Chapter Seventeen
Ash tightened his arm around Remi’s shoulders as she swayed in horror.
He’d wanted to signal to Jax to keep his mouth shut. Remi was stressed enough. The last thing she needed was another death weighing on her mind.
But there’d been no point. Remi wasn’t stupid. She would know that Jax wouldn’t show up before dawn unless he had news about the Butcher. And besides, it would soon be plastered all over the TV.
“Do you want to sit down?” he asked in a low voice, his gaze skimming over her face that had paled despite her attempt to try to prepare herself for Jax’s words.
“No, I’m okay.” She stiffened her spine, her gaze focused on Jax. “Are you sure it was the Butcher?”
“I’m waiting on the report from the medical examiner,” Jax hedged, his expression revealing he wasn’t going to go into any gory details of the crime.
“But you suspect it’s another victim?” Remi pressed.
“Yeah.”
She pressed a hand to the center of her chest, as if to contain the pain in her heart. “We have to stop this,” she rasped.
Ash brushed a kiss over the top of her head, but before he could speak, Jax was answering her plea.
“That’s actually why I’m here.”
Ash lifted his head to study his brother’s grim face. He’d assumed he’d just wanted to share the news about the most recent murder. “What do you need?”
“I thought you might join me for brunch.”
For a second, Ash was certain he’s misheard his brother. “Brunch?”
“The mayor’s office is hosting a media day to salute the brave men and women in blue,” Jax said.
Ash remained confused. Jax had never been one to enjoy the political side of his job. In fact, if an event involved a suit and a tie, he did everything in his power to avoid it.
“And?”
“And I called a friend on the way over and she—”
“She?” Ash interrupted with a lift of his brows.
Jax narrowed his gaze. “Can I finish?”
Ash sent him an innocent smile. “I’m not stopping you.”
“He hasn’t changed either,” Remi said in dry tones.
“No shit,” Jax muttered, although Ash didn’t miss the hint of pleasure in Jax’s eyes. Once the brothers had been practically inseparable. Not only because they both worked in the same office but because they shared the same interests. Ash knew that his self-imposed exile had been tough on Jax. “She informed me that Robert Hutton sent his RSVP.”
Ash was jerked out of his rueful contemplations. Hutton. Just the man he wanted to see. “Do you have an invitation?”
Jax shrugged. “No, but that’s not going to stop me from showing up.”
“What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“I’ll be ready,” Ash assured him.
Jax glanced toward Remi. “We need to have dinner and catch up.”
“You can come over tonight.” Remi smiled with anticipation. “I’ll make spaghetti.”
“Oh.” Jax cleared his throat. “You know . . .” A deer-in-the-headlights expression spread across his face. No doubt he was recalling the night Remi made them a pot of chicken and dumplings and it turned into one soggy lump of dough. Or maybe the meat loaf that had something that tasted suspiciously like coffee grounds in it. “I’ll have to take a rain check. I’ll be eating something at my desk for the foreseeable future.”
Remi wasn’t fooled for a second. “My cooking isn’t that bad,” she groused.
Jax sent Ash a taunting smile. “I’ll let you field that one.” He reached out to tug a lock of Remi’s hair. “See ya later, Princess.”
With a wave, Jax turned and left the house. He was swift to close the door, but a brutal blast of cold air still managed to swirl inside. Ash hurriedly steered Remi away from the entryway and into the warmth of the kitchen.
Almost as if she was operating on autopilot, Remi immediately moved to switch on the coffee maker.
“Are you going to confront Bobby about where he was the night Tiffany Holloway was killed?” she demanded.
Ash hesitated. He didn’t want Remi anywhere near Hutton. But he wasn’t sure if it was because he suspected the slimy bastard was hiding something or because she used to date the man. “That’s the plan.”
Remi opened the cabinet to pull out a couple of worn mugs. “Do you want me to go with you?”
Ash studied her profile in surprise. She sounded like she had no interest in joining them.
“I was bracing myself for your insistence on being included,” he admitted.
She poured the coffee, spooning in sugar before moving to hand him his mug.
Ash felt a small flare of warmth. Ridiculous, but he loved the fact that she could make his coffee without having to think about how he liked it. It assured him that their former intimacy wasn’t entirely destroyed.
“Actually, I think I’ll visit my mother,” she said, catching him off guard.
Ash set aside his mug, frowning at his companion. “If you wait—”
“No,” Remi interrupted sharply. “She won’t talk if you’re around.”
Well, that was true enough. Liza Harding-Walsh would have her tongue cut out before she uttered more than icy, barely polite chatter in his presence. Ash assumed the older woman was terrified that if she tried to be nice, Ash might assume he was welcome in their pedigreed family.
A horrifying thought.
“I don’t like you going there alone,” he growled.
She looked predictably confused. “It’s my home.”
“That’s what scares me,” he muttered.
Remi shook her head, clearly refusing to allow his heebie-jeebies to affect her. “The Butcher would have had hundreds of occasions to attack me at the house if he wanted.”
Ash couldn’t argue. He didn’t even know what was bothering him. He had no proof the car that’d tried to run down Roo belonged to Gage. Or that the killer had any connection to Remi’s family estate.
Besides, as Remi had just pointed out, she’d been in and out of the house on a weekly basis. If the killer had wanted to hurt her, he’d had plenty of opportunity.
Still, he found he couldn’t completely shake his unease.
“The one thing we know is that he’s unpredictable,” he muttered.
She made a sound of impatience. “I can’t stay locked in this house.”
“Why not?”
She glared at him. “Be serious.”
“Okay.” He heaved a resigned sigh. “But I want you to call me before you go and as soon as you leave.”
Her lips flattened, and it was obvious she wanted to tell him to back off. But, perhaps recalling that he was only trying to protect her, she placed her mug in the sink and turned to head out of the kitchen.
“I’m going to change and then go for a run,” she said.
“Buddy and I will join you,” he called out as she headed for her bedroom.
“Of course you will,” she called back in sarcastic tones.
Ash glanced down at Buddy, who was regarding him with a gaze that warned he was treading close to getting thrown in the doghouse.
* * *
The adrenaline is pumping through me. A glorious antidote to the poison that fills my veins. It excites and soothes me at the same time. An intoxicating sensation I clutch like a lifeline.
But it wouldn’t last.
I could already sense the euphoria slipping away.
I sit in the dark, staring at the house down the street. I try to conjure the memories, needing to savor them to keep my sanity.
Closing my eyes, I visualize the sight of my creation standing in the empty lot. Her fear had been a tangible force that seeped deep inside me. It was better than any hit of Xanax. I’d wanted to spend hours just watching her shiver in terror. I don’t know why the sight eases the gnawing hole in the center of my soul. I only know I can momentarily breathe.
Then, all too quickly, the woman is gathering her courage and turning around. The sight reminds me that I am exposed. As much as I might desire to prolong the glorious culmination of my efforts, I can’t risk someone noticing our presence in the neighborhood.
Commanding the creature to hold still, I move out of the shadows. One step. Then two. I come close enough to catch the scent of the familiar soap. My stomach unclenches at the sweet scent even as my hunger sharpens.
I need more.
The curse of my illness.
More. More. More.
I wrap my arms around her, tugging down the coat to offer me unimpeded access to the tender flesh of her throat.
Only blood would truly ease my suffering.
I force open my eyes.
After purging my cancer, I cover my tracks and return home. I shower and intend to go to bed. My symptoms should be sated for at least a few weeks.
But rather than crawling beneath the sheets, I find myself driving to the unassuming house in the quiet neighborhood.
It’s dangerous. Even though I’ve eased my demons, I know I’m not impervious to temptation. I proved that once.
Still, I linger.
And the sickness begins to spread.
* * *
Ash sat in the passenger seat of his brother’s car and blindly stared out the window as they headed to the fancy hotel just north of the Loop.
After his jog with Remi, Ash had taken a quick shower and changed into fresh slacks and a chunky silver sweater. Not quite up to the mayor’s standards, but he didn’t plan to attend the brunch as a guest.
Now he tried to concentrate on the upcoming encounter with Robert Hutton even as he stewed on the thought that Remi would soon be heading to her mother’s estate. Logic told him that she would be perfectly safe. His heart, however, hated every second she was out of his sight.
He had it bad.
“You’re quiet.” Jax at last broke the silence, sending Ash a questioning glance. “Is anything wrong? Beyond the obvious?”
“I feel . . .” Ash searched for the word that captured the prickling unease that plagued him. “Itchy.”
“A premonition?” Jax demanded, perfectly serious. The older Marcel was a big believer in gut instinct.
Ash shook his head. “More a knowledge that serial killers eventually spiral out of control,” he said. “Every minute that passes puts Remi in more danger.”
Jax muttered a curse as he swerved his way through the thick traffic. In the morning sunlight, Ash could make out the shadows beneath his brother’s eyes and the tension in his unshaven jaw.
“The only way to protect her is to find the Butcher,” Jax said.
Ash sent his brother a sour glare. He didn’t need to be told what had to be done. What he needed were clues to lead him to the killer.
Keeping his frustrated words to himself, Ash returned his gaze to the side window, watching as his brother pulled into the parking lot next to the hotel.
“It doesn’t look like a very big crowd,” Ash murmured, taking in the nearly empty lot.
“The event doesn’t start for another hour,” Jax explained.
Ash felt a stab of impatience. He had a dozen things he could be doing. “Then why are we here?” he demanded.
Jax drove toward the side entrance. “I want to catch Hutton before he goes inside.”
Ash’s gaze skimmed over the handful of cars already parked at the back of the lot. He assumed they were employees at the hotel. Then he noticed the glossy black Mercedes pulled into a distant corner. That didn’t belong to a waiter. Or a maid.
It was more instinct than true curiosity that drew his attention to the vanity plate of the Mercedes. RHUTTONIV.
Robert Hutton the Fourth.
He reached out to grasp his brother’s upper arm. “Pull behind the dumpster,” he commanded in sharp tones.
Jax swerved toward the large trash receptacle, bringing the car to a halt before glancing toward Ash in confusion. “What’s going on?”
Ash pointed toward the Mercedes they could see around the edge of the dumpster.
“It looks like Hutton decided to get here even earlier.”
Jax frowned, his lips parting as if to demand how Ash knew that was Robert Hutton’s car only to snap shut when he noticed the plates. “Why would he arrive an hour before the event starts?” he demanded instead.
A good question. Ash ran through a mental list of possibilities, only to come up blank.
“Either he’s moonlighting as a member of the waitstaff or he’s hoping to impress the mayor by showing up before anyone else,” he finally concluded.
Jax dismissed his theory with a shake of his head. “The mayor won’t even be here, so there’s no one to impress with his punctuality. It’s one of those PR events they set up to get the district attorney’s staff and the chief of police on the front page of the papers.”
Ash didn’t miss the edge of disdain in his brother’s voice. “You don’t sound very impressed.”
“I understand the politics of it,” Jax said, glancing toward the hotel that no doubt was charging a fortune to host the fancy brunch. “We need the publicity the mayor can offer us to get the funding, but I wish we made more of an effort to reach out to the people we’re supposed to be serving.” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “They need to be reassured that we’re listening to their concerns, and that’s not happening when we’re having fancy brunches where only the most elite of Chicago are invited.”
Ash shrugged. “You can make the change when you become chief.”
Jax sent him a horrified glance. “Christ, don’t even suggest that.”
“Why?” Ash had been only half-teasing. He couldn’t imagine anyone better than Jax Marcel to be chief of the CPD. He would be hard but fair, and he would demand the very best of his employees. “The only way to have the future you want is to take charge,” he pointed out.
“I could say the same to you,” Jax said in dry tones.
The vision of Remi filled Ash’s mind. That was the future he wanted. The woman he loved, and a return to the job that had once filled him with a sense of purpose.
The Butcher had stripped that away from him. Perhaps capturing the killer could give it back.
“I’m trying,” he said with a sigh.
Jax turned off the engine and unhooked his safety belt before turning in his seat. “Remi looks at you like she did five years ago,” he abruptly told Ash.
“How’s that?”
“Like she found her treasure at the end of the rainbow.”
Ash’s breath caught in his throat, aching to believe his brother’s claim before he told himself that he was being ridiculous. “Right,” he said with a snort.
“It’s true,” Jax insisted. “I envy you for that.”
Not entirely convinced that his brother hadn’t mistaken Remi’s gratitude for his presence with something more intimate, Ash distracted himself with his brother’s love life.
It wasn’t nearly so complicated.
“You’ve had your opportunities,” Ash reminded Jax.
Although all the Marcel men had been raised to treat females with the respect they would offer their own mother, Jax had spent his early years dating any number of beautiful, talented, and intelligent women. Including an FBI agent Ash had thought might be “the one.”
“I . . .” Jax allowed his words to trail away as a car drove past the dumpster and headed toward the back of the lot. “Looks like the security team has arrived,” he muttered.
Ash made a sound of shock. He recognized the man behind the wheel of the sedan.
“Isn’t that O’Reilly?” he demanded.
Jax leaned forward, his attention focused on the car as it parked next to the Mercedes. “Yes.”
“Why would he work security?” Ash demanded in confusion. He assumed there would be some uniforms on duty, but why would you have a detective?
“He wouldn’t,” Jax muttered, his hands curling into fists on his lap as O’Reilly crawled out of his car and glanced around the parking lot before hurrying to enter the passenger seat of the Mercedes. “I guess we know why Hutton was here so early. He had a meeting set up.”
Ash shook his head in confusion. “Why would he meet with O’Reilly?”
“And why here?” Jax added. “Hutton has a fancy office just a few blocks away.”
“Both good questions.”
“Yeah. So how do we get them answered?”
“First, we wait,” Ash told his brother, knowing Jax must be feeling the same urgent need to rush across the parking lot and confront the two men that was searing through him. Only the knowledge that they were more likely to get information by dividing and conquering kept his ass in the car.
Ten minutes later, O’Reilly was back in his sedan and driving out of the lot.
“I’m done waiting,” Jax announced.
Ash unbuckled his seat belt and pushed open the passenger door. “Fine. You take care of O’Reilly. I’ll deal with Hutton.”
His brother scowled. “Ash.”
“You can’t risk confronting Hutton,” Ash told him. “Not when he could get you fired with one phone call.”
Jax muttered a curse as he glared toward the Mercedes. “He’s involved. I don’t know how, but he’s involved.”
“I’ll take care of it. You go after O’Reilly.” Ash slipped out of the car. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”
Jax leaned across the console, his expression worried. “Ash, Hutton might be a spoiled rich boy, but he’s cunning and ambitious. I don’t doubt he would go to any lengths to protect his pampered ass.”
Ash nodded. He knew his brother was right. Any man could be dangerous if he was backed into a corner.
“I’ll be careful.”
Jax heaved a sigh. “I wish I believed that.”
“You worry about yourself.” Ash turned the tables on his brother. “O’Reilly will be carrying. Probably more than one gun.”
Jax offered a wry smile. “Let’s just both agree not to get shot today.”
“Deal.”
“Call me,” Jax demanded as Ash slammed shut the door and turned to head across the parking lot.