Ultimate Sins (11 page)

“Yeah, I know what you are,” John sneered. “I may have not reached your level, Callahan, but that doesn't mean I wasn't invited there.”

Crowe let his lips tilt further. The operation he was part of was so much higher than the invitation this man had been given, it was laughable.

“An invitation is one thing,” Crowe said softly, “the years of training afterward is another. Don't think you can take me on, John. Your association with my uncle won't save you. He should have warned you of that.”

“But has anyone warned my sister about you?” The air around the deputy sizzled with fury. “And isn't she just a little innocent for you? Find a woman with enough experience to handle that ice your heart has become.”

“She can handle it just fine,” Crowe promised him, wondering how pissed Amelia would get if he punched the bastard in the face. “Now let's end this little pissing contest before one of us says something you may regret.”

The hard line of John's jaw tightened furiously as he let his anger rule him rather than using it to strengthen him. Maybe, Crowe thought, John should have accepted that invitation just for the training that went with it.

“The grudge is what I worry about,” John snapped, the gray-blue of his gaze sparking with charged energy. “What will that grudge dictate where Amelia's concerned, Crowe? She's Wayne's daughter. She was raised by him, she worked with him. Try to tell me you'll ever trust her enough to let that ice around your heart melt for her, and I'll call you a liar. The only reason you're here now is because she's that final snub you can give Wayne by actually getting into her bed rather than just letting him believe that was where you were.”

“And I'll be there, in her bed,” Crowe promised him. “He teased me with her for seven years. Had I suspected for a second who he was, John, just for a second, then I would have taken her and dared him to come after her,” he added softly, dangerously. “Now Sorenson is no longer here to hold her from me, or to threaten her. Don't doubt this: I will have her now.”

John drew himself stiffly erect as Crowe let a hard, confident smile curl his lips. “You think I won't warn her about how you feel?”

Crowe smiled. “Why bother? You and I both know she just heard every word I said.”

Reaching up, Crowe tugged at the digital audio-video line only barely visible in the small gap between the overhead ceiling tiles and the wall.

“Next time, try using less wire. That way it doesn't end up revealing itself,” Crowe suggested before tipping two fingers to his forehead and striding past John and leaving the basement.

Crowe ignored the somber regret that filled the deputy's gaze.

He ignored the jagged, unexplained strike of pain deep in his own chest at the knowledge that Amelia wouldn't have been able to resist listening, watching, any more than he could have resisted if the roles were reversed—and just how angry he would have been.

*   *   *

Amelia stared at the video screen John had wired into her room when he had installed the more advanced security system. When he'd wired in the audio she'd rolled her eyes at him.

He had grinned and told her it would eventually come in handy. It always did.

Now part of her wished she'd never let him do it. At the very least, she wished she hadn't turned it on to see Crowe one last time. Watching him leave, seeing his icy expression, the hardness in his eyes made her wish she'd just seen him out herself instead of giving in to the need to run and hide.

This was what she got for being so hungry for him that she had to see him.

This is what she got for loving him.

But all she was to him was the final snub at the man who had destroyed Crowe's entire family's life.

Wayne had murdered Crowe's grandparents and parents, and had tried to see him and his cousins imprisoned since they were teenagers.

Having her in his bed, and breaking her heart, again, would be the ultimate prize because evidently he didn't consider shattering her soul seven years ago to be enough.

She had six weeks before he would be back, roughly the same amount of time before the DNA results on the body believed to be Wayne's would be in.

And if Wayne was dead, it was six more weeks before Amelia could have her life back.

If.

God, she prayed it was over. Only then could she have more than just her life back. Only then could she have the one dream that had sustained her after losing Crowe. The only thing that had held her here, that had kept her fighting, breathing, living.

The chance to finally be free …

 

CHAPTER 5

Six weeks later

Crowe stared at his copy of the DNA results, just as his cousins Logan and Rafer stared at theirs—with a sense of pure, unadulterated rage and disbelief.

He was aware of the others in the room as well. His uncle, Ryan Calvert; Archer Tobias; the FBI special agents assigned to the Slasher case, Elliot Weston and Jake Donovan; as well as the forensic experts Nash Callum and Dr. Joseph Edger.

“The clue that tipped us off was the remnants of the latex mask.” Nash spoke into the silence as Crowe slowly closed the file and looked up. “It was made with a special polymer that should have disintegrated completely, but they didn't get the mix just right. The amount of latex used allowed just enough of it to adhere to part of the skull for testing. From there, we began running the DNA against all known databases, and we got damned lucky. Jimmy Bowers actually sold DNA samples to a testing facility over twenty years ago and allowed the DNA to be included in a batch shared among government research agencies. From there, we were able to trace his connection to Wayne through John Caine's DNA. But we also ran the samples against Amelia to connect them to Wayne and came up negative.”

“Because she's not Wayne's daughter,” Crowe stated softly, only barely managing to hold back the satisfaction raging through him.

“No, she's not,” Nash agreed, the dark brown of his gaze somber as it met Crowe's.

Son of a bitch, Sorenson was still alive. The bastard had once again managed to escape.

“What is he, fucking Houdini or something?” Rafe muttered, slapping the report on the table before throwing himself back in the chair and pushing his fingers through his hair.

Raw disgust filled Rafe's expression as well as Logan's.

Crowe felt the door he'd managed to open on his humanity slowly begin to close.

“Where is he?” Crowe directed the question to the special agents.

“We don't have a clue.” Special Agent Weston breathed out heavily as he leaned forward, his arms crossing on the top of the dark conference table, his gaze gleaming. “But according to the profile we have of him, he's close enough to know exactly what's going on, with whom, and where. And he's just waiting to strike, when you least expect it.”

And he would strike at Amelia.

The thought had Crowe's entire body tensing with the need for action. She would never be safe, she would never be free until Sorenson was dead. It was the only way to ensure he never harmed her again.

And there was only one way to draw him out—

“Unless we force him to make a move again,” Crowe mused, narrowing his gaze and staring back at the agent coolly.

Weston nodded slowly.

“His daughter,” Agent Donovan guessed, his attention now on Crowe as well. “That drew him out before.”

“But there was no proof we were lovers, only supposition.” Crowe nodded. “If he continues to think we believe he's dead, and Amelia and I begin a very public affair…”

“Then he could snap,” Donovan agreed. “But I think we keep the truth of her parentage to ourselves. Wayne learns that she's not his daughter, he won't give a damn what happens to her.”

The agent was wrong, Crowe knew; Wayne would still care. It was Amelia he'd have to keep that information from, though. If she found out that she wasn't related to Wayne it would give her the out she needed to possibly leave Corbin County, and Crowe couldn't allow her to do that.

She belonged to him.

She might not like it, she might not want to admit it, but he wasn't going to allow her to run from it. They had something to finish. Whatever had eased the ice beginning to overtake him seven years ago, haunted him. He'd been completely frozen inside after he'd left. So frozen that at times he worried himself. He nodded slowly, aware that his cousins stared back at him in disapproval.

“You can't keep that information from her, Crowe.” It was Logan who hissed the protest beside him.

He turned to his cousin slowly. Dark blond hair, intense blue eyes with only the faintest shadow of the steel-hard core of determination he possessed.

“You'd do it,” he replied coldly. He turned his gaze to Rafe. “As would you in the same situation. Don't try to tell me you wouldn't.”

“We would protect her, Crowe,” Rafe swore. “Just like you've protected Cami and Sky.”

“I know you would,” he agreed. “If you could. But trust me—she'll run. The minute she learns Wayne isn't her father, she'll go, because she'll believe he won't care anymore. But we all know he will. We all know he'll kill her, just like he's killed the others. And he'll do it faster because she's not his daughter.”

The muttered curse as Rafe sat back once again was all the agreement Crowe needed.

“You're taking a hell of a chance,” Archer stated.

The sheriff had stood by them since they were all were little more than boys. Archer had stood against his father, the cousins' powerful grandparents, the men who had run the county for more than forty years, and he'd stood by them as sheriff.

“It's one I have to take,” Crowe said.

If she ran, then any chance of catching Wayne might go with her.

“This could have the added benefit of drawing Amory Wyatt back as well,” Weston said. “He's only returned to the scene of the kill once, as long we've been tracking him. A similar situation, actually. One of his former partners targeted a young woman he seemed to be fond of while in the area.”

Crowe wanted to shake his head, to force that statement to make sense. But he couldn't quite push any logic into it.

Amory Wyatt had gone by a variety of names but the FBI had dubbed him the Master. He took certain serial killers under his wing and aided them, as long as their kills met his criteria, or his warped code of honor.

No one knew who he was, what he really looked like, or where he disappeared to when he was finished. But they did know he would return to an area if a former partner targeted a victim outside his “code.” And for some reason Amory Wyatt had decided both Crowe and Amelia were no longer on that list of potential victims. He'd made that clear when he'd left Amelia and another young woman Wayne had kidnapped together on his porch, albeit naked and still drugged, but unharmed.

“Then we could possibly capture not just Wayne, but Amory as well?” Archer mused, his expression harsh.

“If we play our cards right, yes,” the agent agreed, his hazel-green gaze calculating as he watched Crowe.

Nothing mattered to Weston but finding Amory Wyatt. The man lived, ate, and slept the search for the serial killer. It was as though it were a personal vendetta for him. Just as the death of Wayne Sorenson had become Crowe's personal vendetta.

“I don't like the means,” Archer sighed, agreeing with Logan and Rafer. “And I sure as hell don't like keeping the truth from Amelia, but like Crowe, I can't help but believe she'd run as fast and as hard as possible if she learns she's not Wayne's daughter. It would be her ‘get out of jail free' card and we'd lose our shot at getting Wayne once and for all.”

“Get real,” Weston laughed. “It would be guilt chasing her out of here. You can't convince me she didn't know what he was doing. I just can't prove it. That's all that saved her.”

Crowe stared back at the agent with icy disdain, his lips curling in disgust. He leaned back in his chair and watched him for long silent moments. “You don't know Amelia, Weston. Don't presume to understand her or to judge her. Trust me, she's given more to this county in bruises, broken bones, and sheer courage than anyone can imagine. If you even consider attempting to go after her, then you'll deal with me.”

“And me,” Logan promised.

“And me,” Rafe said, leaning forward to glare at the agent.

“Stay away from her,” Archer advised him, his voice harsh. “You don't want to take all of us on.”

The agent only shook his head slowly, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. “All I want is Wyatt. What the rest of you do with Sorenson and his stepdaughter is up to you.” He rose from his chair, motioning to Donovan to follow him before turning and leaving the conference room.

Crowe watched as Weston left, feeling as if there was something was vaguely familiar about him. He just couldn't put his finger on what.

“Amelia finds out you've held this information from her, there will be hell to pay,” Logan said, pulling Crowe's attention back to him. “The people in Sweetrock are putting her through hell, Crowe. That would fix all of it.”

“Not for much longer, they won't.” Rising to his feet and jerking his leather jacket from the back of his chair, he faced the other three men before turning to Nash. “Keep this to yourselves. We draw Sorenson out first. Once he's taken care of, then we'll fix the rest of it.”

The nods were reluctant, but he saw their eyes. They would commit themselves until this was finished. Once it was finished, then Crowe would deal with the fallout.

After Amelia was safe.

 

CHAPTER 6

Amelia hadn't had a migraine in over a year, but oh boy could she feel one coming on now. That building pressure behind her eyes, the heavy throb beginning at her temple.