Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (26 page)

“So what about JT?”

He shrugged. “I think he got around when he wanted to. He and I, we never talked about girls much—mostly sports and working out.”

She glanced at the photos. “He was a pretty handsome guy—still is.”

“Sure.”

“Very successful and kind, despite his mother.” She narrowed her eyes, shook her head. “Sorry. Keep going.”

“We let JT off and set up plans for the next day—baseball game, then Jasmine suggested I drop Staci off first. She wanted me to walk her home.”

“I’m sure she did.”

He grinned. “Hey, I had moves.”

He still did, but she scoffed for form.

“Staci went inside, and Jasmine and I walked to her house. She lived four houses down. We made a date for the lake, played a little tonsil hockey, and I left.”

“Didn’t it creep you out, walking alone in the dark?”

“I was a jock with a date to the lake. I wasn’t thinking about anything but getting laid.”

“It’s just so
dark
here.”

“Yeah. Good for stargazing. Staci loved—” His hand tensed against hers.

“What?”

“I forgot. I completely forgot until now.”

“What?”

“There was something in the woods that night—scared the shit out of me. Ms. Hayes told us to be careful. A couple of cats had been seen in the area. I tucked tail and booked it the hell home, certain I was going to be a bobcat’s next snack.” His eyes sharpened. “What if it wasn’t a fucking cat?”

She shuddered at the idea.

“Son of a bitch. Staci’s killer had to know my father was gone. I was the other obstacle. But if it
was
him, why didn’t he just off me instead of risk getting caught?”

“I don’t know.” This was so out of her realm.

He dropped her hand and pulled the pad from his jean pocket, scribbling something down, and shoved it back.

“Did anything else happen? Were there any other noises?”

“No, just branches snapping. I hauled ass home, slammed the door behind me, told my mom I was home, and forgot about the whole thing. I was so preoccupied with the car and taking Jasmine to the lake. It was Staci’s turn to have the Mustang the next day, and I needed it. I found her in the hot tub staring up at the stars. We talked for a while. We made a deal with the car in which I got completely hosed, then I told her we should go in. She said she wasn’t tired, we made fun of my dad a little bit, and she told me she loved me. I told her I loved her too, even though she was a brat.” He steamed a breath through his nose and closed his eyes.

Wren stepped closer, slid her arm around his back, and rested her cheek against his chest.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “If I’d stayed with her, she would still be here.”

“You didn’t know. How could you have possibly known, Tucker?”

He shrugged. “I was thinking more about my dick than my sister.”

“Which is completely normal. I’m sure Ethan thought more about his penis too, which is actually pretty gross, and I don’t want to think about that.”

A quick chuckle escaped him, and he squeezed her closer. “Damn, Cooke, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kissed her hair.

She looked up and smiled.

“I should have made her come in with me.”

Her brow rose as she continued to look at him. “She told you she wasn’t ready. If you had insisted, she would have dug in her heels. I’m a sister myself, Tucker.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You’re looking at this in hindsight. There is no way you could have known what was to happen.”

“I would give anything to change it.”

She held him tighter, wishing she could change the outcome for him.

“I don’t know what happened next. I crawled into bed, slid my headphones on, and put Pearl Jam on repeat. He must’ve waited awhile after I went in. I think I dozed off, then I heard a loud bump in Staci’s room. I didn’t think anything of it. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep. My sister was being raped and strangled right here, and I slept through it.” He shook his head and turned away from the spot on the floor. “I can hardly stand it.”

Wren said nothing as she stared at his back. There was no use telling him everything was going to be okay, because it wasn’t.

“He tied her hands behind her back, raped her, strangled her. She must have been so scared, fucking
terrified
. Why didn’t she
scream
for me, goddammit?” He dropped to a crouch and pressed his hands to his face. “Why didn’t she fucking scream for help?”

Wren crouched next to him and hugged him, struggling to keep her tears at bay. He needed her strength right now.

“He probably threatened to hurt me and Mom, so she kept her mouth shut. Fucking bastard didn’t even give her a fighting chance. He was methodical and cruel—waited until he’d squeezed the life out of her before he freed her hands from behind her back. He cut the nylon from her wrists and neck postmortem, placed her arms above her head, left her naked and spread eagle.” Tucker rushed to his feet again and pressed his hands flat on the dresser. “Her shoulder was dislocated. The medical examiner said it was from struggling while he choked her to death.”

“Oh god, Tucker.” She’d never ached so much for another.

“We never did find her bathing suit or the rope. He fucking took them with him. His trophies.”

Not only had Tucker seen too much, but he knew too much—the hazards of the profession he had chosen. She tugged at his shoulder. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

He whirled. “How can I solve her case if I can’t even stand in this goddamn room?”

His venom startled her, but she took his arm and pulled again. His anger was with the situation, not her. “You’ve done enough today. You remembered the noises in the woods. You need a break.”

He yanked away. “A break? There’s no timeout from violent death, Wren. I can’t just put it away. There are answers here. There has to be, and I’m going to find them.”

Her first instinct was to tell him to go to hell as he lashed out at her, but she stood her ground. “They’ll be waiting for you after a breather. You’re upset, which means you aren’t thinking clearly.”

“Suddenly she’s a detective.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, holding his angry gaze. “I’m sorry about Staci, Tucker, more sorry than you could possibly know. I can’t even begin to fathom how hard this is, having to relive her worst moments, but you’re being a jerk. If you would like me to leave, say the word.”

“Things getting too emotional? I know how that trips you up.” Misery swam in his eyes as he turned away again.

He was hurting and trying to hurt her in the process—it was working. “I’ll take that as you want to be alone.” She left the room, starting toward her own.

“Cooke.”

She hesitated halfway down the hall but kept going.

“Cooke, don’t go.”

She stopped and turned as he walked to her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated as he swept her up in a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said again as he crushed her against him.

She returned his embrace, brushing her fingers through the back of his hair. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Not even a little.”

“This is hard, Tucker. I’m trying to help and understand.”

“This is tearing me up. I don’t know how to handle it. I never really have, but that doesn’t mean you get to be the punching bag.” He brushed her lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered once more.

“It’s already forgotten.”

“I need to talk to Ethan and have him get me everything in the files—local and FBI. I can’t do much else until I have it.”

“What can I do?” She rested her hands on his hips. “What else do you need?”

“You.”

Her heart beat a little faster as he stared in her eyes. “I’m right here.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Will you make us grilled cheese and soup while I put in a few calls?”

“Comfort food.”

“There’s nothing better than grilled cheese.”

“I agree.”

“Will you watch a movie with me? I want to feel normal, for us to
be
normal—just for one night.”

The peace she so desperately wanted him to have—and to give him. “You’re in luck, because I can deliver on all of these things. No crazy stalkers, no Staci talk. Just you and me, grilled cheese, and a funny movie.”

“And maybe some sex? I can’t get enough of you, Cooke.”

She smiled as he grinned. “A completely normal night should definitely include sex.”

He chuckled, hugged her tight, and they walked down the hall, going their separate ways.

He put the key in the lock, quietly opened the door, and punched in the code, closing himself in the dark. He crept further into the house, soaking up the warmth, straining his ears, listening for any movements down the hall. All was silent.

He turned toward the opposite wing, making his way through the great room, careful not to trip or bang into furnishings along the way. Excitement and adrenaline coursed through his veins as he moved past the kitchen. More than a decade had passed since he’d made this journey. Now that he was here, time vanished, and he was young again, eager and ready to follow through with his plan.

His heart pounded as he stepped closer and stopped at the second door on the left, his hand shaking on the knob as he let himself in. He paused, blinking, as he looked around. Everything was the same—the mint green walls, the letters spelling out her name, the dozens of photographs scattered about.

He walked to her side table and touched her beautiful face in the frame, stroking at her cheek as he looked into her smiling hazel eyes. His first. His best.
Staci.
She’d been perfect, so tight and warm, while he fumbled his way through. And how she’d stared at him, those same eyes huge, while he squeezed the nylon, taking her last breath.

He shuddered, fully aroused as he pulled down her pink and white striped sheets, and freed himself from his pants, tugged, groaned, and left his present just for her. He dipped his finger in his mess and left his message, then took the ties from his pocket, kissed them lovingly, lost in his memories, and set them in their place.

With one last look, he regretfully shut the door and made his way back down the hall. That moment had been for him, but now he had work to do. This next step would end in one of three ways: him blowing Tucker away and taking Wren—he could live with that; Tucker blowing him away, which was less than ideal; or he would move forward with his plan and enjoy the show until he was ready to end it.

He walked to the east wing and stopped outside the closed door, grabbed his gun from his waistband, and clenched his teeth as he twisted the knob.

The door opened silently, and he peered in, breathing both of them in—Wren’s French perfume and whatever the hell Tucker sprayed all over himself. Fucking Pretty Boy. As if his muscles and stupid grin weren’t enough.

He wouldn’t be grinning tomorrow.

He inched the door open, waiting for someone to move. Nothing. He shook his head in disgust—some bodyguard. Balling his hand into a fist, he stared at Tucker, naked and wrapped around Wren. She lay flat on her stomach, her cheek resting on his arm, their fingers intertwined as he cocooned her. Beauty and the Beauty. There was no fucking beast on that bed, and he hated Tucker more for it. He had
everything
.

He crouched closer, studying Tucker’s muscled arm splayed on Wren’s tiny feminine back among the yards of her black hair, the orb of her breast pressed against the mattress, and Tucker’s perfect, chiseled form claiming ownership of the woman beneath him. The bastard loved her. It was plain as day.

His gaze wandered to the gun on the side table. Tempting, so fucking tempting, but what he had in store was so much better.

He stood, still scrutinizing them both, then left. Tomorrow was bound to be spectacular.

Chapter 17

W
ren turned on her back, stretching her aching muscles, and smiled. After yesterday’s sex marathon she was fabulously worn out. Tucker was a tiger in the sack. She’d never been so thoroughly
ravaged
. Yawning, she arched and he pulled her to him, chest-to-chest, rolling so she lay on top of him. Her skin instantly puckered with goose bumps. “Hey, mister, it’s cold up here.”

He rolled again, trapping her under his body. “Better?”

She smiled. “Definitely warmer.”

He nuzzled her neck. “What’d’ya say we start today off like we did yesterday?”

Her smile turned into a grin as she wrapped her arms around his waist and tilted her chin, giving him more access to her sensitive collarbone. “Sounds nice, and clearly you’re raring to go, but I’d rather get up and try to make it to the airport.”

“Every party’s got a pooper.”

She laughed and pinched his butt. “Guess that’s me.” She glanced toward the window, narrowing her eyes. “Is that…
No
.”

“What?” His head whipped up, instantly on alert.

“It’s snowing a
gain
. How can that
be
?”

He grabbed her chin, giving a firm squeeze. “Don’t do that, Cooke. You’re lucky I didn’t grab my gun and roll us off the bed.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

He studied the frenzied snow. “Goddamn. This is getting old.”

“I strongly second that. We probably aren’t flying again today, huh?”

“We’ll have to catch the news and see if they’ve opened the airport, but I doubt it. At this rate we’re going to have to charter a plane.”

“Sold.” She tried to sit up.

He held her in place. “Don’t get too excited. We have to make reservations, and conditions sure as hell have to improve before we can go anywhere.”

“I know,” she huffed. “How much longer do you think?”

“Tomorrow. Day after.”

She groaned at the idea of being trapped in this house for another day.

“Whiner.” He playfully sunk his teeth into her chin.

“Maybe a little.” She slid her finger along his earlobe. “I’m just frustrated. I feel like our lives are on hold while we wait here. I want to see Patrick. Now that he’s awake, I need to be with him more than ever. He’s making small gains, but the doctors think he could be doing better.”

He slid a strand of her hair behind her ear. “They also said he’s in and out of it, and Morgan and Hailey have been stopping by to visit.”

“And I’m grateful for their kindness, but—”

“It’s not the same.”

She bit her lip, nodding. “I just…I’m the only family he has. I want him to talk again. I want to hear his voice. Maybe if I’m there he will.”

“I get it, Cooke. I know how hard this has been on you.” He kissed her forehead. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

She touched her lips to his, appreciating the fact that Tucker did indeed get it. He was one of the few people who understood her. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

She gave him a small smile. “I guess this is the perfect day to stop procrastinating and submit resumes.”

“Santa Barbara?”

“Yes.” The idea wasn’t as appealing as it had been a few days ago, especially now while she lay beneath him, warm, content, stroking his shoulder.

“Why not stay in LA?”

“Fresh start, remember?”

“Fresh start from what?”

“Everything—my house, my business. I hate the idea of living in an apartment miles from the home I spent two years making my own. And Cooke Interiors is ruined; my reputation is in the toilet. It’ll take time to come back from that, especially after Lenora officially bankrupts me, which I have no doubt is her intention.”

“I don’t think it’ll be as simple as that. Technically you’ve broken your contract, but not without just cause. You have a great track record and several clients who will vouch for you, I’m sure. Fleeing from a stalker is definitely an unforeseen circumstance.”

He made everything sound so simple, but it wasn’t. “Maybe, but attorneys aren’t cheap and my business accounts are pretty close to empty.”

“So I’ll take care of the attorneys and anything else you need.”

She dropped her hand from his shoulder. “No.”

“Cooke—”

“No, Tucker. This is my mess. I’ll clean it up by myself.”

“But you
aren’t
by yourself. You have me. And your brother and Sarah, Hunter and Morgan; the list goes on and on.”

“I know but I like to take care of myself. It’s important that I stand on my own two feet.”

“And sometimes it’s okay to let someone else carry you for a while.”

She sensed his growing frustration. How could she make him understand? “I’m trying here, Tucker. I am, but I’ve been who I am for twenty-nine years, and mostly it’s worked for me.”

“I know.” He kissed her nose.

“It’s never been like this.
I’ve
never been like this with anyone.”

“Cooke.” He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, deepening the kiss slowly, drawing out the tenderness until her heart overflowed and she was certain nothing would be the same again. Instead of pushing him away, she wrapped her arms around him, savoring the gentle pressure of his mouth moving over hers. He nibbled her bottom lip and eased back. “Guess you should get to those resumes.”

She played her fingers through his hair, no longer wanting to leave this bed or Tucker’s arms. “Guess so.”

He pulled away and rolled to his back, resting his head on the pillow. “I’ll take a look at the weather and figure out when we can charter a plane. Hopefully we’ll be heading home in forty-eight hours or less.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She crossed her arms, suddenly cold as the heat of Tucker’s body left hers. She studied him, lying among the pillows, perfectly relaxed with his eyes closed. Forty-eight hours or less. That’s all they had left, then “real life” began again. She rubbed at the unexpected ache in her chest, trying not to regret that her time with Tucker was quickly coming to an end, but this was the reality of their situation. What they had here in Utah certainly couldn’t last forever. She had a career to rebuild in Santa Barbara, and Tucker would be busy with his own once he and Ethan had a chance to talk.

Feelings would fade after a while, and she would move on. She fully expected Tucker to do the same. She would never have this again—the intimacy and trust they’d shared together, but it would only be foolish if she let herself believe that there was anything but an ending in store for her and Tucker.

She sat up, her shoulders heavy from her thoughts, and she reached for her robe, no longer wanting to think about Tucker, Santa Barbara, or any unwanted emotions that came with either. She slid the soft silk over her arms as the bright green and blue flowered fabric caught her eye. She blinked, staring.
What in the world?
Her eyes grew wide and bile rose in her throat as it clicked. Staci’s bathing suit. The one she’d seen in the picture taken just days before the murder. “Oh, my God,” she whispered as she clutched Tucker’s arm. “Tucker.”

“Hmm?” He grunted, eyes still closed.

“Tucker. The bathing suit.”

“What?”

“Staci’s bikini is on the floor.”

He sat up, staring at her as if she’d gone mad. “Wren, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“Her bathing suit is on the floor, right next to my side. Look.”

He leaned forward, grabbed the gun, and leaped up off the bed. “Fuck.” He rushed to the door, locked it, reached for his pajama bottoms, and yanked them on. “Get in the corner.” He pointed across the room.

She nodded and crawled across the bed, hurrying to the other side of the room, holding her body rigid, trying not to give in to her shaking.

Tucker dropped down on his knees, looking under the bed, then got to his feet. He padded over to stand to the side of the closet, yanked the door open, and whirled around, pointing his gun. He moved to the bathroom next, took the same stance as he had by the closet, whirled, and pointed into the bathroom. “Call 9-1-1, keep the door locked, and get under the bed. Stay there until I knock and say it’s me. Don’t you answer unless I say it’s me.”

“But—”

“Do it, Cooke. Now.”

He stood behind the door, twisted the knob, waited, whirling into the hall with his weapon ready. Shutting the door behind him, he left her alone in the silence.

She secured her robe with trembling hands, staring at Staci’s swimsuit, then glanced at the window. A murderer had been in the house—maybe he still was. She walked to the side table on watery legs, grabbed her phone, and shimmied her way under the bed frame. Dialing, she struggled to school her breathing. She could barely hear over the slamming thud of her heart.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes, I need the police, immediately.”

“What’s your address?”

“Twenty-twelve Mountain View—the Campbell Estate. The murderer, he was here. My bodyguard is searching the house.” She was rambling.

“Ma’am, what’s your name? What murderer?”

“Wren Cooke. I’m Wren Cooke. The murderer. He killed Staci Campbell and Alyssa Brookes and Chloe Wright. He was here. He left Staci Campbell’s bathing suit on my bedroom floor. I’m looking at it.”

“Are you in a safe place?”

“Yes. I’m hiding under the bed. Please hurry and send someone. Tucker’s by himself searching the house.” She listened for him, waiting for him to call her name.

“Tucker who, ma’am?”

“Tucker Campbell. His family owns the house. He’s my bodyguard. He’s alone. Just get someone here.”

“They’re on their way, ma’am. Stay on the line with me until the police arrive.”

She stared at the bathing suit Staci wore at the end of her life. Monsters. She and Tucker had two monsters on their hands—a stalker and a murderer. She thought of little else as the minutes ticked by in her agonizing wait.

“Cooke. Let me in.”

Her heart shuddered with unbelievable relief as he called to her. Wren scooched and shimmied her way out from under the bed and hurried to the door. “Tucker?”

“Yeah. Go ahead and open up.”

She flipped the lock and flew into his arms, gripping him hard in a hug. “You’re okay.”

He hugged her back, clutching his arm around her. “I’m all right. Is that the police?”

“Dispatch.”

He took the phone and put it to his ear, shutting the door behind him, locking them in the room. “This is Tucker Campbell. I need Detective Rogers and Franklin up here now.” He sat on the chaise lounge, pulling Wren next to him, holding her tight against his side. “Yes, patch me through, please.” His body was as rigid as hers, his eyes hard and distant as he looked at the horrid reminder of Staci. “Detective Rogers, Tucker Campbell. He was here. Staci’s bathing suit is on the master suite floor, and black tethers are on the bed in her old room. I don’t know. I’m armed; make sure they know that.” He hung up.

She pressed her face to his chest, clinging, struggling to hold back her tears. “Are you okay? Are you sure you’re okay?”

He grabbed hold of her chin. “I’m fine, Cooke. I need you to keep it together for me.”

She nodded, swallowing, blinking the emotions away.

“He’s not here.”

“I don’t care about that.” She shook her head. “Yes, I do. Of course I do, but I was afraid for you. And that.” She gestured to the floor. “I’m so sorry about that, Tucker.” She cupped his cheeks and gave him a kiss.

“I’m in one piece.”

“Just the way I like you best.” She gave him a small smile.

He winked, but his eyes were strained and weary. “Did you touch anything?”

“No. Nothing. Just my phone.”

“Go ahead and get dressed.” He stood, dropping his pajama pants and pulled on his boxers and jeans from yesterday, then the snug black top that accentuated his build. “They’ll be here soon.”

She got to her feet and went to the luggage she never unpacked, took fresh jeans, panties, a bra, and her lavender shirt from the case. She unknotted the robe and dressed in front of him, not wanting to leave his side.

Tucker’s cellphone rang. He glanced at the readout. Ethan. “Campbell.”

“I just heard. Is Wren okay?”

He looked down the hall toward the bedroom. “Yeah. She was a little shaken up, but she’s fine.”

“I was stuck on duty and couldn’t get away. What the hell happened?”

“Fuck if I know. There aren’t any broken windows or busted doors, no foreign fingerprints, just mine, Wren’s, and Ms. Hayes’. Somehow he got a key to this place.” The idea sickened him as it did every time he thought of some demented fucker walking around his house, standing over the bed he and Wren slept in. “I just got off the phone with the security company. The alarm was deactivated at two thirty for approximately twenty-three minutes—same with the Chloe Wright Case.”

“That’s definitely worth looking into. What about Alyssa Brookes?”

“The cops are on it now, but according to Detective Franklin, the Brookes family didn’t arm their panel the night Alyssa died.”

“Hmm.”

“He was in Wren’s bedroom. He staged his fucking ‘gift’ on her floor and either before or after, stopped by my sister’s room. He left black tethers and a message on Staci’s sheets in semen—
SC equals TC
.” He gritted his teeth, hardly able to stand it.

“Goddamn, man. I’m sorry.”

Tucker shrugged. “At this point, I can only assume TC stands for me. He’s tying me into the mix. I have no idea why or what this means.” But it was going to eat him alive until he figured it out.

“Maybe he’s telling you you’re next.”

“Maybe.” But it didn’t feel right.

“They need to get this bastard off the streets. We’re lucky he didn’t hurt Wren.”

He’d thought the same thing. “Might’ve been part of his plan—unless that wasn’t what he was after.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like he’s taunting me.”

“You think this is about you?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

“We have no idea what this guy’s up to; until we do, I want Wren in your sight twenty-four seven.”

“We’ve been together twenty-four seven. We were together last night.”

Tense silence filled the line.

“Look man, I’m sorry you don’t approve of me being with your sister, but that’s the way it is. I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”