Forged in Ash (28 page)

Cosky followed his LC through the kitchen and into the garage, the fear a volcanic vent threatening to rip him apart. He went to work tamping it down, covering it with ice, chilling it out.

“You okay?” Zane asked, with a sharp sideways glance as they approached the van.

“Yeah,” Cosky said, his voice so tight it cracked.

They climbed into the van in silence.

Zane waited until they were out on the road before glancing down at Cosky’s fisted hands. “You can put those away.”

Cosky looked down in surprise; he hadn’t even realized his fists were cocked. Finger by finger, he forced them to relax. When his hands were uncurled again, he pressed them against his thighs, shocked to find them shaking.

“So, you finally ready to admit it?” Zane asked.

Cosky slowly turned his head toward the driver’s seat. The world seemed off-kilter, warped, reeling.

“What?”

Zane shot him a wry sideways glance. His expression was a cross between sympathy and amusement. “That you have feelings for her? That you’ve had feelings for her from the moment you ran into her outside Aiden’s hospital room.”

The earth shifted beneath Cosky’s ass. He sat there in the passenger seat, a lump of disbelief and denial. “Bullshit. I’m not a Winters. I don’t have a soul mate.”

“I’m not talking soul mates. I’m talking feelings. Serious feelings.”

Cosky snorted and fought to keep his hands from fisting again. “Beth’s pregnancy’s turned you hormonal.”

Zane shook his head. “Cos, you’re a cold bastard. Always in control. You never let fear rule you—or if you do, you hide it well. Yet, your hands are shaking. A guy like you? Yeah, that ain’t going to happen unless you got feelings for her. Strong feelings.”

Cosky folded his arms and set his back. “Bullshit. I’d be just as worried about Beth if she was in that apartment with that bastard.”

With a quick grin, Zane shook his head. “Jesus, you’re a stubborn ass. You haven’t been avoiding Beth for the past five years. And then there’s Aiden. Hell, you threw up every fucking roadblock you could think of to keep Aiden from moving in. What the hell was that about?”

Cosky scowled. Hell, he should have known Zane would notice. The asshole noticed everything.

“I don’t deny I’m attracted to her. But that’s all. Hell, why do you think I’ve been avoiding her?” He turned his scowl on Zane. “She’s one of ours. I’m not about to screw her and walk away.”

But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done?

The scowl vanished beneath a surge of shame.

Turning his head, he stared out the window and tried not to imagine what was happening in Kait’s place. “Can’t this damn thing go faster?”

Kait was alone with a killer. A cold-blooded murderer who’d shown no mercy to Jillian or her children.

The minutes ticked by slower and slower as he waited for her all-clear call.

Life could end in a heartbeat. He’d seen it happen too many times to count. One moment someone was laughing, talking, living—the next their eyes were fixed and they were cooling in your arms.

That black shadow inside him expanded again, tried to squeeze the breath from his lungs.

He closed his eyes and willed Pachico from her apartment. Life would be a hell of a lot less livable without Kait in it.

Chapter Thirteen

K
AIT HIT THE
disconnect button and pivoted to face Detective Pachico, or whoever the man was. The change in Cosky’s tone when she’d mentioned her visitor had been disconcerting. He’d gone from easy to edgy in an instant. Obviously, Cosky believed this man was dangerous. And if Cosky, who had gone up against the most dangerous men in the world, felt her visitor was a threat, she’d be wise to pay heed. She needed to get him out of her apartment.

But how?

“Lieutenant Simcosky?” he asked, arching thin, pale eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Kait tried out a light laugh. “I may have overreacted and left him a nasty message after his stalker attacked me.”

Her visitor just watched her—cold intelligence glittering in his dark eyes.

“At least I get a free dinner out of it.” She tried another smile on him, which had no effect at all. “Are we done? I need to change clothes and put on my face.”

He took a step toward her. There was something predatory and taunting in the movement. Kait held her ground.

“So this woman said nothing to you?” he asked, his voice polite, his face even politer, yet a chill worked its way up her spine, leaving an entire army of goose bumps behind.

Every instinct she possessed whispered caution, warned her that this man was deadly.

Too bad those instincts hadn’t kicked in while he was on the other side of her locked door.

She’d answered his question before, multiple times, but Cosky’s warning echoed in her mind.
Don’t challenge him.

So she answered his question again, with as much patience as her edgy composure could manage. “She said she was going to use me to trap Cosky. She thought he was my boyfriend.”

He cocked his head, his dark gaze watchful and…mocking? “Having dinner with him does give the impression of intimacy.”

She shook her head. “He’s not my boyfriend. This dinner’s an apology. He’s a friend of my brother’s.”

“A friend of your brother’s,” he repeated, and yeah—there was open mockery on his face. He was toying with her. “Who just happened to be visiting you yesterday, when he was first attacked?”

“I told you,” she forced an irritated edge into her voice, as though she was tired of going over the same ground. Which she was. “He was here for a massage.”

“You told the police he was here for sex.”

She rocked back and tried not to look surprised.
They’d put that in their report?

“I was just messing with them,” she said, and saw disbelief in his eyes. “His knee and thigh have been bothering him since he got out of the hospital. Cramping and stiffness. I told him I’d massage it for him. Massages promote healing,” she added self-righteously.

At least sometimes.

Other times? Not so much.

“You’re not a masseuse,” he said flatly, as close to calling her a liar as he’d come so far.

“Not licensed.” She shrugged, held his gaze, and took a step toward her purse, with its can of Mace tucked inside. He matched her step, blocking her. Kait’s scalp tightened and tingled. She fought to keep her voice steady. “But I took a course in massage therapy.”

His hand dipped into his jacket’s pocket.

“Your brother can verify this?” Those cold, intense eyes scanned the room.

Tense, Kait watched him. What was he looking for? Even more important, what was in his pocket?

“Ms. Winchester?” he prompted, swinging back to her.

She jolted and silently scolded herself. “I’m sure Aiden would, if he were available. But he isn’t. He deployed yesterday.”

His lips curved, but not with humor. “Of course he did.”

She held his gaze. “I don’t see why it matters. What difference does it make why Cosky came? Or whether we’re involved?”

“Because involved women lie for their guy.”

So did uninvolved women, but she was certain he already knew that. “Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

“Did this woman say why she’s so interested in Simcosky?” he asked, watching her with unblinking, single-minded focus.

She’d already answered this question. Repeatedly. She took a deep breath and answered it again. “She said he was going to pay. That they were all going to pay. She said she was going to make sure of it.”

The pasty skin of his forehead crinkled. “For what?”

Kait shrugged and reached up to brush back a strand of hair. She didn’t try to hide her puzzlement. “I don’t know. She said they
killed her children. But Cosky wouldn’t hurt children. She must have confused him with someone else.”

A strange intensity darkened his eyes. He cocked his head and studied her face with the concentration of a predator just before it pounced.

A whole herd of centipedes skittered around in her belly. Nervously she went over what she’d said. Had something given her away? She hadn’t told him anything that she hadn’t already told the police.

Suddenly he turned to the teak bookshelf behind him and picked up a fragile, multi-jeweled glass square. Kait went rigid and breathless, watching him rotate the object between his palms.

He caught her gaze and smiled, a cold, knowing smile, and then he lifted the glass square with one hand, holding it high. The jeweled panels sparkled beneath the sunlight streaming in through the living room.

“It’s quite beautiful really, exquisite how the pieces fit together. Like a puzzle. Your aunt’s work?”

Except it wasn’t a question. He was telling her he knew it was important to her. He was telling her he could see through her, as easily as he could see through the object in his hands.

Her mouth dry, she simply nodded.

“Your father’s sister.” He idly rotated the glass cube in his palm. “She was an artist? Stain glass, blown glass, ceramics?”

Who was this guy?

Locking her reaction down, she pretended that she believed an ordinary detective could have collected such detailed information about her family in the space of an hour or two. “That’s right. It was her last piece.”

And as such, of immense emotional value to her.

Which this bastard knew.

He held her gaze with eyes utterly cold and flat and devoid of humanity. “It’s astonishing how quickly beautiful things can shatter. One moment here”—he leisurely scanned her body—“the next gone.”

He wasn’t talking about the glass cube. Kait’s skin went cold. Her muscles rigid.

She braced herself, certain he was going to release the cube and let it shatter against the floor.

Which would force her to confront him—force her to step beyond this pretense that hung between them like a thin veil.

Ice churned in the pit of her stomach.

Cosky’s stalker might have been crazy, but she’d been an amateur compared to this guy. This guy had the eyes of a killer.

For the second time that day every self-defense move her brother had taught her reeled through her mind. Except, he’d counter all of them. She knew it, as surely as she knew she wasn’t going to be able to defeat him as easily as she’d taken care of Cosky’s stalker.

A thick silence throbbed between them. She watched him, waiting for him to drop Aunt Issa’s last gift. Waiting for him to pounce.

And then a knock sounded on her door. She jolted. He didn’t. Instead, he casually lowered the glass square.

The knock sounded again.

It was too soon to be Cosky. Her visitor had to know that. But he turned, with an odd mesmerizing grace, and set the glass cube back on the bookshelf. He turned it slightly, returning it to the exact position it had been in before he’d picked it up.

Without a word he turned and headed down the hall toward the door. Kait watched him, still frozen in the living room.

He turned with his hand on the door handle, looked at her, and smiled. “Tell Simcosky I’ll be seeing him.”

When he opened the door, he bowed slightly to Martha and
stepped to the side, inviting her into the apartment with a sweep of his arm. And then he was gone.

“What a nice man,” Martha said, sending a beaming smile in the direction he’d vanished. “You don’t see manners like that these days.” She closed the door and shuffled down the hall toward Kait. “I was worried about you, girl. What with all the happenings around here lately.”

“I’m fine,” Kait said automatically. Although her hoarse voice and shaking legs gave lie to the assurance.

“You don’t look fine. You’re shaking like a leaf,” Martha said.

She could hardly tell the woman the truth. She wasn’t even sure what the truth was. Maybe she’d blown the last five minutes out of proportion.

More likely, she was damn lucky to be alive.

“I think the adrenaline from earlier is wearing off,” Kait said, suspecting her smile was as wobbly as her legs from the concerned look Martha settled on her.

She glanced at the wall clock and urged Cosky to hurry.

Funny how facing her death had suddenly made Cosky’s company so much more palatable. Although, this latest scare could be tossed at Cosky’s feet too.

If his crazy stalker hadn’t attacked her, she wouldn’t have caught the attention of this empty-eyed killer.

She’d make sure to remind him of that, when he showed up at her door.

It seemed like hours before Cosky’s cell rang again.

“Kait?” His voice sounded like he’d gargled glass. All he heard was choppy breathing, and then a voice cleared.

“I’m okay. He’s gone.”

Cosky closed his eyes, his arms going weak. Christ, he’d never been so thankful for the sound of a voice. “We’re almost there.”

“He’s not a detective, is he?” Her voice shook, but just for a moment, and then it steadied.

His hand tightened around the phone. “No, he’s not.”

Her breathing grew choppy again.

“Is he the one who killed her family?” she asked in a thin whisper.

How in the hell had she figured that out? Had that bastard told her? Christ—Cosky took a deep breath and banked the flash of rage.