Authors: Melinda Leigh
He leaned over her hand and examined the cut. “I don’t see any glass.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
He applied a Band-Aid.
She tugged at her hand. “I should finish my work.” She should do anything but stay this close to him. There was only so long she could keep biology at bay.
Luke shook his head. “Come with me.” He led her into the den and guided her to the sofa. Brooke sat upright, too keyed up to relax. The cushion dipped as he dropped down next to her and picked up the remote. He clicked through some channels, settling on an old black-and-white comedy. He took her shoulders gently with both hands and drew her back against him. She let him. Joe’s act of violence had shattered her confidence. Luke’s body was solid and reassuring behind hers. His arms surrounded her. She knew she should resist, but she couldn’t.
Sunshine followed them into the den. She jumped onto the sofa on Luke’s other side, curled up, and settled her big head in his lap.
“She’s drooling on your leg.”
“I know.” Luke stroked Sunshine’s head. The dog gave him the big-brown-eye treatment while her tail slapped against the leather couch.
Brooke gave up and rested her head on his shoulder. How long had it been since she’d connected with a man?
Too damned long.
As long as she kept it in her mind that he wasn’t going to be around long, could she indulge? Nothing serious, though. He wasn’t staying. But even as her body relaxed against his, she knew it was a mistake. Leaning on him would make it harder to stand alone after he left.
Excitement roared through his veins as he pulled into his garage. He shut the car off and pushed the button clamped to the visor. The windowless overhead door cranked down with a
whirr
and shuddered as it hit the concrete.
He jumped out and rushed to the rear of his vehicle. His hands clenched with anticipation as he popped the trunk with the keychain fob. The lid sprang open with matching enthusiasm.
She was still asleep, her body still on the plastic sheeting. Perfect. He’d be able to get her settled in with less fuss than usual. Like social media, using ketamine could be considered cheating, but he rationalized that he’d pulled this snatch off with barely a day of preparation. Allowances must be made.
He reached down and stroked her dark hair.
Mm. Mm. Mm.
Gorgeous.
Brunettes were his favorites, though he tried his best not to establish a type or pattern with his victims. Working in the occasional redhead was also a nice change. He might love steak, but that didn’t mean a pasta dinner didn’t appeal now and then. Never blonds, though. Like sushi, they held zero appeal.
But tonight it was a juicy prime rib all the way.
He dragged her bound arms, limp as string, over his head and heaved her onto his shoulders. He swayed under her weight for a few seconds before widening his stance to create balance.
All those trips to the gym were never a waste. People had no idea how physically demanding it was to move unconscious and dead bodies. Lifting weights regularly was a necessity.
He carried her through the house and down into the basement. More plastic crunched underfoot as he eased her onto the worktable with reverence. Her long hair trailed across the clear tarp. He brushed it aside to secure her hands to the steel frame at the head of the table. He selected a utility knife from his toolbox. A quick slice severed the plastic ties securing her ankles. He separated her feet, then stood back and considered her position.
What was he in the mood for this evening?
The overhead pulley he’d installed over the summer caught his attention. Yes. He had a new toy to play with tonight. It had worked nicely with his practice mannequin. He moved it experimentally, grimacing at an annoying squeak. A few quirts of WD-40 resulted in the smooth silence he expected.
He unsnapped the D-hook connecting the chain from her wrists to the table, let out some slack, and transferred it to the pulley. Her arms extended straight up, lifting her shoulders just a millimeter from the table. Now he could put her anywhere he wanted. To prevent her from sitting up until she was properly subdued, he wrapped a length of chain around her neck and tied it to the steel frame of the table above her head. She’d have to arch her back to take the pressure off her throat.
Grabbing two cinder blocks from the corner of the room, he put one on the floor on each side of the table. He wrapped a plastic tie around each ankle and secured each to its own block.
He stepped back to survey his work. She was immobile, but her position would be easy for him to adjust. By releasing her neck and sliding the pulley forward, he could pull her off the table without setting her hands free. The cinder blocks attached
to her feet would prevent her from kicking him, yet enable him to move her on and off the table at will.
A fresh thrill coursed through him at his ingenuity.
This would be no quick kill. He had big plans for tonight. He had two days’ worth of frustration to purge from his system.
Satisfied that she was adequately restrained, he checked his supplies and then went upstairs. He dialed the temperature of the thermostat up a few degrees. Cold flesh was not as appealing as a warm body.
In the kitchen, he prepared a protein shake for sustained energy that wouldn’t weigh him down.
Then he went back downstairs to wait for her to stir.
He watched her sleep, trussed like a Christmas turkey, completely under his control. He was the one in charge. No question. Old memories stirred.
“What the hell?” The screen door opened. A mosquito buzzed inside the trailer.
Uh-oh.
Leaning over his bowl at the kitchen table, he froze. His spoon hovered over his noodles.
“You’re early.” He’d thought he would have another hour to clean up.
Ellie stared at him. Stains and wrinkles marred her black-and-white uniform. She looked a lot older than she had when their parents died three years before. Her blond hair was frizzy instead of smooth and pretty, a by-product of running in and out of a hot kitchen with trays of food, she said. Ellie worked a lot, which was good for him. He was home alone most days after school. He liked that. No Ellie screaming at him. He could relax and be himself.
“Not again. What do I have to do to get you to straighten out?” Ellie cuffed him. The strike hit his ear and jarred him. He tried to
scramble out from behind the table, but she was still bigger, still stronger, still faster. She jerked him back by the arm. Pain zipped in his shoulder and she dragged him off the chair.
Her hand reared back and slapped him hard across the face. He felt the blow to his toes. Eyes tearing, he put a hand to his stinging face.
“What am I supposed to do with you?”
He stared at the curtains billowing in the hot evening breeze. Answering would just make her madder. He didn’t know what to say anyway.
“I do not have the energy for this.” She twisted his arm behind his back and marched him down the narrow hall toward the closet.
He pushed his sneakers into the vinyl but they didn’t hold, just squeaked as Ellie dragged him across the floor.
Not the closet
. “I’ll clean up the mess, Ellie.”
“I can’t even look at you right now.” She opened a door. One hard push sent him into the cramped space. He barely fit these days. With no room to squat on the floor, he was forced to stand. He leaned against the back wall and listened to his sister rant. At least she wouldn’t hit him while he was in here. A scrape against the knob told him she’d barred the door with a broomstick.
No!
He slumped against the wall.
It was going to be a long night.
Luke circled around the sprawling dog. He pulled a box of pancake mix from the pantry and measured into a mixing bowl. He needed a real breakfast after a night of tossing and turning. Between worrying about the incident with Joe and the yearning of his body to slip upstairs to Brooke’s bed, sleep had remained elusive.
Yeah. Holding her in his arms for a two-hour movie had been a not-so-brilliant maneuver for a man who wanted to keep his distance. But damn, it had been nice. In fact, even without sleep, he was in a stupidly good mood.
“I’m an idiot,” he said to the dog.
Sunshine kept her eyes on the food.
Soft footsteps in the hall signaled Brooke’s entry. “Good morning.”
With a mass scramble of long limbs, the dog got up and shuffled over to her mistress. Brooke gave Sunshine a scratch.
“Morning.” Luke poured her a cup of coffee. He almost leaned in to kiss her good morning but stopped himself just in time.
She took her mug. “Thanks.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Some.” She turned away from him. “You?”
“Some.” Luke watched her walk away. She was barely favoring her injured knee this morning, and her dress slacks weren’t as loose. This pair, a soft fabric in dark gray, clung nicely to her fit
frame. She took a seat at the table, on the opposite side from him. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, and Luke itched to sink his fingers into the silky, dark mass. Sunshine followed, sticking her head in Brooke’s lap.
“Thanks again for helping us. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here last night.”
“You’re welcome.” He put his eyes firmly back on the stove. “Pancakes?”
“That would be great.” She sipped, then scanned her kitchen. “Did you clean up?”
“Maybe a little.” All he’d done was organize her clutter and wipe down the counters. Oh, and he’d polished the stainless. And scrubbed the range. “I was up early.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
Actually, he had. First of all, the clutter was giving him hives. Secondly, he’d been up at four and had time to spare.
“And you don’t have to cook us breakfast every day.”
“I know.” But he wanted to do it almost as much as he wanted to kiss her again. Since he couldn’t explain why, he changed the subject. “What’s the plan for the day?” He added milk and cracked eggs into the bowl. With a handful of eggshells, he crossed to the trash can. Luke tripped. Shells splattered on the tile. He looked down at the big dog under his feet. “Where did you come from?”
Sunshine wagged and lunged for the eggshells faster than Luke had thought an old dog could move. He grabbed her collar. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
Her tail sagged. A string of saliva dripped from her mouth to the floor.
Brooke was on her feet moving toward the paper towels. One hand was pressed against her mouth. Her eyes were laughing.
“She used to be so well-behaved. The older she gets, the more of her obedience training she conveniently forgets.”
Luke let her mop up the mess while he returned to making breakfast. A few minutes later, pancakes sizzled in butter. Outside the windows, the yard was frosty and dark, but the kitchen was warm, as were the emotions filling Luke’s chest. Not even slimy raw eggs or equally slimy dog slobber could spoil his mood. “Back to the plan for the day.”
Brooke went back to her chair. Her face tightened. “I have to go to the police station and sign papers. I’d like to drop the kids at school first. I called and got someone to cover my first two classes.”
The feel-good homey moment Luke had been enjoying came to a crashing halt. Back to reality. “That makes sense.” The kids had been traumatized enough by Joe’s freak-out.
Brooke blew out a long, worried breath.
Thuds sounded on the wooden steps. The kids filed into the kitchen. A bleary-eyed Chris sniffed the air and brightened. Brooke shook off her mood and smiled at them. “Good morning.”
“Hungry?” Luke slid plates of pancakes onto the table.
“You bet.” Chris dropped his backpack next to a chair. He detoured to the fridge for the butter dish.
Haley slumped into a chair and frowned at the plate Luke set in front of her. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Obviously, the kids hadn’t slept well either.
Luke joined them at the table. Brooke paused, her fork over her plate. “Why is it that you two don’t eat when I make you breakfast?”
Chris’s plate was empty. He pushed his chair back. “Oh, look at the time. I have to go brush my teeth.” He bolted for the hall.
“Me too.” Haley set both dishes on the kitchen floor. A few crumbs remained on her plate.
“What are you doing?” Luke stared.
Sunshine ambled over, held the first plate down with a paw, and licked it clean. She moved on to the second.
“What?” Haley picked up the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
“Nothing.” Luke dropped his head into his hand. After Haley left the room, he turned to Brooke. “That’s disgusting.”
Laughing, she raised both hands, palms up. “Why? The dishwasher sterilizes everything. Sunshine’s tongue is more thorough than any dish sponge.”
“Still…” Dog slobber on the floor was one thing. Luke looked down at his empty plate and wondered if the dog had ever licked it.
Ugh.
“Besides, germs are good for you. It isn’t healthy to be a clean freak.”
“I’m not a clean freak.”
Brooke pointedly glanced around her formerly messy, now tidy kitchen.
“I’ve traveled all over the world. Internationally, most cultures do not share Americans’ fixation with bathing. I’ve eaten things that would make your skin crawl. But the dog licking plates is still gross.”
Brooke was still laughing in the car, and since he liked the sound of it, he didn’t even mind that she was laughing at him. They dropped the kids at school and drove to the one-story brick building that housed Westbury’s limited police force. Inside, a white-haired woman met them at the reception desk. A pumpkin on the counter was the sole concession to the upcoming holiday. She was the only person in sight. The office in the back,
labeled C
HIEF OF
P
OLICE
, was dark. Luke introduced them. “Brooke is here to sign a statement.”
“I’m Nancy Wheelen.” Ah. His grandmother’s source of information. “Officer Hale is off duty, but he left the papers for you to sign.”
She handed Brooke a manila file. Brooke dug a pair of glasses out of her purse and read through the pages. Nancy handed her a pen.