Killing Secrets (27 page)

It was the first thing about this disastrous morning that gave him any real pleasure. If
he
couldn’t tear another strip from the contractor’s hide, at least someone else could. Too much was going Patrick’s way. Robby wanted him destroyed, emotionally and physically, before he killed the man…which is why Rachel James had risen to the top of his list of ways-and-means to that destruction. He just hadn’t figured out how to use her to hurt Patrick most.

His own plans had ground to a standstill. He’d been trying since his arrival this morning to set up his next punishment, yet he either ran into a super-vigilant crew member or the wandering security guard was interrogating him. Security was only supposed to be on site after the crews left. Since the James woman was running all over Southgate saving Patrick’s ass, an extra guard had been added to the day shift, too.

These security measures were killing him. But they were nothing to what his Angel had put him through these past four days since he’d snatched her from the life she’d made for herself away from him. At the thought of her hidden away in their secret place waiting for his return, he grew lightheaded. A mixture of elation, frustration…rage…tore through him.

She was the one—despite what the monster whispered in his ear—so why did she continue to deny him? All she had to do was admit her love for him. He’d give her the world, as he’d always done.

He’d known since he was thirteen years old Heaven was a place he’d never enter. Not after the things the monster had done.
Things he’d done for her. Always for her.
He’d been battling the darkness forever for his Angel. Every time the monster won, he lost himself so deep in the bowels of his own personal Hell he barely escaped. He was afraid he couldn’t do it again. He’d grown weaker with each descent, while the darkness grew stronger. He had to win this time. Win, or die.

“Last chance. Last chance. Last cha—”

He winced. Since leaving his Angel behind last night, his anxiety had become a living thing feeding on his insides. Eating at his control. Threatening to expose his blackened soul for everyone to see.

“Last chance.”

Robby kicked the wall base plate with his right foot hard enough to silence the taunting monster. Waiting for the exquisite pain to ease, he cocked his head to listen to a couple of the crew exchange a crude joke as they hung drywall over the naked studs down the hall, the sound of screws tightening into wood studs, a radio announcer promising the next caller a pair of Red Rocks concert tickets.

The DJ followed up with a news report. “The police are still looking for the young coed taken….”

Last chance.

The myriad of construction noises drifting up and down the floor faded from his consciousness. He’d lost his window of opportunity to attack Patrick’s precious business today. There were too many workmen crawling all over the five story building and someone was bound to question why he was hanging around here when he was supposed to be elsewhere.

The encroaching darkness wouldn’t let him leave though. He had to hurt Thorne. Now. It was an ever-present knot burning a hole inside him that demanded results, and the clock was ticking. He looked down at the folded paper clutched in his gloved hand, then stared at the wall the James woman had gone around a minute earlier.

The killer inside him smiled.
Ohhhh, even better. This will be fun!

~~~

Listening to the rat-tat-tat of hammers and nail guns through the half empty shell of the apartment building, Rachel paced the floor in front of the elevator shaft while she waited for Patrick. She was so angry with the man all she wanted to do was run back outside into the fresh air. She needed sunshine, to dig in the dirt alongside her crew, to push the pain of Patrick’s rejection away.

It hurt that he only wanted her to finish up her job at Southgate and get out of his life. Oh, he didn’t say it quite that way, but she knew it was what he’d meant. The man might still want her in his bed—there was too much heat and intensity in his eyes for him to deny he was attracted to her—just not enough to ask her to stick around any longer than necessary. She was still a problem in his life, one he hadn’t wanted. She’d dragged him into her mess when she claimed him as her boyfriend in front of Greg. It was her own fault she was hurting.

She should be happy she’d had one night with Patrick, that she’d experienced true passion, without relinquishing herself to yet another man. Yet, she wanted more.

Heat raced through her at the memory of his big, calloused hands molding her curves, the feel of his skin brushing over hers, his hard length slipping inside her softness. She’d felt both swept away and protected by his willingness to let her take control, to find the passion she’d buried deep inside her, to explore her desire over and over.

Realizing she was panting, as much by the lust-filled memories as the furious speed she was pacing the floor, she stopped. “This is nuts,” she whispered. “Stop longing for a man you can’t have. It’s over!”

After a quick look around to make sure no one heard her talking to herself, she frowned. Where was everyone? She could hear the noise of the crew and subcontractors working this half-finished floor of apartments, but she suddenly felt very much alone standing in front of the elevator shaft.

How long had she been tearing her heart out while she waited for Patrick to escort her down three floors? She understood why he didn’t want her to go anywhere by herself, but this was ridiculous. With the security he had in place, Greg couldn’t get this deep into the site without being challenged by someone.

She had things to do, and they didn’t include agonizing over her stupidity in falling for Patrick Thorne. She’d left her crew unloading the nursery delivery truck without supervision when Patrick ordered her presence like she was some sort of…employee. Which, she grimaced, is what she was to him. An employee.

It was time to get back to work. Peering down the open shaft, she could see the top of the elevator cage resting one floor below her. Her bodyguard was waiting on the first floor below that. It wasn’t necessary for Patrick to escort her into the elevator, just to pass her on to Carl when it got to the bottom. The only thing that stopped her from pushing the call button was her promise to wait for Patri—

The hard punch between her shoulder blades caught her by surprise. One second, she was craning over the security bar. The next, her middle crashed into it and she flew head first into empty space.

Her screech of terror filled the shaft. For a precious moment, her arms flailed. Desperately, she reached for one of the metal support braces that crisscrossed the opposite wall. The fingernails on her right hand scraped over one slim ledge, slid off. She screamed again when her left hand managed to catch on another metal piece and she slammed into the wall.

Pain ripped through her fingers, arm and shoulder, loosened her grip. She scraped down the angled brace until her hand caught in the vee at the bottom. With a grunt, she threw her right hand around the opposite ledge, the sharp angles biting into her palm. Her feet dangling eight feet above the elevator cage, she screamed again. “Patrick! Help!”

“What the—” a deep male voice shouted. “Hang on, Rachel!”

Unable to look over her shoulder to identify the crewman behind her, Rachel prayed for strength. Her fingers cramped, yet she didn’t dare reposition her hands. The muscles in her shoulders burned like a thousand fire ants burrowed under her skin.

“Rachel!”

The harsh voice behind her added to her rising panic. “Patrick! I’m,” she swallowed, “slipping!”

Patrick’s heart stopped when Rachel’s fingers shifted on one of the angle iron cross braces that had stopped her fall down the shaft. If she lost her grip and fell to the metal cage below her, she would be badly injured, if not outright killed. He watched with horror as her hard hat fell off her head and crashed to the cage below. “Hang on, sweetheart!”

Ramming the security bar up out of the way, he lay down on his stomach. Then, he leaned out over the edge of the shaft and tried to snag her by the back of her jeans. She dangled two feet beyond his fingertips.

“Push the elevator button,” a crewman suggested.

“No! Don’t touch it,” he shot over his shoulder. “If you call the elevator, she’ll end up above us, if she doesn’t get crushed between the cage and the wall as it rises.”

Rachel groaned. A shudder wracked her slender frame, her knuckles white around her precarious hold. They were running out of time.

Think, damn it, think.
“Don’t let go!”

“H-hurry.” Her voice shook with strain.

Adrenaline kicked Patrick’s brain into high gear. He barked orders to the crew around him. “John, grab three of those four-by-fours,” he pointed his foreman to a pallet of wood eight feet away. “Cope, Martinez, find rope or something to tie around my waist.”

It seemed to take forever, but he soon had an extension cord wrapped around his middle. The instant John secured the four-by-fours across the shaft, the ends jammed into cross braces above Rachel’s head, Patrick crawled on his hands and knees across the makeshift bridge. The cord around his waist tightened once when the two crewmen holding the other end didn’t let it out fast enough.

Then, he looked down into terrified, brown eyes. “I’m here, Rachel,” he said firmly to quell her distress as much as his own. Jockeying himself into position above her, he straddled the boards and reached down to wrap his hand around her right forearm just below her elbow. “You can let go now.”

“I-I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he said. “One hand at a time.” He gently squeezed her arm. “This one first. I’ll catch you.”

“I—”

“Trust me, Rachel. I won’t let you fall.”

Her eyes wide, she jerked a nod. It seemed to take an eternity before her grip loosened on the angle iron. Patrick took her weight with a grunt. He knew he was bruising her forearm, but he tightened his grip and lifted her toward him until her left hand came off the ledge, too. She dangled below him on one arm and he thought he might lose his grip when his bullet wound twinged a reminder he wasn’t yet healed. But then, she swung her free hand up, grabbed his other hand and he hefted her into his arms with one massive jerk to the collective gasps of his crewmen.

His heart raced as he held her. With Rachel out of immediate danger, all he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let go. “You’re safe. You’re safe,” he whispered repeatedly into her hair. He looked into her eyes and, still shaken, quipped, “You couldn’t wait for me five minutes?”

She smiled crookedly and dove back into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said into the crook of his neck.

When a tear rolled over his skin, he closed his eyes and cuddled her. Then he glanced over her shoulder at his foreman, bracing one of his massive legs on the four-by-four bridge with another large crewman at his back. “Ready?” John mouthed.

Patrick nodded before he reluctantly lifted Rachel away. “Honey, we’re not out of the woods yet.” He began to remove the cord at his waist to wrap it around her. “Let’s get you out of this elevator shaft.”

She paled when she realized what she had to do, but her lips firmed. “Okay.”

“I’m going to help you get to your hands and knees on the boards. Then I want you to crawl to John.” Patrick smiled his encouragement. “You can do this, Rach. Just take it slow. I’m right behind you.”

Letting her go was tough but once he got her to the boards, her removal from the shaft was accomplished with efficiency. John lifted her to the solid flooring, with Patrick right behind her. He didn’t relax until the makeshift bridge was removed and the security bar fell back across the opening.

“How the devil did she fall into the shaft, Patrick?” John said in a low voice as they both watched Rachel, perched on the stack of four-by-fours sipping water from a bottle one of the crew handed her. “The bar was still in place.”

“That’s what I want to know,” Patrick muttered. He crossed the floor toward Rachel. With each step, his anxiety for her was replaced with more questions…and anger. He’d almost lost her, and it was his fault. She should be locked up somewhere safe, not traipsing around a dangerous work site.

Her lips curved into a smile as he drew near. “Patrick, I—”

“Do you realize how close you came to killing yourself?”

Her smile disappeared. “You think I threw myself into that shaft on purpose? I was pushed!”

“No. I mean—” He paused, not sure what he meant.

The memory stole through his head. Brutal. Breath stealing. Karly, lying on the slab in the morgue. His identification. The report that witnesses said she jumped in front of the bus that ran her over. The relentless belief she’d taken her own life because of their argument over her pregnancy, her worry of family history being passed on to their innocent child.

He blinked at the woman in front of him. Not Karly. Rachel, the woman who gave her heart, body and soul to protect a child that wasn’t hers. “Tell me how you ended up in the elevator shaft.”

“I already told you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Someone snuck up behind me and punched me in the back.” Bristling, she stood up and began to pull at the buttons on her work shirt. “Want to see the bruise? It might be difficult to delineate it among all the other bruises, but hey, I’m happy to reassure you that I’m not imagining things.”