The First Victim (15 page)

Emily nodded, knowing that what he said made sense, but also knowing it wasn’t what she wanted.

Plopping a couple of slices onto plates, they sat down at the table and began to eat in silence. They each polished off a piece and he’d started in on his second before either of them spoke.

“You’re going to leave again, aren’t you?”

She blinked, startled. His words seemed to be loaded with emotion, maybe outright hostility.

“I have a life to get back to, Bay.”

“And Laurie?”

“I don’t know.”

“And me?” He met her gaze steadily.

“I…Bailey, this afternoon it was—”

“So help me, Em, if you say it was a mistake…”

“I was going to say a pleasant diversion.”

He threw what remained of his slice onto his plate. “Gee, that’s so much better than a mistake.”

“We were emotional. We’re both tired…”

“Any port in a storm, Em? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No! I just meant—”

A car horn tooted just outside.

Anna’s footsteps came thundering down the stairs. “That’s my mom!”

Emily leaped at the chance to avoid her conversation with Bailey. She not only met Anna at the door, she followed her outside.

The woman behind the steering wheel of the nondescript sedan waved enthusiastically. Emily raised her hand in reply. Apparently Anna’s bubbly nature was inherited.

Her mother, as blandly suburban as her daughter was outlandish, practically jumped out of the car. “Emily! Welcome home! It’s so good to see you!”

Emily peered at her. “Hello.”

The woman let out a tinkling laugh that seemed to hang in the air. “It’s me, Kitty. Kitty Cartridge.”

Kitty Cartridge. Kitty Cartridge.
Kitty Cartwheel.
That’s what she and Ginny had called Lakeside Acres’ head cheerleader. The one who’d gotten knocked up their senior year.
Oh wow, that meant Anna was…
“Hi, Kitty. Nice to see you.”

“How’ve you been? Well, I mean, it can’t be good right, what with your father getting blown up and finding Jackie’s body. Boy your luck sure does suck, doesn’t it?”

“Mo-om.” Anna’s obvious embarrassment over her mother’s antics was oddly reassuring. She shrugged a helpless apology at Emily. It was nice to know that she was at least in some ways a typical teenager.

“You have a lovely daughter, Kitty.”

The ex-cheerleader swung her gaze to her child’s pink hair and just shook her head.

Emily smiled at the girl. “You’re welcome anytime, Anna.”

She swung herself into the car. “C’mon, Mom.”

Emily waved them off before returning to the house. Bailey was propped in the doorway, having watched the whole exchange.

A surge of jealousy that was a couple of decades old shot through her and she said something she wasn’t proud of. “Tell me again what you saw in her?”

“C’mon, Em, give me a break. We were like twelve, and she was the first girl in class to wear a real bra.”

“Which she padded with socks. Thick, wool, winter socks.”

“Let it go. It was a lifetime ago.”

“You should have taken me to the Sadie Hawkins dance.”

As she walked past him into the house, he caught her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “I should have done a lot of things.” He bent and brushed his lips against her mouth. Straightening, he said, “I’m tired of regrets, Em.”

Unlike in his truck earlier, this time he didn’t give her a chance to choose whether or not to kiss. Taking charge, he kissed her deeply, passionately, not allowing her to breathe or to think. His hand cupped the back of her head, tugging at her hair, sending shivers of excitement down her spine.

He jerked away abruptly when Laurie suddenly began blasting her music from her bedroom on the second floor.

“She’s understandably upset,” Emily said, still breathless from his kiss.

Straightening, he released her as though she’d just shoved him away. The sudden rejection stung more than she wanted to admit.

Marching into the kitchen, she channeled her frustration by throwing the dinner dishes into the sink, turning the water on full blast and squirting dish liquid.

The bubbles, like her frustration, grew and grew, spilling over like lava.

“Think you added enough soap?” Bailey asked dryly.

Turning, Emily glared at him. He was regarding her with the same effortless charm that had so enthralled her when they were kids. Any other time she would have been thrilled to have him in her kitchen.
Or in the bedroom.
Her breath hitched in her throat at that realization.

“Let’s sit down. It’ll do you good to relax,” he coaxed.

She shook her head. She was too wound up to relax. She needed a distraction. Starting a fight would do the trick. “We don’t really need a guard dog. You don’t have to stay.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t take the bait. “Maybe I’m enjoying my time here.”

“Because of my sparkling personality?”

He didn’t argue with her. He didn’t offer an explanation. He regarded her steadily, mutely. The silence stretched between them, mocking her.

Exasperated she pushed her hair off her face and planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t appreciate the silent treatment.”

A sexy half smile lifted one side of his mouth. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I’ve just got the feeling you’re itching for a fight. I really don’t want to be the one you’re swinging at.” He crossed the distance between them, so that she had to tilt her head back to see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“You’ve got bubbles in your hair,” he teased. “It’s pretty funny.”

Glancing at her reflection in the door of the microwave, she saw two mounds of bubbles sticking out from the sides of her head. Definitely not her best look. “Oh yeah? Well let’s see how you look with bubbles.” She didn’t think, she just dipped both hands into the suds in the sink and lifted the soap bubbles to the sides of his head, burying her fingers in his hair. The gesture was spontaneous, something she would have done to him when they were kids. She’d meant it to be a joke and he did look pretty funny, but she forgot all about that as her hands slipped down his face. Fireworks of excitement exploded through her as his five o’clock shadow scratched her palms.

Her sense of playfulness dissolved as a clear intention formed in her mind. She had to finish what they’d started earlier that day before the annoying dispatcher had interrupted them.

Pulling his face down toward hers, she stood on her toes so that she could kiss him hard on the mouth, not like a timid damsel-in-distress who needed looking after, but like a woman who knew what she wanted. She felt his hesitation, so she slipped her tongue into his mouth to keep him from protesting and cupped the back of his head to keep him from pulling away.

She could sense the shift as his logical, noble self was overrun by his passionate nature. Angling his head, he deepened the kiss to better taste and explore her, igniting a raw need in her that had her molding herself to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him made her knees go weak. She would have fallen to the floor, but he was holding her too tightly.

Breaking the kiss, he rubbed his stubble-covered chin against her cheek, setting every nerve-ending in her body on edge. He whispered in her ear, his breath teasing her further, “Maybe I should leave.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“But…” He didn’t finish the statement. He didn’t have to. They both knew what the “buts” were.
But the killer was out there. But she was upset. But her sister was in the house.
She had to admire his chivalry. She had to admire that he was willing to put his own desires aside, because he wanted what was best for her. She admired him, but she didn’t agree.

“I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”
Maybe ever.
“I want, I need you to stay,” she confessed, her voice husky with anticipation. “I’m not making any promises beyond tonight. There’s no future for us, but this way there won’t be any ‘what ifs’ haunting us.”

He drew away so that he could look into her face, searching for the truth in her eyes. He grinned when he saw it there, one of his heart-stopping grins that warmed her whole body. She realized then that she was half in love with him. She always had been. The shiver of uncertainty that accompanied that realization might have had her changing her mind, but at that moment, he pulled her hard against him and devoured her mouth, obliterating any thoughts she might have had about self-preservation.

His kiss was fierce but gentle. His hands skimming over her body were strong, but she knew he would never hurt her. Bailey O’Neil was the one man she always felt safe with, and he wanted her. She felt both desired and protected. The combination was a heady mix.

“Not here,” she whispered.

Bailey’s hands stilled, his entire body going stiff. “Okay.” He stepped back, putting distance between them, leaving her suddenly cold. His face was a mask of frustration and disappointment as he looked down at her.

She giggled like a schoolgirl, causing a frown to crease his face. “I don’t want Laurie to walk in on us here, silly.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged him closer to her. “Come on, we’ll go up to my room.”

It was a challenge for Emily, her knees weak with anticipation, to climb the stairs holding Bailey’s hand. Pointing out the third from the top squeaky step, she warned, “Avoid this one.” Not that anyone could have heard it over Laurie’s pounding music.

Laughter bubbled in her throat as the teenage thrill of sneaking a boy into her room became her adult reality, but she didn’t want to laugh when, the moment they stepped into her room, Bailey pulled her hard against him with a tortured moan.

The physical evidence that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, chased away any lingering doubts she’d had that this wasn’t a good idea. He held her tight, one hand spearing through her hair, the other cupping her butt, as he kissed her senseless.

Her last shred of common sense had her reaching blindly for the door, searching for a lock. She didn’t need Laurie barging in on them. As she flailed around, Bailey drew back. The break allowed her to catch her breath and focus on the three deadbolts. Fingers trembling she slid the top one into place. Then the middle. And the bottom.

Bailey stepped away, watching her. “Three locks?”

The passion and playfulness they’d just shared evaporated, the mood in the room turning suddenly somber. Desperate to lighten the stiflingly serious atmosphere, she joked, “Definition of overkill, don’t you think?”

He looked from her to the locks, and back to her face, waiting for an explanation.

No matter how hard she tried to block it out, that time always came back to haunt her. She swallowed the painful lump of resentment that rose in her throat. “I installed them after…after…”

“After you escaped?”

Nodding, she blinked away the tears that stung her eyes the moment he gave voice to her ordeal. That was a good way to put it. It made her sound like she’d actively extricated herself from the situation. That she had been more than just a victim.

“Did the locks help?” He moved across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed as though he knew she needed space to talk about it.

Unable to face him, she turned away and fingered the bolts. The pieces of metal had secured the door, but hadn’t offered her any protection against the nightmares. “Not so much. There were only two places I felt safe. The Garden Gate, except I was never alone there.” She could still remember the worry etched on Ginny’s dad’s face every time he’d set eyes on her. “And…”

“The Snack Shack.”

She spun around to face him. How could he know that?

The Snack Shack was the concession stand at the public beach. It only operated during the summer. When they were ten, she and Bailey had found the secret hiding place where the owner kept a key. They’d spent many a spring and fall day hiding out in the small building. After her abduction she’d spent many hours cocooned in the peaceful solitude of the shack.

Hanging his head sheepishly, he admitted, “I followed you a couple of times. I was worried about you.”

“You never said anything.”

He shrugged. “Your place. Your space. I didn’t want to intrude. And for the record, the new owner keeps the key in the frog’s mouth.”

“Good to know.” She hated the way the corners of his mouth twitched in reply when she smiled at him. Desire no longer darkened his gaze, now she only saw worry in his eyes.

If she hadn’t reached for the lock, they’d already be rolling around in the sack. Her body still ached with wanting him. If only she could just get him back on track…

Walking over to the bed, she stood right in front of him. “We
were
in the middle of something.”

“We don’t have to, Em. You’ve been through a lot in the last couple of days.”

Sometimes Bailey O’Neil could be irritatingly patient and understanding. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

“It means I want you to feel safe, Em.”

“I do feel safe with you, Bay. I just didn’t want Laurie walking in on us.”

He stared up at her, doubt and desire warring in his green gaze. “You’re sure?”

“Never more. You, The Garden Gate and the Snack Shack are my safe harbors.” She’d had enough talking. She cupped his face in her hands, delighting in the way the stubble tickled her palms, and kissed him before he could ask any more questions.

The passion between them flared to life, obliterating the past and future, engulfing them in its intensity.

Her body quivering with anticipation, she leaned toward him, pushing on his shoulders until he lay back on the bed. Straddling him, she settled her hot, wet center over his bulging erection, the clothing that separated them tormenting them both. Not content to let her be the only one doing the torturing, Bailey placed his hands on her hips, slipping his thumbs beneath her shirt, and stroking the sensitive skin at her waistline.

Wanting to give him better access, she yanked her shirt over her head, discarding one barrier that stood between them. He slid his hands up and cupped her breasts before palming her nipples through the lace of her bra.

Her fingers, heavy with desire, fumbled with the buttons of his uniform. Finally she opened his shirt and leaned in to him to press her mouth to his chest, breathing in his musky male scent.

“You’re killing me, Em,” he told her through gritted teeth as she nipped and licked her way across the expanse of exposed skin. To emphasize his point he thrust upward, grinding into her.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.

Not needing any further invitation his hands wrapped around her, making short work of her bra, then flew to the zipper of her jeans. Unlike her, his fingers were quick and nimble. They were magical as he reached in and touched her. Squirming, she pleaded, “Bailey…please.”

Laying her on the bed he tugged off her jeans, leaving her naked. Instead of feeling exposed, all she felt was desired, as she waited for him to remove his own pants. Before he did that though, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom.

“Always prepared,” she teased. “Such a Boy Scout.” She held out her hand and he placed the packet in her palm. She ripped it open and slid it over him, her hands shaking.

Lowering himself over her, he entered her with excruciating slowness, his body trembling with the amount of self-control he was exercising.

She wanted more. Arching beneath him, she pulled him in deeper. “Oh yes, Bay.”

Even though it was her first time with him he seemed to know what she wanted, what she needed. He anticipated her every desire, stoking the fire that burned within her. Their tempo quickened. Faster. Harder.

“Bailey…I…” She hovered at the precipice of release.

“Yes, Em. Let go. Let go. I’ve got you.”

And she did, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her. Falling. Flying. Soaring.

He growled his own release, a sound of complete and utter satisfaction.

He cradled her in his arms, making her feel safe and protected, cherished. She wanted to feel like this forever. That was her last thought as she fell into the first decent sleep she’d had since returning to town.