by C. J. Miller
“At ten of two, we got a call from the Denver precinct. Another vic showed up in an alley in the same neighborhood as five of the other killings. Same method and same cause of death. The guy we have in custody couldn’t have committed the crimes.”
Carey shivered, the impact of Vanessa’s words constricting her breathing. They had the wrong man. Both the Vagabond Killer and Mark were loose on the streets.
“Are you sure?” Reilly asked, running a red light at an empty intersection.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Vanessa said, irritation clear in her tone. “The suspect’s lawyer is demanding his immediate release and as soon as court opens, he’ll get a judge to sign off on it.”
“Van, I gotta go. I’ll be in touch,” Reilly said.
Reilly snatched the phone from Carey and shut it off. “I lost one of the cars, but the other is following us.”
Carey rubbed her arms, dinner threatening to make a reprisal. “It’s Mark who shot at us. He has the resources to pull something like this. He found out about the lineup and he sent you that text message.”
Carey closed her eyes. Part of her nightmare was supposed to end tonight. The Vagabond Killer had been in custody, she was going to pick him out of the lineup and send him to a lifetime in prison. Now she was neck-deep in trouble. Mark had shot at her and Reilly, and the Vagabond Killer was still loose on the streets.
A pregnant pause filled the air with the sound of Reilly’s car engine taking hairpin turns, wheels screaming. “Tell me why Mark wants you dead.”
And the situation got worse. “It’s better if you don’t know.” She didn’t want to burden him with the things she knew about Mark. The car zipped by buildings and streets, making her feel dizzy and out of sorts. Between her terror and confusion, it was difficult to think clearly.
“It’s better if I do. I’ve been shot at. I need to know who I’m dealing with. Abusers will go pretty far to get to their victims, but this guy is taking it to a new, sick level.”
He was right. People were getting hurt because of her. This had to stop.
Another bullet pierced the back windshield. Reilly swore. “They better not hit our tires or we’re screwed. Get on the floor and cover your head.”
Panic renewed in her chest and Carey fought the scream of terror that rose in her throat. She did as Reilly said. Crouched on the floor, she watched Reilly’s face and the determination in his eyes, scared for him, terrified he would get hurt. The car flew over the road, every bump jarring, every turn wild.
“I got the lead on him. Send up a prayer this works,” Reilly said.
Reilly turned off his lights and swerved the car into an abandoned office complex parking lot, sliding the car behind the brown brick building. He left the engine running, watching the rearview mirror.
Carey plowed a hand through her hair. What if he was hurt because of her? He’d nearly been shot. “Where are we going to go? You can’t take me to your parents’ ranch. We can’t risk being followed. He’ll find me. He will never stop looking.” Her worst fear realized, she’d been a fool to think she was safe. She’d never be safe and she’d always be a danger to the people around her.
Reilly’s eyes never left the mirror. “We need to think this through and figure out our next steps.”
Our next steps. Implying they were in this together.
Reilly took a deep breath. “I think we lost them.” He pulled the car onto the road again, scanning the area around them, and drove at a normal speed.
Carey crawled into the passenger seat, her legs feeling weak and her arms trembling. “Tell me what you need me to do.” She needed to feel useful and not like a burden.
“You can start by telling me about Mark.”
Indecision weighed on her, mixing with heavy guilt. If Reilly didn’t know how dangerous Mark was, he wouldn’t know how to protect himself. It was a matter of time before Reilly put together the pieces, and holding back the information was going to get him killed. If he knew who she was, he might be finished protecting her. But for his safety, she had to come clean.
Knowing she was risking him being disgusted, she took a deep breath and struggled to find her voice. “Mark is a millionaire many times over. He’s ruthless and he’s obsessive. Right now, he’s obsessed with having me dead. He knows I’m the only person in the world who can take away the life he loves.”
To his credit, Reilly didn’t appear fazed. “How can you do that?”
She took a deep breath. She had to force the words from her mouth and ignore the mounting trepidation that Reilly would leave her. “He’s the leader of an extensive crime ring. And he knows my testimony could put him behind bars.”
Chapter 9
Reilly’s finger tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. “A crime boss?”
“Yes,” Carey said, the word catching in her throat.
“You were involved with a criminal?”
“Yes.” Once the words started, she couldn’t stop them, desperation fueling the need to explain herself. “Mark Sheffield was my fiancé. He used me to get close to my father. My father owned a few restaurants on the east coast and a winery on the west coast. I can’t list all the things my father did or all the people he knew. He was a powerful man.”
Reilly glanced over at her, questions in his eyes. “A powerful man?”
The question spoke volumes. A powerful man in the crime world, using his legitimate businesses to launder money for wealthy friends. “Yes.”
“Keep talking.”
His voice didn’t give away anything about what he was thinking. She imagined disgust for her growing in his gut and it made her more panicked to keep him close, to hear some words of reassurance that he’d stay.
“My father passed away. Heart trouble. And then Mark took over his businesses.” She fought to control the lump forming in her throat. Dang, it hurt to talk about this. “My father had always protected me. Kept me from knowing what he did for a living.” She took a deep breath. “But Mark did no such thing. I started to put things together when I was going through my father’s office. When I asked Mark about it, he made it clear my father had done some bad things and he was taking over. I broke up with him the night I learned the truth.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t react well.”
Not in the least. “He came after me. He threatened me. He stalked me. He was powerful, and my father’s assets and connections helped him.” Mark had made her life a living nightmare. Every time she’d turned around, he was there, sending flowers, emailing her, sending messages that were thinly veiled threats. He’d wormed his way into her father’s inner circle and made her feel alone and helpless. “I was terrified of what he’d do to me.” And she’d caved. She felt she had no other choice. “I told him I had shoved him away because I was afraid. We got engaged and instead of planning a wedding, I planned my escape.”
“And now he wants you because you have dirt on him?”
Her best guess was that he had realized she knew far too much and wouldn’t cooperate and keep quiet. “He must suspect it. And he wants complete, uncontested control of my father’s assets. He was helping my father run his businesses and manage his accounts before he died and Mark took over immediately after. He was so thick into it, no one questioned him. But no judge in this country, except one he buys off, would believe whatever falsified documents Mark draws up to say my father left everything to him. If I were dead, there isn’t anyone to contest it, and Mark could get a hundred people to claim he was like a son to my father. I haven’t contacted Mark or gotten involved in his businesses since I ran, but I’m a loose thread he wants to tie off.”
She could see Reilly working the information over in his mind. “You’re the daughter of Croswell Leone?”
She started. He’d put that together fast. Then again, how many crime bosses had died in the last two years? “Feel free to eject me from the car.” Her attempt at humor didn’t cover how raw and exposed she felt. She waited for his response
, bracing herself for his rejection. No matter what he said, she wouldn’t beg him to stay. She wouldn’t put him in that position. He owed her nothing. If anything, she was indebted to him.
“We’re in this together. No one is ditching anyone.” He glanced at her and their eyes met and held for a brief, intense moment. “Is there anything else?”
Her stomach tightened. How had he known she’d held something back? “There is one more thing.” She quashed the guilt and spoke. “After I ran away from Mark, I read in the news that a good friend had been killed. Hit-and-run accident. But I don’t think it was an accident. I think Mark killed her because she wouldn’t tell him where I had gone.” Tears burned in her eyes and Carey forced herself to finish. “But she didn’t know where I’d gone. I told no one where I was. And now she’s dead because of me.”
Reilly’s hand shot out and covered hers, and an undercurrent of heat ran between them. “No. Carey, no. You are not responsible for her death. You can’t believe that. You don’t know it was Mark.”
But she did. In her gut, she’d known the moment she’d read the words that Mark had been behind the accident. “If I hadn’t left, Tracy would still be alive.”
“You’ve got to let go of your guilt. Mark is a monster. He hurts people. Not you.”
Carey wiped at the tears streaming down her face. Speaking the words had been therapeutic, loosening some of the horror living inside her. Reilly was the first person in whom she’d confided this secret.
“I want him to pay for what he’s done,” Carey said, some of her guilt shifting to anger for Mark.
“He will. He won’t get away with this,” Reilly said.
Mark had gotten away with so much already that getting justice for Tracy wouldn’t be easy.
Twenty minutes passed before Reilly spoke again. “I’m going to take care of you, Carey. You’ll be safe.”
Her heart surged and she wanted to crawl into his lap and bury her head in his shoulder, lose herself in the protection in his arms. She pressed her hands in her lap to keep from touching him. “I want you to be safe, too.”
Reilly tossed her a look, as if to say, of course I’ll be safe. “We need to find a place to stay where we can stash the car. No one is following us now, but I don’t trust our luck to hold.”
Reilly set a comforting hand on her leg and heat spiraled through her veins. The need for consolation and for Reilly was all-consuming. He was next to her, the physical distance less than a foot, but she felt emotionally raw and wanted another taste of the closeness she knew she’d find with him.
Reilly took another side street, maneuvering through the city. He didn’t move his hand from her thigh and that connection ignited molten-hot pleasure, leaving no part of her unaffected. “You’re safe at the ranch.”
She set her hand over his, gripping it, feeling as if he was the lifeline keeping her afloat. “Maybe. How long before Mark digs deep enough to find out the place belongs to your parents and comes looking for me? How do you know we won’t be followed there?”
“We’ll stay at a hotel tonight and get our plans in place.”
She asked the question weighing on her mind. “Does it bother you who my father is? Does it bother you I was engaged to a criminal?”
His fingers flexed beneath hers. “It doesn’t matter who your father was. It doesn’t matter that you’ve made mistakes in judgment. I’ve been in situations where I’ve regretted my decisions.”
Acceptance. Her heart leapt, but doubt weighed on it. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m Croswell Leone’s daughter?” she asked again.
“No.”
He was a detective. She was the daughter of a crime boss. And he had no qualms?
“We need to get a rental car. Ours draws too much attention,” Reilly said, turning onto Pena Boulevard in the direction of the airport. They ditched his car in the long-term parking lot at the airport, grabbed their bags and took a shuttle to the car rental lot. He was glad he’d thought to bring extra cash for the trip. They needed it to stay under the radar.
After talking to a sleepy attendant who didn’t ask for ID and took Reilly’s deposit and rental fee in cash, Reilly had the keys to a blue sedan. They got in the car and Reilly drove another thirty minutes before choosing a hotel located near a suburban town, surrounded by neighborhoods and cookie-cutter houses. “This place okay?”
Carey didn’t have a preference. If he thought it was safe, she was on board. “This is fine.” The longer she and Reilly were driving around, the greater the chance someone would see them or recognize her.
“I’ll get a balcony room if I can. Two exits, just in case.” He parked behind the building. “Pull your hood up and keep your head down. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing you. Stay at my side.” He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead he was scanning the parking lot.
She nodded and got out of the car, jogging to match his stride into the hotel. She’d be sharing a room with Reilly. Excitement whipped through her and she calmed down by reminding herself the situation dictated the circumstances, not Reilly.
They requested a room and with the holiday, they were lucky. The hotel had a room left.
The holiday. Christmas was right around the corner and she had almost forgotten about it. Having no one to celebrate with had made holidays blend into every other day.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, laying her hand on his arm.
He tensed beneath her touch. “Just doing my job.”
His words said one thing, his actions another. His actions told her he cared, he would keep her safe, and his commitment to her was as strong as it had been before he’d learned she was Croswell Leone’s daughter. She wouldn’t believe otherwise.
They found the elevator and took it to the second floor. They entered their room and were greeted by clean and simple décor and one king bed. Her eyes lingered on the sole mattress.
Reilly looked at her. “I can sleep on the floor.”
Regardless of what he said, he didn’t want to sleep on the floor. She could read it on his face. He belonged beside her. For as long as they had, they’d spend it together. His attack of conscience or his worry he was violating some unwritten rule was unnecessary. What was between them defied logic. “You slept beside me last night. Why can’t you tonight?”
He said nothing for a long moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He was being ridiculous, but she’d respect his wishes and wouldn’t press him. Her neediness might drive him further away and it was the last thing she wanted. If he preferred to draw lines between them, if he wanted to pretend they were detective and witness, then fine. She knew otherwise. And he’d see it. Even if she was long gone, he’d see it and regret not taking the moment when they had it.
* * *
Reilly needed to get away from her and think. Every time he looked at her, the overwhelming need to claim her sizzled in his veins. Reilly excused himself and went into the bathroom, closing the door.
His inability to squelch the burn of interest in Carey was dangerous. The last few hours had made it even more clear why he couldn’t be distracted. This wasn’t a vacation. He was protecting a witness from a criminal who wanted her dead.
A criminal who thought nothing of taking shots at her outside a police station. Who didn’t care if he injured or killed a cop.
If Reilly didn’t get his desire for her under control, he could blow the case and put her at risk.
He needed focus now more than ever. She was the daughter of Croswell Leone. One of the most ruthless and violent criminals in organized crime.
Knowing who she was strengthened the need inside him to protect her. And staying in the same hotel room with the most alluring woman he’d ever met was maddening. Sleeping together was out of the question. Would he have any resistance left with her lying next to him?
He splashed cold water on his face and returned to the bedroom.
Carey had turned down the bed and was sitting on the left side wa
tching television. She had a faraway look in her eye as if the program hadn’t kept her interest.
“What are you watching?” he asked, trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness that had bloomed between them.
“Holiday movie.”
She turned her head to look at him. The muscles in his body flexed in awareness. Their eyes met and held, heat sparking between them. She felt it, too. A deep, burning need intensified.
Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly. “I’m going to take a shower.” She swallowed hard and stood, rushing into the bathroom, leaving him standing there, half-mad with lust.
A few minutes later he heard the water running. Reilly ran a frustrated hand through his hair. A thin wall separated him from a naked Carey.
He needed air. He needed to think about the case and not about her. He cracked the door on the balcony, letting a slip of fresh, cold air enter the room. He kept his attention on the bathroom in case she called for him. Is that what he wanted? For her to call out to him?
He couldn’t get the image of her in the shower out of his head. If she wasn’t a witness, he would have joined her in the shower and seen where it led.
The shower shut off and ten minutes later, Carey emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was combed and she’d changed into her baggy nightshirt. It hung on her curves, revealing the lines of her body.
“How was the shower?” he asked, forcing his eyes on her face, though he longed to let them wander down her body to her long, bare legs.
“Fine. The hotel soap and shampoo weren’t too bad.”
“I guess it’s my turn then,” he said. A cold shower. That would calm him. He closed the door to the balcony and locked it. “Holler if you need anything.”
The shower did nothing to take his thoughts off Carey. His mind was fixated on her.
When he returned to the bedroom, Carey was curled on her side away from him, covered with the sheets and blanket. She had turned off all the lights except for the one on the far side of the bed.
“Are you cold?” he asked.