Blind: Killer Instincts (13 page)

She put the back wheel down first, then the front, and shot forward, not easing off the accelerator until she’d gone over the white chalk stripe. Or what was left of it. As soon as the guys hot on her tail had passed, she cut across from her inside position toward the boundary and her truck.

The light was fading, and she’d burned enough gas and energy for one day. She’d needed to drive some of her guilt away, and riding her bike always gave her a fresh perspective.

She might have screwed up with Jacob to the point where it couldn’t be fixed, but she would still figure out a way to apologize. He might hate her, might never trust her again, so all she could do was be honest with him. Tell him she was sorry, that she regretted it, that she missed his damn scowling face, and she barely knew him.

God, she had it bad for a
cop
.

A figure unfolded from the lengthening shadows near her truck and began ambling toward her. She pushed the face shield up and peered at him. The sense of being watched had never faded, and if anything, she was more on edge.

She knew that face.

Jacob.

She blew out a breath, torn between relief, joy, and dread at seeing him again.

Emma came to a stop near the tailgate of her truck and pulled off her helmet, half-afraid to look at him.

“That’s a nice look.” Though Jacob’s words were easy, his posture was tense, as if he were a coil about to snap.

“Thanks. Helmet hair is all the rage these days.” She leaned forward on the handlebars. Sweat trickled down her spine, her chest, everywhere really. This was not how she’d expected to see him. “How’d you find me?”

“Called the shop. Simon told me.”

“Ah.” Now that made sense. Simon was more than ready for Derrick to be out of her life, and if that meant throwing another man at her, Simon would do it. Wasn’t the first time.

Jacob stared, scrutinizing everything about her. Was this what it felt like to be a suspect? She didn’t like it.

“Too bad you didn’t get here earlier. We could have done the flat track. Ridden a bike before?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind?”

“Motorcycle.”

“A road bike, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.”

Well this was like pulling teeth.

She swung her leg over the side of the bike and toed the kickstand into place. Whatever came next, it was bound to be the least fun she’d had all day. And here she’d thought it couldn’t get worse than standing in the Kelleys’ yard with Jacob angry at her.

God, she’d done that to him. Pushed him right to the edge of being that enraged—and she knew he had anger issues. It was so her fault. Could he forgive her? Not if he knew she’d followed him to the second scene, but she couldn’t keep secrets like that from him.

She crossed to the tailgate, took off her long-sleeved jersey, and started unzipping her impact rig. It was essentially a long-sleeved sports fabric shirt with crash pads for her upper body attached to it. She’d seen enough riders seriously injured on the track to never get on a bike without more than a helmet. Hell, she was kind of attached to breathing.

Prying the gear off was another matter altogether. She wiggled out of it, leaving her panting, her skin damp and her sports bra sticking to her. She peered out of the corner of her eye at Jacob and found him watching her still.

What did she say to him? How did she proceed?

He seemed willing to wait her out.

She grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler she’d stashed in the bed of the pick-up and faced him while she sucked down the chilled liquid, trying to come up with something else to say besides,
I’m sorry
.

“The FBI ever get here?” she asked for lack of anything else to say to him.

“Yeah, they’re working the case now.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip and sat on the tailgate. Fuck it. “I really am sorry about today.”

Jacob merely watched her. She wanted some reaction from him. A flicker of emotion. But all he gave her was a dead-pan stare.

“Why are you here, Jacob? You have every right to be pissed at me.” She didn’t have the energy to coax anything from him. If he was going to hate her, he might as well get on with it.

“You texted me.”

“And you never replied. I thought that was it.”

“I was busy all day.” He sighed and sat on the tailgate next to her. “Miller shit on us all. Then we got a letter in a fucking donut box with someone’s finger in it. The print was burned off, and it doesn’t match our last two victims. That means there’s a third out there. This guy is screwed up.”

She opened and closed her mouth, not sure how to respond to that. There was a third victim now? One they hadn’t found? That was unlike TBK, but they were dealing with someone new. She wanted to ask him questions, crawl into his brain and get him to tell her everything, but that wasn’t why he was here. If it was, he’d be asking her questions, telling her more.

Jacob needed a safe place to land. This case was fucking with him, probably more than her, and he’d come to her. Was there hope? Did she dare try to mend the bridge?

“The finger—are they looking for them?”

“Yeah.” Jacob nodded. “They told me to go home, get some rest.”

“Instead you showed up here, a track in the middle of nowhere?”

“I told you. Simon said you were here.”

“And you couldn’t call me?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I didn’t know if I would come,” he said finally.

Ouch.

“Because I betrayed your trust?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

She bit her lip, a little voice whispering,
He knows
.

“I followed you this morning,” she said. “After Harold’s house.”

Silence.

She wiggled her toes in her boots and took a long pull from her water bottle, waiting for him to yell at her, to rage or something. When he didn’t, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

“Are you going to say anything?” She turned toward him. Anger would be better than silence.

“I know you followed me. I saw you.” He twisted to face her as well. “Would you prefer if I yelled and screamed about it? Had you arrested?”

“I’m more used to the yelling, screaming, and hitting than the silence.” She tried to laugh, but it died on her lips. Her chest ached. This was some kind of twisted, goodbye-and-thanks-for-the-sex chat, wasn’t it? “I’d prefer to not be arrested, though I’m not against the use of handcuffs.”

Jacob’s lips were a thin, white line.

“Did he yell a lot?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She glanced away.

“Dad did sometimes. Not often. The silence was worse.”

“I can imagine.”

“They had a picture of you at the gas station. That’s how I knew you were there.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, it’s not a crime to go to a gas station, but it doesn’t look good. Did you leave at all last night, Em?”

She blinked at the shorted version of her name. “No. I went out to the truck to leave, but you followed me. You don’t think I did this?”

“No, but I have to ask.”

“Now you’ve asked.” She pushed off the tail gate.

She couldn’t even pretend to be angry, because he had every right to ask.

“Emma, there you are.”

Shit, couldn’t he leave her be?

“Derrick.” Her lips curled, and not in pleasure. “I thought I told you to fuck off.”

Derrick closed the distance between them and reached for her. She pushed his hands away and shoved at him.

“But, baby—” He’d left her voicemails all day.

“She said to fuck off.” Jacob came out of nowhere, shouldering between them and planting Derrick firmly on his ass with a simple shove to his chest.

Emma would have laughed had she not been shocked. In a split second she wasn’t at the track anymore. She was in a dirt driveway, clinging to her daddy’s arm as she held him back from kicking ass.

“Jacob, no—don’t!” She grabbed his arm. “He’s not worth it. Derrick, get your ass out of here, now.”

She cupped Jacob’s face and stared into the depths of his eyes. He practically vibrated with rage. With all that was going on with the investigation, it was no wonder he’d have a short fuse.

“Jacob, look at me.” She heard Derrick stomp off, which was for the best, since he was out of his league here.

Jacob’s gaze flicked to her and back over her shoulder. “Who the hell is that?”

“My lying, cheating ex-boyfriend. He must need money right now or else he wouldn’t be bothering me.”

“You deserve better than that.” His gaze narrowed, glaring over her shoulder.

“Yeah, well, lonely is lonely, and for all of his faults, Derrick was okay company. But he’s out of the picture now.”

“Is he?” Jacob finally looked at her, those sky-blues focused on her, pinning her.

“Yeah.” She splayed her hands on his chest. “He’s out of my life.”

“Good.”

Jacob bent toward her, and she held her breath as he gathered her close. She expected a crushing, bruising kiss, but he treated her with care, his lips whispering over hers. Her heart felt as if it stuttered to a stop. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for fear this was just a dream.

To: Black Widow

From: Mercy

Subject: Loose Cannon

I wouldn’t say anything, but I’m worried. Iron thinks he hears the voice of Mitchell Black speaking to him. I know Iron is one of our more eccentric members and he believes in reincarnation, but hearing him talk like that concerns me.

He also thinks that someday he and I will meet. I know you said to stay close to him and watch him, but I don’t think we should encourage this kind of a connection. I still think Iron is going to end up getting caught. The cat and mouse game he has planned with the police is too much. If he showed up here while the FBI is still looking for him, that could turn them on to what I’m doing.

Also, you might want to check the chat logs. Joe is still trying to get blood out of the white shirt he was wearing in that first video. He’s either going off his rocker or something else is going on. I’m sorry to dump that on you, but I’d rather tell you than you be unaware.

In the end, I’ll do whatever you say. I’m here to uphold the rules of the club and be a team player. I want you to know what Iron is up to right now. He’s at a crucial part of his plan. The third kill, but I think he’s too focused on the one who got away from TBK.

—Mercy

Jacob stalked into the duplex behind Emma, pausing to take his boots off. He was being an ass, and he couldn’t stop himself. There was this crazy, senseless chant running through his head he couldn’t silence.

Mine.

They had a history born from the same horrors. She soothed the monster inside of him with a touch, a glance. There was nothing but acceptance in her gaze when she looked at him. And, she made him smile. It wasn’t a big thing, but when so much of his life revolved around the dead and dying, smiles were hard to come by. He’d almost forgotten how one went about it. She cut through all that and touched him.

The last task of the day had been to call Laura Winthrop’s family, and he’d taken it upon himself once she’d been positively identified. The grandmother couldn’t hear, so he’d had to tell her children. Her goddamned children.

He had to catch this guy, if for no other reason than to let those kids sleep easier at night. They would have a better life than he had.

“Amanda’s not here this weekend. Or next week, for that matter. Want anything?” Emma turned to face him. She wore a paper thin t-shirt with the sleeves cut out. He could still see her hot pink sports bra though the fabric. Her nipples were two hard dots.

You.

“No.”

She seemed confused about his presence, but if she was looking for him to tell her his intentions, too bad. He didn’t know why he was here, except he needed to be near her. He could no more leave than cut off his own balls.

“Okay, I’m going to take a quick shower because I’m pretty sure I smell disgusting, then we can, I don’t know, watch a movie or something. If you’re still hungry, help yourself to something in the fridge.”

“Thanks.”

Emma studied him for a moment longer before shaking her head and turning into what must be one of the bedrooms. Maybe she was waiting on more of a comment from him? She’d chatted away nervously to him while they grabbed burgers, and he’d kept his replies monosyllabic. The truth was, he hadn’t had anything to say. He’d soaked up her presence, calming himself by simply being around her.

He made a slow circuit around the room, examining decorations, pictures, taking the measure of the mysterious Amanda, who had let Emma crash here.

For some reason, Derrick had taken him by surprise, though he shouldn’t. A woman with Emma’s looks and personality had to have a string of exes on one side, and a line of potential boyfriends on the other. How did he measure up to the rest of them? She seemed to have forgiven him for being a cop. But anything else? It was a mystery to him.

Amanda appeared to be a nurse of some sort. There were many pictures of her with her face smushed up against another, smiling at a camera. Emma was in a few, and in those the girls were making silly faces. He picked up one from a shelf where Emma and Amanda were in lawn chairs at what appeared to be a bonfire. They were leaning toward each other, mouths open, twisted into ridiculous expressions. He had no idea what the story behind the picture was, but he bet if he asked Emma about it she’d laugh first.

Jacob wanted to laugh like that, but couldn’t remember the last time he had.

He finished his circuit of the house, checking windows and doors to make sure they were locked. When Emma first mentioned staying with a friend, he’d been relieved. Someone else around to deter a single attacker from targeting her. Two people were harder to handle. Now that she was alone in a house, he wasn’t as thrilled. Anything could happen to her here by herself.

Despite her actions, his gut said he could trust her. Anyone else looking at her as a suspect would think otherwise. He was traversing a slippery slope, and he knew it. But he couldn’t walk away from her.

The sounds of her shower echoed through the small house. He peered through the doorway she’d gone through, and saw the bright rectangle of light cast across the bedroom floor. Steam billowed through the opening, and if he listened hard enough, he could hear her humming.