The Best Man to Trust (15 page)

She reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck, and caught his mouth with hers. Their lips moved together again, faster, hungrier. She felt his hands move against her back, stroking against her skin. At some point he must have unhooked her bra. Suddenly the garment was slipping away. Her breasts were free, pressed against the hard wall of his chest, her sensitive nipples brushing against his chest hair. The feeling of his bare skin on hers was good. So very good. It just reminded her how much she’d wanted it, how much she’d wanted more.

She fumbled for the button of his pants. Simultaneously, she felt his hands at her waistband. They shoved out of their pants, kicking them off, casting aside their underwear. And then she felt it, all of him, his thighs against hers, their hips meeting, the hard length of his erection pressing against her, eager, insistent.

He suddenly bent, scooping her up into his arms. Then he was lowering her onto the bed. Turning away, he reached for his pants on the floor, allowing her to see all of him, everything that had been pressed against her only moments ago. He looked every bit as good as he felt. She could have stared all night, the ache inside her pounding harder, heavier, with every glance. She’d thought he was beautiful before. The full view was only better.

He pulled out his wallet and retrieved a foil packet. Within moments he’d covered himself and returned to her. Lowering himself onto the bed, he stretched out beside her, his hands immediately reaching for her, hungrily, eagerly, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching her. She couldn’t keep her hands off him any more than he could, her fingers skimming over every hard ridge of his belly, glancing over the wide expanse of his shoulders, reaching out to grasp his erection and stroke the silky hardness, feeling it surge against her fingers. Until it wasn’t enough.

As soon as she thought it, he rolled her over onto her back, moving with her to position himself above her. She braced herself for that burst of fear at having someone on top of her, ready to shake it off as soon as it happened, not about to let it ruin this.

It never came. As he moved on top of her and braced himself above her, all she felt was the rightness of it. Of being here with him. Of what was about to happen next.

He looked down into her eyes, a question amidst the cloudy desire in his.

She answered it with a smile, raising her hips, urging him forward.

He needed no further prompting. He pushed his hips forward, sliding into her, burying himself to the hilt.

And it was utterly perfect. More than she could have dreamed. The rightness of having this man with her, inside her, above her.

As he moved inside her, she peered up into his face, taking in the beauty of it. He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, even more so now that she knew who he was inside, the man beneath the flawless exterior.

And found him staring back at her, his deep blue eyes focused intently on her face, like he couldn’t get enough of looking at her.

Like she was beautiful, too.

Happiness soared through her in a rush and she smiled, unable to keep the feeling off her face. He returned it, his lips widening in a big, open grin, and kissed her again.

Their bodies moved in tandem, building in rhythm and speed, matching the growing intensity of the emotions pounding through her. There was so much. Arousal and desire and need. Excitement and happiness and wonder. The feeling of all of them clashing together was heady, intense, a giddy swirl of so many emotions and sensations building inside her, the pressure growing. She couldn’t breathe. It was too much. Each moment built to more, more pleasure, more wonder, more everything. Until finally she couldn’t take it any longer. She erupted, feeling him explode with her, in her, around her at the same moment, in a flood of sensation.

And as they came down together and she clung to him, basking in every moment, she felt one thing above all else.

Joy.

* * *

“A
S
IF
I
DIDN
’
T
hate the idea of leaving you enough already...”

Curled up by Tom’s side, her cheek resting on his chest, Meredith smiled. “I hate it, too, but it has to be done. The phones are still down. The only way we’re going to get out of here is to get the road cleared.”

He exhaled, his breath brushing over the top of her head. “I know. But there has to be a way of keeping you safe when I’m not here....”

The delicious warmth of what they’d just shared began to fade. Here they were again. Back to this.

She understood the motivation behind the words, knew that he genuinely cared about her, but they still rankled. “I told you, I’m just going to have to take care of myself. I know I didn’t do the best job of it today,” she added quickly when she felt him start to interrupt, “but I’ll just have to be more careful. I can do this. I
have
to do this.”

“Why?” he asked, his frustration clear. “Why do you
have
to do this on your own? I wouldn’t want to be on my own in a situation like this with no one having my back.”

“But you would do it if you had to, wouldn’t you? And I bet no one would question your ability to.”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is. And I can’t depend on you or Adam or anyone else to save me.” Even she could hear the note of desperation in the words and wished she could take them back.

He was silent for a long moment. “This isn’t really about me not thinking you can take of yourself, is it? It’s about proving it to yourself.”

She couldn’t answer, the admission too humiliating.

“What is this really about? Brad?”

Damn. She should have known he’d figure it out. “I can’t be that weak again,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

He fell quiet again. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “You said you were married to Brad for four years. How much of that time was he hurting you?”

Meredith sucked in a breath against the sudden onslaught of memories. “He always had a temper, but we’d been married about six months the first time he hit me.”

From his silence, he was letting that piece of information sink in. “Why didn’t you leave him sooner?” he asked, his voice rough.

A lump lodged her throat. She knew the answer. She’d spent plenty of time thinking about those years and her own motivations during them. That didn’t mean it was any easier to admit.

She had to force the words out. “Because I loved him.” She nearly winced, knowing how stupid and pathetic and utterly absurd that had to sound. “I know that doesn’t make sense. How could anyone love somebody who’d do that...who’d treat them like that? But I did. He was everything to me. From the first time I saw him I was amazed that somebody that handsome and confident would be interested in me.” She swallowed against the humiliation she could feel climbing in her throat. “Sometimes I wonder how much I felt for him was just awe. I never thought someone like that would give me the time of day, and when he did, there was a part of me that was just pathetically grateful for the attention.”

“Why wouldn’t he have given you the time of day?”

“He was way, way out of my league.” She shook her head. “You don’t remember him, what he looked like.”

“I don’t need to. I know what you look like.”

She started to shake her head. “You don’t have to say that—”

“I know I don’t. And I’m not just saying it.” He reached down and caught her chin with his forefinger, tilted her face up to peer into her eyes. “Have I given you any reason to doubt that I think you’re an incredibly sexy woman?” A grin touched his lips, his blue eyes darkening with desire. “Because if I did, I can try harder.”

Her leg was slung over his, and against her thigh she felt the growing proof of his arousal.

“I believe you.” She smiled. “But that’s how I felt. How I always felt around him. And since I never really felt like I was good enough, it was easier to accept that when he got angry it was my fault. And those times when he did look at me and smile, I was always so happy, and I’d forget how awful and terrifying he could be. Everything seemed worth it when he smiled or seemed happy, like I had done something right, like he was happy with me. If he wasn’t, I would just have to try harder, and then everything would be okay.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No,” she admitted quietly.

“What made you finally leave?”

She swallowed hard. “I was in the hospital. Brad...he broke my jaw and a couple of bones in my face. And I had some bruised ribs. I couldn’t talk, couldn’t really move. Mrs. Hagerty, our neighbor, found me. She knew what had been happening, had tried to get me to do something, but...I didn’t. When she didn’t see me leave the house that morning, she came over. She called an ambulance and they took me to the hospital. They kept me overnight for a few days. And even then, I remember lying in that hospital bed wondering what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t make him happy. Why he couldn’t love me enough not to...” The words stuck in her throat.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tom said fiercely. “It was that bastard’s.”

“I know that. Now,” she added faintly. She cleared her throat. “Adam, my brother, found out. I hadn’t told him about any of it, hadn’t wanted to admit what had been happening. I think subconsciously I knew he would have tried to get me out and I still wanted Brad. But when I was in the hospital, Adam tried to get in touch with me. Brad wouldn’t tell him where I was, but he managed to reach Mrs. Hagerty, who did.”

She pulled in a ragged breath. “I still remember when he came into my room and saw me for the first time. He didn’t even look angry. He was just...devastated. He actually started to cry, and if you ever met Adam he’s the last guy you’d ever expect to cry. I had never seen him do that before. And I remembered I did have somebody who loved me.

“He got me out of there and we stayed in a hotel while I recovered. He wouldn’t let me go home, even to pick up my belongings. I think he was afraid Brad might try to convince me to stay, and if that failed, get violent again. He was probably right. He took care of that for me. Got what I wanted from the house for me. Found me an attorney. He saved me when I couldn’t save myself.”

She swallowed the hard lump that had formed in her throat. “I guess I’m just that weak.”

His arm tightened around her, drawing her closer to him. “Maybe you were, but you’re not now.”

She exhaled softly. “I don’t know about that.”

“Are you kidding? ‘Weak’ is the last thing I would call the woman who’s been in charge here the past several days.”

Doubt flickered through her. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Isn’t that what strong people do?”

She’d never thought of it that way. Maybe it really was just as simple as that. “I guess so.”

He brushed a kiss against the top of her head. “I’m glad you got away,” he said roughly, his voice thick with emotion.

She turned her face into his chest, deeply breathing in the scent of him. No matter what happened after this terrible weekend, she would never forget this—the smell that was purely, distinctively his, the way his body felt, the sound of his voice softened with tenderness and the rumble of his heartbeat. She closed her eyes, grateful to have had this moment. “Me, too,” she whispered.

“I still hate the idea of leaving you.”

At the moment she wasn’t particularly looking forward to that, either. “Guess I’ll just have to be strong, right?”

She felt him smile. “I’m not worried about that,” he said. “But whoever is doing this is clearly dangerous. If they do come after you, you might not be able to fight them off again, especially since they know what to expect now. You could be hurt. Or worse...”

The words cut off abruptly. His body tensed against her, as though even talking about the possibility bothered him.

“If the killer does have another target, then the fact that we could be getting out of here soon might make them act again, before their intended victim can get away or the police arrive to stop them.”

He was right. The killer had purposely, deliberately come here with a plan to kill people. The same person who’d brought the knives to accomplish that mission wasn’t going to stop until that mission was completed.

“So I need to make it impossible for them to do that.”

“But how are you going to do that?”

An idea suddenly sparked in her mind. Excitement rushing through her, she smiled slowly. “You want somebody looking out for me? Well, I know exactly who it should be.”

“Who?”

“All of them.”

Chapter Seventeen

When the wedding party shuffled into the dining room for breakfast the next morning, the first thing Meredith noticed was how small the group was. There were so few of them, she noted with a pang. Only four of them—Scott and Rachel, Alex and Greg—taking their seats at one end of the massive table.

Maybe she should ask if they’d like to eat in the kitchen, she thought. A smaller table and more intimate setting might make it less obvious how much smaller their group was now. But by the time it occurred to her, they were already taking their seats.

She mustered a smile. “Good morning.” She received a few muttered greetings in reply.

“Tom come down yet?” Scott asked, glancing around the room.

“He and Rick left already,” she said. “They were up early to get started with the plow. Tom tried it out and said the snow isn’t packed too hard. He’s hopeful they might actually get the road cleared by the end of the day.”

It was a lie, a necessary one to sell them on her plan. As long as they thought they wouldn’t be here much longer, it would work better. Tom and Rick would just reveal at the end of the day that it was taking longer than they’d expected.

As anticipated, the group seemed to perk up at the news. She examined the smiling faces closely, searching for the slightest indication any of them wasn’t as excited as they should be. All she saw was the expected relief.

She quickly served the meal and waited until they’d started eating before speaking again. “I wanted to talk to you all about something,” she announced, drawing their attention. “I was thinking it might be best if we all stayed in the living room today. I know you all have to be sick of staying in your rooms and it’s not really safe to be wandering around alone. There are plenty of books and magazines, and you can bring down any laptops or tablets. We can all watch out for each other, even protect each other if we need to, though it’ll be much less likely with all of us together. Safety in numbers, that kind of thing.”

“Wouldn’t we be safer in our rooms?” Alex asked.

“You can’t stay in your rooms all day,” Meredith pointed out. “The two of you—” she nodded to Alex and Greg “—don’t have bathrooms in your rooms, so you have to leave them several times during the day anyway. And then there are mealtimes. Every moment you’re alone is a moment you’re vulnerable. If we all stick together the whole time, nothing should be able to happen.”

She paused. “Unless there’s a reason any of you wouldn’t want the rest of us knowing where you are or what you’re doing....”

She saw from the narrowing of more than a few eyes that they got the implication—and didn’t like it one bit. They also couldn’t argue about it without looking suspicious.

The exceptions were Scott and Rachel, who could claim that they were better off in their room together, where they were already watching out for each other. Meredith waited for one—or both—of them to make the point.

Neither did. They both remained silent, as she’d thought they might. The tension between them was too obvious. Being around the others instead of sequestered alone together might be a relief at this point.

This time she didn’t have to fake her smile. “Great,” she said. “Then it’s settled.”

This is going to work,
she assured herself as the wedding party began to eat again. With everyone in the same room, she would be able to watch over them, and they would be able to protect each other, if the killer was foolish enough to try something with all of them there.

Or crazy enough,
she amended. Because being together didn’t just mean she’d know where they all were. It meant the killer would be there, too. A killer who might not be willing to let anything stop him—or her—from completing whatever evil plan they had in mind.

And it was up to her most of all to make sure nothing happened.

* * *

B
Y
NOON
, M
EREDITH
was beginning to suspect the day would never end.

Once she’d gotten the group assembled in the living room, she’d built a roaring fire in the stone fireplace. Under different circumstances the room would have felt comfortable, cozy. Instead it was nearly unbearable, the air charged with tension, the silence absolute.

Looking up from her notepad, she scanned the group. They’d all moved to separate areas of the room, occupying themselves with various gadgets and types of reading material. No one had said much of anything to one another in hours. She’d thought she sensed a few stolen glances, but hadn’t been able to look fast enough to determine who they’d come from or been directed toward.

At least they were alive and safe,
Meredith thought. For that, she would endure the oppressive quiet that blanketed the room and crackling uneasiness in the air. Besides, it would be lunch before long. That would offer a brief, much-needed reprieve.

She lowered her gaze back to the pad in her lap. As soon as she saw what was on the paper, she flinched slightly. She’d been drawing without really paying attention to what she’d been doing, the impulse instinctive, her thoughts focused elsewhere. On the multitude of questions in her head. On keeping an eye on the group. On how long it might take to clear the road and how soon the police might arrive...

All while her subconscious had been focused on something else. Or someone.

Tom’s face peered up at her from the paper.

It was a good likeness, she had to admit. As she took in the image, her heartbeat kicked up, almost as if she was looking at the man himself. It wasn’t just the face, but the expression on it, that was instantly recognizable.

It was how he’d looked last night, peering down at her. His eyes were softened, the look in them intimate and achingly tender.

The memories, the emotions, of what they’d shared came rushing back. She didn’t want to read too much into it, didn’t want to ruin one of the best memories she’d ever made by trying to make it into something it wasn’t. Whatever else happened, she just wanted to cherish it—and never forget.

Staring down at the image she’d drawn, she knew she never would.

Grateful no one could see the sketch, Meredith quickly closed the pad and set it aside.

Restless, she pushed to her feet and walked to the nearest window. There still wasn’t much to see, just an unending sea of white. She was hoping to get some glimmer of Tom and Rick. The path they dug from the garage would take them by this side of the house, but she hadn’t heard any signs of the plow and couldn’t see any hint of it from this vantage point.

Turning away from the window, her gaze fell on the bar a few feet away. She automatically moved toward it, thinking it might give her something to do. She might as well get started at clearing out the empty bottles. There was likely to be more than a few after Greg had made his way through the liquor over the past several days.

Stopping in front of the bar, she reached for the nearest bottle and started to pick it up, only to stop and frown at the weight in her hand.

The bottle was full.

Looking closer she saw the seal hadn’t even been broken. Evidently Greg wasn’t a fan of gin. Sliding the bottle back into place, she glanced at the bar to see which were empty.

Her frown deepened. None of them were.

All of them were mostly or entirely full.

Meredith stared at the sight in front of her, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

It didn’t make sense. Greg had been drinking for days. He’d visited the bar at least a half dozen times this morning alone. She knew he didn’t have any bottles in his room; she’d looked yesterday when she was in there. And he’d said the other day he’d been refilling his flask with vodka, yet if he had, there wouldn’t be anywhere near as much left in the bottle.

Unless he hadn’t been drinking as much as he’d seemed to be. But then he wouldn’t have been as drunk as he’d seemed to be....

He had to have been faking it.

She suddenly remembered that look of fury in his eyes when she’d taken his flask. In the moment, she’d thought it was because she’d taken his liquor away from him. Now she had to wonder if there was another reason—because he didn’t want her finding out that there wasn’t any alcohol in the flask? Or because it was harder to maintain the charade that he was drunk without it?

And it was a charade. She suddenly knew it without a doubt. It was all an act to get them to believe...what? That he wasn’t a threat? But why—

There was only on explanation she could think of.

Cold, hard certainty settled over her.

It was Greg. Greg was the killer.

She didn’t know why. She only knew it had to be true.

“Meredith, is everything all right?”

A jolt ripped through her at the sound of his voice. She wondered if she was imagining the edge she heard in the casually spoken question, if anyone else heard it. He must have noticed how long she’d been standing there without moving, might have guessed what she’d figured out.

Damn. She never had been very good at lying or playing games. She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. I must have zoned out for a second.”

Doing her best to keep her composure, she made herself turn around. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to risk betraying her thoughts. Then she realized how suspicious that would look, as clear a tip-off as accusing him outright. She forced herself to meet his eyes.

They were fixed firmly on her.

And coolly, chillingly, unmistakably sober.

The corners of his mouth twitched wryly. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

She didn’t know what to say. Deep down she recognized that it didn’t matter. The answer had to be written all over her face.

The rest of the room seemed to go still, as though the others were realizing something was happening. Meredith sensed eyes shifting from her to Greg and back again.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked warily.

Still words escaped her.

“I guess it’s over then.” Rising to his feet, Greg shrugged lightly. “That’s too bad. I was enjoying this.”

And with that, he pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed it directly at Rachel.

“Let’s finish this.”