Torn (29 page)

You were watching me. How long have you been watching me?

“Good thing I followed you.”

For how long?
Nausea twisted within her. “I feel sick.” She wasn't lying. She'd slept with him. She felt like vomiting.

“It's okay,” he assured her. “I'm here. I'll take care of you.”

Like you took care of other women?
No way was this his first shot at drugging his victims.
And he knew I went to Savannah . . .

“Walk toward my voice,” he told her. “I'll get you out of here. My car's out back. I'll take you home.”

“Home . . . n-­not far,” she mumbled. “I can walk . . . there . . .” Anything to get away from him.

There was the rustle of sound again. And then he grabbed her arm. But his hold wasn't rough. It was ever so careful. “Not in this condition. I'll help you.”

No, he wouldn't.

But as soon as she got out of that bathroom, she'd be home free. Others would be out there. She'd break away from him. She'd get help.

He thought she was drugged.

He was so very wrong.

Flynn slid his arm around her, pulling her close against his body. “Did you think . . .” His breath blew against her ear. “. . . that we were done? Just because
you
said we were through?”

They'd never been together—­just a few hookups. That wasn't a damn life commitment.

“I'm here to love you,” he said, his voice a rasp in her ear as they shuffled back toward the bathroom door. “And you
are
going to love me.”

The hell she would.

“I've seen it happen before,” Flynn murmured. “I knew just what to do with you. I learned.”

Learned?
He was terrifying her.

Victoria figured they were almost at the door. Now that he wasn't blocking it—­she shot out of his arms, lunging hard and fast to escape the bathroom. To escape him.

“Victoria!”
He roared her name, but she'd grabbed the handle of the door. He was just seconds behind her. Seconds. She rushed into the narrow hallway. She could see the crush of people up ahead. Bodies dancing, hands in the air, music pumping—­

He grabbed her.

“
Help me!”
she screamed, desperate, even though she knew the music was too loud.

Flynn spun her back around and pinned her to the wall. Then he put his knife to her throat.

An image of Melissa flashed before her eyes. Melissa . . . Jim . . . their throats . . . blood.

One slice, that's all it would take.
Because she could feel the sharp blade already cutting into her skin.

“You didn't finish that drink, did you?”

The bright light in that hallway glared down on them. He was surrounding her so completely. If anyone came up behind him, they wouldn't even see the weapon. They'd just see two lovers, pressed tightly together.

They'd see what Flynn wanted them to see.

She stared up at him. Handsome Flynn. Still smiling the wide grin that flashed his dimples. But it was a grin that didn't reach the coldness of his eyes.

“The drink would have made things easier, but I can still work with this.” He gave a nod. “Come with me. Don't make a fucking sound. Or I will slit your throat right here and now.”

“D
R. 
P
ALMER IS
full of surprises,” Asher murmured as he glanced over at the packed bar and the line of women in their tight skirts. “You are
so
lucky you met her first. I've really got a thing for smart women . . . and if they like to wear short skirts . . . my kryptonite.”

“Fuck off,” Wade said as he jumped out of the Jeep.

“You're welcome for the ride,” Asher called after him.

Wade waved him away with his middle finger and he headed right for the main door. The bouncer there put up a hand, and Wade shoved a fifty at him.

Then he was inside. The music was blaring. Bodies were slammed together on the dance floor. Pressed way too close.

His gaze scanned the booths. He didn't see Victoria. Not in the booths, not on the dance floor, and not even at the bar.

Am I too late?

He pushed his way to the bar. The same bartender he'd met a few nights back—­
hell, just a few nights?—­
turned toward him.

“I'm looking for a woman,” Wade said.

The guy's brows climbed, then beetled down low. “I know you . . .”

“Gorgeous redhead,” Wade continued. He lifted his hand. “This tall. Green eyes, curvy, and—­”

“I remember you . . . and her, from before.” The bartender put his hands down on the bar top. “Look, I keep hating to be the one to tell you this, but she went off with him again.”

“Him?” The noise around Wade seemed to dim.

“Yeah, him, you know, the blond she was with the first night you came hopping in here, searching for her.” The bartender's gaze held pity. “The guy even brought her a drink a few minutes ago. Disappeared with it, and I haven't seen him—­or her—­since.”

No, that didn't make sense. Victoria was there to meet him. She wouldn't just go out and hook up with some other guy. They were together.

Wade shook his head. That wasn't right.

“Sorry, buddy,” the bartender said. “But there are plenty of other women here. Go find one of them.” He turned away.

Wade didn't want to find anyone else. Victoria was it for him. She'd called him. She wouldn't have ditched him for some other guy. That just didn't fit.

He turned away from the bar, his gaze sweeping over the crowd once again. But there was no sign of a familiar figure with dark red hair. No sign of her at all.

Eyes narrowing, Wade headed back toward the entrance. He walked outside, his gaze sweeping over the crowd that waited to pass inside. Definitely no Victoria in that line.

Had she gone back to her place? Because he'd been late?

He moved right, heading in the direction of her building. But then . . . his gaze slid toward the alleyway. And he found himself turning. He'd been behind Wild Jokers once before, when he discovered Victoria, locked in an embrace with Flynn. No way would he find that scene now.

He trusted Victoria completely.

His steps quickened as he neared the back of the building. He turned and—­

Victoria was there. Held tightly by Flynn.

Only there was nothing loverlike about the embrace. The bastard had a knife to her throat and he was trying to drag her away from Wild Jokers.

But when Flynn saw him, the guy froze.

Victoria didn't speak at all. That knife was digging into her throat. Wade was afraid that—­was blood sliding down her neck? Faint light spilled from the club onto the alley.

“Well, well,” Flynn called out. “I guess Prince Charming
did
decide to join the party.”

Fucking bastard.

“So very late, though.” Flynn put his mouth close to Victoria's ear. “If he'd been here earlier, if he'd just cared more, none of this would've happened.”

“You cut my tires,” Wade snarled as he lunged forward.

“Stop!”
Flynn's order cut through the night. “Another step and I will slice her from ear to ear. She will be dead long before help can arrive. Another woman, choking to death on her own blood while you hold her so tightly in your arms.”

Fuck me.
That bastard had not just said . . . “You were there,” Wade realized, stunned. The bastard
must
have been on that beach. How the hell was that possible?

Troy North had been the killer. North had taken Wade's phone.

Hadn't he?

Or . . .

Or had North been set up?

If he had, then Wade knew he'd shot an innocent man. A man who'd been pushed too far.

Pushed by . . . by Matthew Walker? By—­

“I said stop!” Flynn bellowed.

Wade stopped inching forward. He also stopped trying to figure out what the hell had gone down in Savannah. Right then all he could afford to think about was Victoria. Saving her. Stopping that SOB with the knife.

Wade didn't take another step forward, but his gaze darted around the alley.

Had he just seen a shadow move behind Flynn? Was someone else out there?

Flynn laughed. “Your phone was real damn helpful, by the way. Lots of good info. Especially about your security system. Thanks to it, I was able to get in your home and tap your phone, no problem. Though I did need to haul ass back. Lucky for me, though, you decided to make that pit stop at the hospital and stay in Savannah longer.”

Sonofabitch.
That's how you knew to slash my tires. You heard Victoria ask me to meet her here.

And if Flynn had taken his phone—­
he is the bastard who killed Melissa Hastings. Him, not Troy North.

What in the hell?

How did he know about the hospital visit, though? If he'd already gone . . .

“So this is how the night is going down.” Flynn's voice roughened. “You're in my fucking way. You're going to turn around and walk out of this alley. I'm going to take Victoria and we'll leave.”

Wade didn't move. “Not happening.” Because he would never see Victoria again. He knew it. If she left the alley . . . if Flynn took her away . . .

She's dead.

“I wasn't giving you options,” Flynn snarled. “I was telling you what would go down. Either get the fuck out of here or I will slit her throat right now!” He yanked her head back and let the blade cut into her skin.

Wade heard Victoria's cry of pain, but she quickly clamped her lips together.

Again, a shadow seemed to move just behind Flynn.

Keep him talking. Keep him focused.
“Why the hell are you doing this?”

“Because I can.” Flynn laughed. “Because I've seen how very easy it is for others to get away with such terrible crimes. You think you're looking at a fucking stand-­up member of society, like
her
dad, right? But you're not. Everyone has secrets. You look into the darkness long enough, and you'll finally see those secrets.”

Victoria's hands had risen. She was clawing against Flynn's hold. He just laughed. “I know her secret.”

Every muscle in Wade's body had locked down. That bastard was not getting out of the alley with Victoria.

“She wants me, you know. She told me so. Sent me messages . . .”

“Victoria thought she was talking to
me,
” Wade yelled. He wanted to make his voice as loud as ­possible. Maybe someone in that line outside Wild Jokers would hear him. A bystander who would have enough sense to call the cops.

“Did she? Is that what you tell yourself?” Flynn pressed a kiss to Victoria's temple. “I don't think so. There's been a connection between us from the beginning.”

“A connection . . .” Wade nodded. “Like the connection between you and Melissa Hastings?”

“Melissa . . . she was really his, not mine.”

His?

Shit, there were two killers.
Two.
Now it made more sense. Because Melissa had been taken before he and Victoria even arrived in Savannah. And Flynn had been in Atlanta then. So who had his partner been?

North?

Or . . .

“Though I have to confess,” Flynn added darkly, “I did enjoy playing with her—­and killing her. That was quite a rush.”

So someone else kidnapped her—­and you killed her? Bastard.

“I'm going to give you ten seconds,” Flynn called, “to get the fuck out of my way. Or she dies right here.”

Wade glanced over his shoulder. The alley behind him was empty. People were focused on getting into the bar, not on what was happening in the shadows. No one ever looked too closely at shadows. They walked past them, moving as fast as they could to avoid the darkness.

“Five seconds left . . .”

“You won't do it,” Wade yelled back.

“Four.”

“You kill her, you lose your shield.” He was sweating.

“Three.”

“You kill her, then I will kill
you
with my bare hands.” An absolute promise.
Think, think!

“Two . . .”

There was no fucking choice.

Wade spun away from them as if he were leaving the alley, giving Flynn just what he'd wanted.

Flynn's mocking laughter filled the air.
Keep laughing, asshole. You aren't getting out of here. You—­

There was a thud behind Wade. The slam of flesh hitting flesh. Wade whirled back around. He saw Victoria on the ground, lying facedown. Flynn was fighting someone—­the shadowy figure that he had glimpsed creeping up behind the other man. Flynn was swinging his arm out, slashing down with the knife.

Wade lunged forward—­and went straight to Victoria. He rolled her over and saw that she had her hand to her throat. Was blood on her fingers? It was so damn dark, he couldn't see clearly enough and his heart fucking stopped right then. Just stopped because she couldn't die. He couldn't lose her. This shit could not hap—­

“Help . . . Asher . . .” Victoria rasped.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw Flynn slash the man who'd attacked him—­
Asher.

Asher was on the ground now. Flynn's attention was completely on him. The bastard lifted his knife up high, and Wade leapt at him. Before Flynn could sink that knife into Asher again, Wade had slammed into his back. He and Flynn fell to the cement in a tangle and the knife clattered from Flynn's hand.

Wade drove his fist into Flynn's face and he heard the crunch of cartilage, but Flynn fought back, lifting his feet and driving them into Wade's stomach. The wind was knocked from Wade as he flew back, but he didn't even pause as he lunged right back at the SOB.