She was looking at me with those wild eyes that told me she needed me for more than just a sounding board at the moment.
“I think I am a little bit better than just good.” I pulled her to me and then spun her around and bent her over a table.
She moaned, knowing what was coming next, and I smacked her ass since it was presented to me so nicely.
“If you wanted some Asher time, all you had to do was say so, kitten.” I ran my hands over her perfect apple bottom and then back up to grip her ebony hair, her head twisted to the side, and I kissed her hard. Teeth and tongues fighting for dominance.
“Asher, I need your dick, now can you hurry up?” she barked, and it made me laugh.
“Say please?” I began pulling her sleep shorts down and unbuttoning my jeans.
“I said now!” She was feeling extra feisty tonight.
“You can only have my cock when you beg for it. Until then…” I kissed my way down her back and then spread her legs wide.
Two minutes of my tongue on her sex, and she was begging me to take her hard and fast.
I’d oblige, of course, especially since I’d been holding on by a thread, too, needing her heat surrounding me until we both cried out release into the empty bar.
Her face was completely flat against the table, and her breathing sounded like she’d been worked over hard. Good. I wanted my woman as satisfied as I could possibly make her.
I’d grabbed some tissues and wiped her up gently, her pink flesh was swollen from her arousal and my rough handling. Couldn’t say the sight didn’t make my dick start to stir again.
She yawned, and I couldn’t help but laugh. She really did just need some goodnight dick to help her fall asleep.
“Oh, shut it.” She stood up and reached down to pull her shorts up.
“Sleep tight, kitten. I’ll be up in a few.” I put myself back in my jeans and returned to getting everything cleaned up so I could shower and join her sweet ass in bed.
She moved softly back toward the door that led to my apartment and stopped before ascending the stairs.
“I want to go to my parents’ house tomorrow. Will you come with me?” Her voice was low and trembled slightly like a nervous child asking for help.
“Of course. I go where you go.” I looked at her with what I was hoping was the love I felt on the inside with her.
She seemed satisfied and left for the apartment.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Echo
I was taking a step back from Amanda’s case and looking at the others.
Every statement that had been taken was almost identical. Good people, worked hard, volunteered in their spare time, and went to church every Sunday—apart from my parents. We’d never stepped foot in a church. The majority of my people didn’t go to one.
Marissa Adkins was a twenty-four-year-old waitress in Seahill when she was murdered. The report said she attended Sunday morning services with her family then they had brunch. Afterward she went to the grocery store to pick up a few miscellaneous items for a night in with her roommate. She was found that evening by her roommate in their apartment. The slits were on her back. Just like all the others, she’d bled to death.
Beth Buswell was thirty-two and had been a stay-at-home mom of three-year-old twin boys. Her husband had taken the kids to preschool in the morning, and when he got home, she’d been sliced up like everyone else. She, however, had the two slits on her forehead, instead of between her shoulder blades.
I’d been racking my brain trying to figure out the killer’s motives behind the slits on the forehead versus the back.
Dr. Dorian was helpful in letting me know that there wasn’t any main artery at those points, so they weren’t more efficient in creating the blood loss. they were solely for another purpose. He did mention that bloodletting was still used in rural areas of the world to let evil seep out of their bodies. The practice was old, and severely outdated, but couldn’t be ruled out as a motive.
I studied the cases of the others all morning. Asher brought me food and drinks to keep my energy up as I was sprawled out on his floor surrounded by files and pictures of the victims.
Kellee Strickland and her husband, Darrel, both forty years old, had been helping their neighbor move all day, and then when the neighbor went to ask them if they wanted dinner that night, found them both bleeding out in their kitchen.
Bri Partin, age thirty-five, newlywed, was found by her new husband after coming home from the gym. She was cooking dinner.
Jen Sully, Dayna Elise, Markie Divey, Shari Womack, Magda Pereira, Audrina Norton, Cassandra Tatum, and Amanda Johnson’s deaths were the same. Kind women, just doing what they could to help their world for the better.
Only common denominator was that they were all women, with the exception of the two husbands. Different ages, ranging from nineteen to forty. They all were church goers, except my parents. But they all went to different churches, so that made me think it had to have been something else that connected them.
I asked Asher to go with me to my parents’, but I still felt nervous about going. Not long after I’d turned eighteen, I boarded up the house. I haven’t been back since. My aunt wanted me to sell the house and split the profit, but I’d told her to suck it and left.
She emailed occasionally, hoping that I’d sell the house and the large property it was on, but I still told her no.
I just wasn’t ready to give it up yet.
Asher and I were quiet as I drove us out of Seahill and onto reservation territory.
It was quieter, but they had everything you needed, so you didn’t have to go into the city often.
Familiar faces turned when they heard the rumble of my car driving down the main streets. My car was very recognizable. I’m sure the gossip machine would engage in no time.
Echo Cross was home.
The house looked eerie as we drove down the gravel driveway, and all sorts of memories flooded my head.
Pop helping me learn how to ride a bike, and Momma working with me in her gardens.
Those gardens were nothing but leafless vines and weeds now. My childhood home was frozen in a time of death from both winter and the last events that occurred inside it. There weren’t any happy memories inside that house after my parents died.
“Nice house.” Asher broke the silence, and I nodded my head, no words necessary. It was a nice house, or at least it had been. Built decades ago by my great-grandparents, it was a two-story wooden house with a wraparound porch. However, the years of neglect showed. The white paint was flaking off, giving it a creepy, abandoned look.
The one key that hadn’t been touched in years felt cold in my fingers as I parked the car and stepped out into the yard.
“What are you looking for?” Asher was trying to keep my mind focused on the true reason why we were here and not the emotions that were threatening to consume my mind.
“Anything that connects them to the killer. We never went to church, but that’s the only common denominator I can find with the others. I was just a teenager; there was so much I’m sure they didn’t tell me about their lives, and maybe some insight would help.”
At least I hoped so. There had been no motive found for their deaths and the others. But there was always a motive behind these evil acts.
I unlocked the door, and it gave with a loud creak from the hinges. The air was stale, and the open living room was dark, the curtains around the windows blocking any light from getting in.
It still smelled like lavender, as if Mom had just plucked a fresh stem off the plant outside and stuck it under all of the couch cushions. She said it was good luck, and helped the house smell nice.
“Let’s split up,” I told Asher, since I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t look at him before climbing up the stairs and looking for something that could tell me about who would want to hurt my parents and the others.