Blind: Killer Instincts (26 page)

It was a creepy-ass feeling—or would have been, had it been any other time. For now, those watchful eyes were comforting.

“Anything?” Emma asked from behind him.

“They found Freeman.” He closed and locked the door, putting his back against the hard surface.

“Your new partner? And? Is he okay?”

Jacob shook his head, unable to form the words. Emma peered up at him, her face creased and lined with worry.

“H-he’s dead. They found him chopped up in garbage bags and buried around Max’s hiding place.” He cleared his throat. “Development said they were going to pour new foundations over where they found the body parts. His eyes were in a fridge. Along with his other victims. There’s two we don’t have identities for.”

“Oh, Jacob. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I barely knew him.”

She hugged him tight, but the worst part was he didn’t feel anything. Nothing. He’d barely known Freeman. They’d worked together for a few weeks. He’d transferred in for the chance to work Homicide.

Jacob patted Emma’s shoulder. He should have spent more time with him. Gotten to know his new partner better. But the first letter had arrived after they’d been teamed up, and Jacob had been so focused.

“Let’s sit down.” Emma guided him to the couch.

They’d slept most of the day, only waking up for food and updates from the officers up and down the street. After they’d found Max’s second victim that morning a few blocks from the station, the trail had gone cold. He’d vanished. There wasn’t even a glimpse of him on security cameras in the area.

Was it too much to hope Max was dead?

He put his back against the door and admired Emma as she stretched, still groggy from sleep thanks to the lack of coffee.

“What are you staring at?” she asked, dropping her arms to her sides.

“You.”

“There are better things to look at. I’m a mess.” She pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and ran her fingers through the locks.

He crossed the floor to her and pushed her hands aside, taking over the privilege of stroking her hair. She let her eyes close and tipped her chin up a bit as he massaged her scalp.

“I like you this way,” he said.

She snorted. It was an indelicate sound he’d grown fond of.

“I’m serious. There’s no pretense, no window dressing, I don’t have to act a certain way around you. I can be me. Do you know how rare that is?”

Emma peered up at him through narrow slits.

“People have some fucked up expectations sometimes. Screw them,” she said.

He chuckled. So eloquent, his Emma. He’d have to warn his mom eventually, but he’d worry about that later.

“I’d rather screw you, to be honest,” he said.

Her eyes fluttered wide, and her jaw dropped. She sucked in a breath and pressed her hand to her chest.

“Did you just make a joke?”

She startled a laugh out of him.

“Maybe so?” He grinned and his cheeks hurt.

“I don’t believe it. You laugh, too.” She tried to step around him, but he had his fingers dug so deep in her hair she couldn’t get away from him. “Hey, any cops listening? This isn’t Jacob. He smiles and laughs and makes jokes. I think we have an impostor.”

He laughed harder, which seemed to only make her laugh as well. He’d get himself almost under control and she’d giggle, which sounded so damn cute he’d snicker and then she’d laugh again. It was contagious, and probably a result of too much stress, but he didn’t care.

She looped her arms around his waist. Her body shook with mirth, giving her a mischievous, pixie-like air. She was trouble to the bone, and he wanted to drink up every drop of it. Hold her inside of him, protect her, laugh with her.

He curled his fingers in her hair, tightening his grip, and bent his head. Her gaze slid to his mouth and one corner of her lips hitched higher.

“What?” he asked.

She sputtered, laughing for no reason.

“What did I do?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to help myself. Come here. Give me a kiss.” She lifted up on her tip-toes. “Has anyone ever told you your dimples are adorable? I didn’t notice them before today.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “I try to forget about them.”

“Why?” She cupped his cheek. “They’re so cute.”

“Yeah, I’d be okay if they went away.”

“No,” she wailed. She pressed her finger in the spot where the damned dimple always showed up. “It’s cute.”

“Cute. Great. What every guys wants to hear.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, it makes you more relatable. Otherwise you’re too hot to be real, so embrace the dimples.” She snickered again. “You don’t choose the dimple life, the dimple life chooses you.”

“All right, enough of that.”

“What?”

He picked her up and she squawked, laughing and clutching his shoulders as he carried her to the couch. Maybe he’d let her tease him about the dimples, but there were limits, and she was stomping all over that line. He tossed her onto the sofa, still laughing. If poking at his dimples made her forget what else was going on, he’d let it go. This time.

Jacob lowered himself on top of her. She stretched her arms toward him, pulling him down, still with that smile tugging on her lips.

“So, what’s next? Want to play paddy cake?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Hm, how about Monopoly?”

“You’re asking for trouble, you know that?” His cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing and smiling.

“Yes.”

“Well, I have a better idea.” He lowered his face to hers.

“And what would that be?” Her lips whispered against his as she spoke.

“Stop talking.”

Her reply was muted by the press of his mouth over hers. Not that she protested too much. She opened her mouth, kissing him back as if she hungered for more. He wanted all of her. Everything she had. Everything she was. If he could press their bodies together, it might not be enough.

“I like this plan,” she muttered when he lifted his head.

“Good. There’s more.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup.”

“Stop talking and kiss me.”

He chuckled and did as she said. She twined her fingers into his hair, pulling the short strands as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. She sucked on it, flicking the tip of her tongue out to flirt with him, tease him more. He shuddered in her arms, wanting this to go farther.

But it didn’t mean he couldn’t worship her body. There were a lot of things to appreciate, after all.

Jacob pushed her tank top up and sports bra up under her armpits, freeing her breasts. Angry red lines marked where the elastic had cut into her. He kissed the lines, soothing away the hurt in his own way.

She tugged on his hair, but he ignored her. He had a feeling teasing Emma might become his new favorite pastime.

It was time.

Max pulled on his shirt and tucked the sleeves into his gloves. He added some tape to the cuffs to keep them sealed. The rest of his outfit was simple, jeans and canvas shoes he could dispose of quickly. He was traveling light for this one.

No spare change of clothes.

He couldn’t stay in the duplex for longer than it took to knock the two of them out. He’d have to drag them across the backyard and into the lawyer’s house so he could take his time with them.

No video equipment.

This kill was for him. For his soul. And the mission he was born with. He might not be able to complete the ritual as he wanted, but he could put Emma and Jacob to rest, which would have to be enough.

The club wouldn’t get this one.

He gathered his considerably lighter pack and slipped the straps over his shoulders.

He was ready.

Max exited through the back door. He’d spent so much time in this house, it was familiar to him, all its quirks, the way it shifted. It wouldn’t have been possible, had the lawyer not been having an affair. There were plenty of day trips and spending the night elsewhere.

It had allowed Max to prepare this location, unlike the others.

He pulled the decorative bush up out of the ground. It had taken an entire evening to unearth the roots, put it in a plastic bucket and disguise the hole, but it was necessary. He’d needed to get to the privacy fence. A piece of plywood slid between the shrubbery and fence went over the hole so he didn’t trip in it. That had happened once and he’d learned his lesson.

Getting over the fence was out of the question with all the cops around. He’d watched them come and go all day. Thankfully his need to be able to get those close to Emma had pushed him to this. While going in, out, and under Derrick’s trailer house was an easy thing to accomplish, Amanda’s was the other place where she spent her time.

Since he couldn’t go over the fence, he’d made a gate. He’d unscrewed several of the boards, nailed them together, and created holds to drop the new bar into so the fence appeared untouched. The bush disguised his creative entrance.

He lifted his gate out of the secure spots on either side and propped it up so he could crawl through the space between the boards.

He peered into the backyard, but the privacy fence was too tall for anyone to see into the yard. And the couple inside was too preoccupied to notice his approach. The cameras were one of his better ideas. It made keeping tabs on Emma so much easier.

Max crawled through into the yard and dusted himself off.

This was really happening.

He was almost too giddy to focus. The other victims hadn’t expected him. There was an added element of danger that had his blood pumping extra hard. But he needed to focus. His head had to be clear for this one. He sucked in a deep breath, counted to ten and pushed it out.

The key in his pocket felt as if it weighed five pounds. He fished it out and crept toward the back door.

Emma and Jacob lay on the couch, limbs entwined and bodies grinding together. He eyed the distance from the door to the couch. There was no way he could unlock the door without them hearing. He’d oiled and worked the lock many times, but it still scraped and clicked. Jacob would be up and on him by the time Max was through the door.

Plan B it was then.

He sighed, not liking this one as much. Ducking under the window in the door, he skirted the house until he came to the second window in Emma’s room. He’d jammed the locks so they appeared to be secure, but when he grasped the bottom and lifted—it went without a complaint. He pulled the lamp through the window, unplugging it and set it on the ground before hoisting the lightweight table out as well. Using it as a step-stool, he easily entered the bedroom.

Max stood in silence, listening to the moans from the other room. Would he have to listen to them fuck? Or could he hope they were so distracted by each other he might be able to surprise them before they got too naked?

He tip-toed around the room to the box Jacob had commandeered as a night stand. A wallet, a phone, his badge, and cuffs, as well as a few other odds and ends, lay in plain sight. Max pocketed the badge and cuffs. They might come in handy.

Max retreated to the deepest shadows of the room and slid his pack off. He pulled out the spade he’d stolen some time ago on a whim. Earlier he’d cut the handle down until it made a nice, portable weapon.

His skin broke out in goose bumps. Years of work, research, and honing his craft had led to this moment. This one special act.

It was time.

E

mma arched her back and moaned.

Fuck, he had a beautiful mouth and he used it so well. She sat up as much as she could, which wasn’t very far, and started to tug her clothes off.

Jacob grabbed her wrists and lifted his face from her breast.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“What? Why not?” Yes, she was whining. The man was sexy, she needed a distraction, and he was it.

Jacob scooted up until he could plant a quick kiss on her mouth.

“Because, haven’t you seen horror movies?” he asked.

“This is not a movie.”

“No, but it’s a bad idea to go there now.” He kissed her cheek and jaw.

“Why?” If she had to pout, she sure as hell would.

He sighed and sat up.

“Because, what if—and I’m just throwing this out there—we’re having sex and—”

“I get it. I get it.” She tugged her shirt and bra down. Horny she may be, but stupid she wasn’t.

“But...” One side of his mouth kicked up and a little glimmer of mischievousness lit his gaze. He kissed the center of her collarbone and tugged her neckline town. “One of us could at least get off.”

He pulled her shirt back up and kissed lower on her stomach, but one leg slid off and he rolled off the couch to sit down hard. They blinked at each other for a second before bursting out laughing.

“Are you okay?” She sat up and propped her elbows on her knees.

“Yeah.” He pushed to his feet and grabbed her wrist. “I think it’s time this moved to the bedroom before I brain myself on the coffee table.”

“Now that would be fun to explain.”

“I’d prefer not to.” He twirled her around until she was walking backwards toward the bedroom.

“Are we two-stepping now?”

“Maybe. Let’s see if I can remember how.” He took her right hand in his, placed his other at her waist. As he began to sing, “Blame it all on my roots,” he shuffled her backward.

His voice wasn’t quite twangy enough for the song, but that he could sing it and knew the words made her laugh all over again. Granted, it was pretty damn sexy when you took in the whole package—he cooked, he sang, he’d even keep you from dying in a horror movie. It was about as perfect as she could hope for.

They danced through the doorway into the bedroom. Was it her, or was it getting hot in here?

Hands gripped Emma from behind and jerked her out of Jacob’s embrace. She yelped, stumbling over something.

Jacob stood in the doorway, his gaze not on her, but behind her.

Oh, God.

TBKiller.

Max.

“Easy now, man. Careful with that knife.” Jacob had his hands at his side, fingers spread in a non-threatening manner.

How had he gotten inside? Where were the cops?

She gripped the arm banded across her chest with both hands.