Inseparable

by Brenda Jackson

  He drew in a deep breath when his cell phone went off. He clicked on the speakerphone on his dashboard. “Yes?”

  “Reese, this is Joe. Kenna isn’t home yet. You told me to expect her around four and she isn’t here. I don’t like it, especially since that serial killer is out there somewhere.”

  Reese didn’t have to ask Joe why he was concerned. He knew. Everybody in Houston knew. There was a serial killer out there somewhere. Besides, he didn’t have time to figure out why Kenna would be late getting to the ranch.

  “Reese?”

  “Did you try her cell phone?” he asked. When he’d been working on a project downtown last week, he had driven Kenna to work twice. But since then, he’d been on another side of town, miles away.

  “Yes, I did that before calling you. She didn’t answer.”

  He frowned. It wasn’t like Kenna not to answer her cell phone. He glanced at his watch. It was close to six and it would be getting dark soon. The hairs on his nape stood up. Any other time he would have told Joe to chill and that Kenna was fine. She’d probably stopped somewhere and would be back at the ranch fairly soon. But not this time—not since the Shoe Killer.

  “I’ll call the police department and see if perhaps she was detained. Maybe she’s in a meeting or something. I’ll call you back.” He knew Joe cared about Kenna. All his men did. And the thought of not knowing her whereabouts right now rattled him.

  He racked his brain trying to recall the names of the officers she’d mentioned. Maybe they knew where she was. He pulled into a gas station to dial directory assistance and was immediately put through to the HPD.

  “Yes, I need to talk to LaKenna James. She’s a sketch artist there,” he said.

  “Hold on,” the officer said and clicked off the line. He came back moments later. “She already left.” Before Reese could ask him anything else, the officer hung up.

  Trying to quell his anxiety he called back. He remembered one of the officers Kenna usually had lunch with was a woman name Lynette, although he didn’t know her last name. Hopefully the person who answered the phone would. He re-dialed the police department.

  “Houston Police Department.”

  “I’d like to speak with Lynette,” he said.

  “I need a last name.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I don’t know her last name, but this is important.”

  There was a pause. “Who’s calling?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to snap back and say, Who wants to know, but he was at the mercy of the officer on the other end of the line. “Reese Madaris.”

  “Madaris?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you related to that Madaris? The one who’s married to the actress Diamond Swain?”

  Reese would have smiled if he hadn’t been so agitated. “Yes, my uncle Jake is married to Diamond.”

  “Wow!”

  Reese chuckled. Years ago his uncle Jake had married former movie star Diamond Swain. Since then, she had traded in the bright lights of Hollywood for being a stay-at-home mom and rancher’s wife. Occasionally, she would appear in a movie, but she much preferred her solitude at the Whispering Pines ranch.

  “I think you’re probably looking for Lynette Cummings,” the man said, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re in luck. She’s usually out on patrol, but she’s back now. Hold on. When you see Diamond Swain again let her know that Devin Crawford loves her to death—in a respectful way of course.”

  Reese shook his head. “I’ll tell her.”

  He waited to be transferred to Lynette’s line. Reese glanced around. It was getting dark. Panic was beginning to seize him. What was taking so long for this Lynette person to come on line?

  “This is Officer Lynette Cummings, may I help you?”

  “Yes,” he spoke up quickly. “I’m a friend of LaKenna James and I’m trying to reach her.”

  “Don’t you have her cell number?”

  Reese tried retaining his cool. He knew the question was to be expected. “Yes, I have her cell phone number but she isn’t answering. She didn’t mention that she had any plans or stops to make. And considering everything that’s been happening around here, I’m a little worried.”

  There was a pause. “And what’s your name?”

  “Reese. Reese Madaris.”

  “Oh, yes,” Lynette said, sounding thoughtful. “She’s mentioned you before.”

  Thank God for that, Reese thought. “Did she say if she was going somewhere before heading home today?” he asked.

  “Yes. She said she was going to stop by and check on her condo, to see how it was coming along. I think someone called her and said they needed her to check out something with the lighting she’d ordered.”

  Reese was already putting his truck in gear and backing out of the parking lot. “Thanks.”

  Kenna tried to keep panic from pushing her over the edge, but she was worried. How could she have been so stupid and not called Reese to let him know just where she would be? And now her cell phone battery was low, all the construction workers had left and her rental car wouldn’t start.

  Things wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t been in the patrol car with Lynette when she’d gotten the call to go to the crime scene.

  She drew in a deep breath and tried not to think about it, just like she tried not to think about the fact that it had gotten dark. She could start walking up the road, since there was an occupied subdivision a couple of miles away. But for some reason she felt it was safer to stay put. Hopefully, a security patrol would arrive sooner or later, if for no other reason than to check to make sure thieves didn’t make off with any of the building equipment.

  She nervously rubbed her arms. Reese was probably a little concerned by now, wondering where she was. She hadn’t mentioned making any stops after work when they’d parted at breakfast this morning. But her builder had called and told her that he needed her to sign off on the lighting fixtures that had arrived that day. Excited, since the ones she’d chosen had been special-ordered, she had rushed over after work.

  Nervousness thrummed through her and she began pacing. She stopped when the sound of her footsteps on the wooden planks was too loud. She thought about going outside and sitting in her car, but for some reason she felt safer on her condo site, under the roof and rafters, and the solid masonry walls. Windows had been installed and the plumbing was in, all except for the jetted-tub for the master bath that was still on order.

  Now more than anything she regretted not taking Blade up on his offer to buy an already-built condo close to the Madaris Building. It was one of the Madaris Construction Company’s business ventures, and she had fallen in love with the building when Blade and Slade had given her a tour.

  The only drawback had been the condos were close—within minutes of the Madaris Office Park where Reese worked when he wasn’t off-site. She figured it would seem suspicious if she moved too close to the Madaris family.

  She turned slowly when she thought she heard a sound. Lord help her. Hopefully her mind was playing tricks on her and there was no one beyond the door. Fear squeezed her throat, making screaming all but impossible. How long she stood there frozen in one spot, she wasn’t sure. She tried telling herself that she hadn’t actually heard anything but…

  Okay, Kenna. You didn’t hear a car pull up, so there’s no one out there, she tried convincing herself. And if you did hear a noise it was probably some stray cat or dog. There were probably armadillos around since the housing complex was practically out in the middle of nowhere.

  She drew in a sharp breath when she heard a sound again. She was certain this time that she’d definitely heard something, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard what she knew for certain were footsteps.

  She took a step back and cringed when she heard a board crack under her feet. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when she heard the doorknob turning and immediately picked up a loose board and held it in her hand, ready to defend herself.

/>   “Kenna?”

  She let out a sigh of relief when she recognized the voice and fought the tears that threatened to blur her vision. “Reese!”

  She shouldn’t have been surprised that he was there, since he’d always looked out for her—had always come to her rescue. When he pushed open the door and walked into the room and shined the flashlight on her face, she dropped the board from her hand and rushed across the room to him. He caught her in his arms and held her tight, as if he would never let her go.

  And then he kissed her.

  The moment their lips touched Kenna felt safe and secure because of the way he was holding her, the way the heat emanated from his body to the pit of her stomach. When he latched on to her tongue and began devouring her like a starving man, she settled her body into his and began consuming him. Her thighs began quivering under the onslaught of his mouth. His hunger combined with hers stoked their passion. And then the thought that a serial killer was on the loose somewhere in the city and that she could have been in danger only made their union that much more fiery.

  It was as if he needed to hold her, kiss her and thoroughly taste her in an effort to assure himself that she was all right, safe and sound and in one piece. And she needed to do the same. Their tongues continued to tangle, explore, stroke and mate, causing a heated sensation to overtake them.

  He continued to kiss her fiercely. He kissed her hard and deep and devoured her like this would be the last time to do so. His hands roamed up and down her back as if to make doubly sure she was really there, and he could hear her moans from deep within her throat.

  He pulled away slowly but not before taking a final lick across her lips, causing fire to shoot through her thighs and straight to the juncture between them. She shifted, felt his hard erection and intentionally moved again to cradle his hardness to her middle.

  “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Kenna.” And then after dragging in a deep breath he narrowed his gaze and in a voice that was gruff, tight and strained with emotions, he added, “And you better have a good reason for not calling me.”

  She felt him shudder and in response she quivered. Never had she felt so protected. It was hard to believe that just moments ago she’d been on the verge of hysteria, thinking she might be the Shoe Killer’s next victim. Normally her mind didn’t succumb to such panic attacks, but she had been there today when Lynette was called to the crime scene.

  “Kenna?”

  She met Reese’s gaze and saw the concern in his eyes. “My cell phone battery died and my car wouldn’t start.”

  She breathed in deeply. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. When it started getting dark all I could think about was that that crazy man was still out there and no telling where.”

  She drew in a deep breath and almost choked. “I was there today, Reese, with Lynette when the call came in about the woman they found earlier.”

  His eyebrows arched. “You were?”

  “Yes, I heard the description over the radio.”

  She closed her eyes as if trying to forget, but her mind refused to let her. She opened her eyes, and met his intense gaze. “It was awful, Reese.” Her voice broke, and when she was no longer capable of holding back the tears, he pulled her back into his arms.

  “She was somebody’s mother, Reese. Probably someone’s wife,” she said through her tears. “She belonged to someone and that—that crazy person took her away from them in such a brutal way. It’s scary.”

  Reese rubbed Kenna’s back as he continued to hold her, thinking that regardless of the fact that she worked for a law-enforcement agency, it had to have been a lot for her to endure. He’d heard some details in the news report as he raced over here. The victim’s identity hadn’t yet been released, but she was in her forties, and like the others had been raped, tortured and killed.

  “Someone has to stop him, Reese. Tonight, stranded here, even I was scared.”

  He tightened his hold on her while thinking, yes, she was right. Someone had to stop this killer. No woman was safe until they did.

  “Come on, let’s go. I want to get you home and take care of you,” he said gently.

  “What about my car? I think the battery died.”

  “We’ll call the rental company in the morning to pick it up. You can drive mine to work until this weekend. Then we’ll go buy you one.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want a car payment until after I move into my condo, Reese.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine, then I’ll buy it and you can drive it.”

  She brushed off his words. “Don’t be ridiculous, Reese. You—”

  Reese leaned down and kissed her, deciding at the moment she was talking too much. He refused to let her be without reliable transportation again. He intended on calling the car rental company tomorrow and giving them a piece of his mind. How dare they give his woman a car that broke down?

  His woman.

  He smiled as he continued to kiss her. Yes, she was definitely his woman, and he intended to take whatever steps he needed to in order to keep her safe.

  A pair of blue eyes, creased with concern, stared across the room at the four men who’d come highly recommend by a personal friend in Homeland Security. She knew of these men more than she knew them personally. Two were natives of Houston, and the other two had pretty much adopted the city as their home over the past five years.

  All four were handsome men, and when they needed to be they were dangerous men. They had reputations for getting things done, at times in very unorthodox ways. What she liked about them was they knew how to cut through the red tape and get down to the real nitty-gritty, and at that moment that was exactly what she needed. That was what her city needed. And that’s why she’d requested this private meeting with them at an undisclosed location, away from the prying eyes of the media, or anyone else who might want to interfere.

  One of the men flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I take it there’s a reason we were summoned here, Mayor?”

  She carefully schooled her expression not to smile as she perched her hip on the corner of the desk. The way the question had been asked, one would have thought they were members of her own special task force, a group she could call upon at will to handle serious business. That was not the case, and they all knew it. The fact that she had called upon them at all was a mystery.

  “Yes, Mr. Sinclair, there is a reason,” she said, scanning their faces one at a time. “A mutual friend in Homeland Security identified the four of you as operatives who can help me. Help my city.”

  No one said anything for a while, not even to ask the identity of this so-called mutual friend.

  “And what seems to be the problem?” said Ashton Sinclair.

  “Houston is in crisis. We have a serial killer on the loose and I want him caught.” There, she’d said it. She’d stated the problem and said exactly what she wanted from them. But she knew they wouldn’t immediately respond. They needed more information—not that the media wasn’t full of it, mind you. But they would want to know why she had called them in when the HPD was out in full force and the FBI had its own specialists that were assisting. She knew more was needed, and had known exactly who to call to arrange this private meeting.

  “Yes, we’re aware of the serial killer,” said Alex Maxwell, one of the men invited to the meeting. The youngest of the four, Maxwell was a former FBI agent who had a private investigations firm and had solved a number of high-profile crimes.

  “Then you know of his latest victim, the woman whose body was discovered earlier today. I believe he’s playing a game with us,” the mayor said, trying to keep her anger at bay. “And it’s a game that has cost several women their lives. He has to be stopped!”

  “Then the best thing to do is to find out who he is and make him suffer the same way those women have. Cut off his hands, his feet…” said Drake Warren, one of the four men called by the mayor.

  “There’s no need to go into detail, Sir
Drake,” said Trevor Grant, staring at the man sitting next to him.

  The mayor knew Grant, a former Marine, since he and Maxwell had been born and raised in Houston like her.

  From what she’d heard, Drake Warren, who was known as Sir Drake, hailed from the mountains of Tennessee and still had a home there and one in Houston. He had become friends with Sinclair and Grant when the three had served together in the Marines’ special-forces unit. Drake later became a CIA agent and had recently retired from the agency after getting married. Ironically, his wife had also been a Marine and a CIA agent.

  Ashton Sinclair was the more relaxed of the four, and was part Cherokee and African-American. In the military his reputation as a tracker was known far and wide. He could track down anything and anyone, and was supposedly clairvoyant. His wife owned a Houston restaurant called Sisters that was a popular spot for single women.

  The mayor knew she had called in the big guns. She needed them. Houston needed them.

  “Will we be able to work the way we want to or will there be limitations?” Ashton Sinclair asked.

  “No limitations. I just want him caught and put behind bars or in a coffin,” she said without remorse. “But everything has to be by the book.”

  “Aw, shucks,” Sir Drake said with a disappointed frown. “Does that mean I can’t feed his body parts to the sharks?”

  “Afraid not,” the mayor said.

  Drake shrugged his massive shoulders. She’d heard stories that Sir Drake did whatever the hell he wanted and most of the time it wasn’t pretty. If given the chance, she was sure he’d make good on his promise to feed the sharks.

  She drew in a deep breath. “The next time we meet, gentlemen, will be—”

  “To let you know the killer has been caught,” Alex Maxwell said, finishing the mayor’s sentence. “Will we have access to all the evidence that’s already been collected?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure how she was going to arrange that, but she would. “Yes, you will have access to anything you need.”

  He nodded.