by Sandra Owens
Court snapped his fingers in front of Nate’s face. “Yo, dude, what’s wrong with you? You’re spacey. You’re never spacey.”
“You think my eyes are sexy?” Hell! Did that really come out of his mouth? “You say one word right now, I’m going to put you on your ass.”
His douchebag brother’s lips twitched, then furiously twitched. Then laughter burst out of his mouth. He laughed so hard that his face turned red and tears rolled down his eyes. Nate considered the ways he could get away with fratricide.
“What’s so funny?” Alex said, walking into the Aces & Eights office.
“Nothing,” Nate said, shooting Court an I’m-going-to-kill-you-if-you-open-your-mouth glare.
“Didn’t you once tell me you thought our big brother had sexy eyes?” Court said, between gasps.
Alex dropped onto the opposite end of the couch from Court. “I did?”
“You’re a walking dead man,” Nate said to Court.
Court grinned. “Probably, but I’ll go out knowing I’ve never been more entertained.”
“Asshole,” Nate growled, which sent his idiot brother into more laughter.
“Feeling like I walked in on the end of a movie here.” Alex darted glances between him and Court. “One of you needs to share before I decide to make you.”
“Since Alex could put both of us on our backs without half trying, I’ll—”
“Shut the hell up, Court.” Nate pushed his chair away from the desk. “I’m out of here for the night. You two can close up.” He picked up the plastic bag filled with water he’d set under the desk earlier.
“What’s up with the fish?” Alex asked.
Nate walked out without answering. Court would tell Alex why he’d been laughing, which only proved why Nate rarely shared. Swear to God, he loved his brothers, but sometimes he was positive their development had hit a snag somewhere in their teens. The stupidest, most juvenile things amused them.
The door hadn’t yet closed behind him when he heard Alex’s belly laugh. Nate shook his head with a sigh. He’d be hearing about sexy eyes for the next month. He couldn’t stop a smile. Dumbass brothers. He reached the door to the garage behind Aces & Eights before remembering that he’d walked out without getting Court’s update on his research into murders with a similar M.O. Letting out a long sigh, he did an about-face, heading back to Comedy Central.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Taylor said after opening her door, wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts and a cropped T-shirt. She peered out at the parking lot. “Is Rand still out there?”
Nate’s mouth dried up, his eyes automatically sliding to her little silver belly-button ring. She was the queen of his best dreams. And he had dreamed of her, often and erotically. Before their night together, it had only been his imagination fueling the dreams. After that night, after he’d mapped her body with his eyes, his hands, his mouth, his tongue . . . Eff him. He hadn’t been able to think straight since the best night of his life.
“Earth to Nate.” She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “Is Rand still here?”
People really needed to stop snapping their fingers in his face. He tore his gaze away from her stomach and that sexy-as-all-get-out belly ring, clearing his throat so he could talk. This woman was his heaven and his hell.
“Rand? No. I sent him home. You know we’ve been keeping an eye on you?” Taylor snorted, then walked back into her apartment. Since she’d left the door open, Nate took that as an invitation to come in.
“You want a . . .” Her gaze fell to the plastic bag he held. “What’s that?”
He held it up, eyeing the contents. “A fish?”
“I know it’s a fish. What are you doing with it?”
“It’s for you.” He held out the bag. “I know you miss Henry, so I brought you another Henry.” Why was she blinking her eyes so hard?
“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you, Nate Gentry.” She took the bag from him.
What did that mean? And why did she swipe at her eyes as she turned away? “Did I do something wrong? I thought you’d like the fish.”
“He’s beautiful.” She turned on the air pump. “I love how blue he is.”
“He matches your eyes.” Henry had been red and black, and he’d thought a different color wouldn’t make her think of Henry every time she looked at it, so he’d gone with the blue-and-white one. And the color did remind him of her eyes.
After dropping the fish into the tank, she stepped back and watched him familiarize himself with his new home. “I think I’ll call him Henry Too.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What did you mean by you don’t know what to do with me?”
She put her finger in the water, flicking it. The fish swam up, circled her finger, then nibbled on it, causing her to laugh. “That tickles, Too.”
“Are you calling him the number ‘two,’ or ‘too’ as in ‘also’?”
“Henry Too, as in ‘also.’”
“Cute.” Since it appeared she was going to ignore his question, he went for a beer. “Want anything?” When she didn’t answer, he glanced back, frowning at seeing an empty room. “Guess not,” he muttered. He poured her a glass of wine anyway.
Returning to the living room, he set his beer and the glass of wine on the coffee table, then walked to the fish tank. Henry Too didn’t chase his finger like Henry the First, which was disappointing. Too many things had been disappointing Nate lately, namely himself. As much as he’d sworn he wouldn’t screw up his friendship with Taylor, he had. He’d sent her girls away, watching her cry as the van disappeared from view. He hadn’t put his arms around her, comforting her, even though he’d longed to.
For the first time since he’d joined the FBI, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. The day after he’d almost killed his father, he had gone into town, an angry boy on the cusp of manhood. The only future he could visualize for himself was more of the same, ending up like his father, trying to scratch a living out of their nothing piece of dirt, raising pigs and chickens. If a bit of luck was on his side, maybe he’d land a job as a mechanic at Hank’s Garage.
Rage had still burned in his blood as he’d headed to the drugstore to get something to treat Alex’s shredded back. There wasn’t money for a doctor, and the few dollars in Nate’s pocket wouldn’t buy much, but maybe it was enough for a jar of salve. After finding a generic brand he could afford, he went to the end of the line to pay. As he waited, he read the instructions.
“Something stinks. Smells like a pig farmer.”
Nate recognized that voice. Reese Dagger was the captain of the football team, one of the popular kids at their school.
“Yeah, stinks like shit around here.”
That was Reese’s best friend, Carter Milliard. Nate pretended not to hear them.
“Think the Gentry boys get it on with those pigs?” Reese said.
Carter laughed. “Probably. That’s the only way they’re gonna get any.”
“Maybe those boys get it on with each other,” Reese said.
Blood boiling hot streaked up Nate’s neck and face. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You gonna make us, pig boy?” Reese nudged his friend with his elbow, imitating a squealing pig. They both laughed as Carter joined in, making his own pig noise.
Nate lost it. He stepped toward them, all reasoning gone, one word hanging black and heavy in his mind. Kill.
A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Easy, son.”
It was only the strength in the hand holding him back that kept him in place. He glanced behind him to see Sheriff Buddy Burton. The sheriff had paid numerous visits to the Gentry home back when Nate’s mother still lived there. Each time he’d thrown Gordon Gentry in jail for a few days for beating up his wife and/or kids. Unfortunately, that had never cured Nate’s father from doing it again.
Still keeping his hand on Nate’s shoulder, the sheriff said, “Reese, Carter, you boys have fiv
e seconds to disappear before I let go of him.”
Reese puffed up his chest. “He puts a hand on me, my dad will sue him to hell and back.”
The sheriff snorted. “What, you have a hankering to own a few pigs of your own? You boys should be ashamed of yourselves. Go on, get out of here.”
“But we haven’t paid—”
“Don’t care. Put those rolls of toilet paper on the counter. You’re not papering anyone’s house tonight.”
With the rage that had blinded his vision, Nate hadn’t noticed that Reese’s and Carter’s arms were loaded up with packages of toilet paper. What would it feel like to have no problems bigger than did you have enough rolls to do a decent job of papering someone’s yard?
“Spoiled rich kids,” the sheriff muttered after Reese and Carter slammed their packages down on the counter and then stomped out. “Come with me.”
Nate held his ground. “I have to buy this.”
The sheriff eyed the jar. “What’s that for?”
“I just need it.” Nate kept his gaze on the floor, wishing it would swallow him up. Sheriff Burton hadn’t been out to the trailer since Nate’s mother had left. He was embarrassed to admit his father was still using his fists and belt.
“Who’d he hurt this time, son?”
“Alex,” Nate muttered, knowing the man wouldn’t relent until he had a name.
Somehow, in the next twenty minutes, Nate had a better brand of salve to smear on Alex’s back and a job. He was to report for an hour after school—the sheriff understanding that was the most Nate could get away with before his father would get suspicious of where he was spending his time—to the sheriff’s office to do whatever Sheriff Burton directed. Most of his small weekly paycheck went toward groceries, and since his brothers liked the improvement in the food that appeared on the table, they worked harder to compensate for the time Nate spent on his new job.
During Nate’s senior year of high school, Sheriff Burton groomed him for a career in law enforcement without Nate catching on to the devious man’s plan. The first week, Nate swept floors, made coffee for the sheriff and his deputies, learned how to file reports in the gray metal cabinet behind his mentor’s desk, all the while listening in as Sheriff Burton conducted business.
As each day passed, Nate grew more interested in the goings-on of law enforcement. His mother had instilled in him the importance of an education, and the man he grew to love, the man who’d probably kept him from going to prison for killing two high school jerks, had given him hope for a better life. When a group of Miami cops got together and offered a scholarship to a worthy recipient for a degree in criminal justice, without telling him, the sheriff had sent them Nate’s name.
His mentor had never shared what he’d written on the application, but against all odds, Nate was selected to win the scholarship. As soon as he learned of it, he’d made a promise to himself. He would never let Sheriff Burton down. The best way he could do that was to control the rages he still had when someone made him angry. He’d learned how to walk away from assholes like Reese and Carter.
What scared the hell out of him were women and children. What if he had it in him to hurt them, to be like his father? The only solution was to never marry or have children.
His next piece of good luck was when an FBI recruiter came to Florida State during Nate’s junior year. After talking to the man, Nate made up his mind. He would become a special agent for the FBI. The recruiter made him a list of the best classes to take, but most importantly, he gave Nate his card, telling him to call after he graduated with a degree in criminal justice.
Because a sheriff had believed in him, and with the financial backing from a group of cops, along with his own stubborn determination, he’d achieved something he wouldn’t have dared to dream before that day in the drugstore. What really made him proud, though, was that his brothers had followed in his footsteps. He’d been satisfied with the life he’d mapped out.
Then along came Taylor. Lately he’d been feeling like a cartoon character that had jumped off a cliff without knowing how far he’d fall. If there was one thing he disliked more than any other it was not being in control, and he’d lost that the moment he’d first kissed her.
He trailed his finger over the aquarium’s glass again, but Henry Too didn’t seem impressed. “You match Taylor’s beautiful blue eyes, but you’re not as smart as your predecessor.”
After putting on jeans and her favorite baseball jersey, Taylor stood in the hallway, watching Nate. He seemed to be in deep thought, and she wondered what was going through his mind. It touched her deeply that he’d shown up with a replacement fish. The man might not like admitting it, even to himself, but he had a soft heart. She smiled, listening to him talk to the fish, especially liking his comment about her eyes.
“You’ll just have to train him to follow your finger,” she said, walking into the living room, stopping a few feet away. Why was he here? She’d thought just to bring her Henry Too, but the beer and glass of wine on the coffee table indicated he planned to stay a while.
Facing her, his gaze skimmed over her. “You changed.”
He sounded disappointed. “Very observant, Mr. Gentry.” Wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and a cut-off T-shirt when she didn’t know where she stood with him had made her feel vulnerable. He had something on his mind, and if it was another lecture as to why they couldn’t be together, she’d rather hear it fully clothed.
“I sense sarcasm there, Ms. Collins.”
His expression was stern, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Is there a reason for your visit, Mr. Gentry, other than to deliver a fish?” she said, continuing the game. “Which was really sweet of you, by the way.”
“I’m not sweet.” The humor faded from his eyes. “We need to talk.”
“Ruh-roh.” She glanced at the glass on the coffee table. “Apparently, I need wine for this conversation?” Now she was sad, knowing what was coming. He’d no doubt come up with a long list of reasons they couldn’t have a repeat. That was too bad, but his loss. She just had to figure out how to stop loving him.
“Well, let’s get this party started.” She sat at the end of the sofa, curling her legs under her. He picked up his beer, then settled in his leather chair. “So, let’s hear it.”
“Court’s turned up some similar murders, fifteen to be exact, going back forty years.”
Okay, this wasn’t about them. She relaxed, comfortable with talking business. “What was his criteria?”
“Strangled prostitutes with blue eyes and blonde hair. There was only one, though, prior to our three, who had on a white dress and a gold band.”
“How long ago?”
“Six years. So, odds are our man killed her. Of the other fourteen, until we look closer, there’s no way of knowing which of those could belong to him, but they don’t fit his M.O.”
“And considering some small-town police departments might not have entered their cases into the data bank, there could be others Court hasn’t turned up.”
“Exactly. But we’ve got these to start with. I’m going to have Alex and Rand interview each of the detectives assigned to the cases.”
Her blood raced with excitement. “I can—”
“Don’t even think it. You’re not taking off for parts unknown to interview anyone. He’s watching you, Taylor.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I feel it. For whatever reason, I think he’s fixated on you. From what Rosie said, he was trying to kill you when she came in. Although, I wonder if she saw it wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking about everything Rosie told you. Maybe he was going to take you with him, but then ran away when she started beating on him with the bat. I called Pauline, told her what you’d learned. We agree that we have to consider that he’s kept an eye on you all these years, and now he’s decided to come for you.”
Okay, now he was creeping her out. “But why wait
all this time? And how did he know who I was?”
“A lot of possibilities. He was married, but recently divorced. Or his wife died. Or he’s been in prison. As for knowing who you were, I wouldn’t be surprised if he followed you and Rosie to the motel that night.”
“I’m not liking this conversation at all. You were right. I need wine.” She drained what was left in her glass. “Why can’t I remember that night?”
“My guess is you blocked it out. What child wouldn’t be traumatized if their mother had been killed in front of them?” He stared at the beer bottle he held for a moment before moving to the sofa, angling his body to face her. “I’d like you to consider hypnosis. You were there that night and saw him, so somewhere in your mind is a description of him. You might even know his name if your mother happened to mention him.”
Her first reaction was a firm no. But what if she held the key to finding her mother’s murderer? If she could describe him, it would go a long way in helping them find him. She set her glass down, then stood and went to the fish tank. Henry Too was still exploring his new home, and she watched him for a few minutes.
To relive that night? Once she remembered, it would be in her mind forever. Could she deal with that, seeing her mother murdered in front of her eyes? Did she have a choice?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I’ll do it.”
Nate had known she would, but he didn’t like it. He’d argued with Pauline when she’d suggested it. He also didn’t like the dread he saw in Taylor’s eyes. “Why don’t you think about it overnight before making a decision?”
“No. I need to do this.” She came back to the sofa. “The sooner the better.”
“I’ll set it up.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Of course.” There was no way he’d let her go through that alone. Surprising him, she stretched out her legs, resting her feet on this thigh. “Looking for a foot rub, tiger?”
She smiled. “That would be nice.”
The tension that had existed between them the past several days had eased in the last few minutes, but there was more they had to talk about. What he had to say would probably put them back on edge, and he almost let it go. He didn’t want to be at odds with her, but he owed it to her to tell her why they couldn’t be anything more than friends.