Monster (13 page)

-Annie-

I couldn't focus on the show. It was funny as ever, but all I could think about was the heat of Quinn's thigh against my cheek.

Resting my head in his lap wasn't the sort of thing we agreed on.

None of this was what we agreed on.

I never should have let him come over to comfort me. I could handle it on my own, and I should have remembered that instead of being weak enough to want Quinn there beside me.

All I was doing was making it harder for myself when he left.

He wasn't the marrying type, and neither was I.

Even the men who looked like such bad-boys, who came across so tough and swore no woman would ever settle them down...

Even they wanted kids of their own.

I'd tried that before. Tried building a relationship with men who said they didn't want the family life.

Once they learned I couldn't give them a son, though, reality crashed through.

No man I'd ever met wanted an infertile wife.

I was better off just sticking to one-night-stands and friendships with women - and training Urso.

I pictured myself, Carol's age and still living alone, pictures of a string of dogs around the house. Maybe some awards. For the dogs, not for me.

If I told myself it didn't hurt, I'd be lying, but that didn't matter too much.

It wasn't more than I could stand.

So, this was going to be the last night. Once he left in the morning, that would be it. I'd make my excuses, tell him I was too busy, tell him I wasn't feeling it any more.

Anything would be better than letting him break it off.

Even if we weren't officially dating… it was too close for comfort.

I was worse than him.

He seemed so casual about it, fucking me and eating dinner at my table and never losing that bad boy charm, that smirk.

I was the one who couldn't help but fall for him.

He started running his fingers through my hair and I struggled not to gasp with the sheer pleasure of it.

His fingers slid through my hair so gently, so tenderly, that I could hardly stand it. I felt like I was some sort of priceless treasure under his hands.

They could be used to hurt, but something told me that they never would be.

Not to hurt me, at least.

I couldn't believe I'd ever thought that he was the Blue Ridge Killer. Heather was right. I was just too fucking lonely to cope.

The thought wasn't a pleasant one.

Quinn had only wanted to get in my pants, and I thought he had wanted to kill me.

How fucking pathetic was that?

The thoughts of the killer undid all that relaxation that Quinn had helped me find. I found myself biting my cheek, the muscles of my back hard and unyielding.

"Hey, Annie," Quinn said. His voice was low and rich and rough, like chocolate, like a lover. "What's wrong?"

"Just thinking about those girls again," I said. "Thinking about Kelly. She's, what, number four?"

I felt his hand still on my shoulder as he hesitated.

"I don't think so," he said. "I think she's number six. Maybe even seven or eight."

"Shit," I said.

He filled me in on his theory.

Girls had gone missing or turned up dead in accidents before the girls started showing up obviously murdered. The first girls hadn't been raped, but there were two of them that died in the six months before Tami Ballard went missing. Two girls with long blonde hair and blue eyes.

Tami had turned up a year later. Identified through dental records.

Both of the hikers had split up from their groups and been found dead, fallen over a cliff or into a ravine.

“I think the son of a bitch started that way,” he said. “Pushing girls over an edge and then running away. I think he just likes the power.”

“Then why start the rest?” I asked “It'd be a hell of a lot harder to catch a serial pusher, right?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Either he was working his way up to this fantasy, or he heard what people were afraid of and started doing just that.”

I shivered.

“I don't get it,” I said. “How can you want to hurt someone you don't even know?”

I felt him sigh.

“I don't know,” he said. “I mean, don't get me wrong. Before I joined the force, I did my fair share of wild teenage things. Got in plenty of fights. Walking up to someone you're pissed at and punching them in the face is fucking satisfying.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, I laughed out loud.

“It is!” he said, all injured dignity.

“I believe you,” I said.

“Just walking up to a stranger and hitting them, though, I don't get the appeal. More than that, though – hurting a woman? A little girl? No way.”

“Because you're such a gentleman?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“If a woman hits me, I'll hit back. I've done it before. When I was on the force, I had to restrain and defend myself against a ton of women. I'm no gentleman.”

“But it's weirder to you to hurt a girl?” I asked.

“Well, yeah. Most men are stronger than most women. It's shitty to go after people weaker than you.”

I nodded.

“It's disgusting,” I said. “Especially the younger ones.”

“Kelly's the youngest, I think,” he said. “Fourteen. Fuck. Barely in high school. I feel so goddamn bad for her parents.”

“I can't imagine what they're going through,” I said, the platitude slipping from my lips without any effort.

“No way am I having kids,” he said. “They're okay to be with for a while, but I don't want that sort of responsibility. I've seen too much of what can happen to them. I could never sleep again.”

I wished he meant it.

He probably though he did, but that was because he had the option.

It's easy, saying you don't want kids, knowing you can change your mind any time you want. It was a big difference, not being able to have them, either because of yourself or your partner.

“How old is the oldest you think was a victim?” I asked.

“Most were teenagers, but one of the potential pushing victims was twenty-three,” he said. “This is all speculation on my part, but I don't think the age matters to him as much as the official reports.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because there's a better link. Every single girl who was definitely him, every single one who is a strong possibility, they were all beautiful. Thin and pretty, most of them were dressed nicely. They all were pictured in makeup, but not a ton of it. Very tasteful. No piercings or big tattoos. All the girl-next-door type.”

“I should dress like I'm out with Urso all the time,” I joked. “Big muddy jacket and baggy jeans.”

“I was serious about you getting a gun,” he said. “It's not foolproof, but it's something between you and whoever's out there.”

“If I don't know how to shoot, it's more dangerous for me than some killer who might or might not even give me a second glance,” I said.

“Then learn to shoot,” he said. “I'm dead serious. You're just his type.”

“You said yourself, he likes pretty, polished girls. Young ones. Perfect makeup. That's not me.”

“You're beautiful, Annie,” he said, tilting my chin towards him and meeting my eyes. “You're in great shape, you have a jaw-droppingly gorgeous face. You look amazing in just jeans and a t-shirt. Your hair is amazing and a man could lose himself in your eyes.”

The look he gave me was almost hungry.

I wondered, fleetingly, if Quinn Markham could ever even want to lose himself in me.

“I'll look up a range,” I said. “Tomorrow. Promise.”

“Good,” he said. “I don't want anything to happen to you, okay? Think about how upset Urso would be.”

The threat of my poor dog's confusion and loneliness if I disappeared on him did what the thread to myself couldn't do. A cold chill went down my spine.

Even if Quinn was just overreacting, I'd get a gun.

“I don't want to talk about this any more,” I said.

He nodded.

“You need sleep,” he said. “Come on. I'll turn everything off.”

“Except me,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him as I stood up. I was pretty sure that I saw his cock twitch in response, which didn't hurt my feelings at all.

“Think I can go turn you on again?” he asked.

“I'm counting on it,” I said, leading him upstairs to my bedroom with the sway of my hips.

I needed to forget again.

-Quinn-

Laying in Annie's bed, a gleam of sweat over our bodies, I trailed my fingers up and down her spine.

She really was beautiful.

Every curve of her, every inch of her, was perfect to me.

I figured she was about twenty seconds from passing out. I hoped she would. She clearly needed the sleep so fucking badly.

I wasn't tired yet, but I had no problem stretching out and watching over her.

If I got bored, I could play some stupid bullshit game on my phone, but I didn't think that I would. I'd had a long-ass day, and holding still and drinking in the sight of a beautiful woman was about what I was up for.

I trailed my fingers down a little further, to ghost over her ass.

I needed her to be mine. As I lay there with her, I found myself thinking about driving out to a jewelry store and asking her to marry me.

That was crazy.

Annie seemed designed to make me crazy.

I wasn't going to be totally nuts and propose, but that no feelings bullshit had to stop.

Her eyes lit up when she looked at me. Her body responded to mine. I was the one she let comfort her.

She cared for me, too.

All I had to do was remind her.

The next morning, I came downstairs to the sight of her eating a bowl of cereal.

She managed to make even that appealing. The heat rushed through my body and I felt a tightening in my groin as I watched her lift her spoon to her perfect mouth.

Seducing her, though, unfortunately wasn't my goal.

I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and joined her, eating my raisin bran all the enjoyment a healthy cereal could muster.

When we were finished, she took both of our bowls to the sink to rinse out and then stood there, leaning on the counter.

It was just the sort of morning moment I'd never wanted before but found myself enchanted by now.

With that woman by my side, domestic bliss sounded appealing.

"I've been thinking," I began.

"Good, me too," she said. "I'm going to go first."

She looked nervous, and I found myself not trusting whatever her plan was. I opened my mouth to object, but she held up a hand.

Convincing her to be my lover wouldn't go well if I started by interrupting her.

"The last few weeks have been great," she said. "You're awesome in bed. Is that weird to say? And you know. I hate to do this, but we need to stop seeing each other."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

"What the fuck," I asked."Annie, did I do something wrong?"

"No," she said.

She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Then what are you talking about?" I demanded. "We're great together. I've never found a woman like you before. I was about to ask you to be my girlfriend."

She shrugged, a small, tight motion.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," she said. Her voice was cool as summer rain on the mountain.

I found the anger rising in me.

"I think you do," I said. "This is out of fucking left field. I thought we were going along great."

"I did warn you," she said. "No feelings. No dating. We've been fuckbuddies, not lovers. I don't owe you a damn thing."

It was a good thing that she'd taken up the bowls from breakfast. I probably would have smashed them in my hands, the delicate china breaking under my clenched fists.

The chair almost fell over backwards when I stood up, from the force of the pain and fury I was barely holding in.

Urso got up from his spot in the corner of the kitchen and moved between me and his mistress.

Even the fucking dog thought I was a dangerous motherfucker.

I couldn't believe what had happened. Things were fucking great, and then, suddenly, she was kicking me out of her house and telling me she wouldn't even explain why.

This was why I'd always avoided any sort of attachment.

Coming to rely on another person was pointless. They'd always let you down.

I should have known.