Merciless (28 page)

The Other wrinkled his nose. “I wish I had time to strip all your bones. They’d make a nice addition to the chess set. I was thinking the bishop.”

“Don’t!” Dixon twisted at his bindings.

“I wanted a memento of our partnership. But your body needs to be found by the cops.”

Dixon yanked at his bindings. They didn’t budge. “Why?”

“They need someone to pin these murders on, and I’m going to give them you.”

“If you kill me they’ll know there is someone else.”

“You just texted your ‘accomplice’ and told him to meet you here. You both will go down for this.”

“You don’t have to do this! Let me live, and I will help you.”

“Help me?You tried to steal Angie from me. And you know how much I’ve wanted her.”

Dixon rattled against his bindings as his partner moved behind him and set down his knife. “You can still have her. We both can. Let me help you!”

His warm breath brushed Dixon’s ear. “I promise to take extra time with her bones and fashion them into the finest queen.”

He picked up an ax and walked to the foot of the table. Before Dixon could scream, blinding pain sliced across his calf as an ax cut through his anklebone. Dixon screamed, railing against his bindings.

“I can clean these bones later and make them into something special.”

The pain overwhelmed Dixon’s senses, blinding him to his desires for Angie, his anger, or reason. His partner unstrapped his hands and foot. But he didn’t care. There was only the pain.

And then a knife blade sliced across his throat, severing his jugular.

“Good-bye, James.”

As the blood drained from Dixon’s body, the strong scent of gasoline grew. “I do want to thank you. I’d still be asleep now if it wasn’t for you. You’ve showed me just how wonderful and full my life could be again.”

The Other lit a match and stared at the flame before blowing it out. “As soon as our friend gets here, it’ll be a party.”

* * *

Angie spent a long tedious Wednesday at the office, and by the time she was ready to quit she was exhausted. She’d promised that as soon as she finished her work, she’d call for an escort and head to King’s, where her sister waited.

Angie rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. It was ten o’clock. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

Charlotte also worked late, and when Angie heard Charlotte move down the hallway to the back door, she realized the time to wrap things up had arrived.

She rose, listening to Charlotte clicking the back door’s dead bolt back and forth, back and forth. It was Charlotte’s custom to do this several times until it sunk into her mind that the door was truly locked.

Angie had been aware of Charlotte’s quirks for a long time, but in the last week, with the deaths of Sierra and Lulu, they’d grown worse.

Angie shut off the light at her desk, grabbed her purse and coat. She found Charlotte standing by the back door, frowning. “It’s okay. It’s locked.”

Charlotte startled and turned. “I know. It’s locked.” A hint of panic wove around the words.

“Do you want me to check it for you?”

Charlotte glanced at the door. “No, no. It’s fine.”

“It’s been a hard week for us all. All our nerves are on edge.” She’d not told Charlotte about the photos. “It’s okay to be scared.”

Charlotte frowned. “I’m not scared.”

Angie shook her head. “Charlotte, I’m scared too.”

Her boss stared at her a long moment and then sighed. “I guess all that’s happened has made me remember. And when I remember I start to obsess about things.”

“You and me both.”

She arched a brow. “You don’t seem to worry about much.”

A crooked smile tipped the edges of her lips. “I’m great at faking it.”

Charlotte laughed. “Welcome to the club.”

“Hang tough.”

“It’s the only option.” She drew in a breath. “I’ve got to get a little sleep. Tomorrow’s a long day. Are you leaving soon?”

“I’m right behind you.”

“I can wait.”

“Don’t.” Angie didn’t want to mention the police escort she was supposed to summon before she left. “I’ll be fine. I’m parked right out front.”

“And you’ve got the mace I gave you for Christmas?”

“Yes.”

After Charlotte left the office, the rooms grew so quiet she could hear the air flowing through the ducts. Outside a horn blared. Suddenly she felt so alone, as if she were the only person in the world. At King’s there would be plenty of noise and conversation there for hours to come.

The idea of crowds didn’t appeal, but what she wanted didn’t really matter. Dixon was on the prowl, and she had to be practical. Better to go to King’s.

She called the number Kier had given her for an escort and waited until a marked car pulled up in front of the office. She grabbed her purse, shut off the last of the office lights, and headed out the front door. She waved to the waiting police car, set the alarm on the office, and climbed into her car.

The drive from her office to King’s only took ten minutes. She found a spot down the street from the pub
under a street lamp, waved to her escort, and hurried down the uneven brick sidewalks to the front door. Her hand on the front door, she glanced up toward Kier’s place. His lights burned bright. His muscular frame passed in front of a shaded window.

The ache of loneliness grew stronger. Suddenly she dreaded the crowd inside the pub. She stepped inside and watched her escort drive away.

The music, laughter, and conversation blared and grated her nerves. She glanced up again through the front window at Kier’s.

On impulse Angie gripped her purse, pushed out the front door, and crossed the street. She climbed the side staircase to his apartment. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine. Her stomach fisted tighter with each new step.

What the devil was she doing? Leave the man alone. His day had to have been longer than hers.

As logic nagged her, she kept climbing until she reached his apartment door. Just ask him about the case and leave. Maybe he’d have a few reassuring words.

Immediately, she feared if she took one more moment to think, she’d dash down the stairs.

Heavy footsteps echoed down a hallway, and after a brief hesitation the door opened.

Kier stood in the doorway, his hair damp and his shirt-tail out. His face was hard with suspicion. She glanced down and noted he had his gun in hand at his side.

Wednesday, October 12, 11
P.M.

“Sorry to bother you. I know this is unexpected.” She felt silly now and wished she’d stayed at King’s.

“Angie. What are you doing here? Everything all right?” No missing the confusion and concern.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Really. Impulse drove me up here. I thought I’d ask about the investigation. And I can see that I caught you at a bad time.” She wanted to dash down the stairs and forget this lapse in judgment.

“Timing’s not bad. Come on in. I just put a pot of coffee on.”

In the courtroom she was in her element. She was in control. But standing here right now, she felt gawky and silly. “Honestly, I shouldn’t have come.”

He stepped aside. He was barefooted. “Come in.”

If he’d hesitated an instant, she’d have run. But his voice was clear and firm, and it drew her inside the apartment. She entered, moving past him, drinking in the scent of his soap.

The apartment was loft style, open with no walls. He’d
fashioned rooms by grouping a couch and television in one corner and a large four-poster bed in another. The bed caught her off guard. Somehow she expected sleek and modern from him, not traditional antiques.

The kitchen was galley style and ran along the edge of the south wall. There was a large table with six chairs by the kitchen that looked like it doubled as work and eating space. Right now it was covered with files and boxes.

As he’d said, a coffeepot perked. She could smell something cooking in the oven.

“Great space,” she said.

He closed the door behind her and put his gun in the holster hanging on a peg by the door. “Did you have a patrolman escort you here?”

She let her purse slide from her shoulder onto the table. “Yes. Even carried mace.”

“Good.” He moved into the kitchen and pulled a couple of black oversized mugs from the cabinet. “Keep using one until this is over. That’s what we’re here for, Angie.”

That was the second time he’d used her first name. Not Carlson. Not Queen of the Dammed. Just Angie. And it sounded nice when he said it.

“I know.” She flexed her fingers, wishing she had pockets or something to do with her hands. “How goes the case?”

“Slow. No sign of Dixon. His credit cards and bank show no activity, so we’re hoping he’s not gone far yet.” He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry about earlier today. I was frustrated and took it out on you.”

“I get that. It’s okay.” A weighty stillness settled between them. She cleared her throat. “Have you learned any more about Dixon’s connection to Fay?”

“No. We just know he was in this area at that time. He worked for Gregg’s Shipping, which did a lot of work for the Talbot. He’d been accepted to medical school, but had deferred entrance to make money. Then suddenly after Fay’s death, he contacted the school and told them he could attend. He left and didn’t return to the metro area for a decade.”

“Do you think Darius paid him off?”

“It’s possible. But we might not ever know what happened between the three.”

“Do you have any theories?”

“Sure. Plenty.” He turned and lifted the full pot from the burner and filled each cup. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.”

He grimaced as he handed her the cup. “I’ve got to have milk. Stuff is too harsh for me.”

She sipped, knowing the brew would keep her up half the night. “What can I say? I’m bitter.”

He laughed as he pulled an organic milk bottle from the refrigerator. “Not so bitter.”

“What about Darius and the museum? What did Darius want with the Talbot?”

“I don’t know for sure, but the museum had so many boxes coming into the country, and they had a stellar reputation. It would have made sense for Darius to capitalize on that in some way. Dixon might have even figured it out.”

She cupped her hands around the warm cup, not sure if he’d just tossed a compliment her way or not. “So what are your theories about Dixon, Darius, and Fay?”

“It’s one of the oldest in the books. She’s dating Dixon, a younger man, to make her older rich lover jealous. One of the two men got angry and killed her. My
guess is that it was Darius that killed her. He never seemed like the kind of guy who liked to share. Dixon found out and got paid off to keep quiet.”

“Dixon must have been involved in disposing of her body.”

Kier nodded. “Likely.”

She traced the rim of her cup. “But he had alibis for the nights that Sierra and Lulu vanished.”

“Which just supports my belief that he has a partner.”

“Two of them out there.”

He stared at her over the rim of his cup. “All the more reason for you to be very, very careful.”

“I might not even know this other partner.”

“Or you just might.”

She held her cup close, trying to ward off the sudden chill. “Oh, great.”

He studied her. “I’ve got a frozen pizza in the oven. Hungry?”

She set down her cup. “I’ve barged in here, drank your coffee, and complained. You don’t have to feed me.”

“I want to feed you.”

“Why?”

“You look like you could use a good meal.”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad.”

He opened the oven and pulled out a pizza that smelled great and looked pretty good. “My parents own a restaurant. I grew up working in their place and feeding people. All second nature.”

“Did that come out of a box?”

“No. My mother would weep if she knew I ate anything out of a box. She makes the pizzas and ships them up to me. I put them in the freezer.”

“That’s nice.” The tomato and basil smells made her mouth water.

“I’m spoiled. And I appreciate that.”

“Your family is in Richmond?”

“Yeah.”

“You seem close. Why the move up here?”

“The job in Alexandria opened, and I wanted to move to homicide.” He sliced into the pizza with a chef’s knife.

“You get home much?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

He plated her pizza and his own and carried both plates to the table. “Push aside the papers.”

She sat down and cleared a spot for them both. He set a stack of paper napkins between them. She felt oddly relaxed as they sat and ate in silence.

Her stomach rumbled as she raised a slice to her mouth. She’d not realized how hungry she’d become. She bit into the slice and savored the fresh cheese, tomato, and basil flavors. “This tastes wonderful.”

He nodded, pleased. “I’ll pass it on to Mom.”

She wiped the edge of her mouth with a napkin. “Ask her if she’s willing to start a mail-order business. I’ll be her first paying customer.”

He laughed. “I’ll mention it to her.” Carefully he wiped his hands with a napkin. “Did you read Donovan’s article in the paper today?”

“I go out of my way not to read his stuff. As you might have noticed in the courthouse, we are not on the best of terms.”

He balled up his napkin in his fist. “You’ve been the focus of his articles this week.”

“So I’ve heard. He’s still pissed because I sued him last year and was able to prevent some of his book from being published.”

“I’d heard something about that.”

“He’s just looking for his pound of flesh.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Honestly, it gives me a little pleasure to know I’ve gotten under his skin.”

He dropped his gaze. “You still have feelings for him?”

Laughter burst free. “You mean like romantic?” He didn’t answer but raised his gaze to hers. The intensity made her skin tingle.

“Donovan has a talent for spotting the lonely. He charms them, and he uses them. I played right into his hands.” She picked at the edge of the crust. “Where he is concerned, I feel foolish and angry but never romantic.”

“Good. To the ‘never romantic’ part.” He was staring at her as if he wanted to touch her.

She felt as if an invisible force reached out and stole her breath. Her gaze dipped to the
V
of his shirt and the dark hair curling out. Thoughts of touching him overwhelmed her before she caught herself.

She rose. “I’ve imposed enough.”

He stood, but he appeared to be in no rush to show her the door. “It would be a big stretch, wouldn’t it?”

“What?”

“Us. Sleeping together. Not something I’d have pictured a year ago.”

Nervous laughter bubbled. She wanted to pretend like she didn’t know what he was saying. “I guess you were about the last guy I’d ever have gotten into bed with.”

He arched a brow and took a half step toward her. “The last guy?”

She moistened her lips. “Just about.”

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip. A riot of sensations burned through her body.

“How about now?” he said softly. “Am I still almost last on the list?”

Emotion tightened her throat. For a moment she wasn’t sure her voice would work. “You’ve jumped ahead in the line.”

Malcolm traced the bottom edge of her lips. “Getting closer to first?”

She closed her eyes, wishing she didn’t want him so much. “This probably isn’t a good idea.”

“Nope.” The word was as rough as sandpaper. “Probably one of the dumbest ideas I’ve ever had.”

She cleared her throat. “What about Olivia?”

“We broke up, remember?”

“I thought one of you would change your mind.”

“No.”

He closed the gap between them and, cupping her face, kissed her softly on the lips. He tasted vaguely of salt and coffee. The feel of his lips … soft … willing … inviting … overrode all things rational.

She leaned into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hard chest pressed against her as his arms banded around her and pulled her close. He deepened the kiss.

The senses in her body exploded, and for a moment time simply stopped. She was aware only of him and the energy pulsing between them.

“I want you,” he whispered.

“Me too.”

Malcolm took her by the hand and guided her over to the large bed. He shut off the overhead light.

Using only the moonlight trailing in through the window to guide him, he unbuttoned her blouse, lingering when he reached the pearl buttons between her
breasts. He leaned forward and kissed her right breast. He kissed her left breast. Her nipples hardened.

She unfastened the remaining buttons, shrugged off the blouse, and let it fall to the floor. Kier smiled, removed his own shirt, and smoothed his hands over her shoulders. The calluses made her soft skin tingle. He reached for the bra snap between her breasts. He flicked the clasp open with practiced ease. He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks before he pushed her back against the mattress. The down comforter sagged under their weight as he climbed on top of her.

She stared up at him, realizing she’d never wanted a man as much as she wanted him.

Malcolm pushed up her skirt and smoothed his hand over her flat belly. She reached for the zipper of his pants, anxious now to feel him inside of her.

Tomorrow they’d likely look at each other and wonder why this had happened, but right now it was all that she wanted. She cupped his erection, savoring the silky feel.

He lowered and kissed her. Her skirt slid up her hips and hugged her waist. She wriggled out of her panties. He shed his pants. The instant they were free of their clothes, he pushed inside of her.

Angie sucked in a breath, savoring the invasion. Raising her hips, she deepened his entry. Soon he began to move inside her quickly and urgently, stoking the heat between them.

She’d never been more aware of her body. She wanted to hold off on her release and savor every sensation, but her body wouldn’t listen. She’d never wanted as much as she did now.

The tempo built, and she arched back and gave in to
the storm. He moved faster and faster, catching up to her so that they came together.

Connor parked his car across the street from the burger house. It was boarded up, and CLOSED signs plastered the front window. He’d gotten the text from Dixon in the early hours of the day. But the doctor had instructed him to arrive at eleven. So he’d waited, writing his story and chomping at the bit. His latest article was mostly conjecture, but if Dixon could prove a connection between Angie and the dead women, then he would have something he could really run with.

A flicker of movement in the rearview mirror had him reaching for his tape recorder. “Showtime,” he muttered.

He got out of the car, wincing as the skin on his belly pinched. The skin always ached more when it was cold. He pressed his hand to his belly, wondering if he’d ever be whole again.

The pain distracted him for just a split second, but that was all it took. He raised his gaze in time to see a man lunge at him with a syringe. The needle plunged into the side of his neck. Hot liquid burned his veins, and within seconds he dropped to his knees. He glanced up and processed what he saw.

“Fucking figures.” He dropped to the ground out cold.

By the time fire engines reached the burger house and turned their hoses onto the structure it was so deeply engulfed crews did not dare enter. All they could do was shoot water onto the blaze and contain it until it died.

Fire department Lieutenant Macy LaPorta stood on the sidelines staring at the inferno. She was a tall woman
with dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her father had been an arson investigator, and she’d been hanging around firehouses since she could walk. She’d joined the department right out of college.

Around her firemen yelled for more water pressure as they pulled and tugged the hoses into position. The initial moments at a fire were controlled chaos.

The flames swayed and danced in front of her, so hot and furious. It almost seemed to laugh and taunt as it consumed the structure so rapidly. Lieutenant LaPorta would wait for the embers to cool so that she could investigate the cause of the blaze, but experience told her this was arson.

She hoped no one had been in the abandoned structure. If anyone had, recovery crews would be lucky just to find fragments.