She sighed. “Just because you invite him does not mean I’ve forgiven him. Make sure you point that out. I don’t want him to think that—”
“Skye?”
“What?”
“It’s the right thing to do whether you’ve forgiven him or not.”
“I know.”
When she’d hit send, she handed it back to Josh, who took it and waited for Travis Nakota to pick up.
In a ceremony that promised to last no more than two hours, it was a good thing it dragged in places. When the elders on the council took turns patting each other on the back for having the good sense to finally include a woman, it got bogged down with long-winded accolades.
After speech number five, Josh looked up from the dais to see Travis Nakota standing in the back. His bow tie hung loose, untied.
Josh grinned at the man in spite of the anxious woman fidgeting with her napkin in the seat next to him. He leaned over to Skye’s ear and whispered, “Look at the people in the audience. Tonight they don’t just adore you. That’s respect you see in their eyes. You did that Skye. No need to be nervous. Besides, you look really hot in that dress.”
About that time, the elder at the podium finished his intro. The minute Skye got to her feet, applause broke out across the packed event room from its two hundred or so invited guests. The clapping soon turned into a standing ovation.
A little self-conscious at the attention, she turned back once to glance at Josh. He gave her a quick wink, right before putting two fingers to his mouth and letting go with a loud whistle through his teeth. At that moment, no one could have been prouder of her than the man who planned to talk her into eventually marrying him.
Once she reached the microphone, Skye had to take a long, deep breath and exhale before she could speak.
“This is a great honor for me tonight. You’ve made me a member of a society that even history recognizes as strong, independent, and fierce. Even though up to this point, males have dominated within your ranks, I will not let my fellow warriors down. I pledge tonight that you will always be able to count on me. To defend those in our tribe, as well as those outside this realm who cannot take care of themselves, I will be there.
“Our forefathers sang about the hunters and the warriors of old. But tonight, we take those timeworn songs and make room for change as we move into a bold, new era. As I stand before you, I proudly claim my Nez Perce heritage, for I am both hunter and warrior. I will honor the rituals of my people and its customs. I will honor long-held traditions. But know this. I will also break them just as I have by your acceptance of me here tonight. I know that some were against letting me stand here among you as an equal. I want you to know there are no hard feelings in my heart for those individuals. It just means I’ll have to try harder to show those who voted to keep me out that my war is against all those who prey on children, or the vulnerable, or the ones who cannot defend themselves. And that isn’t going to change.”
As the speech wore on, Frank De Palo sat at a table in the back with seven other local mini VIPs. He’d finagled an invitation through his Mixed Martial Arts promoter. The promoter happened to have connections with all the city council members. Because one in particular was a fan of the sport, Frank had found his way as a guest.
He watched as the beautiful woman took center stage. He listened as she articulated her thoughts and feelings about becoming a member of the Nez Perce Warrior Society.
He’d obviously underestimated her intellect.
Now, as he sat there hanging on her every word, he realized there were two sides to the woman who had saved Kelly Donahue. One was the savvy street fighter he’d seen at York’s. The other was this stunning beauty capable of winning over an all-male club that usually had barred the opposite sex from participating in anything of value other than birthing babies. But with her clever acceptance speech, the smart woman had them eating out of the palm of her hand.
None of it went unnoticed by Frank.
He appreciated what he considered her manipulation factor. It had been his experience that every woman possessed that side in large quantities. But he had to give it to Skye Cree. She hid hers better than most. She would make an excellent opponent. Finally, someone worthy of his talents and skill set who he could go up against head-to-head—and defeat.
He knew she shared Josh Ander’s bed, had for the last several months. But he also knew she kept her own little studio apartment where she’d lived for years before the gamer had ever appeared on the scene. It was a crappy rat hole, but he’d already made up his mind to get inside it tonight. He might even spend the night there, sleep in her bed.
Because Frank De Palo knew it was time to get back on the horse. He’d taken his supposed “cooling off” period as the experts wanted to call it. He’d relished seeing the media use those two words to describe what he knew to be false.
But now it was time to get back to work.
That’s why after leaving the Belmont Hotel early, Frank had stopped at his place to change clothes and put on his all-black outfit.
A few minutes after midnight he made his way to Skye’s fourth-floor walk-up where he picked the lock to get into the trashy little place.
As he swung the door open, he noticed the squeak first before ever setting foot inside. He took out his penlight to shine into the one-room interior. His eyes perused the four walls to make sure he was alone before striding to what appeared to be the bathroom. After checking that out, he located the light switch. He got his first look at the layout, the arrangement of the furniture.
He removed a small bottle of lubricant from the pocket of the hoodie he wore and went back over to the door. Placing a few drops of the oil on each of the three hinges, he tried the door until he was satisfied he’d taken care of the offending creak.
Since the walls of the dump were paper-thin and so was the flooring, he made sure to keep his footsteps light as he scanned the tiny five-hundred-square-foot studio. The only place to walk was a narrow slice of pathway that led from the front door and continued past a small loveseat and back to the full-size bed in the corner. A couple of homemade quilts reminded him people of Skye Cree’s station in life set value on such outdated, ordinary accessories.
Checking out the rest of the shabby-chic furniture made him wince. Someone as beautiful as Skye Cree needed to spend her time in more elegant living conditions, not some hole-in-the-wall tenement.
Which made him wonder why she would insist on keeping this tiny flat when she had access to Ander’s loft on a regular basis? A definite chink in her armor, Frank decided. Maybe she didn’t plan on staying with the man for the long term. That might explain her reluctance to give up this miniature-sized crib in the bowery section of Seattle.
He made his way around the wall-to-wall furniture arrangement to the thin strip of kitchen. Colorful dishes took up one open shelf and another held what his mother had always called useless knick-knacks. When his eyes landed on her bookshelf he went over, picked up a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Why would a smart woman read such useless drivel? he wondered. Checking out the titles, he decided she didn’t own a single book he’d consider adding to his to-be-read list.
When a dozen intricate stained-glass designs decorating the walls caught his eye, he thought back to whether or not he’d seen an artistic side to the warrior. He decided she didn’t possess any particular tendencies toward creativity.
Although tonight she’d shown excellent taste in her evening attire: the classy dress had set off the woman’s toned figure. He had to admit, in that gown she’d looked like a model, someone he would consider fucking. He hadn’t even thought that possible because of the military get-up she usually wore. Now, her sense of flair had to enter into the equation.
He stared at all the plants she had lined up neatly in front of a sliding glass door. He wasn’t sure that counted in the creativity column. But a second scan had him doing a mental calculation in his head. There had to be at least fifty containers holding a v
ariety of herbs and other types of foliage. She did seem to have a green thumb when it came to growing things. Then he remembered a day last week when he’d followed her here. From street level he’d noticed the balcony full of greenery. If given the dirt and space the damn woman could probably grow her own forest full of flowers.
Okay, so her artistic side included a bit of gardening. He didn’t like that. It reminded him too much of someone else.
About that time, Frank heard the whimsical tinkling of wind chimes coming from outside. It was then he realized this Martha Stewart side hovered at Skye’s outer edges. He would exploit that as a weakness.
But as he continued to go through her things, it became obvious she did show a wide range of interests. He pulled out a spiral notebook buried under all the hardcover books, and then found another. Apparently his Skye Cree liked to jot down interesting side notes about people. As he flipped through the pages, he became fascinated with her meticulous details about the various sexual predators she’d tracked over the years. So she liked to keep notes on people just as he often did on his potential targets. An interesting similarity, he decided. Maybe they had more in common than he’d thought.
But for some reason Frank kept coming back to the only other space in the little rat-hole to store anything—under the old iron bed. He decided to see what had migrated underneath with the dust bunnies. Getting down on his knees, he scanned the area—and hit the mother lode. He slid out a laptop computer from its hiding place and realized he’d just found something that would keep him occupied for the rest of the night. The bonus would be getting inside the mind of another hunter.
And what a mind it was.
Tonight he would do without sleep as he made himself comfortable here. He’d soak up everything he could since he couldn’t very well take the laptop. She would surely miss that and know someone had been here. That someone she would no doubt blame on him.
He pondered whether or not he really cared about her knowing. He decided to play it safe. So he pulled out his phone and snapped photos of her little sanctuary. He took screenshots of her notebooks and anything else he could think of that might come in handy for later. He even laid out each piece of her underwear and photographed that as well.
Over the next several hours, he fixed himself a plate with cheese he found in the fridge and some unopened sesame crackers in the cabinet. When he got thirsty, he drank from a carton of orange juice still in date. Meanwhile, he read through her journals. When that was done, he opened up the laptop. It took him less than fifteen minutes to crack her password and discover she seemed to be as obsessive-compulsive as he was in keeping notes and searching websites.
When bits of sun began to stream through the only source of light, the sliding glass door, he got up from the bed to stretch his back. Tidying the mess he’d made, he felt confident he could use everything he’d found to his advantage.
But first, he had to go back to doing what he did best. He’d pinpointed his next victim. Come nightfall, his evening was already booked.
Chapter 14 Book 2
No doubt the residents tucked inside the gated section of Seattle known as Brittany’s Landing felt safe and secure. After all, the gate at the front of the complex was supposed to keep out the riff-raff. The eight-foot brick wall surrounding the little enclave didn’t hurt either.
Designed to make sure the inhabitants didn’t have to put up with annoying door-to-door salesmen—or the awkward face-to-face contact with people pushing their religious beliefs—or those on foot dropping off advertising flyers, in order to get past the gate, one had to enter a code into the keypad or press a handy remote for access.
Frank De Palo didn’t have either. He didn’t need them.
But he could have used a nice over-sized umbrella. By midnight the fine mist of early evening had turned into a heavy drizzle.
The rain made the barrier in the back of the neighborhood a slick mess. Slippery, but not impossible to climb and vault over. Frank stood there gauging its height. But since he’d been here before, it wasn’t a big deal.
He threw his bag over first then dropped down on the other side into a row of bushes. Strolling along the sidewalk as if he belonged there, he moved in the shadows past a common area, a clubhouse with a sparkling swimming pool and a playground for the kids.
The neighborhood had everything the residents could want within easy reach of their front doors. Everything that is, except a guard out front or surveillance cameras to keep an eye on the perimeter.
After tonight, the real estate agents might want to reconsider the advertising campaign that living behind a gate kept anyone out. Truth was, if he wanted to get in, he found a way in, simple as that.
He made his way to the cross streets of Xavier and Allen as if he’d gone out for a breath of damp Seattle air. Because he already had mapped out his target, there was no need to scour the rows and rows of upscale homes.
As soon as he reached Kathy Monroe’s two-story Mission Revival, or rather the house that belonged to her mother, he spotted the light burning bright in a downstairs window. He veered off in the direction of the side yard. He pushed the handle on the back gate, and kept to the fence line. Moving along the side of the brick structure, he hid in a row of bushes he could use as cover.
From the backyard, he noted Kathy had left her blinds open. The little brunette would be his youngest yet. Well…except for that other one. But she didn’t count. She’d lived in another state—and was ancient history.
From his spot, he could see all the way into the kitchen and beyond into the open living area. He watched through the glass as Kathy, the just-turned-twenty-year-old, fidgeted with her cell phone.
Standing as still as one of the bronze statues in Ravenna Park, Frank lifted his head to peer into the house.
As always, he waited at the fringes—and for his opportunity.
Still living at home, Kathy Monroe poured her third glass of Merlot and settled down to call her mom, Louise, who had flown out of SeaTac just that Sunday morning for an all-inclusive vacation to Hawaii. Maui to be exact. With the three-hour time difference between Seattle and the island, it was only a couple of minutes after nine o’clock there. Because it was still early, and because her mother had specifically left instructions for Kathy to call, she couldn’t wait until morning to hear the details of her mother’s first trip to paradise. Besides, her mother was her best friend. Kathy wouldn’t think twice about pestering a friend on her first night in one of Kaanapali’s best beachfront resorts. So why not bug her mom.
And even though Louise had only checked into the fancy hotel that afternoon, Kathy itched to get the low-down about the flight over, the accommodations, what the place had to offer. In other words, everything she was missing out on sitting back home alone in Seattle on a rainy night.
Kathy had wanted so badly to make the trip with her mother that she’d considered giving her notice at the design firm where she worked. But quitting didn't make any sense when she had a car payment due. She couldn’t put Visa off either, even if her grump of a boss was a tyrant.
She could only hope her mother would give her updates while she was on the island and take plenty of pictures. She knew, of course, that photos weren’t the same as experiencing all the pristine sandy beaches, the crystal clear water, and seeing the beauty of Maui firsthand. But it would have to do for the time being.
Just because Kathy worked as a lowly go-fer for a crabby boss known for his CD cover designs didn’t mean she shouldn’t get to take a vacation. Considering she’d only been employed there for the past ten months didn’t make a difference to Kathy. She usually got the crap jobs no one else wanted to do anyway. She felt like her boss could’ve made an exception. He could’ve let her take a holiday two months before her anniversary date. But he hadn’t done that.
With all the work she had piled up on her desk, Kathy didn’t stand a chance of seeing anything tropical unless it was a pineapple in the produce section at Safeway.
When the call to her mother went to voicemail, Kathy sighed into the phone. She left a long message about how she wanted to hear each and every perk, all the amenities that came with the resort package Louise had booked.
Knowing her mother was more than likely out having a blast, sitting around a fire at the first-night, get-together luau with the rest of the group members, didn’t help Kathy’s mood any.
Draining her glass of wine and setting it in the sink, she decided it was time to head to bed. Kathy snatched up her cell phone just in case her mother decided to return the call whenever the luau ended.
With thoughts of hula dancers and bare-chested hunks flitting through her head, Kathy climbed the stairs to the second floor. She couldn’t help but wonder if Louise, right at that moment, was sitting on a sandy beach sampling her first taste of poi. She knew her mother wouldn’t dare pass up a nice Mai Tai either.
She headed into the bathroom to take off her makeup, the same makeup she’d painstakingly applied to drop off her mother twelve hours ago at the airport. Which was silly she thought now, she’d never even left the car.
As she lathered up her face she realized that in less than eight hours she’d have to put the stuff back on when she got up to go to work the next morning.
It was then Kathy decided life was too short to sit on the sidelines. She smoothed face cream onto her cheeks and forehead and realized she hated her job. She spent eight long hours every day working for a man she didn’t like very much.
As she pulled back the covers on her bed, she came to a decision. If she ever got another chance to see Hawaii, she was ditching her asshole of a boss and taking the trip anyway.
Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 Page 43