Chapter Sixteen
The sweet, buttery richness seemed to melt on her lips as Ash brushed his mouth over hers. It was glorious. Remi sighed as a decadent pleasure jolted through her. She wanted to crawl into his lap and spend the rest of the night indulging in his sensual kisses.
Dangerous, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
Especially when she felt battered and bruised by the thought that someone who’d worked for her family might be responsible for her father’s death. Now wasn’t the time to give in to her vulnerable emotions.
Reluctantly pulling back, she cleared her throat. “I asked you a question earlier,” she reminded him, not surprised when the words came out as a harsh rasp.
Ash’s eyes smoldered with suppressed desire, but he readily straightened and grabbed his fork to concentrate on his coffee cake. He was a man who had enough confidence in his skills as a lover to wait until she was completely comfortable in a more intimate relationship.
“The answer is, no, my family didn’t blame you for my leaving Chicago,” he assured her, taking a large bite. “They would be the first to tell you that I always make my own decisions.”
She placed her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as she studied his finely chiseled profile.
“You were happy as a detective.”
“I was. I loved my job,” he assured her. “But after your father died, I needed to get away to clear my head.”
She got that. Ash and her father had been closer than just partners. They’d been like father and son. She didn’t doubt for a second that he’d been as devastated as she’d been by his death.
“Why not take a two-week vacation in Oklahoma with Nate?” she asked. “Quitting your job and moving away from Chicago was extreme.”
He gave a small shrug, continuing to eat his cake. “I needed to remember why I’d decided to go into law enforcement. When a friend asked if I’d be interested in a position at the university, I agreed. Going back to school seemed like the perfect solution.”
Remi tried to imagine him standing in front of a group of eager college students. She couldn’t do it. He would always be a detective in her mind. “Was it a perfect solution?”
“At the time,” he assured her. “There’s nothing quite like the energy and enthusiasm of students just beginning the journey into their careers.”
“Yes.”
He smiled at her fervent agreement. “I guess I’m preaching to the choir.”
He was. She loved being a part of young students’ lives, hoping to mold them into the best people they could be. Especially those who society quite often assumed weren’t worth the effort of saving.
“You said ‘at the time.’” She continued to study him, tracing each hard line and curve of his face. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Being back in Chicago has made me realize I’m homesick.” He turned to meet her searching gaze. “Not only for my job as a detective but for the people I love.”
Excitement sizzled down her spine. “You’re coming back?”
His gaze swept over her. “I’m considering my options.”
There was more sizzling, making her pulse go wild. “That will delight your mother.”
Without warning, he swiveled the barstool, reaching to grasp her shoulders. “Just my mother?”
The kitchen suddenly seemed smothering. Was she having a hot flash? Surely she was too young for that?
“I’m sure your whole family will be happy.”
His fingers slid over her shoulders and down her arms. “And you? Will you be happy?”
“I . . .” The words died on her lips.
He leaned forward, his breath brushing over her cheek. “Tell me, Remi. Have you missed me?”
Any thought of denying the long years of misery without him was banished by the sight of the yearning in his eyes. This man had given her his heart without hesitation. How could she continue to batter it?
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Say it.”
She clicked her tongue. “Bossy.”
His hands moved to span her waist, his expression beseeching.
“Please.”
She paused, then, with a hesitant movement, she lifted her arm to brush the tips of her fingers down his jaw. His five-o’clock whiskers pressed against her skin, sending a shiver of anticipation through her.
“I’ve missed you.”
He released a husky groan, his lips pressing against her forehead. “I’ve ached for you, Remi.” His voice was low, harsh with a remembered pain. “I wake in the morning and my arms are empty. I sit at the breakfast table and I’m all alone. I see something funny and I turn to share it with you, but you aren’t there.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.” He lifted his head to gaze down at her. “This isn’t about blame. I just want the barriers to be gone.”
“I’m afraid.” The words left her lips before she could halt them.
He blinked, obviously startled. “Of me?”
“Of us,” she said, not sure how to explain the emotions that continued to haunt her. “The future.”
His fleeting concern eased. “Ah. Then let’s take this minute by minute.”
Her lips twitched. “Live in the now?”
“Exactly.”
She took a second to consider his offer. At last she gave a slow nod. “I can do that.”
“Me too.” With a wicked smile, he slid off the barstool. Then, grabbing her knees, he parted her legs so he could step between them. Remi instinctively tilted back her head, giving him the perfect opportunity to cover her mouth in a deep, searching kiss. Not that she was about to protest. Instead, she lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck. “Cinnamon. Sugar,” he murmured against her lips. “And everything nice.”
She shivered as the heat that had been smoldering inside her flamed into an inferno. “I don’t feel nice right now,” she informed him.
He chuckled. “How do you feel?”
“Naughty.”
He pressed his hips between her legs, allowing her to feel the hard thrust of his erection. “I’m feeling pretty naughty myself.”
She licked her lips, tasting the clinging cinnamon. “I’m going to have to learn how to make your mother’s coffee cake.”
“It’s not the coffee cake,” he whispered. “It’s you.”
“Probably a good thing,” she admitted. “I hate to cook.”
His hands slid up her waist, gently cupping her breasts. “You have other talents.”
She leaned back to send him a chiding glance. “Ash.”
He released a sudden laugh. “I meant your ability to touch the hearts of students who most people would consider lost causes.” He held her gaze. “I admire you for that.”
Remi felt a blush stain her cheeks. “Thank you.”
The wicked smile returned as he used his thumbs to tease at the tips of her nipples. “Although this talent isn’t too shabby.”
Remi shivered, arching against his hard body. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”
He used the tip of his tongue to trace her lips. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
Remi tangled her fingers in his hair. She wasn’t prepared to sleep with Ash. Not tonight. But she was fully onboard with the pleasure of sharing a few sugar-and-cinnamon kisses.
* * *
Rachel shivered. The wind felt like a knife slicing through her. It didn’t matter that she had on a puffy parka and a stocking hat and matching gloves. Nothing was capable of combating a Chicago winter. Especially not when she was standing in an abandoned lot in the middle of the night.
“How much longer?” she muttered, stomping her feet in an effort to keep the circulation going to her toes.
Had she actually wished she could get out and breathe some fresh air? Now she just wanted to be back in her cozy rooms. They might make her feel claustrophobic, but at least they were warm.
There was no answer and she turned, trying to peer through the thick shadows. She’d been in this neighborhood once or twice, and each time it felt like she was taking her life in her hands. Which, of course, was the point of her being there.
The director was insistent that Rachel couldn’t be convincing in her role unless she truly felt terror. As if Rachel hadn’t been raised in a neighborhood where her creepy landlord loitered in the hallway so he could cop a feel when she passed by him or dodging bullets while she was walking down the street.
Still, she had to admit there was something unnerving about standing alone in the darkness. It was one thing to confront her familiar dangers. She’d learned how to cope with the grabby landlord by giving him a faceful of pepper spray. And she rarely walked the streets after dinner. It gave her a sense of security.
Now she was surrounded by the unknown. Anything could be lurking in the dark. And worse, she suspected there was going to be some nasty surprise that was intended to teach her how to react to the scene in which her character was being followed by the killer.
The thought made her as twitchy as the time her dad had tried to detox.
“Shit,” she groused. “I’m freezing my ass off.”
There was a crunch of footsteps against the broken pavement.
“At last,” she muttered.
“Don’t move,” the director barked.
Rachel froze, battling the urge to turn. She wanted to see what was coming. She knew, however, that this was a test. If she failed, she might very well be sent home, her dreams shattered.
She would endure anything before she allowed that to happen.
With a grim effort, she conjured the image of her father. At this time of night, he would be passed out on the sofa. Her brothers would be stumbling home from their own evening of partying, making a mess in the kitchen that she would be expected to clean up.
The thought helped to steady her nerves as she felt an arm circle her shoulder and grasp the collar of her coat. She held herself still even when she felt the hand tugging down the puffy material. She was confused. Was she being filmed? Did they want a better view of her face?
She remained oblivious to the threat even when something was pressed against her throat.
It wasn’t until the gush of warm blood flowed down her neck and drenched her sweater beneath her parka that she finally understood.
This wasn’t a rehearsal.
It was the finale.
* * *
Jax was sound asleep when his phone rang. It wasn’t unusual to have his night interrupted, but he wasn’t on call, so he knew as soon as he opened his eyes that it had to do with the Butcher.
Crawling out of bed, he stretched his muscles, which felt stiffer than usual, and pounded down a large mug of coffee as he pulled on his clothes. He tried not to think how much harder it was every year to get himself moving as he headed to his car and drove across town. Or how he was shivering despite the fact that he had the heater blowing at full force.
He was getting old. No doubt about it.
Thankfully, he’d shaken off most of his aches and pains by the time he reached the abandoned lot. Climbing out of the car, he weaved his way through the cluster of gawkers, cops, and paramedics to take charge of the crime scene.
He crossed to the center of the lot, not surprised to discover the young, dark-haired woman with her throat cut. Still, he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut as the lights the patrol had set around the area revealed the female’s features. She looked like Remi. Not an exact replica. But closer than mere coincidence.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to concentrate on gathering the evidence and sending the uniforms to canvas the area. The bastard was bound to make a mistake at some point. No one was perfect. He just had to be diligent enough to catch it when it happened.
It was still dark when he at last returned to his car, although there was a hint of a predawn glow at the edge of the horizon. He hesitated. He could go home and try to get a couple of hours sleep. Or head to the office. Or . . .
He put his car in gear and headed for the distant suburb.
Another innocent girl with her throat slit and the telltale mark on her breast. He was done with this shit. It was time to start rattling some cages to see what fell out. And he knew exactly who would be willing to help.
Pulling out his phone, he called Ash. He didn’t want to bang on the door and scare poor Remi.
Twenty-five minutes later, he pulled next to the curb in front of the bi-level house and climbed out of the car. The door to the house was opened as he stepped onto the porch and Ash was outlined by a dim table lamp. He was wearing a pair of jogging pants and his hair was mussed. Clearly, he’d just crawled out of bed.
“Come in,” he invited Jax, closing the door behind his brother and resting a hand on a large dog that was eyeing Jax with steady suspicion. “This is Buddy.”
“Hey, big boy.” Jax held out his hand, waiting for the dog to give a cautious sniff before he scratched the animal behind his ear. Buddy remained watchful, but he settled down next to Ash. Jax lifted his head to meet his brother’s gaze. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
Ash folded his arms over his bare chest. “Stop being nosy.”
Jax deliberately glanced around the open foyer that offered a view of the living room and into the kitchen. The house was small but comfortable. Like his parents’ home.
“I’m a detective,” he reminded his brother. “It’s my job.”
Ash didn’t look impressed. “What’s happening in my bedroom is not your job.”
Jax’s lips twitched. “Meaning I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“I assume you didn’t wake me up just to be a pain in the ass?”
Jax’s brief amusement faded. “There’s another body.”
Ash’s jaw clenched, but it was obvious he’d been expecting the news. “You think it was the Butcher?” he demanded.
“Her throat was slit.”
“And the mark?”
“Yep.”
“Damn.” Ash lowered his voice, as if afraid they might be overheard. “Did she look like Remi?”
“Long dark hair, slender, pretty.”
Ash held his gaze. “Was it natural?”
Jax hesitated. He wasn’t worried about sharing information about the case. He was already risking his job by involving his brother. But he was reluctant to admit just how much the woman had looked like Remi.
“I’ll have to wait for the medical examiner’s report, but I suspect she’d recently had some work done,” he said.
Ash grimaced, but he didn’t press for more details. “Was she found in the same park?”
“No. It was an empty lot.”
“Another change from his usual pattern.”
Jax shrugged. “There’s more.”
“What?”
“The killer intended to burn her body.”
“‘Intended’?”
Jax shuddered. The scent of charred flesh had smacked him in the face the second he’d arrived at the crime scene. There was nothing quite so sickening. Thankfully, it’d been limited to her feet and legs.
“She was drenched in gasoline and lit on fire. It was sheer chance that a patrol car was driving past and the officer had the good sense to put out the flames before the woman was burned completely.”
Ash reached out to give his brother’s shoulder a squeeze. He was one of the few people who understood the stress of working a serial killer case. It was one thing to deal with a drive-by shooting. Or a pissed-off boyfriend. Someone died, and you investigated until you could put the guilty party in jail.
With a serial killer, the clock was always ticking. Either you found them or they murdered again. And again. And again.
It was like having a noose around your neck that was constantly tightening.
“I don’t suppose he happened to notice anyone in the area?” Ash asked.
“No.” Jax had interviewed the cop. He’d been so rattled, he’d barely been able to give an account of what had happened. “He was too busy trying to put out the fire and call for an ambulance. It wasn’t until I arrived that I had a sweep of the neighborhood made. So far, no one admits to seeing anything.”
“Of course not.” Ash muttered a low string of curses. “This destroys my theory.”
“What theory?”
In brisk, concise words, Ash shared the events of the past twenty-four hours.
“You’ve been busy,” Jax said in dry tones.
Ash shrugged. “I knew you wouldn’t have time to investigate everything.”
Jax suspected Ash was more worried about upsetting his potential mother-in-law.
He needn’t have worried. Jax was happy to allow Ash to deal with Liza Harding-Walsh. Unless they had more than the dubious testimony of a drug dealer, he wasn’t going to try to get a search warrant for the Mustang. A judge would laugh him out of his office.
“What was your theory?” he asked instead.
“I thought the Butcher was deliberately attempting to terrify Remi,” Ash said, glancing toward an opening that led to a hallway. Jax assumed it led to the bedroom where Remi was still sleeping. “First by ensuring his victims look exactly like her and then by using her father’s prized Mustang to make a flashy escape from the park.”
Jax gave a slow nod. It made sense. He’d assumed the cosmetic operations were to satisfy the killer’s need for a specific look in his prey, but it was quite possible it was meant to send a message. The bastard was clever enough to know that the victim’s images would be spread all over the media. And that Remi would realize he was creating clones of her.
“It’s a good theory,” he admitted.
Ash made a sound of disgust, running his fingers through his mussed hair. “Not if the killer tried to burn the body tonight,” he pointed out. “What would be the point of having a victim who looks like Remi if you’re going to destroy the body?”
Jax grimaced. Maybe the killer panicked and feared he could be connected to the victim. Or perhaps he was simply overcome by an urge to watch the body burn. Or it could be a thousand other possibilities.
“Trying to peer into the mind of a serial killer is always a waste of time,” he reminded his brother.
Ash gave a firm shake of his head. “There should be a pattern.”
“Yes, but the pattern only has to make sense to the killer, not to us.”
Ash flattened his lips, frustration smoldering around him like an invisible cloak. Jax sympathized. This case was giving him an ulcer. He could only imagine what it was doing to his brother.
“Do you know anything about the victim?” Ash demanded.
“Not yet.” Jax lifted his hand to rub the back of his aching neck. The coffee was wearing off and the weariness was creeping into his bones. “I’m headed to the medical examiner’s office to light a fire under Feldman’s ass. Hopefully, I can get the Jane Doe moved to the top of his list.”
There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and the brothers turned toward the hallway to watch as Remi strolled into the room. Buddy yelped in pleasure, racing to dance around her feet and tug on the hem of her knee-length robe.
Jax smiled. When Ash had first started dating the daughter of his partner, he’d seen nothing but trouble ahead. Not only because Gage was hyperprotective of Remi, but she had been raised in a way that was utterly foreign to the Marcel clan. They didn’t do private schools, or formal debutante parties, or summers in Europe.
They were more backyard BBQs and Friday-night football games.
It’d only taken a few months, however, for Jax to realize Remi was much more like her father than her snooty mother. Plus, there was no mistaking just how devoted Ash was to the young woman. Jax had gone from skeptical to fiercely hopeful the two would make a match of it.
And even after the two of them had ended the engagement, Jax remained hopeful they would get back together. Whatever their problems, they’d loved each other with an intensity that didn’t just die.
“Ash?” She moved to stand beside her onetime fiancé before turning toward him. “Hey, Jax.”
“Morning, Remi.” Jax watched as Ash wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It wasn’t possessive. Just the instincts of a man who craved the closeness of a certain woman. “Sorry. Did we wake you?”
She shook her head. “No, I usually get up early.”
Jax leaned forward, planting a quick kiss on her sleep-flushed cheek. “It’s good to see you, Princess,” he said, using the affectionate nickname he’d given her years before.
She snorted, but something in her expression eased at his teasing. Had she been afraid things had changed between them?
“Same old Jax,” she murmured, her smile filled with a fondness that warmed Jax’s heart.
“Hmm.” He tilted his head to the side. “Is that an insult?”
“You know it isn’t,” she murmured.
He held her gaze. “You’ve been missed.”
Her eyes darkened with something that might have been regret before she was squaring her shoulders and visibly bracing herself for bad news. “I don’t suppose I have to ask why you would be here at such an early hour,” she said. “There’s been another murder.”
“I’m afraid so.”