Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
S he walked in, her Glock 22 up, checking every corner.
The cabin was tidy and neat as a pin, with the clean lines of Scandinavian-style décor. The walls were white, with some large mirrors, and cozy blankets were tossed over the beige couch. She walked past the kitchen with its bright, white cabinets and butcher block counter tops. Park was one step behind her, his gun resting easily in his hand. She noted that he carried a Heckler & Koch handgun.
She jerked her head to the hallway, and he nodded.
She didn’t stop to dwell on how easily they communicated and worked together. Moving into the short hall, she steeled herself. There was a dropped blanket on the floor, like someone had been startled and dropped it. The scent of death intensified.
Jenna turned through a doorway.
The bedroom was bright and filled with light, the golden glow a dramatic contrast to the destruction within. A chair had been tipped over, and the debris from several smashed items was littered around the room.
The Hoskins had clearly put up a fight.
Her stomach curdled. It didn’t matter how many times she saw death, it still affected her. Tom Hoskins was lying on the floor, next to the toppled chair. There was a large, dried pool of blood underneath his head. Strings of rope were attached to the chair, and he’d clearly been tied to it at some stage. He’d died from a gunshot wound.
His wife was on the bed. Her arms were flung out wide and the ligature marks on her neck were obvious.
“Fucking hell,” Park muttered.
“Olson did this.” Jenna had been too late to stop him. Her chest felt like it was filled with rocks. She stepped closer to the bed. Sheryl had brown hair, with a touch of gray she’d clearly been growing out. Her hair was tangled around her face.
For a second, Jenna had a flashback to another dead woman. Barely more than a girl, with sightless eyes, dried leaves tangled in her brown hair.
“It doesn’t look like he raped Mrs. Hoskins,” Park said. “She’s still dressed.”
Jenna looked away, pulling in a short breath. “A small blessing. I think her husband got free and must have surprised Olson.”
Park’s mouth flattened. “So, he killed Tom, and since he’d lost his audience, he didn’t go through with the rape.”
No, Olson had just strangled the poor woman to death. The sick bastard.
Anger was a hot ball in her stomach. “I have to call it in to Dunford.”
Park didn’t respond. He crouched, looking at something on the floor.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Olson got blood on his boots.” Park rose and followed the trail to the window. It was wide open. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find which direction he went.”
Outside, they carefully navigated around another booby trap, and Jenna followed Park as he stared at the ground, heading away from the cabin.
She couldn’t see anything, but clearly he could. “You can really tell that he went this way?
“Yes. I’m trained to look for tracks and signs. I can see the small depressions he’s left, even if there isn’t a full footprint. Plus, there are some small smudges from the blood.”
Park stopped at the tree line. “No more blood, but he was moving in that direction. He’s left a few tiny signs. Maybe he didn’t think anyone would find the couple. Thought he was safe.”
“I need to call this in.”
He nodded.
Jenna pulled the satellite phone out of her backpack and called the state troopers. After she’d relayed all the details of the murder and their location, she checked in with Owen.
Since she and Park had spotted Olson yesterday, Owen and the other search teams were closing in to this location. They were trying to make sure Olson didn’t slip away if he tried to escape.
Still, Alaska was wild and open, and Olson was good at staying hidden.
I’m going to catch you. No matter what.
When she finished the calls, Park was fiddling with the device on the front steps.
Her pulse jumped. “Park, you’d better not…”
He rose, the grenade in his hand. “I’ve disabled it. We need to clear the area, and search for any more devices that he might have left behind.”
“All right. The troopers are sending a helicopter. Dunford said his team will process the scene.” She released a breath. “Those poor people. They left the big city, and ended up being murdered in a remote cabin in Alaska.” She shook her head. “Olson can run, but he can’t hide forever. I’m going to take great pleasure in taking him down.”
“This isn’t your fault, Jenna.”
She looked at him. “I wasn’t fast enough.”
“Hey—” he grabbed her arm.
“You know,” she said quietly. “You know how this feels. You told me that soldiers you knew died, and that you couldn’t save them in time.”
His jaw worked. “Yes, but I didn’t plant the bomb that killed them. I struggle with the fucking guilt that I made it out, but—” his face twisted “—objectively, I know I did everything I could.”
He looked away at the trees. His face was in profile as he dragged in a breath.
Objectively didn’t mean squat when the guilt choked you. She wondered if he’d spoken to anyone else about the guilt that was eating away at him. She pressed a hand to his back, and his muscles tensed.
They might not be in a relationship, but the two of them were currently tangled up, whether they liked it or not.
“I know this is on Olson,” she said. “I’ll work through the guilt. And you need to work through yours.”
He glanced back at her, that intense gaze on her face. “Something else is driving you.” He cocked his head. “This is about your father.”
She stepped back. “I’m not talking about him.” She swallowed, her throat thick. “Not now. Not here.” She lifted her chin. “Let’s search for more booby traps.”
It was evening when they got back to the Drifter Lake Lodge.
Jenna was quiet and she looked tired, but worse, she was still upset about the couple who’d lost their lives.
She was still blaming herself.
A part of Park was desperate to make her feel better. “You go and shower, and I’ll get us some food from Velma.”
She nodded tightly and walked into the cabin.
Quickly, he headed to the main lodge. He gave Velma and Ross a bogus story about Jenna having overdone it on the hike and being exhausted. The woman loaded him up with a tray of food.
As he entered the cabin, he was hit by steamy air and the scent of limes.
Jenna had showered and was wrapped in a big, fluffy robe, her hair still wet. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.
He set the tray of food on the nightstand.
“Hey.” He sat beside her.
“Those poor people. They were just living their lives, not hurting anyone. He killed them. Brutally. He just ended them.”
“I told you that it’s not your fault.”
Sad eyes met his. “But it’s not so easy to believe that. It was my job to stop Kyle Olson.” She shook her head. “The guilt sneaks up and grabs you by the throat. And it doesn’t let go.”
“Yeah.” It was the perfect description. His hands clenched, then released. He stopped fighting his need to comfort her. He pulled her onto his lap. “Just hold onto me, Jenna.”
A sob escaped her, and she quickly turned, straddling him and holding onto him for dear life.
“I don’t cry,” she said.
“It messes with your tough marshal vibe?” He ran a hand gently up her back. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know. You always tell the truth.” She lifted her head. “Don’t you?”
“Yeah. Even when it sucks.” He cupped her jaw. “Tell me.”
She stiffened. “About what?”
“Your father. Why you feel so much guilt. What drives you to track down the bad guys like it’s your own personal crusade.”
She sucked in a breath.
For a moment, she didn’t say anything, and Park thought he’d pushed too hard. Hell, he’d come to Alaska to avoid spilling his damn personal demons. Now, he was poking at her to share hers.
“Forget it, I…”
“He killed young women. In their late teens and early twenties. I was about nine or ten years old. They weren’t much older than me.” Her voice was toneless. “We lived in California, near the coast south of San Francisco. He’d pick them up hitchhiking. He seemed like a nice, friendly family man. Safe. They didn’t know he was a monster.”
Park tensed. “The California Hitchhiker Killer?”
She nodded. “Yes. My father, James Mitchell Sheridan, was a serial killer. He murdered those women and dumped their bodies in the woods, covered in leaves and flowers.
God . What the hell could Park say to comfort her?
“I didn’t believe it at first. No ten year old wants to believe the loving father she adores, who takes her to the zoo and buys her candy, is a depraved killer.” She shook her head. “My mother didn’t believe it at first. But once we saw the evidence, I think she realized it made sense. He was a traveling salesman. He was on the road a lot. He’d been away at the time of every murder, and the police found trophies he’d kept from his victims. Jewelry, ribbons, scarves. He’d hidden them under the floorboards in his study.”
“Hell, I’m sorry, Jenna. No kid should have to go through that.”
“My mom divorced him and eventually remarried. My stepdad offered for me to take his surname.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. It was my name, and I wanted to make it mean something other than murder.”
So she’d become a marshal and dedicated her life to capturing killers like her father. To making amends for crimes that were never hers.
“After I joined the Marshals, I got access to my father’s case file. I went over every murder, saw pictures of every victim, and promised I’d get justice for them.”
Park tugged her closer. “Jenna, they got justice when he was jailed.”
“He was executed four years ago.”
“Then justice was well and truly served. Those were his crimes to pay for, not yours.”
“It never feels like enough,” she whispered. “When I saw that poor couple today…” She dashed away her tears. “I hate crying.”
She hated appearing weak. What she didn’t realize was that it was the opposite.
He ran his thumb across her jaw. Her skin was so soft. “Showing your emotions, rather than locking them up and ignoring them, that’s true strength. Trust me, ignoring them is easy.”
She just stared at him.
He caught one of her tears. “You’ll probably feel better if you get it out.”
“I…can’t.” She swallowed. “The last time I cried, I was ten. I…”
After her entire life had imploded. After the man she’d loved, who’d probably always been the one to comfort her, had turned out to be a monster.
“You can. I’ve got you, Jenna. Just lean on me.”
A tear slid down her cheek, then she broke. She pressed her face to his neck and cried. And he knew she was crying for a dead couple she didn’t even know, for her murdered marshals, for her father’s victims, and for herself. For that little girl whose life had been shattered. He suspected a few of the tears were for him, too.
He held her and wished he could protect her from everything. Be her shield. He knew she didn’t need him to do it, but he still wanted to.
Finally, she sagged against him. Spent.
“Feel better?”
“I do.” Her voice was a little scratchy from the crying jag.
“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Jenna.”
Her hands gripped his shoulders and flexed. She lifted her head.
Park’s gut tightened. The look in her eyes had changed.
She needed something else now.
“Park…” Her hands cupped his face.
Then her mouth was on his. The kiss was fierce. Her tongue slid into his mouth, stroking his. He pressed his hands to her back, keeping his mouth glued to hers as they devoured each other.
Her robe fell apart and she rocked on his body.
“I need you, Park. I need you so bad.”
He growled, tangling a hand in her wet hair. The next kiss was harder, a little savage.
Fuck, he needed her, too.
She bit his lip, and he tasted blood. Her mouth moved across his jaw and cheek, across his scars. She took a second, peppering kisses on the burn scar on his neck.
“ Fuck . You don’t have to?—”
She didn’t pause. One of her hands snaked under his shirt, fingers rubbing over a knife scar, then another. Next, she found an old bullet scar under his ribs, fingertip circling it.
“These show you survived, Park. To me, they show your strength.” Her mouth moved upward, and she bit his earlobe. “I need you to fuck me. Hard.”
Desire had claws and they sank deep into his gut.
Her heated blue gaze met his. “If you want that. If you want me.”
Want her? The word didn’t do justice to the feelings coiling in his gut. He still didn’t like the idea of anyone touching him…except Jenna. He exploded off the bed, carrying her across the room and pinned her to the wall. The robe was completely open, showing off her fit body and beautiful breasts.
“You want my cock?”
Her face was flushed, her eyes hot. “ Yes . Make me feel it.”
“I don’t have a condom.” He shoved her legs apart, pressing closer. He took her mouth hard with his. “I wouldn’t use it if I did.” He whispered the words hotly against her lips. “I want to feel you. All of you. I want nothing in the way.”
She cried out. “Do it.”
It was like a primitive part of his brain had taken over. He fumbled with his belt and opened his shorts. She was making needy little sounds.
“Hurry, Park.”
He got his cock free. It was so hard it hurt. He shoved her thighs wider and notched the head of his cock in place. Then he slammed home.
She let out a wild cry.
“God…” Sensation rocked through him. It had been so long since he’d been inside a woman, but it had never felt like this. Like he was joined with her.
“Move, Park.”
He pulled back and slammed back in.
“ Yes ,” she sobbed.
He thrust into her with a punishing rhythm. She needed this. He needed this.
Her fingernails dug into his skin.
“You’re so fucking tight, Jenna. You feel so good.”
She gasped out his name. “You fill me up.”
He angled his hips and when the tone of her cries changed, knew he was hitting the right spot. He knew she was getting close.
“Not deep enough,” he growled.
He spun away from the wall, and she cried out in protest. He tossed her on the bed, on her hands and knees. He yanked the robe away and pulled her to the edge. Quickly, he pulled his shirt off and ditched the rest of his clothes.
His gaze traced over her ass. Perfection . He pressed a hand to her lower back and the other circled his cock.
He lined up and thrust back into her from behind. She tossed her head back and made a low sound.
Now he was deep enough. He gripped her hips. Their skin slapped together as he thrust inside her. She pushed back against him and her hands twisted in the sheets.
“I love the way you take me,” he growled.
She looked over her shoulder, her face flushed and her lips parted. “I can take you. I can take whatever you give me.”
He slid a hand under her body and found her clit. “Gonna make you come now. Want to feel the way you come on my cock.”
It didn’t take long. As he thumbed her clit, she came, screaming his name. Her body clamped ruthlessly down on his cock.
“Fuck. Jenna. Jenna .”
With another deep plunge, he came. He felt like a bolt of lightning hit him. He spilled his hot release inside her.
He curled over her body, holding her tight.
There was no noise, no pain, no guilt. Just Jenna.
In that moment, he found something he’d never found before.
Peace.