Tory laughed. A shuddering breath escaped. “You’re right. I can cry if I want to.”
“Yeah, baby, you can.”
But she filled her lungs with a deep breath of air and eased a little away, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
He wanted to tell her both of them were safe, but it wouldn’t be true. Damon Bridger was still out there.
One problem at a time.
Josh bent his head and very softly kissed her. “We just need to give our statements; then we can go home.”
Tory slid her arms around his waist and leaned against him. “I can’t wait to get there.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me either.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Damon crumpled the legal documents in his fist. How dare she! That bitch! What was she trying to do—dig him for more money? He’d given her five hundred bucks to keep her mouth shut; now she wanted more. She was a lying, cheating whore just like the rest.
It had been over a year since Damon had seen Suzy Solomon, a hot little brunette who worked at the Peacock. Petite. Small tits. Nice ass, though. And she gave a great blow job.
He’d gone out with her for nearly three weeks before she’d shown her true colors, the night he’d seen her leaving the club with one of the bartenders. He’d been furious, but he’d forced himself under control.
The next night, he’d gone to her apartment and accused her, but Suzy had denied it. He’d slapped her around, lost his temper and punched her a couple of times. No big deal. Besides, she’d had it coming.
He looked down at the crumpled documents gripped in his hand. Suzy wanted to make trouble? He’d give her more than she could handle.
He considered his options and excitement kicked his pulse up a notch. His breathing grew faster, and arousal slipped through him.
He still had the car he’d rented using a fake driver’s license and credit cards Izzy had gotten him on the Internet. The vehicle was parked in the garage of an empty rental property he owned. He could drive Suzy up to the cabin, teach her a lesson, show her who was boss. Show her the consequences of going against him.
His groin pulsed as he imagined the pain he would inflict, the way he’d make her beg, the feel of his hands running over her smooth skin, sliding up around her throat. He thought of the power he’d feel as he squeezed the life from her body, and a rush of sexual heat tore through him, making his blood run hot.
He swore softly. It was a fantasy he couldn’t fulfill. When the bitch turned up missing, it would be too easy to make the connection.
Still, he couldn’t let her get away with it. He’d talk to her, explain what was going to happen if she didn’t drop the lawsuit. Give her a taste of what to expect.
His mouth watered in anticipation. He’d have to be careful, but he could make it work.
He tossed the papers on his desk, grabbed his sport coat off the back of the chair, and shrugged it on. He’d pay Suzy Solomon a visit, remind her exactly who she was dealing with. His hand tightened into a fist as he walked out of the office.
By the time he reached her apartment, he was in a dark fury. He had to control the rage burning through him or he would bring the law down on his head.
He started to slam his fist against the door, stepped back and took a deep breath, knocked softly instead. He was only a little surprised when Suzy saw him through the peephole and pulled the door open.
“Damon. I didn’t . . . didn’t expect to see you. You’ve been served with papers. You shouldn’t be here.”
“We need to talk, Suze. Straighten things out. I didn’t realize you were still angry about what happened. I’m really sorry, you know. Please let me in.”
“I probably shouldn’t.” But she opened the door wider and stepped back to allow him inside. “Last time you came over you hurt me.”
Damon walked into the apartment, which had even more of those stupid cactus plants she liked sitting on the floor. Otherwise it hadn’t changed. It was just as small and cluttered as he remembered.
“What did you want to say, Damon?”
“You got anything to drink? I could use a beer or something.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a Bud, handed it over.
“Thanks.” He cranked off the top and took a long swallow. “Why’d you file those papers, Suze? I told you I was sorry. I gave you money. You should have been satisfied.”
“You hit me, Damon. You slapped me. You shouldn’t have hurt me.”
“You cheated on me, baby. You needed to learn a lesson.” He set the beer down on the coffee table, walked closer. He could see the fear in those big blue eyes and just thinking about hitting her, slapping her, making her pretty mouth bleed made him hard.
“You should have learned your lesson the first time. Now I’ve got to show you what happens when you try to go against me.” Anticipation seared through him as he caught a handful of her thick brown hair to hold her in place and drew back to hit her.
Suzy made a sound in her throat and the next thing he knew he was facedown on the floor, his arms cranked hard behind his back.
He grunted in pain, heard the metal clank of handcuffs, and swore foully. “You little bitch!”
“I’m Detective Jeremy Larson, Phoenix Police Department.” The cop standing over him was tall and lean with curly brown hair. Another man stood a few feet away, same athletic build, short brown whiskers along his jaw.
“You’re under arrest for attempted assault,” Larson said. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”
“Fuck you.” Damon tuned out whatever else the cop had to say. He’d be out of jail in hours. He hadn’t really done anything, made a few threats, no big deal.
One thing he knew. Once he was out, he wasn’t waiting any longer. He’d had enough of his job at Bridger Real Estate, enough of being his father’s lackey. He’d had enough pretending.
He was ending his charade, becoming the man he was meant to be, ending the waiting game he had been playing.
He was going after Victoria Bradford. Everything that had happened to him was her fault. He had to deal with her, end his obsession, and there was only one way to do that.
He thought of what he would do to her once he got her to the cabin, and sexual arousal burned through every cell in his body. It was time. He was going to make her pay.
And no one was going to stop him.
*
Night sounds seeped through the window, the light patter of rain. Lying in bed, Tory snuggled against Josh’s side, their legs entwined, one of his arms draped over her middle. She was exhausted after the terrible day in Dallas that had almost gotten Josh killed, that could have ended with both of them dead.
She closed her eyes to block the memory, tired but content after Josh’s incredible lovemaking. He was sleeping, his breathing deep and even. That he was still there, still in her bed, was a testament to the toll the day had taken on him.
She let him sleep but kept watch over him, knowing how upset he would be if he started to dream. He was afraid he would hurt her. Tory was convinced he would never do anything to cause her physical pain, no matter how deeply he slept, no matter how bad the nightmare became.
As if thinking about it had brought one of his dreams to the surface, he began to mumble softly. His head moved back and forth on the pillow, his body subtly shifted, and a mumbled curse slipped from his lips.
“Let go . . . of the . . . knife . . .” Just as before, his hand moved from where it rested beneath her breasts, slowly slid up around her throat.
He wasn’t squeezing, just circling her throat with his fingers. She should wake him. He would be horrified if he realized what he was doing. His hand tightened, jerked a little, but he wasn’t hurting her.