by Cynthia Eden
“Maybe I was a bit . . . reckless taking her from Vintage. But she’d tried to ditch me. Me.” He exhaled. “Now the cops know all about my fucking cottage, you dick.”
Regret tainted the other man’s words as he said, “Yes, well, it was a very good kill sight.”
True. But he’d found another place. For next time.
Matthew handed him the glass. “You got a problem. I heard—at the station—they were saying that kid you attacked, he made it to the hospital.”
But the guy just nodded. “Of course he did. I wasn’t trying to kill Jim. Just hurt him. He needed to bleed for what he’d done.”
“Uh, you’re missing the big picture here.”
“And that would be?”
“He saw you. He lived so he can tell the cops all about you—”
“He never saw my face. He won’t be able to tell them anything. Well, except, of course, that you weren’t the killer. Because you were in police custody.” He took a sip of his drink. Frowned. “This tastes like piss.”
Offended, Matthew blasted, “It’s twenty years old! Freaking classic!”
The bastard smiled. “You just can’t appreciate what’s really good, can you? That’s why you don’t see just what we’ve got in our hands.”
“Right now, we don’t have anything in our hands,” Matthew muttered. “We’re clear, and we need to just lay low. So when you leave tonight, don’t come back around, got it? Not until those agents from LOST are out of town. They’re the ones pushing things.”
“Yes, they are.” But he sounded . . . pleased.
Hell. “Don’t. Whatever it is you’re thinking . . . just don’t. We need to back off for a time.” Even he could see that, and he was pissed as all hell that he hadn’t been given the chance to truly enjoy Melissa. I’ll find someone else. But . . . I have to wait. They both did.
The bastard murmured, “We’ve been . . . friends . . . for a long time now.”
Friends? Is that what they were? Five years ago the guy had spotted him taking Kennedy away, but he’d kept quiet. He’d covered that secret. Did a past of blood and death and torture make two men friends?
Hell, maybe it did.
But . . . I don’t think he feels friendship. He doesn’t feel guilt. He doesn’t feel anything that I can see. The bastard watched him the whole time, seeming to study him as if . . . as if I were some new experiment for him.
“I saved your ass tonight.”
“You are the one who got me in that interrogation room! You—”
He sighed. “You did that. You killed Kennedy, remember?”
Fuck.
“It was my turn.”
Matthew took a long gulp of his drink.
“And it’s still my turn . . .” The bastard smiled his perfect grin. One that always made him look harmless. He’s not. “Don’t worry. I have everything planned out perfectly. No one will tie anything to you. Or to me. The cops can’t catch us. They’re too dumb.”
“What about LOST?”
That smile stretched, and a knot formed in Matthew’s stomach.
“I’ll handle them.”
“None of this comes back to me.” It was a warning.
“Trust me, I’ve got this covered . . .”
Trust him? Hah. Hell, no. He didn’t trust anyone. I have to protect myself. And that was exactly what he would do.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOMEONE WAS KNOCKING at the door.
Victoria cracked open one eye when she heard the distant pounding—and saw Wade lying in bed right beside her.
Awareness came flooding back through her—and her second eye snapped open, too.
Wade was still asleep. His features were a bit softer, his eyes closed, his long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.
He was on his stomach, with one arm wrapped around her. His face was turned toward her, and the sun poured through the blinds, falling over his broad, tanned back, and—
The pounding came again.
“I don’t want any,” Wade muttered, sounding so sleepy and disgruntled that a quick smile came to Victoria’s lips.
Is this what it’s like? To just let go and be held by a lover? To wake in his arms?
The pounding came once more.
His eyes flew open.
“I think we have company,” Victoria murmured.
“Hell.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, surprising her, then rolled from the bed. He grabbed his jeans—when had he taken those off?—and strode from the room.
For a moment she didn’t move at all. He kissed me. He held me. He knows my darkest crimes and he still . . . wants me?
It didn’t make any sense to her. It just didn’t fit, not with the kind of man that she knew Wade to be.
When she heard voices, Victoria hurriedly climbed from the bed. She was still wearing her shirt and jeans, and even though she probably looked rumpled as all hell, she hurried out of the bedroom.
Then she saw who their visitor was.
Lucas Branson.
He stood just inside the doorway, glancing nervously at Wade and then back over his shoulder.
His fiancée. Connie stood a few feet behind him.
“I, um, I needed to come by and see you. I tried calling you,” Lucas said, “but some cops—they had your phone.”
Wade stepped back. He’d put on a shirt but his feet were bare. “Come inside.”
“Sorry to come by so early, but . . . but reporters have already been calling me. They know about Kennedy.” Lucas reached back and caught Connie’s hand in his. He pulled her inside after him. “And now with that other woman dead, too . . . one creep even asked me if I had taken her as well.”
“Lucas never hurt anyone,” Connie whispered.
“The killer set him up,” Wade said flatly. “The same way he set up Matthew Walker for Melissa’s murder—”
“Professor Walker?” Connie said, eyes widening. “The cops think he did it? I—I didn’t realize . . .” Her words trailed away.
Victoria stepped forward quickly. “You know Dr. Walker?”
“He was my systems development professor when I was an undergrad. He’s really brilliant with computers.”
“Connie and Kennedy were both in his class,” Lucas said quietly.
Victoria schooled her expression as she focused on Connie. “I didn’t realize that you and Kennedy knew each other.”
“Ships in the night,” Connie said with a weak smile. “Kennedy was the star student—every class she took—and I just struggled to make C’s. We only had that one class together, so, no, I didn’t really know her . . .”
She saw Lucas squeeze Connie’s hand.
“I told Connie everything,” Lucas said. “About me hiring you. About me needing to get some . . . some closure on Kennedy.”
They had her body. Did that count as closure for him?
“The police are searching for her killer,” Wade assured him.
“Right. Especially now that they know I’m not that killer.” Lucas exhaled. “But they had five years to look, and all they found was jack shit. After all this time . . . I don’t have much faith that they’ll catch him now.”
“He . . . he stabbed someone else last night,” Connie said. Fear made her voice tremble. “He’s just running around out there, hurting people, and no one is stopping him. What if . . . what if he comes after Lucas next?” Her hand rose to her throat. “He was in my house. In my house. What if he comes back?”
“The police are sending extra patrols to your house,” Wade said. “I talked to Detective Black, and he assured me that the police presence would be stepped up. And you were given a safe house to use—”
Connie shook her head. “That isn’t good enough! We can’t just hide in some police house forever. We need to g
et out of this town.”
Victoria understood the other woman’s pain.
“He got in before.” Connie’s voice lowered. “I’m so afraid he’ll get to us again.” Her eyes were stark. “I don’t want to end up like Kennedy.”
Kidnapped. Tortured. Killed. Victoria swallowed. Right. She certainly didn’t blame Connie.
“We’re leaving,” Connie announced, lifting her chin. “My mom . . . she has an extra room at her place in Charleston, and we’re heading up there. There are plenty of jobs in Charleston and it’s just . . . it’s time for us both to have a new start. Kennedy’s ghost is always going to be here, and I can’t live with that anymore. I just—I won’t.”
Lucas’s face was stoic. “I asked you to find her. To tell me what happened so I could move on with my life.”
Only they hadn’t found her. Not really. Her killer had just dumped Kennedy’s body because he wanted the world to know what he’d done.
Lucas’s gaze reflected his pain. “Now it’s time for me to focus on my future. I don’t want that sick freak anywhere near me or Connie. I just . . . I can’t go through that again.” His voice broke. “So I came to say that I’m done. Thank you for coming here. Thank you for . . . for what you did.”
We didn’t do anything.
They hadn’t helped. Hadn’t brought Kennedy or Melissa home alive. And the man out there—the killer was still loose.
Wade offered his hand to Lucas. “I understand, and I wish you luck. If you ever need us, you know where we are.”
Lucas shook his hand. “Thank you.” Then he glanced at Victoria. “You . . . you worked on Kennedy.”
She didn’t want him to ever see Kennedy, not as she was now. Because she knew that Lucas had loved her very, very much.
“I want to bury her,” Lucas said. “But her body isn’t being released yet.”
“It’s going to take time,” Victoria told him, her heart hurting for him.
“I don’t want her just . . . left. She deserves a proper funeral. The cops said they’d contact me and let me know when to make arrangements.”
Victoria nodded. She didn’t want to tell him just how long it could be before he got that call from the cops.
Lucas held her gaze. “You found where he took her. You learned . . . what he did to her.”
She wanted to comfort him but she didn’t know how.
“Thank you,” Lucas said with a quick nod. “For letting Kennedy talk one more time.”
She had to glance away from Lucas and blink quickly because his words had pierced straight through to her.
“We should go now,” Connie said. “My mother is waiting in Charleston . . .”
“Right.” Lucas turned back to Connie and gave her a quick smile. “You go back to the car. I’ll be right behind you.”
Connie hesitated but then turned and hurried out.
Don’t blame her for being in a hurry. She just wants to put this nightmare behind her.
Lucas followed her outside. Victoria noticed that he kept his gaze on Connie as she walked toward the car.
Victoria and Wade stood on the narrow porch with him.
“I have this urge,” Lucas said, speaking quietly, “to watch her all the time. To make sure that she’s always safe.” He gave a rough laugh. “I know that’s not normal, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Not while knowing he’s out there.”
“Normal can be overrated,” Wade murmured.
Lucas glanced over at him. “LOST finds the missing.”
“Yes . . .”
“The killer is missing. No one can find him.” Lucas licked his lips. “Could I hire you to do that? To find the bastard and stop him?”
Wade glanced at Victoria, then back at Lucas. “The cops are handling the investigation. They’ve actually . . . the captain told us not to overstep. With Melissa’s death—he’s closing ranks. Her body was found in another jurisdiction and the cops are drawing their line in the sand.”
A line that had said: no more outsiders. Victoria knew Captain Vann was teaming up with the authorities in Jekyll. She wanted to help more, but . . .
That help wasn’t wanted, not right then.
“Captain Harry Vann.” Lucas said the name with disgust. “I remember him. He was the one who did nothing when Kennedy first vanished. I went to him directly. I begged the guy to put more manpower in the hunt.” His hands went to his hips. “You know what it’s like to have the cops do nothing? To have no one believe you?”
I know too well.
“LOST believed me. You helped me.” He turned his attention to Connie once more. “I wish you could find that bastard. Because I don’t think the cops will.” Then he hunched his shoulders and headed toward the waiting car.
Victoria wrapped her arms around her stomach as she watched him walk away. Lucas seemed to carry so much pain.
Kennedy hadn’t been the only one to suffer during all those years. Lucas hadn’t been with her, but he’d been in agony, too. Always looking, always searching.
But now he knew she wouldn’t be coming back to him.
He climbed into the little car and drove away.
“It’s not what we do,” Victoria said. “I mean, it isn’t supposed to be what we do.” She turned to look at Wade. “But we have managed to stop killers. On Dauphin Island—”
“The Lady Killer nearly took out Gabe. That was no easy scene, and you know it—blood and death and hell, baby.”
But in the end the serial killer had been the one to perish.
“And don’t even get me started on the shit that went down in New Orleans recently.” A muscle flexed in Wade’s jaw. “You carry the scars that prove just how close to death you came.”
“Walking away doesn’t feel right,” Victoria said. Because the killer was still out there. He’d gone after Jim, and who would be next? “He’s making contact with me. We can use that.”
He caught her arm and pulled her close. “You’re not going to be bait.”
“Someone needs to be. Or are you really fine with letting another innocent woman be taken and killed?”
“You wound up in a freaking body bag the last time a killer got hold of you.” He growled out the words. “Do you really want that same thing happening again? Only this time, you won’t be left alive . . .”
For an instant she saw the darkness all around her and remembered just what it was like to be in that bag. Kennedy was in a bag. I was in a bag. “I—I want to help.”
“You want to atone.” He kept his hold on her arm and pulled her back inside the little cottage they shared. “But there’s nothing for you to atone for.” He shut the door behind them. “Your father was a bastard, and you did what you had to do in order to survive.”
The breath she sucked in seemed to chill her lungs. “What are you going to do about that?”
“Do?” His brows shot up. “You actually still think I’d turn you in to the cops?”
She didn’t know what to think.
His hand curled under her chin and he tipped her head back. “Trust, baby. It has to start.” His lips took hers. Carefully at first, gently. “Trust me.” The kiss became harder after those words. He wasn’t just caressing her, he was . . . taking? Staking a claim?
Her fingers wrapped around his shoulders and she held onto him. She might have also risen to her toes to better meet his kiss.
Too soon, his mouth lifted from hers. “Trust me to protect you. Trust me not to let you the fuck down.”
She wanted to trust him. She wanted to open herself totally to him. “It’s not you,” Victoria whispered. “I don’t trust myself.”
“Stop letting your father’s ghost control you. You aren’t him. You can need and want and love just like anyone else.”
His words pierced straight to her core.
“You’re s
tronger than he is. You’re better. So much better. You have to see that.”
“You don’t . . . you’re not turning me in.” She was having trouble getting past that fact.
He pulled back, just a bit, but he didn’t let her go. “No.” He spoke with absolute finality. “I’ll keep your secret, you don’t have to worry about that.”
She didn’t understand him. “In the police station, when Dace first read the text, you immediately stepped to my defense.”
He waited.
“You . . . knew, didn’t you?”
“I suspected.”
Her eyes widened. He’d suspected, but said nothing?
“And I wasn’t about to have you making a big confession there.”
“Wade?”
“You don’t get it yet, do you?” He gave her a little smile. “You will, soon enough. Because I’m tying up those strings . . .”
But they’d said no strings . . .
“No secrets. No lies. Just trust.”
Trust. It seemed like such a simple thing to give. For most people, it probably was. She wasn’t most people.
But for Wade . . . she’d try.
VICTORIA COULDN’T LEAVE town.
He watched the little B&B, keeping his gaze focused. Lucas Branson had come and gone, keeping the simpering blonde with him.
That woman was nothing compared to Kennedy. So weak. So bland. A woman like her would never hold a candle to Kennedy. Did he realize that?
No matter.
Kennedy was gone now. So was Melissa.
Melissa was my warm-up. One he’d been building up to for so long. He’d watched Matthew. Learned. Grown.
There was no more standing in Matthew’s shadow. He thought he’d proved that. Now it was his time, and he was ready for a much better target. A target he could understand. One who could understand him.
But he couldn’t let her leave town. And he was sure that was the plan. After all, there were no more missing in Savannah. No one out there for sweet Victoria to find.
You’ll be the one missing soon.
He just had to separate her from the asshole who seemed to shadow her every move. The man who touched her far too much. Her partner. Wade Monroe. Monroe needed to be removed from the equation.