SAFE BY HIS SIDE (MANHUNT) (9 page)

“It’s Sgt. Hardin.” Micah tapped the Silver Star on his shirt. “Texas Ranger.”

“Oh, shit,” the man muttered.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Micah growled. “Who do you owe money to?”

The man shrugged his beefy shoulders. “No one. You just looked like you wanted something. I figured it was money.”

The man was nervous about something. “Why were you running? Someone hire you to find Lenora?”

“I told you I wasn’t watching nobody,” the man snarled. “I was just out for a smoke.”

“Yeah, right. You live in that complex?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend live there?”

The man lifted his chin. “No.”

“Then what?” Micah dug into the man’s pocket, yanked out his wallet, then flipped it open to look at his ID. Billy Willard, forty-five. “Either spill it or I’m locking you up. Probably gonna find a rap sheet, won’t I?”

Willard cursed. “Look, I got into some trouble a while back, but I’ve been clean for months.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Just some petty stuff.”

Micah tightened his hold. “How petty?”

“Jesus. A bag of weed, that’s all.”

Micah studied the man’s eyes. They kept darting back toward the truck. “Is that why you were here? You buying dope?”

“Listen, man, I’m on parole. I can’t go back to jail. They’ve got lunatics and murderers and rapists in there.”

Micah relaxed slightly. “You weren’t here looking for Lenora?”

An angry glint darkened Willard’s eyes. “I don’t know who this Lenora is, but no. I came here to make a deal. Period.”

Micah released him. “Then get the hell out of here.” He had to get back to Lenora himself.

Willard jumped in the Range Rover and roared from the parking lot.

Micah glanced around again, then strode back to Lenora’s door and knocked. “It’s Micah.”

When the door swung open, relief spilled through him. She was safe for now.

He had to keep it that way.

Lenora let Micah in, her heart hammering. She’d been worried sick that Simpleton had been outside and had hurt Micah. The crazy maniac had probably made friends in prison, ones she didn’t want to meet. Hell, he was probably the leader of his own gang. Any one of them could be following her. “What happened?”

“False alarm,” he said. “Guy ran because he was buying dope.”

Relief whispered through her. “Thank God.”

Micah nodded and squeezed her arm. “Go to bed and try to rest, Lenora.”

His touch made her tingle all over. But that tingle frightened her in another way, so she hurried up the stairs. When she reached the landing, she paused and turned to look back at him. “Micah, you’re welcome to sleep in my office.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stay down here so I can keep watch.”

The reminder intensified her anxiety. She’d prefer he was upstairs with her, chasing away her nightmares.

But if he was downstairs, he would hear if someone tried to break in.

“There are sheets and a pillow in the closet for the fold out. It’s not very comfortable—”

“Trust me, I’ve slept on much worse.”

His dark gaze pierced her, and he looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead he walked back toward her living room.

She slipped into her room and closed the door, but as soon as she turned off the lights, the images flooded her. Dark images of the room where that monster had kept her, of his hands touching her, his mouth biting at her.

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. The room was stifling hot, the walls closing in, the sound of his footsteps shuffling as he came nearer echoing in her head.

She flipped the light back on, then moved out to the terrace. Desperate for air, she dragged in several deep breaths, then paced, forcing herself to look at the pale moon. The sky loomed above with glittering shapes that sparkled like diamonds.

Micah was downstairs. Only a few feet away.

Repeating the reminder in her head, she finally crawled onto the chaise, pulled the blanket over her, closed her eyes and let exhaustion claim her.

But in her sleep, the demons came.

Heavy breathing echoed in the silence. The rancid odor of her own sweat and the blood on her fingers where she’d clawed at Simpleton’s arms when he’d tossed her in the cage. The cage that he’d kept her in before he took her to the house with the basement. A cage meant for an animal.

Bile rose in her throat as his odor permeated the air.

He smelled like sweat and dirty sex. His breath like stale beer. Cigarette smoke.

She gripped the bars of the cage, hating that he’d trapped her like a dog. Hating that she was helpless and weak and couldn’t fight him off.

Hating that she’d begged like a baby for him to stop.

He fed on that weakness. On her tears and cries to release her. On the blood that he’d drawn from her when he’d cut her.

Another woman’s shrill scream rent the air, the sound filled with terror.

Lenora buried her head in her hands and cried for the woman.

She knew what he was doing to her now.

That soon it would be her turn to die.

Micah tensed at the sound of a scream. He jumped up from the sofa, hand on his gun and raced up the steps. He had no idea how Simpleton could break in upstairs, but the man could have found a way. Maybe a rope or ladder…

His pulse pounded as he glanced inside Lenora’s bedroom. She wasn’t in bed. He ran to the bathroom, but it was empty. The terrace door was open.

He jogged to the door and quickly scanned the area, but he didn’t see Simpleton anywhere.

Relief mingled with an ache in his chest when he saw Lenora twisting and turning in the midst of a nightmare on the chaise.

Except her nightmare was real. Memories that she’d tried to escape. Ones he’d resurrected when he’d informed her of Simpleton’s escape.

Tamping down his emotions, he sank onto the chaise and pulled her in his arms. “Shh, Lenora, it’s all right. It’s over.”

He stroked her hair, her back, her shoulders, gently whispering reassurances until finally she opened her eyes and looked up at him. The big luminous orbs were filled with tears, glazed with the pain of the past.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly. “Safe with me.”

A flicker of something like trust danced in her eyes, replacing the haunted look, then she lay her head back against his chest and heaved a weary breath.

Compassion for her, along with other feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge, filled him. He told himself that she was quiet now, calm, that he should leave.

Instead, he pulled her tighter up against him and held her until she fell asleep.

Robert had carried Nan into his new house, a lovely old Victorian place with a basement that had been deserted years ago. The cobwebs and dust motes gave the place a macabre feel, the dusty abandoned odor that permeated the rooms a reminder of the house he’d once lived in as a child.

Of the basement where he’d spent most of his time.

Ugly words rolled from his tongue as memories bombarded him — memories of his mother scrubbing his mouth with soap until his tongue was raw and bleeding. The ancient Victorian lamp in the corner looked exactly like the one she used to light up the room when she wanted him to see what was in her hands.

A belt. The thick rope used to hold back the heavy dark drapes. A cord she’d wind around his neck and penis.

Then the beating, and she’d close him in the dark.

Nan roused, a scream trying to escape the duct tape he’d stretched across her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.

She’d heard the stories Lenora had told in that fucking courtroom. She hadn’t believed her best friend back then. Or maybe she had, but she’d been so delicate she hadn’t been able to stand listening.

He would show her exactly what he’d done to Lenora. Make her a believer before he killed her.

She kicked at him as he carried her down the stairs, the cold, drafty walls rattling. The wind whistled through the eaves, dust motes swirling in front of his eyes as he plowed down the steps.

Nan was heavier than Lenora, a fighter, too.

That would make it more fun.

But he wanted Lenora here for the party to watch him take his pleasure from her friend.

Nan squirmed and wiggled, kicking and trying to elbow him, but he kicked open the door to one of the rooms and tossed her inside. Her body clunked as it hit the concrete floor, a grunt of pain escaping her.

Darkness bathed the room, the light snuffed out by a lack of windows, the musty scent of age, rotting wood and dead animal so strong that he paused to inhale it.

Home sweet home. Just like when he was young.

He was tempted to stay here and keep Nan company tonight, but he had other plans. He had to find his second victim quickly.

Then it would be time for Lenora to join them.

Hand on his cock, rubbing, stroking, he limped toward Nan, his shoes scraping the concrete.

She shook her head wildly, her eyes huge with horror and denial. He removed the burner phone from his pocket, then punched in Lenora’s phone number. Adrenaline sped through his veins as he waited on her to answer.

One ring. Two. Three.

“Come on, my pet,” he whispered. “Talk to me. I’ve been waiting…”

Lenora jerked awake, embarrassment heating her cheeks as she woke in Micah’s arms. His dark eyes met hers, a softness about them that made desire bubble in her belly.

She hadn’t been close to anyone, especially a man, in years. She’d thought she would hate it, that she’d run from his touch.

But somehow, having Micah beside her, so close, so strong and tough yet so gentle, not demanding but protecting, made her crave more.

He made her want to be whole again. To be able to find love and a future that she’d given up on five years ago.

“Lenora—”

The sound of her phone ringing cut into the moment, and she shoved hair from her face. It was barely dawn. Who would be calling?

“My phone—”

He hurried into her room and retrieved it from the nightstand.

“It’s an unknown number,” he said with a frown.

“Maybe it’s him.”

“I’ll answer—”

“No, he wants to talk to me.” She grabbed the phone, then pressed the answer button. “Hello.”