Bring the Heat (8 page)

“I asked you to lunch,” he insisted.

Laura shrugged. “Okay, thanks. I'll be glad to return the favor next time.”

His eyes crinkled and lit with happiness. “Next time. Right.”

Austin seemed distracted as they walked back to his truck, and no wonder. It occurred to Laura that he hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours. She couldn't imagine the turmoil in his mind, knowing a killer pasted his face on each victim he tortured and killed. Knowing he burned to culminate his sick fantasies by doing the same to Austin.

He opened the passenger door for her, but instead of climbing in, Laura turned to face him. On impulse, she reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingers,
stood on tiptoe, and placed a gentle kiss there. The quick intake of breath betrayed his surprise.

She pulled back just enough to peer into those incredible green eyes, swirling with emotion. Steeling herself, she spoke before her nerve fled.

“Austin, I don't want anything to happen to you, because if it did, who would drive me crazy?” she murmured with a half smile, playing with a lock of hair at his collar. The strands curled around her finger, like dark fire.

“Laura.” He groaned, closing his eyes.

“Who would make me so damn nuts I can't see straight? Who would—”

Without warning, Austin pulled her against the hard length of his body and crushed his mouth down on hers. Not a soft kiss, but the hungry kiss of a starving man, tempted beyond reason.

Laura melted into him as he backed her against the side of the truck. He spread his legs, fitting them together intimately, his mouth never leaving hers. Big hands cupped her head, buried themselves in her hair. She opened herself to him and his tongue swept inside. Hot, demanding, erotic. Deeper.

Oh yes
. Her body sought his, pressing as close as possible, loving his strength and heat wrapped around her. His erection ground into her stomach, seeking sanctuary. Her hands skimmed the nape of his neck, face, and broad shoulders. Wishing them away from here. Someplace where they'd make love for days, and he would be safe from a monster.

Austin broke the kiss, breathing like an Olympic
runner, eyes glazed with desire. He shook his head. “God, Laura. I—I'm sorry,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I didn't mean to—”

She placed a finger over his lips. “Don't apologize. That was the most awesome kiss I've ever experienced. Gave the term
spontaneous combustion
a whole new meaning.”

“I shouldn't have done that.” But he was still attached to her like shrink-wrap.

Laura smiled. “But you did it very well.”

He dropped his hands, backed away a couple of steps. “I shouldn't let that happen again, for your sake.”

Uh-oh. He had that deer-in-the-headlights expression, morphing fast into full retreat mode. “Too bad, Captain Rainey,” she said, climbing into the truck. “Because you're going to.”

He moved to stand in her door, preventing her from shutting it, a mock scowl furrowing his brow. “You think so, do you?”

“I know so.”

To prove it, she pulled him in for another blistering kiss designed to curl his toes and leave him wanting much more. She wanted him thinking of her tonight, and anytime he was alone.

His cell phone interrupted with the quirky tune from
Inspector Gadget
. Pulling away with a muttered apology, he snatched the thing from inside his jacket
and answered. He walked to the front of his truck, but she overheard anyway.

“Rainey.” Austin paused. As he listened, his mouth tightened. “What was her name? Physical description, clothing . . .”

The color drained from his face. “I'll be there soon.” He braced his hands on the hood of his truck and lowered his head. “Jesus Christ.”

Laura leaped out of the truck and hurried to his side, laying a hand on his sleeve. “What's happened?”

He raised tortured eyes to hers. “What I was afraid of. The girl from the Waterin' Hole. She's
dead.”

Austin had once been called to the scene of a suicide. The man had jumped off an overpass into a gulley some forty feet below. He often wondered what had gone through the man's mind in those final moments.

Austin didn't want to die, but he was falling, and the ground was rushing up with alarming speed.

When Ashley had been murdered, she'd clawed furrows in her own neck, desperate to breathe as the belt choked her. The knowledge of the terror she must've suffered as she died had nearly driven him insane. And her estranged husband, the police captain, hadn't been there to save her. His grief and remorse had almost killed him.

Now another woman was dead, and his carelessness might've put Laura's life in danger. If the woman's ID checked out, Stacy Mead had been brutally murdered for much less than a kiss.

A kiss that had set his blood on fire. Had made his lonely broken heart slam in his chest. He'd looked into Laura's perfect face, buried his hands in dark silk, pressed the curve of her lush body to his, and God, it was as if he'd waited a lifetime to feel whole again. How had the woman trampled his defenses into dust?

For Laura's sake, he couldn't let it happen again, no matter what she claimed. Even if the idea of her going out with Danny—perhaps sharing her fiery kisses with his friend—caused inky black rage to spread through his soul.

How rich that he'd been putting off acting on his feelings for her for so long. Just when they found their way to each other, the reason they did meant they had to stay apart.

Austin shook himself back to the present. After insisting on accompanying him to the scene to meet up with Forensics, Laura had fallen silent. Austin didn't want her anywhere near the killer's handiwork, couldn't stand the thought of evil brushing against her. But this was her job, and nobody did it better. They had no room for mistakes.

Danny met them at the entrance to the alley, and they went in together. Austin tried to block the scattered images of the last time his footsteps had made a walk like this. And failed.

Sweat rolled between his shoulder blades, down the side of his face.
You've seen dead women before. This one's no different
.

Before they entered the room, Danny briefed him. “Our officer who responded said city workers showed up behind the Waterin' Hole to empty the garbage. Found her body stashed beside the Dumpster. I won't lie to you. This could be rough.”

“Why?”

“She was strangled.”

His gut churned. “I can handle it.”

Laura cut a curious look at him as Danny clapped him on the shoulder. Austin approached first. The sharp tang of garbage mingled with the foul stench of death assailed his nostrils. Cool air whispered over his damp skin, causing him to shiver. Or maybe it was the awful reminder that, in the end, no one escapes this fate. Such a stark, impersonal tomb. A cold, undignified period at the end of lives once filled with sorrow, joy, hope.

Like Ashley and his baby.
Why?

He and Danny flashed their shields at the officer who'd been awaiting their arrival. Satisfied, the guy indicated the body draped with a sheet.

“Some bastard really did a number on the poor girl,” he said in disgust. “Ready?”

Danny nodded. “Go ahead.”

The cop pulled back the sheet and Austin recognized her immediately.

“Yeah, that's the girl from the club. Stacy.” His voice wavered.

“Jesus,” Danny muttered.

Long blond hair, low-cut black dress, generous breasts. His gaze slid to her hands. Bloodred fingernails that had been curled around her wineglass. Her neck . . .

A deep purple line bisected the creamy softness of her throat just under the jawbone. She'd clawed her neck. Fought for her life.

Oh God
. Her mottled face became Ashley's. Then the face morphed into Laura's striking, angular features surrounded by long dark hair. He began to shake. The
ground rocked under his feet and he clutched his roiling stomach.

“Austin, are you okay?” Laura cried.

Danny grabbed his arm. “Easy, buddy. Need to step away?”

“Yeah.”

The unruffled assistant jerked a thumb. “The back door to the club is open at the moment. Men's restroom is down the hall on the left.”

Austin staggered inside and down the corridor, burst into the restroom. He stumbled into a stall, sank to his knees, barely making the toilet before his stomach rejected its contents. Hugging the rim, he coughed and gagged, unable to dispel the horrid mirage of Laura's face superimposed over Stacy Mead's.

How long he knelt there trembling, he wasn't sure. Long enough for the tread of hesitant footsteps on cold tile. Danny's steady voice, rife with worry.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just give me another minute,” Austin rasped.

“You've got it.” But he didn't leave.

Finally, Austin stood on rubbery knees, flushed the toilet, and wobbled to the sink. He splashed water on his face, rinsed the foulness from his mouth. Danny came to stand beside him, lending strength in his quiet way.

“I've never lost anyone as close to me as you have,” his friend said at last. “But I know about loss. I understand what it means to have your heart ripped out, and to learn the past won't stay buried. I'm here for you now, whatever you need.”

Austin glanced at him, blinking water from his eyes. At least he
hoped
the moisture was water. “Thanks. And for the record, I'm falling for Laura.”

“You don't say.” Danny crossed his arms. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

“Doesn't matter. You saw what happened to Stacy Mead. A relationship is out of the question.” Saying that aloud caused a terrible ache in his chest.

“I agree, keeping an emotional distance from her is for the best, until your stalker is caught. But once this is over—” His friend shrugged, letting the statement hang.

“We'd kill each other inside of a week.” He didn't really believe that, though.

“Fine. Be an idiot and lose a fantastic lady to a man who'll treat her like a queen, the way she deserves. Because I'm warning you, if you fuck around with Laura's feelings and she ends up hurt,
I'll
whack off your balls.”

Austin winced. “Jesus. You're supposed to be on
my
side.”

“I always have been, my friend.” He squeezed Austin's shoulder. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

With pleasure
. His exhausted brain couldn't handle another nasty shock. They'd pummeled him for hours, one after another, until his insides felt bruised and bleeding.

Only burying himself in Laura's heated kiss had soothed the pain.

But once more, the gods had played a cruel joke on
him. Laura Eden was a sweet, magical elixir he couldn't afford to sip.

And Laura's life was a price he'd never pay.

•   •   •

Austin's official statement from the Sugarland PD announcing the serial murders aired at five o'clock. At his insistence, an unhappy Laura stayed at the station, but not before putting up a fuss. Austin refused to argue the matter.

The cameraman zoomed in for a close-up of Austin standing on the steps of the police department building. Austin relayed only the most basic facts to the public. No frills.

The killer, a male, had lured a man named Matt Blankenship from a local bar, followed him home, and murdered him. Evidence also had tied him to the murder of a local pregnant woman, whom Austin admitted was his own wife. His voice wavered, and he bitterly wondered whether sympathetic viewers would go easier on the police.

All men and women should exercise good common sense.
Don't pick up strangers. Guard your beverages carefully; never leave them unattended. Use the buddy system—make sure your friends know when you leave and who you're with.
He'd have more updates as the case developed.

Stacy Mead's murder and her connection to the case were kept under wraps. Austin wanted the caller, the man he believed to be the killer, to admit to the murder. Plus, the police always kept some details from the press and general public that only the killer would know.

Afterward, he called Danny, asked if he'd follow Laura home from work and see her safely inside her condo.

“Me?” his friend asked in surprise. “You don't want to do it?”

“No.”

“Ah, okay. Remember what I said?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he snapped.

Danny agreed to the favor with no further questioning. Austin knew his smitten partner wouldn't waste a second asking Laura to dinner. And she'd accept.

“Goddammit.” A shitty end to a crazy roller coaster of a day.

Exhausted and strung out, Austin headed home a little early. Normally, he enjoyed the peace and solitude of the drive. Loved the power of the big truck wrapped around him, Aerosmith pumping from the stereo. Today, the loud music only added to the static in his head, and he shut it off.

Once home, he trudged inside, up the stairs. In his bedroom, the boots came off first, followed by the rest of his clothing. Naked, he flopped onto the bed, thinking he should take a quick shower, get something to eat.

Then the day caught up with him, and he fell headfirst into the welcome abyss that swallowed him whole.

Chest heaving, he wept beside Ashley's casket, two of his detectives holding him upright.

I'm so sorry. For you, our baby. Oh God, no no.

Tears of bitter grief streamed down his face. Sorrow wrapped his body in chains, sank him to the depths of the
ocean. He longed to suck the water into his lungs, let the darkness drown him. Only one thing stopped him.

She had fought for survival, for their child, with every ounce of her strength. He wouldn't make a mockery of their lives by so easily giving up on his own.

He'd drag himself from the darkness, and when he did, he'd find the bastard who'd cut their lives short. Tear him apart, one limb at a time.

I'll find him, he cried.
I swear.

Austin awoke with a start, chest aching, throat burning. Tears dampened his cheeks, his hair. He rolled to his back, wiped an arm across his face. God, how long had it been since he'd had the nightmare? Weeks.

Shadows cloaked his bedroom. He'd slept straight through the afternoon and into the night, without setting the frigging security system. Jesus. Drawing a shaky breath, he rose, yanked on a pair of cutoff shorts, grabbed his gun, and made a sweep through the house, switching on lights as he went.

Nothing. Satisfied, he set the alarm and was heading through the living room when the phone rang.

His pulse did a funny leap. Calls this late never brought good news. Especially now. His false sense of safety vanished as he moved to the phone resting on the table by his favorite recliner.
BLOCKED NUMBER
.

“Shit.” He breathed. Either the killer had struck again or Austin's appearance on the news had shaken his world. Or, God help him, both. His brilliant plan hadn't included what he'd say to the bastard if he called again. Every muscle tense, he pressed record on
the small black unit hooked to the phone, then picked up the receiver. “Rainey.”

“Stupid cop,” the man snapped. “What sort of game do you think you're playing?”

Oh Christ. This conversation was going to be like creeping through a minefield. Blindfolded. The killer's voice sharp as the sting of a blade at his throat.

“Playing games is your forte, asshole. Why don't we end this? You think you're so tough, let's meet and you can take your best shot.”

Silence. He heard rapid breathing, pictured him trying to assimilate the curveball he'd thrown, force his words into his narrow perception of reality. And he hoped to hell the guys had time to trace the call. But he doubted the killer would be so careless.

“Like I said, stupid,” the caller hissed. “Dumb as that blond bitch who came on to you the other night. Told you she learned, didn't I?”

Stacy Mead
. Not exactly a confession, but close enough to remove any lingering doubts.

His blood chilled. Did the bastard understand that he'd committed murder but honestly have no remorse? If so, he wasn't dealing with a psychopath, but a true sociopath. An individual capable of distinguishing right from wrong, fantasy from reality, but possessing no conscience. The real deal.

“There's no need to involve anyone else in this. I'll be at the Waterin' Hole tomorrow night, waiting for you. You want me, come and get me.”

The man laughed. “Tempting. Maybe I'll show,
maybe I won't. You'll just have to be surprised. And come alone.”

“I'll be there.”
Damn
.

“Sweet dreams, Captain.” The caller hung up.

Austin dropped heavily into the recliner, replacing the receiver in its cradle. Less than ten seconds later, it rang again.

“Rainey.”

“Not enough time, man. We almost had the fucker.”

“I figured as much. Thanks anyway, Jamie.” Austin sighed.

“You bet. We'll nail this guy—don't worry.”

Hanging up, Austin clasped his trembling hands. Christ, what had he done? Made a date with a killer. Yep, that ranked high on the list of Top Ten Dumb-Ass Stunts Austin Has Pulled. Funny thing was, he couldn't remember the last time he'd given a rat's ass whether one of those stunts got him killed or not. Until recently.

Until a dark-eyed beauty got under his skin, shook his dull, colorless existence, and roused him back to life. Along with his raging desire.

But he wouldn't let her into his heart. He'd given that part of himself once, only to have it ripped beating from his chest and handed back to him on a platter. He'd never survive the agony again.

A bullet to the brain would be quicker, and much kinder.

•   •   •