“I want something from the profiler by morning, and keep on the hacker. We still might get a nugget on these parties or these murders. Moreno, I’ve never minced words and I’m sure as hell not going to start now. I don’t like this. That said, I have to trust that you’re making the right call. But you will be taking every extra security measure under the sun.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Good. Now let’s get back to work. And Walker?” Sinclair waited for him to make eye contact before adding, “You’d better.”
“I do,” he said, and they were the easiest two words he’d ever spoken.
* * *
Julian DuPree was not a patient man. He stood in the middle of his penthouse, looking down at the city lights signaling a Friday night in full swing, while everything around him was quiet and still.
All because Isabella Moreno had miraculously and unexpectedly grown some fucking restraint.
The silence around Julian grated on his nerves, his anger writhing under his skin. One week ago, everything was normal. He’d stood here in this exact spot, watching every depraved whore he owned getting used and abused just as she should.
No room for filth! screamed the voice in his head, and he slipped his fingers to his temple in order to shut it up.
But still, it came. Filth needs to be punished! I’ll beat it out of you, you vulgar boy!
And the voice had tried. She’d taken the switch from the cupboard in the kitchen, just as she’d done all the times before. The house was far from any neighbors, and no one had visited since the woman from DCFS, who Julian had told about the voice. He’d paid for that, having to take it back and say it was a lie after the voice had given him the scars. But a year had passed by then, on the night the voice got the switch. Julian had been bigger then than when she’d first started raging about the filth. Biding his time since she’d given him the scars. Planning. Waiting for the right time to kill her.
And then he’d beaten her to death in that kitchen, snapping every last one of her bones before dismembering her and burying her bit by bit in their backyard.
Julian exhaled, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt as he examined the city through the wall of windows. Detective Moreno had led the RPD to his doorstep, a doorstep which he prided himself on keeping covered. He was meticulous, he was smarter than all of them, and therefore he didn’t get caught. But now he was being watched, his parties on hold, and his pent-up need to inflict pain was growing urgent.
He wanted to hurt her. In the worst way possible. He wanted to take everything from her, as she was doing to him.
But the detective wasn’t just staying away from Julian, sending her pig of a boss to try and question him instead. She was well-protected. Walker never left her side, and while the man was the worst sort of brute, he was also highly trained. If Julian tried to take them both, he’d sustain casualties at the very least. Casualties meant mess, and mess meant loose ends that could get him caught. He needed another way.
He needed to separate them. To get Detective Moreno to act brashly, and alone.
It was time to up the stakes and end this game, once and for all.
27
Isabella stood in her freshly cleaned bedroom, tucking the last edge of a light blue sheet beneath the corner of her brand-new mattress.
“You do know that’s probably a waste of time, right?” Kellan’s voice snared her attention from the spot where he’d appeared in the doorway.
“How’s that?” she asked, a flush heating a path over her cheeks at the dark and sexy half-smile riding his mouth in reply.
“Because I’m just going to strip you naked and make you want to tear those sheets right back off.”
The “oh” tumbling from Isabella’s lips was more moan than actual word. “Well, it does make sense to test out the new bed. Quality control, and all that.”
Kellan crossed the floorboards, leaning in to slide a sweet and sinful kiss over her mouth, and oh God, she was totally stupid for this man. “I like how you think. But we should probably eat dinner first.”
“You want to wait?”
“No. I want to lay you down and fuck you senseless. But it’s late and I know you better than to think you actually took a break for lunch today. Plus, that chicken casserole Kylie brought over has been in your oven for twenty minutes, and I can’t lie. It’s starting to smell insane.”
Isabella laughed, although her happiness was short-lived. “Okay, okay. So you’re not wrong about work.” She followed him down the hall to the living room, her brain still trying to get on board with the sight of the new furniture that had been delivered just a few hours ago. “But we’re behind the eight ball now more than ever. DuPree has been underground for a whole week. Not only do we have no new leads, but we can’t even confirm for certain that the scumbag is in Remington.”
“Is there anything the Feds can do?” Kellan asked, and a fresh shot of frustration spread out beneath her skin.