Silent Scream (39 page)

Because Dorian needed a new job very badly. Especially now. The job he’d taken after leaving his old firm after embezzling
all that money had not been successful, and the Blunt household’s finances were suffering. So much that Dorian might start
dipping into his ill-gotten gains any day now.

Which wouldn’t do at all.
Because I took every cent
.

Of course there was no job.
There is just me, playing with Dorian a little
. Not wanting to harm Mrs. Blunt or their child, he’d needed a way to lure Dorian out of his house, and promising a job interview
was better than most. Having him wait for an hour, watching the door?

Now, that was a strategy he’d learned from a real master. Honed right here in his shop. The serial killer unceremoniously
dubbed “The Red Dress Killer” by the press had lured his female victims from their homes with the promise of a hot date in
a public place. He’d made them wait, demoralizing them, then when they’d
given up on Mr. Right, the killer had followed them home and performed his dastardly deeds.

He’d lured his third victim here.
Right under my nose and even I didn’t suspect a thing.
Not until the police flashed the victim’s picture all over the media. He’d recognized her immediately then. He’d even chatted
with her the night she’d disappeared. The police had tracked her here, asking for video of the dining area, but he’d lied,
telling them he only had video of the cash register.

For a very brief moment, he’d considered blackmailing Pit-Guy but quickly decided against it. The man had been a serial killer,
for God’s sake. There was no way he was getting involved with that. And as for helping the police? He let them figure it out
on their own. That’s what they were paid for.

Eventually they had figured it out and Pit-Guy’s full story had been revealed. He’d had more than three dozen bodies stashed
in the pit in his basement.
So my instincts were right. Don’t mess with a man with three dozen bodies in his basement
. The video of Pit-Guy watching his victim, following her out that night, was one of his treasures.

And whenever he needed a lesson in discretion, he watched it. Pit-Guy got cocky, then careless, then caught. Now he was dead.
I don’t intend to get careless.

I intend to hang everything on Mary and Albert
. Especially Mary. He had a score to settle with her. But for now, he had a score to settle with Mr. Dorian Blunt.
Pay me a fraction of what you owe
. Foolish. Between Tomlinson and Blunt, he’d have enough visual aids to convince his other clients to pay on time. And if
not, he’d kill them, too.

He looked up at the clock. He needed to finish with Dorian so that he could deal with that kid Kenny at the deaf school and
find out what he knew that he wasn’t telling the cops. He’d snip those loose ends and then he could get back to business.

“Sir,” he called out. “We’re closed now. You have to leave.”

Dorian stood, his briefcase clutched in his sweaty hand. “Just a few more minutes? This meeting is very important.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m ready to lock up. You may want to wait outside for a few minutes. Just in case.”

Dorian did just that, which he’d known he would. He locked up and went to get his van. Soon, Dorian Blunt would wish he’d
just paid his bills on time.

Tuesday, September 21, 9:05 p.m.

David stood on the edge of Glenn’s dock, his face lifted into the cool wind coming off the water. It was after nine and Olivia
hadn’t called.

He’d almost given in and called her, but stopped himself. The ball was truly in her court now, he thought. No pun intended.
She could be busy. She could be tied up with a suspect and unable to call. Or, she might have simply changed her mind.

He looked down at his fishing rod and tackle box that lay on the dock, unused. He’d brought them out here, intending to try
for another walleye, but had ended up standing here, contemplating. Everything.

He thought about what Evie had said about missed opportunities, about Glenn’s paralleling his life to Dana’s.
Service, at the exclusion of everything else. Dana’s had been penance for the guilt she felt over her mother’s murder at her
stepfather’s hand.

Mine…
Megan’s death and the deaths of her entire family. Also at the hand of a stepfather. Funny how he’d never stopped to consider
the parallels before. But they’d always been there, plain for anyone to see. If anyone knew the truth.

Which brought him back to Olivia’s big question—
who are you?
He still wasn’t sure what he’d answer, if she ever got here.

He turned his mind to Lincoln and his phantom helper, who might not even exist.

He hoped Tom was making more progress with the Web site than he had with the phone numbers he’d found on Lincoln’s call log.
The only calls that showed up in any of the reverse lookups he’d done were cell phones for Lincoln’s mother and his brother,
Truman. The other number Lincoln had called matched nothing. It might be a disposable cell. He’d gone as far as picking up
a disposable cell phone of his own on his way up to the cabin, but he’d stopped short of calling the numbers.

If one of them was important, he wouldn’t want to tip them off.

Whoever “they” might be. Because even though he was pretty positive Lincoln had help, David still had to ask why?
Why would anyone not crazy want to find me? All I did was catch the damn ball.

A noise caught his ear, faint, but it got louder and his heart began to pound. A car. Either Olivia had just forgotten to
call again or someone else had come to search the place. He grabbed his fishing gear and jogged
back up to the house, stowing his things on the back porch. He strode through the small living area. He’d set the table again
and restored order to Glenn’s desk. The house was ready for Olivia.

But was she ready?
Am I?

Hands unsteady, he wrenched open the door, only to find her on his doorstep, her fist poised to knock. Slowly she lowered
her fist to her side, her eyes locked to his, and he had to force himself to breathe.

She wore a beige trench coat, cinched tightly around her waist. But peeking out from beneath it he could see the dress from
last night. The one she’d worn the first night he’d met her. She wore ridiculously high heeled shoes that made her legs look
incredible. He lifted his eyes back to her face, hoping he was reading the right words between the lines, because on her head
she wore a fedora, the brim pulled low.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He stepped aside and she entered, her eyes drawn to the table. She looked up, her mouth slightly
curved. “Just like last night.”

“I was hoping…” The words trailed away, his thought unfinished. She stood before him, looking good enough to eat and every
muscle in his body clenched. He shoved his hands in his pockets lest he reach out and touch. “I’d take your coat,” he said
roughly, “but once I touch you, I won’t be able to stop.”

Her eyes heated and he could see her pulse fluttering at the hollow of her throat. She tugged at her belt, then pulled the
buttons free, shrugging out of the coat on her own. She laid her coat across the arm of the sofa, carefully placed her hat
on top of it, and looked back up at him. Deliberately she extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Olivia Sutherland. It’s nice to meet
you.”

His eyes dropped to her hand and he swallowed. Hard. She was offering him the chance to start over. To get it right this time.
Slowly he watched his hand take hers, his large and dark, hers small and pale. Nearly fragile. But he knew she was anything
but. She was strong and kind and beautiful and he was shaking like a teenager.

“I’m David Hunter.” He leaned closer until he could see every eyelash framing her blue eyes. Until his mouth was a whisper
from hers. “And I want you more than I want to breathe.”

“Oh.” It was more an exhale than a word. Her eyes slid closed, her chest barely moving with the shallow breaths she drew,
as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. He didn’t know who moved first, and then he didn’t care. Her arms were
locked around his neck and his mouth was on hers, savage and bruising, but she met him full force, openmouthed and so damn
hot.

His hands were everywhere, her back, her breasts, her round butt that filled his palms like she was made for him. “What do
you want?” he managed.

“You.” She punctuated her words with hard kisses. “Now. Please.”

He should stop this. She’d wanted to talk. Needed her answers. But he didn’t think he could stop this if his life depended
on it. He lifted her dress, running his hands up her legs and then he groaned when his fingers went from silk to bare skin.
She wore real stockings. “Where’s the zipper on this thing?” he rasped, searching her back.

“No zipper.” Her hands were busy on the buttons of his shirt. “Just… take it off.”

He yanked the dress over her head and let it land
where it would. And then he stared. Silk and lace covered very little. His eyes dropped to a miniscule thong. Very, very little.
He thought his heart might explode. He was sure other parts of him would. He cast his eyes at the sofa, tempted, but she tapped
her finger against his mouth.

“You said,” she said in a husky murmur that sent every drop of blood rushing out of his head, “you needed more space for what
you wanted to do to me.” She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and brushed his mouth with hers while his hands cruised the
skin she’d bared. “For me. In me. No sofa, David.”

He was going to die. “Fine,” he ground out, and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He took two steps toward the
bedroom when his mouth found her breast through the lace and she arched against him, her body lithe and beautiful. He stopped
where he stood, sucking hard and making her whimper, loving the sound. He shifted her, claiming the other breast so he could
hear it again.

“Hurry,” she urged. “Please. Please.”

It was a desperate chant as he obeyed, laying her on the bed, then ripping the tiny panties down her legs, pushing her shoes
off her feet in one motion. Before she could draw another breath his mouth was on her and she moaned, just like he remembered.

She tasted… just like he remembered. And her hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer, just like he remembered. “Please,
please.” She was chanting it again, begging for more, begging him to take her there, as if she wasn’t certain he would.

So he sucked and nipped and licked, finally stabbing his tongue deep and her body went taut, her head flung
back and a strangled cry ripped from her arched throat as she came with a force that stunned him.

But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop, and she shuddered again, his name on her lips.

He pushed to his knees, staring at her, his body throbbing. “Olivia, look at me.”

She blinked, finally lifting her eyelids. She was beautifully dazed.

He placed his hands on either side of her face, leaning close. “I am thinking of you. Just you. Only you. Olivia.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then her lips curved. “You’re still dressed.”

Her hands reached for him, but he grabbed her wrists, twining his fingers through hers. “If you touch me, I’ll come.”

“I want you to. I need you to.”

“I need to, too, but I want it to last more than thirty seconds. So give me a minute.” He dropped his brow to hers. “I dreamed
of your taste. You’re better than I dreamed.”

She twisted up into him. “David, please.”

He let her go, backing up before she could touch him. He peeled the stockings from her legs slowly, one then the other, then
stood next to the bed and shrugged out of his shirt. “Take off the bra.”

She sat up and unhooked the frothy lace that hardly covered enough to earn the term. She let the straps slide down her arms
and quite suddenly, took his breath away.

“You’re beautiful.”

She dropped her eyes to her hands as she worked his belt free. “So are you.”

David’s hands stilled. She knelt on the edge of the bed, her gaze dropping as she reached for the button on his trousers.
He covered her hands with his, stopping her. “No. Look at me, Olivia.”

She looked up until she met his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything.” He cupped her face tenderly. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because you want me more than you want to breathe.”

“And that’s because you’re beautiful. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, Olivia. I tried. For months and years I tried and
nothing worked. Nobody worked. I kept seeing your eyes when we talked and your face when you smiled.”

Something shifted behind her eyes and he knew he’d never convince her with words alone. He let his trousers drop to the floor
and pushed his boxers down with them and felt a wave of satisfaction when her eyes widened, heating again.

She ran a fingertip down his length, then ran her hands down his sides, grasping his hips. He knew what was coming, but still
nothing prepared him for how utterly incredible it felt when her mouth slid over him, wet and warm. His head fell back, his
eyes closed and a guttural groan escaped his chest.

It was heaven. But he didn’t want to come like this. Not tonight.

“Stop.” Summoning every ounce of strength, he dug his fingers through her hair and pulled her away so that he could see her
face. “To you, for you.” He dragged her up, ground his mouth on hers, fiercely satisfied when her arms came around his neck
and she pressed her breasts into his chest,
kissing him back. “In you.” Blindly he reached into the bedside drawer for a condom. “I want to be inside you.”

“Then hurry,” she whispered, yanking him down to the bed with her. Fragile she certainly was not. She snatched the packet
from his hand and he had to clench his teeth to hold back when she slid it over him, her hands like little licks of fire.

He rolled her to her back, determined to do all the things he should have done before, praying he had the strength to hold
back, to give her what she deserved. But when he pushed into her she was hot and wet and so damn tight. He stopped midway
and shuddered, holding to his control by a thread. “I don’t want to hurt you.”