She Can Scream (23 page)

Brooke stopped at the reception desk. Behind it, a juice bar offered smoothies and protein drinks. A large matted area divided the workout area into thirds. Cardio machines were lined up in three rows on the left. A decent selection of weight machines occupied the middle of the space. Free weights spanned the right third of the room. A dozen members were spread out over the equipment.

“Can I help you?” The man at the desk said over the clink of weights and the steady thump of sneakers on treadmills. He was muscular, but not in the bulky, deformed way she’d seen at the other gym in town, a hard-core facility that trained bodybuilders. His lean physique suggested an active sport like track and field or rock climbing. Brooke read the name tag pinned to his navy blue logo T-shirt. Z
ACK
.

“Hi. I’m a teacher at Westbury High. A friend of mine suggested your gym. Maddie Thorpe. Do you know her?”

Zack paused. He blinked away for a second. “No. I can’t picture her, but we have a lot of members. I can’t remember everyone.”

Liar.
“Could I look around?” Brooke smiled.

“Of course. We give discounts to teachers and students,” Zack said.

Brooke raised a “told you” brow at Luke. He didn’t look impressed.

Zack motioned to a teen in a Forever Fitness T-shirt. “Watch the desk, please.”

He stepped out from behind the counter and led them into the main space, pointing out the obvious as they walked. “We have state-of-the-art cardio equipment, free weights, and machines. Have you ever belonged to a gym?”

“No.” Running and cross-training on her heavy bag had always been enough. She eyed the defined muscles of a young girl on an elliptical trainer. Maybe she
should
add weight training to her regime.

“Every membership comes with three free personal-training sessions to get you started. Our trainers will show you how to set up and operate the machines, plus they’ll develop a beginner program for you.” Zack opened the door to a large room with a wood floor. Brooke stuck her head in and looked around. The front wall was mirrored; equipment lined the other three. Music blared. Two dozen men and women hoisted kettle bells. “This is our fitness class studio. We have everything from boot camp to Zumba. That’s a Latin dance–based class. It burns a ton of calories.” Zack’s attention strayed to a well-built redhead in ultra-skimpy spandex shorts in the back row. She sensed his stare and shot him a get-real-creep eye roll.

Zack closed the door and circled back to the front desk.
“Why don’t I set you both up with free two-week memberships? You can try a few classes and see what you like.”

“That sounds great.” Brooke filled out a short form and passed the pen to Luke.

Zack handed them two paper IDs. He slid a paper across the counter to Brooke. “Here’s a class schedule.” He circled five blocks on the grid. “These are the Zumba classes.”

“Thank you.” Brooke folded the paper and stuffed it into her purse. She turned away from the desk.

“Hope to see you soon.” Zack smiled.

“Hey, Brooke.”

She spun.

Greg Fines was exiting the locker room, gym bag in hand. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about joining.”

“Don’t you run all the time with the track team?” Greg asked.

Snagged. Think fast
. “I need to start cross-training,” Brooke said.

“That is important.” Greg looked to Luke.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Brooke introduced them. “Have you been working out here long?”

Greg’s eyes wandered to a twenty-something in spandex that was leaving the gym.

“Greg?” Brooke prompted.

“Oh, sorry.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “Yoga pants are the greatest invention of the twentieth century.” Greg gave Luke a nudge-nudge look.

Luke gave Brooke a what’s-with-this-guy shrug.

Brooke resisted the urge to snap her fingers in Greg’s face. “I asked you if you’d been working out here long.”

“Years.” Greg nodded like a bobblehead. “It’s not like I’m going to get a workout coaching the robotics team.”

“Good point.” Brooke laughed.

“Well, I have to run.” He was watching yoga-pants girl get into a baby-blue Prius. “See you tomorrow.” He bolted through the door, stopped cold in the lot, and gave the girl a dorky half wave. She backed out and zoomed off. She did not flip him off, but it was close.

Greg pivoted and jogged across the lot. A huge grin split his skinny face.

Yup. Greg was clueless.

“I bet our food is ready.” Luke held the door open.

“Probably.” Brooke exited. She hugged her biceps against the dropping temperature. “Maybe I’ll come to a Zumba class.”

Luke sighed. “You can barely walk without limping. I think Zumba is a stretch.”

Damn. He was right. “What I need is a member roster.”

“I doubt Zack will give you one.”

“I know. Speaking of Zack, did you catch the way he was staring at that redhead? It was creepy. She wasn’t happy about it.”

“I agree he was kind of a jerk about it, but those were some small shorts.”

Hm.
A pang of jealousy shot through her. “You noticed her?”

“Just vaguely.” He leaned back and looked at her. “You’d look better in those shorts.”

“Nice cover.” Brooke snorted. Her underwear covered more.

Luke laughed, and they walked back toward the Jade Dragon. Inside, a brown bag waited for them on the counter. The aroma of fried dumplings carried to the doorway.

Brooke unzipped her purse and fished inside, but Luke already had his out. “I’ll get it.”

“Thank you.” It felt almost like a normal date.

Except they were trying to find a killer.

He tilted her head. The angle had to be just right. There. Perfect. He rubbed an aching muscle in his neck. Who would have thought she would’ve been so hard to maneuver through the narrow window? Her limbs were immobile, and her joints were stiff from being in his cellar for such a long time.

Despite the damp chill of Brooke’s basement, sweat dripped down his face.

Wiping his brow on a sleeve, he straightened and assessed the scene. He moved back to stand in front of the washing machine. With the top open, Brooke wouldn’t see her at first. No. She’d add clothes and detergent and then close the lid and start the unit.

That’s when her eyes would pick up the anomaly. The thing that didn’t belong.

Excitement hummed as he pictured Brooke freezing at the sight, then walking toward it hesitantly. Would the terror strike right away or would it take a while to sink in? Would she need to peel down the sheet before panic sprinted through her veins?

He visualized Brooke kneeling on the concrete, lifting the corner of the sheet, gasping in horror. Would she faint?

No. Not Brooke. She’d fight the terror like a champ.

His hand dropped to his groin, and he rubbed the hard bulge in his pants.

Tonight hadn’t been enough. His appetite was whetted rather than sated by the evening’s activities. His victim hadn’t fought hard enough and had died far too quickly. He was to blame. He lost control. Choking the fight out of her had escalated to strangulation before he’d even gotten to try out the pulley system. Damn. He’d been counting on a dress rehearsal before the main show.

He adjusted the sheet over the bloody face and pulled some dark locks down over her shoulder. Better.

Now for part two of tonight’s plan. He crept up the stairs and carefully opened the door to a dark kitchen. His hand swept along the wall for a light switch. He found it but hesitated. Brooke didn’t have neighbors to see the light, but a car driving by wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Shuffling across the floor, he fished in his pocket for his flashlight. He palmed it and pushed the switch with his thumb. Where was the big man sleeping? Brooke had two children. She wouldn’t sleep with a man while her kids were in the house. So, the big man would be sleeping on the couch. He shone the light around the kitchen and walked toward a dark hallway. He passed an office and found a cozy den. He swept his light in a wide arc. A black duffel bag was in the corner.

Woof.

He froze.

A car door slammed outside.

His pulse jolted.

She was home. He glanced at his watch. The basement setup had taken much longer than he’d anticipated. He turned back toward the basement door.

His feet tangled, and he fell forward. What the fuck? Brooke’s damned dog cowered under his legs. Blinding anger surged through him. He kicked at the stupid creature and rooted through his pockets for a knife.

Brooke carried the take-out boxes into the den while Luke took the dog out back. She spread the food out on the coffee table and went back to the kitchen for forks and napkins. Luke and Sunshine walked into the room.

“She’s favoring her right foreleg.” Luke put a worried hand on the dog’s head.

Brooke ran her hands down each of the dog’s legs. “I don’t feel anything. Maybe her arthritis is acting up. If it doesn’t clear up in the next day or two I’ll have the vet check it out.”

The dog beelined for the food, the limp not slowing her down much.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Brooke grabbed Sunshine and gently guided her out of the den. “You had your dinner.”

She closed the door.

“Poor old dog.” Luke sank onto the couch.

Brooke eased down next to him. “You wouldn’t say that if she crawled into your lap and stuck her nose in your carton.”

She flipped on the TV and picked an old black-and-white movie. She opened the box of ginger chicken and sniffed. Her stomach growled.

Luke handed her a pair of chopsticks. “Sounds like you’re hungry.”

“I’m not very good with these.” She reached for her fork. “They always seem like so much work.”

“It’s simple once you get the hang of it.” He pulled another set out of the bag and ripped off the white paper wrapper. “I’ll give you a quick lesson.”

“All right.” She opened hers.

Moving closer, he took her hand in his, the heat from his body crossing the few inches of space between them. Brooke inhaled the musky scent of his aftershave. This was definitely worth the effort of eating with giant toothpicks. Luke rested the first stick between the base of her thumb and her ring finger.

“This one stays still.” His fingertips stroked her hand as he released it to reach for the second chopstick. Brooke’s toes curled. Only their hands were touching. How could it feel so erotic? She became acutely aware that they were alone in the house. They could… She stopped that train of thought before it gathered any steam. Luke was a traveling man.

He placed the second stick between the tips of the forefinger and thumb. His fingers glided along her skin as his hand encircled hers. “Only the top stick moves.” He opened and closed her fingers, pinching the sticks together.

“Give it a try.” He released her hand.

Whew. Was it hot in here? She picked up a fried dumpling and dropped it on the table. “Maybe I shouldn’t have locked the dog out.”

Luke laughed. “Try again.” He grabbed a hunk of lo mein and stuffed it into his mouth. “Slurping the noodles is perfectly acceptable.”

Brooke picked up the carton with her free hand and selected another dumpling. This time she kept the container underneath as she brought the food to her mouth.

“Just bite it in half.” Luke demonstrated, plucking a dumpling out of her carton and eating it in two bites. “It’ll work on the rice too. You’ll see.”

She gathered a clump of rice and only lost a few grains on the way to her mouth. “We’ll let the dog in when we’re done.”

The chunks of chicken were easier. It took a bit of extra time, but she got through her meal without resorting to a fork. She set the white carton down. Luke’s stare was hot on her face. She turned. “What?”

“You have some sauce…” He leaned in and licked the corner of her mouth. “Got it.”

He certainly did.

He kissed her, nudging her lips open and sliding his tongue inside her mouth. He tasted of the sweet-and-sour blend of Asian spices. Brooke’s muscles went lax, her blood hummed, and the nerve endings in her lips took on a whole new life as Luke explored her mouth. Her body thought of other things that could be slipping and sliding.

Was there a reason she shouldn’t get naked with him? Right here, right now, nothing seemed important enough to deny the empty ache building deep inside her.

A groan rumbled through his chest. His lips trailed to the side of her neck. His body shifted, turning toward her, seeking more contact. A big rough palm slid up her arm to her biceps and stopped inches from her breast. Her skin heated at his touch. Desire was a drug chugging through her veins. Wanting his hands on more of her, Brooke’s arm moved to give him better access.

She dropped the chopsticks. A water chestnut bounced down the front of her sweater, leaving a trail of ginger sauce behind.

Luke moved back. “I’m sorry.” Breathing hard, he straightened and adjusted the fit of his jeans.

Whoa.
Do not stare
. But, um, yeah. Impressive.

Brooke studied the stain on her sweater.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Luke retreated to the other side of the couch. “I’m not going to be here long. I have no right to start something between us.”

Her heart pinged. Too late. Emotions welled into her throat, the empty ache spreading through her chest. Her desire for Luke already went beyond the physical. She needed more space than the span of a sofa between them. “I’m going to change.”

She bolted for the hall. Upstairs, she rooted through a basket of clean laundry and pulled out the least sexy thing she could find, a sweatshirt at least three sizes too large. Her eyes filled as she tugged the soft fabric over her head. Damn it. How could she like him this much already? Luke was the first man who’d stirred her blood in years, and she couldn’t have him. She’d thought the sexual part of her soul had died. Now she knew it was just a contrary bitch with a sick sense of humor.

She snatched her stained sweater from the dresser and went downstairs. In the kitchen, she did a one-eighty and descended the basement steps. She flipped the wall switch. Bare bulbs attached to ceiling joists cast the dusty space in harsh light. The unfinished wood steps creaked under her socks. At the bottom, she automatically scooped up Luke’s dirty clothes on her way across the cracked concrete to the washer. She sprayed spot remover on the stain and tossed everything into the wash. A cap full of detergent went into the dispenser. She closed the lip and pressed start. The machine clicked, and water rushed into the tub.