Torn (30 page)

Flynn was on his feet now, circling around Wade. “You think you're gonna win, Prince Charming? Think the hell again.”

“You don't have your knife. I like my odds,” Wade fired right back. “Your ass isn't getting away. You're going to be locked in a jail cell for what you've done.”

Flynn laughed at him. His hands were fisted at his sides. “And Victoria will be with me. Because I'll tell them what she did.
I know.
”

“You don't know shit.”

“She killed her father. She confessed . . . confessed all to me.”

He didn't believe that.

“She talks so much in bed,” Flynn taunted him. “Doesn't she?”

Wade lunged at him. He caught Flynn and they went barreling back. Back and—­

Flynn drove a knife into Wade's stomach.

“Didn't think that was my only one, did you?”
Flynn whispered to him. “Bet you didn't even see me pull it from my boot. Fatal mistake, letting that rage take over.” He twisted the blade. “Now you're going to die, that fool hero wanna-­be on the ground will die, and Victoria—­”

He broke off, choking. Gasping.

Wade wrenched his body away from Flynn, feeling the slide of the blade as it cut him on its damn way out. He staggered back and blood pumped from him. Then he braced his body, ready to attack that bastard again.

But Flynn stumbled forward. The knife fell to the ground as he lifted his hands and swatted at his back. He made a drunken circle as he tried to look behind him . . .

Victoria was behind him. Standing there, with her hands still up.

And when Wade saw Flynn's back, he realized just why the other man had stopped his attack. Victoria had driven a knife into Flynn's back, one that was buried hilt-­deep.

“I never
slept
when we were together,” Victoria rasped out. “You didn't matter enough for me to stay. So I know I didn't talk to you.”

She'd had nightmares—­she'd spoken in her sleep to him, Wade thought.
Not to you, asshole.

“You bugged my place, didn't you?” Victoria continued. Red had streamed down her shirtfront, a red that terrified him when she stepped forward into the faint light cast from the club. But her voice grew stronger with every word. “
That's
how you knew my secrets. You've been watching me all this time, stalking me, and I didn't know it.”

Wade wrenched forward and grabbed the knife that Flynn had dropped. The bastard was still alive, and that meant he was still a threat.

“You don't know me,” Victoria said as Flynn fell to his knees before her. “You know nothing . . .”

Flynn was still trying to swat at his back in a vain effort to pull out that knife.

A groan came from Wade's right. He looked over to see Asher rising—­a bit wobbly—­to his feet. “Told you . . .” Asher muttered. “Got your . . . back . . . for now on . . . Said you could . . . count on me.”

Asher Young had sure as hell been a man of his word.

Wade ignored the burning pain in his belly and closed in on Flynn. He put the knife to the asshole's throat.

Flynn's hand dropped. His head tilted back as he stared up at Wade.

Wade's fingers were trembling. He'd never wanted to take another man's life more . . . Never wanted to yank that knife so hard and cut so deep . . .

“Do it,” Flynn taunted, breath heaving out. “Show her . . . who you . . . are . . .”

His hold tightened on the knife. This freak had wanted to kidnap Victoria. He would have hurt her, again and again, and then, when he was done . . . he would have killed her.

“How many others?” Wade demanded.

Flynn's eyes closed. “Just one. Melissa . . . she was fun. Buddy of mine introduced me . . .” He swayed. “But she was no . . . Viki . . . So dark and twisted up inside . . . perfect out, evil in . . . made for me . . .”

“No, she wasn't.” The SOB truly knew nothing about Victoria.

“We should call the police,” Victoria said. “Get help . . . an ambulance . . .”

Wade pulled the knife away from Flynn's throat. “They're going to . . . lock you up. If there are more missing, we'll . . . find them. You'll . . . never be free.”

“Neither will she . . .” Flynn gave a gruff laugh. “I'll make sure . . . neither . . . will . . .
she . . .
”

And he lunged up. He came at Wade with a desperate heave of strength.

Wade didn't hesitate. The knife went straight into Flynn's chest. Slid in like cutting into butter . . .

Flynn's eyes were open and . . . satisfied.

“Now . . . she sees,” he whispered.

Someone screamed. Wade's head snapped to the right and he saw that—­finally—­someone else had come into the alley. A woman and man stood there. The woman screamed again—­even louder as Flynn's body fell to the ground.

“Call the police!” Wade shouted. He took a step, wanting to get to Victoria, needing to help her—­and Asher. “Call—­”

He fell. Why had he fallen?

Wade tried to get up, but his hands weren't working right. He couldn't push himself up. And that wound that had burned so badly before? It was cold. Ice cold. Numbing him. He tried to roll over because he needed Victoria. Needed to see her and touch her . . .

“Lie still.” Victoria was above him and he was flat on his back now. No, no, she was crouched next to him, not over him. When had she moved? When had she come so close? He tried to lift his hand because he wanted to touch her.

But he was too weak.

Then her hands were touching him. Pressing down hard on him. “I'm not letting you go,” Victoria told him.

She was bleeding. She was hurt.

She was—­crying?

“I'm not letting you go,” Victoria said again. “You stay with me, understand?”

He nodded, his head sliding against the cement. He wasn't going anywhere. Didn't she get that? He was in it for the long haul with Victoria. When he pictured the rest of his life, she was right by his side. Time would slip past, and they'd be together.

Maybe they'd move to the 'burbs. Get a house with lots of room, in case she wanted to have kids. A kid with her red hair would be a beautiful little princess.

Or if she just wanted to stay right there in the city, they could do that. They could make anything work.

“Wade! Don't you do this!”

He wasn't doing anything. Just staring up at her. Loving her. His Victoria. Did she even realize how perfect she was to him?

“Wade, please . . .”

“Love . . . you . . .”

“No! Do not pull some ‘I love you' line that is going to be the last thing you say to me, do you understand? You do
not
do that. You keep fighting. I've got the artery, and I'm not letting go.”

He didn't understand.

“We'll get blood for you. The doctors will patch you up. Just
stay with me.
Wade, you understand? You stay!” Her breath heaved out. Victoria was crying. No, he didn't want her to cry. He wanted her to laugh and smile and to be happy . . . forever.

“You stay—­” Victoria seemed to choke out the words. “You—­”

He couldn't see her any longer. His eyes had sagged closed.

“You stay!”
Victoria screamed. “Please.” A desperate whisper. “Please stay with me . . .”

And he tried to nod once more. There was no way he'd leave her. They'd found each other, and he didn't intend to let go.

So death could just screw off.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

V
ICTORIA!”
W
ADE'S EYES
flew open and he glanced frantically around.

White stared back at him—­white walls, white ceiling, white floor and—­

“I'm right here.”

His head jerked to the right. Victoria sat in the chair next to . . . to his bed? Yeah, yeah, he was in a hospital bed. Tubes ran to his body. Machines beeped. And Victoria held his hand.

She smiled at him. Dark shadows slid under her eyes. “I see what you meant about hospitals.”

He had no clue what she was talking about. “What . . . happened?” His voice sounded rusty to his own ears and something was pulling low in his stomach.

“Are you back this time? Not just doing some drunk drug talk to me?”

A furrow pulled down his brows. “I get that . . . I'm in a hospital.” He tried to remember what the hell had happened. He'd gone to Wild Jokers, looking for her. She hadn't been there. She'd been out back, with that guy Flynn—­

The machines went wild.

“Bastard,” Wade snarled.

Victoria squeezed his fingers. “Easy. Don't want that blood pressure sky-­rocketing.” Then she paused and muttered, “Or bottoming out, the way it did before.”

“Victoria.”

She smiled at him. “You
are
back. Good. Because you kept drifting in and out, and most of the time you weren't making any sense to me.”

With his free hand, he lifted the sheets. He saw that he was wearing a loose pair of pajamas and that a big white bandage covered half of his stomach.

“The pajamas were my idea,” she said quickly. “I just . . . a regular gown wouldn't cut it because of where your wound was positioned. I wanted you to be comfortable, and I didn't want the nurses seeing your—­um, seeing you every time they came in, so it seemed like a good idea to go with the pj's.”

He lowered the sheet. “The bastard twisted the knife.” Flynn had been trying to go for maximum damage.
He'd been trying to kill me.

She nodded.

And he saw—­
“Baby, your neck.”

Her hand rose and pressed to the small white bandage there. “It's nothing. Probably won't even scar.”

Her voice had notched up, so he thought she was lying to him. His eyes turned to slits as he gazed at her bandage.

“Nothing,” Victoria said again. “A flesh wound. He didn't cut me deep enough for permanent damage. I don't think Flynn wanted to kill me in the alley. He had other plans for me.”

His gaze shot to the door. “Is he in this damn hospital?”

“He's in the morgue.”

Wade didn't move.

“My knife attack killed him.
Mine.
I just—­I don't want you carrying that around on you, too. I knew when I drove that knife in him, I knew
where
to put it in. He wasn't going to recover. He only had seconds left. So by the time you got to him . . . he was just a walking dead man.”

“I would have killed him a dozen times if it meant you were safe.” She needed to know that brutal truth.

Victoria sucked in a sharp breath.

“Does that . . . scare you?” His voice still sounded rusty as all hell.

Victoria pulled her hand from his and picked up a pitcher on the side table. She poured water into a plastic cup, her fingers trembling. “Nothing about you scares me.” She put a straw into the cup, then used the remote to lift him up in the bed. When the straw touched his lips and the water rolled down his parched throat—­paradise.

“But like I said before,” Victoria murmured, “I see what you meant about hospitals.”

He slid back against the pillows. Slowly, she put down the cup. Then her gaze came back to him. It sure looked as if there were tears in her beautiful eyes. “When I was in here, watching you . . . when you were so pale and still, I was terrified.”

The machines kept beeping. He lay there, frozen. Wade couldn't look away from her gaze.

A tear spilled from the corner of her eye. “You were bleeding out at the scene, do you know that? I had to—­I had to stop the blood. I had to hold—­” Victoria broke off, shaking her head. “Promise me you won't ever do that again. Promise me that you won't make me think my entire world is ending . . . because you're trying to leave it.”

“Baby . . .”

“I was scared.” A hushed confession. “From the very beginning. No strings . . . no strings because
I
was scared. I didn't want to open myself up. But I did—­to you. With you. Then I was so afraid—­every time we touched—­because I needed you, too much. Was that natural? Or was I being like my father?”

“You're
not.
”

She swallowed. “But none of that fear compared to the way I felt when you were on the ground in that alley. And when I was in this hospital, and I was praying for you to wake up, I swore that if you came back to me, I wouldn't be afraid any longer.”

The machines beeped a bit faster.

Her lips rose in a wobbly smile. “I love you.”

Hell,
yes.

“I'm not saying things will be easy between us. Nothing is perfect, no one is. But I want to try. I want to try being with you because I
don't
want to live without you. You make me happier, you make me feel . . . free. And I know that's crazy, but when I'm with you, I don't have to hold back. I can just be . . .” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “. . . me.”

He caught her hand. Pulled her onto the mattress beside him. His thumb brushed away her tears. Then he kissed her wet cheeks. Her soft lashes. Her sweet mouth.

“Wade? Please, say something.”

“Marry me.”

“Wh-­What?”

“Tomorrow or a year from now. Whenever you're ready . . .” He kissed her again. “You'd make me the happiest—­and damn luckiest man—­alive, if you'd marry me.” He pulled back, just enough so that he could stare up at her. “I want you to be my partner, baby. Forever. Only you. You fit me. You make me happy. You make every damn thing in my life seem worthwhile. If I have you . . .” It was simple for him. “. . . I have everything.”

Her breath choked out. Ever so carefully, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I have everything, too,” Victoria whispered. Then she kissed him. He could taste the salt of her tears in that kiss, but he could also taste so much more.

Hope.

Love.

Darkness hadn't won this time. They'd survived. Two lost souls . . . found.

One week later . . .

“I
DON'T UNDERSTAND
why I have to come into the police station,” Matthew Walker said as he straightened his tie and glanced over at Bob Moore, his lawyer. “I mean, I'm recovering from my injuries. I should still be at home. On bed rest.”

“What a dick,” Wade muttered from bedside Victoria.

She, Wade, and Asher Young were in the Savannah police station's observation room, separated from the interrogation room by a thin one-­way mirror. Detective Dace Black had just followed Matthew and Moore into interrogation, and the real show was about to begin.

“Hmmm,” Asher murmured as he moved in for a better look. “He does look like a dick, I agree.”

He looked like a killer to Victoria, and LOST was about to prove just that.

“Why don't you have a seat?” Dace waved toward the chairs that waited on the opposite side of the small table. “I just have a few questions that need clarifying.”

“I could have ‘clarified' things over the phone,” Matthew huffed as he sat down, his lawyer sitting next to him. Victoria thought Matthew made an extreme show of struggling to sit. Painful injuries, her ass. Wade and Asher were both up and walking again just fine. And this guy?

We are going to nail you to the wall.

Dace pulled out his first piece of evidence, and sat the gun—­bagged and tagged as evidence—­onto the table next to Matthew. “This is the weapon you brought to Worthington University, correct?”

Matthew glanced down at the gun, then at his lawyer.

Moore gave a short, negative shake of his head.

Victoria saw Matthew's eyes narrow.
He doesn't like being told what to do.

Matthew's stare cut back to Dace. “Looks like it.”

“Right. Well, your prints were all over it, and it
was
recovered at the scene.” Dace gave a wide smile. “But what I don't get is why would you bring an unregistered weapon to a college campus to begin with?”

“Because I was out of my mind with grief!” Matthew threw out his hand. “I'd just figured out—­before any of you cops did—­that Troy North was a sadistic killer! I just wanted to stop him—­”

“With an unregistered gun.”

The lawyer leaned forward. “The gun was a gift to my client. He had no idea it wasn't registered.”

Dace's eyelids flickered. “Want to tell me who . . . gifted that gun to you?”

Matthew smiled. “Melissa did. Fitting, isn't it? That the woman Troy killed would have a hand in his death.”

“He is so fucking confident,” Asher mused behind the one-­way mirror. “The bigger they are . . .”

“The faster they become someone's bitch in prison,” Wade finished.

Victoria kept her gaze on the scene in the interrogation room. It was almost showtime.

“Why would Melissa give you anything?” Dace asked Matthew. He opened a manila file. Pulled out a stack of papers. “According to this sworn statement, her roommate, Jim, said Melissa was never involved with you—­”

“She just didn't tell him—­”

“Melissa told him that you'd made advances to her. Advances she rejected. You'd followed her on her jogging path twice—­”

“That was
my
path, I ran it all the time!”

Moore tugged on his sleeve. Matthew just jerked away from the lawyer. “No, no, this is bull! Melissa and I were involved. Okay, it just started as sex, but it was going to be—­”

“Jim actually
did
see Melissa's lover,” Dace interrupted. “He saw him from the back one day, and the guy's build is very similar to Troy North's and he had blond hair, so I could see where Jim would've initially thought it was the psychology professor she was involved with, but . . .” He pulled a photo out of his file. “I believe Jim actually saw this man. Flynn Marshall.”

Matthew didn't look at the photo. “I don't know him.”

“I didn't ask if you knew him.”

The lawyer rose. “Okay, this has gone on long enough. We came here as a courtesy and—­”

“If you happen to follow Atlanta news,” Dace continued smoothly, “you probably already know that Flynn Marshall is dead. He was killed when he attempted to abduct LOST agent Victoria Palmer.”

Matthew was starting to sweat. Just a bit.

Wade's hand slid over her back. “You ready?”

She thought of Kennedy. Of Melissa. “Absolutely.” Victoria squared her shoulders and left their observation area. Moments later she opened the door to the interrogation room.

“I don't follow Atlanta news—­” Matthew blustered. But when he saw Victoria, his words jerked to a halt.

She inclined her head toward him. “Are you sure about that? Because according to your credit card statements, you make pretty frequent trips to Atlanta. It certainly looked as if . . . you were consistently visiting a friend in the Atlanta area.”

His face became a blank mask.

“Why would you access my client's private financial reports?” The lawyer demanded. “This is outrageous, outrageous!”

Victoria didn't look at Moore. She kept her gaze focused on the prey that mattered. “Before he died, I was in that back alley with Flynn for a long time. Too long. He'd tried to slip me a drugged drink—­I suspect it's a technique he used before. Seeing as how he was a pharmaceutical rep, I bet he had all kinds of tricks he liked to use with his drugs . . .”

“I'm sorry you were attacked,” Matthew said flatly. “But I don't see what I am—­”

“He thought I'd been drugged, but I hadn't. So maybe that's why he spoke so freely with me. Or maybe he just figured I'd die soon, so what he said—­or who he incriminated—­didn't matter so much.”

Matthew's gaze slid down to her throat. And to the red mark still there.

For an instant it almost looked as if he smiled.

They were right. You are a dick.

“He told me about his friend in Savannah,” she said. “Interesting, the things he revealed to me . . .”

Matthew pushed to his feet. “I'm done with this—­”

“Dr. Troy North wasn't involved in any murders. He was just the perfect fall guy, wasn't he? Serve him up, plant evidence in his office, and bam—­all the focus is off you. And the LOST agents—­well, we left town. We lowered our guards. We were distracted.”

The lawyer, Bob Moore, was standing now, too, as if ready to leave. The light gleamed off his bald head. She'd known the attorney would be difficult. She just had to play Matthew the right way . . .

I'm not Sarah, but I can do this. I will do this.

And, lucky for her, Sarah had given her some advice on just how to handle this particular monster.

“Troy and Flynn Marshall went to school together,” Victoria said. “Northwestern University.”

Matthew smirked at her. “Well, there you go. More proof that Troy was the killer. He and that Flynn guy must have teamed up to—­”

“They didn't team up for anything. But five years ago Flynn
did
come to Savannah for a visit with Troy. He was catching up with his old college roommate. And it was during that visit that Flynn found a guy who he could
really
understand . . .”