Hot Pursuit- the Complete Collection

by Liza Mitchell

  “It rings a goddamn bell,” he growled. “Is there a file you can send me? For the original case and what the fuck’s going on now?”

  “Yeah, I’ll send it over right now, just give me an email, but it’s not in your jurisdiction. What are you going to do?” Dawson asked.

  “I think they’ll understand when it comes up that my pictures are on a goddamn drive. Plus, kidnapping can be a federal crime. There might be some shit there. What else can you tell me about McIntyre?”

  “Past or present?” Dawson asked.

  “Present.”

  “He’s smart, organized, slippery. He’s been watching and photographing us for years and none of us have noticed. That says something. Not that I’m on high alert for stalkers, but I’d like to believe I’d notice one.”

  Grant grunted in response. He was constantly on high alert, for fucking McIntyre. He’d seen him around and assumed McIntyre was just stalking him, trying to get to Kate.

  “How far back do the pictures go?” He asked.

  “All the way back to the trial. Well, just after the trial.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ______________

  KATE

  “Honestly, Grant, what the hell do you expect me to do?” She sagged against the counter, the weight of the world pressing down on her. Well, not the weight of the world, just the weight of twelve innocent lives.

  “He wants you. This was all for you.”

  “He doesn’t want me. He just wants what got away. He saw me as lost property, a lost payday. He just wants to finish the job he started. Apparently at this point he doesn’t care if he ends up in prison or not.”

  “Oh, he cares. He must have a plan.” His hand fell against her back, pressing between her shoulder blades. It wasn’t comforting. It was another burden. She shook him off.

  “And what’s your plan?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned to face him. “You’re here. In my home. After years of hiding, you could have brought him right to my doorstep.”

  “I wasn’t followed.”

  “You don’t know that,” she snapped. The hypervigilance that had consumed her for years, kept her safe, had just been negated by one decision made by someone else. The one person she fucking trusted. The one person who had helped get her here.

  She was so sick of other people controlling her life. Sure, Norm wasn’t keeping her at his side, controlling her money, her clothes, her fucking thoughts, but he still ruled over every decision she made. He probably jerked off to that every single night. Getting hard just knowing she was in hiding, looking over her shoulder, dying her strawberry blonde hair, all because of him.

  Now, Grant got to make one choice, to come see her in person, and stir up these feelings. Touch her. Try to comfort her. Put her in danger, just to try to make her feel safe again. She didn’t get to make any of those decisions. Only they did.

  “I made sure.”

  “If you could just ‘make sure’ it was safe, then why have you never come to see me before? Why can’t I email you? Why do I only get one phone call with you a month? Why? Because you can’t ‘make sure.’”

  She only let herself think about Grant when she was alone at night, safely locked away. She dreamed about finding him here when she came home, wrapping his arms around her, exploring her curves, holding her down, making her feel like she didn’t need to be in control for the first time in years.

  Grant’s visit wasn’t bringing her fantasies to life. He’d just amplified all of her nightmares.

  He took a step toward her and opened his mouth to answer, but she waved him off. “Fuck it. I don’t care. You’re here for Norm. You’re here for a case. Just tell me what you want from me.”

  “Kate, just listen to me,” he barked.

  She reached out and slapped him. Her hand flew through the air, and her entire body felt the force of her palm hitting his face. Her skin was on fire, and she clenched her hand into a fist, fighting the urge to shake it and whimper. He wouldn’t see any weakness from her.

  “Do not tell me what to do,” she said through clenched teeth.

  He placed his hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. His hot breath rolled over her as he struggled to maintain control.

  “Never hit me again. Your safety is, and has always been, my number one priority. Never fucking question that.”

  She raised her eyes and glared at him, setting her jaw. “Give me another order, and next time I’ll use my fist.”

  Kate threw her shoulder into the center of his chest and smiled hearing him grunt above her as she ducked under his arm and crossed the kitchen, putting some distance between them.

  It didn’t matter how pissed she was, she couldn’t handle being that close to him. She spent years waiting for that very moment by the sink where Grant could come up behind her and hold her. When she could walk down the street with him without fear that Norm had followed him to her. Now he was here, and it was all wrong. She didn’t want any of it.

  “Kate, I brought the file. We just need to go over it. Maybe there’s somewhere he took you, some property, some building, that you’ve forgotten about.”

  “Yeah? Is that the only thing that the cops asked you to do with me?” she raised her eyebrows.

  Grant reached a hand toward her without moving from his spot on the floor. “Let’s just start with the file.”

  “What do they want from me? What do you want from me?”

  “All I want is for you to be fucking safe and happy. And I don’t give a damn how it happens.”

  “What about what I want?” she snapped. “I wanted you here all along.”

  “You know that couldn’t happen. I have eyes and ears out for him at the Marshals. I gained the knowledge to keep you safe. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I led him to you. Two people are easier to spot than one. I want you to be safe.”

  “That’s exactly it, isn’t it?” Kate was shaking. Anger vibrated through her, a low constant hum building in her chest. She needed out of this room. Out of this apartment. She needed to do something. Go for a run. Take six shots of tequila. Put her fist through a wall. Something.

  “That’s exactly it,” she repeated. “You've never listened to what I want. You want whatever you want, everyone else be damned. How is that different from Norm?”

  “I don’t want to kill people,” Grant growled back.

  “The police want whatever they want, everyone else be damned. They want me to be bait again, don’t they? They want me to lure him out? They want me to lay my neck across the chopping block again. I got out. I’m free. I was safe, until you showed up on my door!”

  She’d slowly crossed the floor, her voice rising with each sentence, until she was just inches from him.

  “Fine. Then you just do whatever you want and forget those innocent people.”

  “Of course, that’s not the decision I’m going to make. They didn’t choose to fall in love with a handsome, confident sociopath.”

  “Handsome?”

  “Does that bother you?” she taunted. “He was. Probably still is. Fit too. So fucking fit.” She smirked as Grant’s eyes grew darker.

  “Stop, Kate. He’s a sad fucking excuse for a human.”

  “Who was married three times. Three,” she said with mock shock, watching Grant’s face contort. “Sure, he was manipulative, and abusive, and controlling. But some men have trouble making it down the aisle once.” She canted her head suggestively toward her opponent.

  He ground out a low warning. “Kate…”

  This was almost better than six shots of tequila. He thought he could surprise her in her home. Dump a whole new load of baggage on her shoulders. Hold her like she actually belonged to him. Guilt her back into her old life, dragging her back to Norm. Use her as bait, put her life on the line for twelve others.

  Two wrongs don’t make a right, but she knew how deep Grant’s hatred for Norm ran. Norm was the reason Grant had
left a job he loved. Norm was the reason Grant couldn’t hold her every night. Norm was the reason their love had hung heavily between them, completely unspoken. And here she was, twisting that knife. Enjoying having the upper hand. For once.

  “Haven’t you ever wondered why someone so thoroughly evil could always find another willing victim?” She took one more step toward him and whispered conspiratorially, “He had a great cock. Fucking huge. Thick.”

  She couldn’t see Grant’s eyes, but his chest rose and fell in massive steady breaths as he forced deep exhales from his nostrils. She couldn’t see him, but she knew exactly what expression he wore. She’d seen that rage spread across his face before. Many times. It stirred things deep inside of her. Grant would tear Norm limb from limb if he ever met him in person; that anger was not at Kate, it was for Kate.

  No one else in her life was her champion like Grant. The first time she saw crimson crawling up his cheeks, eyebrows drawing together, his broad chest pumping with deep, controlled breaths, was when she had first met Grant, Detective DeWitt, and told him her story. She’d wanted him from that very moment. She’d just escaped death, lost everything in an afternoon. She should have been devastated. Instead, she thought about climbing the detective assigned to her case. There was probably some primal wiring in her brain drawing her to the protector. But there was more than that. He may keep her safe, but she was also fucking terrified of him. She imagined being on the receiving end of that anger so many times.

  Thrown against the wall, torn in two… She’d imagined it so many times. But she hadn’t been in the same room as Grant in years. She’d had to settle for her imagination and her hands. But here she was, inches from him, and he was ready to explode. She was still buzzing. Maybe she needed a good fight, a release, or maybe she needed…

  She reached up on the tips of her toes, her lips brushing his ear. “Knew exactly how to use it too. There was this thing he used to do. Flipping me on my stomach and grabbing my…”

  Grant moved like fucking lightning, grabbing her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand. His other hand wrapped around her hair and twisted her neck until she was looking into his eyes.

  “You’ve been alone too long if you remember his cock that fondly.”

  “No one has made me forget it.”

  He pulled her against him, his leg slipping between hers. “I will fuck his memory from your mind. Never talk about him like that around me.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of talk for a big man who has had years to fuck me and done nothing about it. Maybe you’re all talk.” She pressed herself into his thigh, her hips making the slightest movements against his leg. It had been a long fucking time.

  He took her, roughly claiming her mouth, quieting her words. His lips pressed against hers and his tongue forced its way into her mouth. Not that she put up a fight. She was instantly on fire, panting and moaning like a desperate virgin.

  His hands pulled in opposite directions, opening her to his vicious kisses as he moved away from her mouth and down her neck, stopping to nip at her collarbone.

  She ground her hips against his thigh, her need dictating the rhythm. Her pussy ached so fucking much that she greedily took anything she could get.

  Grant's mouth covered all of her exposed skin, teasing at the edge of her neckline. Running his tongue along the crests of her breasts.

  She arched her back, encouraging him to keep exploring. Her nipples tightened under her shirt; they were begging to be pulled and kissed too. The flood gates had broken, and she needed him everywhere, but his hand stayed resolutely on her back and twined in her hair.

  Kate tried to free her hands, but her efforts were fruitless. He only tightened his grip, sending waves of heat through her. Her breath came in a shallow, rapid rhythm as she ground harder and harder against him.

  Twisting her shoulders, she pulled against his hold. Grant groaned against her skin. The more she fought, the stronger his grasp grew. She was blind with need. She needed to feel his skin against hers. She needed to get out of these damned clothes. She needed to touch every inch of him. She needed his hands, his mouth, his cock. She needed to fucking come.

  “Please!” she cried louder than she’d intended, fighting against his iron grip.

  “Please, please, please,” she begged desperately, riding his leg.

  She was going to come.

  Kate opened her mouth to ask one more time, plead for more. But Grant swallowed her words, kissing her deeply while his hand pressed against her ass, guiding her movements on his leg until she cried out, waves of pleasure washing over her as she burned through her orgasm.

  He held her tightly as her moans slowly stopped. His kisses slowly grew kinder and gentler, his grip on her body relaxing until she could lean against his chest.

  They stood there quietly together until Grant lightly swatted her ass, saying, “Come on, we have a file to look at.”

  “What? Are you fucking kidding me?” She took hold of his arm, as if she could actually stop him from moving.

  “We have work to do,” he said. “But now you know, I’m not all talk. I will fuck away every memory of that man. You’ve already forgotten that he has victims and a ticking clock, just because you climbed my fucking leg. Just imagine what my cock will do.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ______________

  KATE

  She wished she could start the whole foreplay-fight all over again… and have it end in a right hook. Grant walked into her living room, leaving her standing alone, stunned. Hurt. Unsatisfied.

  She scrubbed her hands over her face. For fuck’s sake. This is what she got for playing with fire. Why should she expect anything else from him? He always put the job, the hunt, the case before her, before them.

  “Are you coming?” Grant called from the other room.

  She marched after him, still feeling like a bundle of energy. But she couldn’t go for a run, because Norm was out there planning some kind of crazy shit. First, catch Norm. Then, fuck Grant. And then she could go for a run for the first time in years.

  “All right, what do the cops want me to do?” she asked resignedly as she fell onto the couch next to him.

  “Let’s just look over the file. Maybe something will jump out at you. Maybe there’s something we missed.”

  “Can we just get to the shitty part, please.”

  He shoved three inches of paperwork into her hands. “They want to lure him out. He wants you. But we can’t get him in custody and leave his victims locked away. Who knows if he’ll tell us where they are.”

  “So that’s the plan? I’m bait. He takes me back to his evil lair, cops swoop in?”

  “Unless we come up with something else. Read.”

  Kate shook her head. “There are so many holes in that plan. What if he kills me the instant he sees me? What if he doesn’t plan on going back to his hidey hole after he has me? He killed all of his other wives for the insurance money. At this point that motive is gone. And does he really think he can taunt the cops and just get away with it? I mean, none of this makes any sense. Norm doesn’t give a shit about the jurors. Or you guys. The only reason he cares about me is because I won, kind of. I don’t really call this,” she waved around to her dark, half empty apartment, “winning. But he does.”

  She looked down at the evidence on her lap. Norm had stalked his arresting officer, now a detective, on her vacation. Fucking with her, sending her some poem, severed thumbs, and a flash drive. Why put himself at that much risk? Sneaking into a bed-and-breakfast just to leave little taunting clues for her. Because he could. He was showing that he thought he was smarter than Detective Craig.

  At the same time, Norm contacted the department that handled internet crimes, asked for Sloane, the tech that had pored through his internet searches and bank records, and posed as a CI to give her access to his latest crime—a live feed of a dozen murders.

  “Norm is smart. He’s calculating. B
ut there just seems like there’s so much chance in all of this. That this case just jumped from one of you to the next. How could he possibly plan for that? Could he have someone inside?” she asked.

  Grant shook his head. “If Lakeview was any bigger, he couldn’t have possibly arranged hitting each person who worked on his case. But the only crime scene lab in the county was across the hall from Sloane’s office. His severed thumbs ended up there. And when Sloane cracked the encryption on the hard drive and saw pictures of her colleagues, of course she’d inform them.”

  “So Detective Craig’s thumbs led to identifying his kidnap victims as the jurors?”

  “Kind of. I think Sloane came up with the theory. But CSI Falzon was able to identify the crime scene from a few of the pictures he sent. Then Dawson was able to identify the case—thank fuck for that federal grant to digitize records, otherwise he might have never found him.”

  “Stop.” Kate held up a hand. “My crime scene photos are somewhere in here?” she asked, pointing to the file on her lap.

  Grant nodded.

  “And how could he know that the records were digitized? I mean…”

  Grant cut her off abruptly. “Kate, you are giving him way too much credit and power. He wanted to taunt the cops, prove that he’s smarter than we are. Give a detective some severed thumbs, let her know he was right there, and she never knew. Give the IT tech a livestream to watch innocent people die—he thinks he’s going to win. He thinks we are going to see that. Give us all of these pictures telling us he’s been watching us for years and we never fucking knew it. He thinks he’s accomplished that, thinks he’s rubbed all of our faces in his brilliance. Us solving the puzzle, figuring him out, finding you and handing you over to him to try to save the jurors, that’s all icing on the cake.”

  She thought back to her marriage with Norm. He could twist and manipulate anything he wanted. He was always right, and if he wasn’t, his opponent was out to get him. Even something as simple as clocking in late at work. If he couldn’t charm human resources into erasing the penalty, he’d come home raging about how the entire company was out to get him.