Run From Fear (17 page)

But he had to follow the rules.

First he laid out the blanket. Cheap, a wool blend, one of dozens he’d bought at Costco.

Then he stripped and put on his protective gear. Latex gloves. Cap pulled over his closely cropped hair.

And finally, at last, a condom rolled down over his erect penis. He slipped the knife out of his bag. Gene had researched what kind of knife Brewster had used on his victims. It had taken him months to find a close match on eBay.

Polished and sharpened to razor sharpness, it was without flaw. None of the mistakes in the past could be blamed on equipment. It was all operator error.

He pulled the girl to her feet and half dragged, half carried her to the blanket. She thrashed, her legs kicking wildly. But the struggles petered out in a few seconds, her energy quickly sapped after several days without food and little water. He cut the bonds holding her hands behind her back and quickly retied them in front of her body.

He pushed her onto her stomach and pinned her down by kneeling on the backs of her thighs. His knife cut through the stained T-shirt like butter, the ripping sound echoing through the closeness of the shed.

His hand slashed down to make the first cut.

Perfect.

Drawing a line from her left shoulder to the top of her right hip, the tip of his knife sliced through the thin layers of skin and fat, stopping just short of the muscle.

Number 4 screamed behind the gag and duct tape, trying to arch away against the unforgiving concrete of the floor.

The cut was so clean it didn’t bleed for several seconds. First beading, then welling over until dark crimson spilled over the sides.

He traced his finger in the wetness, dragged his finger back and forth to spread the lovely color over her skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

Number 4 sobbed.

He took a deep breath, forced his hands to steady as he prepared to make the crucial second cut. The one he had botched the three previous times. Each time he’d attempted it, it had been too jagged, too deep, or too shallow.

He dug his knees harder into the backs of her thighs, felt the muscles and tendons grind against her femur bones. Carefully, he positioned the knife at the top of her shoulder and drew it slowly, carefully diagonally across her back.

Perfect.

His breath caught in his chest and a surge of fresh lust pounded between his thighs as the magnitude of his achievement hit him.

Triumph pulsed through him and a wild laugh ripped from his chest as he flipped her onto her back.

Only one more mark to make.

He dug his knees into her thighs. She was sobbing behind
the blindfold, her desperate, animal sounds trapped behind the gag. He leaned in enough for her to feel the hard length of his penis against her stomach, letting her know exactly what was coming.

Right after he made the final cut.

The tip of the knife flashed silver against the pale skin underneath her breastbone. Almost delicate as it parted just the top layers of skin as he drew another smaller, perfect X to match the one carved into her back.

Unlike Talia, Number 4 wouldn’t feel the full length of his blade sinking into her.

But she would feel something else.

He shoved her thighs wide and drove himself into her.

S
o you understand this is serious, right? I’m not going off half-cocked again.”

Talia could hear Jack’s voice as she padded down the stairs.

He was wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt and gym shorts that exposed his powerfully muscled calves. His feet were bare, and his hair was sleep ruffled into short little spikes.

He looked powerful, rumpled, and right at home in her living room. She’d fully expected to spend a restless, nightmare-haunted night, but miraculously her sleep had been deep and dreamless. As though her subconscious knew that with Jack here, she was safe.

Don’t get used to it,
she scolded herself.
He’s helping you out, and you owe him for that, but you can’t let yourself depend too much on him or anyone else.

“I’ll extend a personal apology to Blankenthorn for dropping out as the lead, but I can’t ignore what’s going on here, Dan.”

Her stomach clenched. He was talking to Danny Taggart, no doubt about dropping off the assignment that had brought him down here. She hoped Danny was in an
understanding mood. She didn’t want Jack losing his job over her.

He must have heard her on the stairs, because he turned in her direction. His ice-blue eyes flicked up and down her body in that disconcertingly thorough way of his. Even though she was covered head to toe in two layers of clothes—her more revealing workout gear hidden under a navy hoodie and matching knit pants—she felt suddenly exposed.

Jack gave her a silent nod, which she returned and left him to finish his conversation as she darted past him to the kitchen.

Jack had been up long enough to make and drink coffee. There was about half an inch of warm liquid in the bottom of the carafe. She tossed it and set about making a fresh pot.

She poured water into the coffeemaker, embarrassed at the way her hands shook as she spooned grounds into the filter. God, she hoped they caught whoever was messing with her soon. Being terrorized aside, she wouldn’t last long with Jack in close proximity if all it took was a look from him to throw her completely off-kilter.

She heard Jack’s heavy footsteps behind her as the machine started to bubble and hiss. “That was Danny, right?”

Jack nodded and reached past her to the cabinet behind her to retrieve a coffee mug. The act brought him within inches of her, close enough for her to catch his scent, all soap and shaving cream layered with the spice of his own skin. “I let him know I won’t be available for any assignments until your situation is resolved.”

She had to stifle the urge to bury her nose in the hollow of his throat.

He stepped back and she took a moment to pull herself together. Right. Her situation. That’s what she needed to focus on, not how she was suddenly obsessed with how good Jack Brooks smelled first thing in the morning. “I can’t pay your regular rates,” she began, “but I can do something to offset the loss of income—”

The look Jack gave her was so frosty she was surprised the coffee didn’t turn to ice crystals in the carafe. “We talked about this last night. Your safety is important to me. I don’t want your fucking money.”

Talia swallowed nervously. Though he tried to hide it, she could see by the way the muscle throbbed in his jaw that she’d really pissed him off. Still, she was tired of feeling like his charity case. “I know you work on contract, so if you’re not working, you’re not earning income. How are you supposed to pay your bills—”

“Talia,” he interrupted, “you don’t need to be concerned about my financial situation. I’ve got…” He paused and something flickered across his face.

“What?” she probed.

He was silent for several more seconds, as though trying to decide how to put it. “I’ve got a nice buffer saved up.”

“Must be nice,” Talia muttered, and went to retrieve some cream for her coffee. “But you have to understand why I don’t like feeling obligated to you, financially or otherwise.”

Jack set his mug down with a thud. “Why can’t you get it through your head? You’re not obligated for something I’m offering up without you even asking. Not everything in life is some kind of transaction.”

“No one does anything out of the pure goodness of
their heart.”
Not even you
, she thought silently. The memory of his mouth, hot and fierce on hers, flared to life. “People always want something in return.”

His mouth tightened, and she knew he was thinking about that kiss. It was unfair, yet another cheap shot in the series she couldn’t seem to keep from lobbing at Jack. Maybe if she brought it down to the only level she had known, she wouldn’t experience that uncomfortable thrill every time she thought of it.

“Fine,” he snapped. “You can pay me a per diem of twenty dollars if that eases your mind.”

Talia rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t even cover gas money—”

She snapped her mouth shut when Jack’s eyes went from icy to molten hot in the space of a breath.

“Don’t. Push. Me.”

With his jaw clenched tight, the muscles bunching and knotting under his skin, Jack looked like he was on the verge of giving her a shake or… something else.

She was pretty sure he’d never hurt her, but she wasn’t prepared to deal with whatever “something else” might be. Talia retreated.

Jack took his cup of coffee to the living room while Talia flipped open her laptop to check her e-mail. Reading the one legitimate message, from Rosie, and scrolling through spam took all of five minutes. She stole a glance at Jack, settled on the couch as he leafed through the paper. For all that he looked relaxed, there was, as always, an energy about him, an alertness, a readiness to jump into action at the slightest provocation.

Maybe she needed a nice professor or dentist in her life, not a former Special Forces warrior. Someone who
didn’t know her past. Someone who didn’t radiate that kind of intensity.

She could feel it, almost like a buzz in the air. She doubted if he ever let his guard down completely, even when he slept.

Unbidden, an image of Jack came to her, his harsh features softened with sleep, his big body sprawled across a bed, the sheet in a tangle around his waist, leaving his broad, muscular chest bare. She’d never seen him shirtless. She wondered if his chest was hairy or smooth. She bet he had a six-pack…

“What?”

She jumped at the sound of Jack’s voice. Oh, God, how long had he been frowning at her as she stared, slack-jawed, drool practically running down her chin? What was wrong with her? Last night she’d been terrorized by footage of her own attempted rape and murder, and now she was fantasizing about Jack’s naked torso?

The DVD was the sum parts of all of her damage, all of the reasons she was too broken to be with someone right now. Maybe ever. She couldn’t afford to let herself fantasize that it could be different.

And more importantly, Jack didn’t deserve to be jerked around by anyone, especially not her.

She jumped up from her chair. “Did you eat yet?” She opened her refrigerator to survey the contents. “I eat a lot at the restaurant but I have enough here to do an omelet or cereal or something.”

“I had some toast before you got up,” he replied. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not here to cramp your style, so just do whatever you would normally do and pretend I’m not here.”

Right. Because it’s so easy to ignore a drop-dead-gorgeous six-foot-four wall of muscle who had planted himself in her living room. “In that case, my usual routine is to go to Gus’s for a couple hours.”

“Sounds good.” Jack stood from the couch and stretched, his arms so long they nearly touched the ceiling. Talia made herself a protein shake while Jack changed into workout gear, and within ten minutes they were heading out.

Normally she would have started with a cardio boxing class, but she didn’t want to subject Jack to a roomful of women in leotards.

At least that’s what she told herself. Really, it had nothing to do with not wanting to watch dozens of women ogle a prime specimen of man that Talia was incapable of enjoying herself. They focused on drills and sparring, and Talia noticed Jack was careful to keep his distance. No grappling holds or self-defense training today.

Despite the lingering tension between them and the lingering uneasiness from last night, the physical exertion as always calmed her down, bringing her stress level almost back to normal. And once they settled into a rhythm, trading off the focus pads and giving each other pointers on form, Talia realized it was actually fun working out with Jack. He was so much bigger, so much faster than anyone else she worked with, and she found herself enjoying the challenge.

Then there was the unexpected feeling of camaraderie as they put each other through their paces and good-naturedly razzed each other. She found herself smiling, even laughing, and Jack was too.

A warmth coursed through her that had nothing to do
with physical exertion. They were having fun, and for a few minutes they were able to forget the unfortunate events that had brought Jack back into her life and could just have a good time together.

Like buddies.

Maybe not exactly buddies, she thought, feeling her face heat as she caught Jack staring at her heaving chest about two seconds after he caught her admiring the hard muscles of his butt.

But the friendly dynamic all but disappeared when it came time to hit the showers. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you go in there by yourself.”

Talia glared up at him. There was a steam bath in that locker room with her name on it and she told Jack so. “What, are you afraid someone’s going to come after me with a disposable razor? No way am I going to give up one of the few pleasures I still have in life because some asshole started sending me creepy gifts.”

Jack leaned closer and Talia forced herself to stand firm. “That asshole could be here right now, just waiting for me to leave you alone.”

Talia did a quick scan of the room. She recognized several women from her classes and a handful of men, regulars like her. No one who looked like they’d pose much of a threat.

“You could stand guard at the door—”

“There are other ways to get in there. There’s no way.” He paused and gave her a speculative look. “Unless you want me to go in there.”

Though he’d done his best to put his attraction to her back under wraps, there was no missing the heat in his gaze. She swallowed hard, wondering if he was having
the same thoughts of hot steam swirling around naked bodies, slick skin over rippling muscles. “Fine. I’ll shower at home.”

On the way back to her place, they made a quick detour to the Hyatt Executive Suites in Palo Alto to pick up Jack’s stuff. Talia followed him up, her nose wrinkling at the stale air smell of the sterile room. “This is depressing,” she muttered.

Jack shrugged as he emptied the dresser and closet and packed everything into a generic black wheelie bag. “It’s not so bad. When I’m on assignment, I work a lot of nights, so it’s not like I’m here a lot.” He straightened up and surveyed the room. “But after one of these trips, I’m always happy to get back to my boat.”