Blind: Killer Instincts (7 page)

“You must be really close with her.” Emma’s heart squeezed. Her mother had always been addicted to Daddy, and Daddy was addicted to the bottle. It hadn’t left much room for her.

“Yeah, we are.”

“She’s not jealous you’re passing up dinner with her tonight?”

“Mom moved to Florida a few years ago. Just me now.”

He slid the chicken into the oven and wiped his hands off while he studied her. She resisted the urge to fidget. God, she wanted to kiss that mouth again, but that wasn’t the reason he asked her over tonight. What did he see when he looked at her like that?

G

od, she was beautiful.

Jacob cleared his throat. He was staring when he needed to be talking.

“The chief is bringing in the feds to handle the case tomorrow. They’re flying down tonight to take over,” he said as he washed his hands, trying to get his mind back on why he’d asked her over. Which was not to leer at her amazing legs.

“What the fuck? No.” Emma slapped her hand on the countertop.

“It’s actually a good thing.”

“How is that a good thing? They’re taking your job from you.”

“Not really. Come over here for a minute.” He gestured toward the corduroy couches set up around the fireplace. “My LT is a good face for the media, and he knows how to play department politics, but he’s not the best detective. I’m actually relieved we’re bringing someone else in. They’ll handle it ten times better than he or I would.”

There. He’d said it out loud. As much as it chapped his ass to not be in charge, it was the best decision.

They settled on the couches, beer in hand, and the files he’d brought home with him spread out on the coffee table. He shouldn’t show her these, but she was the only other person who got this like he did.

Emma studied him, her brow furrowed and mouth screwed up into a puzzled expression he wanted to smooth away with his mouth, to tease a smile from her. He might have forgotten how to smile, but he could enjoy the way she lit up a room with one. He was in awe of her. She’d built a life for herself out from under the shadow of what had happened to their parents. To them. He didn’t know if he could be half as strong as her, were he in her shoes. Life was hard enough where he was now.

She was still staring at him with that odd look on her face.

Right, they weren’t talking about her.

They were talking about the case.

Jacob knew his decision didn’t make a lot of sense to others. He should want to stay lead on the investigation. It would be a career-changing opportunity. But he’d never put much stock in moving up the ladder. He didn’t want to be promoted to a desk, playing nice with crooks in suits. All he’d ever wanted to do was put killers behind bars. And if that meant bringing in the feds, well, he’d play chauffeur and babysitter if that’s what it meant. Besides, he’d be close enough to the action, and profilers were a different creature entirely. He could learn something from them.

“So...what happened? Why are they saying it’s TBK?” She sipped her beer, brow still marred by those lines.

“Body posing. Removal of the eyes. The letters.” He ticked off each on his fingers, but took a deep breath before laying the last item out there. “Sexual orientation.”

“What?”

“TBK’s first vic was a woman suspected to be part of the lesbian community, but it was thirty years ago. No one talked about that. Today, our vic runs the OKC Pride Week. I mean, he had—”

“Harold?” Emma gasped.

Jacob went still, every fiber in his body screaming. “You knew him?”

She set her beer down and turned to face him, her face a little pale. “Not really. I mean, I met him once. He came out to the track to talk to some of the guys that run the local motocross series about doing a special Pride Week thing. We talked a little. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, I’m just—tired.” He glanced away, his thoughts whirling away. Harold was a people person. It shouldn’t surprise Jacob that Harold would know someone in about every circle of people. Jacob was grasping for straws where there weren’t any. It was coincidence that Emma had run into Harold once, nothing more.

“But it is a copycat?” she asked.

“I think so. It’s not a serial killer investigation—yet—but I’m afraid it’s going to become that soon.” He eased back onto the cushions, letting the age-worn sofa cradle him.

“What qualifies a serial killer? Is there a test? A quiz?”

He chuckled. “I would have thought you knew these things.”

“Hey, I’m not the cop here.” She leaned against the arm of the sofa, her legs stretched toward him and smiled. He had a feeling she knew the power of her looks, which was why he didn’t feel quite so lecherous admiring her.

“How’d you start doing that lawn ornament stuff? I saw your website.” He sipped his beer, enjoying the view.

“Such a stalker.” She shook her head, but the smile was back. “Shop class in high school. Someone gave me a blow torch, and I found out I could do something besides drive really fast. When did you have time to find out so much about me?”

“Before our date.”

“Is that what we’re calling last night now, a date?”

“You did let me buy you dinner.”

One side of her mouth hitched higher. “And you did kiss me.”

Yes he had, and he wanted to do it again. He tightened his hold on the bottle. He knew what her hair between his fingers felt like, what she sounded like when she panted for breath, and he knew how her lips tasted. And he wanted more.

They stared at each other, and he had to wonder what she was thinking. She said she didn’t like cops. Hell, she’d all but run from him, but now she was back of her own free will. What secrets was she hiding? Did he want to know them?

The aroma of baking chicken, herbs, and cheese wafted through the space, but nothing else existed between them.

Emma tucked her feet under her. He held his breath as she crawled across the cushions like some sex kitten until she invaded his space, one arm braced on the side of the sofa. He didn’t move, wanting to see what she would do. She studied his face, so close now he could see flecks of gold in her brown eyes. She’d come to him. Last night he’d promised himself he wouldn’t bother her.

Not unless she came to him.

He threaded his fingers through her loose hair, but it was her who leaned in, closing the distance between their mouths until he felt the whisper of air on his skin. He’d thought about her mouth, her lips, and kissing her again last night and all through the day. He curled his fingers in her hair, tugging her closer.

The timer in the kitchen screamed the second her lips brushed his. She smiled against his mouth. He pulled her closer. One touch of skin on skin wasn’t enough. He could eat her up all night long, given the opportunity, but then he’d burn the whole house down.

She sat up, grinning while he glared.

“Tease,” he muttered.

“Hey, I don’t lack follow-through.”

Her laugh followed him all the way into the kitchen.

Jacob pulled the chicken out of the oven and paused to adjust himself. What had he been thinking when he suggested she come over? Oh right, having a nice, private discussion about an ongoing investigation, which he was not supposed to do. But, there weren’t a lot of people who understood the draw of this case, how it had changed his family. Hell, Emma might not really get it, but at least she understood why a copycat bothered him so much.

In a matter of a few minutes he had the chicken parmesan plated and served at the dining table.

He could feel Emma’s gaze on him, as if she weren’t undressing him with her eyes but stripping away layers, leaving him on edge and slightly raw. He wanted to push her onto her back, kiss her, and forget the meal. If she knew what he was thinking, she’d run from him.

“Smells amazing.” Her foot bumped his leg under the table as she twirled the pasta on her fork. “Anger issues, huh?”

He paused, utensils in hand. Anger was the tip of the iceberg. He learned control, tricks to manage his short fuse, and to never initiate intimacy unless he was calm. Emma stirred insistent needs in him that weren’t controllable. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Yup.” He focused on cutting his chicken into neat, precise bites.

“I called Daddy today. Well, I called, and my mom answered. Their TV antenna’s down so they haven’t seen the news. I told her to make sure they didn’t fix it. The last thing anyone needs is Daddy on a binge.” She sighed and took a dainty bite.

“I thought they were off the grid completely?”

“Yes, and no.”

He shrugged. The less he knew the better.

“How was that? Growing up with him, I mean? Mom said it changed Dad.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember, of course. I was still a baby by the time TBK got really going on that last spree.”

“Daddy’s pretty fucked up in the head, but he and Mom were together before it all happened. I think she thought she could save him, which is why she’s stayed with him through the cheating and the drinking.”

“Did he ever get physical with her or you?”

“Oh yeah.” She shrugged it off as if it were okay her father had laid a hand on her.

“What?” His vision hazed red, and he gripped his fork tighter than was necessary.

“Look, it wasn’t like he beat us or anything. I’m not saying it’s okay, but every now and then he’d get really drunk and start in on something. We knew to stay out of his way—”

“Your file. It was his fault you got arrested, wasn’t it?”

Emma sat up a little straighter and stared at her plate.

“Shit.” He dropped his fork and leaned back, crossing his hands behind his head.

“Do you look to see if all your dates have records?”

He pursed his lips. “Yes.”

“You must be a blast to date. Do you get reports whenever your girlfriend get a ticket?”

“No.”

“Lighten up, sheesh.” She blew out a breath and propped her chin on her hand. “You told me last night you knew. I don’t like thinking about that. And yes, the only reason I was driving drunk was because he tried to put a bullet in me. We were all drinking that night, but he got it in his head he’d do me a service and kill me before someone else did. Cops got me a few miles down the street. I got off light, all things considered, especially since Dad was firing his gun and causing a stir with the neighbors. Cops had more than a crying girl to deal with. What I did was wrong. I knew it then, and I know it now, but all I was thinking about was that I needed to get away. Fast.”

Jacob nodded. He’d known that, but it was different hearing her say it instead of reading the report for himself. Her parents had lived in Oklahoma City still, and she’d barely been past twenty-one. Hell, her mug shot made her look all of sixteen. Emma was hell on wheels. Nothing would keep her down.

“You know my less than desirable history, and I know you struggle with anger management issues. We’ve both survived families branded by a killer, and we are now reliving their nightmare. What other topics should we hit on tonight? Politics? Religion? Take your pick. Might as well get the other touchy topics out of the way.”

He chuckled. “I don’t side with either of the major political parties.”

“Me neither. They’re almost the same thing now, just different stances on what they spend tax dollars. Religion?”

“I’m...spiritual. Parents were Baptists.”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m spiritual, too. Never been big on church, but I think there’s got to be something—bigger—out there.”

He nodded. “I agree.”

Emma smiled slowly as she chewed. “There, all the awkward topics are off the table. Unless you want to talk about sexual partners? I mean, we can hit all the tricky stuff at once.”

Jacob laughed despite the absurdity of the conversation. “I’m practically married to my work.”

“I’d believe it. I can smell the stress on you. You should lighten up a little. Maybe take up boxing? Or MMA. Those little shorts those guys wear are hot. I bet your ass would look really good in them.”

“You’ve been checking out my ass?”

“Hell yes, just like you’ve been looking at my boobs.”

“Guilty.”

“Hey, my boobs are pretty great, so I don’t blame you for looking.”

Jacob found himself relaxing, which was unexpected.

She placed her fork and knife on the plate before pushing it away from her a bit. She sat up a little straighter, folding her hands one over the other, and leaned forward, her gaze full of mischief. What was she up to?

“I have to use the restroom,” she announced.

That was not what he’d expected.

“Hallway behind me, first door on the right.”

He watched her sashay away from him. She was a free spirit and rough around the edges. They had little in common besides TBK. And yet, he was drawn to her, which made no sense at all. At least not until his cock factored into the equation, and then there was no question what he wanted from her.

Emma stared at her reflection and blew out a breath.

What the hell was happening here?

She braced her hands on the counter and hung her head forward. She didn’t need to pee. She needed to clear her thoughts.

When Jacob had asked her to come over, she’d expected two things. The first was to discuss the copycat. The second wasn’t a guarantee, but she wouldn’t turn down sex. Now, with all their cards on the table, her palms were damp, her pulse was too quick, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the way he put food in his damn mouth. She wanted that mouth back on her. And not in a one-time-only kind of way.

Desire was something she embraced, but this level of lust was burning her up from the inside out. She almost wondered if he drugged her food, but considering he was a rule-following type, she doubted he’d do that. Then again, he didn’t need drugs to get in her panties. She’d throw them at him if he wanted her to. And he was a cop!

It made no damn sense, which was how she found herself hiding in the bathroom.

What kind of a date included talking crime scenes and serial killers? She choked out a bitter laugh. Of course TBK would touch even this part of her life. Hell, even for a few years, whenever she raced, people called her “that TBK girl.” But she was more than her family history, and so was Jacob.