A Killer's Agenda (19 page)

Leave them that way.”

She didn’t wait to hear his response as she closed the

bathroom door. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror and turned on a stream of hot water in the shower, grateful for the large size. Letting her clothes fall to the floor, she stepped into the tiled enclosure. Adjusting the temperature, she reveled in the almost too hot water, the steam serving to ease the tension in her head and shoulders. She lathered the soap and rubbed the knots in her neck, fighting sudden tears.

No matter how ridiculous she knew it was, she blamed herself for what had happened. She was damn good at what she did,

methodical and careful. Her love for Brad had made her careless, and careless got people killed.

She took a deep breath and reached for her shampoo, pouring

the liquid into her hands just as the shower curtain was thrust open. She stifled a scream as Brad stepped in next to her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

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“Taking a shower.”

“You’re supposed to be resting, Brad.”

“I’m sick of resting. Thought I’d get the smell of hospital off of me.”

“You could wait for your turn, you know,” she snapped. “You

don’t listen to instructions very well do you?”

“Haven’t for years.” He tugged her close pressing his face

against her damp hair. “You smell good.”

She pushed him away. “Just let me wash my hair and then you

can have the damn shower to yourself.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Why are you really so upset, Alex?” he asked, rubbing a thumb against her collarbone soothingly.

“I don’t honestly know.” She admitted, resting her head against his chest. “Maybe it’s guilt or anger or both. I could have lost you today, Brad. Forever.”

“Shut up, Alex,” he muttered, sliding the shampoo she still held in her hands into his. Working the fragrant liquid into a lather, he began massaging her scalp with his long fingers. She groaned with the sensual enjoyment of it. The groan changed to a moan when those same massaging fingers went lower, cupping her breasts, his thumbs doing wicked things to her taut nipples. Breathing hard, she put her hands against his chest, pushing him back, the

streaming water rinsing her hair.

“The last thing you need right now is sex,” she warned

breathlessly.

“It’s the only thing I need right now,” he said, lowering his head and covering her lips. The steaming water continued cascading around them as he trailed his lips along her damp cheeks, fragrant

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with the scent of soap. Abruptly, he reached behind her and shut the shower off. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her out of the

enclosure and into the bedroom before she could even grab a

towel.

“Cut it out, Brad,” she protested. “I’m freezing here!”

“Not for long,” he murmured, lowering his body over hers. Her fingers played restlessly on his back as he rained kisses along the side of her breasts to her flat stomach.

“Brad, I’m absolutely not going to…” she began and then

couldn’t continue as a myriad of sensations cascaded through her.

Almost unwillingly, she reached down and guided his lips to hers in a long passionate kiss. She ran her fingers along the dark stubble of his jaw. Exploring further, she caressed his muscular back, feeling him quiver under her hands.”

“Lord, you’re killing me,” he groaned.

She smiled wickedly. “I’m not cold anymore,” she whispered

huskily.

He raised his head, the look in his eyes so incredibly warm and sexy that it sent chills through her. “Imagine that,” he murmured, lifting her hips as he slid inside.

She arched, meeting him move for move as shivering

sensations rolled over and through her.

It was only afterward, as she lay curled next to him, sated and lazily lethargic, that the events of the day came storming back. Her glance slid upward to the now damp bandage on his forehead and the slight discoloration underneath.

“Don’t.”

She raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. “Don’t what?”

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He pulled her closer to him, wrapping both of them in the

sheet. “Don’t imagine things that didn’t happen.”

“They could have.”

“But they didn’t.”

She reached up and turned his face to hers, her fingers

caressing his forehead, then his jaw, swallowing the bitter taste of the fear she had experienced earlier. If she had lost this man… She shuddered, the thought too awful to linger on.

“I love you.”

It took a moment or two for her to absorb the words. “What?”

He smiled, running a finger along her still flushed cheek. “I said I love you.”

“How do you know?”

His face darkened. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I just need to know what your definition of love is,” she said candidly, her eyes finding his.

His jaw tightened. “What is this, psychology class? Damn it, Alex! I say something I’ve never said to another woman and you throw it back in my face.”

“I’m not doing that.” She sat up to lean against the headboard, taking the sheet with her, trying to still the way her heart was pounding at his words, not wanting to reveal how very important his response was. “It’s just that I need to know when you say you love me, you mean roses and lace and until death do us part.” She met his gaze steadily. “Because if you don’t, I’m not sure I can continue our business relationship.”

“Is that an ultimatum?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. It would just hurt too much otherwise.”

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Before she knew it, she was back in his arms. “Is that your way of saying you love me too?”

“You already know I do.”

He smiled down at her, tracing his finger across her lips. “Then the next logical step would be to ask you to marry me.”

She nodded. “Makes sense to me.”

He settled back in the bed and yawned. “I’ll get around to it when the time is right.”

“Why you…” she started to say and then stopped. His eyes were already closed and before she could settle next to him again he was soundly sleeping. “You better get around to it, mister,” she whispered, feathering a kiss along his relaxed brow. “Or there’ll be hell to pay.”

She pulled the blanket up around both of them curling next to his warm body. Her eyes began to close and instantly she was bombarded by disjointed visions.

A tall thick man with cruel lips, Madeline crying, Justin pale and still on the ground. Then a child lying limply in his mother’s arms while she sobbed hysterically. A man’s ring grotesquely covered in blood.

Her eyes flew open but the visions refused to stop.

Brad bleeding, lying on the floor. Gunshots. Blood, lots of

blood.

“Stop,” she whispered. “Please just stop!”

She pressed trembling hands to her eyes and slowly it all faded away.

It was a long time before she finally drifted off to sleep, her arms around Brad protectively.

And even in sleep she knew it wasn’t enough.

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She awoke with a start, tensing. A glance at the bedside alarm said a little after four in the morning. She heard a rumble of thunder in the distance and the soft sound of rain drumming

against the window. Reaching over she found Brad in the dark, reassured by his steady breathing. Blinking, she tried to clear her eyes of sleep as she sat up, listening intently.

There it was again. Instantly she recognized the sound.

Someone was attempting to pick the lock on the glass door

overlooking the private balcony.

She slipped silently from beneath the covers. Reaching for the purse lying on the beside table, her hand curled around the

revolver inside. Grabbing her nightshirt, she threw it over her head in one motion, very slowly walking toward the sound. Their room was on the tenth floor and the beam from the street light filtered into the dark allowing her enough light to pick her away around the sofa and table. She was about five feet from the door when it quietly slid open. She watched, holding her breath as the curtains slid to the right just as quietly, the large shape of a man

silhouetted against the muted glow from the street.

She had taken the time to familiarize herself with the space when they had first entered. Knew where the lamps were and the switches. She reached just behind her and flicked one on. As she

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had hoped, she caught him by surprise. He stood just inside the door, the cool night breeze wafting around him, chilling her skin.

He was dressed in black and held a very big, very dangerous

looking gun aimed directly at the bed where Brad lay sleeping. His eyes flickered with reaction and then narrowed, a grim smile playing about his thin lips as he kept the gun trained on an oblivious Brad.

As their eyes met, pictures began to form in her brain.

Family pictures of Renee White with Justin and David and the man standing in front of her. The scene changed, playing out like a movie. The sound of laughter, a school in the background, two boys, gym bags over their shoulders walking toward the parking lot… The same lethal gun steadily aimed…the hard, dead eyes

narrowing, focusing…

“Uncle Matt,” she said softly.

The smile left his lips instantly, shock playing across his

features.

“Well, well,” he muttered keeping his voice low, “smarter than I thought you were.” He leered at her bare legs and arms. “Don’t know how you figured it out but I don’t much care. You won’t be telling anyone else. Neither you nor your boyfriend.” His face turned ugly, his gaze dropping to her small revolver. “Drop the gun or you’ll watch me finish what I started earlier.”

Brad muttered in his sleep at that moment, turning in bed, his brow furrowing at the light. Instantly, the intruder raised his gun, his finger going for the trigger.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t allow herself the luxury, but simply raised her gun and fired.

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The look in his eyes would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so very frightening. He grabbed his shoulder with a roar and stumbled, losing his balance on the ledge of the open door, falling backward. In slow motion, he teetered against the railing, his gun firing as he frantically attempted to right himself.

The bullet found the other side of the open patio door, sending crumbled glass everywhere. Cringing, he lifted his uninjured arm in an attempt to protect his eyes. The debris combined with the slick concrete caused his feet to slide as he raised the gun once again.

This time her aim was better. The weapon flew from his hand

as she found her mark. He jerked, howling in pain, his feet going out from under him once again. Grabbing the rail, he pulled

himself upright. As she moved toward him, he backed away

attempting to vault to the next balcony. Only the rain and his injury didn’t allow that.

His grip on the thin metal slipped as he stretched between the two. Frantically, he tried to grab it again and grimaced in pain as his injured shoulder protested. Instinctively, he reached up to ease the pain. That one simple movement upset his delicate balance.

Just as she reached for him, he began sliding between the rails.

Startled eyes met hers for one intense moment and then he

disappeared from site, his hoarse scream slicing through the night air. Then there was nothing but silence.

Brad leapt from the bed, shocked awake. He groped his way

toward the sound. “What the hell was that?” he asked, trying to focus his still- drugged vision while frantically looking for Alex.

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He found her leaning over the balcony and spun her back

toward him, running his hands up and down her looking for

injuries.

“That was our stalker, as your cousin put it. I’m afraid our very dead stalker from the looks of his body on the pavement down there,” Alex said, her voice shaking.

“My God!” Keeping an arm wrapped around her, he moved

toward the rail, avoiding the pieces of glass and blood. He could just make out a figure lying very still and at an odd angle on the pavement below.

His gaze went back to the woman he held in his arms, his

pulse still racing. “How’d he get in?”

“Picked the lock on the glass door.” She motioned to the

neighboring balcony. “My guess is he was trying to get back the way he’d come.”

Brad shook her slightly. “Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?

Damn it, Alex, you could have been killed!”

“You were out for the count, Brad, between what the doctor

gave you for pain and that sleeping pill.” She glanced downward again. “Besides, he would have shot you the minute you moved.”

Before he could argue further they were both startled by a loud knock on the door.

“Brad, open up!” There was more pounding. “Are you two

okay?”

Brad grabbed a pair of jeans and slid into them and then

walked over, unlocking the door. A disheveled Kevin stood there with Carolyn behind him, his anxious eyes finding Brad and then an uninjured Alex. A look of relief passed over his face. “Thank God! We heard what sounded like a gunshot. Scared the hell out of

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both of us.” His gaze moved past them to the shattered glass and his eyes widened, his glance moving back to Brad. “You’ve got to be kidding! The guy tried again?”

When Brad nodded, he strode to the balcony and peered over.

“Doesn’t look like he’ll go for a third time, that’s for sure.”

“I’ve got to notify the police,” Alex said, suddenly feeling decidedly shaky as she moved out of Brad’s arms and toward the phone.

“Don’t bother,” Kevin said. “They’re coming down the street