his finger, she fell off the cliff. She splintered, her core bursting into a million shards of light as she cried out. His palm pressed to her stomach, as if he could absorb the shockwaves that rushed through her.
She pressed her face into his neck as she rode out the pleasure. It wasn’t just a physical sense of exhilaration, but an emotional one of losing control with someone—with Holt—even if just for a few moments. But she craved a deeper connection. She reached for him, cupping his erection and stroking it until he pushed against her hand. Her fingers circled the length and her thumb brushed the tip once. Twice. He moaned and rocked against her. She let go of him, lifted her hips and removed her panties, making it clear what she wanted. Him. Inside her. Now.
He moved on top of her, pressing against the apex of her thighs where she throbbed and ached for him. Needing him to ease the ache, she opened to him and wrapped her legs around his waist. She kissed the hard line of his jaw and nibbled down the column of his throat as he pressed into her. He went slowly, panting with the effort. His breath was cool against her flushed cheeks.
“I need you.” And she wanted to push him over the edge with her this time. Her hands gripped his biceps, then trailed down his back to his buttocks. He filled her completely then, and Sara gasped with the incredible emotion that swamped her. Holt. Finally. A drop of moisture at the corner of her eye trickled down into her ear.
He increased the rhythm as heat coiled inside her again, ready to strike. His muscles bunched. Their climax struck, and he bent his face into the crook of her neck and muffled his shout against her skin. His exhalation sent shivers radiating to the extremities of her body. The shiver was quickly replaced by a warmth that seeped into every cell.
They lay together that way for several minutes, as if neither of them wanted to break the spell. Her arms locked him in place on top of her, his body a welcome weight, filling the places that had been empty for so long. After several long minutes, he rolled to his back, bringing her with him and tucking her against his side. His arm wrapped around her protectively. She couldn’t resist running a hand down his chest. This was Holt. He was with her. She thought maybe she should pinch herself, but if she was dreaming, she didn’t want it to end.
The quiet intensity was interrupted minutes later by frantic barking outside. As the barks turned to wails, Sara lifted her head. “Does your neighbor have a dog?”
“Yeah.” Holt pulled away from her and rose.
At the window, his nakedness was hidden from the rest of the world by the curtain, but open to Sara’s curious gaze. After being deprived of him for so long, she couldn’t get enough. Her eyes traced the curve of his shoulder and the strong line of his thigh in the moonlight. Fear—not of any outward threat but an inner one—pierced her. She’d fallen deeper in love with Holt. And though he’d made love to her body, she didn’t fool herself that she’d reached his soul. But
maybe, in time...
He twitched the curtain back in place and strode to his closet. “He’s not usually a barker. Something must be wrong. I should check on Mrs. Mendelson.”
Sara sat up and held the sheet up to her chest to ward off the sudden chill. “Do you want me to come with you?”
He pulled on jeans and a shirt. “No, stay here. I’ll lock the front door behind me. Don’t open it for anybody. I’ll be back soon.” He cursed.
“What?”
He sat on the bed to pull his shoes on. “Do you know how to use a gun? I meant to show you, or have Max...” After shoving his feet into shoes, he sent a hand through his hair, setting it askew. “I’ll leave it with you anyway.” He disappeared into the closet and returned with a pistol.
A gun? Did he even know how to use one? “But you have a child in the house. It isn’t safe.”
His gaze locked on her. “If it means protecting Theo...protecting you...then it’s safer to have it than not. I usually leave it at SSAM, but I’ve been keeping it nearby lately. Just in case.” His gaze moved to the windows.
“I’ve never held a gun.”
He laid it in her hands, the deadly end pointing away from both of them. He gave her a quick lesson in releasing the safety, aiming, and pulling the trigger. She had to admit the weight of it was reassuring, given the circumstances.
“If you think you need it, just be sure it’s not me returning.” He grinned, but she felt the blood draining from her head at the thought of accidentally shooting him. Thank God Theo was at his grandparents’ home.
“Maybe you should take it. You don’t know what’s going on over there, anyway.”
“There’s an armed security sentry posted in a car outside. I’ll get him to go with me. Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.” Holt kissed her hard on the lips and rushed out, leaving Sara feeling cold from more than just exposure to the air. From outside, the dog continued to bark and wail as if the hounds of hell were after him.
* * *
The street was dark, the moon behind the clouds, as Holt picked his way across the strip of grass that separated Mrs. Mendelson’s house from his.
“It’s probably nothing,” the guard said from behind him. “I didn’t see anyone come or go.”
“Just keep your gun drawn.” Holt continued toward the front door. A perfectly round orange pumpkin was flanked by two pots of purple mums on the porch.
“You think Toxin would go after an old lady?”
He hoped to hell not. He hoped she was simply injured. But if Mrs. Mendelson was in trouble... He racked his brain, trying to remember her first name. He should remember her first name. They’d been neighbors for years. Elizabeth had always been friendly with her. The woman had brought over a casserole for Theo and Holt after Elizabeth passed. And she walked her dog Roscoe every evening at precisely five-fifteen.
So why couldn’t he remember her name?
Holt stopped at the door and turned to the security guard. “Make your way around back. See what the dog’s barking about. I don’t want to scare Mrs. Mendelson if everything’s okay. And keep an eye out for anyone approaching my house.” Sara was strong. She would use the gun if she needed to—he just didn’t want her to have to take a life to save herself.
As the man disappeared around the edge of the house, Holt knocked on the door and waited. Counted to thirty. Told himself that would be plenty of time for a healthy woman to get out of bed and to the door.
The doorknob turned easily in his hand and the door swung inward. The hairs on his neck rose as his brain silently raised the alarm. Mrs. Mendelson was always good about locking her doors. They’d even had a conversation about it, when she’d found out what he did for a living. She’d picked his brain about the monsters who masqueraded as normal people in society. She hadn’t trusted easily, yet her door was unlocked.
The kitchen was dark, but the sliver of light from the window indicated nobody was there. It was the soft light coming from the living room up ahead that drew him. And the silence. Roscoe had stopped barking, and Holt hoped to hell it was because the guard had calmed him. He hoped even more that it was because there was nothing to bark about.
But the stillness indicated something was horribly wrong. As if there was no life in the house, but there should be. Or somebody was holding his breath, waiting for him to discover something. His gaze was in constant motion, surveying the corners and doorways as he moved toward the light. There, his fears were realized. In the circle cast by a table lamp, Mrs. Mendelson lay, facedown, on her living room carpet. A pool of blood had formed around her head. The edge of the pool nearly touched a hypodermic syringe.
A tapping on glass had him looking up. A dark figure stood outside the sliding back door, with Roscoe’s shaking form pressed against his leg.
The guard slid the door open. “Unlocked. Must be how he came and went since I didn’t see him out front.” His gaze landed on Mrs. Mendelson’s body.
Whimpering, Roscoe pushed his way past the guard’s legs. The pug headed straight for his owner, but Holt scooped him up before he could get to her. “Poor Roscoe,” he murmured, stroking the quivering mass. “I’m sure you would have destroyed Toxin if you’d had the chance.” He turned to the guard, who still had his gun in his hand. “Check out the house. He may still be here.” But he doubted it. Holt withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 9-1-1 to report the murder. Then he phoned Noah. “Toxin killed my neighbor, this time in a fit of rage.”
Noah cursed. “I’m stuck at another scene but will be there as soon as possible. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Except his stomach was twisting and his head was spinning. It could so easily have been him—or Sara—who Toxin chose to release his rage upon. It wasn’t any better that it was the innocent Mrs. Mendelson. “I’ve got to check on Sara. Call me when you get here.”
With Roscoe still wriggling in his arms, Holt hung up and raced out, his only thought on making sure Sara was safe. He planned to hold her against him until this horrible feeling—this premonition he would lose everyone he cared about—was gone. She seemed the only one capable of restoring the bright light of hope.
* * *
The light and shadow in the room shifted as the screen’s image changed. There, the animated woman with an accentuated hourglass figure kissed her buffed-out hero, rewarding him for saving her life. Success. But temporary victory over a video game didn’t relieve the angry ache that gnawed at Toxin. And beating an old woman to death with a fireplace poker hadn’t worked, either. Had Holt discovered her yet? Was he smothered by guilt?
Toxin turned his attention to a different computer screen and scrolled through the images he’d captured earlier that night, having to settle for hacking into the security cameras SSAM had set up and recording events at the banquet. He couldn’t very well be there in person when Holt would be watching for him.
But the waiter had done his job. And the poor schmuck hadn’t known what hit him. He’d died with his palm outstretched, waiting for his payment in that dark alley. He’d even demanded extra for his trouble. His payment had been delivered via syringe.
On the screen, Toxin again watched Rochard drinking the poison. When he toppled to the floor, Sara rushed to the asshole’s side, her body movements conveying concern. His breath caught, as it had many times, as he came to the image of her bending over Rochard, worry etched in the lines of her face—worry for an egomaniac who had wanted to ruin her. Tender and compassionate, she was the perfect complement for a hero like Toxin. Together, they could save the world and avenge his son’s death.
Unfortunately, Holt had chosen tonight to finally stop being a pussy and try to be Sara’s hero. The memory of what Toxin had seen through Holt’s kitchen window...and the image of what must have followed that passionate embrace...made Toxin’s blood boil.
It s
hould have been him kissing Sara. He deserved her. He’d orchestrated everything that led to the intimacy he’d witnessed.
Though Toxin could no longer see them when they’d gone upstairs, it hadn’t taken a genius to know what was next.
Everything—every goddamned thing—Holt possessed was because of him.
He threw the game controller across the room. It landed next to the box he’d brought home earlier that day. The shipment was ready. Syringes and the neurotoxins Henry had prepared were ready for the final act in this play. He had to see it through. It was the only way. True heroes never rested until full justice was meted out.
Poison. The world was full of it. All that was good and right had been sucked out of reality, and it was his job to show certain people how they poisoned everyone else’s existence. He would be the toxin that wiped out all the others. With the amount of venomous shit being injected in the world, he didn’t think his mission would ever be complete.
One thing at a time.
He deserved some happiness after what he’d done. With Sara and Theo by his side, he would tackle the rest of the world more easily. And he would appreciate them.
Toxin smiled. He would have to wait to claim Sara, but not for much longer. He was ready, and what he had planned would wow her in a way that would win her heart. The grand gesture, like in the movies. The payoff for hours of hard work, like completing a video game.
In the meantime, Toxin knew someone who could make the pain go away, even if for a few brief hours. His reliance on Henry was becoming a liability. Someday, when he didn’t need him any longer, he’d rectify that. For now, though, Henry was part of the big finale.
And tonight...tonight he’d find oblivion with Henry’s help. He’d be with Sara and his son, a family, in his dreams. Soon, he’d make it a reality.
* * *
“Three murders in one night,” Damian confirmed over the phone.
Holt touched a hand to his aching head and sat at the end of his bed. He’d returned from Mrs. Mendelson’s home to find Sara where he’d left her, though dressed now in pajama bottoms and a tank top. His gun had been left on the bedside table, within reach. She was sitting propped against her pillows, trying to read, but the lines in her forehead told another story. She’d heard Damian.
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