Keep Me Safe (27 page)

“Maybe you should keep her drugged until we take this bastard down,” Beau said in a serious tone.

“For God's sake. I'm not going to keep her doped up so she doesn't disclose our location,” Caleb said in disgust.

“No,” Eliza said thoughtfully. “But you could make it so even she doesn't know where you are.”

Dane pointed a finger at Eliza. “That's perfect. I don't know why the hell I didn't think of it before.”

“Because women are smarter?” Eliza smirked.

“Smarter assed,” Dane muttered.

“What are you suggesting?” Caleb asked impatiently.

“You blindfold her,” Eliza said simply. “Make sure no one talks in front of her. Keep her quiet and in the dark and you do the same to him. Ramie can hardly broadcast what she doesn't know.”

“True,” Caleb said slowly. “The speed in which he's escalated leads me to believe that we shouldn't stay here any longer than absolutely necessary. He's displayed an ability to act fast. If we keep Ramie in the dark then there's no reason we can't move to the safe house while you're still installing security measures, right?”

“Right,” Dane confirmed.

“Then right now is better because she's already out,” Caleb said. “If we move her now, he'll never see anything but the inside of whatever room we stash her in at the safe house.”

“If we're moving now then tomorrow's seven A to seven P team needs to cover the safe house until seven P tonight,” Eliza said.

“We're on it,” Eric Beckett, part of the security team present, replied.

“Let me get something for you to wrap around Ramie's eyes,” Eliza said. “Make sure and explain to her when she wakes that she needs to keep her mind as blank as possible. The less this asshole knows, the safer you all are.”

“I'll keep her occupied,” Caleb said.

Eliza stifled her smile—almost. Caleb groaned when he realized what he'd said.

“Dirty-minded woman,” he grumbled.

Ramie frowned her displeasure over being jostled around like a sack of potatoes being tossed in the air. Then she realized that despite the fact she'd opened her eyes, she still couldn't see a single thing.

Her fingers dug into solid flesh and then the jostling stopped abruptly.

“Ramie, I need you to trust me.”

Caleb's voice instantly relieved her, soothing her fears.

“What's going on, Caleb?” she whispered.

“Trust me, baby, okay? I need you to just lie still and keep your mind as blank as possible. Can you do that for me?”

Her brows knitted together in confusion. What on earth was he doing? Despite his reassurances, she couldn't help but tense up in his arms. He was carrying her. Where she had no idea. He'd blindfolded her. Again, why she had no idea.

In light of the insane happenings over the last several days, this suddenly didn't seem so crazy.

Deciding to go with it, she rested her cheek on his shoulders and allowed some of the tension to flow out of her. And then she marveled that she actually trusted another human being.

But in order to love someone you had to trust them, right?

And to think she'd once thought she would never be able to forget what Caleb Devereaux had done to her. It was funny how life turned out sometimes. If someone had told her six months ago that she'd be involved with someone much less fall in love with him she would have laughed her ass off.

“Almost there, baby,” Caleb murmured against the top of her head.

The sound of a door opening and then closing alerted her senses. Then Caleb eased her down onto a bed. A moment later, he tugged the blindfold from her eyes and her gaze met with his.

He looked tired. She slid her hand over his cheek and brushed the pad of her thumb over the dark shadow underneath his eye.

“Going to tell me what's going on now?” she prompted.

He smiled. “The way we figured it, if you don't know where you're at and haven't seen where you're at then our bomber can't very well tap into your mind, which means that he won't know where you are either.”

She blinked in astonishment. “I never thought about that. It's . . . ​genius!”

“As much as I'd like to take credit, Eliza is the one who came up with this one.”

“She's a smart cookie,” Ramie said with a smile. But then she rapidly sobered as the prior night's events came crashing back around her. “Caleb, what about your house?”

He sat on the bed next to her and laced their fingers together between their thighs.

“It's just a house,” he said. “Houses can always be rebuilt. But people can't be replaced. I'm just thankful that we all got out alive. This entire situation has escalated out of control. He's got to be taken down soon or there's no telling what he'll do next. He's getting bolder, and that's the last thing you want from a savvy, extremely intelligent, cunning serial killer.”

“I didn't like your house,” she said honestly.

He chuckled. “By all means don't spare my feelings.”

“It was so cold and austere,” she said, pursing her lips. After a moment she added, “There wasn't any . . . ​warmth there.”

“Well, what do you say the next house I build you oversee construction and decoration. You can knock yourself out making it a home.”

She pretended to give it thought. “I may have to take you up on that.”

Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her. “Are you hungry? I can go rustle up something to eat and bring it back so you aren't alone in solitary confinement.”

“Am I allowed to take a shower and change?”

“Of course. Just don't stick your head out of this room. I made sure and gave you the only room in the place that doesn't have a window so there's no possibility of you giving our location away.”

“You make it sound like I do it intentionally,” she muttered.

He kissed her again. “Nope. But intentional or not, the same result is achieved. I'm not taking any chances with any of our safety.”

When Caleb left the room, shutting the door behind him, Ramie leaned back on the bed and forced her gaze to focus on the ceiling. Then she closed her eyes and purposely blanked her mind.

Sudden pain in her head made her gasp. Faint laughter echoed, leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined it.

You think you can hide from me?

“Caleb!”

Within seconds of her cry, Caleb threw open the door and charged inside. When he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed where he'd left her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

She shook from head to toe and she hugged her arms around herself.

“Ramie, what is it?” Caleb demanded.

“He laughed,” she said, uncaring how crazy it made her sound. “I was lying here staring up at the ceiling and trying to keep my mind blank like you said and he laughed and said, ‘You think you can hide from me?' ”

Caleb sat back down beside her and pulled her into the crook of his arm.

“He can't see what you can't,” he said matter-of-factly. “He can't know what you don't know. So yes, I'd say we do think we can hide from him. At least until we formulate a plan to take him out for good. Until then, I'm keeping you under lock and key and absolutely ignorant of your surroundings.”

“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “I'll quit freaking out, I promise.”

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Having another person in your head gives you the right to freak out.”

“Don't mollify me. I'll stop being such a complete scaredy-cat. Now go get me some food and leave me to my imaginary friend. Or rather not so imaginary killer,” she said, pulling a face. “God, I can't believe I'm joking about this. I really am losing my mind, aren't I?”

He cupped her chin and smoothed his thumb over her cheek. “Glad I'm not the only one with an inappropriate sense of humor.”

THIRTY-THREE

THIS
was a piece of cake. Hardly worthy of someone as skilled as he. His father had always said, “Charlie, the early bird gets the worm. Everyone else gets the dirt. Remember that and you'll go far in life.”

His fucking name was Charles. Not Charlie. Charlie was a child's name, not a man's.

He pushed through his rage, locking it away so he could focus on the task at hand.

His breathing calmed as he stepped from the shadows of the trees. Calm settled into place. Not a single muscle in his body twitched. He was disciplined and patient. Qualities that were rewarded in life.

He approached the parked car under the cover of darkness. When he was close enough to be seen in the rear or side-view mirror, he got down on his belly and inched the remaining distance to the driver's side door.

It was long, painstaking work designed only for those with infinite patience and eye for detail. One wrong move, one tiny slipup and he was a dead man. Instead of frightening him or making him wary, the idea of him being a marked man gave him a heady, euphoric high like none other. Only killing provided a bigger rush.

Carefully he raised up, positioning the gun with its silencer in such a way that as soon as he rose, the so-called security specialist sitting in the car keeping watch over the house and occupants would be a dead man.

When he popped up, he smiled at his adversary's startled expression. He didn't give the victim a chance to react. The glass folded inward, the bullet creating a hole in the spiderwebbed surface. Blood and brain matter splattered the opposing window.

Pleased with his initial success, he hurried toward the well-lit house and his next victim.

Who needed to see through Ramie St. Claire's eyes anyway? This was much more satisfying. He was salivating over Caleb Devereaux's reaction when Caleb realized he was the tool used in Ramie's destruction. Such pleasure was almost unbearable.

He slid around the side of the house, gun up and ready to shoot. One never knew the unpredictability of others. It paid to be on constant guard.

When he stole a quick peek around the corner of the house, he saw his target standing guard by the back door. Charles nearly giggled but caught himself in time, remonstrating himself for the near careless slipup.

No reason to be stealthy. Dead men couldn't stand in your way. He swung around the corner, arm raised, left hand supporting the stock of the pistol. His aim was highly accurate, never off target by more than a centimeter. The guard crumpled without a sound, dead before he ever hit the ground.

Charles stepped over the fallen body, eased the door open and slipped inside. From what information he'd been able to glean from Caleb Devereaux he knew the sole remaining guard was in the hallway just outside Ramie's door.

He could hardly contain his glee. Better not to celebrate prematurely. There would be plenty of time to celebrate later. With Ramie!

Charles knew that when he rounded the corner into the hall he'd only have a tenth of a second to find his target and shoot or risk discovery. He was so close to his ultimate goal that his hand shook, bobbing the gun up and down.

Angrily, he tempered his reaction, forcing himself to take deep steadying breaths. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and then did a mental one . . . ​two . . . ​three!

He swiveled, planting his foot and turning rapidly into the hallway. His current aim was off by six inches. Adjusting upward in that flash of time he squeezed the trigger. The bullet smacked the guard right in the middle of the forehead and dropped him like a stone.

Yes!

It was all he could do not to rush into the bedroom, put a bullet into Devereaux's head and be done with it. But that would ruin everything. Charles had meticulously planned this down to the nth degree. The other night inside Caleb's head was a mere test run, one that he'd been delighted with the results of.

He fumbled, with shaking hands, for the cell phone in his pocket. He had to set up quickly if he was going to get it all on video. Wouldn't Caleb be shocked when he watched this footage? He smiled and then closed his eyes to summon Devereaux.

Caleb sat up in bed, the comforter and sheet falling down to his lap. There were whispers in his mind, demanding he act. He slowly rose, walking to the doorway in measured steps.
Quiet! You don't want to wake Ramie.

He entered the kitchen and opened a drawer before shutting it again. Then he went to the next and this time he reached into the open drawer, his fingers curling around the handle of a wickedly sharp carving knife.

How appropriate to have a carving knife when he planned to carve Ramie up like a Christmas turkey. She would be the best Christmas and birthday present all rolled into one that he'd ever had.

Gripping the handle of the knife with a firm hand, he retraced his steps to the bedroom and quietly pushed the door open, slipping inside where Ramie still soundly slept. For a long moment he stood over her next to the bed drinking in the sight of the woman he'd hunted the last eighteen months.

A smile curved Caleb's lips. “There's no one here to hear you scream,” he whispered.

Still, he clamped one hand over her mouth, put the blade against the soft skin of her abdomen and sliced from one side to the other, angling slightly downward to follow the curve of her belly.

She let out a muffled shriek against his hand and he quickly straddled her writhing body. She bucked upward, trying to unseat him, but he followed her back down and then slid the blade in a vertical line between her breasts.

Blood rose and dripped down her body in rivulets. She was wild beneath him, clearly hysterical and not yet comprehending who was doing this to her. The anticipation of her discovery was so keen that Charles was practically bubbling over.

And then her gaze locked with his and horror contorted her features. He let his hand slip from her mouth because it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He nearly clapped his hands together in the corner but if he did so it would mess up the video he was recording. And he wanted Devereaux to see every single cut he put on her body.