by Joss Wood
They’d had sex, dammit. Sam scowled at Jett’s broad shoulders as he led them toward Stone’s study. Intimate sex, Sam amended, because she didn’t care how blasé one was about the act, oral sex was more intimate than sex-sex. Their mouths had teased and tasted and they’d both come on each other’s tongues.
That was seriously intimate, way intimate. Far too intimate for Jett to treat her like she was his principal and he was her bodyguard.
She was his principal and he was her bodyguard and Jett was just being professional, sensible!
But she’d seen something on his face, in his eyes, when he touched and tasted her, against the wall and later in the shower, which made her heart accelerate, her mouth dry up. If she had an overactive imagination, and she didn’t, she might think it was love, or deep, deep affection. But since she was far too rational to go there, to have such ridiculous flights of fancy, maybe it had just been what it was—two consenting adults giving and receiving pleasure.
Having blow-your-socks off sex.
That was all it was, all it could be. Because Jett was the type of man she avoided, whom she could never fall for or get emotionally involved with. More than most, he was a risk taker and, so she’d heard, slightly reckless. So far, his chances had paid off but, as her father was fond of saying, there were old soldiers and bold soldiers but no old, bold soldiers.
One of these days Jett would take a chance and he’d misread the situation, or overestimate his abilities and he’d lose his life. She’d survived Pete’s death and it hurt like hell; she wasn’t prepared to relive that heartbreaking experience. Sam pushed her fist into her sternum, wincing as acid threatened to burn a hole through the lining of her stomach. She didn’t like it and the thought made her want to curl up in a ball but it was inevitable.
He was the ultimate bold soldier and she’d be an idiot to think there was anything more between them than some volcano hot sex.
“Sam!”
Sam jerked her head up at Fern’s sharp tone. “Yes?”
“Coffee or cognac?” Fern asked, looking impatient.
“Uh, a cognac, please.” Sam walked across the room to sit on the big leather couch, smiling when Will stepped into the room. “Hey, when did you get here?”
“A minute ago,” Will replied, shedding her coat to reveal a boxy black suit that should look awful on her but didn’t. Will, Sam decided two minutes after meeting her, could wear a burlap sack and look like she was dressed by a hotshot designer.
Sam accepted the kiss on her cheek and Will sat down next to her, her eyes lifting at Sam’s frothy lace and ruffles cocktail dress. “Not your usual style, Sam.”
Sam plucked at the fabric. “I know; Carla picked it out for me and dropped it off with Fern. She’s not very good at shopping for someone else.”
“She sucks,” Will said, as forthright as ever. She leaned back and half turned to look at Sam. She grinned. “So, you and Mr. Hot-but-Bossy got lucky.”
Sam slapped her hands onto her cheeks. “How the hell can you tell?” she hissed, her eyes darting around the room to see if anyone else heard Will’s outrageous statement.
Will laughed. “Lucky guess. So was it great?”
“It was fabulous,” Sam admitted, keeping her voice low. “I’m still recovering. I’m just wrapping my head around the ‘it’s-just-sex thing.’” Sam reluctantly added, “I’m not as sexually liberated as I thought.”
“You want more from him?” Will crossed her long legs, tapping the folder in her lap.
“No. Yes. Maybe. But not from him.”
Will lifted her arched eyebrows. “That made no sense at all.”
“Exactly,” Sam agreed. “Just like Jett and me.”
Stone, followed by Mary, entered the room, the ends of his tie hanging down his shirtfront. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
Stone immediately walked over to her and placed his big hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sam assured him.
Stone shook his head, a small frown pulling his strong brows together. “You look different.”
Sam heard, and ignored, Will’s muffled laugh. Resisting the urge to shove her elbow into Will’s side, she kept her eyes on Stone’s face. “Are you alright?” she asked, worried by his somber eyes.
“Apart from someone wanting us dead and using your house as target practice, I’m just peachy.”
“Oh, that little thing,” Sam said, trying to sound blasé and getting the smile she wanted from Stone.
Stone greeted the other occupants in the room, took a glass of cognac from Fern with a tired smile and, as he had a million times before, wrapped his hand around the back of Fern’s neck. Fern, as at ease with Stone as she was, tucked herself into his side.
Jett looked at Will, his expression intense. “What’s going on, Will?”
Will shook her head before sliding back in harass cop mode. Her eyes connected with Stone’s but her resolve didn’t fade. “I’m sorry, I can’t share this with you. Can we have some privacy?”
Stone looked like he was about to argue but Will spoke before he could. “I know that you have top secret security clearance but this is NYPD business.”
Stone glared at her but he eventually nodded before ushering Mary and Fern out of the room. When Kelby closed the door behind him, Will spoke again. “Last night, I did another search of VICAP and it spat out a new case. Three days ago, Wooly’s stepdaughter, Sarah Wooly’s biological daughter, was murdered. In exactly the same way except, this time, the perp went nutso. Her bathroom looked like a slaughter house.”
Kelby thrust a glass of water into Will’s hand and she took a grateful sip, resting the cool glass against her forehead.
Sam closed her eyes, pushing away the horror to focus on the facts. “If I recall, her name was Justine.”
Will sent her a hard look. “What else do you remember about her?”
Sam frowned and thought back. “Didn’t finish high school, numerous misdemeanours, a stint in prison for B&E.” Sam pulled face. “She was released just before her stepfather’s trial and I remember hearing that she was trying to turn her life around.”
“Wooly adored her, loved her to bits,” Sam added. “And she loved him. It was probably the only functional relationship in his life.”
Sam looked at Will, gesturing her to continue.
“The victim was twenty-three. She was alone in the apartment, her partner was at work. She was raped, tortured, and strangled to the edge of death and then revived. Rinse and repeat.”
Silence followed her statement, all of them trying to make sense of the horror. They wouldn’t be able to, but it was a sign of their humanity that they tried to find some sort of answer that made a little sense.
“What was her name?” Kelby asked.
“Justine Cuzin,” Will swiftly replied. “Black hair and blue eyes, short, buxom.”
Will looked down at the folder she’d opened. “She was a clerk at a vintage shop in the Village. She lived with her long time lesbian partner.”
“What, exactly, links her to the other murders?” Jett asked.
“MO, body placement, similar cuts and bite marks on the body.” Will placed a photograph of a white-faced woman wearing black lipstick on the coffee table in front of Sam. “The similarities to the other murders are obvious.”
Sam picked up Justine’s photo and flicked her nail against the corner of the photograph. “There’s one obvious difference. Justine never threatened me. All she could do, during the trial, was cry. She was devastated by what they did, what she heard. She was, despite her upbringing, a decent kid who made some stupid mistakes.”
Will stood up and jammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, her eyes moving across the room to lock with Kelby’s. Sam watched as a silent communication passed between them and she saw Kelby’s tiny nod of encouragement. Will looked away before bending down to pull a photograph from the bottom o
f the pile and handing it to Sam.
Sam inhaled, mentally preparing herself to look at the crime scene. She’d seen much worse, this was just red letters on a white wall. Written in blood. The killer had taken his time to block print the words, to keep the spaces between the letters even, to wipe away smudges of blood that were out of place.
“...punishing the children for the sin of the father...”
Jett passed the photograph to Stone. “The Bible verse?”
Will nodded. “Yeah. Exodus 20:5, and the phrasing is from the New International Bible,” Will replied. “This killer is methodical, determined, precise. Beautifully printed words using a gloved hand and despite the carnage, no biological evidence was left.”
“Super organized,” Sam murmured.
“So why would this super-organized, smart, methodical killer substitute father for the original word parent? This was an act against Justine’s father, it was an act against Wooly. He couldn’t get to the man himself so he took out, possibly, the only person he really loved.”
“And Wooly threatened Sam, on numerous occasions, the last time being four days ago,” Jett stated, his eyes widening. He frowned, slapping his hands on his hips. “Come on, there’s no way he could’ve known that Wooly threatened Sam when she visited him in prison.”
“Okay, that’s a stretch,” Will conceded. “But the fact is, he threatened Sam. And often.”
Sam felt the punch to her heart and her eyes immediately sought Jett’s. He came over to sit on the arm of the couch and placed his broad hand on her back. Sam immediately felt steadier and cursed herself. She couldn’t start relying on him, for anything.
“So, he’s definitely killing people because of, or for, me?” Sam demanded, her voice high and tight.
“C’mon, Sam, you know better than that,” Will chided her. “He’s killing them for him, for what he gets out of it, and he’s using you as an excuse.”
Will gathered up the photographs, tossed them back into the file, and leaned back in the chair. “The first murder occurred eighteen months ago so something set him off. Any ideas as to what was happening in your life at that time that could’ve been the trigger?”
Sam wished Fern was here, she knew her better than anyone else and would be able to help her remember what was happening in her life then. She bobbed her shoulders. “We took a trip to Europe, Fern and I. I wasn’t dating anyone at the time, I left private practice six months before and stopped doing individual therapy to concentrate on consulting. And to start work on my research.”
“Any interviews, spotlights, TV shows?”
Sam, conscious of Jett’s warm hand, thought back. “No. But the Wooly trial was enough of a circus; I was constantly hassled by the press to do interviews.”
Jett’s fingers dug into the skin of her back. “All roads lead to Rome or, somehow, back to that asshole.”
“He’s in jail, Jett. He didn’t kill this group of people,” Will said and Sam nodded.
“But he’d like to, he didn’t make any bones about that at the jail,” Jett said, standing up. Sam turned to watch him pace the area to the left of her.
“Maybe someone is acting in his name, as his surrogate,” Will suggested. “It’s well documented that serial killers do pick up disciples.”
Sam linked her shaking hands around her knees. They were, after all, discussing a killer wanting to slice and dice her.
She thought about Will’s theory and shook her head. “Disciples tend to mirror the original crimes. And why target people who’ve only insulted me?” Sam asked. “For every person who cursed me, there were ten who supported me, thanked me for the part I played in bringing the killer of their loved ones to justice.”
Jett narrowed his eyes, silently asking for an explanation, for her to keep talking.
“He’s eliminating the people who hurt me. He doesn’t want to kill me,” Sam said, “he wants to keep me.”
“What the fuck—”
Sam clasped her shaking hands together. She couldn’t look at Jett, couldn’t see her fear reflected in his eyes. Because she was relying on him to keep her safe and if he showed fear, she would crawl into a hole and howl.
Sam looked at Kelby, thankful for his thoughtful expression, his inscrutable face. “I can practically guarantee that if he laid hands on me, I would be chained up in his basement and he’d be telling me how much he loved me every time he raped me. But he’d keep me alive until he was forced to kill me.”
“Thank you for that visual,” Jett said, pushing the words through a jaw so tight Sam was sure shards of enamel were dropping from his teeth.
“That,” Will said, dropping to sit on the couch, “makes so much sense.”
“Yeah,” Jett growled. “But it doesn’t help us catch him.”
Chapter Nine
While Stone, Mary and Fern took their seats Jett tried hard to control his temper. He wanted to punch a wall, to kick over the plinth with the expensive bronze sculpture, sweep the glasses off the coffee stable, the folder off Will’s lap. A red haze formed in front of his eyes and his fists clenched, tension tautening his spine. The thought of Samantha being held captive in a dank, dark basement, chained and beaten, made his heart want to explode.
Not on his watch. Not fucking ever.
Kelby’s broad shoulder bumped into Jett’s and before he could lift his fist to punch him, Kelby’s quiet but still commanding voice cut through his anger. “Cool your jets, dude. You losing your temper isn’t going to help.”
Jett lowered his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his black pants, viciously biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. That harsh, coppery taste rolled over his tongue and he hauled in a deep breath, then another.
“You good?” Kelby asked and Jett realized Kelby’s massive frame was shielding him from the rest of the room.
Was he good? No, the woman he was crazy about had landed herself in the crosshairs of two killers! There was nothing good about this situation.
“I’m not gonna freak out,” Jett said, hoping Kelby would believe him because Jett sure as hell wasn’t buying the garbage flying out of his mouth.
“Okay then, I suppose that’s as good as I’m going to get,” Kelby said and lifted a cocky eyebrow. “She’s really got you by the dick and is waving you around, dude.”
Jett scowled at him. “I strongly suggest you shut your mouth and get the hell out of my face.”
Kelby held up his hands in surrender but, seeing the amusement in his eyes, Jett knew that he wasn’t cowed. Like him, Kels was ex-Unit, one of the best of the best. He was also smart enough to distract Jett, stopping him from losing it in this very, very expensive room in front of people he’d come to, in a very short space of time, care for.
Kelby, like always, had Jett’s back.
Calmer now, Jett moved so Kelby wasn’t blocking his view of the room and gripped the back of a leather wingback chair.
He looked at Stone. “Where are we in identifying who is leaking information from your organization to The Recruiter?”
Stone’s face was a study in frustration. “Cracker is mining the data, Seth too, but nothing has jumped out at them. Our mole has serious computer skills.”
“Shit.” Jett rubbed his forehead. “Can we not catch a damn break?”
Jett caught Sam yawning, thinking she looked as exhausted as he did. Their fault, since they’d sacrificed sleep for sex. But he’d do it again, and again. “We need to get to bed.”
Sam blushed and he cursed himself at his poor choice of words. Why not announce it to the room that we’re sleeping together, moron? Jett saw that Fern was about to speak and narrowed his eyes at Sam’s friend, silently suggesting she not go there. Questions about him and Sam, what they had and what they didn’t, could wait until all threats to Sam were neutralized.
And by neutralized he meant dead. Very dead.
“Talking about Cracker...” Mary said, her thin voice cutting through the thick silence in the room.
> Jett jerked his head up and looked behind him to the thin woman perched on the edge of her seat. All the eyes in the room turned to her and Mary seemed to fall in on herself. She ducked her chin into her insubstantial chest and stared down at her modest, low heeled pumps.
“You wanted to say something, Mare?” Sam asked, looking over the back of the couch.
Mary’s brown eyes darted from Sam to Stone and back again. Just get on with it already, lady. Nobody is gonna bite you.
“A thought just occurred to me, something that Jasper used to say...”
Jasper Stone, company founder. Jett mentally urged her to hurry the hell up. Yeah, we know who he is.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter...”
For crying in a friggin’ bucket... He looked at his watch and raised an eyebrow at Kelby and saw his impatience echoed in his friend’s eyes. Damned civilians...
“What did Dad say, Mary?” Stone asked, draining the bourbon from his glass.
Jett noticed Stone’s normally brusque tone softened when he spoke to Mary, probably because she’d known them for most of their lives.
“Oh, he always used to warn his people about sending foxes to smell their own holes... Or was it something about a fox always smells its own lair first? Oh, ignore me, what do I know? I’m being silly.”
Shoot him now, Jett groaned as Stone and Sam rushed to reassure Mary her opinions were always valuable.
And maybe it was. Jett looked at Kelby, who raised one eyebrow, silently showing his concern. What did they know about Cracker? He was the one person in Pytheon who was able to code his way past Seth, who would be able to completely cover his binary tracks. The guy was a freaking genius. And, being a genius, could he be playing both sides? It wouldn’t be the first and last time.
Sam jumped to her feet, her palms raised in a “just stop” gesture. “Do not go there,” she warned him, her eyes flashing. “Cracker’s not the leak.”
“And how do you know that?” Jett asked her.
“Yeah, I’m with Samantha, Cracker is as loyal as hell.” Stone backed Sam up, his expression cast in stone.