Lethal (Small Town Secrets Book 1) Read online

  The spare room looked untouched. Comforter stretched smooth across the bed. Air a bit stale. Trent cleared the closet, and checked under the bed, and then headed for the master.

  He cleared the room before stepping inside, as he had the others. So when he finally crossed the threshold to examine further, he wasn’t surprised.

  The bed was a mess. Tangled sheets. A wet spot. A few smudges of blood. The smell of sex and sweat overpowering the scent of Risa’s room… the scent of lavender.

  Drawers yawned open, Risa’s bras and panties hanging over the edges. A vibrator lay in the middle of the floor.

  Trent cleared the bath, the closet, noticing each thing that was out of place. It could be anyone’s bedroom. Anyone’s house. He was doing his job. Nothing personal. And maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d eventually believe.

  Dryden had been here, but he wasn’t any longer. And that bothered Trent. It made no sense.

  The psychopath would never stage his little scene with the teddy bears and then miss Risa’s reaction. So where was he?

  Not in the house. So where?

  Outside.

  Watching Risa.

  Gun still ready, Trent hurried out of Risa’s bedroom, down the steps, out the door. His rental car was still here, Risa sitting in the passenger seat. As he approached, he heard the click of her unlocking the driver’s door.

  Trent combed the shadows of trees and bushes, the rooflines of the neighboring houses one last time before ducking behind the wheel.

  “What did you find?”

  Trent pictured her bed, signs of sex, smears of blood. “You call 911?”

  “They’re on their way. I called Cassidy, too. Let him know what was going on.”

  “Good. Maybe they can find him.”

  “He’s gone?” Risa asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. We aren’t waiting around to find out.”

  The engine turned over with a flick of the key. The car leaped to life.

  He backed out of the driveway. Slowly. Calmly. It was all he could do to keep from stomping on the gas, squealing tires, and racing down the street. He hadn’t found Dryden, but the psychopath was still here. He wouldn’t be able to resist. He would want to watch.

  And Trent had to get Risa out of here before Dryden got the impulse to do more.

  Nikki

  “Let the games begin.” Eddie watched Trent and Risa drive away from their vantage point just on the other side of the roof’s ridge.

  When he’d been destroying Risa’s stupid teddy bears, he’d been giddy as a little kid. He’d been downright wild while going through Risa’s drawers and having sex in her bed. Now his face was dead serious, not a chuckle, not a smile.

  The change had come over him as soon as he’d seen Nikki’s big sister walk up the sidewalk.

  Nikki wasn’t sure what to think about any of it, and she had an uneasy feeling that it was better if she didn’t focus on it too hard.

  “Back inside.” Eddie stood, and walked sure-footed down the slope to the dormer in the master bedroom where they had escaped.

  It wasn’t so easy for Nikki. Although she’d managed to grab Risa’s dressing gown before they’d climbed out the window, she was still naked underneath and barefoot. Even the pleasant day felt cold. The asphalt shingles scraped her knees and toes. And as she crabbed uncertainly down the roof and climbed back into the bedroom, she was sure the whole neighborhood could see right up the short silk robe.

  She needn’t have worried about modesty. As soon as she got inside, Eddie untied the belt and ripped the robe off her shoulders.

  “You’d better pick something out of the closet. The police will be here soon. Unless you want them to see you like this.” He grinned. Not a nice smile. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you Nikki? All the cops seeing you?”

  Nikki shook her head, thinking about the man in her car. Last night had started out like something from her dreams. It had become a nightmare. “I only want you, Eddie. You know that.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Of course, I’m sure.”

  “Then make sure you pick out something nice. She wore a red, silk blouse to our last interview.”

  “She? Who?”

  “Risa. Start with that. The red silk. No bra. Let’s see how you measure up.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Eddie wasn’t like this. He loved Nikki. He did. Nikki might have started writing him to show her sister, but he’d fallen in love with her and she with him. This had nothing to do with Risa. Not anymore.

  “I don’t like that blouse, Eddie. It looks so stuck up. Like Risa. That’s not me.”

  “Make it you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like it.”

  “But it’s not—”

  His slap wrenched her head to the side. She stumbled and fell to the floor, her cheek stinging.

  Eddie stood over her. “Are you going to dress the way I like?”

  Nikki stared at him, her mind stuttering, refusing to catch hold of what was happening.

  “Are you, Nikki? Because if not, I can leave you here.”

  “No, no…”

  “Maybe you really do want the cops to find you here, legs wide and tits hanging out. Is that it, Nikki? You one of those badge bunnies?”

  “No. Eddie, please. I want to be with you.”

  “You know how many women wrote to me? Sent me pictures? Made me promises?”

  She knew. He’d told her all about them. How beautiful they were. How they all wanted to meet him. How she was better than all of them combined.

  She’d believed it. She wanted to believe it still.

  Eddie let out a heavy sigh. “Look at you.”

  Reflexively, Nikki tried to cover herself.

  “No, no, no.” Eddie brushed at her arms. “Don’t cover perfection.”

  Nikki slowly moved her hands away. She relaxed the clamp of her legs.

  “That’s better. I can never stay mad at you, Nikki. You know that. One look at that body, and I’m powerless. It’s all I can do to keep myself from making love to you again.” He looked at the bed.

  Nikki could hear her pulse thumping in her ears. She wished he would make love to her. Not like he’d done earlier in Risa’s bed. He’d hurt her then. Made her bleed. But even like that, it was better than not knowing what he was thinking. When he was inside her, she always knew that he loved her.

  She reached for his fly.

  His lips thinned in a smile. “No time. We have to leave. Now get some clothes on. Unless you’d rather stay...”

  “Please, Eddie.”

  “You want to go with me?”

  “More than anything.”

  “That’s a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I love you, Eddie.”

  He helped her up and moved close to her, as if about to kiss her.

  Nikki tilted her head back and let her eyelids close. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to know how much he cared.

  A sharp pressure cut her neck. A small pop sounded in the air. When she opened her eyes, Eddie was standing in front of her, her locket in his fist. “Risa doesn’t wear one of these.”

  “But she gave it to me. It has—”

  “I don’t care. It’s juvenile. Now wear something nice. Sophisticated. Something to make me proud.” Shoving her necklace into his pocket, he returned to Risa’s bathroom and started flossing his teeth.

  Rubbing the back of her neck, Nikki stepped into Risa’s walk-in closet. The red blouse caught her eye immediately, but she didn’t take it off the hanger. Instead, she pulled on some pink panties, a pair of hundred-dollar dark wash jeans, socks and lace-up shoes.

  Then choking back a sob, she slid the silk blouse off its hanger and pulled it on.

  Lund

  David Lund would rather go on his daily jog right at the break of dawn, when the morning was still invigoratingly cool. But today he had a good excuse for being late
.

  He’d had a date. Sorta.

  Lund settled into a rhythm, his breath echoing the pounding of his feet on the dead-end country road. His old buddy Stan trotted beside him, tail in the air, happy as can be to be taking part in their daily five mile loop. The retriever’s golden head might be turning mostly white, but the old guy didn’t give that a thought. He lived for the morning jog. The way Lund had when he was younger. Before his last birthday, when he realized he wanted more from life.

  He wanted a career.

  He wanted a wife.

  He wanted kids.

  And this morning, postponing the exercise routine in favor of a cup of coffee at the Blue Ox Café in the Dells, he’d found one of the pieces to his puzzle.

  Kelly Ann Meinholz.

  He remembered her from Lake Loyal High, eons ago. She’d been younger than him, a freshman when he was a senior, and he’d been too busy playing ball and too awkward around girls to think about dating much back then. But he remembered. And when she started waiting tables at the Blue Ox, he’d decided it might be about time he talked to her.

  Hence this morning’s coffee. Coffee that turned into a full breakfast, a lot of smiles, and maybe even a future date. A real date.

  Lund reached the end of the road, wishing he hadn’t eaten quite so many Paul Bunyan flapjacks. A car parked on the other side of the street, its windows fogged on the inside. He had just completed the turn and started back the other way when Stan stopped full. The leash pulled out of Lund’s hand.

  “Stan.”

  The dog ignored him, trotting over to the car.

  “Stan, come.”

  Nothing.

  Lund followed the dog. Close up, he could see through the condensation on the windows. No movement, just a parked car.

  Stan jumped up, his front paws on the passenger door.

  Lund stepped closer and grabbed the dog’s collar, then the trailing leash. “Come on, Stan.”

  The dog didn’t move.

  Giving a sigh, Lund moved closer still, trying to see what Stan found so fascinating. A smell wafted from the car, sweet, kind of metallic. And sprawled awkwardly across both front bucket seats lay a motionless man.

  Risa

  Risa couldn’t stop shaking. Not even after Trent had driven her back to his hotel room in Lake Loyal and affixed the door’s security lock behind them. Noise from the construction outside roared through the open window and vibrated in her chest. The hotel adding another wing, along with a pool and breakfast room, the sign in front had said.

  Progress.

  She ran her gaze over the room. Two chairs hovered around a tiny round table. Outdated gray and mauve draperies framed the second story window, the same pattern spreading across the broad expanse of the king-size bed. Generic flower prints hung on the wall. The décor relying on its very commonness to make guests feel secure.

  In this case, the strategy didn’t work.

  Everywhere she looked, she saw tufts of white stuffing blowing in the breeze. And all she felt was the ice of Dryden’s controlling rage. The chill slashed over skin and stabbed into muscle. Stabbed into bone. She wrapped her arms around her middle and shivered.

  Risa had always been able to take care of herself. And not just herself. Others, too. Even as a child, she’d watched out for her sister and mother. She’d been the strong one. The one who’d helped her mother to bed after a night of vodka. The one who’d made sure Nikki finished her homework when no one else cared. The responsible one. The one in charge.

  What a laugh. Right now she felt about as in charge as a newborn baby.

  Trent pulled out one of the chairs. “You should sit down.”

  “Before I fall down?” She tried to inject humor into her voice. Instead it sounded small. Tremulous. Afraid.

  “Before you fall down.” He stepped to the window, slid it closed, and locked it, dulling the machinery’s roar. “Cassidy said he’d send a deputy over to stay with you while I’m briefing the task force. He should be here soon.”

  She nodded but didn’t move. She couldn’t. Not only was she unsure her legs could carry her the four or five steps to the bed, but she didn’t want to move away from him. From his warmth. From his strength. “I can’t. I—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not.”

  “No. It’s not. But it will be. You’re safe. Right now, you’re safe.”

  Before she could let herself think, she leaned back against him, trying to get as close to his warmth as she could.

  His arms slipped around her, wrapping tight around her waist. He pulled her against the hard plane of his body. Against muscle and strength. His breath grazed the side of her face, sending several strands of her hair dancing across her cheek.

  Warmth spread over Risa’s skin. She closed her eyes. She remembered this. Being in Trent’s arms. The sense that, for this moment, she wasn’t alone. But her memories paled in comparison to having him here now. Surrounding her. The scent of him. The feel of him. The solid reality of him.

  She could fight memories. She couldn’t fight this. She didn’t even want to.

  Without breaking contact, she turned in his arms, pressing against him, molding her body to his. Every muscle. Every ridge. She reached up, locked her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.

  His hand moved to the back of her neck, as it had so many times in the past. He cradled her head, entwining his fingers in her hair, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  His lips fit hers like they always had. Like she’d known they still would. His tongue. His taste.

  But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. She wanted to feel him, the hard wall of his chest, the taut muscle of his stomach, the tight ridge of his desire. She wanted to mold to him, skin to skin, no barriers between them.

  She fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, pulling them free until the fabric parted under her fingers and she could slip her hands inside.

  He shrugged out of the shirt and clutched her against his chest. His skin rippled warm and smooth over hard muscle. She traced the even lines of his ribs, the flat plane of his belly, the ribbon of coarse hair leading to his waistband. The feel of him was so familiar, yet new.

  And she needed more. Needed more like she’d never needed before.

  As if reading her thoughts, he smoothed his hands down her back and grasped the hem of her sweater. He slid the cotton up, baring her skin to the cool of the air, the heat of his touch. He broke contact with her lips only to lift the sweater over her head and discard it.

  Not willing to wait one more second, she reached around her back and unhooked her bra. She slid the flimsy lace garment off and let it fall to the floor.

  She reached for him. She needed his heat. Needed to feel his skin against hers. Her breasts flattened against his chest, the coarse sprinkling of hair abrading their sensitive tips.

  A groan rumbled in his chest. Lowering his head, he devoured her mouth, his lips nipping and caressing, his tongue demanding and giving. His fingers found the waistband of her slacks. Unbuttoning. Unzipping. He eased them over her hips and let them fall. Her panties were next. He pushed the lace down her thighs, past her knees. His actions coiled with a need of his own.

  She held him tighter. Wanting to be part of him, to meld with him, to become stronger together than they ever could be apart.

  Grasping the waistband of his slacks, her fingers found the button, the metal tab of the zipper. She pulled the zipper down.

  His trousers slid down his legs, and he kicked them free. He slipped his hands down her sides, over the swell of her hips and cupped her buttocks. Lifting her, he pulled her against his body, against the straining bulge in his briefs. She spread her thighs, wrapping her legs around him, fitting her body to him. Cupping him, holding him, rocking against him. This was what she needed, what she wanted. To feel alive. To feel safe. To feel strong.

  He took the few steps to the bed, laid her on the mattress, and lowered himself down on top of her. His heat seeped
into her, firing her blood past fever, past reason.

  Risa’s breath rasped in her ears, harsh, uneven. Her heart pumped, strong against her ribs. She worked her hands between their bodies, slipped her fingers under the elastic waistband of his briefs. “I need you so much, Trent. I never stopped needing you.”

  His body went rigid. He drew a sharp breath and let it out in a shudder. “We—” His hand closed over hers and stilled. “We can’t do this.”

  Pulling back from his kiss, she opened her eyes, searching his face, trying to make sense of what he was saying, why he had stopped.

  His skin was flushed. His eyes echoed the want, the need she knew glistened in her own. He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  His words fully registered this time, slicing deep. His weight still bore down on her. His skin was still melded to hers, his erection pressing into her thigh. Yet he was pulling away. Distancing himself. Denying her needs. Denying his own.

  Like he had done before.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  His mouth flattened into a hard line.

  It was a cruel thing to say, and she knew it. What they were doing… they’d gotten carried away. Sleeping together would just make everything more difficult. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted to hurt him. Like he’d hurt her two years ago.

  Like he was hurting her now.

  He rolled onto his back, cool air rushing to fill the space where his body had been. Sitting up, he turned to the window. Soft light filtered through the sheers and glowed off the planes of his face, making the stress lines framing his eyes and mouth appear etched deep as the abyss that had opened between them. “I’m sorry.”

  “Then don’t pull away.”

  “It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

  “It is that simple, Trent. It’s just that simple. I was stronger in your arms just now than I am alone. We were stronger. And we need that. If it’s just for now, fine. We need it.”

  His brows turned down in anger and frustration. “Making love with me isn’t what you need. It’s just going to bring you more pain.”