“Take it off,” she said, passively waiting, and Nick removed her bra.

He looked down at her in the dim light, his face mirroring her desire. “You’re so beautiful, Cara.” He kissed her softly, gently. But she didn’t want soft and gentle. She wanted to make love now, hot and furious. She pushed down his boxers as far as she could, and he removed them the rest of the way.

“Is your knee okay?” she asked quietly, not wanting to break the mood, but not wanting to hurt him, either.

“What knee?” he said and kissed her again.

“Make love to me, Nick. Now.”

He slid his mouth down her body until his teeth grabbed her thong. He pulled it down her legs. Her body quivered in anticipation. He kissed her toes and she moaned. Everywhere he touched ignited her nerves, sending bolts of electricity through her body, pooling in the one place he had yet to touch…

Seeing Carina’s naked body on the bed next to him was enough for Nick. He could now die happy. Her chest rose and fell, her body shivering with anticipation. Every touch brought a reaction, every breath on her skin raised a moan from her throat. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and her willingness to give herself over to him freely, happily, wantonly, brought him intense joy and deep arousal.

Slowly, he spread her legs. Touched her wetness and she shook beneath his fingers. He laid fully on top of her and she opened her eyes and smiled so seductively that he couldn’t help but stare at her beauty.

“Here.” She reached over the side of the bed, picked up his hat, and placed it on his head.

“I thought that was for you,” he whispered.

“It is, Nick, all for me.” She didn’t close her eyes; they stayed locked on to his. “I’m more than ready for you, cowboy.”

He entered her slowly, slow to keep control, slow to give her as much pleasure as possible before he completely lost it. Her eyes drooped, but didn’t close, never left his gaze.

“Cara,” he whispered onto her lips. He kissed her lightly, trying to hold himself under control.

She arched beneath him, sheathing herself fully onto him, startling both of them. Her eyes wide and full of lust and affection, she moved to a tempo that pleased her, and Nick joined, his hands finding hers and holding tight.

Their rhythm quickened together, faster and harder, sweat covering Nick’s body as he held himself back without giving up the fierceness of their lovemaking. He almost couldn’t watch Carina, the deep pleasure infused in her expression almost setting him off. Then her eyes fluttered closed and she gasped, a high-pitched feminine and almost feline purr. Nick let himself go with a growl of his own, and they rocked together, hot, sweaty, and completely satiated.

Carina had never been so swept away by desire. She held on to Nick, catching her breath. He kissed her neck, found her lips.

“Carina, that was…” he sighed.

“Me too.”

“You like the hat?”

She smiled. “Very much.”

“I want you to wear it next time.” He looked down at her, his expression serious but his eyes sparkling.

She took the hat off his head, pushed him to the side, and put the hat on her own head.

“Okay,” she said and kissed him hard and long, until they were both breathless again. “If you insist.”

When he figured out that an unmarked police car was watching Maggie’s apartment, he got worried. Very worried.

Then he realized they didn’t have anything on him. If the police knew he’d killed Angie and the others, they would have arrested him. That knowledge gave him confidence.

He drove right on past the car without another thought.

Besides, he didn’t want to kill Maggie. Not yet, anyway. It was her younger sister, Leah, who reminded him of Becca. Her smile, her soft dark hair, her translucent skin. If he wanted to feel the intensity he had with Becca, he had to find another woman like Becca. That’s where he’d gone wrong. Jodi was like Angie, and while at the beginning it was good, it ended all wrong.

But Becca had been perfect, from beginning to end.

And Leah would be, too.

He waited outside her boyfriend’s apartment and frowned. The windows were dark. What were they doing in there? Why wasn’t Leah going home? Her car was out front, right there on the street. She should be leaving. Going home. Not staying here with him.

The idea that Leah was having sex with another man greatly disturbed him. That put her right there with Angie and Jodi, a slut.

He wanted, needed, Leah to be pure. She looked innocent, acted sweet.

Women are liars.

He stared at the window, pictured Leah spreading her legs for a man. Imagined her asking him to fuck her, liking it, wanting it, just like a common whore.

Had she slept with other men? Did she have boyfriends all over town, just like Angie? Maybe she posted pictures of herself online for every man to see, to jerk off to, to lust after.

It was her fault. She deserved everything he was going to do to her.

And more.

Three in the morning. She didn’t come out of the apartment. His hand clutched the door handle.

Wait, his inner voice commanded.

He didn’t know if he could wait for her to come out on her own. He didn’t know if he wanted to wait. But he didn’t know the layout of the apartment, how to get in, how to dispose of her boyfriend.

He wanted to kill the bastard for fucking Leah. That’s exactly what they were doing. It was three-oh-six in the morning. What else could they be doing? Watching cartoons?

So he waited. And watched.

Leah Peterson would eventually leave. And then she would be his.

THIRTY

CARINA WOKE TO A LOW MOAN next to her in the bed. Instantly she was on alert, then remembered that Nick Thomas had slept in her bed last night. Slept, among other very wonderful things.

She glanced at the clock. Four fifty-five. She closed her eyes again. Three hours sleep was not enough. It was Sunday. She deserved to sleep until the sun came up.

“Leave her alone.”

Nick’s voice was as clear as day and Carina rolled over to face him. “Go back to sleep,” she said.

“Stop. Don’t touch her.”

She realized Nick was talking in his sleep. Talking and moving restlessly, which is what had woken her up in the first place. He moaned, a mournful, guttural cry that tore at her heart.

“Nick,” she said softly, touching his face.

His eyes shot open and he grabbed her hand. She didn’t move.

“Nick, it’s me.”

His eyes came into focus and he saw her. “Carina.”

“You were having a bad dream.”

He shook his head.

“Yes, you were. You were talking in your sleep.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” he said, his voice thick. “It was a memory.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“All right,” she said. “Go back to sleep.” She rolled over, trying not to be upset with him. She wasn’t going to force him to relive a memory that gave him nightmares.

He rolled over and spooned himself around her bare back. Touched her loose hair, breathed into her neck.

“You know about the Butcher,” he said finally.

“What I read in the papers.”

“You know he held me captive.”

“Yes.”

“The papers never reported that he raped one of his victims while I was chained in the corner.”

“Oh Nick.” Carina tried to turn to face him, but he held her close against him, her back against his chest.

“He trussed me up like an animal so that any movement tightened the binds. I heard every scream, every assault. It was a living Hell and I wanted to die. I wanted to die because I couldn’t stop it. I was trapped and forced to listen.”

“How did you escape?”

“I didn’t. Search and rescue found us. I didn’t do a damn thing, I couldn’t.”