Victoria's Destiny

by L. J. Garland

  The moment Lenny and Becca exited the restaurant, River turned to Vicki. “So, just how many visions did you have during dinner?”

  “Two.”

  He rubbed his jaw. When he’d first met Vicki, he’d believed all her vision claims were just mumbo-jumbo. But with the death of the woman from the pub and the shocking vision he’d experienced when touching her, he started to wonder. Perhaps there was something more than just his concrete world of facts and evidence.

  “Two? I know Lenny was the first. Did you see the capital D, tying him to the killer?”

  Her brow knitted, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She nodded.

  “Damn. Okay, so were any of his symbols tied to Becca’s?”

  Vicki’s eyes widened. “I never said anything about Becca.”

  “True. But you have had a vision tying her to the killer. Haven’t you?”

  “Yes, but how did you—?”

  “I’m a detective.” He paused while the waitress set their coffee on the table. The hearty aroma beckoned, and he took a sip. “Now, my guess is Lenny’s and Becca’s fates are tied somehow. Only makes sense since they’ve taken up with each other.”

  She grimaced, a clear sign she still didn’t like the idea of her best friend getting naked with a reporter of the supernatural. “The first two symbols matched. The letters A, S, and D, and a matte-silver tube. The others are different.” Her eyes reflected the turmoil she held inside. “Except for the last one. They both have the pointed capital D.”

  River’s stomach knotted. He needed to do something to keep the bastard from killing again. “Okay. So, you said you had two tonight. Becca’s was sometime before she met Lenny. And you had his during dinner. So, who was the other vision of?”

  She discreetly flicked her finger toward their waitress. The voluptuous redhead stood at the bar, ringing up a takeout order on the cash register. Returning the customer’s credit card, she smiled and pushed a large bag across the counter.

  Vicki put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands.

  “Hey.” He touched her arm. “You okay?”

  “From the moment I arrived in Savannah, my curse seems to have gotten worse.” Her body shuddered with a sigh of resignation. “Every day, and two today.”

  “When did you get here?”

  “Monday.” She lifted her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “The very first day I had a vision about Becca. That was five days ago. It happens within two weeks. Always. It could be tonight, tomorrow, or the fourteenth day. All I know for sure is every day she gets closer to becoming the killer’s next victim, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Hey.” River put his arm around her, drawing her close. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he smoothed her hair. “I’m after this guy. I will find him.”

  She twisted in his embrace to face him, hope surging in her eyes. “I pray you will. I’ve known Becca all my life. If anything happened to her….”

  “I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe.” He took out his cell phone. “And one way to do that is have someone make sure nothing happens.”

  With shaking hands, she picked up her cup, sipping the steaming liquid, and River made the call to get someone assigned to Becca, Lenny, and the waitress. At first, the officer in charge balked, but when he explained it was for the copycat Valentine case, the guy agreed, stating a uniform would be at the restaurant posthaste.

  Having done all he could, River led Vicki from the restaurant. Outside, he took her hand, and they strolled down the sidewalk. Glancing at her, he caught her troubled expression in the glow of the streetlight. “It’ll be okay.”

  “How can you know that?” She waited while he opened the car door. After sliding into her seat, she looked up at him, her expression bleak. “Destiny is destiny. You can’t change it.”

  He moved around the car, got into his seat, and started the Malibu. “Sure you can.” He pulled out into traffic. “Destiny is a set of choices someone makes, leading to an outcome. You don’t want to get hit by a bus?” He shrugged. “Don’t step in front of one.”

  “Okay, now see, I used to think that, too. Why would anyone step out in front of a bus? They’d get killed.” She wagged a finger at him. “But what if someone pushed you?”

  River raised a brow. She’d given the idea some thought—probably a lifetime. “I guess you get hit.”

  “Destiny.”

  “But what if you figured out who was going to push you?” He slowed, turning onto a side street.

  “What?”

  “In the past, you never thought events could be changed. Right?”

  “Yes.” The lights lining the residential street illuminated her face in long flashes.

  “Well, we know a maniac is on the loose and who is on his list. My thought is to make it difficult for him to just waltz in and do whatever he wants. I think a watchdog might deter him.” He steered the car into his driveway and shut off the engine. Facing her, he found large gray eyes filled with hope staring back.

  “I pray you’re right.” She glanced at the house.

  “Want to come in?” He offered a lopsided grin, hoping she’d say yes. Man, she’s gorgeous just sitting in my car. What would she look like lying on my bed, her blonde hair fluffed out over my pillow?

  “Sure.” She stepped from the car, the emerald dress hugging her round bottom. “I’ve wondered what a detective’s place is like.”

  Following her up the steps, he unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

  Her heels clacked sharply against the tiled entryway then softened once she reached the wooden flooring. River went to the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses, and joined her in the living room. He sat on the couch, waiting while she finished her inspection.

  “It’s….”

  He opened the wine, filled the glasses. “What?”

  She took the glass he offered, scanning the room a second time. “Tidy.”

  He laughed. “What’d you expect, one pile of clean clothes, another for dirty?”

  “Sort of.” She sat next to him on the couch. “It’s nice. And I like the open floor plan.”

  “Let me show you what sold me on the place.” He took her hand and led her out onto the deck. “I know it’s not a view of the ocean or anything, but I like the marsh. You’d be amazed how many creatures live out there. Turtles, fish, giant cranes. And on occasion, I’ve even seen a dolphin or two swimming in the canal.”

  He slipped his arm around Vicki’s waist. A gentle breeze brought a hint of her perfume to him, urging him closer. He fought the impulse to push back her hair and trail kisses along her neck.

  “It’s beautiful.” She turned, her gaze meeting his. She leaned toward him and brushed her lips over his, sending a thrill of molten heat along his limbs.

  He traced her jaw with his finger, stopping just beneath her chin. He wanted to devour every inch of her, take her here on the deck beneath the stars. But he’d dove headlong into things with his ex, Betsy, and while a lounge chair on a deck wasn’t the backseat of a cramped Toyota Corolla, the result would be the same. Rushed.

  Destiny. The word echoed in his mind. What if Victoria Spiere was his destiny? The weight of his earlier explanation pounded his thoughts—every choice he’d made had led him to this point in time.

  The hairs on his neck prickled. He stepped back, and confusion clouded her eyes. “It’s a little cool. Thought you might rather be inside.”

  Downing his glass of wine, he poured more and drank half of that. Destiny? He shook his head. I’m psyching myself out. There’s no such thing as destiny. She’s gorgeous and interested. That’s all there is to it. No mysterious Fates pulling any strings.

  Sitting on the couch, he waited while she roamed the room. She disappeared to the back of the house. He didn’t stop her, although he knew what she would find. Emptying his wineglass, he wondered if he needed something a bit stronger.


  “Oh my God.” Her voice floated down the hall. “When did you get this?”

  River pushed from the couch, strode to his bedroom doorway. He found her standing near the bed. Tearing his gaze from her, he focused on the painting hanging over his bed. “This afternoon.”

  “It’s the one I showed you. You bought it.” She turned to him, eyes wide with astonishment. “You hung it.”

  “Yeah.” He’d been drawn to it, just as he’d been drawn to her. The style, the swirls of purple and blue, the glints of golden stars. She’d shown it to him, and he’d been compelled to get it. Another decision in destiny’s favor?

  She walked toward him, and his breath caught, his gaze raking over her. Spiked heels, long toned legs. Rounded hips. Breasts straining against emerald fabric. The soft curve of her neck. Blonde hair his fingers itched to twine through.

  Her lips curved into a smile, sending his heart tripping double-time. “You, Detective Chastain, are an enigma.”

  “Really?” He leaned against the dresser.

  “You’re a cop, all about rules and structure. Evidence, procedure.” She moved closer, her hips swaying with each step. “Your life is very compartmentalized.”

  He struggled to keep his focus on her face. “That so?”

  She turned to look at the painting, and he allowed himself to drink in her beauty. God, he wanted to swim in it.

  “Then you go and buy this.” She gestured at the canvas. “On a whim.”

  “I know what I like when I see it.” He pushed from the dresser, the need to be closer, to touch her, guiding him.

  She spun to face him, a smile on her lips. “Yes, but my guess is you’d still mull it over for at least a week.”

  “I’m entitled to a whim on occasion.” He ran his finger up her arm, feather-light but enough to feel her warmth. Need pulsed through his body.

  “Am I a whim?”

  Reaching her shoulder, he toyed with the strap of her dress. He pushed his finger beneath the wide swath of fabric and caressed her skin with small circles. “Am I?”

  She shook her head, the movement so subtle he might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been staring into her eyes. So, she doesn’t live by the advice she gave her best friend—a one-night stand of hot sex.

  But was he ready for another relationship?

  Betsy leaving him had damn near killed him. Then his best friend and partner turned out to be a psychopath. His track record wasn’t so great.

  Not to mention that she’s still a suspect. Taking this any further would be crossing a line.

  He’d always followed the rules, toed the line, but, even with all the shit life had thrown at him, he’d never stepped over. But Vicki challenged him, intrigued him, bewitched him. His body demanded he take her, bury himself deep inside her, but his brain said—

  Vicki stroked his cheek as if sensing his indecision. “River.”

  Her touch heated his skin, setting off spirals of lust to shoot through him. Destiny be damned.

  Tangling his fingers into her hair, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him. Capturing her mouth, he tasted her sweetness, reveled in her lush lips. He slid his hands down her neck to her shoulders. Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers.

  “The painting was a whim,” he admitted. His heartbeat roared in his ears. “You aren’t.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “You’re right about me. I think about stuff.” He hesitated, ground his molars. When she met his eyes, he knew he couldn’t keep the truth from her. “I’ve thought about you from the moment I saw you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. A lot.” He took her mouth. Slow and soulful, he attempted to convey his feelings with a kiss. When she parted her lips in response, he moaned and molded himself to her.

  Reaching down, she tugged his shirt free from his pants and pushed it up. River yanked it over his head—one less thing between them. Hands in his hair, she trailed hot kisses down his neck, across his throat.

  “You…me….” Damn, his brain wouldn’t work.

  Her fingernails scratched over his back, leaving sharp chills in their wake. When she dipped her head, running her tongue over his taut nipple, his knees almost buckled. Flattening her hands on his chest, she shoved, propelling him back onto the bed, his gaze locked on her.

  A shy smile played on her swollen, wet lips. Desire swirled in her eyes, and her chest heaved as she gasped for breath.

  So gorgeous. I just want to—

  “I’ve thought about you, too.” She reached behind herself, and the soft distinctive grind of her dress zipper lowering followed her movements.

  Lust spiked through him. The idea she’d thought about him brought surprising satisfaction. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” The fabric fell away, pooling at her feet.

  River stared. Damn.

  A dark-green teddy with thin straps hugged her delicious curves. The high-cut sides made her legs seem even longer. Smooth lace curved from her hips up to her bosom. The top was low—demi, he believed it was called. Whatever the name, the way it pushed her breasts upward while just covering her nipples, had his mouth watering.

  “Beautiful.” He sat up and held his hand out to her.

  Smiling, she went to him, straddling his legs and lowering onto his lap. He slid his hands over her waist to cup her firm bottom, pulling her closer. His body responded to hers, aching with need to possess her. Dipping his head, he peppered the tops of her breasts with kisses then delved lower to flick his tongue over one lace-covered nipple.

  She dug her fingers into his hair, her throaty moans encouraging him. Rocking, she ground herself against him, making him harder than he believed possible. He thrust upward, matching the rhythm she’d induced.

  “Driving me crazy,” he growled.

  Reaching between them, her nimble fingers unfastened his belt and pants. “Me, too,” she murmured and nipped his bottom lip.

  Grabbing her waist, River rolled her beneath him. He kicked off his shoes, discarded the rest of his clothes, and moved next to her. Looking at her lying on the bed, he craved to devour her in a single gulp. But he forced himself to slow. He wanted to savor every inch of her.

  Tugging a dark-green strap from her shoulder, he released one breast from its restraint. He caught her nipple with his lips. With his tongue, he alternately caressed the tight bud in circular motions and teased the tip. More.

  He trailed his hand down her torso, her stomach trembling beneath his touch, then lower, until his fingers slipped between her creamy thighs. With a twitch of his thumb and forefinger, he released the snaps, gaining entrance beneath the teddy. He caressed the softness he found, reveled in the sweet scent of her arousal. He slid two fingers inside her core, where he stroked until she moaned with pleasure, her chest flushing an enticing pink.

  “Please, River,” she begged amid pants, her hands tugging him. “I want to feel you.”

  Her words sparked a profound craving. Reaching over, he opened the bedside table drawer and grabbed a condom. He ripped the foil packet open.

  “Let me.” She took it from him.

  While she sheathed him, he sought her lips. Dueling for dominance of the kiss, her tongue darted against his, dancing in erotic strokes. Damn, the woman’s mouth would drive him mad. When at last the condom was in place, he moved over her, pushing between her slick thighs. An uncontrollable hunger guiding him, he plunged inside her.

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  Enveloped within her wet heat, he groaned, the sensation exquisite. Moving his hips, he thrust into her, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. Kisses, soft caresses, breathy whispers. His teeth grazed along her neck, nipped her earlobe. She was hot silk in his arms, and he increased his pace, unable to keep from driving faster.

  Her fingernails dug into his back, the unexpected pain shoving him to the edge of control. He pistoned into her. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

  Gasping, she threw her head back, arching from the bed. “River!”<
br />
  Her face contorted into a beautiful rapture, her core pulsing around him with her release. She writhed beneath him.

  Yes! With a feral growl, he thrust deep, greedy with the need of possession. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. Tensing, he jerked above her as he orgasmed. Down to his toes and out to his fingertips, he shuddered, lights sparking behind his eyes.

  Spent, he brushed his lips over hers and rolled to the side. His heart pounded like a jackhammer. Damn. River lay in Vicki’s arms while his breathing slowed. She skimmed her long leg over his thigh, and he marveled at the smoothness of her skin. The warmth of her body pressed to his brought a mixture of contentment and excitement.

  Her fingers drew lazy circles on his chest. “Detective Chastain.”

  He grinned. Her soft, sexy voice brimmed with pleasure.

  Nuzzling her neck, he said, “Yes, Ms. Spiere?”

  She rose up on her elbow, her face relaxed. “I don’t know why, but I am parched.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He rose from the bed. “Back in a sec.” Heading to the bathroom first, he disposed of the condom and cleaned himself up. On the way out, he caught his reflection in the mirror and paused. A satisfaction he hadn’t seen in a long time radiated from him, but even then his body craved her again. He shook his head. The woman seemed adept at drawing emotions from depths within him he never knew existed.

  She’s nothing like Betsy, thank God. His ex had been self-absorbed and demanding. Every stakeout he went on, she’d accused him of cheating. Her distrust had driven a wedge between them, so when she’d decided to vacation in Maui with the girls, he’d agreed. That was, until the divorce papers had been served.

  Vicki was so different. Gorgeous, yes. But she was sensitive, wearing her heart on her sleeve. Even within the few days he’d known her, it was easy to see how amazing she was. Smart, funny, loyal to her best friend. Would he ever win that level of trust from her? Wait a minute. He stared in the mirror, his heart pounding. Oh, shit. I’ve fallen for her. After his failed marriage, the realization rattled him to the core.

  Bolting from the bathroom, he strode to the closet and grabbed a pair of warmup pants. “I think I have some white wine. Will that be all right?”