The Intended Victim

by Ivy, Alexandra

  Just a dull, average woman. Who would miss her? Who would care?

  I eat my muffin and sip my coffee. The chatter washes over me. It had always been like that for me. When I was in this mood, I was alone no matter how many people were around.

  I understand that sounds clichéd. Everyone felt they stood apart from the world, but my loneliness is more.

  Mine is cold. An emptiness that echoes through my soul.

  I have told myself it wasn’t my fault. It was a darkness implanted while I was too young to fight against it. There was nothing I could have done to change my destiny.

  We all have a destiny. Don’t we?

  Even the waitress. I set aside my empty coffee cup and wrap my fingers around the knife set next to my muffin plate. The young woman was reaching the end of her shift. In a few hours, she would be walking home.

  I’d followed her before.

  I knew her apartment was several blocks away from the pastry shop.

  On such a cold day, she would no doubt be eager to accept a lift. Even from a stranger.

  Silently, I rehearse the exact words that will convince the woman I can be trusted.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ash was surprised to open his eyes and discover the pale winter sunlight was streaming into the bedroom. What time was it? About to reach for his phone, Ash was halted as a low, tortured whimper echoed through the air.

  With a frown, he turned his attention to the woman tightly wrapped in his arms. Instantly, his heart melted. He hadn’t actually made a conscious decision to sleep with Remi last night. But sitting next to her on the couch as they ate pizza had been a potent reminder of all the wonderful evenings they’d spent together.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t wait any longer.

  He still loved her. He would always love her. And eventually, he would convince the stubborn woman that they belonged together.

  And he didn’t regret their night of heated passion. Their lovemaking had been just as glorious as it had been five years before. And while he wished they could openly discuss the future, he was prepared to be patient.

  They had enough to worry about right now.

  On cue, Remi resumed her whimpering. Gently, Ash pushed her dark hair from her cheek, studying her sleep-flushed face.

  After making love on the couch, Ash had carried Remi to her bed. Then he’d devoted the next few hours to exploring her from head to toe and back again. Which would explain why he’d slept so late.

  “Remi, wake up,” he urged in a husky voice. Her body twitched, her breath rasping between her parted lips. Ash’s heart clenched with concern. His hand reached out to cup her cheek as he leaned down to speak directly in her ear. “Remi.”

  The whimpering stopped as she lifted her lashes to study him with a fierce intensity.

  “Ash?” she breathed.

  He skimmed his lips down the line of her jaw before planting a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ve got you.”

  She wiggled against him, her hands grasping his upper arms. “Hold me.”

  He gave her lower lip a gentle nip. “You never have to ask.” He slowly lifted his head, searching the shadows that darkened her eyes. “Was it a bad dream?”

  “I . . .” Her words dried on her lips.

  “Remi.” Ash stroked his fingers down her cheek. “Talk to me.”

  “I think it must have been a dream, but it seemed so real.” She shivered, her gaze skittering away. “Too real.”

  “Tell me,” he urged in low tones.

  She hesitated, clearly reluctant. But as he continued to gaze down at her in silence, she heaved a resigned sigh.

  “It was that night,” she muttered.

  “The night you were attacked?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ash grimaced, his fingers tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry.”

  She looked confused. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Because the two of us being together has obviously stirred up old memories,” he explained.

  “No.” Her fingers moved lightly over his bare chest. “I’ve had nightmares before. Just not like this one. It was . . .” She shook her head. “Weirdly vivid.”

  Ash battled to keep his muscles from tensing. He didn’t want Remi to know that he’d been desperately hoping her memories would return. The last thing he wanted was to put any pressure on her. Especially not when she might be right.

  It was quite possible she’d had a nightmare.

  “Maybe if you talk about it, you’ll feel better,” he told her, his fingers continuing to stroke over her pale features. “What happened?”

  Remi sucked in a deep breath, as if gathering her courage. “It started out like the others. I was being followed as I drove home.”

  Regret tugged at Ash’s heart. He hated causing Remi pain, but this was too important. He had to know what was in her dream. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “You’re right here in my arms.”

  Her body arched closer, perhaps seeking his warmth, but her expression remained distant. As if she was lost in her dream.

  “After that, things usually go blank in my dreams. Just like they did that night.”

  “What happened this time?”

  Her fingers curled, her nails biting into his chest. Ash didn’t protest. He could endure a little pain. Anything to make it easier for her.

  “I was in the car, and then everything was dark,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “I don’t remember driving into the garage or getting out. But this time, I was suddenly in a tunnel.”

  Ash felt a stab of surprise. “A tunnel? Underground?”

  She paused, considering the question. “I’m not sure. There weren’t any windows.”

  He allowed his fingers to thread through her hair, savoring the sensation of the silky strands. “Tell me what you see,” he prodded in gentle tones.

  She tilted back her head, her brow furrowed. “Ash, it was a dream.”

  He gave a light tug on her hair. “Humor me.”

  “Fine.” She closed her eyes, as if trying to recall the specific details. “There are a line of bare light bulbs running down the middle of the ceiling,” she said at last.

  “What about the floor?”

  “It was dirt. So were the walls.” Her voice held an edge of puzzlement. Obviously, she didn’t recognize her surroundings. “It must have been underground, but I don’t know where it is or how I got there.”

  “Are you alone?”

  He felt her sudden shiver. “No. There’s someone behind me.”

  His fingers cupped her nape, gently massaging the tense muscles. “Can you see their face?”

  “No.” Her voice was unsteady. “I’m afraid to turn around.”

  “Shh. It’s okay, Remi.” Ash squashed the impulse to press her for more details about the person behind her. He wasn’t interrogating a witness. He had to be careful not to spook her into refusing to discuss her dream. Instead, he leaned down to brush his lips over her forehead. “Do you remember anything else about the tunnel?”

  She took a moment before she answered. “There was a smell.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “Bread.”

  “Bread?” Ash studied her in confusion, wondering if he’d heard her correctly. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded slowly. “Freshly baked bread.”

  He tried to think of why there would be bread in a tunnel. “Could you be beneath a restaurant or a bakery?”

  “No. It smells like home.”

  Ash stared down at her in confusion. Maybe it had been nothing more than a strange dream. “Here?”

  “No, my childhood home,” she clarified.

  “Oh.” That made more sense. “Are there tunnels beneath your mother’s estate?”

  She glanced at him as if he was out of his mind. “Of course there aren’t any tunnels.”

  Once again he didn’t press her. He wanted her to concentrate on the dream.

  “What else do you remember?”


  She shivered. “It’s cold. Really cold.”

  He considered his next question. “Are you wearing the clothes you had on when you attended the art gallery opening?”

  Her lips parted, no doubt intending to tell him that she hadn’t noticed what clothes she had on in her dream. Then her eyes widened.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I had on the same jeans and sweater. And my boots. They were crunching against the dirt floor.”

  Ash’s certainty that this was more than a dream was increasing by the minute. “Do you have on your coat?”

  “Yes. And my gloves.” She wrinkled her brow, trying to concentrate on her fading memories. “But I don’t have my purse.”

  That made sense. When Ash had gotten to the estate that night, he’d found her purse and backpack in her car.

  The discovery had told him that Remi had been attacked while she was still in the garage. She would never have left her purse and phone in the car. The question had always been whether she’d been the one to unlock the door to the house and switch off the security system. Or if she’d already been unconscious and the Butcher had the ability to break into the house without setting off the alarm.

  Now he had a new theory.

  The Butcher had followed her home, then attacked her in the garage. From there, he’d used the hidden tunnels to force her into the house.

  Which meant he was familiar with the estate.

  “How long were you in the tunnel?” he asked.

  “I don’t think it was long. A few minutes maybe.”

  Long enough to get from the detached garage to the house, Ash silently acknowledged. “Did anyone speak?”

  “No. It was quiet.” She trembled against him, her nails digging deep into his skin. “Scary quiet.”

  He ran a soothing hand up and down her back. “Do you realize you’re in danger?”

  She shook her head. “I’m more confused than anything. As if I’ve been drugged. My knees are so weak, I can barely walk.”

  That fit in with the results of her medical report after she’d been taken to the hospital. The doctors had found a puncture wound from a needle on the side of her neck, and traces of Midazolam in her system.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She halted, seemingly struck by a sudden thought. “Wait. There are stairs ahead of me.”

  “Describe them,” Ash commanded.

  “They’re just stairs.”

  “What are they made of?”

  She frowned, as if wondering why he was interested in something so mundane.

  “They’re wooden,” she said at last.

  Ash nodded. He was assuming the tunnel had been built for secrecy, not beauty. Which would explain the dirt floor and wooden stairs.

  “How many steps?” he asked.

  “Five.” Remi shrugged. “Maybe six.”

  Not many. That would mean the tunnel wasn’t deep. “Do you climb them?”

  “Yes.” She grimaced, as if enduring physical pain at the memory. “I’m barely able to stay upright, my knees are so weak. I’m crawling up each one.”

  Ash kissed the top of her curls, hating the need to force her to relive the horror of that night. He could only hope that her sacrifice would lead to the unmasking of the Butcher.

  “Why don’t you stop if your knees are so weak?” he asks, his hands continuing to trace up and down her spine.

  “There’s something pressing into my back.”

  “A gun?”

  “No. It’s sharp.”

  His hands halted, his breath wrenched from his lungs. Shit. He should have guessed what it would be.

  “A knife,” he breathed in a harsh voice.

  “Yes.”

  Silence filled the room at the mention of the knife. Both of them were tortured by the knowledge of just how many women had been brutally killed by having their throats sliced open.

  At last, Ash cleared his throat. “Do you remember anything else?”

  Her brow furrowed as she lifted a hand to touch her temple. As if she had a sudden headache.

  “Everything is going dark,” she told him.

  The drugs must have been about to knock her unconscious, Ash realized. “Did you reach the top of the stairs?”

  “I don’t think so.” She paused, the denial forgotten as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes. I did reach the top. I was on my hands and knees, then a door opened and there was a blinding light. And the scent of fresh bread was much stronger. As if I was standing in the kitchen. I thought I must have died and was on my way to heaven.”

  Ash was confused. “Did the person behind you open the door?”

  “I don’t know.” She continued to rub her temple. “It just opened, and the light was all around me.”

  Ash tried to imagine what had happened. Remi had been on her hands and knees, presumably on some sort of landing. Was the door opened from inside? Or had the killer reached around her to open it?

  Or maybe there was a hidden switch in the wall that would activate it.

  “Did you go into the house?”

  She stiffened abruptly, her head tilting back to reveal her stricken expression.

  “No,” she breathed. “It had to have been heaven.”

  Unease curled through his gut. “Remi?”

  “I heard my father’s voice,” she rasped.

  Ash made a choked sound. Gage? Had his onetime partner caught the Butcher when they were in the tunnel? But if he had, why had his blood been found in the living room?

  “You’re sure?” he demanded.

  Remi’s hands flattened against his chest as she arched away. “Ash, it was just a nightmare,” she insisted, her voice edged with something that sounded like panic.

  It was obvious she’d endured enough. Perhaps it was the memory of her father. Or maybe it was some deeply buried memory that was still struggling to come to the surface.

  Whatever the case, her nerves were close to snapping.

  “Maybe,” he murmured, his hands resuming their exploration of her back.

  It was time for a distraction. And he knew the perfect way to take her mind off her bad dreams.

  “It was.” Her tone was harsh. “I promise you, there are no mystery tunnels beneath my mother’s home.”

  He lowered his head, allowing his lips to nuzzle the corner of her mouth. “Hmm.”

  Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers grasping his shoulders. “What?”

  He traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. She tasted so sweet. Warm and feminine. Deliciously familiar.

  “You know, I’m suddenly finding it hard to concentrate,” he informed her in husky tones.

  “Really?” Her fingers tiptoed up his shoulders until she tangled them in his hair. “Why is that?”

  “Because I woke with a beautiful, naked woman in my arms,” he admitted, stealing a slow, lazy kiss.

  “That does sound distracting,” she murmured against his lingering lips.

  Ash lifted his head, staring down at the woman who’d remained in his heart no matter how many miles were between them.

  It was a relief to watch her relax beneath his teasing. And to catch a glimpse of the passion darkening her eyes. But even as he cupped the softness of her breast, he knew that neither of them had forgotten the darkness that haunted them.

  Right now, however, he intended to concentrate on the sheer bliss of having Remi wrapped in his arms.

  “I missed having you in my bed,” he whispered, his head dipping down so he could run his tongue over the tip of her nipple. He smiled as he felt her quiver in pleasure. “I even missed your snoring.”

  She gave a sharp tug on his hair in protest even as her back arched in invitation for his touch. “I don’t snore.”

  “It’s cute,” he assured her, teasing the tender nipple with the edge of his teeth.

  She turned so she could wrap her leg over his hip. Ash’s breath rushed out on a low hiss as she nestled agains
t his hardening cock.

  “At least I don’t kick,” she said, her lips curling into a smug smile as he took several seconds to process her words.

  Hell. A man wasn’t supposed to think when he had a soft, willing woman pressed against him. Was he?

  “I kick?” he finally managed to rasp.

  “Like a mule,” she assured him.

  “Should I kiss you and make it all better?”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer as he brushed his lips down her body. She trembled, her arms wrapping around his neck.

  “That’s not where you kicked me,” she murmured.

  “No?” He chuckled, his hands grasping her hips as he kept her from squirming beneath his searching caresses. “Don’t tell me. I want to find the spot myself.”

  She released a low groan, her lashes lowering as she gave in to the waiting bliss.

  “Overachiever.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jax was climbing into his car and about to pull away from the decrepit apartment building when he received a text from his mother.

  I have to see you. Now.

  Jax told himself not to overreact. His mother tended to use whatever methods were necessary when she wanted something. Still, he couldn’t prevent the urge to speed through the backstreets as he drove straight to the 1950s ranch house in the suburbs.

  Like most houses in the neighborhood, it was built on a small lot with a fenced-in backyard. The vinyl siding was white, although Jax had a vague memory of it being a weird shade of avocado in the past. There was also an attached garage his father had recently expanded.

  The driveway was packed with the cars of holiday guests that had already descended, forcing Jax to park in the street. Locking the car, he jogged across the frozen yard and pulled open the door. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to convince his mother to keep the house secure, she refused to listen. She claimed she would move before she would keep herself locked away like a prisoner.

  Entering the cozy living room that was currently being used as a spare bedroom for Jax’s aunt and uncle, he tiptoed his way into the L-shaped kitchen.