Edge of Midnight

28



He didn’t take her to a hotel. Eric held the strap of Mia’s overnight bag on one shoulder as he unlocked the bungalow door. She had said little on the drive over, instead sitting mostly in stunned silence. As they entered, he turned on the lamps in the living area, filling it with pale light. He watched Mia closely. She wandered the room, her arms crossed against her chest as if warding off some coldness around her.

“You’re still in shock.” He slid the bag to the floor. Remembering the half-empty bottle of Scotch, he went into the kitchen and poured a glass. Returning, he pressed it into her hands. “Drink this.”

Obediently, she took a sip. Eric led her to the couch across from the curtained windows. Then removing his holstered gun, he sat next to her. She appeared sad and distressed.

“Penney was from West Virginia,” she finally said in a subdued voice, speaking after several long moments. “A small coal mining town that’s pretty much died out. Her dream was to live in Florida near the beach.”

“Were you close?”

She shook her head. “Not really. She worked nights and weekends. Restaurant hours. We talked in the driveway sometimes—I was getting home from work when she was leaving. I’m not even sure why she was home tonight. Saturdays are usually late shifts for her. I’ve been keeping my lights on in the apartment lately, but why didn’t she notice my car wasn’t outside?”

Lost in thought, she stared into her nearly empty glass, head bowed.

“Do you want something to eat? We can call for delivery.”

“No, thanks.”

“Mia.” Leaning closer, he tucked the shimmering curtain of her dark hair behind one ear to better see her face. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t even know how to reach her family. Someone needs to—”

“We’re notifying next of kin. It’s being handled.”

She looked at him, her dark eyes searching his. “Why would he come after me again now? It’s been three weeks. He’s taken two other women—”

“Two other women who looked like you,” he pointed out somberly. “The unsub had a specific cycle in Maryland. A blonde, a redhead, a brunette, then a blonde again. I believe he was starting a similar pattern here until you escaped him. Since then, he’s been fixated on petite, dark-haired women. But I think he realized no one else could satisfy him.”

She closed her eyes at his statement. Eric knew she didn’t want to hear it, but he had to make her understand.

“It was a real risk coming after you again. You were bound to be more cautious after already being abducted once, not to mention the increased police presence in your neighborhood. But I think ever since he discovered you were the little girl in foster care who saw him taking another child, he’s wanted you.”

“For his collection?” Her voice was strained.

Eric hesitated. “I think he recognized you from the beginning—your name, your photo with the news column on Fridays. You became a crime reporter, Mia. This guy’s an egomaniac. He probably thinks you chose your career because of what you witnessed all those years ago. He believes he made you into who you are today.”

“Maybe he did,” she said tensely. “Joy Rourke’s abduction has been locked in my subconscious all these years. So has he, apparently. What if all my life, everything’s been heading into a confrontation with this monster?”

“I won’t let that happen. I’m going to make sure you’re protected from here on out. Will you be able to sleep?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“I can pour you another Scotch if you think it’ll help.”

Mia didn’t respond to his offer. Instead, her gaze remained questioning. “The night I came here and you’d been drinking…you never told me what had happened.”

The night they’d made love, if one could call it that. Eric clasped the back of his neck, thinking of how out of control he’d been.

“I received the audio of Rebecca’s murder that night. It was mailed to the Bureau office here in Jacksonville,” he said quietly. He wanted honesty between them. Eric swallowed at the admission, recalling how the recording had cut him to the bone. “He’d never sent it until now. He kept it for nearly three years, waiting for the right time to wound me again.”

As she listened, Mia laid her fingers on his forearm.

“Anna Lynn Gomez’s body had been found that morning and I’d gone to break the news to the family. It was a lot to handle in one day. Getting the recording caught me off guard.” He shook his head in recollection. “Hearing Rebecca’s voice again, begging me to help her…it brought everything back.”

“Are you still in love with her?” she asked, her eyes pained.

He had been, deeply, at the time of her murder. His heart had since been able to slowly let go of her, but not the guilt.

“I still feel responsible,” he said. “I always will.”

“Eric, I’m so sorry.”

After all that had happened to her, she was trying to comfort him. Even if he’d had no way of knowing The Collector’s plan to take Rebecca, Eric sure as hell should have been better prepared for what had happened tonight. Things were going to change regarding her safety. Mia was headstrong but hopefully tonight had frightened her enough that she wouldn’t fight him.

It was late, well after midnight.

“I need to get a shower,” he said. “You’ll be okay for a few minutes?”

She gave a small nod. Still, she appeared fragile, as if she might shatter like china if handled too hard. He ran his fingers through her silky hair. Then he rose from the couch. Checking the lock and setting the security system at the front door, he went down the hallway.

The hard rain stung her skin like pellets. He was gaining on her, his shoes slapping over wet ground.

Run faster! He’s going to kill you!

Stumbling over tree roots, she fell headfirst onto pine needles and moss. A flash of lightning illuminated the dark forest. She saw him coming toward her. He was rangy, six feet at least, black hair plastered to his skull by the storm. A knife was gripped in his fist.

Get up. Get up!

Running again, the grainy image of a car appeared to her up ahead in the downpour. She reached it and grasped the door handle, her heart seizing. Locked. No! She jerked at it, sobbing and frantic. Pounding on the window, she tried to break the glass. He was in the clearing now, advancing too fast. Terror choked her as she took off again but he caught her, his hand sinking into her sodden hair and yanking her roughly back.

Mia fought blindly, struggling to break free of the hard arms around her.

“Hey…hey.” She heard Eric’s low voice. “I’ve got you. It’s all right.”

She realized she was in a bed, being held against his bare chest. She stopped fighting. Her heavy breathing punctuated the darkness, her heart still pumping hard. Mia’s body went limp with relief.

“It was a bad dream,” he whispered. “That’s all.”

He sat on the mattress edge, dressed only in jeans. A thin slant of light spilled from the bungalow’s living area into the bedroom. Mia recalled she’d gone to bed, suddenly bone-tired, while Eric had stayed up to check email and file a report.

“I heard you crying out,” he said.

“I was back in the woods…I was running from him.” She ran a trembling hand over her face. “But the car was locked this time.”

She blinked back tears, hating the weakness she felt. “I couldn’t get away.”

Gently, Eric tilted her chin up, lifting her eyes to his. “It was a dream—not a flashback this time. You did get away. You escaped.”

His features were drenched in shadow, but she could still make out the hard, handsome planes of his face. All of it came rushing back in on her…Penney…the reason she was here with him. Eric stroked his hand over her back. She wore a short, cotton gown she’d brought from home.

“I’m afraid,” she admitted.

Eric kissed her forehead, then her lips, a slow but featherlight touch of his mouth to hers. He smelled clean, like soap, from his shower. “I’m right here. I’m right outside.”

It wasn’t enough. The nightmare, Penney’s death—all of it had heightened her emotions. She needed to feel alive. Connected to someone. His mouth remained just inches from hers. She slowly arched her back and kissed him, their contact more lingering this time. Responding, Eric’s hand cupped the back of her head as Mia’s fingers slipped through the still-damp hair at his nape. She heard his low grunt, felt the kiss deepen, his tongue mingling with hers.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing had grown shallower, his expression hungry but unsure.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight,” he said hoarsely. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”

For just a little while, she needed the world to fade outside of their darkened bedroom. She wanted to lose herself in the taste of him, feel him inside her again. His body could distract her from the nightmare that had become her life.

“Please, Eric,” she murmured. “I…I need this. I need you.”

She saw him swallow. Releasing a breath, his palm cradled her face, his thumb softly stroking over her bottom lip and his eyes staring into hers. Then his hands moved to the lace-edged hem of her gown. He slowly drew it over her head. She wore only panties underneath, a thin satin thong. The cool air on her suddenly hot skin made her shiver.

Her nipples hardened instantly at his touch. Eric kissed her again before lowering his head and suckling first one breast and then the other, his mouth lavishing the attention she craved. She moaned as his teeth gently imprisoned one tender bud, his expert fingers slipping inside her panties and finding her slick wetness at the same time. He stroked her, building her heat.

She needed him now. Mia clasped his erection through the coarse denim he wore and felt a tremor run through him.

Clumsily, she worked at the buttons of his jeans. When she had the top one undone he took over for her, sitting back against the headboard and freeing himself. Reaching into the nightstand drawer, he took out a condom, something he’d purchased since their last encounter. As he readied himself for her, Mia stood from the bed, removing her panties, sliding them down her thighs to the floor. His eyes, dark with desire, followed her movement. Then she returned to the mattress, her hands braced on his broad shoulders as she climbed onto him, straddling his seated body. Closing her eyes, she slowly sank down onto his length. He gave a low hiss in response, his head falling back.

“Ah, God, Mia,” he whispered, voice rough.

Eric’s mouth took hers again, his hands holding her narrow waist. She remained still for a long moment, getting used to being filled so fully by him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and they kissed until they were both gasping for air.

Her forehead pressed briefly against his, and then she began to move.

There was no sound in the room except for their cramped breathing and the rhythmic creak of the mattress.

“Kiss me again,” Eric demanded huskily. Mia lowered her mouth to his as she rode him, their passion embodied in the feel of his lips against hers. He nipped at her bottom lip, lapping at the hurt with his tongue and causing Mia to groan in response. It made her want more of him, made her drive down on him more deeply, over and over. A tightening sensation built in her core that only got stronger with each rise and fall of her body onto his, until she was so close to coming that his name escaped from her lips, her fingers catching in his short hair. Instinctively, he knew when she’d reached the point of no return. Mia gasped as he moved forward with her, pinning her onto the bed with his hard frame. He took control then, thrusting into her as she climaxed around him.

He came seconds after her, his body shuddering with his own release.

Afterward, Mia lay on her back, her dark hair spread across the pillow. Eric had turned onto his side facing her. She felt his eyes studying her, and she ran her fingers over the corded sinews of his forearm, feeling the light sprinkling of crisp, male hair on his skin. The room around them was black except for a silver shaft of moonlight reaching through a gap in the curtains.

“I hate the dark,” she whispered. She paused before confessing the reason. “My mother used to lock me in the closet when I was small.”

When he spoke, his voice was low. “I can turn on the bathroom light.”

She shook her head. “I feel safe with you.”

He pulled her closer, turning her so their bodies were spooned together. His breath felt warm against her hair. Her hand covered Eric’s on her stomach, his fingers brushing over the scabbed, reddened numeral on her skin. Like her nail beds, the wound was healing. But the carving would leave a scar. It was a part of who she was now.

Mia thought about what he’d told her earlier, about hearing his wife’s last moments on the digital recording that night. The same man who hurt her had brutalized him as well, although in a different way. He was broken, like her.

I’m in love with him.

She accepted that emotion, even as she understood there were no promises between them. All they had was now.