Run From Fear (3 page)

“Nice to put a face with the name,” Susie said, though the way her eyes were raking up and down Jack’s body, Susie was appreciating a lot more than just his face.

Something was odd, though. “Why would you know Jack’s name?”

Something flickered across Susie’s face that looked suspiciously like guilt, but then her smile was back in full force. “Oh, Alyssa told me all about you.”

Alyssa Taggart was married to Derek Taggart, who worked with Jack at Gemini Securities. Alyssa and Susie were childhood friends, and when Talia had moved to Palo Alto, Alyssa had hooked her up with Susie, who happened to be in the market for a new beverage manager at her popular restaurant. While Talia hated feeling like a charity case, she’d been happy for the introduction and had worked her ass off to make sure Susie never regretted the decision to hire her.

“Last time she and Derek were in, she said I had to meet you the next time you came to town, and I can see exactly why she was so insistent.”

In her time at Suzette’s, Talia had come to like and respect Susie a great deal and counted her as one of the few people she trusted enough to call a friend. But right now, watching as Susie looked at Jack like he was a juicy piece of meat, Talia had to squash the urge to smack her friend’s hand away from where it lingered in Jack’s.

Talia wasn’t sure in the dim lighting of the bar, but she was pretty sure Jack was blushing. “Uh, thanks, it’s, uh, nice to meet you too,” he said, and gently disengaged his hand.

“Dinner service is wrapping up,” Susie said, “but I’m more than happy to set up a table for you and have the chef put something together—”

Jack silenced her with a raised hand. “Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll just sit here at the bar, if that’s okay?” He quirked a thick brow at Talia as if asking for permission.

Which struck her as odd. In her short but intense interactions with Jack, he never asked her approval for anything. “Fine with me. What can I get you?”

“Beer is good,” Jack said as he settled onto a stool. Talia slid the drink in front of him and saw another
customer signaling her from the corner of her eye. “I need to—”

“Go right ahead,” Jack said. “I’m good.”

Talia got the customer his check, and as the crowd thinned, that sensation of being watched came back, ten times stronger now. But it didn’t creep her out, having Jack’s intense gaze track her. Instead of prickles on the back of her neck and between her shoulders, she felt a strange ache.

Oh, God, was she actually
attracted
to Jack?

No, it was ridiculous. Impossible. Still, as she gathered up glasses from an empty table, she heard Susie’s tinkling laugh from the main dining room and felt a sudden burst of envy. For the easy way her friend was able to smile at Jack, toss her hair, laugh, and make her interest clear.

Talia had been like that once. Friendly, flirty, ready and willing to use what she had to attract the attention of any man she set her sights on. She’d been normal once. She knew she had. Able to talk and banter and be attracted to a man as gorgeous and compelling as Jack.

But when she tried to remember what that was like, it was like parting the curtains on some distant, foggy past that belonged to another person. She’d tried to reclaim that part of herself in the past two years. She’d dated a few nice, normal men who took her out to dinner and
didn’t
expect her to sleep with them. But none of them had been able to wake her body from its apparent coma. No one made anything that felt remotely like attraction spark in her belly.

Until now.

Of course. Because no matter how much she longed
for a normal life, of course her fucked-up past and twisted psychology would make her yearn for the one man who knew exactly who she was, what she’d done, what had been done to her.

The one man who’d made it all too clear he didn’t want a damn thing from her.

Coming here was a mistake.

Jack hadn’t known what he’d expected to feel, seeing Talia in person for the first time in nearly two years. But he hadn’t expected to feel like he’d been punched in the gut, dangerously close to being overcome with a whole mess of emotions that ranged everywhere from lust to need to admiration and went way beyond the realm of mere protectiveness. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, the way he tracked her every move as she worked, but he couldn’t help it.

She was so fucking beautiful. Not that he hadn’t known that before tonight—the first time he’d seen her, he’d experienced the same dizziness every straight male experienced on his first encounter with Talia Vega. Made-up, dressed to kill in a dress that hugged a body that had more curves than the Pacific Coast Highway, the Talia he’d met that long-ago night when he’d signed on as the head of security at the nightclub she helped manage was something to behold.

But this woman, with her dark, wavy hair brushing her jaw, skin so smooth and clear it didn’t need makeup to mess with its perfection, and a tight, toned body that moved with a fluid grace as she made the rounds… she
was infinitely more appealing than the man-eater she’d once presented to the world.

He was shocked by his immediate, visceral response, the sudden need to claim her when his plan in coming here was to finally let her go for good. Even though she didn’t have the slightest clue he’d been hanging on.

He struggled to keep his turmoil from showing on his face and reminded himself of his purpose here tonight.

Closure. All he wanted was to confirm, in person, everything he’d known for the past two years. Everything Danny, Derek, and Ethan Taggart had reported back to him for the past eight months. That Talia and Rosario were settled into their life here, were healthy and safe and doing just fine and had no need for Jack to come riding on his goddamn white horse to save them from an evil troll.

That last bit had been from Danny, but Jack got the point. With Nate Brewster and David Maxwell both dead, Talia’s dragons had been effectively slain, leaving her free to get on with her life, free of the violence and abuse she’d suffered in the past.

And leaving Jack free to abandon his two years of under-the-radar surveillance, keeping tabs on her through his own recon missions, the Taggarts’ reports, and the occasional communications with Rosario.

No more need for the behind-the-scenes help he’d provided over the past two years. Help he knew Talia would have refused if she had any idea it was coming from him.

She didn’t like owing him, he knew. Though he’d been careful to conceal how he really felt about her, he knew somewhere inside her she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was waiting for him to call in her debt. And in her experience, men, even the ones she thought
loved her, would expect payment in only one form, whether she wanted to or not.

Logically, he got it. But it still stuck in his craw, knowing on some level that she lumped him in with the other assholes who had used and hurt her. He wished he could get her to see him differently, that after everything he’d done—and hell, hadn’t done—surely he’d proven beyond a reasonable doubt that of all people she could trust him not to hurt her.

But it would never happen, and any foolish hope he might have had that maybe enough time had passed to open up a little crack in her armor died a swift death at the look on her face at first sight of him.

Shock, followed immediately by wariness. A look that said,
Why is he here, and what does he want from me?

So closure it was. Tonight he would say good-bye to her for good. Because Talia didn’t need Jack to keep her safe anymore.

T
hey never saw him coming. No, scratch that. They never saw him, period. Growing up, Eugene Kuusik resented how unremarkable he was. How easily his average frame and face faded into the background. How easy it was for the girls he liked to ignore him in favor of the jocks or the tough guys or the artsy emo kids who dressed in black and pierced their faces full of holes. No one wanted to go out with the nerdy nobody whose only distinguishing characteristics were a foreign-sounding last name and a slight accent most people couldn’t place.

Now his ability to go unnoticed was one of his greatest advantages. He imagined it had worked equally well for the other greats, like Dahmer, Gacy, and BTK.

As he’d studied them, learned their techniques, he’d been struck by a feeling of kinship. He, too, knew what it meant to walk through the world looking so very ordinary on the outside, knowing he was anything but.

Yet when he’d learned about Nate Brewster, dubbed the Seattle Slasher by the press, it was as though he’d been hit with a bolt of lightning. Even though Brewster was a pretty boy like Bundy, able to use his good looks to
seduce his victims, as Gene read about the man shot down in his prime, he’d felt an electric shock.

When he’d learned that Brewster had filmed his kills and had watched the footage that had leaked onto the Internet, he’d realized the world had been robbed of a master. He watched the footage over and over, especially of Talia Vega, the victim who got away. And with every viewing, his certainty grew that it was his destiny to continue Brewster’s work.

This was how he would make his mark. No one would ever think him unremarkable again.

He’d been perfecting his methods over the past months. Refining, experimenting, working out the kinks. Practicing to get every detail perfect. Pushing himself relentlessly to that final step.

Click clack, click clack.
His ears pricked up at the sound of high heels echoing across the asphalt like a shark scents blood.

He was nearly there.

What if you mess up with this one too?

No. He was ready to go all the way.

He wouldn’t fail again. With this one, he would be able to take the final step.

The woman didn’t even see him ducked down between an SUV and a station wagon as she hurried by. Her keys were out and she was moving fast, confidently, and he could practically hear the script of some dumb self-defense class she’d taken.

Move with confidence. Don’t act like a victim. Keep your keys out as a possible weapon.

Right. As if good posture and a two-inch piece of metal could really dissuade someone determined to take you.

He smiled into the dark. Someone like him. If she saw him, would she even remember him as the man who had passed her on the street twice on her way to the restaurant?

He ducked out of his hiding place and skirted silently through the shadows. Her phone rang, distracting her as she dug in her purse and pulled it out to answer.

He ducked down, less than ten feet from her. Close enough to hear her side of the brief conversation without any trouble.

“I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

He imagined himself melting into the inky blackness until his body dissolved, leaving only his shadow. A leather-gloved hand came up, so quietly she didn’t even flinch until the syringe touched the curve of her throat and pierced her carotid artery.

By then it was too late.

Talia woke up the next morning with an ache in her chest that she couldn’t seem to shake. It was stupid for Jack’s surprise visit to have such an impact on her. But the way he’d left, with that half smile softening his face as he said, “Take care of yourself,” it was like there was a finality to it.

Like he was saying good-bye for good this time.

And so what if he was? she scolded herself as she shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. It wasn’t like he’d been such a huge presence in her life since she’d been able to live out in the open. But she’d always had that sense that he was out there somewhere, watching out for her even though she’d told him dozens of times that he’d done
enough, that he didn’t need to worry about her or Rosie anymore.

Based on his visit last night, it seemed like he was finally taking her word for it.

She should be happy. The last thing she wanted was for Jack, a living, breathing reminder of her past, to be front and center in her life. And yet it was still there, that pinch in her chest at the thought that Jack was right here, in town, and would be for several weeks—though he’d made it clear he wouldn’t be making any effort to see her again.