Jonas chuckled almost inaudibly. “Don’t let it affect you too much; they’ve been like that since high school. Vic only sees Michael as a friend. I’m the one you have to worry about. She loves me, you know?”
Reece rolled his eyes. “Yeah…I kinda got that this morning.”
Jonas shoved the table against him, but then smiled. He nodded, then shoved his brother out of the booth. “Let’s go,” he said in a low growl.
Reece looked around, pushed the table back, and stood. He was the same height as Jonas and Ry, but there were two of them. Still, he wasn’t sure what Jonas would do with humans around, and he’d hate to see one of them get hurt. He stepped past Jonas and walked around the building, away from Victoria’s apartment.
Jonas pointed to an alley, and Reece turned. He wasn’t afraid. Yes, the two of them might inflict a little pain, but they weren’t here to kill him; Jonas wanted something.
Wanting an escape route, though, Reece turned just a few feet in. “What do you want?”
“Aren’t you tired of hiding, Reece? Don’t you want to be yourself, to live as you want, eat what you want without fear that someone will drive a stake through your heart, or cut you up into little pieces like a lab-experiment rodent?”
Reece choked out a laugh. “You know…never once have I worried that someone was going to drive a stake through my heart or cut me up into little pieces. But then again, I don’t go around killing people.”
Ry launched for his throat, shoving him back against the brick wall.
Reece punched a short jab to Ry’s solar plexus, pushing him back a couple of steps.
“That’s enough, kids,” Jonas chided in a low chuckle.
“He started it,” Reece retorted, enjoying the fact that Ry was still unable to speak, noticing that the younger brother was strong, but he had a temper. Never a good combination.
“Look, Reece, I just want to talk. I could use a man like you.”
“And Victoria? What about her? What if she chooses me?”
Jonas smiled again. “So be it…”
Ry cast a glance at Jonas, as though he didn’t believe his comment. If his brother didn’t trust his words, Reece certainly couldn’t.
“Thanks, but I’ll stay on the side of humanity, I think.”
Jonas inhaled a deep breath as though he had something else to say, but then turned when Victoria’s voice floated to them again. She and Mike strolled out of the building. Mike had a duffle bag in one hand and used the other to open the door of his Charger.
One of the two men in front of him had a sudden increase in their heartbeat. Reece’s guess was that Jonas wouldn’t live up to his words, ‘So be it…’ Not that Reece was any happier about watching Vic drive off for a sleepover with her best friend, Mike, but deep down, he suspected that she was doing it for safety reasons, not a love interest. After all, even though she’d chased after Michael last night instead of immediately coming back to him with the bottles of wine, she hadn’t kissed Mike.
It was Reece’s arms she’d clung to this morning, his lips that she’d touched with hers, his kiss that she’d had to back away from in fear of falling.
No, he wasn’t jealous of Michael. Nor was he jealous of Jonas, for that matter. The two of them had had their night together, and she hadn’t chosen him.
Reece had no doubt. As long as he was able to get back to her, Victoria would be his.
The problem was…how long would it take him to get back to her? And would she wait?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Over the next few days, Reece pulled up all the information on the murders. The FBI had its own team of special agents in Boston, so Reece worked behind the scenes, scanning information that Frank Cooper provided him.
If Reece didn’t know any better, he’d think that Cooper had marked him as a sleeper agent, so none of his supervisors would question his lack of communication over the last few weeks.
Cooper had held to his threat, though. He’d contacted him daily if Reece didn’t email him a report by 2200 every night. Reece had just been making observations so far, but soon, Cooper would want more information on Derrick Ashton.
Today, the two of them were meeting for coffee at one of the fifty Dunkin’ Donuts in the Boston area. Reece would swear there was a shop on every corner in this town. He chose the farthest table in the back of the small restaurant, ordered bottled water, and made himself comfortable. In a few minutes, Cooper would take up residence with his Bavarian cream donut and large coffee, asking him why he didn’t have anything in front of him.
As if cued, Special Agent Frank Cooper strolled around the corner and plopped down across from him, scooting his back up against the window so he could see the entrance, since Reece had taken the side of the booth with his back to the wall. One of the reasons he always arrived to meetings early. He couldn’t take having his back to the door.
“I wish I had the self-discipline you have, Buckley. How can you walk past all that deep-fried goodness? Didn’t you know it’s an unwritten law that all cops—Feds included—eat donuts?”
Reece glanced over Cooper’s shoulder, subtly reminding him that others could hear him. “Fried foods don’t sit so well with me.”
Cooper waved him off. “Whatever. You’re just afraid of ruining that pretty figure. So what do you have for me?”
“Our perp isn’t killing his victims, at least not the majority of them. But then he’s trying to make it look like a serial killer by mutilating their bodies in the same way. Will Grooms, the rape suspect, and Jack Gilmore, the possible child molester, are the exception. A knife or gun didn’t kill those two men; they were both pummeled. All the marks are the same, too, as though one person perpetrated the crime. None of the marks bear markings of a weapon or even protective gear, and strangely enough, with a beating like that, I would have expected that forensics would find some DNA from the suspect. If he used his hand, or even a glove, they should have found trace marks of skin, blood, or at least fabric, but there was nothing in the report.”
Cooper nodded and lowered his head across the table, even though there was no one else in the restaurant this late at night. Those who’d come in, had purchased their food and left. “What if whoever did this isn’t human?”
Reece frowned. “You really believe that? Like what?”
Cooper shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s our job to find out. They exist…our department is sure of it. They’ve just been hard to track down. This has been the first real lead in more than fifty years.”
“Well, I can’t say that I believe you, but hey, I have a job.”
“So,” Cooper continued, “what else have you found on Dr. Ashton and his family-run hospital?”
Reece inhaled a breath and let it out. “They’re clean. I’ve researched them and haven’t found anything out of order. It seems they’ve just always worked together.”
Cooper shook his head. “You saw the disc. He’s not normal. That hospital is a front for something, and I want you to find out what it is.”
Reece wanted to ask how he was supposed to go about doing that, but that was his job. He’d always been good at following orders, but not this time. Somehow, he had to convince Cooper that, like a bloodhound that’d lost its sense of scent, Cooper had bayed up the wrong prey. A killer was walking these streets, but it wasn’t Derrick.
Jonas, his brother, Ryan, and even Michael were Reece’s prime suspects at this point. He hoped Michael had nothing to do with the crimes, but Michael had been in the vicinity during all of the killings, and the murders reeked of hatred, as though the creatus were taking out his anger, not just using their bodies as the previous murdered victims.
“I searched the hospital. It’s legit. No tax fraud, nothing suspicious. Its board of directors are all upstanding citizens, not an arrest among the lot of them. The team of doctors has never even had a malpractice suit, which is rare nowadays.”
Cooper shook his head again and leaned closer. “Buckley, you were mi
ssing for three weeks, and your last known whereabouts was a phone call transmission you made from your hotel less than three blocks away from the hospital. Derrick Ashton jumped off a bridge to save a woman who showed up on our radar years ago—who now just so happens to be his wife. The detective investigating Kristina Ashton’s suicide attempt and her mother’s death is dead, and the first victim with our serial killer’s seal on her head was a girl that has known his wife for twelve years.” Frank squinted. “Within an hour of me walking into the hospital to look for you, Ashton and his team of doctors made an emergency run, and then you show up the next day a few miles away from the last murder with no memory of how you got there. I don’t believe in coincidences, Buck. If Dr. Ashton and his family aren’t part of this, the only other common denominator is you.”
Reece leaned back away from Cooper’s spittle. “Me?”
Frank shrugged. “I’m certainly not leaning toward you, since I brought you here after the report of Derrick’s jump off the bridge. But, as a detective, my job is not to leave any stone unturned. I think you were getting close and they drugged you.”
Reece snorted. “I was drunk, Frank. That’s all. It was a bad anniversary for me, and next thing I knew, I drank too much and didn’t want to come back to reality.”
“As I said, I found the records. But I’m not buying it, Buckley. Finish your job, and get me something on Derrick Ashton…” His words trailed off as though he wanted to add an ‘or’ to his order.
Or else, what? Reece wanted to ask, thinking about Meghan’s picture again. What exactly was Special Agent Frank Cooper capable of doing to catch his missing link?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Vic closed the computer and then leaned back in her chair. Nothing… She’d researched every city in the nation for rogue killings and came up blank.
Looking for any signs of whichever family Jonas was staying with, she’d also private messaged every acquaintance she knew from school on Facebook. If they knew his whereabouts, they also knew not to say anything. It just didn’t make sense. Jonas’ family had come to Boston with nothing but what they could carry. The family had had to take care of them, allowing Margaret to babysit and other menial tasks, as she couldn’t take a chance of being recognized by authorities.
Jonas and Ry were young enough that no one would recognize them as the children who had disappeared from their father’s murder more than thirty years ago, but Margaret would never be able to work in the human world again. So where were they getting their money? Who was backing them?
The phone on her desk rang, jolting Vic from her thoughts. She glared at the blank ID. Rarely did she get outside calls. Most of her calls were from inside the hospital. “Dr. Maher,” she said as an answer.
“Did he mention Meghan?” Jonas said, not bothering to say hello.
“What happened to, ‘Is that any way to greet the person you shared a wild, passionate night with,’ Jonas?”
“Oh…sorry, lovely. How are you this evening, my passionate love flower?”
Ugh! What had she ever seen in him? “I see your southern drawl is in full swing. How’s that possible, since you left South Carolina when you were seven for Pete’s sake. And why are you calling me? Mike put a tap on the line, you know.”
“No, he didn’t,” Jonas retorted, “but thanks for your concern. I wanted to know if you spoke to Reece and if he told you about Meghan.”
Vic’s blood boiled, wondering where Jonas was getting his information. Rebecca, Michael, one of the council members? As far as she knew, no one else knew about Reece’s history and his superior allowing him to walk. Derrick, she knew, would never leak information to Jonas. Who was feeding him information, then?
She’d meant to drill Mike over the information she’d overheard, but had gotten too busy, and she’d been trying to avoid him as much as she could anyway. How would Jonas have found out anything about Reece?
Instead of responding, she blew off his question. “Why would I care anything about Reece?”
Jonas chuckled softly through the phone. “Well, I’d heard you two were getting along rather well, and he did come to your rescue. Even though you never need rescuing from me.”
Vic snorted. “It sure didn’t feel that way, Jonas.”
“Victoria, I told you, I’d never hurt you. In fact, I’d treat you like a queen. One day, when I rule, you’ll be sitting right beside me.”
“You are deranged, Jonas, but I’ll bite. Who’s Meghan?” she asked, almost out of patience with the man who used to be a good friend.
“Ask your other best bud, Mike. He knows.” And the line went dead.
Vic rested the phone back on the cradle and glanced around her office. Something was off. It was late, but it was too quiet. She’d refused to be babysat, telling Derrick she’d stay with Mike at night and work out of her office during the day, but she wasn’t about to let Mike shadow her everywhere she went.
She stood and walked over to the window. The Boston skyline was stunning tonight, a checkerboard of black and white buildings against a clear, plumbeous gray sky. Thin strips of clouds framed the almost-full moon, allowing streaks to filter through and cast against the buildings, causing the lights in the windows to sparkle against the darkened sky. She imagined for a moment that she was sitting on her rooftop garden with Reece nestled beside her. It was cool, but not too cool. Just right for lighting a fire in the chiminea.
Soft, barely noticeable footfalls behind her had her starting to turn, but then a hand clamped over her mouth. She bit down, but the large palm cupped against her face, making it impossible. She brought her elbow back swiftly, but he jerked his body to the side, and her arm met only dead air.
“Shh…” Warm lips pressed against her ear. “It’s me.” His southern drawl was different from the earlier voice. Seductive. Calming. Reece.
“Reece.” She turned in his arms, her lips instantly finding his mouth. She allowed herself a few seconds, reveling in the surge of fire through her bloodstream, but then pulled back. “No…” She gulped. “We can’t.”
He held his arms tightly around her, refusing to let go, and she loved it, wanted it to last, even though she knew it couldn’t. He buried his face in her neck, continuing his warm trail of kisses on the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Why?” he asked, his whisper breathless as his lips caressed her skin. His mouth moved up her neck, across her jaw... “I want—”
He pressed his lips to hers again, and she opened up to him, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth, his breath to become one with hers.
“No.” She jerked away again. “Because I won’t want to let you go.”
“So…don’t.” He smiled, and her heart pounded harder. Her skin tingled, already missing his hard body pressed against hers, wanting to give him everything, to just leave Boston and never look back. She knew she would, too. Nothing was as strong a bond as falling. So she couldn’t. She had to remain strong, so she wouldn’t be self-seeking; it was in her nature to be selfish, but she had to ignore her wants and desires. She had to think of her father and her brother, and all the people who were her family.
“How can you stop, Victoria? I’ve been unable to think about anything but you for the last several days, and seeing you with Michael—” He sighed. “I’m ready to leave everything. I know a beautiful place in South America—”
“No…Reece. I’m sorry,” she said, and she really was. She knew what he was feeling, but she also understood that she didn’t have to give up her life to be with him. He, on the other hand, had to give up his career, his family— “Hey!” She planted her hands on her hips, suddenly perturbed. “Who’s Meghan? You’re here acting as though you want to be with me, and yet you have some woman back home that you’ve been taking care of for years.”
His head jolted upward, as though she’d slapped him back to reality too. “I’m sorry. It’s not like we’ve had a lot of time to discuss our pasts, though.”
Vic turned her back and walked toward the leather
sofa in her office. He wasn’t denying it, so it was true. Reece was married. “I can’t believe… That should have been the first thing… ‘By the way…I’ve been flirting with you, Victoria, making you fall for me, but sorry, I’m married,” she said in her best fake southern drawl and plopped down on the sofa, dropping her head into her hands. Thank goodness she hadn’t fallen for him.
His arms were instantly around her. “Victoria,” he nudged up her head, “Meghan isn’t my wife; she’s my daughter.”
Not sure if this was good or bad news, Vic stared up at him. Didn’t a daughter mean that there was a wife too? “You’re not married?”
“No. Never. I didn’t plan to have a daughter either, but things happen.”
“But what about her mother? Are you close? You obviously felt something at some point.”
A wash of sadness shadowed Reece’s face. “Meghan’s mother is dead. It was a long time ago, and I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay. Maybe someday.”
Vic turned toward him, burrowing her head against his shoulder. “Why are you here, Reece? It isn’t safe.”
“As I said…I haven’t been able to get you off my mind.” He shook his head. “This has never happened to me. But I can’t get away yet… Frank Cooper insists on investigating your family. At least he won’t question me if he saw me sneak in here. That’s one good thing. He’s pushing me to find something on you.”
Confused, she cocked her head slightly.
“He thinks your family—Derrick especially—are, as he calls you, his missing link, some sort of supernatural being. He believes that maybe one of you drugged me and held me captive.” He shrugged. “He’s a good detective. He searched my records and found out I’d gone on a binge after Meghan’s mother died, so he used that as an excuse to let me walk, but he never believed it, I’m sure. He thinks your family is behind everything that has happened, the detective’s murder, Beth’s attack, the rogue killings, all of it.”
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