"Maybe. That's all I can offer you for now. Maybe."
"Then let this inspire you to make the right decision." His head dipped down, arms pulling me closer as he found my lips with his. Without regard for who was watching, Ash kissed me deeply, taking his time to explore my mouth, his tongue dancing with mine. When his hand gripped the back of my neck, my body relaxed into his and I gave into the kiss, giving as much as he did, building the passion between us until we made our own music and everyone else disappeared.
When he stepped back, my knees were weak, and I felt flushed.
"Thank you for the dance, Miss Travis. I look forward to your answer."
I pulled away from him and found the nearest bathroom to lock myself in, my heart hammering. I needed to talk to Bridgette, who I knew would encourage me to go for it. Maybe that's what I needed. Someone to talk me into doing what I really wanted.
My head spun with music and the noise of those around me laughing and talking and enjoying the party. I searched for Bridgette, a new nervousness building in me when I couldn't find her. Her parents hadn't seen her, but Lucky said she'd looked tired and maybe a little drunk and might have gone upstairs.
I was about to go look for her there when the butler brought me the house phone. "Miss Travis," he said with a frown—of disapproval or concern I couldn't tell— "the phone is for you. They were quite insistent that you take it now."
I did.
"You don't look lonely anymore, Kitty Cat."
My heart stopped, and I almost threw up expensive champagne. It was him. The Midnight Murderer. He had the same Darth Vader voice the night he killed my parents.
"What do you want?" I panicked, looking around for someone to help, but I couldn't see anyone I knew. I ran upstairs to find my cell phone and dialed Detective Gray's number while I put my stalker call on speaker.
"I want what I've always wanted," hissed the Midnight Murderer. "I want you. You got away that night, and my life won't be complete until I own you the way I owned your beautiful and so very tight mother."
The detective's phone was busy. Damn it. I left a message, muting the stalker. "Detective, I have my parents' killer on the phone. Call me so you can hear him."
I unmuted the killer. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
"The problem of modern society is everyone wants to know why. We've become so whiny in our need to understand everything that we can't just live and enjoy. I'm only calling to tell you how beautiful you look tonight. Red suits you. It reminds me of your mother's blood. I don't like that you danced with so many other men, though. So, I've helped a friend accomplish something he's wanted to do for a long time."
He was at this party. Oh God. "What? What are you talking about?"
"Ask your B.F.F. She really does have terrible taste in men."
The phone went dead, and I screamed Bridgette's name, forgetting about the detective as I searched for her in her bedroom, the master bedroom and every guest room I could find. Ash found me in the hall, tears streaming down my face, body shaking. He wrapped his arms around me. "Catelyn, what's wrong? What's happened?"
"He's done something to Bridgette. We have to find her."
He led me by the hand, and we searched the rest of the second and third floor, then went downstairs and searched the basement.
Bridgette lay on a spare mattress, her dress torn, face bruised, body exposed. She looked dead. "Bridgette!" I ran to her, shaking her shoulder, holding her as I yelled for Ash to call 911. Bradley staggered into the room. He'd been in the bathroom, and his face paled when he saw us.
I let go of Bridgette and flung myself at him. "What have you done to her?You asshole!" I punched him and felt something snap in my hand. "Bloody fucking hell!"
He sneered at me. "Bitch, you need to get raped, just like her. I showed her, and I'll show you." He backhanded me, and I fell to the ground, my cheek exploding from pain.
I'd forgotten about Ash—and, by the look on his face, so had Bradley. When Ash lunged at him, Bradley tried to fight back, but it was clear from the first punch that Bradley was outclassed in every way.
Ash knocked him on his ass with a well-placed punch, and I thought that would be the end of it.
But it wasn't.
Ash kept punching.
And punching.
And kicking.
His face filled with so much rage it scared me.
Until Bradley lay in a pool of his own blood, as still as Bridgette.
Detective Gray came down with Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont and Ash's dad, and I went into shock, shaking as flashbacks from the night my father was beaten to death filled my mind, paralyzing me and blocking out anything from the world around me.
And then I passed out.
Chapter Twenty One
Orgasms