by Roni Loren
“And Neve?” he asked, the question like jagged glass in his mouth.
Bret gave his shoulder a squeeze and shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, hon. She didn’t make it past the second day.”
Everything seemed to crumple around him, collapsing in until he couldn’t even see in front of him. He leaned against the wall and sank to the floor.
—
I rolled my suitcase behind me, already feeling guilty for imposing when I knocked on the door. When I’d gotten in the car this morning, this had seemed like a wise idea, but now I was starting to wonder if I should’ve given it more thought. Or at least talked to Foster first.
But after three days of not hearing from him, I was done waiting around for my life to start. Of course, that rah-rah-you-go-girl pep talk had only lasted a few hours into my trip from Verde Pass. My internal cheerleader had fallen off the top of the pyramid and lost her pom-poms somewhere around San Antonio.
The door swung open, and my brother filled the doorway, smiling down at me. “Well, if it isn’t my homeless sister.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up. I’m not homeless. I have a house.”
“Just not here,” he pointed out.
“Not yet.”
He stepped inside and swept his arm toward his loft. “Never let it be said that I don’t help those in need.”
I sauntered past him, rolling my bag behind me and wishing that Bailey didn’t live in a dorm. I loved my brother, but I’d spent enough time under the same roof with him to last a lifetime. Plus, I didn’t want to be in the way. They already had a pretty crowded household. And I’d gotten the vibe when I asked Andre if I could crash here for a few days that he was hesitant. I turned to Andre and did a mock curtsy and head bow. “I will forever be indebted, dear brother.”
Jace, who was on the couch with his legs propped up on the coffee table and a game controller in hand, gave me a quick grin. “Hey, dollface. Don’t let that asshole make you feel unwelcome. You can stay here as long as you need.”
“Did I say she was unwelcome?” Andre said, walking past me and tugging my ponytail before taking my suitcase from me. “My door is always open.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, not quite buying it.
He strolled off toward the stairs and the bedrooms on the second level. Jace paused his game and turned around, smirk in place. “You realize why he’s freaked out, right?”
“Because me staying here is a pain the ass,” I offered.
“Nah.” Jace glanced up at where Andre had disappeared. “He knows you know about the three of us, but he’s afraid of you seeing it. Knowing and witnessing are two different things. I think he’s afraid the fabric of your very existence will split in two.”
“Oh, come on. Seriously?” I frowned. “It’s not like I haven’t already seen him kissing Evan.”
Jace tilted his head, giving me the come-on-now look.
“Okay, yes, it’s going to be different seeing PDAs between the two of you. But seriously, I have no issue with any of it. I want him to be happy.”
“Good, then we’re going to get this shit out of the way right now, because Evan’s out of town on a job for the weekend, and I don’t want Dre walking around with his shorts in a knot.”
I had no idea what he meant by that but had a feeling I wouldn’t be wondering for long.
Andre came back downstairs a few minutes later. He crooked his thumb behind him. “I went ahead and set you up in my room.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. I can take the couch.”
“It’s not a problem,” Andre said quickly.
“But—”
“He doesn’t sleep in there anymore,” Jace supplied. “So really, don’t stress.”
Andre’s gaze narrowed as he turned to him. “Jace.”
“What?” Jace asked, all wide-eyed innocence. “It’s not like she doesn’t know.”
Andre scraped a hand through his dark hair, and there may have been a hint of color in his cheeks. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. It was a rare day to see the great Andre Medina embarrassed.
“Let’s just not go there, all right?” Andre said, his tone holding warning.
That’s all it took. Jace was pushing himself off the couch and heading my brother’s way. The switch from laid-back, fun-loving Jace to this version kind of took my breath for a second. I recognized that look. It was the look Foster gave me when he was about to issue a command. Oh, shit. A little shiver went through me—like my body knew how to pick up a predator in its midst.
Andre’s dark eyes went a little wide as Jace stepped in front of him and clamped a hand around the back of his neck.
“J, don’t.”
But Jace was already leaning in to kiss him. The sight of the two of them was a little hard for my brain to process. Of course, I’d seen two guys kiss before. But not two I knew so well. Jace and Andre had been best friends for so long—bros, dudes. And both were about as alpha male as any guy could get. They fit into these certain boxes in my head. Boxes that hadn’t included this. But it was hard to deny the sweetness there between them as Jace took the kiss and cajoled Andre into returning it. Soon, as if forgetting he’d protested a moment before, Andre relaxed into it, his hand going to Jace’s hip and moving him closer.
When Jace finally pulled back, Andre blinked, seeming to come back into himself, then scowled. “Dammit, J.”
“Now that the awkward is out of the way,” Jace said, turning and heading back toward the couch with a pleased grin, “who’s going to challenge me in Mario Kart?”
Andre peeked my way as if bracing for the impact of my reaction, but I was too busy smiling. “Wow, you guys are perfect for each other. I’ve never seen anyone shut you up, Dre.”
Andre stared at me for a moment then matched my smile, his stance loosening. “Evan’s pretty good at leaving me speechless, too.”
I walked over to him and gave him a hug. “I’m happy for you. Really. We’ve both tried to live for other people a long time. Tried to be who we thought we were supposed to be. Frankly, I’m freaking sick of it.”
He held me to him, putting his chin on top of my head. “When you’d get to be so smart?”
“Well, I’ve always been smarter than you,” I teased.
Andre huffed a laugh and leaned back from the hug, putting his hands on my shoulders. “True. So then tell me, why is my smart, eminently levelheaded sister back in town with no job and no place to live?”
I smirked. “Are you going to yell at me if I tell you it’s for a guy?”
“Ian Foster,” he said, his tone going a little grave.
“Yes. And don’t give me that look,” I said, jutting my chin upward. “I love him, Dre. And he loves me back. I don’t want to walk away from that.”
He blew out a breath and lowered his arms to his sides. “Well, I imagine if that’s the case, he could really use you here with him right now.”
My brows knitted. “What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t talked to him?”
“No, he was going to call me. He had something to take care of, but I decided to come here and surprise him instead.”
His frown deepened, increasing the foreboding vibes going through me. “Oh, Cela, I thought you knew. It’s been all over the local news here.”
My stomach dropped to my feet. “What has?”
“They arrested a child serial killer. They’ve pinned at least fifteen missing children cases on him from the last two decades all over the South. He confessed to the Foster girl’s kidnapping, rape, and murder.”
I put my hand over my mouth, horror bleeding through me and making everything go icy cold. “Oh my God.”
“They interviewed the parents on TV for a minute last night, but I haven’t seen Foster on anywhere.
Even my precinct has been buzzing with calls about cold cases from all over the place who want to know more about this guy. The details of the crimes are pretty gruesome, Cela. I can’t imagine what the family must be going through.”
What Foster must be going through. His worst nightmare had come to fruition. Nausea rolled through me. “I need to go. I need to see him.”
Andre nodded with sympathy. “Sure, okay, but be careful, baby girl. If he hasn’t called you, there may be a reason. He may want—”
But I wasn’t even listening. I was already retracing my steps back to the door and grabbing my purse. I made it out to the parking lot on high-speed autopilot.
As soon as I slid in my car, I picked up my phone and hit Dial. Pike answered on the first ring. “Doc.”
“I’m in town. Where is he?” I asked without preamble.
“Thank fucking Christ,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “He’s at home, and I don’t have a clue what to do with him. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s shut down completely—like some emotionless, T-1000 version of himself. And he’s talking about closing his business, saying it doesn’t mean anything anymore. I can’t seem to get any sense through his thick skull. And don’t even get me started on his fucking parents. I feel horrible for what they’ve been through, but they’ve ignored Foster through all of this. Like he doesn’t exist.”
My ribs felt like they were cinching tighter, a corset of grief squeezing everything together and making it hard to breathe. “I’m coming over.”
“Good. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
I made it to my old building in record time, my brain and body operating with a singular focus. Get. To. Foster. Pike let me in without a word and cocked his head toward Foster’s bedroom.
“Did you tell him I was coming?”
“No. He just came home a little while ago from another meeting with the FBI and went straight into his room.”
I took a shaky breath. “Wish me luck, then.”
“You’ll probably need it, doc. He hates the world right now and everyone in it.”
“How could he not?”
Pike nodded grimly. “Yeah.”
I set my purse down on the counter and headed toward Foster’s room. He may hate the world, but I loved him. And I’d waited far too long to tell him that.
I knocked on the door.
FORTY
There was no answer on the first knock, so I rapped the door again.
��Fuck off, Pike. I’m busy.”
I wet my lips. “It’s Cela.”
There was silence on the other side for a long few seconds. I started to wonder if he’d heard me, but then the door opened.
Foster stood there, clean shaven and put together on the surface, but when I met his eyes I saw the hollowness there. “What are you doing here?”
His tone was flat, and I had to swallow past the anxiety of barging in on him while he was going through all of this. Maybe I was overstepping, maybe our relationship was more of a fun, sexy thing, and I wasn’t welcome into his world for the big things like grief and tragedy and loss. Insecurity made me want to shrink back, but I pressed on, clearing my throat. “I wanted to . . .”
“Say you’re sorry? Offer your condolences?”
The words were sharp and his grip tight on the door, but I recognized this mode. The dagger eyes, the movements that seemed both like aggression and retreat wrapped into one. I’d seen it time and again with animals when they were injured. Even the sweetest, gentlest pet could turn into a fire-breathing hound from hell when it was hurt. Bad news for Foster was that I wouldn’t be scared off by it. Those were the animals most in need of help.
I squared my shoulders. “I am sorry. So very sorry, Foster. But I came here for you. To help with whatever you might need.”
He scoffed. “Help. Like there’s anything anyone can do. She’s dead, Cela. My beautiful, innocent baby sister, raped and murdered by that fucking monster.” Utter anguish crumpled his features for a moment before he pulled his expression back to its hard edge. “All because I gave him opportunity. I took my eyes off of her, and he took her. So, unless you have a time machine to go fix that, there is no goddamned help to be had.”
I closed my eyes, the despair of his words, the life sentence he’d assigned himself making me physically hurt for him.
“So, go home. It’s not a good time.”
He moved to close the door and I stepped forward, my hand smacking the wood as I blocked it from shutting, and strode past him. “Well, that’s too bad because if you want me to leave, you’re going to have to carry me out. And I may kick and scream. Just warning you.”
He turned, his face going blank for a moment at my declaration, then annoyed. “What the hell?”
“You’re grieving and you’re angry. I understand that. But now’s not the time to be alone.”
“The hell it’s not.”
“I love you.”
He stilled. “What? Cela, no, I can’t deal with this right now . . .”
I didn’t let that response deter me. I knew he loved me, he’d told me—even if he couldn’t quite access that emotion right now. My gaze flicked toward the open door, a crazy idea popping into my head. Last time when he’d tried to push me away, I’d let him. He’d needed an outlet for his anger, his anxiety, and I’d left him to call some other woman.
No way that shit was happening again. I loved him. And that meant all parts. Even the mean side that came out when his hurt or fear took over.
I put my fingers to the top button of my shirt, slipping it out of the hole.
His eyes followed the movement of my hands. “What are you doing?”
I caught his stare and went for the next button. “I told you I’m here for whatever you need. I’m tough. Take whatever it is going on inside you and let it out on me.”
“What?” His voice was a low roar.
“Flog me, spank me, fuck me. I don’t care. Take all of that crap you have raging inside of you and let it out. Give me your anger . . . sir.” I let my shirt fall to the ground.
“Put your goddamned clothes on, Cela,” he said, raking a hand through his hair like a man on the brink. “You don’t need to be around me right now. I don’t trust myself.”
I went for the button on my shorts and tugged them off, my heartbeat like a hummingbird’s wings flapping against my ribs. “I do.”
“You’re fucking out of your mind, then.” He glanced at the open door as if just realizing I was exposed if Pike walked by and slammed the door shut. “You think sex is going to fix this? Fix me?”
I discarded my bra and panties, my body quaking from the risk I knew I was taking. It was like taunting a caged animal who was ready to tear apart its next victim. I stood there stark naked in front of him and pulled my hair from the band that held my ponytail.
“No, I don’t think sex will. But owning me might.” I lowered to my knees. “Give me your worst, Foster. I won’t say no. And I won’t run away.”
He laced his hands behind his head, and I could see the utter agony there, the struggle. “Don’t say things like that. It’s a lie. Everybody leaves, Cela. Everybody. Anytime things seem like they’re going to be okay, life fucking blindsides you. And you’ll be no different. Why should I deserve to have you anyway? I couldn’t even take care of my own family.”
My fingers curled at my sides, my whole being yearning to reach out to him and hold him, reassure him. But I knew that it would do no good. Every instinct inside me told me he needed an outlet for all this emotion, action not talking. “I’m not going anywhere, so I guess you’re going to have to make me.”
He stared down at me like I’d been replaced by some pod person. “Did you not hear me? Can’t you see I’m fucked up right now? If I touch you, I’ll hurt you. Get. Out.”
On a surge of bravery and pure emotion, I pushed to my feet and shoved him hard in the chest—like I was picking some schoolyard fight. Surprise was on my side, and I managed to knock him back a step, his shoulder hitting the door. “I said make me.”
He blinked, momentarily stunned into silence, then outrage leaked into those blue eyes. He grabbed me by the arms, his fingers like vice grips to the soft flesh there, and spun me until my back was against the door. His mouth came down hard against mine in a clash of lips and teeth. I gasped into the kiss and opened to him, still scared for what I may have gotten myself into but ready to help him exorcise the demons. Bruises and bites would heal. I could handle his roughness. But I refused to accept the coldness, the distance, the shutting down.
I’d fallen in love with a passionate, beautiful man, and I wasn’t going to let that man be another victim of the killer who’d taken his sister.
Foster’s kiss was hungry and violent and like nothing he’d ever shown me before. I could feel the fury and frustration rumbling through him. He released my arms from the death grip and tangled his fingers in my hair as he deepened the kiss, taking, taking, taking. I was breathless and panting when he finally wrenched away. “Make you, huh? You want my worst. You may regret that in a minute.”
“No regrets, sir.”
That seemed to make him angrier, his teeth clenching. Without finesse, he pushed me down to my knees via the tight hold he still had on my hair and unbuttoned his jeans with his free hand. I resisted the urge to grab for my head and rub my stinging scalp. “You think you can make it all better, angel? Think a good cocksucking can fix it all?”
The words were meant to be crude and ugly. He was trying to make me hate him, to make me leave, to prove himself right. But all I heard was that he’d called me angel for the first time tonight. And if he thought forcing me to give him a blow job was a hardship, he didn’t know just how good a submissive he’d trained. My body was already responding to his commands. And I wanted nothing more than to offer him some sort of pleasure to break up all that torment he’d been suffering through.