He climbed from the bike. Took off his helmet. Tossed it to the ground as he faced her. “No, it isn’t.”
Her breath rushed out. Her eyes widened. She stumbled back. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. “Jon?” Then she shook her head. “Y-you shouldn’t be here. The cops—a marshal—was just looking for you!” Her voice trembled with fear.
She was right to be afraid.
Then her gaze dropped to the motorcycle. “That’s Ben’s bike.”
It was. The streak of yellow-and-gold fire rushing down the side was rather distinctive. The fire was set to reflect in the darkness—a rather interesting touch, he had to admit.
“Where’s Ben?”
The insects had quieted down. Her stark whisper carried so easily in the night.
“Ben let me borrow his bike,” he said, unable to stop the smile that slid across his face. This was gonna be so much fun. “But don’t worry about him right now. This is about us, just us.”
Terror was stamped on her face. She’d never looked at him that way before. Stacy had been the one to get dragged from the courtroom as she shouted his innocence. She’d been the one to tell him, again and again, that the truth would come out eventually.
The truth had come out. She’d been too blind to see it.
“What changed?” he asked, actually curious. It wouldn’t alter his plans, nothing would change them, but he did want to know when she’d lost her faith in him.
Her hand rose to her neck. Fumbled with the small gold chain there. “I found it.”
“Found what?”
“That woman’s necklace. Ginger Thomas! You put her necklace in my jewelry box!” She screamed the last at him. There was no one around to hear her screams, but he wouldn’t let her scream for long.
He shook his head. “I didn’t put the necklace in your box.”
She shook her head. “You did! You killed those women and you—”
“I didn’t put the necklace in your box,” he said once more as he closed in on her. Stacy didn’t even try to run. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was fear. His hands locked around her, and he jerked her up against him. “But just so you know, I did kill those women.”
Her mouth dropped in surprise.
“And I’m going to kill you.”
She tried to scream. No time for that. His knife sliced across her throat.
She stared at him, her eyes desperate and wild, as a faint, keening gurgle came from her throat.
“You shouldn’t have fucked around on me, baby. When I told you that you were mine forever, I meant it.”
He yanked the knife away and watched her knees buckle. She hit the ground even as her hand rose and tried to stop the blood flow.
Nothing was going to stop that. While she couldn’t scream any longer, he bent over her.
He’d known he’d come back for Stacy. To punish her. She’d promised him forever, but she hadn’t even come to visit him in prison. Not once.
The knife sliced over her arm.
Not one single visit…
Another slice.
Tears poured from her. So did blood.
It was her cry that woke him. Soft, but scared, it penetrated the light layer of sleep that surrounded Anthony and his eyes flew open. In the next instant, he was on his feet and running for Lauren’s door.
The sound came again. A gasp, a sob. Hard to tell. He just knew one thing for certain. It was coming from her.
“Lauren?” He raised his voice. Pounded on the door. “Lauren, open the door.”
There were no creaks of the floor. No sign that she was coming toward him.
Another gasp. So weak and whispery.
He grabbed his gun. Tension had tightened his body. He lifted his foot, and he kicked in the damn door.
The lock shattered, chunks of wood near the door frame went flying, and the door swung back beneath the blow.
The room was dark inside, but he could make out Lauren’s form in the bed. She lurched up, breath heaving, and screamed.
He was on the bed two seconds later. “It’s okay!”
She’d yanked the sheet up to her chest. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, revealing and concealing her, but he was close enough to see her eyes, and when he lifted his hand, he felt the wet tear tracks on her cheeks.
“You’re safe, baby.”
Her head turned. Her gaze fell on the gun in his hands. “Hard to believe…” Her voice was husky, and he shouldn’t have found it sexy right then, shouldn’t have found her sexy when she was scared, but he did. He always found her sexy. “Hard to believe I’m safe…” she said again, her voice getting a little stronger. “With the gun so close to me.”
Right. Carefully, he put the gun down on the nightstand. He turned on the small lamp so he could see her better. He wiped her tears away.
She flinched. “I’m okay.”
“You didn’t sound okay.” He knew fear when he heard it.
Her grip tightened on the sheet. “It was just a nightmare.”
He stared at her.
“Karen was my friend. I can’t get what he did to her out of my head.” Her head tilted down, and the curtain of her hair fell around her, concealing her expression from him. “I know she had to be so afraid. In so much pain, and…no one was there to help her.”
He pulled her against his chest. Wrapped his arms around her. Held her. “She’s not in pain anymore.”
Lauren shuddered. “That doesn’t make me feel better. I close my eyes, and I hear her. Begging me to help. But I can’t. I can’t do a damn thing.”
He tightened his hold on her. “Yes, you can. We can catch the bastard.”
“Before he comes to butcher me, too?”
The question was there, heavy between them, and her words burned right through him. “That’s not happening.”
Her laugh was bitter. Broken. “Tony, we know how these cases go. Criminals want payback against the DA. Against the judge—against the cops who arrested them. We get threats all the time.” Her head lifted. She stared up at him. “Walker’s different. He likes killing. He likes hurting. And since his victims tend to be women, he’s locking on me.”
“I won’t let him get to you.”
“You can’t be my shield twenty-four hours a day.”
No, but he’d like to be.
He brushed her hair back. The bed carried her sweet scent, tempting him. No, she tempted. Always her.
“You ran to the rescue,” she murmured. “But that door’s gonna cost you.”
Screw the door.
His fingers slid down her arm. Her shoulders were bare. What was she wearing beneath the sheet?
“When we were alone”—the words came from him, growling out as tension and need hardened his body even more—“you always burned so hot.”
Her skin was like silk beneath his fingers. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“Tony…”
That was it. The breathy catch in her voice. The way she said his name with need shaking in the one word. “I missed that.”
His fingers rose. Slid through the softness of her hair so that he could turn her head toward him. “I missed you.” A guttural truth.
They were alone. No prying eyes.
She always burned so hot when they were alone…
“You said that before,” she whispered. “Am I really supposed to believe you? You stayed away—for five years.”
No, he hadn’t stayed away. He’d come back. Had to see her.
She’d been with someone else.
Anger coiled within him, but he kept a death grip on his control. “Believe this.” Then his mouth was on hers. Finally. Fucking finally.
She tasted just like he remembered. Soft, rich, sweet wine with an edge of spice that made him feel drunk almost from the first taste.
Drunk, and wild for her.