Lifting the Veil (12 page)

caressing it. Her desire grew, her need almost consuming her as she felt the pull of his mouth. Her panties dampened in anticipation.

“God, Sophie, you’re beautiful,” Jack murmured as he kissed a path to her other breast.

She reached between them and cupped his jean-covered erection. He wanted her just as much as

she wanted him. Her fingers toyed with his zipper. Was she moving too fast?

He released her breast, and his fingers toyed with the top of her shorts. Bypassing her panties, he inched his hand farther down. His fingers ran a smooth path down her body.

“Damn, baby, you’re smooth,” he rasped out as his fingers slid through her wet folds. Her legs

almost gave way. His hand clenched her hair, his mouth moving over hers with new fever as his finger found her clit, almost sending her immediately into an orgasm.

He slid in first one, then two fingers, pumping. She was so wet, so wanting; she was almost

embarrassed at her desire. He sucked her lip between his teeth and bit lightly.

She pressed her body closer to his, needing him, wanting him. She’d unzipped his jeans, her fingers inches away from gold when a noise broke through her panting. The blare of her car alarm rang out, breaking the moment.

“What the hell,” Jack cursed, breaking the kiss and easing his fingers free. He pressed one more kiss to her lips before retrieving her shirt and handing it to her.

“Get dressed,” he grumbled while reaching beneath his pillow and pulling out his gun. “Stay here.”

She slid quickly into her shirt. Her heart was racing for a different reason. Whoever was screwing with her car was going to be shot. If Jack didn’t do it, she damn sure would because of the interruption.

She followed closely behind him, ignoring his command. He pulled open the door, and his hand shot out, blocking her from walking outside. She peered around him. Her trunk was open, and there was

something scribbled in white on her back windshield.

She moved to push by him, but she wasn’t fast enough. His hand snaked out, catching her arm, and

he dragged her back against him. “Go get your keys and turn off the alarm.”

She grabbed her keys from the table in the foyer and clicked the button.

He stepped out and crept up to the car. When he reached the rear of the car, the lines on his face hardened, and his eyes narrowed. He slammed the trunk closed and turned in place, scanning the

parking lot. He slid his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. The muscles in his arms twitched as he stalked back over to her, corralling her back into her apartment. He shut the door and locked it.

“Who are you calling?”

“I’m calling it in.”

“You can’t do that.” She snatched the phone out of his hand and disconnected the call.

“Damn it, Sophie.”

He grabbed the phone back and dialed the number again. He called in the report and asked for a

forensic team to be sent.

Sophie plopped down on her couch. Her heart fell into her stomach at the thought of explaining all of this to her brother.

He squatted down in front of her and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry, Soph, but I had to.”

She nodded and, without another word, got up and walked into her room to get redressed. There

was already going to be speculation on the reason he was at her house. Being half clad when his….
their
, she corrected, coworkers showed up, would only add fuel to the fire.

All of the blood had drained out of Jack’s face when he had seen the markings scrawled on her

window. A pentagram, like the ones left at the crime scenes he’d been monitoring. A serial killer with a hard-on for people like Sophie. He’d thought the cases might be connected but now he knew for sure.

Jack had gripped his gun tighter, squeezing it into the palm of his hand as he whirled around in a hope of spotting the elusive asshole. He wasn’t surprised the box had been taken. The only logical conclusion was his worst nightmare. The Ghost was now targeting Sophie. Fire boiled his blood as he tried to school his reaction. They were in deep shit, but it was more than just her brother finding out what had almost transpired, more than them getting caught working on the case, her life was at risk, and that was a game changer. The killer not only knew about Sophie but had followed her enough to

know that she had Valerie’s box in the fucking trunk of her car. And now, he knew where she lived.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck before sliding back into his shirt. His arousal diminished by his need to be vigilant, the pressure heavy against his chest. His heart had seized the moment he noticed the pentagram. It took every ounce of willpower not to grab Sophie, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her away to some place safe.

Hours later, after the pictures were taken and the forensics team dusted for prints, her car was

being towed into the lab for further analysis. He could have sworn he saw a tear escape her eyes as she watched the heap being taken away. Jack placed his hand on her shoulder in a show of support. He’d met the detectives outside, giving them his statement, and clued them in on what the pentagram

meant. He’d literally threatened them into letting him call the chief instead of them reporting the incident. He’d been dreading that phone call but knew it would be better coming from him than anyone else. If the chief was going to get pissed about Jack being at his sister’s house, Jack would be the one to take the full blunt of the yelling.

Man-to-man was how he was going to have to handle it. Man-to-man was how he confronted all of

his problems and, right this minute; Sophie was his problem, his partner and, from the looks of the message left behind, the killer’s next victim. He dialed the one man he knew he could trust with keeping her safe while he went to break the news.

“Marshall,” Jack started as soon as he heard the hello.

“Did you change your mind about wanting the team to tail her, or are you calling to tell me that

you’re not interested in Sophie?”

Jack shook his head. “Listen, Sophie is in a shitload of trouble.”

“Okay, I’m listening,” Marshall answered, the playful tone gone from his voice. “What do you

need?”

“The pentagram asshole struck again.”

“What? Did you find another body?”

“I think they’re connected to the latest killings in town. He left a calling card this time. He broke into Sophie’s car, stole some evidence, and drew a pentagram on the windshield.”

“Wait. What? That doesn’t sound like him. It’s not his MO.”

Jack shrugged. He’d seen the pentagram with his own eyes. “Maybe he didn’t go after her directly

because I’m at her house. Or maybe he’s just toying with her or me. Damn it, Marsh, I don’t know why this is different. All I know is that Sophie is now a potential target.”

“Okay, just calm down and tell me what I can do to help.”

Jack plopped down onto the couch. “I need you to come over and sit with her while I go tell her

brother.”

“You are not going to tell my brother a damn thing,” Sophie screeched from the hallway.

Jack covered the speaker. “Sophie…this is serious.”

“Sounds like you two are having issues.”

“Just get your ass over here,” Jack demanded and hung up the phone.

“Are you crazy?” Sophie questioned, her face turning red, this time not because she was turned on, but because she was mad as hell. She propped her hand on her hip. “What do you think is going to

happen when you tell him? All you’re going to do is worry him.”

“Sophie, the guy who did that”—Jack pointed to her front door—“isn’t playing games. He’s

responsible for seven murders, including putting me in the hospital, and I refuse for him to get you, too.”

“Jack…”

Folding his arms across his chest, Jack was unmoved. “Sophie, Marshall is just coming over to keep an eye on you while I go tell your brother what happened and we make a game plan.”

****

She huffed before disappearing into her room and shutting the door. She grabbed her purse to pull

out her phone and paused. Valerie’s client book was sitting on top. She pulled it out and dropped it on her bed. A driver’s license fell out of the inside pocket and onto her comforter. She picked it up and ran her fingers across the surface. What she’d expected to find was a license in Marilyn’s name, but instead she found one in Valerie’s. The fact Valerie had a real, valid license in her fake name was illegal as hell.

Even Sophie knew the ramifications of a fake ID when she’d contemplated one before she’d turned legal drinking age all those years ago. The implications that she duped the DMV made Sophie question what other illegal things this woman might be into. This case kept getting more intriguing with each new find.

What did they really know, and was any of it true?

Sophie shoved the license back inside the pocket and left the corners sticking out. She fingered

through the pages, the phone call momentarily forgotten. She sat back against her headboard, her feet crossed at the ankles, and she started on page one.

Initials were scribbled next to the dates. No addresses, nothing to identify who the customers

might have been. The date book covered three years. Sophie noticed reoccurring initials and started to track the dates of those. She pulled a pen and pad of paper out of her nightstand, making note of each initial and date when they recycled around. Sophie surmised who the regular clients were, as well as those who only showed up once. The words “walk in” were written next to those.

There was a light knock on the door as Sophie turned to the next page. She glanced up. “Come in.”

Marshall opened the door and grinned. “How are you holding up?”

Sophie shrugged. “I’m sorry he asked you to babysit.”

“Do you care if I come in?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Marshall chuckled. “You always have a choice, Sophie.”

“If that were the case, then you wouldn’t be here.”

Marshall held his hands up to his heart and feigned being hurt. “I’ve never been turned down

before.”

Sophie grinned. She really did like Marshall, well, what she knew about him anyway. He was polite

and kind, and here she was being a royal bitch. “You can come in.”

He stepped into her room. His eyes scanned the area as if he was looking for an intruder or a

boyfriend she might have stashed in the closet. She ignored him and went back to tracking Valerie’s client list.

“What are you working on?” Marshall asked as he sat down on the bed next to her.

“Valerie’s client list.” She glanced up at him. “Her killer could be among them, and the woman only used initials.”

“Who’s Valerie?”

Sophie paused. “I’m sorry. I thought Jack would have told you.” She smashed her lips together

debating how much she should say.

“Valerie is a psychic that turned up dead several months ago and her file landed in the cold case

room. Jack and I were uploading her file into the new computer system.”

Marshall nodded. “Ah….and you wanted to see if you were better than the detectives that worked

her case. Maybe to see if you could figure out who killed her?”

She shrugged. “I am better.” She waived the book. “I found what they couldn’t.”

“May I take a look?” He held out his hand and she gave the book to him. He flipped through it, not stopping on a page until he was near the end. “What do you suppose these numbers mean?”

She leaned over to look. Her shoulder casually brushed his, but it was enough for her to notice. It was awkward to have a man in her room, especially one she wasn’t sleeping with. She didn’t have many guy friends, if any. Most of the ones she’d grown up with were her brother’s friends, and they’d hated when his little sister had to tag along. “I don’t know. So far I’ve found her other license.” Sophie pulled it out and handed it to him. “And I’ve just started researching the rest.” She shrugged. “I haven’t got that far. They aren’t long enough to be phone numbers. Maybe they’re another code?”

“Hmm…Sounds like a mystery we need to solve.” He continued to flip through the book until he got

to the last page. “Well, now this is interesting.”

“What?” Her ears perked up, and she sat upright. “Did you find something?”

“Maybe.” He pointed to a string of numbers in the back, longer than the ones next to some of the

names. “These numbers are long enough to be bank account numbers.”

“How can you tell?”

His eyes sparkled an amazing shade of yummy. He pointed to a string of digits. “This is the routing number.” He grinned and wiggled his brows. “It’s the only bank in town.”

Sophie jumped off the bed. Her eyes searched the room for her shoes. All hope suddenly deflated.

“Don’t you think the detectives would have checked her accounts, looking for clues?”

“I would suppose.” He grinned as he lifted the additional license. “If they knew what name to look under.”

“That’s assuming she had one in that name.”

He nodded. “Assuming she did.”

“Wouldn’t we need a search warrant to check her accounts?”

He nodded. “Officially, yes.”

“How about unofficially?”

He patted the bed next to him for her to sit. “Well, unofficially, you could go to work for the bank and get access that way or…” He paused. “I might know a guy who knows a guy who could get us the

information.”

She couldn’t hide the skepticism from showing on her face. “Why would you do that? You could get

into trouble.”

He shrugged. “I like you; Jack likes you; and you’re the chief’s sister, not to mention it might help find a killer. But I’ll only do it on one condition.”

She knew there was a catch. There was always a catch. She should have seen it coming. “I’m not

sleeping with you.”

He tsked at her. “Honey, if I wanted to sleep with you, I wouldn’t resort to blackmail. I’d wine and dine you, show you the finer side of life, let you fully comprehend what I have to offer.” His voice grew silkier as he spoke. Images of what he offered flitted through her mind. “No, my condition doesn’t have anything to do with sex.”