Keep Me Safe (17 page)

She lay sprawled over him, her hair spilling like a curtain over his chest. He cupped her face in his palms, held her still for his kiss. Their tongues mated just as their bodies had. Twisting, turning, hot and wet.

Slowly her head lowered, her forehead touching his chest, the top of her head brushing his chin. He was still buried deeply within her. She pulsed around him, tugging rhythmically, pulling the last drops of his semen inside her body.

He'd never felt so complete in his life, and he had no idea how
she
felt.

He bunched up her hair in his fist and then relaxed his grip, stroking the soft curls against her head. Her chest heaved up and down, her entire body draped across his like a limp towel. She was warm and soft, so very feminine and delicate. He couldn't resist touching her, gliding his fingers over her pale skin.

He raised goose bumps where he touched. They pimpled over her skin, raising the tiny hairs in their wake. He pressed his mouth to her neck, nuzzling softly with his lips.

“Did I hurt you?” he murmured.

She made a low humming sound and then shook her head, bumping it gently against his chin. “I never knew it could be like that,” she said in wonder. Her voice cracked and she lifted her head so she could look into his eyes.

He slid both hands down her slender back to cup her behind. She was astride him, still pulsing around his cock with little quivers that were like electric shocks to his system.

His hand went still on her rounded bottom. “I didn't use a condom. I'm sorry. I've never been so caught up in the moment that I didn't use protection.”

She shivered but didn't immediately respond. Her vagina clenched wetly around him and he felt himself harden again. He hadn't worn a condom the first time but he'd be damned if he made that mistake again.

Gently he turned her so they rolled to their sides. She snuggled against his body, her eyes closing as he withdrew from her liquid heat. He was immediately bereft of her warmth. He felt hollow and empty.

“You must be hungry,” he said. “You had nothing to eat since breakfast.”

She shuddered delicately. “I don't think I could eat even if I was hungry.”

“You can't afford to skip meals,” he pointed out. “You have to take better care of yourself, Ramie. If you won't do it, I will.”

“Did they find her?” Ramie asked softly. “Did they catch him?”

Caleb tensed, his arm tightening protectively around her. “They found her. And no, they didn't capture him.”

Her exhale was sharp. Her breaths hitched and stuttered from her lips.

“He's going to keep killing,” she said painfully. “He wants me. He'll trade me for future victims.”

“No!” Caleb exclaimed, fear gripping him by the throat. “Don't even think it. There will be no trades. No deals. No negotiating with insanity. You're staying here with me. Where I can be sure you're safe and protected.”

“I can't hide forever,” she protested.

“Can't you?” he challenged. “I have resources you can't imagine. I can make sure he never reaches you.”

“At what price? How many more women have to die because of his obsession with me? Maybe we should talk to the police about a trade. A setup. Give him what he wants.”

Panic slammed into his chest. He couldn't force air into his lungs. He was holding her so tightly that he was likely bruising her. He forced himself to relax but rage burned through his gut, eating a hole in his stomach.

“There will be no trade,” he said tersely.

“It's not your decision.”

“The hell it's not! One of us has to play it smart and it sure as hell isn't you. You aren't in this alone, Ramie. And there's no way in hell I'm letting you offer yourself like a sacrificial lamb to a deranged psychopath who wants your death. It's not up for negotiation. If I have to tie you to the goddamn bed and sit on you I'll do it and suffer no remorse whatsoever.”

“What do we do then?” she asked in frustration. “I can't live like this, Caleb. I can still smell blood, feel it on my hands and remember the instant he killed her. It's a game of chess to him. He's cold and calculating and he enjoys death. He's god of his own universe and is an unstoppable force.”

He kissed her furrowed brow, trying to ease her fretting. “You being dead won't save anyone.” She sucked in her breath as he continued ruthlessly. “Do you honest to God believe he'd stop with you? He'll always need the rush. A bigger challenge.”

She made a frustrated sound of grief. “He's probably already hunting for his next target. He'll keep taunting me until he gets what he wants.”

“I don't give a damn what he wants,” Caleb snapped, his arm tightening around her body. “I will not hand you over to him nor will I allow you to be drawn into a trap that may or may not result in his capture. We'll find another way.”

“There is no other way,” she said quietly. “You know it and I know it. Eliza and Dane know it. The police know it. How long do you think they're going to put up with a maniac killing off women before they throw me at him?”

“If I have to take you out of the country I will,” Caleb said, his jaw clenched tightly. “This isn't open for debate, Ramie.”

She sagged against him and then sighed wearily. “We can't do this, Caleb. It's insane.”

He frowned, a growl of frustration welling in his throat. “We've already discussed this. I asked you to stay. To fight for your right to stay. With me. For me. If I'm willing to make sacrifices, shouldn't you be as well?”

Ramie pushed herself up on her elbow, tugging the sheet over her breasts. “Any other time I'd say yes. If we'd met . . . ​before. Maybe we would have had a chance. But this has no shot at working out the way it stands now. What kind of life will you have with me in hiding for the rest of my life, unwilling to confront a killer? A constant reminder to your family of what happened to Tori.”

“Shut up,” he said rudely. “I never said I had all the answers. But I happen to think you're worth fighting for. I'm not giving you up.”

“God, Caleb. It's not that I don't want you or that I don't want to fight for you—us—whatever. I'm just trying to get you to understand what kind of life it will be, not only for you but for your family. I can't hide for the next fifty years.”

“I don't see why the hell not,” Caleb bit out.

She let her head fall to his chest, pressing her forehead against his skin. He sighed and slid his hand into her hair, absently massaging her nape.

“I have feelings for you that I've never had for another woman. And I want to explore those feelings. See where it takes us. All I know is that I can't—won't—give you up. Not for Tori or my brothers and definitely not for a homicidal maniac. As I said, I don't have all the answers—yet. But that doesn't mean I'm just giving up and handing you over like some virgin sacrifice.”

She stared at him in silence. He could see her processing his statement, obvious befuddlement in her features.

“Just accept it,” Caleb said. “You aren't going to talk me out of it. You aren't going to tell me what I do or don't feel for you. And you may as well resign yourself to the fact that I'm digging my heels in whether you like it or not. Now, I'm going to go down and fix us something to eat and then we're going to go back to bed and in the morning we'll sit down with Dane and Eliza and brainstorm some more. And one more thing, Ramie,” he said, tugging her hair so she was forced to look at him. “Get used to being in my bed because that's where you're going to sleep from now on.”

TWENTY

TORI
sat up in bed, coming awake with a gasp. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, her pulse so rapid she was weak. She scrambled out of bed, the images still vibrant and alive in her mind. She could still hear the gunshot, smell the blood and could see the face of her tormentor as he pointed a gun straight at her.

She went into her bathroom and splashed cool water on her flushed face. Then she lifted haunted eyes to her reflection in the mirror and winced at how pale and gaunt she looked.

It had been a year. It was time to move on. Time to stop being afraid of her shadow. Live.

Was the dream a vision or was it simply a nightmare? It was too real, too crisp and vivid to be a dream. Dreams didn't usually make sense and were jumbled images randomly thrown together.

She went still for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. She didn't recognize where the shooting took place. It definitely wasn't here or anywhere she was familiar with.

It should be easy enough to avoid, if indeed it was a prophetic vision. She never left the house. She was too afraid to go out, either with someone or alone. Especially alone.

What had her life become? Who had she become? She no longer recognized the girl in the mirror. She was dull and lifeless. Scared and timid. A far cry from the woman she'd been a year ago before she'd gone to hell.

How did Ramie do it? How could she bear to endure that over and over? Tori flinched at how angry and rude she'd been with Ramie. The idea that someone had seen her shame was more than she could bear, though. Great injustice had been wrought against Ramie St. Claire, but Tori couldn't find the empathy to soften against this fragile woman.

She stood in the bathroom a long moment before finally going back into her bedroom. She crawled under the covers, pulling them to her chin. She lay there shaking, her stomach churning endlessly.

An hour later, she gave up. A trip to the kitchen would be a welcome—and necessary—nightly patrol. One she didn't confide in her brothers. But between the times they or their men scouted the house, inside and out, Tori had her own route she followed, moving her markers so that she would notice a difference if someone touched them. Her brothers would think she was crazy, clinically insane if they knew how obsessed she was with the fear of someone coming into her home and taking her again. She hid a lot from her brothers. This was just another thing in a long list they didn't need to know about because they'd only worry more than they already did.

Sleep wouldn't happen tonight. Just like so many other nights in the past year, she'd be awake, staring up at the ceiling and trying to shut the door on things she'd rather forget.

At least if she had food and coffee, then the middle-of-the-night munchy run wasn't all that strange.

As much as she wanted to put her past behind her and cower in the corner of her choosing, she hated being alone. She just didn't want people always psychoanalyzing her. Always knowing what she needed or wanted. They had no idea.

She just wanted to be normal and focus on what all young women focused on. Their first job out of college. The knowledge that they're ready to take on the world, live in their own apartments, make their own choices.

Except Tori, who, at twenty-three, was focused on none of those things. Not that she didn't give them a passing thought every once in a while.

TWENTY-ONE

RAMIE
lazily opened her eyes and sighed, stretching like a cat next to Caleb's body. Her mind was refreshingly blank. No fragments of violence and death. Just blissful calm. Maybe she had Caleb to thank for that. She'd told him to make her forget, but she hadn't really believed anyone could ease her torment.

“Morning,” Caleb murmured as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

His arm tightened around her, pulling her into his side. She slid her hand over his taut abdomen and up the hard planes of his chest until her palm rested over his heart. The thud of his pulse against her skin was reassuring.

“Good morning,” she returned.

“I have to leave for a few hours,” he said, an apology in his voice. “There are things I need to take care of. I have a meeting with my attorney to sign several business documents. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“Don't put your life on hold for me,” she said firmly. “And don't jeopardize your business by babysitting me twenty-four/seven.”

“Hate to break it to you, baby, but my life is already on hold for you.”

Even as she felt dismay over his statement, warmth spread through her veins at the conviction in his voice. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to daydream and ponder the what-ifs. She knew it was stupid—and dangerous—to pin her hopes on a normal life. Her life would never be normal. But it didn't make her want it any less.

“I'll work with the sketch artist while you're gone,” Ramie said in a low voice.

It was ridiculous to fear putting his face down on paper, but it terrified her nonetheless.

Caleb squeezed her to him. “If you want to wait for me to get back I'll stay with you while you talk to the sketch artist.”

She shook her head. “No. It needs to be done as soon as possible. It should have already been done. Perhaps if I hadn't been so hysterical we could have saved his last victim.”

“Stop,” Caleb said in a terse voice. “Don't go there again, Ramie. You are not to blame and I won't have you thinking it much less saying it.”

No matter how convinced Caleb was, Ramie didn't feel the same way. She hated being so powerless. She hated that she was helpless to do anything to prevent him from targeting his next victim. God only knew how many women he'd already killed.

But she fell silent, not wanting to argue with Caleb when he was so determined not to place blame on her.

Caleb gathered her up with his arm and leaned down to kiss her. “I'm going to go shower so I can get gone and back as soon as possible. Eliza and Dane will be with you until I return. You won't have to worry about Tori or my brothers. Dane has been instructed to keep you away from them.”

She bit her lip to stanch her reaction to his words. He didn't mean them to be hurtful, but how could they not be when the people most important to him wanted her gone and out of the way?