“No. No more victims that I know of.”
“Good. I’ve got to do inventory before my ride comes.
Go get some rest.”
“Eve.” She didn’t look up so he gently grasped her
chin and forced her to look at him. “Your ride is right here. Leave that till
tomorrow. I’ll take you home.” His mouth bent in an awkward smile she wished
she didn’t find so endearing. “Hunter drove up when I did. He had a crowd in
his truck. Looked like an entire college basketball team.”
“He and Tom must have found a pickup game somewhere.
Tom’s his nephew. He’s a home team star,” she added, unashamed of the unabashed
pride in her voice.
“Tom Hunter. I’ve seen him play. The kid is really
good. You know him?”
Eve’s brows lifted at his hopeful tone. “You want me
to get you tickets, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” He smiled when she chuckled.
“Really, how do you know him?”
She sobered. “Yesterday you asked why that man tried
to kill me six years ago.”
His smile disappeared. “You said he wanted to get to
his wife and son. Oh.” He’d made the connection, she could see. “Tom was his son.”
“Yes. Tom and I both lived in the same shelter for a
while, so we kind of grew up together. After Tom’s father was caught, his
mother ended up marrying David’s brother. The Hunters are family. Tom’s the
reason I picked Minneapolis.”
His dark brows crunched slightly. “You picked it?”
“I’d finally decided I couldn’t stay in Chicago. I had
a quarter in my hand and a map on the table. Heads Carolina, tails California.
Then the phone rang. Tom had just been offered a basketball scholarship here in
Minneapolis. So I decided to come with him.”
“Then I’m even happier he’s there,” he murmured,
meeting her eyes directly.
Flustered, she looked back into her box. “Where is
David?”
“He said he had to drive the guys back to their dorm,
but he didn’t want you to have to wait so he said they’d have to squeeze you
in. I told him I’d take you home.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled
out a plastic bag. “Peace offering.”
“I seem to be getting a lot of these tonight.” She
peeked inside. “A deadbolt?”
He frowned slightly. “CSU didn’t find your keys.
Somebody could have picked them up. I’ll change your lock for you.”
Eve was suddenly cold. “I didn’t leave my door
unlocked yesterday, did I?”
His eyes flickered and she knew he agreed. “I don’t
know, but I’d rather be careful.”
“Buckland was at the scene last night. He took
pictures of my car.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “You think he has your keys?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it?”
His lips thinned. “Probable even.” Then he stood and
pulled her to her feet, his eyes dangerous. “Let me take you home. I’ll replace
your lock before I leave.”
Wednesday, February 24, 12:15 a.m.
Eve’s cell phone vibrated on the arm of her stuffed
chair. It was David, which meant he was at her front door. She’d called to tell
him that Noah changed the lock, resulting in a string of harsh profanity toward
Buckland. She opened the door. “Sshh,” she cautioned.
She waved him to follow her to the kitchen, tiptoeing
past Noah, who sat sprawled on her sofa. “He fell asleep,” she whispered. “I
fixed him something to eat while he replaced the deadbolt, but he was out cold.
I think he’s just exhausted.”
“He must be, to have fallen asleep on that thing. I
didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“Go sleep in my bed. I’ll take the sofa when he wakes
up and goes home.”
“Sleep in your own bed.” He held open the shopping
bag. “Blow-up mattress.”
She shook her head. “It’ll make too much noise when
you inflate it. You’ll wake him up.”
“He can’t have been asleep that long. Wake him up and
send him home.”
It would be the logical thing to do. But she shook her
head again. “Let him sleep. You take my bed.” In the living room, Noah hadn’t
budged an inch. He’d taken off his overcoat and suit coat to replace her lock,
but still wore his shoes, his tie. And his gun.
He’ll get a crick in his neck sprawled like that
. She tugged on his feet, staggering under the weight
of his long legs as she lifted them to the sofa. If he woke, so be it. But he
didn’t, not even when she took off his shoes and loosened his tie.
She should move, but stayed crouched at his side,
looking into his face. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. She’d kissed that mouth.
In the Deli she’d told herself it was for his job. Damage control. But she’d
wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted to for months.
She relived that moment in the bar when he’d kissed
her for himself. She’d wanted him to do it again, but he hadn’t. He’d brought
her home and kept his hands to himself. She looked at his hands, wondered how
they’d feel, cruising over her skin.
After a year of
look, don’t touch
this might be
her only opportunity to do either. Or both. Experimentally she trailed her
fingertips across the line of his jaw, hard and unyielding even in sleep. His
dark stubble was rough, prickly. She skimmed his lips with one finger. Soft.
They’d been hard earlier, when he’d kissed her in the bar.
When he didn’t stir she became bolder, brushing the
back of her fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair from his forehead, running
her thumb over the ridge of his brow. He was, quite simply, beautiful. She smiled
wryly, fairly certain he wouldn’t like that.
She pulled her hand back before she gave in to the
temptation to explore further.
“Don’t stop.” He opened his eyes, held hers.
She froze. “I… I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. Now I’m not.” He took her hand, held it as if
it were fragile glass as he pressed his lips to her wrist where her pulse
hammered. Carefully he tugged, pulling her to him, his other hand threading
through her hair.
Yes. Please
.
“No.” She lurched to her feet and he let her go. Lying flat on his back, he
looked up at her, his eyes asking the question his voice did not. Closing her
eyes, she pursed the side of her mouth that obeyed. “I don’t have to explain to
you.”
“No. No, you don’t have to.” He sat up. “Look at me,
Eve.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, ashamed for herself and
sad for them both.
He shook his head. “There’s no need to be sorry. Are
you all right?”
“I’m fine. I was just checking on my red-zones.”
He patted the cushion next to him. “Then show me. I
need to understand them.”
Come on, Eve
,
Noah thought.
Give me this much
. He waited, exhaling silently when she
picked up her computer and sat next to him, taking care not to touch him.
But she had, and it was all he’d been able to do to
keep from rolling her beneath him and taking what he craved. Thankfully he’d
held himself in check. Eve had always made him think of a doe, nervous and
ready to flee. Tonight, she was more so than ever. But she’d ventured closer.
That
has to be good enough for now
.
Beside him, she drew a breath and pushed her laptop
screen back so he could see. “I’m using Greer tonight, checking out Ninth
Circle for three of my red-zones.”
Her scent filled his head and he tried to focus.
“Three? Aren’t there five?”
“Yes, but Rachel will be dancing at the casino.” She
said it as a professor might lecture. “Natalie is always there, playing poker.
We’ll go there when I’m done. There’s the dancer who was with Christy.”
He choked back a cough. The male avatar was dancing
with Lola, Abbott’s raven-haired siren. Noah slid his arm across the back of
the sofa. “What are they dancing?”
She glanced pointedly over her shoulder at his arm. He
wasn’t touching her, but he was in her space. But she didn’t protest and he let
himself relax a little. “Salsa,” she said levelly. “It’s not as easy it looks.
You execute the dance steps with a series of keystrokes. It’s fast and complex
and my right hand still isn’t dexterous enough.”
If that made her wistful, it didn’t show in her voice.
Nothing showed in her voice, which had him increasingly frustrated. Over the
next twenty minutes, Greer located three of Eve’s five remaining red-zones. She
pointed them out, and in that same professorial tone she told him everything
she knew about them. She knew quite a lot actually, likes, dislikes, what they
searched for in the virtual world.
“This one is Kathy,” Eve said. “In Shadowland, she’s a
real estate tycoon. IRL, she’s a retired real estate agent. She’s thirty-eight
years old.”
IRL meant
in real life
, he recalled. “She’s
retired at thirty-eight? Why?”
“Kathy has a degenerative muscle disease. She’s been
in a wheelchair for a year now and it’ll just get worse.” She swallowed hard.
“She told me when she came into Pandora’s to buy her avatar. When she’s not
making deals, she plays virtual tennis. She continues the life she had in the
real world, here. I didn’t know she was one of my test subjects until I hacked
the list, right after Martha disappeared.”
“Bittersweet,” he murmured. “She can do what she
loves, but it’s all pretend.”
“Sometimes that has to be enough,” she murmured, then
looked up at him, her expression suddenly anxious. “Noah, she can’t defend
herself. If he comes after her…”
He frowned at the screen. “Does she live with
anybody?”
“No. She lives alone with a service dog. A nurse checks
in on her once a day.”
“So she can’t leave her house to meet him? That’s been
his MO.”
“No, she’s homebound. So she’s safe, right?”
“I’ll have a cruiser do drive-bys and when I leave
here, I’ll check on her myself.” He called Abbott’s cell, knowing he was still
awake, and made the request. “It’s done.”
“Thank you,” she said. Then she pulled away. “All
red-zones are accounted for.”
Frustrated, he kept his voice level. “So we’re off to
the casino?”
“Yes. Finding the last two won’t take long.”
Which was a shame. He wanted this time with her.
Needed it. “Then let’s go.”
Greer was winding through the crowd when a message
popped up at the base of the screen.
Can I buy you a drink tonight?
“Him again. I swear, he hits on Greer every night.”
Sorry,
I’m calling it an early night,
she typed back.
Try that black-haired
dancer over there. She’s been doing the salsa for a while. I bet she’s thirsty
.
I tried her. She was rude, too.
“I feel sorry for him,” she said softly. “He’s just
hoping for some attention.”
I’m sorry,
she typed.
I didn’t mean to be
rude.
Then let me buy you a drink.
Look, I’m in a hurry tonight. How about a rain check?
Next time, for sure.
The avatar’s face beamed.
I’ll hold you to it.
“Will you let him buy you a drink next time?” Noah
asked.
“I don’t make promises I don’t keep.” She sent Greer
to the casino and turned up the volume. He was suddenly struck by the feel of a
real Vegas casino. Noise and activity… and anticipation. Greer stopped at a
poker table. “That’s Natalie.”
A voluptuous redhead sat at a poker table and from the
stack of chips in front of her, was doing very well. Eve paused for a moment to
watch.
“Do you play?” Noah asked. “I mean as an avatar.”
She smiled, faintly. “Used to, but I don’t have time
anymore. A few years ago, I was the one to beat. Or my Moira avatar was. She
was the grand poker champion.”
She picked names for a reason, he knew. “Moira. What
does it mean?”
“It’s a little twist on Moirae. The Three Fates in
Greek mythology.”
“Hm.” He was quiet for a moment. Fate, not luck or
skill. “So you
do
believe in fate?”
“I wish I did,” she said without inflection. “Things
would be so much simpler.”
“Did you ever play poker IRL?” he asked wryly.
“A little five-card stud with friends, never for
money. But Moira made a lot of money.”
He fidgeted, her sofa poking him. “I hope she spent
hers on a comfy sofa.”
“No, she cashed out, and I converted Moira’s
Shadowbucks into real-world money.”
“Which you did not spend on a comfy sofa.”
She shook her head, totally serious. “I bought my freedom.
A car that got me away from Chicago, first and last month’s rent on this place.
The rest I used to pay my first semester’s tuition. After that it was touch and
go, but thanks to Sal, I manage all right.”
Noah thought of the last year, when she’d thought no
one was watching. “You give your money away,” he said, his throat suddenly
tight. “I’ve seen you,” he insisted when she looked like she would deny it.
“I’ve seen you take dollars from your tip jar and give them away. To two
women.” The same two women, he realized. “Who are they?”