Keep Me Safe (18 page)

She brushed her mouth over his chest and hugged him tightly. “Hurry back,” she said. “I miss you already.”

It was the truth. Knowing he wouldn't be here, protecting her, fueled her anxiety. But she had to keep it together so she could help put a psychopath behind bars.

She rolled away, taking the top sheet with her. As she stood, the sheet unfurled and she wrapped it loosely around her body, suddenly conscious of her nudity—and his. He pushed himself out of bed, and she saw his erection that had nothing to do with it being morning.

She clutched the folds of the material over her breasts as he walked around the end of the bed to stand just in front of her. Then he reached forward, tugging at the sheet until finally she let go. It pooled at her feet and Caleb's avid gaze burned a trail over her skin.

He cupped her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. His warmth was a shock against her chilled skin. His big hands roamed over her back and down to the curve of her behind, squeezing possessively.

“I thought you had to go,” she whispered.

“I do. But we both happen to need a shower, so why not kill two birds with one stone?”

She shivered delicately, her pulse bounding. His lips found hers in a heated rush. His hands tangled in her hair, tugging lightly so her chin was angled upward and her mouth fit perfectly to his.

He began backing them toward the bathroom, his lips never leaving hers. When they got inside, he fumbled for the light switch and then he lifted her, hoisting her up his body before placing her on the counter between the two sinks.

His cock was rigid, straining upward toward his navel when he hurriedly turned on the shower. When he returned to her, his erection pressed hard against her belly as he gathered her in his arms once more.

She let out a sigh and let her head rest on his shoulder. He brushed his lips over her exposed neckline and then nibbled a path to her earlobe. Again she found herself lifted. She wrapped her legs around his waist to anchor herself more firmly. Holding her with one arm, Caleb stuck his free hand into the spray to test the temperature.

Evidently satisfied with the result, Caleb stepped into the shower and lowered Ramie to her feet. Even so, he still kept one arm firmly wrapped around her while reaching for the shampoo with his other hand.

He soaped her from head to toe, petting and caressing until she was nearly mindless with need. She was aroused to fever pitch, craving, wanting so badly. Steam rose, coating their skin with dewy moisture, and then he ducked her back under the spray to rinse her off.

Not five minutes later, Caleb tugged hard at the faucet to turn off the shower and then he was out of the stall in seconds, lifting her to the counter and fitting his erection between her thighs all in one smooth motion.

He plunged deep and hard. Ripple after ripple of raw pleasure consumed her. She threw back her head, bumping the mirror behind her. Her hair clung wetly to her body as she arched her breasts forward for his mouth to find.

Her hands slapped the counter and her fingers curled around the edge to give her leverage as he continued to drive into her. And then with a muffled curse he swiftly withdrew, his face a wreath of strain. The veins at his temples were distended and he tugged in shaky breaths, his chest heaving with the effort.

“Don't stop!” she gasped. “God, Caleb, you can't stop now!”

“I forgot the goddamn condom
again
,” he growled. “Give me just a minute.”

It seemed an eternity before he yanked one of the drawers open and then ripped at one of the packets. He fumbled between her legs a moment and then spread her wide once more.

He pushed into her and they both moaned. She curled both arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. Had there ever been a man like Caleb in her life? Never had she felt the tumultuous rush of raw, hedonistic desire.

“God, what you do to me, Ramie,” he said through clenched teeth. “You make me forget everything until all I want is to be inside you and never leave.”

She slid her mouth down his jaw and then nipped lightly at his throat, causing him to shudder violently against her. She inhaled deeply, the combination of powerful male and his soap swirling through her senses.

He slid his hands underneath her behind and lifted her upward, his fingers digging into her flesh, branding her irrevocably. Her body clamped down around his erection, holding it, sucking it deeper inside her.

“You make me forget too,” she whispered.

Her nails scoured his back and he let out a growl of pleasure. He swelled within her, surging hard and fast until the only sound that could be heard was the slap of flesh against flesh.

The mirror was completely fogged from the hot shower and their rapid heavy breathing. She tilted back, allowing her head to rest against the glass once more. She gripped his forearms as her orgasm roared over her, tightening, clenching every muscle in her body.

Her release was so explosive that her vision went blurry and she seemed to float outside of her body. His name was a litany on her lips, whispered over and over as he claimed his own release.

He convulsed against her, his hold on her almost bruising, and yet it gave her comfort to know she was completely sheltered in his arms.

His breath stuttered over his lips, his entire body heaving as they both tried to catch up.

He smoothed wet hair from her forehead and then kissed the spot he exposed.

“I know you probably aren't ready to hear this, Ramie, but I'm not just falling in love with you. I
am
in love with you.”

She froze, holding her breath as he pulled back just enough that he could look into her eyes. Panic struck and she couldn't get her tongue to cooperate. Would he be angry that she couldn't find the same words? That the idea of being loved and in love was terrifying to her?

She was marked for death. She couldn't afford emotional entanglements because it would only end in grief. She didn't want Caleb to love her because then it would hurt him if something happened to her.

“Caleb . . .”

His name was all she could muster. Tenderly, he pressed a finger to her lips.

“Don't,” he said. “It's all right, Ramie. I can wait until you're ready. Just know that you are loved and you aren't alone. For now, it's enough.”

TWENTY-TWO

FINALLY
, his quarry was in his sights. He smiled a slow, satisfied smile as he watched Caleb Devereaux walk into the building that housed all of his businesses. He was especially amused by the newly formed security company. Did Devereaux honestly think his security experts were any match for his genius?

Chuckling to himself, he shook his head and then hunkered down to wait for Devereaux to exit the building. He was a patient man and patience was always rewarded. Always. Patience was a virtue according to the Bible.

“I'm coming for you, Ramie,” he said in a singsong, soft voice.

His mind was flooded with images of Ramie St. Claire being punished for interfering in his quests. It was his duty to rid the world of the weak and the sinners. But then Ramie had turned the investigators loose on him. She'd cost him valuable time. He'd had to fall back and regroup, lying low and lulling everyone into a false sense of security. They'd thought he'd stopped the cleansing, but in truth he only took a sabbatical.

He laughed again. A sabbatical from sin. It had a certain ring to it.

Ramie St. Claire didn't have his entire focus. He was capable of splitting his attention, especially when it came to new blood. Another waited for him. He licked his lips in anticipation and rubbed his hands back and forth together.

As soon as his job was done here, he'd take care of his latest conquest. Ramie would be pleased, no doubt, that he had another victim because it meant she wasn't his yet. But soon. Very soon all the pieces would fall into place and Ramie would be punished for her sins.

He came to attention, his nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing as he focused on Caleb Devereaux leaving the office building. He started forward, his stride hobbled, his clothing dirty and torn. There was nothing about his current appearance to hint at his identity. He was very careful and he knew he was smarter than the others. They wouldn't find him.

His pulse accelerated and a giddy thrill coursed through his veins as Caleb Devereaux approached. Caleb didn't see him. Men like Caleb never saw the less fortunate. He looked past others as though they didn't exist in his privileged world. His shortsightedness would cost him dearly.

On cue, he stumbled, falling forward directly into Devereaux's path. His arm flailed upward as if he were trying to catch himself. His fingers curled tightly around Devereaux's arm as he went to one knee.

“Sir, are you all right?” Devereaux asked in a concerned voice.

Surprise prickled down his spine at Devereaux's reaction. He blinked and forced his attention back to the task at hand.

Devereaux helped him to his feet while he had his hand clamped around Devereaux's wrist.

“Do you need medical attention?” Devereaux asked, his brow furrowing.

He shook his head and rasped out, “No. Thank you, sir. You've been kind. But I'm all right. I just tripped. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“You weren't a bother,” Devereaux said kindly.

Then to his surprise, Devereaux reached into his billfold and pulled out several twenties. He held the money out to him, urging him to take it.

Even better. He now had something that had been in Devereaux's possession, which had his imprint all over it.

“Have a blessed day,” he said to Devereaux in a gravelly voice that sounded as aged as he currently looked. And then he turned and shuffled away, careful to keep the guise of an old, homeless man. A smile hovered on his lips and adrenaline pumped through his veins, giving him a euphoric high that could only be topped when he had Ramie St. Claire at his mercy.

TWENTY-THREE

“THE
eyes aren't right,” Ramie said, frustration beating at her temples.

She scrubbed a hand over her face and closed her own eyes momentarily. She tried to force herself to relax and allow her mind to hone in on her stalker's features. But every time she pulled up his face it was all a giant blur.

Her head pounded viciously. The harder she tried to bring the image into focus, the more her head hurt. It felt as though she could burst a blood vessel in her brain at any moment.

“Do you need to take a break?” Dane asked.

His concern was evident as his gaze swept over her. Judging by his reaction, she must look pretty terrible. If she looked even half as bad as she felt then the expression
death warmed over
applied.

“We can stop for a few moments,” Eliza said gently. “Maybe get some fresh air. Would you like something to drink?”

“My head,” she moaned, pain assaulting her over the two words she verbalized. She sandwiched her head between her hands, pressing her palms to her throbbing temples.

“Are you all right?” Dane demanded. “What about your head?”

“Migraine.” It was all she could or wanted to get out. Her voice was so loud in her ears that even the three words she'd uttered felt as though she'd screamed them.

Eliza cast a worried glance in Dane's direction.

“Do you have meds?” Dane asked. “Or do we need to call a doctor to come see you?”

Ramie's brow wrinkled. One eyelid twitched spasmodically, one of the many side effects of her migraines. Any direct exposure to the sun or bright lights made the twitch more pronounced.

“Doctors don't make house calls, and if we leave to go to the ER, I'll be waiting for hours and it will be that much longer before we get a likeness of his face distributed. For his next victim, every minute counts.”

Dane shrugged. “Doctors make house calls when you're Caleb Devereaux.”

“Of course,” Ramie muttered, pushing her fingertips in a tight circular motion at her temples. “And I did have medication but I used it sparingly because I don't have a regular doctor anymore and I can't just walk into the ER or an urgent care center and demand migraine meds. I lost it, and everything else I owned, escaping my stalker in Oklahoma.”

“I'll ask Tori for a pill for you,” Dane said, his gaze gentle and his tone matching.

She wondered just how awful she looked and sounded for Dane and Eliza to be on virtual tiptoe around her. Then, as she took in what he'd said, she frowned and shook her head. The very last thing she wanted was to involve Tori. It was better for everyone if Tori remained in blissful ignorance locked behind the walls of her bedroom.

“Her doctor prescribed the medication after what happened last year because she gets debilitating headaches when she has visions or dreams. It might make you a little drowsy, but that wouldn't be a bad thing,” Dane said pointedly. “I imagine you could do with some actual rest rather than running on fumes like you are now.”

As he spoke the last, he rose from his seat on the couch and made a gesture to the artist, who'd patiently tweaked and rearranged each time Ramie got it wrong.

“Take a five-minute break. I'll get her something for her headache. There's no sense in pressuring her more right now. A few more minutes won't make a difference if he's already moved on to his next victim.”

Mocking laughter echoed in Ramie's mind and she squeezed her eyes shut, her hands trembling violently in her lap. She wouldn't let him unbalance her. He wasn't
really
there.

The ache in her head intensified, the pressure building so much that it felt as though something inside her would shatter into a million pieces. It was as though someone was piercing her skull.

Too late . . . ​

The thought drifted through her mind leaving her to question whether it was her own manifestation of her deepest fear or if the killer had truly communicated with her through their link.