Chapter Eight

“Hell,” Lucian mumbled, and he scooped up Olivia and put her in the chair. As pale as she’d gone, he thought she might faint.

“It can’t be him,” Olivia mumbled, sounding several steps past being hysterical.

He couldn’t blame her. Either someone was playing some kind of trick on them or else that was truly Olivia’s stalker on the screen.

Andrew Tatum.

The man who’d tried to choke and stab the life out of her. And he had nearly succeeded.

“He’s in a psychiatric hospital,” Olivia said.

There were tears shimmering in her eyes when she looked up at him. Eyes that begged him to do something to stop this.

So, Lucian did.

He grabbed the landline phone and called Salvetti again. The PI didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it was clear that Lucian had awakened him. Lucian didn’t care. He was paying Salvetti more than enough to drop everything—including sleep—to take care of this.

“Andrew Tatum,” Lucian told Salvetti. “Make sure he’s still locked up.”

Lucian hung up and knelt in front of Olivia. “Someone could have set this up to make it look like Tatum,” he reminded her.

She shook her head, and her hand went to her throat. “How?”

“Maybe some kind of mask.” And there was only reason someone would have done that—to torment Olivia.

And that pissed him off.

She’d already been put through hell, and someone was trying to make sure she continued that journey. First, the incident with the car. Then, the break-in at her apartment. The cameras. Now, this.

“Tatum did a plea deal and got ten years for attempted manslaughter,” Olivia said. She was shaking now. Head to toe. So, Lucian gathered her into his arms. “It’s only been two years. He can’t have gotten out this early.”

Which gave credence to the mask theory. But why torment Olivia and him like this? Unless Estelle or Harvey wanted to see how they would react.

Or if they would break.

“The killer might be trying to somehow spook us into revealing what we know,” Lucian tossed out there. It wasn’t a good theory, but it was the only one he could come up with at the moment. “Maybe so we’ll go on the run and then any evidence that we might have found could be destroyed.”

After all, it wouldn’t do the killer much good to get rid of them if there was still incriminating evidence left behind. Especially evidence that the killer wouldn’t know where to find.

Like in Olivia’s apartment.

Or Lucian’s house.

His house wouldn’t have been as easy to break into as Olivia’s place. Nor would his office since he’d put new security equipment in there when he’d bought the building. But the cameras that’d been outside his windows would have given the killer plenty of insight into what Lucian had been doing for the past week. And not just about the sexual stuff, either.

He glanced around at the pages of Marissa’s journal.

Was that what the killer was after?

Something that was written in there?

Lucian had the original journal locked away in the safe in his bedroom. Definitely not easy to access, and there hadn’t been any cameras found on that side of the house. Besides, with good cameras, the killer could have read all the journal pages that Lucian had taped to the walls.

Perhaps this wasn’t about the journal or possible evidence at all.

Maybe this was just a sick, sadistic bastard who wanted to see them twist and turn? If so, the killer had succeeded because Olivia was definitely scared out of her mind.

Her eyes widened, giving him yet another reminder of that fear. “Oh, God. What if he gets in the house?”

“All the windows and doors are armed with sensors, remember? If he’d tried to get in, we would have known because the alarm would have sounded, and the security company would have called the cops.”

Olivia’s gaze came back to his, and he saw the flaw with his attempted reassurance. Someone had called the cops the night Tatum had attacked her, and even though they’d responded ASAP, Tatum had still nearly managed to kill her.

Lucian caught her by the shoulders. “I’m not going to let you die,” he promised, and even though he wasn’t sure how he’d manage that, he would.

The sound shot through the room, and Olivia gasped. It didn’t help Lucian’s already racing heartbeat, either, but it was only the phone. When he saw the PI’s name on the caller ID, Lucian snatched it up.

“Please tell me Tatum’s still locked up,” Lucian snapped.

But he figured Salvetti’s hesitation wasn’t a good sign at all.

And it wasn’t.

“Tatum’s out,” Salvetti said.

Even though Lucian didn’t have the call on speaker, Olivia must have heard because her breath rattled in her throat and she started repeating a string of Oh, God’s.

“How the hell did that happen?” Lucian demanded.

“I’m still trying to sort that out, but it appears nearly a week ago, there was a court order moving Tatum to a different facility. But neither he nor his escort arrived at the new place. They just disappeared.”

Son of a bitch. And that was only the beginning of the profanity that Lucian would have spewed if this had been a private conversation. However, the profanity wouldn’t do Olivia any good and she was on the verge of panicking again.

“Why wasn’t Olivia Mercer notified of Tatum’s disappearance?” Lucian pressed.

“Still working that out, too. Someone clearly screwed up big time, and it might take me an hour or two to find out who and why. I’m headed over to the psychiatric hospital now.” He paused again. “Should I call the cops in case Tatum heads to yours or Ms. Mercer’s places?”

“He’s already been here. But yes, call them. I want cops patrolling the area until they find Tatum and put him back where he belongs. Also, send over a couple of your men to sit out in front of my house. And call me the second you learn anything.”

“Tatum could have been the person driving that car yesterday,” Olivia said the moment Lucian ended the call.

Yes, he’d already come to that conclusion. “Tatum could have also sent us those threatening messages.”

Digging up bones will get you killed—again.

Though that didn’t make sense. Unless…

“How smart is Tatum?” Lucian asked her.

She blinked. “Smart. Why?”

“Smart with computers?”

Olivia nodded. “He’s a software developer and creates video games.”

That caused him to curse again. “I just assumed my computer had been hacked first. Then, yours. But maybe Tatum’s been keeping tabs on you this whole time while he’s been locked up. And when he saw what you were researching, he could have gotten jealous.”

She stayed quiet a moment, nodded. “I downloaded photos of you. He could have seen that. And yes, he would have been jealous. He threatened one of my coworkers who brought me a cup of coffee one morning.”

So, Tatum had a very short fuse and enough skills to have done this. And more. “Exactly how many photos of me did you download?”

“A lot,” she said after hesitating.

Lucian would have been flattered if he’d known for certain that those photos hadn’t caused this nut job to come after her again. “How would he have gotten out? Does he have money and connections?”

Another nod. “Both.” But she followed that with an immediate headshake. “His mother wouldn’t have helped him, though. She was scared of him and wanted him locked away. She even testified against him at the hearing.” Olivia swallowed hard. “I have his phone number.”

“You what?” Lucian snapped.

“Tatum called me from a cell phone shortly after he was put away. He said if I ever wanted to talk, I should call him, that he wanted to stay in touch. He made it sound as if we’d been dating and had broken up.”

Tatum wasn’t just a nut job, he was a sadistic one. The very kind of person who could have orchestrated all of this.

“I blocked his number, but I remember it,” she said, almost like an apology. “For some reason, it seemed to stick in my head.”

And he didn’t want to know how many nightmares Tatum and that phone call had given her.

Lucian debated what he was about to say, but it might be the fastest way to find out what Tatum was up to. “Call him,” Lucian told her. “But I’ll be the one talking to him. I don’t want to put you through that.”

Olivia opened her mouth, maybe to argue, but he knew that her attacker was the last man on Earth she wanted to have contact with. She nodded, finally, and with her hands still shaking, she pressed in the number, put it on speaker and handed Lucian the phone. He expected the call to go to voice mail or even for the number to be disconnected after two years.

It wasn’t.

Someone answered on the first ring.

“Olivia,” the man said.

Judging from the soft gasp she made, it was Tatum. Lucian wished he could reach through the phone and tear this idiot limb from limb. But not until he got answers.

“Where the hell are you?” Lucian demanded.

“Lucian Wilde,” Tatum said like profanity. “Let me speak to Olivia. I know she’s there with you.”

“Yes, because you were trespassing and spying on us with your cameras. The cops will be very interested in that. Now, where are you?” he repeated.

“Nearby.”

That sounded like the threat that it no doubt was. And Tatum sure didn’t deny that camera accusation.

“Did you try to kill us yesterday?” Olivia came out and asked.

Lucian shot her a warning glare for her to stay quiet, but it was obviously too late. Tatum made a sound of satisfaction. Because he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

To talk to Olivia.

“Did you?” she pressed.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Tatum answered. Which, of course, wasn’t an answer to her question at all.

“You tried to kill me two years ago!” Olivia shouted. “Did you try again?”

Lucian moved the phone away. Not that it would stop her from talking, but perhaps he could get some info from Tatum before this turned even worse than it already was.

“How’d you get out of the psych hospital?” Lucian asked.

No sound of satisfaction this time from Tatum. Just hesitation. “Someone arranged it. They did the paperwork for a transfer, and when the escort picked me up, he said I was supposed to lay low at this apartment that someone had rented for me downtown. I thought Olivia got me out.”

“In your dreams,” she snarled.

“Who else would have done it?” Tatum calmly countered.

Maybe the killer.

Or Tatum could have orchestrated all of this on his own and didn’t want to take this particular blame for himself.

“Did you break into my apartment?” she asked. “Did you watch me?”

Moments crawled by. So many that Lucian thought the man might have ended the call rather than tell the truth.

“I wanted to see you,” Tatum finally said.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut a moment, groaned. “You broke in. You bastard, did you touch me?”

“No. Of course not. I love you, Olivia,” Tatum added. And he sounded damn sincere, making the situation even creepier. “I wanted to let you know I was out of the hospital, but he said I wasn’t to call you yet.”

“Who said that?” Lucian pressed.

“The escort who took me from the hospital. He said it’d all been arranged for me to get out but that I wasn’t supposed to contact you directly. I told him the cops would probably tell you where I was, but he said no, that it’d been taken care of, that no one would tell you anything about me. Even though I figured you might already know since you maybe got me out.”

“And why would I have done that?” she snapped.

“Because you know how much I love you.”

Lucian was about to stop this idiot logic, but Olivia took hold of his hand so he couldn’t hang up.

“Yes, I had the proof of your love on my body,” she practically yelled. “You choked me and stabbed me. You left me for dead. How the hell is that love?”

“It’s love,” the man insisted, sounding like the insane person that he clearly was. “I cared for you too much. Wanted you too much. And I’ll always love and want you…just like I loved and wanted Marissa.”

Everything inside Lucian went still.

Olivia sucked in a hard breath.

“Marissa?” Olivia and Lucian said together.

“Yes. Small world, isn’t it? I worked for her as a pool cleaner,” Tatum said. “A cliché, huh? The pretty socialite screwing the pool boy. The age difference didn’t matter to me. I loved her, and I kept on loving her even after that bastard Damien put her under his spell. She tossed me aside like garbage after they hooked up.”

Lucian looked at Olivia to see if she knew anything about this. Clearly, she didn’t. She was back to trembling again, and the color had gone from her face.

The numbers added up. Tatum was forty-seven now. Forty-five when he attacked Olivia. And that would have made him seventeen at the time of Marissa’s death.

“Why didn’t any of this come up in the investigation?” Lucian asked Tatum.

“Nothing to come up. None of Marissa’s friends had ever seen her with me, and I never told anyone. Until now.” He paused. “Olivia always reminded me of Marissa. That’s why I wanted to be with her. I wanted to have the chance with Olivia that Marissa wouldn’t give me.”

Olivia groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

Hell.

Either Tatum had picked the right lie to tell or else this had gone to another level of being downright unnerving. How long had Marissa been lurking around anyway?

“I will be with Olivia,” Tatum continued. “And, Lucian, if you think you can keep her from me, then you’re wrong. Just like Damien was. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

The line went dead but not before they heard a sound that put a knot in Lucian’s gut.

Tatum made a kissing sound. No doubt meant for Olivia.

Yes, this asshole was insane all right. It took everything inside Lucian to stay put and not go out after him. But that could be playing right into Tatum’s hands. Because Lucian would have to take Olivia with him to do that, and it would put her out in the open.

Lucian fired off a quick text to Salvetti. Find Tatum now and find out if he worked for Marissa Langford. With that task down, he turned to Olivia to see what he could do to help. She wasn’t crying, but it was close enough.

“I can’t let him get to me again,” she whispered.

Easier said than done. Still, he pulled her to him and held her. “He won’t. And now that we know he’s out, we’ll find him.”

Especially before Tatum could do any more harm.

“If Tatum’s behind all of this, where does it leave us?” Olivia asked. “Maybe we aren’t possessed after all. Perhaps this is all Tatum’s doing, and we have overactive imaginations….”

Lucian snapped back so he could meet her eye to eye. “You’re not discounting the dreams. This,” he added putting his hand on her breast. Even though it wasn’t her breast that had generated this fire in their bodies.

Fire that was there even now. Even after the news about Tatum.

“It’s real,” he said. “Yes, I know at best it sounds strange. At worse, flat out crazy. But I’m not letting go of you.”

Shit. He was starting to think like Damien.

Or, God forbid, Tatum.

“I’m sorry,” he added, and then kissed her.

She didn’t resist. Olivia kissed him right back. She slipped her hands around the back of his neck. And despite the hell going on around them, the kiss helped.

It complicated things, too.

After a few moments, he was ready to haul her off to bed again, and this time he’d make it to his bedroom where there were condoms. But first, he wanted to hear from Salvetti, and what he wanted to hear was that Tatum had been found and already hauled off to jail.

Lucian didn’t get a chance to voice his hesitation, and clearly Olivia didn’t feel it. Probably because he had his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her ass.

Oh, man.

She fired every nerve in his body, and within seconds, he was starved for her.

Olivia’s hands didn’t stay put, either. She slid her palm between them. To his belly. And lower. Right inside his boxers. And she touched him there, too.

Then, stopped.

Fighting for breath, she pulled back. “Marissa.” And that’s all she said for several long moments. “The images are coming fast now. She did this to Damien. Then she got on her knees and took him in her mouth.”

Hell. “There’s probably not much that Marissa and Damien didn’t do.”

And he had some images of his own to prove it.

Olivia kissed him again. Hard and rough. Her grip changed, too. Not so tentative.

Not so Olivia any more.

“You don’t have to replay Marissa’s memories,” he assured her. “That didn’t work last time, remember?”

Olivia shook her head. “But I don’t know how to stop them.”

She was already lowering herself to her knees, but Lucian caught onto her and pulled her back up. As much as he’d like a blow job—and he’d really like one—he didn’t want Marissa or Damien playing into this.

“We can make our own memories,” Lucian insisted, and he shoved everything on the desk to one side.

Olivia was already on the same page with him. She dropped back onto the desk, pulling him with her. And on top of her.

“I need to get a condom,” he reminded her.

“Not necessary. I’m on the pill, remember. Not that I’ve needed it much before now.”

Good thing, too, because that was it, the only thing she managed to say before she took him from his boxers and lifted her hips.

Lucian gave her what she wanted. He hoisted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

I want it now went through his head.

And she got it now.

Lucian pushed into her. Another slam of adrenaline and pleasure. He pushed again. Each stroke brought another slam, another demand from her to finish this.

She moved with him. Shoving herself against him. Sliding against his erection. Taking every inch of him. Until the friction and the pleasure were unbearable.

But somehow, they continued.

He caught onto her chin, forcing her to look at him so he could watch her go over. She was close. So close. He could feel the tiny tremors squeezing against his erection. He could also feel his own body on the verge of release. But he wanted them to do this together. He wanted her with him.

So, he watched her face. Her eyes. While he pushed into her.

Timing the strokes.

Matching the rhythm.

Moving faster.

Harder.

Until he felt her start to shatter around him.

“Olivia,” he whispered, so her gaze would meet his.

They met all right.

She was smiling, not a usual smile, either, and she slid her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Damien,” she purred.

The smile was gone in a flash, but Lucian knew exactly whose smile that’d been.

Marissa’s.

Olivia blinked. Her eyes widened. And he felt her body go stiff. Not from the climax, either. She simply stopped. Stopped responding.

Stopped everything.

Lucian wanted to ask her what was wrong, but it was too late.

Grimacing, she slid against him with one last hard thrust, and there was no time for questions. No time for coherent thoughts. That thrust took him over the edge.

“She’s possessing me,” Olivia said, her lips trembling. “She’s trying to completely take over. That’s why I stopped.”

He wanted to shoot that theory right out of the water. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even be sure that it hadn’t been Damien who’d finished for him. Or that it wasn’t Damien who was still driving him.

At first Lucian thought the buzzing sound was in his head, but then he realized it was the doorbell.

“The PI was going to send someone over to watch the place,” Lucian reminded Olivia when she went stiff.

Lucian got off her and moved back to the computer so he could pull up the security camera at the front door. The storm had passed, and there was a misty rain falling. However, the rain didn’t stop him from seeing who’d rung the bell.

And he froze.

What the hell?