The Unwanted

Chapter Four

Her hands were sweating.

Destin swiped them across the thin cotton of her pajama pants and told herself to get a grip. Easier said than done. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze straying to the scar time and again. Maybe she should let her hair grow back out. Chin length, maybe. Or shoulder length. Just long enough that she could use the hair to hide behind a little…

“No.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to hide it, not behind hair, not behind makeup. If she wanted to hide it, she should have taken up the Bureau’s offer to have it surgically repaired. She hadn’t.

She’d gotten used to it. She didn’t even flinch when she saw it now.

It was just harder today…harder to think about it without cringing. All because of Caleb. Dear God, the look on his face when he’d seen it…the disgust wasn’t anything she’d ever forget. He’d tried to hide it well enough. He’d even managed a pretty good job of it. She just knew him too well. He couldn’t completely hide the reaction from her.

She turned away from the mirror. She needed to get out there. They needed to figure out some sort of game plan. Go over the files again, see if she could pick up much of anything. Not the sort of thing she really wanted to do right before bed, but sometimes it took the strength out of her and if she waited until morning, they could spend half the day waiting for her to get her energy back. So it had to be done tonight.

Destin took one more minute to look down at her pajamas. Black cotton pants with a thin pinstripe. Sleeveless black shirt—and it was too damn thin. Shit. Horrified, she stared down at her chest.

She’d never had to worry about this when she worked with him before…because…well. Hell, the man had seen her naked. But now…? She couldn’t go out there like this. Her nipples were pressing into the thin fabric, clearly outlined. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she spun away from the door, all but diving for the suitcase of clothes she’d yet to unpack.

But as she was digging through it for a bra, rational thought intruded and she made herself stop.

She was decently covered. Hell, it wasn’t like she and Caleb were strangers. Or even just business associates. They’d been together for three years. He probably knew her body better than she did.

Slowly, she dropped the clothes and straightened up. She squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. She was going to have to go through that file and as stressed as she already was, it was probably going to hit her harder than normal.

That was why she’d chosen to put on pajamas. She was going to crash, and crash hard if she picked up on anything and she’d rather not bleed all over clothes she liked if she got hit with a bad one while she was sleeping.

Thus the need for the black PJs.

Screw this.

Before she could think about it anymore, she left the bedroom and strode into the other room. Caleb was on the floor, his back braced against the couch. He’d changed out of that oh-so-sexy suit into a pair of black cotton pants and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Well, hell. So much for hoping it had just been the sexy suit that had been getting to her.

He still got to her. Why in the hell did he still get to her?

Her mouth went dry but she didn’t let herself stare. He didn’t need to know how he affected her.

Her nipples stabbed into her pajama top. Yeah, I’m sure he’s not going to notice that. Her body was practically waving hello. He’d notice. Caleb noticed everything. Squaring her shoulders, she crossed the floor and settled on the couch a few feet away.

He glanced at her, a quick look that barely landed on her face before he focused back on the work in front of him. He nodded toward the table next to her chair. “The list of suspects. I’ve got the pictures and stuff still, but if you want to scan the names…?”

No. She really didn’t want to do that. She kept quiet about that, though. She reached over and took the single sheet of paper. Not too many names on it, all neatly written in a familiar print. Caleb had been busy. “This your short list?”

“Yeah.” He grimaced and added, “Doesn’t quite match up with theirs. But most of their suspects are alibied for one or more of the rapes, and I just don’t think we’re dealing with a copycat or a pair working together.”

“Why not?”

“Gut instinct.” He looked at her from under his lashes and said, “Let’s just leave it at that for now.”

Destin frowned. “Okay.” She glanced around. “You remember what to do if I go out, right?”

He lifted his head and silence stretched out tight. His dark brown eyes locked with hers and her heart slammed into her throat as heat licked at her belly. You’re working. Mayhem. Attacks. Bad shit. Think.

Her hands were slick with sweat and she managed to drag her brain back onto target as he gave a slow nod. “I haven’t forgotten anything, Destin,” he said softly. His voice was low and warm and smooth, a caress across her skin even though he sat several feet away.

“Good,” she said, jerking her eyes away. “Good, then.” Eyes closed, she took a deep breath and started to block everything out. Everything.

This was where she’d messed up before. What he’d been trying to tell her all those times.

She let her own demons in, her own devils. And she couldn’t do her job if she was dealing with those demons, fighting with those devils. Now she no longer went into the job with anything in mind. Not her own thoughts, not her own feelings.

She started to breathe in, slowly. As she blew each breath out, she forced out the tension, all the extra thoughts crowding her brain. Everything…including Caleb. She blocked out the sights, the scents, the sounds—his breathing, the occasional noise from a TV next door, and let herself fall into a white light. It surrounded her, warmed her flesh. White noise began to thrum around her.

She breathed it in, soaked herself in the calm. Then, once she knew she had cleared her mind of everything, she opened her eyes and focused on the list of names.

Seven of them.

Seven men.

D’Aundre Masters. She skimmed her fingertip across the neat print of his name and in her mind’s eye, she saw a tall, athletic black man, young, with a wide grin. Quick to anger, quick to laugh. She sensed all kinds of fire and passion in him, sensed a great love of life. But no violence. No ugliness. It wasn’t him.

Quentin Cooley. Another athlete with a hot temper, but this one brought to her mind an ugly, messy fire. Quick to anger…quick to hurt. She had an image of a fight with a girl—the girl had slapped him. He was angry. Then it was done. No. Not him. Quicksilver, this one. He reacted, then thought. Whoever was doing these was a thinker, a planner.

That same rationale ruled out three more men.

The sixth—Malcolm Hodges—something about him made her senses hum. She sensed greed inside. Greed and avarice…something else. But she couldn’t put her finger on it. Couldn’t quite trace it. Her mind summoned up an image of him—tall, blond, attractive in a golden-beach-boy, pretty sort of way. He’d be a charmer. He’d convince a girl to believe pretty much anything he wanted.

There might be something with him, but the violent aura she would have expected to find, she wasn’t picking up on it. Of course, all she had to go by right now was his name. Still, he’d be one of the first ones she talked to when they hit the campus.

The seventh one, she automatically wrote him off. She had a picture of a security guard or campus cop, she couldn’t tell from the uniform. Mid-thirties. Good-looking, big and muscled. The kind of muscle that came from a serious dedication to the gym. She sensed tiredness, bitterness. Boredom. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, squinting automatically. Caleb rolled to his feet and hit the lights. “Sorry…I didn’t think you’d come out that soon.”

Destin shrugged. “I’ve become a little more efficient.” She rolled her shoulders, relaxing the tension that had gathered there and then looked back down at the list she held. “Caleb, I’m not picking up a whole hell of a lot from this.”

But if she thought he was going to be disappointed, she was wrong. Instead, a faint grin curled his lips and he said, “For some reason, I’m not surprised.” He handed her a sheaf of papers. “If you’re up to it, there’s the list the police put together. I don’t think it will take you too long.”

She flipped through the pages. “There’s a good forty names here.”

“Yeah. But I don’t think you’re going to find anything.”

“Want to tell me why?”

Caleb made a noncommittal hum under his breath and Destin rolled her eyes. Sometimes working with the man could be so frustrating—and for mostly mundane reasons, as opposed to ones borne out of sexual desire and desperate longing. She placed the list of names facedown on the floor next to her and said, “Caleb. What’s the deal?”

He slanted her a look and then focused on the file in front of him. “Not sure. Something just isn’t settling right.”

“Is your spidey sense tingling?” she asked, a reluctant smile twitching at her lips. The man was a die-hard comic lover. Three years of living together had taught her more about comics than she’d ever had any desire to know. It used to be a joke between them.

To her surprise, he met her grin with one of his own and shrugged. “Something’s tingling. I’m not sure what, though.”

Yeah. She could think of a few things that were tingling and all of it was inappropriate considering they were just working a job together. Pushing those hot and dirty thoughts aside, she started to skim the names. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She could have been reading ingredients on a cereal box for all the vibes she got. Hell, less. She held out a hand. “Let me see the information we have on the victims.” Maybe there…

But Caleb didn’t give her the information. She glanced at up and saw him reorganizing the files. Once their eyes met, Caleb said, “I don’t want you looking at the victims just yet.”

“That bad?” she asked, just barely suppressing a wince. Man, she really hated her job sometimes.

“I don’t want to say.” He shook his head and said, “If I thought you needed to brace yourself, I’d tell you. I just…” He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. The sun-streaked blond used to be longer than that, hanging down to his shoulders. She missed it. Would have liked to run her hands through it—

She’d always loved doing that. Fisting her hands in his hair and using it to tug him closer and hold him still as she kissed him…

Whoa. Stop the train.

Destin jerked herself to a quick stop and mentally slapped herself. Bad, bad, bad idea, thinking about that. Kissing him. Tugging him close. Even thinking about his hair. Bad, bad, bad idea… She took a slow, measured breath and then blew it out, focused on the floor under her until she could look at him without him seeing just how easily, how deeply, he still affected her.

He wasn’t looking at her, though. He was still studying the file in front of him, his gaze rapt and intent, as though it held the answers to the universe.

Unaffected.

Part of her wanted to sulk. The other part of her insisted this was a good thing. She did not need him being aware of how aware she was of him. Didn’t need it at all. But still…

He glanced up, his brown eyes opaque, and she couldn’t read anything in them. There wasn’t a sign of heat, interest…anything. Good, she didn’t want… Focus on the job! She dug her nails into her palm, used the slight pain to center herself. Just in time for her to focus on his words as he said, “I just think it will be better if you wait to talk to the women before you try to get a read on this one.” Then he shrugged and said, “But you’re the hotshot here. If you want to do it now, be my guest.”

Destin shook her head. “You’ve filtered for me too many times, Caleb. I trust you.” She gathered the pages, giving that simple task more attention than needed. Made it easier to not look at him that way.

Still, when the skin on her arms prickled and she felt the weight of his stare, it made it nearly impossible not to look at him. No. Not nearly. Impossible. Against her will, she found herself looking at him, lost in the brown velvet of his eyes…and now, they weren’t unreadable.

There was heat there. Hunger. Something that looked too much like her own longing. She swallowed against the ache in her throat as he rolled to his knees and crawled across the floor until he was kneeling in front of her. “Do you trust me now? You never did before.”

Destin swallowed and shook her head. “You’re wrong, Caleb. I always trusted you.”

A sad smile curled his lips and he reached up, traced his finger across her mouth. “If you trusted me, we wouldn’t have fallen apart.”

“Fallen apart?” she said, curling her fingers around his wrist. She could feel the strong, steady beat of his pulse, could feel him…the heat of him, throbbing against her shields and she wanted to say to hell with it and just get lost in him again. It had been so wonderful. So amazing. She wanted it so blindly, so desperately.

“We didn’t fall apart, Caleb,” she said quietly. “You walked away from me, remember?”

“And you didn’t say a thing to stop me,” he replied, his voice just as quiet as hers.

His eyes, darkening to near black, locked on her face and when he eased in closer, she had to fight just to breathe. “Every step of the way, I waited for you to say something, Destin. Every damn step.”

Yeah, right…she could feel the words hovering on the tip of her tongue. Wanted to hurl them at him. The only problem was that he wasn’t lying. It was enough to wrench her heart in two.

And when he eased closer and pressed his lips to hers, she couldn’t move away, couldn’t even think about it.

As his mouth took hers, she reached for him. It was the very last thing she should do.

But it was the only thing in the world that had felt right in a very long time.

Opening for him, she shuddered as his tongue traced and teased her lips before slowly pushing deeper. The kiss was a seduction, in and of itself. Slow and sweet, like he wanted to take his time to learn everything about her all over again.

One hand skimmed up over her back and she whimpered, arching closer to him. Against her belly, she felt the hard, rigid length of his cock and the strength threatened to drain out of her legs. Hunger shot through her and she clutched him closer while the voices of sanity and need shrieked inside her head.

You can’t do this…did you forget what happened?

What are you waiting for, you stupid woman?

As she reached for the hem of his shirt, the voice of need all but cackled in glee and the voice of sanity moaned in despair and Destin just wanted to tell the both of them to shut the hell up.

His skin felt hot and smooth against her hands. Hot, smooth and the muscles of his abdomen were hard, rippling under her touch. She went to push the shirt higher and then Caleb caught her face in his hands.

The kiss lightened.

Eased.

“Damn it, Caleb,” she groaned as he went to pull away.

“The phone,” he muttered against her mouth, pressing another kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Fuck the phone.”

He laughed and the sound was strained, tight.

“The phone is ringing, sugar,” he said, stroking a hand down her back.

And then the voice sanity started to sing. If Destin didn’t know better, she’d almost think it was the chorus to “Glory, Hallelujah”.

“Shit.”

What in the hell was I thinking? She stared at him in a panic for one long second and then jerked away from him. By the time she reached her phone, it had already stopped, but it didn’t matter. The phone call had come at a crucial time. Right before she would have given in and done another stupid, thoughtless thing. Granted, this one only would have hurt her, but still. She didn’t do stupid thoughtless things any more.

She was careful.

She was patient.

She thought things through and she no longer responded simply to emotion. Or her body.

Staring at the phone, she said woodenly, “It was Oz. Probably wanted an update already. She’s impatient.”

“She always was.”

“Yes.” Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose and then set her shoulders. She had to acknowledge what had happened, had to set things straight, make sure he knew it couldn’t happen again.

Slowly, she turned around and faced him.

And once more, that voice of need started to whisper, please, please, please…

He looked so good. Flags of color rode high on his cheeks and his eyes glinted with a wicked, hungry light. Caleb rarely let his guard down but when he did…

Her heart raced as she thought about what she was about to turn her back on. But she had to do it.

“That was a mistake,” she said quietly. “It can’t happen again.”

“Is that a fact?” He held her gaze steadily.

“Yes.” She licked her lips. The taste of him still lingered and when he dropped his gaze to follow the path of her tongue, she was tempted to tell that annoying voice of reason to take a flying leap. But she couldn’t. She’d lived by need and emotion and want and it had ended badly. Very badly. Now she lived by logic and reason. It was easier. Safer.

Lonely…

But lonely didn’t end with her heart broken, and lonely didn’t end with her costing somebody their life.

Lonely was better.

“I did trust you, Caleb,” she said quietly. She had to get that out there. “I trusted you more than I ever trusted anybody. And I trust you now…as far as the job goes, I know there’s nobody I trust the way I trust you.”

Turning away from him, she moved to the window, staring out over the pretty little town of Charlottesville. Even now, it was bustling with activity, young adults moving all over the place. “And I almost begged you not to leave. If I’d known…” Then she stopped, shook her head. “I never hurt so much in my life. But it’s over now and we’re different people. I can’t go back to who I was. You’ve got a different life now. That part of us is over and done.”

She blew out a breath and then forced herself to continue. “But you’re wrong…in the end, whether you left or not, we would have fallen apart, but it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. It’s myself I didn’t trust. I still don’t trust myself.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“It’s what I tell myself.” Destin lifted a brow as she looked back at him. “It’s what is.”

“You never had issues with trusting yourself before,” he said softly. He glanced at the scar.

She didn’t flinch away, didn’t hide, even though she wanted to. “Yes, I did. I just didn’t realize it until too late.”

He closed the distance between them and she held still, unwilling to move away, and when he reached up to trace the scar yet again, she held still and steady. She wouldn’t flinch. Wouldn’t hide.

He traced a finger along her cheek and she tried not to shiver, resisted the desire to turn her face into his hand and rub against him like a cat looking for a stroke.

“So what do we do now?” he asked quietly.

“We do our job.” She shrugged and made herself back away before she gave in to those impulses. “For now, I’ll check in with Oz, then I’m going to bed.”

“You going to sleep okay?”

No. But it doesn’t have anything to do with the case. It was him. Just him. She didn’t tell him that. She made herself smile, forced a casual shrug. “No reason I shouldn’t sleep.”

She even managed a faint smile as she nodded to the files. “There’s nothing in there that’s going to cause me nightmares, and you can bet on that.”