I Can See You

Chapter Twenty-one

Wednesday, February 24, 11:20 p.m.

Noah blew out a relieved breath when Eve emerged with Brock, walking unaided. “You better be happy they’re not hurt, you little shit,” Noah muttered.

“I would’ve,” Farmer snarled. “I would’ve killed all of them while you watched.”

Noah held on to his temper. Barely. He’d recited Miranda, but Farmer had screamed through it. Farmer starting screaming again as Brock ran to his side, holding Farmer down while Noah dug plasticuffs from his pocket and secured Farmer’s kicking feet.

Eve cut Trina’s bonds and helped her to the sofa amid Dell’s promised retribution, delivered at a pitch that could shatter glass.

“You guys need a medic?” Noah asked.

Brock and Trina checked each other for injuries. “Nah,” Brock said, “I think we’re good with just some ice. Eve has informed me I have a nasty bump.” He lifted his brows in an attempt at levity. “I never would have known otherwise.”

Now that it was over, Noah chanced a look at Eve and his heart tumbled. She stood, still calm, holding one of Trina’s butcher knives in her hand. Noah stood, wincing a little. He lifted Eve’s chin where a bruise was forming, his jaw going hard. “He hit you.”

“I’m okay. Really.”

“You were a hell of a lot better than okay.” Needing to hold her, but aware of Brock’s and Trina’s curious eyes avidly watching every move, Noah stepped back. “I’ll call Abbott. The three of you should go ice yourselves.”

Brock helped Trina to her feet. “I’ll have bourbon with my ice.”

“I’m not on duty,” Eve shot back, laughing as she walked with them to the kitchen.

She was a fascinating woman, Noah thought. So often, she stood back and watched the world go by. But when she found herself thrust into it, she… sparkled.

Distraction? Perhaps. But a welcome one. He glanced down at Farmer. And now that this SOB was in custody, she was no longer in danger. She needed no safe house.

He could take her home. Or to mine. He swallowed hard as he thought about taking up where they’d left off earlier that evening. But other priorities came first.

Noah took his cell from his pocket, his adrenaline already receding. Abbott had told him Donner was gone and commanded him to meet him and CSU at Donner’s house.

“Bruce, it’s Noah,” he said when Abbott picked up.

“Where are you?” Abbott asked acidly. “And what’s all that racket?”

“At my cousin’s house and the racket is Farmer. I brought Eve to stay with Brock, but Farmer was already here, waiting. Long story short, he’s cuffed and lying on the floor.”

“My God,” Abbott said, the acid drained from his tone. “Is everyone okay?”

“Brock’s got a bumped head. Trina, Eve, and I have some bruises. Farmer’s alive.” Two uniformed officers came through the front door. “Backup just arrived.”

“Good. It’ll be a pleasure to see him rot in prison. I’ll let Olivia know.”

“What about Donner?”

“Still no sign of him,” Abbott said, but Noah’s attention was suddenly fixed on Farmer who had stopped screaming and was now laughing like a crazed hyena.

“Wait,” Noah said to Abbott, then crouched next to Farmer. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Farmer said. “Looking for Donner. He almost got you good tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

Farmer shrugged, a smirk on his face. “You’ll see. Or maybe you won’t, then pow. It’ll be night-night-Noah and your pretty Eve, too.”

Noah leaned in close. “Tell me what you know,” he said quietly.

Farmer’s smirk grew more mocking. “Or you’ll do what? Other than kill me, there’s nothing more you can do to me.” His smirk became a sneer. “So go fuck yourself.”

Noah rose and nodded to the uniforms. “Take him in. Mirandize him again. He screamed while I did it and I don’t want any sleazy lawyer saying he never was advised of his rights. Keep him restrained, and watch his damn feet,” he called after them.

“What did he mean?” Abbott asked. “Night-night-Noah.”

“I don’t know. But he’d heard Donner’s name before.” Then Noah remembered. “Of course. He was at Marshall yesterday. He met Jeremy Lyons, who works for Donner. He might have met Donner then. What did you find at Donner’s house?”

“Broken glass in a back door, nobody home. Looks like he and his wife went away.”

“Damn. Do we know where?” Noah demanded.

“I’ve got a request for his LUDs in process, Noah,” Abbott said. “And a BOLO. None of the neighbors know where they might have gone.”

Noah sighed. “I really believed Donner wasn’t our man. Now, he’s bolted and Crazy Boy Farmer says he’s out to get me. I should have had surveillance on him all along.”

“I put surveillance in front of the two women’s houses you sent me, Natalie Clooney and Kathy Kirk. For now, we have Eve’s frequent users covered, so his victim pool has been warned. You go home, get some rest. You’ve had a pretty busy day.”

Noah found himself too relieved to argue. “Haven’t we all. How’s Jack?”

“Still critical. They said they’d know by morning. I’ll call you with any news.”

Thursday, February 25, 12:25 a.m.

Noah turned off his engine and everything went silent as the two of them sat in his driveway. They had been inordinately lucky.

Or fate had smiled. Eve wasn’t sure which she believed anymore.

She only knew the silence had grown louder with every mile. When he hadn’t taken the turnoff to her apartment, she’d known this moment was coming. Her mind kept going back to the backseat of his old car and inside her whirled arousal… and fear. A lot of fear. In her mind she knew it was unfounded. Noah wouldn’t hurt her.

After staring straight ahead at his garage door for a full minute, she chanced a glance at Noah from the corner of her eye. He looked grim. “I don’t know what to do next,” he confessed and she saw compassion as an easy way out for them both.

“Noah, you’re tired. Take me home and get some rest, just like Abbott ordered.”

“Do you want that?” he asked, and her pounding heart pounded harder.

“If we go inside, what happens next?”

He didn’t blink. “We can sleep. Or not. Your call.”

Everything inside her clenched. “Can we just dip our toe in and see where it goes?”

“We can do anything you want, Eve,” he said, volleying the ball into her court again.

“It’s just…” She shrugged. “The last time I had sex with a guy he tried to kill me.”

Now he blinked. “You said there’d been another between then and now.”

“One other that didn’t go very well. Actually, it didn’t go at all.”

His dark brows went up, hidden beneath the brim of his hat. “Why not?”

“He couldn’t. He really tried, but he… couldn’t.”

“Did you love him?”

“No. It was more like a mutual favor between friends.” She pursed her lips. “Yeah.”

Noah pushed his hat back on his head and stared at her. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, remember that doctor? The one who’d had the accident?”

“You had sex with him?”

“Well… no. Which is the point. He and I got to talking one day and I wondered if I still could. You know, if everything still… worked. He said he’d be willing to try.”

“What a guy,” Noah said dryly.

“Yeah, well.” Eve chuckled awkwardly. “It’s kind of funny now, but it sure wasn’t funny then, for either of us. I think I was more upset for him than about myself.”

“Not surprising,” he murmured.

“About a year ago he called me. He’s met someone and he’s happy. And functional.” Her smile was half fond and half embarrassed. “He made sure I knew that.”

“What a guy,” Noah said again. He hooked his finger under her chin, tugging until she looked up at him again. Then his head dipped, his mouth covered hers, and he kissed her so thoroughly her toes curled in her boots. He pulled back just far enough to see her face. “You want to dip your toe in, Eve, or do you want to dive into a cold pool?”

In his eyes was heated challenge she couldn’t ignore if she wanted to. And, to her relief, she found she didn’t want to. “Cold pool,” she said and his eyes flashed, with triumph probably. But that was okay because she was feeling triumphant herself.

Noah paused long enough to throw the deadbolt on his front door and take her computer bag and coat. Then he took her hand and led her back to his bed.

He’d had a flash of insight at Brock and Trina’s. For all Eve’s outer calm, she was timid. Terrified even. The last six years of her life had been all about dipping her toe in.

But he’d watched her when she was put face to face with people. She interacted. She came alive. She just needed that nudge. So did I. He’d needed whatever had put them together. Call it fate or luck or whatever, he didn’t intend to spend another day watching her over his tonic water.

He stopped next to his bed, set his gun on his nightstand. Then he slid his hands into her short hair and took her mouth the way he’d wanted to from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, letting her feel what he’d kept pent up for one very long year. With a low, satisfied hum she leaned up into him, grabbing his wrists for balance, then her hands slid down his arms, under his suit coat, flattening against his back. With kissing she was comfortable. He prayed she’d be comfortable with what came next.

“These are the rules of this game,” he said against her lips. “You say ‘stop’ or ‘wait’ at any time and I will. But if you say nothing, I keep going. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, her fingers digging into his back. “Just hurry.”

But he wouldn’t hurry. He’d given them the nudge they needed, but had no intention of flying so fast that they missed the trip. He spent time on her mouth, kissing her long and deep and lush until the hands that gripped his back slid up his chest and around his neck. He ran his mouth over the cheek she could feel and down the scar she couldn’t.

He ran his lips down her neck, over and past the leather choker he’d never seen her without, until he got to the collar of her sweater. She’d pushed his suit coat off his shoulders and to the floor and was tugging his shirt from his trousers and it was all he could do not to throw her on the bed and plunge deep.

But he didn’t hurry, didn’t rush. Didn’t push her. Didn’t need to. She was struggling with the buttons of his shirt and he pulled back to give her room.

She looked up, her eyes dark, intense. “My hands are clumsy.”

“I don’t mind.” When she’d finished, he shrugged out of the shirt.

For a moment she simply looked at him and he felt oddly… humbled. “I always wondered what went on under your suits,” she said softly. “I never thought I’d find out.”

“I’m glad you were wrong.”

She smiled at that, shyly, but her hands were clenched together. She was nervous again, but she hadn’t told him to stop, so he started anew. He kissed her until she kissed him back and her hands unclenched, flattening on his chest, and he shuddered.

He’d missed this. Needed this. He dropped his head to her shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” And she didn’t, fanning her palms back and forth, exploring.

He lifted his head and watched her face as she touched him. She’d needed this, too. “I like the summer,” he said abruptly and she looked up, surprise in her eyes.

“Why?”

“Because you have this shirt that you wear to the bar.” He trailed his fingers up under her sweater, along her stomach, and felt her muscles clench and quiver. “It’s cut high. When you twist a certain way, I could see part of your tattoo. What is it?”

She swallowed hard. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

“I could do that.” He pulled her sweater over her head, revealing a plain, serviceable bra that shouldn’t have made his mouth water, but it did. Gently he pushed her to the bed and followed her down, running his fingers over the skin he’d bared.

He pressed his lips between her breasts then forced himself to lift his head. “This drove me crazy all summer.” Vines crept up from the waist of her jeans, curling this way and that. Some bore tiny flowers. In some places the vines were thicker than others.

She was holding her breath. He ran his fingertip over one of the thicker vines, felt the hardened, raised skin beneath. And understood. They were the scars from the eight times she’d been stabbed. She’d turned something horrific into something beautiful.

He waited to meet her eyes, waited until he’d shoved all the sorrow and rage back deep, where she couldn’t see. Waited until the only thing left was pride. And desire. “This is one hell of a tattoo,” he said, his voice between husky and hoarse.

She breathed then, her tension ebbing. “It keeps going. You know. Down.”

Noah’s mouth curved even as his fingers itched to rip the jeans from her body and see just how far down the vines dipped. “I can see that.”

She exhaled through her teeth. “Hurry, Noah.”

But he wouldn’t let himself be hurried. He kissed the skin above her bra, then below it until her shoulders lifted from the bed, seeking more. Finally she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth to her breast and he gave in, sucking hard through the cotton, groaning when she pushed the fabric away.

She twisted higher, humming her pleasure when he took her other breast in his mouth. “More,” she whispered. “Do more. Please. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

His hands shaking, he yanked the jeans and lace panties down her long legs, leaving her naked and wide-eyed, waiting for his reaction.

He had to wait, to make sure his voice didn’t crack like a teenager’s. “I always wondered what went on under your clothes. I never thought I’d find out.”

She said nothing, still waiting, and his heart squeezed even as his body throbbed.

“Eve, I imagined a lot, but never like this. You’re beautiful.”

Her eyes closed and her throat worked. “Hurry,” was all she whispered and he knew she was terrified. Noah wanted to curse, no, to kill the man who’d left her scarred and scared. But that wouldn’t help either of them now.

No pressure, he thought and let his own trousers drop to the floor in a jingle of keys. She flinched, just a little, but he saw. So he lay down beside her and started again, kissing, caressing, until her hands relaxed and her hips lifted, her body seeking his.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m ready.” But her eyes were still closed.

“No, you’re not.” He kept his voice soft. “Look at me, Eve.”

She opened her eyes. There was arousal there, but still too much fear. He brought her hand to his lips, then down his body, wrapping her fingers around him.

“That feels so good,” he said huskily. “I want you to feel good, not afraid.” He covered her mouth with his once more and teased her, working one finger up into her, then two until her hips moved restlessly and little cries burst from her throat.

Now, he thought. It had to be now. Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside her, watching her face. When her eyes met his, relief hit him like a brick. Arousal had won.

And so had Eve. He started to move, never taking his eyes from hers, and when they clouded with pleasure he felt like he’d conquered the whole damn world. When she came, convulsing around him, he dropped his head to her shoulder and followed.

In the minutes afterward, he felt dizzying relief. He might have had more powerful orgasms, but never one more satisfying. There would be time for powerful later. Now he rolled them to their sides, and savored what they’d done.

Eve blew out a breath. “I’m glad that’s over,” she murmured.

Startled, he blinked down at her. “Excuse me?”

She winced. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant… hell. We dove into a cold pool and I was so scared, but you… you were so patient with me. You couldn’t have enjoyed that very much.” Her brows lifted. “Although you were exceptionally functional.”

He snorted a surprised laugh. “I’ll have you know I enjoyed it very much. As did you.”

She smiled shyly, charmingly. “I did.”

“Now that we’re finally in the pool, we’ll both enjoy it more the next time.”

“Next time?” She looked intrigued. “When might that be?”

He laughed again. “Give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For understanding that I needed the shove.”

“Thank you for trusting me.” He raised one brow. “And for… you know.”

“I do know,” she said sagely. “I’d be interested in knowing again. If you don’t mind.”

“I think I can sacrifice.”

Thursday, February 25, 12:30 a.m.

He drove by Adele Donner’s house, pleased to see Donald’s car in the driveway. The house was dark, its occupants tucked into bed. For now, the fact that Donner was staying with his wife and very elderly mother made for a wonderfully thin alibi.

He’d let the Hat Squad have Donner for a little while. They’d question. Interrogate. Use their tough, scary voices. Donner would deny and tremble. Maybe they’d arrest him right away, but Donner had sufficient assets to pay the bail the judge would set. Then later, he’d take him and hold him where no one would find him.

The cops would search high and low, while the press seethed and the public’s respect for Hat Squad seeped away. And when they’d been sufficiently humiliated, Donner would be found, having hanged himself, his suicide note a full confession.

Webster would close the case, defeated and maligned. And then I go back to the way things were. Quietly eliminating the dregs of society nobody would miss.

He drove away from Adele Donner’s house. It was time for the sixth of his six to die.

Thursday, February 25, 12:30 a.m.

Virginia Fox looked in the mirror, sighed angrily. She was not a beautiful woman, and that always mattered to men. She had hoped that this man would be different, but she knew he wouldn’t be. His screen name was Dasich. His real name was John.

He was a newbie to Shadowland, eager to learn, and like all the men, he knew how to sniff out the women who could actually accomplish something. She’d helped him along, shown him the ropes, knowing he’d find some excuse to skip away when he’d learned his fill. So she’d been shocked when he wanted to meet.

More shocked to learn that he lived nearby. In Wisconsin. He wanted a late-night meet. Said he worked strange shifts, but Virginia knew the code. He was married and cheating on his wife. It didn’t matter. It would never go as far as sex. It never did.

Men took one look and went running.

She wasn’t a troll. “I may not be beautiful like Natalie, but I’m okay,” she snarled to the mirror, angrily slashing lipstick over her mouth. Pretty Natalie, smart Natalie. The “I-just-got-a-promotion-and-a-big-raise” Natalie. The “I’m-your-new-boss” Natalie.

“Fuck Natalie.” She threw the lipstick in her purse.

She’d brought Natalie into Shadowland to take her down a few pegs. Make her compete in my world. But some evil genie demon had touched her and Natalie was good at poker, too. Fucking pact with Satan. “She used me. Took what I knew and got me thrown out of my own place.”

Turned on me, reported me for cheating. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right. I spent months building my skill points. Months. And now, it was all gone. Taken away by…

Natalie. “God, I hate that bitch.”

John had been right about her all along. Using me, just to make her look better.

Virginia would have the last laugh. At least tonight she’d be meeting a man, unlike Natalie who’d be home playing poker, all alone. Sucked into the game.

Virginia hoped Natalie got addicted. Maybe she’d lose her job. Virginia brightened. Hey, that was possible. Then Natalie would lose her swanky house, her nice car. And where do you think she’ll come crawling? “Here,” Virginia snapped aloud, pulling her front door closed behind her. And then it’ll be payback time.

She threw her purse into her car so hard it bounced. “I’ll kick your ass to the curb so hard it’ll leave skid marks. Tell me not to meet my man tonight. Tell me it’s not safe.” Greedy bitch. She just wanted all the men, the money, and the power all for herself.

Well, John was one guy Natalie wasn’t going to get. Virginia would see to that.

Thursday, February 25, 12:30 a.m.

He pulled into the parking lot, gratified to see Virginia’s car parked outside. She’d been so easy to lure, so jealous of her friend Natalie. He was sure Natalie had no idea how much her “friend” despised her. Everything had come so easily for Natalie, her career, her family, even the men that had come in and out of Natalie’s life. Men she took for granted while Virginia had been forced to listen to Natalie’s exploits.

Virginia had invited Natalie to the Shadowland poker table to get some payback, instead finding this an area where Natalie also excelled. He had to admit, in all his years he’d met few opponents so formidable. He’d actually never planned to kill Natalie Clooney. She was the closest to real competition he’d ever met. When he went back to the quiet killing, he’d reregister in Shadowland and buy another avatar. The poker table was a place he’d really grown to enjoy, so he’d go back.

And when he did, there’d be no Virginia to spoil his game. When he’d come along, Virginia had been ripe for the picking. It wasn’t hard to get her help in beating Natalie at poker. It wasn’t hard to lure her into side conversations where she bared her soul on topics from the boss that was against her, to her fear of the dark, to her incompetent therapist. He pitied anyone who had to listen to that woman for any length of time.

He despised a whining woman. His mother had whined. All the time. Finally, he’d grown tired of her. He imagined the world was weary of listening to Virginia Fox, too.

Soon, the world would be a little bit quieter.

Thursday, February 25, 1:45 a.m.

Eve lay with her head pillowed on Noah’s shoulder. Her fingers toyed with the coarse hair on his chest that rose and fell as he slept.

But she was wide awake, mind and body. Noah hadn’t lied. They’d both enjoyed it a lot more the second time. She shivered, remembering, mind and body.

A whole lot more. The first time hadn’t been a dive into a cold pool, as much as a protracted glide. The second time? Most definitely a dive, fast, furious, and satisfying.

She stretched sinuously, aware of every well-earned twinge. It was as if he’d used up all of his slow and gentle the first time. He’d finally lost control, plunging hard and deep, ruthlessly dragging her along for one hell of a ride.

When she’d come, she’d felt alive. Invincible. And when he’d come, she’d watched his face and finally felt beautiful again. Whole. For the first time in a very long time.

And now, in the quiet, she wondered if she’d ever have gotten to this place with anyone else. She thought about Callie’s theory that she’d trusted him because he was “the one.” Perhaps. Perhaps not. Whether that was true or not long term, he was definitely the one for now and Eve felt a gratitude that she suspected he would reject.

Her eye caught a small picture on the nightstand and gingerly she reached across him to grab it, taking care not to wake him. They’d turned out the bedroom lights, so she rolled away from him to hold the picture up to a shaft of moonlight coming through the curtains. It was a woman with a small child and she felt the slickness of the wood, worn smooth by a caressing thumb, and she pictured him sitting in his bed staring at the family he’d lost. Her throat closed and the hope and beauty she’d felt fizzled a little.

He’d never get a family like this again. Not with me.

“That’s Susan,” he said quietly and she jumped. “And Noah,” he added. “My son.”

She pulled the blankets up to cover herself. He eyed the movement, his eyes taking on that blank expression she now knew hid his heart.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said as he sat up, pushing a pillow behind his head.

“I wasn’t asleep. I was just enjoying holding you. It was a long time coming.”

“Yes, it was.” She held out the picture and he took it, his eyes still blank.

“Susan was a clerk in ballistics,” he said. “I’d just finished the academy, and didn’t have a hundred dollars to my name. Somehow, she was still interested in me.”

Eve’s throat tightened. She had no problem visualizing any woman falling for Noah Webster. I did, the first time I saw him. “She was beautiful. So was Noah, Jr.”

He smiled then, wryly. “Noah the fifth. Poor kid.”

His smile loosened the vise around her throat, just a little. “So your mother wasn’t being professorial when she named you Noah Webster. I wondered.”

“My mom can’t spell ‘professorial’ without Webster’s dictionary,” he said, genuine affection in his voice. “She’s a smart woman, but can’t spell to save her life. There’s no actual family connection to the dictionary Noah, other than some great-great way back who thought it was a name with stature.”

“It is,” she said. “And it suits you.”

“It’s my name, like it or not. Mom had to name me Noah, and I had to name him Noah.” He studied the picture with a sigh. “I thought my life was over when I lost them.”

He seemed to want to talk, so she obliged. “You said there was an accident.”

“Yeah. Stupid teenager driving a car packed with his friends, coming home from a football game. The radio was too loud and they were having too much fun. Ran a red light. I swerved to avoid them, skidded on some ice, ran off the road, rolled down a hill.”

He’d recited the story as if it were a police report. “And the stupid kids?” she asked.

“They fled the scene, but one of my friends from the force caught up with them later.”

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.

Tomorrow, he’d have the look on Webster’s face when he gazed up into Virginia’s face. The sight of her remains would remain in the cops’ minds for a very long time. They would feel responsible. They’d been so certain that they understood him, that they could predict him. That they’d warned the potential victims.

They knew nothing. It would eat at them, taking apart their confidence brick by brick.

It had been a good night. Once he cleaned up, he could go home and sleep. He was tired, but it was a good tired. The sixth of his six was finished. The Hat Squad would be exposed for their hubris and incompetence. And he would relax and enjoy the show.

He pulled back the concrete slab and frowned. He’d have to lay off for a while after this. Apparently too many bodies at the same time slowed the process. He grimaced at the sight of Jeremy Lyons’s hand poking up out of the layer of dirt and lime.

He cut the ropes binding his latest prey, then stopped, staring at her face. But it wasn’t tonight’s dead hooker he saw. It was… Sunday’s. Wild dogs. He’d told her she’d be torn apart by wild dogs. Her eyes had been blue, the roots of her hair auburn.

His mind clear, the association clicked. He’d seen that face. Tonight. Where?

In the hospital. She’d looked tired and… terrified. Leaving the dead hooker where she lay, he went to the drawer next to where he kept all the old cell phones. It held dozens of wallets and driver’s licenses. He found the license from Sunday’s whore. Lindsay Barkley. He found her cell phone in the next drawer and turned it on, clicking through the photos she’d stored there. There she was. The girl he’d seen tonight.

Why was she at the hospital? He thought hard, remembered the tall young man who’d been with her, and drew a breath. The young man knew Eve Wilson.

Perhaps the girl knew nothing. But he would not take that chance. He looked at Lindsay’s license. He knew where she’d lived. He’d swing by on his way into morning meeting. Have a little chat with the girl. He’d take care of her easily.

He grabbed tonight’s hooker by the ankles and dragged her to the pit. It was pretty full, but he thought it could accommodate two more. Lindsay’s sister and Eve were both tall, it was true, but both were slender. They wouldn’t take up too much space.

And then no more for a while, he told himself. Which was not a problem. Once this endeavor was complete, his stress would recede to a manageable level and in a few months when he hunted his next prey, so would have the pit.

Thursday, February 25, 3:30 a.m.

Olivia’s cell phone rang, rousing her from what had been a very pleasant dream on the cot in the break room at the station. Dell Farmer was a tough nut to crack. Kane and Abbott had taken a turn questioning him while she caught a few winks. Blinking hard, she flipped her phone open. “Sutherland,” she said, swallowing a yawn.

“It’s Tom. Tom Hunter.”

Olivia sat up and turned on the light next to the cot. “Is David all right?” Of course he was. He had to be. The hospital would have called her if there’d been any issues.

“Yeah. I talked to him around ten and he was going to sleep.” On the other end, she heard Tom sigh. “This is going to sound so paranoid and you’re going to be mad.”

“I’ve got security on your uncle,” Olivia said as kindly as she could. “He’ll be fine.”

“Olivia, I was out tonight. With Liza.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Define ‘out.’ As in ‘on a date’? Or as in ‘hunting bad guys’?”

“The second one. Wait,” he inserted before she could explode. “We found what we were looking for. That guy the prostitute mentioned last night, Jonesy, we found him.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”

“You would have yelled because we were out looking.”

“Damn straight I would have yelled,” she yelled. “Your mother asked me to watch out for you, Tom. You’re making trouble for me.”

“I’m twenty,” he said quietly. It wasn’t bravado or posturing. Tom Hunter had been forced to be a man, to defend his battered mother, before his seventh birthday.

“All right,” she said, just as quietly. “You found Jonesy. Had he seen Liza’s sister?”

“Yeah. He said he’d been watching the cars picking up hookers, writing down license plates. If they were rich…”

“He’d blackmail them. Wonderful. So he saw Lindsay getting in a car?”

“Yeah, but he said he didn’t have the list anymore, that he’d sold it, and he didn’t remember what kind of car, but he remembered the date and time. I didn’t believe him, but I got him to tell me who he’d sold the list to.”

Olivia sighed. She knew Jonesy. “How much did you pay him?”

“A hundred.”

“Tom.”

“I know,” Tom spat, frustrated. “He said he sold it to some guy named Damon. Another hundred got me Damon’s ‘business address.’ ”

A shiver tickled down her spine. “You’re on thin ice, kid. Damon is a major dealer.”

“I figured that out. I found him, told him what I wanted. He looked at his list. And this is the paranoid part. He said he saw her get into a black SUV. Lincoln Navigator.”

Olivia blinked, wondering how many Navigators could be on Twin City roads.

“You know,” Tom said when she said nothing. “Like the one that hit David.”

“Yeah, I got it. That’s weird, but not impossible.” Besides, they’d gotten Dell Farmer. But not his SUV. He’d been driving a beat-up old Corolla and had just laughed uproariously when she’d demanded to know where he’d parked his Navigator.

“I know and I almost didn’t bother you with it. But I figured better safe than sorry.”

“Damon didn’t happen to share the license plate, did he?”

“No, and frankly I didn’t want to push it. He scared the bejesus out of me.”

“That’s the first smart thing I’ve heard you say all night. Dammit, Tom, he would have stabbed you as easy as breathing. I’m shocked he told you anything at all.”

“He’s a basketball fan,” Tom said wryly. “I had tickets in my pocket. If you don’t pick him up sooner, I know where he’ll be sitting come game time on Sunday.”

Olivia massaged her temples. “Your mother is going to kill me.”

“My mother and Dana taught me. All those years in the shelter, the new identities, transporting women and kids in the dead of night… No way Mom can yell at you.”

“Good point. Okay. Here’s the deal. I don’t tell your mom what you’ve been doing and you don’t go out with Liza alone anymore.”

“She’s not going to give up until she finds her sister. Or her body.”

Sisterly bonds. That Olivia understood. “Tomorrow I’ll go with you. Where’s Liza?”

“I dropped her off at her apartment. I walked her to the door,” he added defensively.

“You’re a good man. Maybe too much so. No more sleuthing by yourselves. Deal?”

“Deal. Thanks, Olivia.”

“Tom, wait. Where are Liza’s parents in all this?”

“Her mom’s sick, and Liza doesn’t want to worry her yet. No dad in the picture.”

“Okay. Let me see what I can find. Get some sleep.” Troubled, Olivia hung up, then placed a call to an old friend in narcotics. Hopefully they’d have enough to bring Damon in and she could find out what he really knew.