Beneath the blankets she felt cold and pulled her knees to her chest. “And then?”
“We’d landed upside down and I’d been knocked out cold. When I came to, Susan was bleeding out, begging me to wake up, to help the baby. But it was too late.” He swallowed hard and deliberately put the picture back on his nightstand. “I heard her voice in my mind for a very, very long time.”
Eve’s cheeks were wet. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No. Didn’t change the end though.”
She rested her chin on her knees. “Winters is like a bad song that won’t get out of my mind. He died in prison. Some con stabbed him in the showers.”
“I know. I’m glad, because I would have been tempted to do it myself.”
He was totally serious and bizarrely that made her feel safe. “The day I found out he was dead, everyone had gathered at Caroline’s, you know, Tom’s mother. They were having a picnic. I wouldn’t go, so Dana stayed home with me. I couldn’t face anyone.”
“Understandable.”
“Perhaps. I wonder what would have happened if someone had shoved me out of the house that day. If I’d have hidden in the dark for so long.”
“You can’t second-guess, honey. Trust me, I did it for a long time. And every time I’d just find myself staring at the bottom of an empty bottle.”
“You’re right. I know that and I’m not blaming anyone. Except maybe myself.”
“Well, that needs to stop, here and now.” He swiped at her wet cheeks with his thumb. “You beat him, Eve. You survived.”
“So did you.”
“Barely, and with a lot of help from my family, but I did. And here we are.”
So where will we go? Eve looked across him to the picture of the beautiful family he’d lost. “I can’t give you a family like you had.”
His jaw tightened. “And I told you that didn’t matter.”
“And I still don’t believe you. You’re such a good man. You should be a dad. I just wanted you to know that if you change your mind… that it’s okay. I’d understand.”
Even in the darkness she could see his eyes flash. “Eve, you are really pissing me off.” Abruptly he slid down, lying flat on his back, glaring up at the ceiling. Then he sighed. “Are you going to sit over there all by yourself all night?”
“Probably not,” she said cautiously.
“Come here.” He waited until she complied, settling her head against his shoulder. “You might decide you don’t want me,” he said pragmatically, although she heard the vulnerability in his voice. “Some young guy comes along… you may decide that’s what you want. We can’t know what will happen, Eve. For now, this is what we have.”
She tilted her head back to look at him. “For now, this is what I want.”
Too many emotions shifted in his eyes for her to read any of them. “Good,” he said. “Now go to sleep. I have it on good authority that you can only live one day at a time.”
She cuddled closer, her palm resting atop the coarse dark hair that covered his chest. She was absurdly happy he had a hairy chest. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought she’d experience, this tickling against her palm, the feel of his heart beating steadily beneath her fingertips. The smell of a man as she nuzzled, satisfied. And she realized she was simply, absurdly happy.
“Eve?”
“Hmm?”
“What was it like to die?”
She lifted her head to look into his face, unsurprised to find his green eyes blank, waiting. “I’m sure it’s different for everyone.”
“What was it like for you?”
Her eyes flickered to the photo. How excruciating to know those he loved most were in pain, be forced to hear his wife’s desperate cries, and be helpless to save them.
“It…” She searched for the right word. “It lured. Come. Rest. I wasn’t afraid, but I was angry. I was only eighteen and I didn’t want to go. I flatlined twice. The time in between I could hear the medics yelling to stay with them and I wanted to scream, ‘I’m trying.’ It was then I became afraid. It was like… quicksand and I couldn’t get footing and it all slipped away again. The second time was harder. I wanted to just rest. But I fought. And I made it back. I hope that’s what you wanted to hear.”
“I always hoped she wasn’t afraid,” he said hoarsely. “But I wanted her to fight.”
Eve brushed her fingertips over his cheek. “Did she love you?”
“Yes.”
He said it with an assurance that made her eyes sting. “Then I’m sure she fought. But when she was too tired to fight anymore, I’m sure she felt safe. As did your son.”
He swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
She kissed him, softly. “You’re welcome.” She’d started to slide back to his shoulder when his hands gripped her face, pulling her back to his mouth for more, and she gave it to him, in seconds the kiss exploding. He grabbed her hips and, as in the backseat of his old car, swung her over to straddle him.
“Please.” The word ground from his throat as he ate at her mouth. It was he who begged this time and Eve felt powerful. The first time he’d been patient, the second he’d lost control, but this time he needed her.
He was suddenly, fully aroused and Eve lowered herself onto him, taking him inside her. Her breath caught when his fingers dug into her hips, bringing her down hard, making her feel every inch of him. She sat back, and he went deeper still.
“You feel so good,” she whispered, hissing out a breath when his hands covered her breasts and she began to move. He matched the frantic rhythm of her hips, her name a chant on his lips as he begged her not to stop.
She couldn’t stop. It was a wave, an incredible towering wave, and she rode its crest until he groaned, rearing up to close his mouth over her breast, hungrily suckling, his hands hard on her back pressing her down, his body twisting up.
Then the wave broke and she cried out. She wrapped her arms around his head and held him close as she rode it in, barely hearing his cry as his body went rigid, jerking against her. His shoulders sagged and he buried his face between her breasts, his muscles twitching as he came back to earth with her.
Without a word he sank back against his pillow, bringing her with him, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. A laugh bubbled up and out of her, a purely happy sound of delight. “Are you always so… functional, Detective Webster?”
“No.” He pressed a weary kiss to the top of her head. “You’re good for me, Eve.”
And somehow it was that simple. That easy. “You’re good for me, too.” Her arms slid around his neck and his hands moved down her back to close over her butt possessively, kneading so very gently. And finally, sleep came.
Thursday, February 25, 3:15 a.m.
He let out a shuddering breath mixed with a groan. God. After killing Virginia Fox, he’d needed that. His heart pounding in his chest, he released the throat he clutched and sat back, staring at the woman on the narrow, filthy bed in his basement. He didn’t know her name and he didn’t care.
He climbed off her, his body still twitching in climax. He’d nearly lost it at Virginia’s house, holding on by a mere thread as he’d silenced her for eternity. Because it hadn’t been Virginia’s face he saw, but Eve’s. He’d imagined it to be Eve’s throat, Eve’s terror.
As he’d dressed Virginia, staged the scene, then hoisted her body onto the hook in her ceiling, his hands had been shaking like a schoolboy’s. But he’d maintained control, even as he’d completed the final detail on his final victim. The pièce de résistance.
He had finished with Virginia, finished with his six, but a fire had raged within him, his mind churning too violently to think. So he’d driven blindly into the city, chosen another that no one would miss. Now, he could think again. He looked at the dead stranger in his bed. Soon, he wouldn’t have to pretend to see Eve’s face. Soon it would be Eve in that bed, her terror that propelled him upward.