Her Darkest Nightmare (22 page)

Like Jasper.

“That was a question,” he said.

Food. He'd asked about dinner. “I'm sure.”

“Are you cold?”

“No.”
Not anymore.
She wanted his arms around her, so it was odd that she also wanted to throw them off. Part of her was even tempted to try making love with him again. Maybe she should just go for it. Force it to happen. Punch through that emotional barrier.

The other part warned her to shut him out. She couldn't fail if she didn't try. Fear was costing her a great deal of what others enjoyed in life. But there was as much logic to keeping her distance as there was to giving in. Although he may never turn out to be anything close to what Jasper was, Amarok could still reveal himself to be less than what he seemed. Anyone could.

Even if he turned out to be someone she could love, would he be able to cope with the baggage she carried as a result of Jasper?

“You seem to be relaxing. Are you okay with this?” he asked.

“With being held down?”

He angled his head to see into her face. “With being
held
.”

Not entirely.
The weight of his arms caused a flight reflex she overcame only by telling herself, again and again, to ignore it, to override it.

But with more time, the panic began to ebb and she realized she
was
okay … for now. He wasn't hanging on tightly. He was merely providing some physical support to go with his emotional support.

“Well?” he prompted.

“It's fine,” she admitted. Then she drew a deep breath and added, “You want to try again?”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “Try what again?”

His mind was probably immersed in the case, but she didn't want to think about Jasper or Lorraine or Danielle or Fitzpatrick or Hugo or even Kit. All of that was what had driven her into the shower. “M-making love.”

“No.”

She hadn't expected such a quick and unequivocal response. “You couldn't at least pretend to be tempted?”

“That's not why I'm holding you, because I'm hoping to get lucky.”

“I appreciate that. But it's okay if you are.”

“The answer's still no. You're not ready.”

But would that ever change? It hadn't so far. Maybe she had to push the issue or she'd never get beyond her own resistance.

She considered ditching the towel, slipping her arms around his neck and kissing him. But she wasn't sure she could get him to change his mind. He had to be stressed and exhausted. He also had to blame her, at least a little, for what was going on in his life.

“Someone who's been emotionally traumatized isn't what you're looking for?” she teased. “I can't imagine why not.”

His teeth flashed as he grinned at her, but then his shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “I'm not counting you out.”

“There are plenty of women in Hilltop who don't have my problem. You'd be smart to stick with them.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I believe you've told me that before.”

Now
he
was being sarcastic. “I'm serious. Don't let me stand in the way if the opportunity arises.”

His arms tightened when she made a move to get up. “Stop it.”

She froze. “Stop what?”

“Stop trying to shove me away.”

It was plain that he meant that in more than the physical sense. “If you knew what was good for you, you'd be running for the hills.”

“I've considered it.”

“What's stopping you?”

“I'm not ready to give up.”

“Because…”

He parted the towel and gazed down at what he'd revealed. “I want you too badly. I've wanted you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

She felt a crushing disappointment. “I'm sure you regret that now.”

His warm hand cupped her breast. “No. You're even more beautiful than I thought. Sweet, too—even if you are stubborn.”

Her whole body tightened, but in a good way—the same way it had responded when he kissed her in the hall the other night. She remembered his fingers slipping between her legs, the pleasure he'd brought her almost instantly, and tried to nudge his hand lower. She craved more of the heady, drunken sensation she'd experienced so briefly. There hadn't been enough of that in her life. Maybe then she could forget everything else.

His eyes met and locked with hers, but he very purposefully withdrew. Then he covered her and carried her to the guestroom, where he left her to wrestle with her demons alone.

 

14

When this monster entered my brain, I will never know, but it is here to stay. How does one cure himself? I can't stop it, the monster goes on, and hurts me as well as society. Maybe you can stop him. I can't.

—DENNIS RADER, BTK KILLER

She was in the trooper's house. The man had followed at a distance, wished he could be a fly on the wall. Had he forgotten anything when he'd chopped up the bodies? Overlooked some piece of evidence? What did the sergeant know?

Curiosity was driving him mad.…

But he shouldn't worry. The whole town was in an uproar. The trooper couldn't know much.

Telling himself there was nothing to fear, especially from a lawman who'd probably never investigated a murder before, he drew a deep breath. Amarok wasn't clever enough to outsmart him. He was probably too taken with Evelyn to be concentrating very hard on anything besides getting a piece of ass, anyway.

That she was getting romantically involved with the young trooper, though—that was something he hadn't anticipated. And he definitely didn't like it.

*   *   *

Evelyn woke in Amarok's spare bed. Thanks to the almost constant darkness of the Alaskan winter, she couldn't see a thing—the sun wouldn't appear until much later if it appeared at all—but she remembered the attic-like smell. There was also no question as to what had disturbed her. She could hear Amarok moving around, could smell coffee.

What time was it?

She had no idea. She guessed it was earlier than she had to be up, but she dragged herself out of bed, just in case she was wrong. It wouldn't be easy to show up at the prison after what happened yesterday, but she had appointments.

Once Amarok had carried her to bed last night, she'd put on the footie pajamas her mother had given her. They weren't particularly attractive—she looked like a big kid—but she didn't change. They were practical, and she didn't want to don her work clothes until she'd had a chance to shower.

When she shuffled into the kitchen Amarok looked up from the table and eyed her apparel with disdain. “Sexy.”

She was glad he hadn't greeted her with something about the attack last night or the murders. They'd both have to cope with the reality of that situation soon enough. A few seconds of conversation about any other topic would be a welcome reprieve, even if he was making fun of her frumpy-looking sleepwear. “They aren't going to turn anyone on, but … they're warm.”

“I didn't realize anyone over the age of six ever wore those things.”

She shrugged. “My mother bought them. They're perfect for Alaska. And since I haven't slept with anyone in twenty years, I'm not sure I have reason to worry about how much they might or might not appeal to men.”

He considered her over the rim of his coffee cup. His bowl was now empty, but there was a box of Wheaties at his elbow. “In case you're confused about where I stand, I'm still hoping to bring that twenty-year hiatus to an end.”

She walked over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. “If I remember right, you had your chance last night. I made the offer.”

Slinging an arm over the back of his chair, he scooted lower and stretched out his long legs. “Why would I want to associate myself with what you were feeling?”

“Sometimes you have to take what you can get.”

“Not necessarily.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I'll know when the time is right.”

His response surprised her. “Really?
How?
”
She
wasn't even sure there would be a time.

His gaze lowered pointedly to her chest before his grin slanted to one side. “When you're crawling all over me and moaning my name, I might consider it.”

An unexpected impulse tempted her to straddle him, but she held back. “Is that your plan? You're going to drive me mad with desire? Make me beg?”

“If you're that far gone, maybe you won't bail out.”

“You're good with your hands. I think you could've gotten me there last night.”

“So I missed my one opportunity?”

“You might not want to turn me down if you get another chance.”

He came off as unconcerned. “You're just mad that I was the one to say no this time.”

She added cream to her coffee. “So you
are
holding that night against me.”

“Just hoping for a green light next time,” he said, and gathered his bowl, spoon and cup. “I've told you before—I won't settle for any half measures, nothing short of unbridled access.”

His words excited her. But even if she could make love with him, what would happen after? Did he have any interest in a relationship? Or was he merely hoping to attain the unattainable?

And what did
she
want?

Her gaze settled on his sensuous mouth. “You're cockier than I first thought.”

“That's the problem with us young guys.”

“A lack of stamina?” she joked.

He laughed as he rinsed his dishes, put them in the dishwasher and took a clean bowl from the cupboard. “Trust me. I can get you off.”

“What if you can't?” she asked, serious now. “What if … what if we have sex, but I'm not able to … you know? You won't take it personally, will you?”

“It might take several attempts, but we'll get there.” He offered her the bowl he held. “Cold cereal?”

She loved his patience almost as much as his confidence. He made her feel so normal. “No, thanks. Coffee is enough. What time is it?”

He put the bowl back. “Almost six.”

“And you're already heading to work?”

“
Already?
I'm just grateful I didn't get any calls in the middle of the night. That makes me hopeful I'll have a chance to get on top of this nightmare before the situation gets any worse.”

“That would be a relief.” She sipped her coffee. “Did you get permission to approach the FBI?”

“I did.”

“Were you able to get through to them? Are they sending someone to help?”

“We had a conversation, but they're not getting involved. Not yet.”

“Because of the weather?”

“They aren't convinced we have a serial killer in our midst, said they don't want to commit the resources if this doesn't live up to the media hype.”

“What do you think of that?”

“I can see their point.”

“Which is…”

“This could be a jealous lover who acted out of rage and killed both women in a connected event.”

“You're hoping it's that simple.”

“I am.”

“And if it isn't? Will they get involved then?”

“They said they'll monitor the situation and lend a hand if things get any worse.”

“Heaven forbid
that
happens!”

“I'm with you there,” he said. “So what are your plans today?”

“I'm going to the prison like usual. Before I spoke with Hugo yesterday, I spoke to the warden. He's starting an internal investigation on the employees listed in Danielle's little black book. Maybe he'll find something that can help.”

“Tell him to keep it on the down-low as much as possible. For all we know, one of those guys murdered Danielle, and I don't want anything interfering with my murder investigation.”

“I made that clear already.”

“Great. Did this … Hugo shed any light on how he managed to have sex with Danielle?”

“I didn't even get the chance to ask him. Are we sure he
did
have sex with her?”

“There was a measurement by his name—by all the names. He's got eight inches, in case you're curious. The little smiley face after that note leads me to believe Danielle was quite impressed.”

“Oh God.” She rubbed her eyes. “Just because he's a psychopath doesn't mean he can't be well-endowed, I guess.”

“Perhaps the correlation can become a new field of study.”

“You wouldn't want me to establish that correlation, would you?” She grinned. “I mean, I didn't have a measuring tape the other night, but you seemed to be well-endowed yourself.”

He laughed. “The memory doesn't seem to scare you.”

“No.”

He stepped closer, rested his hands on her shoulders. “So you'll be able to get through the day? You're over your reaction to that attack?”

She remembered those few terrifying seconds after Hugo grabbed her. “It wasn't really an attack. I mean … it was and it wasn't.”

Amarok walked over to pour himself another few swallows of coffee and leaned a hip against the counter to drink it. “How can it be both?”

Now that she'd gained some perspective on that event, she realized that it had gone differently than it would have if Hugo had really meant to harm her. “Looking back, I think it was just a ploy to get close enough to steal a kiss. These guys have gone months, sometimes years, without a woman—although, if what you found in Danielle's book is true, I guess it hasn't been that long for Hugo.”
Or some of the others …

“I'm sure Hugo would take as much of being with a woman as he can get,” Amarok said. “And you're in a position of authority, which creates more of a tendency for him to fantasize about you.”