Deadly Obsession (9 page)

"Well, when she gets here, I’ll have her call you."

Gabe nodded, felt bad for lying to the guy. "You do that."

The click sounded in his ear.

* * * *

Brayden set the phone down and stared at it. That was a line of bullshit if he’d ever heard one. What the hell was going on?

He picked the phone up and dialed Christian’s cell.

Probably just overreacting. But where she was concerned, he couldn’t think straight. She’d more than likely walk through the door at any minute, it was almost seven now.

When her voice mail answered, he hung up. Maybe she just turned her phone off.

Weird phone calls ... creepy phone calls...

Damn it.

He dialed her condo. If she didn’t answer this time...

It rang, and rang, and rang.

* * * *

The ringing phone startled her and she jerked.

"Help is so close," he chuckled, "yet unattainable."

The phone rang and she smelled the albuterol as it puffed uselessly in her face. Tears soaked the cloth covering her eyes.

"Don’t you just hate that? And the phone is what? Eight inches from your hand?" His cultured voice taunted her, the smile in it, the humor, the excitement whispered through. "The medicine to help you breathe? Only two inches from your face."

Her chest was so tight it hurt to even try to breathe. The puff of her inhaler sputtered.

"Oops, it appears you need to refill your prescription." She heard the inhaler drop to the floor, the sound of crushing plastic as he must have stepped on it.

One leather clad hand trailed over her chest. Christian bucked and jerked, strained against the ropes until her muscles shook.

The sound of his laughter rang in her ears as his hand traveled lower and lower.

She tried to scream, but the wheezing sound was lost in silken fabric.

* * * *

Gabe parked beside Christian’s VW bug. Geoffery and Drayson were walking to their door.

"Oh, Gabe," Geoffery’s gaze looked at the parking space and back to him. "New slot? You know tenants are supposed to park in front of their condos."

He didn’t care about proper parking rules.

"Yeah, I know. Anymore trouble next door?" he asked as Geoffery slid his key in.

"No, should there have been?" Drayson asked.

Gabe shrugged.

"Do you know anymore about that ghastly gift and strange caller?" Drayson asked.

"No." Gabe smiled and stood in front of Christian’s door. He could hear a phone ringing. And ringing.

Why didn’t she answer it? Maybe she was just in the shower.

He knocked.

"Christian!"

Nothing.

"Christian!"

Something crashed inside.

"Christian!" He moved back and noticed the long fresh groove in the door facing.

He pulled his gun and motioned to Emma. To Drayson and Geoffery he said, "Stay back, go in your condo."

He banged with his fist and again.

"Christian! Christian! Open the door. It’s the police!"

Still nothing.

* * * *

Damn it! He looked down at the woman of his fantasies, at his angel and cursed.

His erection was painful and he wanted to sink it deep inside her.

Someone banged on the door again. If only he hadn’t thrown the phone. It’d hit the wall and broke a vase.

Richard grabbed her by the throat and with the other hand, twisted the locket tighter and tighter. "If you say anything. Anything. One single word, the Kinncaids will die. The first will be Brayden and his little girl." He ripped the locket from her neck and shoved it in his pocket.

Quickly, he rose, grabbed his wet pair of gloves off the floor where he’d thrown them and hurried down the stairs.

Just as he eased out the sliding door in her kitchen into the darken courtyard, he heard the shots shattering the front door lock.

The shadows covered him as he slithered through the darkness, hopped over the back fence and hurried through the alleys. Sirens screamed in the night.

He walked a block down to his car. Inside, he pulled off the gloves.

Thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. How had the police arrived?

It didn’t matter. He’d find out.

Right now, he needed to get to the airport.

* * * *

Brayden hurried down the stairs. She hadn’t answered. At the door he pulled on his coat and grabbed his keys.

"Where are you off to?" Aiden asked coming from the living room where everyone else was.

"To town."

"Why?" Aiden stopped in front of him.

Brayden didn’t have time for this. "She didn’t answer."

"So?" His brother crossed his arms. "Maybe she’s out with another guy. What do you care if your sister is a bit late?"

"Christian isn’t my sister."

The corner of Aiden’s mouth twitched, but his eyes narrowed. "Don’t pull another stunt with her like you did after Gavin and Taylor’s party," Aiden warned, his voice low.

"What?" He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"You heard me."

Brayden closed his eyes. "I don’t have time for this."

"Why are you rushing off to town?"

Damn it. "Because she said she’d be here and she’s not!" he yelled.

Aiden stepped back and lowered a look at him.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Something is wrong, Aiden. Really wrong."

"Fine. What do you think is wrong?"

"Someone’s been calling her. Creepy, midnight calls. And last night the guy left her a gift. Whenever I see her, she’s always darting looks over her shoulder. Have you even seen her lately?"

Aiden nodded and frowned. "Yeah, she didn’t look so good. I was pissed at you. Figured it was your fault."

Brayden smiled. "Yeah, well, I did too at first. But now, after this morning." He shook his head. "I don’t know, Aiden. Something is off, way off. I never should have left her. I should have waited on her and drove her up here myself. I should have gone back to town hours ago." He stopped and looked at the floor. "I’ve got a really, really bad feeling. Like the time Tori was taken."

There, he’d said it. The churn of sickness coated his stomach. He stuck his hands out and saw they trembled. "See? She should be here. I’m going to town."

Aiden studied him for a minute then reached around and into the coat closet, retrieving his own black woolen coat. "I’m going with you. Let me tell Jessie."

"That’s not--"

"I’m going."

He reached for the door.

He stepped outside and into the cold wind that slapped and stung, a vengeful woman full of fury.

Gabe looked around the hallway, his gun sweeping wide, Emma right beside him. She’d radioed in as soon as he’d shot the locks. In the kitchen he saw blood on the floor, the scattered fruit.

"Christian!" Turning, he ran down the hall, took the stairs three at a time.

His heart raced at what he might find. Had the guy taken her?

Why wasn’t she answering? He didn’t want to think about that. Too many bodies bloodied his memory with grotesque images at what could have happened. Sirens pierced the night.

Please, let her be okay.

He turned the corner to her room and stop, frozen at the sight before him.

She was tied, spread eagle on the bed. Rage pounded through him and then the freeze frame snapped and he moved. Emma swore behind him and shifted to check the bathroom.

"Clear," she said.

No one. The closet doors stood open, torn and ragged clothes falling out. The place was empty.

Lowering his gun, he walked to the bed and saw her chest panted fast and furiously. Thank, God. She was alive. He tried not to look, but the image seared into his mind. Tethered like an animal, she was exposed and at the mercy of whomever had done this.

On the floor lay her crushed inhaler. On the bed beside her, a blood stained knife. Folded neatly in the chair were blankets and sheets. He jerked one of the blankets off and threw it over her, but not before he’d registered the multiple bruises and cuts covering her. Her wrists were bloody and bruised, the skin peeling back where she’d rubbed against her bindings.

"Christian?" he whispered. He reached up to untie her gag and blindfold. As soon as his finger grazed her cheek, she flinched away, the whimper squeezing his heart.

Damn the bastard.

Voices called out.

"Up here!" he yelled. Trying to ignore the way she stiffened, he untied the gag and blindfold, ripping them aside. Her wide terror-filled eyes stared at him for a long second, then slid closed.

The wheeze of her fighting to breathe filled the air.

"Do you have another inhaler?"

She didn’t answer.

He looked up at Emma. "Get that knife and syringe. Bag them." He stopped, Emma knew how to do her damn job. There was blood on the knife. He saw the slice that dribbled blood on her arm. Had seen those on her thighs.

She was shaking, he could feel the bed tremble.

He jerked out his own pocketknife, leaned over, and cut the ropes that bound the woman to the bed.

Pristine white nylon dangled, marred with crimson red stains.

"Hang, on, Christian. Just hang on." He started to touch her, but didn’t.

He looked at her trembling on the bed. What the hell was she doing here alone? If she were his, he damn well wouldn’t have left her alone for one second.

Emma came back from the bathroom bagging more evidence. "The ambulance is on the way," a uniform said from the doorway.

He nodded. "Good, keep the neighbors back and away from here. I want this entire place picked apart."

Gabe’s gaze was locked on Christian curled tightly in the center of the bed.

* * * *

The hospital noises were sharp and loud, yet distorted. The harsh glare of florescent lights stabbed and prodded her headache, teased the nausea. She’d been given albuterol here and in the ambulance. At least her chest didn’t hurt anymore and she could breathe from the nebulizing treatment. Though, not too deeply, her bruised ribs pulled and all but moaned if she did.

Slowly, she slid off the exam table.

"Since you didn’t have any clothes, you can put these on," the female doctor said, laying a pair of folded blue scrubs on the end of the bed.

They were at Sibly Memorial Hospital. Aggravated sexual assault. They performed a rape kit. The doctor didn’t think the attacker had time to get to that part, thank, God. Christian couldn’t remember everything and what had he done to her while she was out? She didn’t say no when they asked for her consent, and she signed the form. For almost two hours she answered what questions she could or would and endured all the poking, probing and exposure she could stand. Maybe, maybe he left something else behind, he’d touched her enough. She did remember that.

A violent shiver shook her. Oh, God. This wasn’t happening. Not again.

Clicking. The clicking. They’d taken pictures to put in the reports. It was no less humiliating now, than it had been eight years before.

The clicks. He’d taken pictures too.

That’s what that was. Bile rose again in her throat. She’d already thrown up the water they’d given her.

And the pain meds.

She couldn’t quit shaking. God, she was freezing.

"You should stay tonight for observation," Dr. Ripley said and cleared her throat. "Did you call your family?"

The doctor knew. Most didn’t connect her with the Kinncaids, but this woman did. No big surprise.

With the Kinncaids and two of them doctors, some people knew her.

Christian only shook her head, her gaze focused on the white bandages around her wrists. The edges of her vision were still blurred, thanks to whatever he’d given her. It was like looking in a tunnel. The wraps on her wrists mirrored the one on her right thigh. One of the cuts was deep enough, she’d needed stitches.

Dr. Ripley sighed. "I would advise you to talk about this with them. Hiding something like this doesn’t help."

The white strips stared back up at her. They reminded her of the ropes. Voices yelled from out in the ER, machines and trays clattered and clanged, shoes squeaked as they ran down the hall. She was surrounded by people and felt utterly isolated.

Pictures and phrases danced chaotically through her mind. She didn’t really remember the ride here. Just the terror. Words. His voice.

...Anything and the Kinncaids will die...

Her hands shook as she slid the scrub uniform on.

"You can take a shower here, if you want."

A shower. But what if someone came in while she was naked? What if someone saw her? It was a public place. What if he was here waiting for her. What if.... No, the hotel. She’d lock the door and shower there. Hot, very, very hot. It was safe there.

Christian shook her head at the offer. She just wanted out of here. Away from all these people, their questions and the pitying looks.

Dr. Ripley continued, "If you’re going home, I’ll write you a prescription for the pain and another for a measured dose inhaler. Though I’d rather you not take the percocet, pain killers, for at least another four hours if you can handle that. You’ve got a nasty concussion and your tox levels are still not as clear as I’d like them to be. But I’ll send you enough to get you through the night. Get this prescription filled in the morning." The sounds of scribbling filled Chris’ ears. "And to be on the safe side, have someone wake you up every hour or so."

The rip of paper made her jump. She turned and took the prescription and little white bag that Dr.

Ripley held.

The doctor held a card out. "Here’s a group. We meet every two weeks. Survivors of sexual crimes. If you need someone to--"

"Thanks." Christian cut her off, snatching the card. Taking a breath, she took small steps to the door and opened it. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet.

Gabe and Emma leaned against the wall. Geoffery and Drayson with them. Oh, God.

Emma Laurence had been in the room during part of the exam asking questions and taking notes until Dr. Ripley told her to leave. Or at least she thought so. It was hard to remember.

"Are you ... how are you... Do you want to talk to us, now?" Gabe asked her, not moving any closer.

She didn’t want him closer.

"Lieutenant, she needs to rest," Dr. Ripley said coming up behind her. "Chris, do you want me to call you a cab?"

Christian nodded.

"No, I’ll take her," Gabe said.

Dr. Ripley looked at her for her decision.

She darted a look at Gabe, but didn’t hold it long enough, she didn’t want to see the look in his eyes. "I just want to go to the hotel," she whispered.

"How ’bout Seneca?" he asked softly.

Seneca. Home. The Kinncaids. Oh, God.

Tears pricked her eyes, but Christian shook her head. Cleared her throat. "No. No, the hotel. I want a shower. I have to take a shower. And some clothes."

A moment passed, noises shuffled around them and she felt like she was part of some movie, invisible while the world moved slowly around her.

Finally, he answered, "Fine."

His phone rang. Jerking it out, he walked away from them.

"Luv," Drayson said reaching out to her.

She backed away.

Someone cleared their throat. "Honey, if you need anything, anything at all, just give us a call, all right?"

Geoffery asked.

All she could do was nod.

She heard them walk away.

Dr. Ripley placed a hand on her arm. "I need to know where to call. I’d really prefer you stay the night."

She shook her head no.

"Okay, then I’ll ask you to come in, in a couple of days, but I’ll call you. Check on you tonight. All right?

You should also follow up with your own gynecologist."

Christian hated this place, words and sounds sharpened and droned on. "I-I don’t know where I’ll be.

Probably the hotel."

Dr. Ripley only raised a brow. "Don’t go through this alone."

Alone ... alone ... alone....

She had to be. Just like before. He hurt her friends and those closest to her.

...Say anything and the Kinncaids will die ... will die ... will die...

Gabe walked up to them. "You ready?"

She jumped and nodded. He offered his jacket, but she didn’t take it.

Her bones felt brittle. If only she could get warm.

Dr. Ripley wrapped a blanket around her. "It’s cold outside."

"Come on," Detective Laurence said.

She followed them out the door and into the unforgiving, bitter cold.