True Colors (37 page)
“Right. That leaves Mom.” Knowing suddenly what she needed to do, Alex got up from the table and headed for the door.
Charlie jogged after her and caught her shirttail to stop her. “Excuse me, but where do you think you’re going?”
“Mom
knows
, Charlie. I made the connection before but was too out of it to do anything about it. I went completely catatonic on her, and it didn’t faze her. She
knew
what was happening. That means she might know how to control it. And if she doesn’t, then she might be able to get Aunt Rena to talk to us. I’m going to see her to—”
knows
, Charlie. I made the connection before but was too out of it to do anything about it. I went completely catatonic on her, and it didn’t faze her. She
knew
what was happening. That means she might know how to control it. And if she doesn’t, then she might be able to get Aunt Rena to talk to us. I’m going to see her to—”
“You do remember that this is our mother you’re talking about.”
“Surely she’ll talk to me once she knows what this empathy . . .
crap
is doing to me.”
crap
is doing to me.”
“You flashed right in front of her, for an extended period of time, and she didn’t do anything to try to help you. That’s not a woman who gives a crap about what’s happening to her kid.”
“As usual, you’re being way too hard on her.”
“As usual, you’re being way too easy on her. Has she contacted you at all to see how you’re doing since that happened?”
“I’ve been out of touch—”
“You have a cell phone.”
“Look, you and Mom have always had your issues. But this is different. I need to talk to
someone
who knows what I’m dealing with. If I can’t find a way to control this empathy . . . well, I don’t know how I can live around other people. Any innocent contact could be a nightmare. And what happens when I . . . when I touch someone who’s lost a limb or suffered an aneurysm or stroke? Or, God, what if I make contact with a woman who’s lost her husband or a child? I can’t even imagine what that kind of grief would feel like, and I really, really don’t want to ever experience it if I don’t have to.”
someone
who knows what I’m dealing with. If I can’t find a way to control this empathy . . . well, I don’t know how I can live around other people. Any innocent contact could be a nightmare. And what happens when I . . . when I touch someone who’s lost a limb or suffered an aneurysm or stroke? Or, God, what if I make contact with a woman who’s lost her husband or a child? I can’t even imagine what that kind of grief would feel like, and I really, really don’t want to ever experience it if I don’t have to.”
“We can go see AnnaCoreen—”
“AnnaCoreen is just guessing. I get why you love her. She’s been a huge help, but we—
I
need answers from experts.”
I
need answers from experts.”
“Alex, I’m just trying to protect you. Mom doesn’t want to talk about this. Ever. Cornering her because it’s what
you
want won’t change her mind.”
you
want won’t change her mind.”
“Fine. Then you can stun gun me and hold Mom down so I can head-trip my way through her past until I find what I need to know.”
“What? Wait. What?”
Alex sighed, frustrated that Charlie wasn’t keeping up. But, then, she couldn’t really blame her sister for being behind when Alex hadn’t told her anything about her time with Butch McGee.
To buy herself some time to get her thoughts together, Alex turned her attention to her menagerie of strays. “Who wants to go out?” she asked the four dogs now forming islands of laziness on the kitchen floor.
The two who hadn’t wandered in from the living room yet, Artemis and Oscar, came running at the magic word—“out”—and the whole pack filed out the back door when she pushed it open for them.
Turning back to the kitchen, she saw Charlie striking her expectant pose: arms crossed under her breasts, head cocked. “I’m waiting,” she said without saying it out loud.
As usual when confronted with that look, Alex caved. “Butch McGee zapped me with a stun gun. It did wild and wacky things to my empathy, and I bounced all over the place in his head. I got to see all the nasty things, or at least some of the nasty things, that happened to make him the serial killer he is.”
“Jesus, Alex.” Charlie slowly sat down, looking ill. A long moment passed in which she swallowed several times, as though fighting the urge to be sick. “I really think we should consult with AnnaCoreen before we—”
“Damn it, no. I don’t want to sit around
talking
about it. I need to
do
something. And I need to do it before it kills me.”
talking
about it. I need to
do
something. And I need to do it before it kills me.”
Charlie raised her hands in a supplicating gesture. “Okay, okay. But you know what? You’re not operating on all cylinders at the moment. This doesn’t have to be solved right here and now.”
“The sooner, the better.”
“I agree. But let me put it to you this way: We’re not going anywhere, not even to Mom and Dad’s, until Noah and Logan get back. Logan would kill me if I let you go anywhere without him. Okay?”
“Charlie—”
“There is no discussion. You’re a smart woman, Alex, and there’s a serial killer out there who might be gunning for you.”
“He wants revenge on Logan, not me.”
“I’m sure that even you, in all your irrational gung-ho tude, can see that that logic is flawed. He’s already proved that he wants to use you to get at Logan. We’re going to play it safe, end of discussion.”
Alex opened her mouth to argue then stopped. Charlie was right. She needed to take a breath. And a nap. She was so tired she couldn’t think in a straight, coherent line anymore.
“Do me a favor?” Charlie said. “Go back to bed. Please? Your reserves are seriously depleted.”
Alex thought about arguing but gave in instead. At the door leading to the hallway, she paused and looked back at her sister. “Thanks, Charlie. You’re my best friend, you know.”
Charlie smiled at her. “Yeah. Sister Sam screwed herself out of some good times when she ran away from home, huh?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
L
ogan let himself into the dark bedroom as quietly as possible, stopping just inside the door to listen for Alex’s even breathing. Smiling at the soft, rhythmic snoring that floated from the bed, he toed off his shoes and then emptied his pockets on the dresser.
ogan let himself into the dark bedroom as quietly as possible, stopping just inside the door to listen for Alex’s even breathing. Smiling at the soft, rhythmic snoring that floated from the bed, he toed off his shoes and then emptied his pockets on the dresser.
It was two in the morning, and Charlie had informed him that Alex had crashed late in the afternoon and hadn’t stirred since. He was glad. She’d looked absolutely beat when he’d left her, and he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her. He wasn’t used to seeing her so exhausted. Or anxiety-ridden.
Shaking his head—she was peaceful now, and he’d focus on that—he shrugged out of his shirt and went into the adjoining bathroom. He couldn’t get the scene of Sally Blake’s bedroom out of his head.
The mingling scents of blood, sweat and sex.
The gory aftermath of a psychopath’s idea of fun with a blade.
The quiet, almost respectful murmurings of the crime scene techs.
All of it coalesced in his brain in a horror-show haze.
“It’s the work of Butch McGee,” the newly arrived FBI agent in charge, Tom Boyd, had said as he’d smoothed a hand over his stubby crew cut.
Logan’s brain had too quickly made the connection that what that monster did to Sally Blake, he easily could have done to Alex. Probably
planned
to do to Alex. And he was relieved, so fucking relieved, that Alex was safe.
planned
to do to Alex. And he was relieved, so fucking relieved, that Alex was safe.
Shit like this shouldn’t happen in Lake Avalon, Florida. This was supposed to be paradise. This was supposed to be his escape from the darkness and evil.
And Butch McGee followed him here.
Sally Blake died because a killer followed him here.
Alex was terrorized because a killer followed him here.
He just managed to get the toilet seat up before his body expelled the churning contents of his stomach.
Afterward, he flushed, breathing heavily and repeatedly spitting the bitterness out of his mouth. He brushed his teeth, then took a shower and stood under the hot spray until he felt marginally human again, or at least clean enough to crawl into bed with Alex.
Then he slipped between the sheets, snuggled up to her warm back and lightly kissed the side of her neck.
She woke on a violent gasp, and Logan swore as he gathered her close against him to soothe her. “It’s okay, Alex. It’s me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Damn it, he should have realized she would flash on what he’d seen at Sally Blake’s the minute he touched her.
“Oh, God, that poor woman,” she murmured against his chest, her voice raspy from sleep.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Try to go back to sleep.”
“Are you okay?”
Her fingers played over his cheekbones, coming to rest, light and delicate, on his mouth. He kissed their tips, unable to stop the curve of a smile. He was so damn lucky to have her. “I’m okay now,” he said. “You?”
“I need you.”
His heart hitched under the hand she spread over his chest, the way she draped a leg over his thigh and pressed closer. “Later,” he said, even as he hardened in hungry response. He wouldn’t mind losing himself in her, letting her love chase away the lingering, haunting images in his head.
But those images were in her head now, too, thanks to his carelessness, so he didn’t protest when she nudged his shoulder. He rolled onto his back, and she made quick work of his briefs, then straddled him, trapping his ready cock between them. His heart thunked against his ribs as his hands settled at her waist. Oh, Jesus, she wasn’t wearing underwear.
She pulled her T-shirt—
his
T-shirt, he realized—over her head, and her springy curls tumbled around her face. Those curls, scented like almonds and cherries, tickled his cheeks when she leaned forward to bury her mouth on his, her tongue lazily slipping between his lips, her hands soft and soothing and perfect everywhere they touched.
his
T-shirt, he realized—over her head, and her springy curls tumbled around her face. Those curls, scented like almonds and cherries, tickled his cheeks when she leaned forward to bury her mouth on his, her tongue lazily slipping between his lips, her hands soft and soothing and perfect everywhere they touched.
As the need built, he raised his head off the pillow, taking their kisses deeper, more insistent, his mind blank to anything but loving this woman, loving Alex.
She shifted, lifted off him briefly, before sinking down, sinking onto his cock, taking him inside the tight, wet heat that stole his breath, stalled his brain. His fingers dug into her hips, and he couldn’t stop himself from bucking his hips up off the bed, driving himself deeper. Her intake of breath told him that worked for her, too, and as they linked hands, fingers threaded for balance, he did it again and again, meeting each downward thrust of her hips until, oh, Jesus, he was already . . . right . . . there.
He tightened his fingers on hers and gasped, “Wait, slow down, wait.”
But she shook her head and rode him faster. He caught a glimpse of her features in the moonlight, saw the concentration on her beautiful, pale face as she tipped her head back and gave herself over to the pleasure, gave herself over to him. The image set him off like a rocket.
He released a long, jaw-clenched groan as he came, stars bursting in his head, every nerve focused on the woman wrapped around him, around his heart.
The instant he regained control of his brain, he opened his eyes and watched, waited, breathless with anticipation as his orgasm took her. She stiffened on him, head back and neck corded, as his secondhand waves tossed her high, higher.
He quickly sat up, and bracing her with a hand flattened against her back, he began to suck her right nipple, using teeth and tongue to work it, tugging and biting ever so gently, using his fingers on her other breast to match the effect, intent on overwhelming her with pleasure.
She made a helpless sound in her throat, something that sounded like, “Un
guh
,” and then he caught her mouth with his and swallowed her scream while her body convulsed, out of control, in his arms, the tension-release of her own orgasm hitting her again and again.
guh
,” and then he caught her mouth with his and swallowed her scream while her body convulsed, out of control, in his arms, the tension-release of her own orgasm hitting her again and again.
When she was finally limp against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing still ragged, he pressed a kiss to her throat, touched his tongue to the perspiration there. She tasted good, like she was his.
“Wow,” she murmured. “That was supposed to be all for you.”
“Glad it worked out for both of us.”
“I love you, Logan.”
He smiled at the sleepy words, relieved that she was already drifting off again. “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
A
lex? Logan? Hey, guys?”
lex? Logan? Hey, guys?”
Alex blinked her eyes open to the dim light of early morning as Logan, bare chest pressed to her back, stirred with an unintelligible grumble. The hallway light behind Charlie silhouetted her figure in the bedroom doorway.
Alex propped up on one elbow, running a hand through her tangled hair. Too late, she realized she was naked and fumbled for the sheet. “Um, yeah, I’m awake. What is it?”
“I’m sorry to wake you, but I didn’t know what else to do.” Charlie paused and took a breath. “Dieter is missing. He must have jumped the fence when I let the dogs out before I hopped in the shower. Noah’s out looking for him now, but I’m afraid he might not come for anyone but you.”
Alex sat up, her senses jerked into lucidity by worry for the German shepherd. He’d jumped the fence? She’d never known him to do such a thing. Yet, Charlie’s backyard wasn’t his, so he might have gone looking for home. Or sniffing for it, rather, since he couldn’t very well find it by sight.
She turned to tell Logan to go back to sleep, but he was already out of bed and pulling on his jeans.
Alex found the T-shirt she’d shed the night before and dragged it over her head before getting out of bed and groping through her suitcase for a pair of shorts.
While they dressed, Charlie stepped into the hallway and paced. “I’m so sorry, Alex,” she said. “I didn’t think I had to watch them with the fence and all.”
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