24. Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Knox
The precinct hums with its usual controlled chaos as I settle into my desk chair, the familiar creak of leather doing little to soothe my frayed nerves. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare over the scattered case files and half-empty coffee cups littering the surface. I lean back, scrubbing a hand over my face, feeling the rough scratch of stubble against my palm.
Fuck. How did we miss this?
The question burns in my mind, a constant, mocking refrain. River and I have been watching Rayne for months, learning every detail of her life, memorizing her routines, her habits, her very essence. We thought we knew everything there was to know about her. And yet, somehow, we completely overlooked another predator circling our prey.
The realization sits like lead in my gut, a cold, heavy weight of failure. I've always prided myself on my observational skills, on my ability to see the things others miss. It's what makes me such a damn good detective. But in this case, I was blind. Blinded by my own obsession, by the all-consuming need to possess Rayne completely.
I pull out the photographs from the evidence bag, placing them both on my desk. The image of Rayne entering the bar is unremarkable, save for the fact that it exists at all. But the second photo... my fingers clench involuntarily as I stare at the captured moment of raw passion between River and Rayne.
The rage that had simmered beneath the surface since we left Rayne's studio threatens to boil over. The only person with any right to watch them is me. I want to tear the photo to shreds, to hunt down the bastard who dared to intrude on that private moment and make them suffer. Make them bleed. But I can't. I return the photos to the evidence bags and set them aside. The images are evidence now, a tangible reminder of my failure to protect what's mine.
Our carelessness could have cost us everything. If this unknown stalker had chosen to go to the police instead of threatening Rayne directly, our entire carefully constructed world could have come crashing down. Our careers, our freedom, our chance at a future with Rayne–all of it hanging by a thread because we let our guard down.
As much as we had wanted to stay with Rayne after she had told us the very limited information about her other stalker, she had work to do and so did we. There had been another body this morning, and then seeing the squad car outside of Rayne's place had me on edge and my control already almost slipped once.
I force myself to focus on the task at hand, pushing thoughts of Rayne to the back of my mind. As much as every fiber of my being screams to go back to her, to wrap her in my arms and never let go, I know we can’t.
My eyes drift to the empty desk across from mine. River left the precinct within minutes of arriving, citing personal time. I know exactly where he's gone—to set up surveillance outside Rayne's studio. It's a necessary precaution, but part of me bristles at the thought of him being closer to her right now while I’m stuck here.
I turn my attention to the case file spread out before me, photos of the latest victim staring up accusingly. Another body found this morning, dumped unceremoniously in a back alley like garbage. The victim's blank eyes seem to bore into me, demanding justice, demanding that I do my job.
I almost want to laugh. The irony isn't lost on me–a killer hunting another killer.
But this one, he's different. He doesn't discriminate, doesn't choose his victims based on any discernible pattern or moral code. He's a true predator, striking at random, leaving a trail of brutalized bodies in his wake.
Or at least that’s what we have led everyone else to believe.
As far as everyone thinks, the only thing that links each of the bodies are the very specific pattern of stab wounds, almost exactly the same on each body, and the very distinct two prong burn marks that are always found somewhere on the body. But what everyone else doesn't know is they are all on a list, a list known only to me and River, one we compiled of local criminals and abusers we deemed unfit to walk the streets.
My eyes linger on the most recent victim's photo, taking in the brutalized features, the glassy, lifeless stare. Gerald Kincaid, a drug dealer with a rap sheet longer than my arm and a penchant for violence against women and children. His name had been at the top of our list for over a year, but getting to him proved... challenging. He was well-insulated, always surrounded by a couple of lackeys or muscle.
I unlock my desk drawer and pull a worn leather journal from it, the cover soft and supple from years of handling. Flipping through the pages, I trace the names and details with my fingertip. Kincaid’s entry isn’t hard to find among the pages and a smile pulls at my lips as I take a pen and put a line through his page.
We keep a meticulous ledger, documenting every name that graces our list. Pedophiles, rapists, abusers of every variety—all those who have escaped the long arm of the law, we take it upon ourselves to punish them. Each entry is carefully researched, every shred of evidence scrutinized until we are certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that our target is guilty.
Once a name is on the list, it's only a matter of time.
We plan everything to the last detail – the location, the method, the cleanup. No traces left behind, no evidence to tie the kills back to us.
I feel River's presence before he takes a seat at his desk, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the acrid tang of station coffee and sweat. He moves with his usual fluid grace, settling into his chair with a soft sigh.
"It's done," he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
I nod, not needing to ask for clarification. The thought of even that little extra security at her place eases some of the tension coiled in my chest, knowing that even if we can't be there personally, we still have eyes on her.
Without a word, I stand, motioning for River to follow. He falls into step beside me as we make our way out of the precinct, our footsteps echoing in perfect sync down the linoleum-tiled hallway.
We step out into the late afternoon sun, the humid air immediately clinging to our skin. The street isn’t overly busy but there are still a few people rushing to and fro, oblivious to the predators walking among them. We make our way down the block to the bakery we frequent, the same one Rayne loves.
The bell above the door chimes softly as we enter, the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans enveloping us. The barista, a petite redhead named Mia, gives us a familiar nod as we enter. She already has our usual orders started before we even open our mouths to speak.
We take our usual table in the back corner, positioned perfectly to keep an eye on both the entrance and the rear exit. Old habits die hard, even in a place as familiar as this. I pull out the worn leather journal, sliding it across the table to River.
"I crossed out the entry," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
River hums in response, his fingers tracing the embossed cover before flipping it open. His eyes scan the pages quickly, lingering on the freshly struck-through name. A small, satisfied smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
"Good riddance," he mutters, closing the journal with a soft thud. "One less scumbag on the streets."
I nod in agreement as River hops up again to retrieve our coffee from the counter, placing mine in front of me. Lifting the cup to my lips, I take a sip of my coffee and the rich and slightly bitter liquid burns a path down my throat, grounding me. River leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert as they scan our surroundings.
"We need to stop it soon," he says after a moment, his voice low and serious. "It's drawing too much attention."
I nod again, knowing he's right.
My thoughts inevitably drift back to Rayne, as they always do. The image of her pressed against that alley wall, head thrown back in ecstasy, is seared into my mind now. I can almost hear her breathy moans.
"You're lucky that photo didn't show your face," I murmur, my voice low and rough. "Or the body on the ground."
River tries to hide his grin behind his coffee cup, but fails miserably. His eyes dance with wicked amusement as he sets the mug down. "Come on, Knox," he teases. "You can't tell me you didn't find it at least a little hot."
I glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. Because if I'm being honest with myself, that image was fucking hot. Rayne's curves on full display, River's powerful form looming behind her, the raw passion evident in every line of their bodies. The only thing that would have made it hotter was if I had been there too. The thought of it sends a jolt of arousal through me—River's body caught between mine and Rayne's, all of us moving together in perfect sync.
I shift in my seat, trying to adjust myself discreetly. River's knowing smirk tells me I'm not entirely successful.
"Imagining yourself in that alley with us?" he purrs, leaning in close. His breath ghosts over my ear, making me suppress a shiver. "I bet you wish you'd been there, pressed up against my back, fucking me while I fucked her."
My hand shoots out, gripping his thigh hard enough to bruise. "Careful," I warn, my voice a low growl. "You're playing with fire, Riv."
He just grins wider, completely unrepentant. "Maybe I want to get burned," he murmurs, his eyes glittering with challenge.
The tension between us crackles like electricity, thick enough to cut with a knife. For a moment, I'm tempted to drag him into the bakery's tiny bathroom and remind him exactly what happens when he pushes me too far. But we're on duty, and more importantly, we have other priorities.
With supreme effort, I release my grip on his thigh and lean back in my chair. River pouts slightly at the loss of contact, but doesn't push further. He knows when to back off, at least for now.
"Once we deal with this stalker situation, we'll make it happen," I say, forcing my mind back to the task at hand. "This new player changes everything. We need to find out who they are and neutralize the threat before they can hurt Rayne or expose us."
River nods, his expression growing serious once more. "Agreed. Where do we start?"
I scroll through the notes on my phone, frustration mounting with each swipe. There isn't much to go on at all, just the two photos and nothing else. We should get the envelopes and images to forensics to see if there are any fingerprints or other DNA evidence to be gleaned from them, but I doubt it. Whoever this stalker is, they're careful. Meticulous.
I sigh heavily, running a hand through my hair. "We need to keep a closer eye on her without this other stalker knowing," I mutter, more to myself than to River. "Which means I need to be more careful when I go to her apartment tonight."
River raises an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his blue eyes. "You mean we need to be more careful," he corrects, emphasizing the 'we.'
I fix him with a hard stare. "No, I mean I. You had your fun last night, River. You get to keep watch outside, like a good boy."
A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. "Aww, is someone feeling left out?" he teases, his voice dropping to that low, seductive purr that never fails to send a shiver down my spine. "Don't worry, Knox. Our little Rayne has plenty of love to go around."
I growl low in my throat, my hand shooting out to grip the side of his neck, my thumb pressed firmly into the hollow of his throat. I pull him close, our faces mere inches apart. "Watch yourself," I warn, my voice a dangerous rumble.
River's eyes darken with lust as I grip his throat, his pulse quickening beneath my thumb. For a moment, we're suspended in that delicious tension, the air between us thick with unspoken desire.
Then River does what River does best—he pushes.
"Or what?" he breathes, voice husky. "You'll punish me? Maybe that's exactly what I want."
I squeeze River's throat tighter, feeling his pulse quicken beneath my fingers. "We need to focus," I growl, my voice low and dangerous.
River's eyes darken further, pupils blown wide. He tilts his head back in my grip, exposing the long line of his throat. "Yes, sir," he murmurs, the words coming out breathy and strained.
The sight of him like this—submissive, pliant, utterly mine—sends a jolt of desire straight to my cock. I want nothing more than to drag him out of this bakery and remind him exactly who he belongs to.
But we can't. Not here, not now. We have a job to do, a woman to protect.
I release my grip on River's throat. He lets out a small whimper, his eyes fluttering open to meet mine. The Caribbean blue of his irises is nearly swallowed by his dilated pupils, a ring of stormy desire.
"Later," I promise, my voice rough with restrained desire. "Right now, we have work to do."
River nods, straightening in his chair. I watch as he visibly pulls himself together, the playful, seductive energy giving way to professional focus. It's a transformation I've seen countless times, but it never fails to impress me—the way he can switch from carefree flirt to deadly serious detective in the blink of an eye.
"So, what's our next move?" he asks, all business now.
I lean back in my chair, considering our options. "We need to gather more information," I say slowly. "The photos are our only real lead at this point. We should get them to the lab, see if they can pull any prints or trace evidence."
River nods, his brow furrowing in thought. "What about the envelopes? Any postmarks or distinctive features?"
"Nothing obvious," I reply, frustration evident in my tone. "But maybe the lab can find something we missed. We should also look into any recent releases from prison or mental health facilities in the area. Someone with a history of stalking or violent behavior."
"Good idea," River agrees. "I'll start making calls when we get back to the precinct.”
As we finish our coffee and prepare to leave, my mind is already racing with plans. Whoever this stalker is, they've made a grave mistake in targeting what's ours. We'll find them, get rid of the threat, and then...
Then Rayne will truly be ours, in every way possible.
The thought sends a thrill of anticipation through me. Soon, very soon, we'll have everything we've ever wanted. Everything I’ve ever wanted. And God help anyone who tries to stand in our way.