“Yeah, and how many criminals walk the fucking streets because those rules work more in their favor than ours?”
“It still doesn’t give us—”
“I’m not part of that ‘us’ anymore. I don’t have to walk that line. And I didn’t ask you to babysit me today.”
Red’s silver Honda, backing out of the driveway, brought an end to the heated conversation. Carl took off for his car.
She met him at the door of Starbucks, and they walked in together. “What is this about?” she asked. He almost rested his hand on her lower back. But touching her could be dangerous.
The coffee’s aroma filled his nose, and he resented the way that it chased away Red’s scent. Still trying to figure out how to tell her without scaring her half to death, Carl moved to the counter.
“Let’s order first.” He needed something to cut the edge off his frustrations—both the sexual ones and the problems with Ben.
Red set her coffee down, dropped in a chair, and gazed up at him. “Okay, spill it.”
Carl’s cell phone rang and he held up a finger asking for one more minute. “Hades,” he answered, and stared down at her. The view offered him more cleavage. His breath hitched.
“It’s me,” Ben said. “I didn’t mean to drag up the past.”
“Yeah.” Carl accepted his brother’s apology and tried not to focus on Red’s cleavage. “Ditto about causing you trouble.”
There was a pause. “Look, I didn’t mention this earlier because it didn’t seem important, but now it might be.”
“What?” His gaze shifted from the soft mounds of flesh to a loose strand of hair resting on Red’s cheek. His fingers itched to touch it. Oh hell, he wanted to touch those breasts, too.
“You know we had to run a background check on Red.”
“And?” Carl wasn’t going to believe anything bad had come up on Katie. She rocked babies. Watched The Brady Bunch and Sex and the City. His gaze shot back to the cleavage.
“We stumbled over the fact that a 911 call was made from her residence the night of the shooting. One of her friends made the call. It was written up as a possible break-in. I spoke with the uniforms who covered it. They found a broken window and something was said about a back door being found open. But there were some downed tree limbs from the storm beside the window and it was questionable if it was the storm or something else.”
“And you’re thinking something else.” Carl watched Red sipping her brew but listening. The thought of someone hurting her the way they hurt those other women brought out every manly instinct he had: hero, gentleman, not-so-gentleman. Instincts that led him to one conclusion. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. Right then, protecting her became his top priority.
“It looks suspicious,” Ben said, drawing Carl’s attention back to the phone call. “I’ve got men going out to talk to the photographer. I’ll let you know if something turns up.”
“Yeah,” Carl said.
“Another thing,” Ben added. “We talked to the family of the victims found in the woods. Both women had started getting prank calls. Something about the caller playing music. Ask Red about that. If she’s gotten any, let me know ASAP.”
“I will.” Carl cut his phone off and met her eyes. She didn’t look happy. He knew he was part of that unhappiness. He’d admit the whole gallery scene had been over the top, and maybe he had broken a few rules. But as Ben had pointed out back there on Will Reed’s lawn, Carl had always sucked at following the rules.
“That was Ben,” he said.
She set her coffee down. “What’s going on?”
Sitting down, he shouldered back in his chair, tried to find a pretty way to say it—but one didn’t exist. “We think the guy who shot Tabitha also killed two other women. The other women were both…engaged.”
Her face went white. “And their wedding planner was—”
“Tabitha. I’m afraid so.” He palmed his hot cup.
A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows and she ran a hand over her chest. “Was it the women found in the woods?”
He wanted to touch her, assure her he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, but he just nodded.
“And you think…” Her face paled another notch. “You think this…this guy is coming after me?”
This was where it got tricky. “There’s a possibility.”
Her blue eyes stood out against all the soft white skin. “And Will Reed? You think he might be that guy?”
He reached for her hand. “Could be.”
“Oh, fuck!” She pulled away.
He agreed this was definitely f-word worthy. He waited for her to sip her coffee before he asked, “Have you been getting prank calls? Maybe where you hear music?”
The look on her face told him the answer before she spoke. “I just got another one. Just a few minutes ago.”
“It’s okay.” He grabbed her hand and this time held on. After the first jolt of emotion, touching her felt so damn right.
Katie’s cell phone rang. Before he could tell her how to deal with the call, she’d apparently come up with an alternate plan: flinging her purse across Starbucks.
Carl jumped up, grabbed the purse, snatched out her cell phone, then walked over and showed her the number displayed on the front. “Recognize it?”
She shook her head. Her pale color grew chalkier. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Breathe, Red. All I want you to do is say hello. Got that?”
She nodded, and he opened the phone and put it to her mouth.
“Hello,” she managed.
He passed a hand over her cheek and winked at her. Pulling the phone to his ear, he waited for a voice. Or for music. “This is Hank Links at Piper Hotel,” the voice said. “I hate to have to call you like this, but…but I’m afraid there’s been a break-in in your room.”
Break-in? “Hello,” Carl snapped. “This is a friend of Miss Ray’s. Was anyone apprehended?”
“No, I’m afraid a maid found…found someone in there. He knocked her down and ran out.”
“Can she describe him?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did this happen?” If this just happened, it couldn’t have been Will Reed.
“This morning. I apologize about just now getting to you.”
Carl gritted his teeth. “Did you call the police?”
“Well, we weren’t sure anything was missing and so—”
“And so you didn’t want it going on public record!” He knew how hotels worked. “Is the maid still there?”
“Yes.”
“Keep her there. We’re on our way.” He hung up.
Red looked up. “What now?”
“Someone broke into your hotel room.”
Panic hit her eyes. “Les wasn’t there, was she?”
“I don’t think so.” He handed her the phone. “Call her to be sure.”
Katie sat in the hotel office, feeling numb inside. Les hadn’t been there. And neither was the maid by the time they’d arrived. It seemed apparent the maid was an illegal, and talking to the police made her nervous.
The call to Les on the way to the hotel had been cut very short because Les was in the exam room with the doctor and her grandma. When Katie asked if everything was okay, the only thing Les said was that she’d call Katie back as soon as possible.
Katie watched Carl verbally stretch the hotel manager on the rack, and decided Carl made a better friend than enemy. Before the fiasco ended, he’d called Ben. After they questioned everyone at the hotel, they took her into one of the back meeting rooms and, from the way Ben looked at her, she knew he was about to interrogate her again. Not that she minded, but she really just wanted to go somewhere and throw up.
The television hanging from the wall blared, and at that moment a news flash came on. A woman reporter appeared in front of a patch of woods. “Two bodies were found here, and from our sources we’re told we may have a serial killer on our hands. While the police are yet to confirm these find
ings, we have spoken with Robert Barton, the man who found the bodies while hiking. According to Barton, both bodies were women, both, we’re told, were brutally stabbed—”
“Damn it!” Ben snapped. “I told Barton he wasn’t to talk to anyone. He pulled out his cell phone and started punching in numbers.
The TV went black. Carl held the remote control. “No use watching that.” He stared at her, concern filling his eyes.
Not that she gave his concern much thought. She stared back at the television screen and the reporter’s words echoed in her head.
Brutally. Brutally. Katie leaned back in her seat. Ben hung up the phone and she stared at the two of them. Two men who looked like Antonio Banderas shouldn’t be a bad thing, but she wished someone would tell that to her stomach.
“Breathe, Red,” Carl said, studying her.
She inhaled and looked around for a bathroom. Spotting one, she slapped her hand over her mouth and took off.
“Ah, shit!” Carl said behind her.
She barely made it. Seconds later, leaning against the stall, some tissues pulled from her purse, and trying to talk herself out of a good, long, hard, gut-wrenching cry, she heard the bathroom door swish open. She flushed the toilet.
“Red?”
“I’m fine,” she sputtered. “Go away.” She heard water running. The stall door pushed open.
“Here.” Standing outside the cubical, Carl pressed some damp paper towels into her hands.
Meeting his gaze, she saw the green tint to his skin. “You should leave before you start throwing up.”
“Aren’t you finished?” His frown deepened.
“I think so.”
“Then I’m safe. It’s the sound that does me in.”
She pressed the paper towels to her face. He inched closer and pushed a strand of hair from her cheek. His simple touch sent currents of emotion to her chest and those tears she’d talked herself out of shedding suddenly flooded to her eyes. Before she knew how it happened, she had her head pillowed on his chest and he held her. The feelings, the emotions—they weren’t anything like those at the gallery. This wasn’t sexual; it was different.
His spicy smell and his touch surrounded her, and right there, in a woman’s bathroom, he made her feel safe again.
She took a deep breath and pulled back. “I must have really done something bad in a past life, huh?”
“Why would you say that?” He touched her cheek.
“Because for the past year and a half, the universe seems to be screwing with me.”
“You want me to kick the universe’s ass?” He smiled.
“Do you think you could take it on?” She smiled back.
“Piece of cake.” He glided a hand over her shoulder.
Emotion filled her chest and she pulled back. “Thanks.” They stood there staring. It felt right. She wasn’t alone.
Finally, he spoke. “I’m sorry, but Ben has a few questions.”
Tabitha’s killer paced and rubbed his temple where the throbbing had grown worse. Had he messed up? Were they laughing at him now because they knew he’d done it?
No. He’d done good. Mostly good. He’d only gotten anxious once or twice. But he felt certain they thought he was normal.
Or did they?
He went to his window to peer out. Were they watching him? Waiting for him to screw up? He began to rock.
He shouldn’t have gone to the hotel. That had been a mistake. Mistakes would lead them to him. But he needed…needed to slow down the laughter. He needed a bride. Needed to hear her beg, the way Maria should have begged for him to forgive her. He needed to stop the laughing.
If he could visit them, he’d feel better. But they’d taken them away. He leaned against the wall and began to move. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
Rocking was bad. He shouldn’t keep rocking. How many times had his mother told him that? Don’t rock. Don’t rock. People will laugh at you. She was right. People would laugh. They would see he wasn’t normal. Then his mother would send him back to the hospital. He stopped rocking.
Music. Music helped. He ran back to his bedroom and hit the recorder. “The Wedding March” sang in his ears. He pulled out his photo album and looked at his brides. Then he turned the page and stared at Katie Ray’s wedding announcement. He couldn’t let her marry another man. She was his.
A nap. Katie longed for a nap. After going over the phone calls again and again, after telling both Ben and Carl about every contact she’d had with anyone who had anything to do with the wedding, and after repeating one more time the names of those who had known she’d been staying at the hotel, Katie dropped her head on her arms and listened to the sound of blood pounding in her ears.
“You okay, Red?” Carl asked. She raised her head.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Ben asked her. “No contact with any of the wedding people?”
“I’ve told you everything,” she said, but then…“Wait. The flowers.”
“What flowers?” Ben and Carl said at the same time.
Katie told them about the flowers the florist had sent, and they made her go over it, and over it.
Finally, Carl interrupted. “I think we’re done now.”
They all stood, and Ben gave her a nod. “You realize you can’t stay at this hotel anymore, don’t you?”
Katie grabbed her purse. “I’ll find somewhere else.”
She noticed the look Ben shot Carl. She didn’t know what it meant, but she could tell they’d just mentally communicated.
Carl ushered her outside. He touched her waist as they walked. The sexual awareness from his touch tickled her mind, but Katie didn’t fuss; she was too busy trying to wrap her mind around the fact that a serial killer had her on his wish list. Panic buzzed in her head. It wasn’t as bad as what she’d felt from seeing Tabitha get shot, but it was close.
She slipped into his car. He folded himself into the driver seat and looked at her. “You’re staying with me for a while.”
Okay, the buzzing began to ebb. While she could remember the safe feeling he offered her, the memory of the gallery scene sent those safe emotions right out the window.
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He ran his hands over the steering wheel. “Why?”
Had he forgotten they had practically had sex in the gallery? Okay, maybe he didn’t see that as a bad thing. “I’ll find someplace else to stay.”
“Is this because of the kiss?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s not the kiss,” she snapped. “It was your fingers in my panties. In public. At my work. While my boss watched. That is the problem.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“Look, I’ll admit I was probably wrong to have raised your skirt like that.”
“Probably?” She squinted at him.
He gripped the steering wheel. “Why is it women focus on one word? I said I was sorry.”
“Jeez, I totally missed that part.”
“Okay, I said I was wrong. Isn’t it the same thing?”
“You said you were probably wrong,” she corrected.
He stared at the car ceiling as if in frustration. “Do you have somewhere else you could go?”
“Yes,” she lied and started brainstorming, because…
“Where?”
Because she knew he was going to ask her that. She mentally searched for options. Joe? No. That would be too awkward. Les’s parents? No, they had Mimi living there, which was why Les was planning on staying with her. Lola? Lola lived over the gallery in the efficiency apartment and had Allen, and occasionally Marco, popping in for quickies. Another hotel? Considering the killer had found her at one of those, the idea—
“We’re adults, Red.” Her time was obviously up.
“Really? We didn’t behave like it back at the gallery.”
Both his eyebrows arched over his soft brown eyes. “We? Are you actually taking part of the blame here?”
“I never said I
didn’t share in the responsibility. But I didn’t stick my hand in your underwear, either.”
“Probably a good thing,” he mumbled.
“Yeah. Probably.” Silence filled the parked car.
“Look,” he said. “I have an extra bedroom and—”
“You can honestly tell me that you won’t…that we won’t do anything.”
“I can honestly tell you that if you tell me no, I’ll accept it.”
“But you’re not above trying?” she asked.
“Probably not.” He grinned at her. “But hey, we’ve been together for almost two hours since the gallery and we’ve managed to keep our clothes on.”
But she’d thought about getting naked with him. Both before and after she’d found out she had a psycho killer after her. Now how bad was that? If learning she was next to be brutally murdered wasn’t enough to douse the flames of desire, what would?
Throwing up.
In the bathroom it hadn’t been sexual. It had been tender, caring…and on some level those emotions scared her more.
“Let’s be logical,” he said.
Okay, she’d give logic a shot. And logically, if she agreed to go and stay at his place, she knew what would happen. She’d end up on the Carl Hades Poked List.
Oh, and how had he so logically put it back at the gallery? He didn’t intend to watch The Brady Bunch? Sure, she had to give him a point for honesty. But honesty didn’t make a big whopping difference in the big picture. Because all the things she valued—a family, a home—mattered zilch in the world of Carl Hades.
“Come on, Red. Nothing will happen unless we let it.” All the teasing had faded from his eyes. “This guy isn’t playing around. He’s serious.” Pause. “Just for a few days.”
She gripped her hands together. “I need to think about it.”
He let go of a deep gulp of air. “Are you saying that you’d rather risk being killed than risk having sex with me?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Frowning, he started the car.
Chapter Twenty-four
Katie had a hunch she was the first woman who hadn’t leaped tall buildings for the chance to leave a wet spot in Carl’s bed. Mostly because when he parked beside her car back at Starbucks ten minutes later, he hadn’t stopped looking stunned. Sighing, she mentally went over it one more time. If she stayed at his house, she’d probably have sex with him, but if she went out on her own, a psycho might track her down and kill her.
Weddings Can Be Murder Page 22