Their Summer Heat (18 page)

But the brothers? He’d destroy them to get them out of the way. “You know when you asked me not to do anythin’ stupid?”

Concern flooded their eyes, but they both nodded.

“I think you need to take a bodyguard platoon with you to work.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Max as he cracked eggs.

“I highly doubt any of us will be
fine
until this is over and done with. But if he wants to draw me out, he may use you two to do it.”

“Are you saying we’re your weakness?” Logan grinned.

“A woman does not confess certain things, but if this lunatic somehow takes either one of you, I will offer myself to him in return for your safety.” They opened their mouths to protest, and she held up her hand. “I know that would be crazy because he will surely kill you, but I’d still do it.”

Max turned and pointed a fork at her. “That would be stupid, so don’t do it.”

“And if he captures me and asks you to go somewhere or do somethin’, you’re not gonna be stupid and do it…are you?”

“That’s different,” said Logan.

“Why?”

“We can take care of ourselves.”

“Both of you look at me. This is me rollin’ my eyes at such an asinine statement.” And to prove her point, she rolled them for a solid ten seconds. “I don’t doubt your abilities, but I do doubt that any man can take him down because he won’t play fair. He’s probably an average-sized man, maybe five ten to six one. This is a brain-game.”

“I think we’ve been insulted,” said Logan with a laugh.

“Twice,” grumbled Max.

Logan was probably joking, but Max seemed offended.

“I know that if you
don’t
want to chance me giving up myself to this maniac because he’s managed to snatch one of you, then you need to take some guards with you to work.”

Hell, she’d certainly feel better, knowing big brutes with big guns were with the Prestons. Probably not good for business, but she didn’t give a flying flip.

“I’ll ask Wallace to pull in more men,” said Max.

“And some extra protection for your parents, too.” It was a statement, not a question. Etched into her mind was the look on their mom’s face, one Summer would never forget.

“Yes,” answered Max. “Anything else?”

She loved the way he cocked his eyebrow in agitation. Hopping down from the stool, she rounded the bar and stopped before him. Taking his warm face between her hands, she pulled him close for a sweet kiss. “Thank you for easin’ my mind.”

He crushed her to him and deepened the kiss. When he broke free, he said, “We can’t lose you.” His voice sounded strained.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere unless I have to rescue you.” She moved to Logan, stepped between his legs, and repeated the kiss. She knew she should run, leave them now and maybe, just maybe, she could remove them from the threat. But at this moment, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

After breakfast, they piled on the plush couch in the living room. With the press of a few buttons, images slowly rolled on the massive TV screen. The brothers added commentary about the person on the screen or whose phone it was, but she wasn’t concerned with the faces in the forefront.

No, she purposely studied people in the background. There had to be at least one snapshot of the bastard. Dodging security cameras was one thing, but a room full of cellphones, well, that was an entirely different matter.

Three hours later, Summer had nothing but bloodshot eyes and a headache the size of Texas. She’d recognized absolutely nobody in the parade of faces. No person who’d ordered a Ruben or ham on rye. No janitor or administrator or classmate. One thing had dawned on her. She had to know the bastard;
otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of disguising his voice.

The brothers were snoozing, so she snuggled against Logan and closed her eyes.

Summer watched Dan haul in a new bulletin board from the hallway. Before Logan and Max left for work this morning, Agent Benson had informed them that another woman had died last night, and had said he would be over later with the details.

She wanted to comprehend how the bastard managed to outsmart them again. If she were one of the ladies on this guy’s hit list, she’d start walking and disappear. Maybe that’s what she should do anyway. Getting mugged was a better option than being stalked and killed by a deranged, insane serial killer.

Grabbing her laptop, she took her coffee and moved to the living room. A feeling of dread and apprehension floated around her. Part of it was the separation from Max and Logan, a fear that something awful would happen to them. She needed them in the nice little cocoon they had here, guarded by burly men with honking bazookas. Hiding was such a comforting plan.

After turning on the TV and setting the volume on low, she opened her laptop and typed in the words
ménage a trois
. Somebody besides her had to know more about this relationship.

Merriam-Webster: an arrangement in which three persons (as a married pair and the lover of one of the pair) share sexual relations especially while living together. Origin: French, literally, household for three. First Known Use: 1856.

That old, huh?

When it dawned on her their relationship could indeed be defined as a family, although an unconventional one, her heart fluttered with longing, which she immediately dismissed. She would not let her feelings trek there.

Wikipedia listed fifteen or so historic threesomes, which included a duchess, a duke, a baron, an admiral, a philosopher, a violinist, a poet, a writer, a painter, an actress, a psychoanalyst, and a king and queen as far back as 1775.

Wow. The dates don’t match.

No mention of a country girl from North Carolina and two of the most eligible bachelors in New York City, either.

Most of relationships listed two males and one female, which would make sense, since a woman can orgasm multiple times and males are limited in that capacity.

Of course, one had to wonder why a man would want two wives, since women tended to be the neediest of the species, emotionally speaking. Then there was the bitchiness women were branded with—what guy would subject himself to two?

She typed in the words “adult spanking” and hit enter. Lots of information about submission, extreme pain and humiliation, but that didn’t represent her. Some people enjoyed punishment, a sort of cleansing of the soul—definitely not her. Twenty minutes later, she found something that made sense. The buttocks contained a high concentration of nerve endings, which led directly to sexual nerve centers, and the pain from the spanking caused a flood of endorphins.
So it’s physiological.
That, her logical mind could process.

Next on her list of search terms were the words “BDSM clubs.” Several sites offered something called spanking benches and crosses and showed pictures of ladies with extremely red behinds.
Ow, that’s got to hurt.
Summer shifted in her seat when her mouse-clicking fingers found more erotic situations. Damn, she was getting hot n’ bothered. If Max and Logan were here, she’d jump their bones.

When the research had sexually overstimulated her, she logged into her school email account. Several messages popped up from an unknown sender. She knew she shouldn’t open them but couldn’t help herself.

Little tremors rolled through her body as horror filled the screen. A woman was restrained in a bed, wearing nothing but terror on her face. The next picture showed mutilated breasts and the victim sobbing. The next displayed a dark stain on the insides of her legs and her eyes devoid of life.

All the emails contained the same horror but a different victim. Oh, my God. The man took pictures. She stood quickly on wobbly legs and stumbled to the war room.

The second she was inside, Wallace moved to her. “What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t answer, just shoved her laptop toward him. Wallace peered at the screen, then put the machine down and grabbed her arm. He said something, but she had cotton in her ears. He maneuvered her to the chair, and shoved a water bottle into her hand, but she shook so hard, water sloshed onto her pants.

Blood, so much blood.

“I’ll call Mr. Preston.”

She glanced at Wallace, noticed the concern in his gaze. “N…no. Please, don’t. I’ll be fine.”
Somebody in this
family
had to work.

Leaning over, she placed her head in her trembling hands. Her skin was clammy, the same feeling she’d had when the lunatic slashed her arm. Her breath caught in her chest.

Suck it up, Summer. Detach yourself from this. Be professional.

Forcing herself upright, she took a swallow of water into her parched mouth. Then she noticed the additional murder board. A new face hung under the number eleven with another creepy slogan. Dang, what did it take to protect these women?

“You okay?” Wallace asked.

“Yeah. I was unprepared for so much violence, so much blood.”

He gave her a strained smile. “Trust me, it doesn’t get any easier. Are you sure I can’t call the Prestons?”

“No. They need to work, and there’s nothin’ they can do to eliminate those images from my brain.”

“With your permission, I’d like to forward these to myself and to Benson, and see if we can figure out where they came from.”

“Um, sure, but if we can’t find his cellphone, what are the chances he left us a clue to his identity through email?”

“It’s probably a long shot, but we must investigate everything.”

Damn, she was a dork. Of course, they checked everything, just in case he made a mistake, which seemed to be the only way to catch this bastard.

“Why don’t you go lie down?”

“I…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Hell Yeah
sounded from the kitchen. Summer hopped up and practically ran to get her phone.
Please let it be one of the brothers.
She seriously needed to hear their deep voices. “Hello.”

“Hi, Summer. I see you got my pictures.”

Her heart ricocheted against her ribcage at ninety miles an hour as the altered voice sent chills down her spine.

“Aren’t they great?”

Great? Great?
“Why, you bastard.” She spun and headed for Wallace. “How can you do this to these poor girls?” When she reached him, she pointed to the phone. “It’s horrible.”

When he didn’t respond, she feared she’d pushed the killer too hard.

“Are you still there?”

“Of course, I’m here, my sweet Summer. I didn’t want to interrupt while you informed Dan Wallace about this call.”

“Are you watchin’ me?”

“No, not yet, but he’ll never be able to find me.”

Uneasiness swept through Summer. “Wallace, he said you won’t be able to find him.”

“Tell the bastard to show his face,” Wallace ground out.

“Tell Wallace I’ve been face-to-face with him in the ballroom, and he didn’t even know it.”

“How do you put this thing on speaker?” she asked.

Wallace grabbed it from her, and she heard the killer giving the same instructions that Dan performed.

“That’s better,” said the man. “Now we can all hear each other.”

His flippancy pissed her off. “Why are you callin’ me? To show off your handiwork?”

“You sound angry.”

“You’re damn right, I’m angry. I don’t like people dyin’ because of me.”

“They are dying because they were bitchy whores. I’ve seen how they’ve treated you.”

“Not all off them. I’ve never even spoken to half the ladies you’ve murdered.”

“I’ve watched these women treat you like shit for three years, and those who didn’t directly mistreat you didn’t bother to intervene on your behalf. You’ve always said, ‘if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem’. I eliminated the problem.”

Summer dragged her hand through her hair. It was her favorite saying, a gift from her mother. Who knew how many times she’d uttered the words, none of which she could recall at the moment. She used her go-to saying to spur people to do the right thing.

“So, I know you.”

“Yes, but don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. We’ll soon be together.”

“How…how many more are you plannin’ to kill?”

“Eight more from the auction and then I’m done—for now.”

His last statement sent chills down her spine. “How long have you been plannin’ this? Why the charity auction?”

“Since the first year you volunteered. Those bitches treated you like shit, as if you didn’t exist at all because you don’t come from money. But you held your head high, ignored the snide remarks and did your job.”

“Listen, I’m beggin’ you. Please don’t harm anyone else. I can’t stomach knowin’ these women are dead because of me. I can’t…I can’t bare the weight of such a tragedy.”

“I’m doing it for you.”

Her belly revolted.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Trust me; I explain to them why they must die. They see the error of their ways.”

“Please. What will it take for you to stop?”

“Nothing.”

She glanced at Wallace, whose hands raced across the keyboard. He shook his head, but the look on his face said to keep the maniac talking.

“So after you’ve killed them all, then what?”

“I’ll come get you.”

“And you think I’ll just go with you?”

“Not at first, but I can be pretty persuasive.”

“You mean, if I don’t do as you instruct, you’ll just add me to the kill list.”

“No, why would you say such a thing? I’d never hurt you.”

“But you said it will soon be my turn. You trashed my apartment and wrote on my wall in some poor girl’s blood.”

“I’m sorry about your apartment. I was pissed at you, but I won’t kill you. I love you.”

She closed her eyes. How did she respond? Lie by telling him she loved him, too, or give him a piece of her mind? “I…I…”

“There it is. Go turn the TV to Channel Four.”

“What?”

“TV. Hurry up.”

Wallace fumbled around, found a remote and changed the big screen to Channel Four. Breaking News crawled along the bottom of the set.

“We repeat. What you’re about to see is disturbing and is for mature audiences only. We’ve received alarming pictures from the person who claims to be responsible for the Society Murders.” Photos of the wall messages rolled across the screen.