The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  But reasonable explanations took a back seat to the panic climbing up his throat.

  He pushed the gearshift into reverse, but just as he started to move another car came up to block him. “Damn it.” He slapped his palm on the steering wheel and looked for a way out. The sidewalk was too narrow. The median thick with vegetation. “Okay, let’s do this.” He shifted into park, turned off the ignition, and climbed out of his car.

  “Hey buddy. You can’t just leave your car parked there,” the man with the cigarette called as Jordan started trotting up the sidewalk.

  “Sue me.” Dodging puddles, more debris from the storm, Jordan pulled out his phone again and tried Ava. When he still couldn’t reach her, his uneasiness kicked up to fear.

  Why the hell wasn’t she answering? Jordan was furious with himself for leaving her. And vowed to tear Bender limb from limb if anything happened to Ava.

  As that thought swirled, Jordan turned another corner at a fast jog, and was past the white van parked on the street before it registered. He slowed, jerking around. Glass Doctor. Jordan trotted back, peered into the passenger side window. No one inside, nothing to indicate who it belonged to. Could be any number of these in the city. But really, what were the chances?

  Jordan moved to the front, spotted the sticker that proclaimed the driver had donated to the Fraternal Order of Police.

  Bender. Had to be. What the hell was the kid up to? The van was less than a block from Ava’s house. Was he planning to jump Jordan when he came back? But how the hell did he know where to find Jordan? Had the little prick been following him?

  And as all of those questions coalesced into fury, one of the little doors in Jordan’s mind creaked open, and he heard Daniel Hatcher saying some of the glass flew in and hit Sonya. He’d broken the window. When he’d hurled Elijah Fuller against it, he’d broken the window. Hatcher had said something about having it replaced – and a week later Sonya was dead.

  And Mackenzie Wright’s car window had been smashed in, her laptop stolen. A little over two weeks before she’d been killed. It was in the police reports. Tracy Buckler… she was the first. Jordan pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Hadn’t there been something about a neighbor’s kid’s baseball breaking the kitchen window, and a dispute? They’d questioned the kid’s father when she was murdered.

  Shit. Shit. Why the hell hadn’t they seen the pattern? Why the hell… Simpson’s nephew. Had Simpson suspected? Was that why he’d been so damn adamant about Fuller’s guilt?

  And if the kid was guilty, why had he called claiming that his uncle had concealed evidence unless…

  “Oh God. Oh no. Ava.”

  Ava’s window had been broken.

  Heart screaming in terrified rage, Jordan took off at a flat run. But he had the wherewithal to pull his phone out again, managed to call up the one person he knew he could trust.

  “I don’t have time to explain,” he panted when Jesse answered. “But send the cavalry to Ava’s apartment right now.”

  “W-WHO…” Ava cleared her throat. “Who are you?”

  The man wasn’t one of her uncle’s typical goons. Military-short blond hair. He looked well kept. Young. Like any guy you’d pass on the street.

  Harmless. Why was it so much worse that he looked harmless?

  He smiled, and it twinkled in his eyes. Shouldn’t he look cold? Ruthless? Like the goon with the T-bird?

  “I’m your worst nightmare.” When he laughed at her widened eyes, Ava jumped back. The bag of cosmetics fell off the counter, lipstick skittering across the tile toward his feet. “That’s what my mama used to say,” he told her, and kicked at the tube. “Bobby Lee,” he continued in a sing-song voice that made her freeze while her nerves shivered. “You’re a no good piece of shit, just like your sonofabitchin’ father. The day you were born was my worst nightmare.”

  Confused as well as terrified, Ava tried to figure out how fast she could make it to the bedroom. The man had a knife, but Jordan’s gun was on the bed.

  “How did you get in?” she asked, mostly hoping to distract him. If she could keep him talking, he wasn’t using the knife. If he wasn’t using the knife, she had a chance to get the gun.

  He smiled again, rocked back on his heels. Passed the knife from one gloved hand to the other, and had Ava biting back a whimper. She’d felt the prick of a blade before, and it wasn’t an experience she cared to repeat.

  “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  She stared at his face, but it appeared blurry. And was horrified to realize it was because she was looking through her own tears. She blinked, determined to keep her head. She wouldn’t let her uncle win after she’d come this far. “Should I?”

  He looked a little disappointed at that. “The others figured it out, but I suppose that’s because our previous interaction was more one on one. You and me, we only saw each other from what you could call a distance, I guess. But I sure did notice your mouth.”

  “My mouth?” Ava watched the knife pass back to the other hand.

  “You’ve got a foul one. Funny thing about that. It tends to set me off.”

  “Sorry to have offended you,” Ava said a little more dryly than she intended. The man might be weird, but he had the knife. Which put him firmly in charge for the moment.

  He angled his head, as if considering. “You know, you don’t seem all that scared.”

  “You want me to be?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “How’s this?” When she made a break for the door, he slapped it shut an instant before she reached it. And pushed her against it, pinning her in place with his body.

  He was hard. God, God, he was hard.

  She wanted to close her eyes, she wanted to curl into herself, to get away from the insistent press of his body. She tried to bring back what she knew about how to defend herself in this kind of situation, but the knife he pricked just under her eye held her rigid as stone.

  “Scared yet?”

  It was a whisper, silky. From a man completely certain of his dominance, of his control.

  “Yes,” Ava admitted, the word burning like acid as it scraped her throat.

  He moved the knife and – no. Please no – pressed his lips to where the tip had been. “Thata girl.” A hideous parody of a lover.

  Was this her uncle’s plan? The final insult of rape before his man killed her? Had her mother suffered this way as well?

  When a tear spilled, unchecked, the man nearly hugged her with what seemed like happiness. Ava smelled the rain on his hair, the sweat on his skin, felt the awful heat from his erection.

  “I wish we had more time,” he said, almost sadly. “This could have been so good. But since lover-boy will probably be joining us soon, we’ll have to cut our relationship short.” When her phone rang, quite close by, Ava’s heart jolted into her throat. Jordan.

  He’d walk back in, unknowing and unarmed.

  Why hadn’t she kept the gun in her hand?

  “This was in your purse,” the man said as he moved back a step, eased her phone from his back pocket. “It was ringing when I came into the kitchen a couple minutes ago so I figured I’d better… well, yep,” he said as he checked the readout. “It says right here: Jordan. Guess our good little public servant is getting tired of waiting for me down at the Enmark. Seems awfully anxious to get a hold of you. You two plannin’ to go somewhere?” he asked, seeming to notice her travel cosmetic case for the first time.

  “I…” confusion mixed with nerves. “It was you on the phone.”

  “Sure was. I thought about taking care of this drive-by style. Bam. Bam.” He held the phone up like a gun, mimicked shooting. “But he took off and left you here, and well, who am I to overlook an opportunity to have some alone time with his special girl. It was like a gift, really. I didn’t think I’d be able to use this at all.” He laughed when she flinched as the knife flashed under her nose. “It makes it sweeter for me. Of course, I can’t do all the things I’ve come
to discover I’m really, really good at, but if I left your body raped and mutilated, it might bring some uncomfortable attention down on me. Whoa there,” he said when her legs buckled. “Don’t you go passing out on me. It’s no fun when they pass out.”

  Nearly swimming in terror, Ava forced her mind to think through the waves. “But Jordan knows you. He knew who you were. Or who you said you were.”

  “Oh, he knows me, alright. Or at least he thinks he does. We met – sort of – once upon a time. You know, this might work out better if you’re in the bedroom. Both of you in the bed,” he said almost to himself. “Might be easier to believe someone was able to break in, shoot you both, if it’s apparent you were distracted. You’ll have to take off your clothes,” he said conversationally.

  “No.”

  He slid her phone back into his pocket, drew a mean-looking forty-five from his waistband. “Oh, I think you will. Me – gun, knife. You – pathetic little female. You’ll take off your clothes, bitch, and anything else I tell you to do. Now, open the door behind you. That’s it,” he said when her hand went to the knob, nearly slid off of it. “Sweaty palms? Wipe it off on your pants. Good girl.”

  He herded her into the bedroom. Ava kept her body between him and the pile of her belongings on the bed. He didn’t know about the gun. If she could just get her hands on it without him seeing, she’d blow the bastard away.

  “Undress.”

  “There’s… there’s all this stuff on the bed. I’ll have to move it if you expect me to lie down.”

  “Aren’t we the helpful little woman? Undress. We’ll get to your suitcase in a moment.”

  Ava’s trembling fingers went to the button of her shirt.

  “Now, now. Let’s not be modest. Turn around so I can see. Mmm-mmm,” he said when Ava gritted her teeth and turned. “You have quite a lush little body. It’s disappointing I won’t have the chance to better enjoy it.”

  “Did…” Ava had to know. “Did you kill my mother?”

  The man’s eyes shot up from the slowly-widening expanse of flesh beneath her parted shirt, clearly off guard. “What?”

  “My mother,” she repeated, and eased ever so slightly closer to the bed. “We know my uncle had her killed. Jordan saw the grave. Were you there? Did you do it?”

  He blinked, and brought his knife hand up to scratch his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I wouldn’t know your uncle if he bit me on the ass, and unless your mother was about one when she had you, I can’t imagine we’ve been acquainted. I generally don’t do old ladies. That first bitch wasn’t past thirty, and hell, the little blonde with the laptop was only nineteen.”

  She felt the mattress against her thighs. And slipped another button free. “I didn’t realize Carlos had so many women giving him trouble. What, he’s knocking off the daughters and girlfriends of men who cross him now?”

  He stared at her for a full five seconds. “I don’t know who Carlos is, and I’m sick of hearing you talk. Take the shirt off. Now.”

  When he aimed the gun at her head, Ava dropped the shirt. But couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Did…” God, this was hard. “Did Ricardo give you the order, then?”

  “Bitch, if you don’t stop tossing all these crazy names at me, I’m going to have to cut out your tongue anyway, and screw the repercussions. Your bra. I want to get a look at your tits.”

  Cut out her…

  It dawned on her that the situation just might be even more dire than she’d suspected. “You’re.” No. Please, no. “You’re him. The one who murdered those women.” Jordan hadn’t believed the man who’d killed himself in jail was guilty. She remembered that now.

  The man smiled again, and she finally saw it in his eyes. Not the coldness of a contract killer. But the sadistic pleasure of a sociopath.

  “Very good. You go to the head of the class. Bra,” he said again, but Ava’s hands had frozen. When she’d thought him to be her uncle’s man, at least it was the kind of danger she understood.

  But this… she whimpered before she could stop it.

  He chuckled, and taking the tip of his knife, flicked her bra apart himself.

  A noise sounded on the front stairs, and her eyes met his over the torn fabric. “Well damn. Looks like lover boy is home early.”

  JORDAN did his best to ease through the door from the garage without so much as a squeak of hinges.

  And without letting panic propel him into a situation that could get both himself and Ava killed.

  Ava. His mind swerved a little on her name, threatening to propel him after all, but he’d heard her voice just moments ago, knew she was still alive, and was determined to keep her that way.

  So he’d crept through the same window Bender had come through – he’d cut the glass, the bastard. Jordan’s mind threatened to swerve again – hating the seconds it took him to toss the brick on the stairs, but wanting to distract Bender.

  If Bender thought Jordan was returning, he – please, God – would focus his attention on that, and not on Ava.

  He didn’t want to give him time to focus on Ava. He’d seen what Bender’s focus could do.

  He crept through the kitchen, feet bare, eyes seeking, and noted the spilled contents of Ava’s purse on the table. Her phone, her twenty-two were both missing. So Bender was almost certainly armed.

  Had he used the twenty-two to disarm Ava? Or did the bastard use his knife?

  Dropping into a crouch, Jordan duck-walked toward the bedroom, using the living room furniture as cover.

  Come on, you little prick, Jordan thought as he edged closer to the door. Come out where I can see you. But the bedroom remained silent.

  Sweet God, he considered as his throat worked, as every muscle in his body tensed. Had he miscalculated, horribly? Had he simply pushed Bender into doing the unthinkable?

  But then he heard it, that low murmur that made fear crescendo even as his heart sang. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

  And the answering snort. “Like you have a choice.”

  When she let out a muffled scream, trying to warn him “Jordan, don’t –” he burst into the room, coming in low, as a shot splintered the doorframe. Ava and Bender grappled for the gun. Keeping his movements short and tight, Jordan managed to grab the gun and pull until Bender stumbled toward him. With a twist of the wrist the gun fell to the ground, spinning out of sight.

  But Bender was quick. He had Ava pulled tight against him, knife to her throat. “Don’t think I won’t do it.” His voice was shaky, but his eyes were calm.

  “I know you will.” Jordan kept his eyes on Bender’s, because looking at Ava would be a distraction he couldn’t afford.

  Her arms and stomach were bare, her bra torn.

  If he thought about that, he’d go crazy.

  So he focused in on Bender. He had a good five inches, probably thirty pounds on the younger man, but he knew better than to underestimate an opponent because of his size. Not to mention he wasn’t sure where the twenty-two might be. He had to assume Bender had Ava’s gun. And more importantly, he had Ava.

  And nothing left to lose.

  “What did you do?” Bender angled his head. “Throw a rock on the stairs so I’d think you were coming in the front?”

  “Brick,” Jordan said, moving a little closer. He needed Bender to focus on him.

  “Ah.” The kid nodded. “You take one more step, my knife might slip. What tipped you off?” he continued.

  “Found your van.” Jordan shifted. Put his weight on the balls of his feet. “Storm knocked a tree limb down, so I left my car on the street and cut through the alley. And I wondered, why would Bender be parked here? Then I remembered something Sonya Kuosman’s fiancé said about their broken window, and how Mackenzie’s Wright’s car was vandalized. Basic deduction.”

  “Wow.” Bender eased toward the corner, tightening his grip on Ava. “How’s that for my bad luck? Or your good luck, depending on your viewpoint.”

  “Serendi
pity,” Jordan agreed. The kid was going for the gun on the floor. Maybe he hadn’t kept the twenty-two on him. “I seem to be having a streak.”

  “Well, I hate to break your run, but you do realize I can’t let you and your girlfriend live.”

  “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

  Jordan could see that his matter-of-fact tone struck home. “I’m sure you could try.” But the kid looked less sure of himself. Until he angled his head again. “You know what’s missing here? Sirens. Surely you called the police.”

  “Thinking your uncle will save you?” Jordan moved forward as Bender moved back. “Or,” he thought of what he’d learned about the killer from Clay’s profile “maybe you want him here, so he can realize what a fool you’ve made of him. It would have been so much easier for you to pop me on the street. Or when I was running in the park. Anywhere, really. But you had to draw me out, prove how clever you were, didn’t you? Had to set it up like a little game. Well guess what, Robert. Ava there?” He risked a glance. Was relieved to see what he needed to in her eyes. “She’s a material witness for the FBI, so turns out I called the feds. And more than that, she’s not the kind of woman who’s just going to lie down when someone grabs her. Elbow.”

  When he called it out, Ava pulled Bender’s arm down, swung her hip out, and rammed her elbow into his knee. Surprised by the attack, Bender lost his grip on the knife and she turned inward, kneeing him in the head.

  Swelling with pride, Jordan used his body like a battering ram and plowed Bender into the nightstand.

  Something shattered. Ava screamed and Jordan rolled so that she could scramble away from the tangle of limbs. The kid brought his knee up, catching Jordan in the groin. But he blinked through the pain and smashed his fist into Bender’s face.

  “You little son of a bitch.” He heard more than felt the crunch of bone on bone. “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

  “Don’t call me that. Don’t call me that.” Enraged, his mouth bleeding, Bender stretched his arm out to reach for the knife.

  “Think again.” Ava kicked it away with her foot, and pointed Jordan’s Glock at Bender’s head.