Silver Falls (19 page)

Her eyes shot open. “No.”

“Yes,” he said, pulling her shirt free from her jeans, moving his mouth down the side of her neck, sinking his teeth into her earlobe, a move that sent sparks directly between her legs, and she moaned because she couldn't help it.

“No means no,” she whispered, as he pushed the shirt from her shoulders.

“That's right,” he said, reaching for the snap of
her jeans. “No means no, except when the mother's life is in danger. Then all bets are off.”

She needed to get it together, push him away, but it was too delicious. “You're getting your issues confused,” she murmured. “We're talking rape, not abortion,” she said as he moved his mouth down and kissed the swell of her breast above the lace. She heard the sound of her zipper, and it should have been enough to galvanize her into action. Instead it made her knees weak with longing.

“This is a very bad idea. It's wrong,” she said, as he put his mouth against her navel, licking her skin so that she shivered.

“It's for your own good,” he said, shoving her jeans down her hips, taking her panties with them. “Just close your eyes and think of England.”

She opened her eyes at that. “Fuck you.”

“Now you're getting the idea.” He scooped her up and deposited her on the bed, pulling her jeans off her as she landed. “You can get under the covers if you're feeling shy, but we're doing this.”

“We are not.” She'd already pulled all the buttons off his shirt earlier, and he shrugged out of it, then reached for his belt buckle. She let out a little shriek and yanked the chenille bedspread around her. “Don't take your pants off!”

“It's a little tricky to manage if I leave them on,” he said. “Not that I couldn't do it, but you'd really
be more comfortable without my zipper rubbing against your thighs.”

“I don't want any part of you rubbing against my thighs,” she said in a tight voice, trying to control the treacherous way her body was reacting. Even the enveloping chenille bedspread felt luscious, sensual.

“Sure you do,” he said, kicking out of his jeans and getting on the bed with her. “You just won't admit it.” He slid up next to her, pulling her cocooned body into his arms, and he let his lips feather across her stubborn mouth, his tongue touching the corners, teasing her.

She was having a hard time keeping her body rigid in protest. She'd told him no and he hadn't listened, she reminded herself, trying to drum up outrage. But his body felt too good up against hers.

He caught the edge of the bedspread with his hand, slipping his fingers beneath it, cool against her heated skin. “I tell you what. You can hate me. You can have me arrested. But you'll be alive, and that's all I care about.” And before she realized what he was doing he'd pulled the bedspread away from her, wrapping his body in it as well, and he was kissing his way down her body, his mouth latching on to her breast, sucking it into his mouth so hard she arched up off the bed. The pleasure was so fierce she couldn't deny it anymore. She wanted,
needed more, and when he moved to her other breast she almost came from the power of her response. Her deep, guttural groan filled the room, and she gave up, leaning back to give him better access to her shrouded body.

He put his wicked mouth between her legs, and she remembered that he'd said he would, and a tiny orgasm shook her body. He slid his long fingers inside her, and a more powerful one hit her, hard. He made it last, so long that she was sobbing, her fingers digging into his shoulders, clutching at him, as wave after wave shook her body, and before she could even begin to come down he pushed her legs apart, slid up and over her, and she could feel him, hard and heavy against her.

She slid her hand down his belly, wanting to touch him, wanting to wrap her fingers around his silken length, and he made a muffled sound of barely controlled need. It made no sense to fight this—she needed it too much, wanted it too much. It felt too damned good to stop, and she guided him to her, leaning back and lifting her hips for his deep, hard thrust.

She put her arms around his body, her face against his neck, lost in the feel and the scent, the sounds and the sensations, and she was trying to hold off, to keep from coming. If she was going to be bad then she wanted to be really bad—she
wanted it all, an orgasm so powerful her rational mind would disappear and there would be nothing but feeling, rich and powerful and wicked.

He'd wrapped the bedspread tight around them both, trapping her against his body, his cock inside her, the sensation was frustrating and delicious. She wanted to break free. She wanted to stay trapped forever. And her orgasm was coming closer, dancing along her nerve endings, making her tremble, and she didn't want to let go, didn't want this to end, but he was moving faster, deeper, harder, and she clutched the sheets beneath her, trying to hold on.

He put his mouth against her ear, his breath hot and moist. “Stop fighting, Rachel. Give it to me. Come for me. Come now.” As his words filled her head his hand reached down between their bodies to touch her, hard, and she was lost. She screamed, for the first time in her life, as her body felt blown away into a million pieces. She felt him go rigid in her arms, and she knew he was there, too, and she thought about condoms, and she didn't care and all she wanted was him, inside her, around her, making up her entire world, so that she could lose herself in him, in the feelings, in the desire that went hand in hand with love….

That was enough to bring her back to earth with a thud. Stray tremors danced across her
body, and he pulled away, turning his back to her for a moment.

“You used a condom,” she said in a rough whisper.

He looked back at her. “Of course I did. What kind of man do you think I am?”

She pulled the bedspread around her, shivering slightly in the cool room. “The kind of man who forces his sister-in-law to have the best sex of her life even when she says no.”

There was a faint grin on his brooding face. “Best of your life, eh?”

“I said no,” she repeated, clinging to it.

“Yes, you did. And now you're ruined, you can never go back to your husband. Mission accomplished.”

The faint chill grew worse. “Very noble sacrifice on your part,” she said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering, trying to keep her emotions at bay.

He turned and smiled at her with such devastating sweetness that her defenses almost came crashing down. “I'm a helluva guy,” he said. “Now this time let's do it simply because we want to.”

She started at him. “This time?”

“The night is young, and you've been haunting my dreams since I first saw you skulking around Stephen Henry's kitchen door. I want to fuck you any way you'll let me, and then I want to do it again. I
want us to make love until we're too weak to move, sleep for a little bit, and then start all over.”

“I don't think your brother's going to need further convincing.”

“I don't give a shit about my brother. This one's for us.” And he pulled the bedspread from around her, spreading it out so he could look at her in the shadowy light of the motel room. “Okay?”

“I think it's too late,” she said gloomily. “I'm lost.”

“I know you are,” he said with a faint smile. “I am, too. Maybe we can find our way back together.”

He was close, not moving, and she realized it was up to her. He wouldn't push it again.

So she rose on her knees with one fluid movement, slid her arms around his neck, pressed her naked breasts against his hard, smooth chest, and brushed her lips against his mouth, slowly, tantalizingly, until he grabbed her with a hungry growl and they fell back among the covers, rolling and tumbling with delight.

T
aking a shower in the Bates Motel was probably not the smartest thing she ever did, but lying in bed with Caleb Middleton wasn't an option. Because if she had a choice she could have stayed there forever, and her life hadn't turned out that way. The rain-soaked light of day brought reality crushing back. She had responsibilities. She had Sophie. She had managed to drag her daughter into a mess so deadly and so complicated that they might not survive, and there was no way she could keep hiding away.

She should never have gone to bed with him. The awful truth was, he was right. One look into his dark, cynical eyes outside Stephen Henry's kitchen door and she'd fallen into some kind of crazy infatuation, and her marriage vows, her determination for a safe, ordered life, suddenly hadn't meant shit. If she had the choice, she'd grab Sophie and take off with Caleb and never look back.

But he hadn't asked. He'd been manipulating her since the moment he'd met her. He'd slept with her because it suited his agenda of keeping her away from David. She'd feel too guilty to go back to him, and Caleb had known it. Even if it turned out that David had nothing to do with the murders there was no way she could ever live with him again. Not after betraying him. Not after realizing what a stupid mistake she'd made in thinking she could make her life over in somebody else's mold.

Maybe it would be better if a crazy person came in and stabbed her in the shower. At least then she wouldn't have to think about it, wouldn't have to blame herself anymore.

The door to the bathroom opened, and through the cheap shower curtain she could see him. He pushed it out of the way and simply climbed into the tub with her. And then pulled her into his arms.

She hadn't even realized she needed it. One moment she was calmly dissecting the utter destruction of her safe new life, in the next she was sobbing in his arms, her body shaking, as he held her.

He said nothing, simply stroked her hair, her face, letting her cry. The kiss was comfort, nothing more. The second kiss was deeper, and she stopped crying. By the third kiss he had her pushed up against the cheap tile on the wall, as hungry as she was for more.

They moved without words, hands and mouths and bodies intertwining, stroking. She sank down on her knees in the narrow tub and took him in her mouth and he put his hands in her hair, holding her there for moments that she found unbearably arousing. He stopped her before she finished, pulling her up so that she straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist, taking him deep inside, and it was slow and sweet and gentle, and when she came she cried.

He set her down carefully, and her knees were weak. She leaned back against the cheap wall-board and looked at him. And she saw the regret in his face, and she turned her own away, unable to look at him again.

 

Stephen Henry woke early, just past dawn, with a bad feeling about the day. David had come by late last night, his eyes glistening with pleasure, too excited to sit still, and there was no way Stephen Henry could ignore the foreboding. Things were going very well for David apparently. Which was seldom a good thing.

According to David, Rachel had run off somewhere with Caleb. Not that Stephen Henry could blame her. Caleb had that bad-boy charm that most women found irresistible. They found presumably safe men like David much too boring. Unfortu
nately they never knew just how unsafe David was capable of being.

It wasn't like Rachel to run off without letting anyone know. He'd watched her try to cram her larger-than-life personality into her role as faculty wife. She'd tried to tame her hair, her clothes, her voice, her behavior, but no one was fooled. She was too exotic for the likes of Silver Falls, Washington. She just didn't want to admit it.

She married the wrong brother. She belonged with someone like Caleb, always on the move, exploring new places, new things. And David had probably known it—that was why he'd chosen her. One more stab at his older brother.

But it appeared that David had pushed Caleb one step too far. Rachel's car had been sabotaged, and David said everything pointed to Caleb. He'd find that hard to believe if he didn't know that David was absolutely useless when it came to cars, and Caleb had loved them since he was sixteen and started rebuilding an old Corvette. The Corvette had been destroyed in the garage fire, just as Caleb was finishing it. David had said all the comforting things. And hid the matches he'd used.

There was no peace with the two of them around. Caleb incited David to do horrible, horrible things. If he just stayed away then David could keep his impulses under control. Even if Rachel wasn't a
perfect match for him, she gave him stability, a family. There might still be hope. He couldn't let his son be destroyed in front of his eyes, no matter how many hideous things he might have done. There was a chance he could still be saved.

But right now the forces of darkness were closing down on his family, and he couldn't see any way to get free from them.

One of his sons was going to die. And he had no idea how to stop it.

 

“I need to go home,” Rachel said flatly. She wasn't sure where to look—not into his eyes, not anywhere near his face or his body. She felt vulnerable, ashamed, and the sooner she got away from him the better.

“That's not a good idea.”

“I want to go home, pick up my daughter and get the hell away from this place and everyone here.”

“Everyone?”

At that point she did look him at him, calmly, squarely. “Everyone,” she said. “I want to forget this place ever existed. I never signed the adoption papers. I'll get an annulment or a divorce and move on with my life and forget about all of you.”

“Are you sure you didn't sign those papers? David's a talented man. He had my handwriting down pat by the time he was twelve.”

She fought against fear. “He'd need witnesses. A legal hearing of some sort.”

“Don't underestimate my brother's charm. He knows how to get what he wants. Even if the adoption papers weren't signed it might turn out that you left a will.”

She couldn't hide her stricken expression. “He wouldn't—”

“There's nothing he wouldn't do. And if I were you I wouldn't be in any hurry about the paperwork,” he said, unmoved by her reaction. “You'd have to be in touch with David to do it, and the only way to be truly safe is for him not to know where you are. At least until things change.”

He was right, and it pissed her off. “Well, hell, maybe I'll stay married to him until you can manage to get him convicted of murder. That way when they execute him I can get his pension from the college.”

“I think they might put a stop to his pension considering he killed at least one student and two teachers.”

“What?” She was too horrified to be annoyed.

“You don't need the details. Neither of them were ever seen again, and I'm not naïve enough to think that's a coincidence.”

“That doesn't make sense. If he murdered other women he dated then why wouldn't he kill me?”

“Because they were tall and thin with long blond hair,” he said simply.

“I don't even know if I believe you. I was stupid last night, scared and angry and upset, and you took advantage of me.”

“Yes, I did. I took advantage of you this morning, too. I enjoyed it.”

“I want you to take me home. Now!”

“I don't think that'll be necessary.” He shoved a hand through his long dark hair.

“And just why not?”

“Because your husband and a police car just pulled up outside the motel, and I imagine they're going to crash into here, guns blazing, and rescue you.”

She didn't move. “Do I need rescuing?”

“Not from me. You'd probably disagree. We don't have much time,” he said, moving toward her, his previous laziness vanishing. “You need to listen to me. Don't believe what anyone tells you, even Maggie Bannister. There's more going on, and I had my reasons. Whatever you do, don't trust…”

The banging at the door drowned out whatever he was saying, and a moment later it slammed open. Not just Maggie and David, but two uniformed policemen with their guns drawn. As was Maggie's.

“Get away from him, Rachel,” David said, with real fear in his voice.
“Don't let him touch you.”

Caleb took a step back, raising his hands in a mock gesture of helplessness. “What do you think I'm going to do to her?”

Maggie paid no attention. “Caleb Middleton, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Rachel Middleton. Read him his rights, deputy.”

Caleb held still as one of the beefy deputies came forward and put him into handcuffs. “Why aren't you charging me with the other murders, Maggie?”

“Because I don't have any proof yet,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “I'm not charging you with anything that might not stick—I don't want a murderer walking free because I made a mistake.”

“Is that what you think I am, Maggie?” he said softly, ignoring the deputy's rote reading of the Miranda rules.

“I don't know what I think. I've got proof you sabotaged Rachel's car—fingerprints and a witness, and that should be enough to keep you for a while. You can deny it all you want.”

“Oh, I don't deny it,” he said, not looking at Rachel. “I cut her brake line.”

It was like a blow to the stomach. She heard her own swift intake of breath, and then David was beside her, putting his arm around her, drawing her close. “Let me take you out of here,” he said in his gentle, comforting voice. “I know what a shock
this is. But he's managed to fool smarter women than you.”

For a moment everything became cloudy, and all Rachel could think was,
fuck you, I'm as smart as any woman you ever met.
She caught Caleb's eye, by accident, and everything came back into focus. He was trying to tell her something, still manipulating her, and she turned her face into David's shoulder. “Take me out of here,” she whispered.

She half expected Caleb to call out after her as they left the dingy hotel room. But there was nothing but the sound of Maggie's voice giving orders.

David settled her into the front seat, solicitously, even bringing a cashmere blanket to wrap around her in the early morning chill. The foul smell that had plagued the BMW had finally vanished, replaced with the somewhat overbearing scent of laboratory-created roses, and she leaned back against the leather seat, closing her eyes, as David pulled away from the motel, back down the narrow, twisted road.

“How did you find me?” she asked in a low voice, not looking at him.

“Maggie called me to tell me about the accident. Fortunately one of the neighbors saw him hustle you into the car, so we knew he'd taken you, and there were only a couple of places he might have gone. Oh, Rachel, I was so frightened!” His voice
was soft, earnest. “I was afraid we wouldn't get to you in time. I always thought this might happen, that sooner or later his control would snap. I'm just so sorry that I couldn't protect you.”

Her eyes flew open, as his words sank in. “You think he's the serial killer? But he hasn't even been living here.”

David reached his hand over to pat hers in a reassuring gesture, never taking his eyes off the narrow road. She let her hand lie still beneath his. “Maggie told me on the way over,” he said. “The deaths in this country coincided with the times he was visiting, and there have been identical murders in the cities where he's lived over the past twenty years. I hate to tell you this, Rachel, but he was even in San Francisco six months ago.”

Her stomach turned inside her. “You think he killed Tessa? Isn't that just too big a coincidence? That he chose a random victim who ended up connected to his sister-in-law?”

“It was no coincidence,” David said. “I've been suspecting Caleb for years, too afraid to find out the truth. When I heard about Tessa I deliberately sought you out, to see if I could find any way to tie Caleb to the newest horror. But then I fell in love with you and Sophie, and it became even more important that I keep you safe.”

Her head was spinning. None of this was mak
ing any sense, and David's soft, calm voice was making it worse. She wanted to scream at him to shut up, but she bit her lip. She just needed silence to work this out. She'd not only broken her marriage vows, she'd had sex with a serial killer. Several times. The very thought was revolting.

She forced herself to speak. “David, I have to tell you—” she began, her voice thick with horror and shame. “He wouldn't let me leave the room, and I—”

“Hush, love. You don't have to say it. Rape has always been part of his bag of tricks.”

It would be an easy out, but she despised herself too much to take the easy way. “It wasn't rape. It was—”

“I don't need to hear it,” he said calmly, drowning her out. “My brother can be very charming—that's how sociopaths get their way. Even if he didn't tie you down and force you, it was still rape.”