Chapter 4
“I don’t understand this,” Smith mumbled as they walked away from the New Orleans crime scene. “An UNSUB who escalates at this rate should be making mistakes. He should be leaving behind evidence … DNA, footprints … something!”
Smith’s words held the same exasperation building inside Mateo.
He was right. Typically, when a serial killer began to escalate, he spiraled out of control, his methods becoming less precise.
Yet, an hour at the crime scene in New Orleans had turned up nothing.
The medical examiners in both states would take a few days to determine whether the guy had left any DNA behind, but Mateo already knew what the results would be.
As always, it seemed this killer had disappeared into thin air after abducting, raping, and mutilating his victim.
The sun had set hours ago, taking the edge off the humidity that had greeted them when they’d exited their plane. Even in the fall, New Orleans was more humid than any place he’d ever visited, leaving a light sheen of sweat across his brow.
“There’s something we’re missing here. Maybe it has something to do with the matchbook, but we won’t be able to dig into that until tomorrow. We’re expected at the local field office first thing in the morning.”
“I’m heading to the hotel,” Smith muttered, scratching at the blond stubble on his jaw. “I need a burger and a bed, in that order. Want me to grab one of the officers and get us a ride?”
“You go ahead. I’d rather walk.”
Leaving the cordoned-off crime scene behind, Mateo shoved his hands into his pockets and set off.
He’d never visited New Orleans before but had always wanted to bring Mari and Angelica for a vacation.
In his peripheral vision, bright colors and lights called out to him, while the aromas of food from various cafés made his stomach clench.
He still had yet to eat. His stomach had begun to ache now that he'd allowed his mind to register his hunger.
His limbs were heavy and lethargic, making every step a chore.
Realizing he might pass out if he didn’t do something about it, he visited the first hot dog stand he came across, buying two footlong dogs and a soda.
He ate while he walked, relief easing through him as he filled his belly.
Now that he wasn’t hungry anymore, other, more dormant sensations began to assault him.
His back ached from hours in airplane seats, and his temples pounded relentlessly.
The restlessness in his blood moved away from his limbs and straight to his center. Straight to his groin, specifically.
Irritation niggled him as he walked faster, pushing aside the idea of doing something about the half-erection pressing against the front of his slacks.
He woke every morning with a hard-on to rival all hard-ons, sweating and shaking and desperate for relief.
When he was working, it was easy enough to ignore.
He drove himself at a grueling pace daily, filling every spare hour with work and exercise so that he would arrive home too exhausted to feel anything other than acute loneliness.
But in moments like this, when he had been assured that Angelica was well, and everything he could do for the day had been done, he was hard-pressed to avoid one very significant way in which Mari’s loss had affected him.
Their sex life hadn’t been the most adventurous, and his work often had them going long periods without seeing or touching each other.
But there had been something perfect and pure about being with her, something he couldn’t have explained with words if he tried.
Shrugging off the gruesome details of the crimes he investigated at the end of the day was nearly impossible.
The things he had seen, representing the worst of what humanity was capable of, followed him everywhere he went, even into his dreams. But Mari only had to open her arms to him and put her lips against his to silence the noise.
The hardened exterior of an army ranger turned FBI agent fell away at the slightest touch of her hand, and in her, he had found solace.
It wasn’t only making love to Mari that he missed; it was the moments after, when he would lie his head on her breast and close his eyes.
When she would run her fingers through his hair and whisper to him in the dark.
When she would wrap her legs and arms around him and hold tight as if she thought herself strong enough to hold him together herself.
She had been far stronger than he’d ever given her credit for, and he had only realized it after she was gone.
Noticing he neared the hotel, he retrieved his personal phone and pulled up the app he had installed in a moment of weakness.
That one moment of desperation had driven him to do something he hadn’t done since his army days.
One-night stands had riddled the years before he’d met Mari.
Frequent deployments and immaturity had kept him from any long-term commitments.
His time between tours of Afghanistan had passed in a haze of drunken club nights, rowdy barracks parties, and a blur of bedroom partners so long he couldn’t remember most of their faces, let alone their names.
Falling in love had put an end to his taste for variety.
Mari had been the be-all, end-all for him, and no other woman had tempted him from the moment he’d clapped eyes on her.
He had only used this app a handful of times over the past year, and only when he couldn’t think past the persistence of his dick.
He rode the elevator up to his floor while swiping through profiles of local women, his settings ensuring he could have someone who wanted exactly what he did: a quick fuck with no strings attached.
No phone calls, no texts, no dates or second helpings. Hit and quit, one and done.
By the time he made it to his room, he had swiped right on a handful of profiles. All he had to do now was wait for a match, which never took long in a city as populated as New Orleans. He’d been chasing this UNSUB all over the country and never had a hard time finding himself a temporary lay.
Tossing his phone onto the bed, Mateo began stripping out of his suit as he walked to the bathroom.
He took his time in the shower, though he heard multiple pings from the app, indicating success.
After toweling off, he took up the phone and inspected his options.
He chose someone as different from Mari as he could manage—someone with bright blonde hair, blue eyes, and a knowing, flirtatious grin on her lips.
He didn’t want a specter of Mari or some fragment that might remind him of what he had lost. If he couldn’t have the silken grasp of her around his cock, or the sweet play of her fingers down his back, or the tender press of her lips and tongue on places that made his toes curl, then he didn’t want anything remotely resembling them.
While he waited for his date to return his message, he cracked open the bottle of Scotch that someone had delivered to this room in his absence.
Likely Williams, as she had overseen the logistics of their hotel stay and knew of his preference.
He was grateful for the thought, needing something to help chase away the yawning sensation of guilt opening in his middle.
As he poured his first glass, his gaze darted to his duffle bag, where the photos of Mari and Angelica had been stashed.
His face burned, as if their eyes could pierce straight through the paper of the photos and the pocket hiding them.
It took thirty minutes for his date to arrive, and by then, he’d had three tumblers of the Scotch and begun to grow impatient.
The shower, the liquor, and time alone with his thoughts had done nothing to temper the erection persisting south of his waist. There was only so much satisfaction a guy could get out of his own hand.
His date looked him over with raised eyebrows when he swung open the door.
Her blue eyes took in the black T-shirt molded to his chest and arms and sweatpants sitting low on his hips—as well as the prominent protrusion of his cock, which already stood at full mast. She wore a baby pink dress that clung to her curves and fell low enough in the front to reveal the tattoo etched between her tits.
“Mateo, right?” she said, as he stood aside to let her in. “I’m Christine.”
He didn’t give a fuck what her name was, but kept that to himself. “Did you bring them?”
She dropped a small purse onto the desk in the corner, then rifled inside before coming out with a small package. She grinned and displayed a three-pack of Magnums, yet to be opened.
“You sure you’re gonna need all three? Not that I don’t admire the ambition.”
Mateo was so hard, he felt like he could batter his way through a brick wall with the organ between his legs. She would be lucky if she could stand and walk through the door by the time he was finished.
“I’m going to need all three,” he confirmed, beginning his approach.
She reached toward him when he drew close, but Mateo grasped her wrists and twisted her arms behind her back.
Gathering them in one hand, he jerked her toward him until she stumbled, coming out of her heels.
She tipped her head back to look at him, her lips parted and her breath hitching.
She thrust her pelvis against his, teasing him.
He gritted his teeth and put some space between them.
She smelled like some kind of perfume, candy sweet.
He didn’t like it, but his cock didn’t care.
“Go bend over the desk,” he rasped, releasing her arms and giving her the slightest push in the right direction.