Torn

by Cynthia Eden

  Or . . .

  I don’t remember telling him that I was going to Savannah.

  She stood up quickly, suddenly ready to leave that too loud club. Her hand brushed against the martini, sending it falling across the table. A second spill in one night. She was certainly on a roll. Now her hands were sticky, covered in the drink. She hurried toward the bathroom, zigging and zagging around the crowd. She’d clean up and then she’d wait outside for Wade because something . . . it was off.

  With Flynn.

  With the way . . . he acted.

  Did I tell him I was going to Savannah?

  She didn’t remember telling him, just as she hadn’t told him about any hard times. They hadn’t exactly been into deep conversations. She’d met him, they clicked, and yes, okay, so maybe she’d done a little research on the guy before they hooked up.

  I wasn’t going to walk away with a stranger.

  She’d run his records at LOST. Flynn Marshall, age thirty-­three. A pharmaceutical sales rep who traveled frequently, had never been married, and had attended . . .

  Northwestern University.

  That one detail clicked in her mind.

  He’d attended Northwestern, just like Troy North. They were around the same age. They even looked a bit alike, with that blond hair and similar height. Had they attended college together?

  Why does that matter? Why?

  Victoria pushed the bathroom door open. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead. Her high heels clattered as she made her way to the sink. No one else was in the bathroom as she yanked on the water and soaped up her hands.

  Victoria felt as if there were a puzzle right in front of her and she was just missing a piece.

  The water thundered into the sink.

  Flynn . . . I told him I was leaving town, going on a case, but not where . . .

  The first time they’d met, it was right outside her building. He’d been jogging and she didn’t see him. He collided with her, and, right before she would have fallen to the ground, his hands had risen and he caught her. Then, that night, she’d gone to Wild Jokers, just wanting to escape from the darkness that seemed to surround her.

  He’d been there. At the time, she just thought it was chance. A coincidence. Nothing more.

  Now . . .

  What if it wasn’t chance? What if none of it was?

  The lights flickered again.

  The door began to creep open—­she heard the groan of the hinges.

  In the mirror she saw a man’s hand reach through that opening. A tan, strong hand. The hand went straight to the light switch on the wall.

  And the bathroom plunged into darkness.

  A JEEP SLOWED at the corner. Wade glanced over at it with a glare—­

  Asher Young gave him a wide-­eyed look. “Uh, yeah, man, Gabe sent me over to deliver a new phone to you—­”

  “I need a ride.”

  Asher shrugged and motioned to the seat beside him. “I can do phone delivery. I can do rides, too.”

  Hell, yes. Wade jumped into the Jeep’s passenger seat.

  Asher cleared his throat. “Just where are we headed?”

  “Victoria.” Saying her name made his body tense.

  “Right, Victoria’s place. She’s not there, though, just so you know. I tried to deliver her phone first and the place was shut down.”

  “That’s because she’s at Wild Jokers, waiting for me.” And his ass wasn’t there. “Someone slit the tires on my motorcycle, and I didn’t have a way to contact her. I need to get there, now.” Because he didn’t like this whole setup. No way to reach her. His tires fucking slashed.

  Why slash my tires unless you didn’t want me leaving?

  And he’d only been going to one place . . .

  To find Victoria.

  But no one else had known that.

  Right?

  “Okay, okay, calm down . . .” Asher shifted gears and had the Jeep spinning around in the road moments later. “I’ll get you there.” But his jaw was grim as he drove. “Slashed tires?” Asher asked, voice thoughtful.

  “Yeah. And they were fine when I went into my place earlier. But I got a message from Victoria, asking to meet, and when I went out—­”

  “Interesting.”

  No, it fucking wasn’t. “Drive faster.” Because the knot in his gut wasn’t going away, not until he saw Victoria.

  THE LIGHTS WENT off and the last piece of the puzzle fell into place for Victoria—­too late.

  She immediately tried to move to the left but—­

  He’s blocking the door. I know he is.

  “Victoria . . .” Flynn’s voice called out to her, sounding worried. Concerned. “Something’s wrong with the lights . . .”

  No, nothing was wrong with the lights. She’d glanced up in time to actually see his hand turn them off.

  “I’m worried about you. I—­I saw you come in here, and you were weaving a bit on your feet.”

  Only because I was trying to shove my way through a packed dance crowd.

  But . . . she needed that crowd right then. She needed to get back outside to them. Screaming wasn’t going to do her any good—­no one would hear her. She could hear the wild pounding of the music. Outside that bathroom, there was chaos. Enough chaos to muffle any scream she made.

  “I think you had too much to drink . . .” he continued in that same, soft voice. “I saw your empty glass on the table. I know . . . you don’t always like to drink too much.”

  Empty glass. No, she’d knocked that glass over. She hadn’t drank from it. He thought she had, though. And he thought that she’d been weaving . . .

  Pharmaceutical rep. Dammit, he had access to so many drugs! He’d probably put something in her drink.

  Not just mine.

  “Victoria?” Now his voice was sharp. “Shit, have you already passed out?”

  He hadn’t seen her standing in front of the mirror. He’d put only his hand inside the bathroom when he turned out the lights. So he hadn’t seen that she’d been standing there, perfectly aware.

  She heard the rustle of his footsteps. He was coming toward her. Probably about to search the place for her unconscious form. The guy had tried to drug her, and she knew he wanted to take her away from the bar. She couldn’t let that happen.

  She had to think of a way out of this mess.

  Unfortunately, there were only two stalls in that bathroom. One large sink. And one exit.

  An exit that he still blocked.

  “Victoria . . .” Now anger roughened his voice.

  She had to answer. Had to say something or he’d know that she wasn’t drugged. “F-­Flynn?” She made her voice stutter. “Something feels . . . wrong with me . . .”

  His sigh swept toward her. “Too much to drink,” he said, voice back to being concerned. Friendly. “I suspected as much when I saw you stagger in.”

  You were watching me. How long have you been watching me?

  “Good thing I followed you.”

  For how long? Nausea twisted within her. “I feel sick.” She wasn’t lying. She’d slept with him. She felt like vomiting.

  “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

  Like you took care of other women? No way was this his first shot at drugging his victims. And he knew I went to Savannah . . .

  “Walk toward my voice,” he told her. “I’ll get you out of here. My car’s out back. I’ll take you home.”

  “Home . . . n-­not far,” she mumbled. “I can walk . . . there . . .” Anything to get away from him.

  There was the rustle of sound again. And then he grabbed her arm. But his hold wasn’t rough. It was ever so careful. “Not in this condition. I’ll help you.”

  No, he wouldn’t.

  But as
soon as she got out of that bathroom, she’d be home free. Others would be out there. She’d break away from him. She’d get help.

  He thought she was drugged.

  He was so very wrong.

  Flynn slid his arm around her, pulling her close against his body. “Did you think . . .” His breath blew against her ear. “. . . that we were done? Just because you said we were through?”

  They’d never been together—­just a few hookups. That wasn’t a damn life commitment.

  “I’m here to love you,” he said, his voice a rasp in her ear as they shuffled back toward the bathroom door. “And you are going to love me.”

  The hell she would.

  “I’ve seen it happen before,” Flynn murmured. “I knew just what to do with you. I learned.”

  Learned? He was terrifying her.

  Victoria figured they were almost at the door. Now that he wasn’t blocking it—­she shot out of his arms, lunging hard and fast to escape the bathroom. To escape him.

  “Victoria!” He roared her name, but she’d grabbed the handle of the door. He was just seconds behind her. Seconds. She rushed into the narrow hallway. She could see the crush of people up ahead. Bodies dancing, hands in the air, music pumping—­

  He grabbed her.

  “Help me!” she screamed, desperate, even though she knew the music was too loud.

  Flynn spun her back around and pinned her to the wall. Then he put his knife to her throat.

  An image of Melissa flashed before her eyes. Melissa . . . Jim . . . their throats . . . blood.

  One slice, that’s all it would take. Because she could feel the sharp blade already cutting into her skin.

  “You didn’t finish that drink, did you?”

  The bright light in that hallway glared down on them. He was surrounding her so completely. If anyone came up behind him, they wouldn’t even see the weapon. They’d just see two lovers, pressed tightly together.

  They’d see what Flynn wanted them to see.

  She stared up at him. Handsome Flynn. Still smiling the wide grin that flashed his dimples. But it was a grin that didn’t reach the coldness of his eyes.

  “The drink would have made things easier, but I can still work with this.” He gave a nod. “Come with me. Don’t make a fucking sound. Or I will slit your throat right here and now.”

  “DR. PALMER IS full of surprises,” Asher murmured as he glanced over at the packed bar and the line of women in their tight skirts. “You are so lucky you met her first. I’ve really got a thing for smart women . . . and if they like to wear short skirts . . . my kryptonite.”

  “Fuck off,” Wade said as he jumped out of the Jeep.

  “You’re welcome for the ride,” Asher called after him.

  Wade waved him away with his middle finger and he headed right for the main door. The bouncer there put up a hand, and Wade shoved a fifty at him.

  Then he was inside. The music was blaring. Bodies were slammed together on the dance floor. Pressed way too close.

  His gaze scanned the booths. He didn’t see Victoria. Not in the booths, not on the dance floor, and not even at the bar.

  Am I too late?

  He pushed his way to the bar. The same bartender he’d met a few nights back—­hell, just a few nights?—­turned toward him.

  “I’m looking for a woman,” Wade said.

  The guy’s brows climbed, then beetled down low. “I know you . . .”

  “Gorgeous redhead,” Wade continued. He lifted his hand. “This tall. Green eyes, curvy, and—­”

  “I remember you . . . and her, from before.” The bartender put his hands down on the bar top. “Look, I keep hating to be the one to tell you this, but she went off with him again.”

  “Him?” The noise around Wade seemed to dim.

  “Yeah, him, you know, the blond she was with the first night you came hopping in here, searching for her.” The bartender’s gaze held pity. “The guy even brought her a drink a few minutes ago. Disappeared with it, and I haven’t seen him—­or her—­since.”

  No, that didn’t make sense. Victoria was there to meet him. She wouldn’t just go out and hook up with some other guy. They were together.

  Wade shook his head. That wasn’t right.

  “Sorry, buddy,” the bartender said. “But there are plenty of other women here. Go find one of them.” He turned away.

  Wade didn’t want to find anyone else. Victoria was it for him. She’d called him. She wouldn’t have ditched him for some other guy. That just didn’t fit.

  He turned away from the bar, his gaze sweeping over the crowd once again. But there was no sign of a familiar figure with dark red hair. No sign of her at all.

  Eyes narrowing, Wade headed back toward the entrance. He walked outside, his gaze sweeping over the crowd that waited to pass inside. Definitely no Victoria in that line.

  Had she gone back to her place? Because he’d been late?

  He moved right, heading in the direction of her building. But then . . . his gaze slid toward the alleyway. And he found himself turning. He’d been behind Wild Jokers once before, when he discovered Victoria, locked in an embrace with Flynn. No way would he find that scene now.

  He trusted Victoria completely.

  His steps quickened as he neared the back of the building. He turned and—­

  Victoria was there. Held tightly by Flynn.

  Only there was nothing loverlike about the embrace. The bastard had a knife to her throat and he was trying to drag her away from Wild Jokers.

  But when Flynn saw him, the guy froze.

  Victoria didn’t speak at all. That knife was digging into her throat. Wade was afraid that—­was blood sliding down her neck? Faint light spilled from the club onto the alley.

  “Well, well,” Flynn called out. “I guess Prince Charming did decide to join the party.”

  Fucking bastard.

  “So very late, though.” Flynn put his mouth close to Victoria’s ear. “If he’d been here earlier, if he’d just cared more, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “You cut my tires,” Wade snarled as he lunged forward.

  “Stop!” Flynn’s order cut through the night. “Another step and I will slice her from ear to ear. She will be dead long before help can arrive. Another woman, choking to death on her own blood while you hold her so tightly in your arms.”

  Fuck me. That bastard had not just said . . . “You were there,” Wade realized, stunned. The bastard must have been on that beach. How the hell was that possible?

  Troy North had been the killer. North had taken Wade’s phone.

  Hadn’t he?

  Or . . .

  Or had North been set up?

  If he had, then Wade knew he’d shot an innocent man. A man who’d been pushed too far.

  Pushed by . . . by Matthew Walker? By—­

  “I said stop!” Flynn bellowed.

  Wade stopped inching forward. He also stopped trying to figure out what the hell had gone down in Savannah. Right then all he could afford to think about was Victoria. Saving her. Stopping that SOB with the knife.

  Wade didn’t take another step forward, but his gaze darted around the alley.

  Had he just seen a shadow move behind Flynn? Was someone else out there?

  Flynn laughed. “Your phone was real damn helpful, by the way. Lots of good info. Especially about your security system. Thanks to it, I was able to get in your home and tap your phone, no problem. Though I did need to haul ass back. Lucky for me, though, you decided to make that pit stop at the hospital and stay in Savannah longer.”

  Sonofabitch. That’s how you knew to slash my tires. You heard Victoria ask me to meet her here.

  And if Flynn had taken his phone—­he is the bastard who killed Melissa Hastings. Him, not Troy North.

&
nbsp; What in the hell?

  How did he know about the hospital visit, though? If he’d already gone . . .

  “So this is how the night is going down.” Flynn’s voice roughened. “You’re in my fucking way. You’re going to turn around and walk out of this alley. I’m going to take Victoria and we’ll leave.”

  Wade didn’t move. “Not happening.” Because he would never see Victoria again. He knew it. If she left the alley . . . if Flynn took her away . . .

  She’s dead.

  “I wasn’t giving you options,” Flynn snarled. “I was telling you what would go down. Either get the fuck out of here or I will slit her throat right now!” He yanked her head back and let the blade cut into her skin.

  Wade heard Victoria’s cry of pain, but she quickly clamped her lips together.

  Again, a shadow seemed to move just behind Flynn.

  Keep him talking. Keep him focused. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

  “Because I can.” Flynn laughed. “Because I’ve seen how very easy it is for others to get away with such terrible crimes. You think you’re looking at a fucking stand-­up member of society, like her dad, right? But you’re not. Everyone has secrets. You look into the darkness long enough, and you’ll finally see those secrets.”

  Victoria’s hands had risen. She was clawing against Flynn’s hold. He just laughed. “I know her secret.”

  Every muscle in Wade’s body had locked down. That bastard was not getting out of the alley with Victoria.

  “She wants me, you know. She told me so. Sent me messages . . .”

  “Victoria thought she was talking to me,” Wade yelled. He wanted to make his voice as loud as ­possible. Maybe someone in that line outside Wild Jokers would hear him. A bystander who would have enough sense to call the cops.

  “Did she? Is that what you tell yourself?” Flynn pressed a kiss to Victoria’s temple. “I don’t think so. There’s been a connection between us from the beginning.”

  “A connection . . .” Wade nodded. “Like the connection between you and Melissa Hastings?”

  “Melissa . . . she was really his, not mine.”

  His?

  Shit, there were two killers. Two. Now it made more sense. Because Melissa had been taken before he and Victoria even arrived in Savannah. And Flynn had been in Atlanta then. So who had his partner been?