Profile of Retribution: FBI Profiler Romantic Suspense (Profile Series #3) (16 page)

“So, Cameron. Since you asked me a personal question, do I get to ask one of you?”

“Will my responses go in the vault?”

Robynn smiled at his question. “Absolutely.”

“Then ask away.”

“Have you ever been married?”

Slicing the tomato, he shook his head and didn’t hesitate to answer. “Nope. A while back, I came close to asking a woman to marry me.”

“What happened?”

“I discovered she still hadn’t gotten over loving my brother.”

Robynn winced. “That had to hurt.”

“It was not one of my life’s most uplifting moments. But as time went on, I realized it was one of those things that hurt like hell at the time, but in the long run was for the best. I’ve let it go.”

“Has she?”

“Not really. Mollie runs the local cafe near my office, and I see her more than I want to.”

“I think that’s where we had lunch the day I interviewed Gabe.”

“Right. I don’t like running into her because she has such guilt in her eyes when she looks at me. Makes me a little uncomfortable, but it’s not my problem. All that’s in the past. Wish she’d find someone else and let it go, too.”

“Awkward.”

Cameron shrugged his wide shoulders and flipped the bacon. “Now it’s my turn. Have you ever been married?”

Robynn’s lips parted in surprise. “I thought you knew.” It had been impossible to keep her divorce secret from her co-workers.

He covered his chest with the palm of his hand. “What? Don’t tell me you’re married. My heart can’t take it.” His teasing tone had just the hint of seriousness that made Robynn blush.

“It’s not exactly a secret at work that I’m divorced. I was married to Tyler for about a year when I got a call from the women he was having an affair with. Apparently, fidelity was not in Tyler’s makeup.”

Cameron’s jaw clenched, his eyes slightly narrowed. “I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to cheat on a woman like you.”

She shrugged. “The experience wasn’t entirely negative. Thanks to Tyler, I have Ellie, my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter.”

“That’s great.”

“Really? Most men I know don’t want to get involved with a mother of a small child.”

Cameron opened the bread and took out four slices that he coated with mayonnaise. Then he loaded on the bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes. Cutting each sandwich in two, he laid each on a plate, handed one to Robynn, and gestured for her to join him at the table.

“For one thing, I’m not most men. For another, I love kids. Always have.” He shot her one of his irresistibly devastating grins. “Lastly, I’m up for getting involved with you, Robynn. I’ve made no secret that I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

Caught off-guard by his directness, she took a bite of her sandwich and hoped she didn’t choke as she thought of a response. Then reality hit her full-force. What the hell was she doing? The chances of her having a relationship with Cameron Chase and having it remain private was nil. He worked in law enforcement in the same county where she served. Maybe not the same agency, but close enough. An affair between the two of them would have the cop grapevine on fire.

Cameron cut the silence. “Did I tell you that I’m psychic? No crystal ball or anything, but I can read people’s minds. In fact, I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. You don’t date the cops you work with. You remember how difficult it was for you, as a woman, to rise through the ranks. Now that you’ve done it, you don’t want anyone to get in the way of your success. It’s a risk you’re afraid to take.”

She answered with bravado. “That’s where you’re wrong. There are very few things that I fear.”

“I agree with that. But the risk we’re talking about has you shaking in your boots.”

Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Robynn stood and prepared to leave. She’d moved away a step or two when he pinned her against the counter and captured her mouth in a kiss that made her head spin. He kissed her with his entire body, hard and so hot she thought her bones would melt. And soon she was kissing him right back, pulling him closer so she could feel his hard body pressed against her.

Unexpectedly, he stepped back, and she blinked up at him. His massive chest heaved up and down, clearly as affected by the kiss as she was.

“I’m worth the risk, Robynn. You tell me how I can prove it to you, and I will. I’ll do anything. I want you. And judging from your response to that kiss, you want me, too.”

Her eyes narrowed and she took an emotional step back. Could she afford to invest herself in feelings that would only lead to career disaster?

“I can’t do this. I just can’t.” Before she lost her nerve, she pushed away from him and ran to her car, ignoring his pleas for her to come back.

Chapter Thirty

The Hunter

Dressed in camouflage, disguised as a hunter, David109 patiently watched the Lucas house as he had for seven days and nights. The Lucas couple, as well as their housekeeper, liked their habits, which made it easy for him to plan his next move. Bradley was perpetually out the door and in his car by six-thirty sharp to head for work. The young housekeeper arrived mid-morning, by ten o’clock, and left by seven in the evening.

Mrs. Lucas ventured out of the house mid-morning once a week, Thursdays, usually to purchase groceries at the County Market on Sixth Street. He knew this for certain because he’d followed her several times. Once, he’d gone inside, grabbed a cart, and purposely ran into her in the bread aisle. After he’d mumbled “excuse me,” she’d shyly nodded her head, avoiding his eyes, and pushed her cart in the other direction.

One time, a young reporter from the local rag peppered her with questions all the way to her car. She nearly clipped his arm with the car door in her haste to get away from him.

Apparently, Mrs. Lucas didn’t like to be out in public. When she ventured out, she wore a hat or scarf to hide her hair, and dark glasses to cover her eyes, to no avail. People recognized her, disguise or not, and they weren’t shy about whispering loudly enough for her to hear what they thought about her and the killers she called sons. It was gratifying to learn that others felt the way he did about the Lucas couple and the demons they raised. But none of them had the guts to seek retribution. If they knew, would they think of him as an unsung hero? Would they applaud with appreciation when they learned he’d made them pay the ultimate price for the sins of their sons?

The back door of the house slammed as the young housekeeper carried out several rugs. It was eleven-fifteen. Right on time. One at a time, she shook each rug until a cloud of dust surrounded her. After she finished, she did what she always did. She sat down on one of the wicker chairs and pulled out a cigarette. Time for her fifteen-minute break. Mrs. Lucas had already left the house and he had no idea when she’d return, so his window of opportunity was approximately fourteen minutes, and he had to move fast.

He slipped through the thicket of trees until he reached the side of the house where the garage door was open, as Mrs. Lucas usually left it when she went out. Sneaking across the side yard, he entered the empty garage and headed for the entry door into the house. It was locked, but no problem for him and a credit card. The first room inside the house was a mud room, and hanging on the wall was just the thing he was looking for—a key rack with several keys dangling from hooks. Two of the keys were for their vehicles, but he found the ones he needed—the spare house keys. A short trip to the hardware store and he’d have his own copy, making his plans that much easier to carry out. Sure, he could always break in, but at night, the element of surprise was so much sweeter.

Shoving the house keys into his pocket, he checked his watch. Twelve minutes left. He slipped into the hallway where he could see the housekeeper blowing a smoke ring. He peeked in each room as he aimed toward the front of the house until he reached the staircase. Bolting upstairs, he searched until he found the master bedroom. Easy. Third door on the right. Taking a quick look around, he noted the king-sized bed with an ornate, black wrought-iron headboard. Bedside tables were on each side of the bed, his and hers. He could tell because one table held a business magazine and the other a romance novel. An adjoining bathroom had a glass-enclosed shower, a claw-footed soaking tub, and a fancy double sink in a mahogany vanity with a black granite surface. Fancy. Nothing but the best for the breeders of the two killers who ripped his life apart.

Checking his watch, he realized he was out of time, so he raced down the hallway and bounded down the stairs. The housekeeper was standing now, grinding her cigarette in an ashtray. Making a quick right turn, he landed in the mud room and then hurried out the garage doors into the woods. By the time he reached his truck, he was out of breath and a sharp pain cut into his ribs. But that didn’t stop him from starting the truck and pulling out onto the highway. There was key-making in his near future. He had to get duplicate house keys at the hardware store, and then return the keys he’d stolen at the next opportunity. Everything was falling into place, so easy, it was almost child’s play.

Chapter Thirty-one

The Trip

Livid, Tisha watched her husband meticulously roll each sock before he placed it in his suitcase. She’d like to tell him exactly where he could shove each one. “What is so damn important about a conference in New Orleans that you’re leaving your wife alone for four fucking days?”

“C’mon, Tisha. It’s just four days. You’re acting like it’s a year.”

“You and your damn conferences. Would it kill you to miss this one?”

“Actually, it could very well kill our business’s bottom line if I miss it. I have several sales leads to follow up.”

Defiantly, she crossed her arms across her chest. “Then I’ll come with you.”

“Reality alert. You hate to fly.”

He had her on that one. Flying in an airplane was her greatest fear. The idea terrified her and ignited memories of her nightmares of being in mid-air and then plunging to the ground. She’d take spiders or snakes any day over a flight. “Then we’ll drive.”

He shot a glance at her, clearly incredulous. “Out of the question. It’s in New Orleans and I’m late for my flight.”

Biting off an urge to scream at him, she seethed. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me alone after all that’s happened.”

“
I
can’t believe you’re so afraid of your own shadow that you’re asking me not to go.”

“You bastard!” Her hand cracked against his cheek before she could stop it.

Shocked, Bradley grabbed her wrist before she did it again. “Cut the hysterics, Tisha. I think our vandal has lost interest. Nothing’s happened in a week so there’s nothing to worry about. I showed you how to set the new security system. Just set the damn thing and relax.” He placed a small stack of starched dress shirts in the suitcase and then zipped it close. Grabbing a garment bag with his suits, he tossed it over his shoulder and pulled the suitcase behind him as he headed for the stairs. At the front door, he gave her a quick kiss and then hurried to his car.

Her hands trembling, she poured herself a cup of coffee, took a deep, cleansing breath, and willed herself to calm down. She wouldn’t be completely alone, she reasoned. Krystle would be with her during the day. True, the housekeeper frequently got on her last nerve, but another person in the house would be worth the frustration. And at night… That was another issue. She’d deal with it later. Right now, she could use a good, dry martini. By the time she reached the bar, the phone rang.

“Mrs. Lucas?”

Tisha strained to hear her caller with all the background noise, but she recognized the voice as belonging to Krystle.

“Krystle? Where are you? I can barely hear you.”

“I’m at the airport with my husband.” The girl must have moved because the reception was much better.

“Airport? Why are you there? Are you telling me you’re not working today?”

“Mrs. Lucas, I’m so sorry to leave you like this. Especially after what happened at your husband’s office.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, God. I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That crazy vandal splashed red paint all over your husband’s office. Wanted it to look like blood. The paper said the damage was extensive.”

“This was in the newspaper?”

“Mr. Lucas took the paper with him to work that day. Said he’d talk to you about it later.”

Gritting her teeth, Tisha cursed Bradley. The bastard had deliberately kept that information from her. Not only that, he’d left her alone knowing she may be in danger, and with nowhere else to go.

Krystle continued. “I have to fly to Chicago. It’s my dad. He’s had a heart attack. Doctors say he may not make it. I won’t be able to work until sometime next week. I’m sorry, Mrs. Lucas, but my dad needs me.” The girl started sobbing, crying so hard she got the hiccups.

Tisha disconnected the call and sank into the nearest chair. It was if she’d been gut-punched and had the wind knocked out of her. Four days and nights alone in the house with a maniac out there hell-bent on getting retribution. Her emotions fluctuating between fear and anger, she made her way to the kitchen, and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. Sipping it slowly, she thought of what she needed to do to stay safe, starting with a tour of the house, checking locked windows and doors.