Obsession Untamed (5 page)

“I’m fine. I’m working normal hours, taking weekends off, all the things you told me to.”

“Yeah, sure. And what are you doing with all that free time? Tell me that.”

She smiled sweetly. Innocently. “Scrapbooking.”

Phil gave a bark of laughter. “You’re stubborn, Randall. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You. All the time.”

“I’ve always liked that about you.” His expression turned serious as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. “You’re one of the best agents I have, Delaney, but I worry about you. You’re determined to catch them all, and you can’t. Nobody can.”

Delaney rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. “I don’t have to catch them all. Just the ones I’m after.”

Phil shook his head. “Stubborn, stubborn.” His expression softened. “A four-day weekend, Delaney. That’s all I’m asking. If you’re bored, call Mary. Since our youngest left for college, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. I’m sure she’d be delighted to meet you for lunch or some shopping. Sleep. Eat. Maybe even read a book. Do something that has absolutely nothing to do with the D.C. Vampire for four days.” He nodded once, sharply. “That’s an order.”

She gave him a wry look that held a hint of a smile. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

His expression softened the way her father’s used to after he’d scolded her, right before he told her he still loved her. The liar.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I weren’t.” Phil waved his hand toward the door. “Now go home and turn on the television. And make it a comedy. When you walk in here Wednesday morning, I
want you looking like the living again instead of the half-dead.”

Delaney made a face at him but didn’t say any more as she rose, lifted her hand in a brief farewell, and left. Taking a long weekend might actually work to her advantage. Maybe if she weren’t so tired, she’d start seeing the visions clearly again, without the accompanying migraine.

Then, if she could just figure outwhere the next murder was taking place, she might be able to get there in time to stop it. Or at least, in time to catch the murderer.

That son of a bitch was going down.

As she walked to her car, she prayed she’d get another vision soon. But as she slid her key into the ignition of her Toyota SUV, her head exploded with pain.Too soon.

The keys dropped to the floor with a jangle as Delaney grabbed the steering wheel, gasping. Her vision went until all she could see were wildly colored jagged shapes that cut through her head and stole her breath with excruciating agony. Her skin turned to ice even as beads of sweat rolled between her breasts.

A scream tore through her brain. A scream not her own.

Amid the tearing color she caught glimpses of a scene. An unknown woman’s face contorted in terror. A body lying on a pitted and stained linoleum floor.

The visions and colors flew at her, clawing at her
mind until the pain ran in bright red rivulets that slowly turned to black.

“Hey, lady!”

Delaney blinked, a god-awful noise blaring in her ears as she awoke with a jolt. She straightened, releasing the steering wheel. The noise abated at once.

The horn. She’d been leaning on the horn.

The fog of confusion dissipated through the ache that still filled her head. She’d had another vision. Or maybe just one hell of a migraine. A migraine with dead people.

The tapping resumed on her window, and she turned to find the garage attendant staring at her through the glass. She reached for the keys, remembered they’d fallen, and leaned down to search for them with shaking fingers. Finally, she managed to snag them, start the car, and lower the window.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “Did you pass out or something?”

“I fell asleep. I’m fine.” With that, she backed out of the parking space and left the garage to join the heavy flow of traffic. Phil had told her she looked half-dead. She was beginning to think he might have been closer to the truth than she wanted to believe. Maybe she was coming down with the flu. The visions were just fever-induced hallucinations.

And maybe the man who’d attacked her had given her something in addition to the visions. Some kind of deadly disease.

She groaned. If she still felt so bad in the morning, she’d go to the doctor. Right now, all she wanted to do was to get home and sleep. Please God,without another vision, or she’d never make it home at all.

She white-knuckled it the entire trip to Fairlington, but made it without incident. As she fumbled with her keys in the lock of her condo, a cat leaped into her line of sight, startling her. Her keys fell from her nerveless fingers, but the pretty tabby barely seemed to notice, sliding instead around her ankle.

“Sorry about that, fella. Where’d you come from?” She stroked the animal’s orange-striped fur as she bent down to retrieve her keys. “You’re a pretty thing, but you don’t want to stay near me tonight. If I’m getting sick, like I think I am, things are bound to get disgusting. Go home.”

But he only purred and rubbed his face against her pant leg. Delaney gave his chin a scratch, then rose and managed to get the key in the lock. As she pushed open the door, the cat raced inside.

Blast it. She was so not up to chasing a cat. Unless he changed his mind fast, he was going to have to spend the night.

The animal turned and sat in the bedroom doorway, watching her as she set her briefcase on the large dining table that constituted the only real furniture in her living room. On the table sat her laptop and computer and a host of case files. Covering the walls of the room were maps, photos of the missing, and the crime-scene photos of the dead. Her office away from the office. Although Phil had made her promise not to come in to work any more
than fifty hours a week, she never quit working, as the too-shrewd man knew all too well.

She met the cat’s eerily sharp gaze. “Believe me, if you’re looking for a home, this isn’t it.”

She swayed on her feet and grabbed the back of the nearest straight-backed chair wishing, for once, she’d bothered to buy a sofa. The only place she could relax was the bed. And that was where she needed to be.

The cat’s soft, deep purr caressed her frayed nerves, as if he sensed how lousy she felt. It was kind of nice feeling like someone cared, even if he was really just asking for food. Maybe with her working more hours from home, she could takehaving a pet off that wish list reserved for the distant future. A future she hadn’t thought she was going to see for a brief few minutes in the laundry room of the Potomac Side Apartments.

The cat moved out of her way as she went into the bedroom, then resumed his watchful pose as she pulled off her suit jacket and tossed it on the bed.

“I had a cat once,” she told him. “I had a lot of things once, until a scumbag caught my mom on a deserted stretch of running trail.” She shrugged. “Now I have a purpose.”

As she divested herself of both weapons and kicked off her shoes, she felt like the cat was studying her. Something in his eyes almost seemed to be assessing her.

As if she hadn’t gotten enough of that from Phil already.

She shook her head at him. “I don’t have to justify myself to you, too. I didn’t invite you in here, in case you’ve forgotten.” She unfastened her pants and slid them down her hips, then turned her back on him as she reached into her closet for a hanger. “You’re welcome to go anytime you want to, just don’t look at me like I don’t measure up.”

“I’d say your measurements are just about perfect.”

Delaney spun at the sound of the deep male voice. And froze. The D.C. Vampire stood in her doorway watching her as intently as the cat had moments before.

Son of abitch .

Her headache and jitters disappeared in a rush of adrenaline and anger. This time, he was going down.

She whirled, reaching for her Glock. And never touched it. He slammed her back against the wall, wrenching her arms above her head, capturing her wrists in a single large hand even as he pressed his body against hers. Eye to eye with the buttons of his burgundy silk shirt, she fought for her life. Struggling to free her hands, she tried to ram her knee into his groin.

He stopped her cold, nailing her to the wall with his pelvis.

Her breath heaved. Fury swirled in her mind as his size and sheer strength overwhelmed her.Twice , he’d gotten her. Twice. It was inexcusable.

The blood pounded fast and hard through her veins as she stared up into his face, her own re
flected in his dark wraparound sunglasses. God, she’d never seen anyone so ugly on the inside who was so incredibly good-looking on the outside. Was that how he got so close to his victims?

Her mind lurched with realization. “How did you get in here?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” His voice was deep and rich, as pleasing as his looks even as he gripped her jaw, immobilizing her with an ease that terrified her. For years, she’d trained hard so this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. So she wouldn’t find herself the prey instead of the hunter.

So she wouldn’t end up like her mother.

Yet, in the end, she had. The tightness of the killer’s mouth, the determination in every line of his face let her know he intended to finish what he’d started yesterday. And her utter inability to move beneath his iron grip told her there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Blast it! If she thought begging would help, she might have tried to force the words past her pride. But not for a second did she believe he’d listen to her. The man had shown his other victims no mercy whatsoever. None. For God’s sake, he’d killed two children.

He was utterly without a conscience.

Hatred flared hot and coarse, burning through her blood. “You’re going to pay, you bastard, for all the lives you’ve stolen. Sooner or later, they’ll catch you, and you’re going to fry.”

“Right,” he muttered.

She tried again to jerk her face out of his hold, but he only tightened his grip.

“Hold still, or you’re going to have bruises.”

His words caught her so off guard, she laughed, a single, humorless release of sound.“Bruises? Are you kidding? I’m going to be dead.”

“I’m not going to kill you.” The words were terse. Frustrated. “Now will you look into my goddamn eyes?”

She stared at him. Was it possible she was dreaming this? Maybe having a fever-induced nightmare? Because the way this was going down made less than no sense. The killer, appearing out of nowhere, only wanted her to look into his eyes.Right .

But incomprehensible or not, she knew she wasn’t dreaming. The bite of the man’s fingers on her jaw was too clear. His scent too real. Too…luscious.

She groaned. “I’ve got to be dreaming.”

“You are dreaming. Now look into my eyes!”

“I am!” she snapped back. “Or I’m trying to. It might be easier to do if you took off those ridiculous sunglasses. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s nighttime.”

He growled low, the sound almost that of a jungle animal. Oh yeah, she was moving from nightmare to delirium. Any minute now Phil the Easter Bunny was going to hop into the room. And she probably wouldn’t even notice, so mesmerized was she by the killer’s amazing mouth.

Definitely delirious.

Something brushed her mind, a softness, almost a warmth that eased the lingering pain of the vision.

“You won’t remember my face,” the man murmured softly in that deep, sexy voice.

“Of course not.” Like she could ever forgetthat face.

He wasn’t beautiful. Such a word implied a degree of softness, and there wasn’t one soft thing about the man’s features. Strong jaw, hard cheekbones, and a mouth that could have been sculpted by the finest artist. Not a single softness about him, yet his looks were utterly arresting.

“I’m dreaming, remember?”

The growl that rumbled in the man’s throat sounded more pained than threatening, his mouth thinning with displeasure. The softness brushed her mind stronger than before, sending a shiver of pleasure rippling through her blood.

His scent teased her nostrils, increasing the pleasure playing with her senses. He smelled wonderful. Like the air after a thunderstorm, clean and fresh, and a little wild. The feel of his body pressing against hers sent heat coursing through her veins to pool damply between her legs.

Heaven help her, she was turning into one mentally disturbed puppy because this guy was actually turning her on.

The man sucked in a breath as if he could feel her body’s traitorous response to him. The hand at her jaw gentled, his thumb brushing over her skin, melting her from the inside out.

Against her abdomen, the hard, thick length of him swelled. Her body quickened, her breasts turning tight and heavy.

This was sick.Sick . He was a killer!

“Let go of me.”

“Can’t do that, brown eyes. Besides, it’s a dream, remember?”

His voice slid through her like warm syrup.

She was losing it, absolutely losing it if she was getting turned on by the man who was preparing to kill her.After he raped her. Though, heaven help her, she wasn’t sure it wouldbe rape. The thought of him taking her, sliding that thick shaft deep inside her, made her body clench and weep.