He cupped her breasts as they moved toward the steps leading to the second floor, to her bedroom. Teasing her nipples through the lace of her bra with his fingers, he dragged his lips and tongue along her neck. When the first step hit the back of her calf, she clung to his broad shoulders for support. With a rough chuckle, he lifted her in his arms.
“What are you doing?” She hadn’t been carried like this since she’d been a child.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Getting us to your bedroom before we wind up making love on the steps.”
Making love.
That wasn’t what they were about to do, but it did have a nice ring to it.
Sex.
That’s all this afternoon would amount to. Hot, raw, passionate sex.
And she’d take what she could, even if she knew deep down, to the darkest depths of her soul, that she wanted more. That she wanted to take things beyond complicated.
When he finally reached her bedroom, his lips still locked on hers, he set her down on the bed. Breathing hard, he broke away, then kissed a path from her neck to her stomach. “You have too many clothes on.” He
unfastened her jeans, then dragged them down her legs.
Heat flooded between her thighs. “Same goes for you.” Prepared to try to play the part of a seductress, loosen his belt, unbutton his shirt, she moved toward him. Her hands shook, along with her entire body. The need to have him over her, under her, inside her was too overwhelming. The heat and lust in his eyes made it difficult to navigate the buttons on his shirt.
He brushed her hands away. “Let me.”
With amazing speed, he unbuttoned his shirt. As soon as he’d stripped down to his boxer briefs, he covered her with his hard body. She wished he would have waited a second or two. Unsure if this was a one time thing, she wanted to memorize each and every detail of the contours of his body. The moment his lips met hers he twisted and positioned her on top of him. She lost all sense of thought.
Releasing her lips, he peppered the column of her throat with firm, open-mouthed kisses, then followed the trail with his velvety tongue. Nibbling and nipping at her sensitive skin, he skimmed his hands along her spine.
He sighed into her ear before giving her lobe a gentle nip. “Take your bra off for me. Let me see you.”
The wannabe seductress inside her took advantage. She straddled his erection, wishing he would have removed his boxers when he’d stripped. She wanted him naked and inside of her. But they had time for that.
With her hands balanced on his chest, she stared down at him. His eyes gleamed with passion. His heart drummed under her palms. With a shamelessness she’d never experienced before, she teased her fingers through the hair lining the slabs of muscle across his chest. She loved the feel of his hardness under her hands and moved lower to explore, trailing her fingertips to where the hair disappeared beneath his boxers.
She scooted down a bit, then rubbed her hand along the length of him, and lifted her lips in a small smile when he caught his breath. When he dropped his head against the mattress, she stroked him. Rubbing, gripping...
John sucked in a deep breath and covered her hand with his. “Stop.” Christ, he hadn’t had sex in two years, if she kept touching him, he’d come in a matter of seconds. And he wasn’t ready for that yet. He wanted to enjoy her body, make her his in every way possible. “The bra,” he reminded her.
She cocked her head to the side as if she were considering, then flashed him a seductive smile. Damn, she was something else. Her head fell back, blond curls brushed her shoulders as she reached her arms behind her. He held his breath while he watched her take her sweet time, toying and teasing, tormenting and inflaming his lust.
Finally, she slipped her lacy bra down her toned arms. Her breasts danced with the movement and his mouth watered for a taste of her nipples.
“You’re absolutely beautiful.” He leaned forward, then grabbed her rear. Grinding her against his cock, he latched onto one of those rosy peaks. She tasted as sweet as she smelled. Sugar and spice. He feasted, sucked and tugged on one stiff peak before moving to the other. Heaven. Pure bliss. He wanted...needed more.
He moved her beneath him, gave one wet nipple a final kiss, then stood between her outstretched legs. She was an erotic picture. Creamy skin flushed and heated. Loose blond curls spilling across the bed, pink nipples begging for attention.
He leaned over her, ran his hand along the column of her throat. Caressed her full breasts then trailed his fingers across her flat stomach. When he reached her panties, he grabbed the waistband and practically tore them from her body.
No more teasing. Not now. He’d lusted after her since the moment they’d met, that initial erotic, sensual touch never far from his mind. But what he’d felt for her had become more than that. He cared. Deeper than he’d ever cared about a woman before. He’d joked about making love on the stairs, but in reality, it wasn’t a joke. He wasn’t about to make that leap between lust and love, or caring and love, or sex and love.
Fuck. Talk about complicated.
He pushed his thoughts aside and focused on her, on now. Skimming his fingers up her legs, he spread her thighs, then bent his head and took her the way he’d hungered and craved.
She jerked as he covered her with his lips. Moaning, she rocked her pelvis to meet each and every stroke of his tongue. Her taste filled his senses and flared his hunger. He nipped and licked, lashed his tongue.
Her little pants and gasps drove him crazy, spurred him. Catching her clit between his lips he sucked, long and hard, then plunged two fingers between her thighs. She came. Her orgasm shook her body, clenched around his fingers, and the taste of it on his tongue had him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Needing to bury himself inside her, feel every erotic, sensual sensation, he stood and stripped off his boxers. She’d pushed herself onto her elbows and stared at his stiff cock. Her eyes grew adorably wide. He nearly came on the spot when she licked her lips and gave him a seductive, sexy grin.
“Is it my turn?”
He stroked his cock. “Not today, baby, I need you now.”
“Next time?”
The uncertainty in her tone made him pause. Not a plea. Not a need of promise. A simple question that he couldn’t believe she’d even ask. He hadn’t been with a woman in two years. Before that, his relationships had been casual.
How would she know?
She wouldn’t, and now wasn’t the time to explain his past.
He didn’t want casual with Celeste, and knew once he was inside her, he’d never want to be anywhere else. She’d become important to him on so many levels he couldn’t comprehend, not with the taste of her still lingering on his tongue and her gorgeous thighs spread wide for him.
“I asked you if you liked complicated.” He kissed the entrance of her wet, swollen sex with his cock, and locked his eyes on hers. “And I want complicated. Next time can’t come too soon.”
He thrust inside her.
They both groaned.
The feel of her gripping his cock magnified the untried emotions ripping through his body. Straight to the darkest parts of his soul. Buried between her thighs, her sex convulsing around him magnified the emotions he’d tried to deny, emotions he now welcomed. Blatant trust, true devotion, from him, from her...
“John,” she moaned. “I swear...I’ve never felt anything like this...” The rest of her words were lost on another husky moan when he pumped deeper.
“I know, baby, I feel it too.” Making love to Celeste had become the most intimate moment of his life. He’d never felt this connected to someone. And he never wanted the connection to end.
But he wanted to feel her release wrapped around his cock. To feel every emotion she wouldn’t share with words race through his body. She’d tried to hide so much from him, but couldn’t now. Not when they were joined, skin to skin, flesh to flesh.
He quickened his rhythm. Like a piston, he worked his slick cock between her outstretched legs. Needing to make her come, needing to feel the ripples of her release, he drove deeper.
She wrapped her legs around his rear and arched her back. She surged her body, met each hard thrust. As he pressed his body into hers, her hot breath caressed his throat. She reached around and hung onto his ass, stroked and massaged, pushed him deeper. Possessed him as he possessed her.
He released a low groan and raised himself above her. Cool air seeped between their damp bodies and he already missed the feel of her breasts against his chest.
He looked down at her and caught his breath. She had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. Her cheeks glowed. Her eyes were heavy lidded. Her swollen lips parted. Golden hair spread across the pillow.
He wrapped her ankles around his shoulders and moved his hips.
Once. So hot. Twice. So tight.
“Oh, John...that’s it, right...there,” she gasped and with her elbows propped under her, she thrust her hips to meet him. “Yes. Harder. Please...harder.”
Her muscles tightened around his cock. Her nipples jutted forward. Unable to resist them, he bent his head for another taste. She gasped and his balls tightened in response. He popped the nipple from his mouth and drove deep. Hard, fast, he pressed himself into her, felt her release nearing and knew he wouldn’t be far behind.
“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”
He plunged himself over and over, as if he were a battering ram knocking down the doors of sexual ecstasy. She arched her body, then dropped her head against the mattress. Tiny gasps escaped her parted lips. “John, I...” she said, then cried out.
As her orgasm shot through her body, somewhere, in the deep recesses of his brain, he realized he wasn’t wearing a condom. He had to pull out, but not just yet. Her muscles stimulated him, sucked him deep into her womb. He didn’t want to miss a minute, yet couldn’t take the chance. So close, so...
He quickly pulled out and released himself across her flat stomach. His breath came in harsh pants as he emitted a deep growl.
It took him a moment to gather his wits. Celeste’s sexy legs were still propped over his shoulders and she wore a naughty, little smile which made his spent cock pulse and his blood hum.
“I...uh.” He tucked his head toward his shoulder and kissed her ankle before drawing her feet back to the mattress.
She reached up, ran a hand through his hair, then arched her body to give him a slow sensual kiss. “Shhh, thank God one of us had sense enough. I’m not on the pill and the thought of condoms never entered my mind.” She nipped at his lower lip. “Next time,” she whispered, her smile curving against his mouth.
He brushed his lips against hers. “I can’t wait for next time.” Kissing her forehead, he rose from the bed, then returned with a towel from the master bathroom. “I’m sorry,” he said as he wiped away his passion. “I should have been better prepared.”
She placed her hand on his cheek. “If you were, then I might wonder if this is how you usually operate.”
Gripping her hand, he kissed her palm. “Celeste, I haven’t...”
Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply...God, I really need to think before I speak,” she finished with an adorably rueful smile.
“No, you’re fine. It’s just...I’ve never—”
His cell phone’s muffled ring stopped him midsentence. Damn it. He wanted to talk. Tell her this wasn’t his MO. That he’d never been involved with a woman during a case, and for some reason, tell her all about Renee.
As he rose from the bed, searching for his pants and ringing phone, that last thought stunned him. With the exception of the grueling queries from his FBI supervisors and psychologists, he’d never talked about Renee. Yet, he’d wanted to spill every detail. He wanted to make her understand. Why she was special to him. Why he was a bastard.
Jerking his ringing cell from his pant pocket, he immediately recognized the number. “Sorry, it’s Roy,” he said to her.
She stretched, arching her back as she stifled a yawn. “Take your time,” she said, her voice drowsy, as she curled to her side.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her nipples, or the curve of her hips. If the sheriff hadn’t called...
“Kain,” he answered, terse, pissed. He wanted to snuggle with Celeste, sleep the afternoon away, then make love to her all over again.
“We’ve got a problem,” the sheriff said, his tone filled with dread.
He gripped the phone. “What is it?”
“John,” he said with a heavy sigh. “We found another body.”
Chapter 14
After dropping Celeste off at The Sugar Shack, John plugged the address Roy had given him into the portable GPS, then hit the gas. As he drove, he contemplated calling Ian, then decided against it. Rather than piss himself off again when he’d likely end up with Ian’s voice mail, he called Rachel Davis instead. He needed her help more than Ian’s.
She answered on the first ring, the steady tapping of her computer keys apparent in the background. “Hey, John. Things getting any better in Wis
con
sin?” she asked, exaggerating her own Midwestern accent.
He smiled despite the severity of the situation. “Not good. We have another victim. I’m heading to the crime scene now.”
The tapping stopped. “That makes six, right?” she asked with a lisp, meaning she was likely chomping on a pencil. A bad habit she’d picked up before joining CORE, and one she always did when her mind was spinning with angles and ideas.
“Pop the pencil out of your mouth before you get a splinter, or chip another tooth. Keep it up and Ian might revoke your dental coverage.”
“Don’t nag me,” she said. “I’m not in the mood. Owen had me on a wild goose chase earlier today and ended up putting me behind on my own stuff, which Ian’s been bitching about.” She released a frustrated sigh, and he pictured her fisting her short, auburn hair, and narrowing her large green eyes.
“Sorry you’re having a bad day,” John said. “I think I’d rather deal with Owen and Ian’s bullshit than look at another dead woman.”
“Always one upping me, aren’t you? Okay, you got me beat. What do you need?”
“Is Owen finished with his current case? I could use him here.” Owen Malcolm was former Secret Service, an excellent investigator, interrogator and negotiator. He had a way with words, a way of fitting in where he didn’t belong. The running joke was that he could probably steal the church collection basket while seducing a nun, and still charm a priest into forgiveness.
“Nope. He probably won’t be back until sometime next week. If Ian didn’t have me chained to this desk, I’d come help.”
Rachel had yet to go into the field, and had been chomping at the bit for some out-of-office action for months. “You’re our eyes and ears, along with the best researcher any of us could have ever asked for. You’re needed at base.”
“While much appreciated, the sweet talk isn’t necessary. Now tell me what you need.”
“You tracked the last contract Garrett Winston had, would you be able to do it again, only this time dig deeper?”
“Sure, how deep?”
While he suspected he was going to end up on the top of her shit list, he had a hunch that needed to be followed. “As far back as you can go. Rachel, I know it’s a pain in the ass, but I think he’s a serial rapist and murderer. I want to—”
“Take a look at all of his former routes, compare them to cold cases with the same MO that you’re dealing with in Wissota Falls. Got it. And you’re right, it’ll be a pain in my ass, but it beats the hell out of what I’ve been working on today. I’ll call you later when I have something.”
Damn she was good. “Thanks, Rachel.”
“No problem. And John? Um...oh geez,” she muttered, her Upper Midwestern accent rising to the surface again. “I never know what to say when one of you are heading out to look at a crime scene.”
Celeste’s face, while she’d been under the second trance, flashed in his mind. Reddening as she fought to breathe, hands clawing at the phantom cord around her neck. “Not a whole lot. Just call me when you have something. And keep that pencil out of your mouth.” He disconnected the call and eased off highway fifty-three, turning into Tilden.
Minutes later, he drove his rental through the gates of Hess Steel and Fabricating. The mill was not only Tilden’s largest manufacturer, but employed more than half of the town.
Slowing down, he realized they weren’t going to be able to keep this murder from the media. Mill workers flooded the parking lot, some nodding toward the CSU vans and deputy cruisers, while others were either on their cell phones or using them to film the scene. News of the murder would spread fast. The internet and small town gossip would see to it, and Matt Boysen, who’d been true to his word so far, would probably spill every detail he had on the other five murder victims before someone else did.
He parked his car next to one of the police cruisers, then went to the trunk to retrieve a couple of pairs of shoe covers and Latex gloves. As he slammed the trunk shut, a muffler backfired and the crowd ducked. He swung his head and caught sight of a rusted-out minivan.
Speak of the devil.
As Matt Boysen parked his van, John headed toward where Roy stood.
“Matt makes a hell of an entrance,” Roy said with a shake of his head.
“You’re going to have to give him something. With the amount of people hanging around here, it’s going to leak anyway.”
“What about Celeste?”
“Her name stays out.”
“I’d already made that crystal clear to him yesterday. What I want to know is where she is now and who’s looking out for her?”
“I dropped her off at the diner. Will said he’d bring her home and stay at the house.”
Relief crossed the sheriff’s face before he narrowed his eyes. “You ready for this?”
“Not really. Tell me how the hell Lloyd came out here today, found nothing, then a few hours later—”
“I know you’ve got a hard-on for Lloyd, and I don’t blame you after the way he’s been acting. But he was out here. I talked with the owner of the mill and he confirmed it. A couple of kids were playing in the woods that butt up against the mill’s property. There’s a drainage pipe that filters to a little creek. Kids like to look for crayfish there.”
The heartburn returned. “Kids found her?”
“Unfortunately. Dan’s with them over there,” he said, and nodded toward the deputy’s cruiser.
Two boys, both appearing to be around ten or eleven years old, slumped against the cruiser, their faces pale, their eyes hollow with fear. “Where are their parents?”
“They’ve been notified and are on their way. The kids have been questioned. They said they didn’t touch anything, just ran as fast as they could to the mill when they saw the girl. The good news? They’ve already ID’d her as Lauren Sundahl.”
A quick ID was a great start. If they could pinpoint her last known whereabouts, who she’d associated with, those leads might help them. “Excellent. How did they know her?”
“She works at the Mini-Mart—a convenient store and gas station at the center of town. The kids said she was cool because she used to give them a break on candy and gum when they didn’t have enough money.”
He glanced back at the boys again, wondering how this would affect them. “Have you seen the body?”
“No, I was waiting on you. Lloyd was first to the scene. I arrived the same time as Mitchell and his team. They’re already working the area.”
John pulled an extra pair of boot covers from his pocket and handed them to the sheriff, who shook his head. “I’m prepared this time.” He pointed to his boots, which were already covered.
“Good, then I guess we’re ready.”
“Hardly,” Roy muttered as they made their way up a small slope. When they reached the top, he pointed to a well-used path.
Nodding, John followed him. As they moved deeper into the woods, the trees thickened, darkening the area, making it appear more like dusk than late afternoon. When bright yellow tape caught his attention, he reached in his pocket and drew out a few antacids. Like the sheriff, he’d come prepared this time. While the heartburn hadn’t completely set in yet, he had a feeling it would in a matter of minutes.
While working for both the FBI and CORE, he’d viewed many dead bodies. But this one in particular had him on edge. Through Celeste, he’d felt
this
victim’s pain and fear.
He had watched her die.
No, he had watched Celeste die in her place.
Mitchell approached as they neared the police tape. “John, Sheriff,” he said with a curt nod. “Been seein’ way too much of each other lately.”
“No shit,” Roy grumbled. “What have you got for us?”
“Come see for yourself.”
As they followed Mitchell, John couldn’t help the sick anticipation twisting his stomach. Since the second trance, he hadn’t been able to push the image of Celeste being raped and murdered by two men from his mind. Although irrational and illogical, considering Celeste had simply worked as the woman’s conduit, he hadn’t been able to stop the memory. Still, he needed to erase Celeste’s image from his mind and replace it with the victim’s.
“There she is,” Mitchell said, pointing to the drainage pipe.
Conscious of his steps, he moved toward the victim. When the stench of her decomposing flesh hit him, he stopped. His eyes burned and watered, nausea tumbled through his stomach. Blinking, he turned away and coughed into his shoulder, fighting the bile burning the back of his throat.
“This area clean?” he asked Mitchell.
“Yeah, I had my team work the victim first. They’re combing the surrounding area as we speak. Once we move her, we’ll take another look inside the drainage pipe. For now, go ahead and look all you want.”
“Roy?”
“I’m good, I can see enough from where I’m standing.”
“Wussing out on me?” John asked as he slipped a small flashlight from his pocket, and began moving toward the victim.
“You betcha.”
He couldn’t blame the sheriff from keeping his distance. And as he moved closer, flicking the beam of light into the drainage pipe, he suddenly wanted to wuss out, too.
A slow steady stream of murky water trickled passed the young woman’s nude body, and led into a small creek. Her head, partially coated in mud, and fully coated in bruises, dangled from the edge of the cement pipe.
He crouched closer, and gagged.
“Flies might be disgusting, but in this case, they’re a beautiful thing.” Mitchell crouched next to him. “The girl in the bog—”
“Courtney,” John snapped, tired of the bog tag line. Hell, he was tired of this entire fucked up case.
“Right, Courtney had insect larva on her, several kinds in fact. Because she’d likely been submersed in water for a while before she’d surfaced, the timeline wouldn’t be as concise as what you see here.” He pointed to the cuts on Lauren Sundahl’s face. “Based on the insect activity, my guess is that she’s been dead for at least four or five days. The majority of the maggots appear to be molting to the pre-pupa stage. I just dabble in entomology, though, so I made sure we took samples to be certain. I’ll have them sent to the same lab we used for the girl in the...I mean, Courtney.”
“Good.” John moved the flashlight over the victim’s neck. With the way her head dangled, he had to shift and crouch closer.
The stench had his gag reflex going into action. Again, he fought it, tried not to let her become personal, and viewed her body as an investigator.
She’d become more than personal.
This victim, this young woman who had so much life to live, had spoken through Celeste. She’d used the woman who had snared his heart to tell her story, to explain how she’d died.
“Did you check her neck?” he asked, and handed the flashlight to Mitchell.
“Not yet.”
“Keep the flashlight on it,” he said as he whipped the Latex gloves from his pocket, then shoved his hands into them. Knocking the fly larva away, he shifted her throat, then sucked in a breath.
“She’s been strangled.” Mitchell leaned closer. “Just like the four women from the dump site.”
John stepped away from the body, needing distance, fresh air and a moment to think.
“We’ve canvassed a fifty foot radius and found nothing,” one of Mitchell’s crime scene techs said as he approached. “No footprints, and no fibers so far, but we’re still searching.”
“Thanks Tom,” Mitchell said, then pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked to the ground. “This doesn’t make sense, John. Are we looking at two different killers? The evidence points—”
Roy’s cell phone stopped Mitchell short. The sheriff stepped away to take the call.
“The evidence points in that direction,” Mitchell continued. “From what we found at the first dump site compared to the girl from the...I mean Courtney, and now this victim?”
John peeled the gloves from his hands, the same questions banging through his mind in time with the drumming from the mill not more than a hundred yards away. “Hopefully the autopsy will—”
“John,” Roy shouted, as he shoved his cell phone back into his pocket. “We’ve got to go. Now.” He looked to Mitchell and raised a hand. “I don’t have time for the particulars, but I’ll need one of your techs.”
“You’ve got me,” Mitchell said without hesitation, then shouted a couple of quick orders to his men.
With a nod, Roy ran faster than John had anticipated. He caught up with him, and gripped his arm. “What the hell, Roy?”
“Keep moving,” he panted, as he jogged down the path leading to the parking lot. “We’ve got a dead prison guard and Winston in the ER.”