by Faith Gibson
“You can go back to whatever it was you were doing. I don’t need you to get in my way,” he said, dismissing her. He waited until she turned to leave before completely tearing the room apart. After an hour of searching in vain, Adam sat down in the leather desk chair and closed his eyes. What if whoever sent it had broken into his house and taken it? That didn’t make sense, but neither did it being gone from his desk. As he sat back in his chair, he remembered what his captain said. Your partner was smart enough to turn his card in.
Adam pulled his phone out of the case at his hip and dialed Neil’s number.
“Perry,” he answered, obviously not looking at the caller ID before he did.
“Neil, did you get a tarot card in the mail?”
“Yeah. I turned it into the crime lab. Freaked me the fuck out.”
“And you didn’t think to mention that to me at the crime scene?”
“I hadn’t opened the mail at that time, so no. When I did find it, I immediately took it in. Why? What’s going on?”
Adam ran a hand down his face. “I got one, too, but now the fucking thing is missing. I’ve turned my office upside down, and the card has simply vanished.”
“That’s… Did you ask Lexie?”
“Of course I asked her. She swears she didn’t come in here.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Yeah, I do. She knows better than to fuck with my shit.” Adam didn’t have to explain the meaning behind that. He and Neil had been friends and partners for a long damn time. It was hard to hide his temper for that many years, especially when Neil’s wife and Lexie were best friends. The first time Neil mentioned the bruise on Lexie’s cheek, Adam let him know in no uncertain terms that what he did to his wife was none of Neil’s business. Neil shrugged and let it go.
“Was your card the same as the one we found today?” Neil asked.
“Yeah. Did yours happen to match the one we found at the first scene?”
“Yes. I took a photo of it so I could look it up online. Still not sure how it applies to me unless the killer is threatening me somehow.”
“What did you find out?” Adam asked.
“I found that these cards can have many meanings.”
“And?”
“I couldn’t make enough sense out of it to satisfy my curiosity, so I took it to a reader. She was pretty fucking cryptic. She said if the card was dealt alongside other cards it had a different meaning than if it was dealt alone. If it was drawn with other cards, the meaning depended on those cards, in which order it was drawn, and whether or not it was right side up or upside down. What she did say was since the card was by itself, it more than likely meant betrayal and heartache. She also told me she had a bad feeling about it. I didn’t stick around to ask what her bad feeling was. Did you get a chance to research yours before you lost it?”
“I didn’t lose the goddamn thing! According to what I found online, mine also meant betrayal along with defeat and conflict, but that could be wrong since I didn’t know all that other shit about it. Besides, I don’t believe in that hoodoo mumbo jumbo.”
“You and I don’t have to believe in it. They mean something to the killer,” Neil said. “I don’t like some vigilante playing with us. Knowing where we live.”
Adam closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, well, if I don’t find the card, Cap is gonna have my ass. I’ll see you back at the station.” He disconnected without saying goodbye. Adam had bigger things to worry about than telephone etiquette or hurting his partner’s feelings. His fingerprints had shown up on the evidence. That meant the bastard had access to Adam’s life. It only made sense the killer had been in his house at some point. Had stolen something that had his fingerprints on it. Adam had never worried about installing a security system. Who in their right mind would break into a cop’s house? Someone who was smart enough yet crazy enough to go after some of the most-wanted criminals in Texas. That’s who.
It wasn’t even lunchtime, but Adam opened the bottom desk drawer where he kept a bottle of whiskey. Everything about this case was putting him on edge. He needed to get drunk, and he needed to get laid. He took a long pull from the bottle, welcoming the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. Lexie walked through the house, no doubt getting ready to leave for work. She wasn’t his first choice in pussy, but he needed to wet his dick somewhere, and she was available.
He didn’t like her in his office. That was his domain. His sanctuary. Everything he’d ever accomplished was evident by the awards hanging on the walls. Adam took another long swallow from the bottle and followed his wife to the kitchen where she was pouring a to-go cup of coffee. “Put that down and come over here,” he demanded.
Lexie looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Adam, I have an appointment waiting.”
“I don’t give a goddamn about your appointment.” He tossed back several swallows of whiskey before setting the bottle on the counter by her coffee. “Take your pants off,” he commanded. Her eyes widened, but she did as told. He should feel at least a small amount of remorse for the fear on her face, but he didn’t. She was his wife; therefore, it was her duty to put out when he wanted. As soon as her pants were free from her legs, he turned her around, shoving her face down over the kitchen table. He kicked her feet apart and without preamble, shoved his hard cock into her hole. It didn’t escape him that she wasn’t wet for him. She never was.
Lexie cried out from the intrusion, but as always, she bit down on her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes closed and took what he gave her. Her pussy eventually lubed itself from the friction as Adam slammed into her over and over. The alcohol had dulled his senses somewhat, so it took longer to find his release than normal. The grip he had on his wife’s hips would leave a mark as it always did. He made sure of it. He wanted her to see the evidence of who she belonged to. He made sure to fuck her at least once a week and leave bruises, so if she ever decided to screw around on him, the other man would know he was getting sloppy fucking seconds.
His nuts drew up, and his orgasm rushed through him. Adam continued to thrust into Lexie’s tight pussy as spurt after spurt of his seed escaped his cock. When he was spent, he pulled out and tucked his half-hard dick back in his pants. “You better fucking be ready when it’s time to leave tonight,” he growled at Lexie as he grabbed the whiskey bottle. He was not in the mood for a goddamn fundraiser. He didn’t have time to dress up and play nice, but Lou had made it clear Adam was to be there representing the department. As he returned to his office to continue his search for the tarot card, his cell phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, he let out a string of curses before answering. “Murdock,” he growled.
“We have another body,” Neil informed him.
Fucking great. “Let me have it,” he responded. As his partner rattled off the address of their latest victim, Adam put the cap back on the bottle and grabbed his keys. The search for the missing tarot card would have to wait. As he drove to the crime scene, Adam thought he shouldn’t have hit the whiskey at home, but when he got a look at the latest victim, he wished he’d drank every fucking drop in the bottle. Tarot card number three was pinned to the man’s forehead. A staple gun wasn’t used with this one. This one was secured with an old, rusty nail. His facial features were obscured by the card and the blood that ran in rivulets down the face.
Neil walked up and stared but didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say. A serial killer was cleaning up the trash while taunting them both. The only thing Adam didn’t know besides the killer’s name was his end game. He had a feeling when he found out the answers neither would bode well for him.
Chapter 10
Lexie
What should have been a decent night turned into something out of a horror movie. Adam and I were sitting at the charity dinner neither of us wanted to attend when he got a call from Neil about another murder. I had to rework my schedule so I had time to get ready because Adam didn’t bother telling me about the dinner until the last minute. Of course,
he didn’t apologize about that, either. I dressed up, did my hair and makeup, went all out for him. Why, I don’t know. He didn’t mention one thing about my looks.
When he got called away to the crime scene, he made his excuses and told me to get my purse and follow him. As we were walking away, I asked if he was taking me home since he didn’t mention me taking a cab or finding another ride. He grabbed my arm, pulled me away from the room with everyone staring, and accused me of making a scene. I kept my mouth shut, but as soon as we were on our way, I cracked the window and lit a cigarette. He waited until I’d taken a drag before he went off. I’m surprised neither I nor the car seat have a burn hole, because he knocked it out of my mouth with his fist.
I ride the rest of the way with tears running down my face, but I don’t dare say a word. I’m ready when he pulls up in front of the house, and I throw open the door as soon as the car stops. Adam pulls away from the curb, tires screeching in his haste to either get away from me or get to the crime scene. Maybe both. I can barely see three feet in front of me with my eyes blurry from the tears. As I’m walking up the driveway, my heel catches in a crack, twisting my ankle. I list to the side and land hard on my hip. I sit on my ass, crying harder as I wipe the dirt off my hands. When I decide I should have my pity party inside, I pull myself up from the concrete and hobble to the door.
I don’t bother stopping downstairs. I want to get out of the dress that’s probably ruined and get out of these fucking shoes. I never should have let Adam talk me into wearing the thin heels in the first place. Fucker. I stumble into my bedroom, taking the shoes off as I go. I have one of them in my hand when something catches my eye. Something on the other side of the room. Not something. Someone. There’s a stranger sitting in the chair beside the window, the moonlight casting a shadow over half his face. Long hair, full beard, dark clothes. Oh, God!
A blood-curdling scream bisects the room. It isn’t until the man rises from the chair and strides my way, clamping a gloved hand over my mouth that I realize the sound is coming from me. He silences the noise, cutting off my breath at the same time. God, I can’t breathe! I drop my shoe and claw at his arms. The man is massive. Almost a foot taller than me, I know I can’t overpower him, but I have to do something. I kick out at him with my bare foot, but he twists me around so he can capture me against his body. I struggle against him, kicking and fighting even though it’s no use. God, please. I don’t want to die. I really don’t.
When I feel the fight leaving me, the man startles me. “Lexie,” he says softly. Oh, God, he knows who I am. I try to scream behind the glove. “Shh, beautiful. I’m not going to hurt you.” He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Lexie, doll, calm down. I promise I won’t hurt you. I’m going to remove my hand so we can talk. Yeah?”
I don’t trust him. Why would I trust a stranger in my home not to hurt me? I attempt to nod behind the grip he has on my mouth. Instead of removing his hand completely, he twists his palm so he’s caressing my cheek. Wiping my tears. I take a chance and look into his face as I suck in a breath. Eyes darker than I’ve ever seen focus on my face. When he stares at my lips, I can’t help but tremble. Not only do I not want to die, but I don’t want to be raped either.
Shaking, I manage to whisper, “My… my husband’s a cop.”
The stranger doesn’t remove his hand. He adds his other one to my face, wiping at the tears I can’t control. Adam’s temper scares me, but I know it’s short-lived. Not knowing what this man wants from me has me struggling for my breath. I’m shivering, and it has nothing to do with the fact I’m wearing a thin dress with spaghetti straps. It has everything to do with the way his words cut through my sobs.
“Yes, he’s a cop, and he’s a bad one. He’s a bad man, but you already know this.”
“What… what do you want?” I ask when my breathing is under control. I close my eyes. Maybe his answer will be easier to swallow in the darkness.
“I want to show you that not all men are bad. I want to dry your tears, not cause them. I want to make your lips plump from the ragged kisses I give you, not from my fists. I want to make you scream my name in ecstasy, not out of fear. You are an exquisite woman, Alexa Murdock. You should be treated as such, not like a five-bit whore. You should be cherished. Put on a pedestal. Worshipped.”
I must be dreaming. As he tells me what he wants to do to me, I clutch at his tight T-shirt so I don’t fall at his feet. I can no longer hold myself up. This is all too much. He knows about Adam. But what does he know?
He nudges my chin up with a finger and leans in close. “Worshipped,” he ghosts across my mouth as he presses his lips to the corner of mine, staying away from the side where Adam knocked the cigarette away. The man licks at my lips, teasing.
My brain has lost all sense of rationality. If I didn’t know better, I would think the devil has transformed into this man who is twisting my sensibility to his whim. He snakes a hand down my arm, brushing the side of my breast with the barest of touches. I gasp at the sensation. Why do I want him to touch me? How long has it been since I was caressed instead of groped? For some reason, the stranger rips the gloves off his hands with his teeth. He shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans before he places a bare hand on my hip.
I don’t want this. I can’t want this. Yet the heat from his hand resting against the curve of my ass is burning through the thin material of my dress. “Please…” I can’t find the words to ask him to stop. He’s an imposing man, yet there’s something gentle about the way he’s holding me. Gentle yet firm. Sure of himself and what he can do to me. I wish I could say it’s the size of him that has me trembling.
He turns me around so my back is to his front. The hand that was in my hair is now resting against my throat. His calloused fingers aren’t squeezing, but my breathing is restricted. I’m getting light-headed knowing he can cut my air off if he wants. I close my eyes and hold my breath, praying he lets me go soon. His hand on my stomach slips lower until he’s almost touching my mound. My pussy clenches at the thought of him dipping beneath my dress, touching me in a way no one else ever has.
No!
This is wrong. Why is my body betraying me?
The stranger pushes my hair off one shoulder and places his lips there, almost as if he’s exploring my skin. Goosebumps form on my arms. He kisses up the line of my neck until he reaches my ear. Trembling, I arch my back trying to get away. Or am I trying to get closer? He has me so confused. His hardness brushes against me, and I shiver under his hands.
“Let me worship you, Lexie. Let me take away the pain, if only for one night.”
His words break the spell we’re under. I release my breath and whimper, “I… I can’t. I’m married.” I pull away from him expecting to be dragged back, but he lets me go. I should run as fast and far as I can. Instead, I sit down on the end of the bed. He may have said he wants to show me how good he can be, but I can’t allow him to betray my body this way. I hate my husband, but I won’t disrespect myself into giving in, no matter what this man is offering. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Are you going to…?” I still expect this stranger to take what he wants from me. My wet eyes find his, imploring him silently not to hurt me.
The anger radiating from him has me shrinking back. He takes several deep breaths, but instead of attacking me, he steps back, putting a few feet between us. He snatches the gloves out of his back pocket, sliding them over his long fingers. “No, doll. I’m not. I don’t force myself on women. They have to want what I’m offering, or it’s not any good. And believe me, it’s good. Real good. Like I said, you should be worshipped.” His harsh tone belies his soft words.
I remain still. I feel like I’m at the zoo. This beautiful creature before me appears tame, but I know as soon as the raw steak is dangled in front of him, his sharp teeth will snap it up, showing his true nature. I’ve no doubt this man broke into my home, but to what end? Is he here for me or something else, and I interrupted? He surprises me when he drops to his
knees in front of me, sliding my dress up my legs. I gasp, but it doesn’t deter him. He kisses the inside of my thigh, but he stops before getting to the apex between my legs. Just when I thought my night couldn’t get any stranger, the man settles his cheek on my leg and wraps his arms around my waist.
Against my better judgment, I reach out to push his dark hair off his face. It’s softer than it looks, like silk against my skin. I continue stroking his hair, my fingernails making contact with his scalp. What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be encouraging him to linger. I should be yelling at him to leave. Something in the innocence of his posture, the submissive way he’s on his knees, makes me long to know more about him.
After what seems like an hour, he raises his head, places a kiss to my thigh, and stands, remaining between my parted legs. “I have unfinished business here, but I’ll leave you for now. I want you to dream about me. About how good I could make you feel.” He backs out of the room, keeping an eye on me. I place my fingertips on my thigh where his lips touched my skin, and I already ache for more.
I need a cigarette. I need a glass of wine, a cigarette, and a brain transplant. I just sat in my bedroom stroking the hair off a strange man’s forehead. A man who broke into my home and did who knows what before I showed up. Instead of going downstairs, I decide on a bath. I remove my dress before walking into my bathroom and turning on the water. Maybe soaking in the tub will clear my head. I check my face for the damage done by Adam’s fist. What I see reflected back is something I hope to never see again. Not only is my lip swollen on one side, my face is streaked from where my mascara and tears mixed. There are bare patches of skin where the stranger wiped at my tears with his gloves. I look like hell.