The Fifth Victim Part 12

A familiar stirring came to life in her belly. "I haven't missed you," she told him truthfully. She hadn't missed him. Her life was so much better without him. As far as she was concerned, he could drop off the face of the earth.

He took an unsteady step toward her. She held her breath. He lowered his face down to hers until only an inch separated their lips.

"I don't love you. I don't want you. I don't need you." Jazzy wasn't sure who she was trying to convince-Jamie or herself.

He tugged on her belt, loosening it enough to enable him to slip one hand inside and sneak it around her waist. She gasped when he splayed his hand over her naked hip and drew her up against him. His breath was warm and drenched with whiskey. He rubbed his nose against her neck and whispered her name in her ear.

"Has Butler been servicing you, honey? Keeping you all primed and ready for me?"

Jazzy's body went rigid.

"He's a big man," Jamie said. "He hasn't stretched you out of shape, has he? You know I like my p.u.s.s.y hot and wet...and tight. Real tight."

Jazzy lifted her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist midair. "Now, don't be that way. I don't mind if you've kept in practice. Lord knows I have. Actually, I've learned a few new tricks I'd like to teach you."

"I've learned all the tricks from you I want to learn." Although some sick, pitiful part of her still cared about Jamie, the strong, smart part of her hated his d.a.m.n guts. "I've got nothing for you, Jamie. Go home to your fiancee. Teach her those new tricks."

His eyes glimmered with determination. He jerked Jazzy's robe apart, revealing her naked body. When she tried to pull the lapels together, he grabbed her, yanked the robe off her shoulders, and shoved her naked body up against the wall. Realizing his intentions, she fought him. For several minutes his superior strength overpowered her. His mouth covered hers while his hands manacled her wrists above her head. She tried to avoid his wet kisses, but gave up and allowed him to a.s.sault her mouth. When he freed one of his hands to unzip his pants and ease his body a few inches from hers, she took advantage of the opportunity to attack him. She kneed him in the groin and just as he doubled over in pain, she socked him in the nose. While he groaned and writhed, Jazzy ran into her bedroom, yanked open her nightstand drawer and removed the loaded .25-caliber Beretta she kept there.

Jamie stood in the doorway, rage etched on his features. "I'm going to make you sorry you did that."

She waited until he was only a couple of feet away from her, then pulled the gun out from behind her back and pointed it directly at him. "Come one inch closer and you'll be singing soprano the rest of your life."

Jamie glanced from her face to the gun she held, then back up to her face. "You'd really shoot me, wouldn't you?"

"You got that d.a.m.n straight."

"What happened to my Jazzy?" he asked. "What did you do with the girl who loved me?"

"You destroyed her, bit by bit, piece by piece." She held the gun in a steady hand, determined to show no sign of weakness. She wasn't a hundred percent sure she could shoot Jamie, but he didn't know that. All she had to do was convince him that she had no qualms about blowing off his b.a.l.l.s.

"You win this round, lover." His grin was more shaky than c.o.c.ky.

She stood in the bedroom, unmoving, barely breathing, until she heard the front door slam. Holding the gun in front of her, she rushed into the living room, checking in every direction to make sure Jamie wasn't waiting to jump out on her. With quick, sure moves, she swung open the kitchen door, flipped on the light, and made certain the room was empty; then she hurried back into the living room to lock and double-bolt the front door.

Suddenly she started trembling. A shuddering tremor racked her from head to toe. Slumping down onto the nearest chair, she dropped the gun to the floor. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she jerked the knitted afghan from the back of the chair and wrapped it around her naked body.

Bone-weary and in desperate need of a good night's sleep, Jacob arrived home at eleven-fifteen. Just as he turned his truck into the parking area in front of his apartment, he noticed the bright yellow Vega. The windows were steamed up and the engine was idling. What the h.e.l.l was she doing here? He didn't think he could deal with Misty tonight. He was exhausted and frustrated. The last thing he needed was having to deal with a woman. Any woman.

He got out, locked the car, and pocketed his keys, then walked across the parking area and pecked on the pa.s.senger-side window of the Vega. Immediately Misty killed the motor, jumped out of her car, and rushed over to him.

"Hi, there, sugar," she cooed.

Misty's red lips widened in what she thought was a seductive smile. Even in this frigid weather, she wore a miniskirt, with textured stockings and flashy yellow boots. Her only real concession to the freezing temperature was the fake-fur jacket she had on.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying his best to keep his tone civil.

"Is that any way to treat a woman who's here to give you a little TLC?"

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

Misty laughed, the sound like a shrill siren screaming through the night air. "I'm freezing my b.u.t.t off out here. What do you say we go inside where it's warm?"

"Look, Misty, I'm pretty beat. Maybe you'd better-"

"All you have to do is lie back and enjoy," she told him as she hooked her arm through his. "I'll do all the dirty work."

Jacob's p.e.n.i.s responded to her blatant offer. Apparently the old boy wasn't as tired as he was. His body instantly reminded him that he hadn't been with a woman in quite some time. Not since the last time he'd had a date with Misty-over five months ago. Of course, she had no way of knowing that, since she and most of the townsfolk a.s.sumed he and Jazzy had slept together when they dated.

"I appreciate the offer, but-"

"You aren't still hung up on Jazzy, are you? I thought you two were over, finis, caput."

"We are, except as friends."

"I've just been waiting for you two to end things, which I knew would happen sooner or later."

What the h.e.l.l! It wasn't as if Misty expected anything more than s.e.x. He'd made it perfectly clear to her when they went to bed together on their first date over a year ago, right after her second divorce, that he wasn't interested in a commitment of any kind.

Arm in arm, they made it up the stairs to his apartment on the second floor of the two-story building that housed eight apartments. He unlocked the door, escorted her inside, and didn't even bother to switch on a light. He kicked the door closed with his booted foot, lifted Misty off her feet, and carried her straight to his bedroom.

When he set her on her feet at the edge of his bed, she ran her hand over the fly of his jeans. "You are glad to see me, aren't you?"

"Part of me is," he admitted.

She laughed again, and before the sound could turn him off completely, he kissed her. A rough, tongue-thrusting kiss that silenced her. Misty wasn't the most beautiful woman in Cherokee County or the smartest, but she had her talents. She knew how to kiss. And she knew how to f.u.c.k.

They tore at each other's clothes and within minutes Jacob had tossed her flat on her back in the middle of his bed. He made a hasty detour into the bathroom for his stash of condoms, then removed his briefs and tossed them aside on his way back to the bed. Standing over her, he slid a condom into place.

Wriggling seductively on the bed, Misty said, "Come on, big boy, give me what I want."

"I thought you said you were going to do all the dirty work."

She held open her arms to him. "Come down here and I'll show you what I'll do."

He covered her body with his, sliding his erect p.e.n.i.s over her belly before settling between her legs. When he lowered his head and licked first one pebble-hard nipple and then the other, she bit his shoulder. He barely felt the pain.

"Let's change places," Misty suggested. "I'm in the mood for a good, hard ride."

Before the words were barely out of her mouth, he flipped her up and over him. She straddled his hips. He reached up to tease her nipples.

"I always get my cookies off when I'm on top."

She lifted herself up enough to reach between them and circle his erection. While he lay beneath, his body taut with need, she guided him up and inside her. She slid down over him like a slick, hot glove covering a hand.

She rode him, slowly at first, building the tension, but soon she increased the pace as she lowered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his lips. He could feel his climax approaching, knew it was only a matter of seconds before he exploded. Wildly, panting like mad, Misty pumped him harder and faster. She screamed when she came, but Jacob was able to silence her with a kiss just as his o.r.g.a.s.m ripped him apart.

That s.l.u.t Misty Harte was in the sheriff's apartment f.u.c.king his brains out right now. He knew her type so well. But was she really any different from all other women? Most were good for only one thing. Except for the few who possessed a special essence. But those special women were rare and when found were far more precious to him than anything else in the world.

He stood in the corridor outside Jacob Butler's apartment, wondering if Misty would spend the night or leave before dawn. He'd go back downstairs and wait in Misty's car. The d.a.m.n fool b.i.t.c.h hadn't bothered to lock her doors.

If she left the sheriff's bed before morning, then it would be a sign that she was destined to become the third victim.

Chapter 10.

The early morning suns.h.i.+ne brightening the blue sky overhead was deceptive. The temperature hovered only a few degrees above freezing, just enough to continue the thaw that had begun yesterday. Dallas hesitated before getting out of his rental car. His hand settled over the cell phone attached to his belt. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such an overwhelming urge to call a woman. But he was not going to telephone Genny Madoc, no matter how much he wanted to. He had repeatedly pointed out to himself that she didn't need him to act as her protector. Her cousin, the sheriff, played the role of big brother quite well. She also had friends like Jazzy Talbot. And a couple of boyfriends.

Yeah, Sloan, don't forget the boyfriends.

Dallas's stomach rumbled, reminding him he was hungry. He got out of the car, locked the door and made his way down the street to Jasmine's. When he'd checked in with Cherokee Cabin Rentals last night, the clerk had told him the best place in town for a hot, home-style breakfast was Jasmine's.

The minute he entered the restaurant, he smelled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon. The proprietress was nowhere to be seen. But that didn't surprise Dallas. He'd pegged Jazzy for a late sleeper.

A young waitress with frizzy brown hair and a welcoming smile came up to him. "Smoking or nonsmoking?" she asked.

"Nonsmoking," he replied as he removed his overcoat and slung it over his arm.

"Follow me, please."

As she led the way to a back booth, Dallas caught a glimpse of Sheriff Butler sitting alone, a large stack of half-eaten pancakes in front of him.

Butler nodded, then spoke. "Join me?"

"Sure." Dallas accepted a menu from the waitress. He tossed his coat onto the far side of the seat and slid into the booth, placing himself directly across from the sheriff.

"Coffee?" the waitress asked.

"Black," he told her. "And a large gla.s.s of orange juice."

"Be right back." Whistling to herself, the young woman hurried off.

Dallas wanted to ask Butler if he'd checked on Genny this morning, but managed to stop himself from mentioning the sheriff's cousin.

"There's something I'd like to know," Dallas said.

"Such as?" Jacob sliced the pancakes with his fork, then speared a chunk and brought it to his mouth.

"Have you made a list of suspects?"

Jacob chewed and swallowed, then lifted his mug and glanced at Dallas over the rim. He grunted. After taking a swig of coffee, he replied, "We don't have any suspects. Not yet."

"Sure you do. Just figure out who's new in town-say, in the past six months."

"We have tourists in and out of here all the time."

"This guy will be someone who has moved here. He's been getting to know the area and the people...and perhaps deciding on his victims, choosing the women he wants for whatever his perverse reasons are."

"You're basing this theory on what? Why the six-month time frame?"

"Because the fifth murder in Mobile last year was seven and a half months ago. After he killed my niece, he murdered one other woman ten days later."

The waitress returned and placed a mug of steaming coffee and a tall gla.s.s of frosty orange juice in front of Dallas. "Have you decided what you'd like?" she asked.

"Bacon, scrambled eggs, and biscuits," he told her. "I figure they're on the menu. Right?" He held out the closed menu to her.

She took the menu from him. "Right. I'll go place your order." When she smiled at him again, he noted her name tag read Tiffany.

As soon as Tiffany left them alone again, Butler finished off his pancakes and shoved his empty plate aside. "You're a.s.suming the man who killed Susie Richards and Cindy Todd is the same one who murdered five women in Mobile last year. That's a major a.s.sumption. You have no proof to actually connect the murders."

"If I had any substantial proof, you would know we're dealing with a serial killer," Dallas said. "Right now, all I have are a few facts that link several series of five murders, each in various parts of the country over the past eight years. But I'm telling you that my gut instincts tell me it's the same guy."

"I realize you've probably got some d.a.m.n good instincts," Butler said. "But-"

"I told you yesterday that he kills in groups of five. You're going to wind up with three more victims if we can't figure out who this nutcase is and stop him dead in his tracks."

"Okay, let's say I buy your theory. Where do we start? Have you figured out why there are five victims and not four or six?"

Dallas shook his head. "The only thing I know for sure is that he s.e.xually a.s.saults each woman and when he sacrifices the first four, he drinks some of their blood. But the fifth victim is different in one distinct way-he removes her heart. My guess is he eats it."

"He eats the fifth victim's heart?"

The waitress returned carrying a coffeepot and quickly refilled both men's mugs. "Did I hear you right? Did this killer eat Cindy's heart?"

"Forget you heard that," Butler said. "Agent Sloan wasn't talking about Susie or Cindy. He was telling me about another case in another city."

Tiffany let out a long sigh. "Thank goodness. It's bad enough we've got a killer on the loose. If he was eating his victim's hearts..." She shuddered, then scurried off when she saw a new customer enter the restaurant.

Butler's keen gaze fixed on the restaurant entrance where a broad-shouldered guy, about six feet tall, waited for Tiffany. The man removed his expensive overcoat and handed it to the waitress, which clued Dallas to the fact that the man was probably used to servants being at his beck and call. All the other customers had either hung their coats on the rack just inside the front door or had taken their coats with them to their tables and booths. Dallas speculated on the new customer's occupation. Lawyer maybe. Wealthy. No doubt about it. He wore his graying brown hair conservatively short; and he walked with an air of command.

Dallas glanced at Butler and noted the way his slanted eyes narrowed to slits and his facial expression darkened. The sheriff didn't like Mr. I'm-Somebody-Important.

Tiffany led the man to the smoking section on the other side of the restaurant. She fluttered around him, practically bowing before she rushed off, his coat over her arm.

"Who's that guy?" Dallas asked.

"Brian MacKinnon," Butler replied.

Jazzy's voice echoed inside Dallas's head. He's rich and powerful and Jacob dislikes him. But Genny believes he's redeemable.

"Why do you dislike him?"

"What?" Jacob Butler stared straight at Dallas.