Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Loud, angry thuds woke Wren the next morning. Her eyes cracked open even as she heard a very disgruntled, “What in the hell?” from beside her.
She blinked away the sleepiness and saw Jake lunging out of the bed. He jerked on black sweatpants to cover that very nice ass of his and then he grabbed a gun and bolted for the bedroom door.
Then he grabbed a gun and ? —
“Jake!” Wren lurched upright as her heart raced in her chest.
The furious pounding continued.
Jake held a gun in his left hand. She realized his right hand now held his phone.
She leapt out of the bed, too. One of his T-shirts was tossed onto a nearby chair. She grabbed it, tugged it over her head, and crept toward him even as her heart thudded in her chest. The pounding was coming from his front door, and she had no idea what was happening. Who was out there? She only knew that someone needed to cover Jake’s back. She was the only someone there.
His eyes narrowed on the phone’s screen. Understanding clicked for Wren. He had one of those doorbell cameras at his front door. He’d be able to see their visitor from his phone. She exhaled and tried to take a frantic second to calm her racing heartbeat.
The furious pounding continued, seeming to echo through the house.
Their angry visitor was not giving up. “Jake?”
His head whipped toward her.
“Who is it?” Her bare feet inched forward.
“A pain in my ass.” His nostrils flared. “I’ll handle him. Everything is okay.”
Her arms wrapped around her stomach. Things did not sound okay. It sounded as if their visitor was trying to break his way through the door.
Jake tossed his phone onto a chair. He did not put down his weapon. Instead, he kept the weapon and yanked open the bedroom door. Jake charged down the hallway.
She charged right after him.
Jake rushed into the den. Then to the front door. He flipped the locks and yanked it open.
No alarms beeped. Jake must have disengaged the alarms from his phone. Why would he?—
“Do you know what damn time it is, asshole?” Jake snarled.
“Of course I do,” came the immediate response. “Do you know what sort of shitstorm is heading your way, asshole? Because I’m thinking not.”
“Hunter…” Jake growled.
“Let me in. The serial killer’s daughter is about to be in for a world of hurt.”
“The fuck she is!”
She backed up a step. Her hip hit the nearby table. Sent a lamp to wobbling. She grabbed it. No, dammit, not fast enough. The lamp toppled, and her attempt to grab it actually just wound up making the lamp roll right off the edge and shatter when it hit the floor.
Shatter.
Jake whirled toward her.
Her breath shuddered in desperate heaves.
“Ah, there she is,” the man in the doorway proclaimed. “Hello, serial killer’s?—”
Jake grabbed the man speaking and hauled him inside. Slammed the door. In a flash, Jake had the stranger pinned against the wall, and Jake’s gun was far too close to the guy’s face. “Don’t say another word,” Jake ordered, voice lethal.
“But…she’s about to get cut.”
A savage growl from Jake.
“No, seriously, her feet are bare, and she’s about to cut herself and you need to?—”
Jake whipped his head toward Wren once again. Then he was swearing and letting go of the stranger and charging toward her. Before she could question him, Jake swooped her into his arms and carried her toward the couch.
The stranger whistled. “She’s got really nice legs. Cute toes, too. It would be a shame if?—”’
“Fucking keep quiet, Hunter, or I will be breaking your face.” Jake gently lowered Wren onto the couch. Then he checked out her feet. “You aren’t hurt.” A statement, not a question.
“I’m not hurt,” she still replied because he seemed to need that assurance.
He grunted. “Good. Now let me go hurt him. ”
But she grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Who is he?” Low. “And how does he know about me?” More specifically, about the biggest secret of her life? Pain curled around her heart. “Jake, did you tell him?” When she’d gone to sleep in his arms, she’d felt safe. But…had he just left her? Snuck out of bed and told this—this man all about her painful past?
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Who is he? He’s an annoying bastard, that’s who he is.”
“That hurts, man. Hurts.” From the stranger. “Oh, wait, not really. Sticks and stones hurt. Kinda, anyway. Words just amuse me.”
She craned to look around Jake’s form to get a better look at the uninvited visitor. When she did get that better look—wait. “I know you.” He wasn’t a stranger. At least, not completely. She’d seen him before. At Marley’s wedding. “You’re friends with Declan Flynn, aren’t you?”
“I—” he began.
“The jerk is Declan’s best friend,” Jake groused. He had one hand on the couch behind her. “Hunter McQueen. And, no, I did not tell him anything about you. I made some calls last night, yes. I needed help on the case. I had to get people to start digging so I could figure out who is trying to hurt you. I did not share anything personal you revealed to me. I wouldn’t do that.”
“He didn’t need to tell me,” Hunter piped up to affirm. He whistled. “You would not believe the intel that Declan can access with a few clickety-clicks on his keyboard. And as soon as Declan realized just what was going down, he sent me to do cleanup. Or be backup.” A shrug of one shoulder. “Probably more like both.”
“I would not betray you, Wren,” Jake said. “Know that.” His gaze held hers.
She nodded. The vise around her heart loosened. She also tried to tug down the hem of the T-shirt because she’d rushed out and had not put on anything under the shirt.
“Good.” He kissed her. Then straightened and glared at Hunter. “Do you not have a phone? Why the hell are you pounding on my door? You understand that you could call first, like a normal human being? Call or text before you start trying to break down my front door?”
“I was pounding because Declan said you needed backup. As in, you needed someone to be here with you. Thus, I had to get inside your fancy beach house. And if I’d just called, you probably would have played hero, said you didn’t need anyone, and ignored me.” He began to stroll around the den. “Seriously, this is a nice place. All open-concept and what-not. Didn’t even realize you had a home here. No offense, but you don’t really strike me as the beachy type.”
“ Hunter. What is happening?” Each word seemed gritted. “And since when did you get so damn chatty?”
“I was trying to be reassuring.” Hunter sighed. “Marley tells me I can be…intense sometimes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and let his gaze sweep between Wren and Jake. Then back to Wren. He studied her in silence for a moment.
She took that moment to study him, too. Tall, about the same height as Jake. With broad shoulders. Though she thought Jake might have shoulders a bit broader. Golden, tawny skin. Hard features. Dark eyes.
“You don’t look like a monster,” he told her.
Her mouth dropped open.
Hunter winced. “Yeah, that’s why I should avoid the attempts to be chatty. I do tend to say the wrong things. Being quiet and grim works better for me.”
“I am going to kick your ass ,” Jake vowed. He thundered toward Hunter.
She jumped from the couch. Then grabbed a big pillow from the couch to cover herself because the shirt was not enough. “Jake, no!”
“Yeah, Jake, no. ” Hunter didn’t even flinch as Jake barreled to a stop in front of him. “This is not the way we respond when people come to help us. We say thank you. We show our gratitude. We do not—” He ducked a punch, but it had just been a trick attack.
Jake nailed him with a blow to the stomach. The real hit.
The air whooshed out of Hunter. “Yeah… dammit .”
“You don’t eye-fuck my lady, understand? And you never, ever refer to her as ‘the serial killer’s daughter’ again. Her name is Wren. Say it with me… Wren. ”
Hunter rubbed his stomach. “Hi, Wren.”
She kept the pillow in place. “Hi, uh, Hunter.”
Hunter exhaled on a hard breath. He stopped rubbing his stomach and straightened fully. “The secret is out.”
She inched closer.
“The Ice Breakers were working on the Sweetheart Slasher cases,” he revealed. “FYI.”
Wren flinched. The press had loved calling the murders the “Sweetheart Slasher” cases. The pictures of the poor couples had been splashed everywhere. Sweethearts who had been savaged by the killer. The Sweetheart Slasher. Her father had hated that moniker. Had thought it was insulting. Ridiculous. That it undermined the work he’d been doing.
What work? He was a twisted killer. He took lives without remorse. He was the monster. The slasher in the dark.
“The Sweetheart Slasher was positively ID’d recently. Jonathan Wales, former psychology professor turned psycho killer.” He grimaced. “The guy killed seven couples, but the Ice Breakers suspect there could be more that were never linked to him. They’ll probably be showing up at your door next, by the way. Everyone will want to pick apart your brain. After all, you’re the person who knew the killer best.”
Like plenty of shrinks had already tried to pick apart her mind. Back when she’d been younger, the Feds had sent her to talk to shrinks and counselors again and again. They’d wanted clues to find her father.
Not like she’d really been able to open up to them. Considering her own father excelled at mind fuckery, she’d never trusted the so-called experts enough to reveal her secrets. Besides, she’d had no idea where her father had gone. After the night he’d sliced into her, he’d vanished.
“Someone leaked your identity last night,” Hunter continued.
She shook her head because she must have misheard him.
But he nodded. “It happened on the web. On some of those true-crime sites. Then it was posted in group chats. Things exploded from there. Declan picked up the chatter, of course, because that man always picks up intel. He figured you were in for a clusterfuck as soon as people figured out where you were hiding—especially with the shooting that happened yesterday. That bit was shared, too, I’m sorry to say. So expect your bloody past and present to be front page news, STAT.”
This couldn’t be happening. “No one knows about my past.” No, not true. Uncle Milo knew. Honey knew. Jake?—
“Your secret is out. The world knows. Or, as they are waking up right now, more people are finding out. Your dad has been tied to the murders of seven couples.”
Seven couples. Fourteen individuals. So much blood.
“He terrorized the world for years before he vanished. Hell, not often a killer like him goes dormant, but he did. Somehow.”
Did he? She’d always feared he hadn’t stopped, but Uncle Milo had been watching so carefully. Constantly looking for vics who had fit her father’s profile.
“The infamous Sweetheart Slasher’s death is going to be big news. And the fact that his daughter—long presumed dead—was recently attacked? Come on, the story is killer. You know the old saying, if it bleeds, it leads.”
She did not know that old saying.
“There’s blood all around you,” Hunter bluntly informed her. “Your story will be the lead everywhere.”
And that would be her world, exploding into a thousand pieces. “Excuse me.” Her voice was wooden. Brittle? “I need to get changed.” She cleared her throat. “Especially if every reporter in the area is about to be at the door.” Hadn’t he said they would figure out where she was hiding? “Can’t have them interviewing me while I just wear a shirt. What would the world think?”
That I’m the serial killer’s daughter. That I’m as twisted as my father. That I’m a monster.
“I’ll be back in just a moment.” After she got her control back in place because she did not want to shatter in front of Hunter. With that, Wren turned on her heel and marched back down the hallway. One careful marching step at a time. And as she fled, the truth burned through her. Something she’d always known, deep down inside. A reckoning had come.
I knew I couldn’t hide forever.
But she’d still hoped that she somehow could…
Jake surged after her.
“Yeah, how about no?” Hunter curled a hand around his shoulder. “We need to talk, man. Now.”
What he needed was to make sure Wren was okay and?—
A fist hit his side. The air shoved out of him, and Jake spun toward Hunter with a glare.
Hunter smiled lazily at him. “Even.”
“You are a crazy bastard.”
“So I’ve been told.” He rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. “Someone just blasted your lady’s real identity all over the web. That someone wants her to have no place to hide. Declan told me you have an enemy trying to use her against you.”
“Yes.” He couldn’t see her any longer. Had she been crying? She’d better not have been crying.
“How did your enemy find out about her past? Because there are all sorts of personal details leaked. Like the fact that she lived with her fake ‘Uncle Milo’ in Hilton Head and that she got here when she was a teen. That she was present for her dad’s killings. Pictures of her were included. Hell, some of them looked like freaking selfies of her and several other women. One of them even had a bridal veil on her head. What was up with that?”
He had to unclench his jaw. “The damn phone!”
“Excuse me?”
“The bastard after her took Wren’s phone yesterday. He used it to call me. If there are selfies in this leak—pics of Wren and her friends at the bachelorette party—they probably came from her phone.”
Hunter nodded. “And maybe also on that phone, she might have had confidential texts with Milo?”
Probably. Shit. “A phone is a person’s life. He could have found out all kinds of intel on her.”
“Intel that he couldn’t wait to share with the world because he’s trying to wreck her life. Her anonymity is gone. I came here first thing because—one, I was already in the area.”
“What in the hell were you already doing in the area?” Jake exploded.
“Your brother sent me.”
Jake could not have been more shocked. “Eb?”
“He’s a bossy bastard, you know that?”
Yeah, he and his brother were both bossy bastards.
“He told me that you and your Wren needed help. Eb sent me in to keep an eye on you, but I’m barely in the area and then I start getting frantic phone calls from Declan saying I have to make immediate contact and give you backup, STAT. Thus, the pounding at your door.” He looked at his watch. “I figure I’ve beat the pack of salivating wolves by a bit. We can get your lady, get her the hell out of here, and then stash her someplace else. Declan has plenty of safe houses you can use. Trust me when I say plenty . Your brother-in-law has put them all at your disposal.”
Wren hadn’t wanted to lose the life she’d worked so hard to build.
Before Jake could speak, his phone rang. The peal came from the bedroom because he’d left the phone back there. “Don’t move.”
“We all need to damn well get moving. Not like we have time to just sit and shoot the breeze and?—”
The phone was still ringing.
Jake rushed down the hallway. The door was ajar, but he shoved it fully open. Wren stood by the bed, still wearing his shirt, and she had his phone in her hand.
“It’s Honey,” she said, her worry clear as she offered the phone to him.
He hurried forward, snagged the phone, and heat rushed through him when his fingers momentarily tangled with hers. Every time I touch her, I feel that surge. Always had. Always would.
He put the phone to his ear. “Honey…”
“We have a problem.” Grim words.
They had several. They had a clusterfuck. “Not exactly the news I was hoping to hear first thing this morning.”
“Is Wren safe? You got her with you?”
Wren watched him with her wide, deep eyes.
“I have her,” he said. And I’m keeping her.
“Makayla Lane is missing.”
The news was so unexpected that he shook his head in automatic denial.
“Her fiancé discovered that she was gone this morning. I’m at her house now, and there are signs of a struggle. A struggle—and blood.”
Shit.
“A lot of blood,” Honey added quietly.
Wren grabbed his arm. “What is happening?” Terror lurked in the darkness of her gaze. “Jake?”
And he had to tell her even as he knew it was going to break her heart, “Makayla is gone.”