Strings of Fate (Mistresses of Fate) (28 page)

“For once I’m glad you don’t have a TV, girl.”

“Me, too,” Chris agreed.

“I need to get back to Atlanta. The detective on the Martin Hays case wants me in on it.” Raquel looked at the both of them, her mouth twitching a little in spite of the circumstances. “I can grab you two some food before I go, though.”

“Okay. You have to keep me posted on the case. Tell me what you find.”

Raquel nodded. “You know I will. What do you want for dinner?”

“Actually,” Ryan interrupted, “I made arrangements for a delivery.”

“You did?” Chris was floored. “From where?” There was a pizza place, but it was on the outskirts of town, closer to the college.

“Midaugh is picking up fried chicken and dropping it off for us.” He checked his phone. “He should be here any minute.”

“All right, then.” Raquel walked over and hugged Chris. “I’m going to grab my stuff and head home and then into the office. If you need something, call me or Tavey. She’ll probably be with me. We’re using her search dogs for the coordinates you gave us.”

Chris nodded. “I figured. Tell her I love her. Wish I could be there.”

“I know, honey. We’ll find whatever there is to find.”

Chris nodded. That’s what they did. Search, trap, find. Chris suddenly realized that George Mills had been right all along when he’d named the friends the Mistresses of Fate. They were the mistresses of fate, working constantly to make sure that the stories of the missing were told, that those whose fault was solely in the stars were not forgotten, and that those responsible were punished.

“I know we will,” Chris replied, and looked in Ryan’s eyes as she said it, including him in the group. She was counting on him finding her when it came down to it, though she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. She hoped that a lot. She also hoped that he still wanted her after tomorrow, because she knew he wasn’t going to trust her again anytime soon.

33

HE WAS GOING TO
meet his Creator. Joe didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain. The time was coming. Policemen had canvassed the town today. He’d seen them talking to people downstairs; he was glad he’d told the woman to park her car in the garage downstairs. It was only a matter of time before it was recognized.

The woman would be recognized soon as well, but he had lost interest in her. Her strings were fading and flickering; sometimes he didn’t sense her at all. She’d done as she was told, though. Now, even if his Creator changed her mind, his insurance would force her to cooperate.

Leaning forward, he peered through the binoculars from the windows, wishing he could come closer, wishing he could see his Creator’s face.

He would see her tomorrow, though. He’d given her something she wanted. They were alike, the two of them. He wanted to find the strings; she wanted to find the missing. They both needed to fill the holes left by others. Like for like. They were meant to be together. Meant to find strings together. She would help him.

He picked up his phone and called the woman. She answered, her voice husky as if she’d been crying.

“I’m watching you,” he told her. “Do as I say or you will be punished. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” she choked.

“Do you have them?”

“Yes, I held the knife to the throat of one and the other two obeyed, just as you said.”

“Of course they did.”

“They’re cold. There’s no food here.”

“You tied them?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t want to hear about anything else.”

He hung up the phone, satisfied that she would obey. He would cut her string soon, though. He was tired of playing with her.

34

RYAN WAS ON
the phone with someone at the task force when Christina came downstairs. She gestured to the bag of chicken. “Are we going to eat that chicken before it gets cold?”

Ryan, his gaze sliding to her lips, shook his head no, holding up the bag, which smelled heavenly and already had grease spots showing through the paper. “I think this chicken will be seriously cold by the time we eat it.”

Chris laughed out loud. “Well, that’s good news. I love cold chicken.”

“Good.” He stalked toward her. “Get your ass up the stairs, then.”

“My. My. My. FBI. Getting forceful.” She stood, though, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans. “Race ya.”

She took off up the stairs, pink boots flashing. He followed her slowly, methodically, anticipation rising in him with every step.

For tonight, all that mattered was being with Chris, finally letting go and letting the strange connection he felt to her bind and hold him.

CHRIS’S HEART WAS
racing by the time she reached the top of the stairs. She fumbled with the keys to her apartment, pulling them out of her pocket. She could hear his footsteps on the stairs and grinned in nervous anticipation.

He reached the landing just as she opened the door and threw it open. Following her, he closed and locked the door behind him.

Chris held her hand out for the chicken, taking the bag into the kitchen. He removed his jacket and holster, setting them over the back of the armchair next to the couch. When she turned around, he was unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing his tanned throat and the top of a well-muscled chest.

Chris fastened her eyes on his chest and waited as inch by inch his chest became visible. It had been a while since she’d had sex, since she’d even kissed or touched a man. She stretched her arms, pulling first one and then the other across her chest.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

“No,” she argued.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this. I should be focusing on the case.”

And yet he kept unbuttoning his shirt, leaving it hanging open, showing off a lean build with tightly sculpted muscles.

Breathless, panting slightly, Chris let her arousal roll through her, dampening her panties and making her press her legs together. Ryan had his gray eyes focused solely on her, as if she were the only thing he saw.

“I’m going to touch you,” he told her, his voice soft and husky.

“Good,” she told him.

“But you have to take off those ugly shoes.”

She chuckled, bent down and removed a boot, and threw it at him. He caught it easily and dropped it to the floor, holding out his hands like he was ready for a pass. She tossed the other one at him, unsurprised when he caught it deftly.

“Did you play in college?”

“Only freshman year,” he confessed, as if he’d done something wrong.

“You still play?”

“Sometimes with the other agents.”

“Hmm . . .” She was staring at his chest as he came closer. He was lean and muscled and gorgeous, and part of her couldn’t believe he was in her living room.

“Take off your top,” he ordered, tugging off his shirt and coming closer. Chris happily obeyed, stripping off the soft cashmere, listening to the crackle as the static electricity made her hair stand on end.

He smiled tenderly at her, as if amused, and Chris was sure she looked crazy in her bright pink bra and jeans with her hair standing on end.

Stepping closer, until he was nearly touching her, he reached out and smoothed down her hair. Chris’s face was near his throat, which smelled delicious as usual. He was so close, within inches, and Chris felt herself lean forward, as eager as a puppy to be petted.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at the mounds of her breasts. His hands slid from her hair down to her shoulders and over her back to her bra. The room was silent and still but for their breath as he carefully unhooked the clasp and tossed it aside. Breasts heavy and taut, Chris gasped in relief when he took them in his hands, weighing them before stroking her nipples with his thumbs.

“You like that?” he asked. Chris assumed it was a rhetorical question. Her face was flushed; she was panting, and her hips were moving as if she were listening to an eighties song.

“Fuck, yes,” she gasped. It had been a while, and Ryan had a deliberate, methodical nature. She was not a patient person.

He slid his hands up to her collarbone and beneath her hair at the back of her neck, stroking her jaw and behind her ear.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and bent down to press his lips to her temple, “so sexy.”

Chris liked that. She didn’t often think of herself as sexy, but she felt sexy when he was with her. Shit, she felt fucking irresistible when he was near.

She moved fully into his arms, squashing her breasts against his hard chest to relieve the ache, tilting up her face for a kiss. He obliged, taking her mouth fiercely, his tongue entwining with hers.

His back was firm and muscled; she sank her fingers into him, rubbing up against the hard length of him while he kissed her, wanting to twine herself around him.

He backed her up until she was pressed against the door to the linen closet. Taking the opportunity, Chris wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted up her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

He gripped one of her thighs and hitched her up against him rhythmically, rubbing against her in just the right spot. Chris, her body aching, wished she’d had the foresight to strip off her pants as well. Instead, she was left gasping and frustratingly covered when he used his man-strength to lift her up until her breasts were within the range of his lips.

Ducking his head slightly, he bent and took her left nipple in his mouth, rubbing lightly with his tongue before suckling, his mouth drawing firmly, creating an aching line of tension that seemed to run from her breasts down between her legs. She had a death grip on his hair and her legs were tightening around him like a python, but he wasn’t complaining. In fact, his grip tightened on her as well, and he switched breasts, sucking on the other, leaning into her with his body.

Chris felt close to climax just rubbing against him, but before she thought she was going to come, he pulled away from the wall, carrying her toward the bedroom. Chris was glad she had the tape over the computer cameras, but the idea of the unsub cooled her off a little, enough that when he set her down on the bed, she noticed little things like the slight tightening of his lips when he saw the bank of tables covered with computers, the wall covered in pictures of the missing.

He didn’t say anything, though, just unbuttoned his pants while she sat on the bed watching, fascinated, thoughts about his inner feelings drowned out by a wave of lust.

He stripped down, his erection fierce and long, pointing toward his stomach. He was pale all over, freckles scattered on his legs, which had a sprinkling of red-gold hair. His thighs were runner’s thighs, well-defined muscles bunched as he stood in front of her.

She leaned forward, tugging his hips toward hers and putting her mouth on the head of him. He froze, his hands on her hair as she opened her lips and let just the tip slide into her mouth.

“Okay”—his voice sounded strained—“I’m a little too excited for that route. Why don’t you lean back, sweetie, so I can pull those jeans off of you?”

She did, unbuttoning her jeans for him so he could pull down the zipper.

He rubbed her feet as he pulled off her socks, throwing them behind him before tugging on the legs of her jeans, whipping them off so she was left in nothing but her panties, her sensitive legs bared for his pleasure, something he seemed to enjoy enormously, rubbing his hands from her thighs to ankles, his face rapt, long fingers delicate and searching.