If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Shiloh Walker

  “And what?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Shit, I keep talking about this, the sheriff is going to have my ass.”

  “I’m tempted to beat your ass if you don’t talk.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t fire me.”

  “Fine.” Law slammed his mug down on the counter. “I’ll just head over to the sheriff’s office, talk to Ezra.”

  “He’s coming in late today.”

  “Then I’ll head to his house. I know where he lives.”

  Although he was tempted to go to Nia’s. And he would—right after he cooled off.

  Why hadn’t she called him? What the hell was going on?

  Abruptly, he found himself thinking about what she’d told him. Her fears that Joe Carson hadn’t killed her cousin. An icy sweat broke out over his spine and all of a sudden, he didn’t give a shit about cooling off. He took off for his car at a jog. Blind fear grabbed him—almost choked him. Would have choked him, if he hadn’t throttled it down.

  It wouldn’t be smart for somebody to grab her, he told himself. Not if the killer really was still alive. If the killer was alive, then there was some sort of connection, or something—something that Nia had stumbled on to, knowingly or otherwise.

  Killing her was stupid now. If the killer was alive, then he was smart.

  Wouldn’t risk killing her … yet.

  Law didn’t think.

  Sleep evaded her, but she didn’t want to sleep anyway.

  Nia was happy to stay in that chair, floating along in that little twilight place between sleep and wakefulness. Zoning out. That’s what she was doing. Zoning out.

  But when a fist started pounding on the door, it damn near scared her to death and she shrieked, struggling free of the blanket, ending up in a tangle on the floor.

  Something crashed against the door.

  She heard somebody call her name.

  Confused, her butt hurting, she looked up and stared at the door, shuddering in its casement. Law—?

  Another crash against the door. Damn it, he was going to tear the damn door off the hinges! Swearing, she shoved to her feet and rushed to the door, throwing it open just as he was about to throw himself against it a fourth time.

  “Damn it, are you insane?” she snapped.

  He caught her around the waist, jerking her against him.

  Stunned, her head spinning, she stood there, her face pressed against his neck, the scent of him flooding her head. Right when she’d almost caught her breath, he pushed her away and stared down at her. “Are you okay? Why in the hell did you scream?”

  Then he was turning her head this way, that way.

  The concern in his eyes was doing weird little things to her heart—as was the fact that he’d all but busted the door down because he’d been worried, but still. Scowling, she pulled away from him and smoothed her shirt down, noticing that she was still wearing the wrinkled T-shirt she’d pulled on when she’d called the sheriff’s department.

  “I’d been sleeping,” she said. “I … well, I fell out of the chair when you knocked. Guess that’s what you heard.”

  “I … oh.” He frowned, shoved a hand through his hair. It was standing up in spikes and tufts, like he’d been doing that a lot lately. He had the grace to look a little abashed, but that faded about three seconds later, replaced by an annoyed look. “I heard you had some company last night.”

  She cocked a brow. “Well. That small-town gossip really does get around, huh?”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I called the sheriff’s department,” she pointed out, gesturing to the rapidly approaching deputies who’d been sitting in their car.

  “Yeah. I’m glad you did. But you could have called me, too.”

  Something flashed in his hazel eyes … something that looked like hurt. It made her uncomfortable, she realized. And it made her wish even more that she had called him.

  “I wanted to,” she said quietly, unaware she’d been planning to say it until the words were already there, hanging between them. Sighing, she waved the deputies off and retreated back into the cabin, leaving Law to deal with the door. “But I … hell.”

  Tired, she sat on the side of the bed, clasped her hands between her knees. “We still don’t even know what we’re doing together, do we, Law? Other than sex and me waving a gun at you and you trouncing my ass, we have no history.”

  “Do we need a history for me to worry about you?”

  She looked up, watched as he crossed the floor. He crouched down in front of her, reached up. He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lips. “Do we, Nia?”

  “No … I don’t guess we do.” He was melting her. Working his way so deep inside her already. How did she handle it? How? Blowing out a shaky breath, she reached up and covered his hand with hers. “I wanted to call, almost did several times. But I … well, I needed it too much. I don’t like needing people, needing anybody. Especially when I’m already freaked out.”

  A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Well, I think I can get that.” He eased up, rubbed his lips over hers. “Maybe you can tell me what happened, then. So I don’t have to go beat it out of the sheriff.”

  That startled a laugh out of her. “Beat it out of the sheriff?”

  “Yeah. Although sometimes I think about beating him up just for the hell of it.”

  “Hmm. Yeah, I heard you have a thing for his wife.”

  “Had—it’s a past thing.” Law scowled. Then he settled down on the bed next to her, slid her a sly grin. As he laid a hand on her thigh, he murmured, “I got a thing for you, if you want the truth.”

  That grin of his made her heart race. Or maybe it was the fact that he had his hand resting so high on her thigh. Both, perhaps. “Do you, now?”

  “Hmmm. But you’re not talking.”

  “No. I guess I should. Would hate to see you get arrested for assaulting the sheriff.” The lighthearted moment passed as she looked at the window. The terror of the past night rushed up, grabbed her. “I was sleeping. Something woke me. I don’t know what. I don’t remember hearing anything. When I opened my eyes, it was too dark in here—earlier there had been lights, and last night. From outside. But not then. The only light was from the moon. I saw …” She broke off, took a deep breath. “I saw something out the window—a hand. It moved, closer. He moved. He was standing right outside the window. Staring inside.”

  “He … you’re sure it was a man.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see him? I mean, his face? Any idea what he looked like?”

  “No, just a silhouette. But it was a man, I’m sure of that.” She turned her head, met his gaze. “I didn’t turn on the lights—didn’t want to look. I had a feeling he knew I was there, watching him. But I didn’t want to see if I was right. I grabbed my gun, called nine-one-one. Right before I started to talk, he turned around, left. Just like that. Almost like all he wanted to do was make sure I saw him.”

  For a long time, Law was quiet, his face grim, eyes staring off into the distance. Finally, he looked back at her. “You know this could just be some kid trying to freak you out, right?”

  “Please.” Nia sneered.

  He shrugged. “I don’t entirely believe it either, but I don’t dismiss any possibility. Speaking of which … any chance it could be an ex-boyfriend? Ex-husband?”

  “There are no ex-husbands and the possibility of it being an ex-boyfriend is so slim, it might as well not exist.” She eased away from him, pushing a hand through her hair as she stood and started to pace. “Look, Law, I appreciate you not just laughing the idea away, but I already know who this is—there’s only one thing that makes sense to me. It’s the bastard who killed my cousin … and it wasn’t Joe Carson.”

  Golden eyes shouldn’t burn that hot, he thought. Molten gold. Fiery. Full of fury, despite the fear.

  Rising from the bed, he cupped her cheek in his hand and rubbed a thumb over the curve of her lip.

  “I’m real
ly starting to suspect you’re right,” he said, his gut going tight with both fear and rage. As he stared at her face, images of the girl who’d been killed, dumped on his land like so much garbage—her cousin, her family—flashed through his mind. That could be her.

  If the killer wasn’t Joe, if he wasn’t dead, then he was out looking to terrify her.

  Nia’s brows drooped low over her eyes. “You … wait. What, you believe me?”

  He stroked a hand through her hair, curled it over the back of her neck. “Nia, you don’t strike me as a woman who is going to jump at imaginary shadows.” He smirked and added, “I might. But I’m a paranoid bastard. If you’re positive it’s not an ex, and you’re probably right it’s not some kid looking to freak you out … what else is the logical conclusion?”

  “You know, not too many people would come to the logical conclusion that the killer isn’t the dead guy everybody thought.”

  The suspicion in her eyes, for some reason, appealed to him. Grinning, he dipped his head and nipped her lower lip. Against her mouth, he murmured, “Well, I don’t tend to think like most people, maybe.”

  Then, because her mouth was still so handy, and because she tasted so fucking good, he kissed her.

  She opened for him with a sigh, arching against him as she slid her arms around his neck. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he kept the other curved over her nape, angling her head to deepen the kiss.

  Her hands stroked down his chest, slid under his shirt. Short, neat nails bit teasingly into his skin, raking lightly over his flesh. But when she went to stroke him through his jeans, he groaned and pulled away, catching her wrists. With his breath coming in hard, ragged pants, he pressed his brow to hers. “Didn’t come here for this,” he muttered.

  “So? Does that mean we absolutely can’t?”

  Opening his eyes, he stared at her. Lost himself in her … it could be so easy to do that … so easy.

  “No.” Boosting her up into his arms, he whispered, “It doesn’t mean that at all.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  “SO WHAT ALL HAVE YOU DONE?”

  Nia forced one eye to open, staring at Law. “Pal, if I need to explain it, then I must not have been doing it right,” she said dryly.

  He grinned.

  “Funny.” With one palm cupping her breast, he lightly pinched her nipple. “I promise, you did all of that right, absolutely. But I wasn’t talking about us. I’m talking about whatever you’ve done that’s caught his eye. If we’re going forward on the assumption that it’s him, then something you’ve done must have freaked him out if he ran the risk of coming out here where he could be seen.”

  She scowled. “Hell, he’s a sick fuck and sick fucks get off on scaring people—that’s their pleasure in life. Does he need a reason to come out here and scare me?”

  “Actually, yeah. Because sick fucks usually like to continue their mission of being sick fucks,” Law said. Absently, he stroked his thumb along the silken curve of her breast. “And if he gets caught, that interferes with his mission. He’s gone to a lot of trouble already to avoid getting caught. That’s what Joe was about—throwing people off the trail. That’s what leaving your cousin on my land was about, too, I bet. Throwing people off the trail.”

  He frowned and sat up, raking his fingers through his hair.

  “Lena,” he muttered and shook his head.

  “What?”

  He looked over at her and said, “I just thought of something.”

  “The night she reported the screams.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “How did you know about that?”

  “I started going through some of the public records and archives, that sort of thing.” Shivering, she sat up and dragged the blankets around her. Her golden eyes were tormented, sad, and it only took a moment to figure out why.

  “I think it was Joely she heard screaming,” Nia said quietly, staring at him. She swallowed and closed her eyes. When she looked back at him, her eyes were damp, but she didn’t let the tears fall. “I think Joely almost escaped, but he caught her. Lena must have heard her.”

  Law nodded. “That makes sense. They looked around some, but it was late, dark. They came back out, did another go through the woods, I know that. There just wasn’t anything for them to find.”

  “I was out there. Looking around.”

  “Out where? In the woods?” Law demanded.

  “Yes.”

  Law closed his eyes. Told himself to count to ten—but he reached thirty and still hadn’t calmed down.

  “Let me get this straight—you go into the woods where you’re pretty sure your cousin was killed, and you’re just merrily hiking along. Am I getting this right?”

  She cocked a brow. “Yes. That’s about right.”

  Long, tense seconds of silence stretched out between them before he shattered it as he demanded, “Why? What in the fuck were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that he has someplace out there where he had her,” she snapped, shoving to her feet. She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “And right now I’m thinking I don’t care for your attitude, damn it.”

  “Too fucking bad, because I don’t care for the thought of something happening to you!”

  Swearing, he turned around and started to pace, images of what could have happened running through his mind even as other thoughts swamped him, turning everything into a jumble. Shit, shit, shit—

  “What were you hoping to find?” he snapped. “A little treehouse with a sign reading Serial Killer’s Hangout, please come in?”

  Well, one thing about that tone of his, it did a damn fine job of turning her uncertainty and fear into anger.

  She sneered at him, torn between kicking him out and railing at him. The only thing that kept her from doing so was the fact that she had known going out there wasn’t all that smart—and she didn’t give a damn. She’d do it again.

  “Look, hotshot,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level. “I know it wasn’t the smartest damn thing in the world, but I can’t just keep waiting around and doing nothing.”

  “And what in the hell did you think you’d accomplish going out there?”

  “Well … I certainly made somebody uncomfortable, didn’t I?” She glanced toward the window and suppressed a shiver. Wrapping her arms around herself, she retreated to the bed. She settled on it with her back pressed against the carved wooden headboard, knees drawn up to her chest.

  “What am I supposed to do, Law?” She stared at him. “Just wait around forever when I know, in my gut, that the bastard who killed her isn’t dead? Because the sheriff can’t do shit unless he finds some kind of proof.”

  “Damn it, Nia.” He swore and looked away, a heavy sigh leaving him. He dropped down onto the couch, staring at her with dark, worried eyes. The anger had drained away, as quickly as it had come, it seemed.

  But he was still worried. She could see that.

  “What am I supposed to do?” she asked again. “I can’t go back to my life until something happens here. I can’t. I tried. I’m too hung up on this, and if that makes me obsessed, then fine, I’m obsessed. If I run headlong into something and that makes me a fool, then fine … I’m a fool. But at least I’m doing something. I can’t not do something. Joely’s killer isn’t dead. And I can’t pretend like he is.”

  Fuck.

  The longer he stared into her golden eyes, the harder it was to hold on to his anger—not that he was letting it go. He was still madder than hell about that—mad, terrified—shit, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that scared.

  Unless maybe it was when he’d been tearing through the woods after Remy, trying to track down Hope all those months ago.

  This, though, something about it felt maybe worse. The thought of Nia going through the woods …

  Stop. She’s fine. Focus on what in the hell she hoped to find—and next time, make sure she thinks to take you with her.

  Blowin
g out a breath, he locked his eyes on her face, tried to block the worry, the fear, all of that out. He needed to think now—needed to listen. “What were you hoping to find, Nia?”

  “I don’t know,” she said again, groaning. She smacked her head back against the headboard, closing her eyes. “And hell, once I was out there, I started walking around, wondering … the cliffs. Made me think …”

  Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

  “What?”

  Nia shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Nia …” Scowling, he shoved off the couch and crossed the floor, settled down on the bed, just in front of her. Pulling on her ankles, he eased her legs down, one on either side of his hips, then he curled his hands around her butt, tugging her into his lap. “What is it, Nia?”

  When she remained silent, he nipped her chin. “Come on, baby. I haven’t thought anything you’ve said was crazy yet, have I? Other than you trampling around by yourself when you’re pretty damn certain there’s a killer’s hangout somewhere close by, that is.”

  Cupping her cheek in his hand, he guided her face around until she was looking at him. Her eyes, darker with worry, fear, met his. Sighing, she dropped her head forward, resting it on his shoulder. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I think she died there, Law. Somewhere in those woods. I …”

  She stopped, licked her lips. “I think she died there—was killed there. Somewhere close. I think he has a place in there.” She swallowed and lifted her head, stared at him. “I … you asked what I was looking for. I think … well, I think there might be a cave or something like that out there. There has to be something, you know. If she did die out there, it has to be someplace he can hide, because if there was a house, people around here would know, right? So underground, a cave, that sort of thing, it makes sense. I think he’s got a place, someplace where he kept her, held her prisoner.”

  A cave—

  A cave—

  Law looked like she had smacked him across the side of his head with a two-by-four, Nia thought, staring at his face. His eyes were dazed, distracted, staring off into the distance. He muttered something, shook his head.