Karen Rose - Kill for Me

She was in Luke’s bed. But he wasn’t.

Gingerly she slid from the bed, suddenly feeling every one of the bumps and bruises from the last three days. Wincing, she shrugged into the shirt he’d thrown on the floor. It smelled like him, cedar and a little sweat.

I boarded that flight out of LaGuardia Friday morning hoping to change my life.

That, she thought as she rolled up Luke’s shirt sleeves, she certainly had done.

Darlin’ had stationed herself outside Luke’s spare bedroom. The door was ajar and Susannah pushed it open enough to peer inside. It was his home gym and in one corner hung a punching bag. Draped around the bag, his shoulders shaking, was Luke. Susannah’s eyes stung at the sight. So many times over the past few days he’d been moved or his eyes had even grown bright, but this… This was soul-wrenching grief and it tore at her heart.

“Luke.”

His bare back went rigid. He pushed against the bag until he stood straight, but didn’t turn around. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said stiffly.

“It’s almost three a.m.,” she said. “Par for the course. Can I come in?” He nodded, still not looking at her. She rubbed her hands over his back, feeling every muscle tense. “What happened?” she asked softly.

“Nate called.”

“Nate, from ICAC.” Dread pooled in her stomach. “They found Becky Snyder’s little sisters?” The little sisters who Monica’s friend Becky had died trying to protect.

“Yeah. On a podcast. Pay per view. Nate sent out pictures of the children after we left the empty apartment this morning.” The apartment whose address Monica Cassidy had committed to memory, keeping her promise to help Becky’s younger sisters. “One of our partners in Europe contacted him. They’d seen the kids. Nate saw them tonight. Online.” He rested his forehead on the punching bag. “He’s ripped up.”

“I can understand that.”

“We see these kids, Susannah… We know they’re out there and they’re suffering but we can’t find them.”

She pressed her cheek to his back, wrapping her arms around him. She said nothing, refusing to minimize his grief with platitudes.

“Nate,” he went on, “has been there for days, watching tape, looking at pictures. I should have been there. Should have been watching. I’ve left it all to him.”

“While you’ve been vacationing in Bali,” she murmured. “Luke, you’ve saved so many. Ten girls, not twenty-four hours ago. Don’t beat yourself up like this.”

“I know. Why isn’t that good enough?”

“Because you’re you and you care, too damn much. You know you’ve done your best because you’re not capable of doing any less. You have to hold on to that.”

His hands covered hers. “That helps. Really.”

“You’ll find Bobby Davis, then you can help Nate find the Snyder kids and the others that keep you awake at three a.m. Did Nate track Becky’s stepfather?”

“No, but we know Snyder had those kids here in the city once. Nate’s going to take face shots of the kids to the area schools, see if he can find them that way. But they could be anywhere in the world by now. There’s nothing keeping him here in Atlanta.”

“Maybe there is. Maybe this scumbag Snyder has roots you don’t know about. What made you know he was in Atlanta to start with? When he still had Angel and Becky?”

“Things we saw in the pictures, things around the room where the kids were kept. A Braves cap, a tomahawk, the kind you get on free day. Stuff like that.”

“Untraceable stuff that thousands of people have,” she said quietly against his back.

“Yeah.” The single word was bitter and hopeless.

“Come back to sleep,” she said. “You need to rest. You’ll be sharper.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Then come back to bed anyway.” She tugged and he followed, stopping when he got to the bed. She was wearing his shirt and it shifted when she climbed on the mattress, revealing the dark bruise on her breast, courtesy of Bobby’s bullet. His temper flared higher, remembering how close he’d come to losing her.

He shook his head. “You go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll go watch some TV.” He knew his moods, knew he was too savage right now to risk getting into the bed with her. She was bruised. She had to hurt like hell.

And I’m ready for round two. He swallowed when she knelt on the bed, her small hands reaching for his. Very, very ready .

“Don’t shut me out,” she said softly. “I didn’t do that to you.”

“It’s not the same.”

She frowned. “Because you’re on the dark side now?” She slipped her fingers inside the waist of his jeans and tugged him closer. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

He pushed her away, as gently as he was able. “It matters to me.” He turned to leave, but she was quick, getting to the door before he could and leaning against it, her chin lifted, challenge in her eyes. “Susannah,” he warned. “This is not the time.”

“That’s what you said last night. You were wrong then, too.”

With a curse he tried to move her out of the way, but she put her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, attaching herself to him like a limpet. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t push me away.”

He braced his hands on the door and they hung there. “Don’t you know I’ll hurt you?”

She kissed his jaw. “Don’t you know I need to help you?”

“You can’t.” He was knowingly goading her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Watch me,” she murmured, kissing his cheeks, his lips, which he held firmly closed. Undaunted, she moved to his shoulder, kissing and licking her way down to his chest. Still he resisted, until she sank her teeth into his shoulder and bit. Hard.

The rubber band of his restraint snapped. With a growl he shoved his jeans off, and hands shaking, grabbed another condom from the drawer. Without thinking he dropped them both to the bed, her arms still locked around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he thrust into her hard.

She was tight and wet and he pounded into her until the simmering pit of his temper boiled over and the world went black. His body went taut, arching back as he was slammed with the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced. Too late he realized she hadn’t been with him. He’d left her behind without a care.

Shuddering, mortified, he dropped his head, unable to meet her eyes. He’d used her viciously. “Oh God,” he said, when he could speak. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

She didn’t sound mad or hurt. He lifted his head and looked down at her. She was smiling at him. Perplexed, he frowned. “Didn’t I hurt you?”

“A little. I’ll live. How do you feel?”

“Good,” he said cautiously.

She rolled her eyes. “Please. I was here, don’t forget. It was damn good.”

He let out a breath. “For me, yes. I was selfish. I didn’t take care of you first.”

“I know that. I’m sure you’ll fix that oversight next time. So how do you feel ?”

Her grin was contagious. “Damn good.”

She leaned up, kissed his chin. “And I saw your face,” she added, triumphant.

“You saw my face before.”

“Mirrors are cheating. This was real.” Her grin softened, her smile luminous. “You think you robbed me of pleasure. You have no idea what this means, Luke.”

“Then tell me,” he said quietly.

Her smile faded completely, leaving her eyes full of yearning. “Do you know what it meant to sit at your family’s table? Do you know I’ve never done that before? Never. Not once, in my entire life have I had a family dinner with people who loved each other. You gave me that.” He opened up his mouth to speak, but she pressed her fingers to his lips. “You gave me more than that. You gave me back myself. I wanted to do something for you. If you were selfish, it was in making me work so hard to do that.”